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whxtedreams · 11 months ago

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Chapter 1 - Sunshine

Summary

Past: You run into Raiders while looting nearby houses and meet an unwanted companion.

Present: Tommy and Joel find you in an abandoned church.

CW // mentions of loss, violence, threats of sexual assault (hinted), blood

Word count: 8,071

Before

Autumn 2019

The first time you killed someone, you hadn't waited around to watch them die. You had sunk your knife into his chest and fled quickly, unable to bear the thought of watching the life slip from their eyes. You heard their screams as they choked on their own blood, but you hadn't seen the light fade from their eyes. It was a memory you tried not to think too much about, and you were grateful that you hadn't witnessed their inevitable death.

It’s been six years and twenty-eight bodies later – a number that didn't seem real – and you had watched each one of them take their last breath.

Six long years since your brother passed, six years filled with grief, and more than a half a decade spent on the run in order to protect his legacy and the innocent life he had created. You had thought you had lost it all, your only family, your only guide, but your niece kept you going. As you ran across the country, trying everything in your power to protect her, you couldn't help but wish that your brother could have been there beside you, watching out for the both of you as he had always done. Even if he was an asshole.

He had been the one to shoulder all of the violent realities of this world so that you could live a life untouched by the stain of blood. But he had made a mistake, and that mistake had cost him his life, leaving that burden for you to carry in his stead. With a heavy heart, you had taken it and done what you had to do to protect your niece, to keep her safe and her own hands clean of murder.

He had trained you both to kill the infected, preparing you with the knowledge and skills you would need to survive. But he had also made it clear that he was the one who would handle the humans you encountered, making sure that the two of you wouldn't have to deal with that particular danger by yourselves.

It wasn't until you were in your early twenties that he began to teach you the basics of how to kill people quickly and quietly. He made you promise that you would never use those skills unless they were absolutely necessary, and you agreed. You had no desire to hurt people, and you hoped you would never need to break your promise to your brother, but you were prepared to do so if it meant keeping your niece safe.

"I don't care how angry someone makes you," he states flatly as he wipes the blood off his knife with a cloth, looking over at you. "You don't kill 'em. You only kill ‘em when they’re gonna kill you." His tone carries a warning as he speaks to you. "What do you do when someone makes you angry?" He looks over at you from the opposite side of the rusted dining table in the abandoned house where you decided to make camp for the night.

You roll your eyes and glance down at Annabel, who's passed out in the corner of the room, her mouth hanging open and soft snores escaping her lips. Her peaceful slumber, despite the fact that you'd been engaged in a highly dangerous and potentially deadly situation no more than an hour ago, is a bit comical to you, and you let out a soft laugh as you turn back to face Dean.

“Tell me.” He demands as he moves to clean his next knife.

“I walk away.”

He looks up from his knife and nods. “Keep going.”

You sigh and cross your arms as you lean back in your chair, and you repeat his teachings to him. "Then I grab a weapon and beat the shit out of something. Not someone, and never with my hands," you say clearly. He nods at you again, seemingly satisfied with your answer, as he continues to clean his knife and sheath it away.

“Good. And what do you do when you feel nothing?” He asks after a moment.

“I get the fuck away from everyone, listen to music.”

He nods.

You shake your head in disbelief and consider your options as you spin the knife in your hand, standing in front of yet another empty cupboard. You've gone down two streets already, checking each house for any possible source of sustenance, and yet it seems like every cupboard, fridge, and dresser in the houses you've looted has already been ransacked.

You left your niece, Annabel behind at a house a few streets away while you took the burden of looting the small town you found yourselves in. She had wanted to come of course, but you wanted her safe behind locked doors while you searched for supplies.

It hadn't been easy to leave her behind, but it was the right thing to do. But the moment you were away from her side, you couldn't stop thinking about her safety. What if someone were to break in while she was alone? What if they discovered that she had been left behind there?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a door creaking open, followed by a whispered curse as someone else enters the house. You still for a moment, listening for any further sound as you contemplate your next move. It's likely that another survivor had broken in and was searching for supplies, and you weren't sure how they'd react to finding you here.

"I thought I told you to be fucking quiet." A man hisses in a hushed tone, his voice full of annoyance and anger.

"Not my fault the door creaked," Another voice whispers back defensively. "The bitch probably knows we're here now, anyway," he adds, and you hear them both move further into the home.

You quickly duck behind the island in the kitchen, hiding from the two men who'd just entered the house. There’s a room between you and the invaders, the dining room, and in the silence of the house every noise can and will be heard. You try to slow your breathing, hoping that both of them will go left into the loungeroom first instead of right into the connecting dining room. The footsteps of the men echo in your ears, one set lighter and quicker than the other. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest, and your eyes stay wide, your attention focused on every single noise the men make.

Your heart plummets at the realisation that one set of footsteps has entered the dining room while the other has entered the living room. Okay, one on one then. You could take one out before the other realised what was happening. You hold your breath, listening for any sign of the approaching footsteps getting any closer to your position as you take your knife from your belt. Maybe, just maybe, you could take one of them out before they knew what hit them.

The man who entered the dining room slowly enters the kitchen and rounds the island with his back to you as he inspects the walk-in pantry to your right. Perfect. You quietly leap from your crouched position, wrapping your free hand around his mouth to muffle the yell that escapes his lips as you kick the back of his knee and send him to the ground. The force of your arm has done its job, muffling the sound of his surprised yelp as you quickly stab the side of his throat and twist before pulling it out. His blood spurts out from the wound, and you close your eyes and wince as it hits your face. You let go of him, and his hand flies to his wound as he wheezes. In his final attempt, he fires the gun in his hand aimlessly to alert the other man.

Shit.

“Josh!” The other man yells from across the house, and his boots move quickly towards the kitchen.

Fuck.

The man - Josh - drops to the floor, his blood pooling out from his wound and covering the ground below him. His partner enters the room with his gun raised as he sees the bloody scene in front of him, his expression quickly shifting from one of annoyance to shock and anger.

You stand above Josh's body, his blood dripping from both your face and your knife, as the other man finally looks you in the eyes and raises his gun to you. You hold your breath as your attention is placed entirely on his intentions, and your mind races to come up with a plan to avoid getting shot.

You freeze, staring at the man in front of you. Your mind races as you try to calculate your next move in the split second you have before he pulls the trigger. Your thoughts are quickly interrupted by the sound of the trigger being pulled back. Your eyes widen as you dive back behind the counter, the bullet grazing the side of your arm, making you drop your knife in the process.

You fall to the ground behind the counter and scramble into a crouched position, grunting at the pain in your arm as you push yourself back up. You quickly assess your arm, noticing that the bullet had only nicked you and that the blood was only steadily oozing out of the small gash. It didn't appear to be anything too serious, but any amount of blood loss is dangerous in this world.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Who are you?” You demand, hoping they weren’t tracking you and just unfortunate to cross you.

“Think you know already bitch.” He snaps back.

Raiders. Fucking Raiders .

Two weeks, you’d been running from a group of raiders. Two long weeks. You were ambushed by the group while you’d been on the train tracks with Annabel. You had managed to shoot one of them before you bolted with Annabel’s hand in yours. Luckily, they wanted you both alive otherwise, you would have been shot as you ran. Or unlucky if you think about it.

Pretty women were hard to come by these days, they had said.

The man, clearly impatient, rounds the counter just as his friend did. Instead of attacking him, you move around the kitchen island to keep the counters between you. When reaching the next corner of the island, you find the path clear to the dining room. With a deep breath, you bolt from your hiding spot and run hunched over into the dining room. Shots are fired as you run and your hands cover the back of your head instinctively as you move to your next cover.

The man swears as his bullets miss you. As you run from the dining room and into the entryway, you notice the men have blocked the front door with a table. Sure, you could easily move it but the boots slamming into the wood panelling underneath him, you know you don’t have the time.

At your short stutter in movement, another bullet is shot and you duck. The bullet hits the table and you scramble into the living room, thankful he’s a shit shot.

Quick thinking has you lifting your baseball bat from the strap on your bag as you run past the stairs leading upstairs and into a connecting room. You slam the door shut as the man shoves against it with his shoulder as you force it closed with all your body weight. You’re thankful – yet again – the door has a lock and as the door is shoved again, you lock it.

Knowing a simple lock will not be enough to keep him out, You turn around and examine the room for anything to block the door with. Realising you have stumbled into an old nursery, you groan and shake your head.

Your brain going into overdrive, you decide to give up on blocking the door and stride over to the window. With a few tugs, you swear as you realise it’s locked. Looking around the room frantically for something to throw through the glass. But it’s a nursery, everything in here is soft and harmless.

Your head snaps to the door as he slams into it again, the sound of wood breaking. Time is ticking. You look down at the baseball bat in your hand and sigh, wishing you hadn’t dropped your knife. Knowing you have to fight him instead of fleeing, you pick up the heaviest toy scattered on the floor. You find a decent sized wooden toy truck and toss it a few times in your hand and shrug at the weight. Not perfect, but it’ll do.

You move towards the edge of the room besides the door. You wait with your bat in one hand and the toy raised in the other as the door creaks and groans. One last shove and the door breaks off its hinges and falls to the ground, leaving a cloud of dust in the air.

The man stumbles through into the room, shocked and unprepared at the sudden break of the door. While his brain catches up to the new environment, you locate the gun in his hand and throw the wooden toy at his hands as he raises the gun. With a shocked grunt, the man drops the gun and you re-grip the bat with both hands as you land a hit at the back of his head. He stumbles forward and you kick the gun across the room as he falls onto the crib in the middle of the room.

The wooden crib breaks under his weight and you step over broken wood before stopping beside him. You raise your bat and land another strong hit to the back of his head. The man screams in agony as he slumps into the pile of wood. You let out a puff of air before you lift the bat over your head and swing again, and he stills on the floor. The bat cracks as you hit his skull again and you swear as the wood breaks in two.

“Fuck,” You swear under your breath as you toss your favourite bat across the room in anger.

You nudge the man beneath you with your foot. He groans and you sigh. In this moment, you feel nothing. Your wound is there, the pain slowly creeping back into your body, but you don’t feel it. You aren’t afraid of death. You don't feel as protective towards Annabel as you should be. You are numb. Emotionless and void of feeling as you stare down at the man in front of you. His breaths come in short, panicked gasps. There is nothing you feel except the emptiness in your heart, your thoughts cold and indifferent to everything.

You are past the point of anger. You slip into nothing.

“And what do you do when you feel nothing?”

“I get the fuck away from everyone, listen to music.”

You attempt to wipe the blood off your face from the man you stabbed but end up smearing it across your face. “Stay here.” You sigh emotionlessly as you turn and leave the room.

Walking back into the kitchen, you step over the man you stabbed, picking up your knife. You kneel beside him, looting his body for anything useful. Your efforts are only rewarded with his gun and ammo.

Upon reentering the nursery, you find the man in the same spot. Blood is splattered around him from the blunt trauma to his head and you shake your head as you step towards him, his blood tainting what is supposed to be an innocent room.

Your expression is cold and determined as you stare down at him as he groans in pain. You lean down and grab onto his jacket as you turn him over onto his back. The wood cracks beneath him and moor blood seeps out from his head wound, staining what used to be a baby's crib.

You take a deep breath as you move to straddle him. He squirms under you and cries, his hands covering his bloody and puffy face. You take your knife in both hands and lunge it into his chest. His hands claw at your arms as he screams again. You pull your knife from his chest before using all your strength to piece his chest again. And again. And again.

His screams stop somewhere between the sixth and seventh time.

You blink as you stab him again, blood all over your hands as they shake on the handle of your knife as it lodges into his chest again.

You pull your knife from his lifeless body and stand up on shaky legs. You look down at your body, the front of your clothes soaked in crimson blood, and are struck by the intensity of your actions. You put your knife back into its sheath on your belt before you can do any more damage, taking in the sight all around you.

Turning back to the man you mutilated only moments ago, you sigh as you pick up his handgun from where you kicked it. You look down at the body in front of you; his body a testament to the brutality you'd just perpetrated. The blood-covered floor was a grim reminder of the violence that had just taken place.

You shrug your backpack from your shoulders and onto a changing table across the room. You take your gun from your holster and reload it with a new magazine. You bag their two guns and put your own back in its thigh holster.

Six years and thirty bodies now. Dean would be both proud and pissed.

After moving the table from the front door, you ran between houses and hopped fences to track back to Annabel as fast as you could, leaving bloody footprints as you went. The pain in your wounded arm is starting to become more noticeable as the adrenaline rush fades, reality sinking in, and you are beginning to wonder if you had done the right thing. But as you race back to Annabel, your mind is fixed on her well-being before anything else. You need to ensure that she is safe and unharmed, that no one has discovered her and is still alive. The thought of losing her terrifies you.

So when you open the front door of the house you were staying in and heard a man's voice, your anger rose again.

Closing the door behind you, you unholster your gun and quietly step down the hall towards the archway that leads into the lounge room. You take it slow, one step at a time, hoping the floorboards won't creak and give away your position. As you get closer and closer, the sound of laughter grows clearer and clearer in your ears. It's her. It's Annabel. And she's laughing? Just hearing her laugh lifts your heart and makes your chest clench as you step to the side of the archway.

You slowly step into the archway, your gun drawn and ready to fire any potential threat that crosses your path. You spot your niece sitting cross-legged on the couch first and then notice the dark curls of a man sitting opposite her, facing away from you as he laughs at something she said. You feel your heart race, your mind running on pure animalistic instincts as you try to identify this man sitting so casually, laughing with Annabel as she tosses her rubber ball in the air.

Your eyes narrow at the sight of him, and your trigger finger tightens ever so slightly. You would have shot him right then and there, but she’s laughing .

Annabel's eyes widen as they fall upon you in the archway, the gun in your hand a clear warning for her not to say anything. She lets the ball drop to the ground, and it rolls across the floor to the man.

“Get up, slowly." You bark the words at the unidentified man, your voice low and lacking any emotion. Your eyes are still fixed on him as you slowly enter the room, your gun still trained on him.

He sighs and slowly stands from the chair when you order him to, his back to you as he raises his arms. "You must be the aunt," he says in a calm tone, not showing any signs of the fear you'd expect. You can hear the slight note of recognition in his voice, and a chill goes down your spine as you hear him speak. You still don't take your eyes off his back, waiting for him to turn to face you.

"Turn around," you say in a cold, firm tone.

"Is that your blood?" Annabel's voice cracks as she takes in your bloody appearance, and her eyes widen as she stares at you in horror and fear.

He turns slowly with his arms still raised, and once again, you study him carefully as he faces you. Now that he faces you, you can see the black eye forming on his face, and your shoulders relax slightly. At least Annabel didn't let him in willingly. He has dark, curly, shoulder-length hair and a moustache but is otherwise cleanly shaven. He wears a dark blue button-up, his toned arms visible through the fabric.

"That’s a lot of blood," the man mutters under his breath as he takes in your appearance. You can see his eyes study your blood-stained body, travelling down and back again as they stop at the gash on your arm. His eyes on you make you feel sick. "You're hurt, I can-"

"Don't move." Your words stop him in his tracks, and it's evident from your tone that you won't tolerate him disregarding your instructions. “I’m fine.” You snap at the man and focus your gun on his head.

"You're bleeding, pal. You look like hell," the man says, his voice showing genuine concern. "Here, let me see your arm-" he adds, moving his hand to gesture in the direction of his bag across the room beside Annabel.

“I said don’t MOVE .” You shout, and his arm freezes in response to your shouted command. Your words echo through the living room, and for a moment, you and the man just stare at each other. Your emotions are mixed, between the pain and shock from your own injuries and the strange mix of guilt and suspicion you have towards this man who seems to be genuinely trying to help you. Your gun is still raised, your finger still on the trigger, and you still haven’t decided if you can trust him. You’ve killed two men today, you can easily make that number three.

A soft hand touches your arm, and you flinch in response, caught off guard by the sudden change in your surroundings. You hadn't noticed that your niece had moved, and she whispers into your ear. "He's not a raider, and he’s not him. " Your muscles tense even more as you glare at the man before you, ready to kill him at the first sign of betrayal. But the words of Annabel leave you in a state of disbelief. How does she know he's not a raider? But the conviction in her tone gives you pause.

You take your eyes off the man in front of you and look down at your niece beside you. Her eyes are soft and pleading with you, appealing to your sense of reason. You suck in a breath and close your eyes. You're tired, you're hurt, and you don't know what to think. But somehow, her words manage to penetrate the fog surrounding your thoughts, and for a moment, you entertain the possibility that she's right. You close your eyes and try to fight back the flashbacks of him.

“He won’t hurt us.”

“Annabel” You sigh. “You don’t know that. I didn’t think he would hurt me either.” You open your eyes and focus back on the man in front of you.

“He says he can help us. He’s heading to a town. A good town. Good people.” She rambles, trying to get her words out before you stop her again.

You scoff, shaking your head. “Are you fucking stupid?”

She laughs softly beside you, and the sound sends a chill down your spine. Her laughter is dark and void of humour, and her voice seems colder than you've ever heard it before. "Maybe I am," she says quietly, as if speaking to herself. "But I'm sick of running." The change in her attitude and tone worries you, but you're too exhausted to say anything about it.

You frown at your niece's confession and grip the gun in your hands. "Fuck," you mutter as you lower the gun. The man lowers his arms, but your eyes are fixed on him as you glare at him. "You make one dodgy move, and I will put a bullet between your eyes." You snarl at him, the tension in your voice making your intentions crystal clear. "Am I clear?" You wait for his reply, your eyes never leaving him. You don't trust him yet, but you're willing to hear him out.

The man nods. “The name’s Tommy.” He smiles, and you roll your eyes. “Just – just let me take a look at your arm. Or are you just gonna bleed to death?”

“Fuck you.” You snap, taking a step forward and wincing as you move your arm. “Fine.”

Tommy guides you over to the chair he'd previously occupied and has you sit down after taking your bag from you and placing it beside the couch. Your eyes never leave him as he moves, although Annabel's presence brings you a slight sense of comfort.

Tommy drags his bag over to the couch and sits down next to you; his legs stretched out in front of him as he places the bag between his legs."How's the pain?" he asks, studying your injury as his eyes go wide at the sight of your bloodied arm. A few drops of blood trail down from your arm and pool on the chair beneath you. As he speaks, you look over at his black eye and notice a few light bruises around his cheek and neck. Annabel had definitely gotten a few good hits in.

"Don't feel anything." You mutter a short and somewhat snippy response as he lifts your arm for a better look. He seems to ignore your attitude and simply focuses on assessing the severity of your injuries. "How's the eye?" You smirk at him, and his expression changes to one of amusement as he shakes his head, the black eye on his face clearly still bothering him. You can't help but feel a small sense of pride at seeing his injury.

The tension in the room is starting to shift, your mistrust for Tommy slowly turning to more mutual respect. Your niece had warned you that this man might not have been a raider and that he wasn't hostile. Now you're starting to believe her. He still hasn't given you enough reason to trust him fully, but your suspicions are slowly being tempered by curiosity.

"What happened out there?" Annabel asks as she rises from her chair and rounds the back of the couch to your bag, rummaging through it and pulling out your walkman and headphones. She tosses the headphones in your direction, and your tension eases ever so slightly as you catch the gesture from your niece. She knows your music calms you, a reminder of the safety and comfort you had back in your old home before everything fell apart.

Tommy digs through his own bag, taking out a water bottle and a small med-pack and placing it on the couch beside him. You appreciate the gesture and keep a watchful eye on the pack and any movements Tommy makes as you place one of your headphones over your ear while the one closest to Tommy sits behind your ear to hear him still. You turn on your walkman, the calming sound of music filling your ears and sending a surge of relief through you. Your heart begins to beat slowly and evenly as your muscles relax and your tension subsides.

"Ran into some raiders still tracking us," you say as you settle back onto the couch with your headphones still playing your music. Tommy takes the water bottle and pours it over your wounded arm to wash away some of the blood, and you can't help but sigh with relief as the water touches your skin. The music and the sensation of the water on your arm are enough to make you feel more at ease, and your eyes droop slightly with a sudden sense of relaxation.

"Must have been a lot of raiders, from the amount of blood on you," Tommy says while gesturing to your bloodied clothes. He tightens the lid back on the bottled water before placing it back on the ground and reaching for the med pack. You can't help but notice the needle and thread along with the bottle of alcohol rub, and your tension and suspicion heighten once again. Why does he need the needle and thread? Is he going to sew up your wound? The thought of him poking a needle into your injured arm makes your skin crawl.

"Just the two..." You start to say, but your words are cut short as your frown deepens at the sight of the needle. The man sighs in response to the expression on your face, and you wonder for a moment if he can read your thoughts. You consider objecting or fighting back, but with the pain beginning to creep into your arm and your emotions slowly coming back due to the music in your ears, you decide against it.

"Yes, I've done this before, and yes, this will hurt," the man answers your silent questions. His words are paired with an apologetic smile, which does nothing to ease the tension of the situation.

Tommy opens the bottle of alcohol rub and pours it onto a clean cloth from the med pack, using it to wipe your wound clean gently. You bite your lip and look away from him, still refusing to look at him directly.

Once satisfied, he places the bottle back in the pack and picks up the needle and thread from his lap. He holds the needle and thread in his hands, and your body tenses up even more when he moves towards your injured arm. "You need stitches," he adds. You know he's right, but the thought of the needle touching your wound and poking through your flesh makes your stomach churn, your heart pound and your breathing quicken. Your eyes remain glued to him, your body tensing in anticipation.

"Fine," you grit out through clenched teeth, turning away from Tommy as you refuse to watch him pierce your skin with the needle.

The music in your ear still plays at full volume, still sending waves of comfort into your mind and body. But your grip on the gun in your hand stays tight, your entire body on edge and tense. Your other arm remains held firmly in place by Tommy’s hand as the needle and thread pieces through your skin as he begins to patch you up, preventing you from making any sudden movements.

You focus on the music in your ears as Tommy stitches your wound, and Annabel watches from the armchair opposite you. Once he's finished stitching your wound, Tommy lightly taps your arm. You look over at him with confusion until he tilts his head down towards your arm, and you follow his gaze. Slowly and carefully, you lift your arm and inspect his work. To your surprise, Tommy has done a decent job; the stitches are small and even. You consider thanking him for sewing up your wound, but you find yourself unable to muster the words of appreciation.

"How many times have you been stitched up? You barely flinched," Tommy's voice breaks your thoughts as he finishes up and discards the remaining thread, closing up his med pack.

You remain silent for a moment, processing his question as you look at your new scar and wondering if you should answer it. You consider explaining that the music in your ears helped keep you calm or that your pride and desire not to seem weak kept you from making a fuss, but you decide against it. Instead, you simply shrug in response to his question, leaving him to draw his own conclusions.

"She has a weird tolerance to pain," Annabel suddenly interjects into the conversation, and both you and Tommy's heads snap towards her in surprise."I remember once when we were kids, she fell down a concrete path on a hill, and she pretty much tore all the skin from her leg," Annabel continues, and both you and Tommy share a look as you recall the memory. "There was so much blood, and she just got up and didn't care. I think I cried enough for her," Annabel adds lightly.

Tommy watches you, his face neutral but his eyes betraying a small flash of surprise at the revelation about your high pain tolerance.

You want to say something, anything, to deny Annabel's words, but you can't find the words to say. Instead, you simply smile slightly and shrug.

"Well then," Tommy nods in response to Annabel as he stands up from the chair. "I passed a river about an hour's walk back. How about we get you cleaned up, and then I can bandage that arm?" His smile warms his expression, and he extends a hand towards you.

Your response is immediate and harsh, swatting his hand away and glaring at him. "I can stand by myself," you growl out, and your tone and body language make your irritation clear. You're not ready to trust him yet, and he knows it. Even so, he continues to smile and keeps his tone light.

"Alright, little miss sunshine," Tommy teases in response to your glare, and you can't help but roll your eyes in annoyance.

You remove the headphones and turn off your walkman, stowing them away in your bag before standing to face him. You reluctantly holster your gun and cross your arms, glaring in his direction.

“If you try anything-”

"You'll shoot me, I get it, Sunshine," he responds with a smirk, unbothered by your harsh tone. He adjusts his bag on his back and begins to walk out of the room. His body language is relaxed despite the tension in the air. He doesn't seem to take any offence to your words or demeanour.

"I like him," Annabel grins as she picks up her own bag and begins to follow him. "He doesn't put up with your bullshit," she remarks as she passes you, picking up her ball on the way out, and you grimace slightly at her words, annoyed by her attempt at humour.

It took you two weeks before you stopped keeping a hand on your holstered gun around Tommy.

Now

Spring 2024

You continue tossing the rubber ball against the wall, your mind fixated on the object in your hands. Your mind wanders to the lifeless bodies that litter the room, the souls you took in cold blood. The room is cold to the touch and feels devoid of life. You look around at the corpses surrounding you and feel nothing. They deserved this. Deserved worse than this.

The soft groans from the last remaining man fill the room, where he sits tied to the chair in the middle of the room. He is barely alive after what you did to him, and you left him to suffer instead of a quick death.

You have never been one to believe in religion, but as you sit in the church basement, you feel uneasy about committing acts of murder on a once sacred ground.

You keep tossing the ball, watching it bounce off the rotting walls and floor, listening to the sound of it splashing in the blood that covers the floor. You try to focus on the ball and ignore the gruesome scene around you. But the more you try to block out the images, the clearer they become in the candle-lit room.

Your mind is a mess of conflicting emotions as you keep tossing the ball, flashbacks of your niece fill your thoughts—her laughter, her smile and then her blood as it soaks your clothes as you hold her for the final time. You throw the ball against the wall with even more force as you try to block out the thoughts of Annabel. The blood splatters over you from the splash from the ball, covering you in more cold blood. You sink to the floor, overwhelmed by regret and guilt.

You sit on the floor, surrounded by a sea of blood, numb to everything around you. Tears should've been streaming down your face, but no tears came. The tears never came, just numbness. You feel numb to the world, like a soulless creature who has lost their humanity. You are frozen in place, unable to move or see anything beyond the red blur in front of you.

You would kill for your old walkman. To have music again.

You listen to the footsteps and voices as they echo throughout the church, but you don't care who they belong to. You close your eyes, letting out a long, deep sigh, as you rest your head against the wall. You couldn't bring yourself to care or lift a finger to defend yourself.

You open your eyes and look up, finding Tommy staring at you, shock and relief on his face. He’s holding his rifle in his hands, and his eyes widen as he takes in the scene in front of him, at the mutilated man in the chair whose soft wheezes begin to rise at the sight of Tommy. Good , he is still alive and suffering.

Another man steps into the doorway behind him, but you don't care or pay attention to them, your mind still in a fog. You just stare back at Tommy with blank, empty eyes, not saying a word.

Tommy nods and steps over a body that blocks the doorway, followed by the man behind him.

“You were meant to wait for me.” Tommy avoids your eyes, his voice firm and authoritative as he stalks over to the tortured man.

“You were busy.” You mutter, mostly to yourself.

Tommy lifts the man's head by his hair and examines the torture and blood-stained scene you had caused. He nods in approval, a small smirk forming on both your faces as he lets the man's head drop back to his chest.

The man lets out a groan, but you feel no pity or sympathy for him. You feel a surge of satisfaction at the sound of the man's pain, a sense of justice being served for what he had done to your niece. He deserves to suffer for his crimes.

"They could have killed you, Sunshine," Tommy's southern accent drew out his words as you shook your head at his nickname for you. The nickname felt like a stab to the heart, a reminder of who you had been before your niece's death.

Maybe he still believes in you, even after everything you have done. Maybe there was still some good left in you, some shred of humanity. But you weren't so sure anymore. You enjoyed killing them, after all.

“I think we both know they didn’t stand a chance.” You huff out a dry laugh, frowning as your stomach begins to hurt from the movement.

Tommy shakes his head as he bends down to collect your knife and gun on the floor you had dropped after you had killed everyone.

You had become a deadly pair, hunting down and killing those responsible for your niece's death. Maybe you had lost yourself along the way to the neverending anger, but Tommy still believed in you and still saw the good in you even though you couldn't.

"Your luck will run out one day," the other man's voice startles you, sounding low and gruff. You look up from Tommy and turn your eyes towards the man behind him, who is holding a shotgun. You narrow your eyes, trying to remember who he is. You haven’t seen him around Jackson before. But even if he lived there the whole time, you were never good with faces. Who is he ? You remain wary and on edge, not sure who to trust except for Tommy.

Tommy seems to sense your distrust, and he turns back to the man behind him, his hand outstretched. “This is Joel. Remember?”

Joel? There was no way this was Joel, his brother, right?

“My brother.” He continues, and you tilt your head in a nod. “He was in Jackson for a night a while back... You remember that, right?”

You stare at Joel, studying his appearance and comparing it to Tommy's. He certainly looks like him, but he is definitely older. He has the same dark hair as Tommy but scattered with a few grey hairs. You aren’t sure whether that is from the stress of the apocalypse or his age.

Your brow furrows, and you shake your head, your memory of him lost. "I was beginning to worry that your first impression of me would be one of a blood-soaked killer." You grin through drowsily-lidded eyes as the exhaustion from the bloodshed begins to weigh heavily on you.

Joel keeps darting his eyes between you and the carnage around him. You can see him taking in the scene you had created, his face showing a mix of shock and curiosity.

“You don’ need to worry about what I think of ya, darl’” Joel mutters, his eyes not meeting yours as he nudges a corpse on the ground with his foot.

"Nice to know what you'll look like in a few years, though, old man," You chuckle with a lighthearted tone. But as you finish the sentence, you feel a pain in your stomach and begin to wince and cough. The air is tight in your lungs, and you can barely catch your breath. The adrenaline from the fight is slowly wearing off, making you more aware of your injuries. Your hand shoots to your stomach as you clutch it, trying to steady your breath through the new pain.

Shit . The anger and numbness is starting to slip, and you begin to feel your body once more. “Tommy,” You gasp as pain and panic soar through you.

Tommy shoves his gun into Joel's chest and strides the short distance to you. He kneels before you and assesses you for any of your injuries. His voice is stern as he questions, "How much of this blood is your own?" Although his voice is unwavering, you can see the fear in his eyes as he looks down at you.

You look down at yourself and see how much blood you are covered in. It is hard to tell what is yours or your victims' blood. You try to recall the fight, but everything is a blurry mess inside your head from your mind being clouded with anger. You feel sick, the pain creeping through your body. You aren’t used to physical pain; you don’t know how to deal with the unwanted feeling.

"I don't know," You reply. "I think most of it belongs to them..." You gesture towards the lifeless bodies that surround you.

Tommy nods and lifts up your shirt, and you let out a grunt of pain as the shirt is stuck to your skin from the blood. You wince at the sight, following his gaze to the large slash covering your stomach. Confusion washes over you, not understanding how you could have missed an injury like that. Reality begins to sink in at the state of your injury, and you feel terrified. A feeling you aren’t used to.

You let out another pained grunt as his hand reaches out to touch the wound, instincts taking over and making you grab his wrist defensively.

"Don't," You gasp, too weak to hold it together anymore. “It hurts Tommy. Why does it hurt?” The pain begins to rise along with the nausea. Your stomach churns, and your grip on Tommy tightens as you lean over to the side and dry reach. Tommy grabs your hair and holds it back with his free hand as you finally spill your stomach’s contents on the floor beside you. Your head throbs, the overwhelming dizziness clouding your head.

“You’re okay, Sunshine. You’re going to be okay.” Tommy whispers, letting go of your hair and wiping the vomit from your mouth.

“She good?” Joel questions from across the room.

Tommy slowly nods. “It’s not deep, but if she’s feeling the pain, it's fucking bad.” He grimaces at the sight of your stomach.

Tommy reaches his hand out to Joel and asks for the bandages in his brother's backpack. Joel shifts his backpack off his back and kneels on the blood-stained floor as he digs through his bag to find the supplies.

You wheeze, the pain of vomiting with your wound overbearing.

Tommy catches the bandages as Joel tosses them to him. He unravels the bandages and sighs an apology before applying pressure to your wound. You grit your teeth, suppressing a groan at the pain.

Joel moves over to the man you had left alive and studies his injuries. “She really do all this by herself?”

Tommy holds back a laugh as he tries to slow your bleeding. “What can I say? She learnt from the best.” He teases.

After managing to slow the bleeding, he begins to wrap your stomach in bandages, taking care to apply the bandage tightly. Tommy takes his time with careful hands to make sure it is done correctly and protects you from further damage. The entire process is done with care and concern, your well-being being the most important thing to him at the moment.

You roll your head to the side and search for the rubber ball, spotting it in a pool of blood. You go to reach for it, but Tommy leans over and picks it up, shaking the blood from it and pockets it.

Tommy swears as you cry out in pain as he slips a hand under your outstretched legs and behind your back. He grunts as he lifts you up into his arms, and you grip his jacket tightly. You press your head into his chest, trying to distract yourself from the pain that is starting to creep through your veins. The adrenaline that surges through your body in the heat of the fight begins to wane, and the full impact of the pain starts to set in. You try to remain calm and still, your breaths shallowing as you wait for the pain to pass.

Tommy turns and walks past Joel, pausing in the doorway as his brother speaks up. "We're not killing him?" Joel questions, his tone sceptical as he gestures to the man tied to the chair with his gun. He looks back at us, where you remain nestled in Tommy's arms.

“Was gonna let him suffer,” you explain between breaths, and Tommy’s hands hold you tighter at your words. “But you can do whatever you want to him.” You mumble as you lean into Tommy’s embrace, the blood loss making you exhausted.

Joel nods and points his shotgun at the tied man.

You feel the warmth of Tommy's body and his heart beating against your cheek, giving you a sense of comfort. You raise your head to look at him as his voice shouts over his shoulder as he leaves the room to ascend the stairs from the basement, "And do it quick! We gotta get her back to the clinic."

Joel's voice drifts through the walls, uttering a few muffled words. But before you can decipher what he said, a gunshot stops the other man's pleas, and the walls around you shake. Time seems to stand still as you realise what has just happened. The man was dead, and that gunshot had meant one thing - Joel had done the deed. Finishing what you started.

Chapter 2

Notes

Hey guys!! I've been writing and posting small concepts of this story and decided to start writing a more detailed story.

Thank you for all the love so far! This is my first longer fic that I've actually stuck with and I'm really glad you are all enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it!

Divider by the beautiful saradika

Also a layout of the house mentioned in the first part!

#joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel tlou #tlou #tlou2 #tlou hbo #fanfiction #joel fanfic #joel x f!reader #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x y/n #tommy miller #tlou tommy

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grapenehifics · 10 months ago

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Prisoner 224

I really loved writing Out of Sync for @fulcrum843's @topwan-obikin fest prompt, but fully intended it to be a one-shot until @somethingsteff started feeding me ideas and, well, I'm limited on free time right now so this is still only a ficlet but I couldn't help myself.

If you don't know the fic, the Council finds out about Obi-Wan and Anakin's relationship and they quit the Order. Anakin punches Palpatine when he insults Obi-Wan and gets sent to jail, and Obi-Wan hurries to hit the Chancellor as well so they can stay together. This also fulfills @ficwip's Hey Sweetheart challenge!

Text under the cut:

“Where are we going?” Anakin demanded. His hands were bound at the wrists in front of him, which didn’t make him look very threatening, but he gave his best glare to the backs of the heads of the troopers escorting him down the hall anyway.

Neither the troopers ahead of him nor the two at his back answered him. Their little group just kept marching along.

“I demand to know where you’re taking me,” Anakin tried, not pausing in his forward march but flexing his fingertips in preparation. He didn’t want to use the Force against them – besides the fact that they were probably just acting on orders from someone higher up the prison management chain of command, he was also pretty sure even something mild like knocking four guards out for a few hours would get his sentence extended and that was the opposite of what he wanted considering Obi-Wan was already slated to get out weeks before he did – but he also was not planning on taking a move to another cell block without putting up some sort of a fight.

He and Obi-Wan were kept apart for most of the day – Anakin in his cell and Obi-Wan in his – but because they were part of the same cell block, they were allowed to take both their exercise hour and their meal break together, Anakin holding Obi-Wan’s hand clasped in his as they jogged around the exercise track in their prison-issued tracksuits and rubbing elbows as they sat side-by-side with their dinner trays (and this only because they’d been told off for trying to sit on each other’s laps instead). But it was still a far sight better than not getting to see him at all, and Anakin hadn’t even done anything wrong (lately) and so really didn’t deserve to be punished like this.

“I want to go back to my cell,” he said.

“One of my batchmates is serving under Commander Cody in the 212th,” the trooper behind Anakin on his right said through his helmet vocoder. “CT-3812.”

“Sure. Punch, right?” Anakin said easily. “Yeah, I know him. But what has that got to do with anything?”

“That’s him,” the trooper agreed. None of the prison guards had ever told Anakin their names, just their badge numbers, although not for lack of asking. This one was one of the supervisors. Some of the younger guys were so green they had five-digit designations. “He’s met General Kenobi a few times.”

“Cool. So have I,” Anakin nearly growled. “That’s who I’m trying to get back to. So if you could just put me back in my cell, that’d be great. Or at least tell me what I’ve done.”

“Punch tells me he’s a real stand-up guy,” the trooper continued, as if Anakin hadn’t spoken. “Always makes sure his men have enough to eat. Doesn’t take unnecessary risks. That sort of thing.”

They rounded a corner. Anakin was starting to get desperate. “Just tell me where we’re going,” he practically begged. “I can call in a couple of favors and get myself reassigned back to Obi-Wan’s floor”-

“Punch also said,” the trooper on Anakin’s right said, so loudly he was almost shouting in Anakin’s ear, “that one time you and your troops joined up with their battalion, you threw yourself in front of a blazer bomb. Saved the lives of fifteen men.”

Anakin had done that enough times that that didn’t really narrow it down for him. “Which campaign?” he asked, but the trooper ignored him yet again, which seemed rude, considering he’d started the conversation in the first place.

A commlink chirped – Anakin instinctively looked to his own belt before remembering he didn’t wear one anymore – and one of the troopers at the front of their procession answered it.

“We’re ready for you, Sergeant,” the voice on the other end said.

“Copy,” the man said, replacing the device on his belt.

“Well, I’m not ready,” Anakin said, and he stopped walking. The troopers at his back nearly ran into him. “I’m not going any further without an explanation. If you can’t give me that, then you can just put me back in my cell, because” –

“We do regular maintenance, on all the cells,” one of the troopers injected, talking over the tail end of Anakin’s sentence. “Routine cleaning, things like that. Check that the water pipes are functioning properly, do a little light dusting…”

“I don’t care if my cell is clean or not,” Anakin hissed. “You can skip mine for the next five months if you want. Or let me do it myself. Is that the problem? Just give me the tools and leave me alone. If you’re worried I’m going to break out, I promise I won’t. As long as you’ve got Obi-Wan here I’m, like, the opposite of a flight risk.”

“It might take, say, three hours to finish the whole floor, wouldn’t you say?” the trooper on Anakin’s left asked the trooper on Anakin’s right.

“Maybe as many as four,” he responded.

“And we do these sorts of rounds every other week,” the first one continued.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Anakin demanded.

“If you’d just wait right in here, Prisoner 224,” the trooper who was friends with Punch said, and nudged Anakin in the back with the butt of his rifle.

“I told you; I’m not going. And you’re bluffing. You won’t shoot me.”

“That’s true,” the trooper admitted. “I’m not. What I am going to do is count to thirty, and by the time I get to the end, you’re going to decide to go, all on your own.”

“Ha,” Anakin said. “Like hell I am. What on earth do you think would make me” –

“Here we are, sir,” another of the troopers said, and he punched the button to release the door guard in front of one of the cells. He was wearing a bucket, but he somehow seemed to be able to stare straight into Anakin’s eyes anyway. “Four hours, every other week,” he repeated slowly, enunciating very clearly.

“I don’t care how clean it is,” Anakin insisted, just as he was very unceremoniously shoved forward into the new cell he absolutely did not want to be in –

“Oh. Hello, sweetheart,” Obi-Wan said, sitting up from where he’d been lying on his back across his bunk, his arms crossed behind his head. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“What” – Anakin stammered as the door guard slammed down behind him, locking him in. Locking him into Obi-Wan’s cell. With Obi-Wan.

Anakin opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. The binders around his wrists unlocked and fell to the floor with a clatter. “Send Punch my regards,” he said, without turning his head. He and Obi-Wan hadn’t stopped staring into one another’s eyes from the moment they’d faced one another. Obi-Wan grinned. Anakin grinned back.

“Will do, sir,” his friend said jovially, but Anakin missed hearing him as he launched himself at Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan, laughing, caught him and lowered him down onto his bunk.

“Did I just hear you say something about four hours?” Obi-Wan asked mischievously, one eyebrow raising into a verbal question mark.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan did.

#hey sweetheart #out of sync #obikin

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an-au-blog · 1 year ago

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Nonhuman!Jaskier x Netflix!Getalt

I feel like Netflix!Geralt would treat Jaskier better if he was nonhuman, so here we go:

Geralt had taken a job to track down some creature that had stolen a few chickens and sheep. The towns people had tried catching it but half of them were hypnotized and the rest could only wound it. Non of them actually saw it in the dark, it was too fast and hid too well. They did however corner it into a cave with a dead end. No one wanted to go in because it was fabled to curse any human who goes in.

It seemed like a way too easy job. If the creature was that weak and wounded, why did they need his help or just wait until in got out? There was also a surprisedly high number of young people who were "bedridden" and couldn't take shifts guardian the cave entrance, despite looking just fine. In any case, he took the job - he was low on coin.

He goes in not knowing what to expect and is met with a scared and wounded young man. Jaskier starts humming a melody but when he sees that nothing is happening and Getalt keeps walking towards him, he starts singing louder. By the time Geralt reached the supposed "monster" he's practically singing through sobs.

Geralt puts his sword away and tries to reason with him but Jaskier is in a state of panic so he hits him with a rock and tries to run away. The witcher tries to stop him, getting up, telling him that there's people guarding the exit. He keeps limping away, so all Geralt could do is pummel him down and sit him down.

Jaskier finally calms down and they talk.

Geralt finds out that Jaskier is something like a nymph who was shun for his non-human features so he was forced to use his songs to enchant young people of the village to steal food for him. (He does this only to people he finds attractive because "why would I want a bitter old hag to fall for me if I can have her pretty sons and daughters" or something, idk it sounds like something he'd say) Soon more and more people started catching on and started to hunt him down. They noticed that younger people were more prone to getting charmed so they'd lock them inand plug their ears with wax and wool while they "hunted" him. That was how he got there.

In turn the bard finds out that Geralt is a witcher and doesn't take to his charms. He also finds out that he won't kill him. The witcher treats his wounds and they have a "renfri-esk" moment of vulnerability with each other but nothing happens because their priority is to get Jaskier out of there. He agrees to leaving the village if they don't kill him.

Geralt goes out of the cave as a messenger of peace but the message is not well received. They think he's also been "hypnotized" so they attack him but that goes poorly for both sides. They leave Geralt for dead and go to find something to seal the entrance of the cave, planning on suffocating him inside.

The bard hears that and waits until there's less people outside. He has no choice so he acts. He charms them and makes them help both him and (the currently passed out) Geralt get out of the village.

Once they're far enough, he tries to patch the witcher up best he can.

When Geralt finally wakes up he's alone. Jaskier doesn't seem to be around. He still feels like the other must be close by, so he starts walking around.

He hears a beautiful melody from someone close to the nearby river. Sure enough, it's Jaskier as if he's singing to the wind. After a while the bard notices that someone is watching him. It's the first time that Geralt sees him in the light of day.

There is something... alluring in him.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #geralt z rivii #jaskier #the witcher dandelion #the witcher au

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tarnishedinquirer · 8 months ago

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Misc: The Coast and Cave

((Sorry, no pictures, my recording messed up))

Boc said he was going to a cave on the coast to recover his sewing supplies, but that was a while ago. Granted, we didn't exactly agree on a meeting place, but I was starting to grow worried.

After my brief crisis of reality, I found a road down to the shore. A troll seemed to be patrolling, and he could keep doing that as far as I'm concerned. No business of mine.

On the shore proper, I saw a flash of light moving across the ground in a fixed pattern. I tried to swing my sword at it, but it took a little while to get the timing right. The light only showed me where it'd just been, not where it was now.

It was one of those scarabs I've seen around. I've gotten some flask refills and ashes of war off of them, but never really paid much attention. Can't think of a reason why a stamping sweep technique would cause the scarab to become invisible, so I'm not gonna worry too much about what this one means either.

Someone built a campfire on the northern end of the shore. One of those mounted mercenaries, just staring out to sea. When I got closer, I saw a dead long-neck. Scratch that, looks like the long-neck built the fire and the mercenary just stole his lunch. I returned the favor and moved on, with a bit more food in my pack.

Fought a giant land octopus, which is something that exists here. Met one of Kalé's kin, hiding out under a ruin arch. But then I reached the end of the shoreline, at a giant waterfall. More like a deadfall, given how many broken boats and barrels rested down here.

Then there were the skeletons.

My first fight with the undead since getting here. I quickly learned that they would get back up if I didn't make well and sure they were dead. Smacking them while they were on the ground seemed to work, but it's easy to get distracted and forget to finish the job. I wish I could have gotten a good look at them, as they seem to be wearing some unique armor, but as soon as they're truly killed, they crumble into dust.

That wasn't my only problem. There were Piles of rotten blood and bones that were nearly immune to my sword and my spells. Thinking quickly, I thrust my torch into them and that did the trick. Are these undead that didn't fully form? Maybe too rotten and jumbled up to make a real body.

Having reached the end of the road, I doubled back to find Boc's cave. Wasn't too hard to find because this time I was ambushed by a mob of his demi-human kin. I can see why he didn't fit in. Most of them aren't nearly as urbane as the elegant Boc. Savagery is no match for skill though, and I'm very skilled.

They sure did a number on Boc. Poor guy was barely clinging to life, and all over some needle and thread? He tried to warn me about going deeper, but I couldn't let this one slide.

After clearing the first room of the brutes, I felt a presence, like there was someone else standing here, but somewhere to the side, in a direction I couldn't point to. I called out, and he answered.

Didn't have much time to compare notes, since the boss room was right in front of us, but I got the feeling we were here for different reasons. He kept looking towards the end of the cave, like there was something there only he could see.

The Demi-human camp was ruled by two chieftains, so we each took one and my wolves dealt with the stragglers. At least, that was the plan. I take back what I said about savagery being no match for skill. These were tough customers who kept me on my toes. I barely had time for spells. (Note: Memorize the pebble spell) Istvan fought with one of those strange pole-swords I've seen the mercenaries use, but through it he channeled some strange purple magic that sucked enemies in. After nearly getting gutted by the chief, I let him handle both of them and instead just pelted them from a distance.

Once the chiefs were dead, he didn't stick around to chat either. I wonder what he was looking for? Regardless, I got what I needed. Once I showed Boc his sewing needle, he lit up and I could almost see the life returning to him. Just to be safe, I honed my sewing skills on some of his wounds. He took it like a champ and let me keep the kit. All he wanted was that needle.

Questions:

What was Istvan searching for?

Where did the skeletons at the bottom of the waterfall come from?

#elden ring lore #elden ring #in character #in character blog #in character post #elden ring rp #elden ring oc #elden ring tarnished #let's play

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justgayrevolutionnaries · 1 year ago

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It's still more sweet if it's all in vain

As the end is getting near, Combeferre and Courfeyrac discuss hope and loyalty at the barricade.

Aka my fic for barricade day ! I was originally going with something else entirely (see tags / notes for more info) but I am very happy how this one turned out

And yes it still counts as a barricade day fic because it's not midnight yet shhh

Find it on Ao3 here !

Usual tw warning for barricade day : mentions of violent death, main character death and graphic descriptions of violence. Stay safe guys <3

It was all calm. Maybe too calm.

Combeferre was sitting on top of the barricade, looking down at the street, empty and lifeless before him. It was only dawn, and everything was bathed in an orange glow. Ironically, Combeferre was facing west, meaning that the sun was rising behind the barricade, and that end of the street appeared surrounded by a halo of light.

Next to Combeferre was Courfeyrac, his chin resting on his knees, a thoughtful look in his eyes as kept fidgeting with his hat, putting it either on his head or in front of him. Both of them had been sitting in a comfortable silence for a while, which was more than uncommon for the latter.

At the other end of the barricade stood Enjolras, silently contemplating alternatively the street and the space in front of the café. He, too, had been silent since the five men had left the barricade. His face was as unreadable as usual, but Combeferre knew him well enough to perceive that, behind his severe attitude, his look could almost be qualified as melancholic. When his two friends had tried to call him, it was as through he couldn't even hear them.

Courfeyrac was once again the first one to break the silence.

"You know, if this is to be the end of the world, I always imagined it to be different. More sensational, at least. So we could enjoy it properly."

Without moving, his friend answered with a small smile on his lips : "And in what ways does this disappoint you now ?"

Courfeyrac shrugged in response : "It is taking too long." He tilted his head on the side to look at the entrance of the café. "And some of us can not even be here to enjoy it."

Combeferre didn't need to turn, nor did he even want to. He knew what his friend was looking at. The table at the other end of the Corinthe; the bodies they had no choice but to lay down on them, covered by a white blanket Enjolras had found God knew where.

Bahorel.

He could still remember the agony that had filled his heart as he watched Bahorel fall back in the barricade, the fatal wound that had killed him almost invisible on the red of his shirt. His only consolation was knowing that he would most likely get to see his friend again in less than a few hours.

Still not taking his eyes off the street in front of him, Conbeferre simply answered :

"Enjolras would tell you that is the cost of freedom. We know some of us have to die, only because we wish for a better future for this world."

Courfeyrac turned to him with an inquisitive look in his eyes.

"And what would Combeferre tell me ?"

So many things.

Combeferre was about to answer that he agreed with Enjolras. That freedom, and the light of the future, were all he had ever looked forward to ; that all of them had always known their life was the price they must be ready to pay for it. Because after all, what else was there to die for ? Except at this moment, he knew this wasn't the answer Courfeyrac was waiting for.

Looking back to the Corinthe he could see Enjolras, an austere look still on his face. He had been joined by Feuilly, who was gesturing to the top of the barricade and, from what Combeferre could make out of his voice, inquiring about the number of men and weapons they had left. His heart clenched as he remembered the one thing that had really been on his mind since the previous day : the face of his best friend, one he had known for so many years, looking down at the man he had just killed, an overwhelming sadness in his eyes.

Back then Combeferre had claimed he would always follow him, no matter what fate this should lead him to. And as much as Combeferre hated violence, he still believed those words.

So, as Courfeyrac placed a soft hand on his arm, still looking at him in expectancy, all he could answer was :

"I couldn't think of any other people I would rather die with."

For a moment here Courfeyrac seemed ready to add something, a strange glint in his brown eyes that were focused on Combeferre's face. However, he let his hand fall down and, biting his bottom lip, simply nodded in acknowledgement.

As he stood up and seemed about to leave and go back inside the café, Combeferre tried to hold him back by grabbing his left wrist.

"It is too late for us to have regrets now anyway, my friend. By noon-"

Combeferre found himself unable to finish this sentence. It seemed useless now, to try and conceal what both of them already knew. Yet like the others, he wanted to preserve a spark of hope, to think that the men inside the barricade still had a chance. Because at the end of the day, if they couldn't even believe in that, how many of them would have the strength to keep on fighting ?

By noon this may all be over.

"No one is coming anymore, are they ?"

The question called for no answer, yet Combeferre turned to his best friend with a bitter smile. He couldn't even tell how much it broke his heart that even Courfeyrac, ever the optimistic, had given up on hope. But before he could answer, Courfeyrac spoke again, his eyes fixed on the horizon and a new, softer light in his eyes :

"You know what Prouvaire would tell us if he were still on this barricade ?"

Following his look, Combeferre could do nothing but nod, his throat tightening at the mention of their friend, as Courfeyrac added :

"It's still more sweet if it's all in vain."

Combeferre softly answered : "But it is not in vain, my friend. This is why we are here, you and I. This is why Prouvaire and Bahorel have already left us. This is what Enjolras told us earlier, what we truly believe in. We must die here, yes, but do not think that will be in vain. A sacrifice is never in vain. We are like the light of the star, a light that hasn't reached the earth yet. But it will one day, and this day all will be changed, just like a new dawn, a new sun rising. And this day, I promise, men shall be truly happy."

In response Courfeyrac offered him a sad smile, so far from the beaming, humorous one Combeferre had grown to be used to over the years, yet still a smile. And at this moment, it seemed bright as a star.

As Enjolras and Feuilly started making their way toward them, Combeferre muttered Enjolras's words to himself once again, his gaze fixed on the clouds dotting the morning sky, now turning to a pale blue color.

"We shall be happy..."

That was what he thought later when he saw, down the street, the national guards bringing in not just one, but two cannons, and felt his heart miss a bit as the realization finally struck him.

None of them was going to make it out alive.

That was what kept him from screaming his heart out when he saw Gavroche fall down one time, then get up only to fall down again. Only a few meters away from the barricade, yet too far to run to him and bring the boy back to safety. All he could do instead was cling to Courfeyrac as hard as he could, refusing to let another of his friends die in front of his eyes.

That was the only thing that kept him from going mad as he had to watch, through his tears, Joly fall down, his face red with blood, followed shortly by Bossuet, shot trying to run to his best friend.

Those were the words he heard when the bullets pierced him, over the screams of his friends, over Enjolras yelling his name, over Courfeyrac's agonizing cry, as he looked up to the sky that was now as bright as his friend's smile had been, so little time ago. An eternity ago.

We shall be happy.

And even if he couldn't be here to see it, he knew it was a sight worth dying for.

#so for the context last year i decided i was gonna write a cool marius-centric fic for barricade day 2023 #well unsurprisingly it has been sitting in my drafys untouched for 12 months #so instead i wrote this today #hope you guys enjoy because i still really liked writing it !#barricade day #barricade day 2023 #les mis #les miserables #combeferre #courfeyrac #enjolras #barricade boys

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fangirlstorycreator · 2 years ago

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Bestie!!! I have another Cash request, please🥺 Let's say we're best friends and we live together with our abusive boyfriend. Cash wants to help us leave him and he waits in his car for us but he suddenly gets a message that we stay with our boyfriend but Cash immediately knows that something is wrong because we wrote something we usually don't write . And he comes to save us and fights our ex boyfriend and protects us from him. Maybe with a romantic ending? Take all the time you need Bestie 🙏 I love you. 🖤

Of course bestie, I love writing for Cash 🤗 I hope you enjoy 💚 love you too 💚

Contains: Trigger warning, domestic violence

Every day you wished you could escape, escape this horrible house where you were stuck with your abusive boyfriend. He would smack, punch, kick, burn and push you. There were even times he dragged you around the house by your hair and left you bloodied and bruised while shaking in a corner. You had nothing, no family, no support, except for one person. Your bestfriend Cash. Your boyfriend refused to work so he made you work so he could take all your money, and your job was the only resemblance of freedom you had, if it got you away from a beating for a couple of hours then you would gladly do it. And that's where you met Cash. Cash was a handyman and he had helped you in many of your jobs, because you both worked for the same gardening company. He was kind, and gentle, and never did anything to make you feel frightened. If anything, he was the complete opposite.

As you and him got to know eachother, you discovered you both had so much in common and you got on like a house on fire. One afternoon he moved his hand a little quickly next to your face and it made you flinch, this caught Cash's attention. You couldn't hide it anymore, especially when he saw a bruise you tried to hide under the sleeve of your wrist, you had to come clean. You told him everything your boyfriend does to you, how he hurts you, verbally abuses you and makes it so you cant leave the house or have any money. This made Cash's blood boil, he was going to go to your house and beat him up then and there if you hadn't had stopped him. He couldn't let you stay in that place, being in danger of getting attacked, or possibly even worse. He came up with an idea, giving you his number he said that he would drive up to the house and take you away from there.

You said no at first, worrying about what would happen if something was to go wrong, but Cash was only looking out for you, he wanted to protect you. Knowing that this may be your only chance, you agreed. You had both come up with a code word to text to eachother depending on what may happen. The word 'Cheers' if you could get out of the house safely. The word 'Thanks' if it wasnt quite safe yet. And the final word was 'Sorry' and that was the word you would text if you were in danger. Having this plan in place made you feel like your life could finaly change for the better. The afternoon had come, you were in the house after finishing work. You were cleaning the table against the window, and your boyfriend was sat on the sofa watching football with a beer. As you look out the window, you see Cash's car very slowly pull up on the other side of the street opposite the window.

A little wave of warmth spread through you when you see him sat in the car smiling at you. Cash had told you that once you were away from there, you could stay in his house in his spare room. His house was at least 2 hours drive from hear, so your boyfriend couldn't find you. Especially once you were safely away, Cash would call the police and get him arrested. Realising this is your chance, you straighten up at the table you were at, turn to your boyfriend and say "I've run out of cleaning spray, I'm going to get some more from the kitchen" "Fine, bring me back a beer, or else you can have another bruise to add to that pathetic face of yours" Hanging your head low, you walk past him and into the kitchen, when your there, you try to open the back door, it was always unlocked so this is where you planned your escape. But strangely, it was locked....why was it locked? Taking your phone out of your pocket, your just trying to text Cash, when the hair on the back of your neck stands up.

"And where do you think your going?...." A knot twisted in your stomach, he was right behind you, and he could sence something was up. Having the split second while your back was turned, you texted a one word message to Cash. "I knew something was going on you little bitch! He says grabbing your shoulder, spinning you around and grabbing your phone out of your hand and throwing it against the wall. "I-I-I wasnt doing anything, I swear!" "Shut the fuck up!" As this is going on in the kitchen, Cash is sat in the car getting worried, what was taking you so long. That was when he gets a message through on his phone, a one word message, that read 'SORRY!" "Your trying to leave the house arent you? You dont leave unless I say so!" "No no i wasnt leaving, I-" Your boyfriend stops you answering by punching you very hard right in the stomach, it knocks the wind out of your body and makes you fall to the floor in floods of tears.

"You have really pushed me to far Y/N, everything I do to you, is your fault. You make me do this, if only you did as your told and didnt lie to me, I wouldn't have to resort to this. Get up...GET UP!" You try, but the pain is too much, and because you cant move, his hand reached down and grabs you by the throat. Pulling you up and pressing you against the sink, squeezing at your throat and choking you. Your absolutely terrified, you cant breath. "You did this Y/N! This is your fault! Looks like I'm going to need a new girl to control...its a shame you had to go out this way, but who cares? Noone will care if your gone, your nothing!" Your desperately clawing at his hands, trying to get them off of your throat so you can breath, but hes too strong, and his grip stays tight. Tears run down your cheeks as the fear engulfs you, your vision starts to go dark...were you really about to die? All of a sudden, there is a large crashing noise that startled your boyfriend, it's the front door being smashed down, by Cash!

Cash runs in and sees your boyfriend choking you, and he could see your nearly passed out. He waists no time, he runs straight over, punches your boyfriend in the back of the neck, causing him to let go of you. He falls to the floor grasping onto his neck as Cash stops you falling to the floor and helps you stand back up. Your coughing violently and desperately trying to breath again, you sound absolutely petrified. "Hey hey it's ok Y/N, just breath for me ok? Slow, deep breaths" His hands hold yours, giving you support and you slowly start to breath normally again, but your still shaking, and your throat hurts so much, especially with hand prints around them. Your boyfriend slowly gets back up off the floor, and when you see this, you desperately hold onto Cash and hold him close. "Cash please, please dont let him kill me-" "Shhh Y/N, it's ok, just stay behind me, I promise I'll protect you" Getting behind Cash and still holding one of his hands, your boyfriend looks furious.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?! Get the fuck out of my house, and you, you little bitch, it's time to finish what I started!" "Your not going to touch her, ever again" "Oh really? I think you'll find she belongs to me, shes MY property! Now Y/N, get over hear" You dont move a single muscle, and stay behind Cash. "I said get over hear!" "Shes not going anywhere with you. Y/N is not going to spend another moment with someone who tried to kill her!" "Is that right? And I supose your going to stop me? Eh? Mr white hair?" "To keep Y/N safe, I'll destroy you" Your boyfriend just looks between you and Cash, and he gets angry, trying to reach for you, but Cash grabs his arm, pushes him away and punches him right in the face. "Ooh! Is that all you got white hair?!" Cash throws another punch and breaks your boyfriends nose before he falls to the floor. Then Cash kneels over him and repeatedly punches and kicks him, over and over again. Until he looks like a little ball of bruised covered bloody skin.

Cash is a little breathless when he finishes hurting him, he looks towards you to see if your ok. Your giving him a faint but thankful smile, he had saved you and hes glad he got there just in time. But he could also see you still shaking from fear, he nearly killed her, and what he did to you was unforgivable. Looking back to him, he grabs your boyfriend by the collar and pulls him up to meet his face. "Little rats like you dont deserve to live amongst civilised people, and they certainly dont deserve to do this to innocent women. You see Y/N standing there?" He asks as he yanks his collar up to see you. "This remarkable woman has had to endure endless fear, pain and torment at the hands of you. And that ends today. No woman deserves to be treated this way, especially Y/N. She is the most incredible, beautiful and inspiring human being I have ever met, and she is now under my protection, as well of the protection of my police buddies. Within the hour, they will be hear and they are going to cuff you and put you away. They have the power to keep you behind bars for a very, very long time. So I want you to remember my face when your stewing away in your cell, cold, alone and with noone there for you. If you even think about tying to apply for parole, or try to get your freedom back in anyway....just remember that I will be waiting outside for you...and I will not stop next time..."

He let go of his collar making him hit the floor in a thump, he looks at you comfortingly and says "Are you alright?" "Y-Yeh I'm, I'm ok..." "I'll keep an eye on him hear, why dont you go and get any of your stuff and bring it to the front door" "Thank you Cash" Making your way upstairs and packing up all your clothes and personal items, Cash leans down and reaches into your boyfriends pocket and pulls out his wallet, grabbing a very large wad of money, that you had earnt from work. "This belongs to Y/N, your not going to need it where your going" You get all your things by the door and walk back into the kitchen. "Alright, let's get you out of hear Y/N" He takes a step towards you and is about to put his arm over your shoulder, when you stop him for just a moment. "Wait Cash, just one second" You slowly walk over to your boyfriend on the floor, still in pain from the beating. As he looks up at you, you lift your leg up and kick him right in the face, sounding like you cracked his jaw. "Ok, now we can go" Cash smiles as he leads you out of the house, and you both take your stuff to his car. Once it's all in the back, Cash calls someone on his phone. "Hey it's me, I've texted you the address, come and take him in. Thanks"

"Who was that Cash?" "Just my police friends, there on their way to collect him. This next half an hour is the last bit of freedom he has" He chuckles as he looks towards the house, you however dont know what to think, or how to feel. It must comes out in floods of both happy and scared tears. "Y/N, oh come hear" He slowly pulls you in for a cuddle and your bury your face into his chest as all the emotion pours out of you. It's a couple of minutes before your able to look up at him, tears still staining your face. "I'm sorry Cash" "What have you got to be sorry about Y/N?" "I-...I dont even know. The crying, the whole situation. And for what happened in there. I was so frightened, he was going to kill me and I just-" "Shhhh shhhh Y/N its ok" He rests both his hands against your cheeks, using his thumb to wipe away your tears. "None of this is your fault. Hes not going to hurt you anymore, trust me. Your free, you dont have to live in fear anymore, I'll keep you safe" "You promise?" He gives you a warm smile as he looks into your eyes with such a kind and understanding look. His face gets a little closer to yours, and before you know it, his soft lips are kissing yours. He was kissing you so gently, almost a feather like touch, and yet you could feel the emotion behind it, he was smitten with you, but he also knew to be gentle. "I promise Y/N" You cant help the warm feeling in your heart, it was beautiful. His hand slightly hovers over your neck as he looks at it. "You poor thing, let's get you back to my place, I'll get you a cold compress for your neck. Then if you'd like, we can move your things into your new room and maybe chill on the sofa and watch an film?" "That sounds wonderful Cash, but I do have a question" "What is it?" "After that kiss...does it have to be just a film? Could we maybe...spend some time together?" "Only if your comfortable. I dont want to rush you or make you feel uncomfortable. Is that ok with you?" "Yes Cash, thank you again, you really saved my life in there" "I couldn't let him do that to you, now come on, let's go home"

#thomas ian griffith #sensei targaryen #cash x reader #cash

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sanyu-thewitch05 · 2 years ago

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Sandy Skies Ahead

Wonderland

The Savannah

Completely Under Your Love

What’s Real and What’s Not

Coffin Azul hasn't let go of me since I agreed to be his girlfriend. The only time I get to be by myself is when I shower or change in or out of clothes. He stays by my side if I don't remind him to go away enough or starts to go back into his habits of force-feeding me. It's like he's my shadow within a person.

"Yuu, what's wrong?" Ace asks, breaking my train of thought.

"Nothing, I'm just tired, that's all," I respond, eating my breakfast. "I think Crowley is calling me."

"Ok, I'll see you later," Ace solemnly says, trying to be happy.

I walk into the Mirror Chamber and find Crowley in there.

"What's the problem?" I ask as Crowley fidgets around with the smaller mirrors.

"It seems that something is wrong with the mirror. I can't send you in there until it's fixed," Crowley responds, swiping the mirror again. "By the way, Jamil and Kalim wanted to see you about something."

"Ah, ok. I'll be getting on then."

I walk to the Hall of Mirrors and enter Scarabia's dorm mirror. Orange sparkles surround me, and I wake up in a nice bed with red silks.

"Where are we- Gr-oh my fucking God, you're a tiger!" I yell, sitting up and noticing Grim's large orange and black body.

"NYAH! I AM HUGE!" Grim yells, roaring as he gets up on the bed.

"We're in the mirror's stories, aren't we?" I ask, noticing me wearing the red outfit that Jasmine wears. "Which, if I'm correct, means that Jamil is about to take over and kill Kalim!"

"My princess, your brother has requested you," Jamil says, opening the door. "May I add that you look lovely today."

"Thank you, Jafar," I reply, getting up and nodding at Jamil. "By the way, how old are you?"

"I'm 17, my lady. The stress sometimes adds age onto my face-God do I wish your brother was dead!" Jamil snaps, making me stare in shock. "Sorry, princess."

"Have you ever tried telling him how you feel? There's no point hating him if he doesn't even know what he did wrong. Besides, you know Kalim is happy-go-lucky and clueless he couldn't tell a woman is pregnant unless he saw her giving birth," I say, petting Grim before stepping out the door. "You should come with me."

I grab Jamil's hand and make him follow me to Kalim's room. My brother turns around and shows me a tray of chocolate chip cookies that are warm.

"Tadah! I wanted to surprise you both for all the hard work you do for me!" Kalim exclaims, hugging Jamil and me. "Thank you for telling me how you felt, Jamil! I promise you won't live in my shadow ever again!"

Jamil cries as he eats Kalim's cookie, and suddenly everything fades into white. I wake up on the ground with Jamil kissing me on the lips. I knee him in the crotch, making him yowl.

"Jamil, what the hell?!" I scream, sitting up with Grim on my chest.

"Ah! Damn, your knees are hard!" Jamil groans, holding his crotch.

"Jamil was trying to perform CPR on you. We found you on the ground when we walked into the common room!" Kalim explains, running to Jamil.

"Why would you perform CPR on a person whose heart is still beating?!" I ask, putting Grim in my arms.

"I told you CPR wasn't supposed to be used on passed-out people!" Jamil yells toward Kalim.

"It worked in Sleeping Beauty and Snow White!" Kalim rebuttals, getting huffy about it.

"Number one, those are fairytales! Number two, it was the kiss that broke their curses, not CP-fucking R!" Jamil shouts, standing up and limping onto the couch. "Damn, are you one stupid bitch!"

"Well...you're a snake bastard!" Kalim yells back.

"Never denied it, sweetie!" Jamil yells in return.

"Alright, enough! What did you two invite me here for?!" I shout, making them stop fighting.

"We wanted you to taste our cooking. Jamil has a new cookie recipe he wants you to taste, and Kalim wants you to taste the ice cream someone sent him," Azul explains, coming out of a shadowy corner.

"Ah, I see you've decided to get up in shady business again," I comment, looking at the now-normal Azul.

"Oh, quite the contrary. I'm only here for your services. You see I need your period blood for a potion I'm trying to make. I give you menstruation products and the best remedies for anything menstruation-related, and you give me your blood. Is that a deal?" Azul explains, pulling out a golden sheet of paper with clauses about our deal.

"Azul, no! Furthermore, this is a creepy new low for you! I'm not giving you my period blood anytime soon! Besides, you have to wait till next month to get it!" I reply, becoming annoyed by the chaos going on.

"SO, what you're telling me is that you've recently had your period and that there are remains of it in the trash?"

"No! And if I see you rummaging around in my trash like a raccoon, I'll turn you into takoyaki!"

Azul smirks and runs away, leaving me to sigh on the ground.

"I'll be back to taste your cooking later. I'm going to make sure that octopus bastard isn't in my trash," I say, waving goodbye to Jamil and Kalim. "Grim, what are you pawing at?"

"Look at the key with a lamp on it! It's so shiny, plus look at the mist around it," Grim mewls, pawing at the keychain near my thigh. "So...SHINY!!"

"Grim, stop! You'll get your claws got in my pants again!" I groan, trying to pull him away from my pants. "Besides, that can't be a real key. We can only access those by going through the Dark Mirror. Not only that, but there was no problem for me to resolve. Everything solved itself on its own."

"So? The mirror has been acting weird for a while. Maybe it's finally going easy on us after seeing what happened last time."

"Maybe, you know what, I'll take this as a stroke of luck today,"

We walk back to Ramshackle and find someone has entered my bathroom.

"Azul, get out of my trash!" I scream, making the octopus boy jump and look for a way out. "There's no way out but this door!"

He moves from side to side, and I do the same thing. Then he fakes a right and jumps out my window.

"Azul, are you ok?!" I yell, looking at his body from below.

"Call an ambulance..." Azul moans, holding his right leg.

#twst wonderland fanfic #twst wonderland #twst fairytale jumper au #azul x yuu #ace trapolla #azul ashengrotto #dire crowley #jamil viper #kalim al asim

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brodymartinez · 2 years ago

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✦ TYLER POSEY, CIS MALE, HE/HIM ✦ BRODY MARTINEZ the TWENTY-EIGHT year old has been in Hidehill for TWENTY YEARS (RECENTLY RETURNED) and was a ACQUAINTANCE to Carter Thompson, one of the shadows. Whispers on the streets are that the DJ AT ENVY who lives in HADLEY PARK are said to be GREGARIOUS and DECEITFUL but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves.

Full Name: Brody Tomás Martinez

Age: 28

Date Of Birth: 8 April 1995

Zodiac: Aries

Parents: Pablo & Elizabeth Martinez

Siblings: Adriana Martinez @adrianamartinez

Orientation: Bisexual

Occupation: DJ + Drug Dealer

Languages: English & broken Spanish

Positive: gregarious, confident, witty, energetic

Negative: impulsive, deceitful, mischievious, self-centred

CONNECTIONS | PINTEREST

BIOGRAPHY (TW drug abuse, arrest, violence)

Brody was the last child to be born into the Martinez family; half-brother to Adriana Martinez and her older brother. Pablo Martinez was already well-established and comfortably wealthy before Brody's mother met and married him, so they had all the makings of a typical privileged white-picket family; with an eventual move to Harlow Estates in Hidehill confirming their status.

While Brody and his siblings got along as well as any other brothers and sisters, there were underlying tensions that simmered between them that would eventually cause rifts and fractions. There was always a suspicion between the oldest Martinez children that their father had cheated on their mother with Brody's mother; an accusation that caused many fights at the dinner table but was always vehemently denied. It was also abundantly clear to Brody that Adriana was the golden child, especially in the eyes of their Dad. They had both rebelled and partied as hard as each other but Adriana seemed to always escape a lecture and a dressing down, whereas Brody did not.

Brody always felt like the black sheep of the family, and as he got older he only got himself into more and more trouble. he figured he was already a disappointment, so he may as well have fun. His dad decided to give him a job as a floor manager at The Vanilla Unicorn to try and teach him some responsibility and more importantly, keep a close eye on him. It worked for a while and Brody came to enjoy the tasks of being manager and the perks of being the owner's son.

When it came time for Pablo Martinez to retire and hand over the business, Brody felt like he was in the box seat to take over. He'd toed the line, proven himself and stayed loyal. Instead, he was overlooked in favour of his sister, who hadn't even lived in Hidehill for a number of years.

As a compromise, Brody's father requested he return to their hometown of Tampa, Florida to oversee an establishment there and also a business held in Miami. Not needing an excuse to get out of Nashville, Brody agreed and uprooted immediately.

He behaved himself for a time, but soon enough the hard party nightlife of Florida consumed him and he found himself out most nights, drinking heavily and using hard drugs. His father hadn't given him big responsibilities in a state where he couldn't supervise, so Brody felt as though he was free to do as he wanted as long as he checked in occasionally. This lifestyle saw him eventually fall deeper and deeper into the scene with questionable crowds, and on a drunken walk home on a Saturday night he came home to find the police already there with a warrant to search his home for drugs. Knowing he would be busted, he tried (and failed) to run and was arrested with possession and evasion of police. When his father found out, he fired him and cut him off to teach him a lesson.

Out on his own, Brody resorted to DJing (an occasional hobby until now) and dealing on the side to make a living. He was able to sustain himself for a considerable period of time and was even starting to make a name for himself as a DJ in the Florida club scene, but managed to piss off the wrong cartel when a deal went bad and was cornered in an alley after a set and beaten to a pulp. PRESENT DAY

Now scared for his life (though he won't admit it) Brody has returned to Hidehill to lay low for a while and try to repair some of the fractures his actions have created with his family.

#hidehillintro #( — history; )

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reasonableapproximation · 6 months ago

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Another thing that makes this difficult: when I swap one type of crypto for another, I'm supposed to know the market value of both sides of the exchange. (They might not be the same due to fees.)

Coinbase has three different ways I can look this up. Looking at one transaction where I swapped £5 worth of BTC for SOL:

In my account statement (downloadable as csv or html), I get the £/BTC at the time, and the amount of BTC I lost, and the amount of SOL I gained, and the fees I paid. (The csv has price with fees, price without fees, and fees; the html has just price with fees and price without fees.)

In the email they sent at the time, I get the amount of BTC I lost, the £ it was worth, the amount of SOL I gained, the fees I paid in both £ and BTC, and the BTC/SOL exchange rate.

I can look up the transaction on the website. In one place it gives me the amount of BTC I lost, the £/BTC at the time, and how much that makes in £. In another place it gives the amount of SOL I gained, the £/SOL at the time, and how much that makes in £.

These all agree on how much BTC I lost and how much SOL I gained, but that's about it.

What was the £/BTC at the time? Account statement says £28696.60, website says £28560.00, implied value from email agrees with website.

How much £ was the BTC worth? They all say £5, but the £/BTC on the account statement would suggest £5.02.

What was the £/SOL at the time? From the account statement I infer £41.57; from the email I infer £42.00; according to the website, £41.23.

How much £ was the SOL worth? According to the account statement, £4.89; according to the email, £4.94 (specifically they say £0.06 fees); according to the website, £4.85.

I tried to talk to a customer support agent about this. He asked for a transaction reference and then couldn't find the transaction. He asked me to share a screenshot, but it would have meant going to some other site and signing in with google and I didn't feel like it. He tried to explain that prices fluctuate a lot and that there are different buy and sell prices, but either he didn't understand the question I was asking ("why do these three records of the same event disagree with each other", I didn't get to "why is this record in particular internally inconsistent") or he wouldn't say "I don't know". He repeatedly said that the price at the time I view the account statement is different from the price at the time I made the transaction, and I tried to point out that the price at the time I view the account statement shouldn't affect what I see on the account statement. (I haven't double checked this, but at least the numbers on the website haven't changed over the last few days.)

He did also say that exchange was done by swapping BTC directly for SOL, not by swapping BTC for £ and £ for SOL. Possibly useful tidbit, if true.

My current best guess is that when I did the exchange, they recorded some details explicitly (tentatively: how much BTC I lost, how much that was meant to be in £, how much SOL I gained) and then set off three or four jobs to record this info in different places. Those jobs ran at different times, and each of them looked up some subset of £/BTC and £/SOL and SOL/BTC prices at the time they ran and inferred other details from that plus the fixed info.

I'm tempted to do a GDPR data request, and then if there's only one set of numbers in that I can get in touch and be like "hey this is supposed to contain all the information you have about me, but there's some that I can access that isn't in the data dump, what gives". And because it's GDPR related they maybe have to take it seriously?

(Obviously this doesn't, like, matter. It's the principle of the thing.)

Trying to calculate capital gains on crypto, mostly out of curiosity. (I recently sold some, but not enough to need to report.)

I would have hoped it would be mostly easy. I've been tracking my assets with ledger. So for approximately every fraction of a bitcoin I own, I can see

This is the day I bought it

This is how much I paid

And this is the fees I paid

E.g. "bought 0.00724641 BTC on 2018-05-07, I paid £51.99 of which £1.99 is fees".

There are some exceptions: I have some that I got from mining or from the bitcoin faucet way back when, stored in a wallet on my computer that I couldn't figure out how to access again; I got someone else to do it for me in exchange for about half of what was in there. In my ledger this is just recorded as a 0.03 BTC input that I got given for free. And there's an in-progress bet that involved someone sending me $100 of BTC.

(Other coins are more complicated: I once bought BCH, converted it to BNB, converted that to SOL, moved the SOL to a different place, staked the SOL, moved it back, staked it again and eventually sold, and there's fees involved in lots of these steps.)

But ignoring this I'd hope it would be simple enough? But not really.

I think partly this is because calculating capital gains isn't an objective one-right-answer calculation. If I buy 1 BTC, then buy 3 BTC, then sell 2 BTC, then sell 2 BTC, it matters which order I sell them in.

Okay, but I think FIFO is pretty standard? But I don't think there's a way to specify that I'm doing that or any other approach that could be automated. I just need to manually say "okay, the BTC that I sold here are the same BTC that I bought here", and the way to do that is to specify the date and unit price when I bought them.

Which, I get having this written out explicitly in the file, that seems reasonable, but I'd hope for some way to auto-generate the posting, and I don't see one.

...also I've been letting the unit price be implicit, instead specifying the lot price. Which means the unit price has 16 decimal digits, which aren't written in the file, and which I need to copy exactly when I'm selling or the lots won't quite match up. (Which is mostly fine, but when I want to print lots explicitly it means it doesn't show as "I bought BTC valued at X and then sold them" but as "I bought BTC valued at X and on the same day went into debt for the same quantity of unrelated BTC valued at X±ε".) And sometimes exact isn't enough due to rounding errors.

So I'm converting lot prices to unit prices, which there ought to be a way to do that automatically too but afaict there isn't. (Unless I want to do some python scripting, which might be fun I guess but also might be super frustrating depending how good the API is.)

I've looked idly at hledger as well but from what I can tell it's no better at this. I don't think I've looked closely enough at beancount to know, that might be worth looking into. But I have over 7 years of financial data in ledger and it would probably be annoying to convert it all - just crypto would be fine I guess, but then I'm using two different CLI accounting tools.

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visd3stele · 2 years ago

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Turn back the tides

summary: Can you write a tfota fanfic where During her exile Jude gets killed Cardan sees her dead body, and The next day he is brought back in time to when Jude was still his seneschal in fact he is brought back to when Grimsen first asked to be a smith. Cardan with the knowledge of the future prevents Jude from being kidnapped and tries to win her heart. He can no longer be controlled by Jude through the bargain BTW and Jude begins to realize this. And Cardan ask a request of her for the bargain to stick. (She spends the night with him)

@nish247

tw: a bit of angst at the beginning, a pinch of child abuse, smut implied, cardan's pov lmk if i missed anything

masterlist ; requests

a/n: requested by @fantasyfox10123

first fanart: rosiethorns second fanart: lexaart (found them both on pinterest, i hope the artists are correctly listed as i've taken their names from the comments)

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

One thousand three hundred and fourty four hours. Eighty thousands six hundred and fourty minutes. Four million eight hundred thirty eight thousand and four hundred seconds. Four million eight hundred thirty eight thousand and four hundred and one seconds, four million eight hundred thirty eight thousand four hundred and two seconds.

I lounged on the couch in the anteroom of my bed chambers. Counting. My tail swayed lazily with each number that echoed in my mind. Four million eight hundred thirty eight thousand four hundred and three seconds. Since Jude left.

Well, since I exiled her. But my sweet nightmare is too smart not to have caught on the plan I've devised. Which can only mean she choose to stay.

I twirled on the other side. Perhaps the shift would stir my mind off such horrific thoughts. It used to work - being active as a child, I barely noticed my mother wasn't nearby. She'd pick me up and coo at me, tickle my belly and wrap my tail around her fingers every few days. Before being gone again. "Now, be a good, little fae and don't bother mommy, Cardan. I have so much to catch up since your mean father wouldn't let me have fun as long as you needed my body. Show mommy it wasn't all for nothing, sweetling," she'd say.

Now she has returned. She's here, at my court. Proud of her son, the king. Jude shall come back soon too. We were married after all. The stubborn mortal wouldn't agree with something as unsoundable of as being my wife if she couldn't rip off the benefits. I have proven myself worthy, hence the agreement. Perhaps Jude is catching up with all the time stolen from her in the mortal realm.

I moved again, draping my feet over the couch's nearest arm rest. My tail wrapped and unwrapped from my calf, still counting the seconds of Jude's departure like a loyal pendula. Oh, Jude. Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude. Come back soon, Jude. Bring that fire with you, burn me and the castle whole. Just come home.

Gulping down the half full wine bottle I threw carelessly at the couch's last night, my eyes closed. Pictures of her flood the darkness. Flashes of her angry frown right before her unseparable blade shone in the moonlight, frames of her deep in thought, cooking the craziest of planes and a crease of stubbornness above her top lip to see it through.

The thoughts got heavier and heavier. I hadn't much control over my mind. Barely aware of my fingers letting the bottle slip, I heard a muffled crack before an irony smell caught to my senses. Scrunching my nose, I looked around. It appears I have fallen asleep. But to what cruel happening do I owe falling asleep thinking of Jude and finding myself in such a dire dream.

There was grease everywhere, even in the air. The walls of what looked like the tiniest house I've seen were moldy at corners, peppered with holes that unraveled them as if they're made of paper. Odd looking objects scattered on the ground between plates, glasses and cutlery: a round, deep vase with handles, another one less deep with only one handle. I even spotted a bottle of wine, broken in two sharp halves.

It looked like a domestic battle field. My tail coiled around my torso, my fingers bowling in tight fists at my side. I crouched on the ground, looking for a hiding spot that wouldn't restrict my sight. But as soon as I was on the floor's level, tears pinched my eyes. My body managed to understand the view before my mind could even begin to wrap itself around it.

Red. So much red. Pouring still from some wound I couldn't spot, hidden under the hair. It used to be so freshly brown. The color of forests. Now it was sticky and darkened by blood, a tainted color like rust and decay. The flames licking at her eyes have been put down, nothing but coldness staring back at me. Cuts, some yellow, leaking with pus, some already drained of blood, some ripped through her clothes, covered her body.

King Eldred has been brutally killed. Even drunk, I could realize it. But he looked so peaceful in his death. Afterward. Like a sleep. Jude didn't. Her face has paled and sunk in her features, looking so much like when she returned from the sea. Drained, tired, scared, broken. Except, she never was broken when she emerged from the sea. Jude could never be helpless. It was strange to see her as such and I doubled back in shame. She would despise such thoughts.

I leaned forward. Shacking her. Screaming for her to wake up. "You can't die! You can't die, Jude! You're no mortal anymore, you're High Queen of Elfhame. Wake up!" I pleaded until my voice has gone hoarse, tasting my tears joined with snot.

Surprising even myself, I heard the door cracking open. See, Jude, the training really worked. I am a good spy. But not even the chance to point out how messily distracted I was didn't bring her back. She truly was gone. And when the large, tall figure stepped inside, carrying a hood reverently in front of her with disturbingly steady green hands, I understood how.

The Red Cape dipped the hood in Jude's blood, my queen's blood and I could do nothing to stop it. I was yanked back to my senses, in a pool of wine splashed on the carpet.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

A couple of days have passed since the dream. I couldn't catch a wink of sleep, much to my council's despair.

"Maybe Your Highness needs to drink more tea? Instead of wine?" One of them suggested after yet another meeting I was too distracted to fully attend.

My mother made it her prerogative to be part of these meetings. Lately, as I've been unable to do so, even stepping up and aid me in my leading duties.

"Something on your mind, my son?" She asked once the meeting ended. After the dreaded dream I have begun writing to Jude. I intended to give her space after the exile. Calm her undoubting rage, see through my carefully crafted plan, appreciate it, but still punishing me for going behind her back.

But after seeing her dead body violated by the gruesome ritual of a Red Cape, I couldn't bare not knowing of her. I begged her to return with every letter, needing to see her, my queen, my Jude.

"Has the messenger returned?"

"I don't believe so, no. Are you expecting important news?"

"Nothing to concern you, Lady Asha. Personal affairs."

"Oh, dear," she laughed. "You know that if you want to bring a consort or two for company you don't have to hide from me."

"Nothing like that, mother," I hissed. I knew Lady Asha couldn't possibly know to whom I'm writing. And her assumptions aren't far fetched at all. But the thought of calling Jude a mere consort filled me with rage. The mothers of my siblings and all the other consorts, are, of course, respectable faes. But I knew what they meant to King Eldred - and Jude was so much more for me; I know what little power they had in the Kingdom - and Jude wielded and wished to wield so much more.

I rushed to my chambers, yanking the desk's drawers open in search of paper and a quill. The scribbled writing looked rushed, like my unsettling thoughts. The pen leaked here and there, brushing over words with ink pools.

Jude,

Not even responding to my missives is ridiculous and beneath you and I hate it.

Cardan

I stuffed it in my shirt, held in place by my tail, not patient enough to wait until the messenger I have sent earlier this evening to return. Without the letter from today there were three more Jude didn't bother acknowledge. I just needed to know she's fine. Alive. Silence wasn't helping my worries. So, naturally, I had to go see for myself.

Despite myself, being High King grew on me. And seeing the Land witter away by the day because of my despair bore a new feeling of tightness in my chest.

I traveled to the mortal realm stealthy. One time I overheard my sister and Vivienne talk about the latter's house in the land of humans. From what I made of it, it wasn't far from where I was right now. But all these tall buildings, with the many windows and cage-like stairs at each, looked the same. I can't believe Vivienne would leave the luxury of her father's mansion in the Fae realm to live in this.

Thankfully, the mortals sleep during the night - oh, but what they miss! - and I can slip from door to door searching for my queen. I picked at the lock of one of the buildings, only to find out these ugly homes, weren't, in fact, homes. But a multitude of little houses crammed into one another.

And there were so many of them... and so small! How do humans live in these?

Composing myself, I tried the first door. It opened easily and I slid through a small crease, leaving it open for a quick exit in case it's the wrong house. As soon as I've seen the grotesque dolls lined up on a shelf, a collection of watches hanging on a wall and mirrors at every step I knew it can't be Vivi's. Definitely not her style.

I checked five more doors - an angry old lady shoving me away with her knitting needles', one full of drunk revelers (I would have stayed if I wasn't on a such important mission... they even offered me a drink, naive souls!), one where small people talked to a sleeping audience of two lovers wrapped into each other and one where three angry dogs chased me out - before I stumbled over one that gave me chills like never felt before.

The door opened just like the others. But the crack it let out sent shivers down my spine. My blood ran cold. It sounded just like the door in my dream. I took tentatively steps forward, eyes darting all over, hoping I wouldn't miss anything. I got the feeling I'd better be ten times more cautious in this place.

The walls were all the same. Everywhere. I stopped with a start upon turning on the corner. The main room was a mess: furniture arranged untidly, broken glass spreaded like puzzle pieces on the parquet and... holes in the walls. Round, fist shaped holes in the walls by the size of bowls. And the metallic scent, now more frowzy than it was in my dream.

I slid my feet on the floor, testing each step for creaks before leaning on it. It was just a dream. It has to be. Because if not, that meant Jude was indeed dead.

No, I shook my head. No. It's just a coincidence.

And I managed to fool myself until I saw the reddish hood hanged like a beloved portrait of a loved one over the weird box with small humans inside. A Red Cape's hood.

I stumbled back. In a moment of haggard, my tail freed itself from the containment of my clothes, swooshing the air hazardously. My missive fell. I hadn't notice at the time. It was the logical course of events that downed on me later, not sure why or how I could be smoothed enough to entertain such thoughts even after I left the horrendous place.

Jude's tomb.

No! I cried, rushing out of the house. The walls were closing in, the air turning stale. I am not sure I was quiet as I trained to be. All I understood was the image of Jude's cadaveric face, replacing over and over through the tears running down my face.

I didn't see the stairs. Tripped over my own tail like I was a baby again, crying for the ghost of a touch, a smile, a love I shall not receive.

I picked myself up. For a second, as I rolled down the dark hall of the building, the images stopped ponding in my mind. Then they came in in closer shots. I could see it clearer, begun to notice details I have missed the first time: Jude's parted lips and clenched teeth, a small wrinkle at the bridge of her nose, her thumb locked around her little finger, the one a servant in Madoc's house bit off.

Even in the last moments she stood her ground. She kept fighting. If not the Red Cape that attacked her, then death itself. My brave, terrifying queen. Always the fighter.

This can't end like this. Jude can't end like this. Dead in a honorless place, buried without mourners or speeches of her bravery held loud and clear over weeping heads, adorned in gold and richness worthy of only the High Queen of Elfame, the true nobility of the land, after years of ruling through prosperity I knew she'll bring.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

"Grimsen." He startled, almost dropping the... whatever it was he was making now.

"My Lord, what brings you to my..."

"Have you ever considered time travel?" I cut him off. Maybe being straightforward would cost me more than subtilty would. But I hadn't time to lose.

Well, if what I had in mind could work, I had all the time in the world. That wasn't the point, though. I cannot suffer one more second of life knowing Jude has passed the sill of it.

"Excuse me, My Lord?"

The idea of turning back the time obsessed me. I knew bringing back someone from the dead wasn't an option. Not a viable one, anyway.

All I could think of were "what if's". What if I hadn't exile her? What if she was never captured, so I needn't make no deal? What if I could save her? Because she was a fighter. Though she didn't lack patience and dedication, she would still much rather deal with problems quickly, with her own two hands.

I enjoyed working in the shadows. Thinking, contemplating different ways a variable can work out. More subtle. And what is more subtle than correcting a mistake or two when one has the power to make them disappear?

"Time travel, Grimsen. Don't tell me it never piqued your interest." I arched a brow at him, letting a conspirational smile play on my lips, hoping it would be inviting enough for the old fae.

"Why is my king asking?"

"Call it a curiosity inclined to your craft. A man talented as yourself, with such achievements to pride with, must have thought of the simple, mere time traveling question. No?"

I kept the smile, widening it to seem warmer. I joined the other eyebrow to its mirror, miming admiration. My voice was emptied of any sarcasm, devoid of color as I worded only the truest of my thoughts. Not only to hide my real intention by making myself believable, but also because I could not lie.

Grimsen's shoulders relaxed. A smile boost on his face as he straighten his back and rolled his joints. I cringed at the crack of bones, Jude's figure laying in that house again in front of my eyes.

"Shall I take this change of attitude as a yes?"

The old man at least had the decency to look sheepish. Though if it was but an act I wouldn't be too surprised.

"Apologies, My Lord. I have gotten ahead of myself. The interest your grace exhibits for my work is simply too cajoling."

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I nodded my head with a lenient smile.

"The device? Would you have made one..."

"Of course, of course." Grimsen spin around, much too servile to not be suspicious. But he opened a small chest secretively and my attention poured back to why I was here. I couldn't see what he took from the chest until he put it back in the shelf and turned to look at me.

Grimsen dangled the string of a compass on his fingers, showing it off. I almost reached out to it, but he shouldn't take notice of my desperate eagerness.

Instead, I arched an eyebrow, folding my arms over my chest. "Well?"

"It's not a watch, My Lord. Anyone would expect a watch to take you back in time... or forward. It's a compass. No one would think to steal a compass for time travel, these are for directions," Grimsen grinned, obviously proud of himself. Once again the smith's behavior put me off ease. But there were more pressing matters to focus onto.

"Ingenious. How does it work then?"

"Very simple. You position yourself in the desired direction - north for future, south for past, then you press this button and -" he puffed audibly, suggesting a vanishing person. "Pinch it back and face east to return in the moment of your departure, or west to take your travel from scratches."

I pushed back against the delight threatening to overwhelm me. Anyone else would have inquired more. About the making process, the magic used, if it was tested. A better king perhaps would have question a previous usage of it and the purpose of it. Or ask about the eagerness he told me all I needed to know with. Seconds away from pushing me out the door.

I didn't All I cared about was finding my way back to the breath of my life.

I said my goodbyes to the smith and retired to the palace. At dawn, I sneaked back, having memorized where he keeps the compass, and stole it with ease, leaving its chest on the shelf.

"I keep fighting, Jude, like you showed me to. I will fix this, I promise that much."

My murmurs were too loud in the eerie quietness of the land. I didn't know it so silent before. Thoughts of when to go back to and questions of how to save Jude flood my mind, but were drowned by the peacefulness of day.

At last, I made my mind. Faced the south. Pressed the button. And leaped in nothingness.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

"...Allow me this - grant that I may show you my loyalty in my deeds, rather than binding myself with my words."

From his spot in front of the throne, Grimsen looked up at me, expectedly. I felt a squeeze on my shoulder and I nearly fell from the throne at the sight: Jude. In all her sharp nobility. Not yet the High Queen, but the actual ruler of Elfame.

Her eyes didn't move from the smith when she touched me. I remember I shrugged her hand off the first time this happened. But I couldn't bring myself to do so again. It was a cautionary sign for me, to be as wary of Grimsen as she was. Yet I couldn't shake off the comfort her touch brought. Warm. Strong.

I realized I was staring at my seneschal for too long. Even Jude turned to look at me, having felt the tension in the air rising. Putting on a sweet, dark grin, I removed her hand from my shoulder. Made a show of toying with the rings I had on, lounging in my throne as if I was silly drunk, pretending to ponder over Grimsen request.

Though back when this was all new I cringed at the presence of the smith, I pushed those shivers away, wishing to upset Jude at the time being. This time, with how uncanny he acted before - in the future I hoped wouldn't exist no more - I actually sit on it. There was nothing I could find to reason his behavior. But also nothing to help me understand it. The best would be to keep him close, where I can have an eye on him at all time.

"I accept your condition." I recall saying. "Indeed, I will give you a boon. An old building with a forge sits on the edge of the palace grounds. You shall have it for your own and as much metal as you require. I look forward seeing what you will make for us." The words fell from my mouth like a learned speech. I felt myself easing in the memories of the event, finding my previous actions clearer and clearer by the second. Like my past and my current self became one.

"Your kindness shall not be forgotten," Grimsen said with a deep bow.

As the peculiar smith retreated, I spotted a clocked figure waiting in line. And I remembered what happened next.

I found Mother Marrow not issuing as much mistrust as before. In fact, a soft smile worked on my face as she spoke. I didn't change my past actions, though. Partly to entertain mine and Jude's small banter again, partly because it was what would be expected of me. I shouldn't show familiarity to a presumed stranger.

"The three of us shall see each other again." When she said it this time, she winked at me. As if there was more meaning to her words that what I'd expect.

Jude, the overbearing leader that she was, caught it as well, sending me a questioning frown. I smiled ludicrously at her, a silent comment about Mother Marrow's marriage proposal Jude understood with disgust.

I found it addictive: the way we could communicate so easily, even without words. Perhaps this time around, if I play my cards right, I can make her agree to the wedding for more reason than political upper hand.

My thoughts traveled to Locke. And if either bestowing the desired title upon him had any lingering effects on the dreaded future. The queen of mirth episode playing shamefully on my mind. I had no idea how someone managed to capture Jude. My fierce mortal, out of all people! A spy inside the palace's walls was a reasonable guess. Could it be Locke?

The plan was simpler on the other side of time. Follow Jude around at all times and make sure she isn't captured. We would protect each other. But being back in the position I was in at the beginning of the whole mess, I found that, as mortals say, best laid plans of mice and men oft go astray.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

I have decided to do things exactly as before, as to not draw unwanted attention on myself. I had the benefit of knowing the future in my pocket, surely I can navigate this travel smoothly and only make small, needed changes.

"What's wrong with you?" Jude asked as soon as we retired from the meeting with the people.

"Is that worry I sense, High King?"

Her eyes widened for a split second, searching the hall for compromising ears. "Have you lost your minds?" She hissed. And dragged me by the arm to the King's compartments. "Are you drunk?"

"Do you think that low of me, my sweetest sin?" I clutched my heart, pretending to be hurt. It was silly and I had so much more important things to focus on. But I couldn't - didn't want to - resist the urge to speak to her so freely.

The way Jude blushes and shots daggers with her eyes. I could tease her all day, always delighted by her responses. It could be a sharp comeback, a reprehension, a swift order or a kiss. A bold, energetic kiss pressed on my mouth. That could lead (and has led, I reminded myself) to more.

Jude rolled her eyes. "Snap out of it, Cardan!"

A command. But I did not feel the compulsion to obey, nor the restriction to go against it. "And what will you do if I don't?" I smirked.

She frowned. "I said shut up. Now's not the time for your antics."

"Perhaps you should try make me, trusty seneschal. You can't order your king, but I may allow you to convince me."

Mouth agape, Jude strolled until she was right in front of me, our bodies almost touching. I jumped on the couch, taking up as much space as I could, legs and arms spread over the fine cushion. And rose my brows expectantly at her.

"What's this? How are you doing this?"

"Don't worry, Jude. If you want to control me still, there are ways I'm open to. I can be malleable for you, if you'd be willing to learn how to play with me."

Her chest heaved with irregular breathing. Quicker. Almost like a pant. Her eyes traced my frame up and down, always returning to my face. My eyes, from which she shied away, my ears, my hair, my lips, where she stopped.

Thoughts of ravish and passion begin to drip in my mind. Filling it if not for the arrow slashing at my neck. Startled, I collected myself in a smaller target. Jude's sword was already drawn, looking for enemies.

I groaned mentally. I have completely forgotten about the attack.

"We need to get you out of here. Somewhere secure."

"Lead the way."

If she wouldn't have been so focused on the prospect of danger, Jude would have shot me a killing look. "I can't believe you won't even be serious in the middle of your own assassination attempt," she mumbled under her breath. "Guards!"

Another arrow flew rapidly in my direction. Jude cut it in half before it had the change to taste my blood. "Guards!" Once again, no one answered to the call.

"Come on," Jude gripped the sleeve of my shirt and yanked, pushing me in the direction of the secret passageway entry. She followed tightly behind, still not letting go of me, sword up in case another arrow needs to be cut. As we slip in the tunnels, Jude blocks the door with a chair.

"It won't hold them off for long."

We didn't stop as she talked. Her thumb brushed circles on the blunt little finger over my shirt. A focused look in her eyes. I could see the thoughts spiraling inside.

"You have to hide until I solve this. Stay at the Court of Shadows."

Well this didn't go well with my plan to keep a close eye on her.

"Tsk, tsk, what did I just say about pushing your king around like this, seneschal?"

Jude glared at me. Using the handle of her sword against my neck she pushed me into the nearest wall. "I don't know what happened, how you freed yourself from my command, but if you want to live, you will do as I say. I think it's in both of our benefits."

"Ask."

"What?"

"I will not do as you say, Jude. But nothing stops you trying to ask." I leaned in sweetly, eying her with intensity and a smug smile playing on my lips.

For a lying mortal, Jude wore her heart on her sleeves. Or, at least when she was with me she did. Distress, confusion, anger, stubbornness. She wanted to know why I was free of her compulsion, what that meant for her plans - perhaps even if it would have been better to end me since Balekin was in prison and Oak would be the only option of a king Elfame had. But she didn't have enough time to think.

Jude fought with her pride and the the feeling of a cold, sloppy snake crawling on her she looked like she had every time she felt she lost in front of me.

"Please, your highness," Jude relented through gritted teeth.

"What was that?"

The grip on the handle tighten. So did the strength she pushed it into my neck.

"Please, your highness, let me save you from the attempt at your life."

"Ah, my dear seneschal, I'm touched. I didn't know I mean so much to you."

Even in the darkness of the secret tunnel, I could see her cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

"Walk."

I snickered, but didn't provoke her further. I took the lead, as she rather stayed behind in case we were followed. At last we reached the Court of Shadows. The room didn't change much since the day I woke up all tied to a chair and a beautiful knight hovering over me.

"Lock yourself in after I'm gone. Don't come out until I come for you. And do not open this door for anyone, no matter what." At the rose of my eyebrow, Jude sighed. "Of your majesty so pleases for his own safety."

I broke into a green and let my body fall on a chair, picking my legs up to rest on the table. "And if it doesn't pleases me?"

"Cardan! This isn't a game. Someone tries to kill you!"

"And should I believe you care, my addictive poison? You can cook up a way to put Oak on the throne without me."

Something in her eyes shifted. She turned to face the door before I could catch a real glimpse of it. It is possible I imagined it, but highly unlikely judging by her stiff, tensed body. "Don't be ridiculous. If you shall die before your time has come, it will be by my hand, and my hand only."

And with that, Jude stormed out of the room.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

It was wistful thinking, but the way she reacted made me hope Jude might open her heart for me. For my heart already belonged to her. I stood on bricks and nails the first long hours, until I remined myself she wouldn't be captured until after the queen of mirth incident.

As I had time, I went through all I knew will happen, trying to piece the puzzle together. Revels I was too drunk to fully remember, Vivi's girlfriend somehow being enchanted, the threats from the Undersea to marry Nicassia, a plan to use Oak as bait to which the details have been lost on me.

The wedding! Locke and Taryn's wedding. Jude made me seduce the information out of Nicassia. That's when the Undersea will attack. And... Balekin. I remember a short conversation with my brother. He wanted me to free him. He works with Orlagh. But he couldn't have planned Jude's capture while still in prison. He must be as much of a tool to Orlagh as anyone else.

Think, Cardan, think. Jude is taken after the wedding. Locke is still a viable option as a traitor. All he does is for himself and his own amusement. And he does treasure humiliating Jude, even when it jeopardize her life.

But Locke isn't involved enough in politics to be drawn in Orlagh's schems. He gets bored easily and cannot stand following a plan that doesn't immediately satisfy him. His involvement, if any at all, must have been minimal.

Who else, then, could fool Jude, sneak behind her back and take her down in a fight?

"I have to admit, I'm surprised you're still here and haven't went off searching for wine yet." Jude said from where she was staying in the doorframe, arms crossed and a brow arched. She looked more composed now. As if she finally figured the answer of an afflicting question. If only I could have the same luck.

"You're ever lasting trust in me is heartwarming, as usual, dear nemesis."

Jude resumed to a swift eyeroll instead of gracing me with a verbal answer.

"The assassin – or assassins – escaped. But the Bomb and I searched your room for traps. None. You will be safe there. And more comfortable, I presume."

"Have I managed to melt your walls, Jude Duarte? Thinking of my comfort..."

"Shut up!"

"Sorry. Don't take orders from you anymore." I might be stretching this out, but I enjoyed myself too much. As much as I... couldn't stop thinking about Jude and I wished nothing more than to be fully in her control, the compulsion she had over me wasn't what I had in mind. It bothered me, though I didn't want to admit why. Her lack of trust in me shouldn't pain me so.

"Speaking of: how did you do that?"

"You'll have to work a bit harder for answers as from now on, Jude. I hope you didn't think otherwise. It would be far beneath your level."

"Fine. Don't tell me. I don't need to know, anyway. But you're still a target. I've spoken with Nicassia and the Undersea was behind this. We should expect more."

"So you aren't planning to dethrone me, then? Now that I'm not your puppet anymore?"

Another one of those passing looks clouded her eyes. Almost as if she was hurt by the implication of my words. My heart trembled at the thought of Jude actually caring for me enough to be disturbed by my downfall.

It was gone as soon as I've seen it. "Don't be ridiculous. You are competent enough to navigate the court and its tedious, pesky cabal. When you are sober enough, that is. I cannot have my brother on a dangerous throne."

"Therefore I shall be king until you eliminate all threats?"

"Yes."

"And if I disapprove of this?"

"It's your right, High King Cardan. But you need my protection. My spies."

You, I thought, but didn't voice it. Instead, I bowed my head. "Sounds like you are right, seneschal. Very well, then. I will keep you around. But you will have no more secrets from me. I know you can lie. I'd like to believe that in these past months we earned a bit of each other's trust. Enough so, that you will not keep from me. We are in this scheme, to put the crown on Oak's head, together. Only the two of us."

I could see trains of thoughts speeding behind her eyes. Jude turned my words on all sides, possibly even ones I hadn't consider myself. Finally, she nodded. "Sounds fair. I have spoken to Nicassia. She's the best intel we have, but she won't talk to me much."

She filled me in on her conversation with my traitorous friend while we ascended in my chambers. "The only reason she told me so much is because she is scared for you. She still loves you," Jude finished, not meeting my eyes. Could I have sensed frustration in her voice?

I believe so. Which is why I didn't tease her about it. I kept the knowledge to myself. Maybe if she thinks me less observant when it comes to her, there will be more mishaps in my company. I didn't dare think of a reason for her feelings. I just enjoyed them.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The days passed normally. Until the night of the Hunter's Moon came.

Breathing in Jude's neck made her suspicious, so I had to give her more space. Time which I spent with the Court of Shadows. I have realized, upon an unplaced joke about the Roach and the Bomb, that I hadn't befriended them in this time.

But as soon as Locke announced the great revel of tonight, I begin sweating. I was determined to not allow Jude to be the queen of mirth. At least not for Master of Revel's and the rest of the folk pleasure. If anyone was to be humiliated tonight, it won't be my warrior queen.

I was more worried about the ambush of the merfolk. I still had not figured out who kidnapped Jude. Nor how. And I was running out of time.

"You don't look particularly happy for this celebration." Jude commented.

"I would say you are in no position to talk. At how many revels have you partaken?"

"It's a waste of time. But you are usually drunk and all over some beautiful faeries by now."

"No, no, my dear Jude. You've gotten it wrong. They are the ones all over me. What can I say, I'm irresistible."

"I don't know which is worse. That you actually believe this or that no one corrected you."

"Don't be like this. I have seen you watching me. When you're positioned at my door, with the guards, and you can only catch a glimpse inside while I change..." I leaned closer to her, locking our eyes in a tight, daring dance she couldn't refuse.

Jude scoffed. But didn't say anything as we made our way into the garden where Locke build a huge throne for me around which revelers already gathered. At my side, Jude rolled her eyes.

"I'd suggest the wine, but you don't have it in you to anything but wide awake at any given time."

She sent me a weird look, as if she wondered if I can't stand the court just as much as herself, using the wine as a carefully crafted persona to escape. Then she shifted her focus on our surroundings. Always the careful.

I allowed Jude to drink from the wine, having swapt it with mortal one courtesy to Vivi. She drank a whole bottle and, though she swayed on her feet, she wasn't drunk enough to joyfully embarass herself in front of the whole court.

"Dance with me," I said. The clear look in her eyes told me she was merely tipsy.

"What... why?"

"As hard as it seems for you to believe I do not wish to see you humiliated. You are my seneschal after all. But we shall give the viewers some sort of spectacle."

It was obvious I had taken her by surprise. For the first time since I knew her, Jude was rendered speechless. I could blame the wine, but I liked taking on the credit myself.

She nodded shortly and it was enough for me to pull her closer and move us inside the circle the folk made around us. Perhaps it lacked the shame they all craved from their mortal leader, but it gave enough space to speculate so their minds were kept busy.

I hadn't notice when the merefolk arrived. It appears Jude and I danced for more than either would have thought. Jude pushed away from me, running to the first line of defence.

When the threat was gone and we rushed to the meetings' room, I couldn't spot her anywhere. My blood froze in my veins, my breath trapped in my throat for minutes until I spotted her slip inside.

"Madoc is against us. I don't think he supports Orlagh, though. He seem to want war. Blood shed." She whispered in my ear, only for me to hear.

For a second intoxicating bliss washed over me. Jude shared with me, unprompted, information about her own father. But then the words fully registered in my brain. "Of course," I seethed. "He hadn't dip that hood of his in blood for a long while. He must suffer greatly."

Jude frowned at my dark tone, but said nothing as the conversation turned to us.

"Is there anything you're not telling us, mortal?"

"Careful," I spoke before Jude could. "She is my seneschal, my prime advisor, and you all better show more respect."

Jude hide her surprise more skillfully than she did her blush. But she spoke up nonetheless. "I am not withdrawing any information from you, my lords and ladies. I was simply waiting for a confirmation my suspicions are true. Tonight's events was proof enough. Balekin is corresponding with the merefolk."

I pretended to be surprised and even joining in the claims of such news' improbability. I hadn't listen to Jude's explanation. I knew it to be true already. As true as Locke's involvement. I wondered if that was the extention of it or if I should start spying on my friend.

Last time, I have spoken to Nicassia, sending a message that would make the queen of the Undersea see red from the depth of her blueish kingdom. This time I decided to not anger her more than needed.

I followed into my steps as I remembered them, requesting more from my Master of Revels to keep him busy for any eventuality.

Just as I expected, a note from Balekin came during one of the parties. I called for Jude and led her to the secret room behind the throne.

"What is this?"

"I called for no secrets between us and I'm keeping up to my wish," I said, handing her the missive.

"We need more information."

"Another talk with Nicassia?"

"It can't be me. And we can't exactly extract it from her. She's no enemy. Yet."

"You thought of something. I can see it. Well, go on, don't keep to yourself."

"Maybe you should talk to her," Jude mumbled in a small voice. "Use your, uhm, charm. And the feelings she still has for you."

I knew it will come. She asked it of me before, except she doesn't know it. And as much as it pained me to hear her so carelessly talk off my affection as a currency for intel, this time I heard a pang of discomfort that brightened my mood.

"You think I'm charming?" Last time I rehearsed my seducing abilities on her. I may have come to change the past, but I had to be careful with the consequences of those changes. What would be different if I just leave now, no special moment between Jude and I?

Probably nothing, since it is private. But I am not willing to take risks.

"Nicassia thinks you're charming." Jude countered, but the color in her cheeks disputed it.

"Mhm," I hummed, closing the gapt between us. One of my hands brushed some hair behind her hear, resting on her neck afterwards. The other traced the outline of her lips.

"And I'm sure you cannot even begin to understand why."

Jude swallowed. A thick, loud in the silence of the room, bob of her throat. "No."

"Tsk, tsk, you promised not to lie to me, Jude. Or did you think I only meant business? Let me clarify it."

I brushed my lips over her chin. "I," another ghostly touch to her cheek. "Do not," I whispered hovering my lips near her ear. "Want you," I brought my face at hers level again, talking against her own lips. "To lie to me." I ended with a kiss. "Ever."

Jude surprised me with the vigour with which she kissed back. As if she waited a long time for this. Her hands circled my neck when she pulled for air, not giving me time to even smirk as she attached her lips to mine again.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

When I woke up, Jude was gone. We hand't move forward than making out with our tops off. I was reminded of her words from the original time line. How she only did it to 'get it out of the system'. And she asumed the same waa true for me.

My teeth bit the inside of my lips as I pulled the flannel shirt from yesterday back on and went to find Nicassia. It felt so wrong, moving from Jude's arms to the woman whose mother would have my kingdom leveled under crushing waves and who, herself, cheated on me with whom I thought to be my best friend.

But we a war was knocking on my door. One I wasn't going to lose Jude to again.

I considered wasting time around with the Court of Shadows. I already knew everything Nicassia was going to tell me. But now I had a set of new questions to ask. Perhaps she knew her mother's plan for Jude, a piece of the puzzle I dumbly hadn't consider until it was too late the first time.

"Cassi," I raised my voice for her to hear me over the loud chattering of hangover faes. "Do you have some time to spare?"

"Of course, yes!"

"Some place more private, perhaps?"

Her eyes widened, hope glimmering in her blue orbs. "Take me wherever you want, my king. I'm all yours."

It was hard to feel bad for her, knowing the thoughts she harbors for Jude and the torture she agrees to submit her. But the pang I felt wasn't as much for decieving her, as it was for years of letting her fool me.

"I missed this," I said sincerly. Because even if it was never real and she entertained Locke's fantasies, I did miss the comforting lie they both served me for so long.

"I missed this too." I wondered what she was thinking of to be able to speak these words. Jude may believe she still loved me, but the truth was, she never did.

Forcing a smile to spread my lips, I closed the gap between us, leading her by the waist to an empty room.

When we sat on the couch, Nicassia was slightly climbed in my lap. My fingers caressing all over her covered skin. Her own played with the hair at the back of my neck as she laid her head on my shoulder.

I couldn't stop the image that replaced Nicassia with Jude in my mind. Brown curles instead of blue, warm eyes, not cold. Tensed muscles beginning to relax opposed to the soft skin of the merefolk princess.

Nicassia's free hand came to rest on my chest. "What prompted this change of attitude?"

"I was in dire need of an old friend."

"Mmmm, is that so? What kind of need?"

"Anything you wish to offer. Company, comfort, talk, or more."

"Being High King weights heavy on you."

It wasn't a question, but I answered it anyway, seeing the opportunity I've been waiting. "Yes. I imagine you have an understanding of that too. As the sole heir, you must have been given more responsability Undersea all these years."

Nicassia looked up at me with pitty in her eyes. I was starting to think she never saw me as an equal. But a lost pet she and Locke could take care of. A broken, unworthy fae. Unlike most people in my life, she was attracted by it, in some twisted sense of care.

"I have always enjoyed my mother's trust, yes. She tells me everything concerning our kingdom and its ruling."

"She seeks your aid."

"My advice only. Mother values my input, yes, but she's just teaching me for now. Preparing for the time I will be queen."

"You knew about her marriage wishes, then." It was my turn to phrase a question as an answer I already knew.

Nicassia nodded, letting her eyes fell on her lap.

"And you agree?"

Her eyes snaped back at mine. "What do you want me to say, Cardan? I love you, I have never stopped loving you. But you pushed me away, favoring that mortal..."

"Nicassia," I warned. I wouldn't hear Jude's name being misspoken for. The only person who sees me as something else than the missplaced prince in the noble family. "You speak of me favoring Jude, when I found you and Locke behind my back."

"It's not the same. I don't love Locke."

"Then why?" Was all I could say. My head spinned. Was it that obvious Jude has stolen my heart? And if it was, why did Nicassia accept my advances. Could this be a new plan? And why did she had to be with Locke if she never felt for him? For the sake of betraying me? They both loved to have power and to parade it around hurting those lesser than. Nothing different that what I engaged into, except I never had the power. I wanted to trick myself into believing I did.

"It's... complicated."

I shifted. And she suddenly found herself on the couch. I stood up and poured some of the wine I found on the table down my throat. Half meaning it, half playing on that pity Nicassia harbored for me, perhaps even mistaking it for love.

"Cardan, Locke meant, means nothing to me. It was a stupid request my mother had of me. She wanted Locke to help her."

"Both of my friends, ploting behind my back."

"It's not like that. He didn't knew anything. I told him what to do, promising he'll have some fun and weave a good story. Mother promised she won't hurt anyone. It was just a show of power."

"Is baiting my brother to aupport her with gifts and promises of a throne just a show of power too?"

"Balekin is just a pawn. You are the king she wants. The king we both want. But you wouldn't play your part. You listen to that mortal girls as if she controls you."

At that, Nicassia's pleading eyes found mine, a mute question behind them. I ignored it. "Is this why Orlagh wants to eliminate Jude?"

"Eliminate is such a strong word, Cardan," the merefolk princess rolled her eyes. "We won't kill her. Mother only wishes to talk to her, convince her to cooperate. It's not such a dark plan: you and I married, rulling over our joint kingdoms. Peace and prosperity, think about it."

"How does Orlagh plans to talk to Jude?"

Nicassia groaned and let herself ease more into the soft cushion. "We have a spy she trusted. He'll bring her to us."

A spy Jude trusts. A he. A truly narrowed list, as the decieving mistress of my heart barely trust anyone. Madoc has been recently crossed off the list. Replaced by me, I like to think. The only ones left are the Roach and the Ghost.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

As Taryn and Locke's wedding was but a few hours due, I grew more ane more resteless. I haven't talk to Jude since I told her Orlagh's plan to act on the wedding's day. I told her to be careful of the spy too, but she still insisted on leaving the palace to spend time with her twin.

"Your worry is appreciated, Cardan, in all its disturbing unexpectance. But I can handle myself."

Of course I couldn't tell her about the attack on her. And she did make it out alive the first time. But nothing could sooth my fears. Nothing but seeing her at all times. Judging with my own to eyes if she is fine.

"Take me with." I pleaded. And I've lost the count of how many times I did so far.

"Stop that! Madoc doesn't know my loyalties lie to you –" my heart fluttered and skipped a bit –" and I want a night spent only with my sister."

"I won't be in your way. I can even wait outside. Playing watch guard from a tree."

Jude pinched the bridge of her nose. This time I hadn't tried to talk to her about what happened in the secret room behind the throne. Which is why she acted normally around me, openly, even.

"Even if I would agree to this, you cannot be seen on Madoc's estate. He isn't yet sworn you enemy, but that is where his heart is. It's too dangerous. Besides, with merefolks haunting about, the vest place you could be at is the palace, with the Bomb as your babysitter."

I made a face at the title. And then relented. "Fine. Just promise me you'll be careful."

"I will," Jude groaned annoyed. Though a little smile pulled at her lips. She was gone withing seconds.

I've waited until I estimated there is enough distance between us so Jude wouldn't spot me and the Bomb will she look back, then turned to my keeper.

"I have to follow her. You can stay here, or come with, but do not stop me."

The Bomb bursted into a jingle of laughes. "You have so lost yourself to her. Calm down, loverboy, Jude can handle herself."

"Listen, she is in danger. And that moment is closing in. And I know she can hold her ground, but I cannot lose her again. I need to make sure she's fine."

"Again? What are you talking about."

I ended up telling the Bomb everything. "And are you sure one of them is a traitor."

I nodded solemnly. I wanted to comfort her, but didn't know how.

"Go." The Bomb said all of a sudden, breaking the silence that has fallen over us. "I will try to find if it's the Ghost or the Roach," her voice broke a bit over the name of the man she loves.

I took the fastest horse in our stables and sped on Jude's trail.

When I caught up to her, she was surrounded by masked faes. Limping. I couldn't determine where they injured her, or how bad it was. But Jude stood her ground fearlessly.

An arrow flied from up somewhere. There must be more of them, hidden in the trees. Or just one, the thought fell in place like the the lackadaisical feeling of being painfully conscious of my own conscious after a night of revels and drinks.

I barely processed it when I already climbed the nearest tree. Precise archer, a sly, silent spy, perhaps the most so out of all of us, a friend. The quietest one.

The Ghost taught Jude the most about the art of spying. How to smoothly move in space as if she was the particles in between. He taught me too. How listening and connecting the dots can have more values than intercepting correspondence, if one place themself in the right spot, at the right time.

I didn't care to think about why the Ghost would work for Orlagh. Or even question my deduction. It has to be him. Once I got high enough between the tree's thick crown, I jumped swiftly to the nearest tree. The more trees I left behind, the more aware was I of the fact I had no weapon on me. And the Ghost knew how to fight, bare handed or not.

My best shot was to take him by surprise. He doesn't know I'm here, he doesn't know his cover has been torn to pieces. And he is focused on Jude. If I can sneak behind his back, I can...

"You were the least I expected to see here, today," the Ghost rasped in my ear. An arrow tip pressed cold against the back of my neck.

"All the more a pleasure for you. Surprise!"

"You shouldn't have come."

"Believe it or not, I keep hearing this since my birth. It never stopped me."

With him distracted in a conversation, Jude's odds bettered. She could deal with the faes on the ground much easier if the threat of arrows from above was stopped. My life depended on how much information Orlagh shared with her spies and on the Ghost's social awareness. If he thought he can kill me because he didn't know of the Undersea's plans to marry me to their princess or not.

"I'm sorry, Cardan. I have no choice."

I frowned. The folk can't lie. But if he believes it true, then it's a loophole. Why would the Ghost think this is his only option? Why would he betray Jude if he's feeling guilty about it?

Darkness overtook my mind before I could even begin to analyze it. Next thing I know when I'm awaken is a terrible ache in my temples and a familiar scent in my nostrils. I shifted, trying to get up and a displeased groan filled the air. Not my own, though.

"You chose the worst time to wake up," Jude mumbled, pushing a hand on my chest to keep me down and fitting her head again on my shoulder.

Heat rose to my cheeks and I was grateful she kept her eyes closed. "What happened?"

"The Ghost is the traitor Nicassia told you about. Tried to kill me with some friends. They're dead now. I don't think the Ghsot was actually here yesterday. There was an archer, but the arrows stopped coming in pretty soon."

"He was. He must have knocked me out after I found him."

My voice seemed to wake Jude up for good because she almost jumped to her feet, an accusatory look in her eyes. "What were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed. Or worse!"

"Worse? I'm flattered you hold me so dear in your caring."

"I'm serious, Cardan. You could have been captured, tortured, trapped in a deal like we had. Can you see how bad this would have been for the Land?"

"They weren't here for me, they were here to get you."

"Plans can change."

"Not even Orlagh is daring enough to kidnap the High King of Elfhame. You were the only one in danger."

"And you decided to come to my rescue alone?"

"The Bomb was trying to figure out who the traitor is. I had no one else I could trust to help me. And I did a pretty good job, didn't I? Once you had no arrows to worry about, you took them down without breaking a sweat."

"That's not so true," Jude rolled her eyes. She unfurled her pants. The leaked blood missed my notice because of the clothing's dark material. But Jude's pristine skin was smudged with blood. Different shades forming a pool around an ugly wound in her leg.

So many questions I wanted to ask at once. She seemed to read the all in my face.

"My horse died. Yours fled. I couldn't walk and even if I did, I couldn't carry you too. Leaving you was not even an option," she said before I had the chance to suggest it. "So I tied it up the best I could and tried to keep watch. I must have lost too much blood and fell asleep."

"You need stiches," was all I could foolishly say.

I couldn't convince Jude to let me carry her, but she did agree to lean on me for support all the way to Madoc's estate. Only if I make myself scarce without sight range. "I can walk by my own a few feet, but Madoc cannot see you."

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Making my way back to the palace, I had time to ponder over the obvious changes that occurred and what they meant. Jude was originally taken from the Tower during the wedding. The Ghost must have lured her there, alone in an ambush since all the guards were posted at the wedding.

It has been a diversion. Making us think they'll do something during the ceremonial party and instead freeing Balekin and taking Jude from the Tower. Would they change their plans now we discovered their spy? Very unlikely. Most certainly they will switch tactics and corner Jude elsewhere, or in a different way. Which means I had to be with her all night.

The Undersea won't risk a second ascend. Not until they think they can fight the Land and win. Orlagh was running out of subtilties and court's plays seeing how much we knew already. And she knew we know.

The queen of Undersea will give up Jude for a bigger prize: the crown of Elfhame. To take it, she must resort to sheer force, as she intended anyway. Until I made the deal with her in exchange for Jude.

My head hurt. Possibly from the hit earlier, but the confusing politic games weren't helping either. I had to protect Jude from Orlagh and the kingdom from war and it seemed impossible to manage both.

Think, Cardan. Jude would kill you if you trade Elfhame for her.

Perhaps if I... Yes, could work. But it was a heavy risk. I might have to fill Jude and the Roach in my little time journey. And...

"My king! A word?" Jude shouted, running with a wincing limp down the hall towards me. I hurried to meet her.

"Alone." She added once we were face to face.

I nodded and we made our way to the secret room behind the throne again. We could hear the last minute preparations for Locke and Taryn's wedding even from here.

"What is it, wise seneschal?"

"Remember what I told you this morning? About," she didn't allow me space to comment on her question, "our enemies attempting to control you?"

"It wouldn't leave my mind," Jude continued, after I hummed my positive answer. "You cannot permit to be tricked, Cardan. We... the Land, Elfhame, cannot afford it."

"I think you made a convincing point in the woods earlier. I am aware of the gratitude of our situation, you don't need to spell it out for me, Jude."

"I know. I surely do hope so, at least. But it won't leave me rest. They have Balekin on their side, does he know your true name? Or," she carried on without a pause for air, "if I gained control over you, it's not so preposterous to fear the possibility of the merefolk succeeding too."

A dark shadow passed over my face. Balekin shouldn't know my name. The only onnes who do – or did – were my parents. One of which was imprisoned with Balekin in this time. Would my mother betray me so? Sweat ran down my spine, cold as the disdain in Lady Asha's scorn lips in every memory I have of her from childhood.

As for Orlagh or one of her people geting a hold over my being, as disturbing and unsettling of a thought it was, I had to entertain it. Take it in consideration.

"Were you getting anywhere with this share of fears, or are you acting on our no secrets deal?"

"There can be only one person controling you. If it gets down to it, you'll have to pretend, but you'll be shielded if someone you trust..."

"You, you mean," I interruped her. "You want me to surrender myself to you again. Willingly, this time."

"I – yes. I do. It's for all of us' sake."

"Don't need to convince me. I will do it. With one – well, two, actually – conditions."

As Jude readied herself for my bargain, I closed in the space between us. "First, I may find myself at your qualms, but you have to keep your promise. Be truthful with me, seek my input, involve me in your plans."

"Fair enough. Very well. It wasn't that bad to scheem with you. And the second?"

"We haven't spoken of our night together..." I trailed off, smirking at the color in her cheeks.

"I don't see where are you going with this. It was just..."

"Don't say we just had to get it out of our systems. You know it's a lie, Jude. It meant more than that for me. And I think it did for you to, am I wrong?"

She caught my eyes and locked our gazes. Conflicted, her thumb brushed rapidely over her blunt finger. In this moment she wore her heart on sleeve. Try hard enough and I could ses it beating hacticly.

"And if it did...?"

"Then let me worship you as you deserve, my queen."

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chanandlersstuff · 3 years ago

Text

Summer isn't the only thing that breaks

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader.

Summary: Sometimes loving the other person it's not enough.

Word count: 2.545.

Author’s note: I don't take charge or pay psychologists for what you may feel reading this. I was in my feelings and needed to write something to get all out of my system. English is my second language so sorry for the misspellings. Sorry if the title doesnt make sence but its the only things that comes to my mind.

Part two

You were walking through the airport suitcase in one hand and phone in the other. His number appears on the screen and a smile on your lips. His raspy voice telling you that he was waiting for you in the parking lot, just like you agree, even without seeing him you can sense his smile while he was talking. You hop on the passenger seat and he didn't let you close the door that he was already kissing you like his life deppen of it. His hands on your neck bringing you imposible close to him.

-Hi to you too.- Your voice sounds happy and your eyes close in case this was a dream, again.

-I miss you so fucking much.- Your breath mixing with each other and your noses touching.

-Me too, Charles.- No pet names were needed, that was the deal.

-Come on, the summer break await for us.- A little peck on your lips and the car was moving.

The ride to your destination was full of low music, your hand in his while Charles was driving and now and then he leaves kisses in your knuckles. No work related talk, it was too painful that way. In a moment of your relationship, even when you were friends, the two of us could talk about everything. Even a look could say all that was on your mind and the other would knew exactly what to do.

You two met so many years ago that you lost count. The chemistry was undeniable, the same silly jokes and pranks, the way you move in sync when you were together and even when you weren't together but in the same place, the fond smiles and shiny eyes. It was a matter of time for you two to end up together, or a matter of putting everything on the table. Either way you confess your love for each other the same day, even in that you were connected.

The memories bring a bittersweet smile to your face. In another time those exact memories would make you the most happy person on the planet but right now, after all those years, it didn't. From the corner of his eye Charles could see you and he could bet he knew what was on your mind, because of the look on your face. Because he had the same look when he thought of the two of you.

Everyone knows that you two love each other. Your familys, your common friends and the ones that were not common, even his fans kwen it. But sometimes love isn't enough, sometimes loving the other person so much that it doesn't fit in your body isn't enough. A whole year of relationship where you only saw him in his summer break, in his home grand prix and two other races where it. That was how long the relationship lasted.

You try to make those memories leave your head and live the moment. Your hand in his, Levitating from Dua Lipa playing in the background, your head moving side to side in sync to the rhythm of the song, his hair moving thanks to the breeze and the summer in the air. It was he and you for a couple of weeks. Nothing else, nothing more. You tell yourself that everything was going to be alright.

The first days were amazing, like always. Traveling from here to there in Europe, days with his family that love you like you were their own, nights with your mutual friends clubbing and having the time of your lifes. Dancing glue to each other, drunk kisses and hot sex all night in every sourfaces that you were capable making up for all those days that you weren’t in his arms.

His mum love you, love both of you and was the first one to be over the moon when you were together, but also was the first one to knew that this agreement or this kind of relationship, if you could call it like that, wasn't healthy and it will end bad.

Maybe it was that the two of you were growing up, becoming more mature persons or maybe you were more nostalgic than normal. But seeing him driving the boat with that bandana in his head, that one time it was yours, made you walk down memory lane and end up on the day that the two of you called it quits.

Your relationship was based on constant facetimes, calls and that was it. It was like you were 13 again and it was a virtual boyfriend. His busy schedule and your first year in the job of your dreams didn't let you see him often. You knew he needed someone that was free to be with him travelling the world, encouraging him, giving him a shoulder to cry in his bad days and to be there applauding him in his best days. In a few words he needed someone that was capable of being there for him all the way in his career, not on the other side of the word in a 4 walls office 24/7. You knew that person he needed wasn't you. But the blame, if there was someone to blame, wasn't all yours. Charles also knew that you need someone to be there for you when the days in the office weren't the best, when you arrive at your house exhausted and not on the other side of the phone, traveling across the world, when you cried your eyes out from stress. When you belittle yourself thinking you weren't enough and capable for your job. He knew that you deserved some better, someone who could be there for you.

When the words “I think that we should take a time apart.” were said and the other nodded . When the moment was so fucking sad, so fucking heart breaking, because the two of you came to the same conclusion. Sad tears running in your faces and salty kisses. A whole day to make the mourning of the love that wasn't enough holding each other in your arms agreeing to be friends and love each other no matter what. Only to find you in his sheets a couple of months later agreeing to be together only in the summer break and love you all those days and when the summer ends the two of you would go to their worlds with the memories of the summer. Because the thought of not being together at all hurt much more than being together only a season of the year.

A little peck on your lips brought you back to the present and his smiley face melted your heart. Out of impulse you cup his face and kiss him love and tenderly. From outside that scene appear to be two people who love the other wholeheartedly and were happy and it was true but at the same time you were two persons who had to accept the fact to love the other only in summer time.

Charles knew you were a clingy person when the two of you were alone, but not in public. So it came to his surprise that you were holding his hand all the time and stolen kisses here and there but he didn't complain about it. Moreover he was happy and a little sparkle ignite in his interior.

Days pass like leaves falling from trees in autumn. One day he took you for a ride on his bike, because he knew how much you like it, and to have a picnic to see the sunset. Cute date nights and walks on the beach. Breakfast in bed and coffee spilled on the white sheets thanks to a hot kissing session that ends in sex. Everything was like a fairytale but those only exist in books and movies. Real life hurts like hell and not everything could be like we want.

You made up your mind two days before when you woke up and his arms were hugging your naked body to his firm chest. You couldn't put it into words the feeling that ran through your body and that was when you knew what you had to do. This day was the last one before you had to leave for the real one, it was always bittersweet.

For some reason Charles woke up feeling the most lucky man in the world, he was happy. Walking from here to there in the yacht humming songs and loving the way the sun kisses his skin. A complete breakfast on the table and kisses all over your face to wake up. Sex before and after breakfast, swimming in the cristal water and photos of the other in their galleries that would never leave your phones. You walk around with your hair wet in his favorite t-shirt and a red bandana in your ankle, nothing else nothing more.

After lunch you were sleeping in the front of the yacht with that red bikini that made him lose his mind and he was by your side. His legs flexed, his arm in your waist and his face hid in your neck. Your legs on top of his, your arms on top of his and your head lean on his. The two of you were like a puzzle that fit perfectly, but that didn't mean anything. Hour passes and you wake up, his left hand in your boob and yours on top of it, his face in your chest and your legs tangled. His face is clear of concern, smooth features a little sunburned, and you run your fingers tracing paths with his moles. The same feeling of two days ago appeared again and the only thing you could do was swallow the lump in your throat.

Charles seems to wake up and get you closer to his body, so close that you end up on top of him. Talking in his native language and raspy voice almost made you break into tears. He senses it and looks at you concern. -Il y a un problème, ma belle?

You shake your head with your eyes closed. -Don’t do that Charles, no pet names. We promise.- If you were with your eyes oppended you could see how he rolled his.

-Tell me what's wrong, please.- His seat up with you on his lap. His hands on your back and your chest close. The worry in his voice breaks your heart.

-We can't keep doing this. It's breaking us inside. Is breaking me inside.- Your words make him move away and frown his brows.

-What are you talking about?- You tried to get up from his lap and he grabbed your waist so you stayed still. -Don't do this for a second time, please.

-You need to let me go emotionally and physically, Charles.- He put his hands up and you started walking around, something you do when you are nervous.

-Why?- His eyes burning your figure.

-Because it's the healthiest thing to do. We can't keep doing this to each other. We can't keep fooling ourselves and you know it. You mean everything to me but I can't keep doing this. Every time I leave you after summer, I rip my heart out and I don't think I can keep suffering it.- Your eyes full of tears and your hands shaking a little.

-You think that it's easy for me? That all this it's easy?- You shake your head. -It 's not! Sometimes I dream about us and it seems so real, and when I fucking wake up I see the harsh reality THAT I DONT HAVE YOU COMPLETLY.- He was standing up and looking at you with red eyes.

-That is what I’m saying. Don't you see? This fucking situation is killing us. I know what you want from me and you know what I want from you but wanting something and having something it's not the same thing.- He looks at you without saying anything.

-Do you still love me?- You almost laugh at his question.

-How could you ask me that?- Charles looked at you in disbelieve.

-Because you are standing there, breaking my heart all over again that's why I’m asking you that.- You were trying so hard not to cry.

-Of course I still love you, just like the first day. But sometimes that's not enough. We agreed something years ago hoping that that way it didn't hurt that much but the only thing we agreed on was to prolong the heart break and make it bigger.- You took little steps towards him.

-I know you are right but don't want you out of my life. I dont think I’m capable of that.- His voice was so low and the look in his eyes was like a lost puppy.

-Its for the best Charles. I don't want to keep hurting you and me. It's not fair that we can only love each other for a couple of days out of 365 days a year.

-There’s nothing we can do?- His and your eyes were full of tears and his words broke you and seeing you cry made him cry.

-I won't let you give up your career to be with me and you won't let me give up my career to be with you. We love each other that much and we are fools for thinking that this would end well.- He closes the gap between the two of you.

-I can't believe I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Will you let me love you the time we have left?- Charles put his hands in your face and you nod.

The hours left of that day were spent with salty kisses, tears in each others body and sad and slow sex where not even an inch of distance could be beetween you two, your skins touching trying to became one or trying to remember the other for the rest of your lives, hands running through your bodies to remember it even with the eyes closed. You kiss his tears away and his kiss yours. The ride to the airport was in silence and fast but Charles held your hand in his glued to his chest, he was lost in his thoughts and you in yours. Getting used to the idea of not seeing or being with the other anymore, just the couple of minutes that you got together in the car and then that was it, all over again.

He parked the car, took your suitcase out and without saying anything you started walking to the airport door. He watches you walk away from his life but his brain screams to kiss you just one more time. Just like an addict, one more fix and that was it. Charles grabs your wrist and stamps a kiss on your lips like he did at the start of the summer break in his car, all those days ago, but this time it was full of sadness and love. He holds you close, but not too close. Just enough for you to count his slowing breaths, but not too much so that you’ll hear the slow cracking of his heart.

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imaginexwwe · 2 years ago

Text

Old Friend | 17|? | DEAN AMBROSE

OLD FRIEND 16 (×)

•

Hope you all enjoy this 😊 and I'm sorry for not posting regularly but I had so much going on. Gonna really make an effort to be active again for real this time

•

Send in some requests 😉😘

•

Okay so first... sorry that it's taken so long! A lots been going on but I'm gonna try my hardest to be active like I used to...

•

Secondly send in some requests ppls 😊 I literally have zero lol

•

Hurrying out of the Anoaʻi house, I was at my car that sat in the drive way in no time. Tears continuing to make their way down my face.

I couldn't believe Joe, the man I had come to know and love as a big brother would do this to me.

Letting Colby know where I was, or had been staying.

And worse bringing him here.

After knowing what he had done almost a month ago.

Kissing his fellow WWE superstar, Becky Lynch at some concert they were at.

I mean if you're going to cheat at least do it behind closed doors when you know you're a famous figure and find are quick to pull out phones just to get a picture and post it to every social media platform imaginable, making the woman you're mentioning in interviews, taking around family and friends at events, posting on the same social media sites, the woman you're supposedly I'm love with, look like a goddamn fool.

"Fucking jerk..." I mumbled, through tears, picking up my phone to dial the number of the one person who I knew would at least side with me.

The one that wouldn't try to play peace maker.

Like don't get me wrong I know Joe had or has only good intentions but still...

Just send a quick text or something so I could've prepared myself to face the man who's calls and texts I've been ignoring.

Purposely.

"Jon..?" I chocked out, upon hearing the sound of the man on the other line pick up his phone.

"Y|N|N..?" I heard Jon ask, his voice already filled with worry. "What's wrong? It's nothing with the baby is it?" He continued, throwing a couple more questions at me.

I shook my head, momentarily forgetting I was on the phone and he couldn't see before answering with a sniff. "N-no," I finally stuttered out. "Colby just showed up here with Joe. And I wasn't ready to see him because it's so hard to see him and not picture him with his lips on the red headed bi-"

"Y|N," Jon said stopping me before I could get my curse word out. "Have you stopped to think that maybe Joe thought that he was doing the best thing for you and your relationship with..." Jon stopped for a second or two before letting out a, "him," that was filled with the disgust he's been feeling for Colby since we found out that Colby indeed did the very thing Jon had tried to warn me he would do.

Well no its actually the disgust he's had from the start of my relationship with Colby.

I'm pretty sure it went all the way back to when Renee introduced me to the father of my child.

I wasn't necessarily with him or in view of his face to see his reaction but judging by how he was when he saw Colby at my old house a week later, I'm positive it wasn't good.

I frowned, just now noticing my tears had finally stopped rolling down my face. "That's not what I was expecting to hear." I replied with a huff. "Well it kinda was," I shrugged. "Because we both know Joe and there is nothing but good intentions with that man, but still..."

"But still what?" My best guy friend Jon, questioned, and even though we were on the phone, I could sense he had that annoying, but sorta adorable smirk that showed his dimples just a bit, on his face finding it amusing that he'd caught me off guard with his words. "You thought I'd agree and jump at the opportunity to talk shit about them?"

I groaned, rolling my eyes. "Not them, Jon." I mumbled feeling the need to remind him this call was only to bash one person.

The person that hurt me after promising me that was the very way he would never hurt me.

"Just him." I again spoke up, leaning back in the driver's seat of my car.

Jonathan sighed, "Trust me, with how I feel towards Colby for what he did to you, I also think it's time you talked to him so you can get out what you need and decide where it is you want to stand with your relationship with him." I heard say, unable to believe that I was talking to Jon.

My Jon.

Or is this my Jon?

I'm so confused...

"Where is my Jonathan?" I gasped, trying to fight the urge to laugh at my own dramatic outburst.

"Right here, Y|N." My friend replied, not bothering to hold in his chuckle before getting serious a few seconds later, throwing wisdom my way. "But you and him are having a baby, going to be parents, and as a soon to be dad myself, I think, well, know that if it was me and Renee in you and Colby's position I'd want someone to be a true friend to me and tell me where my girl was and that's what Joe understood as already being a dad."

My eyes widen, as I practically ignored all but one part of Jon's speech.

He's gonna be a dad?!

"You're gonna be a dad?" I squealed out, every bit of my sadness now washed completely away now.

Okay, so maybe not all of it, but still...

Hearing Jon's news definitely cheered me up.

"Renee's pregnant? How far along is she? Why didn't she tell me?" I wondered out loud to my friend, throwing question after question, after question at him. "Oh my gosh."

"Yeah, two months," Jon spoke up, happiness in his voice. "But don't call her or anything. We haven't told anyone yet, except family, and even though you're basically family to us, she thought it'd be best to wait until you weren't going through a rough patch with Colby before-"

I frowned, shaking my head. "You guys didn't have to keep that hidden for my sake. I could be sad for myself and happy for you and Renee at the same time." I giggled, adding a quick, "congratulations," to him before leaning back in the seat of my car, rubbing my growing bump that was starting to show through my clothes if they were fitted.

For a few more minutes me and Jon continued our talk, as I joked with him how me moving to another state seemed to be the one of the best things that could happen to their relationship as of late.

How our first borns are gonna be close in age, and grow up to be the best of friends.

I basically got so caught up in talking with Jon that I lost track of time and forgot why I was even sitting in my car in the first place.

I really needed this

•

Colby stood up for like the forth or fifth time beginning to pace again.

It's been almost an hour and she still hasn't come back in

"I should go and see if she's okay." He spoke up, placing the beer he was swirling around in his hand, unable to enjoy it, down on the island in Joe and Galina's kitchen. "She may be in trouble or something." Colby added, exaggerating.

"I think she just doesn't want to see your cheating face." His friend, Galina said, her voice just a whisper but still loud enough for Colby and her husband Joe to hear.

"Seriously?" Colby asked, starting to get frustrated at not just Galina's words but the fact that his girl was avoiding him by staying out in her car. "Did you not hear anything I said when trying to tell you what actually went on with me and Becky?"

Joe's wife simply crossed her arms in a careless manner. "You did but it's still not a reason to do what you did." She replied, taking up for the mother of Colby's unborn child. "And you shouldn't have done that to her regardless of what the situation was."

As much as Colby hated having to defend himself to her, he, at the same time loved that she was willing to stand up for Y|N.

He found solace in the fact that the friends he'd known for over ten years, who were like family to him, was also like family for his better half.

And was ready to defend her when she wasn't around to defend herself.

"I know, and-" Just as Colby was about to respond a then silent Joe finally spoke up, muting both Colby and Galina for a moment.

"I'll go see how she's doing." He said, picking up an unopened package of oreos. "She's probably pissed about what I did too, so I'll go apologize to Y|N|N and then maybe see if I can get her to come in and talk to you."

Colby nodded, before raising an eyebrow. "And you need oreos to do that?"

"Dude," Joe began, giving Colby a look. "Have you never heard of a peace offering?" He asked before walking out of the house, not waiting for a answer.

But just when he got outside, and laid eyes on Y|N's car, he could see the driver side door open, and her getting out.

"Damn, Y|N," he said with a groan of some sort. "I was just coming to lure you out with some oreos." He said, his face forming a childish pout.

He saw Y|N shake her head, giving him a playful hit on his arm after she reached him. "No milk?"

"I knew I forgot something," Joe replied, face palming himself. "I was so worried about coming out her to find you and apologize that I forgot the milk. Stupid, stupid me."

"Aw, you're not stupid..." Y|N replied, trying to keep from laughing. "An oreo peace offering is still good even without the milk." She added, holding out her hand to Joe. "Now gimmie."

Joe smiled, sighing in relief to himself as he placed a few cookies in Y|N's palm, grabbing a couple for himself before placing the package down on the hood of her car as they both leaned up against it. "So we're good?" He asked, a hopeful smile on his face.

"We were never not good, Joseph." Y|N smiled back, leaning over and swiping the package of oreos. "You don't need anymore of thes."

"Oh, and you do?" Joe, chuckled, getting a nod from Y|N.

"I'm pregnant so, yeah." She replied with a giggle.

Joe chuckled. "Pregnancy looks good on you." He replied, seeing Y|N try to hide the redness that was starting to show on her face, before saying a quick "thank you."

Both of them soon let a silence take over before Joe cleared his throat, gaining a side eye from Y|N.

"You didn't just come out here so we could share oreos did you?" She questioned, now looking down and playing with her fingers.

Joe shook his head. "I really came out to apologize for brin-"

"For bringing my ex boyfriend here..." She mumbled, causing Joe to stand up from the relaxed, leaned back position against the car he was previously in.

"Ex? You decided on breaking up?" He asked, feeling worse than before that he had brought Colby here.

Y|N shrugged, as he waited for her to say something. "No..." She trailed off, looking down to fumble with her nails. "I just wanted to see how it felt to call him that."

"And?" Joe pressed on.

"I hated it." Y|N said with a sigh. "Even after what he did, me not having any contact with him for almost a month, practically crying myself to sleep over him, and not seeing him..." She paused to bite her lip. "I still love him. And I hate that too."

Joe nodded, holding out his hand for Y|N to take it. "I get it, but he told me what happened between him and Becky and I think you should let him try and explain it to you so you can see things a bit clearer to make the right decision for you."

"And if I want to after, I can dump him?" He heard Y|N ask with a playful smirk on her face.

"Hell yeah." Joe immediately responded with a laugh, grabbing Y|N and pulling her in to a side hug as they both started to walk back to the house.

•

Okay, Y|N it's time

Time to face the man you've been avoiding, that is...

"I'll take Galina with me to go pick up the kids from my mom's so you and him can have the house to yourselves." Joe whispered to me, seconds before we both walked into the house.

I nodded, swallowing hard.

Me and Colby was about to be alone together for the first time since he'd left for the live events and house shows he was scheduled for, that week, which was also a couple days before i had found out about him and Becky.

Ugh!

Why couldn't you have told me a few minutes ago that you was planning on leaving me alone with him, Joe? I mentally questioned him.

I would've literally begged him to stay.

The second me and Joe entered the house, both of our significant others, well Joe's significant other and the man who stepped all over my heart, came rushing out of the kitchen, my eyes immediately locking on Colby.

It was weird, no matter what I felt for him, and it wasn't anything good at the moment, I couldn't help but think of how much I had missed those beautiful brown eyes of his.

It's just, right now they looked like they held nothing but sadness.

They didn't shine as bright as they usually do.

Was that because of me?

Was he also broken over this whole thing?

"Hmm..?" I questioned, my words barely audible as I looked at Galina.

I had completely blocked out anything that was being said, as my attention was only focused on Colby.

"I said, don't let that idiot get you too upset." She repeated, shooting a glare at Colby.

Nodding my head, I tried to fight back a laugh, but failed as I replied with a quick, "yes ma'am," making Galina join in on the laughing as we gave each other a hug.

"I mean it though Y|N." She spoke up again, as we pulled away to leave out the door with her husband.

She is such a mama bear

"I'm pretty sure she hates me with a passion right now." I heard Colby say, once we were finally alone in the house.

You can't blame her

After noticing my silence, he began walking over to where I was standing, stopping by the couch and motioning for us to have a seat, which I eventually did after a few seconds.

"Okay, so um..." I heard him speak up again, scratching af the back of his head, like I've noticed he would always do when he was nervous to say something. "First off, Y|N," he paused and reluctantly reached out to grab my hand. "I'm sorry and I miss you Y|N|N."

I missed you too, Colby, I mentally confessed to him unable to bring myself to say the words out loud.

Not this second, at least.

Colby eventually let go of my hand and sighed, his head hanging low, before he brought it back up, looking at me once again. "I didn't mean to hurt you the way I did Y|N..." He said again as his words sorta trailed of, like he was trying to figure out what to say next and believe me when I say, I wish he didn't say what he eventually did.

"I just wish you had found out about me and Becky from me, and not from the internet."

Oh god

So it is something between him and her...

Is that why he hasn't called me babe or baby like he mostly always have done?

Is he about to confess his love for her to me?

•

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