#I feel like this every time I read a new chapter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

claramelooo · 22 hours ago

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Hey, babies! Let's go to a another chapter (penultimate chapter)! To write this chapter all i needed was a sad playlist, beign on my period and one KitKat, can you believe that?

If you want, I can make available the playlists that helped me create the story.

Now, enjoy it <3

FEEL FREE TO FEEL

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warnings: ANGST, ANGST, ANGST, HOMOPHOBIA, CHRISTIAN GUILT

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem Reader

Summary: The consequences of your actions arrive.

VELVET CHAINS

Consequences

The last month had been an emotional rollercoaster. The time at Wanda’s house had been intense, almost surreal, like a dream you never wanted to wake up from. But, like all dreams, it came to an end. Returning home brought reality back, with controlling parents and suffocating expectations. You and Wanda kept talking, but something had changed.

She didn’t text as much as before. The calls, which used to be long before bed, now barely lasted 30 minutes. And even when you took the initiative, her responses became colder, shorter.

You tried to ignore it.

The SAT was approaching, and that consumed all your energy. “She must be busy,” you told yourself. But an uncomfortable feeling of loss began to grow, like a silent emptiness.

As soon as the test was over, you felt like you could breathe. You felt confident—the test model this year was the same as what you had studied. But now, all you could think about was fixing things with the woman who haunted your mind, even in your dreams.

You wanted to see her, to get answers. But when you arrived, no one was there. A neighbor mentioned that the Maximoffs were at the hospital—Billy had fallen ill. Panic gripped you. You spent days trying to contact Wanda, sending messages, calling, but it was like shouting into an abyss. Her silence was deafening.

Then, during a family lunch after Sunday service, your mother casually said, “Wanda really needs our prayers right now.”

You furrowed your brow, confused.

Your father fervently agreed. “Yes. Now that Billy has finally received his diagnosis, it will be easier for our prayers to reach the ears of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Your heart seemed to stop for a moment.

“What… happened to Billy?” you asked, fear creeping into your voice, gripping your utensils harder than necessary.

“Oh, dear! Billy has cancer.”

The world stopped.

Your mother’s words echoed like thunder inside you, shattering any fragment of calm left. Billy has cancer.

The utensils fell from your hand with a dry clatter onto the table. The air seemed to freeze in your lungs as the weight of those words seeped into your mind like poison.

Images of Billy flooded your mind: his mischievous smile, the spark in his eyes when he ran through the garden, the way he threw himself into your arms without hesitation. Now, all of that seemed distant, fragile, as if it could disappear at any moment.

“Are you okay, dear?” your mother asked, but her tone felt more like an obligation than concern.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to blame your mother for treating the news so lightly. But the words wouldn’t come. There was only a tight knot in your throat, choking you.

“Excuse me,” you murmured, hastily getting up from the table, your legs shaking with every step.

In the bathroom, you slid down the door to the cold floor, your chest burning with despair. The news hit you like a violent wave, and you couldn’t breathe. The tears came, hot and uncontrollable, as you pressed your hand against your mouth to stifle the sobs.

All you wanted was to see him, to see Wanda, to say you were there for whatever they needed. But how? Wanda wasn’t answering. She didn’t want you around.

Without thinking twice, you went to the Maximoffs’ house. However, when Wanda opened the door, her gaze was cold as she looked at you.

“What are you doing here?” The question cut like a knife.

“I... I heard about Billy. I wanted to know how you both are,” your voice trembled, but you tried to sound firm.

The woman sighed, crossing her arms—building a wall between you.

“This isn’t your problem,” she replied, her tone sharp.

You stood frozen at the threshold, as if the icy pain of her words was physical. Her tone was distant, almost cruel, but her eyes… Ah, Wanda’s eyes told a different story. There was something there, a shadow of pain, of something unsaid, that made your chest tighten even more.

“Wanda, please,” you tried, taking a step inside, but she raised her hand, blocking your entry.

“I said it’s not your problem,” she repeated, more firmly, though her voice had a slight tremor at the end.

“How can you say that?” Your voice cracked, the words coming out desperate. “I care about you both. I care about him! About you!”

Her green eyes closed for a moment, as if gathering strength. When they opened, they were harder, but the pain you saw there almost made you collapse.

“You don’t understand. You can’t understand.” Her voice dropped, almost a whisper, but still heavy with weight.

“Then explain it to me!” you pleaded, feeling the tears threatening to fall. “I’m here, Wanda. I’ve always been here!”

She laughed, but it was a bitter laugh, without humor. “You think that’s enough? That being here will fix anything?”

You took another step, desperate to break the invisible barrier she had placed between you. “I don’t know, but I want to try. I want to help!”

Wanda shook her head, her golden hair swaying with the motion.

“You can’t help. Not now, not ever. You need to go.”

“Don’t say that…” your voice broke.

“You need to go,” she repeated, quieter this time, but still unyielding. Silence fell between you like a stone, heavy and unbearable. Her eyes, so bright and so full of everything she didn’t say, pleaded with you for something her words denied.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered, unable to contain the tears now.

She took a deep breath, looking away, but not before you saw the glimmer of her own unshed tears. “Because it’s better this way.”

“Better for who?”

She didn’t answer. She simply closed the door slowly, leaving you on the other side.

You stood there, your forehead pressed against the cold wood, the sobs finally taking over you. The emptiness she left was suffocating, and all that was left were her cold words, which didn’t match the warmth and pain you saw in her green eyes.

You left with half of your heart shattered.

A month later, the SAT results finally arrived. You were in the living room, your heart pounding so loudly it seemed to echo through the space. When you opened the email and saw the word “Congratulations!”, tears immediately filled your eyes.

“I did it,” you whispered to yourself, disbelief mingling with happiness.

But it wasn’t just a “Congratulations.” It was Yale. The university you had spent countless nights dreaming about, imagining its halls, the lectures, the debates that would shape your future. It was the beginning of something monumental, the start of a journey that always felt so distant and yet so viscerally yours.

You ran to the mirror in the hallway and looked at yourself, laughing as tears streaked your flushed cheeks. “I did it! I did it!”

The dreams you’d held close to your chest began to take form. Studying International Relations at one of the world’s most prestigious universities was more than a personal achievement; it was the first step toward making a difference. You envisioned nights buried in books, exploring cultures, questioning systems, trying to understand—and maybe, to change—the world.

Above all, there was your dream of becoming a writer. A quiet desire that grew with every story you created, every character you brought to life, every corner of the world you translated into words. You wanted to be more than an observer. You wanted to be a storyteller, someone who could take the complexities of life and turn them into something that could touch others.

Changing the world—that had always been the goal, even when it seemed impossible. Perhaps it was too ambitious, maybe even foolish, but it never stopped you. You knew that, with the right words, you could reach hearts, open minds, and perhaps inspire someone like you to never give up.

In that moment, alone in the room, you allowed yourself a moment of pure joy. Every sacrifice, every sleepless night, every doubt—it had all been worth it. You weren’t the girl who just dreamed anymore. Now, you were the girl who made it happen.

And Yale was just the beginning.

But when you were ready to share the news with your parents, you were met with a suspicious look. “So?! What’s this news you have to share with us?!” your father asked, his tone sharp, leaving you confused.

You swallowed hard, the paper with the printed Yale email trembling in your hands. The pride you’d felt just moments ago was suffocated by the tension in the room, as if the air itself might shatter.

“I… I wanted to tell you that I got into Yale,” you started, trying to ignore the edge in your father’s gaze and the false softness in your mother’s voice. “I did it. I’m going to study International Relations. My dream—”

“Yale?” your father interrupted, his voice icy, almost harsh. “And what exactly do you plan to do there, huh? Continue with this shameful behavior we’ve been hearing about?”

“Shameful?” Your voice came out as a whisper, confusion and fear gripping you.

Your mother let out a deep sigh, as if exhausted by something beneath her notice. “Don’t act innocent, Y/n. People talk! One of the sisters at church told us you’ve been behaving… inappropriately with Yelena.”

You felt your heart plummet, your hands tightening around the paper until it crumpled. “Yelena is my friend!” you tried to explain, but your mother raised a hand, silencing you.

“Friend?” She laughed, but there was nothing warm in that sound. It was cold, harsh. “We hoped you would understand what happens to girls who stray from God’s path. Or do you think you can ignore His teachings and still expect us to tolerate it?”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice faltered, but anger began to simmer beneath the surface, mingling with humiliation and hurt.

Your father took a step forward, his expression dark as a storm. “You know exactly what I’m talking about! Don’t pretend to be blind. Or do you think we’re fools?”

“Dear, please,” your mother attempted to soothe him, but he ignored her.

“I’ve always known there was something wrong with you, Y/n. Always so… different. Strange. God knows we tried, we prayed, but maybe this was a mistake. Maybe we never should’ve given you life.”

Those words landed like a knife, slicing through everything inside you. You stepped back, wide-eyed, trying to process what you had just heard.

“How can you say that?” Your voice trembled, but it was strong enough to echo through the room.

Your mother shook her head, a look of false sadness on her face. “No one’s saying you have no worth, Y/n. We just want you to understand… this path you’re taking is wrong. We don’t want you to lose your soul.”

You felt tears burn your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not in front of them. The pride of getting into Yale, the dream you so desperately wanted to share, was ruined—drowned in the pain of prejudice from the very people who should have loved you unconditionally.

“I haven’t lost my soul,” you murmured, your voice breaking. “But I think you’ve lost yours.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked out, clutching the crumpled email against your chest. The pain was suffocating, but the small flame within you—that dream of changing the world—refused to go out.

Their words were cruel, irreversible, leaving a wound you knew would never fully heal. You cried, but instead of drowning in the hurt, you did what you always did: you turned to Wanda.

When you arrived at her house, Wanda was in the living room, absently toying with a book.

“I needed to see you,” you began, but she didn’t even look up.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice cold.

“Wanda, please. I have no one else. Let me explain—”

“There’s nothing to explain,” she interrupted, finally looking at you.

Her eyes glimmered with something that felt both vulnerable and cruel. “You need to move on with your life.”

“You’re pushing me away,” you whispered, the pain spilling over.

“Yes, I am.”

“Why?”

She closed her eyes, sighing deeply, as if searching for calm—or perhaps the words. “Because I need to be here. With my children, with my husband.” The mention of Vision as her husband made your heart bleed.

The pain in Wanda’s words was like a direct blow to your chest. You searched her eyes for a spark of truth, something to tell you this wasn’t real, that she didn’t mean it. But her gaze was implacable—cold and empty.

“Is that it? You’re saying everything we had… was nothing?” “It was a mistake.”

The word hit you like a dagger. You stepped back, feeling the ground disappear beneath your feet. “A mistake?” Your voice was barely audible.

“Yes,” she insisted, as though repeating it could convince herself. “I can’t keep doing this. You’re young; you have your whole life ahead of you. I’m just a woman trying to keep my family together.”

Her words left you shattered.

“You’re lying,” you said, tears finally escaping. “You feel it too, Wanda. I’ve always seen it in your eyes.”

She hesitated—a crack in the mask. But then she shook her head, bitterness lining her expression. “You need to leave, Y/n. Don’t come back. Don’t write. Don’t look for me.”

“Wanda…” you started, but she raised her hand—final, definitive.

“Go.”

You stood there for a moment, searching her face for anything—anything to hold onto. But all you found was emptiness. So you turned and walked away, feeling like each step took you further not just from her, but from a part of yourself.

Outside, the air felt colder, heavier. You didn’t know where to go. But you knew you couldn’t stay. And as the door shut behind you, the sound echoed like a full stop on a story you weren’t ready to end.

The bus that would take you to the university was crowded, yet somehow, you felt completely alone. The worn-out suitcase rested at your feet, carrying the little you had decided to take with you. Everything else—the memories, the broken bonds, the weight of unspoken words—was stored somewhere else, too deep to reach.

As the vehicle moved along the road, you stared out the window. The trees turned into blurs of green and brown, as though the world was rushing away from you, leaving behind a trail of silence and emptiness. Yet, amidst that emptiness, there was something different. A faint but unbreakable strength that kept you standing.

The first days in Connecticut were difficult. Loneliness felt alive, pressing on your shoulders as you explored Yale’s campus. The dream that had once seemed so bright now felt clouded, dimmed by the absence of something—or someone.

Still, you forced yourself to keep going. Routine began to fill the empty spaces: classes, books, notes. You threw yourself into studying, as if every word absorbed was a step toward rebuilding yourself. But at night, when the world grew silent, your mind wandered.

Wanda.

Her name was a constant whisper, echoing through the most fragile parts of your mind. You saw her in small details: in the brown of an autumn leaf, in the faint scent of citrus perfume, in the muffled sound of laughter in the distance. No matter how hard you tried to push her away, she always found a way to return.

But amidst the pain, there was resilience. You forced yourself to remember why you were there. It wasn’t just for a diploma; it was for something bigger. For a future. For a version of yourself that Wanda could not destroy.

One morning, as you sipped coffee at a small café near the university, you noticed something. The bitter taste of the coffee didn’t seem as bad as before. The sunlight filtering through the windows carried a warmth you hadn’t felt in a while. Small things that once went unnoticed now felt... possible.

You knew there was still a long road ahead. There were still nights when the weight of Wanda’s absence was unbearable, and days when the world seemed empty without her. But amidst all of that, there was a growing strength.

You were learning to stand up again. And maybe, one day, you could look back and realize that even in loss, you had found yourself.

[...]

"Mom!" Wanda dropped everything the moment she heard the boys’ scream from the bedroom.

“What happened?” She grabbed their cheeks harder than necessary, checking them over.

“Look, Mom, a hair grew!” Billy said happily, and Wanda smiled at the sight of a small brown tuft growing.

“Oh, look at that... We can finally pick a hairstyle for you, can’t we?” Wanda laughed, feeling a genuine relief for the first time in months.

The joy in Billy’s eyes was contagious, as if that small strand of hair was a trophy—a victory over everything they had faced.

“I want a mohawk!” Billy declared enthusiastically, crossing his arms in a defiant manner.

“A mohawk?” Wanda raised an eyebrow, pretending to be horrified. “Do you know who's in charge of the style in this house?”

“Oh, Mom! Please!” Billy begged, pulling his best puppy-dog face, while Tommy, always the smartest, joined the conversation.

“If he gets a mohawk, I want one too!” Tommy said, already messing with his own hair.

Wanda placed her hands on her hips, staring at the two of them with a mockingly stern look. “If you two show up with mohawks, you’ll have to explain to Dad why he’s the only bald one in this house!”

The boys burst into laughter, and Wanda couldn’t help but laugh too, sitting on the carpet between them. It was a simple moment, but one filled with meaning. As the two argued about the most ridiculous hairstyles they could try, she realized how much these little things mattered.

She ran her fingers through Billy’s newborn strand of hair, her smile soft. “You know, you’re the bravest boy I’ve ever met.”

“I know I am!” Billy replied confidently, earning more laughter from her and Tommy.

As the boys laughed and made impossible plans, Wanda allowed herself something rare: hope. Perhaps the weight she carried could, little by little, dissolve in moments like this.

For a moment, she felt the urge to share this joy with you. To send a picture of the small tuft of hair or tell you how well the boys were doing. But then, she remembered you weren’t there anymore.

Even so, looking at her sons, Wanda knew she still had a reason to fight, to smile. She pulled both of them into a tight hug, ignoring their playful complaints.

“I love you both, you know that?” she said, kissing their foreheads.

“We love you too, Mom,” Billy replied, with the same smile that lit up Wanda’s world, even in the darkest moments.

Later, as Wanda stirred the stew with a wooden spoon, her thoughts drifted to ten months ago.

Discovering Vision had been like a lightning bolt shattering the perfect world Wanda had fought so hard to maintain. He hadn’t yelled, hadn’t confronted her directly. He didn’t need to. He simply looked at her with a mixture of disdain and disappointment, and in a cold tone, made his threat clear: “If this continues, I will take the boys. You know I can. And you know I will.”

That night, while Vision slept, Wanda sat at the edge of the bed, her hands trembling with pure rage. She watched him silently, battling thoughts that terrified her. A dark part of herself whispered that it would be so easy to end it all—one move, one spell, and Vision would be nothing but a distant memory. But then Billy coughed from the other room.

Reality came crashing over her like a wave—cold and crushing. The boy’s soft cough was the harbinger of the nightmare to come. Within days, the diagnosis arrived: skin cancer.

Wanda’s world collapsed.

Seeing Billy so fragile, so vulnerable, was a pain no words could express. The chemotherapy sessions left her boy weak, his bright smile fading little by little, replaced by a weary expression. He began losing weight, and the soft curls Wanda loved to caress fell out, untilnothing remained.

Wanda stayed by his side, but every treatment session was like a dagger to the heart. She held Billy’s hand as he cried, his small body shaking with pain and exhaustion, and the guilt grew inside her like a monster. She wondered if all of this was divine punishment—for betraying Vision. For letting herself be carried away by you.

And yet, in the quiet moments, while Billy slept, she thought of you. She thought of how you made her feel alive, how your presence illuminated the darkest corners of her soul. Of the smiles you pulled from her, even when the world felt too heavy.

But now you were part of the weight, too. Vision knew. Vision was watching. And Billy needed her. Wanda knew she had to cut off what existed between you two. As much as it hurt, it was the only way to protect her children.

So, she hardened her heart. She said the cold words she knew would push you away and that she knew she would regret later—even as her eyes silently begged you not to believe them. When you left, she cried in silence but tried to convince herself she had done the right thing.

As Billy began to recover, the guilt and emptiness only grew. With each day he grew stronger, Wanda felt grateful but also painfully aware of your absence.

And it hurt. Wanda began to experience withdrawal—she saw you in everything.

You were in every corner of the house, in every shadow of the sunset that lit the living room. Wanda heard your laughter echo through empty hallways, your soft voice whispering things only she could hear. It was as if the entire world conspired to remind her of you, and the more she tried to escape, the more you haunted her.

The nights were the worst. The pillow beside her seemed soaked with your scent, and it drove her insane. She would clutch the fabric, eyes closed, trying to recreate the feeling of your lips on hers, the warmth of your skin. But it was useless. It was torture.

Wanda began spending more time in her room, sitting on the bed, holding a book she couldn’t read. Every page she tried to focus on was a blur, replaced by images of you smiling, you laughing, you crying. The memory of your voice calling her name was almost tangible.

She began to wonder if she was losing her mind. The withdrawal was physical. There was a hole in her chest that couldn’t be filled, an insatiable hunger that no food or drink could satisfy. Wanda stopped eating, stopped sleeping. The woman who controlled everything and everyone in her life was now at the mercy of a desire that was slowly destroying her.

In a desperate impulse, Wanda grabbed her phone and typed in your number. Her hands trembled, and her heart beat so hard she could barely breathe. But before pressing the call button, she stopped.

She knew she couldn’t. That you were better off away from her. But knowing that didn’t make her feel better. It didn’t stop her from wanting you with an intensity that made her hate herself.

Wanda threw the phone onto the bed, her eyes burning with tears she refused to let fall. She leaned forward, hands in her hair, pulling it hard as she breathed deeply, trying to erase you from her mind. But you were an addiction.

An addiction that was killing her slowly.

“I hate you,” she whispered into the void, her voice hoarse, broken. “I hate you for making me feel this way.”

She loved you. She loved you so much it destroyed her. And as the days passed, Wanda knew she would never be whole again. Because even as Billy grew stronger, as life returned to some form of normal, somet

Another Sunday, another church service. But the woman had a plan—Wanda was nervous, though she tried to hide it. She dressed with her usual elegance, maintaining the calm posture that often intimidated others, even when everything inside her was chaos. As she walked to your house after the service, she rehearsed in her mind what she would say to your parents. Nothing too direct, just a casual question. She needed to hear something about you, anything that could connect her to you again.

When the door opened, your mother greeted her with a hesitant smile, as if she already knew the visit wasn’t purely social. After a few exchanged words, Wanda asked the casual question—or at least tried to make it sound that way:

“So, how’s Y/n? It’s been a while since I’ve seen her…” The woman’s eyes scanned the room, searching for your figure, for your shadow.

Your mother’s face hardened, and your father, who was sitting on the couch, let out a bitter laugh.

“How is she? We don’t know, because she left without even saying goodbye.”

Wanda froze, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it was crushing her ribs. “She... left?” Her voice came out low, almost a whisper, but heavy with disbelief.

“She did,” your father replied, his voice cold. “After everything we did for her, she decided to abandon us as if we were nothing.”

Your mother sighed, though she seemed more irritated than sad. “She was always… difficult. And now, look at her. Yale? Big deal. It means nothing if she doesn’t have respect for her own family.”

Wanda couldn’t hear the rest. The phrase “she left” echoed in her mind, a mantra that ripped apart every piece of logic or self-control she had left. She stood abruptly, mumbling something incomprehensible as an excuse to leave.

As soon as she stepped out the door, the mask fell. Her hands trembled violently as she searched for her car keys. The thought that you were gone, that you were far away and out of reach, was unbearable.

On the way back, Wanda could barely drive. The road was a blur as tears filled her eyes. She parked haphazardly in front of her house and rushed inside.

As soon as she shut the door, she collapsed onto the living room floor. Tears streamed down her face as she held her head in her hands, her body shaking with sobs she could no longer hold back. You had left. You weren’t there anymore. And she had never said goodbye.

“Why did you do this?” she whispered to the emptiness, her voice broken. “Why did you leave me? I… I just wanted to protect you…”

But she knew. She knew that pushing you away had been the greatest mistake of her life. And now, you were gone, and Wanda was alone, trapped in a world where everything felt colorless, lifeless.

That night, she picked up her phone again and typed in your number. But, just like before, she couldn’t bring herself to press “call.” All that remained was the emptiness of a name on the screen, and a hole in her chest that nothing could fill.

[...]

The morning was like any other over the past five years: a stifling Sunday, and Wanda sat in the back seat of the car next to the boys while Vision drove with his usual precision. She didn’t pay attention to the words he was saying, only nodding mechanically, keeping the serene face that had become her mask.

The twins, now 16, were as irreverent as teenagers could be, arguing over something trivial. Wanda heard the sounds but didn’t process the words. Her heart beat in the slow, hollow rhythm of a life on autopilot.

When they arrived at the church, Wanda adjusted her dress and put on sunglasses to hide the tiredness in her eyes. The family looked perfect—Vision held her hand with a polished smile, while Billy and Tommy walked ahead, grumbling about how much they hated being there.

Then it happened.

As they walked toward the church’s grand doors, something caught her attention. It was a woman standing across the street, scrolling on her phone. Her hair, the way she held her bag, her posture… everything made Wanda’s heart stop for a moment.

It was you.

Wanda blinked, feeling the blood freeze in her veins. It couldn’t be. You were far away. For years. But that woman...

Without thinking, she let go of Vision’s hand. “Wait here,” she said quickly, not looking back.

“Wanda? Where are you going?” Vision asked, confused, but she was already crossing the street.

“Hey, Mom! What the hell?” Tommy shouted, but she didn’t respond.

Wanda’s heels struck hard against the asphalt as she ran, her heart racing. Every step made her believe more: it was you. It had to be you. The world seemed to stop, all the noise around her muffled by the sound of her ragged breathing.

“Y/n!” she shouted, her voice hoarse and desperate.

The woman stopped and turned slowly, a confused expression on her face.

But it wasn’t you.

Wanda’s heart plummeted. Reality hit hard, like a cold blow to the stomach. The woman was taller, her eyes a different color, and the smile she gave was polite but completely unfamiliar.

“Are you okay?” the stranger asked, unsettled by Wanda’s intensity.

“I… I’m sorry,” Wanda murmured, stepping back, her face burning with shame. “I thought you were someone else.”

Without further explanation, she turned and began walking back to the church, her shoulders tense, trying to hide the trembling in her hands.

Vision was at the entrance, arms crossed, with the boys beside him, both looking visibly confused.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice laced with irritation.

“I just… thought I saw someone,” Wanda replied, her tone flat.

Billy tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at her. “Are you okay, Mom?”

She forced a smile, briefly caressing his face. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t. Because as Wanda climbed the church stairs, the emptiness inside her felt even larger, as though it had been ripped open again by the memory of you. And she knew, with crushing certainty, that she would never stop searching for you—in crowded streets, in dreams, in the past she could never bury.

That afternoon, the house was silent, except for the distant clatter of dishes being washed in the kitchen. Vision had gone out to deal with something for work, and Wanda sat on the couch, her hands clutching a cup of tea as if it were a shield.

Billy and Tommy were upstairs, but she knew it wouldn’t take long for them to come down. That’s how every Sunday was: a mixture of monotony and tension that seemed to suffocate the air in the house.

When the sound of their footsteps began echoing down the stairs, Wanda tried to brace herself. She knew the boys were growing up, becoming more curious, more incisive. And lately, they seemed much more attentive to her.

Tommy appeared first, followed by Billy, whose expression was more serious. They sat on the couch opposite her, exchanging looks before Tommy finally broke the silence.

“It’s time for you to talk, Mom,” he began, as direct as always.

Wanda lifted her eyes to them, frowning. “Talk about what?”

“About you,” Billy replied, his voice softer but just as firm. “You haven’t been the same in years.”

She laughed nervously, trying to deflect. “Of course I’m the same. You two are just growing up and becoming nitpicky.”

“No, Mom. That’s not it,” Tommy insisted, leaning forward. “You’re different. Since… I don’t know, since we were younger. It’s like you’re living on autopilot, like you’re here, but not really.”

Wanda looked at them, her heart tightening. They were so perceptive, much more than she wished they were.

“And, like,” Tommy continued, hesitant now, “there’s something you don’t want to talk about. There always has been. We just didn’t know what it was before.”

“Tommy…” Billy shot a warning look at his brother, but Wanda was already on alert.

“If you have something to say, just say it,” she said, her voice low.

Tommy took a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before blurting out, “It’s about that girl, isn’t it? Y/n?”

Wanda’s world seemed to freeze. Her breathing stopped, and the name rang in her ears like an explosion.

Billy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Tommy!”

“What? You think I don’t know? Every time someone mentions her name, Mom gets that look…” He gestured dramatically at Wanda’s face, which was now completely pale.

“That’s none of your business,” Wanda finally managed to say, her voice trembling.

“But it is our business,” Billy replied firmly. “Because you’re our mom, and this has been eating at you for years. Who was she, Mom? Why is she so important?”

Wanda looked at them, her chest tight, her eyes burning with tears she wouldn’t let fall. How could she explain? How could she put into words something so overwhelming?

“She was…” Her voice faltered, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find strength. “She was someone I never should have met. But someone who changed everything.”

The boys exchanged confused glances but didn’t interrupt.

“She… She made me feel alive in a way I never had before,” Wanda continued, her voice barely a whisper. “And I lost her. Because I chose to lose her. Because I had to choose you.”

Tommy fell silent for the first time, and Billy looked as if he was about to say something, but Wanda stood up, gripping the cup tightly.

“That’s all you need to know,” she said, her voice now firm. “She was a mistake I couldn’t keep.”

Tommy was the braver of the two, while Billy had always been more sensitive. Billy pulled the woman into his arms, even though she hadn’t asked for the hug. Wanda didn’t refuse—she wasn’t in a position to.

“So that’s it? She was a mistake in the past, but what about now?” Tommy asked, his tone impassive.

Wanda looked at the boy, cursing how much they had inherited her stubbornness.

“Tommy, I’m married to your fa—”

“Oh, Mom! Don’t start!” The boy huffed. “We all know your marriage is just a façade. Everyone knows.”

Tommy’s words hit Wanda like a punch to the stomach. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He was right. Everyone knew. She knew.

Billy still held her in his arms, squeezing her with the tenderness that only he seemed capable of offering. Wanda relaxed momentarily, letting herself be embraced by her son, but Tommy’s gaze remained fixed on her, as if he wouldn’t let her escape so easily.

“Tommy, you don’t understand. I can’t just…” Wanda started, but her voice faltered.

“Can’t what?” Tommy interrupted, standing up from the couch. “Can’t go after the one thing that actually makes you happy? Can’t fight for someone you still love? That doesn’t make sense, Mom!”

“Tommy, it’s not that simple,” Wanda insisted, her voice trembling. “There’s so much at stake. I have you, I have responsibilities—”

“Responsibilities that leave you like this?” Billy murmured, letting her go but staying close. “We can tell, Mom. You pretend all the time, but you’re not happy. You haven’t been happy for as long as we can remember.”

Wanda ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. “You don’t know everything. You don’t know what I did, the choices I had to make. You don’t know how much I lost.”

“Then tell us,” Billy said softly.

Wanda looked at him, feeling tears burn her eyes, but she held them back. “I can’t. I don’t want you to see me differently.”

“We already do, Mom,” Tommy shot back, his tone serious. “And you know what we see? A woman who sacrificed so much for us that she forgot about herself. It’s not fair. Not to you, not to us.”

“Tommy…”

“Listen,” he continued, his voice firmer. “If she’s still that important to you, why don’t you try? Why don’t you do something? You’ve always told us to fight for what matters. Why is this any different?”

Wanda looked at him, stunned. “You’re… encouraging me to go after her?”

“Yes,” Billy replied, nodding. “We don’t want a mom who lives on autopilot. We want you to be happy, even if it means things have to change.”

“But what about you? What about your father?”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Dad can keep pretending he’s perfect. He’s more worried about appearances than the truth.”

Billy took her hand, squeezing it gently. “Mom, you deserve this. If she’s the one you love, then go after her.”

Wanda felt her heart tighten, but also a spark of something she hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. She looked at her sons, her boys, who were now almost grown, and saw in them the strength she herself seemed to have lost.

"You two are impossible," she muttered, but there was a small smile on her lips.

"True," Tommy replied, crossing his arms. "And you'd better do it before it's too late."

Wanda closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop running from what truly mattered.

[...]

The rain was falling heavily, but Wanda didn’t care. Her soaked coat clung to her skin, golden hair plastered against her face as she walked down the nearly deserted sidewalk. Each drop seemed to press against her harder, as if the force of the storm was trying to send her back home. But she couldn’t turn back. Not now.

When she finally spotted Yelena's small shop, Wanda felt a mix of relief and nerves. The dim light inside cast a faint glow, and the blonde’s silhouette moved behind the windows. Wanda pushed the door open with force, the bell above ringing in a tone that sounded almost desperate.

Yelena, who had been shutting off the lights and closing the register, turned around slowly, a cigarette between her fingers, her face faintly illuminated by the ember. She didn’t look surprised at all.

"Well, look who decided to show up," Yelena remarked, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. Her eyes assessed Wanda with both disdain and curiosity. "What do you want here?"

"I need to know where she is," Wanda replied, her voice firm, but her eyes betrayed her desperation.

Yelena let out a short, humorless laugh, extinguishing the cigarette in the nearest ashtray. "You think I’m just going to hand that information to you on a silver platter? After everything you did to her?"

"I didn’t come here to argue," Wanda replied, fists clenched at her sides. "I just need to find her. Please."

"Please?" Yelena raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. "You think a ‘please’ can erase the years of pain you caused? She loved you, Wanda. And you broke her heart."

Wanda swallowed hard, the guilt pressing heavier on her chest. "I know," she admitted, her voice wavering. "I know what I did. But I need to fix it. I need to talk to her, to explain—"

"Explain what?" Yelena cut her off, crossing her arms. "That you chose the comfort of a false life over her? That you preferred hiding behind a sham marriage while she suffered?"

"I didn’t have a choice!" Wanda exclaimed, the pain overflowing in her voice. "I had to protect my children. I had to protect everything that was important to me."

"She thought she was important to you too," Yelena shot back, her eyes hard.

The silence between them was broken only by the sound of the rain pounding against the windows. Wanda took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

"Please, Yelena," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "I need to see her. Just tell me where she is."

Yelena was silent for a moment, her eyes carefully studying Wanda. Finally, she sighed, grabbing a small piece of paper and a pen. "This isn’t for you," she said, scribbling something down. "It’s for her. Because, despite everything, she deserves the chance to decide whether she wants to hear you or not. Go there, and bring my little sister back."

She handed the paper to Wanda, but before Wanda could leave, Yelena grabbed her arm. "Don’t screw this up again. If you do, don’t ever look for me. Not for her, not for anyone."

Wanda nodded, clutching the paper as if it were a lifeline. Without another word, she stepped out into the storm, the rain now feeling slightly less heavy.

Wanda stopped in the middle of the street, the rain beating relentlessly against her face, but she hardly felt it. Her eyes were fixed on the paper in her hand, the address already smudged by the water but still legible. A distant thunder rumbled, but nothing could drown out the turmoil inside her.

The truth was raw and inescapable: she hadn’t been alive since the day you left. Every heartbeat since then had felt borrowed, as if she were just occupying space in a body that no longer belonged to her.

"Be it too late or not," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling but full of conviction, "I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering."

She gripped the paper so tightly it nearly tore, her fingers trembling—not from the cold, but from sheer desperation. Because if Wanda knew one thing now, it was that she had already lost too much. She couldn’t lose you again, even if it meant facing the worst parts of herself.

Lifting her face to the sky, Wanda let the rain wash over her—though it could not lift the weight from her chest. Then, without hesitation, she took the first step, the sound of her heels echoing against the wet asphalt.

Each step was a declaration. Each beat of her heart, a scream. She loved you. Loved you enough to tear down any barrier, to face any storm. This time, she wouldn’t let fear win. This time, she would be brave enough to fight for what truly mattered.

Even if it was too late.

~*~

Mommy Wanda will go after what is hers.

UREVISED CHAPTER

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580 @valentine585

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @bees-for-brains @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @sheriffhaughtearp

#mommy wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #mommy k!nk #elizabeth olsen x reader #lgbtq #lgbtqia #mommy k1nk #wanda x you #wlw post #lesbian #lesbianism #angst

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naughtyneganjdm · 20 hours ago

Text

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 16

Summary: Joel opens up to Tommy about what happened in New York City along with the feelings he is experiencing. Drunken emotions causes old confrontations to return to the surface and it is discovered what Joel did to Negan all those years ago.

Characters: Joel Miller, the reader (OC), Negan Smith, Elizabeth, Tommy Miller, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/157002151 Warnings: Swearing, Severe Angst, Fighting, etc.

Notes: I'm posting this today because yesterday was really busy. I promise to get this up three times a week though for those that read it. This chapter is quite angsty and very emotional. So, yeah. Enjoy to those that read! I edited this at like 4AM so I'm sorry for whatever errors might be here.

For many years, Joel had always thought that their small town went above and beyond for Christmas. But after visiting New York City for a few days? Everything felt so miniscule in comparison. Christmas was three days away and today was the annual Christmas Fest that their town threw every year. This year it was at the center of town square. It was from morning until night. Main street was lined with food trucks and small businesses. There was a small ice rink, a tent set up to meet Santa Claus, music was playing, games were set up for the children and the center of town was decorated with loads of lights. A very large Christmas tree was right at the center of everything. Earlier in the day they had an ice sculpture contest along with a small-town parade. Toward the end of the night there was caroling. Alcohol tents were set up along with a dance area for people to have some fun. This town took their Christmas events seriously, it just felt tiny in comparison to where they were previously.

Y/N and the children loved this day though. They always did. Often they were there from start to finish. They liked doing things, they liked being involved. And at first? Joel loved this stuff too. It was a way to be close to his family. To do things with them. But then life got dark for him and it just made him miserable. And right now? He was miserable.

More than anything he regretted the decision he made to push Y/N away in New York City. He could have everything he wanted in his life because she was offering it. Instead he was mean to push her toward Negan because he thought Negan was the better choice. And it took him singing at that fucking bar again to realize it.

Seated at one of the tables alone, Joel slouched back into his seat. This felt like one of the longest days ever for him. This morning, he had gotten up early to go with Tommy, Maria and Peter to the parade. Elizabeth had done something with her school and she was part of the parade so he knew he had to be there. But the hardest part was? Seeing Y/N and Negan again.

Since New York, Joel avoided them to the best of his ability. It was his way of being what he thought was nice. He gave up. He knew that she was better off with Negan, so he thought it was for the best to just avoid her all together. Especially after everything he said to her. Even though he didn’t mean it? It still broke her heart. All those pent-up feelings that he wanted to tell her ate away at him, but he knew that it would be useless. She was happy with Negan. And if she was happy with Negan? Well then there was no point of him being in her life. Especially since he hurt her so much.

After what he said to her at the Christmas tree at Rockefeller, she had a hard time looking at him. Knowing that just the sight of him broke her was devastating, but he didn’t blame her. He was miserable and he told her that he didn’t love her. She gave him the chance to prove to her that she was his everything. Instead? He told her how much he didn’t love her.

Watching his brother also be desperately in love with someone hurt. While his life was miserable, Tommy was thriving and happy. It was the complete opposite of his life. Maria and Tommy were desperately in love with one another, even if they didn’t straight out say it yet. They were together constantly, always touching each other, smiling and hooked on one another. It reminded Joel of a time when he was like that.

Most of the day, Joel put on a fake smile and pretended that everything was okay. At least he tried. It was hard pretending, but he did the best he could for his children. Right now, they were off somewhere playing some of the games that were set up. Tommy was dancing with Maria. And Joel was alone.

There was a cup of alcohol that he had bought in his hand. At this point? Joel forgot how many drinks he had today, but he’d been drinking all day. It helped numb the pain. Then again, maybe it didn’t because he felt his thoughts eating away at him.

Sighing loudly, Joel leaned further back in his chair when his eyes fell upon Y/N and Negan dancing together. It was pretty hard to miss Y/N. She was wearing a nice red sweater that would draw anyone’s eyes to her. Red was always a very beautiful color on her. Negan on the other hand was dressed in all black. They were pretty hard to miss with their energy. Negan had her laughing and smiling, something that Joel had a hard time doing over the last few years.

“Hey there stranger,” someone pulled a chair beside Joel only breaking his stare long enough to see that it was Tommy coming to be with him. Once Tommy got close enough the smell of alcohol lingered over Joel and it had Tommy huffing out. “Goddamn Joel. How much have you had to drink today?”

“What does it matter?” Joel’s dark stare lingered on his younger brother, the lines in his forehead growing.

“I mean, it matters. You smell like you drank an entire bar,” Tommy claimed, the smile that was over his face slowly fading. Holding his hand out had Joel’s eyes lowering to his hand. “Give me the keys. You’re not driving us home tonight after this.”

“Whatever,” Joel scoffed, digging the keys out of his jacket pocket. Any energy he would have had to fight with Tommy was gone. So he just handed the keys over to him. “Why aren’t you with Maria?”

“She had to go do something with her father,” Tommy waved off in an area she had gone, getting comfortable in the seat beside Joel once he put the keys away for later. “I guess it makes sense. She’s been spending most of her time with me, so she does have to spend time with them sometimes.”

With a nod, Joel looked back toward the dancefloor to see that Negan was spinning Y/N who was laughing before she fell in against the center of his chest. Jealousy ran through his veins when Negan playfully peppered kisses over her lips.

“That’s why you’ve been destroying your liver over the last few days, huh?” Tommy questioned having Joel’s stare narrowing turning to a glare when they met Tommy. “What happened in New York?”

“Who says something happened in New York?” Joel countered going to take a sip of his drink, but Tommy was quick to steal it from him. “Goddamn it Tommy.”

“For one single day, I had my brother back in New York,” Tommy recalled what it was like the day that they went to Central Park. “You were smiling, you were happy, you were outgoing. And then it was over. On the way home from New York, you nor Y/N would even talk to each other. Or look at each other.”

“You know there is such a thing as minding your own business,” Joel suggested, waving his hand about with Tommy pushing the drink toward the opposite end of the table for Joel to not be able to grab it. “I don’t try to get into your business with Maria.”

“We’re brothers Joel. It would be nice if the two of us got to share our lives together,” Tommy pointed out with a frown, leaning forward in his seat and hooking his fingers together. A long exhale fell from Tommy’s lips and he looked sad. “I wish I could talk to you about the things going on in my life because you’re my brother. I want to have you be part of things.”

“Then talk,” Joel grumbled, throwing his hand up in the air.

“I want you to talk to me about you,” Tommy swore, shrugging his shoulders when Joel rolled his eyes and dropped his head down. “Somethings wrong with you Joel and I can’t help if you don’t open up to me. As Ellie and Peter’s uncle, it’s my job to help take care of their father.”

“You can’t fix me Tommy, I’ve been broken for a very long time,” Joel said the first real, truthful thing he felt. Disappointment flooded Tommy’s face knowing that’s how Joel truly felt. “Even before New York.”

“But it got worse there,” Tommy insisted with his dark eyes full of worry. “Talk to me Joel. Please.”

“What do you want me to say?” Joel reasoned with his little brother knowing that no matter what he said, it wouldn’t fix things. “You want me to be honest with you?”

“I do,” Tommy declared, his jaw flexing with his brother shifting uneasily in the chair before him. “You took care of me when I was younger. Listening to you and hearing you out is the least that I can do.”

“I’m fucking devastated that she’s with him,” Joel threw his hand out toward Negan and Y/N together on the dance floor. Looking in the direction that Joel was pointing, Tommy sighed loudly at the sight of Negan and Y/N dancing. “I don’t know, I just always thought…I always thought once I got my shit together that the two of us would get back together.”

“Did you?” Tommy spoke quietly, his dark eyes narrowing. An offended breath fell from Joel with his face scrunching up in an angered expression. “Joel, you had four years. And she was pining for you the whole time.”

“Yeah, I did,” Joel assured Tommy with a grunt, bracing his hands out on the table before him. “And up until the last day in New York, I really thought that this whole thing with Negan was a fling. I still think for him it’s a fling.”

“I don’t think so,” Tommy refuted with a shake of his head gazing back between Joel and Negan. “I’ve talked to Negan a lot lately and he’s really sold on her. He’s really hooked on the children too. It doesn’t seem like a fling to me.”

“So now you’re best friends with him too?” Joel wondered, snorting as he spoke. There was worry in Tommy’s features hinting that he might not be comfortable being open with Joel about things. “Honesty hour here Tommy.”

“We were all really close when we were younger Joel,” Tommy reminded Joel of what things were like when they were the group that hung out with each other all the time. “Negan was like a brother to me. So I have enjoyed getting to see him again.”

“It’s like all of you forget that he abandoned us,” Joel hissed, his head dropping back learning that Tommy seemed to be hooked on Negan too. “He could have been here for the last twenty years Tommy and he wasn’t.”

“We’re changing the subject,” Tommy realized that Joel was backtracking with what the real discussion was about. “What happened in New York? You two seemed okay. And then on the way home everyone felt the tension between the two of you.”

“I uh…” Joel cleared his throat, leaning forward to brace his elbows on the edge of the table. Stealing a quick look around, Joel made sure that no one was around to hear them before letting out a long exhale. “I had a threesome with them.”

“Right,” Tommy immediately burst out in laughter thinking that Joel was making a joke about things. When Joel’s face grew pale with his response, Tommy’s laugh slowly subsided and it was replaced with an awkward stare. “You…you had a threesome with them?”

“Can you say it any louder for the whole town to hear?” Joel grunted seemingly embarrassed that Tommy was so floored by what he was telling him.

“Sorry,” Tommy didn’t know how to respond, he just dropped back in his chair and stared Joel over.

“I took it as a sign that there was still a chance for the two of us,” Joel explained to his little brother, a large amount of guilt eating away at him. “Then she told me when we were at Central Park that she was going to remain with Negan. And I don’t know, it just…hurt. There was one thing though…”

“I’m still stuck on the threesome part,” Tommy was floored to even hear something like that happened with his brother. It had Joel interrupting his thoughts about being able to be in a poly relationship with the three of them. “How did that go down?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong things here,” Joel stressed, irritated with his brother’s curiosity about the whole thing. There were things he obviously couldn’t tell Tommy. Especially with what had happened between him and Negan. Along with the whole bisexuality thing. That wasn’t something he felt comfortable talking about with his little brother. “Let’s just say they offered to let me be in their relationship. As a third. Where we could all be together. Instead of seeing it for what it really was, I took it as a sign that even though she was with Negan that she wanted to be with me still. That Negan was just a phase. When everyone went back to the apartment, we stayed outside to go by the tree to talk at Rockefeller. I said some shitty things because I’m just…stressed. She told me that with Negan, she doesn’t question if he loves her, but with me, she can’t tell if I love her or hate her. Said she would reconsider picking Negan if I could prove to her that I loved her. Told me basically she would drop Negan if it made me happy and it brought back the old Joel again.”

“That’s everything you’ve wanted,” Tommy reminded Joel who frowned, tapping his fingers against the top of the table. “If that’s the case, why is she up there with Negan and not you?”

“Because I realized that I wasn’t good enough for her Tommy. How I treated her? How he treats her? There is no comparison. I hurt her so fucking much and she’ll never forget it. I’m no good. I’m not good enough for her…I’m not good enough…” licking his lips, Joel stopped before he could say anything else. Thinking back on what he said, Joel felt miserable for the things he told Y/N that night. “I told her that I didn’t love her. That I never did. I said the only reason we got together was because she got pregnant with Ellie. I told her that if that never happened, we would have never ended up together.”

“Ouch much?” Tommy exhaled, his eyebrows bouncing up. With how heavily Joel was drinking and by the misery in his eyes, Tommy could recognize his brother was broken over what he had done. “You were obsessed with her when you were younger. Why would you even say that to her?”

“I thought I was doing the right thing by pushing her away,” Joel tried to make sense of it, throwing his hands up in the air. “But then I started to think about it and I realized how wrong it was. I just thought she’d be better with Negan. Because I know that I’m no good. I don’t know what to do now because I regret the whole thing.”

“Okay,” Tommy took time to consider the things that Joel was telling him.

“I went and I sang at that bar again after it happened. There was this girl that flirted with me the first time. Offered to do sexual favors for me. Negan interrupted her. And then on that night? She was there with two of her friends. She invited me back to their house where I could have something with all of them,” Joel started provoking a cough from Tommy, who looked like he was going to explode hearing it. “Nothing happened. The one got handsy with me, but when she went to go get her friends I ran off because I’m head over heels in love with Y/N Tommy. So I left, I ran back to the apartment and I was going to spill my heart out to her, but when I got back she was already asleep in bed with Negan. I stopped myself from waking her up because I realized that I was right. Negan is everything that I’m not. He gives her all the things that I can’t. He makes her happy. She laughs. She doesn’t question his love. Whereas with me, she thinks I hate her. So instead of telling her how I felt, I just left it be. It’s my way of letting her be happy.”

“This is a lot to process,” Tommy confessed with an overwhelmed expression. “A threesome, a foursome…”

“I didn’t have a foursome. It was offered to me, but I didn’t take it,” Joel considered what he was saying stressed that he even involved Tommy with this to begin with. “I told you that.”

“Yeah. I heard that,” Tommy stammered with a shake of his head. An uncomfortable laugh fell from him and he shrugged. “You should have apologized for what you said. Because you basically told her that you never loved her.”

“What’s it going to do Tommy?” Joel wondered, his whole body aching. Gloom had been eating away at him for days and he didn’t know how to handle it. “I’m the one thing that keeps her from being truly happy. I’m not capable of the things that Negan is.”

“Yes you are,” Tommy interrupted him with an angered breath. “It’s like you forget that the two of you raised me. We were happy. For a long time. I never saw anyone look at someone the way she looked at you. And you looked at her the same way long past Peter being born. You two were sickeningly in love. I know you’re capable of making her laugh and feel love because I witnessed it. I don’t know where you forgot the man that you were capable of being. But this hating yourself thing? It’s not worth it Joel.”

“You don’t understand,” Joel snapped at Tommy, doing his best to keep his voice down so it didn’t draw anyone to them. “Negan never broke her heart. I did. Multiple times. I had a breakdown and I did horrible things. Things that I can never make up for.”

Things went quiet. It looked like there was a lot going on in Tommy’s head like he was trying to come up with a resolution, but Joel knew there wasn’t any.

“There were talks of the three of us being in a relationship together, but I don’t know. I just don’t know if I’m comfortable letting that part of myself be public,” Joel confessed to his little brother with a sound that resembled Tommy being punched in the gut surrounding them. “What?”

“Together? The three of you?” Tommy repeated what he thought he heard. Joel wasn’t responding to the question, just glaring at him and Tommy wiggled his head about waiting for an answer. “Like all of you? Not just you and him sharing her?”

That’s where Joel realized he had fucked up. Swallowing down hard, Joel had to look away from his brother and he nodded. Suddenly Tommy was laughing and an angered expression flooded through Joel’s features, “Is that funny to you?”

“I laugh when I’m uncomfortable,” Tommy expressed, his face twisting with mixed emotions. “What is it you want Joel?”

“I don’t know,” Joel frowned, sliding down further in the chair, spreading his legs further apart. “I’m in so much physical pain from all of this. I’m depressed. I’m broken. I’m miserable. I regret not telling her how I felt. I hate myself for saying what I did.”

“You’re the only one that can know what you want Joel,” Tommy concluded doing his best to give his brother a pep-talk. “What is the thing that you want most? Her happiness? Your happiness? I could try to give you advice, but I don’t know what it is that you really want.”

“Maybe I should just talk to her,” Joel thought aloud when he saw Negan and Y/N getting off the dancefloor. “Tell her what I wanted to the other night but didn’t.”

“Now hold on,” Tommy hopped up when Joel stood up after seeing Negan walk away leaving her alone to herself. “I don’t think you should do that when you’re visibly drunk as a skunk. You can barely even hold yourself up.”

“She’s alone,” Joel pointed out in the direction of Y/N. Trying to stop his brother, Tommy was still surprised at how strong his brother was drunk. “Enough Tommy! This is what I want?”

Moving around Tommy, Joel stepped through the crowd of people. Once he was behind Y/N, Joel curled his fingers around her wrist and started pulling her backwards. Stumbling to catch her footing, Y/N stammered his name a few times with him leading her through the people toward the less populated area of town. There was a garden behind the local library that was still lit up since it was part of their Christmas light walk through.

“Joel!” she raised her voice in anger with him finally letting go of her wrist once they were alone. “You can’t just pull me around like you’re a damn caveman.”

“I just…we need to talk,” Joel explained, his hands settling in at his hips with his chocolate-colored eyes locking with hers.

“Are you drunk?” she noticed the way his words slurred together causing him to mutter something under his breath. That wasn’t even a question that she had to have an answer to. She could smell it all over him and she knew that this would go nowhere with that fact alone.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said that night in front of the tree,” Joel threw his hands up in the air trying to focus on the one thing that he so desperately wanted to get off his chest. “I was confused and I was saying things that I shouldn’t have said. Really horrible shit.”

“Okay,” she looked uncomfortable, swallowing down hard. It was still hard for her to look at him and he hated that.

“What you have to know is that I only said those things because I didn’t think I was good enough for you. When you kissed me? I knew that you would have given Negan up for me right then and there. And I realized all I do is hurt you,” Joel recalled, his voice breaking when he spoke to her about how he felt. “I did the thing that I thought would push you away from me and to Negan. Because I know that Negan is better than me. I’m not good enough for either one of you.”

“Joel, I don’t know what to believe from you anymore,” she was honest with him, sadness flooding into her face now that she had Joel a mess in front of her. “You say one thing and then you say another. It’s like a ping pong of things. You’re drunk so this could be you doing what you did in New York. I can’t…I can’t trust you.”

“Yes. Yes, you can,” Joel declared, pointing down at the ground as if that would prove something to her. “I was upset. I walked around. I went to that bar. I sang and I realized that singing didn’t bring me the happiness. The limelight means nothing to me if you’re not there to share it with me. Because it’s you I look to when I’m singing. It’s you that I feel everything for. If you’re not in my life? I don’t think there is a point. I don’t want the things that I thought would make me happy if I don’t have you.”

Suddenly she went silent and he could see that he caused her to be emotional. Stillness followed and he knew he should have said something else, “Why couldn’t you have said that at the tree?”

“Because I know how much Negan loves you. How much you love him. How he makes you smile…” Joel continued on and he bit down on his bottom lip hating that he let things get so bad. “All I could think about was erupting on you because I was angry at myself for the things that I had done with Negan. How I wasn’t good enough to be your one and only. You don’t deserve someone like me. I’m no good.”

A broken breath tremored from her lips with her looking down toward the ground, “But I just need you to know that I always loved you. I don’t want you to doubt that. I can’t have you thinking I didn’t love you. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you as soon as I kissed you. I felt that electric sensation where I knew then and there I met the love of my life. I knew the moment I kissed you that everything in the world was right. That I was a fool for not seeing it sooner.”

“I wish that were true,” she whimpered making Joel step closer to her, lifting his arms to cup her face in his hands. They were cold to the touch so it had her taking in a sharp breath of air. “I make you so unhappy. And I don’t want to do that to you anymore. I can’t keep hurting you.”

“Listen to me,” Joel hushed her, shaking his head and forcing her to look at him. With his thumbs he swept at her tears getting her to shudder beneath his touch. “I love you. I love you so fucking much. It hurts when I’m not near you. I ran back to the apartment that night to tell you what I said was a lie to push you away, but then I saw you with Negan. And I knew that Negan was everything that I’m not. I keep trying to ignore my feelings, my love for you, but I can’t. Because it’s there. And it’s going to be there until the day I die.”

“Joel, I love you,” she began, biting down hard on her bottom lip realizing that this is everything she wanted him to say to her the other day. “But I don’t know what you want me to say here. It’s getting hard to understand what you want these days.”

By her body language, Joel could tell that she was uneasy with this whole thing and he understood it. This was a lot to throw on her in the middle of a town party with him absolutely blasted ass drunk.

“I don’t know, I just thought you needed to hear how I felt. I fucked up. I fucked up bad. I have two beautiful children. And a woman that I love with everything that I am. I had everything in the world and I lost my way. I did. Any sense of happiness in my life, it came from you. I’m not good with words, I know that, but what I know is that you are the love of my life. Nothing will ever change that. You are everything pure and perfect in the world. Anything that’s good in my life, we shared together. Because you are the only positive thing I’ve ever had that I know without a doubt I’ve loved endlessly. Both you and the children.”

Everything that he was saying had her eyes tearing over and she lowered her head to hide that she was getting emotional over the things that he was saying, “I know that you love Negan and he’s great. Anyone with eyes can see that. But what you and I have? Negan can’t compare to that. We’re soulmates.”

“I can’t keep doing this Joel,” she whimpered, her arms folding out in front of her chest in almost a protective stance. “You keep playing with my feelings. One day you love me, the next you never loved me at all. What am I supposed to do here?”

“Pick me,” Joel emphasized his words having her smirk and shake her head. “Give me a second chance. I can prove to you that I’m capable of everything he is. I can make you happy. I can make you smile. I’m the one you truly, genuinely love.”

“What? Until you get mad at me and then tell me how much you hate me?” she responded with a frown, her eyes finally locking with his to show him that she was angry and upset at the same time. “I asked you the other night to prove to me that you loved me. And you told me in every way possible that we didn’t belong together. That our daughter was the only reason that we were together because she was a mistake. The last time you were this sweet, you were drunk and then the next day you broke my heart to pieces.”

“The best mistake of my life,” Joel reasoned with her, his eyebrows furrowing with upset. “You offered to give me that chance that day. Allow me to have it. I won’t forget this conversation and do what I did the other night. I swear. You are my everything. My happy place. The thing that completes me.”

Stepping forward, Joel closed the distance between them, “I tried so hard to stay away from you. So you could be happy with Negan, but I don’t really think you’d be happy with Negan. The right thing might be for me to let you go, but I can’t. I can’t let you go because I love you so much.”

Bringing them closer together, Joel’s rough fingertips traced in over the side of her face and nudged her chin to get her to look up at him, “Even if I was given the chance to be up on that stage alone, I don’t want it because it doesn’t bring me the feeling that I have when I’m with you.”

Taking a chance at the moment, Joel lowered down and faintly brushed his lips in over hers. A shuddering breath escaped her lips. When he pulled back, his nose nuzzled hers, “With everything that’s been placed in front of me, the only thing I wish I could go back and change is leaving you. Because the happiest I ever was with you. When it was the four of us together. That’s when everything felt right in the world.”

Lowering in to kiss her again, Joel felt her hand press in over the center of his chest to stop him from kissing her. Uneasily, she backed away from Joel and wiped at her eyes letting out a broken whimper, “This isn’t fair. You doing this to me.”

“Fair?” Joel repeated his chest aching. Trying to reach out to touch her, he was quickly rejected by her putting her hands up to keep him from doing it.

“You keep doing this to me. You give me hope for something more and then you rip it out underneath me,” she recalled everything leading up to this moment with them. “When you left me, it devastated me. I thought I would die with how much it hurt. But then you kept coming back and I thought maybe you realized your mistake. Then when someone comes into my life, someone that makes me happy, you are desperate to have me back. I give you that chance and you diminish everything good about our relationship.”

“I know I’ve done horrible things, but I’m not doing all of this just because of Negan,” Joel swore, placing his hands in over the center of his chest. “I know that Negan makes you happy. And I’m not even asking you to pick me now. I’m just asking you not to write me off. I’ll do whatever it takes to get help. To be the man that you need. Just don’t write me off.”

Sweeping his fingers in underneath her jawline, Joel knew that she was conflicted. Capturing her lips in a tender kiss Joel knew that this was part liquid courage that was helping him with this, he just only hoped that somehow she would realize by the way that he was kissing her truly how much he loved her.

----

“You look lost,” Negan commented moving back toward the dancefloor where Elizabeth seemed to be waiting at the edge of it.

“I’m just looking for my dad,” Elizabeth explained with a shrug of her shoulders. “It’s the daddy-daughter dance this town does. Dad has always done it with me since I was little. And I don’t see him.”

“I’ll dance with you,” Negan offered, his eyes lingering to the dance floor to see that multiple fathers were already out there with their daughters. “I’m not your dad but seeing as your mother is missing I don’t mind offering up my services.”

Taking another desperate look around the area surrounding them, Elizabeth’s brown eyes were saddened when she nodded her head. Giving her his hand, Negan led her toward the dance floor and gave her a weak smile, “He probably had to go to the restroom or something. The older we get, the worse our bladders get.”

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth stammered feeling a bit strange having it be Negan with her since he wasn’t her father. There were special moments that she always shared with Joel, so this wasn’t a moment that felt right in the least. “He’s been acting strange lately. I can’t help but think he’s upset with me.”

“Never,” Negan immediately shook his head, firmly squeezing her fingers in his. “I know for a fact that you are the thing that your father is the proudest of.”

“You don’t know that,” she frowned, gazing at the crowd around them. It seemed like people were watching Negan more closely with her than the previous years when she would do this with Joel.

“I do actually,” Negan corrected her, getting her to focus on him when they danced to the music together. “Your dad might be going through a lot, but there isn’t a doubt in my mind that both your parents love you very much. They are both incredibly proud of you. The first day I ran into your mama again, she couldn’t stop talking about you and your brother.”

“I feel like you have to say nice things because you are dating my mother,” she noted with a weak smile, enjoying what Negan was saying, but she didn’t know how much she could really believe him.

“I tell you what. I’ve never really been known to say nice things,” Negan admitted giving her a weak smile with a tip of his head. “I’ve actually been known most of my life to be brutally honest. I’m an asshole. With a terrible mouth. A mouth that has gotten me in trouble most of my life.”

“Yet you seem so nice,” she found it hard to believe considering how nice Negan had been to her whole family.

“Now I do,” Negan countered with a shrug of his shoulders, “I owe that to my wife. I had a big head for a long time. I said what I wanted. I had no filtering system. And I was mean. She put me in my place and made me realize life was much better when I actually didn’t make everything about me.”

“Do you miss her?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes falling to the rings that laid against the center of Negan’s chest from his necklace.

“Very much,” Negan answered with a long exhale. “She was a fireball, but she kept me on my toes. Losing her felt like losing myself.”

“It would have been nice to meet her,” Elizabeth suggested, laughing when Negan playfully spun her around to the music. It had Negan smiling with her amusement when he led her back into their original dance pose.

“She would have loved you,” Negan commented with a wink. The longer he thought about it, the more upset he seemed to be thinking about it. “I wish I would have been around to see you two grow up. That way you could have known her and she could have known you.”

“You’re around now,” Elizabeth was quick to point out, but still Negan knew that he shouldn’t have ran away like he did. “You can’t change the past, you can only focus on the present. That’s what they say at least, right?”

“They do say that,” Negan acknowledged with a firm nod of his head. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something. There has been something on my mind lately and I wanted to talk to you about it before I did anything.”

“Okay?” Elizabeth seemed surprised by that.

“You and your brother are the most important part of your mother’s life,” Negan realized, the muscles in his throat flexing and bringing attention to the prominent vein at the side of his neck. “And I’ve really enjoyed getting to spend time with your family. I missed out on so much that I really don’t want to miss out on life with people that I care about. When my wife passed away, it taught me to focus on being with the people you love because you don’t know when you’re going to lose them.”

“Makes sense,” she was quiet, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

“I want to ask your mom to marry me,” Negan blurt out, having Elizabeth stumble when he told her point blank what it was that he wanted. “I’m telling you because I want your permission first. I know that it’s been weird having me in your mother’s life and I don’t want to throw this on you blindly. I need to know that you would be okay with me asking her.”

“You’re asking my permission?” she realized that she was acting weird so she tried to recenter her focus on him and continued to dance with him. Nodding, Negan gave her a nervous smile and she exhaled loudly. “What if I told you no?”

“Then I wouldn’t ask her,” Negan offered, biting down on his bottom lip. His thick eyebrows bounced up hoping that wasn’t the case, but if she didn’t want him in their life, he’d understand. “The last thing I want to do is make you or your brother miserable. And if me asking your mother to marry me hurts either one of you, I don’t want that.”

“Wow,” she breathed out, impressed that he would even come to her in the first place. “Do you have the ring already?”

“I do,” Negan stated, his raspy voice being quiet with the discussion.

“Can I see it?” she was curious knowing that it wasn’t really her business to begin with.

“I will show you it when we’re not at the center of a crowd where your mom can see,” Negan responded, his face scrunching up. A laugh followed and he shook his head. “If someone heard this conversation only from bits and pieces they might think something horrible is going on between the two of us.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” she hit Negan in the shoulder and he made a dramatic expression. A ridiculous laugh fell from his throat and he shrugged his shoulders. “Although people are sick in the head, so you’re not wrong.”

“Right?” Negan agreed with her, sighing loudly. “I know this is kind of old fashioned and silly, but I know how much you love your dad and your life is just as important to me with me asking your mother this.”

“Well, there was always part of me that thought my parents would get back together, but with each year that passed I realized that was less and less likely,” Elizabeth informed Negan who was actually listening to her. “I was old enough to remember how sad my mom was toward the end of her being married to my dad. You make her smile. I haven’t seen her smile like this in a very long time.”

Negan didn’t say anything, he just listened. He wanted to give her the time to think things out, “You have my permission to ask her.”

“Are you sure?” Negan confirmed, not wanting to make things complicated for Elizabeth. But hearing her give him permission made him so incredibly happy. He just didn’t want to act out on it.

“I’d love to tell you it was too fast, but with how things have been?” Elizabeth began considering the options of everything. “I just want her happy. If you make her happy? Then I’m okay with it.”

Giving a nod, Negan continued to dance with her and she felt a warmth growing inside of her chest, “Thank you for asking me though. You didn’t really have to do that.”

“I did,” Negan refused the idea that he shouldn’t have made her part of this. “You mean everything to her. I don’t want to upset you Liz. With my life, I know that it will be crazy the first year or two, but eventually things will die down. I need to know that you are all okay with welcoming me into your family. If she says yes that is.”

“I understand,” she realized what he was going for, but she didn’t think it should have really been up to her. “I wouldn’t ask Peter though. He can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“I think you’re right,” Negan chuckled, dipping Elizabeth giving her a silly wrinkle of his nose. “That was pretty easy to pick up on with your brother immediately.”

“He means well, but he has no chill,” Elizabeth teased, resting her head against the center of Negan’s chest as the music slowed down. “You’ve been a nice addition to life Negan.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Negan confessed knowing that coming into a family with teenagers would be hard on a lot of people, but he was lucky that they were so welcoming to him.

----

Drawing his lips from Y/N, something caught Joel’s eye between the buildings. A sense of rage started to fill his body when he saw Negan dancing with Elizabeth with the DJ talking about fathers with their daughters.

“Joel,” he felt the touch of Y/N’s fingers against the side of his face trying to draw him back to her. “What’s going on?”

There was no doubting that something was wrong. Joel looked furious. When his breathing grew loud, she tried to grab a hold of him, “Joel!”

“The son of a bitch thinks he can just step in on my life and steal it completely,” Joel stammered, his heart hammering inside of his chest watching Negan and Elizabeth laughing together. “It’s one thing for him to come into our lives and steal you, but trying to act like he’s Ellie’s dad now? He can’t just step into our lives and steal everything from me.”

“I don’t think that’s what is happening Joel,” she tried to reason with Joel, but his focus was completely off of her by now. Trying to move around her, Y/N attempted to stop him. There was that familiar look of rage and fury that she knew inside of Joel. “Stay here with me. Talk things out with me.”

“This is just too much,” Joel announced, side stepping around her. Heading back toward the crowd, Joel could hear her calling out to him. It didn’t stop him though. Every step had the rage and anger that he had felt growing inside of him. Once he got closer to the dancefloor, Negan caught sight of him. By the expression on Joel’s face, Negan must have known that he was furious because he instinctively moved himself in front of Elizabeth and moved her around him. “You son of a bitch.”

“Joel, don’t,” Negan warned noticing that Joel’s fists were clenched at his side. At the first hint of Joel’s fist lifting, Negan worked quickly placing his good leg swiftly behind Joel. Hooking his arms around Joel’s shoulders, Negan managed to knock Joel over and catch him before he hit the ground. People gasped, and Elizabeth looked worried about her father. “He’s okay. He’s alright. He just tripped.”

“Get off me,” Joel demanded with Y/N getting there just in time for Elizabeth to look to her for some kind of help.

“Whatever is going on, not in front of your daughter,” Negan whispered in Joel’s ear trying his best to keep Joel from attacking him. Thankfully Joel was obviously drunk and not at the top of his game because Negan was able to control him. “You’re scaring her.”

Nothing pissed Joel off more than someone telling him how to be a father, but when he lifted his stare to see the way that Elizabeth was looking at him, he knew that Negan was right. Calming down, Joel allowed Negan to get him to his feet. Fixing his jacket, Joel gave his daughter a reassuring nod and cleared his throat.

“I’m fine. I just slipped,” Joel lied with a half-smile realizing now that most eyes were on him. Stepping forward, Joel wrapped Elizabeth up in his arms and squeezed her tight burying his nose against the side of her neck. “I love you. So much.”

“Are you mad about the dance? You weren’t here and Negan saw me,” Elizabeth tipped her head back to look up into her father’s brown eyes. “I’m sorry. I just, I agreed to dance with him and if you’re angry with me…”

“I could never be angry with you,” Joel hushed her, thankful that people were now starting to mind their own business. “I just need to talk to your mother and Negan for a couple of minutes, okay?”

Truthfully? Elizabeth didn’t know how to respond. She just nodded her head and allowed Joel to release her. Heading over to Y/N and Negan who were standing behind him, Joel knew he needed to get them away from the public, “Follow me.”

“Maybe I should help you,” Negan commented attempting to step forward taking notice of how drunk Joel truly seemed to be. When he reached out to grab Joel, Joel pulled from him and refused to be touched. Following him through the crowds, together they went to the place that Joel was originally at to get away.

“How dare you,” Joel snarled, turning on his heel and pointing his finger at Negan when they were finally alone. “You come into my life and you steal everything from me. Now you’re trying to take my children too?”

“I would never do that,” Negan claimed, his eyes narrowing with him immediately shaking his head. “Your children love you very much. Especially Liz and I would never do that.”

“You’re trying to replace me!” Joel screamed at Negan, stepping forward to shove his hands firmly into the center of Negan’s chest getting him to stumble back. Refusing to hit him back, Negan just kept his head down. Joel was drunk and this wasn’t the time or place.

“Hey,” Y/N spoke up, placing herself between the two of them enough to hint to Joel that it wasn’t okay to do this.

“No one could replace you Joel,” Negan reasoned, his hands throwing up in the air in disbelief. “You are the most important person in your children’s lives. And I would never do that to you. Fuck Joel. If that’s what you think I’m doing…”

“You play this nice guy, but you’re not,” Joel scolded Negan who folded his arms out in front of his chest. Staring out at Joel, Negan listened, but it was obvious by the way that Negan’s jaw flexed that he was getting frustrated. “Truthfully? I just think you’re out to make me fucking miserable. You saw that things weren’t right and you took your opportunity to sink your teeth in.”

“Joel,” Y/N breathed out his name, trying to get him to focus on her. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m drunk, but I’m not stupid,” Joel declared with a broken breath. “You always saw the good parts of Negan, but you never knew the bad in him. The horrible shit that he did to people. I was with him when you weren’t. This whole nice guy attitude is fake as hell.”

“You’re right Joel, I was an asshole,” Negan agreed with Joel, his voice raspier and deeper than normal. “I did a lot of questionable things. My whole life. I don’t disagree with you and I’m not gonna fight you on it because that’s who I was. An asshole. An arrogant, piece of shit. But I changed.”

“Bullshit! No one changes that much!” Joel accused Negan, throwing his hand about. With how hard his heart was pounding, it made Joel feel like he was going to rupture. “What the hell did you change for? Because in my eyes, you have to be doing this because of what I did when we were younger. There is no reasonable explanation for it. No one falls in love with someone that fast. No one clings to someone that fast. You are even playing me like a fiddle because of what I did. To tear my life apart.”

“There is a perfectly reasonable explanation,” Negan assured Joel, reaching out to curl his fingers around Y/N to get her to back away from Joel so he could approach him. “I understand that you are upset, but I love Y/N. A lot. Anything you think is going on isn’t. There is no ill intention, no hatred, no anger. I think because you’re drunk, you’re letting these ideas eat away at you. And you really shouldn’t be drunk like this around your children with…”

A loud smacking sound echoed throughout the area and it happened so fast that Y/N wasn’t even able to register immediately what happened with the sound of Negan’s body hitting the ground hard. Joel’s chest was rising and falling repeatedly, his fist curled up at his side. And it was then she realized that Joel had hit Negan and he hit him hard.

“You have everything! Money, people who love and admire you. You are famous, you have the life that only people dream of having,” Joel roared, every muscle in his body tensing up with Y/N attempting to help Negan up. Pushing up onto his hands, Negan managed to get himself seated on the ground with his fingers clasping to his jaw where Joel’s hit had connected. “Yet you want the simple life? The life that an average man has? You’re even making me think that I’m gay because of something my father said when I was a teenager. You are taking everything I love and fucking my life up. For something that happened over twenty years ago.”

“Knock it off,” Y/N demanded of Joel with him stepping closer toward the two of them.

“Not until he admits it,” Joel scowled with a fire building up inside of him. There was an ache within his knuckles where he hit Negan. At this point Negan was staring up at him from the ground with his hazel eyes narrowed. “Who the hell comes back to their small town when they have everything? Because all it seems like is that you are attempting to steal everything important to me. Why does someone who has everything need to keep stealing everything from me?”

“I was fucking miserable!” Negan erupted for the first time, finally pulling himself up to his feet. It was the first time since he had been back that he actually raised his voice. “My whole life ended when I lost Lucille. None of the stardom or the fame matters to me! I would give it all up to bring Lucille back to life. Because having everything means nothing when you’re alone. And for the first time since she died, I don’t want to put a fucking gun in my mouth and blow my brains out!”

Everyone went quiet. Negan was worked up, his face turning red with tears burning at his eyes, “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to kill myself since she died?”

There was pain in Negan’s voice, his eyes locked on Joel’s who seemed to back down some with Negan exploding like he was, “I promised her that I would live life for her, but from the moment she died I’ve never wanted to leave this world more. I don’t care that I have money, I don’t care that I have fame. If I wasn’t such a pussy, I would have killed myself a long time ago, but I’m scared. I’m fucking scared.”

Misery was filling Negan’s face and he shook his head, “And for the first time in a long time, I don’t hurt. I don’t want to leave this planet anymore. I woke up every day wishing for death, but now, I wake up looking forward to something because I…” Negan looked back at Y/N, his voice growing weaker. “I love her so fucking much. She makes me happy. For the first time since I lost Lucille, I look forward to waking up.”

Seeing the expression over Y/N’s face was all Joel needed to know that in that moment, he lost. What Negan had just said was the thing that she had been looking for in New York from Joel. Proof of how much he loved her.

“So whatever it is you think I’m doing to you, I’m not. I just want to be part of your life. This isn’t some sick revenge that has been pent up inside of me for twenty years,” Negan reasoned with Joel, is hand placing in over the center of his chest.

Lowering his head, Joel didn’t know how to respond. It was a lot to process, especially with what Negan had admitted, “What is it that you did Joel?”

That very question had both Joel and Negan looking to her, “I’ve heard him say it several times. That you’re looking to get back at him for something he did. Are you talking about the two of us getting together?”

“Yes,” Negan answered for Joel, turning on his heel to face her. “That’s exactly what he means.”

“No,” she shook her head after observing Negan for a long moment. “I know when you’re lying. You’re lying to me right now. Which doesn’t make sense because you never lie to me. What did he do to you Negan?”

“You had to have told her,” Joel still put forward that doubt, holding his hand up toward Y/N. “There has never been a point in our life where I didn’t doubt that she loved me. Yet all I see is doubt…”

“Stop,” Negan warned, holding his hand up in the air. “It’s nothing Y/N. It’s just the idea that he was my best friend too and then he swept in knowing how I felt.”

“Don’t lie to me,” she pled with Negan, who dropped his hands down at his sides in defeat. “Please.”

“It doesn’t matter what happened,” Negan reasoned with her, shaking his head and looking back toward Joel. “Things happened the way they were meant to. You had your children with Joel and I met Lucille. I was happy with Lucille and I would have never given up that time with her. There is no reason for anyone to feel any sort of grudge or upset.”

“You’re standing here insisting that you love me,” Y/N looked to Joel, her face twisting with confusion. Even though Negan had gotten emotional, there was still that lingering thought that Joel was focusing so hard on something that he had done. “If you love me Joel, tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Joel suggested, swallowing down hard and stealing a quick look from Negan who gave him a nod. “All that matters is that I know I love you. So very much.”

“It was big enough for you to focus on,” she stressed, standing between both Joel and Negan to get them both to look at her. “This whole time I thought the worst thing that happened was just us getting together. I thought that’s why we disconnected, why we all stopped talking to each other. Why Negan stopped talking to me. Was that really the reason?”

They were both silent and it had her getting infuriated, “Tell me!”

“It’s complicated,” Negan explained, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat realizing that she was just going to get more upset. “But I’m telling you, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“If you care about me, you are going to start talking,” she put her focus back onto Joel causing a panicked expression to flood his features.

“That’s not fair,” Joel stammered, glancing to Negan and then back to her. “You know I care about you. I love you.”

“You don’t need to hear it Y/N. It’s not gonna help anyone or anything,” Negan appealed to her, but she held her hand up in the air to stop him from talking to her.

“I was a seventeen-year-old boy,” Joel began with a broken breath, throwing his hands up in the air while he spoke. “I don’t know what you want me to say Y/N. Things I did back then, I’m not that person anymore.”

“What did you do?” she annunciated each word with frustration. “I’m the only one that is left out of what happened. I think I deserve to know because I have no idea.”

“No one wants to tell you because neither one of us want to hurt you,” Negan spoke for the both of them, his head bobbing from side to side. “It’s a subject that doesn’t matter anymore. Because what was meant to happen, happened. There is no sense in going back on something that is only going to upset you.”

“No. No, he needs to tell me,” she demanded, pointing out at Joel who went extraordinarily pale. “I need to hear this from him because obviously it’s a big deal. And if he doesn’t, I will never look at him the way I used to.”

“Fine,” Joel exhaled loudly, but it had Negan immediately shaking his head. “What other options do I have Negan?”

“It was over twenty years ago,” Negan repeated how he felt about everything. “We’ve grown up. Life happened to us.”

“When we were on the baseball team together, the boys used to talk,” Joel let out a tremoring breath, tears developing at his eyes. Sucking in a sharp breath of air, Joel shook his head and tried to gather himself. “Just fucking around, sharing stories in the locker room. Doing what boys do. We all had our stories, but the boys used to pick on Negan since he was a virgin. And he told people that he was. He was proud of it.”

By the expression on Negan’s face, Negan didn’t agree with what Joel was doing, but more than anything Joel wanted things to be right between them, “He didn’t care. He took everything with a grain of salt and just gave it back to them. And this one time he went off on some big rant about being in love with you. How you were the love of his life. That you were soulmates. That you two were going to get married after high school for you.”

Gazing between both men, she took notice of the way that Negan was looking down toward the ground and how Joel had a hard time even looking at her, “I was being a smartass. I was trying to show off to the boys. I told him he was an idiot because it was obvious you didn’t love him. But he swore up and down that the two of you were soulmates. That you two had been desperately in love since you were children.”

Pausing, Joel looked to Negan and shook his head again realizing that this was probably stupid to continue on with, “I told him that I could prove that you didn’t love him because you clearly were crushing on me. We got into a fight where he ended up shoving me and I tripped over the bench. At the same time there was a janitor cleaning the floor, I knocked into him and the bucket poured all over me. The boys got a kick out of it and I suddenly became the butt of the joke instead of Negan. Originally, I was just fucking with him talking shit to get a reaction out of the boys, but after he pushed me…”

Joel went to speak, but then stopped when he took time to consider what he would say next, “So at the party, when I saw Negan wasn’t with you I approached you. I started talking with you and then when I knew he was there to see it, I kissed you. And then I convinced you to go to my house with me. I had one of the boys tell Negan that you needed him. So that way he would see the two of us together.”

“So hooking up with me that night was revenge,” she put together what Joel was saying, but neither of them reacted. “So that story you fed me about falling in love with me at the planetarium was absolute bullshit,” her voice was broken having Joel’s face sink and he immediately shook his head. “I was just someone that you slept with because Negan embarrassed you?”

“No, my story about that was true. I started developing feelings for you long before I did that, but I just didn’t do anything about it because I thought the two of you were together. I swear,” Joel was tripping up over his words, fear flooding into his eyes. “What I said to you about kissing you for the first time, I meant it. Just because I fucked with Negan doesn’t mean that how I felt about you wasn’t true.”

“Bullshit,” she blurt out finding herself absolutely floored with what Joel was telling her. “You didn’t even like me, did you? You just got with me because it hurt him.”

“No, no!” Joel stressed, throwing his hands up in the air defensively. “Yes, I made my move out of anger, but I know how I felt about you. And it shouldn’t matter how it started because as soon as that happened, I knew that I wanted to be with you. With the two of us talking that night, I knew that everything I felt was real. I liked you. I liked everything about you. The two of us connected. I could have just slept with you and left it at that, but I didn’t. I wanted to be with you and from that moment on I was a good boyfriend. I fucking loved you. I realized how pure you were, how…”

“Our whole relationship started because you wanted some kind of revenge on Negan for embarrassing you?” she snapped at Joel hearing his breathing broken and he tried to find the right way to say what needed to be said. “Jesus. And I fell for it too. I ended up hurting and losing the most important person in my life because…”

“Because you loved me,” Joel interrupted her, his words full of venom when he shook his head and his bottom lip trembled. “You loved me and I loved you. We were perfect together. Even looking back you see that. That town fucking loved us together. We were the it couple. The couple that everyone wanted to be like. You were everything that I wanted. And you were there for me when my parents passed. You helped me with Tommy, we had two beautiful babies…”

“Did you love me though?” she questioned, her chest aching from hearing what had happened between all of them. “Or was I just the prize that you won at the end of the day? It would make a whole lot of sense with everything that followed.”

“We had the perfect relationship for years,” Joel maintained, his hand placing in over the center of his chest. “I loved you. I still love you. I made a mistake four years ago asking for that divorce because I didn’t really want it. I was just confused with my emotions and my feelings. I’m not good with those things.”

“You couldn’t tell me about this?” Y/N looked to Negan for some kind of response. “I know that I broke your heart, but leaving and then never speaking to me again…”

“Don’t,” Joel stopped her before she could get any more upset with Negan. “As much as I’d like to say he did, he originally didn’t abandon you. I mean he avoided us that whole year, which was a dick move, but…”

She was speechless. What the hell was she supposed to say?

“Negan came to say goodbye to you when he was leaving town,” Joel alerted her, his face twisting with remorse. “I had just lost my parents and I wouldn’t let him. Deep down, I knew how you felt about him. I knew that if he came and apologized, explained things to you that you would leave me and you wouldn’t be able to let him go. I guess this is the part where I’m supposed to admit to you that I made him feel bad and forced him to leave without a goodbye. But I don’t feel bad for that. I needed you. You were everything to me and you were the only one that was there for me when my parents passed away.”

“You just assumed that I would leave you? After everything we had been through?” she pushed seeing the way Joel’s dark eyes looked miserable after he was dropping everything on her lap. “Negan was in love with Lucille. I just wanted my best friend. I was lonely. And I missed him. You knew how much I missed him.”

“But I also knew how much you two loved each other,” Joel shouted pointing between the two of them and it had Negan’s jaw flexing. “Look at how fast the two of you found each other as soon as he came back.”

“That shouldn’t have been your decision to make,” she let out a tremoring breath looking between the both of them.

“I needed you,” Joel reasoned with her, shaking his head as he spoke. “It didn’t hurt him. He got to run away. Got picked up by a team immediately. He found the love of his so-called life. I shouldn’t have had to lose my parents and you at the same exact time.”

“I wouldn’t have left you!” she yelled at Joel, angry with him for even suggesting it.

“Bullshit! Lucille and I both knew that we had to keep you two from each other or we would have lost you,” Joel screamed back at her, this time getting Negan to look at him with shock along with her. “Don’t look at me like that! Neither one of you got over each other. You never did. I saw the way you looked at him when we watched his games on the television. And with him always calling his mom to ask for updates about you and your life.”

Clearly Negan was shocked to hear how Joel knew anything about his personal life since he wasn’t part of it, “You think you’d be happy with Negan, but you wouldn’t be. At first it’s all fun and happiness. But then when the going gets tough, he’ll just cheat on you. You think I was a bad husband? You should hear what he was like.”

At this point? Joel was just done and he found himself erupting. Especially since him telling Y/N the truth was making it look less and less like she wouldn’t want to be with him anymore. If she didn’t want Joel, she shouldn’t want Negan either, “He talks about how Lucille meant everything to him, but he cheated on her. All the fucking time. And you know what made him stop? You know what made him finally be the good husband that he sells himself as? Her telling him that she had cancer. The moment she did that, well he just became the husband that she always dreamt of him being. Doting on her. Perfect. Yet for most of their marriage, he made her absolutely miserable.”

Confusion spread through both of them with Joel’s rant, “Yeah, me and your wife were better friends than you thought Negan.”

Looking to Y/N, he pointed at Negan and shrugged his shoulders, “You know what made him cheat the first time? They were fighting a lot because they were trying to have children. You see, at first she thought Negan wasn’t a real man. Just assumed that he was impotent and his swimmers didn’t work. And because she blamed him, Negan couldn’t handle the stress.”

“Shut up,” Negan rumbled, his words quiet with him visibly upset.

“You want to act like you’re the perfect fucking lover and I was a bad husband, but I never had sex with another woman until after I got divorced,” Joel educated Negan on his relationship. “I’m suddenly supposed to believe that those final years of your marriage changed you completely Negan? That you won’t cheat on her when you’re away being a sports star?”

“You stayed in contact with Lucille, but I wasn’t allowed to talk to Negan?” she spoke up, drawing Joel’s attention away from Negan. “You got angry with me any time I contacted him. When I tried to talk to him about Elizabeth…”

“I didn’t stop you though. It was his choice to after that first time to still stay away from our family. Yeah, I was good friends with Lucille. Our significant others were head over heels in love with each other,” Joel snapped at her, his voice raising as he spoke. “She needed someone to talk to somehow because he sure as hell wasn’t there to listen to her when she was sad. Yet he thinks he can just step in on my family and be the man he couldn’t be with his dead wife?”

That was it. Negan’s breaking point. Tackling Joel to the ground, both men were fighting and they weren’t backing down. Hit after hit that landed echoed throughout the area surrounding them.

“Stop it,” she demanded of the both of them doing her best to try to split the fight up. Hooking her arm around Negan she realized that he would be the easier one to control. Once she had him, he immediately stopped trying to get at Joel. “He’s drunk and he’s angry so he’s saying whatever is coming to him because his filtering system is gone.”

“No, you know what his problem really is?” Negan growled, carefully getting Y/N off to the side so she wouldn’t be in harm’s way. “The problem is that you aren’t the only one that has feelings for me and it’s eating away at him. His fucking daddy was a homophobe that didn’t allow him to explore his feelings so he’s angry with himself for wanting both me and you. Because wanting me? Now that goes against everything that daddy wanted. Doesn’t it Joel?”

An agonizing sound filled the air with Joel sweeping his leg out from underneath Negan’s bad leg having him hit the ground hard. Immediately Negan’s arms wrapped around his leg, with a muted scream that had her instinctively going to Negan.

“I’m sorry,” Joel realized what he had done, trying to scramble forward to help Negan. Attempting to get Negan to roll onto his back, Negan shoved at Joel to try to get him away. “I didn’t mean to do that. I swear.”

“Get away from me,” Negan ordered rolling onto his back, his fist hitting the ground beneath him from the pain he was visibly having in his knee. “Fuck, fucking…fuck!”

Rolling onto his side, Negan tried to use his strength to push himself up onto his feet. With the help of Y/N, Negan managed to put all of his weight onto his good leg. Looking back at Joel, Negan shook his head and let out a frustrated breath, “You know what? I was wrong. You are a fucking asshole.”

Motioning Y/N to let him go, Negan gave her a saddened expression and started to limp in the other direction away from both her and Joel.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say the things that I did, but I am so depressed. I hurt so bad and to watch him get everything that was important to me…” Joel began with a broken sound, his head shaking in disbelief. “I hate me. I hate me so much and to not have you in my life hurts. I know how our relationship started and trust me, I regret it. I do. But I loved you. And I don’t regret that we got together because as soon as I had you, I knew from that moment on we were meant to be together.”

“Joel,” she hushed him, stepping forward to grab his hands in hers to give them a supportive squeeze. “I understand, okay? But you need to sober up and then the two of us can have a conversation. Just the two of us. But this version of you? I can’t deal with it right now. So sleep off the booze. Please.”

“I just…” Joel wanted to say more, but before he could she was walking away and he realized that tonight he probably screwed up his chances more than he ever thought possible.

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost @dead-of-niight @dilfsandmartinis @jennydehavilland

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weaveandwood · 1 day ago

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The Snake and The Crow: The Beginning

Pairing: The Viper x Female Rook (Bianca, an Antivan Crow mage) Words: 4.3K NSFW Summary: Bianca and Ashur do something about the inexplicable tension that has followed them since the moment they met just two weeks prior.

AN: I bring you smut via flashback! This takes place six weeks prior to the current timeline, though this chapter can also read as a smutty one shot. Read on AO3! Read Chapter 2

DOCK TOWN, SIX WEEKS AGO

“Looking for something?”

She startled before turning slowly, the barest hint of a smile playing on the edge of her lips once she noticed it was him. It disappeared as quickly as he noticed it, her carefully crafted neutral expression a mask not dissimilar to his own. He wondered if there would be a day when he would see the Rook behind that mask. He wondered if she could be thinking something similar about him.

“I’ve never been good at being still, having patience, waiting around,” she said, leaning against a crate filled with extra robes, tunics, leathers – supplies for future members they kept stored away in this almost forgotten basement storage room. “I thought I would see if the mysterious Shadow Dragons had anything good hiding down here.”

“And? Find anything interesting?” he said, crossing the threshold and partially shutting the door behind him. He watched her eyes, blue as the depths of the sea, flick up and down. Before he knew it, he was right in front of her as if he were a moth and she was a flame. The air was charged like the moment before lightning struck, as it always was when they were in the same room. He could feel the sparks dancing across his skin – they were drawn to her, urging him forward to be nearer to her.

“I think the most interesting part of the Shadow Dragons is right in front of me,” she said, her fingers brushing the edging of his coat. “The name, the mask…there’s more to you than just The Viper.”

The tension between them had been potent since their first meeting in that alleyway in Dock Town two weeks prior. He had found himself half-listening as Neve and Rook confirmed things the Dragons had been hearing whispers of. His eyes were drawn to Rook - her curly hair, the scar on one cheek, the low cut top she wore. What caught his eye most of all were what looked to be scarred feathers trailing from her collarbone down her chest. They were too regular and defined to be accidental. There was a story there, as Neve would say. He looked at her face once more only to find her eyes already on him - he had been caught staring. He had never been more thankful for the mask to hide the hot flush that had climbed up his neck that day.

And yet, it didn’t stop him from staring every time they met since.

“I’m sure there’s more to you than just Rook. We all have our secrets, or burdens, our obligations. Especially those of us in…our positions.” He was so close to her now he could see her chest rise and fall with each breath, count each eyelash, see each tiny freckle. If he hadn’t been The Viper and were only Ashur instead, he would have already pressed his lips against hers. He would have already had her back against the wall as he dragged his hand up the side of her body to feel her curves. He would have already heard her whisper his name into his ear.

“The perks of leadership no one tells you about, right?” she smiled as he laughed softly, her fingers now grazing the stiffened collar of his shirt before moving to the lower edge of his mask. She traced the outline of his ear and he couldn’t help but close his eyes against the surge of desire that coursed through him. He wanted to touch her, to wrap his arms around her and kiss her roughly. It was new for him, to feel this way as quickly as he did with her, almost unexplainable - yet she was magnetic, she was intriguing, she was under the same amount of pressure he was, if not more. He wasn’t normally like this. He was a man of focus, a man with a mission – work against the Venatori, free slaves, get them to safe houses, and make Minrathous a better place. That had been his anchor all these years and his single goal. He found it was getting more and more difficult – the Venatori were brazen and the slavers grew more and more cruel, emboldened by the apathy of much of the Magisterium. He was frustrated, he was tired, he was angry. He had no outlet.

“It is nice to spend a quiet moment with someone who gets it,” he said, finding his finger tracing the placket of her top, unbuttoned to almost her stomach. Just one move and he could have it fully opened, he thought, with nothing between him and her skin that he spent more time thinking about than he should.

“Would be nice to be a little less quiet, too,” she said before ever so slightly biting her lip. He would remember that image for the rest of his days. “If you want.”

“I think it’s pretty obvious what I want.” The thought of them entwined made the air in the small storage room even more volatile – one word could set him ablaze. He could feel himself stirring at the thought of having her moan in his ear while he was buried deep inside her.

“Then will you let me see you?” she whispered, reaching for the fastening of his mask before he had a chance to answer. He froze, warning bells going off in his head – past experience told him to back away, that no one could know who he truly was. All of his work would be destroyed in an instant if anyone found out, and he couldn’t bear that for the people he was trying to help. And yet…his instinct told him to trust her. She was fighting a similar fight he was, holding similar burdens, similar pressures. He felt the clasp release, the familiar weight of the mask gone as it hung freely by his other ear. One burden so easily removed by her. How many others would she help him shed? Could he do the same for her?

The thin thread of his composure snapped when he saw the faint smile appear upon the revelation of his face, another small crack in her well-honed mask. He crashed his lips against hers, smiling against her as she kissed him back. It was almost funny, the tension of their last three meetings had come to a head and now they were making out in the basement of the Shadow Dragon’s pawn shop. His tongue pushed past the boundary of her lips, finding a rhythm as it danced with hers. Her lips were soft, full, and perfect against his. He pressed his body into hers, his fingers tangling in her mass of wild curls. She let out the softest moan into his mouth and it was all he could do to stop himself from taking her right then and there as his mind filled with images of them together. He imagined his hand sliding into one side of her top, feeling her bare breast beneath his fingers. He imagined her hand wrapped around him before climbing on top of him. He imagined the look on her face and the noises that would escape those perfect lips when he made her come.

The creak of the wooden stairs made its way to his ears, interrupting his reveries – someone was coming, and they couldn’t be found like this. He broke the kiss and she was left breathless, her lips swollen. She looked as disappointed as he felt. He might not normally be like this, but he wanted to be when he was with her.

“I can come back. Later. Alone,” she said, the implications clear. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“Ashur.”

“What?” she said, a look of confusion on her face.

“My name. It’s Ashur,” he smiled before fastening his mask and becoming The Viper once more.

“See you tonight, then,” he said as he walked out the door, leaving her alone in the storage room.

He waited for the telltale glow of an activated eluvian to fill the small room he was currently working in. Most of the Dragons had either left for the night or were sleeping on the scattered couches, even Tarquin after much convincing. Good . He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain Rook coming alone through the eluvian in the middle of the night and the longer he could delay that particular conversation, the better.

The mirror came to life, a faint hum preceding the soft white glow to announce his visitor. He set down the papers he was looking over - manifests from a slaver ship they were planning on raiding in the next few days. The work was never ending and progress seemed nonexistent on days like today where he was disheartened, where he longed for the day when The Viper didn’t need to exist, when he didn’t need to live a double life. As he saw Rook step through the eluvian, he took in the way her leathers hugged every strong curve of her body, the way her curls moved, the sway of her hips as she walked toward him. He supposed now that he would be living a triple life, though he would gladly do so for a few hours with her. The kiss they shared had been the one bright spot in this difficult day, and he found his mind drifting to it often as the hours passed.

“Bianca,” she said.

“What?” he tilted his head slightly, sure he missed something.

“My name – Bianca. I think it’s only fair if you know mine.” She was in front of him once more, toying with the edging on the jacket. “Especially if this is going where I hope it’s going?”

A thought flashed through his head, chastising him for getting this close to an Antivan Crow. He knew this was dangerous, that they were trained to use seduction techniques on their marks. If she found out who – no what – he was, he would be in even greater danger than he was before – bought and sold to the highest bidder, a trophy for someone who didn’t agree with his plans. Still, as her fingertips brushed the small amount of exposed skin on his neck he found that he didn’t care. Let him be her mark for tonight.

“Follow me,” he said, leading her to the back of the building to his quarters. A generous term, really, it was a small office with a desk and a sofa to sleep on in the rare hours he could afford to rest. He shut the door behind them. There would be no resting here for now.

“Nice place,” she said, watching him from the sofa as he hung up his coat and hat before unfastening his mask and laying it on the desk. “There you are,” she smiled.

“Here I am,” he said, walking to her with purpose. He sat next to her before pulling her onto his lap, ready to pick up where they left off that afternoon in the storage room. He wrapped a hand around her back, pressing her toward him as his lips brushed hers - both of them tentative for the briefest of moments, as if this was a line they weren’t sure they should cross even though they wanted to. The moment was fleeting, passing as swiftly as it came and they found themselves entwined together once again. His skin felt as if sparks of lightning were running just under the surface. They made him want more.

She moved to kiss his earlobe. He groaned when she kissed one forgotten spot on his neck that drove him mad and he pressed his hips up into hers on instinct. He ran his hand from her waist to her breast, palming it as she continued her torturing path down his neck and across the column of his throat before moving back up the other side. He thought of her kissing his chest, his stomach, her lips wrapped around him. The thought alone nearly sent him careening toward the edge and they weren’t even undressed yet.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, breathless, needing a moment to recover from his imaginings.

She hummed against his neck in agreement.

“The…scars,” he inhaled sharply as she bit a little harder on his earlobe. “What is the story there?”

She sat up and looked at him. He had never seen someone with eyes that deep of blue – was it an Antivan thing? He could drown in them and be glad for it. He dragged a finger down the center of her chest, feeling the slightly raised skin.

“A question for a question?” she said, smiling at him. This could be dangerous, he thought, but then she rocked her hips against him and his better judgement went out the window.

“Deal,” he groaned.

“Training for the Crows starts when you are a child. I had just turned seven when they bought me. It is…tough. Brutal. Some would call it torture – I certainly felt that way. But I made it through, and I never was more proud of myself than when I was fully initiated. I was an Antivan Crow. So I got my wings to celebrate – I’ll always be a Crow.” He had heard rumors of the training methods of the Crows, children raised to know nothing but murder, that a life is what you can earn from it, that –

“Wait, they bought you? So you were a slave?”

“I only agreed to one question, Ashur,” she smiled. “My turn.”

“Fair enough, what is your question?” he said, kissing her neck, now his turn to give her sweet torture.

“What’s with the hat and the mask?” she whispered, her head tilted to the side to give him better access to the smooth skin above her collarbone. He paused as his lips brushed against her throat.

“I can’t answer that one,” he said.

“That’s not fair, we had a deal, Viper ,” she teased, a fake pout on her lips. She pressed her hips down again, drawing out another moan from his lips, knowing she could feel him straining against his pants. He sighed before looking into her eyes once more.

“All I can say is that if anyone knew what I looked like, who I am – it would be very bad for me, the Shadow Dragons, and the people we are trying to help, among many others. I am putting a lot of trust in you, Rook .”

“Luckily for you, you could be the Archon and I would have no idea,” she joked before kissing him again, a little softer, less desperate than earlier. “Who better to trust than a nobody who has to kill two, maybe three, elven gods? Odds are I won’t even be around to spill your secrets,” she said with a soft smile on her face.

He smiled back, though he would not tell her how close her joke was to the reality of his situation. He tucked a curl behind her ear, discovering it was pointed. She was an elf – how had he not realized until now? Another question for another time.

“You’re…not the Archon are you?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

He let out a loud laugh. Maker , how long had it been since he laughed like that? “No, Bianca, I’m not the Archon.”

“Good,” she said with a smile. “Now…where were we?” She reached around the back of neck, pulling him to her, kissing him deeply. He melted into her touch as her kiss heated him even more than he was before, the sparks of lightning giving way to a burning ember, ready to ignite at a moment’s notice.

He thought he should be embarrassed about how aroused he was with her hips rocking against his, even fully clothed, and yet…he couldn’t find a reason to. He didn’t know if it was a purely physical thing, or if it was because she uniquely understood the heavy weight of expectation. In the end, it didn’t matter. He wanted her, and he would have her. Only a few buttons stood in his way, and he made quick work of them to expose a narrow ribbon of her olive skin.

She slid the shirt off her shoulders to the floor, leaving her bare from the waist up. The dim lighting in the room played off the swell of her breasts, the dips and divots of the scarring on her chest, her shoulders, her arms. He was transfixed. He ran his fingers down the line of her shoulders, feeling the raised skin as he reached her scars. What must she have gone through for this to be a celebratory action? He thought of her laying on a table while someone carved into her skin, streaked with thin rivulets of blood. She nipped at his earlobe again before flicking it with her tongue, bringing him back to this room, this moment. There were other tables she could be laid upon, other feelings than pain he could give her. He pushed his hips up against her while her mouth trailed hot kisses down his neck, letting out a soft groan while using her hips as leverage to rock into her faster, harder. He felt like someone wholly different, who he might have been if not for responsibilities and obligations making him into who he was.

“Too many clothes,” she whispered. She climbed off him, leaving him missing the weight of her body pressed against his before taking his hand and pulling him up off the couch. “Off,” she said, backing up to sit on the edge of his desk. She watched him, intently, as he quickly shed his many layers of clothing like a snake sheds its skin. The layers of shirts, the wrapped belts, the pants...she was right – it was too many clothes, and they all ended up in a heap on the floor.

“Much better,” she smiled, looking at him naked in front of her. Once again he thought he should be embarrassed, but couldn’t find it within himself to feel it. Not with the way she looked at him, the hunger in her eyes growing by the second.

“Now who’s the one wearing too many clothes,” he smiled an easy smile at her, motioning with his eyes to her leather pants, still infuriatingly on her body.

“You tell me,” she smiled, leaning back slightly onto her hands, her legs parted. He stepped inside them, undoing the fastenings of her pants before desperately hooking his fingers into the waistband and pulling them off of her, adding them to the pile on the floor. He was both surprised and not surprised to find that she wasn’t wearing undergarments.

“Much better,” he said, his eyes blazing a path up her body just as she had moments ago. She was beautiful, every inch honed to be an assassin from her strong thighs to her muscular arms. She was a fierce mage, but she had the build of someone who knew her way around a throwing dagger, of using physical force to kill when mana was low. That turned him on even more. He felt her fingers press into the skin on his hips, pulling her closer to him.

“So,” she said with a teasing smile as she looked down at him, hard against her leg. “Still want this?”

He laughed. Here she was, naked on his desk with him hard as stone between her legs and she was asking if he still wanted her? He slid a hand between them down her center, and found her slick with desire.

“I don’t think I’m the only one who wants to,” he whispered into her ear as he gently rubbed her clit, her soft gasps falling from her lips to his ears. “I’ve wanted to touch you from the moment I met you,” he said, kissing down her neck once more to the tips of her scarred wings. He would touch each carved feather before he was done with her, he promised himself. She arched her back as he pressed his lips to her skin, one hand on her hip while the other continued tracing circles against her.

“Only touch?” she whispered.

“Among other things,” he smiled against her collarbone.

“Prove it,” she said. He could hear the smile in her words as she rocked her hips against his hand.

Whatever thin restraint he was holding on to previously broke – he was a man on fire. He kissed her roughly, all pretense of the evening gone, if there was any to begin with. They were both here for one reason and one reason only, the air in the room thick with tension as they balanced on the knife’s edge of before and after . He held himself in one hand as he lined himself up against her entrance, looking to her for one last confirmation before pressing into her slowly, using shallow thrusts to help her open up for him. He watched her close her eyes as he sheathed himself fully within her, pausing for a moment to let the both of them adjust to the feeling of each other’s bodies. Maker , she was tight, warm, and wet around him, the softest velvet against his steel.

Ashur was deliberate in everything he did, and this was no exception – he set a slow pace at first, nearly pulling out of her each time before fully sinking back in, drawing a moan from her lips when their hips met again and again. Each time she sent a gasp to the Maker he sped up, the desk creaking as he drove into her with his full length. He watched as her breasts moved with each thrust, he watched her stomach muscles flex as she moved her hips to meet his each time, he watched himself slide in and out of her. Every inch of him connected with every inch of her, and he never wanted to go without this feeling again. He wanted to have her again and again. It had been so long since he’d felt like this, selfish desire cast aside for holy purpose. Her nails dug into the skin of his arms, leaving divots in their place as he continued his relentless pursuit of her pleasure. Each minute bled into the next, time no longer holding meaning as the two of them chased their own highs. Each time she whispered “More, more, ” he gladly obliged and by the time he felt her starting to tighten up around him they were both coated with a thin sheen of sweat.

“I’m so… ah ! So close,” she panted, arching her back against the desk that she was now fully laid out upon. He licked the tip of his finger, reaching between them and tracing gentle circles against her clit once more, desperate to see her reach her peak, wanting to feel her shatter around him. Her hips jolted at his touch, her grip on his arms tightening as she got nearer and nearer to that edge. He kept a firm and steady pace, each thrust into her hard and relentless. He forgot about everything outside of this room as he watched her face. She was beautiful at any given point of the day, but when she was this close, she was radiant. Her cheeks flushed, her skin glowing with sweat, her curls wild and free around her head like a halo. She was divine in this moment. There was no mask.

He felt her muscles tense and her body freeze before she cried out, his name tumbling from her lips like the sweetest song. He felt her shudder around him, pulsing as her orgasm rocked through her. The fire raging under his skin settled lower and lower, driving him to thrust into her faster and harder as he edged closer and closer to the peak of his own desire. He lifted one of her legs, fingertips digging into the skin of her thigh as felt his abdomen tighten. He looked into her eyes and drove himself into her one last time before tumbling over the edge of his desire and falling into the sweetest bliss. His orgasm came with a cry to the Maker as he felt himself fill her with his release. Panting, he pulled out of her, reaching for her hand to help her sit up so he could kiss her once more.

“That was…” she smiled at him, breathless.

“Yeah…it was,” he replied.

“Should we do this again? And again? And again?” she laughed, tracing a finger down the center of his chest before resting her hands on his waist while he kissed her neck again, tasting the slight salt of her sweat.

“I think so,” he said, nipping at her ear. He hadn’t felt as relaxed as he was at this moment in ages. He was unsure if it was the sex or if it was just being with Bianca. What better way to find out than through repeated action? “Every other night? Same time, same place? Or is that too much?” he laughed.

“For the amount of stress we deal with and how good that was? I want to say it’s not enough, but it’ll do,” she joked, sliding off the desk to begin gathering her clothes from the floor. He was unsure if he would ever look at that desk the same way ever again, in a good way.

He said goodbye to her some minutes later, sending her back through the eluvian with a ratty old Shadow Dragon robe – “ For next time ,” she had said. He laughed to himself as he lay on his sofa. The sun would be up in a few short hours, but he was sure he would not find sleep tonight. It was elusive on a good day, which he would now count this as, but now he had visions of Bianca naked on his desk running through his mind. He should be thinking about so many other things, important things, serious things, but his mind always came back to the noises she made and the feeling of being deep inside her when she came.

He had fun. For the first time in years he allowed himself to have fun with her.

Whether he got sleep or not, it was worth it.

#my writing #viper x rook #the viper datv #ashur datv #the viper #the viper dragon age #ashur dragon age #datv rook #datv fanfic #dragon age the veilguard #datv the viper #datv ashur #the snake and the crow #the viper x bianca #ashur x bianca #bianca de riva #sorry this is a long one #i really enjoy writing their dynamic and couldn't rein myself in

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ckret2 · 16 hours ago

Note

I had just finished the first chapter of the Axolotl arc in WAIGLZ and reading the second.

Is he technically being a ghost ever going to come up past this arc to the other chapters in WAIGLZ later on?

Like,

"It was not like y o u were the one who viciously murdered me! I am mean technically your gruncles did not even kill a "living" being in the first place, according to s o m e people,

Bill shook his head, fanning away trillion year old resentment

-"you really think it was my first roadio? P l e a s e . So, try not beat yourself up about it kid, ok?"

Mabel looked up and stared at Bill.

"Wha- Huh??" Mabel said dumbfounded.

It would be crazy coolio to see it mentioned in the main fic.

Until I read your fic I never even thought about Bill being a spirit once, and now I feel rather silly wondering how he lived so long outside of his dimension :,)

Please have a truly wonderful day + happy holidays! ^ ^

Toodaloo!

I'm sure eventually it'll be mentioned again (I mean, for one thing, eventually we're gonna see the massacre) but probably not like that.

Like, Bill technically-being-a-ghost isn't some big secret or a major plot twist, and it doesn't fundamentally rewrite the rules around him and what he does. It's just what we see him do throughout canon.

He's a non-physical entity ("a being of pure energy!") that's apparently self-sustaining without needing sleep or food and impervious to injury and illness ("with no weakness!")

He's usually invisible to normal (living) people. He can possess people. He can move inanimate objects even though he can't physically interact with them. He can haunt dreams.

When he has the opportunity to make himself a body, he doesn't turn into something physical; his physical form is separate from him, and he can freely separate from it any time he wants.

This is mind-body dualism. Generally, mind-body dualism is a framework people use to express the idea that the spirit/soul is a separate entity from the body. The thing that's killed in Stan's mind is the spirit; the statue left behind is the body.

Meaning, before he had that body, he was spirit.

When he separates Dipper's spirit from his body in the exact same way Bill separates from his own body, he says, "Without a vessel to possess, you're basically a ghost!"

Bill usually doesn't have a vessel to possess.

Ergo: Bill's basically a ghost and he said so himself.

I haven't listed anything we didn't learn from Sock Opera and Weirdmageddon.

The ONLY question is "well BEFORE he was an energy being, did he have a physical body?" Whether he was born an energy being or became one later is in the realm of headcanon; and I suppose it's a matter of opinion if an energy being counts as a ghost if it's 100% identical to ghosts in every way except that it didn't previously have a physical body. You could argue that his eagerness to get a physical body the second he could implies he used to have one or was meant to have one, but that's speculation.

In every other way, he meets the criteria for a ghost the same way that tomatoes meet the criteria for berries. But when someone tells you "tomatoes are berries," it doesn't teach you anything new about tomatoes. You already knew tomatoes have berry-like traits, you just assumed they were disqualified because they're too big or too unsweet or too vegetably, and now you know they aren't disqualified.

So like—putting that word on him doesn't change anything about Bill. You've learned nothing new. The characters around him would learn nothing new. It's not a plot twist or massive character revelation; it's just a background fact that gets mentioned when it's relevant.

#(so many people are making such a big deal out of calling him a ghost that I'm almost regretting writing it into the fic)#(folks are reading so much extra significance into it beyond what it really is: putting a word to what he already shows us in canon.)#(but i don't know how i could take it out since like... it is what he is? it underpins his powers & limitations.)#(deliberately making bill Not A Ghost would require completely altering his being in ways that'd probably involve rejecting bits of canon.)#(but it's REALLY made people's attention veer off course.)#(it's fun trivia not a gamechanger)#vivian za determined luna moth #ask #meta #bill cipher #(<- since this is really more about the character in general rather than the fic in question)#gravity falls

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separatist-apologist · 1 day ago

Text

The Prophecy

Summary: No one has seen or heard from Elain Archeron in two months…until she turns up one day in the Spring Court with no memory of where she's been or what she's been doing.

Tamlin and Lucien will have to work together to untangle the mystery of Elain's missing memories.

My gift for @olenvasynyt- but other people can read, too. I wanted to update yesterday but work is ruining my life/fun

@acotargiftexchange

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1

Elain wanted to hate Spring. She hated the males living within the manor, hated that she wasn’t allowed outside even more, but she didn’t hate Spring itself. She woke that morning to rain pattering against her half open window, soaking the wood floor below. It seemed wrong to ruin them, even when so much else was already destroyed. There were no servants, no magic to keep it all clean, and so Elain set about doing it herself.

Tamlin and Lucien seemed to avoid the manor about as often as they avoided each other. There were terse words exchanged when they did interact, along with some hushed whispers she could never quite make out. It didn’t matter—Elain had learned, since she’d been made, that magic possessed loopholes. It wasn’t a perfect, infinite thing but rather a tool, much like anything else. Doors had locks, could be broken even without keys, and so too could spells, wards, and other enchantments.

It was simply a matter of finding them. Elain spent the next two days following the chains from room to room. She could see the aura of them, the way she could on every living thing—magic was alive, in its way, and it had a specific, iridescent shimmer that marked it. To Lucien and Tamlin, it seemed as if she were merely testing the bounds of her new prison.

There were chinks, though it was strong. Lucien and Tamlin had woven the ward together before keying it with their blood. Lucien’s magic was warmer, a faint, orangish glow while Tamlin’s was brighter, a rose gold that smelled like grass clippings in the rain.

She’d need to untangle them from one another before she could go about finding the holes in which she could slip through, and that was more complex. Lucien tended to show up every time she started working, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Something had occurred between them in the music room. She’d closed her eyes for a moment, preparing to play as a way to clear her mind, and when she opened them, she found Lucien on one knee before her, hand on her leg, face ashen.

“What did you say?” he’d whispered.

“Get your hands off me,” she’d replied.

Frustrating that she’d slipped like that. Lucien had stood without a word and stalked out of the room. A bigger woman would have asked him what she’d said so at least she knew as much as he did. She simply didn’t want to speak to Lucien. He, after all, had conspired alongside Tamlin to keep her locked up. Neither of them felt sorry for it, nor did they have any intention of letting her go.

Elain wanted to sit them both down and ask what their long term plan was. How long did they think they could keep this up before someone realized? A couple months at most, if that long. And then what? When Feyre brought the Night Courts vast armies to their doorstep, what then? Would they fight a war on her behalf?

No, they wouldn’t, and Elain knew it just as surely as they must. She needed to get out before they came up with some second part to their plan, which would almost certainly involve putting her somewhere no one could find. The manor was big, with windows and doors and walls that, if need be, could be destroyed.

If only Lucien would stop trailing her. She didn’t always see him—but she could smell him. It was a distinct smell, the first she’d been aware of when she’d been dumped out of the cauldron. She couldn’t explain it, could tease out all the individual notes. All Elain knew was how it made her feel, and she didn’t like that feeling.

Everytime Lucien slunk in behind her, she felt safe. When he left, she was on guard again, nervous to the point of goosebumps and shaking, tiptoeing and peering around every corner for danger. When he was there, she was bolder. She marched into rooms without care or concern, comfortable in the knowledge Lucien had no idea what she was doing.

He was with her then, as Elain made her way into the library. It wasn’t much larger than the one in the House of Wind, which she’d spent a decent amount of time in. Rhys and Ferye didn’t have one in their personal home, which meant anything Elain wanted to read had to come from Nesta, who could be quite judgy.

Tamlin’s library was low on the sorts of classic romances Elain preferred, but heavy on history and folklore. Begrudgingly, she appreciated some of that—at least it was unrestricted. And the chains on the wards were vibrant there, swaying like windchimes just overhead. This was where she’d start unravelling, she decided.

“You can come out,” she snapped, plopping down in a chair. Lucien appeared from behind the door frame, hands jammed in his pockets. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ve made sure of that.”

“Just tell us where you were,” Lucien replied reasonably.

“Even if I remembered—and I don’t—why would I tell you now?”

“So you can go home?” he suggested.

Elain scoffed. “I’ll tell Feyre everything you did. We both know you’re not letting me go.”

Lucien blinked, his expression slack for a moment. He hadn’t considered that, then. Wasn’t he supposed to be smart?

“What do you think she’ll do, when she learns?” Elain heard herself asking with boldness that didn’t seem to belong to her. It was the anger, she decided, pent up after years of polite silence. His expression was steely again. “Probably as much as she’d do if you were still there.”

Ouch.

“Good talk,” she mumbled, blinking away the urge to cry in her frustration.

“I shouldn’t—that’s not—cauldron, Elain, this isn’t how I wanted things to go between us,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Yeah, she bet not. Elain understood what it was Lucien wanted, the things he hoped for. She opened her mouth to tell him that was never going to happen, but something stopped her. Some tingling at the back of her throat, some anxiety that made her too afraid to force this confrontation.

“I’m not your enemy,” Lucien added softly.

“You’ve locked me inside this house,” she replied, equally soft. “What does that make you?”

He winced, turning his head to the side as though it pained him to look at her. Maybe it should pain him, at least a little. Elain didn’t feel bad about what she said, nor would she force herself to soften her words like she so often did.

Maybe Lucien deserved whatever he heard, if only a little.

“Just tell me where you were,” Lucien all but pleaded for the second time. “I can protect you.”

Elain laughed, then, gripping the edge of her chair tightly. “You can’t protect yourself,” she said, the words striking at the heart of him. She didn’t need foresight to know that—watching him all these years told her so.

Lucien’s expression hardened, again. “You’ve been protected your entire life, Elain. How will you fare without anyone looking out for you?”

Prick! That wasn’t…entirely…true. She only stared at him, hoping he saw the burning hatred she currently felt. It wasn’t just him that made her angry—Elain had been angry since she’d been kidnapped from her bed and drowned in the Cauldron. Often, she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs until someone relieved her of the endless, consuming monster buried within her ribs.

But she’d seen how that went for Nesta.

Perhaps it was inescapable for her, too. After all, here she was, trapped with Lucien with no way out and no rescue. Would Feyre even care once she learned it was Lucien who had her? Or would they look the other way for Elain’s own good?

Lucien offered Elain a rather filthy gesture with his hand, which prompted her to yell, “I thought you were supposed to be a gentleman!” at his retreating back. His barking laughter echoed down the ruined halls, spoiling her mood. Ass.

Elain spent the rest of her day hiding from Tamlin and Lucien and examining the chains of magic. It took her about as long to untangle Lucien’s magic from Tamlins, separating them so it was easier to pull them apart and slowly unravel the entire thing. The library was the worst place to start given she couldn’t slip out a window. But if she could get it through the floor, the ruined conservatory was just below and that had doors out to the wilted garden.

She’d decided to start with Lucien, assuming of the pair, the High Lord would be the stronger magic user. Lucien, though…his magic was complex, each chain a puzzle. Some of them burned her fingers like real flames while others were so blinding they illuminated the entire room and the hallway beyond.

A tray of food waited for her just outside her door, Lucien’s scent all over it. Guess there were some gentlemanly impulses left, though the flower in the little vase at the corner of the tray looked as if someone had squished it in their palm. She ate, door closed, before setting the tray back in the hall. She could open her window as the frame pulled inward, rather than outward, and the breeze felt nice on her skin.

It hadn’t been a week, she reminded herself. She was far more clever than Tamlin or Lucien gave her credit for, and no one understood how her magic worked. Elain barely understood it, truthfully. She’d simply begun to lie and tell people her magic was gone after the Cauldron had been destroyed, and then repaired, and everyone was willing to believe her.

But it hadn’t. Her magic was, as if ever had been, potent.

Elain rubbed at her eyes, falling backward to the bed. Someone or something had been in to clean given the lack of cobwebs hanging from the chandelier overhead. Her room smelled faintly of marigolds, strange given they were more of an autumnal flower. She turned her face toward the pillow, inhaling deeply.

Sleep came easy even when it shouldn’t. Elain found herself standing in that foggy crossroads, the path often impassible thanks to tangles of thorny creepvine. Many of the early nights, after she’d been turned, were spent at this crossroads trying to coax the vines back. It seemed important to explore them.

When she hadn’t been able to, Elain just assumed it was some irritating nightmare she’d never be free of. As Elain approached the crossroads, she found one path veering left was open to her. A rocky, paved road lay beneath her feet. Squinting, Elain tried to see where it led but a heavy, green tinged fog obscured her vision.

That didn’t stop her. Dreams couldn’t hurt, after all—right? If she got scared, she’d do what she always did and force herself to wake up. With an open path, Elain moved forward eagerly. Why now, she wondered—though it didn’t stop her. Even as she stumbled over little cracks and holes in the road below, all she felt was excitement.

Something bright flared through the fog, the source of it impossible to discern. Light appeared so suddenly it might have been her imagination had it not created sunspots in her vision. Picking up her pace, Elain tried to move faster, but the magic of the dream didn’t allow her to arrive any sooner than the dream wished.

Elain didn’t realize she was trekking up a hill until her breathing became labored, sweat sliding down her neck. If it was a dream, it certainly felt uncomfortably real. It wasn’t—this was only a dream.

At the top of the hill, Elain could see something, though the edges of it were blurred as though she were viewing it from under water. The air warped around her, shimmering irridescent as it prractically begged to be touched. Elain did, surprised to find it was wet, like dew on the grass just before dawn.

She jerked forward as if someone grabbed her wrist and yanked, sending her stumbling forward. There, standing in a glen framed by distant mountains on either side of the early dawn’s horizion, stood Lucien. He hadn’t noticed her—perhaps he wouldn’t, given this was her dream. Elain trotted behind him like a spectre, careful to keep a healthy distance between them. He was making his way toward a creek, his white shirt sleeves rolled to his ankles.

He’d nearly made it when he turned, abruptly, brow furrowed.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. Elain only shrugged her shoulders blithely, because this was her dream and in her dream Lucien had to do as she wanted. She pointed toward the stream.

“Stand in it.”

What fun, to boss him around.

Only, he didn’t move. Lucien merely remained where he was, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re in my dream, Elain.”

She blinked. “This is my dream.”

He prowled forward, head cocked to the side. Tenatively, he reached out and poked her in the cheek, only for her to swat him away. That felt real. Elain blinked again and then, before he could say a word, snatched the dagger resting casually at his hip.

“Put that down!” Lucien warned, hands raised in defense. She wasn’t going to hurt him—Elain pressed the pointed end against her finger and pricked, surprised to find it hurt. Blood welled from the wound, and when she turned her hand over, blood dripped to the ground.

“I’m real,” she said, more to herself than anything. “Where are we?”

“Autumn,” Lucien said moreosly.

“You miss it?” She didn’t know why she was asking. Elain held the dagger in her hand, arm resting limply at her side.

Lucien only shrugged, turning tol ook at the scene around him. She supposed she ought ot have guessed—the rainbow of colors dotting the mountain side certainly didn’t belong to Spring.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered. Something about the magic of her dream made it easier to ask him the questions burning in the back of her throat.

“This is the only time I can see home,” Lucien replied, misunderstanding what she was asking him.

There was no point pressing the issue. She turned, wondering how to leave this dream meeting. Perhaps she could find Feyre and warn her sister she was being held hostage. Easier said than done given she had no idea how she’d walked into Lucien’s dream. The path had opened, seemingly of its own accord, and had brought her here. What did it want her to find?

But whatever clues lay in the grassy glen or the bubbling brook were a mystery to her. It looked serene—picturesque, even—but not anything more than a memory of Lucien’s brought to life by his own mind.

“Elain,” Lucien murmured, gripping her arm. He was touching her. Why? She frowned—but he was shaking her shoulders, now…and his voice was garbled. Far away. “Elain!”

Elain jolted awake to artificial lights half blinding her. Blinking her eyes open, she found Lucien half straddling her body with shredded hands, his own expression panicked. She tried to sit up only to find herself restrained, half buried beneath thorny vines.

“What’s happening?” she breathed, panic rising in her throat.

Lucien hacked at more of the vines, sending the plant thumping lifelessly to the ground. Her own skin was scratched, though nowhere near as bad as Luciens. He continued to pull, revealing a room filled with creepvine. It had come through the window, winding around the room as it sought to smother everything within it.

No longer restrained, Elain scrambled to her feet, breathing hard as she stared back at him.

“You were in my dream,” Lucien whispered, as if needing to hear her admit it. She only nodded.

“That was magic,” he added pointedly.

“I…I don’t know anything about it,” she said honestly. That much was true, at least. Lucien only frowned.

And said nothing else.

—

Head in his hands, Lucien waited for Tamlin to say something.

Anything.

“I’ve never…I’ve never heard of that sort of magic,” Tamlin finally murmured. “Dream walking?”

“I swear she was there,” Lucien repeated, though that hadn ever really been in question. “She was looking around.”

“There are very few accounts of Seer’s and their magic,” Tamlin began, hands steepled in front of his lips. His study was the worst of the ruined rooms, barely functional with the ruined walls, floors, and furniture. They’d dragged in a chair for Lucien to sit in while Tamlin leaned against his desk, which leaned aggressively thanks to a splintered leg. “Understandably, the courts that employed them weren’t keen to inform the rest of the world what, exactly, their prophets were capable of.”

“Does it matter?” Lucien asked. “How long before she goes waltzing into Feyre or Rhys’s mind and tells them everything?”

Tamlin didn’t seem concerned. “If she was going to, she’d have done it by now.”

“She doesn’t know how it works, but she’ll learn,” Lucien pressed.

“Then we have time. We need to know more than she does, and get ahead of this before she sends Night to our door.”

“What do you want me to do?” Lucien asked. They were being watched—not by Elain, who had stormed off to the library that morning mumbling about the endless survelliance happening day in and day out.

“We need to learn where she was those last two months and why she’s here,” Tamlin reminded him, though Lucien believed Elain didn’t know or remember. She seemed to have such a poor grasp on her magic that it was entirely possible she’d lost track herself in her dream world. Though, that didn’t explain how she’d ended up here.

There was something bigger than Elain, and maybe even Rhys, happening. Would Rhys conceal this from Feyre? And could Feyre keep it a secret? Would she torment Nesta with Elain’s absence if she knew exactly where Elain was and what she was doing? No, Lucien didn’t think so. He believed she’d put on a ruse—that she’d decieve him. But not the rest of her friends and family. Lucien also believed Rhys would keep it from Feyre so long as Elain herself didn’t know.

“Are we sure this isn’t a daemati controlling her?” Lucien questioned.

Tamlin rubbed as his jaw, stubbled after sevral days of neglecting his apperance. “No, I’m not. Rhys has always been cagey about what he can and cannot do, and how far his influence extends. If she’s here, and he knows it, then he knows everything we’ve done and everything we’ve said in her presence.”

“It could be a ruse,” Lucien replied, trying to think of Rhys’ angle. “If he’s considering a rival for the throne, killing you for kidnapping Elain would certainly give him that.”

“We need allies,” Tamlim mumbled, green eyes sliding to his feet.

“Don’t—don’t ask me—”

“I have to. After…after everything, so many noble families fled. I need their gold to raise an army,” he told Lucien. “I can’t hold our borders forever, and if Rhys rallies the solar courts…” He could sweep into Spring with very little difficulty, topple their fragic, unstable government, and install a puppet High Lord that owed Rhys his allegiance.

“I’ll send queries to Winter and Summer,” Lucien agreed, well aware news would travel. He’d need to be discreet and careful. “I can also…Eris…” he trailed off.

Many of the Spring Court nobles had fled to Autumn where Lucien knew they didn’t truly enjoy themselves. Beron was too controlling, demanded too much of their money, their resources, and whatever else he could squeeze from them. Transplants would be regarded as the lowest of the low, ranked just above the common fae but not as high as his favored families.

If Lucien could guarantee them power and access, he was certain they’d return. If. Because he certainly couldn’t stroll back into Autumn after Beron had put that bounty on his head. He could appeal to Eris, but…Eris had allied himself with Rhys, and who knew how deep that alliance went? Lucien didn’t know if he wanted to gamble his life on his older brother.

Eris always put himself and his own interests first, after all.

“Start with Summer,” Tamlin finally said, some scheming left to him. “After what happened in the second war…Tarquin is still bitter.”

“I’ll bet,” Lucien mumbled. “And Elain?”

Tamlin rubbed his eyes. “We could drug her to sleep every night.”

Lucien’s barred his teeth without meaning to, causing Tamlin to sigh. “Right. Then we will continue as we are and simply hope she knows as much as we know. Have you given any more thought to her vision?”

“The prophecy?” Lucien asked numbly. “No, I couldn’t begin to unravel it.”

“I have a contact in Day—a scholar who has quite the reputation. I’ll send it to her, see what she makes of it,” Tamlin murmured.

“And you don’t think she’ll find it odd our borders are closed, Rhys is on a manhunt for his missing Seer, and you just so happen to have questions regarding an errant prophecy?” Lucien snapped.

“It’s the only plan we’ve got,” Tamlin half snarled back. “We need to move quickly, besides.”

“Oh, this is such a mess,” Lucien whispered, rising to his feet. How had they even gotten here? If he could go back, he would have simply dumped Elain on Rhys’s doorstep and forgotten the entire thing.

“Do you trust me?” Tamlin asked against Lucien’s retreating back.

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” he repeated, looking up at his friend. “With your mate. Alone.”

“I—” It hadn’t even occurred to him to be concerned for Elain’s safety while he left. What was Tamlin going to do? He’d seen how his friend had once tried to court her sister and the wide berth of space Tamlin had given her.

“Of course,” Lucien agreed without hesitation. People could say whatever they liked about Tamlin—there was a lot to be said—but Lucien knew he wasn’t going to touch another Archeron even with thousands of marks on the line.

“And if I wanted to keep her here?” Tamlin murmured, his voice softer. “A Seer.”

Lucien had to work to keep himself from snapping. “If that’s what she wants.”

“It could be,” Tamlin suggested, holding Lucien’s gaze. “You ah…you said she likes plants?”

“She can’t go outside.”

“The greenhouse is available,” he reminded Lucien. “I only thought…if she preferred being here…”

“We’re holding her hostage, Tam. I don’t think the greenhouse is going to impress her, but you’re welcome to try.”

Tamlin looked as if there were other things he wanted to say, swallowed when his better sense won out. That was for the best. In Lucien’s fantasies, Elain was content to stay wherever Lucien was and never missed the Night Court.

“What about mothers estate?” Tamlin practically whispered. “The other courts aren’t aware of its existence. We keep the wards up, let them waste their time trying to get to the manor, meanwhile we’re at the border.”

“That’s risky, and is assumptive of a lot of stupidity on Rhys’s end,” Lucien began slowly.

“He doesn’t find us particularly intelligent,” Tamlin hissed. “Why would he check anywhere but here? I can make my presence known on occasion—just enough for his army of bats to report I’m out prowling. Business as usual.”

There was heavy bitterness in Tamlin’s voice and right then, Lucien wished he could shake his friend. Rhys had taken everything that mattered to Tamlin, and then everything else that didn’t, besides. Some of it couldn’t be helped—Feyre had always been Rhys’ mate, and had always been on borrowed time with Tamlin. And some of it was merely his one-sided revenge that he’d never move past, regardless of the part Rhys had played in all of it.

Tamlin had given them exactly what they all wanted—proof he’d never been the right kind of male to govern, to love, to even be friends with. And Lucien could admit that Tamlin hadn’t really tried to prove them wrong. He wanted to tell Tamlin that the best revenge was rebuilding his court and showing Prythian that he deserved everything he had.

“Okay,” Lucien agreed, certain it would eventually blow up in their faces. “Lets do it—in the dead of night. I’ll winnow Elain if you drop the wards for me.”

“As soon as you return from Summer,” Tamlin agreed. Lucien didn’t bother to say anything else as he left, though he hoped that, perhaps, this was the start of something new. Sure, the circumstances were less than ideal, but maybe it was all of them needed—Elain included. Someplace new, without all their history hanging over their head. Maybe they could find peace, if not as lovers, than as friends.

Lucien, at least, hoped for that.

Whether he’d get it was another matter entirely.

#elucien

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