#and she feels AWFUL. her body is betraying her down to her last days

[transandersrights]

Normal brain: most of the Blight in Fiona was unnatural and it all going away was an accident that cannot be replicated

The part of my brain that wants Fiona to be the protagonist of everything: Duncan used the knife he stole to cut the corruption from Fiona's body and she healed healthy

[fanficsformyfaves]

She Got Away

Agatha Harkness x Fem Witch!Reader

WARNING: ANGST, SMUT 18+, Violence, Mentions Of Sickness And Symptoms, Mentions Of Murder, Lovers To Enemies To Lovers Trope, Agatha Uses Sex Magic To Give Herself A Cock, Rough Sex

PREFACE: Reader and Agatha were together back when they still lived in Salem, but when Agatha takes the coven's power and kills almost all its members, she fled, living only Reader alive

A/N: Flashback In Italics!

Marvel finally grew a pair and gave us the lesbian angst we deserved

And yes this was heavily inspired by Chappell's unreleased song 'Subway'

All I remembered seeing, as the last of my vision faded into darkness, was someone stashing me inside a hollow tree and growing vines shielding me from view. In the far distance, her silhouette turned to face me once more, before disappearing into the thick fog ahead.

I hadn't seen Agatha since then, but I was determined to find her. After everything we'd been through, the last thing I ever expected was for her to betray me the way that she did. She killed our coven and ran off like it was nothing. Like what we had was meaningless and insignificant to her.

From that day forward, I vowed to make her pay, if it was the last thing I did.

It took a while, but I managed to track her down in New Jersey. It became difficult when I couldn't sense her magic anymore, but I knew she was there. It was just a feeling I couldn't shake.

I walked down the lane of houses, wary of the eyes following me, when I arrive at the very last one at the end of the street. I take a quick glance through the window and that's when I felt my heart drop.

The woman I loved all those years ago. The same woman who made me feel like I was actually worth something, just to take it all away from me.

Amidst the blinding rage that coursed through my body was the agony I felt when I she first left. It was a knife twisting inside me with no way out.

Wanting to end this once and for all, I stormed the house by kicking the door open to find her huddled in the corner of her kitchen. She tried hard to mask her fear with a cocky grin, but of course I saw right through her.

"Well, if it isn't (Y/F/N). God, how long has it been?"

"Three hundred years, six months and six days"

"Awe, you kept count-"

She was interrupted by a dagger I threw her way. The blade striking the cabinet when she ducked.

"I see you picked up knife-throwing", she teased.

I lunge forward, grabbing the back of her head and slamming her into the wall. I wanted her to hurt the way I hurt. Only ten times worse.

She falls to the floor, holding her head, as I grabbed another knife, but before I could drive it into her chest, she stops me by my wrist.

"Remember pain? Kinda tickles doesn't it?", I said through gritted teeth.

I only managed to draw a drop of blood, before she reached for the chair and knocked me off of her. She gets back on her feet and makes a run for the door, when I use my magic to block off her only exit.

"I'm surprised you aren't using magic to get out of this one", I say, following her into the living room and blowing a fallen strand of hair away from my face.

She sighed through her nose, not taking her eyes off of me.

"Don't tell me you've reformed?"

"Another witch took my powers. The Scarlet Witch"

I scoff in surprise.

"So you finally got what was coming to you"

Her lips were set in a fine grimace.

"Well...almost. I'm just here to finish the job", I say, using my powers to launch her across the room.

She hits a glass case and falls to the ground with a thud, wincing. Just as I go to throw another one of my daggers, she holds a hand out.

"Wait! Wait", she pleaded, halting me.

"This isn't what you want. Me? Without power?", she chuckled nervously, carefully getting back up.

"This is- this is undignified! Don't you want me at my best?"

She stretches out the kinks in her neck, making sure not to take her eyes off of me.

"Admit it, you prefer me-"

"Horizontal? In a grave?", I cut off.

"Formidable", she answered.

"Come on, baby. You love it, the anticipation", she whispered, taking a step closer.

"Hm. That would be fun", I shrugged.

"Wouldn't it? Just...let me get my purple back and come find me after-"

"Not a chance in hell. Which is exactly where I plan on sending you. I promise to make it quick", I mocked, winding my blade back.

"Wait! Please!"

I roll my eyes, irritated with the stalling.

"Look. I hurt you, I'm not denying that", she swallowed thickly.

"But I didn't want to. I didn't have a choice", she shakes her head.

"You always have a choice. Like not killing our coven for example"

"You don't know what happened-"

"Or leaving me...when I needed you", I struggled to hide the hint of sadness peaking out from behind my anger.

Up to this point, I was able keep my composure, but the longer I looked at her, the more I felt the pain I'd been carrying around for years creep up on me.

"(Y/N)-"

"I woke up alone, surrounded by nothing but a pile of bodies and no one to turn to. You did that!"

Agatha bows her head, unable to hold my hurt gaze.

"I loved you, so so much", my voice was reduced to nothing but tearful whispers.

"So could you imagine just how much it killed me when you left? To find out it was all one-sided?", I hissed through gritted teeth.

"I did love you-"

"No, you didn't. You don't leave someone you loved behind"

I could tell that struck a nerve in her, when the brim of her eyes began to water.

"Why do you think I spared you and hid you in that tree? Hm? So you could exact revenge on me three hundred years later? Why not just finish the job?", her tone now angry at my accusations.

I was dumbfounded by the revelation. It was as if time ceased to move and the rest of the world disappeared around us.

"What?"

"I left to protect you. It was for your own good"

"That was you?"

"Of course it was. Everyone else was dead by the time I found you again"

My brows furrowed in confusion.

"What do you remember?", she questioned, mimicking my expression.

"I..."

"We were in the woods. I was confronting my mother about conspiring to kill me, when you showed up"

Suddenly, rushes of the past engulfed my vision. The grief of losing both my family and Agatha must've been too much for me to bare and caused my mind to distort my recollection of it.

I was walking through the forest, looking for my familiar, when I stumbled upon the empress and Agatha fighting.

"You were born evil", the empress snarled, as Agatha tensed at her tone.

"Empress? Agatha? What's happening?"

The empress turns back to Agatha with a look of disgust.

"No-", Agatha goes to intervene, but was interrupted by me getting struck with a bolt of magic.

"Obviously, I struck her back and when the other members overheard us, all hell broke loose. I was running and fighting for my life for hours"

"Why would she do that? Why would she try to kill you?"

"You heard her, I was 'born evil'. Finding out about the Darkhold was just the nail in the coffin"

Each missing piece of what happened finally began falling into place.

Back in Salem, a devasting sickness swept through the town and nearly claimed the lives of all its residents. Unfortunately, I was one of the unlucky few that fell victim to the disease's rampage.

It started with a fever and a few aches, but quickly escalated to me vomiting blood by the pint. I was bed-ridden for days and sure to die as there was no traditional spell to cure my ills, when Agatha made me a promise to keep me alive, no matter the means.

"I won't let you die", she sniffled, wiping the sweat off of my forehead.

"Agatha-"

"Don't. I'll find a way"

And that's what made her turn to Dark Magic and discover a book called the Darkhold. In the dead of night, whilst everyone was either asleep or nursing the sick, she snuck back into my hut and performed the ritual that restored my health.

"I don't know how she found out, but somehow she did"

I angrily wiped away the tears that managed to escape me.

"Let's say you're telling the truth about what really happened. You still left me", my voice trembled with each word.

"I couldn't risk people thinking you were involved. If they did, you would've spent the rest of your life running and you deserve better than that", she said, getting close enough to cradle my face in her hands.

I inhale, shrugging to get away from her.

"I don't believe you"

"Seems like you do"

Finally fed up with her mind games, I grab her by the throat and spun us around to pin her to the wall. I conjure another dagger and just as I raised it high into the air. This was it. The moment I'd been working towards for the last three centuries...only I couldn't move. She didn't have her powers, so I knew it couldn't have been her.

"You can't do it, can you?", she struggled.

"It's cause you know I'm telling the truth"

She was right. The realization knocked the wind out of me like a bat to my chest. I knew deep down, no matter how much she hurt me by leaving and how much I hated her for it, she only did what she had to...because she loved me. I took a shaky breath and felt another tear roll down my cheek.

She lowers the hand I held the dagger and cupped my face.

"That's it. Easy"

Once my hands were both to my side, she pulled me into a tight embrace, as I nuzzled into her neck.

"Oh, sweetheart. I missed you", she sighed contently.

Her own voice quivering at the feeling of my trembling sobs.

She eventually pulled away just enough to wipe my face dry and in that moment, my eyes poured into her baby blues.

I didn't know whether it was the adrenaline or the burden of the last few centuries being taken off of me, but before I could figure it out, I dropped the knife, grabbed her face and smashed my lips against hers. I backed her up against the wall, careful to guide her around the broken glass.

She quickly got to work on pulling my shirt off over my head and I followed suit, untying her robe. I couldn't help but take a moment to admire her hardened buds peaking through her nightgown.

"Missed me?"

"Shut up", I exhaled, pulling her back onto my lips, as she moaned at my man handling.

Once we were done ridding ourselves of all our clothes, she spun the both of us around to pin me now. She held my wrists against the wall and trailed her kisses down to my neck.

"You're so fucking pretty", she mumbled, painting my skin with shades of red and purple.

I whine at her nibbling down on my shoulder and throwing me around her waist. She takes us to the couch and I grind myself down on her lap, groaning at the sensation. As I returned the favor and left marks all up and down her neck, she mumbles something in Latin. Before I could question what she was doing, I felt something press against my core.

"Is that..."

"Really thought I forgot your favorite spell?", she grinned wickedly, running her hands up my waist to hold me in place.

"I always did enjoy fucking you raw"

I dive back into her lips and adjusted my hips to help her along. She grabs the appendage by the base and uses the tip to rub firm circles on my already aching clit.

"You're a mess", she chuckled, taking one of my nipples into her mouth.

"Please, take me", I moaned, grasping the back of her neck and bracing for her to stretch me out.

In one smooth thrust, she filled me to the brim, as I cried out. It was much bigger than I remembered.

"God, you were always so warm...and tight", she panted between each subtle thrust.

After giving me a moment to adjust, she started with a gentle pace, reminding herself to litter my neck and shoulder with kisses to soothe me.

"My sweet angel, fuck", she groaned.

As I began to ride up and down her length. Her eyes rake over my form and the way my hips dropped forward and pulled back over and over again. With each motion, her tip directly pressed into my g-spot, making her name fall from my lips repeatedly like a cursed hymn.

Her nails claw down my back, earning a wince.

"I'm sorry", she panted.

"Don't stop"

"I don't wanna hurt you-"

"I don't care", I whine, diving back into her lips and riding her faster.

She uses her biceps to hold me in place, ramming up into me harder.

"Agatha, fuck", I whimpered, holding onto her shoulders for dear life.

"That's right, baby. You're all mine"

My climax was fast-approaching and all I could do was fight it off as long as I could, until she gave me permission. Even after years of hating her, my body never forgot.

"I can feel you getting close", she moaned.

"Do it for me, come on, baby. I need you to come", she pleaded, reaching down between us to vigorously rub my throbbing clit.

I came with a scream that surely echoed throughout the neighborhood, but I couldn't care less. My vision momentarily faded to black, as my head fell back from the overwhelming pleasure that consumed me.

She held me against her, groaning as she coated my walls with her warmth.

"Fuck", she grunted, still thrusting into me to help us both ride out our orgasms.

Both spent and covered in each other's sweat and essences, we stay still for a while to catch our breaths.

"Miss me now?"

Too tired to think of a comeback, I simply nodded against her shoulder, hearing chuckle.

"Welcome home, baby"

[joelsrose]

Guns and Roses: Chapter 4

my fave chapter so farrr

TW: emotional abuse/emotionally abusive relationship, swearing, gaslighting, body image/insecurity, mean not fun words

masterlist

Summary: As the warmth of spring sets in, a day at the lake offers a rare moment of vulnerability between the two. Guards are lowered, emotions come to the surface, and it feels like a turning point—until something happens testing the fragile connection, leaving more hurt in their wake than before.

The first time Joel saw you, it felt like the air around him thickened, freezing him in place. It wasn’t the snow falling gently outside, blanketing the ground in quiet softness—it was the sight of you, standing there with your back to him. Your brown hair caught the dim light, and for one devastating moment, he thought of Tess. That same brown, the same fall of hair down your back, made his heart stutter. He swallowed hard, chest tightening. It had only been a day since he’d arrived in Jackson, and he was still adjusting. His eyes locked on you, memories rushing in, ones he fought every day to bury.

But then you turned. It wasn’t her. Of course, it wasn’t her. It was you. And for some reason, that realization hit him even harder. You were beautiful in a way that made something inside Joel lurch and crack. He tore his gaze away, barely listening as Tommy droned on about the layout of the dining hall, each word just a dull hum against the storm inside Joel’s mind. That beauty—the kind he couldn’t allow himself to feel anything for—had him gripping the reins of his self-control with white-knuckled fists. He could feel his heart drumming in his chest, and he was disturbed at how much your sheer presence had unraveled him. It was dangerous to feel this way, especially here, especially now, and he hated how his control was slipping, the tension in his jaw betraying just how affected he was.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

“I need some air,” he muttered, voice hoarse, cutting off Tommy mid-sentence. Without waiting for a response, Joel pushed through the back door into the cold.

The snow fell in slow, lazy swirls, the air biting into his skin. He stood there, hands braced against the rough wood of a post, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. It wasn’t the cold making him shiver—it was the flood of memories crashing down on him, images of Tess tearing through his mind with relentless force. Her voice, her face, her eyes the last day they’d spent together… and that bite. That awful, rotting wound on her neck, raw and swollen. The edges of the bite were ragged, torn where the infection had begun its merciless spread. The skin around it was discolored, veins darkened and creeping like tendrils of sickness, the center festering with oozing blood. It had been a gruesome, final mark—a sight that made Joel’s stomach lurch, knowing it was the end. That memory clawed at him now, cutting deeper than the cold ever could.

“I never asked you to feel the things I felt.”

Tess’s words echoed through his mind like a curse. He had tried to shake them off back then, tried to bury the guilt and pain deep down where he wouldn’t have to face it. But no matter how hard he tried, it clung to him, a weight that refused to let go. His fingers dug deeper into the rough wood of the post, as if somehow it could anchor him, provide the stability he so desperately craved.

But it didn’t.

The turmoil inside him raged on, unstoppable. She had loved him—he knew that now, too late—and he had felt something for her too. What that feeling was, he couldn’t quite name. But it had scared him, terrified him enough to push her away when she’d needed him most.

Now you stood there, inside the dim lighting of the dining hall, a stranger who didn’t even know him yet, whose eyes hadn’t met his, whose name hadn’t passed his lips. And that terrified him. You were an unknown, someone untouched by the weight of his past, and somehow that made it worse.

His chest tightened further, his hand coming up to rest against his heart.

He felt like he was dying.

His mind spun back to Tess—her trembling hands, her last look, that fierce determination as she made him leave. The fear in her eyes— a type of fear he had never seen from her before—haunted him. He had failed her. And he couldn’t survive failing someone again.

It took him longer than he would have liked to pull himself together, but eventually, the deep breaths began to work. He opened his eyes, the world coming back into focus, and straightened. Tess’s ghost would always linger, but he couldn’t let her memory break him.

When he stepped back inside, the warmth hit him, though it did nothing to ease the tension coiling in his chest. His eyes immediately found you, your soft smile catching him off guard. The kind that could ruin him if he let it.

“Joel, this is—” Tommy’s voice faded into the background again as you stepped forward, extending a hand. You introduced yourself, but the sound of your name barely registered. All he could feel was the warmth of your hand in his, so soft against the roughness of his own.

It was then he made a decision—a choice he knew he couldn’t take back.

He would keep you at arm’s length. No matter how kind or good you seemed, no matter how much the softness in your eyes tempted him to care, he couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t let you in. Because if you got close—if you really got close—you could leave. You could break his heart, make him feel things he swore he’d never let himself feel again.

Or worse, he would disappoint you.

He’d prove to himself, and to you, that the darkest, deepest parts of his mind were right—that he was a failure of a man.

So, right then and there, as he let go of your hand and forced himself to step back, Joel decided he would do whatever it took to keep you far, far away. He’d be cold, distant, and harsh. He’d make sure you knew your place, even if it wasn’t the truth. Letting you in would mean risking everything he’d built to keep himself together.

And he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen again.

•••

You were asleep, but it didn’t feel like sleep. Your dream state and reality blurred together, hazy and disorienting. Your body felt heavy, the sheets twisted around you as the familiar dread settled in—a feeling you knew too well. In your mind, you were back in that kitchen, the light dim, the air thick.

You stood in the kitchen, hands trembling as you clutched the edges of the countertop. It was a small thing—a forgotten grocery item. You’d said you were sure you mentioned needing more milk, but he stared at you with that cold, detached look he always got when things weren’t going his way.

“I don’t know why you always do this,” he said, his voice low but edged with accusation. “You never said anything about milk.”

“I did… I swear I did,” you murmured, your voice faltering as doubt crept in. Did you forget? No, you were sure. Weren’t you?

He shook his head, letting out a condescending laugh. “You always make up these things to make me feel like I’m the one who’s wrong. It’s like you enjoy confusing me.”

Your stomach knotted, the familiar fog of guilt settling over you. “I’m not trying to confuse you. I just thought—”

“You’re always thinking the wrong things, aren’t you?” His voice softened, but it wasn’t comforting. It was dismissive, like you were too simple to even get something this basic right. “Maybe if you paid attention once in a while, we wouldn’t have these problems.”

You felt your throat tighten, the words sticking like thorns. The argument wasn’t about the milk anymore—it was about how you were always the problem, always the one messing things up. No matter what you said, you couldn’t win. He made you question your memory, your intentions, even your sanity.

And then he’d turn it around. He’d wrap an arm around you, his voice shifting to that soothing, fake-sweet tone. “I just want you to be better, that’s all. For us. I’m only saying this because I love you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the side of your temple, the gesture so tender, yet it made your skin crawl. The warmth of his lips felt wrong, like a tainted affection that only deepened the pit in your stomach.

But it didn’t feel like love. It felt like you were sinking.

You jolted awake, heart racing, chest tight, the sheets beneath you damp with sweat. The dream had felt so real, like you were right there again, trapped in that endless loop of doubt and guilt. The remnants of his voice still clung to your mind, refusing to fade, making it hard to breathe. It was only when your eyes drifted to the clock hanging on the wall, its hands pointing to 8:02, that you were pulled back into reality.

But even reality offered little relief. The dream had only stirred up Joel's words—the ones that cut just as deeply as your ex’s had. Except Joel had been more direct, more confrontational, less insidious, but still brutal in a way that made you question everything. It had been two long, restless weeks since that conversation in the stables—two weeks of replaying every word, every glance, every breath. And now, all you could think was, why? Why had Joel bothered? Why hadn’t he just kept hating you like before? You’d grown accustomed to the cold indifference, to the distance he had maintained so carefully, like a wall between you both. But now, there was something unsettling in the space between you, something confusing and raw.

His biting words echoed alongside the voices from your past—the same ones that had always made you doubt yourself, made you question if you could ever truly trust someone who could hurt you so deeply, only to turn around and apologize as if it could erase the pain. No matter how many logs he stacked or doors he repaired, you weren’t sure you could move past it.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself out of bed, hoping the morning routine might dull the weight of the dream. It wasn’t until you were brushing your hair that Maria’s invitation to the lake came back to you. The lake, an hour or so outside of Jackson, had been patrolled recently—no signs of infected, no danger, just the promise of calm waters and a quiet escape. The idea of cooling off in the lake’s embrace felt like a lifeline, especially with the oppressive spring heat pressing down, making the air feel thick and suffocating. You could feel the humidity clinging to your skin, beads of sweat gathering at the nape of your neck as the relentless sun bore down, almost punishing. The lake sounded like a reprieve, a chance to cool off and, maybe, push the heavy thoughts aside for a little while.

But when Maria mentioned Joel, you hesitated. Your heart gave a traitorous flutter, and she noticed it instantly—the way your smile faltered just slightly, the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. You could feel her gaze lingering on you, sharp and perceptive.

“I can ask Tommy not to invite Joel and Ellie?” Maria offered gently, though there was something in her gaze—an unspoken understanding, as if she could sense the hesitation you tried so hard to hide.

You forced a smile, shaking your head as if the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. “No, it’s fine. Really.”

Was it fine? You weren’t sure. After everything, after weeks of coldness followed by... whatever this was? You didn’t know if you could handle that yet. The tension, the confusion that gnawed at you whenever you were near him, had only grown worse since that day.

Maria placed a hand on your arm, her expression soft but with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Don’t worry,” she teased, grinning. “We’ll leave him out there if he says anything outta line.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. A small laugh escaped you, the tension easing slightly. After all, why should Joel’s presence stop you from enjoying yourself? You’d been through enough—why let him take this from you, too? This was your chance to unwind, to escape the weight of your thoughts, even if just for a day.

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling the knot in your stomach loosen, if only a little.

But now that knot was back, tightening in your stomach as you stood in front of the mirror, eyeing the bikini Maria had brought over. It was beautiful, crafted from leftover fabric she’d skillfully pieced together, but it hugged your curves tighter than you were used to. The way it fit made you feel exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Memories flooded in, unwanted but persistent—your ex’s voice creeping into your mind. “You should stop wearing stuff like that. It’s too revealing,” he’d said more than once, his tone always sharp, always judgmental. And then the comments about your body, the ones that stung more than you’d ever let him know. “Maybe if you went to the gym more, you’d feel better about yourself.”

The echo of his words made your throat tighten, the familiar shame creeping up. You tugged at the straps, trying to adjust them, but it didn’t help. With a sigh, you slipped on a pair of shorts and a loose tank top, hoping the extra layers might ease the discomfort. The reflection staring back at you felt foreign, as if you were seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes—his eyes.

You took one last glance in the mirror, forcing yourself to turn away before you second-guessed everything again. If you didn’t walk out now, you knew you’d never make it out the door.

But as you walked over to the stables, where you’d all agreed to meet, the thought of seeing Joel tightened something in your chest. You didn’t know where the two of you stood after his apology—whether his words had truly changed anything. You weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive him. You weren’t even sure if you could forgive him. And that was the worst part of it—the not knowing. The uncertainty gnawed at you, leaving you caught in the uneasy space between anger and hurt.

•••

When you arrived, Tommy and Maria were already waiting, gently petting the horses in front of them. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched them, their chemistry unmistakable. They knew each other like the back of their hands—Maria could keep Tommy in check with just a glance, and Tommy always found a way to make her laugh, even in the quietest moments. It was hard not to admire how natural it seemed, the effortless ease between them.

“Hey, sunshine,” Tommy called out, his grin wide and familiar, that teasing nickname he always had for you wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

“Hey, lovebirds,” you teased back, walking over, feeling a little lighter in their presence.

“You excited for today?” Tommy asked, leaning against the stable post with his arms casually crossed, that easygoing smirk never leaving his face.

“Yeah,” you laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension from your shoulders. “The heat’s been killing me, so a day by the lake sounds like heaven right now.”

Maria chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes twinkling with that familiar warmth. “You and me both. It’s about time we all get a break.”

For a brief moment, the lightness of their company made you forget the weight pressing on your chest. The easy banter, the smiles, the sense of normalcy—it almost felt like you could relax. But then, as the conversation flowed around you, your eyes instinctively scanned the stables, your heart bracing for it. You knew he would be there. You could feel it in your bones, that unsettling awareness growing stronger.

And just like that, the moment you were dreading arrived.

Joel.

He appeared behind Ellie, who greeted everyone with her usual energy, but his presence weighed heavier. You felt it instantly. Your eyes met his for just a fleeting second, but it was enough to send your pulse racing, doubt creeping in—suddenly, this felt like a bad idea.

“Alright, let’s get these horses sorted,” Tommy said, clapping his hands with a grin, either oblivious to—or purposely ignoring—the tension crackling between you and Joel. “Looks like we’re gonna have to do some sharing.” His grin faded into an exaggerated frown as if he were considering the situation seriously, but it was obvious what he was up to.

“Tommy—” Maria started, narrowing her eyes at him, already suspicious. But he cut her off, making a big show of inspecting one of the horses.

“Yeah, uh, one of the horses has a bad leg,” Tommy said, his tone overly casual, waving his hand toward the stable like he was some expert in equine care. “So me, Maria, and Ellie can take one horse, and…” He let the words hang, his eyes flicking between you and Joel with barely contained mischief. “You two will share the other.”

The second those words left his mouth, you and Joel both jumped to object.

“No, I can—”

“Hold on—” Joel started, his voice rough and low, clearly as unhappy with the arrangement as you were.

But Tommy raised his hand, already prepared for the protest. “Now, now, I know what you’re both thinking—‘Tommy, we don’t need to share.’ But look, it’s a real delicate situation with that horse. Can’t risk it limping all the way out there.” He gestured vaguely toward the stable, where the perfectly fine horse stood, as if its imaginary injury were a life-or-death matter. “Besides,” he added, eyes gleaming with mischief, “Maria and I never get to hang out with Ellie.”

Which was a flat-out lie.

Maria groaned, rubbing her temples, while Ellie snickered from behind her hand, thoroughly enjoying the scene.

Tommy’s grin was shameless, and despite every excuse you and Joel tried to form, you both knew there was no talking your way out of this one. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was fine. You were both adults. A short horse ride wasn’t the end of the world. It was only an hour, after all—60 minutes, 3,600 seconds. How bad could that be?

Right?

Joel cleared his throat, his expression unreadable, but his body language gave him away—his shoulders stiff, his jaw clenched. It was painfully obvious this was the last thing he wanted. But there was no backing out now—not without making things even more awkward.

“C’mon,” he muttered, his voice rough as he extended a hand to help you onto the horse. You hesitated for a moment, the thought crossing your mind—I can get on a horse by myself—but you kept quiet. Instead, you took his hand. Your fingers barely grazed his before he pulled away quickly, almost as if the touch had burned him. He couldn’t even meet your eyes. Was he that disgusted by you?

You tried to push the thought away, focusing instead on moving back in the saddle as Joel climbed up in front of you with a groan. The scent of leather and earth clung to him, familiar and unsettling all at once. The space between you felt impossibly small, too intimate, as your knees brushed against his sides. You shifted uncomfortably, trying to find some distance, but no matter how you moved, it was never enough. You were close—too close—and there was no escaping it now.

•••

The ride was quiet. Too quiet. The distant voices of Ellie and the others ahead were little more than murmurs now, their laughter and chatter fading as you and Joel lagged behind. You kept your hands clasped tightly in your lap, determined not to touch him more than absolutely necessary.

But the steady rhythm of the horse’s gait made that resolve harder to keep. With each sway, you felt yourself slipping, your balance faltering as the horse moved beneath you. No matter how hard you tried to steady yourself, your body would tilt forward with every step, brushing against Joel again. The warmth radiating from him, the solidness of his frame, was impossible to ignore, and it only quickened your pulse.

You gritted your teeth, concentrating on staying upright. It was taking everything—your core muscles burning from the effort of holding yourself steady, your thighs clamping down on the horse’s sides to keep yourself in place. The heat wasn’t helping either; the oppressive sun bore down, and sweat beaded along your brow. The combination of the heat and the constant motion made your body ache with effort.

“Would you just—” Joel’s voice cut through the thick silence, low and laced with frustration. He turned to glance at you briefly, his eyes narrowed with irritation, and even in that fleeting look, you could see the tension in his shoulders. “You’re gonna fall off the damn horse if you don’t hold on.”

His words were sharper than necessary, rough and unyielding, but there was something beneath the surface. It wasn’t just annoyance—it was something else. Like he hated that he had to care, that he couldn’t just let it go.

What did it matter to him if you fell off the horse? Why did he care at all?

You hesitated, hovering for a moment before finally giving in, wrapping your arms around his waist. The heat of his body was immediate, the solid weight of him grounding you in a way that took you by surprise. This was the closest you had ever been to him, and your heart pounded in rhythm with the horse’s steady steps. Neither of you spoke, the silence thick, broken only by the rhythmic clop of hooves and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.

Finally, the lake came into view, its waters shimmering under the midday sun, a sight that should have been a relief. As you loosened your grip on Joel, you felt a strange mix of emotions—relief tinged with something else, something more difficult to name. Something stirred beneath the surface—something visceral, raw, that you hadn’t even realized was there until now.

•••

You waited for Joel to dismount first, watching as he landed with that quiet, grounded grace he always seemed to have. Just as you were about to slide off the horse on your own, you noticed him turn back toward you, his hand extended. Your eyebrows shot up involuntarily, the gesture catching you off guard. Joel offering help wasn’t something you were used to.

For a brief moment, you hesitated, but before you could overthink it, Joel stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your waist as he guided you down. The contact was steady, his grip firm but not rough, and the unexpected warmth of his touch sent a ripple through you. You barely had time to react before your feet hit the ground.

“Thanks,” you mumbled softly, your voice more sheepish than you’d intended. The touch was brief, but enough to linger, your heart beating a little faster than it should.

You quickly stepped back, letting go of his hand and focusing on steadying yourself while Joel moved to tie up the horse. From a distance, Maria caught your eye, raising her eyebrows in a silent question—You okay? You nodded quickly, offering her a small, reassuring smile before turning your gaze to the shimmering lake, hoping it would calm the whirlwind of feelings stirring inside you.

The water sparkled under the midday sun, the surface glistening like a thousand diamonds scattered across the blue expanse. It was beautiful—peaceful in a way that made you momentarily forget the awkwardness and tension lingering around you. A soft smile spread across your face as you took in the sight, the warmth of the day finally settling into your bones.

Ellie, unsurprisingly, was the first to dive in, her energetic somersault sending a splash echoing across the quiet landscape, jolting you from your thoughts. You laughed, shaking your head as she resurfaced with a triumphant grin, water dripping from her hair and eyes shining with pride.

“Show-off,” you called out, a smile tugging at your lips as Ellie splashed around, her carefree spirit contagious.

"She’s something, ain’t she?" you said to Maria as she came up beside you.

Maria chuckled softly. "Yeah, she keeps us all on our toes, that’s for sure," she replied with a grin, peeling off her outer layers to reveal the swimsuit underneath.

"You coming?" she asked, glancing over at you as she adjusted her straps.

“In a second,” you responded with a smile, watching as made her way to the lake.

"Don't take too long!" Maria called back with a grin as she entered the water, instantly enveloped by Tommy’s arms, their playful splashes and laughter ringing through the air. There was a carefree joy in their movements, a natural ease that spoke of years spent together, of shared moments and quiet understanding.

For a moment, a familiar pang of loneliness settled deep in your chest. You’d always been good at hiding it, masking it behind independence and keeping yourself busy. But being around couples like Tommy and Maria—watching the effortless way they moved together, the love they shared so openly—reminded you of something you had long buried, or at least tried to. The ache of wanting that kind of closeness, of sharing your life with someone who truly knew you, hit harder than you expected, leaving you feeling more exposed than the summer heat could explain. But with the promise of love came the risk of vulnerability—the fear of being too much or not enough. The idea of opening yourself up like that, of letting someone in, carried a weight you weren’t sure you were ready to bear.

Shaking off the feeling, you bent down to unlace your boots, slipping out of your shorts and tank top. Your swimwear hugged your body a little too tightly, making you feel self-conscious under the sun’s glaring light. It had been years since you’d felt truly confident in your body—before the words that had forever changed the way you saw yourself, leaving invisible scars behind.

You assumed Joel was still occupied with tying up the horses, his back turned to the group. But as you straightened up, you could feel his gaze on you, the weight of it unmistakable. His presence, always so quiet and watchful, sent the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

You turned slightly, catching Joel’s eyes trailing over your body before he quickly averted his gaze. But not quickly enough. That brief look—just a flicker of something in his eyes—sent a rush of heat through you. Suddenly, you felt shy, arms wrapping around yourself instinctively, as if you could shield yourself from the weight of his gaze. You had never expected to feel exposed around him, never thought his glance would affect you like this. Yet here you were, standing at the edge of the lake, completely thrown off by the raw intensity of the moment.

Joel cleared his throat, the sound breaking the thick silence between you. His hand remained on the horse’s reins, gripping them tightly as though he needed something solid to ground himself. His face gave nothing away, but the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly, betrayed him. It felt like he was holding something back—something unspoken.

You thought you heard him murmur something under his breath, too quiet to catch. Whatever it was, it sent a ripple of tension through the air, making you even more aware of the shift between you. He didn’t meet your eyes again, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever he had whispered was meant to stay unsaid. The moment hung between you, heavy and uncertain, leaving you more unsettled than before.

You took a step toward the lake, needing something—anything—to pull you away from the weight of that moment, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes still lingering on you. Even as you walked, his gaze felt like a tangible presence, and it took all your effort not to glance back.

You stepped into the cool water, the sharp contrast against the heat of the day sending a shiver through your body. The chill was refreshing, grounding you as it enveloped your skin. Ellie, of course, was quick to start splashing you, her laughter echoing across the lake, wild and infectious. She spun through the water with boundless energy, her joy impossible to resist.

Tommy and Maria soon joined in, their playful banter filling the air, and for a brief moment, you let yourself be swept up in it. You laughed, dodging Ellie’s relentless splashes, the cool water against your skin making you feel lighter. For those few minutes, the tension eased, and all that mattered was the simple joy of being in the water, laughing alongside them.

But from the shore, Joel watched—quiet, steady, and distant, his eyes following your every move, even if he tried to hide it.

Joel’s POV:

He couldn’t stop himself from looking. Couldn’t stop himself from noticing every little thing about you—the way your small hands had clung to him on the horse, the heat of your grip still lingering on his skin. And now, there you stood, at the edge of the lake, exposed under the bright sun, bare in a way that made it hard to breathe. His eyes traced your form, and before he could stop himself, he muttered under his breath, “Fucking hell.”

The way your gaze had held him, the way you moved—it was undoing him. Every ounce of distance he had fought tooth and nail to keep, every wall he had meticulously constructed, crumbled in an instant. Months of hard-earned control, months of convincing himself that he didn’t care, that you didn’t matter, shattered with just one look. He had thought he was safe, thought keeping you at arm’s length would protect him, would be enough to keep you away. He thought if he could just say the right things, those cruel, cutting words—the ones that slashed through you, calling you a burden—it would be enough to drive you away for good.

And it had worked. He saw the way your face crumpled when he said it, the way your heart seemed to break right in front of him. That moment had haunted him ever since, the memory clawing at him in the dead of night. If he had truly wanted to keep you away, he should’ve stopped there. He shouldn’t have fixed your door. He shouldn’t have apologized. Hell, he shouldn’t have come here today, where every glance at you was undoing him in ways he couldn’t stop.

But here he was, watching you, and realizing it had never been enough.

You had wormed your way into him, past every defense he’d spent years perfecting, twisting something deep inside him—something he thought he’d buried so far down it couldn’t ever resurface. But you’d found it. You slipped through cracks he didn’t even know existed, without even meaning to, and now, watching you, he felt everything unravel. The walls, the distance, the control—it was all crumbling around him, and the worst part was, he couldn’t stop it.

He didn’t know if he even wanted to anymore.

Then, you stepped into the lake, and it stopped him cold. The sun caught your hair, turning it to gold as you waded through the cool water, the surface rippling around you like silk. Your cheeks were flushed with a rosy pink from the sun, your skin smooth as it peeked through the water’s surface, glistening in the light. Your laughter—light and unburdened—floated across the air, so carefree, it felt like a melody he didn’t deserve to hear. You were radiant, glowing with a joy he hadn’t seen in you before—not around him, anyway. A small, unbidden smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, slipping through the cracks of the guard he kept so carefully in place.

It wasn’t just this moment that cut through him; it was the memories. Seeing you around Jackson, time and time again, he tried to keep you from occupying his thoughts—and failed every single time. From the very beginning, from the first time he saw you in the dining hall, your presence had unsettled him, and it hadn’t gotten easier since. He remembered the first patrol you’d taken together—how he had to force himself not to look at you for too long. How he silently berated himself for letting that raider get so close to you. He thought of the time he’d cut his hand open, and how you’d carefully stitched him up. He would’ve rather let the hand fall off than have you that close, because it did something to him, something he couldn’t afford to feel.

He would catch glimpses of you at the stables, in the market, moving through town with that same smile you wore so easily. You were kind, always kind—and he had been nothing but cruel to you.

And that’s when it hit him—guilt, sharp and brutal. Seeing you like this, so free, so happy, twisted something deep inside him, because he knew. He knew that, more often than not, his presence had cast a shadow over you. You were better without him. Lighter. And damn if that didn’t burn more than anything else.

"Joel!" Tommy’s voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to the present. "You gonna stand by that damn horse all day or join us?"

Joel blinked, realizing Tommy and Maria were both staring at him, grins on their faces. Ellie floated nearby, splashing water aimlessly. He narrowed his eyes at Tommy, his usual scowl slipping into place, but Tommy just raised an eyebrow in challenge, undeterred.

Joel let out a heavy sigh, pushing off the tree where the horse was tied. His feet felt heavy as he walked toward the edge of the lake, the tightness in his chest growing with each step he took toward the water—and toward you.

You were there, just a little ways from the others, your back turned to him as you floated peacefully, completely unaware of the way his gaze lingered. The sun glistened off the surface of the water, highlighting the smooth curve of your shoulders, the way your hair clung to your neck. His chest tightened further.

Without a word, Joel reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. For a moment, everything seemed to slow—the air felt thick, like even the wind was holding its breath, waiting for something to break.

Just as he pulled the shirt off, you glanced over your shoulder, and for a heartbeat, your eyes locked. The lake, the people, the sounds of laughter all faded into the background as that unspoken tension settled between you again, thick and palpable.

He hesitated, shirt in hand, the water lapping at the edges of his boots. And you were looking at him—not with annoyance or indifference, but with something that made his chest tighten. Something he hadn’t expected to see in your eyes.

Joel finally pulled his shirt off, and your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, you were frozen, unable to tear your eyes away from him. The way his body moved, the sheer strength in his broad shoulders and muscular arms, was hard to ignore. His skin was tanned and weathered, a testament to years of hard labor and survival. Scars traced across his chest—some faded, others fresher—each one a silent story of the battles he’d fought, and won. They crisscrossed over his skin like a map of pain and endurance.

Despite the roughness, he looked good—better than you had ever let yourself imagine. His body was broad, solid, and the soft swell of his abdomen triggered a heat between your legs. His skin gleamed under the sunlight, the muscles in his back shifting as he tossed the shirt aside, his jaw clenched in that familiar, determined way.

And then you realized what you were doing—biting your lip as your gaze lingered too long on the way the sun kissed his skin, how his body moved. Heat rushed to your cheeks, embarrassment creeping in as you quickly turned away, but not before he caught you looking.

He stepped into the water the cool lake seemed to welcome him as he waded in, the ripples spreading around his legs, the water shimmering against his tanned skin. You couldn’t stop watching—how could you?—as he drew closer, the water now lapping at his waist, glistening droplets clinging to the lines of his body.

You forced yourself to tear your gaze away, swallowing the heat that had suddenly risen in your chest. Turning back to Ellie, you splashed her playfully, hoping the cool water would distract you from the sudden tightness in your throat, the strange warmth creeping across your skin.

But it was hard to ignore the feeling that the temperature had gotten hotter—not from the sun, but from something else entirely.

•••

You had been in the lake for what felt like hours, the cool water a soothing contrast against your warm skin, your fingers slowly pruning from the time spent submerged. Your hair floated softly around your shoulders, catching the fading light as the sun began its descent, casting a golden glow over everything. The sky had shifted into breathtaking hues of pink and orange, the kind of beauty that made the world feel still for just a moment.

Ellie, Tommy, and Maria had already climbed out of the lake, their laughter echoing as they made their way to dry off. You half-expected Joel to follow them, to leave the water behind, to leave you behind. You braced yourself for the sound of him moving through the water, for the quiet splash that would signal his retreat. But it never came.

Instead, silence stretched between you, broken only by the gentle lapping of the water against your skin. The lake suddenly felt smaller, like it was closing in around you both, as if the world had narrowed until it was just the two of you, floating in the stillness.

Then, without warning, you felt it—the gentle current, or perhaps something else, pulling you closer to him. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the space between you shrank until your body drifted into his. The contact was soft at first, barely there—a brush of skin, a collision of warmth in the coolness of the lake.

“Sorry,” you murmured, the word slipping out as your heart pounded in your chest. You moved to pull away, but before you could, his hands found your waist, his touch gentle but firm, grounding you in place. His fingers curled around your hips—not possessive, but steady—like he was anchoring both of you in that fleeting moment.

“S’alright,” Joel said, his voice low and rough, thick with something you couldn’t name. In the quiet, it sounded almost too intimate, the words carrying more weight than they should. As if realizing it himself, he quickly withdrew his hands from your waist, but he didn’t move away. He stayed close, the two of you now facing each other in the water.

The lake swirled around you both, but all you could feel was the heat radiating from his body, the way his touch seemed to linger in the coolness of the water. Your breath hitched, your heart beating in time with the soft ripple of the lake. The silence between you felt heavy, charged with something you couldn’t shake, and the air around you thickened as if waiting for something to happen.

You looked up at him, and in the soft glow of the setting sun, his face was bathed in gold. His eyes—usually so guarded, so hard—were softer now, searching yours with something you had never seen before. There was an intensity in his gaze, but beneath it, a tenderness lingered, like he was silently asking a question he wasn’t ready to voice. The pull between you made your chest tighten with something unnameable, a feeling that left you off balance, dazed and heavy.

You were acutely aware of where his skin brushed against yours—the faint caress of his hands that had barely touched you moments ago, the way your legs accidentally bumped his beneath the water. Despite the closeness, something fragile hung in the air, as if the moment would shatter if either of you moved too suddenly.

Joel cleared his throat, shifting slightly, his eyes breaking away from yours for a split second. “You, uh… you doin’ alright?” His voice was rough, awkward, like he wasn’t used to asking such questions, especially not to you.

You blinked, surprised by the softness in his tone. He had never been cruel, exactly, but this gentleness? This was new.

“Yeah, I’m… fine,” you stammered, your own voice sounding more breathless than you’d intended. You glanced down, focusing on the water, but the tension still thrummed between you.

“You don’t usually ask how I’m doing,” you added, your lips curling slightly in a nervous smile.

Joel huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I don’t, do I?” His eyes darted back to yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. “I ain’t… I’m not always good at this.”

“This?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You mean… being nice?”

Joel sighed, the words he wanted to say slipping through his fingers. You could see the struggle in the way his brow furrowed, the unspoken weight of whatever it was he was holding back. His lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came out. He just stood there, a man at war with himself.

“It’s okay, Joel,” you said softly, sensing the awkward tension rising between you. “You don’t owe me anything.”

His eyes flickered with something raw, and for a split second, his brows drew together as if your words had stung. That brief moment of vulnerability caught you off guard—it hurt him. He didn’t like hearing it, didn’t like you thinking that he didn’t care or didn’t want to.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his composure. "I know I don’t," he finally muttered, his voice quieter now, rougher. "But that ain’t the point." His gaze locked on yours, more intense than before. He wanted to say more, wanted to bridge the gap between you, but the words just wouldn’t come.

You stayed there, waist-deep in the water, not knowing what to say next. The silence between you had shifted again, thick with the weight of emotions neither of you were ready to confront. You could feel it—the pull, the undeniable gravity of something deeper growing between you, as if the water itself was holding the tension, making every ripple feel like an unspoken truth pressing in from all sides.

For an instant, you could see the battle in his eyes, as if he was torn between wanting to pull you closer and keeping you at arm's length. It was as if everything he’d ever told himself about you—the distance he tried to maintain—was unraveling, crumbling under the weight of this moment. He wanted you to need him, to see him in a way he had never allowed himself to admit.

Despite everything he’d told himself from the moment you met, now, more than ever, he wanted to be needed by you.

•••

Eventually, you had gotten out of the water, the chill in the air making the warmth of the lakeside feel even more inviting. The group had gathered lazily on the shore, towels draped over your shoulders as the last traces of sunlight kissed the horizon. You sat down, still wrapped in the lingering tension of the moment with Joel, but trying to push it aside as everyone settled into the familiar ease of friendly chatter.

That’s when you noticed Maria, her expression a little more serious than usual as she glanced anxiously at Tommy. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it like she was gathering strength from him, her excitement barely contained beneath the surface.

“We’ve got something to share with y’all,” Maria finally said, her voice soft but brimming with anticipation.

Tommy grinned, the kind of grin that said he’d been dying to spill the news but had managed to hold back—just barely. He gave Maria an encouraging nod, unable to contain his excitement.

“I’m pregnant!” Maria blurted out, her smile lighting up as the words left her.

For a second, the world seemed to pause, and then everything shifted. The air buzzed with the energy of the announcement as it sank in. Ellie was the first to react, her eyes wide before she let out a whoop of pure joy, practically leaping over to hug Maria.

"Holy shit, Maria! That’s amazing!" Ellie laughed, spinning around, her excitement contagious.

“Oh my God, Maria!” you exclaimed, scrambling to your feet. You rushed over to her, wrapping her in a tight hug and kissing her cheek. “Congratulations!” you said, your smile wide and genuine as you turned to Tommy and hugged him too. “This is incredible.”

“Thanks,” Maria said, her eyes shining with happiness.

“How long have you known?” you asked, still buzzing from the news.

“A month or so,” Maria replied, her smile softening as she glanced at Tommy. “We’ve been keeping it quiet until we were sure.”

“I’m so happy for you two,” you said, squeezing her hand.

Joel stood up, moving toward Tommy with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, murmuring a quiet "congratulations." He extended his hand for a shake but, at the last second, pulled Tommy into a brief, firm hug instead.

Tommy chuckled, clapping Joel on the back. “You ready to teach me a thing or two?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

Joel’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he nodded, his voice soft. “You’ll figure it out,” he said. “You always do.”

Teach him? The thought echoed in your mind, lingering. Had Joel… had children before? The idea twisted something inside you. It made sense, the way he spoke with that quiet, heavy knowledge, like someone who had been through something unspeakable. The realization left you feeling unsettled, a sudden wave of sadness washing over you.

Ellie’s voice echoed in your mind from weeks ago: “He’s lost people.” The memory made your chest tighten. There was a quiet ache there, a sense of grief lingering beneath the surface of his rough exterior.

Joel’s gaze flickered toward you for a brief moment, and even in that split second, something passed between you—something unspoken, something heavy. It sent a ripple through the quiet moment, a fleeting connection that only deepened the mystery surrounding him.

And just like that, the celebration continued around you, full of laughter and joy. But as you watched, the pull of Joel’s quiet presence lingered, leaving you with more questions than answers, more curiosity than clarity.

Still, it wasn’t the time for those thoughts right now. Pushing them aside, you flashed a smile and said, "Well, we have to celebrate!" You glanced between Tommy and Maria, your eyes twinkling with excitement, determined to keep the mood light despite the heaviness tugging at the edges of your mind.

Tommy clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. “Alright, let’s hit the Tipsy Bison and raise a glass, or five, to the new baby Miller.”

•••

It was now well into the night by the time you left the lake, the stars twinkling above as the heat of the day finally gave way to a cool breeze. You found yourself back on Joel’s horse, your arms slipping around his waist with ease this time, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t have to ask you to hold on. You just did, without question, the tension between you from earlier now softened by the gentle sway of the ride and the exhaustion that clung to your limbs after hours in the sun and water.

You watched the broad line of Joel’s back as he rode, the ends of his hair still damp, occasionally catching a glint of moonlight as it dripped slightly. His presence, steady and solid, lulled you into a state of quiet comfort. The rhythm of the horse, the warmth of his body, and the stillness of the night all blended together, creating a cocoon of calm.

Without warning, you felt your eyelids grow heavy, the day catching up to you. Before you knew it, your head dipped forward, and you were fast asleep against Joel’s back, your arms slack but still resting around him. You didn’t hear him when he said your name softly, testing to see if you were still awake.

When you didn’t reply, Joel sighed under his breath. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with something between amusement and exasperation. “Gonna be the death of me.”

He adjusted his posture just slightly, careful not to jostle you too much as the horse trotted along the quiet path back to Jackson. The warmth of your body leaning into his back felt different now—less awkward, less loaded with tension, and more like an unspoken understanding. A quiet intimacy that neither of you needed to comment on.

When you arrived back at the stables Joel reined in the horse and glanced over his shoulder at you, still slumped peacefully against him. He shook his head, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He reached back, shaking your shoulder gently to wake you. “Hey,” he called softly, “Wake up. We’re here.”

You stirred slowly, blinking as you fought to shake off the drowsiness. Your eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, you were disoriented, the stillness of the night and the gentle sway of the horse making you feel like you were still dreaming.

“Heavy sleeper, aren’t you?” Joel’s voice pulled you from your half-daze. You blinked, disoriented for a second, glancing around the now-empty stables, trying to remember where you were.

“Huh?” you mumbled, still a little confused.

Joel’s eyebrow quirked, and his mouth twitched with amusement. “You still wanna go to the bar, or you want me to take you home?”

You straightened up quickly, rubbing your eyes. “No, no. We’re celebrating one way or another,” you said, trying to shake off the fog. “I just had a quick power nap, that’s all.”

Joel chuckled, a low, warm sound that surprised you. It was the first time you’d ever heard him laugh at something you’d said, and it caught you off guard. The corners of his mouth lifted in a way that softened his usually guarded expression.

Joel dismounted first, his movements deliberate and slow, turning back to offer you a hand. His hands found your waist again, firm but gentle, steadying you as you slid down from the horse.

“Where did Maria and Tommy go?” you asked, your voice still a bit groggy as your feet hit the ground.

“They headed out a few minutes before us,” Joel replied, his tone calm but with a hint of teasing. “Had to wake you up, remember?”

You blinked, the memory of him gently nudging you awake still a little hazy. “Right… power nap,” you mumbled with a sheepish smile.

Joel’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Yeah, sure looked like it.” His eyes softened slightly as they met yours, a subtle warmth there that hadn’t been before.

•••

The Tipsy Bison was anything but quiet. The room buzzed with life, a steady hum of voices and laughter filling the air as people gathered after a long day of hard labor. The place was rugged and worn, but comfortable—the wooden floors creaked underfoot, and the scent of old leather and whiskey hung in the air. Dim lanterns cast a warm, amber glow over the tables, where Jackson’s residents shared stories and tried to forget the weight of the world outside, even if just for a few hours.

You stood at the bar with Maria, ordering her an orange juice and three beers for yourself, Joel, and Tommy. Behind you, Tommy and Joel were seated at a table near the corner, their heads leaned in slightly as they murmured to each other.

As you waited for the drinks, you turned to Maria, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Maria, seriously, I’m so happy for you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. You didn’t realize it until you felt the tears brimming in your eyes.

“Don’t cry,” Maria laughed, blinking rapidly as she fought back her own tears. “You’re gonna make me cry, and we’ll both be a mess.”

You let out a small laugh, brushing at your eyes. “No, seriously. I can’t wait to meet this baby. I’m going to be the most insufferable aunt ever,” you added with a grin, “and this baby is going to be spoiled rotten.”

Maria’s smile softened, and for a moment, the noise of the bar faded into the background. “I know you will be,” she said quietly, her voice filled with warmth. She reached out and squeezed your hand. “Thank you.”

As she let go, Maria's eyes glinted with mischief, her teasing smile returning. “So… you and Joel, huh? I saw you two at the lake today. Seemed… close.”

Your face instantly flushed, and you fumbled for words, completely caught off guard. “I-I don’t know,” you stammered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “He’s just… been nicer, I guess? Not as grumpy as usual.”

Maria chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow as if she wasn’t quite convinced. “Nicer, huh? Sounds like progress to me.”

Just then, the bartender set your drinks down, breaking the moment to your relief. You picked them up, handing Maria her orange juice before heading toward Joel and Tommy, who were still deep in conversation, their heads bent close as they spoke in low voices. As you approached, you could hear the faint murmur of their discussion, though you couldn’t make out the words.

You glanced at Joel, a smile tugging at your lips before you even realized it. The day had gone so much better than you had expected. Joel’s usual gruff exterior had softened into something different, something softer. You hadn’t expected to see this side of him—the man behind the walls he kept so carefully in place.

And in that moment, as you walked toward Joel, you made a choice. The bitterness you’d been holding onto for so long was finally starting to thaw. His small kindnesses today—the way his hand had brushed your waist when he helped you off your horse, the quiet looks he gave you when he thought you weren’t watching—had planted the smallest seed of hope in you. Maybe, just maybe, things could be different between you two. Maybe you could leave the hurt behind, move past the sharp words and the tension that had defined your every interaction.

But then you heard it.

Tommy, with that usual playful smirk, leaned in closer to Joel. “So… you and her, huh?”

You and Maria froze mid-step, still a few meters away, unnoticed.

Joel’s entire body stiffened. Even from behind, you could see the tension ripple through his posture, his grip tightening around his glass, jaw clenched as if trying to hold something back. You couldn’t see his face, but his voice was enough. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” he muttered, low and tight, like he was struggling to keep control.

Tommy chuckled, oblivious to the storm brewing in Joel’s chest. “Come on, man. I saw the way you two were today at the lake. You’ve been spendin’ time with her, helpin’ her out. Thought you couldn’t stand her at first, but now…” He shot Joel a look, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “She’s a good girl, Joel. Real sweet. Pretty too. Can’t say I’d blame you if—”

“Stop,” Joel snapped, his voice sharp, cutting through the air like a whip. There was an edge to it that hadn’t been there before—a coldness, an urgency, like he was desperate to shut this conversation down before it went any further.

Tommy blinked, startled by the sudden harshness in his brother’s tone. “Whoa, hey. I’m just sayin’—”

But Joel’s mind was racing. His heart pounded in his chest, blood rushing in his ears. He hadn’t expected Tommy to bring this up, hadn’t expected to be confronted with the truth that had been gnawing at him for weeks. You were getting under his skin, and that scared the hell out of him. Today had only confirmed what he’d feared—that he’d let you in too far, let himself care too much. You were the closest anyone had come since Tess, and that terrified him.

He’d had a good day with you today, better than he’d had in a long time with anyone. It had been easy to be nice, to let the tension between you slip away for a few hours. The way you had smiled at him, the way your laugh had filled the space between you both, made it impossible for him not to soften. For a moment, he had allowed himself to forget the walls he had built, to push aside the fear that constantly gnawed at him.

But hearing Tommy mention it—seeing someone else notice the change in him—sent a jolt of panic straight to his core. It was like the spotlight had been turned on, illuminating the truth he’d been trying to bury. Tommy had seen it, the closeness, the way Joel had softened around you. If Tommy could notice it, how long until you did too?

The realization hit him hard. He couldn’t afford to let you get that close. He couldn’t allow himself to feel this way, to care this deeply. The last time he’d let someone in, the cost had been unbearable. Losing Tess had shattered something inside him, and now, the idea of losing you—of letting himself care enough that it could hurt him like that again—was paralyzing.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do. He pushed you away.

“She’s annoying, Tommy,” Joel said, his voice hard and clipped, each word forced out like a bitter pill. “Doesn’t know what she’s doin’ half the time. Always in the way. Trust me, I could never be with someone like that.”

The words hung in the air, thick and heavy, like a blow that landed right in your gut.

Tommy’s smile faltered, his face falling into disbelief. “Jesus, Joel…” he muttered, shaking his head, the warmth in his voice gone, replaced with quiet disappointment.

But Joel didn’t see you standing there—had no idea you were close enough to hear every cruel word. The cold indifference in his voice cut deeper than any wound. It wasn’t just that he didn’t care—it was that he dismissed you, reduced you to an annoyance, a burden. A burden he barely tolerated.

The sound of glass shattering on the floor yanked both men’s attention back towards you.

You stood there, frozen in place, the beers you had been carrying now in pieces at your feet, amber liquid spreading across the wooden floor. Your heart felt like it had been torn apart, the weight of his words crashing over you, suffocating you. You had heard every single word, each one striking harder than the last, until the fragile hope you had been holding onto crumbled to dust. The air felt heavy, your chest tightening painfully, each breath a struggle as the full force of his rejection washed over you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, the dam breaking before you could stop it. No amount of blinking could hold them back now—they spilled down your cheeks freely, hot and unstoppable.

Maria stood beside you, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, her wide eyes darting between you and Joel, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she had just witnessed.

Joel’s gaze finally met yours, and the look on your face—the hurt, the betrayal—hit him harder than anything he’d ever felt. The coldness in his chest, the wall he had tried to build between himself and his feelings for you, shattered in an instant. His heart twisted painfully, and for a fleeting moment, you saw regret flicker across his face.

But it was too late. The damage had already been done.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something, to explain, to fix the mess he had just created, but the words wouldn’t come. They stuck in his throat, useless.

You didn’t wait for him to speak. Without a word, you turned and walked away, the tears streaming down your face, your breath coming in short, shaky gasps.

You had been ready to forgive him. You had been willing to let go of the past, to give him—and the two of you—a chance. But now? Now you weren’t sure if you ever could.

Not after this.

•••

Tag list:

@valkyreally @ccmoonshine @dlwrish @immyowndefender @babygals-world @zenrobbins0021 @malfoycassimalfoy @damneddamsy @atenceladusiaawfytbwb @frogjumps-world @dendulinka6 @orcasoul @whirlwindrider29 @lol-im-done

@somedayheaven @ohdearvalentine @keseqna @kulekehe

@darkheartgatita @ickearmn @spacegirl-3 @mystickittytaco

@sukunnayuuji @jasminedragoon

[br0kenangel]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐝♡𝐰𝐧 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Yandere Survivors x Survivor Reader part 1

Summary: you survived. You survived the zombies. But you can't hide for too long. You have to go out. You have to find food and water. And you did but it didn't go according to plan now, did it?

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. And yes it's basically watership down characters but in a zombie au where they are humans. Hope you enjoy!

Original gif by @mikelogan ♡

The days had blended into an endless stretch of silence, fear, and aching hunger. Y/N sat on the floor of the small, darkened house, her back pressed against the cold wall. The room was a suffocating tomb of shadows, barely illuminated by the slivers of light that crept through the cracks in the boarded windows. Her stomach had long stopped growling, replaced by a hollow, gnawing pain that felt like her insides were turning to dust. She had run out of food days ago—maybe longer. Time didn’t feel real anymore.

Her lips were dry and cracked, her throat burning from thirst. The last drop of water had been carefully rationed, but now even that was gone. She knew she couldn’t last much longer like this. Every muscle in her body screamed for rest, but sleep wasn’t an option—not when the slightest sound, the tiniest movement could bring them.

The zombies outside weren’t the shambling, mindless creatures of fiction. They were quick, calculating, and relentless. She had watched them, their movements eerily coordinated, like packs of wolves hunting. They were always looking, always listening. And they were smart. Smart enough to sense a human’s weakness, smart enough to track her down if she made the wrong move. The memory of their bloodshot eyes, snapping jaws, and the awful sounds of their shrieks haunted her every waking second.

She shifted, her body stiff from days of sitting in the same position, her limbs trembling from exhaustion. But she didn’t dare make a sound. Not even a whisper. Her breaths were shallow and slow, each one carefully measured as if the air itself might betray her.

Her eyes flicked to the window, the boards creaking slightly as the wind pressed against the house. She stared at the shadows outside, her heart racing in her chest as her mind played tricks on her. Was that movement? Was something out there? She couldn’t tell anymore. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen one of them, but that only made the fear worse. The quiet—the not knowing—was driving her insane.

Every small noise outside made her body tense up, her mind racing with the possibilities. Maybe they were waiting. Maybe they knew she was in here, hiding, too scared to leave. Maybe they were just biding their time, like hunters watching their prey, waiting for her to make a mistake.

Y/N's hands shook as she reached for the small knife she had kept beside her, the only weapon she had. It felt pitiful in her grasp, barely enough to protect her from anything, but it was all she had. Her fingers tightened around the handle until her knuckles turned white, as if gripping it harder would somehow give her more strength, more control over this nightmare.

She couldn't keep this up. The hunger was driving her mad, the constant edge of fear leaving her brain in a foggy haze. Her vision blurred, her head throbbing with each heartbeat. She had tried to sleep once, for just a few minutes, but every time she closed her eyes, the nightmares came. Horrors of being ripped apart, of being trapped, screaming but unable to make a sound.

Now, she was too scared to even try. If she slept, she would be vulnerable. If she slept, she wouldn’t hear them coming.

She bit down on her lip, hard, the metallic taste of blood flooding her mouth. It was the only thing she could do to stop herself from crying. She couldn’t cry. Crying would make noise. Noise would bring them.

Her stomach twisted violently, and she doubled over, gasping silently as the hunger pain sharpened into something unbearable. She had never felt so weak, so helpless. Her body was eating itself from the inside out, and all she could do was sit here, paralyzed by fear.

The worst part was the loneliness. She had been alone for so long, her mind starting to play cruel tricks on her. Sometimes, she thought she heard voices—whispers in the dark, like someone was calling to her. But when she strained to listen, there was only silence. Sometimes, she swore she could hear footsteps, slow and deliberate, right outside the door. But when she looked, there was nothing there.

She was going mad. Slowly, painfully, she was losing her grip on reality. The isolation was eating away at her, just as much as the hunger.

Her eyes darted back to the window. No movement. No sounds. Just the wind. But she knew better than to trust the quiet. The quiet was deceptive.

Her breath hitched as a shadow moved in the corner of her vision, darting past the window too quickly for her to see clearly. Her heart pounded in her chest, a sickening rhythm that made her feel like she was going to pass out. She held her breath, knife trembling in her hand, as she stared at the window, waiting for the inevitable.

She was going to die here. Alone. Starving. Too terrified to even try to escape.

The darkness of the room pressed in around her, suffocating, as her thoughts spiraled deeper into despair.

She didn’t want to die. Not like this. But what choice did she have?

The zombies were everywhere. The world was gone. And soon, so would she be.

Y/N’s hunger had become unbearable. The sharp, hollow ache in her stomach twisted and churned until it was impossible to ignore. She could feel her body weakening, her limbs trembling as she sat in the dark, staring at the front door of the house. She had resisted for so long, too afraid to make any noise, too terrified to go outside. But now, she was past the point of fear.

Her body screamed for food. Water. Anything. If she stayed here any longer, she would die.

She swallowed the thick lump in her throat, pushing herself up from the floor, her legs shaking beneath her. Every step toward the door felt like it took all her strength, her mind screaming at her to stay hidden, to stay safe. But her survival instincts—those primal, desperate needs—were louder.

With a trembling hand, she carefully unlatched the door, moving it just enough to slip out into the alleyway. The cold air hit her face, sharp and bracing, and she froze, listening for any sign of movement. But there was only the wind, a gentle rustling of leaves in the distance. No growls. No footsteps.

She moved quickly, keeping low as she crept through the deserted streets, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow. The store she had seen before—what was left of it—was only a few blocks away. She just needed to get there. Get something. Anything.

As she approached the crumbling remains of the building, her heart raced in her chest, her fingers twitching nervously. She knew it was a risk, but her body had overridden her fear. She needed food.

Slipping through the broken door, Y/N’s eyes scanned the dark, empty aisles. Shelves had been torn apart, broken glass scattered the floor, and debris littered every corner. But there were still a few things left—cans, boxes—anything she could find would do.

Without thinking, she grabbed a dusty can of soup, her hands shaking as she tore it open. She didn’t care that it was cold, that the smell of it was faintly metallic. She ate greedily, stuffing the food into her mouth, her stomach growling with hunger as if it had been waiting for this moment.

For a few blissful seconds, she forgot everything. The hunger, the fear, the world around her—it all faded away as she ate, her body rejoicing in the nourishment. But then, in the quiet, she heard it.

A low growl.

Her body went cold. She froze, her eyes wide as the sound echoed in the distance. She glanced toward the shattered window at the front of the store, her heart pounding in her chest. Shadows flickered outside—shapes, moving quickly.

They had heard her.

The growls grew louder, closer. Panic surged through her as she backed away, her breath quick and shallow. She had made a mistake.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and they rushed in—three of them, snarling, their pale, sunken faces twisted in hunger as they lunged toward her.

She ran.

Her body screamed in protest, weak and exhausted, but fear drove her forward. She could hear their footsteps behind her, fast, relentless, like predators on her heels. She stumbled through the store, her breath ragged, her vision blurring as tears stung her eyes.

Just as one of the zombies leaped toward her, its teeth snapping inches from her neck, a blur of movement appeared in front of her—a man, tall and strong, slamming the zombie back with a brutal force.

“Go! Now!” he shouted, his voice urgent as he fought off the creature.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She ran, her legs carrying her faster than she thought possible. The stranger was right behind her, the sounds of the zombies fading as they sprinted through the streets together. Her lungs burned, her muscles ached, but she couldn’t stop. Not yet.

It wasn’t until they reached the outskirts of the town, far enough away from the chaos, that they finally slowed down, gasping for breath. Y/N collapsed against a wall, her chest heaving, her heart still pounding in her ears.

For a moment, she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even process what had just happened. The adrenaline coursed through her veins, her entire body trembling. But when she looked up and saw him—really saw him—a wave of relief crashed over her like nothing she had ever felt before.

He was real. Another person. She wasn’t alone.

Tears filled her eyes, and before she could stop herself, she started laughing—soft at first, then uncontrollably. The sound was strange, unhinged, mixed with sobs as the weight of everything came crashing down on her. The loneliness, the fear, the hunger—it all poured out of her in a wave of raw emotion.

“I-I thought it was just me,” she gasped between sobs and laughter. “I thought I was the only one left.”

As Y/N’s laughter faded into soft, hiccuping sobs, he remained kneeling beside her, his hand a steady presence on her shoulder. She wiped her eyes with trembling fingers, her breath still shaky from the emotional release. She could feel his eyes on her—kind, patient, as if he understood everything she had been through without her having to say a word.

“I... I’m sorry,” Y/N stammered, her voice hoarse and raw. “I just... I haven’t seen anyone in so long...”

He shook his head, offering her a gentle smile that eased the tightness in her chest. “Don’t apologize. I get it,” he said, his voice low and warm, like a calming breeze after a storm. “You’ve been through hell. We all have.”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Thank you... for saving me. I didn’t think anyone would...” Her voice trailed off, still unable to fully believe she had been rescued.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his tone firm but kind. “I couldn’t just leave you there. Not when I knew you needed help.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the world around them eerily still, like it was waiting for the next move. Y/N glanced at him again, really taking him in—his sharp features, the light scruff on his jaw, and the intensity in his eyes that hinted at the weight of what he had been through. He looked strong, but there was something about him—something gentle, too.

“I’m Hazel,” he finally said, breaking the quiet. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she managed to say, her voice still weak but steadier now. Saying her name aloud felt strange, like a reminder that she was still here, still alive.

Hazel nodded, as if committing her name to memory. “Y/N... it’s good to meet you, Y/N. Even if it’s in the middle of all this.”

She let out a small, shaky laugh at that. “Yeah... could’ve been better circumstances.”

Hazel’s smile widened a bit, though it was tinged with sadness. “You’re not alone, Y/N. There’s more of us. A group. We’ve been sticking together for a while now. Safety in numbers, you know?”

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat. “A group? There’s... more of you?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s not just me. There’s a few of us—good people. We’ve been scavenging, keeping each other alive. It’s tough, but we’ve got a better chance together. You should come with me. Join us. The more we are, the better our chances.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as hope surged in her chest. She hadn’t even dared to dream of this—other survivors, people who could help her, protect her. After being alone for so long, the idea of being part of a group again seemed like a dream. A miracle.

“Really?” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’d... you’d let me join?”

Hazel’s expression softened even further, his gaze holding hers. “Of course. We don’t leave people behind. Not if we can help it.”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes again, but this time, they were different—tears of relief, of gratitude. She had been so close to losing hope, so close to giving up entirely. But here, in front of her, was a lifeline. A chance at survival. At something more than just existing in fear and hunger.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, nodding quickly. “I... I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

Hazel’s smile returned, gentle and reassuring. “You don’t have to say anything. Just stick with us, and we’ll figure this out together.”

Y/N felt a surge of warmth in her chest at his words. She hadn’t felt this kind of connection with anyone in so long, hadn’t felt safe or cared for. But here, with Hazel, there was a glimmer of hope. A chance to live again, not just survive.

She managed a small, but sincere smile. “I’ll come with you. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Hazel’s hand gently squeezed her shoulder, his voice low and steady. “You’re not alone anymore, Y/N. You’ve got us now.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N believed him.

Y/N’s legs were shaking as she followed behind him, trying to keep pace. The hunger gnawed at her insides, and her body ached from exhaustion. Her throat was dry, her lips cracked, but the adrenaline from their earlier encounter with the dead still burned in her veins. He hadn’t left her behind. He’d saved her.

Now, he was leading her somewhere safe—or so he promised. But after days, maybe weeks, of hiding and surviving alone, the word safe felt foreign, almost unreal. The building they approached was crumbling like all the others. It felt as though it might fall apart at any moment, much like her frail body. Her mind screamed at her not to trust anyone, that safety didn’t exist anymore.

Still, she followed him. Because she had nothing else.

They slipped inside, through a small gap in the side of the building. Y/N had to squeeze through, her pulse racing as the walls seemed to close in on her. She didn’t speak. He had told her to keep quiet when they were running. The zombies were too fast, too clever. They could hear, smell, and even sense movement like animals on the hunt. She hadn’t made a sound since.

Inside, there was a hidden stairwell leading downward into darkness. Her heart pounded louder with every step, echoing in her ears as they descended into the depths. The air grew colder, heavier. Her stomach churned with nausea, and a deep, primal fear started crawling up her spine.

When they reached the bottom, a single dim light flickered on, illuminating the underground space. It was larger than she expected—too organized, too clean for this new world they were trapped in. And that was when she saw them—several figures, standing, watching her in silence.

Their eyes were hollow, dark with suspicion. Her pulse quickened again, her breath shallow and labored. She wanted to shrink back, to disappear. There was something unsettling about the way they stared—like predators deciding if she was worth the effort to keep alive. She felt raw, exposed, and very, very small.

One of them, tall and lean, stepped forward. His eyes weren’t as cold as the others, but there was still an edge to his gaze, as if he was trying to read her thoughts, her past, her worth.

"Who is she?" he asked, his voice calm but filled with doubt. He looked past her, speaking to the man who’d saved her.

"Someone who needs help," was the quiet response.

Y/N could feel every heartbeat echoing in her chest, each one louder than the last. She didn’t dare speak, afraid that if she opened her mouth, the wrong thing would come out, or worse—nothing at all. Her throat was too tight to form words. Fear hung over her like a shroud, suffocating and heavy.

Another figure, a woman this time, stepped forward. Her face was sharp, hard. She didn’t look at Y/N with anything close to kindness. “She’s a risk. What if she brings them here? We don’t know anything about her.”

Y/N swallowed, her mouth dry. She wanted to scream, to beg them to believe she wasn’t a threat, but the words tangled in her throat. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The room felt like it was closing in.

"She doesn’t look like much of a threat," came a low, gruff voice from somewhere in the shadows. The man who spoke stepped into the light, his arms crossed. His eyes were cold, calculating. “But we’re already stretched thin. We can’t afford dead weight.”

Dead weight. That’s what she was to them—useless. Disposable.

Her hands trembled at her sides. She could feel their eyes on her, boring into her skin, judging her every flaw, every weakness. She wasn’t strong like them. She wasn’t capable. She was nothing.

“Look at her,” someone else muttered from the back, a rough laugh following. “She’s already half-dead.”

The weight of the words made her chest tighten, her breath quickening. It felt like the room was spinning, tilting, and she had to fight the urge to collapse. The starvation, the terror, the constant silence—it had eaten away at her, and now, standing here, she felt like a ghost of herself.

The man who had saved her finally spoke again, his voice calm but firm. “She’s not a risk. She’s alone. She’s been hiding for who knows how long. We all know what it’s like.”

But his words didn’t seem to be enough to sway the others. The murmurs grew louder, more voices chiming in, each one cutting through her like a blade. She wasn’t wanted here. They didn’t trust her. Why should they?

Before the argument could escalate, one of the larger figures—the tallest in the room—moved forward. He was broad-shouldered, his presence commanding and hard to ignore. His gaze wasn’t cold, but there was something intense about the way he looked at her. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood between her and the others, as if creating a barrier. His eyes held hers for a moment, and in that brief second, she felt something shift—like he understood.

“She stays,” he said, his deep voice breaking through the noise.

The room fell silent, the tension thick in the air. His tone was final, not up for debate. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but no one challenged him.

Y/N’s legs trembled beneath her, the adrenaline finally wearing off, replaced by an overwhelming exhaustion. She wanted to collapse right there, to give in to the crushing weight of everything, but she forced herself to stay upright. She couldn’t show weakness, not now.

The tall man—her unexpected ally—looked at her again, his expression softening just slightly. “You’re with us now,” he said quietly, his voice a bit gentler than before.

She nodded, too drained to do anything else. The fear still lingered, but the relief was there too, creeping in like a slow tide. She wasn’t alone anymore. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she wasn’t alone. But that didn’t mean the fear was gone. The hunger still gnawed at her, and the cold, calculating looks from some of the others told her this was far from over.

As the others dispersed, muttering to themselves, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, but when she turned, it was him—the man who had saved her. His eyes were soft, warm, filled with understanding.

“You’ll be okay,” he murmured. “We’ll keep you safe.”

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that she could trust them, that this nightmare might finally be over. But as she looked around at the faces of her new group, the doubt still lingered. Safety was an illusion in this world.

And yet, it was all she had.

Y/N sat on the cold, dusty floor, leaning against the crumbling wall of their underground hideout. She couldn’t stop shaking, her body weak, almost numb from hunger and fear. The moment they’d brought her inside, she had felt an overwhelming rush of relief, but it had been quickly replaced by the gnawing need for food and water. The world around her seemed to blur as her mind focused on one thing—survival. She had been running on empty for far too long.

A large shadow approached, the tall man who had stood up for her in front of the others. He carried a small bottle of water and something wrapped in cloth—a bit of bread, maybe. She could hardly care what it was at this point; all that mattered was that it was food.

“Here,” he said, crouching down beside her and holding out the water. His voice was calm, though his presence was still intimidating in its size. “Drink this first.”

Y/N’s hands trembled violently as she reached for the bottle, fumbling with the cap before she could unscrew it. She took a sip, and the cool water hit her parched throat like a punch, almost too much at once. She coughed, sputtering, but forced herself to drink more. It was like tasting life itself after being so close to death.

The man—her savior, really—sat beside her, watching her carefully. His presence was strangely comforting, even though he was a stranger. “Take it slow,” he advised softly, though there was a trace of amusement in his voice.

But Y/N didn’t have time to listen. As soon as he handed her the food, she tore into it like a starved animal, her teeth sinking into the bread without hesitation. She barely chewed, forcing herself to swallow each piece. Her stomach roared with hunger, but the food felt like sandpaper against her throat. She was desperate, too desperate to care.

A piece of bread lodged in her throat, and for a moment, panic surged through her chest. She coughed violently, her eyes watering as she gasped for air, still trying to stuff more food into her mouth. She didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to risk the chance that it could all be taken away.

The man next to her—he was watching her with a raised brow, his lips twitching as if he was trying not to laugh. “Careful,” he said, his voice lighter now, the edge of seriousness softening. “You’re going to choke.”

Y/N sputtered, a piece of bread half-swallowed, half stuck in her throat as she coughed and gasped. The combination of hunger, exhaustion, and embarrassment hit her all at once, and she couldn’t help but glance at him, her face burning with shame. She didn’t want to be seen like this, so desperate, so weak.

“I—I’m fine,” she managed to choke out between gasps, waving her hand weakly as if to reassure him.

He chuckled, and it wasn’t unkind. “Yeah, sure looks like it.”

Her heart sank. She hadn’t meant to make him laugh, especially not at her expense. But the sound of his laughter wasn’t cruel. It was… warm. And something about that made her want to keep talking, even through her embarrassment.

She managed to swallow the rest of the food, sitting back against the wall, still clutching the water bottle tightly. Her hands were filthy, her face streaked with dirt and fear, but for a moment, just sitting here with him, she felt something that wasn’t pure terror.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, her voice raspy from both hunger and choking. “I… I haven’t eaten in a while.”

“I figured.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his broad chest, still watching her with that calm, assessing gaze. “You looked like you’d been through hell when Hazel brought you here.”

Hazel. That was the man who had saved her in the store. The one who had promised her safety and a place with them. But now, this man—the one who had stood up for her—was sitting beside her, talking to her as if she weren’t just some desperate stranger. It felt surreal.

“I’m—" she started, hesitating for a moment before deciding to offer her name. "Y/N.”

“Bigwig,” he replied simply, his voice carrying a hint of pride in the name. It wasn’t a real name, not in the traditional sense, but it suited him somehow. Strong, unmovable.

Y/N blinked at the name, nearly choking on another piece of bread as she processed it. She tried to stifle the laugh, but a small, surprised giggle slipped out despite herself. She coughed again, covering her mouth, trying not to make a fool of herself.

Bigwig looked at her, and for a moment, his serious demeanor cracked. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, I know. Weird name, huh?”

She nodded, still trying to swallow the last bit of bread, though her face burned with embarrassment again. She wasn’t laughing at him, but she felt like a mess—like this starving, desperate girl who was sitting next to this towering man, choking on food while he tried not to laugh at her. It was absurd, and for the first time in so long, the absurdity of it all made her feel something that wasn’t fear.

Bigwig leaned back against the wall beside her, his presence calm and steady. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, offering her a reassuring look. “The name, I mean. And everything else.”

Y/N smiled faintly, wiping at her face with her sleeve, the remnants of the meal still sticking in her throat. The tension in her chest started to ease, even if only a little. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “For… you know, sticking up for me.”

Bigwig shrugged, though there was something softer in his expression now. “Don’t mention it. You’ve been through enough already. Besides,” he added with a faint grin, “it’s better if we stick together. The more of us there are, the better chance we have.”

She nodded, taking another careful sip of water, feeling it soothe her dry throat. For the first time since all of this had begun, she felt a small flicker of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And sitting here, with someone who had looked out for her, who didn’t see her as a burden, that flicker of hope felt like it might actually grow into something real.

Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

It was night and Y/N was still catching her breath when she heard footsteps approaching, soft but steady. The moment she lifted her head, she saw Hazel’s familiar silhouette appear in the dim light. He carried something under his arm, something soft and warm-looking.

“You doing alright?” he asked, his voice quiet, careful not to disturb the others. He knelt down beside her, his presence so calm and reassuring. It was like the chaos of the outside world didn’t exist in his company.

Y/N nodded, her stomach still full from the food Bigwig had given her, though her throat was a little sore from nearly choking earlier. "Yeah... better," she murmured, though exhaustion weighed heavily in her bones.

Hazel smiled gently, his dark eyes scanning her face as if to check if she was really telling the truth. Then he unfolded the bundle he’d brought with him—a blanket, soft and worn but warm-looking—and draped it over her shoulders. The simple act of kindness nearly made her want to cry again. She hadn’t felt comfort like this in so long, not since before everything had fallen apart.

“Here, this’ll keep you warm tonight,” Hazel said softly. “It’s cold down here.”

Y/N clutched the blanket around herself, feeling the warmth of it immediately start to seep into her skin. She looked up at Hazel, her heart skipping a beat at how close he was, how gentle he seemed. His face was so beautiful, framed by the faint light. Even in the harshness of the world they lived in now, he still looked... perfect. Too perfect, almost. Like someone who belonged in a world before all the death and destruction.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Hazel smiled again, a little more brightly this time, and he sat down beside her. “It’s nothing. You need to stay strong if you’re gonna survive this.”

There was a pause, a comfortable silence between them, but Y/N couldn’t stop staring at him. The more she looked, the more she noticed—his strong jaw, the softness in his eyes, the way his hair curled slightly at the ends. He looked tired, like he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but still, there was something about him that made her feel safe.

“You... you saved me back there,” Y/N murmured, her voice wavering slightly. “I don’t even know how to thank you.”

Hazel shook his head gently. “You don’t need to. We’re all just trying to make it through this nightmare. And now... well, you’re part of the group. We look after each other.”

His words made her heart swell. Part of the group. After so much time alone, so much time spent hiding and starving, she had almost forgotten what it felt like to belong somewhere.

She shifted a little under the blanket, her gaze still fixed on him. “It’s just... I didn’t think anyone was left. I thought it was just me.”

Hazel’s expression softened, and he turned to face her more directly. “You’re not alone anymore. We’ve got a little group, and we stick together.” His voice was so steady, so certain.

Y/N smiled faintly, though her eyes were still filled with awe as she looked at him. She was so tired, so drained from everything that had happened, but sitting here with him, she felt... lighter. Less like a ghost of herself and more like a person again.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Hazel said, standing up slowly. He gave her one last look, something soft and reassuring in his eyes. “Get some rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

Y/N nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around herself, feeling the warmth from his words and the blanket wrap around her like a protective shield. “Goodnight, Hazel.”

He gave her a small smile before turning and walking away, his footsteps fading into the background. She watched him leave, her heart still beating a little faster than it should have, but not from fear. This time, it was something else. Something warmer, something that made her feel like maybe... just maybe, she wasn’t as lost as she thought.

She lay down, curling up under the blanket. Her mind was still racing, but there was something different now—a spark of hope that hadn’t been there before. She closed her eyes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, a small, genuine smile tugged at her lips.

She was safe. And she wasn’t alone anymore.

Sleep came easier than it had in days.

In the dead of night, Y/N stirred, her body tense beneath the blanket. Something had pulled her from her sleep—no, someone. There was a noise, faint but unsettling, like the sound of muttering mixed with ragged breaths. Her heart jumped in her chest, and she instinctively reached for the blanket, clinging to it as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of an old lantern in the corner, casting long shadows on the walls. She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of her surroundings, until her gaze landed on the source of the noise.

In the far corner, huddled against the cold stone wall, was a figure. At first, she thought it was just her mind playing tricks on her—a shadow—but no. It was a person. She squinted, heart pounding, and recognized the small, shaking form of one of the men from the group, the quiet one with wide, haunted eyes. His back was turned to her, his shoulders trembling violently as he whispered feverishly to himself, over and over, the same words that she couldn’t quite make out.

Her throat tightened. Something about the scene felt wrong, like she was witnessing something she shouldn’t. The darkness felt heavier, suffocating, and her own breath came in short, shallow gasps. Part of her wanted to stay where she was, stay silent, but another part of her—a stronger part—knew she had to do something.

Slowly, Y/N pushed the blanket off and sat up. The floor was cold beneath her feet, sending a shiver through her body, but she forced herself to stand. She took a hesitant step forward, the faint creak of the floorboards echoing in the eerie silence.

The man—Fiver, she remembered his name now—didn’t seem to notice her. His muttering had grown louder, more frantic. He rocked slightly, his arms wrapped around his knees as if trying to hold himself together. The closer she got, the clearer his words became.

“They’re coming... they’re coming... we’re all going to die...”

Her stomach churned at the sound of it. There was something off in his voice, something desperate, like he was trapped in his own mind. Her heart ached for him, but fear gnawed at her too. What had made him like this?

Y/N crouched down beside him, hesitating only for a moment before she reached out to touch his shoulder. The instant her fingers brushed his skin, he flinched violently, a sharp, guttural sound escaping his throat as he recoiled from her touch. His head snapped toward her, his wide, terrified eyes locking with hers, and for a split second, he didn’t seem to recognize her.

“No!” he gasped, scrambling back as if she were one of the undead. “No, don’t—don’t touch me! It’s too late! They’re coming, they’re coming!”

His voice was raw with terror, and Y/N’s heart shattered at the sight of him. She wanted to help, but she didn’t know how. He was unraveling right in front of her, consumed by whatever horror was playing in his mind.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “It’s okay. It’s just me. You’re safe. We’re safe here.”

But Fiver’s eyes darted around the room, seeing things that weren’t there, his breath coming in rapid, panicked bursts. “No... no, you don’t understand... I’ve seen it. I know what's going to happen. It’s all going to fall apart. They’ll break through. We’ll all die. You... you’ll die.”

Y/N swallowed, a cold dread creeping down her spine at his words. His fear was contagious, and she could feel it sinking into her bones, making her hands tremble. But she couldn’t let him spiral any further. She had to do something.

“Fiver,” she said more firmly, trying to make her voice soothing despite her own fear. “Look at me. Please, look at me.”

He was shaking harder now, on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. His hands clawed at the floor, his breath hitching painfully in his chest as if he couldn’t get enough air. His muttering had devolved into incoherent gasps, and Y/N knew if she didn’t calm him down soon, he would lose himself completely.

Without thinking, she reached out again, more forcefully this time, and pulled him into her arms. He resisted at first, his body stiff and trembling against hers, but she didn’t let go. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, holding him as he struggled, whispering soothing words even though her heart was hammering in her chest.

“Shh... it’s okay... it’s okay. You’re safe. We’re safe. Just breathe, Fiver. Just breathe.”

At first, he didn’t respond, still caught in the grip of his terror. His breathing was ragged, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. But slowly—agonizingly slowly—he began to calm down. His gasps turned into deep, shuddering breaths, and the tension in his muscles started to ease. He slumped against her, exhausted, his head resting against her shoulder as he finally let go of the panic that had consumed him.

Y/N held him close, her own breath shaky as she ran her fingers through his hair, soothing him like a frightened child. “You’re okay,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Fiver’s breathing steadied, his body relaxing into hers as he leaned into the warmth of her embrace. His voice was hoarse and broken when he spoke again, barely a whisper. “Something bad’s coming... I can feel it.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. The weight of his words lingered in the air, heavy and foreboding, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she held him tighter, letting her warmth shield him from whatever horrors haunted his mind.

“I’ll keep you safe,” she promised, though she wasn’t sure how much she believed it. But it seemed to be enough for him.

Eventually, his breathing slowed, his trembling stopped, and he drifted into a restless sleep, still clinging to her like a lifeline.

Y/N stayed awake long after that, her mind racing with fear, dread, and the chilling words he had whispered to her.

“Something bad’s coming...”

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[that-basic-simp]

Nobody's But Yours

Mizu X Fem!Reader CW: Trauma WC: 1.1k+

"I am nobody's wife."

Sitting in front of Mizu, the two of us were sipping tea together as the winter storm raged outside. It was a miracle she was able to find the house in this storm after being away for so long. She must have almost frozen since her entire face was very red and her entire body was trembling. Even in front of the fire now she was still shaking.

"That day is coming up again," Mizu said.

I had an inkling of what she meant by that day.

"It is," I said, sipping my tea.

"You do know what day I'm talking about, right?"

"I do, Mizu."

"The day I killed him," she breathed out.

"Mizu," I slowly lifted my head up to find her blue eyes.

"I still think about it. I-I should have just hid it. I should have just put away with that side of me and just became a housewife."

"But it was as you said," I said.

"Said what?"

"You're nobody's wife."

She slowly nodded her head, "T-There is some truth in that."

"How so?"

"Well, Mikio and I struggled to settle into married life. More so me since I was so used to fighting and spilling blood. Having a quiet life where I am not fighting day in and out just did not settle with me. I couldn't get used to it. Besides, I had a job to do. I had to get revenge on them. Those white men, I had to kill them. And being married and settled down, it got in the way of everything."

"Did you love Mikio?"

"Within time, I did. I eventually fell in love with him, but then things happened. And I felt betrayed by them all."

"I do remember you telling me that," I said.

"I haven't been able to feel love since then. It would cost me everything, but it would also hold me back. But," her eyes found mine as she lifted her head. "Then came you. Someone who I didn't think would come into my life."

I smiled, "Life surprises you, Mizu."

"I know it does. And I am grateful for the surprise that was you."

I giggled, "Come now, Mizu. I know you're just trying to win me over."

"You mean to tell me I haven't already?" she snickered, a small smirk appearing on her lips.

"No, you already have."

"What was it?"

"What was what?"

"What about me made you like me?"

"Well, there was a lot about you, Mizu, but the first and the big one were your eyes."

"My eyes?" she asked, confused.

"Yeah. I loved your eyes. How stark blue they were. Like the ocean, calm, yet dangerous at times. And sometimes they reminded me of ice if you were really angry. But when you're sad, they turn dull at times. Almost gray."

"Oh," she said.

"Afterwards, it was your voice. I don't know if it was your natural voice that eventually came out, or if it was when you lower it."

"You mean, like this?" she asked, the last part of the sentence lowering in tone, almost like a growl. It was raspy, like gravel.

I shivered visibly, causing her to smile darkly.

"Exactly like that."

She chuckled, "Seems I know how to get to you."

"And I also like the one thing your husband didn't."

"What's that?"

"How skilled you are. How you're able to wield both a sword and a spear. And how you're able to make anything into a weapon," I chuckled. "Especially when you used a chopstick against Taigen to prove a point."

A small, proud smile danced across her lips, "Yeah."

"Mizu, I-I like how strong you are. How you don't underestimate yourself, but also don't boast like Taigen. You show your strength and it mesmerizes people. It makes them look at you in awe and admiration."

"Why admire that part of me?" she asked.

"Because it's a side of you that you had to do yourself. You had to train yourself because no one else would. Because you had to hide that part of yourself and many more," I tilted my head down, staring down at my reflection in the tea.

"Mizu," I breathed out.

"Yes, Y/N?" her voice was soft and light, genuinely concerned if I was alright.

"W-What am I to you?"

She almost choked on her tea, coughing as she patted her chest, trying to clear out the blockage.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I should have let you finish your tea."

"I-It's fine," she rasped out, clearing her throat. "Y-You mean a lot to me. You, aside from Ringo, were the only person who looked past my imperfections. My impurities."

"What you call imperfections and impurities, I call uniqueness."

She nodded slightly, "You didn't call me a demon, monster, onryo, the list goes on and on. You saw me for who I was and not what I was. Y-You looked past everything. And saw me for face value."

"Well, you do that when you love someone," I said quietly.

"What?" she asked, picking her head up.

"N-Nothing. G-Go on."

"And well, you've just been really good to me. Treating me when I am wounded, genuinely concerned for my well being and all. And you always make sure I am safe when I am out and about. Making sure I have my glasses, my hat, everything I need to hide who I am."

"When this is all said and done?" I began to ask.

"You mean when I finish killing those men?"

"Yes. When you finish killing them, when you come back here, are you going to hide anymore?"

She smiled softly at me, "Why would I hide to the one I love?"

Picking my head up, there was a sparkle in her eyes as she stood up, sitting beside me. I turned and faced her as she reached down and grabbed my hands.

"I don't need to hide from you, since you already know. But when I am with you, I feel like I can let that side of myself be free. Like how I felt with Mikio, but it's actually there. I don't need to hide my feminine side as well as my masculine side. The side where I can take a life without second guessing. Everything that makes me who I am."

I smiled and removed one of my hands from hers, reaching up to cup her cheek. She reached up and removed her glasses, letting me see her beautiful eyes. Those water like orbs that looked like they could glow if they wanted to.

"B-But what you said," I spoke.

"I know what I said, but you're the only exception," she leaned towards me.

Our lips were mere inches away and I closed the gap. Pressing my soft lips against hers, she let out a soft hum as she kissed me back. Removing my other hand from hers, my arms snaked around her neck, digging into her hair. I grabbed at the string that held her hair up, letting it fall down to its natural length. It was another rare sight for me to see her hair down. But it was also another beauty about her. Pulling away, she pressed her forehead against mine.

"I am nobody's but yours," she whispered.

"I love you, Mizu."

"I love you, too."

[honeyxbunny99]

Sandor Clegane~ The Bitch and The Hound pt.7

a/n: Sandor is at the very end, I promise lol. There will be more of him to come.

Rather than the soft sheets that smelled of lavender and Sandor Clegane, you woke covered in straw and dog hair, and with a shooting pain in your neck before you even opened your eyes. You winced audibly and sat up slowly, trying to soothe the area with your hands.

“Fuck.” More pain ensued as you adjusted your legs and felt a stabbing, stinging pain between them. You placed your hand over your entrance and when you pulled it back, tears brimmed in your eyes as you saw more blood. You thought quickly about death; how you’d begged for it the day prior. You considered now how much you did not want to die like this. In pain, betrayed, alone. Suddenly the dogs began to pace and jump and bark. You heard the hinges of a gate creek open and you scrambled to hide yourself behind a pile of straw. You tried to watch the corner, heart beat in your ears mingling with the loud barks.

“Did you lot eat her up already?”

A strangely familiar voice taunted from the other side of the kennel. You shifted your expression from frightened to curious as the dogs silenced and footsteps grew nearer. The servant boy—The brat— finally entered into view. He found your face and smiled.

“There you are. Only joking!” He shrugged, reaching into the large bucket and pulling out another slab of mystery meat and tossing it into the corner for the dog you had befriended. “About them eating you. I just fed them before you got here yesterday, they don’t go ravenous that quickly, don’t worry.” He grabbed the bar with one hand and slid down, relaxing. “Come over then, love, I’m sure you’re hungry.” You made no movement, still hiding behind the straw.

“I heard there was a naked lady in here. Imagine my surprise when I caught the hound lurking around the kennels last night. Knew it had to be you.”

You withheld a gasp at the revelation, but were desperate for more information.

“Never seen him ‘round before. He’s more partial to horses… I think they make him feel smaller… you gonna eat or not?”

“I’m not coming over so you might as well just leave.”

“Think I haven’t seen tits before? Gods you’re awful prissy for a lowborn. A week in the Red Keep make you feel like a noble? Like your shit don’t stink? It does! You’re just like me. Except I have the keys.” He held up a set of iron keys and jingled it mockingly.

He can let me go.

You took a deep breath and stood up and walked over to him, trying not to let on that every step brought pain, and that his eyes on you made you want to slap him. You slid down the stone wall and stuck out an open palm. “What do you have for me then? Raw meat?”

“You’ve a nice body, y’know. I see why the hound’s still following your scent.” He spoke as he rummaged through the bucket. “Some boiled potatoes for you. There’s some burned meat in here if you don’t like raw.”

“Maybe for dessert.” You snarked as you accepted the scraps and began eating. He let out a small breath of a laugh, a surprised smirk growing.

“Anna said you were funny. Anna laughs at everything though…” his smile faded. “Is she dead then?”

You stopped chewing and scanned his face. “You haven’t seen her?”

The boy shook his head slowly. “She ain’t come back to her bed last night… Did you get her in trouble?”

You felt the lowest you ever had. “Yes… I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I loved her…”

“I loved her too.” He said. “First day that she worked for you she come back saying that you’d make it out… Know what I told her? Horse shit… And then come back the next day and she said I was the stupidest shit in King’s Landing, and that you were stronger than you seemed. Talked about how he hurt you, how Joffrey hurt you… How you were kind to her and that maybe if I was less mouthy I’d get to serve someone like you one day… She was like a sister to me.”

“To me too. You can believe it or not. If she’s dead it’s my fault as much as Joffrey’s… I told her something I shouldn’t have. I made her a target.”

“What’d you say that was so bad it’d get her killed?”

You finished the food as you considered your answer. “I told her I was in love with my husband.” “That dog?” You were reminded of Joffrey’s words to you that first day in the throne room. For a moment you wanted to reach your hand through the bars and grab hold of his shirt, maybe slap him. You quickly remembered, however, the cruelty you’d experienced at the hands of that dog.

“Yes… that dog. I thought that I was. I thought that he was.” You shook your head, vision blurring. “I was wrong. He cant love… He is everything they say he is and worse..” You blinked the tears away and ensured you locked eyes with the boy. “He can manipulate. He’s a monster. You stay away from him.”

“I’m not scared—“

“I’m serious. He’d kill you at the drop of a hat and he wouldn’t feel bad about it. He’s only out for himself… If you see him around again you stay far away… What’s your name?”

“Charlie.” The look on his face told you that he was finally truly listening to you. He softly wrapped his hand around yours on the bar. “You’re (Y/n)..”

You shook your head and leaned back against the wall. “I’m nothing anymore.” His eyes watched your profile for a minute. “I’ll find you something to wear.”

He walked out and did not return for what felt like hours. When he finally did, he brought you a damp potato sack. “I tried to clean it for you, it’s all I could get today.” You covered yourself with it instantly and thanked him. “I’ll try to get you something more proper to wear. And when it gets colder I’ll get you a blanket..”

You smiled softly at his kindness. “I won’t be around when it’s colder. Please don’t steal anything for me. This is enough and I don’t want you getting into trouble on my behalf. It sounds like you do that fine on your own.”

He smiled at you, waved and left just as quickly as he had come. You had no other visitor that day, but you decided to give all the dogs names to pass the time. Dahlia, Saphhire, and Beast were your cell mates. Beast, so named for his tough guy behavior against the girls and the way he growled and snapped at you when you got too close. Nala, Max… you couldn’t tell if the others were male or female, so you just called out “Goodnight the rest of you.” when the moon had lingered high in the sky. You had torn the sack apart to wear like a dress, and though the burlap itched, it was better than the straw and stone.

Sleep captured you easily that night. You shivered, though the weather held no chill, and sweat ran in beads down your forehead in the middle of the night. You slept in far past sunrise and only woke when you were practically trampled by Beast running to the bars. The dogs all barked but you shut your eyes tighter, feeling sicker than you ever had. Swallowing hurt, sunlight hurt, and as your body wakened more you found that you were nauseous. The dogs grew quieter as they ate and you heard Charlie run up to your gate, slap a few pieces of meat on the floor and say giddily, “Look who’s alive!”

You opened one eye in shock and saw a smiling Anna. One eye was swollen shut and her jaw looked bruised as well now. Yet she smiled at you and reached through the bars. You sat up and winced but tried to shuffle over to her. She turned and motioned to Charlie for the keys and he shook his head, “Are you mad?”

She hit the back of his head and yanked the keys away from him, testing every key in your gate. When Charlie began to argue again, she turned to him and motioned with her fingers and eyes for him to keep a look out. He huffed and obeyed, disappearing to the front of the kennel.

Finally the gate opened and she rushed in, closing the gate behind her so the dogs would not escape, though they were far too occupied with their meal. She opened her arms wide to hug you as she dropped to her knees to meet your level. You let out the sound of a combined laugh of relief and a sob. As soon as her arms were around you, your tears simply could not be contained.

“I thought you were dead.” You sobbed against her neck. You felt her shake her head and rub your back, so you did the same to her. She pulled back and you held her face gently in your hands. A single tear fell from her good eye.

“She’s never looked worse, but she’s alive!” Charlie mocked from the distance.

She caressed your cheek and then her face grew concerned. She touched your forehead with the back of her hand and continued to feel around your face. ‘Hot?’ She mouthed silently. You nodded, feeling the throbbing in your head intensify from your weeping. “Ah!” You suddenly yelped as you felt a sharp pain in your cunt again. You closed your legs together tightly in reaction but that only worsened it. You cried out again, hunching over and feeling bile rise to your throat.

Anna didn’t waste much time staring at your pained form, she ran out shouting and you heard Charlie’s return. “Oh shit what happened to you?!”

“Something’s wrong..” you could barely get out. “Inside me! Please, you have to help it hurts so bad!” You cried. Charlie muttered something to Anna before running away again and finally you puked. I’m dying, I’m dying! You crumpled into a ball on the floor and shut your eyes. Anna came back over and dabbed at your forehead sweat with her skirts. You were sure if she could, she would have offered you words of comfort, but instead she just tried to keep a calm expression. You passed out to the sensation of her petting your hair and a fire burning up your insides.

You felt your legs spread far apart and jolted awake, gasping and trying to retreat. All you could see was the kings guards holding you down. “No, no!” You screamed and tried to kick your legs at them as you had that day. “Hold them tighter!” You heard an old man’s voice but did not see any guard speak it. Your thighs were gripped harder and pulled apart by their hands. You began to hyperventilate and you banged the back of your head on the stone, blinking up at the ceiling of Joffrey’s bedroom. No, this doesn’t make sense. You felt the tears burn wet stripes down into your hair and heard your own ragged breathing. I’m not in Joffrey’s room. This already happened. I’m safe now. Anna is safe now. I’m with the hounds. The hounds.. you shut your eyes tightly and screamed as you felt something cold enter you again. A small hand clapped over your mouth to try to silence you and you flinched against it.

When you opened your eyes in shock you could see the familiar ceiling of the kennel. You heard the dogs whine and bark around you. Breathing through your nose quickly, your eyes darted to see it had been Charlie covering your mouth. He looked scared to death. You adjusted your head so that you could watch more of the scene. There was indeed metal between your legs again. An old man was directing something delicately inside of you and using the light of a lantern to examine you. It didn’t matter how gentle he was, when he reached a certain spot you screamed harder. That was when Anna came into view. She was crying and holding open your legs. Suddenly the metal turned and scraped against your inner walls and you felt like you could pass out again from the pain. The tool retreated from you slowly and you tried to watch. You told yourself over and over again that Anna and Charlie would not bring you harm, so these actions had to be for good.

“Ah-ha! There’s the nasty culprit. Keep hold of her, I’ve got to check for more.” You watched as the man laid out little black shards onto a towel. Those were inside of me! He continued to scrape the metal inside of you from every angle, and while it hurt like hell, given the revelation, you tried to contain your screams and struggle. Finally he was finished and he’d only pulled one more small speck of something foul out of you. “Keep your legs open for now, girl.”

“(Y/n).” Charlie told him, slowly removing his hand from your mouth and looking between you. “Whatever your name is, that’s bound to feel a lot better now.” He pointed at your cunt. “An infection brought on by metal… tell me, how did you end up with metal in such a sensitive spot?” He spoke as he poured drops from small bottles onto a cloth. Their smell was refreshing and comforting.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, still sore, and looked at poor Charlie. “It wasn’t my idea, that’s all I’ll say.”

The healer nodded and covered your flower with the fragrant cloth. When it touched your skin it felt cool and you were relieved. “Did this idea form in the same cruel mind that did that to our Anna’s tongue?”

Anna held a dropper over your mouth and you opened it. Milk of the poppy, you assumed when it hit your tongue. You swallowed and sat up slowly, holding the cloth in place. “Yes..” you conceded.

“That fucking blonde haired bastard!” Charlie chucked a stone at the wall, and then the stranger grabbed hold of his ear in a pinch that made him wince. “Want to lose yours next, son?!” “Alright, ow, I’m sorry!” He responded, rubbing his ear to soothe it when the man finally let go.

Anna handed the man back the elixir and tried to smile at you now that her tears were all gone. “She came to me last night after the king left her in the hall to die… I did that to her, show her, girl.” Anna looked embarrassed but opened her mouth and the man held the lantern above you. You saw black stitch work all over her stump of a tongue. “I help people when I can.. for whatever they can pay me.” His eyes found yours again. You furrowed your brows, urging him to look at his surroundings. “I have nothing, sir.”

“So I see. You can owe me. If left untreated your ailment might have caused madness.. or death.” He settled with a shrug. “Charlie said you were wife to the kings protector… yet here you are?”

“The marriage was false..” Charlie brought to your lips the first sip of water you’d had in days and you slurped it down. “I’ll get you something for payment I swear..”

“Or your husband can pay. Not much mind you, meaningless coin to someone like him—“

“No! You can’t ask him. He can’t know anything about this. If he finds out you helped me perhaps he’d do worse to you… I’ll figure something out.”

“And how about little finger?”

Your face let on that you were confused. “What about him?”

“Well he designed this whole mess… Has he been to see you, yet?”

You considered his words for a moment silently. If it was so obvious to a man far outside the so-called mess, how could you have missed it. Anna would not have come to the king with such news, and she had not even told Charlie who she was very close to. It had to be Little Finger, who only came to you that night to confirm his suspicions. “No…” you trailed off in thought.

“I would be expecting him in the next few days… He’ll come with a proposition.” The man’s bag was all packed up and finally he reached out a hand for you to take. You placed yours atop his and he gave it a chaste kiss. “Milady.” He said, bowing his head. “You take care of her now, Charlie. She’ll need vegetables and meat if you can spare them. And lots of water..” he trailed off leaving the kennel. You crossed your legs and looked down at the shards on the towel. You reached out and touched them. They looked like paint chips, jagged and mismatched. These little things almost killed me…

Anna touched her hand to your forehead to check your temperature again and nodded. “She can make sounds, I’ve heard her. It’s not like he took her voice out.” Charlie patted his lap and Beast came over, sniffing his hands. Anna’s face grew irritated. “I think she’s just embarrassed to try… chicken?” He concluded with a mocking smile. Anna stood up and started to get near him but Beast turned to her and growled fierce. Charlie laughed and pointed. “He don’t like girls, he’s got a good sense about him.”

“Beast.” You chimed in after another drink of water. “That’s what I’ve been calling him.”

“I call him Chompers!” He looked at you excitedly and then pulled up one side of the dog’s mouth. “Look at those teeth. He could tear you to shreds, tear anything to shreds!” He pet the dog’s head and you smiled at him. He really was a brat, but he was just a boy. In some ways he seemed younger than he looked, yet his view of the world told you he was jaded. “Eh, but none of them have real names though. So I s’pose you can call them whatever you like.”

Anna folded her hands up by her head, leaned on them and closed her eyes, as if to pretend to sleep. Charlie nodded in understanding and stood up. “Goodnight, (Y/n). I hope your cunt feels better in the morning.” He stepped over you only to be hit in the shoulder by Anna. You almost laughed and she looked back at you apologetically. They opened your gate, waved goodbye to you, and left.

Whatever oils the healer put on the cloth, combined with the milk of the poppy truly did make your pain go away. The dogs stayed away from you that night, and you fell asleep against the floor for the third night.

In the morning there was a great deal of commotion outside the kennel, and occasionally you would raise up onto your toes to get a look out the high barred window. You saw people carrying gates, barrels, weaponry. War already? You’d heard rumor of Stannis and Renly Baratheon gathering armies for claims to the iron throne, but you never imagined they’d make it to King’s Landing. Later you heard King Joffrey’s voice nearby and you were frozen in fear.

“I will have a new sword made. I need something fresh to chop off my uncle’s head, and then the Stark will follow.” “Yes, your Majesty.”

Slowly you gathered enough bravery to look again out the window. You saw Joffrey continue to order his men around, and you saw him beside him. He looked angry and tired, but he was there. You wished you hadn’t still thought him handsome. You were sure, however, as they stopped to speak to someone new, that you could never love him. He was mean and cowardly, and a liar. He said he’d kill Joffrey if it came down to it. Yet you were here, and he was there protecting him. Sandor’s eyes suddenly darted to the kennel and scanned the side of it. Part of you wanted to move, but the other part wanted him to see you. So you remained. His eyes eventually found the window you were watching from and when he locked in with your eyes, his mouth fell open the smallest amount. You glared at him, anger filling your eyes with water again.

He adjusted his hands to hold his belt and closed his mouth. He stared you down, almost daring you to look away. You refused. Joffrey and his men’s started moving again and Sandor Clegane fell behind. You thought for a moment that he might approach you, and you wondered what you’d do if you were near him again. It appeared you would never get your answer, as his feet began their march in the path of the king again, and he looked away.

You finally felt the disgust everyone else did when they looked at him.

[yallthemwitches]

Predatory in Nature

“No actually mate, it's ok—really, don’t worry about me. I’ll just never forget that my best mate, my brother in arms, my fellow marauder, betrayed me for Lily Evans’ sweet fanny—”

Today and tomorrow will be a double dose of some Sirius antics mixed with some fluff. Written for @jilytoberfest day 17: "It's cute when your face gets red like that."

AO3 Here

“Evans.”

She knows that sing-song voice from anywhere. Sirius Black lopes his way across the common room to take the seat across from her, grin looking downright sadistic in nature. 

“Yes Black?” When she doesn’t look up from her parchment, he leans down onto his folded arms, craning his head to force eye contact upwards at her bowed head.

“I’m feeling very perturbed and I need you to assuage my fears.”

Lily tries to keep writing but he plucks the quill out of her hand, throwing it behind his shoulder. 

“The fuck.” He ignores her annoyance, eyes setting into a firm stare. 

“Are you snogging James?”

The room temperature increases and Lily now feels the sudden sensation that she is being hunted for sport. 

“No–”

“Ok–Are you shagging James?”

Lily sputters, cheeks going rosy. “N-No.”

Of course the real answer is yes on both counts. A loud resounding one. It had been months of build-up, hours spent skiving off the last part of her patrols to lock themselves in various empty classrooms and passages, safely undiscovered from the comfort of darkness. But like the slow march of time, this moment was inevitable: that Sirius, the angel of death of all discretion, would come calling with suspicion. 

He leans further against the table top. “You sure about that?”

She scoffs knowing well that her body language is betraying her. To cover, she tries to rip her parchment out from under him, but he smacks his hand down against it, not swayed by her antics.  

“It’s cute how your cheeks get red like that when you're lying. So—once more for emphasis: are you or are you not snogging and/or shagging James Fleamont Potter—really dig deep here Evans.”

She leans back in her chair, eyes looking down at her lap. Of course he already knew the answer. This interrogation was just a formality—probably for his amusement more than anything else. Still, there was no use fighting it. She had been silly to even try.  

“Maybe,” her voice teeters off, hands fiddling with the ends of her hair. “A little?”

Sirius blinks. “A little?”

She breaks, his whittling down of her defenses an annoyingly effective tactic. 

“A lot! Alright, Black? You happy?” She gestures wildly into the air, face flushed. 

“Son of a bitch.”

Lily starts to open her mouth, ready to capitulate, but he cuts her off, running a hand down his face.

“I mean—what an absolute tosspot—I didn’t want to believe Remus but—.”

“Wait–excuse me?” Lily drops all exasperation to squint at Sirius, absolutely confused. She expected lots of things from his discovery of her and James' relationship, but anger was not one of them. 

“I mean, this is just rich—that bloody traitor, I mean this really stings.”

Lily stares at him, watching as Sirius shakes his head in discontent, running his hands through his hair. Her whole face is devoid of color, feeling like her body has gone numb.

“Sirius—if this is some god awful way of saying you fancy me—”

Sirius rears his head up, eyes maniacal. 

“No Evans!—stop being egotistical and fucking keep up—”

He slams his hands onto the desk, before lowering his head as well, his long hair shrouding his face.

“James is keeping secrets—from me!” He says, voice like an animal that has been kicked by its owner. Lily blinks at him but she can’t hold back the laughter that bubbles up from her chest, keeling over. Sirius lifts his head up to watch her through his hair, face twisted in a scowl. 

“It’s not funny, Evans! This is serious!”

“You are completely mental–” Lily chokes out between breaks in laughter. “That is your takeaway from this?”

“What? You think I care if you are banging my mate? I mean, I’m happy he’s getting laid and it’s you but—,” he puts his head back in his hands, “why in the fuck would he keep it from me…”

The portrait hole swings open and like a sixth sense, both Sirius and Lily’s necks crane to watch James enter. He is still sweaty and out of breath from quidditch and he stops dead in his tracks at the sight of the two of them, eyes darting from one to the other as though he needs no further information to know what is going on. 

Sirius wastes no time jumping to his feet and stalking towards him, finger guiding him until he is poking it into James’ chest. 

“First of all, how bloody dare you.” James looks down at Sirius' finger and frowns before casting a pleading, withered look at Lily.

“Pads I–”

“You didn’t think I’d find out? Me? You know, your best mate who also happens to have access to–” his voice gets lower, hissing, “--a certain artifact that lets me know what you are up to?”

James stares at his mate, mouth a perfect o. Sirius pulls away and slowly stumbles back, waving a hand dismissively in the air. 

“No actually mate, it's ok—really, don’t worry about me. I’ll just never forget that my best mate, my brother in arms, my fellow marauder, betrayed me for Lily Evans’ sweet fanny—”

“Black!” Lily stood up, hackles now raised and bounding for him. “Leave him alone, I told him to keep it quiet.”

Sirius looks down at her with wide eyes, mouth hanging ajar. 

“You did wha—what is wrong with you? Why’d you do that?”

“Because if you knew then—then I dunno…” she teeters off but Sirius waits, expecting answers.

 Something starts brimming under her eyes, and she loses all the momentum she had moments ago, feeling sidelined by emotion. 

“If we told people, it would make it real, you know?”

Both boys stand in stunned silence.

“You don’t want it to be real?” James' voice is barely above a whisper. There is a sudden shift in the room, all of Sirius’ dramatics floating into the background.

Lily staggers towards him, cheeks ruddy. “No—that’s not what I mean. It’s just—we haven’t been talking about it and I’ve been happy when I’m with you—but if we were just mucking around for a laugh…I didn’t want to rock the boat and make this more of something than it is.” She knows she’s babbling, perhaps incomprehensible,“you know—assume you still wanted something more—” 

James steps forward, putting his hands on Lily’s crossed arms. 

“Lily, there is nothing, no one that could make me want to stop doing whatever it is we are doing together,” he pleads, “I’ll keep it a secret forever—I’ll make Sirius too if that's what it takes.” His voice is firm and he reaches for her cheek. “I want…everything with you.”

“Then why did you stop trying to ask me out? You know– properly.”

She doesn’t know how this conversation devolved to this point, how Sirius’ whole friendship infidelity act could have led her to say the thing she wanted to say to him for months now, but here she was, eyes feeling glassy.

“You wanted us to be a secret,” James whispers.

“Yeah, but maybe I want other things now.” Tears are rimming her eyes but James reaches her before they can fall. She lets him wrap her into his chest, nuzzling her nose into his jersey which smells sweetly of his sweat. 

“So you want to? I mean—will you? Go out with me? In public?”

She looks up from his shirt. A grin has broken through his face like a burst of light. 

“Yeah—I would.” 

He presses his lips to hers, still smiling but hungry for her all the same. The world drops away and she feels their hands start to wrap to familiar places when a long whistle cuts through their small bubble of happiness. 

Sirius now sat on top of the back of the sofa. All of the anger, the sadness, the betrayal he had so woefully lamented about earlier now wiped from his being. Instead, a devious air wafted off of him, grinning with the satisfaction of a mission accomplished. 

“Wow–finally. Godric you two are so thick, at the rate you were going, you would have had a whole litter of children before going to Hogsmeade.” He flashes smirk, swinging his torso back and forth with playful ease.

“Sirius–” James warns, but Sirius’ barking laugh cuts through. 

“When you’re married with little baby Prongs’, I hope you look back on this moment and remember I did this,” he plops his feet on the floor, starting for the dorms. The couple track his movements, now aware they are captives in an elaborate trap. “Also, I expect a glowing account of my acting ability to Remus and Peter. They didn’t think I could pull it off. What tossers—I mean honestly.”

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

tags: merman! gojo x human f!reader, sadness, angst, people growing, signs of aging, topics of death, satoru calling reader his ‘star’ and reader referring to him as ‘moon’, reader has a house by the coast that was her grandmother’s, sad Satoru, I hc’d that in this au mermen can visit every seven years but due to Satoru’s cold features he can visit every year. readers daughter is named kairi (meaning: majestic sea, or song/melody in other cultures).

a/n: guys I don’t like this 😕

You tried to tell your daughter that true love exists. even if the marriage with her father no longer worked out, you swore to gift it through stories, paintings, and artifacts; all related to that white haired individual. the ‘man’ you’ve known for years.

“Every seven years, mermaids return to this coast,” you remember telling your child, now 7, “but some return sooner than most.”

You hold the small bundle of joy between your arms, a white blanket wrapped around her body with embroided seashells along the edges. “she’s three months old, Satoru.”

“she’s so small,” he marvels, in awe as his brows furrow. “they’re that small?”

“they’re smaller before they’re born,” you smile. “but they’re adorable nontheless.” at your side, your acquaintance slightly sighs, turning to you.

“you think ours would’ve looked like that?” there’s a small pang to your heart, feeling as if you’ve betrayed him.

“Satoru,”

“I wasn’t...” he exhales then turns to the sea, “you know what I mean, star.” your heart aches at the name, a bittersweet name he gifted you early on in your relationship.

“are you gonna...?”

“she’ll know about you, some bits when she’s young. But once she’s older... I’ll leave her to decide. I’ll write it all down for her.” at your words, Satoru lets a moment pass, hesitantly bringing up an item in his hands.

“I brought you something,” he says, “I didn’t know... even if it was the last time I’d see you,” there’s almost a pained expression to his voice, eyes avoiding yours as he looks down at your daughter. then, to the ring on your left.

“can I give it to her?” there’s a slow nod.

“of course. she’s a piece of you.”

He returns again when she’s three, awestruck at her growth. you let him carry her, of course you trust him with your life. he treats her with the upmost care as he swims, having her sit on the plain of his back. your daughter giggles. this time, he gifts her a shell shaped like a whistle that actually makes a noise while he gifts you a pair of pearlescent earrings.

On your daughter’s 7th birthday, you notice a scar upon his cheekbone. while your daughter plays along the shore, you turn to cup his cheek. An act of affection you’ve long missed. “you’re still the same as ever,” you whisper, not paying mind to his scar though he makes it well aware how much he hates it.

“you shouldn’t be touching another man,” he almost bitterly reminds you, “you have a husband. I don’t think he’d like you touching someone else.”

“ex-husband,” you correct softly, embarrassment in your cheeks. “we didn’t work out.” there’s a sadness and glimmer to his eyes as he turns to your daughter, watching and overlook so as she won’t slip from a nearby rock. the waves today are calmer than most days.

Your daughter stops visiting him after that. You don’t really know how it happens; if she either grew up too soon or she lost interest, but you write. you paint. for him or her, you mask it as a personal hobby (which it was), you suddenly feel the need to prove something.

Years pass and you’ve grown a few wrinkles along your eyes. body not quite as before, worried he might miss today.

you see satoru’s white head from the distance. It takes him far longer to approach you. you think he might consider you a stranger until he’s close enough for you to call, “moon!” a love name you’ve blessed him by; in honor of the pale skin of his features.

“you’ve grown,” there’s a slight sadness behind his eyes and voice, knowing well that this means another era for you. a reminder that you’re not forever, “but you’re still as beautiful as ever. come here, star.” his arms feel like home. they always have. you’d like to think this is what heaven should be like. the soft, tender kiss against your lips reminds you that maybe there is something to look forward to.

a few years later, you return. a headscarf adorning your top, loose clothing around your figure as this time, you lay low by the rocks. It’s too difficult to climb.

“the doctors think I’ll be okay,” you smile, bony hand clasped with his muscular one. you can tell he’s holding back a sob as he glances at every feature life has thrown at you, as subtle as he tries you can still feel it.

“you’re dying.” he points.

“I still have time,”

“but not enough.” a silence passes between the both of you. you tell him of your daughter.

“I told kairi about you.” you tell him, “I wrote everything down so she’ll know.”

“I don’t think she ever wants to see me.”

“Of course she does,” you gently squeeze his hand, “just give her time, she’s...” you struggle with your words, “grieving.”

“I can’t loose you,” his voice breaks, and you’re afraid to meet his eyes. “I’ve barely had you, it’s not fair.”

“Satoru,” your voice cracks, but remains soft, “I’ve been lucky to have known you...”

“No,” he grits his teeth, “don’t speak in past terms. you’re not dead, star.”

“I promise this won’t be the last time you see me.” you squeeze his hand with what strength you have left, “I’ve moved here, to the house by the coast.” you speak, “I’ll see you everyday if I have to, I won’t go, Satoru.” it takes a lot of reassurance that night for Satoru to be at peace, even though there is no complete peace in knowing the love of your life is dying and you can’t do anything about it, he’s with you every minute he can take. Satoru stays for months, expanding his visit along the waters as it’s nearing winter.

“You should go,” you tell him, “you’ll die if you stay in these cold waters. I’ll be fine.”

There is such reluctance in that conversation from him. His eyes and body betray him, unable to leave you. “No,”

“Satoru, you’ll die.”

“I don’t want you to die.”

“I won’t,” you tell him, “I’ve made it past the time doctors said I’d...” you nod, “I’ll be fine Satoru. It’s just 4 months. I’ll actually die if you don’t go though. Please, go. For your own health.” There’s hurt and hesitance in his eyes, longing and self betrayal in the way he kisses you, though he’s so in love with you by the way he holds you and whispers sweet nothings to your ear. the last thing he does is press a kiss to your forehead before he turns, leaving.

It rains for the first time in 20 years on the beach 26 days later. your daughter sobs that day, looking ahead from the hospital view as she stares out into the ocean.

she doesn’t have the guts to see him (satoru) that year. not daring to step a foot in the sand for a whole entire year. she reads your journals a few months after your death, learning of a man that saved you from another, saving your life. he’s become your rock, she can read. and you write about him in ways that you’ve never expressed about her father. it is then that she realizes that you loved him, or he loved you. likely both sides loved, but she still doesn’t visit the sea.

it is only when she turns 21 that she decides to finally meet the man again. fresh out of a heartbreak, she realizes how excruciatingly painful it is to lose someone you love, reflecting and opting that it is only fair she gives you the news. but she decides to do more.

Satoru recognizes her almost instantly, she looks so much like you in your youth. kairi is almost afraid, holding on to the bag tightly over her shoulder.

She didn’t think her soul could break ever the more when she tells him the news. In front of her, she sees a man who truly loved. who if given the chance to be human, would’ve kissed the ground you walked on, loved you more than her own father. her heart breaks, seeing how someone who held so much love for you had, resulting in the greatest tragedy she’s seen in her 21 years of life.

“She wanted me to give you this,” it’s a waterproof heart necklace with a picture of you on one side and the other is a picture the both of you took. Satoru holds the necklace as if it’s made of glass.

for the remainder of the day, she talks to you as if you would have wanted. showing him a photo album of your life, reflecting on her best memories of you. it is only then when Satoru cries when you pull up a video of you on your birthday.

your daughter learns that Satoru loves videos.

“I remember when you were barely born, you were this small.” he makes a motion with his hands, “you were... so beautiful, your mother loved you.” there’s a sense of sadness yet pride to his words.

“I know she loved you too,” kairi speaks, moments later as she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “she always told me about you when I was little. always pained this beach, even you at times.” your daughter chuckles, “sometimes, even when I was little, I wondered what it’d be like to have you as my dad. the both of you really loved one another. more than my dad.”

and there, there is a piece inside your daughters heart and Satoru’s that slightly mends. the two of them bond their love over you, keeping your memory alive as they meet every year to remember you. both souls uniting, thinking of a life where things would have been possible.

[ashwhowrites]

Could you please write Nancy x fem!Reader? Nancy is with Jonathan, but her and reader happen to share a bed after a party and they end up hooking up because they are both tipsy. The reader is secretly in love with Nancy and in the morning Nancy pretends nothing happened (guilt/ internalised h*mophobia/ just Nancy being canonic Nancy and not very good at feelings/you name it). They go to a diner to haver breakfast with the rest and Nancy is all over Johnathan and reader feels awful because she feels used and because she feels like she betrayed Johnathan's friendship. She pretends she feels sick (she is), leaves, and ghosts Nancy for weeks which bothers Nancy. Maybe having Nancy be jealous too? And how it ends is totally up to you 🙏

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Nothing to talk about

Y/N never thought the day when she woke up naked to her best friend would happen. She had been bearing feelings for Nancy for years, not that she would ever tell her. And even if she wanted to, Nancy was never alone. First, it was Steve and now it was Jonathan.

Y/N didn't have a feeling that her best friend was gay, so the fact that they had drunk sex last night was mind-blowing. Y/N remembered everything, it felt bittersweet. It felt perfect, and she couldn't believe she had Nancy in the way she always wanted. But she also knew, it would have to be talked about and she feared she wouldn't be enough for Nancy to change her mind about Jonathan. Or about guys in general.

Nancy stirred awake, her eyes landing on Y/N, who gave her a timid smile. Nancy could feel the sheets directly on her skin, dawning on her that she wasn't wearing any clothes.

"We need to meet the rest at the diner in ten minutes," Nancy said as she looked at her watch. Y/N frowned, she didn't think that would be the first thing to come out of her mouth.

They got dressed in silence. Even the car ride was silent. Y/N asked if Nancy wanted to talk about it but all she said was,

"there's nothing to talk about. Nothing happened."

That was a big blow to Y/N's heart. She kept her head down as they arrived. She fought back tears as they walked in. The gang was already there, Y/N squeezed in next to Robin and Nancy sat across from her, next to Jonathan.

Nancy and Jonathan had been having issues in their relationship for a while now, so everyone was shocked to see Nancy all over him at breakfast.

She ignored everyone's eyes, kissing Jonathan or talking in his ear. Her hands never left his body. Steve was slightly uncomfortable, having feelings for Nancy and all. Little did he know, he wasn't the only one in that boat.

Y/N was staring as hard at the menu as she could. Ignoring the voice inside her head telling her to look up. But of course, Jonathan didn't know about the tension in the room, talking to Y/N as if they were best friends, because they kinda were.

Y/N tried her best to talk to him, keeping her voice as strong as she could. Whenever she looked at him, all she could see was Nancy's touch all over him. Y/N couldn't explain what she felt, but she is close to labeling it as heartbreak.

She felt ignored and tossed to the side. They were best friends and she wanted to act like nothing happened. The more she thought about it the more she felt the need to cry.

"You okay?" Robin asked, leaning down to whisper in her ear. If anyone understood the pain she was in, it would be Robin. Yet, she didn't want anyone to know.

"I feel a bit sick. Probably hungover. I think I'm going to head home and sleep." Y/N said, which caught the attention of the table. All eyes were on her as she stood up and raced out of the diner.

Everyone began to question what was going on but Nancy couldn't hear a thing. She stared at the empty spot and tried to ignore the way her stomach twisted and how her throat burned.

~~~

Y/N couldn't face Nancy and she was pissed at her for how she was reacting to everything. Two strong reasons why Y/N distanced herself from her.

She could learn to live with the fact that Nancy regretted it, but she couldn't stomach the idea of them acting like nothing happened. What about how Y/N felt about it? What about what she wanted to do about the situation? Why were her feelings not acknowledged?

At first, it was hard to ghost Nancy. Y/N missed her and hated herself for it. She let the phone ring, not bothering to listen to the voicemails. After a while, Nancy gave up on the phone and started showing up at her house. To which Y/N never answered.

The easy part was that Y/N didn't see Nancy every day anyway, they had their own lives and their own jobs. And it was hard to plan anything together when Y/N refused to see her. It was slowly healing her broken heart.

Whereas Nancy was starting to get extremely pissed off. She didn't understand why Y/N was acting the way she was. She didn't think their night together was that big of a deal and they could easily move past that. Nancy felt guilty whenever she was with Jonathan, and she didn't know how to make the feeling go away. And the one person she wanted to talk about it with was ignoring her.

~~~

Nancy's birthday party arrived and Nancy had a gut feeling Y/N would show up. They hadn't talked in weeks and she planned to get to the bottom of it tonight.

Once Nancy landed her eyes on Y/N, she headed right for her. She grabbed the girl's hand and dragged her to her bedroom.

"Jesus!" Y/N groaned, yanking her hand free.

Nancy slammed the door and turned around with anger in her eyes. "Why are you ignoring me?"

"Nance, I don't want to talk about this," Y/N sighed.

"I don't care! I miss my best friend. I've needed my best friend and she's nowhere to be seen."

"Because it's always what you want, Nancy!" Y/N stressed. "You are so selfish and blinded by your own feelings that you forget others can feel shit too."

"What are you talking about?" Nancy scoffed. She didn't react well to being called selfish.

"You need your best friend for what? Bullshit relationship advice? Need help with ideas of how to lie to your boyfriend? What about how I feel, Nancy? What if being your best friend is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do."

Nancy blinked away at her tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was so horrible to be around!" Nancy argued. "But I needed MY FRIEND!"

"I CAN'T BE YOUR FRIEND, NANCY! DON'T YOU GET IT?" Y/N cried, "I can't give you advice about Jonathan because I don't want you to be with him."

"What? Why?" Nancy asked, Jonathan was by far a better boyfriend than Steve.

"Because I want you to be with me," Y/N admitted. She sighed and closed her eyes, her biggest secret was now in the world. She opened her eyes and sniffled. Nancy stood frozen and in shock. "I thought you cared about me," Y/N wept. "You used me and my body and told me it meant nothing. You can lie to Jonathan and look like the perfect girlfriend, but I'm not going to help you."

"Y/N...I...I didn't know," Nancy stuttered.

"How could you know, you never asked."

Nancy deflated in defeat. She was too selfish to see how much she hurt her best friend. She kept making stupid decisions and only cleared her self-consciousness.

"I wish I could say it back," Nancy cried. She sobbed into her hand as she watched Y/N flinch. "I'm so sorry I've been hurting you and wish I felt the way you want me to but I-I love him."

Y/N nodded as she kept back as many sobs as she could.

"I can't be your friend anymore, Nance. It's time I protect myself," Y/N sniffled. She walked over to her and pulled her into a hug. Nancy gripped her tight and let her tears fall.

Y/N pulled away and offered a small smile. "Maybe once I'm healed, I can be a friend again."

"I'd like that," Nancy smiled. She cried as she watched Y/N leave the room.

~~~

Nancy tried to throw herself into Jonathan as much as she could. She hoped it would erase the loss she felt. Y/N was living her life, moving on from Nancy.

Nancy heard from around that Y/N and Robin started seeing each other. Nancy wasn't sure how to take the news but shrugged it off. It was easy to ignore it all, but it hurt like hell when Nancy saw it with her own eyes.

She watched as Y/N held Robin's hand, both lost in their own world. Nancy felt this heat in her chest and her pulse pounding in her ears.

Was she jealous?

And if she was... What the hell did that mean?

[madhatterbri]

Console | N.J.

Summary: Hi, I adore your blog! Could I request a Nick Jackson imagine circa NJPW. 2018 before his and Matt’s match against the Golden Lovers? Maybe Y/N consoles him after their loss of the match and friendship. Maybe fluffy-smutty? Friends to lovers trope, possibly? Thanks so much! 💞

Author's Note: Thank you for the kind words. 🫶 Thanks to supahkixbabe for being a Young Bucks encyclopedia. ❤️

Requested by anon

Nick Jackson Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @smallestsnarkestgirl @bullet-clubs-bitch

Y/N sat in the Young Bucks locker room in silence. The brothers just came back from a match against Kenny Omega and Kota Ibushi. They lost the match, but that wasn't the reason behind their pain. They were mourning the loss of their friendships.

"I, uh, I think I'm gonna go for a walk," Matt announced to the occupants of the room. Before Nick or Y/N could walk, he was out the door. Nick sighed and leaned back on the couch. Y/N sat next to him.

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

He smiled sadly. "All part of the wrestling business,"

Silence took over the room again. She hated seeing them like this, but especially Nick. When their friends betrayed they, he took it the hardest. Her train of thought came to a screeching halt when he decided to talk again.

"You won't leave us, right?"

Y/N shook her head. She couldn't even if she tried. Her crush on the younger Jackson brother wouldn't allow it. A life without the Jackson brothers sounded awful. A life without Nick would be impossible. "I couldn't ever live without you guys,"

"Do we mean that much to you?" He asked hopefully. Nick knew they did, but he had to hear it. Y/N was happy to oblige.

"Of course. I couldn't imagine a life without you... guys," she added quickly. Nick's interest peaked at the hesitation.

"How much do I mean to you?"

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. She side eyed him, hoping that he wouldn't catch her change in behavior. Her stomach tied in knots. A nervous laugh was all she could produce before she found the courage to speak. "Alot, Nicholas,"

Nick smiled, and they looked into each other's eyes. The same blue eyes she would get lost in time and time again. Except this time, they were getting closer to her face. He stopped unsure if this was really happening. To both their shock, Y/N leaned in the rest of the way. Their lips connected for a brief kiss. They pulled away.

"Should we have done that?" Y/N asked nervously. She stood up from the couch. The last thing she wanted to hear was that this was a mistake. A rush feeling on his part because of his current state. "You are going through a lot. I should go find Matt,"

"Don't go, please," he begged. His hand wrapped around her wrist. Nick pulled on it gently to urge her to sit back down. "That was something I've been wanting to do for a while,"

The room felt hotter. She figured it was the thermostat. There is no way the human body can produce this much heat. Y/N sat down a little closer to him this time. More than anything, she wanted this to happen. "I've wanted to do that too,"

“We’ve known each other for so long," Nick started. He licked his lips nervously as he thought of what to say. "I want to be more than friends,”

"Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"What took you so long?"

Their lips locked again. This time, they didn't immediately separate. He cupped her cheek with his hand. Y/N nervously moved to straddle his waist. When he didn't shy away, she felt her confidence grow. With a leg on each side of him, they continued to kiss. His hands gripped her waist before sliding up her shirt. Her hands wrapped around his neck. Her shirt was up to just below her bra before the door opened.

Matt stood there with a wide grin. Y/N blushed and immediately went back to the couch. She adjusted her shirt to cover herself once more. The older Jackson was going to have a field day with this.

"Do I have to give you kids the talk?" He asked. Y/N wished the floor could swallow her. Nick blushed yet had a big grin on his face.

"I think we are okay, Matt," Nick chuckled and kissed Y/N's burning cheek.

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

The Holiday Special and Homecoming

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I’m bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 5.2k

a/n:

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. Happy Holidays to all. Here's my little gift of a few short stories about the holidays in RLW. And yes... finally I have wrapped up the Homecoming story.

I listened to an awful lot of christmas songs while writing this, if anyone is interested I could attach a playlist (The Christmas Song by Nat "King" Cole is a must listen for this).

This is for you @angelofsmalldeath-codeine merry christmas beloved!

Thanksgiving 1977

By the time Andrea begins zipping up her sweater while walking home from school she realizes that perhaps her oh so thrilling friendship with Javier Peña was only a summer thing. On the last sticky day of august he ruffled her hair and joked about her sun freckles. Sitting at the lake’s dock, shoulder to shoulder a thirteen year old Andrea shares an orange with fifteen year old Javier. He tells her, her nose looked like a chocolate chip cookie, god forbid Javier even slightly throws a compliment her way. Andrea balls her hands in fists with a grin when she says thank you, her brother scoffing from the other edge of their lake dock, “He wasn’t complimenting you, you idiot.” He calls with a snort, Genie pinches his arm and he yelps. Javi looks over his tan shoulder at his best friend and laughs along. Her face falls when Javier doesn’t correct Frankie but instead pushes off away from her and runs to the other end and pushes her brother into the murky water with a voice crack laced scream. Andrea and Genie flinch from the splash. She flinches from the weather dropping below sixty, eyes narrow as she walk uphill after being dismissed for thanksgiving break. 

That was the last time she saw Javi. He stopped coming to the house to pick her and Frankie up. Two weeks into seventh grade she noticed how strange it was to not be with him. Everyone in the halls at school were strangers, shit, they hadn't even known she spent the summer crushing on Laredo’s cutest freshman. Andrea tries to practice self control by not bugging Frankie about where the hell his so-called best friend was. That was until of course October when Frankie snatched a piece of gum from Andrea’s bookbag. 

“Where are you going?” She asks, her head lifting from her damn geometry work. Frankie pops the gum in his mouth and shrugs. 

“Homecoming game with Javi.” He says it like its nothing. Her eyes go all needy and in the most little sister voice she begs to come with. Frankie screws up his face, “No. Absolutely not.” 

Andrea slams her pencil down feeling betrayed by her brother who just two months ago let her tag along, every time! 

“Have you been hanging out, like just you guys?” She asks, sounding more whiny than she wanted. 

“Yeah, we hang out every day.” He bends down and tightens the laces to his chucks, his Laredo high school pull string hoodie flopping over his head in the same movement. She remembers her heart sinking at that moment, How dare they leave her out! She stands from the chair, it screeches loud.

“What!”

Frankie laughs and heads out the door with a slam. 

So Andrea learns that, yeah, it's a summer thing.

She rewires her brain to believe it stays that way just because she was the only one still in middle school. But she still finds it beyond strange that she doesn't bump into him, not even once–not until thanksgiving. The Diaz household only celebrated christian holidays and occasionally birthdays, so thanksgiving was just another day. Andrea rolls over in bed after a good late afternoon nap, her eyes falling to her year wide calendar. 49 days until she’s fourteen. She prays she grows some boobs, blurry eyes staring down at the mosquito bites under the t-shirt. 

A knock at her room door has her sat up straight, patting down the wrinkles in her shirt. “Yes!” She calls, eyes wide and cheeks flush.

“It’s Javi.” 

Andrea nearly shrieks at the sound of his voice from behind the door and from the position she had just been in. Up on her feet she hurries to the mirror, “Give me a moment I’m-um-I’m naked.” She blurts, her cheeks heating at her brain's stupid stupid stupid self. Patting her hair in place and slipping on socks, her freckles are long gone. No longer is there a trace of summer on her, what if she was just prettier under the sun. 

 He chuckles behind the door, “Uh-um okay.”

“Come in.” She shouts instead of opening the door for him. She wonders if maybe she looks more grown, her eyes dance to the mirror and polka dot fluffy shorts that stopped mid thigh, nope definitely not. He opens the door and the sight is absolutely delightful. Javier clad in a flannel and jeans, his brows furrowing at her. Lips quirking into a smile and at that moment Andrea realizes this is Javier’s first time in her room. Her cheeks set a blaze, his eyes scan the place, he smiles lazily at a picture of the summer crew taped onto her vanity mirror. “Sorry, I was just changing after a nap.” Half true. Her eyes bounce anywhere but his own, god Andrea could be so obvious sometimes. Have I no shame? 

He frowns, lifting a tin foil plate up, suddenly the smell of Peña fresh pork and rice, and tamales. Andrea’s stomach grumbles cartoonishly and Javier splits into a chuckle. Andrea is utterly gobsmacked at how badly she likes the boy.  Is this what love feels like? Like the sound of their makes her ache, was she too young to feel that hard? She giggles anyway, “Sorry I’m so hungry, let's go to the kitchen.” She tilts her head toward the door and he nods, leading himself out. Shamelessly staring at the nape of his neck as she trails him down the stairs. She has a dangerous thought of her lips pressing right there, that thought freaks her out and she feels her stomach flip. 

“Why are you alone?” Javier asks as he sets down the plate on the kitchen island. Andrea slept off the annoyance she developed from her mother and brothers yearly antics. Each thanksgiving, the two of them, just the two of them, go out to eat. They call it their mother son day of the year, when Andrea was young she was left with her nanny who took it upon herself to take little Andrea to a movie each thanksgiving. But Andrea was no longer little and the tradition continued, so the past 3 thanksgivings had been spent alone. It was routine to her, she wasn't sure if she was ready to understand her mothers ways just yet.

This Thanksgiving fell on Andrea’s fathers birthday, it's all she knew about him. His birthday and name. Lucas, November 24th. One complicated parent a time, she didn’t dwell this thanksgiving but she’d be a liar if she said she hadn't felt like she was on the verge of tears the entire day. 

Andrea peels open the wet aluminum, oh lordy I am thankful, thank you Chucho… for this food, Andrea looks up at Javier who had been staring at her with such contentment, and thank you for making the adonis that watches me now. Grabbing a fork Andrea answers, “My mom does something with Frankie every thanksgiving so I’m left here! God this looks amazing.” She drags her fork at the slab of pork, and it pulls so beautifully she could cry. Javier pulls the plate away from her. “Hey!”

“Is this every thanksgiving?” He asks, shielding the plate with his arm to get her to answer. 

She didn't care, “Yes, now move.” Andrea pinches his wrist and he slowly pulls his hand back to his side. Shoveling the pernil in her mouth with an excited mumble. Javi stays silent for her first few bites, just watching Andrea stuff herself. She was so hungry she couldn't bother looking at him. But then he sits next to her and gets a fork for himself and begins eating off the plate with her. 

Cheeks bulging with arroz con gandules, her eyes brighten and she smiles. “Happy Thanksgiving.” She says with a full mouth, to anyone it would be a gross act but Javier had thought it was the most endearing sight ever.

“Happy thanksgiving Andrea.” 

They eat together in silence.

Javier leaves with his heart beating fast in his chest, his stomach turning in the worst way. He looks at his father in the driver's seat, Chucho rolls down the window. “What took you so long!?”

Javier shook his head, not wanting to risk shouting what he discovered at the lawn of Andrea’s home. He shoots his head over his shoulder to take one more look at the house that contained just Andrea inside. 

Running a hand through his hair, Javier opens his fathers truck door and settles in. That feeling, that hole in his chest still in full effect.  “Andrea spends every thanksgiving alone.” He says it, his chest rises and falls. Andrea spends every thanksgiving alone.

Thanksgiving 1979

Andrea spends it alone again. Javier sat with his uncle, and dad in Houston, feeling awful homesick. Javier filled out the scholarship to the High School of Law and Justice in March and got free tuition for the upcoming year in late August, he had no time to really tell Andrea. Chucho traveled north for the holidays. Cooking for his helpless little brother who had Javier living off cafeteria lunch and ramen. The house smelled delightful and it truly felt like the holidays, even if he wasn't really home. During grace, with his hand resting on his fathers shoulder, in a warm room filled with home cooked food and love, he realizes she’s likely napping again. Probably sleeping to fizzle out hunger and loneliness.

Javi struggles to enjoy his food.

Homecoming 1979

Homecoming sure felt like a holiday in Laredo, at least within the halls of the school. The week had been full of underage drinking each night, pranks, and defacing the rival schools flag. Andrea couldn’t be bothered with the festivities, she just cared that senior Brian Flores who asked her to the dance. Now she could use this as an excuse to be pretty and maybe, maybe get her first kiss. She attended the game, and met Lorraine face to face for the very first time. Andrea attempted to bite back the jealousy buttering her tongue, and she surely took it out on Javier when he asked to talk after the game. Asking her all these questions that made her feel, for just a second, that he wants to be near her as much as she wants to be near him. 

Then he called her kid, and Andrea felt winded at the blow. 

“Next time I’ll think twice before I invite my best friend's kid sister to hang out. I apologize for trying to be polite and include you, god knows you used to whine about being left out.” 

Javi had distracted her from the handsome boy clad in shoulder pads who asked if she was okay, she couldn't even bask in the feeling because immediately Javier switched to protector mode. With a furrowed brow his eyes darted from Andrea to the grown man attempting to court her, and oh it settled something deep in his stomach he was unprepared to talk about. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“What do you mean?”

After a mini tangent and a few curses about him being far too old for her, Javi in a fit of protectiveness asked Andrea just to go with him. His brain completely abandons the thought of his unofficial girlfriend Lorraine. When he watches Andrea’s eyes twinkle for one second, he is reminded of the girl he had spent the last few weeks witj and the feelings he truly felt for the Lor. He wanted to be Lorraine’s boyfriend, he was tired of sneaking around–homecoming would have been his perfect opportunity to just go steady with the girl he had a crush on. 

 “Please stop acting like you care, I don't feel left out anymore. I have my own friends and life now. You guys only had me around because my mom made you, cus’ i couldn't make friends but obviously-Obviously I’m doing better now, so just please leave me alone” With that all thoughts of anyone but Andrea clears, only panic fills his chest when he watches someone who had never been upset with him, someone who had always been eager to spend time with, reminds him that things have changed and she becomes someone who wants to be left alone. 

Andrea heads home and sleeps well, she glances over at the dress she picked out and strangely the twisting jealousy and betrayal she felt from Javier fizzled at the thought of being appreciated by someone who actually likes her. Not so bad for a freshman, she thinks. She dozes off and dreams of Javier. She dreams she accepts his invite–even if it was offered in a white hot moment. In her brain she wears something entirely different and dances with him in their school gym. It’s decorated much more beautifully than she anticipated, but her brain paints it perfect just for them. Javier doesn’t make a move on her the entire night of the dance, it wasn’t his style. When the two decide it’s time to go, he kisses her gently and slowly against the brick walls of the gymnasium. Heart in her throat, she grips to the lapels of his blazer, pointing her foot in a beautiful disney first kiss. What a lovely dream it was, maybe that’s why she feels well rested the next day. 

She gets ready with an empty house, Frankie spent the night at Genie’s, again, a photo of Sharon Tate taped to her mirror. Eyes squinted as she messes up with powdered eyeliner for the… eighth time. The guitar riff in Marmalade’s I See the Rain bouncing off the walls of her bedroom. She pats down the wrinkles on the pale yellow dress. Her chest still not quite filling the thing but the built in lace shawl like jacket covers her modestly. Melissa had found too many of the short dresses too grown for a freshman. Andrea’s eyes flick up to her own, then down to her lips. She liked those, pinching her lips together her eyes narrow attempting to give her reflection a sexy pre kiss smolder. Her nose turns up in a cringe. Stomach flipping, will Brian kiss with tongue? He’s seventeen, god, he will for sure. Her eyes survey the room, she is alone… her mom got out of work at 9 pm. Frankie had no intention of coming home until tomorrow.

Screw it.

Andrea bunches her hand, her thumb lapping her pointer. She brings her hand to her lips and attempts to emulate what she thinks a kiss should look like. Her eyes close for just a moment when she feels a rhythm that feels right, hmm this doesn't seem too bad. Hopefully his breath doesn't smell like punch–

“Andrea-what the fu-”

She squeals at the top of her lungs when her eyes fall on a hurried suit clad Javier. Her wet hand is covered in Avon’s ripe cherry lipstick. “Ah! Oh my god.” It's her worst nightmare, her none kissed hand wiping the other while Javier stares with confusion and a hint of amusement. “What-how-why–how did you get in here?!” She yells, jumping to her feet. Javier tugs at his bow tie and stares at her hand for a moment, eliciting an ahem from her throat. His cheeks hint a blush. 

“Door was unlocked.” He stated flatly. Andrea blinks a few times, her lashes still wet with mascara, was he really here or had she kept dreaming.

He was just as nervous, as he got ready in the morning he wavered his options. He goes to homecoming and tells her while she’s there with her prick of a date, he tells her everything. He shook his head at that, he knew that could be a mess, it could create a scene. Javier crossed that off the list, he thought of just calling, he let that idea go too. As he crouched down to tighten his dress shoes his eyes caught a glimpse of the dusty space below his dresser, a white border poking out into view.

Javier leaned forward and pulled the thing out from under his dresser. There Andrea is, her hair long and braided, her classic teal bike to her left. To her right is Javi with his arm slung over her shoulders. With a sting in his eye and heart beating in his throat, Javier ran all the way to her, to Andrea. 

So without warning to Lorraine, Javier lays it all out. 

“You can't go to homecoming.” 

Andrea rolls her eyes, “Javi I’m tired of this weird protector complex you’ve developed, but I’m fifteen now I-”

“I won't let you go because that douchebag is being paid to take you, being paid double if he kisses you and triple if he fucks you.” He says it so rushed, just to get her to zip it. He saves Andrea in a sense, she was ready to spill some cliche lines that will have her cringing in t-minus six hours. The urgency was useful only in that facet, because then it hist Andrea all at once. Her eyes fall to the floor, heart dancing in her chest. How could I have been so blind. She knew of the senior bucket list, she knew, yet–

“Oh.” Her eyes screw shut for a moment, really hoping this was a dream. My god was she humiliated. She bought a dress, taped magazine clippings, painted her nails, kissed her hand and pushed Javier away for nothing. For someone to plan to use her for a checkmark on a list, she felt like a total idiot. Javi must think I look so stupid, Andrea thinks. Here in the middle of her room practicing kissing in an over priced dress. And despite her efforts to prove to Javi that she is in fact mature and strong and no longer in need of acceptance, her chin begins to quiver in the same way it did when she was just a kid. Her eyes blurry, she doesn’t even realize Javier is walking over to her with a soft pleading voice. Makeup ruined already, his hand grips her shoulder and instinctively she reaches out to grip his wrist. He’s frantically trying to get her stop crying but she just felt so embarrassed, crying is the only thing distracting from that pain in her chest. He’s whispering promises, 

Andrea please stop crying

I’ll stay here or-or we can go together 

We can stay in—watch something

We can egg his car—please stop crying. 

Shaking her head, her fingers dig into his wrist and he takes it as a sign to gather her up. Pulling Andrea into his chest, she knows her mascara tears must be staining his tux yet he couldn’t seem to care. The ache in his own chest settling the second he flattens a hand on the back of her head. Cheek resting on the top of her head. Andrea leans her entire body weight into the embrace, absolutely exhausted of being the joke, of being a pawn. Tired of being behind and naive. Javier tucks her head below his chin, resting on the top of her head. And oh boy is he in trouble because he hadn't thought of Lorraine, not even once. 

Despite the circles she’s talked herself into about her need to be self reliant—god did it feel good to just be hugged. 

With a squeeze to Andrea’s hip she pulls back, her eyes in all their raccoon glory, somehow she was still so beautiful. "Let’s go downstairs and watch something. Then we can flip through the yellow pages and sign the bastard up for the most incessant and embarrassing subscription with his home phone. How does Cat Scratch sex line sound?” Javier suggests. Just there, she feels it again, Am I too young to feel this much?

Through tears and smudged makeup, her lips quirk at its corners. 

“Okay.”

Christmas 1979

Christmas at the Diaz house wasn’t actually so bad. On the eve of christmas Melissa sets out all of the presents she’s bought her kids, then in the corner of her room lays a second pile of gifts for the people of Laredo that she’s made her family. Then she dresses her children, yes, even at their old age, in outfits she bought. The three take a drive to their church’s party and it goes the same way each year. The Smithfield’s lead a prayer, they play their mix of american christmas classics and spanish ones, then they regret serving alcohol at their christmas party. 

Two days before the party half of their christmas lights fall and in a fit of anger Melissa calls over Chucho to bring his latter and fix the damn thing. It must be genetic because when the Diaz women call, the Peña men come running. To Andrea’s surprise Javier shows up with his father. The group of friends watch the disaster that is Melissa Diaz with Holiday anxiety. 

Melissa stands at the foot of a ladder while Chucho puts up her lights. “A la derecha!” She yells from below, Frankie, Javier and Andrea sit on the lawn watching in amusement. It was chillier, a low fifty, it became Andreas' excuse to wear her lacrosse sweatshirt. Her brother and Javier joke about something that happened in school, something she didn’t witness. So she picks at the grass surrounding her and looks off at the two geezers arguing with each other in Spanish. Nat King Cole and Celia Cruz blasting from inside their house, windows open and in the December sunset their christmas tree twinkles beyond the window. 

Andrea decides maybe she likes Christmas with her family, with this family. 

She decides to take that statement back when her mother forces her to run the boutique from opening till closing on Christmas eve. Andrea stands behind the cash register wearing a headband with twirly attachments that jingled with each slight movement. If she hears happy holidays one more time she’ll kill Santa Claus herself. So it’s safe to say that when she locks up shop with a daily sale of five thousand dollars, she couldn’t be bothered with seeing half of Laredo in the church basement. 

Somehow Andrea finds herself in a stockings and a puffy green dress. She is half asleep by the time she spots the black leather couch at the farthest corner of the large basement. The basement of Los Tres Reyes church was the home of many parties. Many that could be considered non-fitting for a church but to most it was simply just a venue. Considering Lorraine’s father was the english mass pastor and his daughter was the most admired girl at the school, Mr. Smithfield held the Laredo Christmas party-invite only. Contrary to most parties at Los Tres Reyes, the Smithfield Christmas extravaganza (nice dresses and day drinking) was exclusive in Laredo terms. 

Lorraine was suited in the prettiest outfit in the room. Too fashionable for this town, plaid flared pants and a cashmere turtleneck. Andrea wants to groan at the silly dress her mom forced her into… and she was so tired. The party began to fill with the most prestigious faces of town, mostly store owners and Lorraine’s friends. Flashes fake smiles at each wave and struggling to stay awake the second she sits down. The familiar crunch of the couch with the sound of the tool of her skirt created a new strange ear splitting sound that has Andrea cringing. Legs crossed she wondered how many feet of tinsel they used for the ceiling. 

Fleshy nylon rubbing together with each leg-crossed readjustment. God she wished she had a magazine or something to not look so socially awkward in a setting like this. Deep inside Andrea was praying for Monica or Liandra to show up and save the day. She knew Javier was on his way, she knew she couldn’t bear the sight of the couple, especially how romantic it is to spend Christmas with your girlfriend’s family. Frankie was talking off Genie’s dad’s ear while nursing a beer. 

With the Ronetts playing on speaker and the bustling chatter, Andrea finds it awfully easy to drift off. Head falling back against the rest of the sofa. 

“My god she’s really sleeping.” Melissa whispers to Chucho about nearly four hours into the party. Eleven pm, nearly Christmas day. “Señor dame fuerza…” Her head falls into her hands while Chucho watches Andreas' fully laid out body in amusement. Her flats fully kicked off and her cheek squished to the leather. 

The Peñas arrive quite late to the party. Lorraine dragged Javier to the church bathroom to scold him for embarrassing her. He kissed her hoping it’ll soften her up but she slapped his arm instead. “Don’t be mad please.” He pleads as she opens the restroom door. Lorraine looks over her shoulder with a frown. 

With a snapping attitude and sarcasm, “Nice sweater.” 

Javier looks down at the thing, his face softening at the sight of his own sweater that his uncle knitted himself. It’s a thick gray cable knit sweater. For a moment Javier wonders why he lets these things slide from Lorraine, just a few weeks before he nearly broke it off after her intrusive suggestion on how to get over his mothers absence. 

Javi decides he’ll just drink tonight. 

With his hands shoved in his nice jeans, the pants Chucho bought two years ago for him to be forced into every holiday. His keys in his back pocket jangling as he walks down the stairs to a slowly dying party as the night closes. The lights around twinkling and the smell of clove and cinnamon filling his nose. He passes two girls in Lorraine’s friend group, Hilda and Diana. “Do you think she’s drunk?”

“I don’t know, but it’s tragic.” Hilda giggles, sipping her beer. Both their eyes planted on Andrea, in all her Christmas tree glory. Surrounded by her large green dress, socked feet curled and the most peaceful face he’s ever seen. His brows knit together, it was unlike her to fall asleep in a place like this. He shoots a glare over at the two girls and walks straight past them, straight to her. He grabs a cracker crown from one of the tables. Ignoring Lorraine’s call as he makes his way next to Andrea.

For a moment he feels watched, a bit insecure as he surveys the room as people pretend to not stare at the two. He frowns before wrapping his hand around her ankle and shaking her awake. She stirs slightly but just furthers herself into comfortability. He drops his head in an endearing smile. “Andrea.” He calls to her and she jolts at the sound of his voice.

Her smooth nylon clad feet brushing over his lap, causing a flip in his stomach. Something stranger happens in his christmas jeans.  “Oh!” She chirped, wiping her mouth clean of drool. “Javi!” 

“Andrea.” He laughs moving her small feet from his lap. Leaning forward and placing the gold crown on her disheveled hair. She giggles slightly, and blinks her eyes into full awareness. 

“Did I really fall asleep? What time is it?” She flattens her shimmery skirt. He just knows Melissa picked out the dress. He remembers the second summer they spent together, when her style changed completely. He knew she got her mother to back off on the kids catalogs, it seemed she still held higher ground when it came to christmas attire. Despite the forest pooling her body, to him she might have been the prettiest girl in the room, he should ask Santa Claus for a smack upside his head because the selfish thought came quickly and stuck like glue. Her shimmering eyes glance at the clock, fifteen to twelve. “Jesus!” She slaps her hand over her mouth at the decision to call the man out on his name, on his birthday and in a church. “I slept for so long.”

Javier chuckles a hearty laugh, “Yeah, decided to save you some embarrassment, you got quite comfortable.” His eyes fall to her feet. She burns mistletoe bow red and shoves them back into her flats. Still sitting up straight tenser than ever, and it aches his chest. He had her over just a week before, they joked around together in his house over dinner–he invited her to New Years at the bar. Two months before that the two sat awfully close on her couch watching Star Wars: A New Hope and signing up her one time homecoming date to awfully embarrassing subscriptions, using different personas and voices on the phone. Yet here, under everyone's surveillance she sat uptight and all frowning like she was afraid of being under the gaze of others. That drove him a bit crazy, she was his best friend too, hadn't she known?

Silence falls between them for a moment as he nurses his beer and she looks off, her mind running wild.

“You treat me differently when it’s not summer.” He blurts, bringing his drink to his lips. He knows why, he knows deep inside. Their summers together were organic, devoid of outside influences. She could just exist as Andrea, his Andrea. In summer she could just fall asleep on a couch and not have to worry about judging eyes. She could crush on Javier without guilt and restraint. He could call her pretty and not feel like the entire world is watching, prepared to scrutinize him. It was warm, it was easy to be close to one another, easy to ignore what others felt about them. Summers were just for them. It stirred something devastating in the cavity of his chest at the sight of her in a sweaty dress, with her hair done up and perfect posture. It wasn't her, it wasn't like her to be so afraid of him. 

Her lips quirk in a polite fake smile, as her eyes survey the room. She’s extremely aware of the eyes on the two of them. Javier’s jaw clenched at the sight of Andrea of all people being fake to him. She clears her throat like he asked her a scandalous question. Then she turns to him all at once and he swears under her makeup he sees a hint of the freckles that deepen under the Texas sun, and her features fall all sincere, like he’s the only person in the room. 

And she whispers, “Well maybe I don’t know how to be your friend in the winter.” Her eyes drop and her forehead forms that tiny crease of worry between painted brows. Javier’s stomach pits and maybe the holidays made him feel sentimental, maybe he’s afraid that being in the same school will somehow create a wedge in something he cherishes so deeply, maybe he feels like strangely time is running out. Perhaps he regrets meeting Lorraine at this time. It’s something about being surrounded by love, warmth and home cooked meals. Something about the sounds of chimes, organs and jingle bells in the music filling the air. Something about spending Christmas eve next to Andrea Diaz, something about not being able to kiss her under the mistletoe. Maybe because it actually snowed in Texas this Christmas, small flurries that didn’t stick–but snow nonetheless. He’s never had the urge to before but her, in front of him, at this time, with those eyes–he wonders what he’s doing wrong. 

With his heart in his throat he can only muster out one thing. 

“Merry Christmas.”

Christmas 1980-85

Houston isn't home. The holidays become a brain splitting headache he ignores for years to come. He's no longer seventeen. He had one holiday with her, and it wasn’t really with her, yet he can't imagine having one without her.

What a scary feeling.

[donotpush]

Birth Advent Calendar 22 - Day 2

Linda shifted. By her side, her husband seemed absorbed in Pastor's Jeff discourse.

Her lips hurt from how hard she was biting them.

If being overdue and pregnant in summer was hard enough, being overdue, heavily pregnant and in labor in a church with no AC was the true hell she would heard talk about in church.

An awful night of sleep followed by an uncomfortable morning with an aching back didn't keep her from going to church, like every Sunday. She thought maybe it was just summer and pregnancy, maybe those weren't contractions.

Now she was more than sure.

But so she did put on one of her last sundresses that still fit and got into the cramped and awful car.

The pastor was preaching about sin and sinners, and Linda was only half listening to the words and half staring at the time on her watch. Inside her, there was a hope that she could finish listening to the sermon and head to the hospital, or at least somewhere where she could somewhat give birth in a more decent place.

God, even her car seemed like a better idea than the church.

She tried to remain straight in the bank, to remain still and to focus all her devoted attention on the Pastor's words, but the weight of her baby getting lower and lower on her hips was quite distracting.

Her hands left the bible to reach under her gravid, contracting, belly, breathing through her nose as she rubbed.

Cheating wasn't technically a sin, lust was. Pastor Jeff tested her faith, and she failed.

She had a moment of weakness, betraying her marriage and her family, and now the consequences of her actions was hanging low and tight in front of her and between her legs.

Linda was completely sure that Pastor Jeff knew what was going on—since the moment she started to show his eyes couldn't leave her body, he grew even more fond and protective of her.

No one questioned her when she stayed at the church for hours, always with some excuse at hand, and when she announced it, everyone congratulated her husband.

They should have congratulated Pastor Jeff.

"Oh, Lord…" Linda whined lowly, moving her hips forward as another contraction took over her.

By her side, her husband shot her a side glance. His hand moved to her thigh, gripping harshly to keep her still.

"Honey…" leaning against his ear, Linda breathed through gritted teeth, "I think we should head to the hospital now."

Her husband's grip on her leg tightened, and he didn't even bother to turn to face her when he spoke. "We'll leave when the sermon is done."

"But…"

"We'll leave when the sermon is done."

Sweat dripped down her back, and she was sure Jeff knew what was going on. The Pastor's eyes moved from the bible in front of him to her huge belly, staying there more than necessary, before they travelled to meet with her husband.

Linda was sure both men shared a sneaky smirk.

***

Thank God she was at the very front because the wet patch that stained her sundress and the amniotic fluid that dropped down her legs would definitely get some raised eyebrows from the church ladies.

Linda held a moan, forcing her legs to press against each other tightly. The baby's head was coming down her birth canal fast and surely.

Every contraction made her feel so nauseous and she had to clench her teeth to stop herself from screaming. There was a primal urge to push forming in the back of her mind that she wasn't so sure how much more she could ignore.

"And now...." Pastor Jeff said loudly, smiling at Linda's discomfort, but Linda didn't smile back.

"Thank God it's over..." Linda muttered to herself.

"... I want to invite one of our oldest members, Gladys, to come up here and share some words" Pastor Jeff continued.

The pastor turned around, nodding for Gladys to start.

Breathing through her mouth, trying to calm down, Linda stared as Gladys made her way to the front, slow as fuck, the better she could with her cane.

Good Lord, this was gonna last forever.

***

"God is very serious about adultery" Pastor Jeff began, again. He paused, turning to look at Linda.

Her cheeks reddened. Both, because she was embarrassed by what they'd done, and because she was trying not to push.

A sharp pain hit her lower back and suddenly she was hunched over, holding her gravid stomach.

The baby was so low that it felt like it was about to be out of her any second. She didn't want that.

Her husband's hand gripped her arm, forcing her to sit upright again. Linda tried to close her legs again, moving a hand under her dress and into her panties.

Her fingers felt the baby's head as soon as she got there, stretching her lips. She hid a gasp, pressing her palm against her pussy to keep the head in place.

She couldn't give birth, not here, not now!

"Fuck!" She moaned as the head spread her lips, even more, threatening to come to a full crown.

Everyone turned to stare at her, giving her questioning glances. That baby was coming, no matter how much she tried to keep it from happening.

"Good God…!" She cried, feeling the head coming out against her hand.

With a scream, shutting her eyes and gripping at the bible in her hands, Linda pushed. The head came to a full crown into her panties, making Linda's leg shake as she pushed her hips forward, allowing herself to push.

Her head shook between Pastor Jeff and her husband in desperation, and she saw the lust in Pastor Jeff's eyes and the indifference in her husband's.

"Adam… help me, damn…!" She shouted, her body pushing against her wishes, the head still sliding into her panties.

"God takes cheating very seriously, Linda," Pastor Jeff continued, staring directly at her this time.

As much as she tried not to push, to no avail, her body was pushing with every contraction and the baby's head was suddenly out.

She couldn't hear his next words, using all her focus to pull her panties down and push.

"I think that you have learned your lesson this time. Next time, try to remain far away from those satanic practices!"

Linda heard the words and then she buckled her hips forward, moving down to a squat on the floor. The shoulders came out with a gush of fluid.

"Ughn... God!" Linda grunted, closing her eyes shut and pushing.

Under the shared smirk of her husband and Pastor Jeff, and the horrified gaze of the rest of the church, Linda screamed her baby out, saying in vain the name of the Lord many times.

[moosethren]

Well, I'm throwing one drabble out there.

Post Dead Money, taking place during FNV in general.

If you want tiny more details about Ash in her Fallout verse, I got a new carrd for her.

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

Ash’s memories of her departure from the Sierra Madre had been hazy at best. Flickers of images and sounds was all that remained, along with the pain and fear. To feel anything but horrified after what had happened in that god awful place would have been a miracle. But the missing memories unsettled her. She had managed to piece together a somewhat coherent thread of events by now. After weeks of trying. After weeks of resting up in the Lucky 38, watching her body slowly fall apart from the radiation. 

The nausea, the aches and the feeling of her skin burning had been edged into her very being by now. It had haunted her ever since her first step back into the freedom outside the villa gates. A first step that had led to two days of walking, in a haze. Until her body couldn’t carry her anymore and she remembered collapsing against a rock and then the ground. 

Taste of blood in her mouth. The sight of the red liquid dripping to the ground where she had managed to land on her hands and knees. The sharp, hollow sting of fear from back then still shot through her as she thought back on it. She didn’t know how long she had been like that. Only that the next memory was of her lying on her stomach instead. 

And then that god awful sight. Something humanoid, with large, black eyes had approached her. Its face like that of a gasmask. A primal fear had struck her, something she had only felt a long time ago when she had been cornered by the damn deathclaws. Blinking against the silhouette with the sun behind their back, she knew she was done for. There were no fighting ghost people in her condition.

Despite collapsed to the ground, she had drawn her pistol. But her body had betrayed her; her arm had trembled and the weapon had slipped out of her grasp. Falling harmlessly back to the ground. The figure had kept approaching, forcing her to clear her head and mustering the will to move again. A black fog had been closing in around the edges of her vision. 

She must have looked half dead, resting her head against her stretched out arm, her hand having managed to wrap around the pistol again. A shoe had pressed down on the weapon and her hand.

A gravelly male voice had spoken above her. “Oh, trust me. I’m the last person you want to shoot…”

Even to this day, she struggled to recall the voice. Only that it was somehow familiar. Her memories were the most shattered after that. A campfire. Someone carrying her. Sometimes dragging her. Intense pain. That same familiar voice talking to her; words she couldn’t recall. Everything after that became an even greater blur of hazy memories until only blackness remained.

What she recalled next was waking up in the Lucky 38 a few weeks ago, confused and in pain but alive. Raul had been by her side and while he could answer some things, like for how long she had been out, he hadn’t been able to answer the most pressing one. How she had even reached the Lucky 38. All he knew was that someone had dropped her off by Victor and the securitron hadn't been very forthcoming with any descriptions.

His answer had been almost forgotten in an instance, once Ash realised what had happened to her. Waking up not knowing how you had even ended up back home was one thing. Waking up to realising that your entire physical being had changed was a whole other. Raul had watched with a grimace as Ash had stared at her bluish, ghoul looking hands.

How she had run them through what remained of her hair.

How she had run to the nearest mirror, staring at the hollowed out face that stared back at her.

How she had screamed in anguish before huddling up on the floor, her arms wrapped over her head.

Only Raul's arm over her shoulder and Rex's wet nose against her hand managed to bring her back enough to focus on his voice. That it wasn't as bad as it seemed. Look at him, he had managed two hundred years as a ghoul. She'd power through this, like everything else she had. That she should take her time to accept what had happened. She didn’t know if she could.

***

Days later, seeing New Vegas' lights and people again after being cooped up inside the Lucky 38 did wonders for Ash's mood. Even if the Ranger helmet she wore turned everything a yellow tint thanks to the visor. She’d have to get used to that. People on the Strip knew who she was. The Ranger with the golden wings on her coat and the long feather on her helmet. Mr. House's agent. That position came with respect and power, both from the visitors and the casino owners. Nowadays though... she couldn't help but wonder how much that'd change if she ever took her helmet off in public now.

Mr. House himself didn't care too much about her new ailment. For one thing, she had already delivered the chip and started up his securitron army under the Fort. Secondly, knowing she'd live much longer than any regular human was of a big interest to him. From what she had gathered of her short conversation with him earlier in the day; as long as she could still perform her duties, he didn't care what she looked like.

Random people would though. She of all people knew very well how others - smoothskins - saw ghouls. She'd heard enough stories from both Raul and Lambert to know that her presence would forever be met with disdain at best now. She was prepared for a rough time ahead… and trying to hide forever, would be pointless. 

Ash knew of one place that would welcome her with open arms, no matter what. The Tops. Specifically, the Aces theatre. After how much she had helped Tommy find all his acts in there, the man owed her big. And him having hired a ghoul meant he wouldn't look twice at her. Beyond realising what she had become. Not that she intended to just walk in there and rip off the helmet anyway.

The Aces theatre seemed busier than ever, once she stepped inside and saw all the people in there. It wasn't what she had hoped for. It didn't inspire her to dress down, that's for sure. Not even when Tommy approached her, his arms held out to the sides for an incoming embrace.

"Ash! It's been ages!"

She reluctantly returned the welcoming hug, putting an arm's distance between them afterwards. He looked as tidied up as ever. Even his eyepatch contained a few fresh stitches and leather.

"It has," she agreed, her voice sorrowful. She had missed this place more than she thought. Listening to the artists was one of her favourite pastimes.

"You haven’t been seeing another theatre have you?” His feigned glare quickly turned into a mischievous grin. “I kid, I kid! I know you wouldn’t do that. Come come," Tommy urged her on, gesturing for her to sit down by one of the tables. As she sat down, he snapped his fingers towards one of the bartenders. Within the minute, a bartender came over with a glass of wine, Tommy sitting down across her now.

"Your favourite," he proudly winked.

Ash's fingers danced along the wine glass' foot, hesitating. "Thank you but… I can’t drink this.”

“Oh? Changed tastes?”

“Something… happened while I was away. Let’s just say, I don’t want to take off the helmet right now…”

He gave her an intrigued look, before his face softened. “I see. I assure you, no one here will care if you’re sporting a new scar or something.”

"I wish it was that simple."

"Well. Suit yourself, baby. More for me then. But you might change your mind after the next performance."

Ash tilted her helmet to the side, a little confused. He only let out a pleased laugh at that, holding her wineglass in his hand now; swirling the contents inside gleefully.

"Oh, you'll see. You've been away for so long that you've probably not heard about my new performer. My most popular act as of yet. And even more curious, he's specifically asked for you multiple times."

"Me?" Ash eyes immediately began to travel across the scene before them, as music started to play. Tommy leaned back in his seat, tenting his fingers in his lap with the glass forgotten on the table. The patrons broke out into a cheer when the suit-clad ghoul with sunglasses stepped out on the scene, giving them all a smug wave. He took to the scene like he had done it a million times, putting his voice into action.

Ash was staring in bewilderment under her helmet, leaning forward as if that'd help her understand the situation better. What was Dean Domino doing in New Vegas? How had he even reached the city? Let alone know where it was in this new world?

Something fell into place in her mind, forcing her to press her hand against the side of her helmet. A memory flickered across her eyes. A voice from somewhere in the darkness that had been the last month. No, that couldn't be... suddenly it felt as if it made sense that he was here. Like she should know he had been in New Vegas all this time.

Shaking her head, she looked back at the stage, catching Dean's gaze her way, despite the dark glasses on his face.

"I do wonder why he's been asking for you though," Tommy interrupted their shared gaze, as Ash quickly turned to look at him. Dean's voice was filling the room, something that had always distracted her. He had always been an asshole but she couldn't deny he had the vocals to enrapture a whole room. She wasn't immune to it either. Something she disliked.

Tommy shrugged at his own question, taking a sip from the wine. "Ah, but that's not my business. Enjoy, enjoy. I'm sure you'll have plenty to talk about afterwards." He stood up, leaving her alone at the table. Her fingers slowly tapped against the surface of it, her attention fixed on Dean now.

While they had parted on relatively good terms back in the Madre, the circumstances had been very different compared to now. The bomb collars for one thing, had forced an amicable cooperation between them and the others. She had quickly learned that Dean was a ruthless survivor the moment she had arrived in the Sierra Madre. Then she learned just how far he had gone to achieve his goals.

What he had done to Christine had been highly questionable at best, even if Christine herself had understood the reasons behind it. And without his interference, they would never have been able to reach the Vault in the first place. They wouldn't have been able to escape Elijah's clutches. And the scheming from already before the war...

Dean was a dangerous man and having him in New Vegas should make her more uneasy than intrigued. She hated that he managed to provoke both feelings out of her. She needed to know what he wanted from her, what his future plans were, especially if they were going to be living in the same city.

Ash quickly recoiled from the thought, leaning back in her seat. His interest in her couldn't possibly be good. She was Mr. House's closest agent at the moment. The Courier allowed into the Lucky 38. If he sought a new casino to break into, he'd find himself at a loss there. No amount of bribing or scheming would make her give up the Lucky 38's secrets to him.

She didn't know for how long she sat there, thinking, as Dean sang song after song. Until his performance ended and he offered the audience a polite bow. Tommy was quick to take to the stage, thanking Dean for his performance before turning to the audience.

Ash's eyes remained on Dean behind the helmet. She saw him about to enter the backstage area, pulling apart the curtain there. When he paused and looked back at her. He crooked a finger for her to follow, making her let out a frustrated groan. She reluctantly stood up, wondering what rumours would brew from this, as she complied.

Once she entered the corridor, she spotted him in it, walking down it with his hands behind his back. Smug prick already assumed she would have followed his command. And he wasn't wrong, she realised with a sigh. She caught up and followed him into what she assumed was his stage room.

Dean immediately sat down in one of the comfortable chairs in front of the dresser and mirror, lighting up a cigarette per his usual habit.

"Sit, please," he offered her, gesturing for one of the other chairs. Ash stood staring at him for a moment before she leaned down to check underneath the chair. She'd played this game with him once already.

"Relax. This isn't the Sierra Madre," he drawled patiently. "I've no need for explosives in here. Probably couldn’t get them past the brutes by the door anyway.”

Ash scoffed, but sat down, pressing her arms over her chest. "How did you even find Vegas, Dean? When did you show up here?"

Dean's brow rose. "You really don't remember anything?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She felt her breath almost catching in her throat. That wasn't what she had expected to hear. How did he know about that? Dean chuckled now, relaxing in his seat and studying the cigarette in his hand.

"My dear, I knew where New Vegas was because I followed your little device's map." He pointed towards her Pip-Boy. "How else do you think you reached the city at all in your state after the Sierra Madre?" The silence that fell after his words was thick enough to cut a knife through. Ash couldn't believe her ears. She searched what little she did remember the last month and the brief flickers of someone being there all along... could it really have been him?

"You're lying." Her tone was sharp, unable to accept the truth. "Why would you bother bringing me here at all, why take such a risk? I remember feeling very ill, and I know I fell unconscious at least once -"

" - Once is quite the understatement..."

"You can't possibly have carried me all the way to New Vegas, Dean!"

"I swear, you didn't doubt me this much back in the Madre, partner. You were somewhat awake most of the time, where supporting you was quite enough. I did carry you occasionally. Took a few days... the robots let me through the gates of the Strip when they realised who I was dragging along. They directed me to the Lucky 38 and the doorman there."

"But why? Why go through all that trouble?"

His irritation at her questions was growing visible and his tone became terse. "Does it matter? I brought you back to your home. I'm detecting very little gratitude here. I could have just left you there, you know. Keeping away the... overgrown rats and the... hm, feral ghouls, as I learned they're called once I came here, wasn't too easy, let me tell you that."

Ash wished her helmet was off, so she could have rubbed her temples. "I got to know you pretty well back there, Dean. You don't help people out of the kindness of your heart."

"Maybe you rubbed off on me."

"Fine. Let’s…  let's pretend I believe that. You reached New Vegas, dropped me off at the Lucky 38 and then you just, what, waltzed in here?"

"You forget, Ash, that I was here long before you were. The Tops was a well known establishment already before the war. Seemed reasonable to investigate it first. I introduced myself, Tommy heard the word and voila... I secured both a crowd and money. And this crowd isn't as likely to kill me as the ghost people were."

Ash made a visible shudder. The less reminders she got of the ghost people, the better.

"So you have done nothing but gain since you left the Sierra Madre. How ironic, I suppose," she admitted. "Sounds like you've got it all set then."

"Do I detect a hint of envy? From you? The infamous Courier, working for the enigmatic Mr. House?" He gave her a bemused sneer, leaning closer again, as if studying her. "No... I don't believe that one bit. You lost something on the way back here, Ash."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come now, don't be coy. I recognise the signs when I see them. I experienced them myself after all, a long time ago. The Sierra Madre does nothing but change people. One way or another. Begin again, don't you remember?" He took a deep drag from the cigarette, exhaling the smoke up against the roof. 

Then he fixed his gaze back at her. "Take off your helmet."

Her face hardened. The nerve of the command. Dean was a ghoul himself, but she didn't imagine he'd have much more respect towards another ghoul because of that.

"As if you need to be more smug about things today."

"Now you're starting to wound me, partner. I can't imagine you'll find anyone more understanding than me."

"He's in the Lucky 38 as we speak."

Dean let out a scoff. "Fine. I'll concede to second place in that regard. Now will you take off the helmet? You're starting to remind me of the ghost people."

Ash took a deep breath. She had to let people know sooner or later. To get it over with. And if he'd truly been there from the start... he had already seen her in the worst state possible.

"Only if you'll be quiet about it," she muttered.

"My lips are sealed."

Unhooking the clasps from the helmet, she lifted it over her head. As she put it on her lap, she stared him down. She could see his brow slowly rise behind the sunglasses.

She was most certainly a ghoul, despite her skin having turned a greyish blue rather than the regular brown. The scar along the right side of her head was still there and so was most of her hair. The sclera in her eyes had turned black and while her eyes were still amber, it had somehow intensified.

"Huh... blue," was all that escaped him. That brought a scoff out of Ash this time, leaning back even lazier in her seat, one hand over the helmet.

"That's all?"

"Well, I got a mirror! I see something like that every day, don’t think you’re special. Still, I suppose using your former good looks is off the table for future negotiations then."

"Oh, is it ‘good looks’ now?”

Dean was quick to roll his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, I am speaking strictly from the perspective of being a ghoul. Besides, moot point now either way."

"Ouch." Her mock reply was accompanied by a deadpan his way.

Despite the insult thrown her way, she felt oddly... relieved. He hadn’t blown up on her. Barely seemed to care in fact.

They fell into silence for a while, both clearly thinking about different things, when Ash broke the silence. "I expected you to stay in the Sierra Madre actually..."

"You know, I did linger around in the casino for a while, after everything settled down. Followed your... tracks through all the floors. Saw a few things, heard a few things. Explored what I had wanted to explore for so long... and I found it all lacking. Perhaps I expected more after all that time." He trailed off, frowning for a while. Long enough that Ash couldn't help but to actually believe him. Whatever he'd seen... it had left a mark on him. Just as it had her.

His short moment of vulnerability didn't last for very long, as expected.

"Bah! Pointless drivel. Luckily for you, I decided not to linger in that god forsaken place. Else you might not have reached New Vegas at all again. And you'd be a literal corpse, just not looking like one."

Ash rolled her eyes. "Lucky me."

"Now, now..." He eyed her with interest, rubbing his chin. "So what's next then? For you, I mean?"

"I'm headed back out into the desert as soon as possible."

"Ever so busy. Well... I won't be keeping you then. Do yourself a favour and do pop by now and then. I might have work for you." Ash tilted her head to the side slowly, looking very doubtful. What jobs could he possibly offer her?

"I'm a courier, not a mercenary."

"Nothing that crass! At least I think not…" The hesitation in his voice made her squint further and he was quick to shake his head. "I have a few ideas but I need time to work on them," he continued. "So... like I said. Don't let me keep you." He waved her off with the tip of his hand, almost impatiently so.

Just as Ash was reminded of old times upon seeing Dean, so had he been upon seeing her. He had spent 200 years in the Sierra Madre... until Ash's arrival. Elijah's arrival really but it was Ash who carried them all through it. She had put Dean on a new path, unknowingly so. Which gave him new ideas. He needed to think. Far away from her.

Ash wasn't one to argue and stood up. She put the helmet back on, making a move to walk out of the room, before pausing to glance over her shoulder at him.

"Thank you, Dean. For bringing me back to Vegas."

He glanced back at her, his eyes slightly narrowed as if trying to detect any sarcasm. When there was none, he slowly gave her a tilt of his head.

"You owe me now," he made sure to tell her, noticing the further pause in her movement. Then she departed the room. She hadn't liked hearing that. After the Madre, they had been even. Now, with Dean basically saving her life? She did owe him. And that couldn't be good.

[spookie-bitch]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Plot Twist*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Pairings: Jenna Ortega x fem!reader Contains: angst TW: None I can think of, lmk if there is any Word count: 1,047

An: my requests are open :)

You and Jenna had been dating for about 3 years and it had only recently been revealed to the public due to the fact that both og you greatly enjoyed their privacy. Close friends and family, on the other hand,have known for a while. You where slowly falling asleep in your girlfriend's arms when she gets a call. Now roused from your sleep, you perk your head ever so slightly out of curiosity. "I got it, love," Jenna mumbled. So you snuggle back up and attempt to go back to sleep, but your curiosity gets the better of you. In your defense, if you guys don't have anything to hide, what would be the harm in listening? You couldn't tell who was on the other side of the phone,but after a after a few minutes of quietly listening, there wss a name drop. Percy. That alone was enough to make you stomach curl. It's not like you had anything against him, but before anyone new that the two of you were together, It was brought to your attention that Percy may have had a bit of a crush on Jenna—and I mean who wouldn't? You didn't even know why you didn't like him, when he was made aware of you and Jenna's relationship, not only was he super supportive, he was supper kind too. But you just couldn't shake the feeling of distrust when it came to Percy even though technically, he hasn't done anything wrong. You know your just being insecure at this point, but that doesn't change your feelings about him. you forced yourself to pull out of your thoughts so you could continue listening to the conversation. "This is really risky Percy, what if she finds out?" Jenna whispered, her voice laced with concern. Your insecurities continue to get louder and louder as an uneasy feeling spreads through your body. You quickly push the feeling down so you can focus on listening properly. "So?" She asked, "Do you have it?" Their was a quick pause as Jenna listens to Percy's response. "Tomorrow at 4, she'll be at an audition across town," She whispered excitedly into the phone. You didn't want to assume anything, but you were now so lost in your own thoughts that it was impossible not too. The rest of the conversation was just a "goodnight!" and "see you tomorrow!" wich didn't help the spreading feeling of dread. You felt so awful that it took you ages to fall asleep, so you just laid there, eyes closed and mild racing.

You woke to the sound of light rain falling on the window outside.You wiggled out of Jenna's arms, careful not to wake her, got changed, and did your morning routine, desperately trying to forget everything as the light rain now turned into a more steady downfall. You felt so hurt, so betrayed, knowing someone so near and dear to you was keeping secrets, but you just couldn't bring yourself to ask Jenna about it. You didn't want to assume anything, and you definitely didn't want a fight. You decide that it's best if you just go about the day as if nothing happened, hoping that nothing will. "See you soon," says Jenna with a smile, bidding you goodbye before you leave for your interview. You put on your best smile, not wanting to arouse any suspicion. "See you later,' you reply, closing the door behind you. As soon as it does, the smile drops from you face. Your emotions spiral as your drive, you don't know rather to feel mad or sad, or maybe your just being stupid. These unsettled emotions made the interview unbearably uncomfortable. "Finally," you thought, nearing the door to exit the build where your interview took place,"I thought that would last forever." You stepped outside only to be met by more cold, unwelcoming, rain. You'd managed to make it home early, despite the rain and the fact that you didn't want to. Thunder boomed in the distance giving the already awful day an even more gloomy feeling as you spot Percy's car in the driveway. You're not even mad anymore, just miserable. You walk inside, Jenna and Percy are sitting at the table, they look like their having a serious conversation, but you couldn't care less. "What the hell Jenna," You say desperately trying to keep yourself from snapping. "Oh hey love," she says nervously "your home early, did you get caught it the storm?" she adds, motioning to your drenched clothes. You quickly loose any patience you had left. She looks nervous, but not guilty, she's hiding something behind her back. "I heard the whole conversation last night," you yell, tears threatening to break through. "It's not- "Not what Jenna," you say just loud enough for her to hear as the tears break through the barrier they've been stuck behind all day. Percy looks terrified, and confused at the same time. The lack of guilt in either of their expressions should be comforting, but it's not. "Stay there Percy," says Jenna as loud as she can, she's crying too. You see her shove whatever she was hiding in her pocket and grab your arm, dragging you out the door into the raging storm. "Jen," you ask, your voice now concerned as you notice the tears streaming down her face. She pulls a little black, velvet box out of her pocket and gets down on one knee. She opens the box to reveal the most beautiful ring you're ever seen. "y/n m/n l/s," says Jenna tears streaming down her face. You just stood there not knowing what to say. "Will you make me the happiest person alive," You're pretty sure you forgot about Percy, as your not paying attention to anything other Jenna. "And marry me," She finishes, still crying. It all happened so fast, you didn't even have to think. "Yes," you blurted, picking her up off of the ground. " Goddamn It Jenna," your cry, "Yes!" She tosses the box gently to the side and jumps into your arms. Before you can say anything else her lips are already on yours, you don't even know why you were mad a minute ago, you just wanted this moment to last forever.

[shay-j-scribbles]

Kaleidoscope Heart

A sugary-sweet, fluffy ball of gooey love. Aaron is head over heels in love with Emily and he's a goofball because of it.

Hotchniss | rating T

You can read it on Ao3 or down below!

It reminds him of that reckless game from his childhood, the one without a name. A gang of boys daring each other to spin faster and faster until their bodies betray them. The last one still twirling is the victor, if only for the fleeting glory of a few breathless moments. It is a game without rhyme or reason, without prize or purpose, except for those brief seconds of triumph. But the dizzying sensation that game leaves behind is exactly what courses through him now—lightheaded, stomach alive with fluttering butterflies that grow more insistent with every heartbeat.

He can chalk it up to other things. Maybe dinner hasn’t sat well, or perhaps the exhaustion from their long day is catching up to him. But deep down, stripping away all the superficial excuses, it all boils down to one thing: Emily.

Her soft, bare back rests against his chest tonight. Her gentle, rhythmic breathing seems to sync with his own, each rise and fall of her chest creating a soothing cadence against his ribs. She is at peace; he can see it in her face, serene and untroubled in her slumber, lost in tranquil dreams.

In the quiet darkness, he watches her, feels her, and the sensation fills him with a heady mix of awe and tenderness. This moment, this simple, beautiful connection, is more intoxicating than anything he's ever known. Emily is his anchor, his calm in the storm, and in her presence, he feels both the exhilarating rush of that childhood game and the profound peace of absolute contentment.

He props his head up with his hand, leaning on his elbow just enough to gaze down and admire her in the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

The butterflies in his stomach, God , are fluttering wildly, tickling him madly as his eyes trace over her lines and curves.

Where exactly those butterflies take root tonight is an enigma. Countless things about her make his stomach flutter daily.

Maybe it's her face, soft and gentle. Even though she looks stunning after meticulously applying her makeup, it's when her face is bare that he notices the beautiful, raw details: a wrinkle here and there, evidence of laughter or frowns, or the scars that are such a vital part of her.

Then again, perhaps it's her hair, long tendrils the colour of a raven’s feather. Or maybe it's how she always smells like apple and cinnamon, no matter the time of day. Or how her eyebrows narrow slightly, playfully, whenever Reid does mutters off fake-sounding statistics or falls for something silly.

But after all is said and done, all she has to do is smile at him, and he realises that she is the easiest person to love and the hardest person to imagine living without.

He does this often. When she is sleeping, he admires her and counts his lucky stars, trying to pinpoint the exact moment he knew, trying to identify the split second his heart found a home in her.

There was that one day in the park when the trees around them were beginning to brown and shed their leaves. She and Jack were sharing a special moment by the water, and as the sun began to set, the sky became a swirl of blues, pinks, and oranges. Sunlight caught her eyes—naturally a deep brown that he gladly gets lost in—but in that instant, as the most wondrous of rays hit, brown became the brightest gold he had ever seen, greater than any treasure he could imagine. And in that second, he wanted to tell her he loved her.

It’d be a crime to discredit any other moments, though. Like the evening he heard her truly laugh for the first time; a loud, uninhibited, tear-inducing fit of giggles. When she’s comfortable and surrounded by people she trusts, her laugh is a warm, genuine sound that bubbles up from deep within her, starting with a soft chuckle that builds into a hearty, resonant thing. Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and a light dances in them, making it impossible not to smile along with her. It's the kind of laugh that feels like a shared secret, bringing them closer together every time.

Then there are even the moments she cries. It pains him to see her weep, there’s no doubt about that. His heart aches when she feels so low that her body uncontrollably leaks and whimpers. But the first time she ever let herself go and allowed his comfort, he was left in awe at the way she opened up to him, letting him in.

He is startled when Emily’s palm reaches up and cups his cheek. “What’s wrong?” she whispers, her voice light and airy after being asleep, but her eyes are open and alert, watching him get lost in thoughts of her.

He bites his bottom lip, laughs softly through his nose, and tries to fight the blush after being caught, “Nothing.”

Her confused smirk is full of amusement, but instead of questioning him, she moves her hand from his cheek down to his shoulder, over his arm to his elbow, and pulls his arm tightly around her front. He drops his head from his hand and slips it under her neck so she can rest on him. He takes a second to pull her back flat against him and settles his chin between her neck and shoulder.

He inhales a little, swallowing down a yawn so he can pepper a kiss just below her ear, holding his lips there, warming her skin. She sighs faintly, her muscles relaxing into him and the mattress, “I love you, too.”

[aladaylessecondblog]

why does the sea rush to shore (enver gortash x good tav)

TW: Sad, Astarion and Halsin have died bloody Orin-related deaths and Tav has made a decision to avoid that heartbreak ever again. Tav briefly considers jumping off a bridge.

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

It felt fitting for the netherstone to be set in a choker around her neck.

Two attendants fussed about the dress, chattering away about the lace and the pearls, but Tav's mind was a thousand miles away.

She had imagined this day several times before. The dress, the veil, perhaps a few jewels. Her pale elf's look of awe, even, as she walked down the aisle toward him. Halsin, somewhere nearby, looking with his own contentment. A faceless priest, waiting to begin the vows. Above all she had pictured herself happy and smiling.

But today, her wedding day, she was the opposite. Oh, she kept her expression twisted into something similar, thanked the attendants as they helped her with the finishing touches, and fussed about small details like her gloves, but all she could think was that she would rather be anywhere else.

She imagined her waiting groom, pleased that he had managed to snare a hero of the people. That he would be able to maintain power and retain his status as Archduke.

Tav looked into the mirror and forced back her tears.

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

Astarion was staked directly into the ground.

"No...no...please be alive, please be--"

Cold and dead. For real, this time, with his blood spread in a wide puddle beneath him. Not five feet away was Halsin--or rather, his wildshaped bearskin hide, skinned from his bloody carcass which itself lay nearby in a puddle of its own.

Lae'zel stood before them both, and then turned in Tav's direction. A second later she shifted--

"Oh, oh oh, you're just in time to see!" Orin laughed, "Your gith, your spawn, and your bear! Well. Your rug now..."

Tav heard no more. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she looked between Astarion and Halsin, remembering the former's request to join her on her last excursion to Baldur's Gate.

How she had said no, that she would see him when she returned...and that in the evening she'd let him feed from her.

(He'd liked that idea.)

The next second she was roaring--wildshaping into an owlbear and tearing forward to slash and rip at Orin.

The woman would not die, and so much the better.

"Stop!" Shadowheart had called, just before Tav reached back to give what would have been a killing blow. "Don't kill her. And not because I think she deserves to live."

Silence.

"I can think of a much better punishment for her than mere death."

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

There was the sudden sound of a door opening, and in walked Karlach. Wyll, in his Grand Duke regalia, followed closely behind.

Tav looked up at Karlach, who was dressed in a gown of green satin, with a ruby necklace that held the third netherstone at its center.

"You know, soldier, it's not too late to back out," she said in a sad tone, once the attendants had been shooed out. "You deserve better than Gortash. You could have someone good, you know. Someone you could actually love."

"I'm--" Tav took a shaky breathed, and gulped, "I'm not interested in love, Karlach, but...thank you."

The thought of her smarmy vampire and cuddly bear returned. The way she had slept between them on a few nights, warm and utterly content; with arms wrapped around Astarion and Halsin's own around her.

Then the image changed, and she saw their bodies. Astarion, bloodless, limp...eyes staring at nothing. Halsin, skinned, his bloody pelt on the ground.

That image was still agony, a constant pain in her mind she almost wanted kept fresh. Because for it to feel anything less than torturous was--it didn't feel right. It felt like she was betraying them, to think of their deaths and NOT feel that pain along with it.

Wyll offered his arm--as he would be giving her away--and Tav took it as Karlach helped her to get the lengthy bridal train out the door.

"I never want to be in love again."

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

"My condolences."

Tav was still reeling, and she knew better than to show that pain before Gortash of all people, but she couldn't help herself. She had barely slept in the past few days, too afraid of her mind surprising her in the morning.

She didn't want to wake up, sleepily reach for either Astarion or Halsin, and then be stabbed in the heart again.

"Don't give me that," Tav said bitterly, "You probably ordered it yourself. Don't try to piss on my leg and tell me it's raining."

"So vulgar," Gortash mused, "I didn't tell Orin to hit your camp. She does what she wants, that one. A mad dog off the leash..."

"Even more so now."

"You didn't kill her?" Gortash looked surprised, but that look soon faded. "Of course you didn't. You're too tender-hearted to--"

"We're not killing her, but she's going to wish we did," Tav's voice turned icy.

"She's into blood, you know."

"We don't need to shed any." She shut her eyes for a few moments, indulging in the pain-rimmed emptiness that her heart had sunk into. It was a searing void she wanted to share. "Darkness. Silence. An empty box. By the time we're done with her, she won't even remember who she is."

"You ARE full of surprises," he half-laughed and gave her a look she couldn't quite identify. "I didn't call you here to talk about Orin though...at least not in more than a passing way. I called you here to bargain."

"I've already agreed to ally to you. Seems like you're wasting my time and your own."

"Yes, but you have two netherstones. I have one. Things are a bit uneven...and I'd like to keep my head."

"And your power."

"You know me so well." Gortash smirked. "Now, I know you're more than capable of rolling in and mopping up me, the Steel Watch, the Flaming Fists, and any other guards who get in your way...but that would create more problems than it would solve, especially for the innocent. And you're more useful to this city as a hero than as a villain, don't you think?"

"Get to the point."

"The city sees me as its protector. Your reputation is similar, but in a more heroic vein. I propose we remain allies. That you and another person of your choosing join me in continuing to manipulate the elder brain to all our benefits. If control is not regained, and SOON, there will be a lot more problems for you to deal with than just me. Like losing your soul for example."

"If you think I'm unprotected--"

"The ace up your sleeve will only last so long. Whatever plane of existence you flee to, the tadpole WILL heed the call. Sooner, rather than later."

"You're just manipulating me."

"I'm sure this will come as a revelation, my dear Tav," Gortash spoke with the slightest of edges in his voice, "Everyone is manipulating you. Raphael was a devil and you're brighter than you look; you're lucky he was so obvious about it. That mindflayer you think is your friend--don't think I don't know about him. Even Astarion--"

"Don't you DARE say his name to me like--," Tav growled and clenched her fists.

"My point, Tav, is that everyone has plans they want you for, and none but myself will be honest with you about it. Take this lesson from it, if you take nothing else: there will always be someone ready to manipulate you, so you should look to see what you can get from them in turn. I cannot bring your lover back. But I can help you, and your friends."

"We can help ourselves. If you're done--" Tav was on the point of leaving, and got up from the table.

"Can you help Karlach's infernal engine from burning her to ashes?" Gortash's voice rang out as her hand was on the doorknob. When she stopped he spoke in a smug tone. "I thought that might interest you."

"You asshole, you're the one that did that to her in the first place!"

"Language, Tav. You're talking to an Archduke, after all. If you want to talk, you must learn to be more polite. Are you ready to listen?"

Trembling with rage, Tav sat back down.

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

"This was really not necessary," Wyll said to Tav quietly as they walked up the streets. "Did he really have to make you walk so far?"

Flower petals were being scattered from what seemed like every window and by flower girls that walked before them, and every face Tav looked into was smiling. It was a short enough walk, meant to display the Archduke's heroic drow bride to his people.

From the Open Hand Temple to Wyrm's Rock Fortress she was walking, through a crowd of people who felt all the joy for her that she could not feel for herself.

Somewhere in the distance, bells were ringing...

You should smile, darling, you make such a beautiful bride.

Astarion's voice sounded off, as if he were right next to her. She gulped.

"He thought it might be good for the people to have something to celebrate, after all of the...problems...with the Absolute. A public wedding, a grand feast, good times after so much war and strife..."

"War and strife he and his ilk were responsible for," Wyll grumbled.

Tav didn't answer that question, but instead changed the subject. "Yet here they are, still praising his name. The people are eager to forget hardship..."

"As are you, I imagine."

"I don't want to forget anything," Tav said quickly, "I'm not doing this to forget. I'm doing it to benefit the people."

"And how exactly does this benefit them?" Wyll asked, "A miserable bride marrying a man she cares nothing for, who hides his true evil nature. I doubt that could benefit very many people at all. And I thought Ilmater expected his followers to stand up to tyrants? Surely Silvanus would not want you to do this either?"

"Persevere in the face of pain. Heal the sick, the wounded, and the diseased. Comfort the dying, the griefstricken, and the heartsick. Take on the burdens and the pain of others. Champion the causes of the oppressed and unjustly treated, and give shelter and kind counsel to the lonely, the lost, and the mined. Pursue the service of Ilmater, and he will provide," Tav said in the same low tone.

"Leave gross riches and the acquisition of all but medicines to others," Wyll challenged, "I've learned of Ilmater's rules too, you know. This would certainly not please him."

"Take up the tasks no others dare," Tav added in a defeated tone. "I don't want this, but I can do much more good as his wife than not."

Wyll seemed resigned. "You shouldn't have to do this. It's giving up too much--and that's coming from a man who knows."

Tav took a shaky breath.

"I know you mean well, Wyll, but...I've already lost everything. There's nothing this can take from me that's not already gone."

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

"You PIGS!"

Mizora raged and cursed and fought, but there was no escaping her confines.

"My best work yet," came Balthazar's pleased voice, "Really, I should be thanking you for the opportunities you've sent my way."

"And the soul cage will hold her?"

"If it held Aylin, it can hold this one," Balthazar replied, "The only thing now is to test out its limits."

He looked at Karlach, by now smoking and steaming constantly.

The flames burned, hotter and hotter over the next several hours, and Tav followed her to the (empty) next room, where the fire rose and spread--

Tav gave a distressed yelp as Karlach slumped in the stone chair, burning alive. She was down, down and out, dead, gone...

...and then, suddenly, she wasn't.

Right before Tav's eyes, the damage was reversed, fixed right up...and Karlach sat up again.

"Well I'll be damned, the bastard wasn't lying. I..." Karlach seemed almost too incredulous to be happy, "...I'm still alive!"

Tav gave the tall tiefling a tight hug, and with a shaky voice added, "You're going to be alright after all."

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

She could see Gortash now on the bridge, showing the false smile of an eager groom ready to wed his coming bride. When their eyes met it widened further, though she could see the victory in his eyes just as easily.

He was happy that he was getting this out of her, but he was more importantly displaying to all of Baldur's Gate who could see that he was happy with his choice of bride.

That was almost the worst part of it. That he could fake something so easily, and even more so that everyone around him could be fooled by it. Was she really the only one to notice? Was she the only one that would EVER see it? Perhaps not. Perhaps others knew and simply, like her, chose to say nothing for reasons of their own.

She considered simply jumping off the bridge, going to join Astarion and Halsin in the City of Judgment.

But then she considered the talk of the devils there...there were varying and conflicting ideas about what would take place. But several accounts mentioned devils willing to make deals.

That would send her to the Hells...

I am already in Hell, Tav thought, No need to add flames or physical torture to it too.

Halsin's voice popped into her head.

You have far too much good to offer to dash yourself to bits on the rocks to be food for the gulls. No matter what you may feel, death is an end to your ability to help those in need of you, my heart.

Astarion's voice joined alongside.

I'm so proud of you, kitten. You've schemed your way so high...now if only I were beside you, you would find your rule to be utter perfection. Alas...we can't have everything we want.

Her legs felt momentarily weak but she leaned against Wyll to buoy herself.

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

"So, you're back. I presume my plan worked?" Gortash spoke in an easy tone that showed he already knew the answer.

"It did," Tav replied quietly. "You've given your token of good faith. Now tell me the rest of your...plan."

She didn't believe him in the slightest, but saving Karlach would be worth sitting through a session of listening to his nonsense.

"It's fairly simple," Gortash replied with a gesture, "You, and whomever the third stone was given to--"

"Karlach," Tav said quickly.

"Truly? Well, I did say someone of your choosing...and I imagine you picked her simply to have someone who despises me."

"Someone over whom you have no hold. Someone under no obligation to you."

"Which you consider yourself under."

She refused to answer.

She didn't have to.

Gortash went on succinctly, "Your hand in marriage."

Tav jerked back, and nearly fell out of her chair. She scrambled back up and practically shrieked, "Absolutely NOT! No. No. NO. A thousand times--"

"At least you didn't laugh."

"And what possible reason--what--no--first of all, WHY?"

"Because it would solve a lot of my problems," Gortash poured out two glasses of wine. "You would not believe the number of ladies I have at court, angling for my hand. Batting their eyelashes at me, hoping and praying to be the one to catch my eye."

"I should think that would make you HAPPY, that so many women want you. They would volunteer for--for what you're asking me."

"I have no patience for their pettiness, and what they have to offer, I could already get on my own. I want an end to the requests by fathers for me to consider their daughters as brides. An end to the scheming mothers who think mere compromises could sway me."

"The price you pay for relevance."

"I am a man made to rule. As much as you might think otherwise I am not fond of romance. You would have far greater freedom than you would as any other man's bride, to be quite honest. In fact, I would expect it."

"What?"

Not that she was entertaining the idea. Not for a second.

"You're a hero, the talk of the town. You--and your friends, of course, but primarily you, in their eyes--stopped the evil Ketheric Thorm and his shadow curse. Saved that druid grove, laid waste to a large chunk of the army of the Absolute..."

He smirked.

"...and have at great risk to your personal reputation, done everything possible to help those refugees no one here wants. You have been a better exemplar of the God on the Rack's ideals than those hypocritical clerics at the temple of the Open Hand. Though I suppose if someone killed one of my men, I might be equally as--"

"Get to the point."

"You would be good for my reputation," he replied, "Your love for the plant and animal life, the charity your tender heart leads you to. All you lack is a title and steady coin to do that oh-so-generous work. And those I can give you."

Tav opened her mouth to reply, but found she had nothing to say.

"I have no patience for such things in any case. The masses would like someone closer to their level...one who has known difficulty and struggle. Pain and strife."

Again, nothing.

"Really, the terms are rather generous. A few parties on my arm, societal obligations..."

Marital duties, Tav thought sourly. She could see he was thinking it. But that desire was secondary to his desire for power. He seemed the type to seek it only for stress relief, not the carnal eagerness Astarion had once shown, or the wild desire that Halsin had.

At least there was that mercy.

If she accepted this offer, he would be like neither of her beloveds.

If...

"...and in return, the ability to continue doing the good you're always so eager to do."

"Which will naturally make you look like a wonderful leader."

"The great Lord Gortash, defender of the city, and you...the lady of charity and healing. After all that has happened, the city is ripe for someone like you. How much better if we work together. The people would simply love the story - their mighty lord smitten with a defender of the people."

"A--a loveless marriage, though, in the end." Tav stumbled on her words and went quiet.

"Indeed. I don't love you, and you don't love me, but I'm certain you're capable of showing that you feel the opposite...and frankly, it's better there be no love between us. Would you really want to repeat that sorry scene you described to me, should an assassin succeed against me?"

Do you want to feel that pain again? Tav thought. A stab of grief pierced her heart. The image of Astarion and Halsin, bloody on the ground. No. No. Never again. I never want to feel that way, EVER again.

After a long pause to discuss the terms of the rest of this little deal as they pertained to Karlach and the agreement that would be made between the three of them, he went back to the topic.

"I do require an answer rather soon, you know."

Images of herself with Astarion, with Halsin, with both of them, passed through her mind in a rush. Safe and close, cuddling, loving...

"Fine."

"Give a proper answer, if you please."

Say the words, his expression told her. I want to hear them.

"I will accept your proposal," Tav replied, "And--I will marry you."

The smirk that spread across Gortash's face then was absolutely heinous.

He produced a short length of copper wire, and gestured.

"Give me the nether stone."

When she blanched, he set his other hand on the table; his own netherstone was now within easy reach.

"I thought I might give you a gift."

Keeping both hands on the table, ready to move forward and stop him if he tried anything, Tav waited.

Gortash wrapped her netherstone in the copper wire, and then reached into his pocket for what looked like a strange strip of black velvet with a clasp. With the remaining wire he bound the stone up to the velvet.

"I am not a jeweler," he said, standing once he was done, and leading her (despite her reluctance) to a mirror in the corner of the room. On arrival he brought the necklace up, and fastened the clasp behind her neck, then let his hands rest on her shoulders. "But I think it suits you."

Inwardly, Tav quailed.

Outwardly, she said quietly, "It does, doesn't it."

"I knew you'd see things my way."

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

Tav's hands were joined with Gortash's, and the priest spoke the words to begin her binding to this despicable man.

She repeated her part of the vows stiffly, but managed to keep her false smile as she spoke them.

I hate him. I hate him so much.

But when the ceremony concluded, when her lips touched his, when the faint but rich taste of the wine he'd no doubt drunk crossed her tongue, it also occurred to her that she was lucky.

Because to marry a man she hated meant she would never mourn him as she had Astarion and Halsin.

It was a pain she need never feel again.

"People of Baldur's Gate!" she heard her new husband call out, "May I present to you, Duchess Gortash!"

The cheer that went up did nothing to fill Tav's hollow heart.