#I like to pretend that after he smiled and fainted his story ended there and period

[drunk-person]

Bravery in love

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: For Prince Aemond Targaryen, bravery was in war and fighting. Until he met his wife and learned about different forms of bravery.

WARNING: No age restriction. Unhealthy amounts of cuteness and softness, a tiny bit of pain, and one paragraphs of sexual innuendo.

Word cont: 3.500 k

Author's note: Okay I saw a really cute video of a baby discovering that she could move her legs whenever she wanted and she was so cute and I ended up writing this story which is basically a giant fluff hahahaha. English is not my first language so be kind if you can 💕💕.

♡-♡-♡

The sun was already high in Kings Landing on a beautiful warm spring day, the beauty of the season lifted everyone's spirits, but no one had a bigger smile than Princess Y/n, Prince Aemond's wife as she ran to the bedroom door to tell them to call her husband.

The two had been married for two whole years at this point, an arrangement made between Aemond's grandfather and her father. Initially Y/n was apprehensive about the marriage, considering the many terrible stories she had heard of women who had married before her. But upon meeting Prince Aemond, her heart melted for him before she even realized it.

He seemed cold and hard at first when she arrived at the capital, but then suddenly he was so shy and so sweet when they were alone in the garden to talk for the first time. And when Y/n said she liked stories, he smiled, turning his face to the side and told her that he also really liked stories.

Later that night, when Y/n returned to her room, she found a book with a black leather cover and the title "Rhaenys, the bravery of love" next to a very small blue flower. The young lady thought she would faint right there when she touched the soft petals of the flower.

Then came the wedding and after that nothing but happiness with her husband. Every day the two became closer and trusted each other more, to the point that Aemond told her his deepest sorrows and she in return confided hers, and little by little she realized that everything her husband wanted most was just be loved, and that's what she did, she loved him.

Y/n felt happy in a way she never thought would be possible, there was only one problem, it had been a year since the wedding and her belly still hadn't shown any signs of growing. And it wasn't as if she and her husband weren't trying, after they both became acquainted Aemond became thirsty for touch and planted his seed in her every day, sometimes more than once a day, which made her even more worried.

The cruel whispers had already taken over the fortress. Words like "infertility" and "dry womb" became common when they thought she wasn't listening. And as broken as Y/n's heart was, she tried hard to pretend to her husband that it didn't hurt that much. She knew how much Aemond wanted a child, and it was her duty to give him one, guilt plagued her when she thought about it, thinking that she couldn't do so little for a husband who gave her everything she asked for without blinking.

On a winter afternoon with the weather colder than usual in the capital, Y/n was sitting alone in the garden admiring a pair of nightingales that had made a nest in a nearby tree when she felt Aemond's soft but possessive touch pulling her towards him.

-What are you doing here in this cold weather? You'll freeze. - His low voice sounded against her ear and she just smiled weakly.

-I like coming here, it's where we had our first conversation, remember? - She looked at him. - It always makes me happy to think about that day when I don't feel cheerful.

-And why would the most beautiful lady in the realms be sad? - Aemond looked at her deeply, Y/n felt as if he saw through her soul and still trying to hide his sadness, he looked down at the ground.

-Wife. - His gloved fingers guided her chin up and she couldn't escape his gaze again. - I know something is wrong, tell me.

And Y/n could no longer contain herself, the tears that were very well kept ran loose down her face as she hid them in her husband's chest, sobbing and trembling while holding on tightly to him, as if he would evaporate before her.

-I'm sorry, husband! - She sobbed against his chest.

-Y/n, my dear, did someone hurt you? - His voice sounded calm but with barely contained anger as he pulled her closer and closer in an act of protection. - Tell me who it was and I will kill him myself.

-No one has hurt me, husband. - She leaned against him, still pulling on his jerkin. - It's just me and my apparent inability to grant you a child.

-It is not up to you to grant me a child. - He said, looking at her firmly as he brought his hands to her face. - That depends on the will of the gods, when they feel it's time, they will send us a son. Until then, I don't want to see you crying because of this. - He stroked her cheeks with his fingertips and Y/n smiled, her face still slightly wet.

-Now let's go in and have some tea, I don't want you to catch a cold. - He guided her inside by the waist.

That night, amidst moans and groans of love and burning passion, Rhaenys was conceived to the joy and pride of her mother and father.

To Aemond's relief, Y/n had an easy and uncomplicated pregnancy; she just had a burning desire for him and wanted him inside her every hour of the day without rest, something he granted without discussion after a extensive research to find out if it would not pose a risk to his wife or the baby.

The birth was not much different, it was late summer and the weather was starting to get cooler, but even so, it was a difficult time and Aemond did not leave Y/n's side at any time, and the maesters did not dare ask him to leave the birthing chambers more than once after the absolutely deadly look Aemond gave them at the first request.

And when Y/n cried and told her husband that she was scared, he grabbed her hand tightly and whispered only for her to hear.

-I know you can do it, my sweet girl. - Leaving a kiss on her sweaty chest.

-I am not as brave as you. - She cried while shaking her head and holding onto her husband's hands.

-Remember that there is also bravery in love. - Aemond spoke softly, but confidently as he squeezed her hand.

And after hearing that with restored strength at the thought of her little baby, Y/n pushed even harder as she screamed through the pain and could finally hear the sweet cry of her little girl. At that very moment she burst into tears of pure relief and emotion, and when the maester placed her in her arms wrapped in a bloody white cloth she could swear she saw her husband shed a tear or two too.

And with passionate smiles the two chose the name of their little daughter in honor of the conqueror who gave the title to the first gift that Aemond gave her on the day they met. And from that sweet moment on, little Rhaenys became the pride and joy of both their lives.

Almost 7 moons later, already in spring Y/n now felt that her happiness was complete. The sparkle in her eyes could be seen from miles away as she played with her little daughter who had begun to sit up on her own. With each new discovery Rhaenys made, Aemond and Y/n celebrated as if it were a victory in a tournament.

One of the sweetest moments was the day she discovered she could control her own legs. It was something so simple, but so sweet. They were sitting on the bed talking while Rhaenys absentmindedly played with a small wooden sculpture in the shape of a dragon, using it to scratch the teeth that had bothered her since birth.

Suddenly, when they both looked, Rhaenys was laughing as she slowly raised her left leg and watched with a look of delight, only to do the same with her right leg and then lean forward trying to grab her own legs, smiling and babbling.

They both smiled and looked at her full of love, everything was perfect and Y/n had never felt so good in her life. Except for the fact that two days later she discovered that the court had not stopped talking about her. Y/n was walking distractedly towards her own chambers when she heard the whispers and low laughter of other ladies.

-So long to be able to give the prince a child and when she does, it's a girl. - The mockery was clear in that voice.

-Poor Prince Aemond, how much longer will it take until she can give him an heir? - Another lady laughed while whispering. - He'll have to settle for just a daughter, it seems.

Y/n felt her eyes watering at the same moment and accelerated her pace towards the rooms while breathing deeply trying to contain her tears and with a deep sigh she entered her own chambers while wiping away a tear that escaped. As soon as she raised her head and looked at the room she almost smiled at the scene before her.

Aemond sat on the carpet with his long legs crossed with his little Rhaenys held in his arms, his voice sounded softly through the room and now Y/n smiled genuinely when she saw what he was doing.

-Say Kepa. – Aemond smiled gently at his daughter. - Kepa. - He spoke more slowly while gently caressing the child's back.

Her husband was always trying to teach her to say "father" in Valyrian, and the little girl just babbled as she stuck her fingers in her mouth and smiled toothlessly at her father. Aemond swore that she was almost able to do it and that she had even said a syllable to him when they were alone. The prince, feeling like he was being watched, raised his head and smiled softly when he saw his wife standing near the door.

-Your muña is back byka sõvion. (Little butterfly) - He murmured softly to his daughter as he gently shook her and made the little girl smile. Aemond's loving gaze gradually faded as he noticed his wife's melancholy and he carefully placed Rhaenys on the carpet, leaving a soft kiss on the crown of her slightly curly silver hair.

-Umbagon va se ritz byka sõvion. - (Stay on the carpet little butterfly) He whispered as if his little daughter could understand every word and she just screamed and babbled while slapping her hands on the carpet.

The prince walked slowly to his wife and pulled her closer to him, caressing her hips with the tips of his thumbs.

-What's wrong, Issa jorrāelagon? - Aemond murmured against her forehead, leaving a kiss there and then brushing his nose against hers.

-People can be very cruel sometimes. - She sighed against her husband's neck, and Aemond felt his own blood burn in his veins at the prospect of someone being cruel to his Y/n.

-Who had the audacity to say anything to you? - Aemond's voice was restrained, but anger dripped from the corners of his lips and Y/n just shook her head quickly as she laid her head on his chest.

-Just nasty whispers.

-What kind of whispers? - He continued with his voice carefully restrained as he pulled her closer and closer, holding her tightly.

-Does it matter to you that I gave birth to a girl? - She looked him in the eye with pain. - Would you rather have had a son?

-Sīkudi nopāzmi. (Seven hells) - Aemond practically growled with his face contorted with rage as he held Y/n's face firmly between his palms. - Qilōni istan se wretched gīs qilōni naejot vestragon bona naejot ao? Ivestragon issa ābrazȳrys! (Who was the wretched soul who dared to say that to you? Tell me, wife!)

Y/n looked at him confused, not understanding what he had said other than ābrazȳrys. And breathing deeply, trying to control his own nerves, Aemond repeated more calmly while rubbing his wife's arms gently.

-Tell me who was wife. - He asked, looking deeply into her eyes. - Who dared to say such a thing to you?

-I just heard it when I was passing by. - Y/n had seen who it was, but she wouldn't tell him because she knew her husband would do something about it.

Aemond snorted again and pulled her back to him.

-Wife, I don't want you to listen to such nonsense ever again in your life. - He murmured to her. - You and our daughter are everything in my life, and although I wish to have more children, if we had no more besides Rhaenys I would be the happiest man in this cursed land for having you.

-To issi issa glaeson. - He sighed as he tucked a lock of Y/n's hair behind her ear.

-What does that mean? - She asked slightly emotional.

-You are my life. - He repeated, looking firmly into her eyes as he squeezed her hands in his. - And there is nothing I value more than you and our byka sõvion.

He smirked as he looked at Rhaenys who had laid down and was now trying to shove her own foot into her mouth while spluttering and laughing.

-You know me better than anyone else, wife, and I'm honest when I tell you that I've never been happier in my entire life than I am now. Our family brings me joy.

The smile on Y/n's face could warm even those beyond the wall as she jumped on her husband and hugged him happily.

-I love you, husband. - She sighed against his neck, Aemond didn't respond, but he never responded, at least not with those exact words, his heart was much more complex than that.

More moons passed, and Aemond became increasingly enchanted by his daughter, his eyes shining with each evolution and discovery that the little girl made. He never wanted to miss anything, he liked to be there for every little new thing and he made it clear to Y/n that she should call him anytime and that's what she did on one special day.

-Send for my husband! As soon as possible. - Y/n hissed at one of the maids who was passing by the hallway. The young woman nodded and ran without even looking back towards the training courtyard to look for the prince.

-Your grace, forgiveness for the interruption. - The girl said, looking at the ground. - But your wife urgently requested your presence.

Aemond's chest was briefly breathless when he heard that, and without caring about anything else, he dropped his sword on the floor and ran towards his own chambers.

He entered the room calling for his wife with wide eye, but his expression changed from fear to curiosity when he saw her with her index finger against her lips in a clear sign of silence for him, while with her other hand she pointed to the foot of the sofa where Rhaenys was standing for the first time as she tried to walk on her own.

Aemond's jaw dropped, and he felt tears coming to his eye, his little girl was almost walking.

-You forgot. - Y/n smiled and gently pulled off her husband's eyepatch, throwing it on the table. She had convinced him not to wear it around Rhaenys. At first he hesitated, but it proved to be a good thing since the little girl was completely enchanted by the sparkle of the sapphire in her father's eye, always reaching out her hands towards him and gently rubbing the area while she babbled. And Aemond wouldn't admit it out loud, but that small gesture of affection made him feel loved in a whole new way that he had never felt before.

Still with tears in his eye, Aemond turned away he slowly approached the couch as he crouched down next to his daughter, who, upon seeing him, screamed with excitement and took an excited step towards him. And as if all of this wasn't the most magical thing that had ever happened to him, Rhaenys began to babble as she tried to walk towards her father.

-Ke - She babbled waving her free hand towards him and Aemond felt his heart warm. - Ke-pa.

-Konir sagon paktot byka sõvion, māzigon tosh kepa. (That's right, my little butterfly, come with daddy) - He whispered to his daughter with a slightly cloudy voice.

-Kepah! - She screamed in that sweet baby voice as she took her hand off the couch to clap her hands and before she could fall on her butt on the floor, Aemond caught her, preventing her from falling while two tears ran down his eye. Rhaenys looked at him with wide eyes, a little scared after almost falling, but Aemond caressed her back affectionately, calming her.

-Ziry iksos byka sõvion, kepa kessa dōrī ivestragī ao ropagon. (It's okay, little butterfly, daddy will never let you fall.) - He smiled as more tears fell and Rhaenys looked at him enchanted as she once again caressed the sapphire attached to her father's eye. - Dõrī. (Never) - He reaffirmed with a look of pure love.

Rhaenys had said her first words and Y/n did not understand what her husband was saying to her daughter, just a few words that he had already taught her and the sweet nickname he gave Rhaenys, but her heart was so warm that Y/n thought it might be on fire. She could see the love overflowing from her husband's eyes in an uncontrollable way and at that moment Lady Y/n knew that only she and her little Rhaenys were enough.

About a moon later Aemond decided it was time to introduce his daughter to Vhagar. And after a short trip in the house on wheels and a walk along the edge of the royal forest they arrived at the immense dragon. Y/n already knew her, she had even flown on Vhagar with Aemond, but even so she was a little afraid for Rhaenys, something that she told herself was completely unfounded because of all the people in the world she knew that the only one who would never do anything that could put her Rhaenys at risk was Aemond.

The prince had barely approached the dragon with his daughter and she was already looking at him curiously, still with her head lying on the meadow. And while Aemond spoke to her in Valyrian, Y/n just smiled in love, the smile only got bigger after Rhaenys laughed and screamed as she took her little hands to caress the dragon's scales while babbling some incoherent things to her father.

-She'll be a formidable dragon rider one day. - Aemond stated seriously as he smiled sideways at his wife who just rolled her eyes unable to imagine her little girl on a beast that size, but she knew she had to get used to the idea, she was a Targaryen after all.

-If she's as good as her father, she'll be the best of them all. - Y/n smiled as she caressed her husband's back and left a kiss against her daughter's soft hair.

At the answer, Aemond smiled and pulled her by the waist closer to him and his daughter while leaving a sweet kiss on her lips.

-You've told me more than once that you're not brave. - He murmured against her lips as he gently brushed his own lips against hers. - But you were brave to love me when no one else tried. Thank you for being everything I wanted, everything I needed.

After saying that he extended a small flower with blue petals to her and smiled a little shyly as he made Rhaenys more comfortable in his arms.

And with tears in her eyes, Lady Y/n reached out and took the small, soft flower between her fingers, then hugged him and her smiling daughter, knowing that in her husband's strange and rigid language, that was an I love you.

Since Aemond was courageous enough to ride huge dragons, engage in sword duels and so many other dangerous things, but simple words terrified him. She didn't need them, she knew how to read her husband's heart, eyes and actions that told Y/n every hour of every day that he loved her, and even if he didn't love her, she was brave enough to love for both of them.

And with that thought she smiled and kissed him sweetly on the lips as she held both him and her precious Rhaenys close, her beloved most precious possessions.

[cherimoyatea]

𝑪𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏���� 𝒚𝒐𝒖… – A sequel to Tipsy

Pairing: Rafayel x You Synopsis: Sequel to Rafayel's Tender Moments, Tipsy. You miss him like crazy and send him a song that reminds you of him while being away for two months. Tags: Fluff, Romance, Long-Distance Relationship, Music related theme, Confessing. A little teasing from Rafayel’s end (no smut or anything). Oh, and I made a little reference to his 5 Stars Card Floral Promise if you notice. Word Count: 2677K Side Notes: So, I had this little fic in my head after listening to Can't Stop Loving You by Artemas shortly after Tipsy was released, and decided to write it down eventually. I recommend listening to the song to enhance the experience, but it's okay if you don't. Or maybe you enjoy the song and don’t like the story; that’s also fine. 🩷 Also: While I’m not new to writing, I don’t consider myself as professional as other writers. I appreciate constructive criticism as much as kind words, if you have any! 💕 Okay, here we go~

It's been six weeks since Rafayel saw you off at the airport and you boarded the plane that took you away from him. Six weeks since you saw his cheeky grin or his endearing pout in person. Six weeks since you sank into his arms or breathed in his familiar scent. And only two weeks left until your time at the training camp is finally over.

Yes, you were allowed to use your phone on weekends, and you counted down the days until Friday would finally turn into Saturday again so you could spend hours talking to him. But it wasn't the same, was it? It only made you miss him more...

You sigh deeply as you lie in the bed of your shared room. It's late, past midnight and it started raining a couple of hours ago. Your roommate, another Hunter, is fast asleep while you toss and turn in your sheets, unable to find sleep. Though you were used to being apart sometimes due to your irregular missions and Rafayel's busy schedule, this was the first time you hadn't seen each other for almost two months. It was harder than you had expected, and you only survived the intense training and nerve-wracking tasks during the week because you knew you'd be able to communicate with him soon. Lost in thought, you subconsciously grip the necklace around your neck, feeling the weight of the locket he gifted you on your last evening before your trip. Recalling how sad and lonely he looked, almost pleading for you not to forget him, makes your heart ache even more.

Rafayel did his best to support you from afar, by holding back his desire for you to return to him and showering you with encouraging words instead. His lingering gaze would always betray him whenever he looked at you through the phone, playfully responding in his usual cheeky way as you talked about the tough training, strict rules, and how sore your body felt. He looked at you with a sense of loneliness that tore at your heart in ways you never thought was possible. While his lips curled into a bright smile, pretending he was busy with his artwork, he was probably running a countdown on his phone, counting down the days, hours, minutes, and even seconds until you were back.

Only the constant ticking of the clock on your wall reminds you of how much time has passed since you lay down and started listening to the faint droplets tapping on your windows. You still have a few hours left until Monday morning, so you grab your wireless headphones from the nightstand and connect them to your phone. Opening the music app, you hope it will help distract you from your aching...

🎶 And the sirens sang out the sweetest lullaby It's the best I've slept in a hundred thousand nights I couldn't help myself I was hoping you would love me one more time... 🎶

...but as the soft strokes of the piano resound in your ears, you feel your heart sink further, unable to stop your thoughts from drifting to the purple-haired man you love. Every line of the song you're hearing reminds you of him and how much you long for him. Was he still awake? Maybe you weren't the only one who couldn't sleep. Without a second thought, you tap the share button on your screen and send the song to your beloved.

🎶 I'm perfectly sane, I'm fine Do you think I've lost my mind? You shouldn't be surprised Swear that I just really miss you I'd go to hell just to kiss you And I've got a couple of issues... 🎶

Your eyes grow heavier as you look at the picture of Rafayel on your nightstand, with your phone being the only source of light in your otherwise pitch-black room. It's one of the pictures you brought with you–the ones that Rafayel accidentally found and teased you about the day before you left for the training camp. You would usually hide them inside the drawer of your nightstand after your roommate caught a glimpse and almost spat out her tongue in surprise. But tonight, you decided to leave his framed picture out to find little comfort in those sunset eyes.

"Wait! Your boyfriend is Rafayel?! The renowned artist, Rafayel?? No way!!"

You chuckle quietly as you remember your roommate's wide eyes and open mouth when you asked her to keep it confidential, nodding at you excitedly. While you feel proud to be his girlfriend, causing a fuss at your training camp is the last thing you want.

''...only two weeks left... hold on, MC.''

Another sigh escapes your lips in an attempt to embolden yourself. You grab Rafayel's photo from your nightstand and give the framed version of your beloved a gentle kiss before pressing it against your chest, feeling your heart flutter at the mere thought of reuniting with him in just a few weeks. Soon, your heavy eyelids eventually close, and you drift off with the frame pressed against you, succumbing to a short, yet deep sleep.

Another week passes while your daily routine in the camp is dominated by lectures, training sessions, and intensive sports units. Like every Monday morning, you and the other hunters have to hand over your phones to your supervisors to avoid distractions and stay focused on the tasks ahead. So when you finally get your phone back on this Saturday noon, you can't wait to talk to your beloved and see his beautiful smile again.

After taking a shower, you are dressed neat as a pin, prepared for a long video chat as you tap on his name in your contact list, your heart beating in anticipation.

No answer.

''Huh?'' You frown and take a quick look at your watch. It's exactly 2 p.m., the time you both agreed on for your chatting dates. He usually picks up after the first ring and greets you with his cheerful smile, but this time is different.

You try again, but the line seems busy, and after a while, your call goes directly to his Voicemail, only adding to your confusion. The rest of the day is clouded with restless thoughts while you try to call him over and over. Your mood switches from worry to frustration, then back to sadness and irritation as you consider all the possible reasons why he stood you up.

The other hunters left hours ago to spend their free day in the town center while you declined the offer to join them and stayed back to talk to your boyfriend. But now, you bury your sulking face in your pillow and feel like crying as your phone remains silent. His phone was dead–no messages, no emails, nothing.

Hours have passed, and you're still lying on your stomach with your phone next to your pillow. As you hear your roommate enter the room after her trip to the city center, you reluctantly turn onto your back, forcing a smile to hide the disappointment you feel.

''You missed something! There was a little fair today with all kinds of snacks and street food!''

You listen patiently as your roommate excitedly describes the food stalls she and the other hunters visited, but in reality, you just want to sulk in peace.

''Oh! You wouldn't believe it! I saw someone today who resembled your boyfriend!''

You perk up your ears and look at your roommate with a surprised expression, lifting your upper body onto your elbows slightly. Rafayel? She must be mistaken.

''You're seeing ghosts; there's no way he could be here.'' You say, shaking your head with a slightly irritated smile as you shift your gaze back to the ceiling with a deep sigh. He probably just fell asleep after pulling another all-nighter and forgot to charge his phone.

''Yeah, I guess so. Because when I approached him and asked for an autograph, he drew an ugly pot on the back of my hand instead!'' Your roommate pouts as she lifts her hand, showing you the drawing. ''I mean, if he really were your artist boyfriend, he could've done better than a hideous doodle, right?''

''A pot?'' Your eyes widen as you recognize the drawing on your roommate’s hand. You jump up from your bed and grab her wrist, taking in the fine strokes you know so well. The resemblance is uncanny…

''This… this is not a pot! It's a fish head!''

You grab her shoulders, shaking your roommate desperately as your cheeks flush. Could it be? Was he really here? ''Where did you meet him? Around what time? Please, I need to know!''

After a brief description from your puzzled roommate, you storm out, rushing through the hallway of the dorm. Your heart races as you leave the camp, desperately trying to find your beloved. It's already getting dark outside and you wrap your long cardigan tighter around your body. Although the days are summery and warm, the evening chill sets in, signaling the change of the seasons. You just pass through the huge gates of the camp when you suddenly feel someone grab your shoulder from behind. You flinch at the unexpected approach and turn around to stare into a pair of familiar pink-blue eyes–the ones you've been longing to see.

''Gotcha!'' Rafayel grins at you, his bright smile wide as he takes in your surprised expression. He is holding a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers with the wrapping paper slightly crinkled.

''Rafayel!? It’s you! It’s really you!'' Your heart skips a beat as you look at him, your eyes wide, hoping they aren't just playing tricks on you. After all the yearning, he's really standing in front of you, his lilac bangs swaying gently in the evening breeze as the last rays of light quietly disappear behind the horizon. ''What… what are you doing here? Why are you here?''

''Why am I here? For you, dummy!'' He pokes your cheek, still amused by your baffled expression, trying to play it cool while his own heart bursts with joy at seeing you again. He hands you the bouquet with an apologetic smile as he notices the crinkled wrapping paper. You feel his sweaty palms brush against yours and can't help but wonder if he's a bit nervous. As if reading your thoughts, he clears his throat and quickly pulls his hands away.

''I heard the song you texted me last Sunday, and while I couldn’t ask you directly, I spent the whole week analyzing the lyrics.... and then eventually came here to ask you personally.''

You feel flustered as you recall sending him the song, not expecting it would lead to such a big gesture. Quickly, you change the subject. ''What about the fish head you drew on my colleague's hand? What was that for? You stood me up on our date earlier, and your phone was off! You could have at least texted me!''

Rafayel's bright smile fades into a sheepish grin as he rubs the back of his neck, lowering his head slightly. ''Yeah, my bad. I was thinking about a surprise visit, but everything went wrong. I spent the whole day arguing with your authorities and making calls, but they're super strict and don't allow anyone inside their camp. So, I had to find a way to make you come to me instead... without ruining the surprise, you know?''

He rubs his chin thoughtfully, eyes drifting to the side as he recalls the day's events. ''Then my phone died, and I overheard a group talking about the tough training while I was in town, buying a power bank. I was about to approach them when a girl tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was your boyfriend. That's when I knew she must be the roommate you mentioned. But I didn't want to draw attention, so I doodled the same pot ehm-I mean fish head that you once drew on my hand. I knew you'd recognize it and come out to look for me!''

As you listen to him, your eyes widen in disbelief. All this trouble–just because of a song you sent in a moment of emotion?

''Okay, but Raf... you could have simply asked me on the phone why I sent you the song. It's actually pretty straightforward. The lyrics are about missing someone, and...''

Your words get caught in your throat, heat rising in your cheeks. Shifting your gaze away, you nervously fiddle with your sleeve, trying to come up with something that would feel less embarrassing to confess.

''…and? And what, cutie?'' Rafayel raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes, his smile softening. It's clear you're struggling to finish your sentence with your cheeks turning pink as you avoid his gaze.

''Let me help you. After analysing the lyrics and playing the song on a loop for hours, I concluded that someone must be madly in love to send a song like this during the early morning hours. After all, that’s what the title says… 'Can't Stop Loving You', isn't it?''

He leans in and gives you a soft peck on your warm cheek, catching you completely off guard. ''Now that we've solved this mystery, there’s something else I need to know…''

Your heart nearly skips a beat as you look up at him, still flustered, lips slightly parted. He's so close, that you can feel his breath on your flushed face, stirring something deep inside you. You gulp and nod, waiting patiently for the words to form on his pretty lips.

Rafayel's lips are inches away from yours, and his beautiful eyes darken as he whispers, making your knees go weak. ''Tell me… do you really memorise every freckle on my back?''

Another lyric reference. Great.

With an amused chuckle, he suddenly pulls away and winks at you, a smug grin on his face. You groan and roll your eyes, trying to hit his chest playfully, only for him to catch your wrist midair.

''You! Stop teasing me!!'' You pout, feeling a little disappointed that he fooled you and ruined the romantic atmosphere. But you can't help but chuckle along with him. He always knew how to brighten your mood and keep you on your toes, and you adore that carefree side of him. But as the hand holding your wrist loosens it's grip, your smile falters when you notice the watch on your wrist–it's almost 9 p.m. You need to be back before 10 p.m. to avoid getting into trouble for breaking camp rules.

''You didn't need to fly all the way to me, Rafayel... I'm so happy to see you, but… I need to go back in a while. You troubled yourself for nothing…'' You lower your gaze, a sad smile on your lips as you feel his slender fingers grip your chin, gently lifting your head to meet his gaze.

''What else am I supposed to do when I want to see you? It's not like I can cast your name like a spell and have you magically appear before me, huh?'' he says, as his expression softens. Rafayel locks eyes with you, cupping your cheeks in his freezing hands. While you can feel his thumbs caressing your skin, you almost tear up from the rush of love swelling in your heart as you realise how long he must have been waiting for you outside for his hands to be this cold.

He leans in, resting his forehead gently against yours, whispering softly as his hands find yours, holding them firmly. ''I heard you calling out for me and I followed... simple as that. And I would do it again, even if it means seeing you for only a moment…''

Your grip on the bouquet tightens as you look up at him, emotions flooding over you. A warm smile spreads across your lips as you finally find your voice again, your words faintly whispered.

''We still have one hour left... let's go somewhere warm, shall we?''

Thank you for reading!

Cheri 🍒

[chlerc]

— summary; he believed you when you said you would fly over to celebrate his birthday with him, excited to see your face. but he didn’t know it’d be that easy for you to leave him without a trace.

pairing — jude bellingham x f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 1630.

content — angst, like bad / sad ending. they don’t get a happy ever after ending. long distance friendship, she’s always here and there for him but never stayed long enough. secretly pining over each other

NAVIGATION + author’s note: wrote this when i was sick, the motivation and inspiration always strikes here. always putting my boy jude through the angsty stories lol

song recs for this fic — no one noticed.

The glow of Madrid’s street lights flickered in the corners of her vision as she adjusted her scarf, weaving through the late-night crowds that filled the cobblestone alleys of the city. Her heart beat in time with her steps, a rhythm that both grounded and unsettled her as she drew closer to his building. It felt surreal to be here — a place she’d only known through pixels and video calls, a place that lived solely in the stories he’d woven for her across distant lines.

The door swung open, and there he was — his face breaking into a grin, eyes bright with delight and something softer, something she couldn’t name but felt resonate in her chest. Without a word, he pulled her into an embrace, his arms wrapping around her so tightly that she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek. “Didn’t expect you’d actually come,” he teased, though his eyes held a glint of something softer, something more grateful.

“Best birthday gift I could ask for,” he added, his tone light, yet his hold unwavering as though he feared she’d slip away. Pulling back, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his gaze lingering, studying her as though to make sure she was truly there.

“Well,” she murmured, brushing past him with a faint smile, “someone’s got to make sure you don’t spend your birthday alone.” She took in the room with its modest decor, the hints of his presence scattered in the form of art pieces, records stacked near the player, and an open notebook on the desk. He chuckled, closing the door behind her. “I told you, I don’t mind being alone.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, feigning an indifferent shrug. “But what if I do?” Her gaze met his, holding his for a moment before she turned away, pretending to inspect the records as though she hadn’t just travelled across countries to be here.

They settled into the evening slowly, an awkwardness blanketing them at first, a product of shared screens finally giving way to physical space. But eventually, laughter eased through the gaps, filling the quiet corners of his small apartment. They shared stories, exchanged quiet jokes, and lingered over glasses of wine that made the room feel warmer, the air laced with the scent of familiarity and anticipation.

As the evening deepened, they ventured out onto his balcony. The city lights stretched before them, bright and steady, twinkling with the same allure that had first drawn her to his words, to his enigmatic charm.

“Look at this view,” she whispered, her voice softened by awe. He shrugged, gazing at her instead of the skyline. “It’s just a city. It’s better with you here.” She smiled faintly, caught between the quiet euphoria of his words and the nagging reality that lingered at the edges of her mind. She knew she would leave soon, knew that this moment would end. The thought hung heavily between them, unspoken.

“Will you stay long?” he asked, finally breaking the silence, his voice a low murmur against the hum of the city. She exhaled, her breath curling in the cool night air. “I don’t know. Long enough, I suppose,” she replied, her words as carefully crafted as they were vague.

He reached out, catching her hand in his, a simple touch that anchored them amidst the unsteadiness of whatever this was. “You’re always like this,” he said, half-smiling. “Appearing out of nowhere and then vanishing like you’re a dream.”

“Maybe I am,” she murmured, meeting his gaze. “Maybe that’s all this ever was.” For a moment, the conversation hung heavy between them, layered with questions and fears neither dared voice. But then he laughed, and it softened the tension, bringing them back to a more familiar, playful place. “Well, if that’s the case, I suppose I should make the most of this dream while it lasts.”

Jude draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, the silence between them thick with unspoken sentiments. “You know, I don’t say this enough, but I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted, his voice a murmur in the cool night air. She looked up at him, searching his expression, and a pang of something bittersweet tugged at her. She wanted to stay in this warmth, this certainty, but she knew that come dawn, she would have to slip away.

“I’m glad I came too,” she replied softly, her voice barely a whisper. Jude’s gaze was soft as he looked down at her, thumb brushing her cheek as though memorising the contours of her face. For a brief, irrational moment, she wanted to tell him everything — that she wished she could stay, that she didn’t want to leave this, leave him. But she said nothing, instead resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, each beat a fleeting reassurance she knew would fade by morning.

They leaned into the quiet closeness, the moments blurring together as the evening stretched on, her laughter mingling with his in the warm light of the city. Time drifted, unbound, until the faintest hint of dawn crept across the skyline. She glanced at him, seeing the calm softness in his eyes as they drifted shut, his breathing even, and she knew that she’d fulfilled whatever it was she’d come to do.

When he finally awoke, the first rays of morning spilling through the curtains, he found himself alone. Her scarf was still draped over the back of a chair, her perfume lingering faintly in the air. He blinked, sitting up and looking around, the remnants of last night’s laughter still fresh on his lips. But the silence pressed in, weighted and still, like a final goodbye.

On the table, she’d left a small note, folded neatly with her handwriting sprawled across the front:

“Happy Birthday. See you in the spaces between.”

He laughed quietly, though it sounded more like a sigh, tracing his fingers over the words. The irony wasn’t lost on him. She’d become his obsession, his mystery, a presence as elusive as the dreams he could never quite hold on to. And though he didn’t know when — or even if — he’d see her again, he couldn’t shake the feeling that wherever she was, some part of her would always be right here, lingering in the traces she’d left behind.

With a soft sigh, he let the silence settle around him, her absence heavy in the early morning light. Her scarf, still draped over the chair, seemed almost like a placeholder, a faint whisper of her presence against the cold, hard truth of her departure. She’d left, slipped out as quietly as she’d arrived, like a carefully crafted illusion dissipating with the dawn. He ran his hand over the note she’d left behind, her familiar handwriting tracing the words: Happy Birthday. See you in the spaces between.

He let out a quiet laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh, his thumb brushing over the ink, her words as gentle and evasive as she’d been. There was a charm to her mystery, an allure to the way she moved in and out of his life, almost as though she existed just beyond his reach, a mirage in a desert he didn’t know he’d been wandering. But this time, there was an ache behind his eyes, a quiet longing that tugged with a new intensity, as though some part of him had grown tired of the chase, of these small doses of her presence that he could never quite hold onto.

A sudden impulse tugged at him. He grabbed a pen from his desk, leaning over the small note she’d left. His fingers brushed the page as he wrote, the words forming slowly, deliberately, almost as though he was afraid of what they might reveal. 

“Don't leave me without a trace; it can’t be that easy please,” he wrote, his handwriting messy and sprawling in contrast to her neat scrawl. He paused, watching the ink dry, knowing she’d never see his reply, yet there was a strange comfort in writing it all the same, as if committing his thoughts to paper might somehow reach her, wherever she was.

He lingered over the note a moment longer, then folded it carefully, tucking it into a drawer with a sense of finality he didn’t quite feel. The silence that filled the room felt heavier now, loaded with the words left unsaid, the moments that had slipped through his fingers like sand.

In her absence, he found himself tracing back through their time together, each memory sharp and vivid, yet fleeting, like flashes of light in a darkened room. He recalled the way she’d laughed under the city lights, the way her voice had softened when she’d whispered, “Maybe I’m just a dream.” It was as if she’d known she would leave, had planned it all along, and he couldn’t decide whether to be grateful for the moments they’d shared or resentful of the empty space she’d left behind.

Yet he knew that her departure, as difficult as it was to accept, had always been part of her. She was as unpredictable as the wind, as elusive as a distant star, and perhaps that was what had drawn him to her in the first place. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting to the window, to the soft glow of morning light that seemed to fill every corner of the room with a quiet, bittersweet warmth.

And though he knew he would miss her — miss her laugh, her voice, the quiet moments they’d shared — he couldn’t shake the sense that some part of her would always linger here, an unspoken promise hanging in the air, caught between the spaces of their fleeting time together.

[embarrasingmf]

living dead girl

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x reader

SUMMARY: Sam’s been noticing the scars on your arms and decides to ask you about them.

A/N: the scars on the arms r not intended to be sh, but if you want to, you can pretend that there are sh scars! also, this is still written gender neutral despite the work title! I based it off a song which I’ll put down below:

WARNINGS: partial nudity (reader takes off their shirt, not for intimate purposes), sam is kind of awkward in this, not proofread, kind of got lazy at the end😭😭

WORD COUNT: 836

Sam had recently found himself growing curious.

Curious of the scars on your arms that he had taken more notice of.

Now it’s not like he blatantly ignored the faint scars that were there, you just never really allowed them to be seen to the naked eye.

You always wore shirts with long enough sleeves so nobody would see them.

But with warmer weather approaching, you knew it would just be annoying to wear long sleeve shirts in eighty degree weather.

That’s when Sam started noticing the scars. They fascinated him. He wanted to know every story behind them.

—————————————————————————

Weeks had passed since Sam started noticing the scars. He watched as the shirts you always wore got shorter and shorter in the sleeve area, revealing more of the taut marks there.

He felt himself growing antsy, he wanted — no, he needed to know all the stories behind them.

But, of course, he never had a good chance to ask.

He for sure couldn’t ask either Dean in the room, Sam would never hear the end of his elder brother’s teasing!

So, instead he opted for not-so-patiently waiting for a better opportunity to ask you.

—————————————————————————

After a couple days, that perfect opportunity arose.

You, Sam, and Dean were in Reno, Nevada for a case. A simple ghost case.

The only reason that Sam was able to ask is because Dean insisted on checking out the crime scene by himself.

Sam was eternally grateful that Dean actually went to the crime scene by himself that time, because now it left him with you.

It took him at least thirty minutes to find the courage to get up and approach you.

Frankly, he was kind of afraid you’d push him away, reject him and maybe even tell him off for even asking.

You were cleaning some weapons for the future hunt while sitting on the bed, Sam was sitting at a table with a laptop and lore book in front of him.

Sam inhaled through his teeth, finally standing up and walking over, sitting down beside you.

You briefly glanced at him before focusing back on the gun you were holding.

“Hi,” Sam greeted, rather awkwardly, in fact.

“Hey.” You finally put the gun aside and focused on Sam, turning to face him. “What’s up?”

“Uh, so- I have a question.” Sam mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

You hummed, nodding a bit. “Alright, shoot.” Waving a hand on his direction, you motioned for him to continue.

Sam flashed you a small smile, taking this as a good sign. “Okay, so, y’know those scars on your arms right?” He gestured to them, just for good measure.

You followed his line of sight, nodding slowly. “Uh-huh?”

“Well, I was wondering if you could tell me the stories behind them..” Sam uttered, clearing his throat and looking off to the side.

You laughed quietly, gently tapping Sam’s leg to get his attention before pointing to three consecutive marks on your forearm that looked like claw marks.

“These are from a Wendigo hunt, it was the first hunt I went on solo.” You murmured, looking up at Sam to make sure he was listening.

“This is from a Ghoul.” You pointed to another scar by your elbow, where it definitely looked like a blade made some sort of incision.

—————————————————————————

After a few minutes of you pointing out scars and blemishes that were on your arms, Sam noticed you pause. Like you were debating something.

“What’s wrong..?” Sam inquired quietly, his eyebrows knitting together in a look of concern.

“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong.” You assured with a smile, “I was just wondering if I should take my shirt off or not, I have more of ‘em.” You explained, obviously referring to the scars.

Sam cleared his throat, trying not to look too eager at the prospect of seeing even more of the marks on your skin.

“Oh, yeah, you can do that if you want!” Sam nodded reassuringly.

You chuckled, quickly discarding the piece of fabric and letting Sam look.

Sam almost felt his jaw go slack at the new expanse of skin. He wanted to run his fingers over every blemish, every mark. Sam even let out a quiet “woah..”

You couldn’t help but feel a little flustered under Sam’s intense stare, and you quickly pointed to a scar near your collarbone to distract yourself.

“This is from a Rabid..” You explained, before turning so your back was in view.

“This is from another Wendigo hunt, got too close to the fire.” You let out a dry chuckle as you felt Sam gently run his fingers over the faint burn scar on your back.

“They’re all so.. beautiful.” Sam mumbled, his eyebrows raising.

“Thanks..”

Realizing that Dean might be back soon, you quickly put your shirt back on and went back to cleaning as Sam decided to help you. His mind still lingering on the idea that you trusted him enough to be so vulnerable with him.

—————————————————————————

reblogs r appreciated! :))

[sardonic-the-writer]

VALENTINES DAY WITH THE SBI <3

• You hadn't been with the Sleepy Boys for too long, being a guest they had taken in until further notice had that affect after all, so when valentines day rolled around, you hardly noticed at first

• The only thing that clued you in at first was the way Wilbur used it as an excuse to share his plethora of sappy love songs

• Not to say he didn't already do that on the regular—he just had an excuse this particular day

• Chances are he ushers you, Phil, Tommy and Techno onto the living couch while he sits opposite all of you, strumming a tune about a mysterious stranger that had stolen his heart (often times maintaining soft eye contact with you all the while)—only pausing at the end to enthusiastically ask your opinions

• "I think it was shit. Where's all the men and the money and the riches Wil."

• "Tommy, I swear to god mate. One of these days, Wil's gonna smack you upside the head and I'm not gonna do anything about it."

• Tommy has spent every valentines day so far pretending to throw up at every romantic gesture he happens to stumble across according to Phil. Even if it's just a pink heart.

• He had been doing this ever since anyone could remember apparently, so it was to be expected at this point

• Secretly, though, he likes to think about everyone's reactions to him giving them a flower. He'd give you a daisy specificly, probably braiding a few stray ones into a flower crown for your hair like Tubbo had taught him. But he eventually decides that would be too babyish, and resorts back parading around the house while whining about love and how stupid it was

• Unlike Tommy's drastic change in behavior however, the only difference between normal Techno and Techno on valentines day, is that if you asked him enough times, he would read some of his greek mythology books out loud to you

• "Heyyyy Techno. Nice weather were having huh?"

• "S litteraly stormin outside (Y/n)."

• "Uh. Well. Rain, er, am I right?"

• "Jus' get in here so I can read to you already."

• Funnily enough, he always chose romance stories. Or at the very least, the few happy ones that existed in mythology, just for you

• The tale of Eros and Psyche happened to be your favorite. And each time you asked, Techno would turn back to the beginning to read it again, a faint smile on his face at your own

• At one point Wilbur had passed by Technos room, momentarily seeing through the cracked door the sight of you laying your head in Technos lap gently as he read to you

• Later when he brought it up to the pinkette, he had gotten a book thrown at his head and was told to never mention that to Phil

• Phil himself spends most of valentines day looking out the window and up into the sky quietly, petting one of his crows slowly. Like he was waiting for something. Someone.

• But in the meantime, while he waited, Phil was perfectly happy with his wild family and the stranger from the woods they had taken in, heart bursting with love for them all

[ozzgin]

I'd like to say, you're really great at describing and eliciting all the possible things that could happen to each character and how you keep their original character attitudes. ( It makes me want to cry tears of joy 😭💋) btw, can i've request for Lee hoon,Jeong sana,Jeong soorim, kim Jae-Hoon and Jeong mindeok with lovely girly caring s/o ( Separate!!! like a request about Inuyasha and sesshomaru made by @kawaistrawberry21 ) please .....🙏🙏🙏

When I tell you I didn’t even recognize the names at first, that’s how little I considered Suicide Boy for a request, haha. Very unexpected, I haven’t seen the manhwa mentioned much outside of 4Chan so I’m really glad!! Thank you for the idea and the kind words!

(I’m not sure if by s/o you would’ve preferred a gender neutral approach or a male reader instead, so please let me know if I should replace some pronouns. Using ‘boyfriend’ won’t change the story in any way.)

Suicide Boy Characters x Caring! Reader Headcanons

Featuring Hooni, Soorim, Sana, Jaehoon and Mindeok. And a caring, girly reader! TW: May contain mentions of self harm!

Lee Hoon

Hooni was extremely nervous around you. A complete wreck. I mean, look at you! You’re so pretty and friendly and always have such a bright aura around you. He felt like he’d dirty it with his miserable gloominess. So imagine his shock when you asked him out after school. It was, in fact, too much for him to handle, so he promptly fainted on the spot. You panicked and searched his phone for a relative or friend and found Soorim’s number at the top of the (very small) list.

Hooni wakes up on his dusty old mattress. It was a dream, after all. He rubs his eyes and looks up to see you and Soorim chitchatting next to him. Soorim notices he’s awake and a relieved smile flushes his face. “You got (Y/N) really worried. Way to treat your girlfriend, huh?” Both you and Hooni blush at the same time and you sheepishly wave your hand in denial. “Oh no, please don’t misunderstand. I did ask Hoon out, but I didn’t receive an answer yet.” The blonde boy looks at you with a confused tilt of the head before glancing back at his pale friend. “Didn’t you say you have a massive crush on (Y/N)? Ah, that’s probably why you fainted then.” He lets out a loud laugh. Hooni clenches his teeth, mortified. Good Lord, this brainless idiot! Not only did he bring (Y/N) to this dirty, greasy apartment, but he also has no filter when talking. He can’t live with this embarrassment. He’ll wait until you both leave and bring out the noose. Being dead is the only way out of this. (He was too scared to do it and ended up browsing the internet instead)

You’ve always noticed Hooni’s bandages and had your suspicions, but didn’t know how to approach him about it. One day you ask Soorim to take you home (Hooni anxiously begins to wonder if you’re already tired of him) just so you can ask if he knows about his friend’s…condition. The blonde ponders your words a little before confessing that it’s quite obvious after all this time, but he’d rather just quietly support Hooni and hope that one day it will get better. You nod in agreement and exhale in relief, grateful to know that he was not alone before meeting you. Now it’s your turn to spoil your disheartened boyfriend. You love taking Hooni out to nice restaurants and frequently gift him things he shows interest in. You like to pretend you didn’t pay much attention when Hooni tells you about an item he hopes to afford one day, only to surprise him later with it. “H-how did you know I wanted this?” “You did? I had no idea! Just thought it’d be nice”, you respond with a warm smile.

It doesn’t take long for Hooni to come out of his shell. He somehow landed a beautiful, girly and loving partner and almost instantly his bullies stopped harassing him (he doesn’t know you threatened them in the hallway, you can be quite scary if angered). Here you are, sitting in his lap and feeding him snacks. His eyes wander to the partially cracked mirror in the bedroom and he stops to stare at his reflection. A smug, cheeky grin appears on his face. Maybe he’d been popular and handsome this whole time and he just didn’t know it. What other traits had evaded his knowledge due to his lack of confidence? The potential is limitless. He begins to daydream, picturing himself in a sparkling, expensive suit, swiftly opening the door to a luxurious car. “Hooni! I can’t believe you bought us all these things. When did you get so successful?” You ask, amazed. “Anything for my lady”, the dark haired boy exclaims, guiding you in. Maybe life won’t be so bad after all if he has you with him.

Jeong Soorim

Soorim is very popular and often has to turn down girls that confess to him. He’s not really interested in dating and would rather just spend time with his friends instead. And that’s how he happened to meet you. He was utterly speechless when he knocked on Hooni’s door and a cute girl opened it instead. For a flash moment he almost wondered if Hooni ran away and a new renter took his place. The gloomy boy, however, poked his head from behind the girl and cheerfully encouraged him to come in. “I was just playing cards with (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Soorim, the one I told you about.”

He hesitantly sat down and listened to the story of how they met. He had to leave aside the fantasy lies that Hooni peppered in to avoid embarrassment. The gist of it was that his bullies had once again cornered him during lunch, only this time you made your way through and did your best to persuade them away. You’re one of the popular and pretty students, so the boys just fidgeted with some excuse and walked away. Soorim glanced at you and thanked you for taking care of Hooni. He could feel a nagging throb of the heart that he didn’t really recognize. It was only after going back home and mentioning you to Harim that she pointed out the obvious: “I never heard you talk this enthusiastically about a girl before. Are you sure you don’t have a crush on her or something? Oh, I know!” The older sister clapped her hands in anticipation. “Ask her out so we can go on double dates, you and (Y/N) and me with Hooni!”

Soorim did end up asking you out. He can’t deny that you’re very good looking, but what really won him over is your kind heart. He likes spoiling you and holding your hand in public to let everyone know you belong to him. Hooni was a little jealous at first, worrying that you would now go on to be a power couple, outgoing and popular, and leave his pitiful self behind. Both of you, however, make sure to hang out with him frequently and invite him out. In fact, Hooni feels a little bit like a child between his protective parents. Sometimes he imagines Soorim and (Y/N) as a middle aged, married couple, still looking out for him and treating him to pork cutlet. He mentions his little dream to Soorim and he chuckles lightly. “I wouldn’t mind growing old with (Y/N), that’s for sure.”

Jeong Sana

Sana is a little bit annoyed at you for interfering with his lonely manhwa protagonist. How did Hooni even manage to get two popular students glued to him? He has no interest in using you for his new comic, anyways. Walking around and flashing your girly act to everyone you meet. Hmph! You’d be the boring, stereotypical main character that’s nice to everyone and has no other redeeming traits.

That is, of course, until he accidentally drops his shoulder bag and the rough sketch pages cascade out onto the floor. Before he can react, you’re already kneeling down and helping him gather the scattered paper. “Wait a moment… did you draw this?” He gulps and gives you a half-nod, awaiting to be scolded. “Whoa, this is really great! Are you a professional or something?” His eyes glisten and look up at you. Did you just praise him?

Sana is addicted to praise and affirmation. It was enough for you to acknowledge his skill and he’s already melted into a puddle at your feet. Maybe you weren’t that bad, after all. Have you always been this pretty? He feels like he’s looking at a completely different person. You notice the change in his behavior and are just glad he’s started to accept you.

Once you start dating, Sana becomes very clingy and needy. He always had to fend for himself and is the one keeping his family afloat, so he loves the feeling of being cared for. For once in his life, he’s the one being spoiled. He feels special and appreciated and couldn’t be more grateful for you. Mindeok couldn’t believe it when he was greeted with a bright, smiling Sana. “Having fun with your games~?” He almost called the non-emergency line to ask if his little brother might have gotten some sort of concussion until you shyly followed the young boy and introduced yourself as his girlfriend.

Of course, he won’t just constantly rely on you without giving anything back. Sana earns a lot of disposable income due to his popularity with publishers. More than consumable gifts, he enjoys saving for nice, expensive trips with you. This way he can get away from his slob brother and enjoy spending quality time with his darling.

Jeong Mindeok

You work at the publishing office and often see the blond young boy coming by to drop his latest comic chapters. You can’t help but follow him from your window as he departs and notice he’s always by himself. Does he have busy parents? Lives alone? You begin to think about it more than you’d like to admit. The next time he’s here you ask if he’d be interested in one of your bento lunches and he eagerly accepts. “Oh my, I’m glad you like it. Do you not eat homemade dishes that often?” You cautiously inquire. “Mostly takeaways. My slob brother survives on instant noodles” he mumbles between bites.

The last statement made you too curious, so you offer to prepare something in the boy’s kitchen so they can have a proper meal for once. And that’s how you first met Mindeok. He was taken aback when he saw that Sana brought home someone his age. Isn’t he a little too young to date a?!- Ah. You work for the publisher. That’s a more reasonable explanation. You invite him to join you as you cut the vegetables and ask idle details about his life. Sana is rather unhappy that you’re giving his leech brother so much attention, but Mindeok is thrilled to be treated like an adult. Especially when the conversation partner is someone as pretty as you. After you leave, he can’t get you off his mind.

Sana is baffled upon hearing that you two started dating. What you see in that man is beyond his comprehension, but he hopes you might motivate him at least a little bit towards some sort of independence. Mindeok is even more determined to make it as a pro gamer. You are kind, loving, beautiful, and you have your life put together. He doesn’t want to drag you down in any way. Just wait, he’ll make it big and then he’ll spoil you with the lavish lifestyle you deserve. Until then can you pay for his order, too? He…uh…he forgot his wallet again.

Kim Jaehoon

Jaehoon met you in cram school, where you asked him if he wants to be your study partner. He quickly learned that you’re smart, perhaps even smarter than him, though he would never admit to it. To his utter dismay, while walking towards the station with you, he bumped into Soorim and Hooni and was forced to introduce these menaces to you. He tried to quickly usher you away, so you wouldn’t become any more involved with potential distractions. “I didn’t think Jaehoon would have friends besides us”, Soorim noted with a smirk. “(Y/N), right? We were actually going for karaoke right now, why not join us? You’re done with cram school, aren’t you?” Jaehoon instantly retorted in anger that you’re a top student and have no time for nonsense, but you just laughed and grabbed him by the elbow. Why not have a little fun?

Fantastic. Now you’ve joined the pack. He’s not very pleased about it and would prefer if you could just focus on studying, but you and your damn caring nature just can’t say no. He should’ve known when he saw you spending half of your time helping other students with their homework instead of doing yours. You’re weak against these diversions. What irritates him even more is that, despite all of it, you still get better grades.

Unlike his rivalry with Soorim, Jaehoon doesn’t really feel much jealousy. Sure, it does frustrate him that you’re a better student, but that’s more of a motivation for him to try harder next time. He doesn’t dislike you. Quite the opposite. He’s grown fond of your little acts of service. He’s always been the reliable one of the group. And now you show up with an extra bottle of water (“keep your brain hydrated!”), a cutesy, decorated lunch for both and some notes that you took specifically for him. Sometimes before bed he’ll look over your scribbled pages and flashcards. The little heart doodles on the margins, the pink highlighter… rather puerile and childish, but the fact that you carefully compiled them for him makes him blush with giddy delight.

Jaehoon can sometimes forget that outside of school you’re also his girlfriend. He’s used to seeing you in your school uniform, with a fat stack of books under your arm, so when you show up to your date in a very cute, complimenting outfit, he becomes extremely flustered and can barely mumble a hello. He’s very awkward during the first dates and it takes a long time for him to not be overly formal. “May I hold your hand right now?”, “Is it an appropriate time to kiss you?” You find his clumsiness in romance extremely cute.

[moonselune]

Heyo!! How about a shadowzel and wyll x astarion playfate with their respective kids (Xan for shadowzel, Lily for Wyllstarion)

yesyesyesyesyes i actually loved writing this so much i rewrote it about five times ahaha

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowzel + Wyllstarion | Little Dragons

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The meadow outside Rivington was alive with warmth and sun, each blade of grass bending to a gentle breeze as it wove through the group, carrying laughter and the faint, high-pitched roars of Xan and Lily. They were playing nearby, crouching low and scampering through a patch of wildflowers that had become their makeshift lair. The two five-year-olds dashed around, imitating dragons with all the ferocity their small bodies could muster, “breathing fire” and casting spells of their own invention as they clawed the air and roared.

Shadowheart, lounging on the blanket beside Lae'zel, cast an amused glance at the children, their fierce game of "dragons" already filling the air with shrieks of delight. With the kids occupied, she let herself settle back, stretching her legs out as she watched Xan dash across the grass, his arms stretched out like wings, while Lily chased after him. Shadowheart gave a small, incredulous laugh as she looked around at their makeshift family.

“Hard to believe we’re here,” she mused, fingers lacing through the sun-warmed blades of grass, “keeping track of… our children. Do you ever stop and think how surreal it all is?”

Wyll, seated beside Astarion, leaned back and gave a wistful smile. He followed Shadowheart’s gaze to Lily, who was now roaring and jumping in an attempt to mimic some form of "flying," with Xan giving pointers on how to land. “Surreal? Absolutely. There are times I can’t believe it myself. I mean, Astarion teaching her archery lessons every morning so she can ‘be more dangerous than daddy’? I’d say that’s when it hit me.”

Astarion chuckled, reclining in a way that seemed to bask in Wyll’s teasing as he cast his partner a sideways smirk. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Wyll. I’d hate for Lily to go without proper survival skills. Besides,” he added with an arched eyebrow, “she’s nearly better than you at this point. Do try to keep up.”

Wyll gave him a playful shove, rolling his eyes as he muttered, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say she already does…”

Lae’zel, observing the children’s play with a mixture of amusement and pride, joined in, glancing at Shadowheart. “Speaking of ‘survival skills,’ Xan’s latest obsession with mimicking my every move has resulted in… let’s say, a ‘small’ dent in the training grounds.”

“Oh?” Shadowheart turned, brow quirked, and Lae’zel gave her a grin that was almost sheepish.

Shadowheart let out a knowing sigh. “Yes, I think I heard about his ‘innocent slip’—you know, the one where he tried to swing your sword in the sparring circle and ended up toppling half the weapon racks?”

Lae’zel couldn’t hold back her laughter, shaking her head. “The boy has spirit. I’ll give him that.” She watched as Xan pretended to charge a powerful spell while Lily crouched low, ready to jump like a dragon pouncing on its prey.

Each of them was already so deep in shared stories that they missed the quieter tones of Xan and Lily’s voices drifting from a few feet away. The two had gathered a pile of sticks and leaves, their heads close together as they whispered, faces lit with a conspiratorial gleam. Xan, brows furrowed in intense concentration, recalled one of the simple incantations Shadowheart had used to summon a spark of light. He didn’t know exactly what words she’d used, but he knew the feeling—and that was enough, right?

Meanwhile, the group continued their exchange of lighthearted mishaps and laughable parenting moments.

“So there we were,” Astarion was saying, eyes glinting with his characteristic playfulness, “searching high and low for Wyll’s prized cloak, only to find Lily had ‘borrowed’ it to wrap up a family of mice she found near the cellar. When she told me, ‘they looked cold, Papa,’ I nearly melted on the spot.”

Wyll let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned into Astarion. “It’s true. It’s almost impossible to keep her from adopting every creature she finds. If it were up to her, we’d be living… well—probably at your cottage, Shadowheart. Room for every mouse and stray in Rivington.”

Shadowheart groaned but couldn’t hide her smile. She picked up a nearby bread roll and tossed it at Wyll, which he caught with a mock-salute.

Lae'zel just buried her head in her hands, shaking her head as she pleaded with them.“Stop. You’ll give her ideas. Last time we had guests, she wanted to invite the barn cats inside for ‘polite company.’”

Wyll and Astarion both laughed, their amusement rippling through the group as each story became more outrageous than the last. It was only when a faint crackling sound interrupted their conversation that they paused, glancing around in confusion.

“Did you all hear that?” Wyll asked, squinting as he turned back toward the children.

At the same time, Shadowheart gasped, her eyes widening as she spotted the source of the noise: a small blaze flickering and spreading from the pile of sticks and leaves Xan and Lily had crafted into a 'dragon’s lair'. The two were staring, transfixed, as small flames began licking up the branches, casting a small ring of smoke into the air.

“Oh, no, no, no!” Wyll dashed over, his cloak already in his hands as he swatted at the flames, gritting his teeth against the heat. Shadowheart was right beside him, muttering a water incantation under her breath that caused a light rain to pour down over the blaze, extinguishing the flames just as they started to spread toward the base of a tree. The kids, however, only looked up in mild surprise, as if they’d just been interrupted from some perfectly innocent game.

Lae’zel scooped up an awe-stricken Xan, whose eyes were round as saucers, still dazzled by his accomplishment.

“We did it, Ma,” he said, half-pouting, half-beaming as he stared up at her. “We made real dragon fire!”

Lily, meanwhile, was scurrying toward Astarion, her small hands gripping his cloak as he lifted her with a bemused smile, despite the exasperation in his eyes. “Little one, what did we say about ‘playing with fire’?”

“But Papa,” Lily pouted, pointing down at the charred remains of their ‘hoard,’ “we were dragons. And dragons have fire.”

Wyll shook his head, his stern expression softened by a reluctant smile as he ruffled her tangled hair. “Yes, they do, Lily. But dragons are very careful with their fire. So we must be too, alright?”

Xan looked up at Lae’zel with wide, imploring eyes. “We just wanted to be real dragons, Ma. Like the fierce red ones you talk about at bedtime!”

Lae’zel’s face softened, and she gave him an approving nod, a rare look of tenderness in her gaze.

“You are indeed fierce, Xan. A true warrior. But next time, we keep the fire pretend, understood?” She lifted him with ease, setting him onto her shoulders, and he let out a triumphant roar as she paraded him around like a victorious soldier.

Finally, Wyll shook his head with a chuckle, folding his arms as he watched them, a glint of pride in his eyes.

“We might not be the best examples of parenting,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head.

“Oh, nonsense,” Astarion quipped with a smirk, his voice teasing yet affectionate. He glanced over at Lily, who was now happily playing with a strand of his silver hair, a satisfied smile on her face as she hummed to herself. “We’ve taught them resilience, at the very least.”

Shadowheart snorted, shaking her head. “And pyromania, apparently. Can’t forget that one.”

With the fire extinguished and the children thoroughly chastened, they finally settled back down on the blanket, a bit more wary of their little ‘dragons’ but equally charmed by the fiery spirits that reminded them of their own.

As they continued sharing stories, their children nestled between them, each of them aware that while parenthood was full of unexpected challenges and near-disasters, these small moments of chaos were the ones they’d cherish the most.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Just stab me in the heart already because i died at how cute this came out. Hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[manonblaqkbeak]

Iced Tea and Writing

Day 17 - Hobby @rowaelinscourt

just some more fluff lol with a lil mention of sex at the end.

cw: none words: 900+

enjoy!! xx

{ also, there's a tiny easter egg in this fic if you've looked at rowan's wiki page ;) }

Aelin was hiding something, and Rowan was determined to figure it out.

She wasn't scheming anything, he was confident in that, and it wasn't a policy that she was hiding from him because while he was busy rebuilding Orynth and Terrasen's army and navy, councilmen and women still managed to find him and rattled off about their plans that they wanted his support on.

He listened, because it was his duty as king-consort to do so, but he always told Aelin about it before they unwound from their day.

That very thing happened yesterday, and as Rowan walked into his shared study with his mate, Aelin slammed shut a drawer in her desk and turned to face him fully.

He could have sworn that there was a faint blush on her cheeks. He had asked her if she was alright and she said she was, but he sensed the white lie.

And that was when his curiosity was born.

So, with a rare day off for both of them, he told Aelin that he would soon join her in the Queen's Garden but for now, he was pretending to be busy when in actuality, he was going to shift and fly into the garden to see what his wife was up to, as he saw that bundle of paper under her arms this morning, with an ink-pot and glass pen in the other.

Using his magic, he made sure to send his scent the other way as he perched within an orange tree, the branches bursting with fresh, ripe fruit.

He heard the scribble of the glass pen against the paper, her beautiful face scrunched in concentration. She was lying on a thick picnic blanket, a tray full of fresh fruits, cheeses and iced tea laid on top of it.

A pitcher of iced tea that was now empty and Aelin realised it. Huffing, she got up, holding the empty pitcher as she left to refill it.

When he heard the garden door close, Rowan swooped down and read what his mate was hiding.

And became so engrossed in it that he didn't hear Aelin's approach until she hissed in surprised several minutes later.

“Buzzard, put that down!” Rowan didn't and kept on reading. Aelin rushed forward, putting the iced tea away before she extended her hand towards him, silently asking for the papers.

Childishly, Rowan didn't and even extended it into the air where she couldn't reach. His smile was wide enough that Aelin could count nearly all his teeth, his canines gleaming in the sun.

“You're writing a romance story, based on us?”

Aelin scoffed. “It isn't based on us, you territorial beast.”

Rowan's smile grew. “The Fae male is called Raonn, and the half-fae female is called Ayla, how else am I meant to interpret it?”

“It's just a coincidence, Rowan.”

“Raonn is an inch shorter than me, with white hair and hazel eyes and powers of water and invisibility and Ayla—”

“I'm aware of their powers buzzard, as I wrote them.” Her hand was still stretched out, flexing her fingers to hand the papers over.

“Why did you hide it from me?”

“I didn't hide it, I just...kept it locked up from prying eyes. And it's just some stupid scribbles—”

“It's not stupid,” Rowan said, interrupting her. “It's good Aelin.”

“You're just saying that.”

“I'm not,” he insisted, meaning it. “It's descriptive without droning on, the imagery is clear. It's good,” he promised her.

Aelin smiled sweetly at the truth she sensed in Rowan's words. “It's still not based on us.”

Rowan hummed and handed her the papers. “Whatever you say, Fireheart.”

Rowan joined her on the picnic blanket, leaning against the same orange tree he used to hide in. Aelin leaned against his shoulder, handing over the tray of fruits and cheeses. Rowan picked out what he wanted, which he ended up just giving to Aelin as she kept stealing them-pay back for not handing over the papers straight away, most likely.

“I just wanted to do something different,” Aelin said eventually. “After dealing with demon hordes and politics, I just needed to do something that didn't involve the world being at stake.”

“I understand,” Rowan said, “it's good to have a hobby.”

Aelin looked up at her mate, his eyes thoughtful as he stared at her. “You should take up a hobby, too, like drawing. You're good at that.” And he was, her tattooed back was proof of his skills.

His smile from before returned. “Maybe I'll draw Raonn and Ayla, give you some more inspiration. Or,” he begun to say as Aelin opened her mouth to again deny any similarities, “I could draw you in your gold nightgown.”

“I have other colours, you know,” she said, now running a lazy hand up and down his thigh and her mates dark eyes zeroed in on her hand. She had a whole closest full of nightgowns, all different colours and cuts and fabrics. She kept them locked away, however, as she liked to surprise him.

“I know, but it's my favourite.” Which was an understatement, because whenever she wore metallic gold, Rowan fucked her so hard that afterwards she saw stars. “And maybe, right now, I can give you inspiration in the physical sense.”

Aelin snorted as Rowan softly placed her on her back and did give her ideas for her story for later—although she would still deny that it wasn't based on her and Rowan.

Having a hobby was indeed a very good use of her time.

[circusinthewalls]

SFW Ghost Ramblings - 18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS DNI

(CW: References to Past Sexual Assault, Implied Suicidal Ideation | Therapy Dog Hybrid! Reader | This is Reciprocal Pt. 2) [Masterlist]

You hide it well. The profound ache in your heart that's come with seeing him like this. It's like your mind is on fire. You can only imagine how he feels. Being outside only does so much to cull the sourness emanating from him. Faint, but undoubtedly there. Cortisol.

That's right. Good dog.

Your nose crinkles as the instinctive praise rings through your mind, a distant memory brought to the forefront. Enough of that then. This isn't about you.

Simon's pistol is back in the armory, the keys to the building in your hand. You're not even sure that he's registered yet that he gave them over to you. After all, you're certainly not authorized to have them. Though you suppose that can be dealt with later. There's a necessary conversation to be had with the Captain come the morning, anyways.

Sliding your hands into your pockets, you continue on in your little trek with the Lieutenant, trudging about in the cold on some aimless path to who knows where. Just the crunch of the gravel breaks the silence now, each of your steps a little lighter than his. He has a gait like he's off kilter, and for once you hope it's a past injury, rather than inner turmoil that's made him so unbalanced.

"Do you like the cold, Ghost?" You give a half-glance back in his direction upon asking the question. "Personally I find the weather up north a bit much for my tastes."

He merely grunts in acknowledgement. Maybe because he knows you're better suited for it than you're pretending to be, but it's not like it particularly matters. A grunt is better than nothing. A response, even if small, is something you can work with.

He's caught up to you now, easily able to fall in with your more relaxed stride since you've slowed down to tell whatever little story.

"More rain than snow where I'm from, but I don't think I mind it," you prattle on. "Quite like the rain. The sound of it, the smell of, mm.. Believe it's called 'petrichor.'"

You keep on for some time with Simon listening in silence. Tragedy still feels like it's woven into his nerves, but this helps. Your late night musings soothe the tension that's been ingrained in him since years ago.

When he steps out in front of you, you finally quiet, watching as he pulls open the door to the barracks. You hadn't meant to end up here, but you suppose the night was bound to come to a close like this regardless.

"Always find your way home, don't you?" he rumbles with amusement.

Somehow you can swear there are hints of a smile hiding beneath that mask. Wonder if he'd ever let you see it.

It's not until you're both in his bed that you really think on it more. On this, on.. all of it. And there's that ache settling itself deep in again. You watch him try over and over to get comfortable, sat there on the edge and peeking back over your shoulder.

Off comes the shirt, only about halfway before he hesitates in tugging it back down. Then again and once more after that. He doesn't even notice you're looking, and when that occurs to you, you think better of it.

In the end, his shirt stays on, and you lay across his chest like always. Only tonight, he doesn't roll over to curl in around you. Try as he might, those hands still claw at his spine, and having his back to the mattress is the best he can do to dampen the sickly impressions left behind.

He's thankful for the pressure your weight provides, showing it with the slow circles his hands draw between your shoulders. You're not sure when, but somewhere between the waking world and total slumber, his heartbeat settles. A gentle flutter thrumming beneath your ear.

He's probably dead, actually. And even if he wasn't, you'd pull down every star in the sky, fold up the very edges of the universe if you had to, to make it true.

Anything.. to give the Lieutenant peace of mind.

Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

---------------------------------------------------

Holy shit this took?? So long to write. Hope y'all can forgive me for not getting this out sooner. There was a lot I specifically wanted to get down in this second part in particular while also making sure that a topic like grieving your own past loss of autonomy and battling with the unfairness of knowing that your abuser is potentially just out there doing fine got the respect it deserves.

This topic hits very close to home for me personally, so I really felt it was important to get it... right? If that makes sense.

Anyway, some lighter stuff coming soon. Have a good day folks and enjoy. o7

[grlbutnotwood]

hello my children I've come bearing treats, eat up

(I wrote a little fake dating hurt/comfort ficlet about mulder and scully posing as a married couple because I had a shitty week)

Many people are certain that the living room is the heart of the house.

Many people, statistically speaking, are also idiots.

The white modest two-story house in this sleepy neighbourhood would actively disagree - if it was capable of communication, that is. It had seen a lot of things, experienced in a way that felt like a warm embrace, a gentle presence in the sunlit beige walls.

1954. Sarah and Ben recieved a phone call on that kitchen - their granddaughter was born. Sarah at the sink dropped the glass she was washing, Ben standing beside her cried for the first time in six years (and no, crying over soap operas doesn't count if it's at night and no one sees it).

1967. James cried in his wife's arms as wave after wave of grief came over him. He'd lost his brother years ago, and yet it never really goes away, does it? The night started with them going through the photoalbums over tea and ended with Josie on kneeling at her husband's chair, stroking his hair as he shook silently on her shoulder.

1978. Leslie and Dot, both culinary school graduates, competed over who makes better dinner. To their neighbours, outside, they were best friends that were going through a rough time together. But on that kitchen, affection was easily given, kisses on cheeks, smiles so wide it hurt and dirty jokes that would have gotten them kicked out of town. The only place they could be truly what they are.

And now. Dana and Fox. Or what was that they called themselves? Doesn't really matter. They weren't there to settle somewhere normal, nondescript - rather they were there exactly because of everything wrong with it, just blowing through like a particularly awkward hurricane.

"One more comment about the weather and I'm shooting myself in the face," Scully let out a harsh breath, massaging her temples as she leaned her elbows on the counter just next to the sink. The commotion of the housewarming party melted away as the door to the kitchen was shut, soft footsteps approaching her.

Slender frame of one Fox Mulder leaned on the kitchen counter inches from her, the familiarity of his cologne and enveloping soothing presence like a balm to her fried nerves.

"I would strongly advice you not do that," his voice was low and teasing, his shoulder bumping into hers. "That face is too pretty to be wasted."

"Not your best one."

"Not the worst one either."

"True," she nodded and turned to face him, looking up at him - all bloodshot tired eyes and pale face. "You know, at one point I thought I might want all of this, suburban routine, three kids and a dog, the whole package. But now I honestly feel..."

"Dishonest? Jaded? Worn out? Out of place?" Mulder supplied, not without sympathy even with a corner of his mouth quirked up in a teasing smirk.

"Fucking done," Scully countered, watching as Mulder's smirk grew into a full-on smile as if watching the sun rise. But really, hearing Scully swear was a treat.

They stood there for a moment, oblivious to the happenings of the outside world, behind this door. The air smelled of herbal tea with orange peels, lasagna and a faint whiff of cleaning products, the only source of light - the dim lamp over the sink and the street lamps outside. Scully's hair caught gold and copper, so unbearably soft in her white t-shirt and with her cheek on her fist, the golden wedding band gleaming in the warm glow of the kitchen light.

It was so easy to pretend it was his.

"Hold still," he murmured, moving ever so closely. Scully, frowning now and yet obedient, stood still as Mulder tapped the skin beneath her eye. "You have an eyelash."

And as he took his hand away to let her see it, say something cheesy about making a wish, and of course, of course - she snorted rather loudly, predicting the sickly-sweet sentiment and ruining it completely as the eyelash fell away.

"Oh man, you didn't make a wish," he whined dramatically while Scully giggled into her palm as the music drifted from the half-opened window.

This kitchen knew love, not in the rings and vows and traditionally romantic rituals, those barely mattered.

It was in shared time and bumped shoulders, secretive smiles and affectionate "haha fuck you". A dropped eyelash and a giggle.

It would still be a long time before those two realized it. But then again, statistically, most people are idiots.

[amoreuxx]

you're mine now — yjw.

tags: fluff ! ♡

it's your first time sleeping over at jungwon's dorm. he's been courting you for a while now and most people know that you reciprocate his feelings by now. heeseung and the rest of the members decided to give you his solo room to sleep in since it was too late to get home by the time the movie night ended. the members teased jungwon to sleep in the same room as you to which he hesitated but eventually gave in. so now the two of you were side by side on the bed (after asking him why he's sleeping on thefloor and telling him over and over that it's okay to sleep on the same bed). you were resting your head on his arm and the two of you were facing each other. the last movie you watched was a romance film. needless to say, there was a bit of tension between you two. you decided to pretend you were asleep so you had your eyes closed. you felt him scoot a bit closer to you until you felt a faint touch of his lips on your cheek. that made you open your eyes. that only surprised you as your faces were just a few centimeters away. "sorry, do you not like it?" he asked in a soft voice. you shake your head. "no, no. i don't mind." you watched him wet his lips and gulp. the nerves earlier just became even more anxious, anticipating something quite more. "w-would i be your first kiss, if ever?" he stuttered in his question. you chuckled at his cuteness and was about to ramble about your first kiss story. "actually, no. i've had my first kiss back in grade 11 with a classmate. but, it wasn't—" he cut you off with a peck on your lips. that shut you up. "i'm not asking you to tell me who you had your first kiss with." he wrapped his other arm on your waist and pulled you closer to him. that made your heart race. you see him set his eyes on your lips. "so i'm not your first kiss," he said, not leaving his eyes on your lips. "but i'm the only one who can kiss you now." his eyes moved up to meet yours. you gulped and nodded. he closed his eyes and leaned in and put your lips together once again. you closed your eyes as well, feeling your lips move in a smooth motion. you feel his smile in a kiss. you pulled away and see him grinning, cute dimples showing. "you're mine now." he said. you giggled. it honestly was a giddy feeling, the first time kissing jungwon. "i'm all yours." you tell him. the two of you laughed, a warm feeling both in your hearts.

[haru-chi]

Okay, let's talk about the recent Natuyuu chapter for a little bit ... and something that just moved me to tears ><

let's ignore that the appearance they teased was for the cats and not what I wanted and wished for which's fine I'm fine I knew it was impossible .. yet hoped nonetheless

the chapter was really cute indeed, but I was shocked that the Reiko's pic was gonna be addressed right after the reveal !!! that took me by surprise yet a very happy one to confirm what I was saying back then ...

but before that, the way Natsume started to realize and know for sure that that might've been Reiko by remembering his father was too much for me ...

this chapter was such a good demonstration of how much our little sunshine has grown so much emotionally ... I was tearing up seeing him trying very hard to remember that blurry memory of his father taking him to an amusement park T^T

the boy who forced the memories out of his system so as not be broken down by it .. the same boy who refused to see the only parents' picture he had so that he won't be hurt or cry when he sees them ... who always pretending to be fine talking about his real family .. who ran away from any mention of them that he just purged any faint memory he once had till the point he really forgot everything related to them despite how this act of itself was hurting him deeply ...

this same boy right now is doing his best to remember his own father .. to remember a said precious memory .. he was trying really hard something the past Natsume would never do .. but sadly, all he managed was those blurry images .. he no longer remembers his father's face .. yet he wasn't broken down or sad .. he was actually happy as if he holds something dear to him .. that even if it's blurry, even if he no longer remembers it much ... the fact that it exists no matter how faint it was was enough for him .. he does have such a happy memory inside of him afterall .. he was content by this alone .. not pain or sadness but happy to know it was there ..

I can't say it well enough how much he has grown up now ...

and when by the end he did remember this faint memory very clearly .. he didn't cry or was sad (I sure was tho) No, he was very happy as if he was above the clouds dreaming something nice ... even Madara comment that he was weirdly happy and daydreaming ...

this was just ... how to say it ... it just moved me to tears with happiness ..

and his father ... his father was such a kind loving father which just break my heart even further .... Natsume didn't cry but I cried in his place ... even tho I was also happy and proud of him so much ..

Now to Reiko ...

I really was happy how Midorikawa-sensei proved my point when I said that Natsume lacks the ability to recognize a happy Reiko because he just never seen her like that, so even when that picture was indeed Reiko Natsume's mind was like "a girl that looked like Reiko" ... I won't dig deeper for this since I already did for a bit in a different post.

"if that picture was indeed Reiko, is the reason I didn't recognize her because that was an expression I have never seen before ?? I think that smile perhaps was ...."

the way Midorikawa-sensei let Natsume realize that through his father's memory was clever yet cruel to me .. while also proving that that smile was indeed toward someone she loved (her husband) .. a kind of smile that you show to someone dear to you like the loving smile Natsume's father showed to him in that memory ...

now was the artist her husband ?? or was it a 3rd party who knows both of them, so they only captured the moment ?? in the first place why was her picture in an exorcist auction ?? I guess that the next question that Natsume needs to address now that he confirmed she was indeed Reiko :)

slowly but surely, the grandfather reveal is upon us and I'm here for it and all the pain he will bring with Reiko's full story :)

PS : a funny thought that occurred to me when Natsume was thinking " what kind of person will buy that picture I wonder?" and my mind went "who knows, maybe he will be Yorishima as plot twist" as if that shut-in exorcist will go to auctions or even leave his house for that matter xDD

[reddorkredemption]

My Blessed Son—Chapter 20

|| AO3 || Chapter List / Story Info ||  

Summary:

For years, Jack Marston dreamed of killing Edgar Ross, the man who had taken everything from him, who had ruined his life. His obsession with revenge had given him a reason to keep going. But now, after it was done, he was left lost, depressed and without purpose. He was left to navigate life alone with the unforgiving eyes of the law slowly narrowing in on him. Though he soon comes to realize that perhaps he isn’t quite as alone as he thought he would be. A continuation from the end of Red Dead Redemption 1.

Word count: ~13k

Chapter under the cut <3

Beecher’s Hope was bathed in a dim, golden light as the sun made its way below the horizon. Jack could feel the chill of night setting in, biting through his thin jacket and numbing his fingertips. He was standing around the side of the barn, a horse brush gripped firmly in one hand as he ran it over Ace’s sleek black coat. 

The faint smell of cigarette smoke surrounded him, floating over from the gazebo, where Lilly’s brother was leaning over the railing, watching him. Jack pretended not to care he was being watched, trying to— as Lilly had advised— stay calm and act normal. But as the hours droned on without any sign of him planning to leave, that became harder and harder to do. 

Tommy had been following them around, staring at them all day as they worked on the ranch chores. There was no opportunity for them to talk freely; they hadn’t gotten even a minute of reprieve. All Jack could do was keep his head down, clench his jaw, and pretend that everything was fine while his brain screamed at him that everything was definitely not fine. 

Tommy reminded him too much of the bureau agents; he had that same unnerving presence and obnoxious air of superiority. Jack knew that he wasn’t a bureau agent; Lilly had told him a while ago that her brother was a lawyer. And by the way the guy had talked about them, he didn’t seem to like the agents very much either. Still, all of that did little to assuage Jack. 

Eventually, he and Lilly had split up to work on separate tasks, and he hoped that might give him at least a momentary escape from the man’s gaze. But of course, it didn’t. Lilly was left alone to her own devices while he bore the full brunt of Tommy’s suspicions. 

His grip on the horse brush tightened, and he swiped it down Ace’s mane with a bit more force. He was nearing a breaking point; he could feel it. Chewing on his lip, he looked at the gazebo out of the corner of his eye, and as expected, he was still being watched. Jack huffed, puffing a small cloud of vapor into the cool air. He wished the guy would just leave. He couldn’t put up with all of this for much longer.

As if she’d read his mind, Lilly came into view, walking out from around the other side of the barn and marching towards the gazebo with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. He watched discreetly as she approached her brother and spoke to him. He held his breath, trying to hear what she said, but he couldn’t make out much of anything.

When Tommy didn’t appear responsive to what she was saying, she began to speak a bit more animatedly. At one point, she motioned up to the cliff behind the barn where his family’s graves were, though Tommy still appeared disinterested. Jack wondered what she’d told him.

Their short talk soon ended with him waving her off, leaving the gazebo, and heading for the house, a trail of cigarette smoke following behind him. Lilly watched after him for a few seconds, shaking her head before turning to Jack. He braced himself, freezing with the brush still resting on his horse, as she walked up to him, exasperation written over her face. 

“Hey,” she said, giving him a small, half-hearted smile. “I think it’s about time we go in for the night. Cook something for dinner.”

Jack’s brows drew together. “Okay.” He gestured in Tommy’s direction. “Is he leaving?”

Lilly sighed and pressed her lips together. “No. He wants to stay for dinner.”

“Of course he does….”

“I know. I’m sorry,” she murmured, staring at the ground. She stayed quiet for a moment before looking back up at him. “Um, I guess we’ll meet you on the porch.”

He gave a short nod in response, and she took off towards the house. Once she was a good distance away, he breathed a heavy sigh and gave Ace’s coat a final swipe with the brush. Now he had to go sit and have dinner with the guy. How fun. 

He took his time leading the horse back into the corral and tossing the brush on the workbench outside of the barn. Afterwards, he dragged his feet to the porch, where Lilly was standing in front of the door and Tommy was leaning against the railing by the stairs, still nursing his cigarette. Jack kept his head down as he neared the stairs, not wanting to catch the man’s eye.

As he climbed the first step, Lilly opened the front door and held it open for him, giving him a reassuring smile. He pulled back the corners of his lips, attempting to return the gesture, but he was sure she could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

After Jack slipped inside, Tommy approached the door, but Lilly put a hand up in front of him, stopping him from entering. She pointed at the smoldering cigarette in his hand. “You can’t smoke in here.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at her. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” she replied, lifting her chin up. “We’ve put a lot of effort into keeping this place nice; I don’t want you gettin’ ash and smoke all over everything.”

He stared at her for a moment, a mixture of amusement and annoyance written across his face, as if he were trying to call her bluff. When Lilly didn’t back down, he sighed and gave another eye roll. Turning to the side, he raised his cigarette and took a long, deep drag before snuffing it out. He blew a final cloud of smoke into the cool evening air, flicked the butt of the cigarette into the grass, and faced Lilly again.

“Happy?” he asked, holding up his palms.

She crossed her arms and stepped out of the doorway. “Quite.”

He tsked and went inside.

As the three made their way into the living room, Lilly said, “I’ll go start cookin’.” She made eye contact with Jack and motioned to the fireplace. “You wanna start a fire in the meantime? It’s a bit cold in here.”

“Sure,” he answered quietly. 

“Thanks.” She took a step closer to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed it, giving him another reassuring smile. With that, she walked away and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him alone with Tommy. 

Jack was immediately filled with discomfort, feeling that suspicious gaze boring into him once again. He tried to suppress a shiver, but it ran up his spine anyway. Keeping his eyes to the floor, he attempted to shift his focus to getting a fire started. He knelt down in front of the fireplace, stiffening when he heard shuffling from behind him as Tommy sat down on the sofa. Somehow, having an audience caused him to forget everything he knew about making a fire, and he stayed frozen in place as he searched through his memory.

Once he’d gathered his thoughts, he was able to get the fireplace lit, though it took much longer than usual, and his hands shook the entire time. All the while, those eyes remained on him, and despite the warmth from the fire, Jack felt chilled to his core.

He stepped away from the fireplace and watched it for a short moment to ensure it wouldn’t go out. Then, eager to get away from Tommy, he followed Lilly into the kitchen. He found her in front of the window, already hard at work chopping a batch of carrots for their dinner. She glanced up at him as he moved to stand beside her. 

“You okay?” she whispered, her voice almost overshadowed by the thudding of the knife.

“I’ve been better,” he admitted, equally as quiet.

“Try not to worry.”

Jack let out a short laugh. By now, she ought to have known that ‘not worrying’ was impossible for him. “It’s hard,” he said. “I can’t stand the way he looks at me. Like he’s just waitin’ for me to slip up and do something wrong.” He huffed. “He acts like them government agents.”

“He’s not a—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “But he acts like ‘em, and I don’t like him sniffin’ around here. I can’t take it much longer. He needs to go.”

Lilly paused chopping the vegetables and set the knife down on the counter before turning to face him. “He will. I doubt he’ll wanna stay the night— especially since I told him he can’t smoke in here. He smokes like a fuckin’ chimney.” She shook her head. “He’ll leave within a few hours. I’m sure.”

“And after that?” he asked, unsatisfied. “What about tomorrow? What if he comes back in the morning? And what if those agents come back to spy on us? He’ll see them.”

She looked away and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath through her nose. “I don’t know. We’ll figure that out when the time comes.” Her eyes met his again. “For now, let’s just… try to get through dinner, alright?”

He frowned and squirmed a bit. He wasn’t a fan of that plan. Too much was left up in the air; it drove him insane. “I don’t know if—”

“Everything okay?”

The pair startled and turned towards the kitchen doorway. There, Tommy stood with a hand resting on the doorframe, staring at them with a raised eyebrow. Jack froze with his arms hanging rigidly at his sides, praying that he hadn’t overheard anything.

Lilly recovered from her surprise quickly and stood up straighter, dusting off the front of her skirt. “Everything is fine.” She turned to Jack. “Isn’t it?”

Shifting on his feet, he held his breath and nodded.

“How long’s this supposed to take?” Tommy asked, motioning to the food on the counter.

“That depends,” Lilly said, putting a hand on her hip. “If you keep bothering us, it’ll be a while. Otherwise, it shouldn’t be too long.”

 “Hm.” He rolled his eyes. “Alright, then….”

Jack let out a breath of relief when he slipped back out of the doorway. 

Lilly turned back to the counter to pick her knife up. After a brief hesitation, she handed it to Jack. “Here, why don’t you stay in here and help me cook?” She dropped her voice to a whisper and added, “The sooner we get done, the sooner he’ll leave.”

Jack sighed. “Fine.”

He took the knife from her, and she slid the cutting board full of carrots in front of him. As he resumed chopping them, Lilly rifled around in a drawer and pulled out another knife for herself. She then grabbed an almost-empty bag of potatoes from the pantry and resumed her place beside him. Together, they worked on finishing dinner in silence.

Once the stew was cooked and scooped into three steaming bowls, Jack and Lilly exited into the dining room, where Tommy was already sat waiting for them. Jack set his bowl on the opposite side of the table— as far away from the man as the small surface allowed— and sat down. Lilly sat across from Jack, setting down two bowls and sliding one over to Tommy.

He looked down his nose at the food, a slight grimace appearing on his face. “Is this the kinda thing you’ve been eatin’ this whole time?” he asked with a sideways glance at Lilly.

Jack frowned and poked at his food with his spoon. This was actually one of the nicer meals they’d had lately. Shame it had to be spoiled by the unwelcome company….

“Pretty much,” she replied with a strained smile. “This and saloon food.” She took a bite and said with her mouth full, “I quite like it.”

Tommy stirred the stew, lifted up a spoonful, and examined it. “Well, you have always had… questionable taste,” he muttered, his eyes flitting over to Jack as he spoke. 

Jack slouched and stared into his bowl to avoid his gaze. 

After a beat of uncomfortable silence, Lilly asked, “So what have you been doing back home? Is work and stuff going alright?”

“Apart from all the drama you’ve caused by taking off, sure. I suppose things have been pretty fine,” Tommy replied as he continued to scrutinize the food. “We started on an interesting case a few weeks ago. Hoping to get a pretty payout at the end of it.”

“Oh, um, that’s good. How much do you think it’ll pay?” she asked, shifting in her chair— Jack noted how she’d ignored his comment about her running away.

“I don’t know. Enough.” He glanced at Jack again, a smirk playing at his lips. “Lot more than being a farmer, that’s for sure.”

Jack scowled at the comment. It was impressive how annoying this guy was, and he still couldn’t believe that he was related to Lilly. The more he opened his mouth, the more Jack hated him. He hated the arrogant way he spoke. He hated his fancy clothing and automobile and job. All of it.

Unable to help himself, he grumbled into a spoonful of his stew, “I’d still rather be a farmer. Ain’t no pride in helping the government hang people.”

Tommy’s expression soured. “I don’t recall ever saying I help hang people. Ideally, I stop them from being hanged.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “And I’m pretty fuckin’ good at it too, as a matter of fact. I’ve only been doing it for a few years, and I’ve already—”

“An arrogant lawyer…” Jack mumbled, uninterested in listening to any of his boasting. “How creative.”

As the words left his mouth, Lilly anxiously glanced back and forth between the two of them.

Tommy’s lip twitched, and he narrowed his eyes at him. “Yeah. And what are you exactly, huh?” he asked, a strange calmness to his voice. “I help people. What is it that you do? Sling shit around all day? Fuck horses?” He clasped his hands together and leaned even closer to Jack, a wicked gleam appearing in his eyes. “Run around on this dumpy little farm, hoping for the approval of a bunch of dead people?”

Jack drew back, his mouth going slack and his cheeks flushing.

He let out a small, derisive laugh as Jack stared at him, dumbstruck. “Yeah, that’s right. Lilly told me all about you.”

Lilly gaped at him and stammered, “That is not what I—”

Without taking his eyes off Jack, he put his hand up and shoved it in her face. “Hush.” Before she could object any further, he gestured at Jack and continued, “I mean, look at you. Sulkin’ around all day with that mopey look on your face like you’re some poor little lonesome cowboy from the world’s saddest, shittiest dime novel.”

Lilly grabbed his forearm and said through gritted teeth, “Stop it—”

Tommy ripped his arm out of her grasp and swatted her away before pointing at Jack. “You’ve got no right to talk down to me. Look in the fucking mirror.”

With that, he finally quit talking. Jack’s cheeks felt like they were on fire, and he bit down on his lip so hard that he could almost taste blood. He was too angry to think, much less respond, so he sat there quietly fuming as his body began to shake. 

“What?” Tommy huffed a laugh. “Nothing to say for yourself?”

Jack’s fist tightened around his spoon until his palm began to hurt. Finding his voice, he muttered the words he should’ve said hours ago: “Get out.”

“Pardon?”

“Get out,” he repeated more forcefully, releasing his spoon and sending it clattering onto the table. “It’s time for you to leave.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows and stared at him for a moment before scoffing. “Fine.” He leaned back and scooted away from the table, his chair scratching against the floor. “With pleasure.” He stood up quickly, almost causing the chair to fall backwards onto the ground. Tugging on the back of Lilly’s chair, he said, “Come on. Get up.” 

She looked up at him, bewildered. “What?”

“Let’s go. We’re gettin’ out of this dump.”

“N-No, I’m not—”

“Lilly, so help me God, I will have your ass shipped back to Boston like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Don’t test me. We’re leaving.”

She paused with her mouth agape and widened her eyes at him. She whimpered, “But—” 

“Don’t.”

Her lips shook slightly, and she pressed them together. She looked at Jack, her eyes begging him to step in, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He was too overwhelmed, too angry, so he broke eye contact with her and stared down into his bowl. 

After a moment, he heard her breathe a shaky sigh and then the scraping of her chair as she stood up. He glanced up long enough to see Tommy grab her wrist and begin pulling her towards the door. On the way out, she looked back at him, the hurt on her face making his chest ache. Unable to bear it, he glued his eyes to the table.

He stayed in that position, his heart heavy as he listened to the sound of the car start up outside and then gradually fade away as it left the ranch.

———

Lilly stared blankly forward, listening as the ticking of the clock on the wall rhythmically punched through the silent room. She was curled up in a fetal position, sinking into the plush mattress beneath her as the familiar softness of the Blackwater Hotel's silk sheets grazed her skin. Her eyelids were heavy; she had spent the entire night lying awake, frozen in that position with a thousand thoughts and emotions flying through her head.

Meanwhile, Tommy slept slouched back in a stiff, ornate armchair in the corner of the room— as if letting her have the bed for herself could in any way make up for what he'd done. He was still sitting there now; she could feel his eyes on her back. He'd been trying to talk to her all morning, but she refused to acknowledge him. Unless the words coming out of his mouth were an apology, she wasn't interested. And of course, they weren't.

Though she supposed it wasn’t her that was owed an apology anyway. She could only imagine how upset Jack was, and it broke her heart to think of him sitting all alone in that house after all of that. She wished she hadn’t let Tommy drag her out of there; she should’ve fought to stay. She should’ve made sure that Jack knew Tommy’s words didn’t at all reflect how she felt about him. But instead, she had just let it all happen. 

Lilly stiffened as Tommy began to drum his fingers on the wooden arm of his chair, matching the beat of the clock. “So…” he said with an impatient sigh, “are you gonna be finished sulking any time soon? I’m starving; I wanna go get lunch or somethin’.”

She clenched her jaw, her breathing kicking up as a wave of anger rushed through her. Biting her lip, she tried to push away the urge to snap back at him. She knew that was what he wanted, and she knew that she shouldn’t entertain him— the best thing to do was continue to ignore him. But as her anger rose, she couldn’t stop herself.

Abruptly sitting up, she turned and glared at him. In as even and quiet a voice as she could, she said, “I can't believe you.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair. “Oh, here we go.”

“You had no right. No fucking right to speak to him that way.” Her voice rose, and she grit her teeth. “What is wrong with you?”

“Oh, please. Spare me the lecture.” He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “I did you a favor.”

“A favor?” she spat, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and gripping the edge of the mattress with both hands.

“That's right.” He leaned forward in his seat, holding her gaze. “Maybe you don't wanna admit it, but I can see it. There's something very off about that boy— something very off about both of you.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “And whatever’s going on here, whatever hole you’re digging yourself into, I’m not letting it continue. I can’t.”

She scoffed. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong—”

“Just stop, Lilly. You’re not as good a liar as you think you are.”

The accusation made her falter a bit, and she broke eye contact with him. She hated him for the way he could see straight through her, and she hated herself for slipping up while talking to those government agents. He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her careless mistake, and now that he knew something was wrong, there was nothing she could do to convince him otherwise. 

But what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t tell him what was going on with the agents. She couldn’t tell him Jack had killed one of them. He would freak out. 

Seeing no good alternative, she chose to double down on her denial. “There’s nothing wrong with him,” she mumbled, staring at the floor. “You don’t know anything about him.”

Tommy let out a derisive laugh. “I know plenty. I know—”

“Whatever you think you know is wrong,” Lilly interrupted, not raising her head.

The room went quiet again, and she once again felt his eyes boring into her. After a moment, he clicked his tongue, slapped his palms against the arms of his chair, and stood up. She warily looked up at him. 

“Fine,” he said with a tight-lipped smile. “Let’s say I am wrong— which I’m not, by the way.” He crossed his arms and strolled closer to her, stopping at the foot of the bed and leaning against the bedpost. “What exactly are you planning to do here anyway?”

She glared at him, knowing he wasn’t really looking for an answer to that question.

“You wanna go stay in that dump with him forever?” he asked. “You really wanna spend your life on some shit-stinkin’ farm with some shit-stinkin’ brat who acts like he walked straight outta one of those stupid books you like to read?” He scoffed. “The hell has gotten into you? Have you lost your mind?”

Lilly pursed her lips and looked back down at the floor. It was true that living on the ranch wasn’t all fun. The endless chores weren’t pleasant— they were dirty and exhausting, and she wasn’t great at them. Still, she’d never felt happier than she did while living on that farm. The place was beautiful, and she didn’t care if Tommy disagreed with that.

She loved getting to spend nearly every day in the sun, feeling the fresh air in her lungs and listening to the birds chirping. Even more so, she loved getting to spend time with Jack. There was something special about him— something she’d never felt in anyone else before. He was the strongest, most resilient person she’d ever met, and he couldn’t even see it. Of course, he could be a bit abrasive at times, but underneath all of that, he was remarkably thoughtful and sensitive. 

The thought of him panged her heart, and her bottom lip began to wobble. Meeting Tommy’s eyes again, she croaked, “I love him.”

He rolled his eyes and wrinkled his nose. “You’ll get over it.”

Get over it? How was she supposed to just get over it? She shook her head. “I won’t. I— I can’t.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to find a way,” he said, pushing himself off the bedpost to stand up straight. “‘Cause I think it’s about time for you to go home— past time, really.”

Her heart jumped into her throat, and she drew in a sharp breath. “What? No! I don’t wanna go home.”

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to,” he snapped back. “I’m telling you that this little adventure of yours has gone on long enough, and I’m sick of it. I’ll give you a few days to get all your shit together. Then, we’re goin’ home.”

She sprang to her feet. “No! I’m not—”

“It’s not up for discussion!”

Lilly widened her eyes at him, her entire body going rigid. She searched his face, praying to find a crack in his resolve, praying to find some sign that he didn’t mean it. But his gaze remained firm. He was really planning on forcing her to go home. She felt like the floor was going to crumble underneath her feet, and tears came rushing into her eyes. 

“Oh, don’t,” Tommy warned. “Do not start cryin’. You’re not manipulating me— not this time.”

A few tears rolled down her cheeks, and she angrily swiped them away. “You’re an asshole!” She lowered her voice and choked, “I hate you.”

He drew back a bit, the slightest hint of hurt and guilt flashing across his face. He pursed his lips and shook it away. “I’m trying to protect you. Whether you wanna realize that or not.”

“Protect me how? By making me miserable? By taking away the only happiness I’ve found since Daddy died?” She let out a quiet sob. “All you’re doing is hurting me.”

“I’m hurting you?” he asked, jamming a finger into his chest. “You ever stop to think about all the people you’ve been hurting? What about Ma? Do you have any idea how worried she’s been about you? Do you know how hard it’s been for me to watch her cry over you being missing when I knew full well where you were?”

Lilly sniffled and clenched her jaw, wiping away more stray tears. Was she supposed to care that her mother was upset? After everything that woman had done— after all the years of torment Lilly had endured at her hand— she had some fucking nerve to sit and cry over her now. 

Tommy added, “Y’know, when those government fucks came knockin’ on her door, she thought they were comin’ to tell her that you’re dead. She has been distraught every hour of every day since you left.”

Looking him straight in the eyes, she responded with a callous, “So?”

“So?” he echoed, drawing back in disgust. “You don’t think that’s cruel?”

Trembling, Lilly grit her teeth. “I don’t care what it is.”

Her words hung in the room like a heavy fog, and Tommy froze, a look of horror settling onto his face. For once in his life, he seemed to be speechless, and Lilly couldn’t help but take some pleasure in that.

Huffing out his shock, he turned away from her, leaving her staring at the side of his face. When he spoke again, his voice was ominously calm: “Y’know what? I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “Tomorrow. Your ass is goin’ home tomorrow.”

All of the satisfaction she felt washed away in an instant, and her heart sank to her stomach. “But—”

“Don’t,” he growled. “This conversation is over.” He looked at the floor for a moment then gave her a cold glance. “I don’t wanna look at you anymore.” With his fists clenched at his sides, he took off to the door of the hotel room and tore it open. Keeping his back turned to her, he paused in the doorway and said, “You stay here. Maybe think about what you’re gonna say once you get home.”

With that, he stepped out into the hall, slamming the door behind him. As she listened to the muffled sound of him stomping away, she felt another wave of tears rising up inside of her. Letting out a frustrated sob, she threw herself back down onto the bed and shoved her palms against her eyes. Tears wet her hands as they fell from her eyes in rivers, unable to be held back.

She should’ve just kept her mouth shut; she should’ve quit while she was ahead instead of going and pissing Tommy off. What was she going to do now? She couldn’t go home. She couldn’t face that horrible woman again. She couldn’t leave Jack. She wouldn’t.

As her mind raced, it became harder and harder for her to breathe, and her silent tears gave way to quiet sobs. For a while, she stayed there on the bed and cried, letting all of her frustrations and fears stain her cheeks until nothing came out anymore. By the time it was over, her chest felt heavy, and the walls of the hotel room felt oppressive.

Feeling an overwhelming urge to get out of there, she stood up from the bed and headed for the door. She knew Tommy would be annoyed with her for leaving the room— he had told her to stay there— but that didn’t stop her from grabbing onto the door knob anyway. In fact, it only made her want to leave even more. He had no right to tell her what to do.

Lilly cracked the door open and poked her head out, holding her breath as she looked up and down the hall to check if Tommy was nearby. As far as she could tell, the hallway was empty, so she let out a breath of relief and slipped out of the room. She tiptoed to the staircase and descended a few steps before peeking over the railing to the floor below, once again checking for Tommy. When she was certain he wasn’t down there either, she lowered her head, hurried down the remaining stairs, and rushed out the hotel’s front door.

As she stepped onto the sidewalk, closing the door behind her, she didn’t lift her head once. Nor did she make any effort to wipe away the tracks of tears still staining her cheeks. She kept her eyes trained on her feet, which moved automatically in whichever direction they pleased. 

As she weaved through the townspeople on the sidewalk, their voices suddenly hushed, and she could feel the judgemental stares being shot her way. That wasn’t anything new, of course, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t irk her a little. She could only imagine what they were thinking— what kind of outlandish rumors they were constructing in their heads to explain her behavior. Knowing them, they’d likely assume it was Jack’s fault.

She had almost forgotten how much she hated being in town. She had gotten so used to the peace and solitude of Jack’s ranch. She wanted nothing more than to be back there again. Tears began to fill her eyes again, and she wrapped her arms around herself and sped up. 

Eventually, she made it to the docks at the end of the street, and unsure of where else to go, she climbed the steps onto the platform. By then, the tears were once again flowing freely down her cheeks. Thankfully, there weren’t nearly as many people hanging around the docks as there were by the street, and the people that were there didn’t seem to pay her any mind. 

Finding a bench beside the ticket office, Lilly sat down with her head hung and let the tears drip down onto her lap. The fresh air and cool spray from the lake were welcome changes, but they did little to lessen the weight in her chest.

After a few minutes of quietly crying, she was interrupted by a timid voice asking, “Are you okay, miss?”

Lilly looked up, meeting the eyes of a young boy dressed in shabby clothing. His brows were drawn together as he stared back at her with a sweet and genuine look of concern. She wiped her eyes and sat up straighter, mustering up a smile for him. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” 

He studied her for a moment, his lip twitching into a slight frown. “You’re lyin’.”

Her smile faltered, and she blinked at him in surprise. With an uncomfortable chuckle, she lowered her head again, focusing her gaze on the boy’s shoes, which were in much better shape than the rest of his clothing. “Well, aren’t you perceptive,” she said, fidgeting with the fabric of her skirt.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s what my pa says when I catch him lyin’ too. ‘Cept he says it a little more angry-like.” He paused. “I’m not sure he likes it very much when I tell him he’s lyin’….”

Lilly laughed and looked up at him again, sniffling. “Well, most people don’t like being called liars.”

“Huh. Maybe they shouldn’t lie then.” 

She gave a slow nod. “Yeah. Maybe they shouldn’t….”

The boy shrugged and sat down on the bench beside her, slouching and swinging his legs. He stayed quiet for a moment, staring at the side of her head as she kept her eyes forward, occasionally letting out more sniffles. 

Finally, he asked, “Say, ain't you the lady that used to play the fiddle 'round here?”

She raised her eyebrows at him, surprised that he’d remember that. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d played her violin in town— or the last time she’d played it at all. It was probably horribly out of tune by now, and the thought tugged at her heart.

“It's a violin, but yes,” she answered, giving him a sad smile. “I am.”

“Oh. What's the difference?”

Lilly pursed her lips in thought. She wasn’t actually sure what the difference was; as far as she could tell, they were the same instrument. She chuckled. “I don't know. I guess 'violin' is just what prissy people like me call it.”

“Prissy? Sorry, I don't know that word.” He didn’t bother waiting for an explanation before continuing, “But I always liked when you'd play while I was handin' out my papers. You're real good at it! I wish I knew how to do that.”

His words warmed her heart, bringing a more genuine smile to her face. “Well, thank you. That's very kind.”

“How come you don't do that no more?”

She hesitated a bit before answering, “Well… people stopped givin' me any money for it.”

“Why?” he asked. “They don’t think you’re good at it anymore?”

“I don’t know if that’s it…” she mumbled, rubbing the side of her neck. “I think they just don’t like me very much anymore, y’know?”

He cocked his head, staring at her like that was the silliest thing he’d ever heard. “Why not? You seem real nice to me.”

Breaking eye contact with him, Lilly chewed on her lip as she tried to think of a tactful explanation. She couldn’t exactly tell him that people in town were shunning her because they’d decided she was a hussy. But she didn’t want to just brush him off either. He seemed like a sweet boy.

Sighing, she slowly and carefully explained, “They don’t like some of the choices I’ve made and… some of the people I’ve chosen to spend time with. So they’ve decided I’m… improper.”

“Ohh.” He nodded then raised an eyebrow at her. “Because they got a stick up their ass?”

Lilly nearly choked and held a hand up to her mouth to stifle a laugh. That was so out-of-pocket; she had to have misheard him. Clearing her throat, she leaned her ear closer to him and said, “Sorry?”

“That’s what my pa says,” the boy explained nonchalantly. “Them rich folk got a stick up their ass.”

Apparently, she hadn’t misheard….

“Oh. Well…” She trailed off, giggling as she tried to come up with a response. She knew she shouldn’t encourage the kid to say things like that, but he wasn’t wrong. Besides, his father had already said it to him. Who was she to undermine what he’d been taught?

Shaking her head, she said between chuckles, “Y’know what? That’s exactly right; they sure do.”

He gave her a toothless grin and snickered. Then, his brows furrowed. “Are those people what’s makin’ you sad?”

“No. I don’t care about them. Not really….” She smiled at him, a twinge of sadness still present on her face. “And you don’t need to worry about me, okay?”

The boy hummed, chewing on his lip as he thought for a moment. “Oh! Are you sad about that government man?” he asked, ignoring her hint for him to drop the subject. “Lots of people are sad about that today.”

Lilly furrowed her brows at him and straightened up a bit. “Huh?”

“They said that government man that went missin’ was found all shot up and dead yesterday.” 

Her heart skipped a beat, and she stared back at him, dumbfounded. “W-What government man?” she stammered. It was a stupid question. She knew exactly who he was talking about; she just didn’t want it to be true.

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” he asked. “Everyone’s been talkin’ about it. He went on a huntin’ trip in Mexico and disappeared. Everyone was hopin’ they’d find him okay, but today’s paper said he got killed good. Ain’t never comin’ back.

“My pa says it serves him right for hangin’ around in bandit country though, says he ‘got taught a lesson’. I don’t know how he learnt a lesson if he’s dead though. That don’t make much sense to me. Does that make sense to you, miss?”

“No… not really,” she replied distractedly. “Um, what was his name?”

“Edgar Ross,” he answered, confirming her fears beyond any doubt. “He was a real big deal they say— even made it to the front page next to all the war stories. And there’s a lot of those, y’know. You gotta have heard about them…”

Lilly’s mind reeled, and as the boy began to drone on about the war, she couldn’t focus on a single word he said. She couldn’t believe they’d found him; she and Jack had been holding out hope that they never would. It was the last crutch they had to lean on. And now, it was gone. 

Her heart raced, and suddenly, she felt like a fire had been lit underneath her. She couldn’t keep sitting around feeling sorry for herself. In that moment, none of what had happened over the past couple of days mattered anymore. She needed to get back to Jack; he needed to know about this. She had to get ahold of that newspaper article and see what exactly was written— and more importantly, go show it to him.

Swallowing her unease, she cut off the paper boy’s rambling with a gentle, “Hey.” When she had his attention, she pointed at the bag around his shoulder. “Could I have a copy of the paper? All of that stuff sounds… very interesting.”

He stared at her a moment, mouth agape as he processed her question. Then, he shook his head. “Oh, sorry. I’m all sold out now.” Leaning closer to her, he opened his bag to show her it was empty. 

She sighed and whispered, “Damn it.”

“Yeah. Sorry. There’s been a lotta big news lately, and people were real interested in this one since that government man decided to die. They bought ‘em all up real fast.” He slouched. “I got a buncha money, but now I gotta sit here all day doin’ nothin’ ‘til my momma comes to get me.”

Squirming in her seat, she mumbled, “That doesn’t sound fun.”

“No. It doesn’t,” he agreed. “Normally, I don’t run out so quick. I was gonna maybe walk home by myself, but I think it’s too far. And my momma would get upset at me. She gets nervous…”

Lilly nodded along as he continued, pretending to listen as she got lost in her own head.

Where else could she get a paper? She’d passed a few people around the street reading them, but she doubted any of them would be willing to give theirs to her if she asked. They’d probably throw it in the trash before they’d give it to her. 

The thought caused a light to go off in her head, and she perked up a bit. She could just go find one in the trash. The cans scattered around the city were usually full of newspapers; it wouldn’t be hard to find one. Disgusting and unpleasant maybe, but not hard.

Determination coursing through her veins, she jumped up to her feet. The boy suddenly went quiet, staring at her with an inquisitive look on his face. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head and impatiently bouncing on her toes. “I— I hate to leave, but I just realized— I think my brother’s probably lookin’ for me.” Hopefully, that wasn’t true. She gave a nervous laugh. “I shouldn’t keep him waiting; he’s… not a very patient man.”

“Oh,” the boy said, the slight slump of his shoulders giving Lilly a twinge of guilt. Quickly wiping the disappointment from his face, he shrugged and smiled at her. “Well, that’s okay. I don’t want him to get mad at you. I know what that’s like; my pa don’t like waitin’ around neither. It was nice to meetcha though.”

“You too,” she said, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You’re very sweet. You… you’ve helped lift my spirits a little.”

He perked up at that, alleviating some of the guilt Lilly felt for leaving. She bid him another quick goodbye and scurried away from the docks, heading back to the street to find herself a newspaper. At first, her plan was to beeline for the first garbage can that caught her eye, but the amount of people around made her nervous. So she decided to go find one in a more secluded area instead.

She ended up ducking into the alleyway that ran behind the hotel, knowing the surrounding businesses kept their trash back there, and the area was usually empty. This time was no different; the only souls in the alley were a couple of stray dogs that were busy eating some creature she couldn’t recognize. The sight— and smell— made her stomach turn, and she averted her gaze.

Lilly approached the large garbage can behind the hotel, her nose wrinkled in disgust as she prepared herself for whatever nastiness would be found inside. After taking a final glance around to ensure the coast was clear, she took a deep breath, held it, and began sifting through the trash. 

It didn’t take long for her to come across a newspaper, and a quick look at the date confirmed it was the one she was looking for. Unfortunately, it also had a mysterious wet stain in the top corner, which soaked through to all of the pages. Holding onto the opposite corner with two fingers, she scanned over the front page in search of the article about Edgar Ross.

Sure enough, she quickly found it at the bottom of the page, nestled in between news about the war. The title simply read: BODY OF RETIRED BOI AGENT EDGAR ROSS FOUND IN SAN LUIS RIVER. Skimming over it, the article began with a reminder of the circumstances surrounding the man’s disappearance, which aligned pretty well with what Jack had told her. Then, it went on to explain when and where in the river he had been found and how he appeared to have been shot. Beyond that, not much detail was given. 

After that, the article went off on a tangent in which they praised Ross for his achievements and his years of service to the community and offered their condolences to his family. It then ended with a statement from law enforcement, promising to find out why this happened and bring whoever was responsible to justice. 

That last statement made Lilly’s heart sink, and her need to get back to Jack intensified. Not wanting to bring him the whole soiled newspaper, she carefully tore around the border of the article, separating it from the rest of the page.

Firmly grasping the small cut-out in one hand, she leaned over the trash can and used the other to shove the rest of the newspaper down as far as possible. Afterward, she swiped a small pile of other trash on top of it, grimacing as she tried not to think too hard about what exactly she was touching. 

“Digging in the trash, Lilly? Really?” 

The sound of her brother’s voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. Ripping her hand out of the trash can, she stepped back and stared up at him, wide-eyed.

Looking her up and down, Tommy crossed his arms and shook his head. “You truly have lost it, haven’t you? Didn’t I tell you to stay in the room?”

Once the surprise wore off, all of the anger and irritation she’d felt towards him earlier returned. “I don’t answer to you,” she muttered, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. 

He scoffed at her response then did a slight double-take as he noticed the slip of paper in her hand. He pointed at it. “What is that?”

Her heart lurched. “Nothing,” she said, curling her fist around the newspaper clipping and slipping it behind her back.

He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to her. “What do you have?”

She shrugged and looked around like she had no idea what he was talking about. “I don’t have anything.”

“Yes, you do.” He motioned to the arm hidden behind her back and marched even closer, holding his hand out. “Give it to me.”

“No.”

She flinched when he reached out and grabbed her arm, forcing it back in front of her. As he moved to snatch the slip of paper out of her hand, she turned away from him and hunched over, desperately trying to keep him from taking it. After a brief scuffle, he managed to wrestle it out of her hands, tearing off a corner of it in the process. 

Panicking, Lilly spun back around and attempted to snag it back before he could read it, but he swatted her away and raised it up over his head where she couldn’t reach it. She threw her arms down in a fit of frustration and growled, “Give it back! What is wrong with you!?”

Ignoring her protests, he held a hand out in front of him to keep her back as he lifted the paper in front of his face and read it. When he was finished, he slowly lowered it and looked up at her with an unsettled expression. “The hell is this?”

Panting, she snatched the paper back from him and turned it in her hands, examining the damage he’d done to it. 

“Lilly…” he said, his voice low. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” she grumbled, keeping her head down as she ran her finger along the paper’s ripped corner.

She heard Tommy’s breath catch, and he went quiet for a moment, continuing to stare intensely at her. “He did, didn’t he?”

Lilly didn’t answer; she tried to act as if she hadn’t heard him. 

He scoffed. “I fucking knew it. This is why those assholes came knocking on Ma’s door, isn’t it? They were looking for him. And you told ‘em he was up there, didn’t you?”

She could feel all the blood drain from her face. It was almost eerie how he managed to piece things together like that. And again, she hated him for that. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted, though the shake in her voice betrayed her. “I just thought the article was interesting.”

“Oh, cut the shit, Lilly. You really expect me to believe this is all a big coincidence? Look at your face— your whole fuckin’ demeanor! Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“Yes.”

Ignoring her, he slapped his palm against his forehead and began to pace around. “I’m impressed,” he said with an incredulous laugh. “I am honestly impressed at how royally you’ve managed to fuck up here.”

Lilly watched him with pursed lips.

He stopped and leaned against the wall of a building, running his hand over the top of his pomaded hair. “Y’know, I figured you’d get yourself into some kinda trouble— that you’d get robbed or run outta money and end up on the street.” He shook his head. “But getting yourself mixed up in some bullshit with the fuckin’ federals? I never would’ve guessed.”

She looked around, making sure no one was nearby to overhear before stepping closer to him. In a hushed voice, she said, “What do you care what I do? It’s not any of your business.”

He slapped his hands back down to his sides and looked at her like she was insane. “Not my business? Of course it’s my business.” He groaned. “God, what were you thinking? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You can’t lie to the BOI like that.”

“Well, why not?” she blurted out, frustration getting the better of her. “You lie to the cops all the time, and you tell everyone else to as well.” She crossed her arms. “I mean, you told those agents back home that you don’t know anyone in West Elizabeth, didn’t you? That wasn’t true.”

“Okay, first of all,” he said, holding up his index finger, “I didn’t lie to them. I told them I don’t know anyone from West Elizabeth. You aren’t from here, so it’s not technically a lie.”

“Oh, my God, Tommy.” She rolled her eyes. “That is such a reach! You—”

“More importantly,” he continued, dropping his voice to a furious whisper, “you didn’t lie to the cops. You purposely misled the federal fucking government! They throw people in prison for that shit!”

Lilly’s eyes widened, and she tightened her arms around herself. Getting into trouble for helping Jack wasn’t something she had considered, and the thought caused a twinge of fear to stir in her chest. “Well….” Her breath caught, and she bit her lip. “Well, I didn’t know that.”

“You shouldn’t have to. You shouldn’t be putting yourself in situations where you would need to know that.”

She stammered a bit. “What was I supposed to do?”

He didn’t answer her question. Instead, he asked, “So you admit it then?” He pointed at the newspaper article in her hand. “He did that, and you lied to those agents. Just like I said.”

Scoffing, Lilly stuffed the slip of paper into a small pocket on her shirt. “I don’t admit shit,” she snapped back. “I was asking… hypothetically.”

His hand flew to his face. “Are you fuckin’ serious right now, Lilly?”

“Yeah, I am. I—”

She cut herself off and averted her gaze to the ground. What was she doing? Why was she entertaining this argument? None of this mattered right now; it could be dealt with later. She needed to get to Jack. Lifting her head, she looked into Tommy’s eyes again and opened her mouth to tell him she was leaving. But thinking better of it, she snapped her lips shut, turned around, and walked away. 

As she sped out of the alleyway, heading for the street, Tommy’s footsteps echoed after her. “What the hell? Don’t just walk away from me,” he said. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I need to talk to Jack,” she said flatly as she rounded the corner and stepped out onto the busy sidewalk, Tommy following closely behind her. 

“No, you’re not—”

She stopped suddenly, nearly causing him to run into her, and whipped back around to face him. “Fuck you, Tommy!” she shouted, clenching her fists. “You’re not stopping me!”

He stared back at her, stunned. Then, his eyes drifted off to the side, and his face turned red. Lilly followed his gaze, finding that some of the townspeople on the street had stopped to stare at them. This didn’t faze her— those people’s opinions of her were the least of her concerns at the moment— but Tommy fidgeted a bit under their stares.

“Carry on,” he called out to them, not making any effort to conceal the irritation in his voice. “This isn’t any concern of yours.”

A mild look of shock flashed across their faces; it was clear they weren’t used to being called out for their nosiness— especially when it came to her. She had always just put her head down and tried to ignore them. This time, they put their heads down and scattered like the cowards they were, not sparing her another glance. If it weren’t for all the bullshit he’d pulled the past couple of days, she might’ve appreciated Tommy for that. 

“Nosy bastards…” he muttered, anxiously smoothing out the creases in his suit. With an irritated exhale, he turned his attention back to Lilly. “You’re not going back there; you don’t have any way to get there.”

He did have a point there. The ranch was quite a ways away, and she didn’t have a horse or any money to take a stagecoach. But he underestimated how important this was to her. She stuck her chin up. “I’ll walk.”

He snorted. “Fine. You’re gonna be walkin’ awhile.”

She crossed her arms, her determination remaining strong. “I’ll survive.” With that, she turned her back on him and took off, walking briskly down the street that led out of Blackwater. 

“You’re ridiculous!” he yelled after her. “You won’t get a mile before givin’ up and turnin’ around!”

“Watch me!” she replied without looking back.

For close to half an hour, Lilly walked along the dirt road that winded up towards Beecher’s Hope. While she had made good progress— more than the mere mile Tommy had estimated she would make it— she still had quite a bit of walking ahead of her. And she wasn’t looking forward to it. 

Her feet were already growing sore; her shoes weren’t made for walking such a long distance over such uneven terrain. Adding to that, it was chilly and windy outside, and she hadn’t brought a coat. She had to make do with wrapping her arms around herself and pulling her sleeves down over her hands, which hardly helped at all. Despite her discomfort, she continued forward at a quick and even pace. She couldn’t afford to stop; she needed to get to Jack as soon as possible. 

After a few more minutes of walking, the distant sound of a motor car’s engine reached her ears, and she quietly groaned to herself. That had to be Tommy. He just couldn’t give it up, could he? She kept her eyes focused on the road in front of her, suppressing the urge to cover her ears as the car drew closer and the sound of the engine grew more deafening. 

Over the engine’s roaring, she heard Tommy shout, “Lilly!” 

Lilly glanced over her shoulder and scowled at him before speeding up her stride, causing more pain to shoot through her ankles. “Get away from me!”

“Stop!” he demanded. “You are being so childish!”

“Piss off, blondie!”

“Blondie? Really?” 

She clenched her fists and whipped around to give him another glare. “Really!”

“You better stop!” he growled. “You’re gonna get kidnapped out here! Or… attacked by a wild animal or something! Is that what you want?”

She ignored him and sped up more.

Tommy let out a loud groan, and the car’s engine got louder as he sped up to pass her. Several feet ahead, he stopped the car, and Lilly continued towards him, slowing back to her regular pace.

As she passed by the car, he said, “For Christ’s sake, just get in. I’m not lettin’ you walk all the way up there.”

She scoffed and kept walking. Did he think she was stupid? If she got in that car, all she would get is a one-way trip back to Blackwater. “No,” she spat. “You’re just gonna turn around and take me back to town.”

“I’ll take you to your stupid brat! Just get in the fuckin’ car!” His voice cracked. “Please.”

Lilly stopped and turned around to face him. He was now leaning back in his seat, clutching his forehead with a single hand and looking utterly defeated. She scanned his expression to discern whether he was lying, but he didn’t seem to be. Still, she couldn’t be too sure with him.

She looked over her shoulder at the long stretch of road she had left to walk and scratched her sore foot against the dirt. It would be nice not to have to walk the rest of the way, and in the worst-case scenario, she could always jump out of the car. Sighing, she gave in.

Without a word, she hesitantly approached the passenger side of the car and opened the door. Before getting in, she warned, “I’m jumpin’ out the second you go off course.”

“Whatever,” Tommy mumbled with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You’re obnoxious, you know that?”

Settling in her seat, she crossed her arms and mockingly replied, “Whatever.”

Rolling his eyes at her, he sat up straight and slapped his hands onto the steering wheel. He disengaged the brake with a harsh tug and then pulled down on the throttle lever. As the car started moving again, he shook his head and grumbled to himself, “Me and my bleedin’ fuckin’ heart….”

———

Jack stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, his eyes heavy and his neck stiff from his old, flat pillow. He hadn’t managed to get any sleep the night after Lilly left, and now that the sun had been up for ages, it was clear that he wasn’t going to be sleeping anytime soon. 

He needed to get up. There were chores to do; he could only imagine how upset the horses and chickens were with their breakfast being delayed by several hours. But he couldn’t find the motivation to pull himself out of bed. It felt like there were weights on his chest and shackles on his wrists, pinning him to the mattress. He couldn’t have gotten up if he wanted to.

And truthfully, he didn’t want to. The second he left that bed— the second he left that room— he knew he would have to face the eerie emptiness of the house. All that awaited him was silence and the painful realization that he was all alone again. Lilly wasn’t going to be sitting in the living room, waiting to greet him. The house wouldn’t be full of the strong smell of coffee or the sound of her laughter.

The thought made his brow knit together in pain, and he rolled over, burying his face into his pillow. He shouldn’t have let her leave— shouldn’t have let her asshole of a brother force her to leave. What if he never saw her again? What if he was back to being alone for good?

He had left the door unlocked after she left, stupidly hoping she would come back and slip inside at some point in the night. Of course, she didn’t. How would she? For all he knew, she was already well on her way back home, hundreds of miles away. That seemed to be her brother’s plan for her, at least. 

The more he thought, the more it felt like his chest was about to tear itself in half. He shoved his face further into the pillow, hoping he could somehow snuff out his thoughts. 

Jack snapped his head up, sucking in a deep breath when the sound of a car reached his ears. At first, his heart swelled with hope. Maybe Lilly had come back. Maybe she had somehow convinced her brother to bring her back. But as the sound of the car drew nearer, the louder, more pessimistic voice in his head shot down his hopes. Realistically, it was likely just her brother returning to pick up her things. 

Or worse: maybe this time it was the bureau agents coming to get him….

He sat up abruptly, suddenly wide awake. The car was even louder now and growing louder by the second; it was obviously approaching the house. Jack squinted out the window, his vision obscured by the curtains. He was able to make out what he assumed to be the shadow of the car stopping near the barn. When the engine was cut off, and the noise ceased, a couple of silhouettes stepped out and began heading towards the house. 

He listened, frozen in place as a pair of footsteps stepped up onto the porch and approached the front door. The pounding on the door that followed made him jump. It couldn’t be Lilly. The knocking was far too harsh and strong to be her. He stayed in his bed, too afraid to get up and answer.

After a few more pounds on the door, he heard the knob turn, and the door creaked open. His heart raced, and every muscle in his body tensed until it hurt. He should’ve locked it. God, how stupid could he be?

Jack squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath as the footsteps barreled down the hallway and winced when his bedroom door flung open. 

“Jack!”

He opened his eyes. It was Lilly. 

All of his tensed muscles relaxed immediately, and his heart swelled with joy. She had come back. But all of that joy was washed away when he saw the distress on her face.

He started to ask, “What’s—”

“I have to show you something,” she said, her words quick and shaky.

As she plopped down onto the bed beside him and began rummaging through a pocket on her shirt, Jack caught her brother pop into the doorway. He clenched his jaw. He should’ve known that asshole would come with her; he must’ve been the one who’d pounded so hard on the door.

Tommy leaned against the doorframe and stared back at him without uttering a word. Jack held his gaze, glaring at him and hoping he could feel the disdain behind his stare. This staring match went on until Lilly nudged Jack’s shoulder to bring his attention back to her. 

She was now holding a small, wrinkled slip of paper in her hand. Extending it out to him, she breathlessly explained, “It’s a newspaper article. It’s…” She trailed off and broke eye contact with him. “You need to read it.”

The grimness in her tone made his heart sink. His hand shook as he took the paper from her and read the first, bolded line: BODY OF RETIRED BOI AGENT EDGAR ROSS FOUND IN SAN LUIS RIVER. He reread it over and over, wishing that the next time he read it, it would say something different. But every time, it was the same. His worst nightmare was permanently inked onto that page, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

He only managed to skim the rest of the article; all of the words blurred together as his brain started to lose its grip on reality. Though it didn’t really matter what the rest of it said anyway. That headline was enough. It made his chest ache, his vision blur, and his lungs forget how to breathe. It would’ve felt better to have been hit by a train. 

Wide-eyed, he looked back up at Lilly, and the sorrow on her face caused a strong pang to shoot through his chest. He tore his eyes away from her and began glancing frantically around the room, gasping as he tried to get enough air into his lungs. 

When his gaze landed on Tommy, who still stood in the doorway, another jolt of dread racked his body. Why was he here? Did he know? The thought made him sick, and suddenly, he couldn’t bear the man’s harsh stare boring into him. He couldn’t bear the stuffiness of his room. He needed to get out. 

Letting the newspaper article slip out of his hand and flutter to the floor, he jumped to his feet and hurried towards the door. 

“Jack, wait,” Lilly softly called after him.

Her words fell on deaf ears as he barreled out of his bedroom, receiving a bitter, “Watch it!” as he shoved Tommy out of the way.  

He slammed the front door open and stumbled outside, too frenzied to remember to close it behind him. As he hopped down the porch steps, he looked up at the sky, half-expecting to see it crashing down on him. A part of him was disappointed that it wasn’t— that the world outside was going on as normal as everything inside him fell apart. It wasn’t fair.

As he walked away from the house, he heard muffled arguing coming from inside, but in his state, he couldn’t make out what was being said. He kept going, panting as his feet led him to the one spot they always seemed to be drawn to: his family’s gravesite. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know what he expected to feel when he got up there, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

When he crested the hill and laid eyes on the shabby wooden crosses, he felt a knife go straight through his heart, slowly twisting until he hunched over and clutched his chest. Some of his panic faded, overtaken by an overwhelming sorrow and shame. Tears pooled in his eyes, and he looked away from the graves. 

Just as he’d done a few days before, Jack made his way to the edge of the cliff where he could look over the entirety of the ranch. He had been so proud of himself, so proud of all the work he’d done and how he’d managed to pull himself together. So proud of how proud his family would have been of him. But now, as he looked out over all that hard work again, it felt hollow.

What was all of it for?

It didn’t absolve him of anything. He’d still killed Ross, and he was still going to face the consequences for it, whatever those may be. He was going to be hanged or thrown in prison or worse, and that ranch would be left alone to rot again. Nothing he had done would matter. He’d still be a failure. A disappointment. A sorry excuse for a son. A—

His ruminations were interrupted when he spotted movement by the house. Tommy had stormed off the porch, and Lilly was chasing after him. Clearly, the fight Jack had overheard as he left the house was still ongoing. Tommy appeared to be heading to where his car was parked, arguing with her over his shoulder as he walked. 

Lilly kept yelling at him— though Jack was too far away to make out the words— and grabbed onto his shoulder in an attempt to stop him. When he shrugged her off and kept going, she stopped and slouched in defeat. Wringing her hands, she looked around until her gaze darted up to Jack.

She stared at him for a moment, and the desperation on her face was clear, even from a distance. It broke his heart. Then, curiously, it morphed into determination. She took her eyes off him and scurried to catch up to her brother, shouting a few more indistinct words at him.

This time, whatever she’d said stopped him dead in his tracks, and he looked over his shoulder at her. And after a few more words from Lilly, he slowly turned around to fully face her. Jack watched, confused, as the two began to speak more calmly to one another, occasionally glancing up at him as they did so. His heart thumped hard in his chest; he wished he could hear what they were saying. Or maybe he didn’t want to know what they were saying. He couldn’t decide.

When their conversation came to an end, Lilly clasped her hands together and held them to her chest in a pleading gesture. Jack’s stomach churned. What could she be asking him for? Was she begging him not to go turn Jack in? If so, what if he didn’t listen to her?

Tommy looked at the ground for a long moment, seemingly in thought. Then, his gaze returned to Lilly’s face, lingering there for a few seconds before flitting up to Jack. A chill ran up Jack’s spine when their eyes met, and still unable to bear the man’s stare, he stepped away from the ledge and turned his back. 

He returned to his family’s graves and surveyed them, the pit in his stomach growing and a lump forming in his throat. His eyes landed on the patch of empty space in between his mother’s and Uncle’s graves— the perfect amount of space for one more. A chill ran up his spine as he realized that it might not be empty for much longer.

With shaky legs, he approached the plot of grass and sat down on top of it, keeping his back to the cliff. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, pointing his face up to the sky. The wind blew over him, intensifying the chill he felt.

Despite the cold, he didn’t move. He figured he ought to get used to the spot, seeing as he’d likely soon be spending eternity there. Soon, he’d be left to the weeds, just as he’d left his parents to them. And maybe that was what he deserved.

The soft sound of the grass crunching behind him tickled his ears, and he got the sense of someone approaching him. Assuming that it was Lilly coming to attempt to pull him out of his despair like she always did, he kept his head down. There wasn’t anything she could say to make this better. There wasn’t anything anyone could say. 

He squirmed as he waited for her to speak, but for several seconds, there was only silence. It made him uneasy. It wasn’t like her to not say or do anything. Just as he began to consider that it might not be her, a deep voice muttered, “Hey.”

Furrowing his brows, he glanced over his shoulder just long enough to see Tommy staring down at him, hands in his pockets. Jack’s breathing kicked up, and irritation flushed his cheeks. What did this asshole want now? Why couldn’t he just go away? While a thousand other enraged thoughts flew through his mind, he kept his eyes forward, refusing to outwardly acknowledge the man’s presence.

Another uncomfortable beat of silence went by before the grass behind him crunched again. “So… this where your family’s buried?” Tommy asked, his tone more polite than Jack had ever heard it. He strolled by him to stand in front of the graves and paused to take in their surroundings. “It’s a nice spot.”

Jack stared at his feet and stayed quiet.

Tommy walked closer to his father’s grave. “Hm. This one’s kinda fallin’ apart.” He tapped the base of the cross with the toe of his shoe. “Y’know, you really can’t make grave markers outta wood; it doesn’t hold up very well.”

Jack bit his lip. He knew that. Obviously, he knew that. He knew how much he’d failed to care for his parents’ graves, and having someone else point it out only fanned the flames inside him. Finally snapping his head up to make eye contact with the man, he growled, “What do you want?”

The force of Jack’s response seemed to catch Tommy off guard but only for a second. He cleared his throat and hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I’m…” Huffing, he smoothed out the front of his coat and glanced away. “I apologize for what I said the other night. And because I’m… sorry”—he spat the last word out like it was poison in his mouth— “I’m gonna try to help out with this little problem of yours.”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up. He was offering to help? How? Or, more importantly, why? That was the last thing Jack had expected to hear, and it only made him suspicious. Drawing his brows together again, he clenched his jaw and looked away. “I don’t want your help.”

Tommy let out a frustrated sigh that came out closer to a growl. “Well, you’re gonna fuckin’ take it anyway,” he snapped back, that drop of politeness in his voice evaporating in an instant. “‘Cause now you’ve got Lilly all tangled up in this bullshit, and if she gets in trouble for tryin’ to protect your stupid ass, the law is gonna be the least of your concerns!”

The implication that Lilly could get in trouble caught Jack’s attention, and his heart sank. He never thought that was a possibility. Why would it be? “What?” he stammered, looking up in alarm. “Why would she get in trouble? She didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, yes, she did,” Tommy retorted with a scornful laugh. “You had her lie to a couple of federal agents. You can’t do that shit. Believe me, I’ve seen people get locked up for less.” Exasperated, he ran a hand through his hair, separating the pomaded strands into large clumps. “And that’s only what I know she did. God only knows what other trouble she’s gotten into.”

Jack’s mouth hung open, but nothing came out. He didn’t know what to say. He never wanted Lilly to get into trouble. If he had known, he never would’ve asked her to talk to those agents. He never would’ve asked her to stay on the ranch with him. He never would’ve even entertained a friendship with her. The thought of her being locked up because of him gnawed at his chest like nothing else. 

Tommy eyed him for a moment, fury burning behind his eyes, before continuing, “So whenever you’re finished moping around, crying, or… pissing your pants or whatever it is you’re doin’ up here” — he gestured around at the ground where Jack was sitting— “you let me know.”

With that, Tommy turned and stomped away, heading back to the hill that led down to the ranch. Jack stared after him, at a loss for words. There were too many emotions coursing through his body. Guilt at having dragged Lilly into his problems. Anger at Tommy’s insults. And of course, the fear of being caught and punished for killing Ross.

As Tommy reached the beginning of the hill, he bumped into Lilly, who was jogging up the hill to join them. She stopped in front of him, red in the face. 

“So can you help him?” she asked breathlessly, swatting her hair out of her face. “What are you gonna do?”

“Fuck if I know, Lilly,” he said, walking around her without a single hitch in his stride. “I don’t even know what all I’m dealin’ with here.”

She huffed. “Well, where are you going?”

“I’m going back to town,” he replied with strained composure. “I need you out of my face for a while.”

“What? But don’t we need to—”

He waved her off and continued to walk down the hill. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

She made a move like she was going to run after him, but she refrained and planted her feet on the ground as she watched him walk away. When he disappeared behind the cliff, she sighed and turned to look down at Jack. He averted his eyes, unable to look at her now that he knew how much trouble he’d dragged her into. The guilt ate him up inside.

She knelt down next to him. “Did he tell you he’s sorry? I swear if he didn’t, I’ll —”

“Yeah,” Jack mumbled.

“Sincerely?”

He grunted. “I ain’t sure about that….”

Lilly let out a sigh of exasperation and plopped down on her bottom beside him. “I can’t believe him,” she grumbled. “I told him to stop sayin’ horrible things about the ranch because it’s important to you— because it was important to your family. And he took what I told him and twisted it and turned it into something horrible, and I am so sorry for that.”

“Why?” he asked. “You ain’t the one that said it. You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Maybe, but… it’s my fault he’s here in the first place.” She hung her head. “And I want you to know he doesn’t speak for me.”

“I know that,” he mumbled.

They went silent, Jack staring off at nothing as Lilly picked at the blades of grass underneath them. After a moment, he quietly asked without looking at her, “Did you tell him? About Ross?”

“No,” she answered immediately. “Of course not. He figured it out on his own. He caught me tryin’ to get that newspaper article to show you and just… put the pieces together. I tried to throw him off, but…” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry.” 

He exhaled through his nose, trying to hide his irritation with that. “Okay….”

“But it’s fine. It’ll all be fine. We’re gonna fix this,” she stammered, shaking her head. “Tommy’s gonna help us. I know he’s an asshole, but he’s very smart. Don’t tell him I said that.” She fidgeted with her fingernails, and Jack noted the subtle trembling of her hands. 

He eyed her skeptically. “How do you know? I just heard him tell you he doesn’t even know if he can help. And ain’t he supposed to be some kinda expert? If he thinks it’s hopeless, then—”

“Well, maybe he alone can’t,” she said. “But we can. We’re gonna talk it out tomorrow, and all of us together, we’ll figure something out.”

Jack frowned and looked away. That was what she always said. Everything would be okay. Things were gonna start looking up. They’d figure it out somehow. Yet things only ever seemed to get worse, and he didn’t have much hope that this time would be any different. 

Lilly’s brother clearly didn’t like him—  and Jack wasn’t too keen on him either— why would he put in the effort to help him? For all he knew, the guy could be heading to Blackwater to turn him in to the law right now. That or he was only planning to do the bare minimum to keep Lilly out of trouble and then throw Jack to the wolves.

Until given a real reason to think otherwise, Jack could only assume he was doomed. Giving Lilly a sideways glance, he mumbled, “I’ll believe it when it happens.”

“It will,” she said. “It has to….”

[library-child]

Gimcrack

Written for day 4 of #woevember, The Bombinating Beast, created by @asouefanworkevent

The Bombinating Beast statue had always been there, among all the fragmentary plots that had led Moxie to where she was now.

After Lemony Snicket had left, Moxie remained alone in the newsroom, still smiling. The woman's faint voice came from below, then the front door was shut. At first, Moxie was tempted to run down the stairs and catch her father before he could go back to bed. He had opened the door himself. He must have talked to the woman the whole time. He might still be wide awake and on his feet when she reached the ground floor.

"Father, what's the news?" she'd ask. "Who was the woman? What did she say? Did she ask you about the old Bombinating Beast statue? There might be a mystery to it, don't you think?"

And he would beam at her, the old excitement returning to his eyes:

"What is it you know that I don't?"

"What is it you know that I don't, Father? You were going to the market, weren't you? I'm coming along. Let's catch up."

Moxie imagined this as she listened into the utter silence, her smile slowly fading. It was best to take notes as long as the event was fresh in her memory. So she opened her typewriter case, put in a new sheet of paper, and typed:

A stranger knocked on my door with an older woman who briefly pretended to be his wife. The stranger asked to see a particular item and was clearly surprised that I showed it to him."

She hesitated, her fingers still tapping over the keys. When she was little, the reporters used to talk about the fear of the blank page.

"It's daunting to create a story out of nothing," old Parker would say. "The empty sheet challenges you to push forward. It's always 'What's next? What's next?' Because, in truth, a story never ends. That's why I'm glad to be the copy editor."

Moxie felt the unease now, the white sheet glaring at her in the fading sunlight. She had been typing more than ever lately, recording everything around her. She was desperate to uphold the last remains of journalism in town. Yet she kept feeling like she was missing a vital part of the story. She could produce mountains of typed notes, adding them to the archives, old newspaper issues, and mail that cluttered the lighthouse, but it was never enough. The whole story lay hidden beneath all these words, in everything that had happened.

The statue Snicket had wanted to see now stood sideways next to her typewriter, leering at her with one hollow eye. She couldn't remember when she had last taken a look at it. She hadn't touched it six months ago when the telegram had come. She hadn't wanted to see it. Maybe she should have. Perhaps it was hiding a clue.

The eye reminded Moxie of an abyss. She'd always had the notion of an abyss lurking in people's lives or a treacherous cliff hiding in the darkness. It was one of those things everyone knew but no one spoke about. You never knew where it might lurk, and if you were not careful, you could fall or crash and be lost forever.

"Good journalism is like a lighthouse," Father used to say. "It lights up the dark so we can see where we're going. You need to look where you don't want to look. You need to hit the nail on the head."

"That's not how you sell newspapers," Mother would argue.

"That's how you change the world."

The snarling mouth of the statue seemed to mock her. "So? Do you really want to look where you don't want to look?" it asked.

Moxie glared back at it defiantly. She had been looking everywhere. She had spent days browsing through the archives, searching for clues, memories, anything that could fill the emptiness inside her. She'd get lost in old articles or letters or the notes she had taken herself since she knew how to write. Just a few days ago, she had found a story she had written when she was seven:

One night, my father and I went home by bus. A man was sleeping under a large piece of cardboard on the sidewalk at the bus stop. Some people walked by. They looked at the man, and they turned their heads away.

The Officers Mitchum came and woke him up.

"You can't sleep here," they said. 

The man said something. I couldn't hear it. His eyes were funny. He looked at the Officers, but I didn't think he saw them.

"Go home at once," the officers said. "Or we'll have to arrest you."

"I was just sleeping," the man said. "Just let me sleep."

My father stopped to take notes. Mr. Mitchum said:

"Mallahan, just let us do our job for once, will you?"

I wanted to leave.

"Moxie, why are you uncomfortable?" my father asked. "Don't turn away. Look, and tell me what you think."

She had read this aloud in class as homework to write an essay about something unusual they had witnessed. Everyone had been silent afterward. The teacher had given her a strange look.

She remembered that such a thing was rare at that time. Later, there had been many people sleeping in the streets. There had been people alone or in small groups, occupying the benches or huddling in corners, all with bottles in their hands. The Mitchums kept arresting them, but there were always more. Now, they were gone.

All those fragments formed a story she didn't fully comprehend, but it would make sense once she put it back together. If it had ever been together in the first place.

So, Moxie examined the statue from all angles, wiping the dust from its dark wooden surface. It was indeed old, so much older than the rest of the merchandise on the table. In fact, it had never been for sale. There was a recent layer of varnish on it, which made it so shiny. It must have been repainted again and again. Otherwise, it would have rotted long ago. She scratched lightly at the piece of paper glued to the small opening at the base. She wondered who had put it there and when. Probably, the paper was supposed to shield the statue's hollow inside from moisture. Or it served an entirely different purpose.

No one really knew how old the statue was or how long it had been in their family's possession. It had always been there, without anyone paying much attention to it.

There was a photograph of herself, in an old copy of The Stain'd Lighthouse , of when she had been four or five years old, playing with the statue and a doll, making the doll fight against the beast. She had worn a satin dress and shiny patent leather shoes. The caption read The Lady Mallahan .

Moxie didn't remember that moment or the photograph, but she did remember the dress. She remembered wearing it at the Ethan Frome Festival charity auction before going out into the snow and cheering the sledders on. She remembered wearing it at the Sallises' garden parties when Mother would do her hair and say:

"You are the true heir of Stain'd-by-the-Sea. The Knights may produce the ink, and all those lords and ladies may send their children to Wade Academy, but you come from the slayer of the beast, the savior, the beacon. You are second to none."

It must have been Mother who made that photograph and put it into the newspaper, back when Moxie had run up and down the stairs playing and when the clacking typewriters had woken her up and put her to sleep. Back when she sat on Father's lap as he taught her to write shorthand, always with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand and a gnawed-off pencil tucked behind his ear.

She continued searching through the boxes with the articles and photographs that had never made it into The Stain'd Lighthouse . There had been countless cover stories about the draining of the sea. Everyone complained about the salt storms, the masks, and the Clusterous Forest, but nobody ever mentioned the silence. With the swashing gone, the silence crept into every corner of the town, every street, every house, every minute. It haunted Moxie in her sleep.

The typewriters' clacking had grown fainter, and the ink had faded. Ink Inc. Is Forced to Resort to Mass Dismissals had been one of the first headlines Moxie had helped set. She hadn't really understood what that meant at the time. But she had noticed that the streets were emptier afterward. Gone were the inkworkers who had traveled to and from the machines every day. And then there were the angry crowds, sometimes even marching right past the lighthouse. Moxie watched them from the window, terrified. Never before had she heard such yelling. They were carrying banners reading Have you forgotten who has made you rich?

"Moxie, get away from the window!" Mother cried before turning to Father, who was grabbing his notepad. Standing next to him was Bourke, the head photographer. "Are you mad? You can't go out!"

"The world needs to see this!"

At that moment, a rock came crashing through the window.

By the time Moxie dared to go out alone again, the ghostly silence had settled everywhere. The shops were closing. People were moving out. Windows were smashed or nailed with wooden boards. The garbage piled up in the streets. At first, people turned their noses. Then they searched it to find something valuable. Then they searched it for something to eat or burn.

Moxie remembered Father taking her to see people in their homes. It must have been years later, but she wasn't sure. There had been a small apartment with blind windows and grime in every corner. They were sitting around a kitchen table, Father turning on the tape recorder and talking to a woman with greasy hair and dark stains on her hands.

"Been an inkworker all my life," she said. "The stains don't go off no more."

A heap of tobacco spread on a dish rag in front of her. While talking, she picked up bits of it one by one and rolled them into cigarette papers.

"You've always been one of us, Mallahan," she laughed. "And you got a cute kid. I'd adopt her any time."

If Moxie could find the tapes, she'd know when precisely this had taken place. Father had wanted to record interviews with the fired inkworkers and present their stories in the Lighthouse . He and Mother had fought a lot. She heard them at night when they thought she was asleep.

"What good will it do? It will only spread more discontent. What we need is good news!"

But the good news was gone, along with the ink and all the journalists. One by one, the people she knew left the town. Still, when Mother announced she was going to begin a new job in the city, Moxie felt as if the world had ended.

"Don't cry, Moxie, dear," Mother said. "It's a grand newspaper read in the entire country. That's where they write the big news. That's where our future lies. Once I'm settled, I'll send for you. Aren't you curious to see the great city?"

With only Father and herself remaining at the lighthouse, the silence became worse than ever. At first, Moxie was confident they could make it. He still wrote the articles and printed the newspaper by himself, even though the ink was barely readable by now. But he hardly spoke anymore. Sometimes, she watched him working the printing press without having put any letters into the case. Blank page after page emerged from the press, but Father didn't seem to notice.

That was when Moxie dropped out of school. Father couldn't possibly run a newspaper and a home without anyone helping him, and she was twelve now, old enough to support him. She was even proud of it at first. Didn't many children run their parents' businesses by now while the parents had to build a new life?

"I've been thinking about publishing my first story," she told him. "I want to make an interview series like you once did. Stain'd-by-the-Sea: A town upheld by its children . I've already spoken to Marguerite Gracq and Jackie, the mechanic. They're interested. We could telegraph the articles to Mother so she can publish them in the city. What do you think?"

Father said nothing for a while.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I'm sorry, what did you say? I'm afraid I need to go to sleep."

Father slept a lot these days. He was always tired, maybe sick. No more meals were on the table, no washed clothes, garbage piling up in the kitchen, and unopened mail on the floor. Soon, Moxie realized nothing would be done unless she did it herself.

"It's fine, Father," she said, "I can take care of everything while you get better. And then, Mother will send for us, and we'll go to the city. You'll run a newspaper again."

He said nothing.

So Moxie did run everything the best she could. It was her lighthouse and her newspaper now. She was always careful to keep her clothes tidy and her own business cards tucked into the band of her hat.

Then, six months ago, a telegram came from an unknown address in an unknown town.

I am very interested in a certain statue I believe is your home STOP. I believe it is called the Bombinating Beast STOP. If you are willing to sell it to me -

Moxie had to stop reading because her head was spinning. It took her a while to figure out what the stranger could even mean before she remembered that there was indeed an old wooden statue of the Bombinating Beast somewhere in the newsroom with all the other stuff.

"Father!"

If this didn't rouse him, she couldn't figure out what else would. He wasn't in his bedroom. He'd been out last night, and Moxie thought he'd come home late, but he was nowhere to be found in the lighthouse.

She almost tripped over him as she ran out into the backyard. He was sleeping in the cold, damp grass, covered with some old newspapers.

"Father? Father, wake up! You have to get inside. You'll get a cold."

He raised his head a little and slowly blinked at her. He didn't really see her.

"Just let me sleep a moment, dear. Just let me sleep."

She backed away from him like an abyss that suddenly opened up in front of her and would drag her down to her death if she didn't run fast enough. She leapt into the lighthouse, slammed the door shut behind her, and screamed.

The statue was still grinning at Moxie as she remembered this. All of a sudden, she itched to smash it into pieces. She abruptly snapped her typewriter case shut and headed for the staircase. Better to continue her notes in a more comfortable place. Or to leave them for now altogether.

Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps there was no mystery to any of this, and everything truly was nothing more than old gimcrack.

But then again, why should the strange boy have come here? Why would Mrs. Sallis tell such lies? Moxie wanted to meet the boy again. Who knew what they might uncover? She might find something that could save the town and bring her Father back again. Who, if not her? She was the Lady Mallahan.

[made-this-cause-why-not]

Gen V Drabble, Word Count: 588

When Marie heard the news, she was inconsolable. The headlines were everywhere: Vice President Victoria Nueman and daughter Zoe found dead. The story was terrible- the two had been killed at the dinner table, lasers slicing their bodies. The headline came a week after Victoria agreed to help. Three days after the virus went missing from her bunker. Sixteen days before Zoe’s fourteenth birthday. Marie and Jordan had already bought her a gift- two tickets to ‘The Seven on Ice’.

Jordan hadn’t tried to understand, they were just there. Together they and Emma held her as she cried. Sad at the lost her second family. Angry that it had happened. Frustrated in the fact that she could do nothing. 

Butcher hadn’t been as hurt. When he saw the news he had just sighed and said that they needed a change of plans. Everyone had stared at the man, shocked by his lack of empathy for their newfound ally. Hughie offered condolences on the man’s behalf, stating Butcher was always an ass and that she shouldn’t take it too hard. Everyone else was sympathetic, with Kimiko even offering her a sad smile and a strong hug.

A change of plans had apparently meant raising the dead. Two weeks after Victoria’s death, a mere 3 days after her funeral, Queen Maeve had come to headquarters. Not the Maeve that Marie had read about in books or seen in interviews, a supe that was strong, confident and took no prisoners. No, this Maeve was different. Still strong but in a way that seemed less from being untouchable and more from being touched living through it. This Maeve carried a gun everywhere, always sat facing windows, and wore an eyepatch.

When Marie first saw her she was shocked by the woman’s existence. She was wearing a sweater and jeans and holding two duffle bags, one for her and one for Elena- a woman whom Marie would meet later. Maeve had looked over to where she was sitting with Jordan, Cate, Emma and Sam and whispered something to Butcher. The conversation was short and ended with Butcher saying something that sounded a lot like a genuine ‘thank you’, something that Marie had never heard the man say in her two months of knowing him. 

“I’m Maggie,” she introduces. Her voice was deep, something Marie wasn’t expecting after years of watching high pitched press junkets. “I’m here as a favor to Annie, and Annie only.” Eyes flickered to the blonde women typing away on a computer. Though she pretended not to listen, Marie could see faint blush coat her cheeks. “I’m going to try and train you guys on how to kill Homelander.”

Marie's heart leapt at the words, looking to M.M for confirmation. The man avoided her eye and Marie focused back on Maggie. “You’re not a supe anymore,” Marie comments, staring into her bloodstream.

“Yeah, no shit. I had a chance to kill Homelander, to really get rid of him for good.” Maggie lets out a deep sigh, shutting her eyes tight. “But I didn’t. I took down Soldier Boy, and risked my life for that piece of shit, and hundreds of others.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “All because fucking Kansas over there.”

Annie turned in her chair, her face apologetic. “Maggie, I wouldn’t have asked if-”

“It’s fine, just…it’s fucking fine.” From beside her, Elena places a soothing hand on her arm. Maggie took a deep breath, before looking back at the group. “No going back now kids.”

(If you like this concept, check out "Maggie Shaw's School for Disgraced Superheroes" by WithFireAndIce on AO3. I wrote this before they posted their work, and would rather read their writings than write anymore on this)

[ikeromantic]

Keiji - Instructor - 🫣

For @scruffymctee a Keiji story. Featuring approx. 2000 words of that red-headed scoundrel Keiji and his lessons with Mai!

Keiji felt a flare of annoyance and suppressed it as best he could. Which was to say, no one picked up on it. Certainly not the ronin-turned-Oda-soldier that was hanging around after spear practice. He just kept asking questions, drawing the conversation out and there was no way to politely end it. 

Mai was over by the weapon rack, checking her practice spear before putting it away. There would be a narrow window of time to get her attention before she waltzed out of the room, and out of Keiji’s day. 

The soldier finally got the idea when Keiji pointedly glanced toward Mai and raised an eyebrow. “Oh - ah - I can ask later. Yeah. Umm. See you!” He backed out awkwardly, a knowing smirk on his face.

Keiji bit back a retort. He needed these men to respect him, and he had to build a relationship of trust with them. Biting their heads off for a smirk would not help, but damn it was hard not to sometimes. 

The exit was just in time at least. Mai had just put up her weapon and was on her way toward the door. She raised her hand to wave at him. 

“Hey, hold up princess.”

She stopped and turned. “What? Did I forget something or -”

“No. No, nothing like that. It’s not always something wrong.” Keiji felt his face heat as he realized usually when he held her back after class it was because she’d done something incorrectly. 

“Oh. Then . . . what is it?” 

Keiji noted the way her gaze drifted over his bare torso to his low-slung hakama and then snapped back up. Her cheeks held a faint tinge of pink. “I was thinking, if you really want to be able to protect yourself, you should learn some hand to hand. Self defense, when you don’t have a weapon.”

Which was true-ish. He had thought about it. Never mind the ulterior motive.

Mai pursed her lips in thought and then nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. I mean, I don’t always have a spear with me, right?” Her smile came in full force then, bright and beautiful. “Thank you so much for offering! When should we start?”

“I thought we could do a session today, just to give me an idea of what might be good for you to learn.” 

“Alright. I never plan much for spear-training days so I’m free.” She shifted her weight to her back foot, clearly a little nervous now that she was thinking about what training might entail. “So what do we do?”

Keiji smirked. “First lesson, don’t look so scared. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I know!” She frowned at him fiercely. “I just don’t want to look like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t expect you to know. That’s why we’re training. Now relax.” He closed the distance between them and stepped behind her. “I’m going to pretend to be an enemy. We’ll move slow, and I’ll tell you how to get away from every attack, ok?”

Mai nodded. “Ok. I think I can do that. And . . . thanks. For being nice about this.”

“I’m not nice, princess. I just figure if you’re committed to this path, we’re gonna do it right.” He felt something in his chest tighten at her words. Thanking him for being nice! Did she see him as some rude ogre? Well . . . he was. He’d acted like that to her. 

Keiji cleared his throat and tried to shake off the tension. “Ok. So I’m gonna put my hands here -” He pressed close against her, trying to ignore the way she felt, her back against his chest. One arm went around her neck and the other around her hip. “Now, if somebody gets you like this, what do you do?”

She tried to elbow him and he caught her arms with the hand at her hip, while tightening his forearm against her throat. Mai was too close to get a good kick in, especially when he slid his leg between hers. 

He let her struggle against him for a moment so she could try her instinctive movement. Valiantly ignoring how good it felt to hold her, even in this awkward way, of course. “Ok, ok settle down. You can’t pull away like you’re trying to. The best way out of this is to move back into me.”

Mai made a little sound of protest.

“I’m serious. You can use the back of your head to baaa-ahhh!” That was as far as he got when her head smashed into his nose and mouth. Keiji let go and stumbled back. His hand cupped his face where he could feel the beginning trickle of warmth from his nose. 

“Is that right?” She turned to look at him and her mouth opened in a surprised ‘o’. “Keiji! Oh no! I thought you wanted me to try it!” 

Keiji chuckled and it made his nose burble. “It’s fine. Had worse more than once. That was real good.”

“But you’re hurt!” She tugged a bit of cloth from her pocket. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine,” he argued but the blood was already dripping down his chin and she had that stubborn expression she got sometimes. So he knew there wasn’t a way out of this. Keiji dropped his hand to let her get a look at his injuries.

Mai’s expression crumpled like she might cry, but after a breath she was back in stubborn mode. “It - it looks like I split your lip. And your nose is bleeding but I don’t think it’s broken.” She gave it a poke.

“Ow! Hey! Aren’t you supposed to be helping?” He leaned back from her

“I am. I had to see if it was broken!” She frowned. “Now come here and hold still.” When Keiji did as he was told, she dabbed gently at the blood around his mouth, her satin-soft fingertips caressing his chin and his lips. 

Keiji shut his eyes, hoping she wouldn’t see his reaction to her touch. “That’s more like it,” he mumbled. The teasing would distract her, he hoped. Because he wasn’t sure what she would do if she realized how much he genuinely liked her. Probably run away. She was a smart girl, after all. And she had half the Oda warlords wrapped around her little finger. Probably most of their vassals too. 

“Mmmm, got you pretty good here.” Mai’s words tickled his cheek. She was so close he knew if he just barely shifted forward, they’d be kissing. If not for his busted lip . . . “I think I have something that will help.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on, it’s in my room.”

Keiji let her pull him along the halls, barely paying attention to anything they passed. Her reaction to hitting him was adorable. It wasn’t serious enough to merit more than washing his face of the blood and stuffing a bit of cloth in his nose if it didn’t stop. But she was so concerned. 

“Ok, sit here,” she gestured as they stepped into her room. 

He sat where she pointed and looked around while she fished for whatever it was that she thought would help. Mai’s room was pretty nice, not as opulent as he’d expected for an Oda princess, but artfully decorated. A few subtle touches that lent it a comfortable feel. His eye was drawn to her work table, where she had a lamp and her current project set out. 

Mai settled across from him, so close she was almost sitting in his lap. That brought his attention back to her quickly. Her lips were pressed together as if in deep concentration as she grabbed his chin in one hand. “It looks like your nose stopped bleeding. I’m going to wipe you off first, ok?”

“You know I can do this myself right?” Keiji’s grin made his lip tear open a little more. “You’re not my mom.”

She scowled. “No I’m not. But I did it so just - just let me help.” 

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t. I came here. I’m sitting still.” He rolled his eyes. “Should I play the part of trembling vassal, grateful for a maiden’s tender care?”

“Please don’t.” 

Keiji made his eyes wider and lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. “Oh, princess. Your healing touch is like satin flame, burning me with your beauty. I could die in this moment, happy, because you have deigned to notice me.” The words weren’t even a lie. 

Mai’s expression was interesting. Lips pale from being pushed together so firmly, probably in annoyance. Cheeks pink with a heated blush. Cheeks tight from held laughter. She didn’t say anything for a moment, then she sighed as if deeply disappointed. “Can you not just accept a little kindness from me? I feel really bad for hitting you in the face.” 

“I -” He paused on his snarky reply. She had a point. Could he just accept it? “Fine.” 

She smiled at him. “Thanks.” Then she carefully cleaned the blood from his face. 

Holding still through it was a torment. He couldn’t help but notice when she brushed against him. Her leg against his, her chest bumping into his arm, her fingers grazing his cheek. Keiji barely felt the actual cloth. 

When she finished cleaning him off, she brought out the strangest thing. It was a little red and pink tube, made of some sort of glass? Or maybe it was stone. There was shape on it like a strawberry. “This stuff will keep the skin on your lips soft while the split heals. I use it every winter.” She shrugged, “Or I used to? I guess when I use this one up I’ll have to figure something else out.”

She popped the top of the tube open and out wafted the scent of spring strawberry. Keiji’s eyes widened. “What is that?”

“Umm. In my hometown, we call it chapstick.” She set a finger at the edge of his mouth. “Don’t talk while I apply it.”

He nodded. Keiji wasn’t sure he could say anything, not with her practically leaning on him like this. 

Mai pressed the tube against his lips. “You might want to lick it off, but don’t, ok?”

Keiji naturally had to lick his lip the moment she said it. The flavor wasn’t like strawberry at all and he grimaced. “Ugh!”

“I warned you,” she laughed. 

“Yeah, you did.” He smiled back at her. In this moment, it felt like she was more than just his student. It felt like she was his friend, perhaps more. He wanted more so badly. Keiji nearly confessed to her then but his pride stopped him. She would say no - had so many reasons to reject him - and it would ruin what they did have. This. Whatever it was.

Mai seemed to pick up on the melancholy behind his grin. She touched his cheek lightly. “You’re going to have a bruise.”

“Not the first one.” 

“But the first one I gave you.” She looked almost sad. Her fingers traced a line down his cheek and along his jaw. 

Keiji caught her hand and almost brought it to his lips before he realized it. “You make it sound like you’re planning more.” That brought the desired laugh from her, a return of her smile. 

“If we do more self-defense training, I guess I might.” 

He squeezed her hand and then let go. “We need to do more training if you’re going to drag men you barely know into your room to spend time with you all alone.” 

“H-hey! I know you.”

“Do you?” He pushed himself up so that he loomed over her. “Are you sure?”

“Pffft, sure enough.” She smacked his arm. “Enough to know you’d never hurt me. You’re a friend. And I’m not afraid of you.”

Keiji wanted to tell her she should be. He wasn’t a kind man, or a nice one. He was full of a bottled rage that turned everything sour. And even if he didn’t hurt her on purpose, she’d get hurt. But he didn’t say any of that. He did something much worse. He kissed her forehead, leaving a faint pink outline of his lips on her skin. “A friend, huh?”