All energy is only borrowed and one day you have to give it back. It does not matter how important you may be to someone, to a family. It does not matter how mighty you may be, that animals bow to you in the forest as you walk by, or how many victories you had earned. One day everyone’s time will come to an end. But no one, not even the soul returning to its Great Mother would be ready when that day would come.
You remembered that day. The day that the fiercest warrior you knew, the woman that had come to be a role model for you despite being so close to age fired her final arrow and closed her eyes forever. You remember the wails, the shrill screams that filled the camp as the war party came back painted in blood. So many lives had been lost that day, returning to Ewya, but none had been more painful than the loss of the Omatikaya’s Tsahìk. Your ears pinned back against your head as you winced trying to block out Mo’at’s screams as her final daughter, her baby lay dead in her arms.
It was a moon of great mourning in the clan after Netyiri’s death and everyone seemed to lose hope as they watched their Olo'eyktan placed the woodsprite on his beloved’s body. Jake was forcing the tears to stay in not wanting his children to see him break as Tuk was already crying into Neteyam’s neck, the young boy himself was trying to not sob. Lo’ak and Kiri leaned into Norm feeling numb and you stood behind Mo’at. It felt awkward for you to be this close to the front of the crowd. Yes, you had known Neytiri since you were young and you were in the same spot as you were for Sylwanin’s death all those years ago but for some reason this felt wrong. You felt like you were dreaming, waiting to open your eyes to find yourself in your small tent curled up in your hammock, Netyiri peeking in and teasing you for sleeping in while Tuk slid around her mother to come hug you.
But no, this was not a dream. You knew this. Ewya’s only job was to keep the balance. Your great mother never took sides and sometimes you wanted to curse her for it. But as Mo’at promised you while you both cried over Neytiri; “She has a plan for everyone, every rock, tree, creature. Down to the tiniest insect she has a plan.” Mo’at sounded as though she was trying to convince herself of this versus you as the two of you prepared to clean Netyiri’s body for her burial ritual.
As Jake rose to his feet, looking upon his mate's body one last time the clan knew that the ritual was over and it was time to disperse. Return to their tents to lick their wounds and pray to Ewya that she be merciful.
As for you and Jake you returned to your seperated tents, on different sides of camp to add a new bead to your songcord
It had been a few moons since the burial and things had returned to normal. If you could call it that. The clan had mainly tried to keep themselves busy, push down the pain and act as if it was not there. But there were some obvious changes as time had passed. Jake began to lead more war parties, each one becoming more violent, more casualties on either end. And unease that no one was bold enough to point out settled over camp. Everyone was on edge while working, waiting for the Olo'eyktan to announce a sudden war party outing.
You tried to not say anything to Mo’at but she noticed the changes. The more na’vi that came into the medical tent in need of healing. Soon it became so overwhelming you got little Kiri who was only eleven to come help. Thankfully she caught on quick and with you, Mo’at, and Kiri working together the camp was good in hands. You knew that had it not been for the three of you plus Tuk trying to keep everyone healthy (Tuk giving random na’vi flowers if she felt like they needed it) the camp would have been in Cold War mode just as it had been thirteen years ago when Jake first came.
Each day you sang your song chord, said your prayers to Ewya, asking for her help, for her guidance, trying to keep some sort of normality in your life. And everything seemed to slowly be mending itself within you. You had come to accept that Neytiri’s body was gone and that there were a few nights when you woke up to Tuk’s glowing tear filled eyes looking at you in the darkness in need of hugs. You did not notice the motherly role you had taken on for the four children. But Mo’at noticed. And Jake ignored it.
Today was what you personally considered a “good day”. There was a gentle breeze blowing through high camp, dark clouds forming in the distance with promising rain that would hopefully cool things down. You sat perched on a rock, Tuk in front of you and Kiri beside you. “Can you put beads in some of the braids?” Tuk asked tilting her head up to you, her hair a messy fro as you were re braiding her hair. “I can certainly try.” You chuckled looking around for some beads. You were not known for having styled hair so to speak. You kept your dark hair in its natural messy waves. A few braids and beads were placed in it here and there where Tuk and Kiri would mess with your hair. You never took out their braids no matter how loose or messy they were.
“Kiri, do you know where any beads might be?” You asked frowning as you found none around you. The young girl looked up from the mortar and set down the pestle thinking for a moment before nodding. “I know where sa’nok kept Tuk’s beads I’ll be right back.”
You watched as she scampered up the rocky path, stumbling once before disappearing into the Sully Family tent.
While you were too focused on Kiri you did not notice Mo’at coming towards you until Tuk wriggled out of your grasp, an excited squeal escaping her throat. Instantly your head whipped around and you witnessed Mo’at look down to her youngest granddaughter with a soft smile, patting her unruly hair. She whispered something that you could not pick up on. Tuk nodded her head and scurried past you and up the path to her tent where Kiri was existing only for her little sister to pull her back in.
After watching the whole scene take place you slowly shifted to Mo’at with a look of suspicion. You had a pain in your gut that something was about to happen that you did not like in the slightest. Mo’a took a seat beside you and held your gaze for several long moments and you only became more skeptical, your tail flicking with anticipation.
“There have been many moons since Neytiri’s death.” Moat began “The moon has been made full a total of twelve times since she has returned to Ewya and with each passing eclipse our clan is only led into more ruin. No clan is meant to be left without a Tsahìk. An Olo'eyktan needs his Tsahìk.” She gave you a hard look but you said nothing trying to decipher what she meant. You shook your head slightly.
“Forgive me Mo’at I do not follow. JakeSuli is still grieving he-”
“He is leading our clan to ruin. Eway has spoken and she has meant for him to be already mated by now. Our Great Mother needs a Tashìk to speak to. To help the Olo'eyktan.”
“What are you saying Mo’at.” You finally huffed out. “I do not see how JakeSuli’s need for a new mate has anything to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you.” The elder responded, her tone sharp, like a mother scolding her daughter. “Ewya has spoken and she has chosen you for Tsahìk. You are to be mated with JakeSuli.”
It felt as though a hammerhead titanothere had trampled you in a blind rampage. They say you could not escape the Great Mother. No matter how far you run, where you hide or how hard you try to ignore her she will always find a way to make sure she is heard. You had been having dreams of you and JakeSuli leading together but each dream ended in hell. It was not something that you wanted. Jake’s heart belonged to Neytiri, there would be no love if the two of you were to mate.
“You have completed your ikinmaya and you have training in being a Tsahik. Ewya has spoken. This is her plan for you.” Mo’at’s words carried power in them. It was crippling. You felt as though you had finally gotten on the right path and now you had made a hard left turn and found yourself falling into a chasm. You had hoped that one day you would find yourself a mate and settle down and have beautiful children that you could guide and care for. But now any hopes of that had been turned into a fantasy never to come true.
“Does Jake know of this?” Was all you were able to get out, your voice cracking.
Mo’at shook her head, “JakeSuli is not yet aware of what Ewya has commanded but the time for him to know draws near.” The elder rose to her feet while you kept your head down, focused on the sandy earth below your feet. “I hope by the time that comes you are done being selfish and are ready to save your clan.” And with that she left you.
You lay awake in your dark tent, your eyes trained at the ceiling, Mo’at’s words from a few days ago swirling in your mind still.
“You are to be mated with JakeSuli” “This is her plan for you” “You are done being selfish.”
Selfish. Is that what she thought? After all you had done, the long days and nights you had put in, helping care for the sick and mend the broken. Was it so bad you had asked for a little goodness as a reward? You rolled over on to your side looking out the little window by your hammock, watching the dark blue sky bleed into red as the sun began to awake. Why did it have to be you anyway? There were plenty of fine people in the clan who would heal and talk to Ewya, even take care of JakeSuli’s kids. Maybe you would not be so opposed to it had those dreams not scared you. The dreams all ended the same way. The world turned gray as flakes of ash began to fall out of the sky, collecting around you. The sounds of your people’s screams of terror ring in your ears as the bodies start to pile and there you stand in the middle of it all.
As you watched the sun rise higher in the sky, Jupiter and its moons no longer in view you knew it was time to get up. As soon as your feet touched the floor you wanted to climb back into your hammock. You felt nauseated, something was going to happen today you knew it.
Walking out of your tent you stopped for a moment to survey all that was going on in the early hours of the morning. Few people were out, fetching fresh pitchers of water, collecting fruit for their breakfast. Seeing the delectable Yovo fruits growing in the grove made your stomach rumble and you figured that would be a suitable breakfast.
Making your way over, you nodded to a few people you saw, mumbling greetings as you walked passed. You made it to the grove and sought out the Yovo fruits. You picked your way through the plum colored fruits, holding them gently in your grasp testing the firmness, seeing which would be good for eating. Finally you came to a particularly large one. It was not too firm or soft and it was perfect in color. Gently you grabbed it by its base and twisted it. The stim popped off the bush and the fruit’s full weight sat in your palm. Placing the fruit in the small net satchel that hung across your body you went to look for some more fruits.
Coming across one of the Spartan plants you went to inspect the fruit but frowned noticing bites in the leaves. Had the pests made it onto the plants? You wondered as you picked a seemingly good fruit, but the moment you plucked it off its bush the fruit fell apart in your hands. The Spartan’s fruit’s insides had rotted and worms were all in it as a horrid smell came from it. On instinct you dropped the fruit and it splattered at your feet. This was not a good sign. Hesitantly you looked back to the bush and grabbed another fruit only to have the same thing happen. And another and another until the whole bush was bare. Each of the fruits that it had grown lay rotten and inedible around its roots.
You began to panic looking at the mess. Never had you seen something like this. And the gardeners would have noticed if one of their plants were diseased at this point with how meticulously they cared for each plant. No, something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong.
As you stepped into Mo’at’s tent you were not paying attention to where you were going and you walked straight into the back of someone. At first you were annoyed as you held your nose, your ears back. But when you looked up you were taken aback to find the Olo'eyktan standing in front of you, looking over his shoulder his arms crossed. Jake’s eyes seemed to narrow with resentment as his ears were pinned back slightly before turning back to Mo’at.
“Mo’at please with all do respect to you and to Ewya I am not ready to mate with another. It is not fair to your daughter.” Then it clicked, why he looked at you with such distain, why he was in Mo’at’s tent so early. She had told him about what Ewya wanted. For the two of you to bond and become two souls intertwined into one. Partners. Leaders together. And just as you had expected he was rejecting it.
“Bah! Do not bring my daughter into this.” Mo’at hissed. “It is as I told to this one.” She motioned to you. “It is Ewya’s will that you take her to be your mate. As much as you may hide JakeSuli.” She took a step to the Olo'eyktan and poked a bony finger to his chest. “Ewya will find a way, whether it be with peace or through violence her will shall be carried out.”
Her words sounded more of a threat rather than a promise, her voice dropping down to a dangerous whisper. But hearing what she said made your stomach drop, was that what the rotting fruit was about? Ewya’s anger at you for denying her? Was this going to affect the clan? This is not what you wanted, for the clan to be hurt by your arrogance.
When you looked back up at Mo’at she had that look in her eyes as if she already knew what you were going to tell her. “As you both can see, your ignoring of Ewya is starting to take a toll. Are you going to doom our clan to more suffering than we have already endured?” The elder asked and you winced.
You felt trapped, you were not sure any more as to what to do. What your heart wanted. You wanted what was best for the clan. What would keep your people safe. What would keep Tuk, Kiri, Lo’ak and Neteyam safe, even if that meant making sacrifices you realized it had to be done.
“I agree to be mated to JakeSuli.”
Your words did not feel as though they were your own. As if your mouth was being controlled by something, treating you like a puppet. To punctuate your words you nodded, holding eye contact with Mo’at.
“I agree.” You whispered, willing yourself to not look at Jake knowing there would only be a gaze of cold hearted hatred looking back at you. And you did not blame him. He was being forced to move on, say goodbye to his lover for the final time and have someone new by his side. Someone he did not want.
You did not blame him for he did not want you and you in turn did not want him. But as it had been said it was Ewya’s will.
And one way or another, through your aria of peace or Jake’s song of violence her will would be carried out.
Benjamin Alire Sáenz | Andy Virgil | Ron Hicks | Richard Siken | Tracey Emin | Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec | Richard Siken | Mitski | Gustav Klimt | Kenneth Rexroth | Crisaunt
Little Harlow • just a headcannon on dad jack and your daughter being his mini me
My girlfriend a nurse • SUMMARY: Can u do one where he is dating a nurse? And he mentions that in a interview. Or in the red carpet and he brought YN as his date and they are all touchy and YN gets shy when he talks about her
Catching feelings • SUMMARY: jack request where they’re fwb but he definitely caught feelings and very open about it but the reader is kind of having a difficult time to do the same since she’s scared that it might not work something like that and lose their bond 🙃
🔥Protective jack • SUMMARY: Can you do a Jack Harlow imagine where possibly your ex comes to a party you are both at and Jack is just really jealous and protective? Maybe some drama in between too for some spice loool Pleaseeee
Believe me • SUMMARY: jack thinks you like Urban, but that's far from the truth
I thought I hated you • SUMMARY: since high school jack has hated you. Despite being clay's friend he always found a way to pick on you and make you feel like shit. Now that he's older and mature he realized he did you wrong only because he was trying to hide his feelings
Challenge • teasing each other until one of you get sexually frustrated and fail the challenge ~ smut
Dilf • Dilf jack fucking his daughter’s best friend during a house party or sleepover 😩😍 ~ smut
Mile high club • What about Jack and his gf joining the mile high club pls ~ smut
🔥Hrs and hrs • SUMMARY: for your 2 anniversary Jack takes you to a resort. He makes your weekend Very meaningful and eventful ~ smut
Little • “He/She’s so tiny.”....
I love you • accidentally saying “i love you” too early, but the other pulls them in for a kiss and says it back.
Flowers for you • seeing you happy is all that matters.....
Hot • “I never thought I’d hear you say that, fuck, that’s hot.”.... ~ smut
In the middle of the night • “where should i fuck you? your choice.”..... ~ smut
Lines • Wait can you do a concept where Jack falls in love on with his (black) costar on set? 👀 it'd be so cute where they're reciting their lines as they film but then he starts stuttering and forgets because he thinks she's so pretty or when they kiss he forgets his lines afterwards 😭❤
Morning • Also maybe write a fanfic where he is taking care of his daughter/son when they are a newborn
New balance • dad jack getting matching fits & new balances for his girl & baby then having urban take little family pics for them 🥺
Early baby • SUMMARY: Jack is racing through traffic from the studio to get to the to the hospital where reader is in time to be there when their first child is born.
Early birds • Jack and you enjoying an early Saturday morning before the kids get up in a few hours, sleepy jack + soft sex with the sunrise peeking in 🥺🥰 ~ smut
Victoria secret model • SUMMARY: Jack having a day with the reader in Victoria secret he’s bored so she decideds to put on a show for him it gets really steamy In that little fitting room🤭🤭🤭 even a worker asks her if she’s okay
Sheigo • Girlie can u write something about reader dressing like sheigo cosplay and jack losing his shit
Funny seeing you here • SUMMARY: jack & reader had history, reader wasn’t well know back then but is currently coming up (actress?) then at like a event they see each other for the first in a while. & some of jack’s song are about their relationship, like ‘funny seeing you here’.
Scraped knee • Dad jack and you are in the living room working on your things, Jack working on some songs while you scroll through your phone. You both hear a loud whimper sound and when you walk out of the living room in a hurry to see your kid crying on the floor indicating that the kid had fallen and Jack just hating his kid crying so he picks them and holds them close to his chest as the kid cries
🔥Baby mama • SUMMARY: Can u do something Jack and reader have a child or children together and they split for a while.... jack gets a new gf and she's obviously jealous of the coparenting relationship jack and the reader have for their chil/children and says something slick about it and comes at reader sideways and jack ends up defending the reader obviously because she's the mother of his child/children and hes still got love for her, and the girlfriend ends up getting pissed off because jack defended the mother of his child? And then reader thanks him for sticking up for her and old feelings get brought up? Sorry I can't help but thing about how much respect/love jack would have for the woman that has his children😩
Do you love me • SUMMARY: If you’re taking requests for Jack: Jack and y/n have been dating for over a year but she’s not very good at admitting her emotions so they end up getting into an argument because Jack doesn’t think that she is serious about him so she goes and gets a tattoo of his initial on her ring finger to prove that she permanently wants him in her life and he gets emotional about it.
Pregnant on tour • SUMMARY: Jack request: Jack and the reader have talked about having a baby for a long time but they could never get the timing correct, so you finally decide that you’re going to get pregnant in the middle of a tour so that way when it’s over with can safely have your baby. So like a fic where you’re like three or four months pregnant on tour and everybody takes care of you. Jack is really worried about your morning sickness and stuff like that.
Short series:
SUMMARY: when jack wants to get away from his main girl, he comes to you to relieve his stress
Side piece part one
Side piece part two
Side piece part three
Falling • Hiii, I wanted to request something for the jack Harlow series. Where Jack, Rosie and you go to picnic and as you guys get there rosie runs to find your guys favorite tree and rosie plays around while you and Jack talk after awhile you both hear a cry as rosie comes and hugs jack hiding her face in his chest and when you ask her what's wrong she whimper saying she had gotten hurt and Jack goes all dad mode. Sorry if this is long and confusing ❤️
You're not pregnant are you • SUMMARY: Okay I have a request for Jack where his girl has an IUD that she got before she met him and when they started dating and having sex, she didn’t tell him about it bc she knew he was insistent on wearing protection bc he didn’t wanna have a kid yet and she didn’t want to make him feel like she was lying to trick him and she also knew he got around a lot so she was fine wearing protection for std reasons but over time she forgot to tell him and one day his friends are over and Neelam or urban’s gf ask Jack if they had any pads or tampons bc she started and he realized that since she’s been living with him he hasn’t seen her get her period and he panics thinking he got her pregnant🤣 I know this is very specific but I have an IUD and just thought about this scenario in my head and I can’t stop laughing about how panicked he would be 🤣
Mother's day • A little blurb of Rosie on mother's day?
Poison • SUMMARY: jack always had a thing for you ever since he met you through a friend . He craved being around you and having your attention. It's gotten to the point where you were all he ever thought about. He knew he had to get you.
Silent treatment • concept idea: reader and jack are early in their relationship (1-2 months) and nobody likes her, i’m talking neelam, urb, 2fo, etc. or they just leave her out of conversations and events and jack obviously takes her but they whisk him away and she feels left out. it’s not that she did anything bad they just don’t even have a valid reason for not liking her. then he finds her crying one night and then confronts them about it and they start to actually bond with her and like not just for jack’s sake but because she is actually fun and nice they just never took the time to realize (that was long LMAO)
Mistakes were made • I have a mini harlow request, where they are at a restaurant and reader orders something with ranch but rosie thinks it's something sweet and she asks to try it at which reader tells her that Rosie doesn't like it but Rosie asks again at which reader gives in and let her try it only for her to make a face and spitting it out while reader and Jack try to hide their laughs. (Mini Harlow)
Manifestation • Could you write a story about Jack dating a spiritual/witch girlie? 🧘🏽♀️ I know that Jack believes in manifestation but imagine she'll teach him what the crystals his fans give him mean, he feels better when she sages the house, or he just finds her so fascinating (her beauty, her vibe, and her beliefs) 🤍
🔥Kentucky derby • Can you write something where the reader is 6 months pregnant at the Ketucky Derby. Jack is very protective. And Jack also wants to show your baby bump to the crowd. Your shy, but you'll do it for Jack. Can also add Drake being protective also.
Vibrating panties • do a fic about jack having one of the remote controlled vibrators and he teased y/n out in public with it?
Miscarriage • SUMMARY. i saw that soemone requested a misscarriage fic so heres my idea. you were at jacks parents house. and everyone was out. so jack was out at the studio with neelam and urban. jack urban and neelam were talking outside. maggie gets there and goes inside. youre like 16 ish weeks along. maggie finds you on the floor bleeding a lot and yells for jack. he comes in and just fully freezes up and cant move and is just crying. and maggie and urban and neelam are trying to help you. but youre basically out of consiousness but keep saying softly something like, jack everythings ok love. thats kind the end of my idea.
Strawberry patch • SUMMARY. Ok jack taking Rosie to the strawberry patch. She's wearing her little strawberry overall like strawberry shortcake and she's wearing a bucket hat uncle urban got her!! Love you<3 (mini Harlow)
Face mask • Jack putting a face mask on his girl who sitting on the sink?
Uwban • The baby saying urban instead or mummy or daddy!!
Family • Please write something where your baby is crying and you and Jack comfort them together
The couch • A blurb request. Jack getting home late and finding you sleeping on the couch
We don't sing that • We're on dad jacks train I see. How about jack catching his daughter seeing one of his songs
Breakfast • Jack waking you up in between your legs 🤗 smut
Be my forever • can we get a lil blurb of jack proposing to reader?🥺
Clothing shopping • Reader getting insecure while shopping for clothes with Jack and he's there to pick her up x
Needles • Okay this is a silly thing but I always faint when i get my blood taken cause my body just shuts off so maybe you could write something about that like Jack being an absolute angel through it cause lately I had to go to the hospital a lot for that but if you don't want to please don't 🧡
The sickies • Rosie getting sick With a fever and start throwing up. JACK takes care of them because you're out but she's dying to see you
She's the one • What about like Jack's fam not really being sure if you're the one but you two stay over at there's and they like overhear you two laughing together cause Jack is like tickling you or something
Dates • request! Getting lost in IKEA date and target date
Hentai • SUMMARY. You and Jack are filming for white man can't jump. You both hit it off and flirt like crazy with each other. One night when you both are supposed to be reading your script you decide to act out the sex scene which leads to more.
I got you • Can you make a lil fic of the reader and Jack just having their second child but the reader is going through postpartum depression. Maybe something with the reader reaching a breaking point and freaking out at Jack and their child but instead of being an ass Jack is a supporting husband and helps.
In the song • OMG I'm sooo in love with Little Harlow! Can I please request one where Jack uses her voice or voice-mail in the song, so when he plays it for her reaction is funny, but she is all happy and screaming "that's me, that's me"!! Thank you
She's just a baby • How about you all are getting ready for the beach but jack sees Rosie wearing a two piece and goes all dad mood about it lol
Sister bond • How about Rosie and a few week old clementine bonding. Maybe Rosie always wants to hold her and she points out her little smiles and stuff ❤️❤️❤️
I'll teach you • SUMMARY. “Jack teaches the reader how to properly finger herself After she can't orgasm” ✨SMUT✨
Lovers to strangers • can you just a jack harlow fan fic where he cheats on his gf and she finds out i want lots of ANGST
9 months • Can you do a fanfic where it’s shows that jack is wit the reader though out the whole pregnancy and the birth too
What did you say • Mmmmh reader and Jack get in a fight and Jack accidentally calls reader a different name
🔥Introvert • jack and yn spend the whole day out together but she's an introvert so when they get home she wants alone time and he gets in his feels cus he can never get enough of his girl. clingy jack pls
A little crush • Reader and Jacks toddler having a little crush on one of the other guys. I can see Jack being so salty about it
On set • Hi I heard you were requesting blurbs? Can you do one with a black!reader who’s an actress that Jack has a crush on.
Childhood crush • What about one where Jack is jealous about the reader’s childhood crush on Drake?
My girl • Hi :) I'm a sucker for cute shiii so was wondering if I can get a fluffy Jack scenario where you're sitting on his lap and you're just keep complimenting him and calling him cute and stuff while you're cupping his face sksksksk
Home • “Jack comes back from tour”
🔥On cloud nine • Ok but can you write this but with jack 🥲that was literally the sweetest think I’ve ever read
Not the right time • I sent in the ask halfway complete, I was going to do a request too, would you do a leaving him at the altar one but not because they fall out of love just like sadness or something happened?
Up in the sky • In honour of Urbs insta story, can we have mile high club smut with either Jack or Urb pls
The ways Jack touches you:
What's it like sharing a bed • Can you write something about what it's like to share a bed with Jack, like maybe he can't sleep without touching and he always has a hand on you even in his sleep
Mrs. Harlow • Hello! I hope your day has been great! 💜 I was wondering if you could write a fic of Jack and reader getting married? If not, that’s okay! 😊
🔥Sundress season • Summary: “Jack fucks you in a sundress after your teasing”
Be who you • Can you do a imagine where Jack shows support to his gf who's bisexual for pride month and makes a tiktok where him and urban sing to the reader "Be who you areeee, for your priiiiide!!!" Lmao 💀 happy pride everyone btw! 🌈💖
That boyfriend • Jack being protective and attentive without even knowing he is or thinking twice about it like always walking on the outside of the curb or sees you struggling to open a bottle and he just takes it from your hand and opens it no questions asked and holding you close when you walk through big crowds especially at his concerts
Pretty mama • Can u do one where reader gets insecure about her body after giving birth to the new baby and Rosie hears her talking bad about herself so Rosie tries to cheer her up?
IG live • I just want more jack and y/n on IG live interacting with fans and each other🙄
Skydiving • Jack and reader go skydiving but he pranks her making the pilot seem like the plane is going down reader is scared of heights and planes and gets anxiety do to them and jack convinced her to go with him beside her fear -🌊
Beach break • Summary: Jack inviting the reader on vacation with him and he can't keep his eyes off her(childhood friends)
Different kind father's day
Two!? • Jack and reader go to the ultrasound sound for there first child but they discover they are having twins do to readers genes on her fathers side and they are both boys though it would be funny considering jack wants girls
Everything changed • 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Reader admits to jack that she never wanted to have kids until she met him and thats when everything changed for her as she didn’t want to put her kid with what she went through cause her dad only came around when he needed her and she didn’t want to talk to him every again when she had turn 17 and she knows that jack would never do that with his child and her
Gentle • hii idk if u take requests but i wanted to ask u if u are open to writing abt like reader and jack have sex for the first time after she gave birth and he is like super gentle and sweet with her cuz she is scared it will hurt? :)
B.E.T awards
So about those eight daughters • Jack talking about what reader thinks of them having 8 daughters on a podcast
Sit down, relax • Summary: after a long day of taking care of your kids jack ask you to sit down. You were very surprised when he told you where
Biggest supporter • Rosie’s first dance recital and jack being like the mom from mean girls lol
A titty • Rosie getting her first pet(can be any animal)
What are we? • If you’re taking requests/concepts can I request where Jack & reader are on the talking/dating stage. But she gets word of the rumor going around about him and Lori? (Too soon? Someone else then??) reader confronts him and they get into a huge argument??? Ion something around that lol. Thank you in advance & again thank you incase you’re not taking these kind of requests ❤️❤️
The lies within us • the reader finds out Jack's cheating while she's pregnant with their child
What happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen • you and Jack decided to bake some brownies. It doesn't go well seeing how you both were baked yourselves
First show • insta au
First show • Rosie's first show with Jack. She's her daddies biggest fan
• all my fanfictions for kylian here • there's mature writing here • community labels are a thing so if you want to read smuts, change the labels
🩷 = mature
♥︎ My kylian scenarios are right here. I love scenarios so please send some if you want maybe I'll write one into a full fic
Space: part one | part two
ooohhh glad you're back to write new fics! how about something angsty with kylian mbappé where he loses his fiancé due to him "needing space" over a petty issue and only for him to regret and try to win her heart back
Pr or more: part one | part two🩷| part three🩷
you and kylian are in a PR relationship to boost your career, but there was one small problem.. you both hated each other! Or did you....
Little things
Imagine you were heavily pregnant and Kylian always comes to the rescue anytime you need him like coming home with your cravings, massaging your back and feet, cuddling, putting on a comfort movie and reassuring her that everything’s gonna be ok🩷
Little creation
Ok since you're talking about kylian and giving him babies what if you have a little baby and he's doing press and his baby sitting on his lap babbling into the mic and distracting him and everyone in the room? I can imagine him smiling so hard at his little creation
Can't get you off my mine 🩷
Summary from my scenarios: a kylian fic where you both broke up but neither you or Kylian can have sex with anyone else so you both run back to each other for a night of passion
Sinful 🩷
I've a Kylian request for suurrreeeeee. What about going on vacation with Kylian as friends but you've feeling for each and him burning his skin while sunbathing and then you try to help by applying moisturizers and creams on and you know how things can endddddd
Distraction
Hey, for a Kylian fic I wanted to request: how about Kylian taking his daughter to training and theyre filming the Paris “no comment” series that day, so in the end its just his little girl commanding everyone around and getting treated liked the princess she is
Foggy glass 🩷
Smut Request}You’re about to go to bed. Kylian is needy, but you’re a little apprehensive because you’re on your period. Kylian doesn’t mind, and he convinces you into having raw period sex. There’s a first time for everything.
Twisted
Can I please have one where Kylian and reader have an argument, he walks out, she tries to hold back her tears until she goes upstairs into the bathroom and trips over a stair, sprains her ankle, she screams in pain and tries to phone Kylian but no answer, she goes into the kitchen to get an ice pack and goes to sleep until he comes home, he finds her waking up, he admits he fucked up and apologises, he asks her questions on why there’s ice but she says she’s ok until he sees her swollen ankle, takes her to hospital and doesn’t leave her side (I’d love to see comfort Kylian at the end) pleaseeee💕
Genes
No but imagine Kylian and you comparing baby pics😭😭😭 And you guys play fight about how your baby will look more like. Omg he makes a side by side of you two , and posts it as a poll. He asks his followers who they think has the stronger genes. Omg and when you’re baby is finally born she looks exactly like Kylian, but as she gets older she has the same face moles that you have. When he finally posts the baby his caption is, “well I guess my competitiveness has no limits. Cause our baby looks exactly like me. It looks like I gave birth to her myself🫃🏽🤣”
Sunday
No cause imagine every night/morning Kylian would nag you into pulling your shirt up so he can speak to his baby😭He’s just always wanting to touch your belly cause he’s so proud and thankful. He’s extra protective of you now that you’re pregnant. He’s always been so protective of you, and he doesn’t care who it is. He won’t tolerate it if anyone disrespects his woman. Sometimes he’ll just catch a glimpse of you and your belly and he’s in awe. In awe that he got so lucky.
SUMMARY: you and kylian are in a PR relationship to boost your career, but there was one small problem.. you both hated each other! Or did you....
WARNING: they hate each other I guess
PAIRING: kylian mbappe x f reader
GENRE: mix or angst and fluff
WORD COUNT: 900
Don't repost my work or I'll come for you
I'll write a part two don't worry
Masterlist coming soon
Enjoy
Kylian eyes were focused on the road in front of you both. His grip was tight on the steering wheel. Not one word was said between the both of you as you rode in silence.
You both were on your way to a charity event. For the past 3 months you have been in a PR relationship with each other. You were a model who’s career needed a little boosting and your managers thought you being with kylian, the very popular football/soccer player, was the best idea for you.
Sure it was, but there was one small hiccup: you both hated each other’s guts. When you were “acting” like you both were in love you were down each other’s throats or throwing each other dirty looks. Your managers believed you could get along eventually but at this rate it wasn’t happening. You couldn’t stand each other.
“Ok.” Kylian said as he parked his car. “we’re here.” You sighed as you unbuckled your seatbelt “don’t touch me when we’re out of sight of the cameras.” You said with a stern tone.
“I wasn’t planning on it anyways.” Kylian replied as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door. You rolled your eyes as you opened your door. You and kylian meet at the front of the car. Camera men started swarming you both. You put on a fake smile. Kylian hand reached out and folded with yours. A little bit of butterflies erupt in your stomach. You don’t know why they formed but You ignored them.
You and kylian walked up to the red carpet. You both posed Separately for the cameras. You made sure they got all your best angles, you were good at that.
After a while kylian returned to your side. If you wanted people to believe you were actually together you needed to get some pictures together.
The room around you started to buzz. This was your first appearance with you both together and they were loving it.
You tried your best to keep the lovey dovey image up, looking at kylian every few seconds with a smile and keeping close to him. At this point you could be an actress.
After a few minutes you were getting sick of the carpet. Kylian was too. Before you could step away one of the cameramen shouted out, “share a kiss.”
You and kylian looked at each other. You weren’t sure if you should or shouldn’t. I mean you both hated each other’s guts and it was the last thing you wanted to do.. right?
Before you could question if you should or shouldn’t, kylian started leaning down. Even though you were shocked you pressed your lips against his.
The cameras flashed capturing the moment between you two. The same butterflies from earlier returned as you kissed him. His lips were soft and inviting. You hated how much you liked it.
When you pulled away you looked at kylian. You can see a hint of read on his cheek making you smirk.
“ok got go.” You said as you took kylian hand in yours and walked into the building.
Finally you were able to separate from one another which brought you some relief. The kiss you just shared was all that clouded your mind as you tried chatted with others around you. You weren’t going to deny that you loved it. It was awful how you loved it. You wish you could stop thinking about it but you couldn’t .
Kylian was feeling the same way. The kiss was something he never had before. He craved more of you.
You and kylian were finally done with the event. It went smoothly and even your mangers said you did a great job together.
you got back into the car and began driving back home.
“Drop me off at my place. I need a nice cold shower and some sleep.” Kylian grunted but didn’t say anything else as he drove to your place.
When you arrived you got out without saying a word to kylian. He watched as you walked up to the door, made sure you were safely inside before he pulled off. He always did that. Even though you both were the biggest enemies your safety was still very important to him.
You got yourself ready for bed. Changed into pajamas, did your skincare and locked up before you climbed under the covers. You sighed feeling how cozy you were. If you could stay in bed all day you would, but unfortunately you had a stinking fake relationship to partake in.
As you shut your eyes. You heard your phone buzz singling to you, you had a notification. You picked it up with a groan. Who the hell would be texting you at this time at night?
Kylian:
Good night hope you have a nice rest 💙
Those same butterflies from earlier returned, but this time much stronger. Kylian never messaged you. You wondered what was different.
You sent him a quick text saying goodnight as well. After a couple seconds kylian replied with a red heart. He was cute you thought to yourself as you cracked a short smile.
»» REMADE BECAUSE TUMBLR ADDED A LABLE ON THE FIRST ONE.
here you will find all thing related to new romantics. Including the chapters and the extra context in the right order (videos, pictures, special chapters, playlists).
Join our romantic community and have fun 💞
I'll be updating is as we go along and rebloging when there's a new content.
WATCH TRAILER BY @okayymochi
Chapters:
» Book Playlist
» Trailer | I just want you to know who I am
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five — chapter playlist
Six + EXTRA CHAPTER 6.1
EXTRA CONTENT: Taylor's Camera Videos
Seven
Eight
Video Aesthetic — something that i want [1]
Nine + EXTRA CHAPTER 9.1 — chapter playlist
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
EXTRA CONTENT: Taylor & her father
Fourteen
EXTRA CONTENT
✨ Taylor taking care of Kylian blurb by @okayymochi
A week-long trip to a remote town near Lyon, France with friends, including a bickering but sweet Kylian who has to room with the reader. He fell first, but she fell harder.
Comme les Fleurs (series masterlist) * ongoing
Left with no other options, Kylian must rehab his newly injured leg at a stranger’s home for the next month and she isn’t at all what he expects. Meanwhile, Aurèle has to deal with easily-irritated and sullen Kylian as she opens her home to him.
Small Fiasco
Inviting Kylian to your coworker’s retirement party may have taken a sudden shift when a drunk coworker decides to make remarks towards you.
It Was Never Us
→ It Was Never Us (part two) completed
Angst-filled two-part series that follow an exhausted footballer!reader after she has had enough of Kylian’s antics.
Complex
While trying to balance two very different and busy lifestyles, a testy week ensues.
PSG Sweethearts
As Valentine’s Day rolls nearby, the men and women’s team of PSG scramble to set up for their tradition PSG Sweetheart gathering. One of them has a special confession to finally make.
The Perfect Ruse
A secret journalist!reader is tasked to reveal Kylian’s transfer rumors.
13 Laughing Emojis
Wanting to see Barbie during Kylian’s transfer incites chaos on Twitter.
JUDE BELLINGHAM
Love All
→ Love All (part two) completed
In which both the reader and Jude are paired for a mixed doubles tennis tournament while sharing an embarrassing history.
TRENT ALEXANDER-ARNOLD
Another Round?
One conversation about your sexual desires leads you bent sideways with the last person you expected.
Last updated: 25 July 2023
Disclaimer: I do not take requests because I am very busy but I hope to one day open them up! Everything I write is a work of fiction. Their actions do not reflect the real life actions or character of Mbappé, Belllingham, and Alexander-Arnold—it is fiction.
Tale As Old As Time | Joel Miller Fantasy AU (Chapter One)
Series Summary | A Prince, cursed to be unloved, hardened by years of staring at his scars and sitting in his loneliness. A girl, headstrong and wanting of adventure, to escape the life curated for her, a breath of fresh air against the dark of his heart and his home. Can she really learn to love the beast he has become? Truly, a tale as old as time.
Chapter Summary | The origin of a cursed Prince and a girl, unwilling to set aside her dreams for a fate already decided on, thrown together with consequences neither of them could have dreamed about.
Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader (Beauty and The Beast AU)
Chapter Warnings | Descriptions of magic, discussion of arranged marriages/betrothal, people being mean, an obnoxious male figure, what is essentially a kidnapping, talk of food, no use of Y/N, but I believe that to be it.
Word Count | 4.5K
Authors Note | You guys simply have no idea how truly excited I am to finally be able to share this with you. This is so out of my comfort zone but holy HELL I've had the best time creating it, and I really hope that you enjoy reading it just as much. Again, just a massive shout out to @cavillscurls for gifting this idea to me and trusting me to bring this to life for her, I really hope I do it justice for you! And another big thank you to @dinsdjrn for casting an eye over this first chapter to make sure it wasn't absolute clown shoes. I'd really love to know what you guys think, so please leave a comment, reblog or pop over to my ask to spread the love. And as always, if you'd like to leave me a tip, you can do so here on Ko-Fi.
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
He often thinks back, in the depths of the dark nights he spends alone, to the moment that changed everything. He was, once upon a time, happy. Vain, conceited and a pompous asshole, but he was happy. The kingdom, handed to him quite abruptly on the death of his father. The power and the riches which had been rationed to him before, now all his own to do with as he pleased. A palace, full of beautiful things, beautiful people, there was nothing he could have wanted for. There were parties, opulent and extravagant, filled with beautiful women who would fawn over his every word. Days spent hunting, ignoring all his other princely commitments because he could, he made the rules.
Then, the night that changed it all. He was drunk, he’d had far too much wine, indulged in the lips of far too many women, when one of his servants gripped his arm, dragging him to the doors of the castle. On his step was a haggard old woman, bent double with the hood of a cloak covering her face. She reached out a hand, old and wrinkled, shaking from the cold of the bitter storm that was raging outside and begged.
“Please, my lord, take pity on an old woman,” She speaks wearily, as if she’d been walking for days, “Just a night’s shelter from the storm, that’s all I seek.”
“And what do you offer in return?” He scoffs, already knowing what his answer will be, there is no place for this woman in his home.
The old woman pulls a singular red rose from one of her sleeves, petals full and a deep crimson and extends it towards the prince. He plucks it from her fingers and takes a moment to admire the flower, for it is, after all, a thing of beauty, although he knows it was plucked from his own garden.
“You insult me,” He mocks, “Offering my own rose, stolen from my garden,” He lets the flower drop to the floor in front of the beggar woman, “You will not find shelter here, now, be gone.”
He turns on his heel, intent on making it back to his party, to forget this whole intrusion, when he hears the woman behind him start to chuckle. He turns back and watches as she stands, chuckle turning into some kind of sinister laughter as that exterior that had so repulsed him before melted away to reveal someone, something, far more beautiful. The hood of her cloak falls from her head – beautiful tresses of blonde hair and a young, ethereal face stare back at him.
“You, my prince, have an ugly soul,” She speaks, voice lilting like a song now, “And it is time that you match that.”
He is aware that the commotion has drawn his guests from the main hall, out to witness what he is about to become, as he is surrounded by the gold tendrils of air that this woman, no, enchantress, has created. He feels the skin on his face tighten and contort, not painfully, but uncomfortably. He can feel his bones cracking as his frame grows, he’d always been bigger in frame than most, but now he was towering over everyone. His hands, once blemish free, are covered in tiny scars as if he’d spent a life fighting with his fists. His clothes, of silk and velvet, torn and destroyed on his body.
When he can no longer feel the magic at work around his body, he turns away from the enchantress to the faces of the party, who gasp, talk amongst themselves. Some of them scream and then they’re running, as the woman behind him continues her onslaught on his home now. She drapes it in darkness, the opulent gardens are transformed to nothing but weeds and dead plants. The fountains run no more, and the sound of birdsong is gone. Then, when she is satisfied that her work is done, she bends to the discarded rose and offers it to him once more.
“Any curse can be broken, and this one is no different,” She taunts, “If you can learn to love another, and earn their love in return, by the time the last petal falls, then the spell will be broken, otherwise, you shall remain this beast forever.”
Then, he is all alone, save for his servants, cursed alongside him, though she’d spared them the humiliation of a face covered in scars, and had just cursed them to spend eternity stuck with their master, now bitter, violent and closed off. None of them, not even him, able to leave the grounds of his castle. He falls into despair, spends his days finding another thing he can take his anger out on. He tears down the paintings – ripping through their canvas, punches his fist through every mirror he can find so he doesn’t have to look at himself and steels himself away in those first years. Then, when the first petal drops from the rose, protected in its glass case by one of his servants, he thinks there should be a sense of urgency, but there isn’t, just a daily reminder that this is what his greed and vanity had done to him. If he cannot leave, and no-one knows he or his palace exist any longer, then what hope does he have of someone finding him, let alone falling in love with him?
For who could truly learn to love a beast?
The morning is bright, the sun rising above the hills, as you step out, wicker basket hooked into the crook of your elbow, the book perched in the bottom, covered with a cloth to protect it as you make your way into town. The townsfolk are already milling about as you walk the streets. Women are haggling for bread and eggs, men are greeting each other in booming voices and there are children running around, playing with each other as their parents focus on other things. You don’t miss how, when you pass, they stop their conversations, whispering to each other. You know what they say about you, because no-one in this God forsaken town is ever truly quiet. Funny Girl. Oddity. Strange. Dazed and distracted. Away with the fairies. You’d heard it all, and today, like all days, you let it lie, because none of them are wrong. You are an oddity. A girl of your age, unmarried and living alone with her father, despite his recent efforts to marry you off. A girl, nose stuck firmly in a book whenever it possibly could be. A girl, dreaming of better things, a life outside the provincial village you’d always known, although what that looked like you truly didn’t know.
You buy a loaf of bread and some cheese with the coins your father had pressed into your palm that morning, ensuring that you had everything you needed at home before indulging yourself. The bookshop, at the very end of town, was your sanctuary. Alexander, a firm friend of your father for years, had owned it since before you were born, his father and grandfather before him. He knew that like most folks around here, the price of the books you wanted to read came second to the price of the books your father needed for his work, so there was an understanding between Alexander and yourself that you borrowed yours, bringing them back to swap for a new novel whenever you needed.
“Ah, good morning,” He greets when you open the door, bell tinkling as it opens and closes, “And how are we this morning?”
“Fine, thank you,” You smile, offering him the book you’d chosen just yesterday, “I’ve come to return the book I borrowed.”
He takes it from your hand, setting it on his counter to reshelve later, “You’re going to run out of things to read if you carry on this quickly,” He teases, motioning with his hand to the shelves behind him, “Nothing new since yesterday, but please, I’m sure you can find something to enjoy.”
You spend a few moments studying the spines in front of you. There are very few here that you haven’t read, and whilst you could choose something new, there is something in your bones that craves the familiar today. A story you know will warm your heart and make you yearn for what you truly desire.
“I’ll take this one.” You muse simply, pulling it off the shelf to hand to him.
“This one?” He fakes shock, “You’ve read it twice already.”
“Well, it’s my favourite,” You chuckle, “Faraway lands, magic, a handsome prince, strong women who can make their own destiny in life.”
“Well, if you like it that much, why don’t you keep it?” He hands it over to you, laughing at the shock on your face, “Don’t try and argue with me now,” He insists, “I don’t think anyone other than you has ever chosen it, consider it a gift.”
“Thank you,” You smile, bending down to the old man to give him a kiss on the cheek, sharing a smile as a blush creeps onto his weathered cheeks, “I shall cherish it.”
You bid him a fond farewell and head back out onto the streets, book clutched in your arms like it was your most treasured possession. It might actually have been just that. You walk back through the crowds, basket still hooked onto your elbow as you zone in on the fountain at the edge of town. Usually reserved for washing, it’s not so crowded yet, the heat of the day still too frigid to consider dipping hands into water, so you perch on the edge, basket between your feet on the ground and open the book, promising yourself you’ll only spend a few moments familiarizing yourself with the story again.
Of course, that’s a promise you can’t keep to yourself, and you’re rounding onto chapter three when the book in unceremoniously plucked from your hands.
“Hey!” You exclaim, “Give that back!”
“I just want to see what could possibly hold your attention for this long.”
You groan to yourself. Of course. Henry. The object of all of your ire. The man your father wants you to marry. You couldn’t imagine a worse match – whilst he was objectively handsome, all of the young women fawning over him, falling over each other to impress him, he was so stuck up his own ass he could fold himself inside out if he wanted.
“They’re called books, perhaps you should try reading one sometime?” You speak, trying to grab your book from his hands as he flips through the pages.
“And end up like you?” He scoffs, throwing it back to you, “You need to get your head out of those pages and into the real world, you’re not getting any younger and soon, people are going to start wondering what’s wrong with you.”
“Like they don’t already?” You mutter, dusting off the cover and placing it carefully in the basket on the floor.
“Have you thought anymore about my proposal?” He asks, draping a thick arm across your shoulders as you try and walk away.
You groan, because his offer of marriage is all you’ve been able to think about. Or more importantly, how to say no without ruining the hard-fought relationships your father had forged with the most powerful family in town.
“It’s a big decision,” You say simply as you cross the bridge at the end of town, “I promise I’ll have an answer for you in a few days.”
You manage to slip away from his grip and close the small gate behind you, turning on your heel to jog as fast as possible into your home, all whilst he’s calling out to you. Regrettably, you’re not fast enough to miss the last thing he says before the front door slams.
“If you say no to me, no-one will have you!”
You let your head hit the back of the door, sucking in deep breaths to stop yourself from yanking open the door and telling him that nothing in the world would ever be enough to convince you to marry him.
“He isn’t wrong.” Your father’s voice startles you, your head turning to the door of his study.
“I beg you, not another word.” You demand, walking in the opposite direction, towards the kitchen.
“You’ve made him wait almost a week,” Your father’s heavy footsteps are clear behind you, “Any other woman would have fallen to their knees and agreed to the match.”
“Well, I’m not any other woman,” You huff, unwrapping the bread and cheese to set on the table, “I don’t want to marry him, papa.”
“Well, I’m afraid, young lady, you don’t have much choice,” He’s folded his arms across his chest, “I have worked too hard to get you under that family’s nose, and I will not let you throw that hard work away.”
“Is this all I was ever destined to be?” You exclaim, rounding on him, “Like a prize cow to be bartered and bought on the whim of men?”
“If your mother could see you now,” He mutters, “She would tell you exactly the same as I would.”
“You and I both know that’s a lie,” You speak softly, “You married each other because you were in love, she wouldn’t want this for me.”
He tries to embrace you, like he always does when he knows he’s about to force you to do something you don’t want to do, like it will make it better for you, easier for you to say yes. This time, you push him away, stepping towards the open window.
“I can’t keep you here much longer and you know it,” He sighs behind you, “Money is far too tight and if we aren’t careful, we won’t have a home much longer, you marry Henry, our debts are forgiven, you’ll be safe, warm with a home all of your own.”
“So now I am to be payment for your debts?” You snorted, “Raised only to be worth something to sell,” Your father tries to open his mouth, no doubt to convince you otherwise, but you truly see him for what he is, “I wish to be alone.” You speak finally, picking up your book and retreating to your room with a pointed slam of the door.
It is late. The sun set hours ago. You haven’t left your room all day, not even when your father insisted leaving a plate of food outside for you. All you can think in your mind is that you cannot stay here. You will not stay here. You will not be forced into a life you do not want, to marry a man you cannot stand. All you keep thinking, as you watch those stars twinkle in the sky, is what must be beyond the hills of this town. You think of all the people you haven’t met, all the experiences you haven’t had. You won’t trade those dreams for a life as Henry’s housewife.
As quietly as you can muster, you slip your cloak around your shoulders, tying it across your neck, pulling the hood up over your head. You find your satchel and make sure it has your book inside and the other few possessions you held dear. You slink from your room and into your father’s study, long abandoned by him for his bedroom. You find his inkpot and quill and scrawl a note on the paper he has left strewn across his workstation.
‘Gone to find my adventure.’
You slip quietly from the house and to the small stable where Phillipe, your father’s horse, is slowly chewing on some hay. You run your hand down his nose to soothe him, saddling him up and then leading him away from the house. It isn’t until you’re riding the trail into the forest that you finally feel the sense of freedom you had so craved. As Phillipe leads you further into the thick woods, you don’t once look back on the provincial life you’re abandoning. Eyes forward and onto the life you’d always wanted.
You ride through the night, following unfamiliar paths through the forest until you come out the other side. It’s still desolate, but now, in the low morning sun, it’s just rolling fields and hills, animals grazing and the sound of birds singing. A little while later, you can feel the tightening in your tummy, the pang of hunger, cursing that you hadn’t thought, in your haste to leave, to shove some of the bread you’d bought into your bag. Phillipe has also slowed in his speed; it won’t be long before he needs to drink some water and eat something either.
As you round a corner, a valley appears in front of you. The change in weather is stark, where you’re surrounded in bright sunshine and the start of the warmth from the early morning sun, the valley in front of you is clouded in dark grey clouds and you think you can make out the slight rumble of thunder. There is a voice in the back of your mind that tells you to turn back, to take the right at the crossroads from the forest and not the left you’d chosen, but wasn’t this the point of leaving? You take a deep breath and let Phillipe continue the ride down into the valley, wrapping your cloak as far around your body as you can as the temperature drops and the darkness envelops you.
You ride a little while longer, Phillipe becoming restless with the change in the air, when you stumble upon a great fence, covered in ivy and looking decidedly worse for wear. But this fence, in its wrought-iron glory, is a sign of a home, a grand one judging by the height. You can’t peer into the grounds, the ivy too dense to see through, but you guide Phillipe around its perimeter until you find gates, just a grand as the rest of the iron structure.
You let yourself down from Phillipe’s back, gripping the reigns so he continues to follow you. You try and pull at the gate, but it’s just your luck that it’s locked shut. You can, however, finally see into the grounds. They’re sweeping, some of the biggest gardens you had ever seen in your life. You can imagine that when they were cared for, they would have been magnificent, but they’re dilapidated, obviously long abandoned. In the distance, you can see a similarly magnificent castle. Incredibly big, with turrets and ivy growing over the brickwork, just like something from one of your books. You can’t see any lights that indicate it’s occupied, and you think that if you tried, you could fit through the gaps between the ironwork. It had to be worth a try, even if it was to seek some shelter whilst the storm that was clearly brewing was passing.
You take Phillipe’s reigns and tie him to the gate, promising that you’ll come back for him once you’ve deemed the castle a safe place to stay, although you’re pretty certain he’s not fitting through the gap in the ironwork, considering the amount you had to suck your body in to fit through.
It’s a long trek through the grounds of the castle. Each step of your foot bringing an increasing sense of unease over you. You try and tell yourself that it’s just the storm brewing, that it’s dark and clearly abandoned nature is what’s making you uneasy. When you finally reach the front of the castle, you pick the hem of your dress up and take the steps one at a time. You press a hand to the large wooden door and push, surprised that it opens without much effort. You let out a breath of relief. If someone lived here, surely, they’d keep their doors properly shut.
That relief is short-lived though. The castle is as much in need of love and attention inside as it is outside. Years of weather have damaged the windows, letting all sorts of foliage make home in this entry way. There is a grand staircase, with carpets that are sodden from rain, and a musky smell that somehow sends a chill up your spine.
“Hello?” You call out, listening to your voice echo through the large room.
You listen but nothing calls back to you. All you can really hear is the wind whipping through broken glass. You take a few more tentative steps forward, taking in the surroundings. There are side tables with candelabra sat on top. Trinkets of gold and silver. Grand paintings along the walls that are weathered from the elements, but there are some that catch your eye.
“Hello?!” You call out once more, louder this time, as you walk towards the wall of paintings.
Some of them are damaged, like they’ve been intentionally torn. Ripped through the likeness of the man that has been painted on them, but the rest, of women and other older men, remain intact. What had this particular man done to deserve this kind of ire? To have his likeness scratched out like this?
Your hand comes up to touch one of the damaged paintings – canvas flapping in a breeze from somewhere. The man in the painting is handsome, he looks young and fit and happy, standing with his foot on top of a deer that had been hunted. You wonder if this is the person who used to live here and what had happened to them, and everyone else, that made them leave.
“What are you doing in my home?”
The voice startles you enough to scream. You turn around, back pressed to the wall, chest heaving as you try and calm yourself down. Your eyes search through the darkness, trying to find where the voice had come from, but to no avail.
“I asked you a question.”
The voice in commanding, low and threatening, and now, pressed up against the wall, trying to make yourself as small and insignificant as possible, you almost wish you hadn’t left home. Fear thrums through your veins as you once again try to find the owner of the voice.
“I-I’m sorry,” You manage to force out from your throat, “I c-called out, d-didn’t know a-anyone lived h-here.”
You’re watching the ground when a foot, clad in black leather boots moves into the dim light that is cast through the broken window above you. It’s enough light that you can make out a little of the man’s silhouette. Tall, much taller than you, and broad, as commanding a presence as his voice makes him out to be, and yet he doesn’t move further into the light.
“Didn’t your parents teach you to knock?” He demands.
“The d-door,” You motion with your hand, watching as it shakes in front of you, “When I t-touched it, it just opened.”
“Bad manners will get you into danger, little dove,” He taunts, “You picked the wrong home to trespass on.”
“I’m sorry!” You exclaim, moving away from the wall and back the way you came, trying to make your escape, “I’ll leave.”
He is quicker than you are though. His hand envelops your wrist, much larger than your own, and drags you toward him. Your front collides with his own with the strength that he’s used to pull you to him. His frame is a solid as it seems, like hitting a brick wall.
“Another lesson your parents clearly forgot to teach you,” You look up to the voice but it’s so dark you still can’t make any of his features out, “When you do bad things, you have to be punished.”
You try and fight your way out of his grip but it’s no use. Whoever this man is in front of you, he clearly has the upper hand in strength and agility. But you aren’t going to go down without a fight. You continue pulling at your wrist, wrapping your free hand around the one that has you in a vice grip, digging your fingernails into his skin as you try and scream for help, but nothing seems to work.
You’re suddenly picked up and flipped over his shoulder like a sack of flour, which gives you the purchase to wriggle around. You ball your fists and take punches to his solid back, but all that does is create a dull throb in your hands.
“Put me down!” You scream, trying to kick your feet enough for him to lose his grip on your as he takes the stairs two at a time.
“I would advise you to keep still,” He speaks low and calm, “Unless you want to end up thrown over the railings.”
From your completely undignified vantage point you can tell he’s right. He’s keeping a grip on you but if you continue to wriggle, all that awaits you is a drop onto that cold concrete floor below. As he takes more steps upwards, all you can do is let the fear take over. Your body shakes as tears fill your eyes, dripping down onto the floor as this mystery brute takes you to God knows where.
It's colder up here, wherever here is. As he walks up yet more stairs, you make out the clear iron bars of cell doors. And your stomach drops. You wanted adventure and now all you get is a prison cell. You can hear him fiddling with a lock, before a creaking sound meets your ears and you’re unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. You try and crawl as fast as you can, hell bent on an escape, but yet again, your captor is faster than you are, shutting the door to the cell and clicking the lock to trap you.
“Please let me go!” You beg, hands clinging around the bars, “I didn’t steal anything, please let me go!”
He’s walking away, back down the spiral stone staircase he had come up. Silent and seemingly uncaring in your plight. You continue to call after him, even once his figure is long gone, hands pulling at the bars in an attempt to free yourself, but all clearly to no avail. You slump onto the damp floor and take some heaving breathes through your mouth, but nothing will calm the fear and dread coursing through you. How could this have gone so wrong? Not even a day’s ride from home and you’re captured, no-one will know where you are. Would anyone even come looking for you?
You continue to pull at the bars until your bones out, calling into the dark until you’re hoarse. Finally accepting your fate, that you’d been naive enough to walk into the first sign of shelter like it was your right, you curl up into a ball in a corner of the call further from the window and wrap your cloak around you, shivering until you fall into the most fitful sleep you’ve ever experienced.
To Hell and Back l One (Joel Miller x Female Reader)
Series Masterlist
Summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Warnings/Tags: 18+ only, minors DNI. Canon violence, canon language, brief mentions of slavers, brutality, torture, assault, guns, reader is an archer, mentions of hunting, animal death, injured/unconscious Joel, very minor mentions of blood, age gap (reader is 30, Joel is 56) very brief mention of scars, reader does not/cannot speak at times, a lot of internal dialogue from reader, at one point reader does try to speak to Joel but she is unable. *please be advised that no specific diagnosis is used or will be mentioned, I’m writing the series with the idea that reader herself cannot fully comprehend her inability to speak at times. Basically the gist of it is we have a very traumatized person who does not realize just how traumatized she is.
Word Count: 8.1k (good lord I am so sorry)
A/N: Not a whole lot to say except for that this is...different. At least I think it is, I could be wrong lmao. This is by far one of the most challenging things I have ever decided to write, but hopefully it turned out okay. This was meant to be up a couple of days ago, but I have been having a hard time with some things going on in my personal life (I finally have hot water tho lol) For anyone who has been waiting to read this or any other of my works in progress, just know I appreciate your patience so, so much. Also I wrote the first draft in a different tense and did not like it so back to the usual tense I write in!
California l Fall, 2023
You’d been on the run since dawn.
It was several hours later now and nightfall was approaching—and it was approaching a hell of a lot fucking faster than you could have even anticipated. The darkness was quickly closing in, falling around you like a velvet black curtain. However, stumbling around blindly in the dark was currently the very least of your worries.
Your feet were raw, both completely blistered and bleeding through your socks inside of your worn out, muddied white canvas sneakers. Your sore, aching legs screamed out for mercy and your knees trembled violently, threatening to buckle out from underneath the weight of your body at any given moment.
In the week and a half leading up to your escape from captivity, you’d been deprived of both food and water—it had been your punishment for closing your eyes and turning your head away after you’d been instructed by the slavers to watch their brutal assault of the young teenaged girl that you had been sharing a cage with. She’d been unable to keep up with her work duties, and they had decided to make an example out of her.
Despite still having been forced to witness the horrendous, unspeakable things they’d done to that poor girl, your initial resistance resulted in you being beaten and then starved for several days. Occasionally, one of the late night guards would try and bribe you, offering a small piece of jerky or a couple of stale crackers in exchange for a blowjob. At first, you told him you’d rather cut your own tongue out with a rusty blade than suck his dick, but when he proposed the disgusting, vile trade again just a couple of nights later, you’d accepted it—because him pulling you out of that fucking cage after hours and removing the tight shackles from your wrists when no one else was around would give you the chance to finally make a run for it.
You swung yourself around the nearest redwood tree, slumping back against its thick, wide trunk. You covered your mouth with your two hands in an attempt to silence the sound of your heavy panting.
Besides being in pain, malnourished and severely dehydrated, the exhaustion was starting to set in too. The adrenaline pumping through your veins had brought you this far, but exactly how much farther could it take you? How much longer could it possibly keep you going before your tired body decided to give up and give out?
Somewhere behind you, you could hear the men calling out cheerfully.
One sang out, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
“Come out and plaaaaay,” a second taunted.
The third shouted, “We’re gonna get you!”
Their giddiness made you want to vomit. If your stomach hadn’t been empty, you would have.
Those sick, twisted fucks weren’t letting up.
They’d been on your heels for hours.
The large group of slavers in California were over two hundred strong and had dozens of prisoners chained up in their human cages—they had more than enough people to force into labor. There was no need for them to waste their time and efforts going after you, but after spending the last eight months witnessing firsthand how these sadistic bastards operated, it occurred to you that their desire to recapture you wasn’t out of a need for labor. It was for their entertainment.
They were hunting you down for sport.
This was their idea of fun.
“Fuck,” You whispered underneath your breath, your hands falling down to your sides.
Something had to give.
Your legs, your body, your will to live.
Perhaps all of the above.
You couldn’t keep on running for much longer.
And even if you could, where the hell were you supposed to go? How were you supposed to get there?
You had no food, no water, and no weapon.
Just the torn, tattered clothes on your back.
You were defenseless against whatever else was out there and you couldn’t see yourself surviving longer than a couple of days at most.
There was a part of you that wanted to give up and surrender. If you could be absolutely certain that they would shoot you dead on the spot, you would actually consider it and step out from behind the tree—hell, you would happily let them put a bullet between your eyes and put you out of your misery once and for all. But they wouldn’t be so generous. You knew they would have their way with you here in the middle of this forest and only after they were done would they take you back to their settlement where they’d put you right back in shackles so the real torture could begin. Just like that teenaged girl, the slavers would make an example out of you so that nobody else in their right mind would even think about running away.
They would be sure to make your death as slow and as agonizing as possible.
No. If you were going to die, then you were going to die. But fucking not like that.
Hearing them draw closer towards where you’d been hiding, you pushed yourself away from the redwood and willed yourself to keep on going.
Wyoming l Fall 2024
Your eyes softly fluttered open.
Bright, early morning sunlight filtered in through the ripped, white lace curtains that were hanging over the small, square shaped window right above your head.
Blinking the sleep away, you propped yourself up slightly on your elbows and took a glance around at your surroundings. The old, abandoned cabin that you’d stumbled across just a couple of days ago was tiny, cramped, and crumbling. It also reeked—it smelled damp, musty, and earthy, like rotting wood. But beggars can’t be choosers and you were certainly in no position to be a chooser. It’s not what you considered to be ideal, but it’s four walls and a roof. It’s sparsely furnished with a table and two chairs, an old wood burning stove you were too afraid to light because you didn’t want to risk setting the place on fire, and there’s even a small, twin sized bed for you to sleep on. Well, perhaps calling it a bed was a tad bit too generous. It’s really just a mattress sitting on four large concrete blocks; it’s rough, dirty, and torn with rusted springs and bits of fluff sticking out from every corner. Still, it sure as fuck beat the hell out of sleeping outside in the dirt.
Besides the luxury of having something close to a proper roof to sleep under, there was also a lake just two and a half miles north of the cabin where you had been able to fill your canteen with fresh water. Not to mention, you’d also been able to bathe and wash your clothes for the first time in a couple of weeks. You had been on your own for about a year now, and this was the luckiest you’ve gotten in terms of finding a decent play to stay.
Whether or not it’s safe, it was still too early to tell.
Sure, you were out somewhere in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and hadn’t seen a single soul, living or dead, in a couple of months now. But that still didn’t mean that running into the infected or other people wasn’t a possibility.
You swung your legs over the side of the mattress and sat up, slipping on your pair of warm, woolen socks before tugging on your boots—you’d found them over the summer and even though they had been about one size too small, you’d managed to break them in since then and the supple brown leather now molded to your feet almost perfectly. You stood up and lifted your arms up above your head while simultaneously twisting your stiffened back in a painful, but much needed stretch. You were only just a couple of months shy of turning thirty years old, but your bones snapped, crackled and popped with your movement, making you feel twice your actual age.
The thought of it made you snort. You should be so lucky to stay alive long enough to see the age of sixty. Hell, you were unable to fathom how you’d even made it this close to seeing thirty.
Dropping your arms back down to your sides, you made your way over to your khaki colored pack and pulled out your aluminum canteen from one of the pockets. You twisted off the cap and gulped back a long, cool drink of water, hoping to get rid of the dryness in your mouth and the cracks in your chapped lips. As soon as the liquid made it all the way down to the pit of your stomach, the hollow, muscular organ grumbled out loudly, demanding food. You’d had some decent luck while out hunting the previous morning, capturing two wild rabbits—you had eagerly skinned, cleaned and cooked them both, devouring one right after the other so fast that it had nearly made you sick. It had been a pretty decent meal, but not nearly enough to completely satisfy your ravenous hunger. Prior to finding the cabin and settling in, you had been living off of a couple handfuls of berries for three days while on the move. You were still fucking starving and all you could do was pray that you’d find more rabbits today.
Maybe you’d get luckier and spot a pheasant.
You drank some more water and set your canteen aside. You’d planned to return to the lake later in the afternoon to refill it as well as to have another bath. You pulled on your faded, black denim jacket over your hoodie and picked up the wooden bow and brown leather quiver of arrows sitting beside your pack. You’d found the weapon in some hunting shop back in Utah that had already been picked over clean to the bone over the last couple of decades. However, no one had even bothered with taking the bow. It hadn’t really surprised you, though. In the post outbreak world, a bow and arrow would do absolutely nothing to protect against the infected runners and stalkers—and it would do much less to protect against clickers.
Still, a bow was useful in its own right.
It was perfect for hunting game. It was silent, keeping you and your location concealed from potential passersby at all times. Most importantly, you could reuse your arrows so long as you were careful and didn’t break them while removing them from your kills—and in the event that you did happen to snap an arrow, all you had to do was salvage what you could from the damaged projectile and make a new one, simple as that.
Your father had taught you how before he’d died.
“Why bother with a bow? What about a gun?” You had asked him.
“Might not always be able to get your hands on a gun,” he’d replied as he sharpened an edge of the small, thumb sized rock in his hand. “Or bullets. It doesn’t hurt to have alternatives in the event that you can’t get your hands on either of those things, kiddo.” Despite being in your mid twenties at the time, he’d still always call you kiddo. “Always have a backup weapon, alright?”
He’d been wise to give you that advice.
You did have a firearm, a colt pistol that you hardly had ammunition for. There was ten rounds left in the clip and with no luck in finding any more in the last couple of months, you’d decided to preserve them, saving what little bullets you had left for a real emergency. You kept the gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans at all times, along with the sharp switchblade that you used to gut and skin game. As far as weapons go, you sure as hell could’ve been a lot worse off. But if you happened to stumble upon more ammunition for your gun, you certainly wouldn’t complain about it.
Slinging your bow and the quiver of arrows over your shoulder, you grabbed the dark gray foraging bag that you used to collect and carry your kills in and left the cabin, feeling somewhat confident enough to leave the remainder of your belongings behind instead of hauling them all along with you like you had the morning before. It wasn’t that you feared someone would come along and steal them. Rather, you’d gotten so damn used to the instability and the constant moving around—you never stayed in one place for too long and were always prepared to run. But today, you decided to leave your things in the cabin, feeling certain that you would return in just a couple of hours.
You stepped out onto the creaking, three step porch and a gentle breeze whisked its fingers through your hair. It’s the middle of autumn in Wyoming and the air outside was fresh, cool and crisp. Winter was looming right around the corner like a dark shadow, and although you’d somehow managed to make it through the previous year’s brutal snow season, that didn’t do much to stop you from being nervous about the one that was to come. If all went according to your plan, you’d be holing yourself up in that shoddy little cabin until the worst of winter was over and then you would move along.
To where?
You didn’t have the slightest fucking clue.
You made a short trek about two miles south, going in the opposite direction of the lake and finding yourself closer to the thick forest trees that surrounded the base of the mountain range out in the distance instead. There was a dried, grassy clearing just feet from the entrance of the forest—finding a single, decently sized boulder in the middle of the wide, open space, you decided that behind it was the perfect spot for you to set up and hope for the best. Carefully setting your things down on the ground, you pulled out a pair of old, cracked binoculars from your bag. You leaned your body over the smooth, round top of the rock and lifted them up to your face, peeking through the lenses. You hoped to spot something right away because it sure would be fucking nice to eat something sooner rather than later.
Diligently, you scanned your surroundings for any and all signs of wildlife.
That’s when you saw it, standing near the edge of the woods.
You gasped as your sights fell upon the deer.
Pulling your face away from your binoculars, you blinked furiously before taking another look just to be sure that your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you. It wasn’t a hallucination. It’s a white tailed deer—a female, and from the look of her, she had to be at least about a hundred pounds.
You tried to not get too far ahead of yourself, but it was too late. The thought of finding some herbs and making a hot, venison stew for supper made your mouth salivate. The rest could be dried out and made into a batch of jerky that could feed you for months. Months.
Then, you suddenly remembered you’ve never even attempted to bring down an animal of that size before and you’re slapped back into reality.
You thought about your father, who would bring home a deer every weekend after going on his hunting trips with his old college buddies. “You want to aim for the heart or the lungs,” he’d say as you and your siblings would watch him dress the carcass, much to your mother’s chagrin. “Look between the shoulder blade and the last rib,” he would tell you and your brothers. You’d also had an older sister, but she had always been incredibly squeamish and had a soul that was much too sweet and caring for hunting. She would always want to bring home every animal your father shot and nurse it back to health. “Somewhere between those two lies everything you need to hit in order to do the job and do it well. And for the love of god, don’t you ever aim directly for the shoulder. Behind it, kiddos, always aim behind it. You got it?”
“Yes Papa,” you’d all chime out together.
Setting down the binoculars in your hands, you reached for your bow and plucked an arrow from your quiver before stepping out from behind the boulder. You were careful to be as silent as possible as you took a few steps closer towards the grazing animal. You positioned yourself and stood perpendicular to the deer, placing your feet shoulder width apart—you were a little farther from your target than you would have preferred, but you didn’t want to risk going any closer and scaring her off so it would have to do. Once you were comfortable enough with your stance, you nocked the arrow and set it on the string. You then held the string and steadied your grip on the bow, relaxing your shoulders before drawing it and pulling your arm back until you reached your anchor point, which was always the corner of your mouth.
Breathe, you reminded yourself calmly as you aimed at the delicate spot behind her shoulder blade. Nice and slow. Breathe...
Just as you were about to release the arrow and take your shot, the deer whipped her head back towards the trees and her ears pricked forward—a split second later, she darted, zooming off across the field in the opposite direction of where you’d been standing.
Your mouth fell open.
“Are you fucking shitting me?” You muttered.
Frustrated, you lowered your weapon and just as you started to contemplate whether or not it was even worth it to try and hunt her down on foot, you suddenly heard something—it wasn’t until the noise drew closer to where you stood that you realized it was the sound of a galloping horse.
Perplexed, you squinted over in the direction of where you thought it was coming from, right near the edge of the trees. Then, just a moment later, a brown stallion emerged from the woods with a dark haired man riding in his saddle holding a rifle in one hand and the reigns clutched tightly in the other.
Gasping, you whirled around on the heel of your boot and immediately made a beeline back to the boulder. You swung around the rock and crouched down, ducking out of his sight. You weren’t sure if he’d seen you or not, but it didn’t matter—a wave of sheer panic washed over you and you could physically feel your own body preparing itself to go into fight or flight mode. Despite having your gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans, you still hadn’t reached for it and continued to clutch your bow and arrow in your hands instead.
Swallowing dryly, you turned and carefully lifted yourself up just enough so that you could glimpse over the top of the boulder. That’s when you saw a second man emerge from the woods. This one is blond and he was on foot instead of a horse. He was also armed, carrying a shotgun.
“You’re mine you son of a bitch!” he shouted. He lifted his weapon, aimed, and then squeezed the trigger, shooting the horse in his side and bringing him down instantly. His rider went flying off and he hit the ground several feet away from the dead animal, landing so painfully hard that even from a distance you’d manage to hear the loud, cracking sound his body made upon impact.
You momentarily freeze.
Your heart anxiously jumped up into your throat as you watched the shooter begin to approach him. The attacker moved slow and with no haste seeing as his victim was lying there motionless on the ground with his eyes closed and no idea that he’s about to die. The blond man came to a halt just a few feet away from him, grinning as he lifted his shotgun once again and pointed the barrel of it at the other man’s head. His index finger hovered over the trigger.
Before your mind and body could even make the connection, you rose to your feet and aimed your bow, swiftly sending an arrow straight through the blond man’s neck. He crumpled, falling to the ground writhing and squirming as he bled out in less than sixty seconds.
You waited it out for another minute, refusing to move another muscle until his body went limp and you were certain he was dead. Taking a look around, you made sure the coast was clear and grabbed your belongings, slinging them over your shoulder before you made your way over to the scene. Unsure of whether or not there could be others heading in this direction, your plan was to pick off their guns and any other useful supplies before making a run for it back to the cabin. You crouched down beside the man you’d shot and killed, carefully pulling your arrow out of his neck. It made a loud, horrid squelching sound as you removed it and blood from his jugular splattered your blue jeans. You then picked up his shotgun and checked the chamber for ammunition.
Just like the pistol tucked away in your waistband, there was hardly any rounds left, making it all but useless. Rolling your eyes, you dropped the gun on top of his chest and moved on in search of the rifle. You spotted it right beside the dark haired man.
Apprehensive, you cautiously made your way over towards him. With how still he had been lying, you could have sworn he was gone—perhaps the fall off of his horse alone had killed him. But just to be sure, you decided to give his side a harsh nudge with the toe of your boot.
He groaned and his head rolled to the side.
He was still alive.
You effortlessly strung the bloodied arrow in your hand and aimed it right at his chest.
Move again and you’re dead, motherfucker.
“Ellie,” the man mumbled, his eyes still closed.
Ellie?
You slowly lowered your bow.
Without realizing, a little bit of your guard lowered along with it.
Carefully, you sank down onto one knee next to the man and got a better look at him. He was much older than yourself, somewhere in his fifties if you had to guess. He had harsh forehead lines, deep creases in between his eyebrows, a patchy beard that was speckled with many grays and wild waves of thick hair that looked soft to the touch. Though some of his features were a little worse for wear due to his age, he was still quite a handsome man from what you could see. He also appeared to be in decent shape, clean and well fed and you could detect the light scent of laundry soap on his clothes. Surely, he had to have been part of some kind of group, and judging by the leather trimmed saddle on his horse, this group was one that was very well off in this post outbreak world.
You hesitated, but then lifted a slightly trembling hand and took the side of his face, cupping it in your palm as you turned his head towards you.
There was some blood on his right temple and your fingers reached up to touch what you had assumed was the source of the bleeding—but then you realized it was a scar, maybe an inch or two in length at most and completely healed. Your fingers trailed up even further and ventured into his hair which, as it turned out, was in fact just as soft as one would imagine. You found a small gash on his scalp and your fingers became coated in the man’s blood.
Must’ve hit himself on a rock or something.
Your hand left his hair and you placed it on his broad chest as you begun to check him over for any other potential injuries or wounds. Slipping your opposite hand inside of his brown jacket, you lifted the hem of the dark green thermal henley he wore and you discovered the scar on his temple wasn’t the only one he possessed—he had several more, way too many for you to count on one hand alone. You were so preoccupied with checking over the remainder of his abdomen that you didn’t see one of his hands slowly reaching for yours, the hand that’s still resting on his chest, right over his heartbeat.
Semiconscious, the man took your hand in his so damn gently that it startled you and took you by surprise, but it hadn’t frightened you. Weakly, he laced his fingers together with your own and he spoke again, uttering softly, “Babygirl.”
Puzzled, your eyebrows knitted together.
It almost sounded like he was pleading.
For what—for who? For Ellie?
Is she the babygirl he’s talking about?
Your other hand moved up to his shoulder and you gave it a violent shake.
Hey, you’ve got to get up now.
“H—” You tried to speak the words, but couldn’t. They were formed in your mind and it felt like they were right there on the very tip of your tongue, but when you opened your mouth, they refused to come out. You frowned.
It’s happened before.
In the spring, you’d stumbled across a small group of people while out hunting in Idaho—it was the first time you had seen other human beings since leaving California in the fall. There had been both men and women and they even had children with them, but that did nothing to stop you from panicking when they’d approached you. One of the women cornered you, trying to tell you that they were traveling across the country to the east coast. “It’s okay,” she’d tried to tell you, holding up her hands. “We’re not bad people, I promise. We’re just trying to get to the quarantine zone in Boston. I think you should come with us, honey.”
You’d been so terrified that when you’d tried to tell her that you didn’t want to join them, you couldn’t push the words out. It had felt like your voice was stuck. That’s how afraid you’d been.
Technically, you could speak.
You’d talk to yourself often. You’d read your books out loud. Hell, you even loved to sing.
But whenever you became stressed, anxious or scared, it would happen. You’d lose your ability to speak and to communicate—not that you had anyone to communicate with except for yourself, but that’s besides the point. No matter how hard you tried to force your vocal cords, all you could get out were quiet, strangled noises. It was as if your own fears chased your voice away and during periods when you were under extreme distress, it would take several days for you to find it again.
A gunshot sounded off in the distance, snapping you out of your train of thought.
You shook the man again, harder this time.
Come on, get up! They could be coming this way!
It was useless. He was losing all consciousness.
You heard another gunshot and this one sounded like it came from the base of the mountain range on the other side of the trees, not all too far from where you are. For all you knew, it could very well be members of his own group who are firing those weapons out there. But whether it was his group or the other man’s group, it didn’t really fucking matter. You didn’t want to run into either one of them regardless of who were the good guys and who were the bad guys. In your eyes, everyone was a fucking bad guy.
Yanking your hand out of his, you got to your feet and prepared to make a run for it. But just as you were about to take off, the man mumbled one last time. It was incoherent and barely audible, but you managed to catch that name again. Ellie.
For some reason you couldn’t quite explain, that sweet little name bounced around in the inside of your skull.
You chewed the inside of your cheek anxiously.
If it’s his group out there, they’ll save him.
If it’s the other man’s group, they’ll kill him.
Normally, you’d have no problem with the idea of leaving another person to die.
After everything that happened back in California, you had lost your sense of humanity. Your ability to empathize and actually give a shit about other people had been long gone—or so you’d thought. But you had just saved this man’s life and now you found yourself unwilling to run the risk of leaving him for dead. And you didn’t have the slightest fucking clue as to why.
You exhaled a sigh of defeat.
Okay, how the fuck do I do this?
Without much time left to waste, you gathered up your belongs over your shoulder and picked up his rifle, slinging the brown leather strap across your chest so the gun rested comfortably against your backside. You walked around him, leaned over, and hooked your arms securely underneath his. Using every ounce of physical strength you had inside of you, you started dragging him back to the cabin as fast as you possibly could.
The pretty melody filled his ears as he came to.
“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
there’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby…”
Joel Miller wasn’t all too sure if heaven was a real place that actually existed, but the very minute he heard the feminine voice singing, he couldn’t help but think he’s died and that’s exactly where he’d gone—because only an angel could possibly have a voice like that.
So rich, so smooth, and oh so sickeningly sweet.
“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue...”
The ballad being sung was all too familiar to him.
The Wizard of Oz had been Sarah’s favorite movie back when she had been a little girl, when she was seven years old and she still believed in princesses and fairytales and faraway lands with yellow brick roads. Even when she grew older, his daughter continued to hold a soft spot for the film and Joel would watch it with her every Thanksgiving at his parents’ house right after dinner—it would air on TBS and Sarah would beg him to let her have her slice of pecan pie while sitting cross legged on the floor in front of his old man’s television set.
“So long as you don’t make a mess on Nana and PopPop’s carpet,” he’d warn her. “Deall?”
Sarah would beam at him. “Deal!”
He’d grab his own slice of pie, park it right on the couch behind her, and together they would get lost in the world of Oz, although admittedly he’d usually fall into his food coma before Dorothy had the chance to make it back home to Kansas.
“Where troubles melt like lemon drops
away above the chimney tops
that’s where you’ll find me...”
The words faded and the rest of the song was now being hummed.
Goddamn, he thought.
Even the humming was too fucking beautiful.
Joel felt a cold, damp cloth dabbing at his sore right temple.
Come to think of it, everything was sore.
Once, when Joel had been in his mid twenties, he had been doing some under the table roofing job with his younger brother, Tommy. It had been the hottest day of the summer in Texas, and the two of them thought having a couple cold beers with their lunch would be a good idea. The pair of them went back to work and started fucking around, goofing off like the drunk idiots they were. While horsing around, Joel accidentally stumbled right over the edge of the roof and he had fallen about fifteen feet to the ground, landing on his back on the front lawn. Luckily, he’d been okay after the fall and hadn’t sustained any serious injuries or broken any bones, but he had spent the following three to four weeks feeling like he’d been hit by a fucking Greyhound.
That was how he felt now.
Like he’d been hit by a fucking bus. Twice. There wasn’t a single part of him that wasn’t pulsating with pain—his back, his shoulders, and his head. Oh god, his head was fucking killing him.
Joel’s eyelids twitched and he cracked them open ever so slightly, just enough that he could see the silhouette of another person hovering over him. A woman, he’d assumed, taking note of the longer hair. He felt a hand at the crown of his head as the other continued to dab at his temple with the cool cloth. It felt incredible against his warm skin.
He let out a small groan and the humming stopped.
Finally, he managed to force his eyes open.
Joel heard a gasp and the bed he’d been lying on squeaked and then shifted. He then heard a loud thumping sound as if something, or someone had fallen to the floor.
Although he was still disoriented and his entire body ached with even the slightest movement, Joel managed to push himself up into a sitting position. Blinking rapidly, his blurred vision steadied itself after a minute and he glanced around. He was in a small, single room wooden cabin that had seen better days in its lifetime. Looking down, he saw he’d been lying on a bare, worn out mattress with his own jacket draped over him like a blanket. He wracked his mildly concussed brain, trying to recollect what had happened—it took him a moment, but one by one, the memories started flooding back to him. Joel had been leading morning patrol with Tommy when they had been ambushed by a large group of hostile raiders. He remembered shouting at his brother, telling him that he’d try and lead some of them off and far away from the direction of their commune. He’d succeeded and managed to pick off a few of the bastards that had been tailing him with his rifle, all except for one. The very last thing that he remembered was the sound of a gunshot behind him before his horse went down and he’d been thrown off and knocked out.
Everything after that was a blur.
Joel took another look around the cabin and that’s when he saw you.
You were on the floor, backed up against the wall near the foot of the mattress. Your eyes were wide and round, like a deer caught up in the headlights. Your chest was heaving, rising and falling rapidly—you reminded him of a frightened little animal that had been corned by a vicious predator. You were clutching the handle of a switchblade up against your chest with the blade pointing downwards, holding it so tightly in your hand that Joel could see the skin stretching tightly over your knuckles.
“Who the hell are you?” He grimaced slightly, his own voice causing his head to throb.
You didn’t reply.
Joel moved onto his next question. “Where am I?”
Again, no response.
He tried again. “Are you alone?”
Silence.
Joel took a better look at you.
You were young. You couldn’t have been older than your late twenties, perhaps even your early thirties although that might have been a bit of a stretch. You had that look about you, one that had become all but too familiar to him in the last two decades—the exhausted appearance of someone trying to survive in the post outbreak world. Your face is tired and worn, but somehow still soft and youthful at the same time. You might have looked a little rough around the edges, but you were still the prettiest damn thing he’d seen in a long, long time.
Joel spoke again. “Who are you? Where the hell are we?” When he was met with complete silence for the fourth time, he raised an eyebrow, feeling annoyed. “You gonna say somethin’ or what?”
You could only stare at him, your fingers wrapped around your knife in a vice-like grip.
Joel frowned.
Were you really that fucking terrified of him?
Or perhaps you couldn’t hear?
Only one way to find out, he thought to himself.
He raised his voice, asking once again, “Who are you? Where are we?”
You winced, your features twisting in discomfort.
Oh, you could hear him, alright.
Joel swung his legs over the side of the mattress, his movement causing you to shrink back further against the wall, almost as if you were trying to become a part of the old, rotted wood. He held up his two hands, demonstrating that he had no plans to move another muscle towards you. “How long have I been out?”
He decided to show some patience and gave you a minute to respond, but when you said nothing, he couldn’t help but sigh out in frustration. Just when he’s about to force himself to come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t be getting any kind of answers out of you, you lifted your free hand and held up three trembling fingers.
His stomach sank. “Three days?”
You gave him a nod so tiny and so subtle that he would’ve missed it had he blinked.
“Fuck,” Joel cursed, hanging his head. He couldn’t help but begin to spiral.
What happened to Tommy? And the others? Had they been able to make it out alive?
And then Ellie’s face flashed in his mind, causing the blood in his veins to run ice cold.
What could she possibly be thinking right now after he’d been missing for three whole days? Who was taking care of her, looking after her while he wasn’t there?
He needed to get back to Jackson—to Ellie.
And he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to do that if you didn’t start talking soon and answering his goddamn questions.
Lifting his head, Joel looked over at you again.
“Are you all by yourself?”
You hesitated, but then nodded in reply. Yes.
Joel sighed, relaxing his tense shoulders. “Listen, I’m gonna need a little help here, alright? I don’t remember much about what happened. I’m part of a community. I was out on patrol with my group when we were attacked by raiders. There was too many of them and I tried to lead some of them away,” he explained. He might not have known what had happened after he’d been thrown off of his horse, but the fact that he was in your cabin and he was alive helped him piece at least one part of the puzzle together. “Wait a minute. Did you—did you save me out there?”
Sucking in your bottom lip, you nodded again.
Stunned, Joel’s eyebrows raised up towards his hairline. “You fuckin’ serious?” he couldn’t help but question in complete and utter disbelief. “But how? What happened out there? How did you get me here all by yourself?” His queries spilled from his lips one after the other despite knowing most of them, if not all, would go unanswered.
You looked overwhelmed by them—by him.
Figuring it was best to take it one step at a time, Joel stood up and he slowly walked over towards you. He held out his hand. “It’s alright,” he assured you in the most gentle voice he could muster. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”
You refused to loosen your grip on your knife, but you accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet. Given that you didn’t lodge the blade straight through his chest, Joel would say some progress had been made.
He released your hand and took a step backwards to give you your space. He wasn’t too sure if you couldn’t talk or simply didn’t want to talk—still thinking you’d been the woman he’d heard singing when he had drifted back into consciousness, he guessed it was the latter.
Joel tried to think of questions he knew you’d be able to answer without having to speak.
“How long have you been by yourself?”
Shifting anxiously from one foot to the other, you held up one finger.
“Sorry darlin’ but that don’t really help me much,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Are we talkin’ one week? One month?”
You made a gesture with your hand. Keep going.
“One year?” He didn’t bother hiding his blatant skepticism. “You’ve been completely alone for one whole year?”
You pointed at him. That’s right.
Joel was beside himself.
It might’ve been wrong, but he was almost in awe of the fact that you’d survived on your own for so damn long.
“You got any other weapons besides that knife?”
You nod over towards a bow and sheath of arrows next to your backpack.
“You’re kiddin’ me. That’s all you’ve got?”
You narrowed your eyes at him.
Hey, it’s a good weapon and it saved your fucking life, thank you very much.
“Sorry. But I just can’t imagine that thing would do much against a clicker,” Joel mused when he noticed the offended expression your face. “You don’t have a gun at all?”
You reached behind yourself and pulled out a colt pistol from the waistband of your jeans. You finally set down your knife and then showed him that you’re low on ammunition and didn’t have more. Tucking the gun back into your jeans, you stepped around him and walked over to a corner where his rifle was propped up against the wall. You picked it up, made your way back over to him and handed it over.
I believe this belongs to you.
“Thank you,” he uttered quietly, taking it from you. “And I ain’t talkin’ about the gun, either. I honestly don’t think I’d be standin’ here alive if you hadn’t done whatever it was you did out there.” His eyes tried meeting yours. “I’m serious, darlin’. I owe you one. I really do.”
You shrugged, too timid to meet his gaze.
“I’m Joel,” he said after a minute, setting his rifle down. “What’s your name?”
You simply stared at him.
“Oh that’s right,” Joel mumbled sheepishly. “You can’t—” He stopped himself, but he was sure you knew what he’d meant to say.
You can’t talk.
“You got a pencil or somethin’ to write with?”
You snorted and rolled your eyes at him. No, sorry. Silly me totally forgot to pick up a pack of pencils while I was out scavenging for supplies the other day.
Joel chuckled and held up his hands in defense. “Figured it was at least worth askin’,” he said. “It’d be kinda nice to know the name of the person who saved my ass, you know.” He clocked the way the corners of your mouth threatened to turn upwards into a tiny smile at his remark. “How about a map? You got one of those so you can show me where we are?”
You held up a finger, as if telling him to give you a minute. Digging into one of the front pockets of your pack, you pulled out a large, severely creased map of the state of Wyoming and unfolded it. You handed it over to him and as he held it out for you, you pointed to your current location.
“Jackson’s about fifteen miles south from here,” Joel murmured as he scanned the map. Suddenly his dark brown eyes flickered over to your wrist—the long sleeve of your thin gray shirt had hiked up, exposing severe discoloration and scarring that went all the way around it.
Noticing where his gaze had wandered off to, you quickly retracted your hand away from the map and pulled your sleeve down. But it’d been much too late. He had seen the marks, clear as fucking day.
Joel awkwardly cleared his throat and for the sake of not causing you discomfort, he pretended he hadn’t seen a damn thing. He turned his attention back to the map. “Remember how I told you I’m a part of a community? It’s in Jackson and it ain’t all too far from here,” he stated, peering up at you from over the top of the map. “The town is gated and it’s secure. You’ll be safe there. If we head out now we can make it there by nightfall—”
You backed away from him, shaking your head.
I’m not going with you.
He cocked an eyebrow at you. “Look, I don’t mean to offend darlin’ but you ain’t gonna last a whole lot longer out here on your own, especially not in a place like this with winter right around the corner.”
You glared at him and lifted your chin.
I’ve been doing just fine on my own, thanks.
Having read your mind, Joel sighed. “Alright, fair enough. You’ve gotten this far by yourself, but that don’t mean you gotta turn down an offer for some help. Just come with me to Jackson—”
You shook your head even harder.
The last time that you had agreed to go back with a stranger to their camp, you’d been imprisoned.
Joel observed you, and it didn’t take him very long to connect the dots between the scars around your wrists and your refusal to leave with him. His hard, stony face softened. “Listen sweetness, I ain’t all too sure about what’s happened to you,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “But I can assure you that you ain’t gotta worry about a thing this time around. Just come with me and I’ll prove it to you.”
You tossed him a skeptical look.
“Jackson is a safe place,” he swore. “My brother runs it along with his wife. There’s families, lots of children—hell I’ve got a kid myself. Teenager. Her name is Ellie and she’s fifteen years old.”
Your lips parted slightly and your eyes glimmered with something that looked a lot like recognition, though Joel couldn’t be too sure what prompted it. Perhaps you’d known someone with that name once in your life.
“There’s plenty of food, running water, electricity,” he listed off in an attempt to tempt you. “It’d be a shot at a normal life. Wouldn’t you like that?”
Crossing your arms, you lifted your chin again.
Why the hell should I even trust you? Why should I trust this place is what you say it is?
Joel bit back another frustrated sigh.
Normally, he wouldn’t bother to put up with such stubbornness. He wasn’t one to plead or beg and part of him almost wanted to give up so he could be on his way, but you had saved him from being killed. He owed you his fucking life. He had to get you to go with him. He wouldn’t give up until you agreed to go to Jackson with him.
“I’ll let you carry your weapons,” he offered. “Hell, you can walk behind me with your gun pointed at the back of my fuckin’ head if that’s gonna make you feel better.”
You squinted at him.
“Or that bow of yours,” he added, chuckling. “It’s your pick, darlin’. Whatever’s gonna make you feel safest. I’ll trust you not to shoot an arrow through the back of my skull. All I ask in return is that you at least make the attempt to trust me too. I think that’s a fair enough deal. Don’t you?”
You bit your bottom lip.
I don’t know about this.
“I really don’t wanna leave you out here all alone,” Joel said, taking a step closer towards you. He found himself feeling quite surprised that it hadn’t startled you and he only hoped that meant that to some degree, you did trust him already. “Please. You saved my life—and I know you probably don’t need me savin’ yours, but at least let me take you to Jackson so you can see for yourself what we’ve got goin’ on there. If you don’t like it and you don’t wanna stay, then we’ll load up your pack with food and supplies and you can be on your way. You can choose to leave and no one will lift a finger to stop you, I’ll make sure of it. How does that sound?”
He waited, giving you the chance to think it over.
Finally, after a minute, you sighed and reluctantly nodded your head.
Okay. I’m gonna try and trust you.
“Good,” Joel said, softly. “Now get your stuff and let’s head out before we start losin’ daylight.”
language: Tsahik- spiritual leader , yawntutsyíp- little loved one, nantang- viper wolf
description: Torn between your duty and heart your emotions rage wildly. Your anger being directed on a na’vi that does not deserve such a burden. Yet, you could not find it in your heart to see it any other way. Not allowing anyone but your betrothed to see how you really felt about it all.
Any female na’vi would kill to have the news you had just received, but you felt nothing but dread. Stomach dropping you looked to the Tsahik. “What?” Praying to eywa that you heard wrong you questioned her words. An expression painted on your face like you had seen a ghost. “Eywa has chosen you as Neteyam Tsahik.” Voice joyful Moat repeated herself. Stomach churning you felt like you wanted to throw up. A sick feeling flooding your body. “Eywa has blessed us! Our daughter has been chosen!” Voice dripping with excitement your mother embraced your father. Yet, you could feel no such joy as your eyes seem to drain of light. Neteyam? You mate with him? What a joke! “There must have been a mistake.” A gasp left your mothers lips at your words, a deep frown making its way onto your fathers face. There was no doubt a harsh scolding would be given once the Moat left the tent. “You dare question the will of Eywa?!” Voice accusing the Moat turned towards you. Offense evident In her tone.
Ears pinning to your head you looked up to the Tsahík with cautious eyes. “Of Course not! It’s just, they’re so much more talented healer in this clan.”Spitting out the fast excuse you saved yourself from the Moats fury. Her face visibly relaxing as a scoff left her lips. “There is no one but you my cild. Do not question your skill you are one of the best I have taught.” Forcing a smile onto your lips you shyly nodded. You had to seem as if you were happy, be normal. “I do not deserve such praise.” A hum of approval left your fathers throat at your humbleness a proud look adorning his face. A small laugh leaving the Moats lips as her eyes scanned over you. “We must begin to prepare for the announcement. I want you at the chiefs tent first thing tomorrow.” Stern yellow eyes scanning the room each of you nodded in acknowledgment. Your mother quickly ripping herself from your fathers side she sucked up to the elder. Your face scrunching up as you cringed at her actions. Acting as if the woman could not even open the flap of your home on her own.
“This is an honor y/n.” Seeming to sense your discomfort your father reassured you. Looking at him with soft eyes you forced another smile to your lips. “Of course father, it is just a lot to take in, may I get some air?” Taking a deep breath you placed your hand on your heart pretending to struggle to breathe. “Of course, do not go far it is past eclipse.” Nodding in acknowledgment you hurriedly rushed out your home. Ignoring the calls of your mother as you rushed to the other side of the village. A rush of panic serging through you as you made it to your friends house in record speed, bursting through the entrance of her home. “Fya’olor! It is urgent we must speak.” Tone full of panic and sorrow Fya’olor immediately rose to her feet. Her face covered in worry and confusion. You never use her full name. Assuring her mother she would be back soon the female quickly followed you. “Y/n it is past eclipse what is this important?” Grabbing her hand you placed your fingers to your lips signifying she must be silent. Wasting no time the two of you snuck to the edge of high camp away from any prying ears. Fya’olors worry only seemed to grow as she silently tracked behind you. Finally you reached an isolated spot Fya’olors heartbeat now matching yours as anxiety started to creep in. “What is wrong my friend.”
Stomach churning with anxiety you looked into your friends eyes. Feeling as if you had betrayed her you desperately grabbed onto her hands. “Please, do not hate me for the words about to leave my lips.” Piercing her lips together Fya’olor sent you a stern gaze. “I have know you since we were kids how could I hate you.” Eyes glossing over you could not seem to meet her gaze. The next words leaving your mouth in a choked in a small voice as you suppressed your tears. “I am to be mated with your lover Fya’, I am betrothed to Neteyam…” Lump growing in your throat you felt like the world around you had gone silent. Fya’olor hands becoming stiff in your hold as you slowly looked into her eyes. A pain and sadness swirling between the two of you. There was no need for words as Fya’olors lips parted, but a word never lefts her lips, in its stead was a choked sob. Her slim body falling to your feet. A sadness like no other enveloping her as your words seemed to echo in her head. “I am so sorry Fya’. I am so so sorry.” Dropping down with her the two of you could only embrace each other. Her hands seeming to dig into your skin with a supernatural grip as her sobs echoed through the night. Your heart breaking with every cry that left her lips. Your friend shattered by the reality of her world. Oh how cruel Eywa could be.
Waking the next morning you recalled the events of last night. A sadness that was almost numbing seeming to awake with you. It did not take long for your mother to rise as well, rushing you to prepare yourself. You could share none of her excitement as she picked out your outfit. The fabric clingy tightly to your skin as you placed the top on. Your mother insisting you must wear the tight top as they would most liking be fitting you for a ceremonial outfit this morning. Pushing your sickening feelings down you tired your best to match her excitement. You did not wish to sour your family’s mood, always one to rise to their expectation. The fear of disappointing your parents never far from your mind. “You are beautiful yawntutsyíp.” Hands placed on your shoulders your father looked at you lovingly. Pride practically shinning through his yellow eyes. “She was chosen by Eywa after all” Resting her hands on your fathers biceps your mother wore a proud smile. Both of your parents eyes admiring the woman you have become, the woman they had shaped you into.
For the first time since the news you felt a warmth envelop your body. A soft smile on your lips as you basked in your parents satisfaction. The comfort of their support and pride wrapping around you like a blanket. Mood slightly improved you attempted to push down the feeling of betrayal you felt as you walked to the chiefs home. Ignoring the sick feeling you felt twist in your stomach as you walked through the entrance. All eyes now resting upon you and your family. A series of greeting soon filling the space around you. “Oh y/n, my mother has told me much about you.” Greeting you Neytiri wore a warm smile on her face. Yellows scanning your body. Deeming if you were good enough for her son. “It is wonderful to speak with you Neytiri.” Gesturing a formal greeting Neytiri let out an approving hum. “If you do not mind we will begin immediately, Neteyam is already in the other room.” Voice calm and welcoming Jake spoke with a professional tone. Seeming to address all three of you.
“Of course. The sooner the better.” Responding, your father was quick to speak up. Wasting no time Neytiri lightly tapped your shoulder gesturing for you to follow her. Nodding you followed the woman into another room. There was feathers and fabrics everywhere, every color you could ever imagine meeting your eyes. Scanning the room in amazement you attempted to take in everything. Spinning around to soak in all the details. A small laugh knocked you out of your trance. Cheeks heating up in embarrassed as you eyes found the source. Sitting down on a makeshift bench familiar yellow eyes watched you with the ghost of a smile still on his lips. “Neteyam.” Silently warning her son Neytiri eyes slightly glared at the male. Finding it comfortable behind the female you stayed where you were eyes avoiding Neteyams. “I will go get the seamstress. You two stay put.” Cursing to Eywa you watched her slender form leave the room. A thick awkwardness wasting no time filling the space around you.
“It’s funny the first real words I say to you are because you are getting fitted for the cloths you will wear when we announce our union.” Tone calm Neteyam attempted to start a conversation. Rising to his feet as he approach you figure. Your muscles stiffened and awkwardly as you stood eyeing the approaching male as if he was an alien. “I find no humor in our situation. I am the cause of Fya’s pain, this union is a curse.” Real feelings unmasking your eyes met Neteyams. Gaze cold and hard you looked into his warm ones with nothing but anger and sadness. “How did you-“ cutting himself off It seems all the puzzle pieces were coming together in his mind. Suddenly knowing why your name sounded so familiar when it left his parents mouth. “You are the friend Fya’oro is always talking about.” Taken aback It was as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. A vulnerable feeling rising with the knowledge that you knew about his secret relationship he tried so hard to hide. “She told you!?” Voice rising in frustration Neteyams soft features soon twisted into an anger.
Watching his reaction you couldn’t help but allow sick laugher to fall past you lips. You did not find anything humorous yet if you did not laugh you knew the tears would soon be cascading down your face. “And that is a problem? Did you wish to decive me and continue to see her? Lead her on with more false hope until we are boned together? Hurt her with even more empty promises?!” Anger bubbling up you lashed out on Neteyam. Your tone dripping with venom. “Fya’olor tells me everything. Why? Why hurt her when you knew you would be promised to someone?” Voice cracking you felt sorrow for your friend. Your heart burning with your betrayal to her, your sorrows, and the boiling anger for the na’vi in front of you. “You have no business questioning my relationship.” Anger turning into defense Neteyams yellow eyes burned into yours. Obviously not please with the extent of information you had on him. “Besides I always thought it would be her” Mood now dampening Neteyams facade seemed to crack. The sadness in his tone prominent.
“It should have been. You are lucky I have a sense of duty or I would have fled. It’s sickening, being tied to a man who tells no truths.” Heart heavy you turned away from the male. His response never leaving his lips as a na’vi burst through the entrance. Fabric and pins tied to her loincloth. “Hello to the new happy couple!” Voice high the seamstress wore a smile from ear to ear. As if you had not been arguing a minute ago you expertly placed a fake smile on your face. “I can not wait to see your masterful work on us.” Responding to her with as much enthusiasm as she displayed you wore your mask perfectly. Of course, the golden boy of the clan, had no trouble following your lead. Placing a hand around your shoulder he brought you into him. Suppressing a visible cringe you tired to not let your true feelings show as you felt his sickening heat mix with yours. “I trust you will give us breathtaking outfits.”
“Oh, I am pleased you two are getting along so well.” Trailing in Neytiri wore a soft smile. Your mother not far behind her with a matching expression. “Eywa never chooses wrong after all!” Adding to the previous comment your mothers eyes glistened with happiness. “Well we should get stared shouldn’t we?” As the suggestion left the seamstress lips you wanted to thank Eywa. Using her suggestion as a chance to pry Neteyams arms off you. “I will be first!” Masking your eagerness to get away from the male with excitement you made yourself seem ecstatic. The lingering feeling of his touch making you want to scrub your skin raw. Your mind swirling with all the ways you despised the male. Pain and anger swirling in your mind as the na’vi fitted you. By the end of it you came up with a final conclusion, you despised Neteyam, his arrogance, his empty promises to your friend, and the way he seems to be moving on like it was nothing. Cursing him in your head you continue to wear your joyful mask through out the morning. An exhaustion like no other hitting you as you escaped from the suffocating home.
Allowing your face muscles to relax as the cool breeze brushed pasted your form. A peaceful ness like not other washing cover you as your body took you to the healing tent. You knew in a few days you would be having the ceremony but you pushed down that fact. Just wanting a hint of normal back into your life you rushed to your workplace. Pushing back the tent flap the familiar sight of Fay’olor and your friends mixing herbs met your eyes. “Where have you been y/n?” Your friend Saeya questions. “My mother wished for me to accompany her this morning.” The half lie leaving your lips naturally you took your place between Fya’olor and Saeya. “Whatever just help us out.” Comanding as always the eldest of the group -Ora- handed you a bowl. Conversations flowing smoothly your eyes constantly glancing towards Fya’olor, subconsciously making sure she was okay. The female was acting as if last night had not occurred. Your friend having a history of denying reality before the truths were formally shoved in front of her face. Although you were basking in the normalcy of your friend group you couldn’t help the guilt that followed with every look at your dear friend. Almost as if adding fuel to a fire you’re hatred towards your betrothed only seemed to grow. Your mind unjustly blaming everything on him. A male you truly did not even know.
The mask was tiring to wear. Not being able to let your resentment show to anyone, especially Fya’olor, not wanting to torment her with your despair when you had all that she wanted. The night before the announcement of the two of you being promised Neteyam had finally told her. Waiting to the last moment to break it off with your dearest friend. Leaving her heart crushed into pieces. Scattered through the forest as he had her for one last night. Although she knew it was inevitable Fya’olor needed to hear it from her lovers mouth. Ignoring all the signs and all the warnings she continued to see Neteyam while you watched. Not having the heart to push the fact down her throat that you were promised to her lover. The fact that in the end he would be your mate and there was nothing the two of you could do about it. Tied together by the crushing responsibility shoved onto your backs. Neither you nor Neteyam willing to speak against the will of Eywa.
So, you waited for her to come back. Sitting on the edge of a branch you waited for a broken and teary eyed Fay’olor. Knowing the path she took too and from high camp. Although you were the cause of her despair you refused to let her suffer alone. Knowing that her actions were driven by love, something you had never experienced, and did not wish too. Seeing your friend once again slump, her tired body leaning on your shoulder. Her tear stained and puffy eyes already filling to the brim once more as you placed an arm around her waist. Feeling the sadness radiate off her It was evident that she had been crying earlier. “I really wanted it to not be true…” Voice soft and broken your friends voice filled the silence. Your heart aching at her horse tone. “I did too Fya…..”
“I can still smell him on me. He tried to hold me after he broke the news but I just could not allow it. He promised me Y/n!” Voice raising with her last sentence she suddenly sat up right. Pulling away from your grasp as her yellow eyes scanned your form. “And the worse part it I can’t even hate you or him. I love you both so dearly…” Tears slipping down her cheeks her yellow eyes drowned in sorrow. Standing to her feet you were quick to follow her lead. Arm outstretched you attempted to pull her into your embrace, hoping to give her some comfort, but the contact never came. Smacking your hand away Fya’olor wore a face mixed with feeling as her eyes looked into yours. “I need time alone, away from you. You are my dearest friend but, I need time to heal and you only are a reminded of my wound. I do not know when or if I can ever be with you again…” Not being able to find the words you could only look at your friend with sad eyes. Nodding your head with your eyes to the ground as she walked past you. A faint “sorry” Slipping past your lips as she passed. Your melancholy emotions soon mixing with undirected anger.
frustrated tears falling down your cheek as you looked into the night sky. The stars shinning beautifully as you cursed the world around you. Questioning why and how you ended up in this situation, your heart and honor pulling you in opposite directions. A horrible scream leaving your throat, filling the forest around you with your rage. The small animals around you scattering in fear of a predator and drawing the attention of a na’vi that was not far. Yellow eyes soon finding your form leaned on the bark of a tree, body resting at the base. You had moved down there with a slight hope a palulukan would end your misery. Instead you got the attention of what you considered the root of your problems. Ears perking up at the movement in the trees. A familiar sweet scent wafting past your nose . A hope bubbling in your stomach as you aggressively wiped your tears with the back of your palms. “Fya’! I am sorry I still-“ Cutting yourself off your hopeful smile soon dropped as soon as the source of the smell came into view. Yellow eyes looking down at your form as the scent you had smelled on Fya’olor invaded your nose.
Neteyam spoke no words as he looked at you. An unreadable expression on his face, eyes heavy on yours. He smelt strongly of Fya’olor, much stronger than his scent was on her. “She scented you..” Rising to your feet you looked at the male na’vi. Your thoughts shifting to your own reputation at the thought of announcing your union with a male that reeked of another female. Your face scrunching up at the thought of the pitted looks that would be shot your way. For once you’re mind focused on yourself instead of your friend, you being something she had obviously not taken into consideration. Yet, you did not feel any resentment towards her knowing her reasonings have been clouded by her pain. “And you are on the forest floor, past eclipse, it is dangerous.” Accent filling your ears you scoffed at his words. Eyes looking him up and down in disgust. “Do not pretend to be concerned, you found me because you need help getting her scent off you. It would be a horrible stain on the golden boys reputation.”
“And yours as well so I would appreciate your help y/n. Also, would it kill you to show some appreciation for my concern? ” Jaw clenched it was obvious you had hit a nerve. Neteyam not a fan of the way you twisted his actions into simply getting something out of you. Rolliing your eyes you pushed past the na’vi. Ignoring the sound of disapproval that left his lips you stomped off into the forest. Hating the fact that you were stuck helping the stupid male, and that he was right about it hurting your reputation as well. Every step he took behind you seeming to only add to your irritation. “We should travel on my Ikran it is dangerous to be on foot.” Inhaling deeply you turned to the na’vi. His eyes widening at your sudden movement. “Im helping you. We do this my way. And being stuck on an Ikran with you? I rather get eaten by a nantang.” Frown deepening at your words you found satisfaction in his frustrated sigh. Turning on your heel to lead the two of you towards the flower you were looking for. The warm ground welcoming your feet with every stride. Your eyes not leaving the ground as you scanned for your desired object.
Finally the familiar design caught your eyes. Your body immediately crouching down to collect the small group of the flower. The glow of the forest acting as natural flashlight as you examined the object, making sure you were not mistaken. You felt warm hands press on your back as Neteyam peered from over your shoulder. The na’vi using you as support. Glaring at hims over your shoulder you bared your fangs. A nasty hiss leaving your throat as Neteyam put his hands up in a surender. “I did not mean to….” Tuning him out you did not bother to hear the rest of his words. Your hands gingerly plucking the flowers from the ground. Making sure to keep them in perfect shape. Rising you met his eyes holding the flowers up to his chest. “They are very strong. You do not want to be obvious so bathe in them for a short amount of time. Do not crush the center the scent will be too strong.” Nodding his head in confirmation Neteyam listened to your every word. Yellow eyes flickering from your face to the flowers.
Not even noticing the animals around you your eyes stayed on the flower. Explaining the effects and where to bathe you instructed him with instruction even a child could follow. Looking up to see his yellow eyes looking past you an annoyed expression painted your features. “Neteyam are you listening?” Resting your free hand on your hip you eyed the male. His eyes unwavering from the forest behind you. “Y/n, I need you to come to me.” Face twisting in disgusted and confusion you glared at the male. “Why would I do that.” Taking a step back you distanced yourself from him. A distrusting look in your eyes as you peered behind your shoulder. Your eyes meeting the glow of another pair. Staring at you as if you were its prey. “Ahh! Damn it y/n!” Growling in frustration Neteyam took a quick step towards you. A nasty gurgle coming from the animal behind you as it took a leap as well. And then suddenly everything moved so slowly.
A fear-riddled scream left your lips as your body turned towards the nantang. Eyes blown wide as its claws seemed only inches away from your being. Then a sharp pain hit your shoulder yet it was not a piercing kind. Instead you were harshly pulled back your front crashing against Neteyams as he encaged you his arms. His bow already drawn as a smoke screen of pollen seemed to cover the both of you. The pungent sweet smell entering your nose as you heard the arrow fly through the air. The whimpers of the pack as they fled and ear raping howl of pain as your attacker drew its last breath. Soon followed by the coughs of you and Neteyam fanning the scented air away from your faces. “Oh my Eywa we are so fucked!”
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“You could say thank you for me saving your life instead of ending this night with curses and complaints.” Trailing behind you up the vines to high camp Neteyams complaints filled the space. The two of you smelling strongly of the flower that had covered every inch of your body. The spring you visited doing nothing but rid the pollen off your skin and enhancing the smell of the flower. A huff in anger is all the male got in response as you pulled yourself onto the mountain high camp was located on. “You are so ungrateful.” Jumping up behind you Neteyam followed you through the entrance. Walking along side you. “Last time I checked you got us into this mess. Should have let me die there if you expected my praise and affection.” Voice dripping with poison you glared at the male. Attitude running through your body as you walked along the cold rocks.
“We wouldn’t be in this if you didn’t decide to get one last fuck in and let Fya’ scent you. Way to make it ever harder for her to move on!” Throwing your hands upon the air you jabbed at Neteyam. The male rolling his eyes in response. “Im sick you pretending to understand our relationship.” Stopping just before the your familys hut your yellows eyes met Neteyams. Aggression swirling in your irises. “You’re sick of me understanding it perfectly. You just don’t like that you’re the dickhead and not the golden boy in the real version.” Not allowing the male to retaliate you quickly entered your home. To overwhenlemed with the events and emotions of the day to continue your squabble with Neteyam. Thankful that your family was still fast asleep as you had left them. Lying your body down on your hammock attempting to get a couple hours of sleep.
Wanting to escape your world for a second. Hoping to enter a reality where you did not have to be bound by Eywa to a na’vi you considered a deceitful asshole. Completely ignoring the way your heart leapt at the memory of him saving you. Making sure to drown the memory with your knowledge of his lies. With the memories of Fya’olors pain. Not wanting to feel anything but hatred for the man you had made the villain. What type of friend would you be if you did?
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