#queer-and-filled-with-fear masterlist

[andy-15-07]

A Night in Venice

Pairing! Drew Starkey x reader

Words count: 3032

Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

The gentle lapping of the waves against the wooden stilts of the Venetian docks created a rhythmic melody that floated through the air, mingling with the distant sounds of laughter and conversation from nearby cafés. The golden hour had painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, reflecting off the canals and the city’s intricate architecture. Venice was always enchanting, but tonight, it felt like magic was in the air. Drew Starkey stood at the edge of the dock, dressed in a sleek blue tuxedo that hugged his frame perfectly, a calm smile playing on his lips. His blue eyes sparkled as he looked out at the horizon, but his thoughts were far from the city’s beauty or even the prestigious Venice Film Festival, where his new movie Queer had just premiered to a standing ovation. Instead, they were on Y/N, who was a few steps behind, adjusting the strap of her dress.

Y/N had been there through it all. The late nights running lines, the exhaustion, the anxiety, and the triumphs. Drew had always been grateful for her, but tonight, seeing her standing there in the soft light, wearing a flowing gown that accentuated her every curve, he felt his heart swell with even more love.

"Do you ever get tired of looking so beautiful?" Drew teased, turning towards her with a grin that melted into a more sincere expression. He held out his hand, and Y/N took it, stepping closer to him.

"If I do, I’ll let you know," Y/N replied, a playful twinkle in her eyes. She squeezed his hand, her touch warm and familiar. "But right now, I’m more interested in getting lost in this city with you."

Drew chuckled, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand. "We’ll have plenty of time for that. The night’s still young. But first, there’s something I want to do."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And what might that be?"

Drew leaned in, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "You’ll see."

With that, he led her down the narrow streets, their footsteps echoing softly on the cobblestones. The festival had brought a buzz to Venice, but Drew knew exactly where to go to avoid the crowds. They wandered through the labyrinth of alleyways, passing under bridges and beside quiet canals. The city had a way of making you feel like you were the only two people in the world, and in that moment, Drew couldn’t have been happier.

Finally, they arrived at a small, secluded square with a single bench overlooking the water. The only sounds were the gentle ripples in the canal and the distant murmur of the festival in the background. Drew guided Y/N to the bench and sat down beside her, the soft fabric of their clothes brushing against each other.

"Drew, this is beautiful," Y/N said softly, her eyes wide as she took in the serene scene.

"I thought you might like it," Drew replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. "But there’s more."

Y/N looked up at him, curiosity and affection shining in her gaze. "What do you mean?"

Drew reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she realized what it was. She turned to him, her eyes searching his, but before she could say anything, Drew opened the box to reveal a delicate ring, the diamond catching the light from the setting sun.

"Y/N," Drew began, his voice low and filled with emotion, "I’ve been trying to find the right words all night, but nothing seems enough. You’ve been with me through everything—my ups, my downs, my fears, and my dreams. You’re my best friend, my biggest supporter, and the love of my life. And I can’t imagine spending another day without you by my side as my wife."

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears, and she covered her mouth with her hand, overwhelmed with emotion. "Drew…"

Drew’s heart pounded in his chest as he continued, "So, here in Venice, a place as timeless and beautiful as you, I’m asking you… Will you marry me?"

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The air was thick with anticipation, the only sound the distant hum of the city and the soft rustle of the wind through the trees. Then, with a tearful laugh, Y/N threw her arms around Drew, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "Yes, Drew, I’ll marry you."

Drew felt a wave of relief and pure joy wash over him as he hugged her back, his eyes closing as he breathed in the moment. When they finally pulled apart, he slipped the ring onto her finger, the perfect fit symbolizing how perfect they were for each other.

They sat there for a while, wrapped up in each other and the beauty of the city around them. Venice had always been known for its romance, and now, it held an even more special place in their hearts.

After a while, Drew broke the silence with a soft chuckle. "You know, when I signed on to do Queer, I thought the most nerve-wracking part would be the premiere. But proposing to you? That was a whole new level."

Y/N laughed, resting her head on his shoulder. "I had no idea you were planning this. You kept it a secret so well."

"I wanted it to be perfect," Drew said, kissing the top of her head. "And seeing the look on your face when I asked… It was worth every bit of the stress."

They both laughed softly, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night. The tension had finally melted away, leaving behind a warm, content feeling.

As the evening continued, they wandered back towards the heart of the city, hand in hand, the ring on Y/N’s finger glinting under the streetlights. They passed other couples, tourists, and locals, all oblivious to the magical moment Drew and Y/N had just shared.

Eventually, they found themselves near the famous Rialto Bridge, where the festival’s afterparty was in full swing. The energy of the crowd was contagious, and Drew couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement as they joined the festivities. But despite the glamour and the flashing lights, all Drew could think about was the woman by his side.

They danced together, swaying to the music with the lights of Venice twinkling around them. Drew’s hands were firm on Y/N’s waist, guiding her gently as they moved in perfect sync. It was as if the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of them in their own private bubble.

"You’re a pretty good dancer," Y/N teased, her voice barely audible over the music.

Drew grinned, dipping her slightly before pulling her back up. "You make it easy."

As they danced, Drew couldn’t help but think about how far they had come. From their first meeting on the set of Outer Banks, to the quiet moments they shared away from the spotlight, to now, standing in the heart of Venice, celebrating not just his career, but the love they had built together. It felt like a dream, but the warmth of Y/N in his arms grounded him in the reality of it all.

As the night wore on, they eventually found themselves sitting on the edge of the canal, their feet dangling over the water. The afterparty had died down, leaving the city quiet and serene once more.

"Drew," Y/N began, her voice soft as she gazed out at the water. "I’ve been thinking… about us, and about everything we’ve been through."

Drew turned to her, his heart skipping a beat. "What is it?"

Y/N looked at him, her eyes reflecting the moonlight. "I know we’ve talked about it before, but now, with the ring and everything, it feels even more real. I want to be with you, Drew. I want to build a life with you, wherever that takes us."

Drew felt a lump form in his throat as he listened to her. "I want that too, Y/N. More than anything."

"But what about the distance?" Y/N continued, her voice wavering slightly. "Your career is taking off, and there’s going to be so much travel, so many commitments… I don’t want us to lose what we have."

Drew took a deep breath, understanding the weight of her words. "Y/N, I’ve thought about that too. And honestly, I’m not going to lie and say it won’t be hard. But I believe we can make it work. We’ve always found a way to be there for each other, no matter what. And now, with this ring, it’s a promise. A promise that I’ll always come back to you, no matter where I go."

Y/N looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of doubt. But all she saw was sincerity and love. "Do you really believe that?"

"I do," Drew said firmly, his hand finding hers and squeezing it gently. "And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure we don’t lose what we have. I love you, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time they were tears of relief and happiness. "I love you too, Drew. So much."

They sat there in silence for a moment, the only sound the gentle lapping of the water against the canal walls. The weight of their conversation hung in the air, but it was a good weight—a reassuring one.

Eventually, Y/N leaned her head on Drew’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body next to hers. They stayed like that for a while, soaking in the quietness of the night, the only witnesses to their love being the ancient buildings of Venice and the stars above.

"Do you remember when we first met?" Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Drew chuckled softly, the memory clear in his mind. "Of course I do. You were the new production assistant on set, and I think I was more nervous to meet you than I was for my first scene that day."

Y/N smiled, recalling the way Drew had stumbled over his words when he first introduced himself. "You were so serious, but I could see the kindness in your eyes. I knew from that moment that you were different."

Drew tilted his head to rest against hers, his voice soft as he spoke. "And I knew, from the moment you smiled at me, that I wanted to get to know you. I didn’t know then that we’d end up here, but I’m so glad we did."

Y/N looked up at him, her heart swelling with affection. "Me too, Drew. Every step of the way has been worth it, even the hard parts."

They fell into a comfortable silence again, the kind that only comes when two people know each other deeply. Drew’s fingers traced lazy patterns on Y/N’s hand as they sat there, both of them content just to be together.

"Can I tell you something?" Drew asked after a while, his voice hesitant.

"Of course," Y/N replied, lifting her head to look at him.

Drew took a deep breath, his expression turning serious. "I was so nervous before the premiere tonight. Not just because of the film, but because I knew I was going to propose. I kept thinking about all the things that could go wrong, how I might mess it up…"

Y/N smiled, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek. "But you didn’t mess it up, Drew. It was perfect. You were perfect."

Drew’s eyes softened as he looked at her, his heart swelling with love. "You make me feel like I can do anything, Y/N. Even when I’m doubting myself, you’re there to remind me that I’m enough. And I want you to know that I’ll always do the same for you."

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears again, but she blinked them back, not wanting to cry anymore tonight. "I know you will, Drew. That’s why I said yes."

Drew smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. It was a gentle, tender kiss, full of the love and promises they had just made to each other. When they pulled back, Drew rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as he breathed in her familiar scent.

"I love you so much, Y/N," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

"I love you too, Drew," Y/N replied, her voice equally soft. "And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

They stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other and savoring the moment. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them and the love they shared.

Eventually, the cool night air began to settle in, and Y/N shivered slightly. Drew noticed and immediately shrugged off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders.

"Thank you," Y/N murmured, snuggling into the warmth of his jacket.

Drew smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Anything for you."

They got up and slowly made their way back to their hotel, the city of Venice quiet and peaceful around them. When they reached their room, Drew held the door open for Y/N, and she walked in, turning to watch as he closed the door behind them.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Drew pulled Y/N into his arms, holding her close. "I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of holding you," he murmured into her hair.

Y/N smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Good, because I’m not planning on letting you go."

They stood there in the middle of the room, holding each other as the reality of the night finally settled in. They were engaged. They were going to spend the rest of their lives together.

"I’m the luckiest man in the world," Drew whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Y/N pulled back slightly to look at him, her eyes shining with love. "And I’m the luckiest woman."

Drew leaned down to kiss her again, this time with more passion, more urgency. The kiss deepened quickly, and before they knew it, they were tangled up in each other, their bodies pressed together as they stumbled toward the bed.

Drew’s hands roamed over Y/N’s body, memorizing every curve, every inch of her. Y/N’s fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer as she kissed him back with just as much fervor.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads pressed together as they tried to catch their breath.

"I love you," Drew said again, his voice filled with so much emotion it made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

"I love you too," Y/N replied, her voice just as breathless.

They spent the rest of the night wrapped up in each other, whispering sweet nothings and making promises for the future. They talked about their wedding, their dreams, and the life they were going to build together. And when they finally fell asleep, it was with their arms around each other, their hearts full of love and contentment.

The next morning, the sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Drew woke up first, his eyes slowly opening to find Y/N still asleep beside him. She looked so peaceful, her hair splayed out on the pillow, her lips slightly parted.

Drew smiled, his heart swelling with love as he watched her. He reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek.

Y/N stirred slightly at his touch, her eyes fluttering open. When she saw Drew watching her, she smiled sleepily, her heart skipping a beat at the look of pure adoration in his eyes.

"Good morning," she whispered, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"Good morning, beautiful," Drew replied, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips.

They stayed in bed for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence and the quiet of the morning. Eventually, they got up and got ready for the day, but the magic of the night before still lingered in the air.

As they walked hand in hand through the streets of Venice, Drew couldn’t help but feel like he was walking on air. Everything felt perfect, from the way the sun warmed his skin to the way Y/N’s hand fit perfectly in his.

They spent the day exploring the city, visiting the famous landmarks and indulging in the local cuisine. But no matter where they went or what they did, Drew’s mind kept drifting back to the fact that Y/N was now his fiancée. The thought filled him with a sense of joy and excitement that he had never felt before.

At one point, they found themselves back at the square where Drew had proposed the night before. They sat down on the same bench, the memory of the proposal still fresh in their minds.

"Last night feels like a dream," Y/N said softly, her eyes reflecting the soft light of the afternoon.

Drew smiled, reaching out to take her hand. "A beautiful dream."

Y/N turned to look at him, her expression serious. "Do you think this will last? This feeling?"

Drew’s smile softened as he looked into her eyes. "I think it will, as long as we keep choosing each other every day. Love isn’t just a feeling, it’s a choice. And I’m choosing you, Y/N. Every day, for the rest of my life."

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion, and she squeezed his hand tightly. "I’m choosing you too, Drew. Always."

They sat there for a while longer, just enjoying the moment and the quiet understanding that had settled between them. They didn’t need to say anything more; their love spoke for itself.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the city, Drew and Y/N made their way back to their hotel, their hearts full of love and contentment. They knew that their journey together was just beginning, and that there would be challenges ahead. But they also knew that as long as they had each other, they could face anything that came their way.

That night, as they lay in bed, their bodies intertwined and their hearts beating in sync, Drew whispered into the darkness, "I can’t wait to marry you."

Y/N smiled, her eyes closed as she drifted off to sleep. "I can’t wait either."

And with that, they both fell asleep, knowing that they had found something truly special in each other. Something that would last a lifetime.

[paulyenvol6]

A Night with the Dragons

Daemon x Rhaenyra x prostitute!reader

Daemon and Rhaenyra are regulary joined by beautiful and young whores in bed to bring new excitement into their marriage. This night it's your turn.

Contains: detailed smut, dub-con (reader is a whore and gets paid for it), oral (f receiving), face sitting, p in v, unprotected sex, touching, kissing, power imbalance, mean!dom Rhaenyra, soft!dom Daemon, angst, crying

Wordcount: ~4.41k

Masterlist

It was a queer scene. The queen sitting with her back against the headboard of her big four poster bed, her legs crossed while her consort stood next to it.

And then there was you. Sitting on the edge of the bed, your back facing the queen as she had commanded you to look at Daemon. He stood tall and his long blonde hair was partly tied in a knot. He wore black tunics and the Targaryen sigil glistened on his chest. He looked fierce but smug. Intimidating but mischievious.

"Undress her," Rhaenyra said with a cold voice and you twitched.

It had been only today in the morrow when a servant of the queen had hasted into the brothel you worked in and ordered Ovlon, your superior to send his finest and prettiest virgins to the queen. Well, an hour later he had decided to bring you and so you hadn't even had time to process this. You had just started to work in the brothel and in fact remained a maiden. Thus far Ovlon had only ordered you to dance and walk for the customers and you had been confused why you weren't sent to a customer but hadn't minded though.

Now you understood. Ovlon himself had just told you that he had wanted to save your maidenhead for a special customer, a lord or a knight. But the queen herself? Ovlon hadn't even expected something like this but was happy to take the sack of gold he received in exchange for you.

Two knights of the queen had taken you through the streets of king's landing and up to the red keep, which you usually only saw from afar. But now the hour had grown late and servants had taken you to the queen's chambers. You had walked with wobbly knees, had felt goosebumps and this heaviness on your chest but knew that it wouldn't make a difference. The queen had paid for you and was free to do with you as she desired. You just hoped she wouldn't mind your shaking heads and your glossy eyes that were caused by the fear in your belly.

Ovlon had put you in your shiniest and most expensive gown and wearing only the thin fabric, you had entered the queen's chambers.

You had spotted the beautiful graceful queen immediately sitting on the bed and a second later your eyes had fallen on her consort, the rogue prince.

"Sit," Rhaenyra had commanded and gestured to the bed. And so you had and were now anxiously awaiting her sharp voice.

Rhaenyra and Daemon had been married for a while now and they had recently realized that to fill their desires the company of the other person wasn't enough. It wasn't fulfilling and their intimacy felt like a duty and so the queen and Daemon had started to experiment. They started to take whores, both female and male into their bed and enjoyed the presence of a third person. It was never more than one though. Rhaenyra felt as if a fourth person would make it an orgy and the queen wouldn't participate in such obscene behaviour. She prefered it anyhow. There was an intimacy and sensuality in having a third person join them.

Rhaenyra had additionally found pleasure in watching her husband deflowering young maidens and so it hadn't happened rarely these past months that young whores had been taken from the finest brothels of the city by hooded men with a lot of gold who were rumoured to be sent by the queen. They didn't give up who sent them and the young girls also wouldn't tell anything afterwards but still word was that the queen enjoyed the company of virgin girls.

That was why you were here now. Because you were a young maid. And Rhaenyra's smile had told you that you were to her liking. The queen had examined you closely by wandering her eyes over your hidden body and was content with the girl that had been brought to the keep. You had amber hair and freckles that covered your nose and cheeks that made you look even more youthful. Your greenish eyes were big with respect and perhaps fear and it satisfied the queen in a twisted way. And then there was your thin figure that had only recently become a woman's body. Your pale skin looked fresh and young and Rhaenyra couldn't wait to see it sullied by her husband's touch.

"Undress her, love," Rhaenyra spoke loudly but softly and your pupils dilated.

Now you didn't have a choice but to look at the rogue prince and your eyes met. You tried to read his expression, figure out whether he would be kind to you or not but you couldn't. His eyes were cold and yet he didn't look angry or aggressive. The uncertainty scared you though and you felt your eyes getting wet.

Daemon obeyed his wife and slowly approached you.

"Stand up," his voice cut through the air and so you did.

He was a lot taller than you and suddenly you felt very small and vulnerable in front of the man. With a movement of his hand he quickly turned you around so you were facing the queen while her husband's hands started to unlace your dress.

Rhaenyra's eyes found yours and she looked satisfied as her lips were drawn into a smile. She watched each of your flinches and twitches when Daemon's cold rings brushed over your skin and when the cool air hit your body. She watched the way you gulped and how you toyed with your fingers and then you were bare and felt so exposed in front of the queen and Daemon that you had problems breathing due to your panic.

"Pretty," Rhaenyra whispered and her eyes stopped at your upper body. She relaxed on the bed and thoughtfully put a finger to her lip.

"Touch her, Daemon."

"As my queen commands."

And without giving you time to process you felt the king consort run a hand over the side of your body. It was soft despite what you had expected and you inhaled deeply.

"No reason to be scared, little one," he additionally whispered against you ear and you closed your eyes, torn apart between feeling scared and trusting him. You simply couldn't allow yourself to trust him because what if he would be cruel to you?

Now his rough looking hands wandered to your belly and you stayed stiff like a board depite the tingling feeling. You glanced up to the ceiling but Rhaenyra cleared her throat.

"You'll watch me, little whore."

You couldn't help but let out a small whimper as your eyes met hers again because she scared you so much. The queen looked so cold and merciless.

"It's alright, sweet girl," Daemon whispered against your neck while pressing kisses to your skin now and then.

"We won't hurt you," he said.

"Too much," Rhaenyra added while chewing on her buttom lip.

"Rhaenyra," the prince called with lifted eyebrows though you couldn't see it.

"What?" she asked sharply.

"Don't be too rough on her. She's young and a maid. You're scaring her."

Hope welled in your stomach and suddenly you felt a little more secure standing against Daemon's chest. Mayhaps he was kind after all. Mayhaps he would protect you from the queen.

But she seemingly wasn't content with her husband's complaint because her eyes narrowed and she clenched her fists.

"I'll do as I wish. She's here to please me. I don't care if she's scared, I paid for her and so I'll do with her as I like."

You heard a little sigh behind you and then a hand on your bare shoulder which made you flinch.

"I know. I know that you can do as you like. I'm just asking you to have empathy."

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes and looked bitter as she folded her hands in her lap.

"Touch her," she then ordered again and Daemon's hands wandered back to your belly.

After a while though they wandered up to under the swell of your breasts. You took each of these movements as you were supposed to, quiet, without a complaint and without resisting. You didn't hate it because the prince had seemed kind this far so you weren't on the verge of crying anymore.

Daemon's hands toyed with your breats and nipples which made you breathe faster after a while. He took your nipples between his fingers and rolled and teased them. Then Rhaenyra got off the bed and immediately there was this fear inside of you again that made you widen your eyes. But to your surprise the queen just approached you and kissed you. One of her hands caressed the side of your head and her lips felt soft on yours. Then she pulled back and licked over her lips.

"Tastes good."

With these words the queen let go of your head as well and you felt Daemon's hand on your waist. He kissed you behind your ear and his thumb drew circles on your heated skin.

"Get on the bed, the both of you," Rhaenyra said crawling on the bed herself.

She adjusted the cushions and then sank down with her blonde hair spread out beneath her. Rhaenyra lifted her skirts and ruffled them around her waist.

"You'll pleasure me with your mouth, whore. And you'll better do it well. Daemon, come here, perhaps I can give you a hand so you'll be hard enough to fuck her."

You bowed your head and went to the bed feeling your knees almost give in. Slowly you got on the bed while Rhaenyra spread her legs so you could lay between them. She had a smug look on her face and her crooked smile made your stomach turn. But just when you were about to lower your head to do your duty, Daemon turned both you and the queen's attention to him.

"Rhaenyra," he said and his wife's gaze left you to watch Daemon with raised eyebrows.

"What?" she asked sounding bored.

"Please let me prepare her. She'll be in much pain if I take her like this. I don't think she's very wet yet so let me pleasure her with my mouth. I don't want to tear her apart with my cock."

Daemon begged her with his eyes and at the same time felt worried. Rhaenyra wasn't a terrible person and usually she wasn't so cruel to the whores they brought into their bed. But perhaps her coldness was caused by the recent political events in the seven kingdoms and the danger posed by her half – brother Aegon. He wasn't particulary the person to read his wife very well but he thought that she might feel powerless and frustrated and wanted to take it out on someone. But the rogue prince just felt like you didn't deserve it so he hoped his wife would grant him this wish.

She wrinkled her nose.

"Hmm," she made and her eyes were small.

"Fine," Rhaenyra then hissed. "Go on. Eat that slut's cunt. Pray that she doesn't taste rotten."

You had watched the scene with big eyes and now were dragged forwards by Rhaenyra.

"I'll sit on your face, whore. I don't want any complaints or resistance, understood?"

Quickly you nodded though your face had gotten pale. You were simply scared of what was going to happen now but didn't fight when you laid on your back glaring at the ceiling until Rhaenyra, now undressed as well, hovered over you. You didn't know what to expect and your heart beat like thunder as she lowered herself. In that moment you felt a hand soothing your thigh and knew that it was Daemon though you couldn't look down.

Rhaenyra's cunt was right above your face and you carefully moved your tongue to lick over her slit. She tasted salty and a little sweet. You had never licked a woman's cunt before nor had you had someone pleasure you. So you were anxious, didn't know what to do and scared you would disappoint the queen.

In the meantime Daemon had parted your legs and layed between them. He quickly glanced at your cunt and actually saw that you were dry as a desert down there. He knew that this would have to get changed if Rhaenyra wanted him to fuck her so he rested himself on his elbows and licked from your hole up to your little nub. His tongue felt warm and wet on you and you felt shivers run down your spine. It wasn't unpleasant and yet you couldn't really understand what was going on and how to classify all of this.

Now you felt Daemon's tongue traveling further up until it met with your pearl and you gasped for air. You buckled your hips in ecstasy but the prince held you down with his hands on your hips and you wouldn't have been able to move anyhow with Rhaenyra sitting on your face.

Speaking of her, the queen had started to slowly rock her core against your mouth and slowly you started to figure out how to best please her. You stuck your tongue out and the queen moved against it in order to stimulate her pearl. It left you breathless sometimes because not a lot of air was entering your lungs but based on Rhaenyra's little moans you could tell that she seemed content.

Your shortness of breath was probably also caused by Daemon because he was so skilled with his tongue that shortly after you began to see stars. Your hands had grabbed the bedsheets and by now the prince's goal had been achieved because you were dripping. And yet he didn't stop but devoured your cunt and wet noises filled the silence of the room. Your pleasure enhanced with every flick of his tongue, every circle around your nub, but then it stopped because Rhaenyra had come into your mouth. She had grinded against your face, then collapsed on top of you and then told Daemon to stop. The queen climbed off you and exhaled satisfied.

Her husband unwillingly lifted his face from between your legs and smirked as he saw the flushness on your skin. Daemon stroke the softness of your thighs and watched your glossy eyes with a mixture of desire and care. Of course he wated you but he didn't want to hurt you and feared what Rhaenyra might ask of him.

The queen had taken a second to calm herself from her high and then forcefully grabbed your chin. With wide eyes, rounded with fear you stared at her while her fingers painfully dug into your skin.

"You're a good little whore, aren't you?" she started.

"Please," you whined, unknowing why you said it because you knew it wouldn't change anything.

But you were in pain and wanted her to stop. In response the queen slapped you across the face. Not too hard but hard enough for you to whimper.

"Shut up. You'll talk when I ask you to."

Her hand remained tightly around your chin and you squinted your eyes.

"I think you're a dirty little slut who needs a good and hard fucking so you'll be reminded of your manners."

Another smack landed on your cheek.

"I think you need it rough," she then hissed. "And my husband will do just that, little whore. He'll take your virgin cunt and believe me I don't care how much you'll cry or scream, I'll tell him to keep going until you're nothing but a filthy tight hole to dump his seed into."

That was too much for you because tears started to roll down your face and wettened your cheeks. Daemon had watched the scene worrying about you and now couldn't stay silent any longer. He approached the two of you with fast steps and put a hand on Rhaenyra's shoulder.

"Rhaenyra. Enough."

"Shut up, Daemon," she commanded but he didn't let go.

"There is no need to scare her like that. Please. I'm serious, let go off her."

The queen gave you a last disdainful look but then pulled back and your head fell down.

"You've grown soft over the past years, husband."

Daemon shook his head and his expression remained somehow sad. Rhaenyra didn't care about his reply or reaction but took her seat by the headboard of the bed.

"Get here, whore," she ordered sounding strangely happy.

Still sobbing you obeyed her and crawled towards her. Once you were in front of her, she gestured you to turn around so your back was facing her front. Rhaenyra grabbed the side of your neck and came close to your ear with her mouth.

"You're gonna get fucked now, girl," she whispered. "My advice for you is to relax. And try not to squirm. Daemon doesn't like that."

Your lower lip trembled and you had to surpress the little whine threatening to leave your mouth. The queen's words had left you uncertain because you had thought that Daemon would be kind to you and now she warned you not to upset him? Your eyes fluttered while looking down to your interwined fingers in your lap.

You heard Daemon take off his clothes but couldn't bring yourself to look at him. Then you felt Rhaenyra yank your head back until your head laid in her lap. Again, you felt tears filling your eyes and tried to blink them away. Did they have a problem with crying as well?

The queen soothingly caressed your hair but you thought that the warmth in her eyes wasn't authentic. She watched you closely but then as Daemon got on the bed her eyes wandered to him.

"You'll take her nice and hard. I want to see her crying."

Your hands were shaking and you wished you could sink into the stoney ground beneath you. You couldn't see the prince's reaction but he seemed to have stopped moving towards you.

"I will not actively hurt her, wife," he hissed with grinded teeth.

Rhaenyra shut her eyes. "And if your queen commands you to…?"

Fear controlled your senses as you waited for Daemon's answer. But it didn't come. Instead he gently spreaded your legs and moved to lay between them. You expected another of Rhaenyra's commands or for him to move his cock to your hole so your pupils flared when you felt his finger entering your cunt.

"Daemon…," the queen growled quietly.

"Let me fucking prepare her, Rhaenyra," Daemon loudly spoke. "Why would you want to be cruel to her?"

As she didn't answer her husband Daemon took it as a sign to continue and you felt his finger thrust into your cunt. You were tight, incredbly tight and the prince was glad and relieved in that moment that he hadn't just started to fuck your cunt. Soon he added a second finger and your mouth formed an 'O'. It wasn't like it stimulated you half as well as his tongue on your pearl and yet it added to the slickness between your legs. The third finger brought you some discomfort though and you feared what it would be like to have his cock inside of you. It wouldn't take long for you to find out because now Rhaenyra, who had previously stroke your head, cleared her throat.

"Do it now, Daemon. I have granted you this wish and now you'll obey your queen's orders."

And the prince nodded and wrapped a hand around his hard member. You felt him run its tip through your folds to collect as much wetness as possible and then he circled your clenched hole.

"Relax, little girl," he whispered against your cheek. "Breathe in and then out. I promise you I'll be as gentle as possible."

His words calmed you a bit and you inhaled deeply. He pushed inside of you when you exhaled and there was a sting in your core. It burned and you whimpered. Daemon didn't move inside of you yet but gave you time to adjust while caressing the side of your face and removing all the tears falling down.

"Shhh," he made. "It's alright, the pain will vanish soon."

You didn't have the capacity or energy to watch the queen and whether she was angry with the treatment you got and instead concentrated on breathing and not clenching around him. Daemon saw that she remained sour though. Her lips were stiffly pressed together, her eyes small and a frown was visible between her eyebrows. And yet she waited and didn't speak up. After a few minutes Daemon searchingly watched your face for any signs of pain and then toyed with a strand of hair that had fallen into your face.

Your head was still resting in the queen's lap so you could look at the prince without lifting your head.

"Are you well, sweetling?" he asked and you nodded but couldn't surpress a hiccup.

"Just breathe and try to relax," he adviced you again and then he pulled himself out of you only to push back in.

It hurt but this time it was better and yet you dug your teeth into your bottom lip to surpress your cries.

"Good," you heard Rhaenyra hiss.

Suddenly, without a warning she took hold of your wrists and held them above your head while caressing your neck. You were helpless, completely at their will as Daemon thrusted inside your fluttering hole again and again. The queen watched you with lustful eyes and leaned down to kiss your lips upside down.

"Give your queen a kiss," she then said to Daemon after lifting herself again and you saw them connect their lips above you.

Then Rhaenyra looked down to you again, moved her hands between Daemon and your body to cup your breasts and you flinched at a particular sharp thrust.

"Go faster," she ordered her husband.

And so his movement became deeper and more forceful and your body was rubbed against the bedsheets. You tried to catch your breath but didn't stand a chance, especially not when Daemon reached out to where your bodies connected and started circling your pearl. You trembled and whinced, shifted your hips but then got pinned down by Daemon's heavy figure.

"Keep still, little girl," he breathed not loud enough for Rhaenyra to understand but you heard him clearly. "Everything will be fine. I just want to make you come. I promise you, it's not gonna hurt."

But how were you supposed to trust him? Yes, he had been kind to you but he was still the queen's husband and it was obvious that she didn't care about your well-being. What if the prince had simply mocked you all this time and was as cruel as his wife deep inside?

You winked a few times and then slowly started to relax underneath Daemon. His touch on your pearl felt so good that you somehow forgot everything else. You didn't notice Rhaenyra's hands on your breasts and belly anymore, forgot that your head laid in her lap and only felt Daemon's hand rubbing fast and tight circles around your nub. The prince was delighted to see the pleasure in your face and contendly kissed your naked shoulder.

"Let go, sweet girl. Don't worry, it's gonna feel good."

You felt the blood in your veins throb and you let out little moans and whimpers. And then the knot in your belly contracted and waves of pleasure washed over your body. You arched and clenched around Daemon which stimulated his cock so well that he came shortly after you. It felt overwhelming feeling his seed shoot inside of you but you stayed still and obediently let him fill you.

Daemon had collapsed and rested with half of his body on top of you. After a while you felt strong enough to open your eyes again and glared at the ceiling. You didn't immediately notice Rhaenyra, who had laid back against the headboard again but after a few more minutes the queen roughly removed your head from her lap and got off the bed. It made Daemon open his eyes as well and he slowly crawled to lay next to you. Sweat was covering his forehead and he looked nearly as exhausted as you felt. He still had the power to sit up though and exhaled loudly.

"Remove her from my chambers, Daemon," Rhaenyra ordered with her loud voice that made you feel stitches of fear in your heart but the rogue prince rolled his eyes.

"It's the hour of the owl, where is she supposed to sleep?"

His wife shrugged and indifferently crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"I do not care, my dear. I just want to have my peace while I sleep and not share my space with some dirty whore."

She looked at Daemon as though she was waiting for an answer but the prince ignored her and put his clothes back on without looking at Rhaenyra or you. Once he was done he stood in the room, thinking for a moment and then turned to you.

"Come. I'll bring you to my room."

Rhaenyra laughed coldly and pushed herself away from the wall she had leaned against.

"This is a joke."

"No it's not. I will not see you throwing her out of the keep so she has to sleep in a stable. She can spend the night in my chambers and then she'll be accompanied back in the city in the morrow."

You uncertainly looked between the queen and her consort with big eyes not sure whether to say something or not. You truthfully didn't mind sleeping in the stable if it was what it took to get away from Rhaenyra and her cold mean eyes. But you trusted the rogue prince and felt a warm feeling in your belly watching him defend you.

In the end Daemon managed to enforce his will and you left the queen's chambers with him at your side. He guided you to his rooms where he let you sleep in his big bed with silk blankets that were softer than anything you had ever touched. He even offered to sleep on the sofa but you quickly had shaken your head feeling overwhelmed. He was the king consort and you were a whore. How could he even suggest something like this?

And so you laid next to Daemon with your eyes on the ceiling above and the queen far away in her chambers.

[moons-and-mobility-aids]

When Sirius Fell In Love

Pairings: Pre-poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: Sirius realises he's falling for you. Tags: disabled!reader, fem!reader, wheelchair user at hogwarts, depictions of chronic illness, developing crush, sirius catches feelings and panics about it, slow burn beginnings, remus and reader have that deep understanding kind of friendship, sirius watches you more than he means to, no use of y/n, sirius pov, emotional intimacy observed not enacted, flirting adjacent but neither of you know it yet, internal conflict as character development, reader is soft but sharp, budding marauders x reader dynamic, accidental tenderness, queer confusion Word count: 1.1k words Meant To Be Masterlist

He first notices it in Charms.

The morning sun is streaming in through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the classroom. The light catches on your hair as you lean down to write, each strand shimmering like spun gold. Seated two rows behind, Sirius watches the scene unfold, his attention drawn away from the lecture and towards you.

Professor Flitwick is at the front of the class, perched atop a stack of books, his high-pitched voice filling the room with lessons on the Cheering Charm. But Sirius is otherwise occupied, studying you instead. Your muggle pen moves across the parchment in slow, hesitant strokes, so different from the confident scribbles of your classmates. It's one of those little things about you that he's begun to notice—tiny details that had always been there but had somehow escaped his attention until now.

James nudges his side with an elbow, and Sirius starts, blinking back to awareness. "Oi, you still with us, Black?" James teases, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You've been staring into nothing for five minutes straight."

"Just thinking," Sirius mumbles, the words barely audible as he shakes off the lingering tendrils of his thoughts. He straightens up, trying to focus on the lesson before them, but his eyes keep wandering back to you—this enigma, this anomaly in his otherwise predictable world.

You're not like anyone Sirius has ever known, and it's not just because you're disabled. No, there's something more, something indefinable that sets you apart. You don't fall into any neat categories in his mind—you're not brash and boisterous like James, nor are you reserved and studious like Remus. Yet somehow, you fit right in with them, a puzzle piece clicking into place within their dynamic.

Though you've been friends with Remus for much longer, it's only this year that you've started spending time with Sirius and James too. At first, Sirius wasn't sure what to make of you—you were nothing like the other girls who trailed after him, their giggles as light as their resolve. You were different; your wit was sharp, your smile was reserved for those who earned it, and you didn't shy away from challenging Sirius when he stepped out of line.

And then there's the way you speak to Remus—with an understanding so deep it feels like you can see through the walls he’s built around himself. You talk about things that matter, about fears and dreams, hopes and disappointments. It's a language foreign to Sirius, one that scares him even as it draws him in.

"Sirius, are you even listening?" James snaps his fingers in front of Sirius's face, pulling him back from the edges of his thoughts. "You've been staring at that parchment for ages."

"Shut up, Potter," Sirius mutters, pretending to scribble something down. But his mind is elsewhere, replaying the scene by the lake last week when you sat with Remus, talking animatedly about some muggle book you'd both read. James had been trying to lure the giant squid with bits of toast, and Sirius, for once, was watching someone other than himself. He watched you—the way your eyes sparkled with excitement, how your laughter danced on the breeze, how your entire being seemed to glow when you smiled. And something shifted inside him, something he couldn’t quite grasp.

As he watches you from across the room during Charms, Sirius feels it again—that strange warmth that stirs in his chest whenever he sees you. He doesn't know what to do with this unfamiliar sensation, nor does he understand it. All he knows is that it's new, it's different, and he's not sure if he likes it.

"Concentrate, Black," he mutters under his breath, willing himself to focus on the spell Professor Flitwick is demonstrating. But the pull is too strong, the curiosity too great, and his eyes keep drifting back to you.

After class, you roll your chair next to Remus as you both head to the library, immersed in a discussion about the day's lesson. James and Sirius follow at a distance, their conversation a low hum behind you. Yet every so often, Sirius's gaze lingers on your retreating form, drawn to the graceful way you navigate the crowded corridors, the effortless manner in which you steer your chair. He's noticed how others occasionally steal glances at you, whispering behind hands, but you never falter. There's a quiet strength in your resilience, and against his better judgment, Sirius finds himself admiring it.

“Are you coming to the pitch later?" James asks, draping an arm over Sirius's shoulders.

"Hm?" Sirius blinks, his eyes finally leaving you.

"Quidditch practice," James prompts, one eyebrow lifting in mild concern. "You seem a bit...distracted."

"I'm fine." The words tumble out of Sirius too quickly, too sharply. "Yeah, I'll be there."

When they reach the library, Remus peels off towards the stacks, leaving you alone with Sirius and James at a worn oak table. You pull your notes from your bag, parchment rustling against the silence. Sirius watches as you adjust in your chair, finding just the right angle before leaning over your work. James launches into Quidditch talk immediately, but Sirius's attention strays once more.

You glance up from your parchment, meeting his gaze with a small smile. "Something on your mind, Black? You're quieter than usual."

Sirius's lips part, but for once, no smooth retort or joke comes forth. It's a strange sensation—this sudden knot in his stomach, the dryness of his throat. He's never been nervous around you before, why should he start now? Yet there it is, an undeniable flutter in his chest that quickens his heartbeat and dampens his palms.

"Nothing," he says abruptly, breaking eye contact. His gaze flits to a spot just over your shoulder, anywhere but those searching eyes. "I'm just... tired, I suppose."

Your quill hovers mid-air as you study him, head tilting slightly to one side. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he says, and he tries to make it sound like a joke, like everything else. "I'm always sure."

But he's not—not about this. Not when it comes to feelings that are as foreign as they are terrifying, creeping in like shadows at dusk until they consume him completely.

The quill scratches against the paper as you resume your homework, unaware of the storm brewing within Sirius. A warmth spreads through his chest, unfamiliar yet oddly comforting. It unsettles him, this strange sensation, but he doesn't push it away. Instead, he lets it linger, filling the hollow spaces with something akin to hope.

He can't quite grasp what this means, not yet. But as he watches you write, your brow furrowed in concentration, and listens to James prattling on about Quidditch plays, one thing becomes clear to Sirius Black:

He’s falling for you. And it terrifies him.

[aettuddae]

business matter — chapter 125.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

masterlist | prev | next

[written chapter]

ryujin and serim were lying on the older woman's bed, both at extremely opposite ends, as far apart as possible. ryujin had half her body slumped towards the floor, but she would never have moved an inch closer to her best friend's woman. both pairs of eyes staring at the ceiling, in a room in almost total darkness if it weren't for a colored light that serim turned on for her phobia, and not a word filling the air. serim's foot kept tapping the air repeatedly because of the discomfort and anxiety of the situation.

the hours passed and they tried to sleep, but there was such tension and thoughts flitting around in their heads that they were not allowed to. something about the situation was not right, and no one can sleep when something is not right.

"are there any habits you have when sleeping that you want to do to make yourself more comfortable?" dared jang to vocalize from her extreme.

"i usually have a stuffed animal to cuddle with." commented ryujin with a thread of a voice. "but the truth is that today i was hoping to sleep cuddling a beautiful woman." honesty charged her words, making what she was referring to very clear.

"but i am a beautiful woman." for a moment she completely forgot about the previous situation, offense clear in her tone.

"yes, you are a beautiful woman, serim." she admitted defeatedly, bringing her hand up to her forehead to squeeze between her brows. "but i want to sleep cuddling with yeji." she admitted.

"you can sleep with yeji every day, but you can only sleep with me this one time." she pointed defensively.

"since when do you want to sleep holding me?" she questioned quickly, tired.

"i don't want us to sleep cuddled, but i can't believe someone has the chance to sleep with me and doesn't take it." she explained haughtily, arranging her hair even when she could barely be seen by the girl.

"serim, focus." she threw her body more towards the center of the bed to manage to reach the opposite one and tap her on the shoulder.

"i'm sorry." she spoke regretfully. "it's hard for me to think of only one thing at a time."

"listen." she ordered decisively. "you have to sleep with jimin."

as hard as it seemed to believe, ryujin wasn't thinking about her manhwa. even her manhwa wasn't as important as yeji at that moment.

"don't even think about it." she flatly refused, raising her upper body quickly, erect, giving the younger girl a mortifying look.

"please." she got down on her knees over the bed. "this is my chance to sleep with the girl i like." she grabbed the older one by her t-shirt, shaking her lightly. "i know you and jimin are going through a marriage crisis-"

"marriage?" she exclaimed.

"basically." she confirmed. "but i need you to stand her for just one night and let me sleep in the arms of a beautiful cat-eyed gemini."

she threw herself forward, leaning her forehead on jang's shoulder and pretending to cry from despair as she continued to mumble pleas.

serim had been a queer girl for as long as she could remember, and even though she had a hard time dealing with her feelings, she was a romantic. many times she would have begged for the chance to sleep next to someone she was attracted to, or just to be alone with her. she was moved, she felt as part of the situation, she might have to deal with her greatest nemesis and yet she couldn't refuse to help a woman be happy with another one.

fucking sagittarian victim of the sense of community and the need to fight for a movement,

or fucking hopeless romantic.

"go." she averted her gaze to the floor of her room, dejected.

"what?" ryujin raised her head with speed to look at her expectantly to see if she had heard correctly.

"go." she reiterated louder. "but tell jimin to get lost on the way." she joked, though not quite as much.

"i can't tell her that." she warned as she got out of bed. "it's because of plot issues."

"of what?" she looked at her in confusion as ryujin walked away.

"it's for the plot." she repeated walking out of the room almost running.

after a couple of minutes the door opened with strength and from behind it jumped jimin who came almost striding towards serim's room, to lash this one behind her back once inside.

"ryujin said you wanted me to come sleep with you!" she made an almost olympic leap towards the mattress, remaining kneeling next to serim, looking at her with eyes full of illusion waiting for her to confirm ryujin's side.

"i never said that." confessed serim, causing jimin's expression to drop to one of disbelief.

"disappointed, but not surprised." she said.

"she must have said it so yeji wouldn't suspect she begged me so she could go sleep with her." the oldest added.

"oh, so i'm here just for ryujin?" she asked in a low volume as she tucked in the sheets.

"what can i say?" she said seriously, confirming the girl's doubt.

now the taste in their mouths was sour. when ryujin told her to go sleep with serim, jimin already knew not to expect anything since the woman was still angry, but she couldn't help it. the thought that maybe she couldn't resist having her so close and not being right next to her invaded her brain and wouldn't let her find clarity until serim reminded her that it wasn't so. in fact, jang was in a bad mood since she didn't want to share a bed with her.

they both had the realization that it would be best to pretend the other wasn't there and sleep, hoping that time and grief would fly away without them noticing, thus waking up in the morning with no more pain to bear or resolve.

but if it had been difficult to fall asleep next to ryujin, for serim it would be even more complex having a few centimeters away a woman who usually without even being there already kept her awake during the nights. she could feel her perfume from her place.

no one talks about the willpower you need to resist the perfume of the one you love.

serim was losing her patience and composure, if she got into a certain position she could feel her there, her presence, her scent and the pungent idea that if she stretched out her arm she could touch her soft porcelain skin. if she settled on the other side she would become impatient thinking that maybe she was looking at her and longing for her in the same way, only to immediately block it out by telling herself that this was impossible, and the doubt kept her brain active. she couldn't stop moving around trying to find a place on the mattress where she could lose consciousness in peace without feeling intoxicated by yu jimin.

"namu." called the younger girl gently, but only got as an answer another abrupt rotation of serim's body still searching for comfort. "namu." she said again louder.

"what?" her voice sounded bitter, because of the bad taste in her mouth from not being able to sleep and having the dancer next to her.

"are you okay?" she inquired with concern.

serim gave a long sigh, closing her eyes in an attempt to calm down a bit all the negative emotions she was feeling. "yes, i'm fine." she assured, but she sounded stressed.

"you can't sleep?" she turned her head to look at what was visible of jang's profile in the dim light.

"no, i can't."

"do you want me to help you?" she offered.

"what could you help me with?" she asked wryly, assuming it was an idea with no possible outcome.

"i don't know." she said, her voice weak. "i know you like me to play with your hair until you fall asleep, i could do that." she proposed, in her voice you could hear she was smiling slightly.

"no." she coldly declined.

"anything else?" sounding vulnerable again.

"jimin." she took a breath. "you can't help me solve the problem because the problem is you." admitted.

there was a silence that took over the room, but it didn't become uncomfortable. they could have tried to sleep in that silence and it would have been fine, but they both had a bad habit of not knowing when to let things go.

"i know that." commented the younger one. "but maybe i can still do something for you." she thought. "would you be better off if i lay down in the sleeping bag?" she suggested.

"as mad as i am at you i wouldn't let you sleep on the floor." she refused. "i can use it."

"you're crazy if you think i would let you sleep on the bag." jimin held serim by her arm in case she thought about standing up.

"just forget it." she removed her limp from the girl's grip. "the problem is that you're here and i don't want you to be here." she acknowledged sullenly. "i couldn't sleep when ryujin was around, less i'll be able to with you." she complied.

"but you've shared a bed with me before." she reminisced.

"that was before you screwed things up." jang scorned.

"are you seriously telling me you're not comfortable sleeping next to the one you love?" she ignored her comment.

"i'm just saying that even ryujin i would trust more than you."

serim fixed her pillow, ending the conversation. even if she had implied that she couldn't give herself to morpheus, she still closed her eyes so as not to let jimin continue talking. but after a moment of being still her own body was bothering her again, and she tried to cover herself with the blanket, remove it, raise and lower her legs, tilt the pillow to different sides, but nothing was working.

her eyes remained sightless and with all the chaos she was generating, she hadn't heard when jimin slid across the bed until she reached her, it was only when she felt her hands holding her head that she realized she was there. her body rested against hers, while with one hand she made room to slip her full arm behind her neck and hold her in her embrace with it, while with the other she ran her fingers through her locks of hair.

serim over time had learned that jimin would never listen to her, but sometimes it didn't even bother her. it felt good, her body heat felt good. her cuddling, her touch, the feeling of her lips resting on her forehead, her breath crashing against her. jimin always felt too good. she didn't feel the need to seek comfort in any other way, perhaps because she couldn't think of anything else but the woman around her.

was she so pathetic? once she came into contact with jimin she couldn't push her away? was she all talk?

even more humiliating was when jimin began to leave kisses on her temple, gently, carefully as if she were made of glass. her lips leaving short caresses as they moved across her face, serim's forehead, cheeks, nose, even kissing her eyelids that lay closed still, no longer trying to sleep, but enjoying the contact.

at no time did they intend to approach her mouth, but it's not like serim had time to think anything about it, to complain or thank her, because something much more daring was happening on her neck that was being soaked by the saliva of the younger girl. the kisses were still subtle, but they were spreading naughtily from her collarbone to her jaw, who just responded by putting her hand on jimin's waist, squeezing it.

for a moment she had to force herself to wake up from the trance she had entered so she could use her head and remember why she was so angry at karina.

was there anything, really, that yu jimin had done right?

serim gathered strength and increased the force she had on her waist, pushing the girl away from her arms.

she rolled over on her body, lying on her stomach, her forearms pressed against the blanket and her face sunk into them to cover herself from the mixture of embarrassment and annoyance she felt, catching her breath, coming back to herself.

"i'm sorry." karina spoke first.

"do you just want me for sex?" she lifted her face, looking at her uneasily.

"no, my namu." she approached her gently. "i just don't know how to behave around you." she rested her palm on the back of serim's neck, as they looked into each other's eyes with a very short distance between them. "i like you too much." she put strength where she was holding, making serim, who didn't resist much, lean into her. "i don't get to be around you without wanting to kiss you." jimin laid on her back and guided jang to lie on top of her, the woman's head resting on yu's chest.

jimin was the oldest's achilles heel. when she found herself in these situations where she couldn't fight her desires, she wondered if she ever behaved this way for other people, but not even when she broke up with her ex-girlfriend yeeun, for whom she suffered deeply, did she allow herself to succumb to her in this way. which led her to think about what was so special about the person under her at that moment that made her so vital to her, and she would always bump into herself finding endless reasons why there was no other like karina.

serim left a few kisses on the youngest's skin, unable to hold back her need to adore her, but immediately being hit again by the wave of reality that had come to her earlier and was still lurking around them. "you can't do whatever you want with me." she flung herself to the side falling face up, right next to jimin, but not touching her.

"i know, it won't happen again." she flipped her body over, lying on her side, over her arm, facing serim. "i just want to show you how much i care for you." she whispered.

jimin molded herself to serim, closing the distance that kept their skins from touching. she brought her hand to her cheek to caress her there, her chin on her shoulder, her breath colliding with her neck, and to the surprise of neither, jang was unable to resist. as she did this, her leg snaked up the vocalist's, gently, until her knee dropped over her belly and the rest she wrapped around the woman.

she knew what she was doing.

serim's eyes fell to the intruding limb above her waist and she had to take in an embarrassing amount of air, she was moving without realizing it, out of complete inertia, and her palm wrapped around karina's thigh tightly, squeezing, clawing and considering forgetting all the reasons why she was angry, as the milky skin scraping so stubbornly over her stomach and the warm breathing on her neck seemed to be stronger than she was.

"you know, in situations like this..." began jang. "i have to think about my mom."

"what?" karina blurted out suddenly, stunned.

"i can't get engage in sexually implicit situations while thinking about my dear mother." she used the arm that was between them to pull her off.

well, that had really killed the mood.

"are you seriously thinking about your mom?" she wasn't able to believe her ears.

"i have to fight you somehow." she started to shift until she was far enough away from jimin.

"but why should you fight me?" she questioned in exasperation. "just accept that you need me as i need you." she pleaded.

"why do i have to avoid falling for you again?" she reiterated angrily. "why did you have to be a piece of shit to me?" she countered.

"god, serim." she rubbed her face uneasily. "you're complicated too." she pleaded.

"me? what did i do so wrong?" she pressed her index finger to her own chest. "i might have treated you badly before, but since i know i have feelings for you i've done nothing but let it be clear and long for you to feel the same." tiredly, she began to let the things she was thinking come out. "you knew that i love you and yet you play with my emotions, you wouldn't fight for me, you can't even admit that you feel the same and you even kissed another girl." she listed, absorbed in her emotions.

"i didn't kiss that girl!" she defended herself. "i already told you that i stopped before and only confessed it to you so you would realize that i can't and won't get you out of my head." she tried to keep her voice low so no one would hear them arguing, but she was too overcome by the chaos inside her. "and i'm trying to make it up to you for the rest." she dropped her head, defeated.

serim didn't answer anything, the words wouldn't come out nor could she find ones she wanted to say. the reality was that it wasn't the time to talk about the things that bothered them when all their friends were sleeping in the rooms next door, though they never seemed to find the time to properly communicate in other instances. she gave her one last annoyed look and turned her back to her, laying down on her side and covering herself up, ready to sleep.

jimin watched her for a moment, dumbfounded by the exchange they had and even more so by how serim had chosen to cut the conversation short to simply go to sleep. she thought about how she should act, but couldn't find it in herself to dispel the thought that invaded her mind. "can i hug you?"

"do whatever the fuck you want." she replied curtly.

karina moved to her, letting her body fall just behind, resting her front against her back, her face in the crook of her neck and with her arm around her torso. her hand groped the space where it fell until it found serim's, and then wrapped her palm around her thumb.

"rest well." she said low in her ear. "i adore you."

"oh, fuck you." she replied without moving.

"jimin." she called her.

"yes, my namu?" the younger gave her a look that mixed tenderness and heaviness because of what they had discussed the night before.

"you know you can't solve everything by bringing me breakfast and having your manager pick me up from work, right?" she asked sincerely.

"i'm trying." she said again for the thousandth time. "give me more time and opportunities, please, and i'll show you how much i care about you."

serim said nothing in response and just lowered her gaze to the food.

[n3kk1tty]

Beasts of Santa Carla

This chapter contains NSFW material.

This story includes a lot of original characters. Photos of characters and favorite scenes will be drawn. You can find their photos on the masters list along with the prologue and past chapters.

( Masterlist )

Original Characters in Chapter: Lamia, Veve, Volk, Puck

(Beasts of Santa Carla is a AU of the Lost Boys. It involves adult themes, poly relationships, and is definitely not made for the underaged. If you don't like poly content, queer representation, shipping of the boys together or heavy sexual themes and violence. This story is not meant for you and that's okay. This story is made solely for my own enjoyment and anyone else who's along for the ride. )

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 4

After the run in with the terror twins at fight club you were surprised what seemed to greet you when you made it home that night. Your aunt was standing in the door of the kitchen taking a drag from her pipe as you sauntered in through the back door with a stack of tips. You were half expecting her to kick your ass for being at fight club but instead she took a seat at the kitchen island before motioning you softly to her. You cautiously step towards her before she gently scoops you into a hug. “I’m so sorry little one. I would have never assigned you this job if I knew it would put you at risk of harassment. If you want you can stop this assignment and the council can choose another person for the job.”

You pull away from your aunt looking into her eyes as they softly gaze back, fear laced on her form. It feels like your world stops. You could stop going to the cave everyday. You could stop having to watch over the vampires. In truth you could probably blow them off and go back to never interacting with them. You thought about it. Going back to each day being filled with doing what you want before your shift at the Chateau then going to the fight club. You could return to that. But you had been doing just that for 50 years. Succubi did not age like humans so you could return to spending your ridiculously long life keeping to yourself and a group of friends. The same thing over and over.

You shake your head at her in a firm no. You couldn't do that to Laddie. Paul and Marko fought so hard for just a date with you. Even though your days had been unconventional since the start of this job you had found joy in the change of pace and you'd be lying if you said you weren't attached to at least the small vampire at this point. You didn't know when the adventure would end but for now no matter what trouble came your way from being close to the young boy you weren't going to run just because you were inconvenienced.  You smile up to her mischievously. “ If I ran away I'm pretty sure Dad would kick my ass for being weak. Those dumbasses are vulnerable during the day anyway and I don't know anyone in Santa Carla faster than me. “ 

Your aunt smiled at you ruffling your head, you were the spitting image of her brother's rambunctious behavior. Truly at this moment no one could say you weren't his kid. The older succubus smiled before putting a big stack of cash down on the table for you. “Well since I know now you're not afraid of those vampires I’d like to inform you that two of them came by earlier to request a whole night with you. “ Your eyes widen as you look at the money in front of you. There was no way Paul and Marko did this. They were with you all night. You didn't even know the group was packing this much money. 

“I’m assuming you swindled them blind. Because Auntie my prices aren't this expensive. “ The older woman smiled wickedly, laughing to herself. “ Well I had to make them prove they really wanted to reserve you. You are my kin after all plus if you said you didn't want to see them anymore I was going to state you rejected their reservation. “ You give her an accusing look. “ And this would be after you pocketed half their deposit?” The woman gave a wicked laugh before handing the cash towards you. “ Well of course. Me and that David boy argued for hours over the price of reserving you all night on Monday. He was red in the face by the time he left and my time is money after all. “

You shake your head at her. You didn't know which was worse between the siblings. Your dad's want to fight others or your aunt's want to swindle everyone blind of their money. “ Guess I'll be on damage control Monday. You know it's bad business practice to piss off potential returning customers. “ Lamia laughed, fanning herself with a stack of hundred dollar bills. You wandered off to bed for the rest of the night hoping to sleep and to come up with the best way to smooth things over with the Vampires Monday and Tuesday. It was weird to you. Four of the pack members had come after you but the two other fledglings seemed to be keeping out of it. There were rumors around and what you could pick up from your spying that those two weren't happy to be half vampires.

As you lay in bed talking to Veve you try to devise a plan to stay on everyone's good side if you'd have to stay interacting with them in the future. You figured dropping off food tomorrow for the fledglings while you tried educating Laddie would be enough to smooth things over if they were mad at you for being in their turf. If they were hunger striking like you picked up on then bringing a human carcass or blood may not be the best peace offering. You drifted off to sleep knowing that you'd figure something out. Unbeknownst to you a certain female vampire was also drifting to sleep with a piece of fabric that smelt like you.

You had gotten there earlier than usual to pick up your little partner in crime for his daily day time shenanigans. Though this time you brought food and educational materials for both Micheal and Star as you figured if Laddies education was this poor then so was there's. You wanted to break the cycle of ferals and hopefully you'd be able to get the terror twins also up to date of educational standards. Maybe they would stop hunger striking if they knew all the options they had with immortality and the great lengths vampiric kind has gone through to make being one not as much as a curse.

Lamia had mentioned things she knew about their sire Max. While the man appeared to care about his pack he wasn't as hands on as he should be and he definitely wasn't educating them properly. No one could figure him out but then again no one ever stuck their noses in others' business like this before. You shake the thought from your head. It wasn't your business what there sire did or didn't do. If they were the ones taking care of Laddie without you there they needed to be educated too . You were originally going to have Laddie carry everything down to them in the cave but that changed when this boy came running out with no shoes on and the outfit that definitely needed washing.

You felt a little annoyed at this, deciding you and the boy's side mission today was to get him washed up and in new clean outfits. You crept down into the cave not daring to enter if you even sensed that anyone was still awake other than Laddie. The little boy on the other hand barreled inside excited to show Star what he had in his hands for breakfast. You chastised him telling him to be quiet as everyone was sleeping and was probably tired. The little boy nodded as you dismissed him to go find his shoes. You inched towards the sleeping girl making sure to move quietly. She was undeniably gorgeous, her curls sprawled out on the bed as she slept. All these vampires were attractive which was aggravating when you were trying to keep your distance from them.

You'd protect them and we're starting to get friendly with them but you wouldn't let them steal your heart. Laddie was already doing that and it stirred uncomfortable feelings in you and insecurities you thought you killed in your being a long time ago. But you couldn't help but look at her as you gently placed the books and food down with a card you and Laddie made to apologize for any inconveniences you had caused. You tried to stop yourself but you moved on instinct, tucking the girl into her comforters a little better. The female vampire stirred in her sleep as your scent strongly wrapped around her. She thought she was dreaming when her blurry eyes fluttered open slightly to see some one hovering above her.

She gently reached out but before she could touch your face you dispersed into a swarm of moths going to the entrance of the cave trying to hide as your heart pounded out of your chest. While you were hiding trying to calm your heart from the shock Laddie came running to Star to shake her awake as he he could not find his shoes. The female vampire sat up in her bed confused as the little boy shook her side to side whining at her to get up. “ Star, I can't find my shoes!.” The girl rubbed her eyes feeling nauseous from her lack of food in her stomach as she had been trying her best not to feed on blood. 

“Laddie honey I think there under the bed.” She gently stroked the boy's head. Looking to her night stand she noticed the takeout container and books. “Laddie, what's all this?” The girl softly opened the container while inspecting the card as the little boy perked up before darting off to grab something excitedly. “ We got you food! Big sister said it would help with your sickness.” Star looked at the card in surprise reading what was on it as the little boy came darting back with a Styrofoam cup filled with something. The letter had nice neat writing compared to the crudely scribbled on pictures which was most likely a finishing touch from the little boy himself. 

‘ Dear Star, I’m terribly sorry if my presence around your home during the day has caused a disturbance along with my outings with Laddie. I promise to be more mindful in the future as I continue my post of watching over the boy in the day while you and your companions sleep in peace knowing he's being cared for. I implore you to take care of your own health as well. Starving yourself from blood is your own choice but please be mindful your body needs iron and protein. I gift you a hearty breakfast of beef steak and pork ribs along with strawberry electrolyte water to help quell your sickness. In deepest regards and sincerest apologies Ms (Y/n). ‘

The girl traced the elegant handwriting for a moment before going to try the food. It was still hot meaning you had to have just recently dropped it off. Star looked around hoping to spot you from your scent still lingering in the cave but was interrupted by Laddie poking her face. “ Star, can I have some of your food too? I wanna bite of the steak, it looks yummy. “ The girl softly looked at the boy before handing him some, taking a bite herself from the plate.

Star was almost ashamed of how quickly she started to scarf down the rest of the  meal between sips of the sweet water. It's like she hadn't truly eaten in ages and this was the first meal she had in years. She was almost brought to tears by the medium rare steak that was cooked and seasoned to perfection. When she polished off the ribs  she gave the bones to Laddie who gladly chomped straight through them. Star had never felt more grateful in her whole life as she didn't feel sick anymore and like she had a little more energy. After wiping her hands she moved on to glancing over the books that were next to her. One was a binder with the same handwriting on it as the note. 

When she opened it she saw pages of colored photos of other vampires, inventions, places, and even medicine. Each had notes in the handwriting explaining short tidbits about the picture and the information that accompanied it. The first page of the binder explained the old books in the pile were all the educational materials needed for a basic vampiric educational course for new halflings. Though the books were old and didn't have photos so Laddie couldn't follow a long so you went out of your way to retake the course to combine a binder of photos and basic knowledge the child definitely needed to know. Star was mesmerized by the photos, especially the ones of the inventions and city of vampires as she didn't even know those existed. 

She flipped to the section on Vampiric women and laws they have created. She looked over Dracula's bride who was known for being mortal before a surgery was performed to extend her life into an immoral one. Lisa Tepes was known as the head founder of laws that brought peace between vampires and mortals and even other demonic creatures. The woman was famous for her ethical eating laws and reforms. Star was in amazement. This book could be the answers to all her worries and prayers without her having to get Micheal into a fight with David. Star hopped for her freedom from her sire and hoped she would never have to harm a human to stay alive and this book could be her ticket out of that.

She didn't even get the chance to thank Laddie as while she was tucking her books away into hiding the small child had run off. Star hoped she would be able to thank you and get to meet you as your scent was drawing her to you. She and Micheal were hoping to meet you, possibly to save them from their fate. Neither of the pair wanted to hurt humans and neither wanted to give away their freedom to be trapped in Santa Carla never to feel the sun on their skin again. They didn't want to be killers, at most they selfishly wanted freedom from time and belonging to a group but they weren't going to kill humans to do so.

For the rest of the week you brought Laddie and Star breakfast which had become a little daily tradition. You sneak in to give her food and you and Laddie eat your breakfast together at the opening of the cave. Star thought it was cute as Laddie had sworn since it made her feel better that breakfast together was mandatory and even though she tried to catch you in the act multiple times she knew the minute she opened her eyes you'd disappear before her. You’d always leave her little notes with her meals which she started replying to with her own. Since you stubbornly refused to meet her, only watching her from a distance or tucking her in she would have to put up with pretending to be asleep to feel your skin grace hers.

Star could tell you were a gentle soul the way you would whisper to Laddie when you thought she was asleep or how you'd gently handle her. You really had been acting like a sudo mother to him during the day. The way you would chastise him for leaving his area messy or how you'd praise his writing skills. Star wished she could spend time with you as well. Bask in your kindness and your sweet smell. She was ashamed of her dreams that whispered to her to do things to you. Whispered for her to grab you into her arms, sinking her fangs into your neck. Even worse were the dreams where you and Micheal were seducing her. She’d wake in a panic, sweating , unable to hide the blush flush across her face and her sexual frustration.

It's not like your daily ritual had gone unnoticed by the others either. Though Paul and Marko were hiding their own secret as every night they would sneak to the boardwalk to find a pay phone so they could call you to harass you. Which mostly was them trying their best to flirt with you over the phone before you were pulled away by work laughing and reassuring the two they could see you Tuesday. It was like the whole pack was in a secret battle to get your attention. It was whoever was gonna get to your body and blood first who won. David and Dwayne would have been dead last but for their reservation they pulled through into 1st leaving Micheal in the dust . His nights spent hearing about you from Star or Laddie while the three did research while the others were away.

Those books you dropped by have become their saving rope from this situation. Finding ways to meditate their hunger and find solutions to fix this problem. Micheal damn near worried his mother with how much meat he was eating while his grandfather thought the boy was bulking. Making excuses that he had a job to excuse his sleep schedule while his younger brother looked over the books as well. Neither of them could come to terms with the whole of Santa Carla being infested with the underworld but when they looked around they would start to notice it. The night club, the witch stores, the grave yards, hell even the mechanics or sea wasn't free from creatures of the night.

It was like their eyes had been opened for the first time and it was terrifying the first few days. That was until during the night they realized the whole underground was mostly harmless. Witches didn't give a shit if the frog brothers and Sam went into the shops to purchase things or flat out call them a witch. It threw them for a loop when the warlock at the counter rolled his eyes at them saying anyone could become a witch or warlock by just opening a book. Like they were dumb for accusing them. When they tried interrogating the succubus at the Chateau they were teased by the scantily clad woman and men saying they were still too young to come in but to check back in when they reached eighteen.

The three went to the mechanics accusing them of being werewolves before the brunette guy with a scar behind the counter scoffed at them as another bigger one walked passed laughing carrying an engine like it's nothing. “Took you dumbass kids a while to figure out. News flash kid this is a pardoned town. All of Santa Carla and anyone in it is free game. Us underworlders can eat tourists or locals who go sticking their noses into shit to cause trouble. So if you pip squeaks ain't gonna buy shit get the fuck out. “ The brunette huffed going back to his smoke while the blonde came back around with sodas for the boys.

“ Hey If you three really wanna get a taste of the true Santa Carla way why don't y'all pick up witch craft and then you can come check out the fight club we host at night. You gotta count as an underworlder to come but that rule is easy to skirt around since witches exist. “ Edgar looked at the man like he was dirt glaring at him down. “ You people eater to, you fleabag. “ The man laughed at him. “ You kids really are dumb. Not everyone in Santa Carla eats people, the ghouls eat dead people for new parts and the vampires supply the ghouls with said dead people. On the food chain lycanthropes are just the clean up crew between the two. “ As the man walked away to continue his business he shot the kids a warning. “ Just a friendly heads up. You kids planning on starting shit with any of the monster factions you'll have the whole ecosystem on your ass. Especially the vampires with their guard dog. You're lucky your kids or she’d kill you on sight for just thinking about it.”

Needless to say the idea of killing any creature of the night was dismissed but the books from the witch store had provided the information that there was a human faction besides witches that policed the underworlders on humans behalf. Exorcists. If the boys couldn't eradicate the underworlders they were gonna police them. And the vampires broke two huge laws. Making a child vampire, and turning someone without their consent. They were gonna teach them a lesson and if they wanted they could find a vampire faction member to get the sire vampire executed. Which would set Sam's brother free.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was finally the day. You had finished the day out with Laddie sending him back home before you returned to the Chateau to get ready for the long night ahead. You figured getting a nap in wouldn't be possible as if they were willing to drop so much money to reserve you then they would be here as soon as the sunset and they were freed from the containment of the caves safety. Before you had even left you could sense movement in the cave and could hear the boys starting to stir into a frenzy.

You bathed yourself first making sure to scrub all the sweat of the day off of you replacing it with the vanilla cinnamon scrubs and soaps you used to enhance your pheromones natural aroma. You had picked out a gorgeous flowy babydoll style nightgown for the night's festivities. Replacing your usual studded collar with a soft lacey fluffed one with a matching bow on the back in the same soft (f/c) as the night gown. The edges of the outfit were adored with a soft white fluff. You strapped your feet into the clear heels as you added the finishing touches on your makeup. You knew tonight would probably be another rough aggressive session with lots of your blood being drunk to make up for any of the headaches you had caused the pair.

Vampires tended to be spiteful, arrogant, and egotistical so to balance out the rough job you had ahead of yourself you had dressed as soft and sweet as possible. This should fulfill their need for power you thought as you admired yourself in your private room's bathroom. You had set out fancy cigars for David and made sure your bar was stocked with the bourbon Dwayne had ordered last time they were here. Setting the room up with anything you thought the pair would enjoy you admired your work. You would have to keep them entertained your whole six hour shift. Which a two person all nighter sounded fun at first thought but you didn't know if you were really ready to spend that much time straight stroking vampiric egos and being a juice box just to make up for a turf dispute.

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time as the intercom in your room announced the pair's arrival. You push the corners of your mouth into a smile. You felt nothing doing this job. Fucking was simply eating to you. Every night you had to put on a fake facade that every customer you had was your number one person and that you actually enjoyed the time you spent with them. You didn't. They were just food and a paycheck. That's why you enjoyed Volks time so much and had become close friends with him as he was the first to see past your facade and ask what you wanted to do. His second time coming in, you two had just spent the night really talking and watching horror movies.

You didn't even bother to try and put on a mind blocker spell. Especially if they had just read through Veves there was no point. If they wanted to toy with your brain so be it. Maybe it would be a welcomed reprieve from the dull sensation you felt during sex. Obviously your body would orgasm and you'd moan and cum but it's not like it was special. It was just fucking and that's what you were about to do again. Fuck and get it over with. You were finally able to put on a fake face as you walked out of your private room. Strolling from the back you saw the men standing against the lobby railing looking out into the crowd and stage of dancers. The music was loud and the scent thick with ecstasy and lust.

You quietly walked towards them the sound of your heels not even making a dent against the noise coming from the speakers. You snaked your arms around David's and Dwaynes locking them to your side as you smiled up at them. “ Well there's my top spenders of the week! You boys really are so sweet being so determined to rent me out for the night. I’m (Y/n) I’ll be your entertainment for this evening. “ Your voice was cheerful and sweet, matched perfectly with your face as your plumped glossy lips curled into a smile. Your pheromones sweep over the boys as Dwayne had to control himself for a moment being hit by the cinnamon and vanilla essence. Neither of them had noticed you approaching and neither had a moment to reply before you were dragging them to the back cheerfully bobbing through the crowd like a flower petal in the breeze.

As you three walked past regular goers in the crowd noticed you before trying to come close to drunkenly attempt to snatch your from between the men. You gracefully dodged the tall mob man's advances. “ Oh my goodness Mr. Falcone has your liquor hit your head already sweetie I told you I was busy tonight.” Dwayne glared down at the drunk older man before the guy chimed in. “ Aw toots, why don't you serve me after you're done with these chumps. I got something better for you than these dirty leather dogs can provide.” The man crudely grabbed at his crotch trying to push closer to you. “ I know my favorite pussy cat needs another fancy car. Why don't you service daddy Falcone and I'll give you all you want. “ This man was hitting a nerve inside David and Dwayne as they were two seconds from ripping the man's jugular out if it wasn't for the anti bite masks they had on.

David sneered at the man grabbing your arm closer to him in a protective stance. “ Too bad we bought her out for the whole night. Looks like she's not gonna have time to play with you. It seems our little princess here will be too busy playing with us. Why don't you find another toy around here to get your rocks off geezer. “ The drunk man staggered before becoming angered and irate. Lunging for David, a clear heel quickly came speeding in hitting the old man square in the face with a hard kick as a crunch could be heard from the pair. Your smile still plastered on your face as the man crumbled to the floor, security rushing over to collect up the pathetic human. “ Looks like you had too much to drink, baby doll. Seems you need to go sleep it off in the alley way. Remember honey pie you have to pay to play with me and I don't think I want your money any more.”

You pushed the man's head into the ground with your heel glaring down at him like a bug as you grinded his broken nose into the ground. “ Anyone who treats me or my guests with such disrespect are lower than dirt to me.” You lean down to his ear as he whimpers in drunken stupor. “ And you smell like pig shit you disgusting old fuck.” The muscular incubus and werewolf drag the man away prepared to dispose of him as David and Dwayne look down at your smile plastered face. Their mystery girl appeared to have a mean streak to her and that riled them up inside. You continued to make your journey through the floor as you passed a table with an old veteran surrounded by incubus in sailor costumes as you pass he whistled for your attention. “ Y/n did that scumbag try and hurt you deary. “ You pause, letting go of the boy's arms to turn towards the man.

A genuine soft smile graced your lips as you walked up to the three at the table. “ No Johnny, I'm okay. Make sure you get home safe tonight okay.” The sweet old man laughed before placing a chocolate coin in your hand. “ You go rock those boys' socks off. You're one dynamite broad you know, don't let those old pervs get your spirits. “ You and the man share a laugh before you take your coin back to the boys finishing the journey out of the main room and into the back hallways through a series of doors. You make it to a velvet (f/c) door before you open it for the boys to walk in. You take there jackets from them as the door shuts and the room is filled only by soft music as Dwayne interjects. “ Whose the old timer at the table.”

You smile gently as you turn to him. “ That's Johnny. He's an old timey Sailor that hangs out here every night. He doesn't have any family after they found out he was queer so the Chateau has been his family ever since. “ You make your way around the bar to start making drinks to loosen the energy in the room. “Sorry about Falcone too. That was his third strike so he'll be lucky if he sobers up with his boys still intact tomorrow. What drinks can I get my boys tonight. “ David chuckles sitting on the bar stool watching as you make yourself a cotton candy cocktail. “ I”ll take a whiskey on the rocks if you don't mind gorgeous.” Dwayne follows suit sitting down as you pass him a little menu of drinks you can make. “ So a private room gets a private bar as well. Who would have thought. “ You slide David his drink before you place the bourbon bottle Infront of Dwayne giving him a wink.

“ Well of course you boys did get swindled under the table so it's up to me to get you your money's worth tonight boys. Can't have my customers being cheated out of their cash. It's bad for business you know.“ David almost chokes on his drink, mumbling to himself. “I fuckin knew it wasn't that expensive. “ You laugh at the man as you open a box full of top shelf cigars for the vampires to choose from. David's fingers trace down the line of them before gingerly choosing one. “ I guess my Aunt was really hiding me from you boys. Hold on darlin you can't drink your whiskey with that on. “ You gently undue the bite masks from both gentlemen placing them on the counter as you pull a lighter from your bra, lighting David's cigar for him. “ You aren't afraid we're gonna bite you. “ Dwayne says eyes are boring into your form. He's been watching your every move since he first laid eyes on you.

Your smell was heavenly and you had a sweetness with underlying spicy tone to you. You moved gracefully every step of the way and your smile on your face was the icing on the cake. He wanted to see more of you. He was keeping himself in check as his mind wandered to all he could do to you in just the hours he had. “ Well you can do what you like to me tonight. I am your girl all for this evening. Be pretty silly to stop what's natural for vampires to want. Just like it's silly to think a succubus doesn't need energy to live.” David smirked evilly tilting your face up to his, fangs twinkling in the light as cigar smoke and whiskey with just a tinge of blood could be smelled from his breath. “ We have plenty of time for all of that tonight. What we want right now is answers. “ You stare into his eyes, never breaking eye contact like it was a silent war of dominance.

“ You’ll have to be more specific then that sweetness. I have a lot of answers and questions I can't answer a question I don't know though. “ Dwayne chimed in from his glass. “ Why are you always in our turf during the day? “ eyes shifting to the man you make contact. “ Would you take what I tell you seriously. “ Dwayne's face flashed a sign of confusion as he looks back at you not expecting that answer at all or the fact you’ve been bold this whole time for someone who keeps giving them the slip. You sigh as your facade falters a bit. “ Some people have been making claims there going to start killing vampires in Santa Carla. You have an illegal child Daywalker running free in the day with no protection, education, or common sense. So I spend all my day time guarding your little cave as frankly it would be childs play to pick you guys off one by one during the day time hours. “

You pour yourself a shot from Dwaynes bourbon bottle not a care in the world. “ You got a problem with it tell me now if not I'll be out there tomorrow again with Laddie because quite frankly someone needs to be watching him in the daytime. “ You slide some of David's deposit back to him as he's currently studying you, taking in every inch of beauty before him. “ Well he wasn't always a Daywalker till about two weeks ago he was a halfing. But tell me more about this whole illegal thing and vampire killers in Santa Carla.” You pause from your drink putting the hint together from David before you rub the back of your neck whispering a light cuss to yourself for not figuring it out before. “ Your telling me you're not here because I'm in your turf, you're here because my blood made the kid a Daywalker. “ Dwayne nodded to you smirking into his drink as your facade fell further as you open up to the men.

“ Well shit. I’m sorry I caused y'all all this trouble. Well I'll make sure to take responsibility and at least continue teaching him during the day and such. About the killer stuff I'm not sure exactly who it is but the rumors stated it was a bunch of kids but honestly it could be your other two halfings or a vampiric council member themselves. You know making child vampires, especially daywalkers, has been outlawed since the black plague but guess I caused the day walker bit. “ David smirked into his cigar, puffing his smoke into your face. “ We don't mind you doing all that but we were thinking since you waltz into our lives you could do a lot more than that to pay us back. We have two other halflings and we think they still wanna be able to play in the sun so maybe you could tack on two more to your little game of teacher.”

David's moving close to your face now, maybe a little too close to focus. He can hear your heartbeat in your chest and even with him threateningly close your confidence has not changed a bit. You aren't scared of them hell your brain isn't even racing. David could peer into your brain past your sweet facade you were forcing out and see that you were more annoyed in this moment by your own stupidity than the fact you were in the room with two vampires who very much wanted to rip into you. Claiming you all for themselves. It was so tempting to be this close to you. Your scent was truly a treat for David and your little attitude, boldness, and outfit were all doing something for him. You poke David on the bridge of his nose pushing him away from your face slightly as you try to think. “ With y'alls obvious lack of education all seven of you could stand to have some time hitting the books. But I'm not giving them my blood unless they want it. I gave the kid my blood because he was damn near starving to insanity.”

Dwayne came closer to you, trapping you further between the two. It was getting harder to hold back as he lifted a lock of your hair inhaling the scent. “ I wouldn't mind you teaching us. We will gladly take the close quality time with you. I’m sure Star and Micheal are also craving you the way we are. “ David grabs your hand from his face staring into your eyes, his lips ghost over your palm. You stare back into his gorgeous baby blues as they shift to a shade of golden yellow red pricking his pupils. It was like they were gageing your reaction, like two predators watching their prey for permission to strike. They both were beautiful, mesmerizing in their own rights and both of their scents were tempting you. But you were no prey in this game you were a beast all in your own right. You bit your tongue, blood gushing into your mouth as you roughly pull the blonde into a feverish kiss.

Shock overwhelms him for a second as you slip your tongue between his pink lips battling for dominance in a bloody dance. His eyes glow deeper with lust as he pulls you into this dance stubble scratching your face. Blood flows into his mouth greedily accepting the heavenly taste between your battle of tongues as Dwayne pulls you from each other unable to stop this want anymore. You're pulled into another kiss, tongues tangling around each other Dwayne passionately searching for every drop of your essence. It was wild and untamed lustful grunting and almost demonic yearning as the pair fought for claim of your mouth. No time for breathe as David was making short work to bite into your shoulder grabbing onto your plump sides slamming you forward into Dwayne roughly. Your claws dig into the man's chest as you growl into the kiss as your tongue fights to win this battle gaining a hiss in return from the man.

Moaning, hissing, and growling fills the room as you grind against David while you pull Dwayne further down into your kiss. A wet pop can be heard as you are abruptly yanked off of the vampire pinned down against the blonde. “ Bed now. “ Was all you heard from the tall vampire as he swiftly tossed you over his shoulder dragging you to the soft satin embrace of the bed where your body was thrown down pinned under the weight of this beastly man. Lust, desire, and something deadly was all your eyes could see as David lifted your face to place a kiss to your bruised lips one last time as he sat in a chair facing you with a smirk. “My my, our little princess is just full of surprises aren't you. Dwayne, why don't you take care of our naughty little beast here. “

A swift sting can be felt from your ass as Dwaynes hand comes down quickly admiring the red mark left on your soft skin. The man presses his free hand on your lower back keeping you trapped as he makes work to release his throbbing cock from his denim jeans. Your head pushes back as you tease the pair wickedly smiling directly at the blonde, never breaking your defiant stare. “ Do your best to tame me but I’m a wild ride boys. I like the fight. “ A black belt snaked around your arms encasing them in it's grip as your lifted up onto Dwayne's lap. Legs spread wide displaying your cloth covered cunt for the pair it was slick with your excitement. Fingers trailed down your form as lips nibbled at your wounded shoulder a long wet tongue quickly lapping over the blood seeping out.

“Looks like your enjoying this princess. “ Dwayne softly whispered into your ear earning another twang of excitement in your lower core as his hands mapped over you getting closer and closer to your flower. “ Of course I am. Not everyday someone comes in smelling as good as you handsome.” Your eyes dilated as a finger teases over your bud twirling painful circles through the fabric that was soaked with your fluids. David watched in enjoyment as Dwayne tormented your clit for him to see. Fingers twirled before dragging long lines slowly along your slit begging for something to fill you up your walls clenched around air face flush with lust. You could endure this teasing, but your body craved to be filled up. Filled and defiled right In Front of the blondes eyes you wished solely for your panties to get out of the way of your enjoyment.

Your hands may be bound but your tail was not. Slithering it's way from between your legs and through the straps a sharp spine made working cutting both straps the (f/c) cloth falling limp onto Dwayne's hand as he stared at your cheeky expression on your face. Rough calloused fingers plunged between your folds harshly pumping in and out at a neck breaking speed. “Princess if you're gonna be naughty for me you're going to be punished. “ Dwayne nipped your ear juices, slicked his fingers as your voice became a symphony of moans and mewling teasing naughty words back to the man. “ I'll be whatever you need handsome. Just as long as you keep playing with me.” Orgams started to roll through your body as the man's thumb rolled over your clit fingers never ceasing their tirade of your sex.

“ I think she needs something a bit more Dwayne.” The blonde leaned forward stroking the man's cock earning grunts from his lover as David helped position the member before your entrance. With a swift motion Dwayne's hands came up to grab your chest and David pushed you down on Dwayne's cock. The thickness stretched you to the max while the tip of his member kissed deep to your cervix almost making you see stars from just the insertion. But the moment was short lived as Dwayne started thrusting in and out of you roughly, body bobbing up and down on his throbbing shaft. David took Dwayne's hand licking your juices from it before capturing your lips in a feverish kiss forcing you to taste yourself off his lips. It was passionate and intoxicating. You could feel David rooting around in your head making your vision blurred from lust as he tried to heighten your senses.

Dwayne made quick to pull down your nightgown freeing your breast he pinches your nipples down while massaging circles into your bosom. Moaning into the kiss you were seeing stars soon blurry vision clouding your mind as David made work to take his time showing you visions of what he wanted from you. This was lustful and passionate, almost animalistic in nature as the pair ravaged you. David sucking on your shoulder nipping your skin, lapping your warm blood while his hands found their way to your clit while making his way to free himself from his clothes. Your head throws back letting out a symphony of moans and cusses as another orgasm washes over you as Dwayne's hot seed fills you up.

It felt amazing the sensation of your mind dancing in fantasy as your body was filled to the brim with hot cum. You panted trying to come down from your high as your body is dragged further on the bed before you fell forward. Face in the sheets your body shakes as you take in the energy. You feel the men position you to your side as Dwayne caresses your face admiring your flushed form. “ No time for rest, princess. We have so much more to give you. “ Dwayne leans forward kissing your cheek before stroking his cock positioning at your entrance again while David opens your mouth for him. “ What a pretty little thing. Why don't you take care of me princess.”

You display your tongue for the man opening up wide dragging your tongue over the tip of his member. Taking in the musk from his manhood he slides himself into your mouth as you latch on mapping every inch with your tongue. David relishes in the bliss slowly thrusting in and out he leans forward placing a kiss on Dwayne as the two lock in a passionate dance of tongues. Both were enjoying your body to the fullest, your blood was everything they hoped for and more. Every drop made them feel this powerful rush and it was like they were truly alive. You were addictive to them. Your presence, taste, and personality was addicting and every second they wanted more of you. The pair wished to wisk you away back to the cave and make love to you till morning as there was no way these six hours would be enough for them. You unlocked something from deep inside of them.

A free spirit who was unapologetically yourself embodied everything they could ever want from another partner. You cared for Laddie, got along with Paul and Marko, and even were willing to help with Star and Micheal. They wanted you even if for now it was just for lustful and selfish reasons. David let out a loud moan as he finished in your mouth. You greedily accepted every drop of warm cum making sure to thoroughly clean his throbbing member with your tongue you open your mouth to display to David it was indeed all gone. David wanted to ruin you. Make you cry and break your defiant nature making you bend to his whims and wants. While Dwayne finished inside you again filling your womb with his seed making sure to press deep into you so you could feel every time his cock pulsed releasing it's divine fluid.

Your limp body was pulled in between the pair as they propped you up between them freeing your hands they held you in a gentle embrace. Dwayne gently drew patterns on your exposed back while David readied himself to go another round. He filled your head with visions of them making love to you in their nest nonstop. Moments flashing in and out of your vision like they were memories being shown to you in real time. It wasn't just David and Dwayne in the visions, it was all six of the vampires. All of them taking turns making sweet love to you or exchanging soft embraces. Soft moments of intimacy you have never experienced in your lifetime. Sweet good mornings, gentle goods nights, being held in their arms like you were there everything.

David entered you slowly as he whispered things into your clouded and confused mind. “Be with us (Y/n). You belong with us. We could give you all the love you could need. “ Your eyes dilated, your heart beat started to race. They could make you there's, you could belong to them. Mind, body, and soul everything could belong to them. Visions played before you of them marking your neck. Kisses, bites, hickes. All along your bare neck during moments of passionate exchanges. David was pushing you towards another orgasm as your hands started moving to your neck in a hypnotized state while Dwayne also whispered sweet promises into your ear. “ We would love you forever. Take care of you till time gave out. Be ours princess. “

David released into you as he encouraged you to remove your choker. Visions of you removing it playing in your mind as you attempted in your blissed state to make sense of what was reality and what wasn't. Not realizing you were moving towards doing it in real time. Tears began filling your confused clouded mind. Were you there's? Was it true. Did someone love you like that? Could you find people who loved you like that? Insecurities creep into your clouded mind. With the sweet whispers of promises becoming washed over by a sense of internalized fear. You weren't worthy of love, not as the monster you were. Biologically you were doomed to never have your happy ending. You were destined to be free or die chained to someone's side. No love could save you from this fact. It was like a bitterness washed into your mouth and before David could make sense of it his brain was filled with the loud screams of pain, loss, and insecurities from a long life lived.

Like a mass headache had hit him all at once he couldn't keep control of your brain. Your eyes clouded as your face contorted into a monstrous one fangs baring like a beast. Your hand reached from the sky flesh morphing into thick armored bone. Jagged claws reaching for the heavens you scream out in confusion. “I DON'T LOVE YOU!” A strike came swiftly in seconds for David's eyes as tears flowed from your confused ones. Dwayne is only able to quickly kick David out of the way in a attempt to hold you back as you snarled in pain. You writhed in agony as you began to lash out like a beast at the man's desperate hold. You screached in confused agony forced to motion through these waves of negativity. Your tears flowed freely as the bed was being ripped to shreds by your claws and tail David on the floor shocked in place by your statement.

You wailed like a banishee “ I CAN'T LOVE. I DON'T GET THAT PRIVILEGE. “ The pair watched you stunned in place as you tried desperately to get away. You start slowly coming out of your confusion tears never ceasing. “I don't know love. I’m just a monster. “ Your whole body goes numb and you stop as your brain comes back to sanity. Looking down at your monstrous hands as tears continue to fall you coldy yank yourself from Dwaynes grasp, marching yourself off the destroyed furniture and slowly dragging clawed feet to the bar. The room is silent as you rustle through the bar pulling out a box. A red pipe with a mysterious bag filled with a bunch of dried herbs is placed on the counter as you say nothing to either.

Your face completely devoid of emotion you light the pipe taking in deep breaths of the red smoke. Your body slowly morphs into how it was before tears drying up with each puff a wave of calm comes over. You do nothing to acknowledge the pair either to focused on returning to some sense of normalcy . It was like they had been hit by a truck by your statement. Neither thought that this statement would effect them so much or that you could lash out like that. It hurt though. Like a hole was punched in their hearts the whole scene hurt, it was like you were in unmeasurable pain. David's stomach turned uncomfortably. He wanted to make you cry at first but now that he had. He wished to never see you like that again. He wanted to never be the reason you cried like that again. There was something broken in you and they had forced it to the light.

As the smoke numbed your body and replaced it with a gently calm you clear your head replacing it with a numbed buzz. You make your way back to the bed staring at the wreckage with a frustrated sigh. “ Well I ruined your night. “  Dwayne's eyes snap to you in shock. How could you think this was your fault. They pushed you to that and instead of worrying about yourself you stood there worrying about how there night was ruined. It was almost aggravating the lack of emotion you had for your own feelings. “ Don't worry about this. We caused you this pain. “ Dwayne reached out to comfort you but you turned away going to David on the floor instead. You crouch down to the blonde, grabbing his face, giving it a firm look over. “ I didn't injure either of you did I. It's been ages since I had a lash out like that. “ 

David reached for your hand against his face. You were cold. Almost unfeeling right now and it pissed David off that he did this to you. Your tongue clicks in annoyance at yourself. “ Last time I took the customers' eye out. Good thing you guys are quick to react. If you want a refund I'll give it all back. “ Davids teeth grinded down in anger. “ I don't want my money back. I-“ He softened abit as he grabbed your face. “ I just want to make sure you're okay. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard. “ You blow red smoke into his face in response, a lazy half baked smile finding a way onto you. “ I told you to go rough pretty boy. Plus I didn't put a mind blocker spell on. Honestly would have been disappointed if you hadn't tried anything like that. “ 

You rustle the blondes head a bit as your smoke is making you feel warm and fuzzy putting you in a better mood like it's designed to do while also grounding you back to your senses. “ Plus who can be mad at seeing such nice day dreams. They are cute sentiments but hate to burst y'alls bubble. I’m kinda biologically designed to not be able to have a small amount of partners. “ Dwaynes face floods with confusion. “ What do you mean by that. “ You turn to him blankly taking another puff from your pipe. “ I’m a hybrid. My hunger is way higher then normal so having two or three partners is not really in the cards for me. If I'm really fucked over I'll need about fourteen like my aunt. That's if my partner's energy and libido are regular. “

David chimes in. “What if your partners had higher levels of energy and libido. More to offer you. How many do you think you would need. “ Thinking to yourself you can't imagine a number as you've never even attempted to find out. “ I’m not really certain on that. I've been with a ton of different races with varying levels of energy. My father is pretty ravenous too but he's been pretty healthy just by feeding off my jorogumo father. But it probably has more to deal with my dad being a protector of land and having more energy from worshippers. Oni’s though I can go through 3 and have a decent meal every night but they are huge on only settling with one partner. “

“What about vampires. There's six in our pack. If you were to feed every night off of all six of us would that be able to keep you fed. You wouldn't have to feed off anyone else or continue this job.” You look at the tan vampire as his eyes remain focused on you with a passion. “ What are you two trying to suggest? Marking my neck is not just a casual thing. Excuse me but you've just met me today. The only way in hell I'd let your little group of ferals become my mates is if you truly loved me and I loved you. “ The pair is inching closer to you with determination in their eyes as you scoot away becoming increasingly defensive. “ And I don't know how to love so good luck with that little endeavor. “

An idea sparks in David's head as he starts to scheme a way to make you there's. To bring you into the pack and get Star and Micheal into line. “ I’m not hearing a no to being our mate. Nor am I hearing your gonna run from us. Why don't we have a little wager. A agreement of sorts. “ Your eyes dart to him as you glare at him wondering what this man was up to. “ What would this little bet be. “ David wickedly smiles taking your chin in his hands lips ghosting over yours. “ Spend time with us and try feeding off the whole group. Allow us to learn to love you and we will win your heart fair in square. If we all fall in love then you become our mate and only feed off us. That is if you see us as an adequate meal source. “ You push the man away as your face heats up.

All of these vampires were ludicrous. First they are chasing you around the city for a date. Now they're sitting here suggesting you learn to love them. All of them were crazy. This whole night was a crazy shit show. But something in you wanted to try. The group was filled with a variety of beauty's and all of them smelled like amazing feeds. Plus you and Laddie were thick as thieves and you'd hate for him to go back to being a filthy little goblin running around being a pain in the ass. You thought about it before reaching your hand out to make a sealed vow. This deal if it didn't work out would show you there was truly no reason to try and love while if they succeeded maybe you could finally get the happy ending you thought you couldn't have.

“ I'll allow you to try and fail at making me love you. Nice to give cocky vampires a little taste of humility sometimes. But we play by my rules and pace. “ David grabbed your hand smiling as a blood circle appeared around both your wrists spinning violently before chains started to form from your blood reaching to eachother. “ I wouldn't have it any other way. But you'll be eating your words my sweet. “ The chains locks together glowing a hue of crimson red before the chains form a tattoo on your respective wrists etched in blood. David pulls you in for another rough kiss that lasts for a brief moment before you pull away. “ Hey! I'm all down for aggressive sex but the room is trashed and you stink of sweat, sea, and man musk.”

David looks offended but stops to smell himself. Dwayne chiming in. “ When's the last time we took a proper shower, my love. “ David's face goes red as he thinks back to it. Maybe ocean baths were not the best. You scoff making your way to the bathroom. “ Stinky cave vampires. '' Dwayne shakes his head following behind as David grinds his teeth at your comment. Maybe he liked you more when you were putting an act on for him. “ And who's gonna fix the bed. We still have three hours left that remind you I paid for.” David yells at you as you turn the waterfall shower on collecting soaps for the pair. “ If you think you're the only guest to break the beds, you're wrong. The maids will get it. I promise you once we go back in the room the whole place will be back to normal. Now get your bitchy ass here so I can scrub your hair. “

David's patience was thin. Your attitude is apparent, and not appreciated. “ Am I still not a paying customer. Shouldn't you be treating me with care so I'll want to pay again. “ You laugh as you strip everything off your body, even your collar before a bone armor plating covers your neck. “ Aren't you the one who wanted this bet. We're supposed to be falling in love here. And you can't exactly love me for me if I'm not being my true unfiltered pain in the ass self.” David huffed coming over to you before begrudgingly sitting down in the shower seat you set up. Dwayne watching in amusement at your bickering. In all his years of loving this man he had never seen someone so willing to jump into conflict with the blonde. No one in the pack would dare talk to David like this but you had not a care in the world bullying this man over and giving a snarky attitude right back to him.

You use your nails to lightly scratch into David's scalp, really trying to massage his head to the best of your abilities. You had picked for David a Bourbon Vanilla Scented bundle. It smelt amazing and you figured Dwayne would appreciate his bottle blonde smelling like something he enjoyed. David may have been frustrated with your attitude but the minute the warm water hit his back along with you massaging his head it was like all his troubles melted away. The pack has mostly stolen stuff from stores if they could and taken showers at the public beach wash off or go to Maxes house where he had a shower room to use.

Those were fine but this was different. It was more relaxing than something of necessity.The hot water was plentiful and David had never known having someone wash his hair for him could feel this intoxicating. You finished rinsing the rest of David's hair from the conditioner as you pushed on his shoulders motioning to get up from the chair tossing a block of soap at him and a luffa. “ You're done pretty boy now go scrub yourself good. If you want trimmers or razors there's a grooming kit over there. “ You pulled Dwayne over from his spot where he had gotten done washing his body to have him sit in the chair for his turn.

The man hummed contently as you got to work, first rinsing his hair then latherining the shampoo from the ends of his hair to the roots. “ You're so good at this sweetness. Where did you pick up this talent hmm. “ You nod in response focused on your work, the scent of eucalyptus and coconut filling your nose. “ I don't wash customers' hair, it's not a service I provide. But I'm used to helping my cousin wash her curls out so it's somewhat similar. “ The man smiles into your embrace enjoying the time as he watches his beloved look like a kicked puppy at your gentle conversation compared to his attitude filled one. “Mm we must be special then. Should I help you wash through yours then princess.”

You lather in the conditioner before replying to the man watching the water trace down his tanned form. “ I don't need my hair washed right now. I had a proper shower before work so I just need to rinse off before the spa bath. “ David's ears perk up from his spot at the mention of a spa. “ You have a spa in this bathroom? How many spaces can fit in this one building? “ You look up from your work to make eye contact with the curious man. “ This building has spacial magic imbued into the very foundation of it. So the rooms and everything that's not the main entrance and the stage room is in this pocket of space in the in-between. You could walk through thousands of doors without ending in a room that's the actual building. And for your question of my room, I have a hot spring spa in mine because I've been enjoying them with my dad since I was just a small thing and others seem to like it to. “

“If this is your room. Do you actually stay here and sleep?.” You laughed at Dwayne's question shaking your head in a firm no. “ The bathroom and closets I use and it connects to where I actually sleep but no I don't sleep were I feed. It would be too personal. Plus I have to cosleep to actually be able to reach a state of rest so sleeping alone in that big bed I'd never be able to keep my eyes closed. “ You finish rinsing out Dwaynes hair as you step in the shower giving yourself a quick rinse off with your soaps. “ Is cosleeping something you'll always have to do?.” David admires you from a far watching the water and suds flowing down your body was exciting something inside him once again.

“ If I ever get Mates it will be their responsibility to co sleep with me as I'll require their heartbeat and temperature to sleep. Though I guess you guys sleep upside down in your cave so I'd be shit outta luck as your mate. Say since we're questioning sleeping habits. Do you guys cuddle together like bats do or is it just a thing bats do.” You tense us as you feel a warm body press into yours ghosting kisses to the back of your collared neck. “ We would sleep with you every day. Anything to take care of our princess. “ Your heart catches in your throat as you instinctively scatter into a swarm standing outside the shower, flared spikes acting as your shield as hands block over your collar. The pair stare in shock and awe at this display of supernatural abilities.

“ The neck is off limits I tell you! Off limits.” Your face is red and embarrassment is thick. David moves closer to you with a wicked smile on his face. “ Oh it's off limits is it? But it's just a kiss to your neck, no biting princess. “ You freeze as the man gets closer to mischief dancing through his eyes. You make a sprint for the hot spring to get away from his advances. David follows quickly in pursuit, chuckling as he chases you straight into the water diving after you. You two take a tumble in as Dwayne rushes in to the room behind you. When you come up for air you're squirming as David is putting kisses along your collar as your bare form is trapped against his arms.

“ You've been riling me up all night. And I finally found a way to pay you back. Keep squirming I'll just keep kissing. “ Dwayne steps in the water as your splashing doesn't seem to put a end to David's on slaughted torment. “ I give I give. David! “ David stops as Dwayne releases you from the blonde scooping your exhausted form into his own setting you down in the water. “ I think we should be resting you two. We only have a few hours left. “ You let out a sigh as you sink into the water only your head popping out to shoot a glare at David. “ Guess we should start winding down for the night. You were right (y/n) this hot spring water is amazing. “

“ Of course it is, it's a hot spring. “ The rest of the hours were spent relaxing in the tub with short small talk between you and Dwayne while you moved away from David who was still trying to antagonize you. Tomorrow you'd get a break from one blonde and start your date endeavor with two even more chaotic blondes. What had you gotten yourself into.

( Previous Chapter )

( Chapter 5 )

Comments are always appreciated. This took way longer to put out and make than I thought it would.

[andromedaexists]

GENRE

Fiction - Religious Horror

STATUS

Published!!! It's done!!! It's out there!!!

AESTHETIC / TROPES

Religious trauma, Religion in general, queer characters, questioning faith, finding horror in the holy, if you look too closely at the holy...., spiraling mental health, psychosis

(it got kinda long so I put the rest of the info under the cut :) )

SUMMARY

Be Not Afraid Those three words have haunted me my entire life, and now I'm close. I know I am. I'm close to finding out the truth behind the words, the truth behind the Seraphim. The closer I get to uncovering the truth, to proving that the Seraphim are real, the further my mind slips. I can't sleep - can't dream - without seeing them. Life has become difficult all of a sudden and I know it's tied to them. I just have to keep going, keep learning, keep discovering. Everything will be better once I complete my research... Incorrect Eyes is a psychological religious horror involving paranoia, angels with too many eyes, and the least mentally stable protagonist I’ve ever written. Please read with caution. Content Warnings: bodily mutilation, extreme paranoia, eye things (including disembodied eyes, being watched at all times, and removal of eyes), fear and terror, psychosis

MAIN CHARACTERS

Hunter (he/him) - the main character who’s POV we get. I think this might be the only time his name is mentioned, but he is the eyes we see the story through (pun intended, you'll understand later). Hunter is a trans queer man who was raised Roman Catholic, only to be pushed out of his church. To this day, Catholicism is a special interest of his and that's why he's here. He's also the least mentally stable protag I've ever written

The Seraphim (unk) - Well... you'll see...

MASTERLIST

GoodReads

Amazon

TAGLIST

@/winterandwords @/crypticcodexcreations @/inkspellangel @/smol-feralgremlin @/joswriting @/love-whatit-loves @/annetillney @/lavender-gloom

Please fill out this form to be added or ask to be removed!

[mysticalsoot]

connor's godverse [source material]

godverse/godbur taglist; @lillylvjy @witheredroseanon @enanon (msg/ask if you wanna be added!)

due to the recent popularity, my autism latching to this au and the few requests to let others dabble in it themselves; I've decided to make this central post of the godbur-verse and all it has to offer. you may use godbur or goddess!wilma and write them how you wish but do credit me mainly because I want to see what others create with my ideas!! that is all, now enjoy my tism vomit.

main masterlist // godverse masterlist

meet wilbur and wilma, our characters in this story of power and love and god-like shenanigans. the two of them are godly twins who rule their respective sectors in their shared world. they're an unlikely match, almost polar opposites; but not quite.

WILBUR; the cat

strong-willed and fairminded; colder on the exterior but with a heart two sizes too big.

visually 27 yrs old // queer leaning // autistic coded // less present with believers // 6'7" tall

wilbur rules the left sector of the golden realm. he focuses on doing right with his devotees, guiding them on the path of what's right and moral, keeping them from going astray. he keeps his relationships professional and has yet to drift from that rule.

wilbur has many rules he holds himself to, but most of them are one's he's given himself; in fear he would fall from his holiness if he did not. there is nothing to fall to. what he knows is what is there.

he keeps piles of journals filled with every thought and idea he's ever had, most are to himself. most aren't very kind. he keeps his rules listed in one specific journal. one he's decorated with painted doodles on the front and flowers pressed in the pages.

wilbur keeps great distance between himself and his believers. his golden rule being;

'distance is good for the start, when it will end in distance too'

he fears attachment will wreck his thoughts and deem him unrulable if he was to ever lose a mortal he grew attached to. regardless if it's a common tradition for a mortal to be assumed by their god.

that is cut short when one particular mortal catches his eye and captures his heart with their love and kindness and appreciation for what he's given them.

his first rule he broke, was close communication. there was something about this one mortal that his mind cling to, and they seemed very keen on him too. they weren’t in any belief of any god in particular until he claimed them (get your mind out of the gutter).

little did he know, they would take to it as well as they did. they enjoyed his company and his words and guidance. reaching for his metaphorical hand to lead them to the best outcome. they trusted him, he was trusted. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t break the next rule soon after.

falling in love. he was enraptured by them, and their continuous devotion to him, doing all they could to see him. to be with him. to be by him for as long as they can. to stay living in his world.

despite his growing love for this sweet one, wilbur had to cast them out, back to their life. they were meant to be mortal and he couldn’t let his emotions get in the way of what’s meant to be.

when he finally awarded his mortal with a life in his realm; he felt his shoulders lighten and a big weight of worry lift from him. they were safe with him, even if it meant he broke his golden rule amongst many other rules. he finally understood when people said they would do anything for their love, because he’d do just that for them.

wilbur like any other god, adorns both fangs and white feathered wings. he can retract them at any moment he wishes, and often chooses to hide them; especially around his mortal. he doesn't want to scare or overwhelm them so he keeps those features to himself.

the left sector is the home of the eldest twin. the one with moral responsibility who doesn’t stray from the rules unless prompted, and even then he fights back. the world is covered in sunlight and flowers. a beautiful garden at the back door of wilbur’s home. a place to write and be quiet and play music and just be. where butterflies and bees and animals roam and scurry on the grass and through the fields, where one can admire what is around them without worry of what could be happening. a safe haven.

WILMA; the dove

laid back and relaxed counterpart to wilbur; the divine feminine

visually 27 years old // mtf, feminine preference // autistic/adhd coded // hyper diligent with believers // 6'3"

wilma rules the right sector, the world of beauty and art and femininity. she focuses on bringing love and art to her believers, showing them what beauty is in the world; especially if they hadn’t viewed it in such a way before.

wilma has closer relationships with her believers, not upholding herself to the same strict standards as her brother holds himself. she believes that each person deserves to have a heart and hand reach out to them, pulling them into a hug and away from danger.

through wilma's art you’ll find the many attachments she’s had to her believers but never once giving in. they must have the best mortal life possible, and she can’t meddle with that. it would be unfair to them, cruel even.

her golden rule is this;

‘you must leave them be, even if the heart screams otherwise, let them free like doves must be’

so she paints and she sculpts and her emotions end up seeping into her every piece, and each piece has its place in her home. unlike her brother, her work in creativity is more inline with what she thinks and feels rather than lists of rules and thoughts and worries. she’s a brighter being, sunnier and lighter. she finds peace in everything.

sketchbooks and canvases and have finished sculptures line the halls of her home, making it here through her efforts in the arts.

although her efforts to not let her attachments get the best of her are fruitful for a while, there is (as always) one mortal who causes her to break her only rule. one with a beautiful heart and mind that always finds the sweetness in nature and those around them. someone spiritually equal to her that she can care for and love on and be inspired by.

she grew closer and closer to this mortal, their shared attachment to one another grew into a deep and loving bond, that left the other with a feeling of emptiness when they couldn't have the other.

wilma fought her desire to bring this mortal to her, wanting them to have the best life in their own world they possibly could. she couldn't even dare disrupt it. they could do so much! so much, without wilma.

she fought herself and her mind and her heart, for months it was aching for her mortal. she needed them, but she couldn't give in. her mortal reached out to her many times, without response as she struggled to justify bringing them to her.

finally, after watching her brother give in to his own wants, she does the same. it isn't all that bad, and what's the worst that could happen? her mortal doesn't like it in her world? she could send them back! they'll be happy either way.

so she brought them to her, and they were finally together. her muse was with her, in front of her eyes and in the flesh.

wilma and her mortal spent their days in the flower fields and ponds, embracing and giggling and admiring one another. adoring each other and their flaws and beauties.

as with wilbur, and any other god; wilma has the same fangs and wings. she doesn't choose to hide them as her brother does, keeping them on display, besides when she met her mortal; best not to scare them off.

she takes great pride in her appearance and her special features, showing them off 90% of the time. they don't bother her mortal, so she keeps them on display and she tries her best to show them off.

the right sector is home to the feminine, the beauty and the art of nature. creativity, divinity seep into the ground of this sector. ponds and rivers and fields of flowers adorn this world and make it what it is. it's a safety net for creatives who don't feel there's a place to belong in their own world. a safe haven.

its euphoric in its sights and aesthetics, tunnels covered in vines and flowers, water flowing beneath it. golden light covers the sights in a blanket of love and peace that wilma admires greatly.

[rayneing-on-your-parade]

My Projects

I have a variety of fanfic and original content projects out in the wild, so here's a masterlist of all of them:

Original Works

Slowly Unspooling - A queer horror audiodrama about follows Kai as they try to figure out the reason behind some cassette tapes that showed up one day.

@solitudeseventhorizon - An upcoming queer horror sci fi following Eli after their ship encountered an anomaly, leaving them the only survivor

@apogeepod - An upcoming horror about the end of the world taking place on the ISS, pilot written for Pod Jam 2025

Long list of Fanworks under the break

Fanworks

The Magnus Archives

Completed:

I Know the Kindest Thing is to Leave you Alone - Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas - (Teen) - James Wright is getting old and wants to retire. Elias Bouchard is in a new relationship. Jonah Magnus is upset Elias isn't taking care of his Lukas, so he rushes to take over.

Sunshine - Eric Delano/Michael Shelley - (General) - Written for In Memoria by Behold_me - After Eric disappears one day, Michael has to raise Gerry, but doesn't know how to.

A Past Worth Fighting For - Jonathan Sims/Gerry Delano - (Teen) - The first part of my Rise and Fall series, All about Jon and Gerry growing up together

Delirious Desires - Gerard Keay/Michael - (Explicit) - A spiral!gerry ending, where Michael sends Gerry to the hospital on accident, and thinks the worst. That leads it to the archives to deal with a bigger problem.

The Desolation - Gerard Keay & Jude Perry - (explicit for graphic violence) - Part of my entity swap Gerry series. When Jude Perry shows up and takes a liking to Gerry, one can only guess at the shenanigans the two will get into. Soon she keeps showing up and offers a way out for him, if he only asks.

Ghost of Our Fears - Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims - (General) - Somewhere else, Jon broke the promise of together. Martin clung as long as he could. But a ghost can only hang on so long.

Come Back to Me - Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas and Mordechai Lukas/Jonah Magnus - (Explicit) - Elias Bouchard has a yearly meeting with a Lukas to maintain a contract he had with Mordechai Lukas over a century ago. But he wasn't expecting Mordechai to be the one to walk in saying his name was Peter Lukas.

Gerry's Gener Grief - (General) - Part of Rise and Fall - Growing up, Gerry was only ever allowed to be what Mary wanted him to be. Now with Michael and Eric taking care of him, he's realizing that's not what all he's limited to. Starting with his gender.

Arrows in a Quiver - Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay - (General) - Also part of Rise and Fall - Martin is questioning his romantic orientation and Gerry has some strong opinions on gatekeeping

The Archivist's Statements - Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims - (General) - Jon always has a tape recorder on hand, what if he took advantage of that and used it as an audio diary since he can just talk without thinking?

The Benefits of Fingers in Your Hair - Michael Shelley/Gerard Keay - Gerry and Michael embark on a journey of love, trust, and overcoming the shadows of their pasts. Together, they find solace in each other's arms, cherishing the simple moments of dyeing hair and sharing tender kisses. In a world filled with uncertainty, Gerry and Michael have discovered a love that can withstand any darkness.

Whispers of the Woods - Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Gerard Keay/Michael - (Mature) - Jon, the reclusive forest witch, used to offer answers to visitors seeking knowledge before he cut off all ties. When Martin is sent by his mother years later to receive one of Jon's famous answers he gets lost. However, guided by a mysterious stranger, he arrives at Jon's tower, and their encounter sets in motion a series of curious events, including a deepening friendship, an unexpected disappearance, and a tangled web of secrets.

Not Yet/Love Run - Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael - (Explicit) - Gerry's relationship with Michael hasn't been all sunshine and roses. No matter how hard he tries to make it. So he's not surprised when Michael comes home one day and kicks him out. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

Whispered Affection - Gerard Keay/Jonathan Sims - (Explicit) - Part of Rise and Fall - On the first day Jon and Gerry's new relationship as a married couple, Jon can't help but feel anxious over what is being missed. Gerry is very willing to give Jon anything he wants.

How to Live Again - Gerry Delano/Jon Sims, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Gerry Delano - (Mature) - The main fic of my Rise and Fall series - Jon wakes up in the year 2022 in a bed that is not his own. And more surprisingly, it's not Martin curled up next to him. Jon has a fight with what was done, and the fact that he lived through it and Martin is no where to be found. Gerry has to come to terms with the fact that their husband is gone and the man in his place has no recollection of them. Martin is nowhere to be found and doesn't want to be found.

In Progress:

Still You Call Yourself my Friend - Martin/Jon/Tim&Sasha (Polychives) - (Mature) - After Jane Prentiss's attack on the archives and everything goes back mostly to normal, its the polychive's date night but sasha isn't showing up. Jon admits he's having some concerns over Sasha's attitude since the attack and soon they realize something is wrong. The three boyfriends have to work together with growing suspicions and hostility to try to save their relationship and their girlfriend's life

Sunday Dinner - Gerard Keay/Michael, Gerard Keay & Everyone - (Mature) - After Mary dies Gerry is left alone and the Avatars can't have this boy who learned to read on Leitners be free roaming. So now they're his family.

The End - Gerard Keay/Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood - (Mature) - Part of my Gerry entity swap Series - Gerry gets a Leitner at age 6 to keep him busy while Mary works on a business deal. Little did she know that it would set him on a path that would change his life for good

Twisted Up in You - Eric Delano/Michael - (Explicit) - 25 years ago, Eric tried to leave the institute and failed. Mary decided she had no need for him anymore and tried to kill him for it, but he managed to get away, leaving Gerry behind. Eventually he fell in love with his coworker, Michael Shelley. Then he heard the news of Mary's death, and got his child, now an adult, back. It seemed his life was finally perfect. So when Gertrude Robinson brought Michael along on a trip to Russia and came back alone, he knew better than to be surprised. And if a yellow door is stalking him, whats one more thing to add to the list?

Something Just Like This - Eric Delano/Michael Shelley, Eric Delano & Elias Bouchard - (Explicit) - Eric is Gerry's perfect dad, he tends to his every need and never even considers asking Mary to do anything. So when she volunteers one night Gerry wakes up from a night terror Eric is relieved, it allows him to stay in bed just a little longer before seeing if his boy needs him. What he doesn't expect is for the Eye to feed him what Mary is truly planning on doing. So after taking Gerry and running, he ends up in the Archives, trying to find where is safe from Mary finding and finishing her plan.

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery Morbidity and Mortality

Completed

Corrupted Programming - (Teen) - Cw Suicidal Ideation - Guide goes on another Retrieval Mission through the glassways. It isn't really interested after Raptor Team. Head of Retrieval notices.

Guide's Holiday - Audio Tour Guide & The Clockwork Mother - (General) - The worst is past; everything is back to how it should be in the museum. So why does Guide still feel like this? The Curator notices and calls it to their office.

In Progress

Road Trips to the Finish Line - Amina & The Audio Tour Guide - (Teen) - Amina "kidnaps" Guide, and they go on a road trip. Where ever Guide wants she takes it. They find a few interesting things along the way and meet up with a few old friends.

Echoes of Forgotten Tales - (Teen) - The doors of Mistholme Museum have remained sealed until three friends stumble upon a forgotten entrance. Inside, they encounter fragmented guides with unique personalities, each holding secrets of the museum's past. As they navigate through its exhibits, facing challenges and uncovering truths, they must decide whether to save the museum from chaos and confront the enigmatic figures who now control it.

A Ghost in the Machine - Gerard Keay/The Audio Tour Guide - (Mature) - A TMA and Mistholme crossover - While the staff here at Mistholme Museum of Mystery Morbidity and Mortality do their absolute best to ensure the safety of all visitors, accidents can happen. The museum is not liable for any injury, death, or unfortunate feelings for podcast characters that hold so much gender in them that may occur during your visit. AKA Elias Bouchard has a new exhibit for the Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality. A gift for an old friend. Wherein Guide meets another "not quite person" person, and learns another emotion it had not considered an option for itself. But that person does not want to be an option after the Archivist promised to destroy them.

Your Tour Through the Mistholme Museum of Mystery Morbidity and Mortality - (Teen) - A collection of Exhibit Fics, all with the same patron

Blackrock Chronicles

The Magic Within - Rythian & Zoey - (Teen) - In the bustling corridors of high school, Rythian navigates a world that despises his magic. When newcomer Zoey arrives, possessing her own unique abilities, they form an unlikely bond amid bullying and prejudice. Together, they confront their hidden powers in a thrilling tale of magic, courage, and acceptance.

Destroyer of Worlds - Rythian/Zoey - (Teen) - The end is coming, and Rythian can feel it in every shadow that looms over his world. With the relentless endermen attacks escalating, he struggles to protect his beloved Zoey and keep his deepest fears at bay. But when a dire mission forces him to leave her side, Rythian's resolve is tested like never before.

Sanctuary Reforged - Rythian/Zoey - A year after a nuclear blast shattered their world, Zoey and her mechanical arm have found refuge in the desert town of Crooked Caber. As whispers of survival and rebuilding fill the air, a voice from the past brings scientist Duncan to Rythian’s doorstep, dragging secrets and old allies along. Reunions are fraught with tension and betrayal as Zoey’s miraculous survival is unveiled to her grieving friends.

Chronicles of Remembrance - Zoey/Rythian - Zoey works to defuse the nukes, but makes a mistake. Her last thoughts are of Rythian, though her next are not.

The Magic of Harmony - Zoey/Rythian - After the rebellion's tumult, Rythian crafts magical rings for Zoey, seeking to bring her joy amidst chaos.

[03jyh23]

🌷⌇facing the fear finding our way back part 3; a choi jongho mini-series

ex-boyfriend!idol!jongho x ex-girlfriend!single-mom!reader

│series masterlist│ │next│

│synopsis: five years have passed since jongho last saw you. your lives have taken drastically different paths, with jongho achieving fame and you focusing on raising your daughter, nari, in quiet anonymity. when jongho discovers he has a daughter, he's determined to be a part of her life.

│genre: a slice of life, romance, fluff, some angst

│trigger warnings: unplanned pregnancy, illegitimate child, single parenthood

│words: 11.4 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there my lovely people! we are finally back! thank you guys for being patient with me, and waiting for this update! as always do let me know if you enjoyed it!

love, mon ♡

disclaimer: i believe that all my readers are open-minded individuals who support lgbt people and are not prejudiced in any way. i identify as a queer person, which is why i decided to include certain topics in the dialogues of this chapter. inclusivity is important to me, and i would like to be able to include such themes in my fanfictions without worry. before this chapter, i want to remind you once again that this is a work of fiction and in no way represents the true characteristics of the members of ateez.

— hi there!!! AM I SPOILING YOU GUYS WITH ANOTHER PART IN A SPAN OF 5 DAYS? ARE YOU HAPPY? thank you so much for the love i received! i can't describe how much it means to me and how happy i am to see you all enjoying my writing. i hope you will like this part as i'm well aware most of you have been waiting for what this chapter includes. by the way, i'm sorry if i confused the dorm arrangement! (according to my knowledge 1 jongho, hongjoong, wooyoung; 2 mingi, san, seonghwa; 3 yunho, yeosang) since my finals are almost over, i plan to post once a week, preferably on fridays(?). oh, also! please let me know how you guys feel about using korean phrases/words such as hyung/ya/maknae in fanfictions. i tried not to include it but sometimes it just feels weird not to.

love, mon ♡

│taglist: │ @seventeenthingsblr @DALSUWAHA @treehouse-mouse @ateez-atiny380 @sleepy-kat-here @sndeoki @bomi-ja @dearinsaniiiity @vixensss @all-fandoms-rise @finnydraws @hyuckiesgf

│ if you wish to be tagged let me know here! ♡

Jongho made his way back to the dorm, the small purple box Nari had entrusted him with gripped firmly in his hand. The quiet of the dorm seemed to amplify his growing anxiety. He knew he had to talk to the boys about Nari, but his day had already been filled with so many emotions. He felt a headache coming on, his head heavy with the weight of it all. Maybe it’s better if he waits a bit before talking to them. He took off his shoes and jacket and approached the kitchen. 

Once in the kitchen, he decided to make a cup of tea, hoping the warm drink would help with his headache and calm his swirling thoughts. He picked up the small purple box that Nari had given him, his fingers tracing the edges gently. A small smile began to play on his lips as he held the box, the weight of it in his hands bringing back the memory of the little girl who had given it to him. He was reminiscing about the way he held Nari in his arms, her little head on his shoulder and big eyes carefully watching him. He already loved holding her, feeling her small body against his. It was the first time he held his daughter in his arms, and he wished he could do it more often from now on. He didn't want to leave, but he knew better than to put his selfish desires first. It was strange, this sudden realization of himself as a father. The idea was still so new, so foreign to him. He'd spent his whole life thinking of himself as an individual, but now he was a part of something bigger, something more important than himself. He was a father. And, despite the fear and uncertainty that came with that thought, he also felt a sense of pride and responsibility. He was a father, and he was going to do everything in his power to be a good one. 

However, the happiness was fading due to one name constantly reappearing in his mind—Hyunwoo. Jongho's lingering thoughts about Hyunwoo began to tarnish his newfound joy, creating an undercurrent of unease that he couldn't shake off. Try as he might to focus on the positive, the thought of Hyunwoo continued to gnaw at him, threatening to overshadow the happiness he had found in Nari.

The sound of the kettle whistling brought him back to the present, and he quickly turned off the stove. He poured the steaming water into his cup; the scent of the tea leaves slowly diffusing into the air. As he sipped his tea, he found his mind drifting back to the day's events. Despite the uncertainty and the lingering questions, he couldn't help but feel a sense of hope. He was determined to face whatever challenges lay ahead, for the sake of his relationship with Nari and, possibly, with you. 

Jongho picked up his cup in one hand and the small purple box of cookies in the other and began walking towards his room. Just as he was about to open the door, he heard his name being called out. 

"Jongho, you're back?" A familiar voice echoed through the dorm. It was Hongjoong, his voice carrying from the confines of his room. The older boy's voice was soft, laced with a hint of concern. 

"Yeah, it's me," Jongho answered as he followed to Hongjoong's room. When he entered the room, he found Hongjoong sitting at his desk, as usual, engrossed in his work. The room was dimly lit, with only a small reading lamp casting long shadows on the walls. Jongho paused at the doorway, watching Hongjoong for a moment. His gaze softened at the sight of the older boy, his usually vibrant eyes now filled with a quiet seriousness, 

"Is everything okay?" Hongjoong asked, lifting his gaze from the laptop to meet Jongho's. 

Jongho nodded, slowly, "Yeah, just a lot on my mind." He knew he couldn't avoid the conversation any longer. 

"Does it have anything to do with Y/N?" Hongjoong asked as he closed his laptop and put his headphones back on the desk. 

Jongho hesitated for a moment before answering. "Yes," he finally admitted, his gaze dropping to the cup of tea in his hands. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he knew he had to have. Hongjoong's expression turned serious, and he nodded for Jongho to continue. He knew that when Jongho was ready to talk, he would. 

Just as Jongho was about to speak, his gaze fell on the small, purple box he had almost forgotten about. "This," he held up the box, "is from Nari." His voice was soft, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "She wanted me to give it to Wooyoung. It's cookies she made." 

Hongjoong's eyes widened in surprise, "That's really sweet of her," he said, a fond smile on his face. "Wooyoung will definitely appreciate this." 

Jongho nodded in agreement, "Yes, he will" he replied, a hint of sadness in his voice. It was clear that he was still lost in his thoughts, the earlier conversation with you clearly weighing on his mind. 

"I know you held a company meeting today," Hongjoong started, he leaned over to pat a chair next to him, a clear invitation for Jongho to sit down. His eyes held a glimmer of understanding, as if he knew that Jongho had a lot on his mind and was ready to lend a listening ear. Jongho took the invitation and sat down, setting the cookie box aside. Hongjoong reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Wanna talk about it?" he asked gently, his eyes filled with concern. 

Jongho stared at him for a moment, then let out a sigh. "Yes," Jongho confessed, finally releasing the words he had held back. "I need to talk about it. I need to talk about Y/N, about Nari... and about a man named Hyunwoo." His voice was heavy with a mixture of confusion, longing, and a trace of fear. 

Hongjoong's eyebrows furrowed at this. "Hyunwoo?" he echoed, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Who is he?" 

Jongho sighed, his gaze dropping to his hands. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "But he's close to Y/N. I saw a text message from him on her phone. He referred to her as 'love'." His voice faltered slightly at the end, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Hongjoong was silent for a moment, processing the information. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, "Have you talked to Y/N about this?" 

Jongho shook his head. "I didn't get the chance. And even if I did... I wouldn't know what to say." He looked up, meeting Hongjoong's gaze. "What do I even ask? How do I bring this up without sounding like I invaded her privacy?" 

Hongjoong thought for a moment. "Firstly," he began, "you didn't invade her privacy. You found her phone and saw the message. It's not like you went snooping through her texts." He paused, giving Jongho a reassuring look. "And as for what to ask... Just be honest. Tell her what you saw and how it made you feel. It's better to talk things out than to let your thoughts spiral." 

"I don't think it's a good idea to talk to her about how I feel," Jongho said, his hands tapping nervously on the table. "She's reminding me all the time that we are doing this for Nari, yet I can't help but feel all of these emotions when I am with her." 

"What emotions?" Hongjoong asked. 

Jongho paused, searching for the right words. "I don't know... I feel... confused, I guess? And I can't help but feel a bit jealous when I think about this Hyunwoo guy. And there's more... I feel a connection with her, it's like something’s drawing me towards her. It's hard to explain." 

Hongjoong nodded, understanding in his eyes. "It sounds like you're still in love with her, Jongho." 

"How can I be in love with her? It's been five years," Jongho almost whispered, emotion threatening to overwhelm him any moment now. 

"Love doesn't just disappear, Jongho," Hongjoong replied, his voice filled with understanding. "It can lie dormant, waiting for the right moment to resurface. And seeing Y/N again, meeting your daughter... those are powerful triggers." 

The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. Jongho didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the floor. Finally, he looked up at Hongjoong, his expression vulnerable. "Maybe I am. But what does it matter? She has someone else in her life. And even if she didn't, it doesn't mean she feels the same about me." 

"Jongho," Hongjoong began, his voice steady and calm. "Feelings are complicated. It's completely normal to feel the way you do. You and Y/N have a history together and now you have a daughter. It's natural to have feelings for her." 

"But what if she doesn't feel the same? What if I'm just holding onto something that isn't there anymore?" Jongho asked, his voice heavy with worry. 

"Then you'll deal with it," Hongjoong stated simply. "You can't control how she feels, just like she can't control how you feel. All you can do is be honest with her and with yourself." Jongho nodded, taking in Hongjoong's words. His heart was still heavy, and the fear of the unknown still loomed over him, but he felt a bit calmer, a bit more ready to face whatever was to come. "Jongho, you don't have to choose between focusing on Nari or pursuing your feelings towards Y/N," Hongjoong continued. "I am not a father but…" At these words, Jongho chuckled, looking at Hongjoong. The older boy had always been like a father figure in the band, always looking out for the others and guiding them when they needed it. Hongjoong laughed softly, catching on to Jongho's thoughts. "I mean, I'm not a real father," he added, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "But I believe that if you want to create a family with Y/N, it can't be done in separate stages," Hongjoong continued, his words filled with understanding. "You can't simply discard your emotions and solely concentrate on being a father. It's not that straightforward. These two aspects are linked and need to grow together. You're not just a father, Jongho, but a man who still loves the mother of his child. And that's okay. It's okay to allow yourself to feel this way, to explore these feelings while also focusing on being a father to Nari. It's okay to be human and not have everything figured out. This journey you're on, it's not just about parenting, but also about healing and growing as a person. And part of that growth involves acknowledging and understanding your feelings for Y/N. So, don't try to separate the two. Let them happen at the same time." Hongjoong's words hung in the air, heavy with truth and understanding. Jongho felt a strange mix of relief and fear. The idea of allowing himself to experience these complex emotions was daunting, yet it also felt right. He understood that he had been trying to separate his feelings, handling one thing at a time to keep control. But life, as he was quickly learning, was rarely that simple. 

Jongho nodded, acknowledging the truth in Hongjoong's words. He felt a sense of gratitude towards his friend for offering a perspective he hadn't considered. "You're right, Hongjoong," he admitted, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I guess I've been trying to simplify things, to make this all more manageable. But I can't ignore my feelings for Y/N. And I won't." He paused, letting the words sink in. "I need to confront this, for Nari, for Y/N, and for myself." 

Hongjoong returned the smile, his eyes reflecting a sense of understanding and support. "That's the spirit, Jongho," he encouraged. "Facing our emotions may be scary, but it's the only way to truly understand ourselves and move forward. And remember, you don't have to do this alone. I'm here for you." 

Jongho felt a surge of gratitude. He was lucky to have such a supportive friend. He knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with Hongjoong’s support, he felt ready to face whatever came his way. 

Feeling lighter than before, Jongho allowed a genuine smile to reach his eyes. In a playful tone, he joked, "I aspire to be as good of a father as you, Hongjoong." This comment earned him a small punch in the arm from his friend, who couldn't help but break into laughter at the compliment. 

Their moment of levity was suddenly interrupted by Wooyoung's voice. "Who wants to be a father?" the boy, who had just woken up from his nap, asked. Standing in the doorway with tousled hair, he looked at them with curiosity. 

Caught off guard, Jongho and Hongjoong exchanged a glance, both momentarily at a loss for words. "For how long have you been listening?" Jongho asked, his playful demeanor from a minute ago long gone. 

"Well, it's just that San woke up and wanted me to grab him a glass of water, and I just left my room," Wooyoung yawned. 

Hongjoong gave Wooyoung a quick glance before returning his gaze to Jongho. "We were just talking about...things," he said vaguely, not wanting to delve into the details. Jongho nodded, appreciating Hongjoong's discretion. 

"So, San is here?'' Jongho asked, his gaze shifting briefly towards the direction of Wooyoung's room. There was a hint of curiosity in his voice, a subtle shift in the atmosphere as he awaited Wooyoung's response. 

"Yeah, he is," Wooyoung answered, rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes. He stifled a yawn before continuing, "He couldn't sleep well last night, so he came over earlier to catch up on some sleep."  

Jongho nodded in understanding then turned to Hongjoong, seeking his opinion. "Should we just call the rest of the guys then?" he asked, his eyes searching for reassurance in Hongjoong's gaze. 

Hongjoong considered the suggestion for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I think it's time," he agreed, a sense of determination in his voice. "We should all be on the same page about this." 

"What are you guys even talking about?" Wooyoung asked, clearly confused, as he leaned into the doorframe. His eyes flicked between Hongjoong and Jongho, searching for answers in their serious expressions. But before Jongho could open his mouth to explain, a loud voice from Wooyoung's bedroom caught them all off guard. 

"Ya! Wooyoung, do you want me to die of thirst?" San's voice rang out, filled with exaggerated distress. The three of them turned towards the direction of the voice, a look of amusement passing between them.  

"Quit being so dramatic!" Wooyoung shouted back, rolling his eyes but not able to hide the smile tugging at his lips. He then pushed himself off from the doorframe and finally made his way into the kitchen. 

"I thought separating those two would earn me some peace," Hongjoong sighed, his gaze following Wooyoung as he made his way into the kitchen, "But what was the point of dividing us into three different dorms when San is always here." He shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Despite his grumbles, it was clear that he wouldn't have it any other way. The bond they all shared was unbreakable, and no matter how often they bickered or teased each other, at the end of the day, they were family. "I'll send a message to the rest of the boys," Hongjoong offered, pushing himself up from his chair and stretching his arms above his head. He looked at Jongho, a determined expression on his face. "In the meantime, you should go and grab some food for us. We'll need something to keep us going while we discuss everything." He paused, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ever since Yeosang moved in with Yunho, I swear those two live off air and video games. I bet they haven't had a proper meal in days." He shook his head in mock disapproval, his tone dripping with dramatic exaggeration. 

Jongho chuckled at Hongjoong's dramatic performance, acknowledging the truth in his words. "Alright, I'll pick up some food. Any preferences?" he asked, standing up from the chair. 

"How about something spicy? The spicier the better," Hongjoong suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I bet that would wake San and Wooyoung up pretty quickly." 

Jongho laughed, shaking his head at Hongjoong's antics. "Spicy it is then," he conceded, pulling on his jacket. As he was about to leave, he paused at the door, turning to look at Hongjoong. "Thanks, hyung," he said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. 

Hongjoong simply nodded, a warm smile on his face. "Anytime, Jongho. We're all in this together, remember?" 

Jongho smiled at his older friend and nodded, "I'll remember that" he said, his voice filled with gratitude. 

"Hey, San! Rise and shine, sleep is for the weak!" Hongjoong shouted with a mischievous grin as he entered Wooyoung's bedroom. 

Jongho smiled to himself, pulling on his jacket. His conversation with Hongjoong had left him feeling a little lighter, a little more hopeful. The road ahead was still unclear, filled with unknowns and potential challenges, but he was not alone. He had his friends, his brothers, standing by his side, ready to face whatever came their way together. 

Just as Jongho stepped out of the dorm, he fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed your number. As he made his way towards the nearest restaurant, he could feel the nervous energy coursing through him. He still hadn't fully processed everything that had happened, and despite the reassurance he got from Hongjoong, he was still filled with a sense of unease. He wanted to call you to discuss the decision he had made about telling the boys about his newfound fatherhood. He felt he needed your consent to move forward with this, and he was hoping to get your approval. He waited for you to pick up, each ring echoing in his ears, amplifying his anxiety. Just when he was about to end the call, assuming you were busy, he heard the phone being picked up. However, instead of your voice, he was met with a male voice, catching him off guard. 

Jongho's heart skipped a beat as the unfamiliar voice echoed in his phone. "Hello, Y/N's phone. Who is this?" the voice asked, a hint of curiosity lacing his tone. 

Jongho cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. "This is Jongho," he replied, his mind racing as he tried to figure out who the person on the other end of the line was. 

"Oh, Jongho? Y/N's mentioned you," the voice replied, sounding slightly surprised. "This is Hyunwoo." 

The mention of the name sent a shock through Jongho. This was the Hyunwoo he'd been worrying about, the one whose name had been haunting him. He struggled to find his voice, the shock leaving him momentarily speechless. 

"Is Y/N there?" Jongho finally managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"Uh, she's in the shower. Can I take a message?" Hyunwoo offered, seemingly oblivious to the tension on Jongho's end. 

"No, it's... it's okay. I'll call back later," Jongho replied, quickly hanging up the phone. His mind was a whirlwind, the implications of the call leaving him breathless. He stood there for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts, before continuing his walk to the restaurant. 

Jongho tried his hardest to shove the thoughts to the back of his mind, but they kept creeping up, filling his thoughts as he mindlessly entered the restaurant. He ordered the food, his eyes glued to the menu but his mind somewhere else entirely—on Hyunwoo, on you, on Nari. The anxiety was clawing at him, the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach growing with each passing minute. He couldn't help but imagine Hyunwoo there with you, spending time with Nari while he was away. These thoughts consumed him as he waited to pick up his order, his heart pounding against his chest in rhythm with the ticking of the clock. 

Finally, he left the restaurant, his hands clutching the bags of food tighter than necessary. He was about to enter his building, his mind still swirling with what-ifs and worst-case scenarios, when his phone rang. It was you, calling him back. He felt his heart skip a beat, the sight of your name on his screen both comforting and terrifying. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the conversation that was about to follow. 

Just before he picked up the call, he steeled himself, reminding himself that he needed to focus on the bigger picture. With a deep breath, he answered the call, his voice steady as he greeted, "Hello, Y/N." 

"Jongho you called earlier? I just got out of the shower. Is everything okay?" Your voice echoed in his ear, a mixture of concern and surprise. 

"Yeah, everything is fine," Jongho quickly reassured you. He paused, trying to figure out how to approach the conversation. "I just... I wanted to talk to you about something." He could hear the hesitation in his own voice, his mind racing with thoughts of what your reaction might be. 

"Sure, what's up?" You asked, your voice filled with curiosity. Your calm demeanor helped Jongho to steady himself. He realized he needed to be honest, to talk to you about his feelings and the decisions he had made. 

"I... I've decided to talk to the boys about... about Nari," Jongho confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. He held his breath, waiting for your response, the silence on the other end of the line amplifying his anxiety. 

After what felt like forever, you finally responded. Your voice, when you spoke, was soft, filled with understanding. "Jongho... I think that's a good idea," you reassured him, your words lifting a weight off his shoulders. "They are your family. They deserve to know." 

Jongho let out a sigh of relief, his heart pounding in his chest. "Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, gratitude flooding his voice.  With your consent, he felt ready to face whatever came next. Yet, Jongho was dying to ask about Hyunwoo, to understand who he was in relation to you. Just as he was about to give in to the urge to know, he heard Hyunwoo's voice in the distance, calling your name. His heart skipped a beat, the sound of Hyunwoo's voice serving as a stark reminder of the complexity of the situation. 

"Love, are you still on the phone?" Hyunwoo's voice echoed in the background, his tone casual and familiar. The sound of his voice sent a sharp pang of jealousy through Jongho, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions that he struggled to keep at bay. 

"Who was that?" Jongho found himself asking, the words escaping his lips before he had a chance to fully process them. He could hear the curiosity lacing his tone, a direct reflection of the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in his mind. However, as soon as the question left his mouth, he immediately regretted it. He could feel a sudden rush of apprehension washing over him, a stark reminder of the delicate line he was treading. This was not a conversation he wanted to have over the phone, and certainly not one he wanted to rush into. Knowing that he had stepped into a territory that he was not ready to traverse, Jongho quickly tried to deflect his previous question. "Actually, never mind. It's not important," he said, his voice filled with a forced casualness. He didn't want to pry into your personal life, at least not yet, not when he himself was still trying to figure out his own feelings. 

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, making Jongho's heart pound in his chest. He could almost feel the wheels turning in your head, deciding how to respond to his sudden withdrawal. "Jongho, it's okay," you finally spoke, your voice gentle, almost soothing. "Hyunwoo is..." 

However, before you could finish, Jongho, eager to end the call, interrupted you. "I'm actually about to talk to the guys now." There was a certain finality in his voice, a determination that suggested he had made up his mind and was ready to face whatever came next. "We'll talk more later, Y/N." With that, he ended the call, his heart pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. 

Upon reaching the dorm, Jongho paused at the entrance to gather his thoughts. He took a moment to look at the bags of food he carried in his hands, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Here goes nothing," he whispered under his breath, drawing in one long, calming breath before he pushed open the door. 

Inside, he was greeted by the familiar faces of his friends. Their expressions were a mix of curiosity and concern. His gaze naturally found Hongjoong, who gave him a reassuring nod, a silent message of support that eased some of the anxiety Jongho felt. 

Taking a deep breath, Jongho broke the silence. "I brought some food," he said, setting down the bags on the table. His voice was steady, but the members could sense a hidden tension beneath his casual demeanor. 

Yunho immediately stood up and walked over to Jongho. "Let me help you," he offered, taking some of the bags from Jongho. With Yunho's help, the food was quickly spread out on the table. 

"But before we start eating," Jongho began, setting down the plates and chopsticks. His voice had turned serious, causing the members to pause mid-conversation and look at him. "There's something important I wanted to discuss with you all." 

"What's up, Jongho?" Seonghwa asked, his brow furrowing in concern. The atmosphere in the room had noticeably shifted, the air charged with anticipation. 

Jongho paused for a moment, taking in another deep, steadying breath. His heart pounded rapidly, echoing loudly in his ears. The reality of what he was about to reveal made him feel as if he was carrying an enormous, burdensome load. He looked around at everyone gathered in the room, their expectant gazes only adding to the pressure he was under. Summoning every ounce of courage he had, he finally spoke up, his voice steady despite the nerves. "I have something important to share with you all," he began, his words hanging heavy in the air. He took another pause, letting the seriousness of his statement sink in. "Something... significant." 

The members exchanged curious and worried glances. "What's going on?" Yunho asked, instinctively sitting up straighter, his eyes keenly focused on the youngest. Jongho momentarily hesitated, his lips parting as he searched for the right words to convey his news. 

"Are you okay?" Mingi asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. The members had picked up on Jongho’s hesitation, their worry for their friend evident. 

Jongho nodded his head affirmatively, his eyes reflecting a sense of calm acceptance. "Yes," he began, his voice steady and reassuring, "I'm perfectly fine." He paused momentarily, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "Recently, I found out that..." His expression softened, a hint of vulnerability seeping through. "I... I have a daughter. A beautiful little girl who has made me see the world in a whole new light. Her name is Nari." The room seemed to swallow itself in a stunned, thick silence, as if the air had been sucked out in one fell swoop. The boys, taken aback, could only stare at Jongho, their gazes boring into him as they grappled with the enormity of the revelation he had just made. 

"A daughter?" Wooyoung repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, the word reverberating around the room. His eyes were wide with shock, disbelief etched into every feature of his face. His mind was spinning, trying to comprehend the unexpected news. "Since when?" He finally managed to stammer out, the question hanging heavy in the air. 

Jongho nodded again, his eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. "Yes, a daughter. She's going to be four years old soon. I only learned about her, well… yesterday." 

Struggling to comprehend the situation, San managed to stammer out, "How... how did this happen?" His facial expression was a perfect illustration of his bewilderment and surprise. 

Wooyoung, attempting to alleviate the tension in the room with a quip, scoffed and said, "Did you seriously just ask him about the birds and the bees?" His attempt at humor served as a brief respite in the heavy atmosphere. 

Jongho chuckled nervously at Wooyoung's comment, appreciating the attempt to lighten the mood. "It's... complicated," he admitted. "But what's important now is that she's here, and I want to do right by her." 

Yeosang, who had been quiet the whole time, finally spoke up. "Jongho, this is huge. How are you handling it?" 

Jongho sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's overwhelming, to be honest. But I want to be a part of Nari's life. That's why I needed to tell you all. I need your support and understanding as I navigate this." 

The members were quiet for a moment, processing the news. Then, Yunho spoke up, his voice gentle. "We're here for you, Jongho. Whatever you need, we'll support you." 

Seonghwa, who had been quietly absorbing the revelation, finally voiced his thoughts. "What about your daughter's mom?" he inquired; his tone full of worry. "Don't tell me you're married!" His terrified expression was somewhat amusing. 

Jongho laughed lightly, shaking his head at Seonghwa's worry. "No, no, I'm not married. Her mom is Y/N. We dated a while back, but… let’s just say things didn't work out." He paused, the mention of your name bringing a soft smile to his lips. "But despite everything, we're trying to work together for Nari's sake." 

"I can't believe there's a mini version of Jongho walking around this earth," Yeosang exclaimed, his eyes wide with astonishment. The room, previously filled with shock and concern, lit up as the other members burst into laughter. 

"Yeah, imagine a tiny Jongho running around, breaking apples left and right," San joked, grinning widely. 

Jongho found himself caught up in the infectious laughter, his shoulders dropping as some of the tension he had been carrying seemed to melt away. He said, "She's got my eyes," a clear note of pride resonating in his voice. 

Yunho, his expression painted with curiosity, tilted his head slightly, "Does she also have your voice?" he asked. 

A warm smile spread across Jongho's face as he spoke. "She's definitely got some musical talent. Y/N told me she loves singing along to our songs." 

"Looks like we've got a future idol in the making," Hongjoong remarked, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes. 

Seonghwa leaned in, a playful smirk on his face. "So, Jongho, when are we going to teach her the choreography for our next comeback?" 

"One step at a time, guys," Jongho chuckled. "First, I need to actually get to know her better." 

Mingi nudged him with his elbow. "You know, this means you'll have to take her to one of our dance practices. She must see her dad in action." 

"She would love that," Jongho admitted, his heart warming at the thought. 

"I honestly thought Seonghwa, with his baby fever, would have a baby first," Wooyoung laughed, resulting in a smack from Seonghwa. 

"Ya, Wooyoung!" Seonghwa responded in mock outrage, though the corners of his mouth lifted into an amused smile. "Just because I like kids doesn't mean I'm ready to have one yet." 

Hongjoong couldn't resist joining in on the friendly banter. "And who in their right mind would want to have a child with Seonghwa?" he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face. 

In response, Seonghwa fixed him with a mock stern look. "Watch it, Hongjoong," he warned with a playful glint in his eyes, "Or I'll make sure you're the first one to babysit." 

The room filled with laughter again, the light-hearted teasing helping to diffuse any lingering tension. 

"You know," Wooyoung said, still chuckling, "if Seonghwa did have a kid, that kid would be the most spoiled child on the planet." 

"Only the best for my imaginary child," Seonghwa retorted with a smirk. The room erupted in laughter again, the playful banter easing the tension even more. 

Jongho couldn't help but laugh along with them, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for his friends' support and humor. "Thanks, guys," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I really appreciate all of you." 

"Seriously, though," Mingi said, looking at Jongho with a sincere expression. "We’re all here for you. Anything you need, just let us know." 

"Yeah," Yeosang chimed in. "We’re Uncle Ateez now. We'll spoil her rotten." 

Jongho’s heart swelled with gratitude. "It means a lot to me. I was nervous about telling you all, but your support means everything." 

Hongjoong nodded. "We’re a family. We stick together no matter what." 

"Plus, we can teach her all the important things," San added with a mischievous grin. "Like how to prank you." 

As the teasing and laughter continued, Jongho felt a profound sense of relief. His brothers' acceptance and support meant the world to him. It gave him the strength and confidence he needed to face the challenges ahead, knowing that he wasn't alone. He had his family by his side, ready to support him as he stepped into his new role as a father. 

Wooyoung grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "So, when do we get to meet her? I mean, she's part of the family now, right?" 

Jongho cleared his throat, feeling a sudden rush of nerves. "Actually... you've already met her," he confessed, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

The announcement was met with a stunned silence as the members stared at him, their eyes wide in disbelief. "What do you mean we've already met her?" Yunho asked, his voice filled with confusion. 

Jongho nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Y/N was at our fan meeting with Nari." The memory of the fan meeting caused a wave of realization to wash over the members. They remembered seeing a little girl there. 

"That little girl... That was Nari?" Mingi asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Jongho nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, that was Nari." 

Wooyoung, who was completely dumbfounded, finally broke the silence. "Wait, so you're telling me the sweetest little girl who jumped right into my arms, that pure angel... is your daughter?" His voice was filled with astonishment as he stared at Jongho, the realization slowly sinking in. 

Jongho chuckled lightly at Wooyoung's reaction, appreciating the humor in the situation. "Yes, that's right." 

Wooyoung laughed, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he declared, "It's over for you bitches! I'm already her favorite." His confident assertion was met with a burst of mocking laughter from the other members. They playfully booed and wooed him, their friendly banter echoing throughout the room. The energetic atmosphere was infectious, and despite the weight of the revelation he had just shared, Jongho found himself joining in the laughter. 

"Well, I made her laugh," San argued, crossing his arms indignantly, "Everyone knows that laughter is the key to a kid's heart. So technically, I should be her favorite." 

"Laughter, huh?" Wooyoung retorted with a smirk, "Well, I actually got a hug from her. Physical contact beats laughter any day." 

Yunho decided to chime in, "Guys, I think we're all forgetting that I'm the one who gave her a high five. So, I'm pretty sure I'm her favorite." 

Jongho couldn't help but laugh at the ongoing friendly competition, feeling a sense of warmth spread through him. "Guys, it's not a competition," he finally managed to say, his voice filled with amusement. "But it's great to see that you're all excited to be a part of Nari's life." 

"Of course we are," San responded, his voice sincere. "She's part of our family." 

Hongjoong, who had been silently observing the playful chaos, decided to intervene. "Alright, that's enough," he declared, a playful smirk on his face. "Jongho, you need to tell us who her favorite is. A man's pride is at stake now." Wooyoung looked at Jongho expectantly, a triumphant smile already forming on his lips. 

Jongho sighed, wishing he didn't have to say this, didn't have to admit that indeed Wooyoung was her favorite. But he needed to end this friendly debate, so in a dramatic tone he stated, "Alright, you got me. Wooyoung... you are indeed Nari's favorite." A collective gasp filled the room followed by Wooyoung's triumphant laughter. 

Wooyoung's laughter echoed through the room, his chest puffing out with pride. "I knew it!" he exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air. The other members rolled their eyes at his display, but their smiles betrayed their amusement. 

The atmosphere in the room had lightened considerably. What started as a serious and nerve-wracking discussion had somehow turned into a friendly competition. Jongho couldn't help but feel grateful. His brothers, his family, had not only accepted his news but were also excited to be a part of his daughter's life. 

San, still grinning at Wooyoung's antics, turned to Jongho. "We're really happy for you, Jongho." His words were sincere, his gaze soft. "And we can't wait to be the best uncles Nari could ask for." 

Mingi nodded in agreement, a smile spreading across his face. "We'll be here for you, every step of the way." 

Jongho felt a lump form in his throat, his heart swelling with gratitude. He never doubted his friends' loyalty, but hearing their reaffirmations was comforting. It reassured him that he wasn't facing this journey alone. 

"Thank you, everyone," Jongho said, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm really lucky to have you all." The warmth in their eyes was all the confirmation he needed. He was surrounded by his family, ready to face the challenges of fatherhood together. 

"Do you think we will be able to properly meet her soon?" Seonghwa asked, his gaze filled with anticipation. 

Jongho nodded, a hopeful expression on his face. "I've been talking to Y/N about it, and she agrees that it would be good for Nari to get to know all of you. We just need to figure out the right time and place." The members nodded, understanding that this was a big step and one that needed to be handled with care and consideration. They all agreed to be patient and wait for Jongho to make the arrangements, knowing that this was a sensitive matter. 

The atmosphere in the room was filled with understanding and support, but Seonghwa finally voiced the question that had been lingering in the back of his mind. His tone was gentle, not wanting to intrude on Jongho's privacy, but curiosity and concern for their friend prevailed. "Jongho," he began, his gaze steady and kind, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but... why didn't things work out between you and Y/N?" Everyone in the room turned their eyes towards Jongho, waiting patiently for his response. It was not a question asked out of idle curiosity, but rather one rooted in genuine concern for their friend's well-being. 

Jongho took a moment to collect his thoughts, appreciating the gentle way Seonghwa posed the question. His gaze fell to his hands, fingers lightly drumming on the tabletop as he sought the right words to convey the complicated history that existed between him and you. "I met Y/N before our debut and… well, you can imagine how that was," Jongho began, his voice trailing off as he lowered his gaze to look at his hands. Speaking about it was more difficult than he had anticipated. He had spent countless nights pondering over whether he should've allowed himself to get so close to you, especially right before ATEEZ's debut. He knew he had risked not just his career, but also the harmony within the group. However, he also understood that honesty was crucial. If the boys knew about Nari, they should also know about his past relationship with you. 

Mingi broke the thoughtful silence that had settled over the room, drawing everyone's attention to him. "So, the infamous dating ban?" he asked, his voice echoing softly in the quiet space. 

"Yes, the dating ban," Jongho confirmed. There was a trace of melancholy in his voice, his lips curling into a sad smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. 

Wooyoung let out an exaggerated sigh. "Dating ban was such bullshit," he complained. Jongho chuckled at Wooyoung's dramatic sigh. He found a sense of solidarity in Wooyoung's words and nodded in agreement, his response a silent testament to their shared sentiments. 

"Well, if there's anyone here who should be talking, it's definitely you," San interjected, causing Wooyoung to furrow his brows in confusion, not quite grasping the implication of his words. Without skipping a beat, San continued, "I mean, I believe we all remember that you had a boyfriend back then. It's not exactly a secret, is it?" 

Wooyoung's eyes widened, a look of surprise flashing across his face. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He glanced at Yeosang, who was trying to suppress a grin, and then at Mingi, who simply shrugged, a knowing smile on his face. 

"Wait, you knew about that?" Wooyoung asked, his voice filled with disbelief. 

"Of course, we did," Yunho replied matter-of-factly. "You weren't exactly subtle, Wooyoung." 

"Yeah," Jongho added, his grin widening. "Your secret rendezvous weren't as secret as you thought." 

Wooyoung groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I can't believe you guys knew all along and didn't say anything." 

"Well," San said, trying to suppress his laughter. "It wasn't our place to say anything. And besides, it was kind of fun watching you think you were getting away with it." 

Just as Wooyoung was gathering his thoughts, preparing to open his mouth to speak, Yeosang, with a sly grin on his face, suddenly interjected. He smoothly diverted the conversation to a memorable event, saying, "I remember this one time when we were recording the music video for Deja Vu." Yeosang continued, his tone teasing, "You came to set sporting this huge hickey, it was impossible to miss." He laughed and added, "You really thought you had fooled us when you blamed it on the stylist, claiming that you were accidentally burned by a hair curler, didn't you?" 

Wooyoung's face flushed a deep red as he stammered, trying to find a way to defend himself. "I... I mean... it... it was a believable excuse, wasn't it?" He blurted out, his voice wavering slightly. The room erupted in laughter, each member clutching their stomachs as they bent over in mirth. The memory of Wooyoung's failed attempt at deception amplified the hilarity of the situation, and even Wooyoung himself couldn't help but join in the laughter. 

Mingi decided it was time to share his piece of information. "Well…" he began, drawing out the word to create a sense of suspense among his friends. After a dramatic pause, he continued, "Wooyoung wasn't the only one in a relationship." 

As these words left his lips, all eyes in the room turned to him, their attention now fully captivated. After enjoying a moment of being the center of attention, Mingi finally added the crucial piece of information. "Yunho was dating too," he revealed, his voice echoing in the sudden silence that followed. 

The room fell silent for a moment, all eyes turning towards Yunho. The surprise on their faces was comical, but the atmosphere was far from tense. There was no judgement in their gazes, just a mild shock and a lot of curiosity. Yunho simply shrugged, a small, sheepish smile spreading across his face. "Yeah," he admitted, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. "I was seeing someone back then too." 

The announcement was met with a range of reactions. San whistled, a playful smirk on his face. Seonghwa, on the other hand, let out a light chuckle. "I knew it," he said, pointing a finger at Yunho. "I could tell there was someone on your mind." 

"So, the girl with pink hair, right?" Yeosang asked, a wide grin spreading across his face. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes dancing with amusement. His gaze was fixed on Yunho, who was visibly taken aback by the sudden inquiry. "The one who was our assistant when we were shooting Kingdom?" He continued, the question lingering in the air, adding an element of suspense to the conversation. Yunho shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the unexpected spotlight making him squirm. He scratched the back of his head, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips as his eyes darted around the room, meeting the curious gazes of his bandmates. From the corner of his eye, he could see Jongho trying to suppress a grin, clearly enjoying the sudden turn of events. Yeosang leaned back in his seat, the satisfied smirk on his face signifying his victory. 

"How did you... know?" Yunho asked, his eyes wide with surprise. His voice echoed softly amidst the silence that had fallen upon the room. 

San, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth, turned his attention to Yeosang, who was enjoying his moment in the spotlight. "It seems like Yeosang knows everything," he voiced out, a note of amusement in his tone. His words hung in the air, drawing a round of chuckles from the other members. 

Yeosang, a smirk tugging at his lips, leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he met San's gaze, clearly enjoying the unexpected attention. His laughter filled the room, a sound that was contagious, causing the other members to join in. His response to San's comment was delayed as he tried to control his laughter, the sound echoing off the walls of the room. Once the laughter died down, Yeosang finally addressed San's statement. Still chuckling, he nodded in agreement, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, someone has to keep tabs on you guys," he retorted, earning a round of laughter from the others. "But to answer your question," Yeosang began, his smile broadening as he turned his gaze towards Yunho. There was a playful twinkle in his eyes that prompted a round of chuckles from the other members. "I just have a good eye for detail," Yeosang responded with a shrug, a smug grin on his face. "It was pretty obvious with the way she looked at you, Yunho." He concluded, causing Yunho to blush at the accurate observation. "And let's not forget those late-night 'phone calls' you used to have," Yeosang added with a wry grin, air-quoting around the words 'phone calls'. "I mean, I didn't know phone conversations could get so... intense." His words, filled with playful insinuation, caused another wave of laughter to ripple through the room. "And let's not forget the mysterious 'noise' that came from your room during those late-night 'phone calls'," Yeosang added, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I mean, I didn't know phone conversations could get so... loud." He concluded, causing another round of laughter to fill the room. 

"Alright, alright, that's enough," Yunho finally managed to say, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I get it, I wasn't as sneaky as I thought I was." 

"I guess the Dating Ban was bullshit for all of us," Wooyoung quipped, earning a round of laughter from the others. 

In a moment of sudden revelation, Hongjoong, with a hint of disbelief in his voice, asked the room, "Was I really the only one not involved in dating?" 

Nonchalantly, Seonghwa, with a teasing glint in his eyes, responded in a humorous tone, "Well, you were sort of dating... you were totally absorbed in your work." Hongjoong's question was met with a round of laughter, Seonghwa's quick wit lightening the mood even further. 

"That's true," Hongjoong admitted with a chuckle, "I was indeed dating my work back then." 

"Wait a minute," Yeosang interjected, an intrigued look on his face as he turned towards Hongjoong. "Weren't you seeing this one guy from Balmain? You know that guy with really cool tattoos? I remember you mentioning something about him right around the time they were considering lifting the dating ban." The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at Hongjoong, their eyebrows raised in surprise and curiosity. Caught off guard by Yeosang's unexpected revelation, Hongjoong found himself at a loss for words. "I mean... it was... what I'm trying to say is," he stuttered, pausing as he tried to gather his thoughts. "It was way later than the others…" he finally managed to say, the admission hanging in the air amidst a room full of intrigued pairs of eyes. 

Before he could recover, Mingi, who had been quietly observing the exchange, suddenly burst out, "Wait, hold on a second! Was Hongjoong the reason they decided to lift the ban?" He pointed at Hongjoong accusingly, his eyes wide with disbelief and shock. Hongjoong spluttered, his face flushing a bright red as he scrambled to deny Mingi's claim. The room erupted in laughter at his flustered reaction, the seriousness of their earlier conversation forgotten. 

"No, no, that's not how it was at all!" Hongjoong exclaimed, his eyes wide as he tried to explain himself. He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "I had absolutely no idea that the company was even considering lifting the dating ban when I started seeing him. It was all just a coincidence, nothing more." Hongjoong looked around the room, his gaze meeting each of his bandmates in turn, hoping they would believe him. 

Despite the surprise that had initially taken over them, the members of the group couldn't help but join in the laughter at Hongjoong's flustered state. A tinge of amusement was evident in their eyes. San, with a grin spreading cheekily across his face, chimed in, "Alright, Hongjoong," His tone was teasing but friendly. "We believe you...for now." 

Wooyoung, still unable to completely stifle his chuckles, moved towards Hongjoong. With a comforting pat on Hongjoong's back, he tried to reassure him. "Don't worry, captain," he said, his grin never leaving his face as he looked at Hongjoong, "Your secret is safe with us." His words, filled with sincerity and a promise of trust, hung in the air, solidifying the bond among them. 

"Let's just get one thing straight, Hongjoong," Jongho began, his voice carrying a serious undertone that instantly caught everyone's attention. His gaze was steady, his eyes reflecting the confusion and a hint of resentment that had been brewing inside him. He wished he didn't have to disrupt the light-hearted mood that had settled in, but he found himself compelled to voice the question that had been nagging at him for far too long. The room fell silent. The laughter that had been resonating just moments ago seemed to have evaporated, replaced by an air of anticipation. All eyes were now on Jongho, waiting for him to continue. He took a deep breath, preparing himself to voice out the question that had been weighing on his heart. "If we were all, at some point or another, involved in dating despite the ban..." he said, his voice steady despite the serious topic. His gaze never left Hongjoong, seeking answers in the leader's reactions. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before he continued. "Why was it me who had to give up on Y/N? Why did you force me to break up with her?" The question hung in the air, raw and potent. It was a question that dug deep, unearthing a past that Jongho had tried to bury. A past filled with regret, heartache and unspoken words. The question was met with silence, the members exchanging glances, each lost in their own thoughts and recollections. Hongjoong looked taken aback, clearly not expecting Jongho's question. He opened his mouth but closed it again, seemingly struggling to find the right words. The silence that followed was deafening, all eyes now turned towards Hongjoong who sat quietly, his gaze steady on Jongho. 

"Jongho," he finally started, his voice steady and calm. "Our situation back then, it was... it was different." He paused, carefully choosing his words. "We were only rookies. The risk was too great. It wasn't just about you, or me, or any of us individually. It was about ATEEZ." His words filled the room, silencing any potential objections. He looked around at his bandmates, his gaze lingering on each of them as he continued. "We all made sacrifices. We all had to give up something, or someone, for the sake of our dreams. It wasn't easy, but it was necessary." The room was silent as Hongjoong's words sunk in. Each member was lost in their own thoughts, reflecting on the sacrifices they had made and the choices they had to live with. "I know it was hard," Hongjoong added, his gaze returning to Jongho. "And I'm sorry you had to go through that. But we made it, didn't we? We're here because of the choices we made, the sacrifices we made. And I believe it was worth it." Jongho remained silent, his gaze fixed on Hongjoong. He understood where Hongjoong was coming from, and he knew that the decisions made back then had shaped them into who they were today. But that didn't make the pain of losing you any less real, any less raw. The laughter and friendly banter that had filled the room just moments ago seemed like a distant memory now. All eyes were on Hongjoong, each member taking in his words and the weight they carried. "I know that I am partially to blame for your absence in your daughter's life," Hongjoong continued, his voice laced with a palpable regret that filled the silent room. "I realize now that my actions and decisions back then have had a profound impact, not only on you, Jongho, but also on a little girl who deserved to have her father by her side. For that, I am truly sorry." Hongjoong cleared his throat before continuing, "If I ever hurt any of you with my actions or decisions, I am so sorry," his voice filled with raw emotion as he looked around the room, "As a leader, I'm the one responsible and I wanted nothing more than for all eight of us to be successful." His voice trembled, and he was on the verge of tears. And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he made a confession that hung heavy in the room. "I... I gave up on someone too." His confession was met with silence, a solemn moment of understanding passing through the room. Hongjoong continued, his voice barely above a whisper, the attention of the boys fixated on him in the quiet room. "She's married now. She found someone who makes her happy, someone who was there when I couldn't be. I genuinely am happy for her," he paused, his gaze falling on his hands as he battled with the emotions welling up inside him. "But sometimes I find myself thinking 'what if.' What if circumstances had been different? What if I had made different choices?" His voice trailed off, leaving the unsaid words hanging in the tension-filled room. Each member was lost in their own thoughts, reflecting on the sacrifices they had made and the choices they had to live with. 

"Hongjoong, I don't blame you," Jongho interrupted, his voice firm yet gentle. His heart ached for his friends who were shouldering an immense burden of guilt. "We both didn't know Y/N was pregnant," he continued, his gaze softening as he tried to reassure Hongjoong. "We were all in the dark about her pregnancy. None of us could have predicted what was to come." The room fell into a contemplative silence as Jongho's words echoed, a reminder of the unforeseen circumstances that had led them to this point. "And while it's true that I missed out on some moments in Nari's life," Jongho added, his voice steady with conviction, "I'm here now. And I'm ready to make up for lost time. We all are." His words were filled with resolve, a promise to do right by his daughter. 

Hongjoong nodded, acknowledging Jongho's words. "We're with you, Jongho," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "We'll support you and Nari every step of the way." 

"And if anyone tries to mess with our niece," San added, a fierce determination in his voice, "they'll have to deal with all of us." His words were met with nods of agreement from the other members, their faces reflecting their shared resolve. 

"And Jongho," Hongjoong began, his voice heavy with the weight of his words, his gaze locked onto Jongho's with an intensity that demanded his undivided attention. "We all made sacrifices. Each of us, at one point or another, had to let go of someone we deeply cared for, someone we loved." He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in, their echoes filling the room with a solemn silence. "Considering all the sacrifices we made, for the sake of our dreams and for the sake of ATEEZ," he continued, his voice steady despite the heavy topic, "you owe it not just to yourself, but to all of us, to fight for Y/N." His words were punctuated by a determined nod, an unspoken pledge of support hanging in the air between them. "You have to muster the courage within you, fight against the odds and fight for your love. You have to fight for the chance to be with Y/N, to be a father to Nari, to build the family that you clearly want." He concluded, his gaze softening as he offered Jongho a reassuring smile. "Because at the end of the day," Hongjoong said, his voice softer now, "love is a battle worth fighting for. And I want all of you guys to know," Hongjoong voice carried a seriousness that instantly drew the attention of his bandmates. "That even though our personal lives are evolving, we still need to stay focused on our work. We've been doing such an incredible job, and I couldn't be prouder of each and every one of us." He paused, allowing his words to resonate in the silent room. Hongjoong continued, "But moving forward, let's make a pact to be honest with each other. Let's not hide our feelings or our relationships out of fear." His gaze swept across the room, meeting the eyes of his friends who listened attentively to his words. "We shouldn't be scared of a scandal or of what others might think. We should remember that love is what makes us human." He took a deep breath, the weight of his next words hanging heavy in the air. "So, for the love of God, guys, let love in. Embrace it. And most importantly, talk to us about it." Hongjoong concluded, his voice filled with sincerity and a hint of urgency. "We're a family, and there should be no secrets between us. Let's support each other in all aspects of our lives, personal or professional." 

Mingi, who had been quiet for a while, cleared his throat, drawing the attention of his bandmates. There was an air of anticipation as they turned to face him, the room falling silent as he prepared to speak. With a small, nervous smile on his face, he looked around at his friends and admitted, "Actually, I'm... I'm seeing someone now." The eyes of his bandmates widened in surprise; their gazes fixated on Mingi. His words hung in the air, creating a moment of stunned silence. "It's still really fresh," Mingi continued, his voice filled with a mix of nervousness and excitement. "But I really wanted to tell you." He took a deep breath, steadying himself before continuing. "I'm... I'm dating a guy." His confession, delivered in a soft voice, echoed in the silence. The room remained quiet for a while as his words sunk in, each member processing the revelation. The atmosphere was one of uncertainty, as Mingi waited for someone to break the silence. Then, slowly, smiles began to form on the faces of his bandmates. Nods of understanding and acceptance started filling the room, each member expressing their support for Mingi in their own way. 

Wooyoung was the first to react, his surprise quickly turning into a wide grin. "That's great, Mingi!" He exclaimed, his enthusiasm breaking the silence.  

San followed, a soft smile on his face as he nodded at Mingi in agreement, "We're happy for you," The atmosphere in the room had shifted from shock to acceptance, and soon enough, it was filled with a renewed sense of brotherhood. The bond they shared as a group was stronger than ever. They were not just bandmates; they were a family. And in a family, love and acceptance were all that mattered. 

In the aftermath of Mingi's revelation, Hongjoong directed a playful question towards the group. "So Jongho is a father, Mingi is a taken man... Is there anything else you guys are hiding?" His tone was light, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes as he scanned the room. 

Seonghwa, with a broad grin on his face, let out a chuckle that echoed through the room, breaking the silence that had momentarily settled. "Well, we all are uncles now, that's a new one," he remarked, his words drawing a round of laughter from the others. The thought of being 'uncles' was still a novelty to them, a new role they were more than willing to embrace. After the laughter had subsided, Seonghwa added another revelation, his tone teasing. "And Yeosang might just be a part-time detective," he said, earning a surprised look from Yeosang and another round of laughter from the group. "With the way he's been figuring out everyone's secrets, he might as well consider it as a second career." His comment was met with nods of agreement, each member recalling Yeosang's uncanny ability to notice the smallest of details. 

"And we can’t forget San's newfound addiction," Wooyoung chimed in, a playful look on his face. "Protein shakes, protein bars, protein everything!" His comment drew laughter from the group. San responded with a playful smack on Wooyoung's arm, his face flushing with embarrassment but a grin on his face. 

"Hey, it's not an addiction, it's a lifestyle," San retorted, trying to defend himself amidst the peals of laughter. His attempt to justify himself only made his friends laugh harder. 

"Guys let's also not forget one of the most entertaining aspects of our group dynamics," Mingi chimed in, a playful glint in his eyes. He paused for dramatic effect, causing the room to fall into a moment of anticipatory silence. Then, with a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, he finally revealed his thoughts. "If only San was gay, Wooyoung would have already married him by now!" His words, delivered with impeccable timing, caused an eruption of laughter to fill the room. The members doubled over, clutching their stomachs as they laughed. 

Wooyoung, upon hearing Mingi's teasing comment, was left speechless for a moment. He then burst into hearty laughter, his face flushing a deep shade of red, but there was a twinkle in his eyes that revealed his amusement. He managed to retort between bouts of laughter, "Well, if San would have me, I wouldn't say no!" His comment added to the hilarity, earning another round of laughter from the group. 

After the laughter had died down, San, still grinning from Wooyoung's retort, chimed in. "Well, I guess we'll have to see about that," he said, winking at Wooyoung. His comment elicited another round of laughter. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Wooyoung made a kissy face at San, causing the room to burst into another round of laughter. San responded with a playful roll of his eyes. 

"But let's not forget," Yeosang added, his eyes glinting with amusement, "Mingi is saying all this as if he wouldn't risk it all for Yunho." His statement, filled with playful insinuation, hung in the air, causing another round of laughter to ripple through the room. 

Yunho, who had remained quiet for a while, finally chimed in with a chuckle. "Well, I guess we all have our secret crushes... or not-so-secret, in some cases." His comment, accompanied by a teasing look towards Mingi, added another wave of laughter to the room. 

"Thank you guys so much," Jongho started, his voice carrying a heartfelt note in the room filled with his bandmates. "I know that this is the beginning of something new for me. Things are going to change, my life will definitely take a significant turn." He paused for a moment, his words hanging in the air as he collected his thoughts. "But to know that I have the support of my bandmates, my brothers," he continued, his voice stronger now. "It means more than I can express. It gives me strength and confidence to face the challenges that lie ahead. To know that I'm not alone in this journey, that I have you guys standing by my side, it means the world to me."

"Eight make one, right?" Mingi smiled at Jongho, his words echoing the sentiment they all held close in their hearts.

"That's the spirit!" Yeosang chimed in, his smile matching the warmth in his voice. "We're a team, a family. We've been through a lot together and we'll continue to face whatever comes our way, together." The room was filled with nods of agreement and smiles around. The atmosphere was light, yet filled with a profound sense of unity and resolve. They were more than just a band – they were a family, bound not just by their shared dreams and experiences, but by the love and respect they held for each other.

"Let's continue to work hard, for ourselves, for ATEEZ, and for ATINY," Wooyoung voiced out, his tone determined yet filled with heartfelt sincerity. His words were met with a chorus of agreement, each member expressing their shared commitment to their dreams and to their fans.

"We've come a long way, haven't we?" San mused, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. His words prompted a round of nods, each member reminiscing about their journey – the struggles they had faced, the victories they had celebrated, and the countless memories they had created together.

"And we still have a long way to go," Hongjoong added, his voice ringing with determination. His words were met with nods of agreement, the resolve in his voice reflecting in the eyes of his bandmates.

"But as long as we have each other, we can face anything," Yunho concluded, his gaze meeting each of his bandmates in turn. His words, filled with conviction and unwavering faith, hung in the air, solidifying the bond among them.

"I hate to say it but could we maybe... do a group hug?" Jongho suggested his voice barely above a whisper. He hadn't even finished his sentence when Wooyoung, unable to contain his excitement, was already all over him, pulling him into a tight embrace. The others quickly joined in, forming a tight huddle around Jongho, their laughter and chatter filling the room.

In the comfort of the group hug, each member felt a sense of relief and unity. They were there for each other, through thick and thin, a testament to their unbreakable bond.

"Eight makes one team!" Hongjoong shouted, his voice echoing in the room. The rest of the members joined in, their voices blending into a chorus that filled the room with a sense of unity.

[mychemicalblog]

MCR Fanart Archive - @ queer-and-filled-with-fear

All current archived art by @ queer-and-filled-with-fear

Current Archived Works: 1

Earliest: wow look at em - March 22nd 2020

Listed in order from most recent to earliest

wow look at em (minecraft art / featuring Gerard Way; Mikey Way; Ray Toro; Frank Iero / Revenge Era / March 22nd 2020)

[thelastofhyde]

the likeability paradox.

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing living under bill and frank's roof, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.

warnings. no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, slow burn ( i have several oneshots planned for this couple ), unrequited love ( except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion ), pining, poor communication no communication, no seriously joel is down bad it's actually disgusting and highkey 🚩toxic🚩 but luckily red is your favourite colour, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel ( if you squint ), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap ( reader implied late-20s ), descriptions of canon-typical violence, smut ( oral- f receiving, fingering, degradation, panty stealing, hair pulling, dirty talk, dubcon due to intoxication, joel kinda gives her a wedgie at some point and honestly i don’t know what i was hoping to achieve with that, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse ). reader is a) hinted at being shorter than joel but it’s not central to the plot and b) described as lithe but the meaning intended is graceful, not thin!

word count. 12.9k

hyde’s input. half-way through, the regret of choosing to write this from joel's pov started to settle in but lmao i was too far in to not commit to the bit. don't come at me for the fact the timeline or events may not seem plausible with canon, i just wanna write this silly little depraved fic about joel in peace :( anyway, enjoy my first attempt at writing for tlou, forming a prayer circle rn in hopes that this doesn't flop because i will cry and you will hear about it

read on ao3. series masterlist. next chapter.

Distaste is not new in the life of Joel Miller.

In particular, one that is loaded, aimed and fired directly at him. He is not a likeable guy, often by choice and rarely by accident. The years of pain from a bleeding wound have now scarred over into nothing but an empty shell of the man that once was, from a world that no longer is, and he’s tried little to fill himself back up.

If anything, he’s made himself more empty.

Rid himself of feelings, that which saves him the weakness of appearing sympathetic. Discarded the need for luxuries, for which he’d scarcely cared for prior to his world ending. Lay to rest what was left of the optimist inside him, leaving behind the danger of hope for it to rot with the rest of the infected.

An apocalyptic world brings out all sides of man that one would never dare to engage with in normal civilisation. Joel learned swiftly that he was built to endure, quick to evolve and adapt to the new world order. The man who once worked his hardest to keep the peace among his neighbours, smiling that little bit wider on days he’d catch them scowling to themselves in hopes of brightening one part of their day for even a simple moment, would be at odds with the man who wears a heavy layer of enjoyment when met with the scowling glances and the hushed voices, all the watch out for that Miller guys passed between cowardly members of FEDRA and the keep away from Mr Miller's lawns spoken harshly from mother to child becoming music to his failing ears.

This plague of fear-driven dislike keeps him alone, how he likes to be, no one to lose and nothing to be taken. Somewhere along the years the idea of safety in numbers has morphed into an illusion, something people say and never truly mean, to distract themselves from a reality more bitter than a snowstorm: in times of survival, people become deadweight.

“So that’s all I am to ya, huh? Dead-fucking-weight?” His brother’s voice still echoes in that damned space he calls a home, weeks or months or years since the day he’d departed for something else, somewhere else, leaving Joel to do what Joel does best: endure.

Somehow, silence was easier than telling the man he’d taught to tie a shoelace, to shave his beard, to tune a guitar that he was the deadweight, doomed to drag all those who remained too close down into his pit of despair.

She was an exception, his Tess, buried 5-feet-under in her own swell of darkness, nothing but the tips of her fingers stretched out above her head to feel the sun upon her skin and keep her from going that last foot deeper. They’d made a home for themselves in one another, one where he keeps them fed, and she keeps them safe, and neither of them keeps the place clean.

She never asks for more, and he never offers it, both content to survive without the weight of affection smothering them. Contrary to the belief of any misfortunate soul who’s encountered the pair within the quarantine zone, she is the one who holds the leash, tugging Joel along close by her heel and keeping him from wandering off into the wild to surrender himself to a feral lifestyle.

Which lands him here, sat at a table playing happy family, each time he dares to snark out a few words being met with the sharp kick of Tess’ foot against his shin.

“... And then,” Frank struggles over a cough, so excited in his story-telling that he fails to separate taking a breath from taking a sip of his wine. With a roll of eyes and a disapproving grunt, Bill’s no more than two seconds away from clapping down on his back, urging the other man’s wind-pipes to unblock and welcome back airflow. “Otis dragged his muddied self over the whole house. We were finding paw-prints for days!”

Joel's unamused, too keen to think of what a nuisance that would be. As if incapable of feeling the buzzing energy of disinterest, the German Shepherd drops its head further up his lap, begging for a morsel of anything that sits atop the table.

“Which means I was cleaning paw-prints for days.” Bill, the only one at the table besides himself who wears the looks of a cynic, grumbles out before shovelling what remains on his plate into his mouth.

Frank is quick to shush him.

“I’m sorry, again, Bill,” he doesn’t mean to break eye-contact from the mutt at his thigh, but the voice calls to him like a siren calls to a ship in the night, like a flame dances and seduces a moth into its brightly burning touch of death, a spotlight in the dark which promises- or threatens- more light to come. “I’d no clue there was a storm coming till we were already a good few miles away, and there was nowhere to take cover to wait it out.”

There you sit, parallel to him.

The sun rests lower in the sky as time carries you all into the late noon, its rays a beacon of light bursting out just behind your head, painting you in the glow of the golden hour and staining a mockery of a halo above you. It hurts his eyes, this brightness that you so easily bask in, forcing him to squint and deepen the frown on his face.

You catch him with his sights on you, at some point, and the smile you meet his scowl with has him cursing at the sun, and the moon, and every star that sits between.

The threat of a great war looms in the air as you rush to rise up and help clear the table of the remnants left behind- none of which Joel can account for, mouth too keen and body too starved to skip out on enjoying the mundane luxury of a fresh, home-cooked meal. The battle ends swiftly as you surrender to Bill’s hardened stare, and Frank’s disapproving head-shakes, and Tess’ own plan of action to simply force you down back into the seat you’d been sat in- the one you always sit in.

“You, sit. No one should have to clean up the food they made.”

They get no fight out of him when they insist he’d done enough catching the so-called food.

Silence casts its shadow over the table, dampening the light and smothering you both in a mockery of greyed tones- truthfully, it is the disappearance of the sun behind a large cloud that causes such a thing.

Being alone, with you, is something Joel’s never mastered. The affliction of your presence is so much greater when there’s no one else to balance out your natural shine- the kind that has his head spinning and his cock aching-, no one but him.

Were he not a sick bastard, he’d try harder to not make you sad.

Something bumps his hands, ripping him out of his moral self-condemnation. The dog meets his gaze, eyes a widened mess of puppy-dog pleading that punctuates its existence with an impatient whine.

Just like your owner, he finds himself thinking and not saying- never saying-, yet to find your bark.

The ball’s a sticky mess of slobber and dirt, and Joel touches it all the same, throwing it up in the air once, then twice, before tossing it across the yard. He’s slumped back in his chair by the time he registers the dog’s departure, a ball of dark fluff bouncing its way across the garden, and all the man can think is fuck, he’ll be feeling the effect of that throw on his shoulder come the morning.

The pain is not enough to stop him from tossing the ball again, and once more, and then yet again, sending the dog in a never-ending loop of chase, grab, retrieve- a parallel to his life of wake, survive, sleep.

“He likes you,” you never leave things the way he wishes them to be, bursting his bubble with the vocal reminder of your presence.

As if on queue, prompted by your addressing of it, the dog drops its interest in Joel, and the ball, and the chasing, tail wagging uncontrollably by the time it reaches your side. Standing on its hind legs, it collapses the front of itself into your waiting lap, and Joel watches how you wrap your arms so easily around something that could cause you harm.

To envy a creature that licks its own shit off its ass is a new low for Joel.

“Thinkin’ he might like ya more, Sol.” The nickname rolls off his tongue with ease, the safer option than uttering your name, a vice and virtue he’s only permitted himself in idealistic fantasies that play out in his own troubled thoughts.

“Most people do,” whether you mean to make it seem like you’re degrading his very existence or not, he’s unsure, but it rouses a chuckle out of him.

He takes note of how you don’t protest the name he’s branded you with, not like how you’d fought tooth and nail against it every other visit he and Tess have made.

“You’ve got a whole load in common, you know? I think that’s got something to do with his fascination-”

“How the hell’s a man like me got somethin’ in common with a four-legged mutt?” There he goes again, making that smile slip down your cheeks with a simple use of his voice. It helps as much as it hurts, frown loosening up and eyes no longer strained beneath the bright shine of your visceral optimism.

“Well, you’re both... hairy,” he restrains himself from reacting, washing down a laugh with the help of the dregs of wine that lay collecting at the bottom of his glass. He’s let his appearance grow more rugged over the past few months and your noticing of this brings an unwanted warmth to his aching bones. “And have the most kickass women in your lives to stop you from dying.”

He’s interested to know what life would be like under your protection.

Discovering the answer brings the threat of pain, and loss, and an openness to vulnerability he can not afford himself, so he takes the safer option: “‘S easy stayin’ safe when you live in this fantasy land. Doubt your mutt’d last any longer than a day out in reality.”

With you as its protector.

He doesn’t say it and, still, it somehow hovers in the space between you both, a heavy, syrupy implication that slips down your throats and threatens to suffocate you. He watches you choke on it, coughing on his cruelty and feigning it to be a simple clearing of your throat. Your eyes glue themselves on the dog, delicate fingers smoothing over the well-groomed hairs down its back.

Survival has turned him into a man who knows when to seize an opportunity, and this is one he takes with both hands, basking in the simplicity of staring, watching, observing you without the crime of being caught.

But I could keep you safe.

He toys with the danger of uttering such a thing aloud. It’s not the first time he’s thought it. Truthfully, he’s unsure when it first nestled its way into his mind.

His memory, which ails him more than it aids him these past years, would have him believe it was way before the dog had even appeared, back when it was just Bill, Frank and you. A few whiskeys in and a campfire lit for you all to gather for warmth around- why you’d all chosen to sit out in the gardens on a winter’s night Joel remains unsure of to this day-, it was Frank who’d prompted the question. “Where were you all when... this started?” Tess went first, braver than most people he knows, sharing stories of a version of herself he’d never meet.

He never imagined her working in a bank.

Bill, with reluctance, took the next step, keeping his account factual and to the point. “Was shit-faced drunk and getting my stomach pumped.” He’d been quick to skim over the story of the young nurse who’d guided him to safety out the hospital, losing her own life in exchange for his survival. She was barely out of school. “I knew her dad, bit of an asshole, but boy, was he proud of his baby for graduating.” Frank couldn’t let him swim too deep in his thoughts, afraid a current of guilt would trap him and drown him in the depths of it, and so he raised his own voice and began his tale.

Joel had always been a good listener. Being a single parent to a teenage girl required him to be, or so... she would have had him believe, nights at the table set for two spent listening to the playground he-said-she-said gossip. Years later and he at last prefers things this way, a rare gem of safety found in the act of saying nothing and hearing everything- that his hearing will allow. All this to say, he’d tried his best to pay attention to Frank’s impassioned retelling of his heroic misadventures that had lead him to the unintentional arms of Bill.

But you weren’t smiling.

He watched you, you watched the dancing flames, face stoic and drained of that natural shine his eyes had only just started to be able to gaze upon without the threat of being blinded by such light.

The desire crept up on him like a tiger to it’s prey, hiding in the far off bushes until the opportunity to strike presented itself and the feeling lunged for Joel’s back, gripping him in its claws and piercing his ribcage with its gnashing teeth. With each bite, it plagued him with the delusions of a wandering mind, imagination left free to run laps around his head with visions of you from another life, another time, another set of people gathered round a dining table. He’d wanted to hear about the ones you’d lost, and comfort you with all the things he hated hearing (“You’ll keep ‘em alive, in spirit and memory!” “Those we remember never truly die!”). He’d needed to bend a knee and swear a vow to be the one to stand between you and death, to fight for your survival on your behalf. ‘Could keep you safe. There, then, the thought did cross his mind.

He’d washed it down with a swig of lukewarm, flat beer.

“-Could fix it, you know. I’m good with my hands.”

He almost chokes on his own breath.

I'm good with my hands, it swims in circles round his mind, replaying and echoing off the walls of his skull. And he knows- oh, how he knows- that he’ll be replaying it in those moments of solitude for the next few nights, weeks, months- however long it may take till he forgets the way such thought-provoking words sound on your lips.

“What?” The question leaves him harsher than he intends, drawing an enemy line between you both with the foul sound of it. In the corner of his eye, he swears he sees you flinch backwards, physically recoiling from the disdain-filled bullet he fires in your direction.

The mutt in your lap retreats, hackles rising as it turns to face Joel once more.

He sees it, in the dog’s brutal protectiveness over you, this similarity you claim exists.

“Your watch, it’s broken.”

“Hadn’t noticed,” he’s retreating into his own space now, mentally and physically, scraping the legs of his chair against the ground as his mind works to strengthen those walls that threaten to crumble so often in your presence. “Don’t need ya to fix it.”

You pull a face, brows furrowing and lips pouting. Confusion.

“Don’t you want to know the time?” You ask, as if time could ever be relevant in a rotten world where down is up, and up is down, and Joel Miller is not the overprotective father to the most delicate creature the god he’d stopped believing in had gifted him, just to force him to watch as life snatched her away.

“I don’t keep it for the time.”

You smile, and this one’s a killer, piercing straight through the cages of his ribs to carve itself into his withered heart.

The German Shepherd relaxes with the rebrightening of your aura, shaking out the tension from its body before sauntering its way back over to Joel, ball in mouth and tail wagging excitedly, as if it hadn’t just contemplated having its first taste of human flesh.

He’s throwing the toy in a matter of minutes, enjoying the repeated run and retrieve game, and the renewed silence that comes along with it. Nature sings its tune with rustling leaves, cawing crows, and pounding paws. It’s almost so easy to leave your offer, your words, his broken watch in the rearview mirror of this otherwise pleasant afterno-

“Ooh, so there’s a story to tell!” You’re blinding him with your excitement, lithe limbs leaning forward in your own chair in an attempt to reach closer, table between you be damned. “I’ve never heard any of the Joel Miller backstory, this should be-”

“I get that likin’ everyone is your thing, but would’ya give it a rest?”

Nature falls silent.

Skies grow dull.

You juggle sadness.

There’s a crash that comes from within the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of Tess’ sailor mouth, cursing whichever delicate dish she’s broken into smithereens with the help of her accident prone hands. The dog’s lain itself down upon the grass, ball between it’s paws as it begins to bite, and chew, and break it under the pressure of its canines.

Joel wonders what the mutt’s practicing for.

“Sure,” then, with the return of your voice, all sounds resume, harmony upon planet earth once more. Only, the gates have been shut in his face and Joel finds himself forced to watch as everything unfolds from the outside, an unwelcome visitor forced out into exile with the fungal freaks and the inhumane. “But you’re wrong. I don’t like everyone.”

“‘S that so.” His eyes roll. The hole he’s dug for himself sinks deeper, casting you higher up on the pedestal Joel will always be wiling to place you on.

“Yeah,” you’ve risen out your chair, gifting him the view of how the fabric of your dress dances above your knee, a final twist of the knife in his heart that he lets you pierce his flesh with each time he surrenders himself to your existence. “I don’t like you, Joel.”

The hours come and go, but your words linger like a bad tattoo, shamefully engraved into his skin and banning him to a life of noticing the horrendous thing each time he passes by his own reflection.

We’re staying, for tonight. Tess had called the shots, and he’s been learning not to argue when she gives him one of her stern looks, biting down on the comments he’d wanted to make of the dangers of being out of the QZ for too long, which would likely earn him nothing but a shrug and the reminder that they both were off duty the following day

The nights are beginning to grow darker as winter grows nearer, leading Bill and Frank- mostly Frank- to excuse themselves to bed, bidding the two visitors with a final reminder to make themselves comfortable in whichever room they can find. If only Joel could remember which door leads to yours.

The two women in his life remain awakened, passing a bottle of wine between each other as you both converse back and forth, catching each other up on one another’s life, satiating that craving for mundane gossip.

Tess recounts the scandal of the poor boy who’d been caught sleeping with a FEDRA agent’s wife, you whisper that Frank and Bill had been fighting again recently. The memory of being ambushed by raiders- now dead raiders- comes to life once more with the help of Tess’ voice, while the promise to uncover what exactly Bill and Frank were hiding from you as of late is sealed in your words.

At some point, he lays himself to rest atop the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed over his chest, ignoring the squeeze of the fabric over his forearms as the too-small flannel struggles to contain the muscles forged by the need to survive. At another point, he’s lulled to sleep by the lullaby of your mingling voices, a safety blanket draping itself over his tired body and enveloping him in the comforts of having that which he struggles to care so little for, so near him once more.

-N’t tell me you’re a virgin.

The words are muffled as the man slips back into consciousness, a frown coming to rest on his forehead as he battles against the demons urging him awake, the nightmarish memories of car crashes, and soldiers, and so much red chasing him away from the sleep he longs for so badly.

A protest rings true in his head and his ears.

Was gonna say. Knew you were young, but not that young.

It’s the sound of your laughter that awakens him fully, saving him from the tortures of his own mind.

“God, no! me and my ex, we... a few times. It was alright, I guess. I just, yeah, there’s not much to miss.”

He’s unwilling, unable to reopen his eyes, curling in on himself as he rolls over onto his side. A groan slips past his lips, one he’s hoping Tess and you will dismiss as nothing more than the sleep-filled rambles of a dreaming man.

Neither of you make any acknowledgement of him.

“Not much to miss?! Sweet Christ, you’re breaking my fuckin’ heart.” He’s learnt over time the common traits of a drunken Tess. Each word becoming an exclamation, curses becoming more frequent, and that irritating habit she’s picked up of imitating his own accent. There’s no need to bother opening his eyes, Joel’s already sure he’ll find his companion with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “I’d give up a hand for some head!”

You must do something, pull a face or shake your head, for the sound of Tess’ renewed shock fills the room. He wonders, as the sound bounces off the walls, how late into the night it’s grown.

Late enough that the cicadas singing outside the window are now accompanied by the hoots of an owl.

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

“It bores me!”

“It bores you!?”

The couch beneath Joel creaks as he shifts once more, turning his back on you both as the ability to contain his laughter grows harder with each word you exchange and each gasp Tess gives. The last thing he needs is to be caught eavesdropping on your sex life like some dirty old pervert.

The crueler part of his mind replays your voice, I don’t like you, and the knife twists in his guts this time.

You like Tess. Love her, even. It’s been that way since the first time you’d met the duo, eyes giving one look over the woman before the smile on your face grew even wider, voice as sweet as honey sighing out Finally someone with a pair of boobs, I’m bored of the sight of my own. Joel’d gotten caught up in the thought of how he’d never tire of such a sight that he’d failed to acknowledge your greeting towards him, catching just the moment you drew your outstretched hand back to your side and offered him an understanding smile.

Maybe that was the moment you decided you didn’t like him.

“Must not have been doin’ ya right,” The bottle of southern comfort is working its wonders on the older woman, accent growing further and further from its true nature with each glass she nurses. Joel hears the faint sound of ice smacking against glass and knows it must be yours. You’ve always struggled with liquors, slipping as many ice cubes as you can manage into a glass in hopes that they’ll eventually melt and water the alcohol down. It’s oddly endearing that you think no one has noticed. Because he has, he always notices the little details that surround you. “This fella of yours.”

Joel has no right to despise the idea of you and some fella.

He does so, regardless.

“Well,” he imagines the shape of your meek smile and the way you shrug your shoulders. “We were each others firsts.”

“That’s no excuse! Trust I left mine cryin’ into her pillow the first time I went down.” Tess and he have a silent agreement to never speak of the nights Joel would take refuge on their beaten-up couch while Tess indulges herself between someone’s thighs in the bedroom. No discussing the sounds she pulls from her concubines, no addressing the wet patches left behind to stain their shared sheets, and definitely no speaking on how his hand winds up stained in his own cum.

You scoff and follow it up with a saccharine laced giggle, so sweet its bound to rot your teeth if you even attempt to hold it in. “What, are you offering your services?”

tThis he likes less than the image of you with some fella, the thought of having to lay upon a mattress on which Tess has raised you to heaven on while he once again remained locked out in the dark leaving his skin crawling with unwarranted rage.

“‘As sure as I am that you’re sweet all over, ‘fraid to tell you I like my women a little older than you.”

He knows he should do the same, should lust after those women his own age who shoot him carnal looks in the streets of the QZ. It should be skin his own age that he longs to taste, and eyes who’ve seen as much as his own he wants to stare into, and lips as cruel as the ones he owns that he fights off the urges to kiss. But he can’t, and he won’t.

And you’re the one to blame.

You, with the glow of a thousand suns. You, with the hands that tend to flowers instead of corpses. You, with the gentle nature he’d have to spend the rest of his days fighting off every other living thing just to protect.

His own self being the first he’d need fight.

Joel wonders what he’d missed in his hours- if it had even been so long- of rest, how the playground gossiping dissipated into reminiscing the pleasures of supple flesh and the sins of unfulfilling lovers. Sleep steals him away once more before he can find the answers.

The next time he awakens, he’s drowning in a plight of cruel memories, a cold and brutal ocean of faces, places, and traces of the ephemeral sentiment of happiness he’d possessed once upon a time, back when the price of letting one’s guard down was not so high.

He’s learnt, with time, that losing her comes in waves. Some small, meaningless little things, that ripple Joel’s surface and coast gently over his dirt ridden skin. Others, tsunamis. Big, angry, all imposing. They’re born in ground-shaking explosions of grief, building speed, and height, and weight the closer they grow to crashing over him.

Amidst the passing of time, he’s tried to keep himself busy in his awakened hours, to keep his mind occupied and avoid thinking about her too much. But the waves always come back, no matter how hard he tries to fight them or swim away from them. They catch him off guard, crashing over him when he least expects it. In the middle of a raid, lost in thought and standing ten inches deep in grime, blood, infected, and suddenly the weight of her absence will hit him like a ton of bricks.

The currents grow more violent whenever he closes his eyes.

This evening, it had been a minuscule wave, yet it’s damage still leaves him with sweat slicked skin. He reenters the land of the living choking on his own fear and shooting up-right, hardly registering his surroundings till his feet hit solid ground. The gentle, barely-there croon of a Sinatra record punctuates the room alongside the dim glow of a lightbulb which flickers with the threat of expiring and leaving naught but the moonlight to wash over the dark of the night. Across from him is Tess, nursing a half-emptied cup against her chest and wearing tired eyes. Snoring comes from below him, where Joel finds he’s a mere foot away from having stepped upon the sleeping dog, curled in on itself and laying soundly by his side.

You take up no space of this room.

Neither the dog nor the drunk pay him any mind as he pushes up onto his creaking knees, stretching out his limbs in a fight to undo the tension in his aching bod. Languid steps carry him out into the hall, where he freezes under the self-questioning of where he’s going.

There are three answer to this: where he should, where he could, and where he would.

He should find himself a bedroom, perhaps be ostentatious enough to rid himself of those stale clothes and let the warmth of running water wash away the sins he’d committed throughout the day. A good night’s sleep, atop a mattress where springs do not dig into his back and the sheets are clean as could be, it would do him good.

He could head towards the kitchen, quench that thirst that he’s awoken with, cottonmouth and a headache to go with it too. Perhaps he’ll find himself something to eat, indulge in the luxury of readily available food just this once, he’s sure Frank wouldn’t mind. Bill definitely would, but that’s not something he’ll need care about when he’s miles out and heading back to the QZ.

He would try find you, open whichever door it is that leads into the haven that must be your bedroom. He imagines its clean, and organised, and smells of some syrupy lavender that is bound to nauseate him as he smothers his face into your bedsheets, eyes shut, and mind relaxed, the threat of those violent waves no concern to him as he anchors himself with an arm around your warm skin. Skin he’s never felt, yet he stands firm in his belief it must be the most soothing thing to touch, as gentle and inviting as the heart it keeps safe within it.

I don’t like you, Joel.

Those words stop him from trying.

He tells himself it’s for the best.

With a mind of their own, his legs have made the choice for him and deliver him outside the opening to the kitchen. He swallows down a gulp of his own saliva at the prospect of a glass of water. The door’s already half-opened, and Joel nearly thanks Christ for it as the fear of waking anyone with the squeaking of the handle is eliminated. The darkness of the night encompasses the room, even with the moon’s shine reflecting off every surface it touches: the counters, the knife stand, the metal drawer handles, the refrigerator.

The refrigerator.

It’s open, a blue light shining out of it and illuminating anything it its proximity. A subtle beeping noise rings from it, and suddenly Joel’s back in his thirties, dead-beat yet well-intentioned brother stealing the food off his own plate as he beckons his pre-teen daughter back into the kitchen.

Keep leavin’ this open and it’s a job you’ll be gettin’ this summer, not a dog.

She never lived long enough to get either.

He catches something move beneath the artificial light. Cautious at first, it’s all the more startling to find the object of his ire and the embodiment of his desire stood leaning back against the countertop, a glass full of orange liquid pressed to a mouth that parts and welcomes in the sugary sweet delight.

“Why aren’t ya sleepin’?” The words rasp out his throat, catching and scratching on the parts of him that still yearn for something to wet his tongue with.

Beneath the light, you shrug. “Could ask you the same thing, Texas.”

He curses Tess for teaching you such a nickname.

He curses himself more for the way you saying it twists up his insides.

You’re teasing him, smile a little looser and eyes less focused than he’s used to seeing. Whether you’re tipsy or simply delirious with exhaustion, Joel remains unaware.

He grunts, daring to take a few steps further into the kitchen. The door behind him closes over and gives the illusion of the space becoming smaller, tighter, more compact.

“I asked first.” You laugh, at him. Full on chest-rumbling, hand over your belly, head thrown back- so abruptly it nearly crashes against the corner of the opened cabinet door. The corner of his mouth is curling upwards before he can catch himself. He hopes the refrigerator light shows less of him than it shows of you. Bare legs, and messed hair, and pointed nipples all on display for his undeserving eyes. “‘S so funny, huh?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he successfully fights off the urge to follow the drop of orange juice that spills down the side of your mouth, over your chin, down your neck, disappearing beneath the collar of your dress. Perhaps he is not as successful as he believes. “Just never heard the Joel Miller say something so childish. You’ve usually got your panties all in a bunch if someone so much as looks at you for too long.”

You make way as he inches closer, sliding yourself over to rest against the island counter. A fragrance of things he can’t quite pinpoint, but enjoys nonetheless, wafts in his face as he travels down the path to the sink. Uncouth and unbothered, Joel opens the tap and cups his hands beneath the stream of water.

“You know there’s a cupboard full of glasses right next to you, right?” You call out behind him as the man brings water to his dry lips, splashing and just about guiding his head beneath the stream. The thirst does not budge. He hums an acknowledgement of you, yet continues with his method.

By the time he switches the water off, you’ve made yourself busy, back facing him while you work at something atop the counter, a consistent chop-chop-chop filling the silence that settles between you both.

“iIm making soup,” you state, like there’s nothing quite more logical you could be doing at whatever-o’clock in the morning it is. “Make sure you take some with you when you leave. Tess said she’s been fighting off a cold the past few days, need you to keep her warm and fed for me.”

Would you do the same for him, if you knew he’d been the one to catch that damned cold in the first place? Four days of just about coughing up his lungs, and not a single soul- not even his Tess- had offered soup, nor warmth, nor sympathy. He’d not needed it, until now, when he hears you gifting it to someone else.

I don’t like you, Joel.

Of course you would do the same. Not because you care, nor because doing otherwise would way heavy on your conscious, but because you’re nice. Nice in a way he’ll never be, has never been. Patient, welcoming, comforting, warm. All words that spring to mind when one thinks of you. They violently oppose the closed-off, angry, dark cloud that had rolled in years ago and casted it’s shadow over Joel’s entire persona.

He straightens his back, weight shifting from one foot to another as he contemplates you from behind. The sway of your dress as you move has him in a trance, beckoning him closer before he can even realise he’s taken a step. His hands drip water onto the floor in a rhythm, the record player sings in the distance as a reminder of Tess and your sweet out-of-tune humming fills the empty kitchen with a brightness greater than the moon, but that’s not what Joel hears.

I don’t like you, Joel.

I don’t like you, Joel.

I don’t like you, Joel.

I don’t like you, Joel.

Over and over, you taunt him without even trying, nailing the words into his head and heart, impaling him with your sweet condemnation. You’re not the first to say it, to his face or otherwise, yet you’re the first to evoke such a reaction out of him, to leave a lasting impression hours after you’d declared such a thing.

And, suddenly, Joel’s angry. At you, at himself, at the sound of that damned knife in your hand slicing down onto the chopping board. The fog of his ire blurs his vision, rendering him to move blindly through the night.

Only when he finds himself looming over you from behind does his vision clear.

A hand meets the curve of your hip and you gasp, leaving Joel to wonder if it’s because the shock of his cold, damp touch or, simply, because it’s his touch. Without a thought spared, he firms his grip, fingers squeezing tight enough he feels your flesh bulge between each one, a bruising promise Joel gifts you.

You may leave your marks emotionally, but Joel’s will always be physical.

“Why,” he pulls in a breath, loading up the will to keep his voice a low rumble, a quiet disturbance in the night for no ears but your own to hear. “Don’t ya like me?”

If not for the pause in your practiced movements, knife stilling midway through slicing a carrot, he’d believe you’re unaffected by his proximity. “Why do you care?”

He scoffs, “I don’t.”

“Hmm,” this hum is far less delightful than the way you’d been following along to whatever melody Tess was playing in the living room. “Sure sounds like you do.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t,” he insists, and he swears he almost feels the way it only digs deeper the hole he’s created for himself.

Joel knows he cares. It’s been burning at his skin and itching on his mind since the moment you’d welcomed yourself to a little bit of unfiltered honesty, dropping the perfectly poised and eternally polite mask you’d worn since the moment he’d first met you, an attitude he loathes as much as he anticipates surrounding himself with it each time he’s tugged along for the trek to Bill and Frank’s.

What Joel doesn’t know is why he cares. There’s nothing to be desired about him, no traits to respect and certainly no looks to admire. He’s near crafted his entire being in a way that makes sure of this, the more undesirable his presence is, the less likely he is to be approached, be it by other people or fate itself.

Maybe there was a part of him that had wrongfully imagined you being the exception.

Instead, you’re stood barefoot in the latest of hours, knife working away the vegetables in front of you, dress sticking to skin beneath his damp hand, and you don’t like him.

Not one bit.

Joel grabs at your hips harder, his free hand curling round the shape of your left forearm. His feet shuffle forwards, until there comes a point where one would struggle to make out where you end and he begins. His chest pressed to your back, his muscular legs trapping your soft thighs, his forehead digging into the side of your head so intensely it threatens to shatter both your craniums and leave nothing but dust made by bones blown into smithereens.

He inhales, and finds you don’t smell of lavender.

“For the record,” he watches your movements over your shoulder, entranced with the back and forth sawing of the knife through unidentified vegetables. ‘S just like how I sliced that raider’s throat, he thinks, and instantly regrets it. No part of him should ever be compared to you. “I don’t like ya either.”

He’s lying through his teeth, hoping you don’t notice.

The knife never ceases its movement. Back and forth, back and forth. Chop, chop, chop. Blurs of greens, and oranges, and more greens cover the counter before you. It’s oddly soothing, this repeated and unbroken pattern, reminding Joel of times he’d found comfort in the mundaneness of cooking a meal after an emotionally exhausting day. Perhaps, this has the same affect on you, a momentary lifejacket to keep yourself afloat amongst the waves that haunt you awake.

The hand on your forearm travels, mind of its own, drawing up the shape of your shoulder with featherlight touches that contradict the way his nails dig deeper into the the skin you hide beneath the waistline of your dress.

“That’s not news,” you must think he’s blind to the hitch in your breath when his fingers slip over your pulse-point.

It’s his turn to respond with a hum.

“You only like yourself,” words more untrue have never been spoken before the man who’s every moment is spent drowning in his loses. His wandering touch halts. “A little selfish, if you ask me. but, that’s just what I think.”

This strikes a nerve. Fury commands his hand into a fist and fingers find themselves tangled in the tresses of your hair. The realisation of how surprisingly soft it feels barely finishes registering when he’s pulling on it, dragging your head along with, till it lays flat on his puffing chest and your eyes stare up at him. “D’ya know what I think?”

Even upside down, your beauty is striking.

“No, unlike you I don’t care what you think about-” Joel tugs on your hair once more.

“I think you’re a brat. A silly little girl who thinks she can smile and get away with murder.” You could. He’d forgive you as you soak your hands in the blood you draw from him. Knife in the heart, bullet through the brain, bat to the face, he’d slip away easily from this life if only to have you smile as he goes.

“You’re hurting me,” you whine, Joel growls.

Animalistic, beastly, a rabid animal sinking its claws into its defenceless prey. His gaze dances over your features, catching himself before he can sink deep into your captivating eyes, tracing the shape of your mouth, slipping down the peaks of your collarbones.

Your dress- red, a colour Joel Miller will no longer associate with bleeding wounds and stained weapons- sits tight on your chest, squeezing the swell of your chest beneath the fabric, and gives away all your secrets.

“You like it,” he speaks in awe, unable to pull his eyes off the two stiff buds that poke against the red fabric.

“No, I don’-” Dampness follows wherever his hand goes, fleeting as he makes the journey around your waist and up your side, crawling higher and higher to where he can feel your heart beating from within your chest. “Joel.”

He retightens his grip on your hair, aiding you with the way your curve your spine and force yourself deeper into his uncaring, ungentle, enamoured touch. Whoever Joel had been in a past life must have moved mountains or performed miracles to grant him the luck to be holding you this way, the fingers he’d gifted with nothing but the cocking of guns and the feel of his own pulsating lust now expertly tweaking at one of your stiff nipples, all thoughts of the fabric scratching at your sensitive skin dissipating into the abyss as he realises you’re enjoying the pain.

“Heard ya, earlier, in the living room,” at the time, he’d been mortified to be overhearing such intimate words between you and Tess. The blood that insists on rushing to his crotch now wants you to know, to hear the admission of guilt be spoken from his own mouth. “ Talkin’ bout your past.”

He doesn’t specify.

He doesn’t need to.

You give away your shock with parted lips, widened eyes, frozen eyelashes, pupils staring up at him like a wounded fawn he’s about to take his first bite out of and, hopefully, it won’t be the last one.

“Tess turned you down,” the hand on your chest switches sides, donning your other breast with some much needed attention. His hand must still carry residue of the water, for you gasp and shut your eyes in the shock of his touch, your own fingers shooting up to scratch at his wrist. Near convinced you mean to push him away, the pressure against his hand that pushes deeper into his unholy affection has him realising otherwise. “I wouldn’t.”

You say nothing. Joel pulls harder.

“Too bad I’m-” You cut yourself off as he presses himself closer to you, your poor hips bound to awaken with bruises from the counter he’s got you pressed against. With a distance so small he can hear your teeth grind, Joel watches you like a hawk. The twitch in your brow, the flutter of your eyelids, the bobbing of your throat as you silence what he imagines would be an otherworldly kind of moan, a whine he’d let kiss his ears and wind up poisoning himself with the torture of it replaying in his head each waking moment till he kicks the bucket, once and for all. The want to see you fall apart evolves into a need. “Too bad I’m not offering you the chance.”

Joel Miller is a hot blooded man, at his core, weak to emotions and vulnerable to the warmths of flesh. With notches on his bedpost and a tally of lives beneath his belt, he sees little wrong with taking what he needs.

“Who said anything about an offer?”

The descent to the floor is far from graceful, with bitten back groans of pain as clicking noises resound throughout the room while his joints bend and break in an effort to get him where he needs to be, where he’s needed to be for far longer than merely this exchange on kitchen grounds: on his knees for you.

A part of him would prefer it if you weren’t wielding a butchers knife.

The other part wishes you were facing him, eyes full of that repressed anger, hatred and discontent you likely harbour for him as you point the blade down at him and threaten to paint the floors with his blood. You’ve yet to do that, and so he takes it as his queue to progress.

Smoothing his hands up your legs, he admires the landscapes of your body from this angle, with legs that seem longer than any tree in the Amazonian jungle and curves with peaks that resemble the mountains of the Himalayas. Arriving at the top of your knees, the hem of your dress both welcomes and conceals his touch, inviting him into the wonderful world it hides beneath it yet denying him the privilege of feasting his eyes on your paradise, an island of safety amongst the open ocean of his mind.

Your breathing is measured, precise, too rhythmical to be natural, the subconscious action now turned into a practiced routine you mean to maintain nonchalance with. Perhaps you’re yet to realise that, while he may remain indifferent to those that surround him, Joel knows how to read people. And, right now, you’re a whole novel of lust, awaiting for someone to open up your pages and drink in every lyrical prose you promise to tell.

Joel finds purchase mid-way up your thighs, hands sliding around to the front of them to grip the buttery smooth skin and ground himself in the reality he kneels before.

You breathe in, you breathe out.

One knee buckles, ever so slightly, the weight of you collapsing into his welcoming hold. He revels in the feeling of supporting you, in every meaning of the word, thumbs not even waiting on a command from his consciousness to begin soothing your tingling skin with a gentle back and forth movement to match the knife in your hand.

Inhale, exhale.

Your legs straighten once more, a hand of his winds its way back out from under your skirt and shoots up to grab your free one, dragging it down his pits of desire.

“Hold,” he’s parched all over again, mouth drier than the Texan wastelands on a hot summer’s day. All he can do to survive is peel up that infuriatingly soft, red fabric of your dress, skin unveiling itself to his hunger struck eyes. With the skirt bunched up, he shoves it into your awaiting palms, pinning your hand against your own waist. “Don’t move.”

Where he expects protest, he receives more breathing.

Lace covers your skin, a delicate shade of a colour his eyes can’t quite distinguish in the dark of the night. One flicker of his sight to the very core of your body and he notices it, that tell-tale sign that you’re enjoying this little display of attention, despite what your measured breaths may have him believe. A wet patch, your wetness. The stickiest, sweetest of honeys that only a woman like you can possess, and a man like him should never bare himself witness to.

Curiosity gets the better of him- one day, Joel hopes, this will get him killed- and his touch is reaching for the lacy fabric, fingers digging themselves into the waistband of your panties and around the fabric that covers your right asscheek before curling his hand into a fist, tugging upwards.

In and out, shaky breathing comes from above.

The lace pulls tight on your delicate skin, no choice but to nestle itself in the slit of your cunt as two pretty soaked lips peak out from each side. A heady smell he can only begin to describe as stiflingly sweet, tongue-tingling tanginess hits his nose. He makes sure to take a deep breath, letting the blood rush straight to his head- the one that sits packed uncomfortably in his tightened trousers.

Delectable as sin, you keen back into his fist, back curving ever so slightly. There’s a tremor in the hold you have on the fabric of your dress. Joel basks in the visual affect he’s beginning to have on you, no need to doubt if the fabric of your underwear rubs at your likely aching clit. He wonders if the sting of the lace digging into your skin hurts. He thinks it must hurt.

His fist curls tighter, pulls higher.

“Ah,” at last, a ripple in your surface. Though you still wield a knife, the carrot you’d been failing to chop rolls off the counter and onto the floor, lost somewhere in Joel’s peripheral vision.

“Shut up,” he grunts, like it doesn’t make his balls throb to hear you whine. “People are tryin’ to sleep.”

You scoff, and for a moment you seem to have rediscovered your composure. “Tess is drunk as a sailor, and the old men could sleep through nuclear warfare.”

“‘S that an invitation to see how loud I can get ya,” he’s still caught in the way you mold against the lace, slickened skin carrying a reflection of the moonlight. This, he thinks, is what all them poets were writing about in their prose of love and beauty. “Or a challenge?”

“It’s an invitation to stop lecturing me on volume control,-” you catch yourself, he realises, right before you can gift him some nickname a sweet girl like you would never use. Asshole, dickhead, bastard, he’s heard them all and, still, he wants them on your tongue, in his mouth, condemning him for all the brutish, oafish ways he masks his obsession for you.

As coquettish as it may be, painting a picture worthy of a front-page on some Playboy magazine, the sight of lace becomes a nuisance he no longer holds the patience for. So he strips you of it, hand moving to pull the garment down, down, down the length of you, till it hits your ankles. He awaits no movement of your own, taking it upon himself to lift each of your feet individually out the leg-holes.

It’s merely impulse that has him shoving the soiled lace into his back pocket, though he’s sure he’ll make use of them on lonely nights.

“You’re drippin’,” his proclamation is ego-driven, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in the full sight of your bare heat. The view is a little obscured from behind you, but with the right amount of tilting of your hips at a certain angle and the widening of your legs, he’s bound to sit front row and centre for your private show. “‘S actually a little pathetic, sweetheart. Is it 'cause ya like it when men get mean wit’ ya?”

He can imagine the way you’d roll your eyes at his words, and it has him thinking about how you’d look with your eyes rolling back for different reasons, reasons he’s about to gift you.

But first, he curls one hand around your ankle and tugs the limb along as far as he wants it. Much better, he now faces no blockage in the path up to your slit, freely letting his wandering hands ascend to his newfound heaven. Perhaps he’ll revisit the life of gospel, if you promise to be the altar he prays before.

Cool fingers to warm skin, you swallow a gasp a little too late for Joel to not notice as he drags the tips of his middle finger up the length of your slit. Soft, puffy lips part for him, until he presses against that special button that’s bound to turn on your engines.

Rolling his finger over your clit a few times, he refamiliarises himself with the female anatomy, with your anatomy, memorising each soft bump and meaty lump he finds along the way.

It happens so suddenly, and unwillingly, the way his mind switches to thinking of Tess. He wonders what exactly it is she does to those poor things she sends home on shaky legs, where she even begins to touch them. Joel imagines she makes use of what she has and starts with her fingers.

So he does the same.

Working over your slippery wetness, he coats the tip of his middle finger with it, till he finds what he’s been searching for: the gateways to your heaven, your entrance. He breaches your walls with that single digit and somehow that’s enough to have you squeezing around him so tightly he wonders if blood still manages to flow to his digit.

Two, three, four pumps of his hand and he’s introducing his pointer finger too, pressing them both into you to witness the ways you mould around this wider stretch, the lips of your cunt a pair of cushions his knuckles collide against each time he fucks his fingers in.

“So now you shut up. ‘S the matter, huh?” He’s contradicting himself and he doesn’t even care, too busy focusing on curling his fingers inside you, delighting in the feel of that spongy tissue they press against. “Am I too borin’ for ya?”

“You’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever- Oh!”

A tongue meets skin.

The knife clatters onto the counter.

You lurch forward.

His hand pulls you back.

“Tess was right, ya know?” He can still taste you on his tongue, nothing more than a simple lick over your slit and your salty pleasure already seeps deep into his veins, staining his very being with the memory of his new favourite flavour. He pulls his fingers out, slipping them up to your clit. Three little taps to the pulsing bud- tap, tap, tap- and he’s slipping them into his mouth, tongue working overtime to clean up every last drop of you that coats him. “That boy of yours wasn’t doin’ ya right.”

The common sense that screams at him to not feel envy over some ex-lover, someone who was likely barely even an adult at the time and no longer appears to be around, is no match for the green eyed beast that commands him to tell you, without using words, that he can do better- touch you better, protect you better, fuck you better-, if you’d just let him.

‘Could keep ya satisfied.

That’s a new thought, one he’s never needed before yet never wanted more, a burning ache to be worthy of your trust, affection, lust. He’ll never forget the first time he thinks it, mouth salivating at the sight of you.

“Is this the part you say some cheesy line straight out a porno? What ya need is a man, a man like me!” The softness of your giggle is still sharp enough to cut through the tension. God, it’s never sounded sweet, and Joel finds himself freely smiling into the darkness, yet still too stubborn to laugh at the deep voice you attempt to imitate him with.

“Well, was you who said it,” his mouth finds it’s way back onto your soaked heat, taking his time to work his tongue up the length of it, his saliva mixing itself in a nasty cocktail with your wetness. He imagines the air is cold against your skin, and that you like it, memory of those hardened nipples hidden beneath the fabric of your dress. “But if ya insist.”

Diving in head first had always been his style, from his first lover to his last, and to now, knees aching on the kitchen floor. The tip of his tongue dances round your clit, tantalising you to grind your hips to the rhythm of his sinful touches.

Licking into you, he’s reminded how much he enjoys that swelling in the chest that only comes from bringing another pleasure.

He’d not been a perfect lover, far from it, but he’d liked to believe at one point he’d been trained by experience that only comes with age, years of touching wrong and kissing badly to learn the right ways to make those he shared a bed- or a counter, or a backseat, or a club bathroom- with see angelic white as they writhed and squirmed under his touch. You’re lucky to have him now, matured by past lovers and broadened by age, with all the knowledge he needs to open your eyes to how a man pleasures, kisses, loves.

He’s out of practice, sure, with recent years adding notches to his belt that were merely frantic, unexpected, barely undressed run-ins with strangers, in strange places, cock barely getting a moments affection before he’d be spilling his seed and tucking it, limp, back into the confines of his trousers and locking it away beneath a zip.

What a perfect excuse you are, for Joel to remaster the arts of lust.

It’s messy, wet dripping down his chin and staining itself into the stubble of his growing facial hair. It’s noisy, his mouth openly groaning depraved joy into your warmth as you sing him a song of sweet euphoria, slowly building towards that crescendo on the horizon. It’s animalistic, barely human as he revokes all earthly needs such as rest, and food, and socialising, his mind, and soul, and heart, and cock all screaming in unison to spend whatever remaining days he shall possess on his knees before you.

And all the while you writhe and wriggle, some times running away from him touch, other times rutting so far back into him that you threaten to suffocate him somewhere between your warm thighs, and sugar-sweet cunt, and the two well-rounded globes of your ass.

His only saving grace is that he can’t see you.

Hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.

Burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. It does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint, and up the crack of your behind.

“N- Ah,” You can’t deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. “No, don’t, not there.”

Next time, he thinks, we’ll try that next time.

Sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip out every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you’ll grace him with. The sound of whatever record Tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.

And, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.

His eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within Bill and Frank’s- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. There’s little that’s remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he’s sure you’ve spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he’s come to anticipate each time Tess tells him they’re due a visit.

Except, the oven door is made of glass.

Glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. You, with a hand gripping the island’s counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he’s envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs now bunched up in your tight grip, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he’d be able to bend and break you beneath his touch.

And then there’s him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.

The image will haunt him more than the face of any man he’s killed.

“D’ya touch yourself, Sol?” You don’t answer him, but that’s okay. In a sweet change of pace, Joel Miller’s perfectly fine with talking enough for the both of you. “Yeah, bet ya do. Late at night, right? Once you’re all alone in bed. Ya seem like the kind who can make herself scream.”

You back into him, smothering him under the weigh of your body. Becoming his holy grail, he drinks from you like it’s the key to eternal life, and what a way of living this would be, time disregarded as nothing but meaningless while your bodies melt together in the heat of passion.

Fucking his fingers back inside, he becomes frantic beneath the need to make you cry, fall completely apart with only his hands to hold you together. “Let me do the honours this time though.”

You don’t scream, can’t scream, hand over mouth muffling whatever profanities and theatrical proclamations he rips from within you with the stroke of his agile tongue, the only muscle of his that’s yet to develop aches and pains. He imagines that will no longer ring true once he awakens past sunrise.

He’s unsure how much longer he works his tongue over you, slipping and sliding through the liquid pleasure, but it ends with fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him away and tilting his head up.

You’ve never looked more holy, moon casting it’s shine around you, eyes glossed with unshed tears, lips parted and swollen from the pressure your own teeth had bitten down on them with. Your expression, he can’t quite read. Not sad, not happy, not mad.

Your eyes catch on something, abandoning his own for something closer to the floor, to which he follows and finds exactly what you’re staring at: the evidently dark patch that now stains the front of his jeans.

The discomfort of trekking back to the QZ will now be tenfolds worse in the stains of his own pleasure.

“Joel...” his name is nearly a beg, a prayer, an invitation. Hand still in his hair, you tug, pulling him upwards off the ground. Legs open wider and back arches deeper, a seductive sight that your body pleas for him with.

He swallows a groan, knees alleviated at last from the floor, and presses himself against you once more. Strong arms crush you in an embrace, pulling you back into him as his head slips to rest against your shoulder. He’s capricious with the way he lets himself litter a few wet kisses over your neck, breathing in the smell of you.

“That,” you grind back into him, a torturer who takes his aged body as her victim and toys with his barely recovered cock, the cum in his trousers sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He pulls tighter on your body, grounding himself in the weight of it against his own to find the sanity to finish his sentence. “Shouldn’t have happened.”

Joel hopes no one awakens as he slams the door on the way out of the kitchen.

People once spoke of how the only certainties in life were death and taxes but, nowadays, the words don’t ring as true and the guarantee of life with taxes has morphed into something else entirely; a reality where death and time go hand in hand. As sure as tomorrow will arrive, death will come too, eventually. Not today, however, and Joel Miller finds himself stood throwing a ball back and forth for a dog.

It chases and retrieves, trailing it’s happy self all the way back to him only to spit the ball down at his feet, siting and waiting to repeat the process once more. There’d been a time where this is all he’d wanted: white picket fence, dog in the yard, home-cooked meals filling a house with warmth.

That dream seems so far away now, even as he stands within it.

He cracks his back, huffing out a groan. “No, not again. My back’s fucked as it is, buddy,” with no one around to witness, Joel lets himself crouch down onto his knees- both popping obnoxiously as he does so- and rakes his hand over the German Shepherd’s head. It whines and makes an attempt to nudge the ball against him, protesting in the only way it can. A scratch to the ear does the trick to distract the animal, to which it tilts its head and forces itself deeper into his blunt nails. “Not so bad, are ya? Huh?” Never in a million years did Joel think he’d be talking to a dog when him and Tess had set out for their routinely visit to the Bill and Frank’s. Never would he have thought that would be the least shocking event to unfold on this trip.

He hears you before he sees you.

“You planning to make your knees familiar with every surface of this place, Texas?”

He tries to rise, he truly does, but the four-legged foe he’d been petting mere seconds ago betrays him the instant it catches sight of you, charging past him and knocking him over in the process, ass to floor and head to sky.

The world above is a storm of greys, clouds swallowing one another with a looming threat of danger on the horizon and not a lick of the sun’s warmth seems to make its way through.

So instead, it sends you.

Peering over him from above, hair a tangled mess, eyes a wreck of under-bags and sleepless tears, the collar of your jumper lowered just enough at this angle that he can see a tease of cleavage, you radiate a brightness like no other, more dangerous to his naked eyes than UV rays could ever be. He’s squinting again, frown etching itself on his forehead with the threat of becoming permanent soon. A few more years and his face will be nothing but frown lines and crows feet. At the very least, he considers, I’ve survived long enough to wrinkle.

The smile above him is worth a million laugh lines, a kindness laced within it that matches perfectly with the hand you hold out. When he does nothing but stare at it, you wriggle your fingers, enticing him to take a hold. He does most of the work, truthfully, but you play a part in pulling him back to his feet. Upright once more, he can’t help but bask in the way he’s able to physically look down on you.

“Thanks for tiring him out,” you’re the first to talk. You’re always the first to talk, and he curses you for it. “Won’t need to walk him as far tonight.”

A queasy feeling overtakes him at the thought of you walking the dog alone at night, nothing but the moon to light your way. He’ll need to remember to tire the dog out next time he visits. “No problem, thanks... for feeding Tess and I.”

“No worries!” You’re so kind, so good, smiling at him with a cheerful chirp in your voice. He can’t wrap his head around how you can bring yourself to treat him this way. “Oh, actually, that’s why I came out here, I was looking for Tess-” Of course you were, when would you ever be looking for him? “Hold on!”

You shoot off back inside so quickly that Otis just reaches the doorway by the time you return. With an idle pet to his head as you pass by, Joel once again sees, in the way such little affection can have the dog so elated, that resemblance between them you’d spoke of. In your hands, you carry an array of containers full of food- soup- each filled to the brim.

“I wanted to give you these, before you guys leave,” you’re explaining yourself, and Joel wonders if it’s nerves that bring you to need constant babbling to fill any gaps of silence. He can’t imagine how he could make you nervous and therefore that thought is quick to be discarded. “I know the journey up here and back can be long, consider them a token of my appreciation towards you both for-”

“Why don’t ya like me?” he cuts you off.

Pathetic, he knows, but he can not stop himself, a deer caught in the headlights of your brightly burning, too-good-to-be-true, too-pure-to-be-fake personality.

You show no signs of hearing him, smile unwavering as you continue to hold out the boxes to him. “There should be enough to last you a few days, if you watch your proportions.”

It’s too much for him to handle- the food, the smiles, the sweetly glistening eyes-, and Joel just has to know, needs an answer before the heat of his confusion consumes him entirely in its flames and leaves nothing but his smoking remains.

So he tries again, louder.

“Why don’t ya like me?”

“And I’d probably say you’re best to heat it up, especially for Tess,” you ignore him, again, lips stretching what can only be described as uncomfortably wider. “Winter is sure coming in faster than last year, isn’t it?”

He grabs at your arm, fingers curling round the swell of your bicep as he speaks through gritted teeth, "Answer me." Like a frightened dog backed into a corner, he bares his teeth and yells his bark.

"For someone who doesn't care,” you try his patience, knowingly or not, and his grip tightens. You don’t flinch, welcoming the sting of his blunt and bitten nails against your flesh. “You sure do talk about my opinion a lot."

"Answer the damn question, girl.”

“Or, what?” You’ve got him there, he’ll admit, holding no real plan as to how to punish your silence. “You gonna give me the same treatment as last night?”

Had he known you’d be so unabashed to mention the events on the kitchen floor so flippantly, as casually as one would speak about the weather, he’d never have dared to get on his knees. Truthfully, he’d not given things a second thought, disregarding the later for the now, living in the moment with caution thrown to the wind over what the morning would bring. Perhaps he’d hoped you’d been intoxicated enough to dismiss the memory as a nightmare, maybe he’d wished you’d keep away from him to free him of the volatile grip you have on his soul.

Instead, you stand tall, proud, eyes fiercely staring back at his own as you challenge him to retaliate, mock you with none of those saccharine smiles you hide harsh tones behind.

Joel says nothing.

“How about this, let’s make a deal, like the ones you and Bill make.” Inching closer, crowding in on his space and forcing him to take note of the smell of freshly cleaned clothes mixed in with your own fragrance. Clean, warm, inviting, scents he’d never given meaning to before now. “You get me something, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

He grunts out a response, hands meeting his hips as he juts out one knee, the shifting of weight between feet a perfect distraction to the rising tension in his worn-out jeans. “What d’ya want? ‘Cause if it’s somethin’ like a gun, think again. I ain’t messing with none of Bill’s strange politics on you havin’-”

“A dress.”

“A dress?” The statement has him quirking his brow, burning questions swimming in the depths of his eyes as he stares back at you.

“Yes, and don’t look at me like that!” It’s hypocritical, he believes, for you to berate him for the looks he sends you when all you do is cast stones his way with your gaze yet shake him to his very core each time you smile. “I need a new one, my favourite one got ruined whilst making soup.”

Unaware he’d even began to lean closer, Joel’s quick to recoil, as if your words are bullets and his skin the target you hit on the bullseye every time.

“Joel!” his name resonates from somewhere in the house.

Neither of you dare to break eye contact. Again, his name is yelled. This time, he manages to identify Tess as the owner of the voice. Habits have him used to running to her whenever she calls, but habits have never been caught between the choice of Tess or you.

His feet remain glued to the ground.

Tess yells once more and, though you speak up, you don’t dare look away. “Think you might be needed inside, macho man. Your missus is calling.”

“She ain’t my-”

“You two just gonna stand and stare at each other all day, or will you help a woman out already?” Tess enters the scene somewhere behind you, a blur of her familiar shape standing out the front door.

Only when your head spins and he no longer finds himself lost in the black of your eyes does Joel take her in completely, hair clearly damp and complexion a little paled by her hungover body. In her arms, she struggles with the weight of a folded table. You approach first, he follows, his two hands aiding in carrying it out into the front yard as you retighten your grip on the boxes of soup in your arms.

“I should probably,” laying the containers down on the now unfolded table, you fidget with the sleeves in your hands, eyes downcast with something he can only read as guilt. He decides he much prefers the fire they hold when you berate him. “Go check on the food, before it burns.”

You’re in the door and out his sight before he can so much as ask you to stay.

Tess and him hit the road by noon. Earlier than predicted, later than he’d wished for. The bite of cold already marks the air, despite the sun breaking through the clouds and heating the world with its rays. He walks a little ahead, feigning ignorance to the repeated coughing coming from Tess and wracking his brain for answers.

Answers to why he’d never noticed how hoarse she’d been sounding till you pointed it out. Answers to what awaited them both upon returning to the QZ. Answers to when will be their next chance to visit the safe haven Bill’s created. Answers to why you don’t like him.

I don’t like you, Joel.

It motivates him to walk quicker, faster, racing to put as much distance between himself and that damn kitchen floor, miles upon miles not enough to rid him of the dull ache in his knees that goes hand in hand with the throb within his too-tight-jeans. If he were alone, he’d break out in a sprint. but Tess is here, he’s not alone, and home will simply have to wait on the passing of time to drag him back to it.

Till then, he needs to find a dress.

[the-wanderer-2022]

Feather Serpent Goddess - Chapter 6 (Dark Namor x Reader)

(Please note you can find the Masterlist for this series at the top of my blog)

Taglist: @historygeekqueen @bontensbabygirl @midnightman123 @imlikefrhungry @naiomiwinchester @zooni92802 @ohantonia @astrospunutt @omgsuperstarg @aslutforscarletwitch99 @multifandom-boss-bitch @tzurue @gardenof-venus @zheezs14 @bookfrog242 @honestlyka @weaponb33 @angel-bi666 @telepathic-queer @fckwritersblock @iceydicey11

"I don't want to talk to you."

The woman looks like she is a human pencil. Unwitting fashion choice? Yellow stripy shirt and white pencil skirt? It's not a good look with that hair.

"(Y/N) your father is concerned with your . . . Incident."

"My father is concerned about his image."

". . ."

"I'm sorry, I've had a lot of 'councillors', can you update me? You are?"

"Roberta. But you can call me Dr Stone."

(Y/N) smiles. "Are you afraid of death Dr Stone?"

"I'm not afraid of death. I just don't want to be there when it happens."

"Mark Twain."

"Yes quite . . ."

"You see before my mother passed, I was afraid of death Dr Stone," (Y/N) continues, sitting back in the chair. "She got sicker and sicker, and you would think she'd be relieved to be put out of all that suffering but right until the end, I could see it. She didn't give up. She resisted it at every turn. She was more of a sister to me than a mother."

Dr Stone's fingers are twitching. Probably in a desperate bid to write down this so called ' opening up'. "And now?"

"I was driving that car at what I anticipate was in excess of a 100mph. The cliff was right there in front of me and I kept waiting. Waiting for that survival instinct to kick in. Waiting for the fear to start and my mind to force me to bail out. And it never came. Can you believe that? I could have hurtled off the cliff, and it never came . . . Oh don't worry Dr Stone. I'm not suicidal. You don't need to call the suits to come and haul me off. I'm just not scared of death anymore. I was seconds away from seeing Mom. Seconds. I could have held her in my arms, in seconds."

"You speak of an afterlife." She finally gives into that writing itch and begins to frantically scribble in her notebook. "You seem sure enough of it to end yours."

"I am sure."

"Do you mind if I ask why?"

"I do." (Y/N) taps her nose. "Must save some for next time mustn't we Dr Stone?"

-

The only sound is the dripping of water and the frantic exhalations of the woman hanging from the ceiling, shards of stalactite keeping her body pinned to the wall. You could smell the blood were it not so cold.

Below her lies a small pool, a blackness, an empty space where nothing can be seen.

Ku'kul'can paces. His shoulders relaxed, his gaze theatrical.

"Is that really your name?" He murmurs half-heartedly. "Yolotli?"

He takes a seat on the rock in front of the wall, opening the parchment to continue his drawings. It's been almost an hour down here and one needs a way to pass the time.

"Why . . . Would . . . I lie?" The woman finally says.

"Why would you attack (Y/N)?" Namor sighs. "Ah . . . Save your breath. The cold down here is nothing to me. It should really be nothing to you but your continued insistence that you are in a fact a citizen of Talokan is offensive to me. You are looking a little frostbitten, for someone of our heritage."

"F-f-fuck y-you . . ."

"Yolotli means 'heart of god'. Yet I don't see any of them coming for you. Whoever hired you knows better than to cross me in an effort to save you. You're alone. Best to tell me now so I can put you out of your misery. Let me put it to you again. Who. Hired. You? Was is it the Wakandans? One of my own?" With every word he draws closer to her before finally grabbing her wrist, right where the stalactite is impaled in flesh and muscle and tendon. Yolotli's screaming fills the cavern but his eyes are awash with hungry rage.

"I am . . . One of you!" She cries.

He releases her with a snarl. "Then may the gods reward your bravery." He kneels down, placing his hands on the damp mud beneath their feet. Whispers an incantation that makes his entire body turn black for a moment. It is less than half a second between the time he rises to full height and the tentacle surging up from the darkness, wrapping itself around Yolotli's spine and dragging her crushed to the depths.

"Pitiful."

"Ku'kul'can."

"Chaac, approach my son." He bids the man closer. "What news?"

"Your beloved is stable."

A certain softness returns to his eyes. "Conscious?"

"No. Neither she nor the demon can control the body, it is simply comatose, her brother is keeping her that way. The exorcist has arrived."

He sighs. "It is what she would want."

"Even if she should die?"

He clenches his fists. "My (Y/N) is not afraid of death. But I will not allow that to happen."

"My god, what of the bounty hunter? Did she reveal her co-conspirators?"

Staring at the empty space from where the corpse was dragged, he is displeased to observe that there are still fragments of bone around the floor. "Near the beginning yes. But she told me nothing I did not already know. I know who dares plot against me, but they are too stupid to lead this nation themselves. They must have an external benefactor. That. Is what I need to know. Chaac?"

"My god?"

"Namora has been looking very tired lately has she not?"

". . ."

"Perhaps, she should be brought down here. To refresh herself. Do you comprehend?"

Chaac bows. "For Talokan."

[arminhug]

hello, pumpkin: annie leonhardt x reader: chapter six

series masterlist

summary: reader faces the music and decides to tell her friends about her sexuality and annie leonhardt. meanwhile, she recalls a time as an eleven-year-old where nothing in the world mattered except annie's flush lips. if only she still had her e-mail address.

song rec: all i need by radiohead

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

It is silent outside.

I do not know what my four best friends are thinking or saying, and the possibilities in my head are making my heart race. I’ve had too rough of a night to ward off the anxious assumptions that they are now seeing me in from a completely different perspective, that I am no longer their presumedly heterosexual friend but somebody they barely know, somebody they wouldn’t want to associate with any more—My phone interrupts, a gentle buzz in my pocket.

Drowsily, I extract it, checking the notifications.

messages sasha’s mcnuggets jean: Please come and talk to us? You know...

Shaking, I open up the group chat, braving my anxiety and checking the full thread.

sasha: (y/n) please!!!! are you okay?? sasha: if it’s about what marco said, you know we would never judge you based on who you love, please come and talk to us :( connie: ya, we don’t know much but marco would never mean to say anything to hurt you. he’s literally so upset rn marco: I can talk for myself thanks! marco: (y/n), I’m serious when I say it was a complete accident, and I cannot even begin to express how sorry I am. You don’t have to forgive me, but I think it’d be good for everyone if you just would have a chat with us? marco: I’m so sorry and I love you. sasha: ^^ u r amazing babe!! connie: we all love u (no homo) jean: Not the fucking time Connie connie: FUCK sorry man full homo if that’s what u r into ok u know i suport u no matter wht sasha: omg stop talking jean: Please come and talk to us? You know that we love you unconditionally, and we just want to make sure you are ok?

Despite Connie’s ‘no homo’ quip (knowing this is a harmless part of his lexicon and he is, in no way, actually homophobic,) I take a deep breath that aches across my lungs, realise that my fears are irrational, and that they do all support me. I wordlessly unlatch the bathroom door, rising from the pallid tiles, not quite ready to look my friends in the eye when I am deeply embraced by a large figure. And then another. And then a slightly smaller one. Finally the smallest wiggling into the centre of this impromptu cuddle, I feel more safe and respected than I can possibly hope to verbalise.

“Thank you so much,” Marco’s voice mumbles somewhere within the tight-knit circle of our bodies. “No pressure, okay? You talk to us whenever you’re ready to do so. Do you need anything? You’ve already got some water, Jean got you some painkillers while you were in the bathroom.”

“Thank you,” I murmur. “I want to lie down if that’s okay?”

I am suddenly graced with fresh air as my friends, very kind but suffocatingly warm, scramble to help me lie down despite having sobered up considerably. I let my hair billow out on Jean’s cotton pillows, taking more deep breaths as I trace patterns with my eyes on the ceiling.

“So, surprise. I think I’m a lesbian. Maybe. I don’t actually know but I have just never felt any attraction to men,” I begin.

The room is silent, urging me to continue whilst they listen, so I fill my lungs again, the one constant action that is keeping me calm, and continue.

“I’m really sorry for not telling you. It’s not that I didn’t trust you, but I felt wrong labelling myself because I wasn’t sure. The thing is, I spoke to Marco about this, for obvious reasons, and I think I’ve only really felt anything for one person in my life. And I was so young. It sounds pathetic, I know, because I haven’t had much experience at all, but that’s where Marco and I went tonight. To a queer bar. It was really nice, and there was this girl who seemed interested in me, but I freaked out. I just couldn’t stop thinking about Annie.”

“Hang on, is that the girl you used to be friends with as a kid? The blonde-haired girl in those photos around your room?” Connie questions.

I sigh tentatively; I might as well tell them the whole story at this point. “Yeah. It’s so ridiculous. The girl I had a crush on was Annie. I didn’t even realise until I thought about how it wasn’t normal to think about an old childhood friend that much. Plus, I told Marco about this memory where Annie told me about same-sex couples and… well, my first reaction was to hug her and tell her I loved her. It was kind of jokey, I guess, but I guess Marco was right when he said that’s probably one of the biggest indicators that I like women. Sorry if I’m rambling too much.”

“You’re not rambling at all, you have nothing to apologise for, especially for not telling us! We’re sorry if we ever made you uncomfortable.” Sasha is the first to speak, tapping my calf reassuringly.

“You never really made me uncomfortable,” I respond. “I know there were a few times where you were asking me about boys, but you weren’t to know. I already told you the main reason. I really appreciate you guys and I know you would always support me no matter what I choose to identify as, but I suppose I just wasn’t ready.”

“You’re amazing, dude. I’m really glad you told us,” Connie pipes up again, and I smile. He’s not always the first to express verbal affection, so this affirmation means a lot.

My friends are incredible.

“Thanks, Connie,” I decide to sit up. “I guess the worst part of it all is that I’ll never see her again. I’m pining for somebody I haven’t seen in years, and it’s just not fair. I must be the only person in the world who feels like this, who’s caught up over someone who left them.”

“Hey, listen. I think stuff like this isn’t so black and white. If Annie is who you’re supposed to be with, then I think that somehow, somewhere, you two will be reunited and you will be together,” he speaks insightfully, and I am reminded of how philosophical and clever Jean is. “And if you aren’t supposed to be together, and you never see her again, that’s okay, too. Because one day you’ll find somebody who makes you just as happy. You won’t always feel like this, I promise.”

“Sometimes it feels like I will,” I admit feebly, although the minuscule sliver of hope that one day, maybe one day, if the universe decides to be kind enough to me, I may cross paths with my Annie again.

“Surely she must have social media? Haven’t you ever looked her up?” Sasha interjects my musings, and I shrug. Obviously, I’m not a complete idiot; I have made a few feeble attempts to scour Instagram when my heart truly feels lost without her, but all to no avail. Annie Leonhardt isn’t the most common name, but the few accounts that existed under that variation were glaringly not my Annie after a brief search of the profile. However, before I can confess this to Sasha, she announces, “I’m gonna check Facebook,” tapping furiously on her cracked screen before pausing, almost bewildered. “(y/n), how the hell do you spell Leonhardt? Oh, hang on! Do you know her e-mail or something? I could use that!”

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

“Moving?!”

I wailed, tears already brimming my eyes. “What do you mean, moving? You can’t, Annie. No!”

“What part of ‘moving’ don’t you understand?” Annie scoffed nonchalantly, tentatively thumbing the hem of her shirt as if she hadn’t just bestowed the most devastating news upon me at 8 am on a Tuesday morning in the garden playground. “Dad’s got a new job and we’re going at the start of summer break. I’m not arguing with him. I’m going to leave.”

I promptly began to cry, almost furious at the cool nature of her words. Annie was my best friend. She was my confidant, comfort, the girl with whom I spent most of my waking time. Over the past five years, her icy exterior had slowly thawed within my presence, and I had been so fortunate as to see the quiet side of her that was loving and loyal, the side that played with cats in the street and had a sweet tooth, collected pretty rocks to give to me and held my hand. And yet I couldn’t catch a glimpse of my Annie this morning. It was as if I was talking to a stranger.

“You can’t be serious! You’re joking! Well, it’s not funny, Annabelle, okay? You’re my best friend!” I pleaded, hoping the use of her full name, that only two people in the whole world had the privilege of using without catching the sharp edge of her tongue, would remind her of who I was to her.

“Annie.”

My heart sank.

She didn’t want me to call her Annabelle.

At that moment, I felt my chest contracting in on itself, my mind refusing to remain coherent. This was a nightmare. There was no way this could be happening. Yet I felt my Annie slipping from my clutch, taunting me, knowing there was nothing I could do to stop it. She wasn’t the type to trick me. She was leaving me behind.

For a moment, I could do nothing but weep, ruefully looking at her teenage figure, willing for her to meet my gaze, call me ‘pumpkin’, say something, say anything.

“Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?” She scoffed.

“This isn’t like you. You’re like a stranger!” I yelped, too distressed to acknowledge some other preteen girls in the vicinity sniggering at my outburst.

Annie shifted, teasing eye contact but deciding against it as she sighed. “We can’t be friends anymore. I’ll be too far away. It’s better for both of us to stop being friends now.” Her voice was almost robotic if it weren’t for the break on ‘friends’, betraying her stoic facade.

“We can!” I rebutted defiantly, refusing to give up on Annie. “I’ll write to you. I’ll e-mail you every single day, and when I’m finally a teenager, I’ll start babysitting and earn money to come and visit—“

“Forget it!” Annie snapped. “I’m literally going to be on the other end of the country! Can’t you see? There’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”

For the first time in my life, I saw Annie cry. Her voice sunk deeper, tone nasally as she furiously scrubbed at her pink cheeks in an effort to hide the tears.

“Please can I just hug you?”

Annie shook her head, breath stuttering. “Oh my God, fine. We can’t keep being like this. I can’t— I don’t—“ She deftly gripped me in her lithe arms, shaking. I couldn’t even comprehend how out of character my friend was being. Despite reaching the age of puberty, Annie still managed a stoic demeanour. But I didn’t care about any of that. All that mattered was holding my friend whilst we both wept.

“You don’t understand. I can’t explain. There are so many things I want you to know but I just can’t say it, but it doesn’t even matter anymore. You need to forget about me. I’m not worth it.”

“Why would you say that? You know you’re my best friend in the whole world—"

Annie freed herself from my grip, and suddenly her break of the facade was destroyed. No eye contact. Stiff figure. Hardened expression.

“It’s seriously for the best. Find another best friend.”

“You know I don’t want to do that,” I responded softly, my throat thick. I placed my hands on her shoulders. She was rigid, jaw hardening, but she didn’t dismiss my action. “Just let me write to you. We can make it work.”

For a moment, Annie did something she wasn’t often inclined to do and looked me directly in the eye. I could almost ignore her rueful expression in favour of noticing how pale her irises were, lidded eyes sewn with blonde lashes, the slope of her nose and her bitten lips the colour of flowers. I felt something bloom in the pit of my stomach. I felt soft at the knees. I wanted to do more than just look at her, but I wouldn’t know what. I wanted to be closer to her in any way I could, but there was only one way I knew, something I had seen on television, read in countless books, something I believed was strictly for a man and a woman.

I couldn’t do that to another girl.

Until she grazed my cheek with her lips, feather-light. If it wasn’t for the magnitude of what I was thinking, the shameful inclination to do more than that to my best friend, another girl, I may not have even registered the action properly, but the world was dissolving around me, I could barely hear the bell screaming in the distance for us to line up, start class, the chatter of teenage students because all that I cared about was Annie and what she had just done, if she was just being kind or perhaps wanted to kiss me on my lips too, something that was so forbidden yet what I needed more than oxygen at that moment.

“I’ll give you my e-mail address.”

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

“Hey, (y/n)! E-mail address?”

Sasha’s impatient tone snaps me back from my drowsy daydream, and I grimace, shaking my head.

“I forgot her e-mail address.”

[sharkbait77]

The Sun Sets With You

Chapter Four: The Foundation of Growth

Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Silas is officially his own warning! Death of a parent, depressive undertones, grief, food, pls lmk if I missed any!

W/C: 3.3k

A/N: This one is loaded with feelings guys, I didn't mean for it to be so heavy handed in the grief area, but I hope the conversation Ezra has with Reader offsets that. I definitely got into my own feelings about loss with this one, so I'm really sorry in advance if it's too much to handle. Read at your own risk, I've said it before, this story is not for everyone, always take care of yourself first & foremost lovelies. I've got some fluff coming up to make up for this one! I'm still building the plot you guys, I hope you're still with me!

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist Form

Chapter Three || Chapter Five

~MAY THIRD OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Two weeks have since passed; Pa and Ezra had tediously worked the fields, sowed the seeds with care, and the fruition of all their work thus far has resulted in the small sprouts now growing from the Earth. ‘One of Mother Nature’s greatest gifts’, Ezra had said once while you gazed upon the rows of leaflets. Rebirth, growth, new beginnings. You find yourself envying the fresh buds, wishing to crawl into the dirt and begin again as well.

The shop is quiet today. Since you chased away the older women looking to learn more about Ezra Prospect, you haven’t heard a peep since. Quite surprising, though you count your blessings and hope the silence will hold, if only for a moment longer. The children play in the road with the stray town dog and you catch yourself giggling as you watch them. Such innocence in their youth. You only hope life treats them kinder than it had to you.

The shop bell dinging pulls you out of your thoughts and you stand straighter to greet the customer. Lucille Jones enters, without the overbearing presence of her mother – a shock in and of itself. She walks with her hands entwined in front of her, her head lowered some, and blonde ringlets of hair fall forward to frame her face, but she still carries a gentle smile on her face as she looks up at you.

As much as you pitied the outcome of your own life, you could not help but pity Lucille’s tenfold. Her father had fought and perished in the war, the only person to have shown her love and caring, and she was now left with her mother, who was ready to practically pawn her off to the next richest man to come through town.

Were it not for her mother’s meddling, you know the two of you would be great friends. She may be the only other person in this town who can empathize with your despondency; her dreams, likely, have been ripped from her as well. Though, it makes the curiosity spark within you as you wonder why exactly she has shown up in the shop so suddenly and without her mother.

“Hello, Lucille. It’s nice to see you,” you say politely. She nods in return. Timid girl. “May I interest you in anything? I’ve concocted a new healing agent to help with the pesky bug bites during the summer,” you offer gently.

“I-I’ve…” She squeaks. You cock your head slightly at her.

“Lucille, what has your nerves so rattled?”

“I’ve come as a favor to my mother. And Mrs. Foster and Mrs. McKenna.”

She faces you head on now, her soft voice filled with determination to complete her mission, yet her eyes, filled with regret, betray her. You raise your eyebrows in contempt and sigh deeply, and upon seeing your reaction, Lucille’s desire to help her mother gossip dissipates. She quickly steps forward, the heels of her white boots clacking against the wooden floors and the skirts of her pink dress flowing behind her.

“I’m so sorry, I did not wish to come and gossip. It is not my desire. My mother… She would not rest until I agreed to come here,” she laments, the quiver in her voice proving to you that she truly meant no harm. “I will pass on the news that you will speak to no one. Forgive me,” she says, her head hanging lower now than at the start of this conversation as she turns to walk away.

“Wait,” you call out. She stops in her tracks, but does not turn to face you again. You walk around the counter to her position. “Lucille… Why do you follow what your mother commands of you?” You ask softly.

“I…” She looks up in your eyes, tears forming in her own and you swear you feel a string in your heart snap at the sight. “I have no choice.”

“Yes, you do. You can choose to leave all this behind, leave this town and its capability to drain the life from you. You do have a choice for how you desire to live your life.”

You hold her by her shoulders as you speak and you realize you are sharing advice with her that could very well be said to your own face. You know it is not a possibility for you, but if you were able to help Lucille leave town and save her from feeling the same hopelessness as you, a part of you would be freed as well, knowing she will have been able to move on to better things.

She stares at you, the tears in her eyes now dried up and you see a small spark of hope in them, but before you can speak more to nurture that spark into a larger flame, the shop bell dings again. Based on the dark figure in your peripheral, the stomp of large, gaudy boots walking in, the heady scent of cheap cologne filling your nostrils, you know exactly who it is.

Lucille looks at the man first and you remove your hands from her shoulders, taking a step back and inhaling a deep breath, nearly choking on the fragrance now overpowering the shop.

“Hello, Mr. Taylor,” Lucille greets, bowing her head slightly.

“Hiya sweetheart,” he responds in a predatory voice and you snap your head in his direction.

“How can I help you, Silas?” You ask quickly before he can intimidate poor Lucille.

“I heard you’ve got some queer working on the farm now,” he chuckles.

“Do not call him that,” you bite and Silas immediately stops laughing.

“Darlin’,” he takes a step toward you and Lucille backs away against the shop wall. “Don’t tell me you have befriended him. You’re too good for the likes of a freak.”

“You don’t know him,” you reply, keeping your head held high with determination, but you instinctually flinch when Silas barks out a laugh.

“And you do?!” He says, grinning wickedly. “For your sake, honey, I truly hope not.”

“What is your meaning, Silas? He works on my farm, it is only natural that I will, and have, come to know him.”

“Perhaps,” he says, his voice dropping to a lower, more aggressive, octave. “Just be aware of the consequences if you come to know him as more than the simple farmhand he is.”

You wish to spit in his face, to continue defending Ezra, yet the instincts within you beg for you to stop. Though you’ve never been one to cower at Silas and his schemes, you’ve also never seen him as he is before you. Crazed, animalistic, frightening. You’re unsure of what he truly is capable of and you would hate for now to be the time to learn.

Despite the resolute expression you attempt to hold, your eyes must shine with the light fear he managed to instill in you with his threat because he flashes a satisfied smirk, a laugh escaping his flared nostrils as he backs away from you. He turns on his heels and faces Lucille again, huffing a goodbye to her and glancing over his shoulder at you before walking out.

“Are you all right?” Lucille asks softly. You only nod in return. “That man is…” She scoffs, understanding how loathsome he is.

“Not a man. A beast.”

~MAY FIFTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

As you exit the house, ready to meet Ezra at the place you now share together, you reach up to grab an apple from the tree for yourself and throw it in your bag along with your book. You take a step away then halt just as quickly. You consider Ezra, and smile to yourself as you reach up again to grab another apple from the branch, setting it gently inside your bag.

As you approach the oak, you see Ezra standing near the edge of the river, his hands clasped behind his back and head held high. He seems to be enjoying the scenery and you try to lighten your steps so as to not draw him from his serene moment, but the grass crunches under your boots as you walk, regardless of how careful you are, and Ezra turns his head in the direction of the noise, smiling brightly once he sees you.

“Dear Sunflower, I was afraid you would not show today,” he says as he turns his whole body to face you.

“My apologies,” you catch your lip in between your teeth, hiding the amused grin forming on your face, your heart skipping a beat at the knowledge that he had been waiting for your arrival. You dig in your bag in search of the apple you plucked specially for him. “A gift for keeping you waiting,” you say and hold the bright, red fruit out to him.

“Sunflower,” he gasps softly, as though you had just handed him a precious gem. “Thank you. A sweet and kind gesture from someone as equally generous; it will not be forgotten.”

You nod once while you bite the inside of your cheeks. What has gotten you so giddy? He merely gave his thanks for your offering, but the smile on his face, his eyes searching yours to clue him in on what has you so affected, makes a schoolgirl-ish giggle escaping your throat.

You reach for your own apple and drop your bag down in the grass, closer to the tree, and you step closer to the river, kneeling down and carefully dipping the apple into the cool stream to wash the skin. Ezra kneels down beside you and follows your lead.

“These are from the tree by the house. The last tree I was able to plant with my mother before she-”

You pause, immediately feeling your throat constrict and halting any further words from falling from your lips. You’ve not spoken so carefree of your mother to anyone, and the suddenness of your desire to do so catches you off guard. Though you have gotten to know Ezra as more than an acquaintance, the truth of the matter was he is still a stranger to you.

You sense the energy shift around you, and you bite your tongue in penance for turning such a peaceful time into an unpleasant one. Ezra stops washing his apple and leans up straight again while you keep your hands under the cold water, scared to look into his eyes and see judgement.

“Sunflower,” he calls and you startle slightly. After a moment of silence, he speaks again. “If you were to wash that fruit any longer, I’m afraid it may lose its red complexion and turn into a shade of white.”

You cannot help the awkward chuckle that falls from your mouth and you lean up straight as well, still avoiding his gaze as you dry the apple with your apron. Aside from the running water next to you, the air is silent, neither of you speaking a word.

You continue drying the apple, turning it over and over in the cloth around your waist, even though you’re sure there are no water droplets remaining. Suddenly, a loud chomp is heard and your eyes snap up to the offending noise to see Ezra bringing the apple away from his lips, and the two of you break out into gentle laughter.

“Sunflower,” he begins after swallowing the piece of fruit in his mouth. “This is truly the sweetest apple I’ve ever bitten into, and I wholeheartedly believe it is because you and your dear mother were the ones to nurture the tree that grew it.”

The smile that remained on your face from your laughter slowly falls as you remember the day your mother suggested you plant the tree from a seed she accidentally bit into. You can recall her giggles as she grabbed you by the hand and pulled you outside, instructing you to grab the small shovel that was laid by the house while she held the seed in her closed fist.

Pa had said it would not take, chuckling and shaking his head as your mother shooed him away, reprimanding him for cursing the seedling before it had a chance to grow. And, with much love and dedication that your mother insisted on carrying out together, the small tree grew, and soon after, sprouted the shiny, red globes.

“I… I apologize for the sudden change of atmosphere, Ezra,” you say quietly, glancing up at him sheepishly and, to your surprise, are met with a gentle smile of understanding across his face.

“Please do not apologize for reminiscing upon your loved one. It is a hobby I frequently partake in. The memories… They are what keep them alive. No longer with us in the physical sense, yet they live in the grass, in the rivers. In the trees.”

“Like the Green?” You ask shyly as you pick at the stem of your apple.

“Yes. They are born again, just in a different form, but always here to remind you of life. Much like the apple tree is a reminder of your mother.”

You wonder to yourself if Ezra has been a victim of loss as well. The way he speaks of it seems as though he talks from experience, but you do not dare ask. As uncomfortable as it can be for you to speak about your mother, you’d hate to bring that discomfort to him as well. Yet… He speaks so openly, so calmly, that you feel yourself longing to open up.

“Perhaps if I dream of the Green, I would see my mother again,” you say under your breath, feeling the tears that have so long desired to flow build in your eyes with an unbearable pressure.

“You do not need to wait until your dreams, dear Sunflower. You only need to look around at the life surrounding you to know she is here. Close your eyes and she will appear.”

You only have the strength to nod, the lump stuck in your throat as thick as Pa’s dreadful grits he so enjoys making during the winter. A small laugh bubbles over as you remember the way your mother put up the facade of enjoying his grits only to empty them in a bucket to be fed to the cows at a later time.

You look back up at Ezra and he smiles, his eyes shining with compassion, no hint of judgement or scrutiny to be found, and the lump in your throat vanishes, comfort radiating from his person onto you like a warm, wool blanket.

“Would…” You hesitate, but an overwhelming urge to share with Ezra commands you to continue. “Would you like to see her?”

“I would love to,” he nods gently.

You smile softly, leaving your apple to rest in your lap while you carefully pull at the chain around your neck until the small locket emerges from underneath your blouse. You scoot closer to Ezra and he mimics your movement, leaning closer to you as well and you recognize that this is the first time he has been in such close proximity to you.

You shove the tip of your fingernail between the crevice of the locket until it pops open, revealing the black and white photograph of your mother that you yourself have not taken the opportunity to look at in far too long. The length of the chain is still too short for Ezra to get a proper look, so he leans in closer, your heads mere inches apart.

You feel your pulse thumping against your chest, the vein in your neck throbbing as you feel the heat emanating from him. He smells of cedarwood and the hay bed he sleeps on, a light scent of sweat from working the fields, and something almost sweet, a unique aroma to be found only on his person and no one else.

“She is very beautiful, Sunflower. It is as plain as the nose on my face that you are her daughter,” he compliments, backing away from you slowly and you giggle softly as you place the locket back into your blouse. “What is her name?”

“Emma,” you smile genuinely, for once feeling not one ounce of sadness as you say her name aloud.

“Emma. She is now the sun, moon, and stars that shine down on you, Sunflower.”

You smile once again and nod as you place your hand on your chest, feeling the cool metal press against the warm skin covering your sternum. You close your eyes and let the sun’s rays warm your cheeks as you take a deep breath, heeding Ezra’s thoughtful words and imagining that your mother is, indeed, the sun kissing your face.

“Thank you for allowing me to share my thoughts, Ezra,” you say after a beat of prolonged silence. As you look over at him, you see his head lowering, too, as if he had mimicked your action and let the warmth of the sun fall on his face as well.

“You have no need to thank me, dear one. I am elated you deemed me worthy to share your thoughts with. If you ever desire to share again, please know I am here,” he says softly as he smiles.

“You are a very good friend, Ezra. I am happy to know you.”

“And I, you.”

You look down at your lap to your forgotten apple, raising it to your mouth to take a bite and Ezra resumes eating his as well. Once you’ve both bitten down to the core, you both toss them into the river and you stand up, allowing the blood to circulate through your legs again before heading over to the tree.

You bend over to collect your bag along the way and your book falls from the opening as you stand straight. Before you are able to bend down to grab it, Ezra is already there, lifting it in his hands while he reads the cover.

“‘Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland’?” He smiles quizzically.

“I understand it is for children, but I quite enjoy the adventure and wonder of it,” you say, smiling from embarrassment.

“I do not judge what a young lady chooses to read in her spare time, Sunflower,” he grins as he hands the book to you. “I have yet to read this one. Will you read it aloud for me?”

“Yes,” you nod. “If you’d like.”

You both sit down in the grass, leaning your backs against the trunk of the oak tree as you find the page you last left off. The scene of Alice’s trial has Ezra suddenly captivated as to what caused Alice to be put on trial, unfairly it seemed. You do your best to explain, which only produces more questions from Ezra.

You giggle at his frustration over the treatment of this poor girl and decide to start the book over for Ezra to follow along, a genuine happiness washing over you at the thought of reading this story to Ezra for the weeks to come. He leans in closer, as though the distance you had between you previously was too far for him to hear you and you stumble over your words slightly.

You still do not understand this feeling overcoming you; the only thing you do understand is that you do not feel the need to place a guard around yourself as you do with the others in town. You want to share with Ezra, you feel comfortable enough with him already, though he has only been here for two weeks.

Yet, you feel as though you know him better than most around you and you feel that he understands you better than even your Pa. It frightens you, yet you have no desire to run from it, but rather towards it. A new path you find yourself carving into your mind.

Chapter Three || Chapter Five

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist Form

Tags: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @asta-lily @honeymandos @pascalpanic @aliwritesfic @mandocrasis @hnt-escape @winter-fox-queen @barbossa2319 @sarahjkl82-blog @day-off-inkyoto @pedrocentric @astoryisaloveaffair @ezrasbirdie @danniburgh @foli-vora @lucrezia-thoughts @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamer @quica-quica-quica @meesterblack @amandalovess @hunterofartem1s @pedro4ever @mishasminion360 @wardenparker @librariantothejedi @fan-of-encouragement @javierpinme @writeforfandoms @ew-erin @you-got-me-starry-eyed @quietpainter @beskarboobs @andiesturgss @maryfanson @princessxkenobi

[thatasgardianprince]

To Find Yourself Is To Find Your Truth

(title is subject to change AJSHS)

Summary: A young Loki goes through the journey of finding their queer gender identity and feeling comfortable in their own body.

Word Count: 602

Pairing: None romantic

Rating: T

Chapter: 1/?

CWs: This fic covers heavy themes such as suicidal ideation and gender dysphoria. If this will trigger you or hurt you in any way, please do not read this.

A/N: This fic, in a way, is drawn from my own story. Loki has been a major inspiration for me when it comes to accepting who I am as a trans person. So, I decided to tell Loki's story of their own journey with how I think it went.

(ao3 link) (masterlist)

Chapter One: The Meeting

Sometimes, she was okay. Their world floated in the vast abyss all the same. She could ignore the deep ache in her chest that told her something was wrong, that something was off.

Other times, however, they could not. They could not ignore the thoughts that screamed they weren't a girl or that they weren't just themself. She could not escape the sharp pain that stung in her heart at the thought that they could not be who they wanted to be.

Her mother, Frigga, was the only one who knew of the darkness she held. But even the support of her mother didn’t bring the calm she needed. The realm despised people like them. If you uttered a singular word suggesting that you wanted to change who you were, Asgard as a whole would throw a fit and your existence would erase, leaving no traces to be found. Though she was royalty, it meant nothing. The universe was against them and that they would have to accept.

Though that acceptance was a hard thing to come to and so she wept in the darkness of a hidden storage room that was filled with dust, webs, and old weaponry. Curled up in the corner with their back against the wall and their legs bent close to their chest, they leaned their head against their arms that rested atop their knees. The sleeves of her shirt were damp and clung to her pale skin. Their head throbbed a dull ache and their eyes burned.

To her, life was nothing. If someone were to tell them they would die tomorrow, they would not care. She sniffled and sighed as her tears began to slow. Their crying had left them tired, fatigue spread throughout their body. It was the same routine she had done for a long while; sneak out of their room late at night, when everyone else was asleep, and cry as much as they needed.

She was so tired, however, she never heard the soft padding of paws against the ground. Even when the creature got closer, they never heard the quiet ‘meow’.

The animal butted their head against her calf gently, causing her to gasp in fear. They scooted away closer to the wall and scanned their surroundings for the perpetrator.

It was nothing scary at all, she came to a conclusion. It was a cat. Just a cat.

The cat sat patiently and stared at them with their majestic, olive green eyes that stood out against their fluffy, black fur.

For the first time in a long while, she smiled a genuine smile that lit up her eyes with a glow of happiness.

"Hello."

The cat responded with a mew.

Loki laughed at the oddity. "My name is Loki." Their brows stitched together in question at themself. 

Why did I introduce myself...to a cat?

The cat moved closer to her, then, and climbed up on her lap, taking Loki out of her thoughts.

Their eyes widened in shock. This was unusual. She never had such an interaction with an animal. And for the animal to choose them out of all others, it confused Loki.

Why me?

The cat purred as it settled upon her lap. Hesitantly reaching out their hand, they gently scratched the cat's neck, which soothed both the cat and themself. Loki found herself falling asleep soon after, feeling comforted and safe in their presence.

When Loki woke in the early morning, they felt rested and without a feeling of despair. To her shock, however, the cat was still there and greeted her with a gentle meow.

[mashtonasfuck]

protect the earth

Continuum Part 1

Characters: OT4

Chapter warnings: A mention of implied death with reference to an afterlife

Word Count: 1K

A note from Lucy: Here we go! Part 1 coming at you. She’s short, but I felt it was important to outline the lore in this universe before we go any further. If you have no idea what this is about, then please check out the links on this masterpost before reading! This is very different for me, so I hope you enjoy it! Special thanks, as always, to Beth.

You can find my masterlist here

This work must not be reposted anywhere - I do not give my permission for it to appear anywhere other than on my blog, or on my ao3 page.

——————————————————————————

Calum stood in the corner of the room watching the scene unfold before him. He always hated this part. People’s lives changed in the blink of an eye and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He could only guide them in the right direction, and hope that they heeded his words. Carrying souls onto their next life was usually Luke’s job - however the other man had been called elsewhere, Calum volunteering himself to take Luke’s place. Variety was the spice of life after all - or so he’d heard. Calum watched the heart monitor flatline and stepped further into the room. No one could see him unless he willed it, and he knew that this particular soul would struggle with the transition between lives. A shadowy figure rose from the bed, Calum reaching out to take their hand. The girl’s hand felt tiny in his own, a wave of sadness washing over him as she looked up at him in confusion.

“You’re okay, sweet one. It’s your time to move on.” 

The girl furrowed her brows at Calum’s words, looking back at the people surrounding her earthly form. 

“But what about Mummy and Daddy?” She looked up at Calum then, his heart aching for the life she wasn’t able to live.

“It’s not their time yet, love.” He explained gently, crouching down to her level, “but they will be okay, and you will see them again, I promise.” 

The girl looked at him for a few seconds, tears threatening to spill over, before throwing herself at Calum. He cradled her in his arms as she cried, and he sighed internally. He knew this one would be difficult, but he didn’t realise how much it would affect him. He stood slowly, still holding the girl tight to his chest, before turning around and exiting the room.

–

In the beginning, it hadn’t been like this. 

When the universe came to be, the four of them had been little more than atoms floating around an empty cosmos. A guiding force had shown each of them what they were to become - earth, air, fire and water - co-existing to create a balanced and ordered world. None of them remembered much about the beginning. They simply existed alongside each other, nurturing the world they had been entrusted with. 

The air was the first to create a physical form. The winds came together to create Aether who floated across the earth, healing any part of creation that may need it. The earth followed not long after, giving life to Yggdrasil - the tree of all life and knowledge. From the water came Tangaroa, bringing forth life in the rivers and oceans. It was some time before fire offered up a physical form - eventually giving life to Vulcan. 

All four beings existed in harmony for many years, until the day that Vulcan lost control.

The day had begun like any other with Aether chasing away the night and ushering in the day. Yggdrasil stood strong, surveying the realms and their inhabitants, sending word to Aether if anything was out of sorts. The water was calm and still, Tangaroa enjoying the dawning of the new day. Below them all, Vulcan was growing restless at being underground for so long. Their fury grew with each day that passed, the fire that burned inside them desperate for some sort of escape. The stillness of the world above was mocking them with each sunrise. As they surveyed their realm, Vulcan’s anger bubbled and boiled until the earth could contain it no longer. Lava spewed from a mountain top, laying waste to everything below it. Yggdrasil let out an unearthly scream as the fire from below landed upon the soil, Aether and Tangaroa immediately rushing to their aid. Tangaroa ordered great tsunamis to rise up over the land in an effort to contain Vulcan’s fury, whilst Aether created great winds to try and force Vulcan back under the ground. Where the fire met the wind, it did little to contain it. The more Aether tried to push it back, the more it spread. Realising that the winds were not going to prevent Vulcan’s assault on the land, Aether instead focussed on saving as much of creation as they could. Tangaroa was the only one who was able to match Vulcan’s might. The water doused the fire and halted it in its tracks, but the efforts were short lived. Vulcan spread their fury as far as they could, sending their fire to the furthest reaches of the earth. The further inland the fire burned, the harder it was for the water to combat it. Tangaroa called upon Aether to create great storms that would rain down upon Vulcan’s fire, turning the world dark. As quickly as they would douse the flames, more would surface. Their efforts were proving fruitless, but it was their duty to protect the earth - even from one of their own.

For many days and nights Vulcan laid waste to the land, the other three beings unable to contain the fury from below. 

On the 10th day, Vulcan’s anger finally abated, a stillness falling across the world. The fire appeared to vanish back underground, and the storms gave way to the sun once more.

Yggdrasil surveyed the land all around, weeping at the devastation caused by Vulcan’s outburst. The earth smouldered under their gaze, the once plush landscape now an ashen grey. Where the lava had risen from beneath the oceans, new land had begun to form - the once clear horizon now littered with small islands. Yggdrasil paused for a moment to observe these new landmasses. The islands were still in their infancy, but Yggdrasil could feel that they were not to be feared. The energy from within these new formations was still too weak for Yggdrasil to connect to, but they could sense its presence. They pondered this for a moment - they could feel that the land was fertile and good. How could something so pure be borne out of so much devastation? 

All three beings felt the moment that Vulcan rose to the surface. Tangaroa and Aether materialised at Yggdrasil’s side, watching as a shadowy figure began their descent from atop the mountain. 

——————————————————————————

So - it’s finally up! Thank you so much to everyone who’s been hyping this up over the last few days - I hope you enjoy this first look into the Continuum universe. I spent a long time researching for this fic, and hopefully that shows in this first chapter (my reference document for this fic is almost at 5000 words). The concept of religion is something that has fascinated me for a long time, and I enjoy reading about different deities from different religions. There is a lot more to come and I can’t wait to share more with you! 

Disclaimer: I do not claim to know everything about the deities/religious figures that I mention in this fic. I’m sure there will be something I have misinterpreted, or just missed all together. Please know that it is not my intention to offend, or appropriate anyone’s religion. 

Please let me know any thoughts/feelings you have about this so far! Shoot me a message here 

If you want to be added to my taglist please fill in this form

Taglist: @pxrxmoore, @queer-5sos, @irwinkitten, @kindahoping4forever, @sadistmichael, @loveroflrh, @mysticalhood, @adoringlrh, @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles, @koalacal, @maluminspace, @malumsmermaid, @lashtonswildflower, @irwindoll, @castaway-cashton, @everyscarisahealingplace