#i don't remember finishing the suicide one but i think i do remember like. most of the major plot points in the first one

[just-some-random-blogger]

Losing Dogs

Neither you or Aegon wanted to get married. Neither you or Aegon wanted to marry each other. But at some point, you figured you should make the most of what you had, and so you offer your husband a deal he cannot refuse.

Aegon Targaryen x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, arranged marriage/loveless marriage, smut (piv, virginity loss, rough/loveless sex) DD:DNE, alcoholism, violence, suicide/suicidal thoughts & ideation, mentions of domestic/child abuse, death, pregnancy/miscarriage, aegon's mommy issues, insecurities, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ... i had something to say about this fic but i forgot... maybe ill remember later???? edit: i did not remember. i thought of mitski while entitling this so go play i bet on losing dogs ig?

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @azperja @sloanexx @risefallrise

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

Aegon only truly understood what this meant the day he was married and he was forbidden to drink a drop of alcohol.

As if it wasn't painful enough that he was going to be married to a complete stranger from some house he's never fucking heard of, he was erratic and uneasy the whole day because of the withdrawal. He loathes the preparation, the ceremony, the fucking pageantry of it all.

He thinks it was worse that you seemed to be so chipper the entire time. You smiled with a halo, skin shining with the light. You also seemingly did no wrong, judging by the praises you received from his mother and grandfather. But, who was he kidding, of course they fucking loved you, they chose you to be his prison keeper.

You did not press him once, not when you were preparing for the ceremony, not when you were at the feast, not even after the Queen encouraged you to dance.

Anyone with eyes could see from how he slumped on his chair during dinner that Aegon would rather die than circle around the room to this grating noise echoing in the chamber.

The band begins to play another song and another round of dancing ensues.

He stares at the food on the table. Oh, to be a suckling pig.

The relief that coursed through him when he could finally leave was enough to knock him out. Except, he really wanted, no, needed a drink.

He crashes on his bed, belly down, and reaches for the cabinet door on his bedside table. He feels for his bottle, hand knocking into the corners of the compartment, but he sits up when he finds nothing.

He growls in frustration upon realizing this was definitely his mother's doing. Thief!

"I managed a cup."

Aegon struggles to look over his shoulder from his position. He rolls on his back as you walk to the side of the bed.

He stares at you. You offer a glass holding burgundy liquid. Your voice is soft and kind as you explain, "your mother would suspect me if I took a whole bottle."

Aegon pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. He gulps at the wine you were offering.

Sure, he may not be the brightest, but anyone could tell this scene was the epitome of ulterior motives. Aegon leans on his thighs, "why are you doing this?"

You stare a moment. You clutch the cup in both hands and examine it. Again, your voice is gentle, "you are clearly in torment. It hurts my heart."

His eye twitches.

I see. It seems you were a fucking saint.

Aegon rips the glass out of your hands, some of the wine spills over. He downs the contents in one go, then chucks the glass across the room once he finished.

He looks back at you, glaring with watery eyes. He was exhausted, he was angry, and he wanted you to know it. But you don't flinch at the sound of the glass breaking. You didn't flinch at all when he showed aggression. Why didn't you flinch?

You press your lips and sigh. You step towards him and reach out.

He nervously straightens up and tilts his head back as you approach. His breath hitches when your warm hand touches his cheek. He blinks rapidly.

"It's been a long day. Would you like me to help you change?"

Again, his eye twitches.

And then he realizes what you mean.

Ah. So, this is what you wanted?

He releases a breath, eyes lowering. Your face falls into a slight frown.

He thinks about it for a moment. I mean, sex was sex and he was game. It didn't matter how he performed, his completion was all that mattered, really. And you were pretty enough, albeit irritatingly good.

When you stroke his hair, Aegon pulls at your skirts, causing you to squeak and topple, hands flying to his shoulders for support. Your faces are inches apart. He pulls you down until you have no other choice than to sit on his lap.

You can smell the remnants of the wine he just drank on his breath. Aegon brings his face closer to yours, and you let out a soft 'hmp'. You mutter, "I gather you don't want to change, but want to get out of your clothes."

He narrows his eyes as you shift on his lap and undo the buttons by his chest. He mutters dumbly, "this is what you wanted."

With knit brows, you retort, "I've not yet told you what I wanted." You shift on his lap again as you peel his top off. Amidst it, he asks, "what do you want?"

You grunt after ridding him of his top. You fold it in your arms then set it aside on the bed. You turn back to him. Aegon's breath hitches when you fondle with strings of his undershirt. He watches your lips as you mumble, "I want you to give me a ride on your dragon."

He furrows his brows. But that's what he just said.

You stand, only to lift your skirt and take your place back on his lap. This time, you straddle him.

Aegon gulps, hands coming to your hips like a magnet. He feels you grind on him; shaky breaths leave his lips in response. His hands scratch up your back and a moan escapes him when your nails trace his collarbones.

"Allow me one trip on Sunfyre, and in return, I'll be your magic lamp," you whisper, taking one of his hands, bringing it to the side of your ribs, "you may rub me where you like-"

His heart skips when you kiss his cheek.

"-and I will grant you all your wishes."

Aegon ticks.

The next moment, he pushes you down on the bed. He doesn't bother getting either of you naked, nor does he prepare you at all in fact. Thankfully, you were already wet.

You don't have the opportunity to ask him to be gentle, to explain you were a bride after all, and it was your wedding night.

Aegon grips your skirts as he fucks you like he means to prove a point. He snaps his hips roughly into you to assert dominance, to exemplify control. Sure, you offered yourself to him, but he was the one doing the work, and you were the one beneath him.

In truth, the pace he set gave you more pain rather than pleasure. And with how pent up he was, the rough tempo he set burnt him out way too quickly before it could make any of you feel good. And when he begins to lag, you start to feel good.

You notice this change and rub your nose against his. He recoils, unused to affection when fucking. It snaps him back into an aggressive trance.

You yelp. Aegon convinced himself it was a sound of bliss.

You kiss his jaw and work your way to his ear, hoping to calm him down. He tenses at the feel of your tongue on his lobe. It stokes flames in his belly and makes him involuntarily roll his hips slower to focus on the attention you're giving. In return, his pace is just enough for him to hit that spot that makes you throw your head back.

Aegon is startled by the scratchy groan that leaves your throat. He finds himself lifting his head to spectate, but you pull him into you by the nape and groan, "like that. Please- gods - that feels good."

His brows tense and he rolls his hips again, finding the same reaction.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, uncaring of how hot and sweaty you were getting. In the heat of the moment, you reach for his lips, needing them, needing something to wrap your own on.

Aegon kisses you. He kisses you with a strange twinge in his chest. He kisses you until he has to pull away and reposition himself to catch his building climax.

In a second, he's back to his fuck-loving self, only self-serving and lustful. As he gazes upon your writhing body, catching the beads of sweat on your skin, the concentration on your face, and the way you chant his name as you part your legs for him, he's overcome by another spirit. To watch you break, to watch you coil and collapse around him felt just as urgent as his need to come.

And so Aegon rubs your clit and forces you to peak first; you do it so well he curses loudly and comes after.

He lays on top of you for a moment, the overwhelming need to be held ripples through his body. He recalls how his whores shoo him away after he's done fucking them though. Before you can cradle him in your arms, he rolls off you.

You close your legs and and watch him strip himself and sequentially change. You watch him get back in bed and bring himself underneath the covers. He goes to sleep.

He fucking goes to sleep.

You feel hollow after this, but tell yourself it's nothing personal. You repeat this as you, yourself, get up and change, sequentially sleeping too. Or at least you try. You have fight the urge to cry for hours before you do.

The next morning, you bring up dragon riding to Aegon, and disappointed as you are, you are unsurprised to find that he was unwilling to give you such a thing.

It was a plain thing you were asking for, you explain. And it's exactly why he doesn't want to do it. It's clearly some trick, something to trap him, something he's going to regret. It was probably some ploy orchestrated by his mother.

Oh gods, he thinks, it's worse. It's a bonding experience so you can make him into your puppet. Fuck. No.

So, he does what he does best, and makes an excuse, "I don't feel like riding today. I'm still exhausted from the festivities."

You purse your lips and nod, "that's understandable. Would you like for me to get you something?"

Wait. You weren't going to argue about him not keeping his end of the deal?

You seem to catch this, considering your response and the way you take his hand. You place his palm on your chest. He can feel your pulse quicken as you mutter, "I am your magic lamp, husband. I wish to please you. I will prove this until you trust me enough to grant me a ride on dragonback."

He narrows his eyes, "you would grant me wishes, all in return for a ride on Sunfyre?"

You smile softly at him, "in return for respite, yes."

He doesn't trust your smile.

"I want to visit the Grey Cliffs. I have for a years now. I went there once as a child and long to go again."

"Why?" he knits his brows at your explanation, "what's there?"

You lower his hand and rub his skin, "respite, my prince."

Aegon pulls his hand away.

Very well. If that is what you want, then he will wear your wishes dry until you find it no longer worth the trouble.

Aegon wishes on his lamp everyday, and his wife sequentially plays entertainer, jester, servant, and slave.

He makes you bring a bottle of wine with you everywhere, and pour him a cup when he wishes. He loathes how you seem unbothered by it. He loathes how you don't even correct a visiting Lord who mistakes you for a cupbearer and simply serve him some wine. The Lord is mortified when he realizes you are his wife, a fucking princess. Aegon hates how you tell the man you were unbothered because you spent your whole life being a cupbearer to your father anyway.

He makes you do trivial tasks as well, sometimes tasks meant for more than one person at a time, and yet you still manage to do them, annoyingly better than the maids. When he demanded you cook him a full course meal, you did so all by yourself, and had the servants looking at you like you were some goddess.

He ripped a hole in his clothes then made you mend it. You covered the hole so seamlessly that he poked a bigger one right in front of you. And even then you don't give him the satisfaction of getting angry. You tell him you will embroider something on top of the hole and he storms off. He overhears you telling the servants, who applaud your level-headedness, that you were used to angry men, because your father was just the same.

You use each of these moments to somehow tell him you were the perfect wife and he had to oblige your stupid request at some point.

But then he found your flaw.

Aegon asked you to play the harpsichord for him, and you told him you did not know how. The woman who knew all did not know something? He would then proceed to hang this over your head. When he asked you for food, he'd tell you how much better it'd taste if he had entertainment. If he asked you to do something physically taxing for him, he's say that he wouldn't have asked you to do it, had you known how to play his 'favorite' instrument. He would use this as the reason why he could never bring you to Grey Cliffs.

It was all fun and games, but then you had to snitch, hadn't you?

"What are you doing to that poor girl!" Queen Alicent barked, making his ears ring.

Aegon groans from where he lies in bed. His mother rips the blankets off him, making him wake in a sour mood.

"She is your wife!" Alicent yells, "not your slave! Fine, you wish her to do tasks for you, tasks for your betterment. But to insult her standing by treating her like a maid is beneath a prince, Aegon!"

Aegon feels his throat tighten at the sight of his angry mother's face, "she is my wife," he growls, "I do with her as I please."

She strikes his cheek.

Aegon's head whips to the side. He doesn't have the energy to look back at her.

"You will no longer parade her as a cupbearer. I will have it decreed you are not ever served a drop of wine if you don't."

Alicent leaves after this. Aegon's anger explodes when the door closes.

He screams and rips at his hair. He kicks furniture around and eventually drops to the floor, exhausted, furious, and hurt. This was all your fault.

He screams again and claws the tears on his face. He slowly exhales through tight lips. His cheek is hot with saltwater. Who was he joking, this was all him.

This was all Aegon's doing.

His breathing is impeded by snot. He walks over to his window and stares at the ground below. If he jumps head first, not even the best maester in Westeros could fix him.

Before he can lean on the ledge, he is paralyzed in his spot by the sound of the door opening.

"I did not know she would be angry with you," you say.

Aegon looks back.

You see his red eyes and wet skin. He is a mirror to your younger self. You feel sick to your stomach. You try to explain, "I only asked if she could find a harpsichord teacher. I did not realize she would take offense in wanting to learn to play for you."

Aegon's heart aches at your naïve response. You were a stupid, perfect wife, and he, a stupid, petulant husband.

"I'm better off dead," he mumbles, looking back out the window. The call of the fall felt inviting, "want to push me, wife?"

You don't respond.

Aegon looks back at you, and suddenly you're only inches away. He tries to evade you, but you manage to catch his hand.

"We could jump together."

"What?"

Your face is blank. You part your lips, and for a moment, your eyes seem desperate, but then it's gone. You sigh, "dying is quite lonely," looking down, "I could keep you company."

Aegon stares at you. Tears stream down his face. "You're mad," he sniffles, yanking his hand away.

He walks over to his bed and collapses on it. He wraps himself in a blanket and feels sorry for himself, and angry at you for suggesting such a thing. Even now you want to be perfect by dying with him?

"I am," you mutter.

Aegon watches as you walk over to him. You sit on the floor beside his bed and look at your hands as you rub them.

"I cannot play the harpsichord, because my father does not like noise," you explain, "I was not allowed to make a sound or else I would be punished."

Aegon covers his head with a blanket but keeps his face visible, "he beat you, didn't he?"

You look at him, eyes melancholy, but still, he is the only one crying, "he beat everyone."

Aegon does not respond.

"I can sing though."

His brow raises, "how can you sing?"

"I would practice whenever he was gone, and sing for my mother in secret. It made her happy... happy enough."

He knew there was more to this confession, but he was too tired to ask about it, too tired to shed more tears.

"Would you like me to sing for you?"

"No."

"..."

"..."

"Would you like me to hold you?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

You stand from where you sat and get on the edge of the bed. Aegon watches as you slowly lie beside him. You bring an arm over him and pull him close. Aegon closes his eyes as you bring him into your chest.

You hold him until he falls asleep. Later that night, he asks you to hold him again. He also asks you to sing to him.

Aegon nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He wraps his arms around your torso, digging his fingers between your flesh and the bed. Your hushed voice reverberates in the bedroom, the song you sing is haunting and soothing. The vibrations from your chest lull him to sleep. You feel wetness pool by your clavicle but you make no note of it.

Aegon asks you to hold him the next morning after breaking fast. He asks you to stay with him in bed and to sing to him some more. When you have to leave his side, he asks to join you and waits until he can have you in his arms again.

Aegon becomes your shadow, and follows you around, under the promise of getting to share in your embrace. As you read and review letters or ledgers, your seat becomes Aegon's lap. He sleeps against you while you work without a fuss, cheek pressed against your back, arms fastened around your waist.

Sometimes, he notices the line that forms between your brows while you read and at some point, asks about it. You explain what causes it, and he is unmoved, as he is uninterested in politics that stress you. But when you read out to him, he finds comfort in your voice and asks you to read some. He falls asleep to your calm droning of circumstances he could not care less about. He groans and groggily awakens when you stop. He mumbles against your skin that you continue, pleadingly so.

When you had to leave the Keep for business, Aegon insisted that he joined you. When you brushed his cheek and explained to him why he could not go and that you would not be long, Aegon pushed you away and stormed off. You left without him anyway, and the treachery he felt was so great, he realized then how he could no longer go day to day without you. What was there to do, if you were not there?

And so Aegon desperately rubs his magic lamp and wishes upon you.

He wishes that you never leave without him again once you return.

He wishes that you promise to no longer make plans without him.

He traps you beneath him on your shared bed and wishes to be inside you. He kisses you and wishes to see you completely bared to him.

Aegon's mind is dizzy as he gazes upon the glory of your skin. He kisses your thighs, your hips, your breast, your lips.

Aegon wishes to surrender to you. He wishes that you undress him. He wishes to pull you on his body like a blanket. He wishes to see you take control. He wishes to see you cast your eyes upon him and lay your weight on his body.

He wishes to see you use him, to take what you need from him, to pleasure yourself, and to make him yours. He squeezes your thighs desperately when you moan out his name. This was much more maddening that what he imagined it would be.

He wishes to feel you come undone around him. He wishes he could forever feel the pleasure he did when he comes right after you do.

He wishes to hold you after. And when he holds you, when you lay on his chest and kiss him there, he wishes to never leave this moment ever again. He wishes to sing to you like you've sung to him.

"What are your plans tomorrow," Aegon asks as he draws nothings on your back.

You lift your head from his chest. He looks at you. You smile, "whatever you wish them to be."

He rubs your back and smiles, "I wish to take you to the Grey Cliffs."

Your expression drops, "what?"

He raises a brow at your reaction. You shift on your place. You straddle him again.

He looks up at you, noticing the line between your brows. He rubs your thighs, "you've granted me all my wishes. It's time I grant you yours." He shifts on his elbows and sits himself up, "it's time you meet my mount and-"

"We don't have to," you cut him off, placing your hands on his shoulders.

Aegon examines your expression. He listens to you sigh.

"I'd like to keep you-- wish to keep you..." you correct yourself, pushing him back down.

He looks up at you, feeling your hands rake up his body.

"...just like this," you finish, eyes solemn, lips curving into a soft smile, "I've not felt a thing like this in my entire life."

Aegon takes one of your hands and places it on his cheek. He whispers it like a secret, "neither have I."

You lean down to kiss him, "I wish to keep like this."

He kisses you back.

He is blindsided by how his wishes came to bite him in the arse. It's all crashing down on him. Suddenly, he wishes he didn't actually do any of those things with you.

He most of all wishes he heard you wrong. He wishes you didn't repeat yourself when he stupidly said, "what?"

"I'm with child," you speak slower, less excited yet excited still.

Aegon wishes you didn't look so excited. He wishes he fucking pulled out, but gods, you felt so good-- you feel so good around him, he felt so good inside you.

He realized the next moment, it couldn't be helped. You were going to have to bear his spawn at one point or another. He wishes you didn't have to. He wishes his seed wouldn't take completely. He wishes you don't take it to term. He wishes he won't have to be a father. Fuck.

He realizes he's been too quiet and you were waiting for a response from him. Your face began to twist. Your smile fades.

"Congratulations," Aegon musters. He feels like he swallowed a metal ball. His eyes wander to your belly. He mumbles mindlessly, "I suppose."

Your face falls.

Aegon looks back at you. Your face is devoid of any semblance of the glow it normally holds. You look sick. You feel sick.

"I see," you say, unintentionally allowing him to hear your voice break. Aegon's brows furrow at it.

He shakes his head, "you will be a great mother," he chuckles dryly, "you mother me so well."

You offer him a smile, but Aegon can see how disconnected it was from your eyes. You say, "thank you."

When you leave him after this, he wishes he hadn't said a word. He wishes he just left it at congratulations. He wishes he just pretended like the idea of having a child didn't mortify him and make him sick to his stomach. He wishes he wasn't so ill-suited to be a father.

Ageon no longer wishes for anything after this.

He no longer wishes to hold you, though he so badly wanted to. He no longer wishes to hear you sing, nor does he wish to hear you read to him. He no longer wishes to be around you, though his body urged him to follow you around like the lost soul he was.

He wishes he didn't wonder what you were doing at every moment of the day. He so desperately wishes to rid you from his mind completely that he drowns himself in his first and only true love, alcohol.

Fuck. He wishes he hadn't taken this route to his room. He wishes you hadn't taken this route to wherever it was you were going. He wishes he just turned around and fled like the coward he was, because then, you wouldn't have spoken to him.

"Husband," you curtsey.

Aegon stiffens and uncomfortably avoids your eyes.

You catch it, feeling your chest tighten painfully. You clear your throat and take a deep breath to steel yourself, "I thought you should know that I will be travelling."

Aegon looks at you.

"I have a ship ready and I'll be visiting the Grey Cliffs. Do not wait up for me."

His face falls. He opens his mouth, but doesn't have an opportunity to speak.

"I thought you should also know that I am no longer carrying."

His eyes widen.

"It's not an uncommon occurrence the first few months," you say simply, "I suppose the gods do not wish me to be a mother."

Aegon feels like a murderer. He wants to say something, to apologize, to comfort you, but he can't. He's too taken aback to do a single thing.

He turns into stone when you take his hand. You step forward and place his palm on your chest. Your heart is slow as you speak, "you won't have to worry about anything anymore, Aegon. Today is the end of our shared torment."

Aegon's stomach drops when you kiss him.

His eyes are glassy. You pull away before he can kiss you back. He wants to hold you, but the sadness in your eyes reminds him he is undeserving. You kiss his wrist, "goodbye, my love. I love you."

His heart thumps as you walk away.

Aegon is manic. He basks in the mess he's made and feels crushed by it all.

He finally acts after wasting so much time feeling sorry for himself. You were long out of his sight by the time he started running. This is why he headed to the dragonpit and got on Sunfyre.

"WAIT!" he screams, just as your boat leaves the dock.

Aegon watches as you run to the edge of the boat. He lands Sunfyre and runs as far to the edge of the docks as he could.

"Aegon-"

"Take me with you!" he pleads, "let me be the one to take you to where you must go!"

You look back. The ship stops. The crew brings down a boat and on it, you are rowed back to the dock.

He crushes you in his arms once he reaches you.

"Aegon," you mutter.

"Forgive me," he shudders, "I... I wish you let me do this for you."

"Aegon," your voice croaks. You push him away, "go home."

His heart drops. He breaks away to look at you. Your words feel like a stab at his thorax. It was presumptuous of him to assume you'd want him back, but it doesn't kill him inside any less.

"I've come to realize this is a trip I must go on myself," you mutter.

He shakes his head, "no. Please." He motions an arm out to his mount, "one wish. That I grant you one wish before you throw me away forever is... is--"

Your throat constricts at his words. Tears rush down your eyes, "I'm not throwing you away--"

"Please," he squeezes both your hands in his, "please, let me do this for you."

The flight to the Grey Cliffs is quiet, save for the whoosh of winds and the roars of the golden dragon you both rode. You always imagined it would be freeing, but only now did you know how it freeing it truly felt to fly. You knew now you'd forever chase the euphoric crush of air against your skin.

Aegon, who sat behind you, looks at your form as you outstretch your arms and close your eyes. Your body presses against him, and in this moment, he is unable to hold back from wrapping an arm around you and sparing a kiss on your shoulder. You are snapped out of your trance because of this.

The Grey Cliffs are dark and gloomy when you get there. Aegon realizes when you land that it got its name from the weather conditions.

He helps you down and surveys the area, trying to make out which part of this drear land was so special to you that you wished to go here.

You catch his expression and squeeze his hand.

Aegon turns to you.

You give a solemn look, "the view is better on the edge."

Aegon strokes Sunfyre's cheek, commanding him to stay before you lead him by the hand to the edge of the cliff. Once you get there, he feels queasy looking down at the crashing waves far beneath him. In contrast, you seem comforted by the view. His brows furrow at the deep breath you give out.

When you look at him, his stomach feels it, the comfort you felt upon witnessing the violent waves. Whatever it was that compelled you to this place was the same force that compelled him to kiss you.

He reaches out for your cheek, his other hand coming to you back. He pulls you close. His heart twinges when you stop him from kissing you.

"Aegon-"

"Forgive me," he cuts, "I beg."

You gawk at him. He brushes your hair which was wildly flinging with the breeze.

"You must know by now that I am craven. I lack the spine and the wit to be of any use to you."

Your eyes water. Your lips quiver.

"I would be a hopeless father, worse than my own, no doubt."

"Aegon," you babble as sobs overtake you.

Aegon, himself, succumbs to tears. He wipes the ones streaming down your face before taking a breath, "but you made me feel a love I do not deserve."

You swallow a heavy lump in your throat.

"I love you," he confesses.

"No," you pierce his heart. You shake your head in disagreement, "Aegon, this is a mistake. Bringing you here was a mistake."

"No!" he blurts louder than needed, "this was a choice," he looks down, "I choose to rip my insides out for you to devour. I am miserable, much more in the heat of your hate, but most of all without you."

His downturned eyes land on your face when you grab his wrists. You croak, "I do not hate you."

Aegon is not relieved by the admission, but he chooses to believe you mean it. He smiles softly, "good."

"But I do hate this life I live."

He clenches his jaw. Of course you do.

"You saved me," you press a hand on his cheek, taking your turn to wipe his tears, "even if for a moment."

"I made you miserable."

You chuckle. The sound makes his heart skip.

"You filled my life with purpose," you smile softly, "even when you did not mean to."

Aegon knits his brows deeply and takes your hands. He brings them to his lips and kisses them.

"But accidents happen. You must remember that accidents happen all the time."

Aegon shakes his head, "this is not an accident. Believe me when I say I chose to do this, I- ... I choose to love you."

You sob and turn to your feet.

"Please... believe me."

You sniffle and nod, slowly looking up at him, "I believe you."

You lunge into his arms and seal him into a tight hug. He hugs you back like it's his only way of surviving.

A crack of thunder startles Sunfyre. He becomes restless and steals away Aegon's attention, panicked that he might flee and leave them here.

He pulls away and takes a step towards her. He holds your hand, urging you to follow, "we should go before it rains."

You hug him from behind and press your face into his back, "thank you for taking me on Sunfyre."

"It was a long time coming."

"I've always wondered what it would be like to fly. And now that I know how peaceful it is, I'm ready to fly one last time."

He turns to you as you slowly come to his side. You hold his hand. He looks at you as you turn to Sunfyre. He promises, "I will take you on dragonback as many times as you wish."

You smile, but your eyes are fixed on his dragon. You release his hand and wrap your arms around yourself, "he is beautiful. You must never tire looking at him."

Aegon gazes upon Sunfyre. He takes in his golden scales and has newfound appreciation.

You take a step back.

"He is. To be honest, it's been long since I, myself, took him out of the pit. He must enjoy this day as much as you do."

"Aegon, you must understand that what I have to say has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me."

Aegon turns to you. He watches you tighten your arms around yourself. You must be cold. He rubs your shoulders.

You shake your head and turn him back to his dragon, "look at Sunfyre."

He knits his brows, "I'm looking."

"For so long," you release him, "I've wanted to fly free, to find my peace here in the cliffs. This was before I even met you." You point at the golden dragon, "I choose to love you too, but accidents happen, like if Sunfyre were to fly away, and you were to be left here alone."

Aegon stares at his ride for a moment as you lower your hand. He tries to makes sense of your words, but he cannot for the life of him understand.

He sighs, "what accident? Why do you keep-"

Aegon is flooded by confusion when he turns and finds you nowhere behind him. A split second later, he lets a horrified scream and the fear that claws into him makes his knees buckle. He crumbles to the ground and crawls to the edge of the cliff. He screams so loud that Sunfyre roars back and comes towards him.

Aegon watches as the red seafoam bubbles at the foot of the cliff. He watches as the crimson waves slowly slosh back into its original tint.

Rain begins to pour, and his tears taste no longer salty.

Was this the flying you ached for? Was this the relief you sought?

When he returns to King's Landing, dripping wet, he breaks down in front of his mother, weeping as he clutched his skirts.

Queen Alicent is obviously disturbed. She instructs her servants to get his son a change of clothes and some towels. She looks down at him, "what's happened? What's wrong, Aegon?"

"An accident-" he barely manages to say, "there's been an accident."

"An accident?!"

Aegon's mind goes blank. A bitter taste

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

[potatoplace]

I Don't Feel Alive

The Afterthought: Chapter 4 | series masterlist

ACOTAR x Archeron!Reader

part 3 | part 5 | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: Starfall means dress shopping, and dress shopping means spending time with Nesta and Elain... the celebration is its own set of challenges that you struggle with.

Warnings: Body shaming, toxic family, slight disordered eating, suicidal ideation, self-deprecating thoughts (let me know if I missed anything)

Words: ~9.2k

Author's Note: it's heeeere I didn't get quite as far into the story as I wanted, but this was a good cut off point too. I really hope you guys like this one! I don't think I made it quite angsty enough, but there's still some. Plus a lil fluff to start. Enjoy! p.s. let me know who you think Y/N will end up with! Or anything else you have to say 🫶

18+ only pls

🤍🤍❣️🤍🤍

Your dreams were soft and fuzzy, filled with hazy scenes of you laying in bed and cuddling with your sisters, just like you had every night so long ago.

Waking felt similar, your body cocooned by soft blankets and warm arms, your own wrapped around someone's torso. You took a deep breath before opening your eyes, blinking them a few times to adjust to the sunlight filtering in through the curtains.

Mor's face was laying on the pillow in front of you, still relaxed with sleep. She looked even prettier like this, without stress and her busy schedule hanging over her.

You slowly unwrapped your arms from around her, taking care to not wake her. She deserved the extra sleep, with how much time she was going to be spending in the Hewn City through the end of the year.

You rolled onto your back, Mor's arms tightening around you as you did. It felt nice, being held again. In the past two years, you had forgotten how lovely it was to wake up feeling safe, snuggled up with your sisters.

The sound of Mor's soft, even breaths nearly lulled you asleep, before your eyes flew open.

Shoot! You had forgotten Nuala and Cerridwen's Solstice presents...

Mor's arms were gently pried from your body, which was harder to do than you had anticipated, but you managed without waking her.

You pulled on a dressing gown and quietly grabbed the two bags containing their presents. Your bedroom door snicked shut behind you, and you padded down the hallway, down the stairs, and to their bedroom. One knock had the door swinging open, this time greeted by Cerridwen.

"Y/N? Did you need something?" The wraith asked, her eyes widening slightly when she saw the presents in your hand. "Oh, you didn't have to do that, Y/N," she said, letting you into their room.

"But I wanted to, both of you have been so wonderful to me. And I already got them for you, so you have to open them," you insisted, placing each bag in their new owner's hands.

Nuala shook her head but opened her present anyways, a wide smile overtaking her face. "This is wonderful Y/N! Oh and you even got me metal threads, how did you know?!" The wraith embraced you tightly in her arms.

"And you remembered me complaining about my needles, oh mother, Y/N, you are the most thoughtful person!" Cerrdiwen exclaimed, stealing you from her sister's arms. "You will be the first person I make something for," she said after she loosened her hold on you.

"You don't need to do that..."

Cerridwen looked at you sharply. "Yes I do, and I will. Would you prefer a hat or scarf first? Oh, I'll just make you both," she finished, not giving you time to answer.

"Thank you in advance, I suppose," you said, blush dusting your cheeks. "I'm glad both of you liked your gifts."

"Of course we do! You pay so much attention to what you buy for people, it's so sweet," Nuala said kindly.

A heavier blush rose to your cheeks at their sweet words. "I just like to make people happy. Speaking of which, I should get back to Mor-"

"Back to me? But I'm right here!" Mor said brightly from behind you, causing you to jump in shock. "Sorry, Y/N, did I scare you?" Mor's arms wrapped around you from behind. "You left me, so I came down to find you. Want to do breakfast before everyone returns?"

You nodded in agreement, but turned your eyes to the twins. "Do you want to join us?"

"I'd love to," Nuala said, and Cerridwen nodded her head before replying the same.

"Girls' breakfast! Let's go!" Mor exclaimed, pulling you out of the twins' room, down the hall, and into the kitchen.

The twins trailed behind at a less excited pace, and met the two of you in the kitchen as Mor was pulling food out of the cold box. Bacon, sausages, eggs, broccoli, and cheese were taken out, and the four of you began making breakfast- most likely too much food for the four of you, but Mor insisted that once Cassian had returned he would eat any food that was left over.

You provided the tea, rushing upstairs to pick out an orange and ginger tea.

Breakfast with the three of them was lovely, only kind words and soft smiles being exchanged between you. It was much more peaceful than most of the meals you had taken at the dining table, and for that you were grateful.

Your sisters, their mates, and Azriel returned while the four of you were still gathered round the table, talking over the last of the second pot of tea you'd made.

"Good morning, ladies," Rhys said as he slipped into one of the chairs, pulling a glowing Feyre into his lap a moment later. "Did you have a good breakfast?"

You nodded in response, but it was Mor who spoke. "Yes, in a team effort we made far too much food. What about you lot?"

"It was good, but there wasn't enough," Cassian complained as he sat down, plucking a piece of bacon off of a plate. You smiled at his antics, you'd always found it funny how the male never seemed to be truly full.

"There's never enough for you, Cass," Nesta said as she took the seat next to him- directly across from you- and glared hard enough at you that the small smile on your face fell off in an instant.

"That's true, even though he devoured all of the sweets you gave him, Y/N, he was asking for more the moment they were gone," Lucien laughed as he did the same as Rhys, pulling Elain into his lap in the chair next to yours.

Fear clutched at your heart, though you knew it shouldn't. But the thought of Cassian enjoying the sweets you had made so much that he asked for more... You were scared of how Nesta might retaliate this time.

You tried to keep your breathing even as the conversation passed from one ear to the other, no words registering as they spoke.

"Y/N?" Feyre's soft voice broke through, pulling you out of your worried heart and back into the moment. "You're still up to go dress shopping with us tomorrow, right?"

Your eyes flicked up to her, then to her mate behind her who had a stern look on his face. You forced your eyes back to her slightly worried ones, focusing on the gentle blue that you'd known your whole life. "Uhm... Yes, I am," you managed to respond once you had played the question over in your head.

"Good! We were all thinking that noon would be a fine time to leave, that way the three of us can sleep in a bit after the revel tonight. Does that sound good to you?"

You could feel Nesta's burning gaze and Elain's judgemental eyes on you, stoking the fire of your fear.

"That sounds fine to me, Feyre," you replied, fingers working nervously over the painted irises on your teacup, focusing on the tiny ridges that the paint had created, your gaze now trained on them.

Better than seeing the hatred in Nesta's eyes.

"Perfect! Now that that's settled, I think we should all get to perfecting the revel for tonight," Feyre said, causing movement from all around the table.

Except you.

You sat, staring at your teacup until everyone was gone, disappeared off to their rooms or offices, or wherever they needed to be.

That left you to clear the plates, quickly washing the dishes and leaving them to dry in the rack. Your teapot was dried by hand, and filled with tea leaves and hot water once more. Thankfully you were able to retreat to your room without question, letting you escape back into your fantasy world you had created in your mind. Away from Nesta and Elain's combined ire, combined disdain for your very existence.

The lovely jasmine tea Azriel had gifted you helped you forget where you were, nearly convincing yourself you were back in the human lands, sipping tea in the living room with your father as you watched snow fall and bury that tiny little shack, falling asleep to the thought of it in your arm chair.

🤍🤍💔🤍🤍

The next morning, you forced yourself from the arm chair, stretching out your neck as you did.

Somehow, it was less comfortable than sleeping in the bathtub.

Your soreness abated as you slid into steaming water, bubbling with rose scented soap- something that you were absolutely delighted by, loving that no matter what, your body was completely covered by bubbles. You hardly caught sight of your skin at all, though you knew with the day's plans, you would be forced to confront how your body had changed.

You could feel it, every now and then. The way your bones protruded just a bit more than they had a month ago. How your joints got sore from sitting or laying faster than before. How pale you had become compared to this time last year, when you had a slight glow to your skin.

This year, you were pasty. As though you had been locked away from the sun the entire time.

A sigh left your lips as you finished your skincare, the one act of kindness to yourself that you always made time for.

Your body didn't matter. It's not as though you would find someone in Prythian. After all, fae and humans shouldn't mix...

Feyre had said something similar to you, so long ago about your past crush on Cassian.

Thankfully in that time, only one person had caught your eye... And you were certain that Irina would never stoop so low as to date you of all people.

Another long breath, lungs deflating.

No, you were here to be alone. Mor and Feyre had begun trying to engage with you, for that you were grateful. They were keeping you from losing all hope once more, and it was all you could do to keep that flame alive.

Especially knowing that your own issues with your body would be added to by whatever Nesta and Elain deigned to say to you. Feyre may have told them to behave, but that wouldn't stop them from throwing barbs at you, thinly veiled by concern or 'opinion.'

Your cycle had finished the night before, leaving you tired but free of its scent, which you were overly thankful for. Mor's present was very nice, but you did not want to try the underwear out while dress shopping with your sisters.

You forced yourself to get dressed and headed out of your room, noting the time on the clock in the hallway. Half past eleven.

That should be enough time for a pot of tea, maybe taken in the kitchen? Or should you retreat to your room...?

You turned around and headed back to your room for a packet of tea leaves, this one a plain green tea. After grabbing it, you made your way downstairs, ears listening for any sign of life.

Perhaps they were all asleep still, exhausted from the revel the night before.

The kitchen was empty when you entered it, and you quickly set to making your tea. A few minutes later you were sat at the island in the kitchen, a cushioned stool beneath you. The tea was lovely and calming, it's clean, slightly sea scented aroma perfect for clearing your head.

That was until Nesta and Elain sauntered in, already talking about what dress styles and colors they were hoping to find today. Their conversation didn't stop once as they walked straight past you and into the living room, the only evidence of them noticing you was the feeling of their eyes on your back.

Suddenly, your heart wasn't so calm.

Feyre walked in a minute later, rushing over to you once she saw you seated at the island. "How are you?"

"I'm... I'm okay. How are you, Fey? How's the baby?"

"Oh I'm just fine, baby was being a little fussy earlier but they're all settled now. Are you ready to leave?"

You finished the rest of your tea in a few quick gulps, enjoying the feeling of warmth it brought, and stood from your stool. "I just need to wash this, and then I'm ready," you said, already making your way to the kitchen sink. That was done in a flash, and soon Feyre was ushering the three of you out the door, Nesta and Elain immediately locking arms and taking the lead. You and Feyre trailed after them, your own arms locked together after Feyre forced her elbow around yours, smiling at you when you looked at her.

All too soon, you arrived at the dress store in the middle of the Palace of Thread and Jewels, greeted by the owner, Tarin.

"Ah, the High Lady and her sisters! This is a lucky day for me, that's for sure," Tarin exclaimed as she approached Feyre, clasping their hands together. "What can I help the four of you with?"

"We're looking for dresses for Starfall, I know we're cutting it a bit close-"

"Oh, nonsense! For the High Lady, even the day of Starfall is not too close. Please, look around and pick out what interests you, we can have them altered if need be," Tarin said, waving her arms at the racks upon racks of dresses filling the shop. "I can also have them made up in different colors, and with any variations of fabrics you may like. Any way I can please you, my dears, and I am happy to do it."

Nesta and Elain set into the sea of fabric together, keeping close to each other as they picked through the racks. You stayed near Feyre, feeling wildly out of your depth.

Shopping for Solstice was one thing, it was shopping for those you cared for. But this...

This was shopping for yourself, and you struggled more with that. Buying the hairpin that you currently had twisted in your hair was a rare action, and one of the first non-practical purchase you had made for yourself since coming to Velaris.

"How about this one?" Feyre asked you, drawing you from your thoughts as she waved a dark purple dress in front of you, it's long sleeves waving as she did so.

"It's pretty," you said absentmindedly, staring at the way the fabric shimmered in the light.

"Do you want to try it on?"

Your eyes snapped up to Feyre's. "Me?"

Feyre laughed softly. "Yes, you. The cut is similar to dresses you've worn before, and you like purple, right?"

You looked back down at the dress, taking in the modest bodice and neckline, and the long length of the dress. "I like the design, but I think I'd prefer a lighter color, Fey," you said politely, but grabbed the dress anyway. "I'll try it on, though."

"That sounds fine, we could always get it made in a lilac color if you'd like," Feyre suggested, her hands already moving over more dresses. "You can go put that at the dressing rooms, then come back and look for more, okay?"

You nodded and did as she suggested, returning to her side and half-heartedly looking over the dresses hung in front of you.

Many of them were far too revealing for your comfort, with low necklines and slits up the thigh. You did find a few you thought Feyre may like, gowns that reminded you of the shimmering night sky, and showed them to her when you happened across them.

"Oh, I love this one," Feyre gushed when she saw one you had handed her, this one a dark blue silk with a smattering of silver stars embroidered across the chest and stomach, with a sweetheart neckline. The length of the dress would like reach her mid thigh, and hang just slightly on the tiny bump that was forming on Feyre's stomach. "What do you think?" She asked, holding the dress up to her body. "High Lady of Night enough?"

Even held against her body, the dress looked perfect for her. "Definitely. You should try it on, Fey," you suggested.

"Hmm... I think I will, Y/N. Are you ready to try yours on? I think we've both got a decent number," Feyre said, slowly walking with you to the back of the shop, where the dressing rooms were located.

"I am, I think," you replied, though you were unsure of being anywhere within a ten foot radius of Nesta. Especially if she couldn't find a dress she liked...

Thankfully at the moment, Nesta and Elain were both in their own dressing rooms, trying on whichever ones they had picked out.

You and Feyre entered your own curtained room, the dresses that you had picked out hung on the hooks inside.

A quiet sigh, and you set to undressing yourself. There was no mirror in here, likely to force people out to get recommendations from their friends. The purple dress that Feyre had found was the first you tried on, the soft fabric flowing down your body like water.

It clung too much.

That was your first impression of the dress, even with the modest neckline and hem length. The soft fabric seemed to be molded to your body, and even a cursory feel of your hands over your hips had you wishing you had rejected Feyre's offer to go shopping. You did not want to hear what Nesta would say about the slight show of your bones in the dress.

"Y/N, are you almost done? We're waiting for you," Feyre said softly from the other side of the curtain, and you forced yourself out of the dressing room. "Oh, you look lovely! I think the color looks nice on you," Feyre said kindly, even as her eyes lingered over the sharp edges of your shoulders, the noticeable bump of your hip bones.

"Do you eat?" Nesta asked sharply from across the room, her nose wrinkled as she took you in. "You look like you're still living in poverty, Y/N."

Blood rushed to your cheeks at her words. They were true, though. "I eat. I've just been..." you paused, trying to find a word that wouldn't irritate your sister. "Stressed."

Nesta scoffed, but shut her mouth at a stern look from Feyre.

"The color is nice, Y/N," Elain said weakly. You forced a smile in her direction.

"Thank you, Elain. Your dress is lovely, green is a wonderful color on you," you said, taking in the flowing layers of fabric that made up the skirt of the dress, all in varying shades of dark green.

"Thank you," Elain replied, but moved her gaze to Nesta. "Nes, your dress is gorgeous. I think you should stick with that one, no need to look for others. You look perfect," Elain said excitedly, so different from her reaction to you.

You tried not to let it sting, turning instead to Feyre. She was clad in a floor length dress in black, tiny diamonds sewn on in patterns that you thought were constellations. There was a slit up to her mid thigh on both sides, allowing her to move freely. "This one is beautiful Fey, you look stunning!"

"You think? I still want to try on that last one you picked out, but I really like this one," Feyre said. "Oh, and I may have put an extra dress in your dressing room, please just try it on, I think you'll really like it. It's the pink one on the left hand side. Just, try it," Feyre begged you softly before returning to her dressing room, Nesta and Elain already back in their own.

Your mouth set into a line, you entered the curtained room again. As she said, there was a glittering pink gown hung on the left hand side when you walked in. Your mouth fell into a frown at the neckline.

Entirely too scandalous for you.

But still, you forced yourself to shed the purple dress and shimmy into the pink one as Feyre had asked. The long, flowing sleeves were off the shoulder, connected to the bodice by a small amount of fabric. The neckline of the dress was far lower than you were normally comfortable with, showing more cleavage than you ever had. The dress was loose fitting past your chest, the flowing skirts moving beautifully as you examined them. The pale rose pink of the fabric was one of your favorites, and didn't wash out your complexion. A difficult task, with how pale you are at the moment.

You walked out of the dressing room and stood in front of the mirror, assessing the dress. Your shoulders were far too bony, but even so... You felt beautiful in the dress, like a princess. The skirts reached your feet, billowing out around you. The neckline was lower than you wanted... But it looked lovely, and really, wearing one low-necked dress in your lifetime would be fine. A turn in the mirror showed you your prominent scapulae, half hidden by the fabric of the dress. That could be fixed by styling your hair in large ringlets, enough to cover most of your back. But the gown... The gown was lovely.

"Oh, I knew you would look perfect in that one!" Feyre cheered when she exited her dressing room in the dress you had picked for her. "You look amazing! Please tell me this is the one you want?" Feyre asked, standing by you as both of you stared in the mirror.

"You don't think it's too...?" You gestured to the neckline. "Revealing?"

Feyre shook her head. "No, mother no. I've worn much worse, you have nothing to worry about. It's just a little bit different than usual, is all. And it's perfect on you."

You tried to believe Feyre, and you did like the dress...

But then Nesta walked out. Her eyes narrowed and nose wrinkled as she gave you a once over, obviously displeased with how you looked.

She was so good at that. Tearing you apart with just one look.

"Your shoulders stick out," Nesta remarked as she took her place in front of the mirror, looking herself over. Her dress was made of shiny silver fabric, a corset in the same fabric serving as the bodice with thick straps wrapping over the tops of her shoulders.

You ignored her comment as best you could. "You look amazing in that dress, Nesta. The corset fits you perfectly."

A cold look over her shoulders, followed by a clipped, "Thank you."

Elain came out of her dressing room last, this time clad in a cream colored dress, looking every bit like the bride she was always destined to be.

"Oh, Elain! You look wonderful!" You said brightly as you took a step toward her, stopping when her gaze hit you- cold as ice. "This one looks very nice on you, but the last one looked amazing too," you said, more nervous now.

"Thanks," she answered coolly, setting her eyes on Feyre. "Feyre, that dress is stunning on you, and very fitting for Starfall."

You nodded in agreement, the dress was perfect for her. And just like you thought, it just barely highlighted the tiny baby bump Feyre had. The sight of it made you smile.

You were overjoyed that your sister had found a loving partner in Rhys, and was looking forward to motherhood.

"Thank you, 'Lain, I really like that it shows my bump just a bit, I think Rhys and I are ready to let our court know that we're expecting at Starfall," Feyre said excitedly, a hand stroking her belly.

"That's amazing, Feyre," Nesta said softly, sounding the kindest she had since they had been taken by Hybern.

"You'll be the talk of Starfall," Elain said, holding Feyre's hands in her own. "I'm so excited for you and Rhys!"

"I don't want to make the biggest deal out of it, after all, it's still early, but... Rhys is so excited about finally being a father, I had to talk him down from telling the Hewn City residents about it last night," Feyre sighed. "I am glad that I'm going to have all of my sisters with me, supporting me along the way, though. Thank you all for coming shopping today," Feyre said tearily.

"Of course, Feyre," you said, taking her in your arms. "We're always going to be by your side."

Elain's arms followed next, barely touching you but clutching Feyre close. "Yeah, Fey, we'll always be with you. Right, Nes?"

"Of course. I will always be here for you, Feyre," Nesta said, and reluctantly wrapped her arms around Feyre and Elain, one hand just barely touching you.

When you all pulled away, Feyre was crying softly, tears streaming down her face. You grabbed tissues from a nearby table, dabbing away the tracks of starlight on her face. "It's okay, Feyre. We're all here."

"I-I know," Feyre sniffled. "I just... I love you all so much. I can't imagine life without any of you." She let you wipe her eyes, dabbing away the last of her tears after she collected herself. "Now, let's try on the rest of the dresses, we shouldn't waste too much of Miss Tarin's time."

The four of you continued to try on dresses, with much of the same behavior. You attempted to compliment your sisters, only to be met with cold responses. If they did talk to you, it was to point out how the dress didn't suit you.

You still chose the pink dress that Feyre had chosen for you, Feyre choosing the blue one that you had picked for her. Nesta picked the silver gown. Elain had taken the longest to decide, eventually choosing the green dress she had tried on first.

Feyre had argued over the payment with Tarin, demanding that she pay full price for the rushed orders, eventually winning the argument. Nesta and Elain had left by that point, taking off to some vague location that contained books.

That left you and Feyre, walking slowly across the bridge that would lead you to the Rainbow. She wanted to look at paints, and maybe get something special for the canvases that you had gotten her.

And that's how you found yourself entering Irina's shop once more, your heartbeat kicking up when you realized it. Feyre led you to the wall of paint, her fingers hovering over the tubes as she searched for the colors she wanted.

Soft footsteps approached from the back of the shop, and you were met with Irina, her face just as beautiful as you remembered, her smile just as warm.

You could have sworn your heart skipped a beat.

"Ah, Feyre and Y/N, it's lovely to see both of you," Irina's smooth voice said. "You came in just in time, I was about to close up early."

"Lucky us!" Feyre said, eyes still glued to the paint tubes. "Any special occasion?" She asked Irina teasingly as she pulled a few out of the selection.

"Oh, hush you," Irina scolded, swatting Feyre gently on the arm. "You know that I have a date with Rivin tonight."

Oh.

Your heart sank.

"Well, I wanted to make sure the plans were still on! You know I was rooting for the two of you to get together," Feyre said. You grabbed the paint tubes she had picked up from her, pushing her slender hand away when she attempted to take them back. Your fingers rolled over the cap, giving you a sensation to focus on besides your crushed... crush. "The way the two of you danced around each other since I first met you was adorable- I'm so glad you're going out now!"

"Well, I'll only be able to go out with her if you choose what you want soon, or she'll think I stood her up!" Irina laughed, her skin shifting colors under the light.

"Oh, fine, fine," Feyre said, pulling out three more tubes of paint, all shimmering metallic shades. You followed her as she followed Irina to the back counter, placing the tubes on it. Soon enough, the paints were rung up and bagged, and clutched tightly in your arms. "Thank you, Irina. I hope your date goes well."

"Oh, I do as well!" Irina said as she walked the two of you out of the store, locking the door behind her. "I hope the two of you have a lovely rest of your day as well."

"You as well, Irina," you said quietly, nodding your head to her before she turned to leave. She flashed you a dazzling smile, her eyes a bright pink today.

So pretty.

"I'll see the two of you around!" She yelled, waving goodbye over her shoulder.

You and Feyre began the walk home, arms linked together one more, your other balancing the bag of paint.

"How do you know Irina?" Feyre asked once you were crossing the Sidra, taking careful penguin steps so neither of you would fall on the slippery bricks.

Color rushed to your cheeks, though they were already pink from the cold. "Oh, I went into her shop to get one of your birthday presents. The canvases and all," you explained.

"Ahh, that makes sense. She's nice, and she has a great selection!" Feyre said excitedly as the two of you passed through the door of the River House. "I cannot wait to start the first three panels! I'm not quite through my third month yet, but I know some of what I want to do for it."

"I'm glad you like it Fey! I can't wait to see what you make for each one." You kicked off your boots after unlacing them, and let Feyre pull your jacket off your arms, you doing the same for her after. "I think I'm going to head up to my room," you said quietly after you hung up your coats and put your boots on the rack.

"Oh, alright. I... I hope you didn't feel too uncomfortable while shopping," Feyre said. You knew what she meant: with Nesta and Elain.

"I was... fine," you lied half-heartedly.

Feyre stared at you, and you would have thought she was reading your mind, but you didn't feel anything similar. "If you say so. You know you can talk to me, right?" You nodded. "Okay... Well, I'll let you get to your room. Did you want me to start water for tea? I was going to make a cup for myself anyway," Feyre offered, a soft smile on her face.

You nodded again. "That would be nice, thank you, Fey."

Feyre's smile broadened. "I'll see you in the kitchen, sissy."

You went to your room to grab another packet of tea from the sampler Azriel had gotten you- so far, you were a fan of every blend he had chosen. You were hoping today's choice of a rose petal tea would be just as lovely.

The trip back to the kitchen was quick, with no sign of your other two sisters. Good. You weren't in the mood to see their sneering faces again so soon.

Tea was made quickly, thanks to Feyre boiling water for you. You gave her a hug before returning upstairs, tray balanced in your arms.

Just before you opened your door, the door to Rhys's study swung open, Azriel emerging from it.

Oh!

He came down the hallway, and once he was near the stairs you finally got your brain to move past your anxiety of starting a conversation.

"Hi, Azriel, would you uhm... Would you wait here for just a moment?" You asked. "I have that Solstice present I got for you."

"Alright," Azriel replied quietly, moving closer to your doorway. You went inside quickly, fishing the already wrapped box out from under your bed, and a moment later you were back in front of him, offering the gift to him.

"Open it," you said, pushing the box into his hands.

Soon enough, the dagger was in his hands, his fingers running over the inlaid crescent moon made of sapphires, then over the blade itself. "This is wonderful, Y/N, thank you," Azriel said, sincerity in his tone. "I happen to have gotten a gift for you as well." A moment later, shadows materialized, depositing a festive, glittery evergreen tree colored bag in his hand.

"Oh, Azriel, you didn't have to-"

"Open it," Azriel said simply, transferring the handles over to your hand in a quick movement.

You narrowed your eyes playfully at him, but opened the bag. Inside was a beautiful, hooded cloak that would reach at least your mid back, made of a soft, white yarn. Beneath it was a matching scarf, little tassels on the ends, and a pair of mittens. They even had a small button on the top, allowing for the and of the mitten to be lifted and become a sleeveless glove if needed.

"Its made of rabbit fur," Azriel said quietly as you ran your fingers over the fabric. You looked up at with him with wide eyes. "Oh- they just brush or shave the rabbits, don't worry, no fluffy creatures were killed in the making of your gift," Azriel reassured you.

You let out a breath of relief. "Good. Good. It's a beautiful present, Azriel, thank you. Could I- could I give you a hug?" You asked nervously, regretting the question the moment you asked it. "I mean, you don't have to-"

"That would be fine." You blinked up at him. That would be- You allowed yourself to wrap your arms around him, noticing how stiff he was for the first few seconds before relaxing, his own arms coming up around you.

He smelled nice. Like cedar wood and... And night? Whatever it was, it was nice. Calming.

You both retracted your arms at the same time, pulling apart. A soft smile at him and one last thank you, and then you were in your room once more.

You were happy that he liked your present, but the slight wash of warmth it had given you was quickly chased away by the rest of your day.

Nesta and Elain... You were sure that they would never look at you like a sister again.

And Irina... It was such a silly crush that you had, based almost entirely on how pretty she was. You had been taken with her instantly, yes, breath catching in your throat. But that... That meant nothing.

Especially with you still being... Human. Frail. Less than a century from dying.

No fae, no matter how they looked, would ever take you as their wife, that you were sure of. You only had a couple of decades left of looking youthful, and perhaps only a few more past that before illness would inevitably take you.

A heavy sigh left your lips as you sat at your desk, a cup of tea poured out in the next moment.

At least tea could never not choose you...

🤍🤍❣️🤍🤍

The next week and a half passed dreadfully slowly, spent mostly in the solitude of your room.

Feyre came by when she could make time, the two of you sharing a pot of tea and the occasional snacks that she would bring.

Mor was stuck in the Hewn City, all the way until the morning of Starfall, when she would have a slight reprieve. She had already promised to come and spend the morning with you to get ready and catch up.

But until then, or until Feyre could make time... You stuck to your room.

Apparently your giving a joint present to Nesta and Cassian, and Elain and Lucien cause some extra anger in the two of them towards you. Nesta's glare had seemed extra fiery, and Elain had appeared perched on Lucien's lap more often than not when you did happen to wander into the living room.

You tried not to let it get to you, you did... But between the extra tension at home and the sadness in your heart from your silly little crush... It was weighing you down.

The days ticked past, counting down to an event that you weren't particularly excited for...

The morning of Starfall arrived, bringing with it the bright ball of energy that was Mor.

"Y/N!" Mor shouted, startling you awake. "Wake up! Wake up wake up! I'm here, I'm here. Please. Wake up. I've missed you!"

"Oh my gods, Mor, I'm awake," you groaned, rubbing your hands over your eyes. "Do you know a gentle way to wake people up?" You asked as you sat up, pushing your hair away from your face.

"Mm, not really. But, my way is super effective," Mor said cheekily, grinning when you stood up in the tub to glare at her with no fire in your eyes. "Come over here, sweets," she demanded, patting the bed next to her. You went over to her, collapsing onto the bed next to her, and swatted at her with a pillow in revenge for her waking you so abruptly. "So, how have the past two weeks been for you?"

"Oh... You know... Boring..." You said quietly. "How's it been for you? Is everyone behaving?"

Mor narrowed her eyes at you for a brief moment, before accepting your change of subject. "Oh, most everyone has been fine... I've been trying very hard to change the city's voting system plus helping plan their Starfall event, so my hands have been full every waking moment. And Keir has been an absolute pain..." Mor sighed. "He doesn't like that he's losing most of his control by the city moving to a full population vote rather than just the nobles, but it's going to happen whether he likes it or not. But for me, that just means him being more of an ass."

"I'm sorry Mor. I wish that someone else was able to help you..."

"Feyre offered, but, well, with her being pregnant that's not the best idea. And I'm sure Amren would enjoy going solely to terrify the citizens, but that's not exactly... What we're aiming for. And I can do it, and I will, I just wish my stupid father wasn't a factor." Mor sighed dramatically and flopped back on your bed, arms flung out to the sides.

One smacked into your thigh and you laughed, pushing it off of you and back over to Mor's side. "I know something that will cheer you up," you offered.

"Oh?" Mor asked, peeking over at you. "And what would that be?"

"Doing our skincare!" You answered brightly, using the same tactic that she always did with you.

"Oh, I should have guessed!" Mor giggled. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, sweets. Let's get to it!"

"Wait- let me take a quick bath first, and then I'll be all ready for it."

Mor nodded. "That sounds fine, I'll go make some tea and grab some breakfast for us."

The morning moved quickly from there- too quickly, in your opinion, your alone time with Mor slipping away so fast. After you had bathed, the two of you did your skincare, doing an extra mask and moisturizer to give yourselves an extra glow.

Into the second pot of tea Mor started doing your makeup once she had seen your dress. She spent nearly an hour on you alone, taking her time to perfect your eyeshadow and lipstick, getting just the right about of blush coloring your cheeks. You felt beautiful, seeing yourself like that in the mirror.

Mor's own makeup didn't take near as long, but she was even more beautiful than usual, with the extra time she had put in.

The two of you spent a bit more time together before she had to leave and return to the Hewn City for a bit longer, to make sure their celebration started smoothly.

"I'll see you at the House of Wind later, yes?" Mor asked before she left your room, a stern eye on you.

You sighed. "Yes, Mor, I will see you at the House of Wind. I won't skip out on the celebration, I promise."

Mor nodded in approval. "Good. I'll see you in a few hours, Y/N."

She breezed out of your room, leaving you alone once again.

You sighed, and sat down on your bed. Then collapsed back onto it.

Just a few more hours, and your anxious anticipation could subside.

Starfall would be fine this year. You will stay away from Nesta, Elain, and their mates, and instead stick around Feyre, Mor, and possibly Azriel, if he didn't seem too annoyed by your presence.

🤍🤍💔🤍🤍

Four hours later, you were dressed and ready to leave for the House of Wind. Your hair was half pinned up by the hairpin you had bought yourself, half left down in loose curls that conveniently covered most of the bones in your back.

There was little you could do to cover your shoulders, what with the style of the dress, but you felt pretty nonetheless. The gown had been taken in slightly, just enough to fit more snugly and leave you feeling more comfortable with such an exposed neckline, more secure. And the way the skirts flowed around your feet made you feel more graceful than you were.

Overall, you felt decent about yourself tonight. Your hair had cooperated, not making you late for the start of the event by taking too long to style. And the makeup that Mor had done was perfect, just enough to enhance your natural features.

You had even opted for heels tonight, little sparkly silver boots that Feyre had gotten for you, in case you wanted something more than flats to wear.

When you finally left your room, you made your way downstairs where Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel were waiting in the entryway, seemingly for you.

"Oh, Y/N, you look beautiful!" Feyre exclaimed when she caught sight of you, rushing over to pull you into her arms. "I just love this dress on you!"

"Yes, both of you look lovely, but Feyre...?" Rhys started.

"Oh, shoot! We need to get going, Y/N, but Azriel will take you up to the House when you're ready!" Feyre said brightly, leaving the house a moment later and letting her mate take her in his arms, shooting of into the sky together.

Your heart dropped. Flying? You had only flown a few times, usually to get to the House of Wind as you would be tonight. It still terrified you as badly as it did on the first time, leaving you shaking every time.

"Are you ready to leave?" Azriel asked, pulling you from your thoughts. You nodded, and followed him outside, even as you felt like your heart was in your throat at the prospect of flying.

He gently pulled you into his arms, one hooked beneath your knees and the other supporting your back. Your arms instinctively flew around his neck, ready to hold on for dear life.

Not that you didn't trust Azriel to keep you alive, just... You weren't made for flying, you don't think.

The push off from the ground had you closing your eyes, squeezing them shut tight. You could feel your heart racing, trying to leave your chest as you were overtaken by fear.

"You look beautiful tonight," Azriel said, his deep voice in your ear causing your eyes to snap open.

"You don't have to lie..."

Azriel let out a soft breath. "I'm not lying, you look beautiful tonight. Pink is your color, I believe," He said, his voice right in your ear again. Color rushed to your cheeks at his compliment, and you smiled- small, but there.

A moment later, he had landed solidly on the ground, carefully placing you on your feet.

You'd nearly forgotten you had been flying.

Soon after distancing yourself from him, Rhys rushed over to pull him away for some reason or another. Which left you standing alone in the House of Wind, for the first time since Bounty Day.

Anxiety grew in your gut again, making you feel queasy.

Especially when you saw the feast, laid out over that same massive dining table.

You turned away from the banquet, navigating instead to Feyre's side. Already she was surrounded by a few citizens, but you were able to make your way in for a hug from your sister. Soon though, far more crowded in, and following the arrival of Rhys you broke away from your sister, no longer feeling welcome next to them.

You wandered off, searching for Mor in the ever growing sea of people, with no luck yet.

Azriel, the other person you knew that could be safe to talk to, was occupied talking to a very pretty redhead, and also next to Nesta and Cassian.

Definitely a no.

After a while, you filled a small plate with food, picking at the smoked meats, cheeses, and some pieces of fruit until you couldn't stand it anymore, taking the plate back into the kitchens.

Back here, it was quieter. A few stragglers were wandering in and out between the balconies nearby, but you paid them no mind as you got a glass of cool water from the sink.

You let yourself take a few deep breaths to calm yourself, to bring yourself out of your anxiety. It helped, but not much.

It was enough to allow you to wander back out into the party, passing more than enough males who eyed you up and down, leaving you nervous. You were almost tempted to grab a glass of wine, but you knew all that was provided was faerie wine, something that you never wanted to try after hearing some of Feyre's tales involving it.

You knew this dress was a mistake. A beautiful one, yes, but it left you feel exposed unlike every before.

Every few minutes, you circled back to where Feyre was, seeing if there was an opportunity for you to ask her to take you back to the River House, or have someone take you back. But every time you passed, there was somehow more people crowded around Feyre and her mate.

Mor was nowhere to be seen two hours into the party, leaving you adrift in the sea of fae that had overtaken the House of Wind. You were overwhelmed and feeling so alone, the noise of the party drowning out any coherent thoughts you could have.

Just make it to the Starfall, and you can go.

That's what you told yourself for an hour as you continued your slow circles of the main rooms, attempting to find Mor or see if Feyre was available. No luck for you, though.

Cheers erupted as the first streaks of glowing green overtook the sky, giving you your cue to leave.

You didn't care that it was cold and snowy out, you just needed away from the noise, the lights, the everything that always surrounded you.

The stairs were hell in your heeled boots, but you dealt with them, forcing yourself to go one step at a time. By some miracle, you didn't fall, merely ending the massive flight of stairs by sitting down at the bottom to catch your breath.

Tears had begun falling down your cheeks at some point, driven by the cold and how lonely you feel, how forgotten you felt yet again.

You finally pushed yourself off of the cold stone, the bottom of your dress now wet with snow.

The forest would give you the peace you wanted, though you wouldn't venture near as far as you had last time. No, tonight you just wanted a bit of peace, a bit of time with only natural light shining upon you, even if it was enhanced by the cosmic phenomenon going on above you.

Your feet carried you to the edge of Velaris, the forest in your sights. A sigh of relief left you as you saw the trees, so reminiscent of the ones you had grown up near.

And then you crashed into a wall.

"What the-?" You rubbed at your nose, attempting to soothe the pain of crashing into- whatever you had crashed into. You held your hands out, shocked to find that they rested perfectly on an invisible force in front of you. Nothing that you tried let your hands pass that point, and a kick at the area led to the same results- a foot that you knew would hurt badly in the morning.

You couldn't believe it.

They had locked. You. In. They had taken any amount of freedom you could have, no matter how fleeting it would inevitably be.

Ice cold rage and swells of disappointment left you a sobbing mess as you stumbled away from the wall of your cage, following the Sidra with no true destination in mind.

You would not be going back to that house. You couldn't. Not when- when... Not when Feyre had okayed you being locked inside of the city like nothing more than a pet, like you weren't a person with feelings and needs and desires.

You were sick of being alone, sick of feeling alone even in a sea of people. You had no one who was just yours. And that would never change in Velaris, would never change unless you were around humans once more.

"Y/N!" A warm voice said, drawing your eyes from the snow covered ground to the person it came from. "How did the recipe I gave you turn out? Good?" Sevenda asked, her smile turning to a frown when she saw your tear covered, blotchy face. "Is everything okay, dear?"

Another sob left your lips, despite your attempts to quiet it. "I- I- No," you managed to get out.

"Oh, come in here for a minute, Y/N, you're freezing!" Sevenda said, pulling you into the back of her restaurant. She pushed a cup of tea in front of you, which you gladly accepted, your fingers warming instantly from the mug. "Did you want to talk about it?" She asked after a couple of minutes.

You shook your head, but sighed and answered anyways. "I just... I don't belong in that house, I don't belong in Velaris... I can't... I can't keep pretending like I do, acting like I'm happy to be there... I need..." You sighed again. "I need out of there." And then an idea struck you. "I- I know this would be a lot to ask, and that you likely don't need help from a human but... Do you happen to need help here? I could do anything you need, I just..." You trailed off.

"You need out?" Sevenda asked, sympathy on her face and in her voice. "Well, I did lose one of my prep cooks to the Continent recently, he went to study new styles of cooking. If you are serious about this, I will have you show up at nine tomorrow morning. Okay, dear?"

You nodded your head vigorously. "I would be so grateful, Sevenda, truly, thank you so much." You let the older fae pull you into her arms, the gentle hug enough to stop your tears for the moment.

"Are you going to be alright, dear?" She asked once she pulled away, looking you in the eyes. You nodded your head, not trusting your voice at the moment. "Okay. Let me get you a cup of tea to go, and you should go straight home, hmm?"

You let her do just that, accepting the hot jasmine tea in a lidded cup that she made you promise to bring back in the morning. After saying goodbye, you set off in the opposite direction of the River House.

No matter how cold you were, you didn't feel like going back there yet.

Some time later, you found yourself on a cliffside, overlooking the bay of Velaris. Your tea was long gone by now, any warmth it had given you gone with it.

The rocks down below looked so inviting, as though they would welcome you in an instant. You let out a long, heavy breaths, tears beginning to flow again.

You wish you had the strength to jump.

Instead, you sat on the edge of the cliff, booted feet dangling over the side. The snow underneath you was frigid, leaving you colder than before. But still, you sat and watched the waves, and listened to the crash on the rocks below.

"Y/N?" A deep voice asked from behind you, but you paid it no mind. Maybe they would leave you alone. "Y/N?" The voice asked again. After another length of silence from you, the person took another approach, and sat next to you instead, their own long legs dangling over the edge. A warmth behind you, and less wind hitting you after the male readjusted. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You still didn't answer.

Instead, you were surprised by gentle hands winding a scarf around your neck in two loops, then a cloak being fastened over your head and buttoned in the front, and finally a pair of mittens slid over your hand.

Azriel didn't make you talk, didn't make you do anything. He simply let you take the time you needed to recover, to stop your tears.

A while later, the waves started to lull you to sleep, your head tilting to the side until Azriel pulled it to his arm, letting you rest against him. Your eyes fluttered shut, your cheek soaking in the warmth of him, even through the hood of your cloak.

It was only when you nearly pitched forward off the cliff that Azriel insisted on taking you back to the River House, or at least to a café where you could warm up.

"I suppose..." your voice cracked. "That going back to the River House would be... fine... for now," you whispered, glad that he didn't force you to speak any more. A moment later and you were pulled through shadows, similarly to how Nuala and Cerridwen travelled but... different in a way. Almost warmer, you would say.

The two of you appeared in front of your bedroom door, the warm air shocking your skin and making you feel clammy.

"I'll have my shadows bring you a pot of tea, feel free to take a bath or change so you can warm up, Y/N. I hope you have a better night that it has been so far," Azriel said quietly before turning to leave.

"Thank you, Azriel," you croaked just before he turned to go down the stairs. He gave you a small smile and nodded before continuing on his way.

You entered your bedroom, tears falling almost instantly once you were alone again. You forced yourself to strip, hanging up the pink gown to dry and setting your sparkly boots near the door. The bath felt soothing, at least, warming you to the core by the time you got out.

And there, awaiting you on your desk, was a fresh pot of the lavender and chamomile tea that you preferred for sleep.

A few extra tears fell at that small act of kindness, and you helped yourself to a still steaming cup of it, settling into the armchair that you had perpetually pulled near your window, a throw blanket across your body.

Sleep claimed you before you had even finished your second cup of tea.

🤍🤍💔🤍🤍

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[miorirenkova]

"dream about me" CHAPTER 02

park sunghoon x fem!reader

“park that car, drop that phone

sleep on the floor, dream about me.”

CHAPTER 01, CHAPTER 02, CHAPTER 03, CHAPTER 04, CHAPTER 05, CHAPTER 06

synopsis: you weren’t a good person—everyone knew that. cruel, sharp-tongued, and ruthless in high school. but you weren’t a killer. at least, that’s what you told yourself.

just as you were trying to change, news breaks: your high school enemy, park hana, has taken her own life before university.

and her brother?

he’s convinced it’s your fault. determined to make you pay. but the deeper he digs, the more you both realize—hana’s death isn’t as simple as it seems.

warnings: heavy mentions of suicide and bullying, violence, abuse, terrible parenting, heavy topics like death (mentions of a character’s death), gaslighting, manipulation, corruption, blackmail, guilt, trauma, revenge, LOTS of angst, fixation, smut (smut warnings will be given in the smut chapter!!), forgive me if i miss any/more might be added

note: completely forgot to mention, i will be making a taglist for this so please lmk in the comments if you would like to be added <33 tysm for the support despite my weird release schedule

song for this chapter: cinnamon girl by lana del rey

word count: 4.4k

whole paragraphs in italic are flashbacks of past events and color text without quotations are lyrics ! if they have quotations too, they are lyrics + dialogue in story.

playlist link: click here !

mdni . hate comments will be deleted.

the library is dim and nearly empty, only filled with a couple of students either with their friends or alone, spread across the library.

the soft warm light from the windows illuminated the students, various sounds mixing with the soft shuffle of papers and keyboard clicks. it was comforting in a way.

often times, you didn't really go home early. your parents didn't care so you often spent time here. odd place really, to be spending time at, especially when you weren't studying. just.. sitting. admiring god knows what.

"my mom called me twenty times today," a girl mumbles, flipping a page. "she thinks if i don't get into that university, i should just quit school altogether."

you turn your head slightly, taking out a spare candy from your pocket and unwrapping it, still leaning on the wall, trying to find the source of the sound.

oh.

well, if it isn't park hana.

"twenty times?! that's insane.. were you not picking up the calls?" hana's friend replied, sipping on the bland coffee placed on the table.

you snickered as your phone glows beside you. no missed calls. nothing. not from your mom. not from you dad.

truly, how lucky she is.

hana shook her head, "i don't have the energy to talk to her about it. god she's so fucking annoying. all she says is, 'hana do this. hana do that. hana why aren't you doing that?', i'm fucking sick of it. i'm trying, isn't that enough?!" she finishes, glancing at the windows.

hah. at least she cares about you, hana. you should live a day in my shoes someday. how it feels to have parents who barely remember your age. hell, who barely remember they even have kids.

you both truly are two sides of a spectrum, huh?

you barely got sleep last night. hell, you barely get any sleep these days. you might as well be going insane soon with the lack of sleep. god knows how the hell you have still been able to be somewhat caught up with school the last few days.

and the reason, well, you really didn't have to beat your head to figure it out.

her.

of course, of fucking course.

it was always you who suffered the most anyways.

but one thing that you suppose is.. somewhat good about these few days is that you sat down and thought about it. thought about the situation. like really, thought about it.

and you came up with a dumb idea.

okay, maybe give yourself some credit because, in a way, this is what looks like you the only way for you to maybe get rid of this stupid guilt in your head. guilt that you don't even deserve.

your oh-so great idea?

talk to sunghoon. you were planning to talk to sunghoon. tell him about everything.

sure, it was dumb. dumb because even a child could know that the brother of the girl who committed suicide would not talk normally or even hear out the person who is the main suspect, especially in his eyes, for inducing the suicide.

but your plan was to at least try. try to make him understand that you truly aren't the reason and tell him the truth about the weird thing you and hana had going.

keyword: try.

you weren't expecting any insane, peaceful, resolving results. but you could at least feel somewhat less guilty if you could at least speak up about it, right?

he was the only one you could truly reach out to anyways, outside of your own friend circle at least.

plus, he was the number one person who was against you right now. and knowing what you know about him from high school, he wasn't going to shut up. it's a miracle the police closed the case or you would definitely already be a suspect in their eyes.

but that's the problem. nothing is stopping sunghoon from trying to open it again with you, as a suspect.

you didn't do shit! you tried to make peace with her. even fucking apologized. she was the one was so hell bent on not ending this stupid rivalry you both had childishly created.

and here you are now. stuck in this stupid situation because of her. feeling wrongly guilty because of her.

so, in simple words..

you were fucked.

you groaned at the thought before turning around and glancing at the clock.

8:13 AM

you decide that you should probably get out of your bed soon if you didn't want to be late and finally get up, slipping your feet into the slippers below your bed and walking over to the restroom.

you mindlessly played with the corner of the book you had opened. your mind barely comprehended what book was open, let alone the lecture going on. you were distracted.

for one, you barely had any sleep. like.. you would probably pass out the moment you touched a soft surface.

and second? you were distracted. like always.

you looked around the room, scanning for a certain brown haired guy.

unfortunately for you, nowhere to be found.

you had zero idea what his classes were or even what he was majoring in which means, your best hope was running into him in the hallways like you did last time.

your eyes flicked back down to the book, some faded text about psychosis or something—it all blended together at this point. the words danced on the page, rearranging themselves into nonsense, and you blinked slowly, willing yourself not to faceplant into the spine.

you let out a small sigh, quiet enough not to draw attention but loud enough that the girl beside you gave you a side-eye glance. you didn’t care. your head dropped into your hand, elbow propped on the desk like scaffolding keeping you upright.

the professor droned on in the background, a monotone rhythm that only seemed to amplify your sleep deprivation. you weren’t even trying to follow along anymore.

you shift in your seat, casting another casual glance toward the door—just in case he walked in late or something. but no dice.

the professor’s voice suddenly cut through louder, snapping your focus for a heartbeat: “...and that’s exactly why the distinction between perception and reality matters.”

hah. yeah. no kidding.

you just hoped you didn't look half-dead when right now. because you kind of were.

when class finally ends, it’s not with a bang, but a sluggish shuffle of papers and backpacks zipping shut.

you didn’t even realize how tightly you were gripping your pen until your hand cramped as you tried to slide it into your bag.

the room starts to empty out in that slow, zombie-like way everyone moves after sitting through a lecture that might’ve actually drained a part of your soul. people mumble their goodbyes, some already on their phones, others making plans for lunch. you just sit there for a second longer, letting the silence settle now that the professor’s voice isn’t echoing around your brain.

you stretch, finally letting your back crack the way it’s been begging to for the past forty minutes.

heaven. freedom.

you walk out the class, silently greatful that the time was finally up.

the hallway outside is brighter than you expect. too bright. you blink, adjusting. you don’t know where you’re headed yet—maybe back to your dorm, maybe to grab caffeine strong enough to shock your system, or maybe to find sunghoon. you don't know—but your feet start moving anyway.

just as you were about to head upstairs,

ding!

the sound of a phone notification interrupts your walk.

you dig your hand into your pocket, grabbing your phone and looking at the notification.

unknown ??: hey y/n it's me emi from last week's class. remember me? unknown ??: turn around

you finish reading the texts before turning around, finding emi standing near a pillar, waving at you.

you softly smile, waving back before walking to her.

sunghoon can wait, for now.

"so, i'll send you the notes to the same number?" emi replies.

you both had been talking about random topics before she mentioned how you wanted notes.

"that'd be appreciated, yeah." you nod, putting down the drink she had gotten for you, looking around the library you were in.

your university was extremely big so there were a total of three libraries. you have no idea which one you were in.

well, more specifically, you had no idea which one you would find sunghoon in. it didn't seem like this one for sure.

"hey emi, question." you heard emi hum, still scrolling through her phone but motioning you to continue.

"you know that guy that studies in our year? brown hair, kinda quiet-looking?" you say, trying your best to sound casual.

"you literally described half of seoul's population." emi chuckled, raising her eyebrows at you.

"okay, but—" you point a finger at her, ignoring the amused look on her face, "—he’s got this... i don’t know. kind of soft look? taller than average. i ran into him near the humanities building last week."

emi tilts her head, pretending to think hard, but you can already see the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "still sounds like every k-drama male lead ever."

you groan, leaning back in your chair. "you’re not helping." maybe you should just tell his name. would make this easier but.. you also don't really want to risk anyone figuring out how you know him.

she laughs, tucking her phone into her hoodie pocket. "okay, okay. did he look like a sunghoon?"

you blink. "..uh.. i mean.. how am i supposed to know? probably?" that is, in fact him. thank you emi!

"what? you're telling me you don't look at a person and go, 'he looks like he would be called rob.' or something?"

"okay.. in that logic, yeah! he looked like a sunghoon!" you nod, laughing at what she said.

"yeah, i know him, somewhat. what about him?" emi asked, now placing all her attention on your, curiosity in her eyes.

you sit up a little straighter. "do you know where he usually is?"

"you got a crush on him?" emi smiles.

you laugh before shaking your head. yeah, you wish it was that easy.

just as you were about to open your mouth, deny what she said, it hits you.

what exactly were you going to tell her anyways? what reason would justify wanting to know his whereabouts?

honestly, when you think about it, saying you have a crush on him wasn't too bad.

it would make sense why you would want to know his whereabouts, she wouldn't find it weird. she would probably assume it's to make conversation with him or something.

so, with all that in mind, it wasn't that bad of a reason.

other than the fact that you would very much slap yourself at night at the dumb decisions you make in the day. it's fine.

"uh.. i mean, crush might be an over exaggeration? i don't even know him.. i just think he's.. kind of cute? i mean, i wanna talk to him." you respond, fumbling with the edges of your phone case.

emi nods, almost like she didn't hear a word you say, just smiling before leaning across the table, whispering, "so are we stalking or are we casually passing by with purpose?"

you look down at your unfinished drink, then back at emi, who’s clearly trying not to laugh.

"...casual pass-by. very casual."

"mm-hmm." emi pulls out her phone again, already typing something. "i'll grab my tote bag. nothing says 'nonchalant' like aggressively carrying unread books."

"if you want to find someone, you would probably find them here. like.. almost everyone hangs out here. he's probably here somewhere too." emi says as she leads you into the outside garden.

the garden was a pretty huge but honestly pretty area with people sitting around in groups and talking.

you nod, looking around, eyes scanning the open space like you were suddenly trained in surveillance. groups of students are scattered across the grass, lounging under trees, sitting on benches, or huddled around picnic blankets. laughter floats through the air, along with the occasional strum of a guitar or the crinkle of snack bags.

“it’s basically the unofficial heart of campus,” emi says, slowing her pace so you can take it all in. “if you’re not in class or in your room, you’re probably here pretending to study or doing literally anything else.”

you hum in agreement, eyes flicking from group to group. it was nice—sunlight slipping through the trees, a breeze that made the leaves shimmer just enough to look aesthetic. if it weren’t for your current goal, you’d probably be able to relax here too.

“you see him?” emi asks, already scanning the crowd with the practiced eye of a gossip-fueled detective.

“not yet,” you murmur, scanning the crowd as well.

"wait, there he is!" you hear emi say, turning to look in her direction.

only to see her looking at someone you had never seen in your life.

"..uh? that's not him.." you raise your eyebrows, confused. are there two sunghoons here?

"nevermind.. this university is insanely big.. i doubt we can find him today.." you groan, running your hands through your hair.

that's when something caught your attention.

or more specifically, someone.

your hear emi mumble something but you don't really pay attention as you move to the side, enough so that the person's face could be in your view.

"him! that's him!" you said, loud enough for emi to hear as she turns her head towards you before looking where you were looking.

"..oh." you hear emi stop before slowly turning to you.

"y/n you might just be fucked."

you coughed, confused at her words. "what do you mean!?"

emi’s eyes were still fixed on him, wide with some mixture of surprise and maybe a little fear, like she’d just recognized a character from a book you’re not supposed to meet in real life.

“what do you mean!?” you repeat, voice a little sharper, already feeling your stomach drop.

she finally turns to look at you, her expression half apologetic, half you’re not gonna like this. “i didn’t know that was the sunghoon you were talking about.”

“okay…?” you drag out the word, heart thudding against your ribs. “so what’s the problem?”

emi leans in a little. “look, i don't know much about sunghoon himself other then the fact he is in my class but.. his friend group? the one he is sitting to there? yeah, they don't have the best reputation."

oh. that's fine. you weren't looking to actually be friends with him. you didn't care how his friends were. but...

you were also kind of curious. what kind of people does hana's brother hang out with?

"what do you mean?"

"like.. each one of them is a personality. no kidding. some in a good way and i suppose.. some in a not good way?" she paused before continuing, "look they aren't some arkham city level villains but.. don't think they are your crowd, y/n."

you nod, before looking back at them. "it's okay. i'm not going to talk to them, right? i just want to make conversation with sunghoon. just one time."

emi raises her eyebrows before shrugging. "alright, your choice! but uh.. that brings the second problem. how exactly are you going to do that?"

"just catch him when he's alone." you reply, sitting down on a nearby bench.

"why does it sound like you have ulterior motives..?"

you cough, "that's not true. just a simple conversation, you know?"

"alright.. whatever you say.." emi says before plopping down beside you.

after a couple of minutes, from the corner of your eye, you spot two guys getting up from the spot where sunghoon was.

you turn your head and realise that one of the guys was actually sunghoon. jackpot! you'll just have to get rid of that other guy somehow.

"emi, i'll be right back." you let emi know as she hums in agreement. you start walking towards the building the two guys went to.

the two guys disappear into the building just ahead of you, the tall glass doors swinging shut behind them. you push through a few seconds later, eyes immediately scanning the lobby.

you have absolutely no idea which part of the university you were in.

whatever, you just need to walk out once you're done talking.

you hide behind a notice board, trying your best to listen to their conversation a bit, just so you know that you weren't interrupting some insane conversation.

the voices echo faintly through the lobby—low, casual, and thankfully not too serious. you can’t make out every word, but the tone is light enough to relax your nerves a bit. something about a school event and a vending machine not taking coins, and then a laugh that was definitely not sunghoon's.

okay. not a breakup. not a deep philosophical debate. no high-stakes argument. just snacks and some event.

you walk out from behind the notice board, trying to act casual.

damn it, why did it have to be such an empty place!? y/n, you shouldn't have rushed this. now it's going to be awkward..

you groan, no going back now.

you cough a little, letting your presence be known to the two guys. great way to start a conversation y/n, greattt way.

sunghoon's friend turns his head and looks at you, sunghoon following suit.

you can practically hear how sunghoon's face drops, his expression bordering a glare.

"ah, sorry to bother.. but, could you give me a second? i wanted to talk to sunghoon in private." you say, trying your best to give sunghoon's friend some sort of a sweet smile, enough for him to just quickly go away.

the guy looks at sunghoon, almost as if asking him to confirm.

"heeseung, i'll meet you outside later." sunghoon speaks, avoiding eye contact with you.

the guy, who you now know is called heeseung, nods before walking away. thank god, that was easy.

as the doors to the entrance you walked through open and shut, the quietness of the building becomes even more deafening.

"look sunghoo-" you began..

"why the fuck are you here? i thought i told you to stay out of my sight." ..only to get interrupted by sunghoon.

great start!

..why does it feel like you're trying to make it up to your angry boyfriend..

you sigh before looking up at him again. "fucking hear me out! i don't have any interest talking to you either, okay?! just listen to me.. plus, you were the one who sent your friend away anyways. you want to hear me out."

you waited a bit, and when you realised sunghoon had somewhat agreed to listening to you, you let out a sigh of relief before beginning.

“look sunghoon. in no way am i trying to throw salt on your wounds but you were the one at the funeral acting like you had something to say, and then said nothing at all.”

sunghoon’s jaw clenched. “you don’t get to bring that up.”

“no?” you scoffed, stepping forward. “because i will. because you stood there, at hana's funeral, glaring at me like i murdered her myself, and i still waited for you to ask me if it was true. but you didn’t. you just decided.”

he doesn’t say anything—just looks at you like he’s barely keeping himself from exploding.

"but you did." he said, boring into you with an unexplainable look.

"no! thats the problem! i didn’t! yet no one.. no fucking one is giving me a chance to defend myself." you paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "look, i know.. how pathetic this sounds coming from me but you have to trust me.. i apologised to her before summer break. i fucking cut her off. she was the one who didn't talk to me. why would she still take such a step because of me? it doesen't make sense does i-“

sunghoon scoffed, cutting you off. “maybe it's because you did. nice speech, but do you think i’m an idiot? everyone knew hana couldn’t stand you back in high school. and let’s not pretend you didn’t earn that reputation—you were practically famous for it.”

"and that's your reason? hana couldn't stand half the school, sunghoon. you aren't actually going to say the whole school is responsible for her suicide, are you?"

"but did half the school make her life hell? because as far as i remember, that was all you, y/n." sunghoon began once again, “you bullied her. you and your friends made her life hell for years. and then one summer, she’s gone?” he scoffed, “do the math.”

you felt broken. you felt like going non-verbal. but alas, that wasn’t an option.

“i know what i did. i’ve gone over it a thousand times in my head. i was awful to her. but sunghoon… i swear to you, i didn’t—”

sunghoon spoke, once again cutting you off, his tone sharper, “you didn’t what? didn’t push her hard enough? didn’t text her the night before and tell her to do it?”

no! can he just fucking listen to you?! “no! i didn’t want her dead! goddamnit, i didn’t want her fucking dead. —i changed, like i said, i apologised! she stopped replying, and i thought maybe she needed space. sunghoon, you don’t fucking know the full story. never, ever, have any of you tried to hear me out!”

you don't know the half of it. you wanted to yell so bad. it's the same thing all over again. everyone only saw hana's side of the story.

it was driving you insane.

you never would have taken this step. talked to sunghoon if it wasn't for that message. that one line.

'i'll make sure you start wishing it was you instead'

that message hana sent the day before her suicide. the message you hadn't opened.

that, was what convinced you. she didn't do this because you drove her to do this. she wanted you to be blamed for this. but there was definitely something else. something else that made her want you to know.

hana, the poor victim.

hana, the girl targeted by the rotten bully.

hana, the girl who commit suicide.

they never bothered to see your side of the story. you were just a footnote as the villain in her story.

you weren't some angel, for sure.

even if you know you didn’t do it,

you’d still carry the guilt.

but at least you accept that. you fucking know that and you were trying to change for the better. trying to undo those stupid childish mistakes you made.

hana was one of the mistakes.

"no. no y/n. you don’t get to play the victim. not now. i think i know enough.” sunghoon replied, returning your energy before turning around.

you called back, trying your best to control your emotions. “i’m not playing anything. i’ll carry the guilt of what i did for the rest of my life, even if not for this. i know i will. but if you think reopening the case and blaming me will bring her back, then fine—do it. i’ll answer everything. just…

don’t lie to yourself about what really happened.”

sunghoon turned around at yours words, narrowing his eyes at you as you continued.

“sunghoon, i knew you won’t trust me. and honestly? you have every right to not do so. but just, even if it’s just a second of thought, think about my words.”

maybe you were going insane or just lacked sleep, but you swore you saw sunghoon’s eyes soften just a little.

..only for that same glare to be back in his eyes as he scoffed, ignoring my words completely.

"i don't have proper evidence to cite you as a suspect yet. that's the only reason i still haven't gotten the case reopened." sunghoon paused to look at you.

"and the moment i get that evidence?

i'll make sure the world knows just how rotten you are."

and with those words, sunghoon practically stormed out of the building, accompanied by a weird click sound that you were to distracted to investigate.

that went great.

you wanted to breakdown. fall against the wall and scream out to anyone who was willing to listen.

you felt so wronged.

you weren’t a good person, you knew that. but why was no one willing to hear you out..?

you would always carry that guilt but this?

this wasn’t your fault. that stupid fucking message.

you wish you could show it but it was a fucking one time view message. of course it was. hana knew.

why?

why!? why did she want you to suffer even after you apologised to her!? why can’t she fucking leave you alone even after she’s gone!?

of course, that was her goal. hana wanted you to suffer even after she was gone. that was just who she was.

and most of all? she wanted you to know. she wanted you and only you to know the truth. and to make sure you knew that she wanted this to happen. make sure no one else knew. make you feel utterly fucking helpless.

and she was right. no one would believe you, would they?

sunghoon would probably only crash out further. after all, he definitely isn’t going to believe the person who used to bully his dead sister. you know that well by now.

you wish you never opened that message.

you feel like a mentally ill patient.

you groan, walking towards the entrance. it was getting late and you needed to distract yourself from this stupid mess.

finally reaching the entrance, and you suppose exit too, you place your fingers on the glass door, pushing it to open.

you feel it not budge at all.

you push again.

it doesn’t budge.

you push once again.

it doesn’t budge, once again.

what the fuck? why is this door not opening right now? of all times for it to get stuck..!

you try to push the door a bit harder when your eyes fall onto the lock on the door.

oh..

and then it clicks. (literally)

yeah, you’re doomed.

that’s what that click sound was.

the door is a fucking manual lock door.

this door is always left open with a support at the foot because if it does get closed, it becomes locked unless someone opens it from the outside.

sunghoon, that bastard..

he locked you in, didn’t he?

end note: hope u enjoyed <33 sorry for the late release trust me im tryna get a proper release schedule for this sigh and sorry for the slow pace trust me we r getting there ALSO TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT ILOVEYALL

taglist: @arcvillie @mochi13 @chocminteu @outroherrr @gyurilla

(sorry if i missed anyone, please lmk if i missed u) mdni, hate comments will be deleted. please let me know either in the comments or inbox if you want to be added to the taglist <33

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Mr Gaiman, I hope your day is going well.

I can't say I'm looking for anything other than the comfort of talking to someone I don't know, and I apologize that for some unknown reason you are the only 'wiser older being' I can think of other than God. I'm 16, and because of forces outside of my control, I don't know if i can continue living normally. My family is loving, I am safe in my home, I currently have it better than most of the people in my country, I am not suicidal, but I'm terribly scared. Every time I watch the news or see my parents/teachers talk to each other, I feel this unexplained sensation that my life is getting shorter and shorter.

Mr. gaiman, I feel like I'll never get to finish high school. I'll never get to visit my grandparents' old house since the town evacuated. My aunt and her family are still up in the north, they send us videos every time they see rockets in the sky, and I debate sending 'goodbye' and 'I love you' one more time just incase. I'm terrified for them, for the people under the rubbles of their homes, for the people in foreign places that still don't know if they'll live, for the kids with no parents, for parents with no kids. I remember being nervous to talk to my friends about what we'll do when we go to the army in a few years, but as long as we keep in touch we're sure we'll be alright. I remember what I wanted to be when I'll grow up, I wanted to move, get an apartment in Porto Fino or go to meet my uncles in Viana, and translate books.

I remember it was the last few days of holiday vacation before it started, I remember it was still warm outside, and I still possessed the privilege to live.

Mr. gaiman, these days I'm learning that while I get to be luckier than most by simply being alive, I will always feel just one alarm sound away from sharing the same fate of my great-grandparents. From a young age I've seen black and white pictures of them, and so many others, and was told: 'they were here, they were alive, and you get to live the dream they died for'. I don't want to die on unfulfilled dreams.

I apologize for making you deal with this, but I want to be remembered by someone from outside who will get to live longer than me, or so I hope.

I'm 16 and a half. My brother just turned 11. I'm about to fail the test I have tomorrow. My tattoo just fully healed - the flowers symbolize undying love. I learned English on my own. I collect records with my dad. I study American history. I love your books. I bake when I feel down. I am alive. I if I die I hope it will be in a bomb shelter.

All I can wish you now is luck, good fortune, and the hope that you and your loved ones survive and that the world heals. I hope your generation helps heal the mess that previous generations have left you in.

[damn-stark]

Chapter 12 Into the woods

Chapter 12 of Tragedy at the Miller’s

A/N- okay but I kinda really love how this chapter turned out.

Warning- fluff?, ANGST, talks of violence and death, talks of suicide attempt , spoilers for season 2, Remember this is a rewrite not an AU, so the major stuff that happens in the show will happen here :)

Pairing- Joel Miller x daughter!reader (platonic of course :), OC x Fem!reader

Episode- 2x03-2x04, used scenes from the game too

(If you want to be tagged let me know!)

————

“We went to make them pay. Sorry we had to do this the hard way, but you didn’t leave us no other choice. We asked and you turned us down. Now you have to trust that we will come back.

-Dina and Ellie”

“It was stuck to her door?” You ask as you lift the note and show it off to Jesse, who has read it over and over again as if that would bring them both back, or make it any less surprising. It didn’t.

“Yes,” Jesse answers hesitantly as he looks at you with pity and concern, and then flickers his eyes to Apollo with shame. “I’m sorry I came here so early. I really am. I just,” he pauses and focuses on Apollo as if ready to hear his friend get mad at him for involving you, but Jesse shouldn’t worry about Apollo. It’s your Uncle Tommy he should worry about. He seems more bothered by the fact that Jesse chose to come to you instead of just privately going to him. After all, you just barely started talking and getting out of the house; this could mortify you more.

“I thought you needed to know,” Jesse explains his reasoning, but doesn’t make it sound any better to your Uncle. If he had the chance to lie to you about this, he would’ve chosen that because as he looks over at you, he sees you set the note down and drop your face in your palms to try and gather your racing thoughts that don't leave you groggy. You’re left wide awake after reading Ellie’s note—or should you say Dina’s note, there’s no way Ellie would have written so much down. She would’ve made it short and straight to the point.

“I mean, I know they’re both reckless, but to do this? This is something completely beyond reckless and stupid.” Jesse adds, as you start rubbing your temple and revisit what Ellie said, because she’s right, you’re late. Too weak. You knew she was up to something stupid, and you didn’t stop her. You’re too late.

“What do we do with this now?” Jesse keeps filling the silence while Apollo is more worried about how you’re going to take this since you’re being quiet.

“Maybe we can still stop them, or,” Jesse pauses and sighs deeply, choosing to stay quiet instead of finishing what he was going to say.

“Or what?” You finally speak and drop one hand off your face, letting it smack against the dinner table.

“Go after them. I mean,” Jesse goes on hesitantly. “Knowing Ellie, we won’t be able to bring her back now, but maybe we can go after her. Save her and Dina from getting killed.”

Going after her was the first thing you thought of because you know, just like Jesse, that trying to bring Ellie back would be impossible. She’s put her mind to a mission, and it’d be hell to try and convince her to come back.

However, among the many other reasons not to go, you share the most important one that you think about the most. “I’d be the last person she would want after her,” you mumble, piquing all three men’s interest.

“We got into an argument yesterday after the meeting,” you share, and avert your gaze by looking at the note again. “I won’t go into detail, but she basically told me that she never wants to see me again.”

Jesse lifts his eyebrow, expecting more since he doesn’t know the depth of your argument or the hurtful things she said, since you don’t want to badmouth her.

“So you’re going to listen to her?” Jesse asks with disbelief, interrupting your uncle before he can speak up.

“I,” you pause and sit up straight before you take a deep breath and meet his gaze. “I don’t know. I mean, she made her choice. Who am I to stop her? I already tried. I told her not to go, that there is no point, but she got mad.” You say with frustration about your own failures, and because even if you understand that Ellie was mad, the things she said still deeply hurt.

It was the same when you were young. You’d try to help, but you’d always get yelled at and hurt. Only this time it hurts so much worse because it makes you want to die.

It's no exaggeration, that’s the truth, because it’s a truth that is tearing away at you as you speak.

“You’re her sister,” Jesse argues without an ounce of hesitation or shame—“isn’t that point enough? Regardless of what she said?”

You stay quiet and glance at Apollo this time as you think about your other reason not to go.

You have a family now. You can’t just abruptly leave for something that doesn’t guarantee you’ll make it back. They don’t deserve that, and you can’t just do that to them. But Jesse is also right…Ellie is your sister. Would your dad stop from going after her even if she said hurtful things to him?

He would go in a heartbeat, so you…should do the same to help the girl you love, but…there’s so many reasons telling you to stay.

“It is point enough,” your uncle finally chimes in for you and looks at you ever so softly as if a look alone could cause you harm. “Of course, Sunny of all people knows that the words our siblings say at the heat of the moment don’t mean anything, but it’s not easy. For either of us. We can’t just grab a backpack and leave the moment we decide to. Maybe you get that, Jesse, or maybe you don’t. Maybe a couple of years down the line, you’ll realize, but either way, we can’t be as bold with our choices as you.”

Jesse drops his head with shame, and your Uncle leans towards you with even more tenderness. “Don’t break your head over what you want to do. I’ll give you…until tomorrow to think about it.” He says and pats the empty space on the table.

You slowly meet his gaze and feel relieved by his suggestion, and feel that pressure to know what to do decreasing. Yet it doesn’t all vanish.

“Will you go?” You ask your Uncle, knowing Jesse wasn’t asking for permission but more so support before he left.

“I,” your uncle pauses and sits back with his eyes flickering away. “…Don’t know. I’ll think about it too,” he says without looking at you once, but you never give that too much thought.

“Can we really risk being two days behind them?” Jesse blurts, causing your Uncle to snap his gaze to him.

“It’s a risk we have to take and can fix if we choose to go,” your uncle mutters before looking over at you and finding your gaze again. “A day, hm?” He repeats and looks between you and Jesse.

“Okay,” You nod stiffly.

Jesse waits a moment to see if you’ll add anything else, but you go quiet, and your Uncle gets up and looks at him before pointing his head at the door.

“I’m going to head out now,” your Uncle announces as Jesse gets up from his seat. “You think about it.”

You nod again, and Jesse interjects. “Again, I’m sorry I came over so abruptly,” he says, making you drift your eyes to watch him.

“We already told you, it’s okay,” Apollo reassures the young man as he gets off of his chair.

“I’ll go find you later,” you assure Jesse and your Uncle, making Jesse nod in comprehension and making your Uncle linger back before he follows Jesse out of the house, making Apollo see them out.

When Apollo comes back to the dining room, he sees you in the same spot, but this time you have the letter in your hand and you’re reading the letter again with a deep sorrow in your eyes.

“What are we plannin’ to do?” Apollo asks now that you’re in the comfort of each other's privacy.

“I…genuinely don’t know,” you confess and drop the letter to look at him. “A part of me is telling me to go. She’s my sister and she’s risking her life in this cruel world, so even if she says that she doesn’t want to see me again, she still needs me.”

“Tommy is right, when we say we don’t want to see our siblings again, we don't mean it,” Apollo tries to comfort your bleeding heart as he sits across from you to be able to take your hands in his. “She’s mad, but she hasn’t forsaken you.”

You look at him, teary-eyed eyed and finally share everything she told you yesterday. “She said she hated me, Apollo. And maybe I deserve to be hated, I lied, but…how will we go back to what we were? How will she forgive me?”

Apollo sighs and, with a pitiful frown, says a hurtful truth. “You won’t ever get back what you had, but you can get past it. You will get past it.”

You let out a shaky breath and drop your head before you wipe the tears off your face, causing him to caress your knuckles and look at you with more pity.

You’re starting to hate all this pity.

“Another part of me is telling me not to go,” you cut in. “Not for any petty reason, but it’s not as easy as before, you know.” You breathe out deeply.

Apollo nods in agreement before he interjects. “Think about it like Tommy said,” he says without the reassurance that he’ll support whatever choice you make because deep down he hopes you won’t go. He’ll understand if you want to, but it’s like you said, it’s not as easy as before.

“I will, hopefully by today, I don’t want to leave Jesse waiting or have the girls get too ahead,” you say, and let that take over your every waking thought. How could you think about anything else with such a heavy and hard choice to make?

You go out to your garden to think, but you don’t come out with your mind made up, so you try to keep busy inside your house, but nothing comes to mind. You then go for a long walk, hoping that will help you, but you keep debating with yourself. The only thing you end up doing is ending up in front of your dad’s abandoned house.

You don’t know what led you there; whether it’s because of instinct, or because deep down you wanted to come visit his house to find an answer, you don’t know. You just know you’re in front of the driveway, hoping once again that you’ll find him on his porch, but…he’s not there. You can’t even be reassured by the fact that Ellie is in the garage because she’s gone too.

The house is alone. Lifeless and abandoned, with only memories of what was haunting the dust-covered halls.

Even so, as depressing as that is, you still step foot past the threshold that once kept you away, and make your way to the front door.

When you reach the door, you lift your hand with the intention to knock, but you remember that no one is inside, so before you can overthink the matter, you grab the doorknob and open the door.

What once was a warm place lively with comfort, now is a sad reminder of who you lost. Now, there’s no father to welcome you inside, and the smell of coffee doesn’t waft in your nose.

Usually, the lights inside the house were hardly on; he didn’t excessively brighten his house like you or Ellie do, but a light was usually on. Now, there’s only a dull light that fills the house because the sun hides under thick clouds.

Even so, you don’t turn to walk away. For the first time since he died, you step foot inside the house and close the door behind you, expecting nothing; no greeting, no head peeking around a corner, and no distant voice telling you where he is, but oh, the house comes alive with memory.

In the living room, you hear snoring as the TV quietly plays, so you follow the noise and on the lazy-boy, you see the memory of your dad asleep with your infant son asleep in his arms.

In the dining room you hear the commotion of faint laughter, metal clinking against plates, and different conversations across the table, and when you walk to the room, you see a warm light brightening the room and your family dining without a worry, almost as if life held no monsters and everything was normal.

You want to relive just one night. You want to have dinner with the whole of your family again and make one more memory, but the kitchen calls you. The memory of coffee brewing in the kitchen lures you over, and here to keep you company is the memory of you and your dad cooking and doing the dishes as you yapped away and he listened to every word.

A part of you wants to stay to be able to relive through those fond memories, but heavy footsteps thump in the hall, growing more distant as they get further away, so before you can get left behind, you follow after those heavy footsteps and end up at the foot of the stairs.

The haunting footsteps continue to echo on the second floor, but you’re in no rush since you get distracted by the photos your dad hung on the wall going up the stairs.

The first and most recent photo you study is a picture of your dad holding Teddy, who is looking away, but still relaxed in your dad's arms. The next photo you see when you go up a couple of stairs is one of you and all of your family gathered around the table. Ellie and your dad didn’t talk by then so they were at opposite ends, but they were still captured in the same photo, making it seem, without context, that they were a strong united front. If only it were true…

Nevertheless, you move up and the next photo keeps you put longer than the other ones because it’s one of you, Apollo, and your Dad on your wedding day. Your dad was in the middle, keeping you and your husband apart because the old man had a hard time accepting that his youngest daughter was all grown up.

It was funny then, but the memory is even funnier now.

Regardless, you reach the second floor and an end table decorates the end of the hall, holding different pictures and trinkets, but most importantly, it holds a happy picture of you, your dad, and Ellie captured on Ellie’s special birthday trip.

It was a long time ago, and it was the first trip you had together after the big adventure that brought you all together. It's a memory that should help you come up with a decision, but the truth is that you only get more upset over who you lost. So you move on instead, clueless as to what you want to do.

The next place you find yourself in is not Ellie’s bare room. You walk past her room and walk directly into your dad's room, feeling your heart crush when you walk into an empty room holding only memories of him. Not him sleeping on the bed, just an empty room and an empty bed holding a single box.

You grow curious about what the box could possibly contain, so you walk to it, feeling tears fall off your chin and get left on the floor as you hastily reach the bed. Once you get to the box, you don’t hesitate to open it, revealing to yourself that it’s his belongings he had on him when he…died.

There isn't a lot in the box, but you still only drive your focus to his broken watch that he refused to part with, not because it was a trusty gadget that told time, no, the old thing is broken. Which should be a reason to have abandoned it a long time ago, but the watch was a reminder of Sarah, and the last thing he ever gifted her. That’s why he kept it with him at all times, because it felt like carrying her with him.

Why would they make him part with it? Why didn’t they bury him with it?

If only you had been there. You would’ve made sure they were buried together, but…you weren’t there. You didn’t say your last goodbye…

…to either of them…now they’re both gone and you’re here, living on without them. Why?

“Why?” You ask yourself as you clutch onto your dad's broken watch before you turn to look at a picture your dad has on his nightstand, one of before the outbreak. A picture of you, Sarah, and him before the world ended, and where you were happy together.

You want to be with them again, more than anything else in this world. That’s what you want, and that desire, the picture, and the memory it brings, finally lets you come up with an answer.

Thus, you tuck the watch in your pocket and leave the house to go find Jesse first, since he’s more eager to leave.

Luckily, it’s not hard to locate him. You find him in the first place you check; his house, but there with him is your Uncle. They were looking over a map together.

“I decided,” you cut in abruptly, skipping past greetings and asking for explanations. “I’m going.”

“Sunny,” your Uncle Tommy finally parts from the table and approaches you, causing Jesse to back away.

You stay where you are and let your Uncle approach you so he can see how your face contorts with betrayal and frustration.

“I said I’m going,” you cut in confidently. “You can fight me or accept my choice. I'd rather you accept it because by the looks of it we’ll only have a hard time if you don’t.”

Your Uncle sighs and drops his head. “I was just looking out for you,” he explains without as much trouble as it would’ve given your dad to explain. “I’m just worried about you. You’re only now gettin’ better and you have Teddy and Apollo, and I—”

“You were selfish,” you cut him off and step towards him to tilt your head down so he can meet your gaze. “You have Benji and Maria, too, so where’s the difference in that? I can do it,” you proclaim. “I will do it because she’s my sister and she needs me.”

Your Uncle lifts his head, and you follow his movements so as not to lose his gaze. “Meet at my house when you’re done here. We leave today,” you say without giving more explanations.

“Are you sure?” Jesse asks for his own sake.

You look at him over your Uncle’s shoulder and nod stiffly before you step away from his front door. “Positive,” you assure him and then pass him a helpful comment. “Pack the necessities you have at your house. I’ll take care of the rest.”

He offers you a comprehensive nod, so you then face your Uncle and press again to not be at odds. “You go. I go. Simple as that. I’m…okay.”

Your Uncle takes a moment to process that, knowing you too well as to accept that right away, but you're as stubborn as your dad when you want to be, so he chooses to trust you now and gives in. “Alright.”

The corner of your lips tugs up faintly before you then leave and return home with your mind made up, but your heart heavy.

“Apollo?” You call out after you close the front door, but you don’t hear a response, so you walk further inside and check the kitchen and the living room, but he’s not there. You proceed to check the rooms, but he’s not in any and Teddy is not inside either.

Could they be out in town? Maybe.

Yet before you can assume that possibility, you check the backyard, and much to your luck, there they are in the wildflower garden along with your dog Hermes.

You almost don’t want to disturb their peace. You could admire them forever, but you don’t want to risk Jesse getting here and telling Apollo the choice you made, so after a couple of lingering minutes, you join your boys and your dog outside, earning happy reactions from the both of them.

“Ma!” Teddy exclaims and tries to walk to you, but you reach him first and swiftly sweep him off the floor with a beaming grin.

“Hey, cowboy,” you greet and kiss his forehead before you pull your head back as he shows you a single flower he picked. “Oh, would you look at that? Is that for me or you?”

Teddy brings the flower back towards him and stares at it for a moment before he accidentally drops it, making him squirm, so you end up putting him down so he can keep doing whatever it was that he was doing along with Hermes, and so you can take a seat next to Apollo on the bench swing.

“I finally made my choice,” you don’t delay the matter a moment longer, making him pick his eyes off Teddy to look at you nervously. “I’m going. Today.”

There’s no talk about a passionate motivation to go help Ellie from mortal danger. He, of course, thinks he knows why you’re going, and it makes your choice hard to swallow. Not because he doesn’t want you to help Ellie, but because it’s not so simple anymore.

“It seems that my Uncle and Jesse weren’t planning to have me go, but I caught them in time,” you share, but don’t catch Apollo by surprise because he had noticed your Uncle’s intentions from the moment the letter was shared—“So we leave today, just my Uncle, Jesse, and me,” you clarify, but get no big reaction from Apollo. He drops his gaze and sighs before he finally lets his thoughts be heard.

“Yeah, I…didn’t plan to be a part of the trip,” he confesses, leaving you more surprised than he was with what you just told him.

“We have Teddy,” he continues, making you look over at your son with guilt. “One of us has to stay with him. Why should we risk his life, or risk him being left…an orphan if Jackson is safe and one parent who can stay with him?”

You gulp as your guilt digs itself deeper, causing more ache.

“I wish I could go, but one of us has to stay with him, and as much as I wish it was you, I know this mission is important to you,” he continues to clarify his decision and turns his head to look at you while you keep watching Teddy as you try to take advantage of the time you have with him before you have to leave.

“That’s the only reason I’m even supporting it,” he says, and finally brings your eyes back to him. “I just,” he pauses and draws out a heavy breath. “Don’t know how many long goodbyes I have left in me.”

As if you had your breath stolen by him, you gasp softly and look at him with disbelief.

“I love you,” he quickly explains as he sees your reaction. “But things are different now. We have a son. A life together and…I don’t think it’s fair to me or him to uproot it for a trip that may or may not bring you back.”

You avert your gaze and clench your hands into fists.

“You know how much it hurts when people leave you behind,” he points out, making your heart skip a beat while also almost changing your mind. But it’s not enough because your dad's death is in the back of your mind like a plague.

“I do know,” you mumble and look back at him with reassurance. “I wouldn’t be leaving either if it wasn’t for Ellie, but…she…needs me,” you finally repeat your reason for leaving. “Whether she wants my help or not. I owe it to him to try.”

Apollo hums, and you take his hands to make one thing clear.

“But I also know I can’t water dead plants. I know my dad would never stop going after her, but I do know when to stop…there'll be no more long goodbyes after this one.” You clarify, making a soft smile tug on his lips.

“Okay,” he whispers before you let his hands go to wrap him in a tight embrace as if you were already saying your goodbyes when it won’t be for another little while.

“You are the best friend and best husband anyone could ask for,” you tell him as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. “I’m so lucky to have met you. I love you…with all of me.” You say against his flesh, making him grin and hold you tightly against him, to the point you find comfort in his steady heartbeat.

“I love you too,” he redirects. “You are loved so so much, so please come back, okay?”

You pick your face off his neck and rest your chin on his shoulder before you whisper back. “Okay.”

With no promise made and your first round of goodbyes shared, you then continue to watch Teddy play outside for a while longer until you have to go inside to get ready.

About halfway into packing the necessities you have in your house, Jesse and your Uncle finally meet up at your house and wait for a little while, but not as long as they assumed.

“You’re both carrying light,” Jesse points out as he sees that your backpack looks as light as your Uncle’s.

“For now,” you leave him more curious.

“Now,” your Uncle interjects. “It’s night now, so it’s the perfect time to get our horses and sneak out so as not to raise questions, okay? So just act normal.” He says without worry and expects you and Jesse to look the same, but Jesse looks lost.

“What about weapons? Are we just going to stroll in the armory and take what we need? Those are locked.” Jesse asks the most important question. “And food?”

You share a knowing look with your Uncle and Apollo before you decide to tell Jesse the secret early. “We have all that a couple of miles out of Jackson.”

Jesse blinks in disbelief, so you explain yourself further.

“Jackson is home. Jackson is safe, but we’ve been around long enough, and early in our years, we knew this man named Bill. He was…what my Daddy called an end-of-the-world prepper, so to make this story short, he warned my dad to always have an escape plan if we found ourselves in communities, especially because he had a daughter. My dad took that to heart, and he did exactly that. An escape plan.” You reveal with a smug smirk. “He hid a cache just outside of Jackson that he let a few of us know about.”

Jesse scoffs, and before he can feel proud over your father's genius plan, he asks one more question that immediately comes to mind. “Ellie left first. I’m pretty sure she emptied that.”

You scoff. “You really think we would let Ellie know?” You remark lightheartedly. “She would have emptied that a long time ago, knowing her, so we didn’t tell her. Weapons, food, flashlights, and everything we need is already there. I'm assuming you have a path mapped out,” you point out with a hint of annoyance, making your Uncle sigh deeply before he has no choice but to agree.

“We do, we just need to go collect our cache. So it begs the question, are you two ready to go?”

Without hesitation or anything holding you back, you nod to give him an answer before you confirm it verbally. “I’m ready.”

Jesse nods in agreement without so much as doubt, but what follows holds you back, so before you can leave, you turn to Apollo, but not with sorrow and uncertainty to leave. You look at him softly and completely enamored. “I love you. Always.”

He smiles back at you tenderly and without caring that you have company so close by; he smacks his lips on yours and steals a kiss.

Knowing this kiss will be your last, you capture his jaw to press him closer and spark a passion that makes you move ravenously. You almost don't have the heart or will to break away, but you taste a salty tear mix in your passion, so you pull away, but keep him close to take note of every feature on his face.

“I’ll be here. Waiting,” he says, pulling more tears out of your eyes. “My love. My world. My light.”

You smile at him tenderly and have to steal one last kiss.

Before you can part to give your son your goodbyes, you reach inside your shirt and pull out his old Firefly pendant to assure him. “I’ll have you close. Always.”

He scoffs softly and looks away shyly, letting you then move away to find your son in the living room playing on the floor with his toys.

“Take care of each other,” you hear Apollo tell Jesse while you go on your knees to grab your son's attention.

“Teddy, I’m going to be leaving now, okay?” You tell your son who is cluelessly gripping onto his toys. “You’re gonna be stayin’ with your Daddy, so you be good to him, okay?”

The baby blabbers and offers you his toy giraffe, so you take it and press it against your chest. “I’ll keep you close, okay?”

Teddy asks for his toy back, so you give it back with a giggle and then lean in to hug him tightly, causing him to laugh in response.

“I love you, my Theo,” you whisper. “Don’t forget me.”

Teddy stays in your embrace until you let go, and before you can completely part from him, you face him one last time and then force yourself away to make your way to the front door with Jesse and your Uncle trailing after you, and Apollo trailing after them.

Once you reach the door, you give Apollo one last embrace because if he went to see you off at the gate, people would grow suspicious, so he sees you to the door instead.

“Ready?” Your Uncle asks one last time as you face your traveling partners.

“Ready,” you and Jesse answer at the same time with confidence and determination

——

*A COUPLE WEEKS LATER*

Thanks to your travel experience, you were able to help with some kinks to your Uncle and Jesse’s initial path to Seattle to avoid as many potential obstacles as possible. It is hard to know if you’ll come across something as small as a camp or as big as a town, but you avoid cities, highways, and freeways and stick to the woods and backroads where people usually don’t settle, and infected are least likely to roam.

Luckily, it’s just three of you, so you’re least likely to catch anyone’s attention. You don’t have a dog to help you with what you humans can't catch, but you don’t stop to loot anywhere and are never too loud or keep the light on too long. It’s not because you just set up camp to simply eat and sleep; you make conversation, you share stories, and laugh at jokes. You never disagree with one another because Jesse respects the plans of more experienced travelers, and you trust your Uncle, and he trusts you, but there, between both men and you, is a threshold.

Your Uncle sees it, but he doesn’t want to cross it. He gives you space because he thinks that’s the answer, and he likes to think he knows you more than he knows himself, but Jesse is different; he can see what your Uncle is failing to catch. It would be impossible not to, since you're on the road with no one but each other, but instead of getting closer on this trip, there’s always a barrier between them and you, and he can feel it.

Maybe it is because you’ve been on the road with only each other as company, so it’d be hard to miss, but it’s almost so thick that Jesse swears he can almost touch it with the pads of his fingers. It’s where you keep the person you really are and every emotion that riddles that you.

As much as Jesse wants to cross that threshold, though, you never let him cross it. You keep him and your Uncle at the other side and let them see an unusual bliss that feels inorganic.

“I see something brown,” you share, making Jesse search the area around you before he examines the sky to try and find what you spotted, making it the perfect game to keep you and Jesse entertained while also working to search the area for anything suspicious.

“That hawk circling the area over there,” Jesse points out exactly what you had seen.

“Yes,” you praise him with a smile. “A red-tailed hawk, if I remember correctly, right, Uncle Tommy?”

Said man searches the sky until he finds the distant fella and shrugs. “I wouldn’t know anymore. I only made you memorize them so we could get some teaching in while on the road.”

You groan and then look back at Jesse and add on. “Either way, it’s not very good to eat.”

Jesse scoffs with curiosity twinkling in his eyes. “Before or after?” He asks, referring to before Jackson or on your nationwide road trip.

“Before,” you let him know, and turn your eyes away from the sky when the hawk is out of view. “Of course, my Uncle Tommy, here, caught it. I helped…kinda. It moved too much for me, so we didn’t want to risk it then, but I helped locate it after we hunted it down.”

“Pretty much the same thing,” he jokes, making you giggle.

“I’ll say. Okay,” you focus back on the game. “Now you. Go. Last one. Make it hard.”

Jesse hums and his eyes search high up in the tall trees and down low at the horses you ride before looking at every green bush, colored plant, grey rock, and anything else you have yet to cross and that surrounds you until his eyes seem to lock on something.

You try to pinpoint what it is by following his line of gaze and blurting the first thing you see. “Fern!”

Jesse rolls his eyes and turns his attention to you. “No. Not close. Something…you can slip on if you are not careful.”

You press your lips together and search the area he had focused on to try and find what he said with the clue he gave. However, there’s no mud because it hasn't rained. There’s no moss that you can see. You can’t see flat rocks on the ground or any twigs that can get caught under your shoe.

“Bark?” You ask hesitantly.

A faint smirk tugs on his lips before he shakes his head. “No. Listen.”

You strain your ear and catch the call of the same Red-tailed hawk in the distance. You hear different birds chirping, and past that, you hear a rush of water, but you can’t see it.

That can’t be it.

“A river?” You ask with confusion, and as unsure as you are of your response, Jesse actually nods.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you smack your lips. “That ain’t close. I mean, I can’t see it.”

Your Uncle chuckles from the front of the caravan, and Jesse shakes his head with the smug smile still attached to his face. “Nope, but it’s not I-spy. We just have to find what the other person points out.” He says cockily, so you roll your eyes and sigh deeply.

“Whatever,” you grumble and then nudge your horse to pick up her pace and take the lead to reach the river faster. “We should fill up our bottles and let the horses hydrate,” you share your thoughts with the men who don't question you. After all, you won’t come across another body of water today or tomorrow.

Yet when you reach the river, you find out that it was loud enough to be heard from afar for a reason; the water is running faster, and it's higher than it should be.

“Melting snow and the recent storm?” Jesse asks for reassurance, so you and your Uncle give it to him because that is the only reason the water is so high.

“Yep.” You sigh.

Luckily, a wide tree has fallen over the river, so you will save time and energy by crossing to reach the other side, but how steady is it against the rushing water is the important question.

“We’ll cross one by one,” your Uncle suggests as you keep your eyes on the fallen tree to see if it’ll move.

“But don’t get off your horse. Just keep the pace slow and steady,” your Uncle adds. “Questions?”

You shake your head, and Jesse turns his head to look at him, but doesn’t give any notes. “Yeah. That sounds good. I trust you.”

You draw out a deep breath and nod along. “Me too,” you echo and then look back at the tree before you interject. “Jesse, you go first.”

Your Uncle and Jesse look at you, and they get ready to argue, but you snap your eyes to Jesse and insist. “Go. I’ll go right after you. Just don’t look back. Eyes forward and don’t panic or the horse will panic, hm?”

Jesse finds your insistence to go first annoying because he wants you to get across safely first, just in case something goes wrong, but there’s no point arguing. Thus, before you can waste any more time, Jesse nudges his horse and moves forward.

At first, the horse seems hesitant to climb on the tree because the river is loud and walking on a tree hasn’t been common for them to do, but after some sweet and quiet comforting from Jesse, the horse climbs on and slowly begins to take Jesse across.

You stay behind and don’t dare to move an inch because you don’t want to risk spooking his horse or even moving a pebble on the ground, in case that somehow makes the tree move.

You hold your breath and grow more tense by the second. A part of you wants to rush Jesse so he can get across as soon as possible, but the other part of you is logical and keeps you quiet as you watch every step with laser focus.

No part of you is at ease until finally, Jesse reaches the other side successfully.

“Great job!” You praise and clap for both the horse and him.

“Thank you, now come across,” he urges you without really soaking in the great achievement so as not to risk anything changing in the tree's stability or the rushing water.

Your Uncle takes that under consideration and presses you, too. “You heard him. Go. I’m right behind you. Nice and slow.”

You glance at him and nod in comprehension, but you don’t hesitate or take any of their warnings under consideration. What used to worry you and keep you tense doesn’t affect you now that it’s your turn. You don’t rush across. You take it slow and ease your horse on the tree, but you don’t hold the same anxiety that you noticed in Jesse when he crossed.

You don’t hold a sense of cockiness either. You just don’t care when it comes to you crossing. Maybe that’s what changed when you cross, or maybe it was just the rushing water smacking against the tree. Either way, the movement is small at first, it makes your heart skip a beat, and it makes Jesse and your Uncle move their horses forward.

The second time the tree moves, your horse slips. Yet you don’t react with fear and scream for help when you crash into the water and fall off your horse. You don’t panic when the force of the water shoves you under its angry waves either.

You feel a sense of relief, and when you hit the back of your head against a rock on the river floor, there’s ecstasy that rushes through your blood seconds before it all goes black.

At first, you expect the darkness to be fleeting. You expect to wake up and see the cloudy sky, but when you open your eyes, that ecstasy runs faster when you see your house.

Not your small yellow house in Jackson, no. You’re in front of your house in Austin, Texas. You’re home, and it’s just as you left it before the outbreak. Nothing is overgrown, the windows aren’t broken, and the roof isn’t crumbling. It’s in a perfect state, and you don’t question why it’s so.

You don’t even ask why you’re standing in front of it. You just grin with genuine glee and cut across the lawn. When you reach the door, you hesitate to steady your heartbeat before you open the door and immediately get greeted by everything you once knew.

Everything is the same. Nothing is out of place, not a pillow on the couch, and not a speck of dust. The one difference is that the sun shines through the windows, brightening and warming up the living room. Oh, and there’s a smell. A good smell that awakens your appetite, so you follow it across the living room and into the kitchen, noticing right away that it’s lively past the back door. There’s a long picnic table outside adorned with a simple yet cute white tablecloth, and plates and silverware are set on top of it waiting to be used.

Who did all this? You ask yourself, and slowly walk to the back door to try and see who’s outside.

Yet before you can even reach for the door, someone walks up to the door, someone you spent missing longer than you knew them. Someone you often think about and frequently miss. Someone sweet and beautiful, Sarah.

She’s in a nice sun dress that complements her skin. She dons a small amount of mascara, a pink lip gloss that makes her lips shiny, and when she reaches the door and faces you, she offers you her incredible smile that drives you to her without even thinking about it.

You should have. You should have hesitated opening the door and stepping outside, but you’re too happy and too ready to even hesitate. You just throw your arms around your sister again and hold her close.

“Sarah,” you whisper with a break in your voice as tears fill your eyes. “I missed you,” you add, and feel her hold you back.

“Me too,” she says sweetly, and it’s those words alone that make you feel safe again. Like the world couldn’t hurt you, and you were invincible. You felt like a little girl again back in 2003, and you enjoyed it. You made yourself at home in your sister's embrace in this peaceful afterlife.

“I…I really missed you,” you express yourself again before you pull back and face her sweet and young face, catching your reflection in her light, earthy eyes and seeing your face unchanged. You're just all dolled up in a sundress, just like her.

“I’m still older,” she reminds you, and you don’t deny her.

You laugh and assure her.

“Always,” you say, and then from one moment to another, the sound of a giggle steals your attention. When you look over, tending to the grill is a woman with her back turned to you, so you can’t take note of her face, you just see her hair and the color of her skin, but after that, it’s easy to guess that it’s your mother.

You don’t need to see her face, you know for certain because next to her is your dad.

“Daddy,” you call out with a quiver, and as said man turns to give you his attention, you march over there, but don’t embrace him like you did with Sarah. You face him with your face pampered with tears and immediately try to share your pain.

“Daddy, I’m…it…I’m sorry.” You cry while said man stays quiet, but grabs your shoulders to make you meet his gaze before he wipes away your tears.

“Come sit,” you hear Sarah say from the other end of the table. “The food is ready.”

You hold your dad's gaze, but he quickly looks away to point at an empty seat at the end of the table with a name card you can’t read. Nor do you intend to read right now.

You part from your dad and once again, without hesitation, you follow Sarah and sit at the end of the table next to her. There’s no question about it, and you don’t look back for anyone. You just take your seat and wait, seeing your dad sitting at the other end of the table across from you before the food comes. He then looks at an empty seat next to him and this time you read the name card, ‘Ellie Williams.’.

You gasp and feel a pull. At last, in the bliss, there’s a pull.

Yet you forget all about it when the woman at the grill finally turns and shows you a face you have only seen in pictures; your mother.

She turns with the food in her hands and walks over to you first to serve you.

“Mama,” you whisper happily, earning a sweet smile that makes you want to stay even more so you can keep seeing her smile. You don't want to leave. You want to stay here with her, Sarah, and your dad. It’s a choice, and you want to take it. You’re ready. It’s why you came on this trip, to reunite with them. It wasn’t Ellie who brought you on this trip; it was the need to be with your family, and you’re finally with them. Now, every muscle in your body is telling you not to look back.

Albeit as your mother walks away, you follow her with your eyes and in doing so, you catch the other empty chairs with name cards of their own.

Next to you on your left is ‘Theo Holloway.’ Next to him and in the middle is ‘Apollo Holloway’, and of course, next to him is Ellie.

Their seats are empty, and they will be empty for a while.

That thought makes you feel that pull stronger than before, but you’re still hesitant because of Sarah and your mother. You want to stay with them and him too, but when you look at him, without saying it, he’s urging you to go back.

“Please,” he finally speaks with tears welling in his eyes.

“But,” you try to argue, but stop to look at the empty seats again. “What good am I there?” You ask and look at him again. “I couldn’t save you. You’re dead because of me, and I…couldn't handle the weight of it. It was crushing me. I feel…weightless here. Happy. Please let me stay. I want to stay.”

You will. It’s your choice and you’re making it…

But there’s also Ellie…if you can’t handle the weight, how is she fairing? Dina was there when your dad died, but she can’t possibly feel the same crushing weight or the same heartache that never stops hurting. Only you and Ellie know that feeling, and if you stay…she has no one…

Damn it…

“Daddy,” you say softly, and without saying it he finally smiles at you, making that gesture and his face be the last thing you see before it’s all taken away and you’re in that lodge, seeing him die again for a fleeting second before you’re transported back to life panicked and surrounded by dark rushing water for a moment before you’re yanked out and thrown on the ground where you cough out water and try to draw in the air that will keep you alive.

“Oh, thank god!” Jesse gasps while your uncle grabs your arm to sit you up to pat your back to help you get all the water out.

Once you’ve gathered your breath and stopped with your coughing fit, your uncle throws his arms around you, feeling all the weight of the world rise off his shoulders as he sees that you’re okay now.

“Thank god,” he whispers. “I thought I lost ya there for a second.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder and look anything but relieved.

That feeling will pass, but right now you’re more disappointed than grateful because you got taken away from everything you wanted. Peace, bliss, and your home.

Still, your uncle doesn’t notice that, but Jesse does. He just doesn’t say anything on the matter and instead watches you look ahead blankly whilst you relish in your Uncle's embrace.

“You might have a concussion, so let’s call today a day. There seems to be a town nearby. We can find some to hold up there,” your uncle suggests as he pulls away from the embrace to very swiftly walk around you to check on your head as if rehearsed, or fallen back to old habits from your early years traveling together.

“It’s abandoned,” you input, and let your Uncle check on you, realizing that at that moment, your horse is alive, just soaked and unharmed. You got the worst of the fall. “At least the last time I passed it was. I didn’t even encounter any infected.”

“But it doesn’t mean there isn’t any,” Jesse interjects, making your uncle agree.

“That’s true. What’s the last place you stayed at, Sunny?” Your Uncle asks as he moves away to grab the blanket off his horse to wrap it around you.

“No,” you shake your head. “We didn’t stay. We passed by, but I did see a bank. A pretty big one. It could have a vault.”

Your uncle stays quiet for a moment before he nods. “Okay. We’ll check it out. Come on, let’s get you out of those wet clothes so we can go. You don’t have any cuts or anything concerning, but we’ll just have you stay out of any action for a while.”

“Okay,” you agree without a fight and follow him to borrow some clothes since everything you own, even your horse, is soaked.

Once you get yourself situated, you get back on the road and don’t take long to come across the town you talked about, finding it empty of any people and infected. Or at least, the infected aren’t roaming the streets. If people were here, it’d be obvious, instead, it’s a ghost town, and that raises the hairs on the back of your neck rather than making you feel relaxed.

It's a good thing you stick to the bank and don’t take time to explore a thing, who knows what monsters lurk in the shadows.

“The horses look like they fit through the rubble,” your uncle Tommy lets you and Jesse know before he walks out to grab his horse's reins and leads her inside.

You don’t doubt your Uncle, so you follow behind him with your horse, and then Jesse trails after you.

When you’re inside and making your way further inside the bank, you can’t help but be taken aback just a little by the state of the entrance of the bank. It’s one of the few things you like about this new world; man-made things slowly being taken over by Mother Earth. It can be a breathtaking sight, and the entrance of the bank is one of those sights.

The entrance is collapsed in it on itself, letting in only sparse beams of light inside through broken windows and cracks on the cement, leaving it pretty dim, but it’s the right amount of light to let you see how moss and greenery have slowly claimed the destruction, and the way the puddled rain water glimmers on the ground.

“It’d suck to make it this far in our trip and get killed by debris,” Jesse comments as he follows you, and you follow your Uncle through the maze that debris made.

“Don’t worry.” Your Uncle chuckles. “It’s probably been like this for years. It ain't collapsin’ today…maybe.”

You muster a smile, and Jesse feigns a laugh at your Uncle’s very reassuring comment.

“I see a way inside just over there,” your Uncle points out, but you don’t catch what he does right away. You have to walk in just a little further to see the gap he pointed out, and once you do, you and Jesse go completely serious again.

However, before you can walk through the gap to see what the inside holds, your uncle brings you all to a stop to listen first.

You don’t hear anything right away, so your Uncle grabs a pebble and throws it inside, causing two growls to respond, and letting you see a picture of what you could find inside. Albeit it’s blurry since you can’t be sure if it’s just two infected until you’re inside.

“Okay, Jesse, you’ll go in with me and help me take out the infected. Sunny,” he whispers directly at you before you can argue. “You stay here until I come back to give you all the clear, okay?” He presses, and you part your lips to argue, but he cuts in right away.

“I wasn’t askin’ for your opinion. I just wanted to know if you caught all that.”

You huff and challenge his gaze for a second before you nod stiffly.

“Good. Now keep your eyes and ears open,” he reminds you before he turns away and leads the way again. You don’t cross that threshold, but you walk to the edge and peek out, catching a glimpse of Jesse and your Uncle before you hear the nerve-wracking sound of clickers, giving the answer as to what kind of infected the men will be facing, and making you think about disobeying your Uncle.

You believe that both men will be able to handle the clickers, but it doesn't take away from the fact that you’ll be a big advantage.

Yet, you don’t jump down to the ground floor to join them. You stay put and watch them creep away and get out of sight to try and catch the clickers off guard to make as little fuss as possible.

You try to strain your ear, but you can hear the clicking sound of clickers, which is a good thing. It means their plan to sneak up on them is working.

However, it’s because it’s quiet and you’re trying to be even quieter that you hear the sound of rubble falling in the water. At first, you think nothing of it. It must be natural because of the state of this place, but you hear it again, and followed by that is the sound of bare flesh hitting the cement.

It can’t be your horses because you left them near the entrance, plus their hoofs wouldn’t sound like that. It’s…some kind of infected, and basing it off how quiet it is, you’re assuming it’s a Stalker.

You can only be sure if you look, so you slowly reach for your revolver before you very slowly start to churn your head.

Just as you catch a glimpse of its ugly face and prove that it’s in fact a Stalker, suddenly the monster lunges at you, causing you to scream, and since you’re on the ledge, you lose balance and fall inside the bank with your back slamming on the ground and the infected landing on top of you.

The noise of the altercation alerts the clickers, making Jesse and your Uncle have to resort to charging at them instead. All while you try with all your might to hold the Stalker back and keep it from biting you, and honestly, finding a way to get it off you is quite easy. You can do it, but you choose to struggle. You see the potential in letting it take a nip of your flesh and choose to struggle.

And oh, the thought of having no choice but to accept death's comforting embrace is tempting because it means that you would be able to be there again. The peaceful afterlife you left. There would be no choice around it, you would be there again with Sarah, your mom, and most importantly, your dad.

You’d get to apologize for not trying harder this time. You’d remind him that you love him and that no place could ever be home if he wasn’t with you. Most importantly, you’d be able to feel like you aren’t getting choked and crushed by the incredible weight pressing down on you.

You’d be weightless and pain-free…

Yet just as you start to picture that perfect afterlife, the image of Ellie’s empty chair flashes in your mind, and your mind is bombarded with the thought of her.

Guilt and the reminder of why you chose to live in the first place seeps right back inside, and you gain the will and the might to shove the Stalker off of you.

Before it can come charging at you or go hide, you drag yourself to your ass and hit the trigger of your gun not just once, but three times until you make sure it won’t even twitch.

After that, once the Stalker is dead, you look for your Uncle and Jesse, catching your Uncle hitting his armored Clicker with the end of his rifle over and over again. It’s already dead, but he keeps hitting it with so much force that its head gets crushed into smithereens.

Jesse, on the other hand, seemed to have shot his clicker and left it alone once it was lifeless, so you catch him walking over to you now.

“Is it clear?” You ask as he walks over.

“The commotion would have made any others come out so, it seems like it, yeah,” he assures you, and the moment he reaches you, he offers you his hand like a nice gentleman, so you accept his help and get up on your feet with some struggle.

There’s no sharp pain. Just aches from all the falling today.

Nevertheless, your uncle seems to snap out of whatever spell had him obliterating that Clicker, the moment he catches a glimpse of you standing on your given height.

At first, he calls out your name as his contorted face comes undone and expresses pure concern. After that, he rushes over to you. “Are you okay?” He asks as he studies you. “You weren’t bit were you?”

You meet his dark, worried gaze and feel more guilt hitting you for wanting to leave your Uncle behind when all he does is worry about you.

“No,” you assure him softly, and without thinking, you step forward to wrap him in an embrace that catches him off guard. “I’m okay. Thank you,” you whisper as your eyes get glossy.

“Good,” your Uncle scoffs with confusion mixing with his relief. “I’m glad. Now, why don’t we find the vault to rest? You need it.”

“We all do,” you add and pull back to face both men.

“Come on then,” your uncle says without wasting another minute before leading the way through the now empty bank.

“I wonder why that clicker had armor on,” you fill the silence as you walk past the armored clicker. “Is that how armed the security was at banks?”

“No,” your Uncle answers your curiosity. “There were securities sometimes, but never armed like that. Not unless someone was trying to rob the bank.”

You hum and let a short silence fall as you reach the deposit box area, finding at that moment, an old corpse by an empty duffle bag.

That explains the armored Clicker and the other clicker Jesse took down.

“Oh, would you look at that?” Your Uncle muses as all three of you walk into the room.

“It didn’t seem like it was his lucky day,” Jesse comments as you look at the scene on the floor.

“A lot of people started breaking into banks when the outbreak happened,” your Uncle shares as he walks to the duffle to look through it. “With the whole world erupting into chaos, everyone thought it would be easy to get rich or get stuff otherwise unattainable. I guess nobody thought it would be the end of the world until it was.”

You walk away to look around at all the deposit boxes still locked and hiding riches that will always be hidden away.

“Why would people keep stuff here?” Jesse asks as he also departs from your Uncle to also take a look around.

“Well, this place was protected, so instead of leaving it all vulnerable at home, some people trusted the bank to keep their money or valuables safe.”

“I saw this movie with Apollo once where the bank workers would replace the jewelry with fake jewelry to be able to cash it,” you mention and sigh as you start to miss your husband and your baby.

“Oh yeah,” Jesse chimes in as he snaps his fingers. “I’ve seen that movie before. It was really good.”

You hum and start to drag your feet. “I miss Apollo and Teddy. I wish phones worked,” you grumble and turn as you see nothing worthwhile—“that’s something I miss.”

Your Uncle gets up with a paper in hand and chuckles at you. “You were four before, who would you call?” He teases.

You grab your back straps and start to walk back towards him. “Well, you,” you remind him, making him scoff in amusement. “And I would call…my…dad,” you trail off into a whisper. “That’s all, but hey,” you say louder with a faint smile. “I have people I can call now. That’s why I miss them.”

“We’ll be back home soon,” your Uncle tries to assure you. “Now, thank these stupid bank robbers for leaving the code to the vault,” your uncle shows off. “We’ll be able to stay inside for the night and not have a lookout.”

Jesse claps quietly, and you look over at the corpse. “Thank you,” you direct at if before you follow your uncle to the giant metal door.

You try to help after he unlocks it, but he pushes you away and makes Jesse help open the door.

“And welcome,” your uncle tries to make light of the night. “Take a breath and take the night off from all the worry. We’ll be able to sleep comfortably tonight.”

“Is that so?” Jesse doubts the area, and he has every right to, but your uncle is right.

“Yeah, it is,” you assure him as you walk in first, seeing a skeleton inside. Only this one dons armor, and holds onto a shotgun they seemed to have used to end their misery.

“We would stay in places like this often,” you continue as you grab the armored skeleton and drag it out past the big door so it’s not an eyesore in the room.

“If someone does try to come in, we’ll hear them struggle to open the door,” your Uncle adds. “That will give us time to react. That’s why Joel chose to stay in places like these in the beginning. Sunny was a little girl, so we took extra precautions.”

You don’t comment on the memory or try to recall those old days. You drop the skeleton and walk back inside to wander around, seeing that the deposit boxes are open in this room, so you snoop through them as Jesse and your Uncle gather abandoned money to use for a fire to have light and make the room warm.

“What would the old you from the old world think about you doing this?” Jesse asks your Uncle. “I mean you were all dependent on this, weren’t you?”

“Well, first, I would assume I was insane or crazy rich,” your uncle says. “And second, yes, this was once our livelihood. We didn’t have a lot of it, but…we were happy.”

“I sometimes wonder what my life would’ve looked like if I got to live in the old world,” Jesse keeps filling the silence, making you peer over with an amused smile. “Maybe I would’ve been in construction like you.”

Your uncle scoffs. “Ah, nah. Think bigger. I was lame.”

“You said you were happy,” Jesse counters, making you smirk. “Doesn’t sound bad to me.”

Your uncle goes quiet for a moment, and a match strikes before he offers him a response. “I never appreciated it until after. Until it was all gone. I imagine that was everyone’s life story.”

You turn away from the pair and hear a fire start as you continue to snoop through, noticing a silver ring in one of the open boxes and immediately taking it as you think about Apollo.

“Look at this,” you call for everyone's attention and turn to show the ring off. “You think Apollo will like it?” You ask as you bring the ringer closer, as you see words engraved on it. “His wedding band is good, but I always wanted something better for him. This looks better. Besides, he deserves it for being so understanding of my decision.”

“I think it’ll be nice, Sunny, take it,” your uncle backs up your choice before he also sounds thoughtful. “I should get something for Maria and Benji too.”

You smile at him and assure him. “I’ll keep my eye out for you,” you let him know, and finally recognize that the words engraved on the ring are Latin, but you have no idea what it means.

‘Sic Parvis Magna’

Apollo's dad can probably figure it out. He was a university teacher who taught about Ancient Greece and other ancient stuff.

“Thank you,” your uncle says back. “Now, let's close that door and gather for dinner. We should take advantage of the extra security to get as much sleep as we can before we have to leave. Plus, you,” he points at you. “You need to rest. You’ve been through it today. You need it.”

You hum in agreement and go on to help with what you can, or with what they let you help with. Which is not a lot, they let you take tonight easy because of your concussion and the tumble that left your body aching.

It does feel quite odd letting yourselves be so relaxed though, after weeks on the road having to be on guard and look over your shoulder. So much so that at first you’re all so tense, but after a while, once you’re all reassured that no one is coming in and no infected is lurking outside, you all exhale and let yourselves loose. You share stories, and mostly answer Jesse’s curiosities about the old world because he likes to hear about your Uncle’s past, and no matter how many times you’ve heard it, you never tire of the stories he tells.

There was even a moment when you were all gathered around the fire that you laughed. You genuinely laughed a hearty laugh.

The action felt so foreign yet so…good, like everything that torments you would be temporary and you’d be alright.

Maybe you should’ve hung onto that feeling to try and mend your broken soul, but you remembered why you’re so far from home and the events that caused it, and that small taste of healing vanishes, leaving your world broken again.

Only as you come off this high, you hurt so much worse. As if it happened for the first time. That’s why you can’t sleep, or you choose not to, because you know the nightmares that await you, and Apollo is not here to keep you grounded or make you feel safe.

Staying awake won’t help you feel better about your injuries, but you’d rather spend a sleepless night than have to go through the memories that torment you at night. Besides, it seems like you’re not the only one awake.

In the darkness that swallows the room, you see Jesse getting out of his sleeping bag, so after a while of giving him time to himself, you join him in a corner filled with more stacks of money.

“It’s crazy to me that this paper controlled the world,” he whispers thoughtfully.

“I had a piggy bank once,” you share as you’re on the topic of money again. “I kept my allowance in it. Of course, I wouldn’t get the big bucks like my sister, but I would get dollar bills from my dad, my uncle, or the neighbors.”

Jesse chuckles, and you smile softly.

“Oh yeah, I was really well-liked, but that’s beside the point,” you brush it off and continue with your story. “I was saving up for this beautiful princess tea set. That was all I was saving up for, so when the time came to go buy it, I collected all my money, went to the store, grabbed my princess tea set, and put my money on the counter…guess how much I had.”

Jesse shakes his head before he gives you a response. “More than enough?”

You scoff. “Five dollars. The princess tea set was fifteen.”

“So all that saving up…what was it for?”

You sigh. “Ice cream and candy. I had wasted my money on ice cream and candy. Every time I went to the store or the ice cream truck passed, I used my money. That’s where it all went,” you share with disappointment. “I was devastated.”

“Let me guess,” Jesse adds. “Your dad put in the rest?”

You smile softly right away and nod. “Yeah, he did, and then when we got home, I dressed up my dad and my sister, and we had tea.” You smile wider at the faint memory, but as the darkness once again consumes you, you grow sorrowful.

A silence proceeds to blanket you and Jesse for a moment, letting you both take a seat on the uncomfortable stack of money and focus on nothing and everything the room holds.

“Can I ask you something?” Jesse asks, breaking the silence and drifting your gaze to him.

“Shoot,” you encourage him, making him sigh and welcome a short silence before he lifts his head and turns it to face you.

At first, you can’t make him out in the darkness, but as he lets the silence build, you slowly make out his face, catching a boy-like curiosity. Not one that makes his eyes twinkle, but a curiosity that adds a weight to the conversation, as you know he’s about to be vulnerable.

“How can you put on such a brave face in the face of danger?” He finally asks, making your eyebrows twitch together before you question something.

“You aren’t a coward. I actually admire your bravery and your courage. You're hard to scare, so what do you mean?”

Jesse sighs deeply and averts his gaze to explain himself. “Today, when you fell in the river, you looked anything but scared. And earlier, with that Infected, your face never once showed a glimpse of fear. Are you just used to this world? Or what’s your secret? I’m genuinely curious.”

You falter, and that secret you’ve been keeping from them threatens to come out. “I am scared,” you reveal. “All the time, I just…” You trail off and swallow thickly, feeling your secret press harder to come out as it's just you and him. Your uncle is sleeping, it's just you and Jesse.

Yet it’s the thought that Jesse will know that makes you fight to keep in what you feel.

“I won’t share your secret,” he presses, making your eyes flicker back to him and feel your breath hitch, but that need to keep everything in keeps holding on.

“…I just can’t let it get the best of me,” you continue with what you were saying. “Or it will consume me…” You trail off again and drop your head, hiding that desperate desire to speak your mind.

“I’m sorry,” Jesse cuts in, changing the subject bluntly. “When I went to you about going after Ellie, I pushed. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

You shrug softly. “I needed it. I couldn’t afford letting her get days ahead or even reach Seattle before I made up my mind,” you assure him before you face him and probe. “Why did you come though? Is it to help Dina?”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “No, it’s not just about her,” he shares. “It’s about Ellie, too. I would have gone with them if they had asked. Begrudgingly, but I would have. My friends' problems are my problems.”

You smile in admiration right away as you nod slowly in comprehension. “Nice,” you praise him and avert your gaze again.

As Jesse doesn’t get what he was initially searching for, he boldly crosses that threshold you had kept between you, your uncle, and him.

“What was that hesitation with the infected about?”

You act surprised, but he’s not as patient anymore. He’s persistent and worried.

“I promised my friend Apollo I would look after you, I intend to keep my promise.”

You scoff softly and shake your head, hesitating just a moment longer but finally finding a foothold to slowly tear that wall down. “That day my dad died,” you begin to share slowly. “They caught me off guard, and no matter how hard I tried, how reckless I was, I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t…I couldn’t save him, and now I see it every day as if it happened yesterday. It torments me while I’m awake and in my sleep, and I can’t…it’s,” your voice quivers. “It’s crushing me. That’s why I came…to find an end to my torment because it hurts. It hurts so much.” You cry but immediately cover your mouth to not wake up your uncle.

“It’s selfish, I know,” you say what you assume Jesse is thinking. “But that’s my secret. A desire to die.” You exhale deeply and slide your hands off your face before you keep going as you can’t make yourself stop and need to make it sound better.

“And I found it. My escape. When I fell into that river, I had a choice. I was…home in Texas, and I felt so weightless. Not only that, but I was with…her…my sister, my mom, and…my dad. I was home, and it felt…so good. Every bone and muscle in my body told me to stay,” you whisper. “I felt that need so deeply inside me that for a moment…it was no longer a choice, but then…there was an empty chair with a name card on it. Ellie’s,” you pause and wipe the tears off your cheeks.

“I tried to fight myself, but then I thought of how alone she’ll be, and I know…I know she has you, Dina, and everyone else, but there’s this connection only she and I share. A connection only she and I know because no one loved him like we did and…I thought about how alone she would be if I did slip away, and…that thought brought me back. She did,” you finish saying and keep wiping tears off your face.

“I’m sorry,” Jesse tries to offer some consolation. “And I think you made the right choice. As costly as it seemed.”

You sniffle. “I’m horrible,” you can’t help but spill. “I didn’t even think about my family. I was so ready. It hurt so much to come back because I was with him, but then I wasn’t. I…I,” you can’t finish saying, and drop your head to cry as quietly as possible.

“Just,” you add as you wipe your face and face him again. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? Especially not her. I’ll be good now,” you reassure him. “I’m trying. I am. For her.”

“I won’t,” Jesse whispers as he watches how much you struggle to stop from sobbing.

He had watched you from his seat the entire time because he didn’t know how to help, but now as he sees you crying but also trying to stop, he cups your shoulder before he wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in against him so you can find some comfort in his embrace.

And you do. In your most vulnerable moment, you find comfort in your friend.

——

*SOMETIME LATER. SEATTLE*

“The Evergreen State, home of the Dodgers,” you break the silence as you come across a trail sign that gives two different directions; one that points to Arboretum and the Seattle Trail. You all follow the Seattle Trail, of course.

“No,” your uncle snorts. “Not even close. Mariners.”

“Oh.”

“Los Ángeles was home to the Dodgers.”

You rest your chin on your horse's head and become reminiscent. “Apollo watches old Re-runs of baseball games with his dad and brother. I can never get into them though. It’s the same games over and over again.”

“They could say the same thing about your movies,” your Uncle quips, making you loll your head to the side to look at him with a pointed glare.

“Yeah. I’ll let you have that old man,” you mutter. “Touché.”

You then continue to sigh and glance up at the tall green trees that almost touch the sky. Wyoming doesn’t have trees this tall, you wish there were because they’re so fascinating, but you’re also so terrifying in a sense. They’re like giants.

“I’ll give it to Washington. Their forests are beautiful,” you muse. “They’re so…green…” You trail off and glance at your two trusted companions, catching Jesse not even giving you the time of day, while your uncle rolls his eyes, making you smile faintly before you sit up. At that moment, catching the whiff of something completely foul.

The further you walk, the stronger that smell gets. It even burns your nose, but the smell is not strange. You all know it well and don’t take long to come across the violent scene in the middle of the dirt path.

You are only a few miles in, and you’re already coming across corpses of what were once living humans. Not infected. And it’s not just a couple; just past the thickness of some greenery is a group of them. All slaughtered and all seeming to be donning similar green coats that almost make them go unnoticed if their pale, lifeless face didn’t stand out against the dark dirt.

“Do these look like W.L.F? Could it have been them?” Jesse asks as he studies the violent scene to make sure that neither of the women you knew was amongst them.

“No,” you ease his worry. “These don’t look like W.L.F. They were ordinary clothes and,” you pause and look back at the body of the man you passed with a white painted symbol that was nothing like a wolf. This symbol is like…an eye? Or something astrological?

“…they didn’t have that symbol or use the same coat,” you let Jesse and your Uncle know. “But…these are too many to have been taken down by Dina and Ellie alone. Maybe it was W.L.F. That girl,” you avoid saying her name. “Did hint at Seattle being dangerous. Or something…so maybe this is a glimpse of it.”

Your Uncle hums before you hear him tighten his hands against his reign.

“Whatever it may be,” your uncle comments with his eyes narrowed ahead. “Let’s try not to get caught in the middle of it and hope Dina and Ellie are trying to do the same. Come on, it's better not to stop. Someone could be close.”

You steal one glance at the violent scene, and from what you can tell, they were all taken down by gunshots, and a lot of them died with melee weapons. No firearms.

Maybe they got taken after they died?

Whatever the case, you push away your curiosities and pay even closer attention to the tall trees, just in case there’s people hiding up there like when you were in Kansas.

Luckily, besides critters and birds, there’s nothing else that inhabits the trees, and after crossing a few miles, you find the freeway and thankfully leave the thick of the woods.

You are far more exposed now because you don’t have the cover of the trees, which is the downside, but at least you don’t have to be scared that there's people lurking up there.

Now all you have to worry about is if there’s people lurking around you, or if you’ve been accidentally spotted. So far, everything along the freeway is truly abandoned. There’s no sign of life or Infected, just Mother Earth consuming the manmade cars that were left on the freeway, and the manmade highway itself.

Eventually, you end up at the end of a bridge that either deteriorated or was blown up like the other major cities. Either way, you reach the high point and get the perfect view of the city, wondering instead of admiring what dangers such a beautiful city holds.

Ellie is somewhere inside there. In danger, hiding, close to Abby, or…hurt. You can’t think of the other alternative. It’s too grim and threatens to shove you back into that coma-like state.

“Listen,” your uncle interjects. “When we enter the city. We’ll take our separate ways. Sunny, you and Jesse stick together, and I’ll go off alone,” your uncle brings up without facing you because he knows he’ll see your disbelief and disagreement.

“No,” he blurts before you can cut in. “You cannot come with me,” he makes you shut up. “We’ll cover more ground this way, and I'd prefer it if Jesse didn’t go off alone. So yes, you have to stay with him.”

You huff and pout as you stare off at the nearby city.

“We’ll meet up again in the morning,” he continues and points to a spot on a map you found in an abandoned gas station just before you got into the city.

“What if you end up in danger? How are we supposed to find you then?” You argue either way and snap your head to pierce your glare into him. “The city is fucking huge. It’s better if we stick together! That girl said this place was dangerous!”

“And if we stick together, we won’t even cover a quarter of the city,” your uncle argues and finally faces you. “If we separate, we cover more ground, so I’m not arguin’ with you about it.”

You scowl and look away to grumble your defeated response. “Fine.”

“Take care of each other, and if you find the girls, throw them on your horses or tie them. Whatever it is, just bring them back. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jesse confirms that he understands what you need to do, making your uncle move his horse closer to you to pick on you now.

“We'll meet in the mornin’. I swear.”

You slowly look back at him as you hear his attempt to assure you and keep your frown plastered as you retort. “If not, I will come after ya. I’m not goin’ home without you. Together, remember?” You bring up since it seems appropriate now that you’re traveling on the road like the old days.

“How can I forget?” he says lightheartedly and flashes you a small smile. “Now let’s go. Let’s see each other off.”

Knowing he’s right, but not admitting it, you continue toward the city. Yet the only difference is when you come off the highway, you break apart like the old faded lanes that lead to different streets of what was once a buzzling city.

You and Jesse try to keep quiet as you roam the quiet streets, not because you still don’t have the energy to make conversation. After your heart-to-heart with Jesse, that wall you kept up has slowly come down, and you let your voice be heard more. You’re not just a quiet listener anymore; you join their conversations and tell them stories about everything and anything that comes to mind. Even of the past. Or at least the parts that didn’t stab your heart to recollect. So that’s not why you keep quiet.

You don’t want to draw unwanted attention. You’re already walking through the city on horses, so you don’t want to put yourselves at even more risk by talking.

“We should find somewhere to hide our horses,” you bring up. “We’re gonna stick out regardless, but this way it’ll be somewhat easier to blend in.”

“Yeah,” Jesse sighs as he keeps scanning the area without daring to miss an inch. “That’s smart. One of these buildings shall do it. It’ll help if we keep them close to our way out of the city, just in case we have to make some hasty escape.”

You nod and scan the area until a music store catches your eye.

“There!” You point out. “The windows are covered. Let’s keep ‘em there.”

You nudge your horse to walk faster to reach the store quicker as you feel an inkling of excitement seep through.

Nevertheless, and as expected, the doors are closed.

“I’ll find a way in,” Jesse volunteers. “Stay here.”

Without another choice, you agree and watch him disappear into an alley before you start to look over your shoulders, making sure that you don’t catch anything suspicious, and finding yourself find this silence more terrifying than any monster.

Alas, nothing comes out from any corner or any building. The ghost is clear, and it seems that Jesse comes across the same luck because he opens the doors rather quickly.

“Look at you,” you muse as you hop off your horse to lead yours and Jesse’s inside. “Good job.”

“Team Jackson!” He exclaims and puts his hand up to offer you a high five as you reach the doors.

“Yeah!” You giggle and let the reins go to give him a high five. “Team Jackson!”

“The store is clear and by the looks of it, it has grass growing in so they can eat that while we’re gone,” he says after you return to the horses and continue to lead them inside.

Once he closes the doors behind you and barricades the store again, you let the reins go and let yourself be in complete awe by the store.

“What richness,” you muse as you take in all the different kinds of music that's still left behind. “If only I had infinite space in my backpack. I’d take it all home, oh, and look!” You point out and run over to the folk section to snatch a Joan Baez album off the shelf. “My queen of Folk music, Joan Baez. My uncle said my mama loved her.” You smile at the album but also curse the fact that you can’t play it right now.

“If only we had room. All this music wouldn’t collect dust at Jackson,” Jesse says, thinking more selflessly, whereas all you think about is your collection. “I’m sure…people would love to hear some of that be played at a fall fair?” He asks as he tries to discreetly press you to rethink about your abandoned dream of having a fair at Jackson.

Lately, him and your uncle have been bringing up the idea, but that excitement and dream died with…your dad. You just let both men try to insist because you don’t want to be rude and turn them down. They can still have a fair, you just won’t be a part of it.

“Hm, maybe,” you say without that initial enthusiasm, and put the album down to start walking down the site with your fingers raising the dust off the music people forgot about.

“Let’s head out before we lose more time here,” you bring an end to all the excitement and return a sorrow that was such a constant companion in your group.

Once you collect the things you need and go back outside, the tension lingers until you speak up “Joan Baez has a song called ‘Jesse’. Fun fact.”

Said man glances over at you and probes. “Really?”

You glance at him, too, and nod. “Yep. When we get back home, listen to it. Maybe it’s not your thing, but it’s still cool. You can pretend she’s singing about you, considering your girl might have been stolen.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t get hurt or bothered by your comment.

“Maybe you are right,” he mutters. “After this. Maybe I’ll take your advice about officially cutting things off.”

You pat his shoulder. “Yeah, I would like that for you. You’re young, take advantage of that and explore your options. Or don’t. Up to you. Maybe you’ll meet someone here. Won’t that be romantic?” You tease, making him crack a smile.

“I guess I’ll see. Maybe this trip has changed Dina. Maybe we can work things out,” he says, and as to not take sides, you give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah. Maybe. We’ll have to find her to know. Hopefully they’re okay,” you trail off into a whisper.

“I’m sure they will be,” he tries to assure him and you. “They’re smart and work well together.”

You hum in agreement, and as you scan the area as you turn the corner, you think about Ellie and hope with every fiber of your body that she’s okay. You can’t…imagine her not being okay. The thought, it…utterly terrifies you and threatens to send you down that dark cycle again…

That’s why you hang onto Jesse’s attempt at reassuring you as you wander the streets of Seattle, trying to go undetected by the threats that make this city so dangerous.

However, just as you note how calm and quiet it’s all been, Abby’s warning starts to come into fruition as out of hiding, canisters hit the ground.

Jesse and you catch where the canisters land and notice that they’re smoke screens, but no matter how fast you react, you can’t avoid them. They go off, and your ears begin to ring, while your eyes begin to sting because of the thick clouds of smoke, and your lungs get polluted by the same poison, leaving you dazed and desperate to find Jesse.

He was next to you, he can’t be far.

“Jesse?!” You call out between coughs and pull out your gun as you begin to walk in the direction he was just in before the smoke broke you apart.

“Jesse?!”

Seconds later, your name is shouted back, and the smoke begins to clear from the air and your body by the second, so you’re less dazed, but you still can’t see him. Or anything else for that matter. You can only hear different footsteps all around you.

“Jesse!”

“Here,” a stranger speaks up for the man you’re looking for and comes out of the smoke with a mask and gun.

In response, you point yours at your head, but then, from behind you, before you can shoot, something cold and hard hits the back of your head, leading to a void of darkness.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- some game scenes are you excited??

Tagged- @slut-f0r-u @star-wars-lover @maplecohen @givemylovetoall @itzagothamcitysiren @sammy-13 @beloved-reblogger @emiriia @rues-daya @sunfairyy @littleshadow17 @mcu-starwars @bigtuffswordboy @riaqiax @dheet @queenofthekill @joliettes @d4rno @hardbeingcasual @rana030 @pedropascalluvr41 @ahoyyharrington @beaniebeensbaby201 @maeneedsabreak @maelartasch @adristyles @daughterofthequeen @alastorhazbin @sunsumonner @khaylin27 @hypatia93 @hummusxx @v4mpyk1tten @1donoow @your-shifting-gurl @g4ns3y @izzzzy-the-amazing @aphr0d1teh @lovelyygirl8 @ivy-taylorsversion @mmkkzz @avitute @fuckmebobboys @kitdjarin1 @barnes70stark

[c0eu4]

I know this one is a little sad but

Do you think you could write one of the drivers finding their gfs self offing note? And one of the thoughts running through his mind thinking that she was introverted but she was always happy?

DR3 | What happened?

danielricciardo x fem!depress!reader

Summary : When Daniel found your suicide note.

Warning : suicide note, depression, fluff, hurt/comfort

A/n : Here, reader is depressed. It includes everything like lack of hygiene, no motivation... Please, do not read this if it can trigger you!

MASTERLIST requests are close

Daniel jumps on you and wraps his arms around you. He attacks your face with kisses, until it takes your breath away and makes you groan in displeasure.

''c'mon babe, get up!'' He told you as he continued his kisses and moved them down to your neck.

''Mhhh Dan! Move!'' You lazily push him away, rolling him onto the other side of the bed. He rolls onto his side, raising his head as he rests his head in his hand. He uses his other hand to clear your face of the few strands of hair hiding your face, tucking them behind your ears. But you push his hand away again and put the hood of your sweater on, then sink back into the blanket, pulling it up to your nose.

Daniel sighs. He noticed that you haven't been feeling well lately. You spend all your time in the bedroom and he has to force you out of bed every morning to take you somewhere. And sometimes he even has to remind you to do simple things like eating. Last meal, he feeds you, almost shoves food into your mouth because you were 'not hungry'.

But the most odd in that, it's that you're like that just with him. Whenever you're at the race with him, with people, you're someone else. You're talkative and the first to initiate the conversation. So he thought you just weren't in good mood because of the winter.

He ends up getting up, mainly because the position he's in is hurting his arm. He opens the curtains and pulls the duvet off of you, making you react.

''Daniel!'' You shouted at him and tried to grab back the duvet but only felt the sheet of the bed. You feel arms wrap around your waist and lift you up so easily. You don't say anything and let yourself do so, while Daniel carries you to force you to stand up.

''C'mon! We said we had to sort the whole house today.'' He rummages through your closet, pulling out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of shorts, then gives them to you.

''Get ready babe, I'm not gonna do this all alone.'' He kisses you tenderly and leaves the room to give you some privacy.

He noticed that too. You both don't do things anymore. He can understand that you need space, but at this point? How long ago was the last time he saw you naked? You don't even remember.

You change lazily, and join Daniel in the kitchen. In front of your usual place on the stool, you find a slightly burnt plate of pancakes, and you can't help but smile softly. He does his best. You know that he knows.

You force yourself to eat your pancakes while Daniel is already starting to sort through the few things lying around in the kitchen. He asks you from time to time if you keep this or that thing. Once your breakfast is finished, you clear your plate and help him sort the kitchen.

Time passes and you clean every room in the house from top to bottom. You decide to finish with the room that will probably take the longest to complete, your bedroom. Daniel digs under the bed, pulling out old boxes full of different things that you didn’t unpack when you moved in. You take care of sorting the wardrobe, folding and rearranging the clothes.

Daniel digs under your side of the bed and finds a small shoebox. He sits on the bed and opens the box, while watching out of the corner of his eye that you aren't watching him do so. He hates doing that, going through your stuff. But your health is starting to worry him so much that he feels the need to do it, to reassure himself.

Inside the box, there are a few papers. He recognizes a drawing that his niece drew for you, and a smile appears on his face. There is a pearl bracelet, the one that a Daniel fan gave you two years ago. He finds a jewelry bag, it's in this bag that he gave you the necklace you wear all the time. He quickly understands that in this box, there are things that you value very much. He recognizes your diary, you write in it every evening and he never thought to look at it. He takes it in his hands and a paper falls out of it. He puts the diary down and opens the paper that was folded in half. He looks at you again, and checks that you are still focused on your task of tidying the wardrobe. He returns his attention to the piece of paper he holds in his hands. This is a text that you wrote. He reads the beginning, and the first words take the smile off his face.

‹‹I want to die.››

Simple, fast and effective.

But it hurts. It hurts more because of the fact that you write it and doesn't talk to him about it.

He doesn't read any further, not wanting to intrude too much into your life and above all, not wanting to put pressure on you.

''Babe, wha-..what is that?'' You turn around with a little smile on your face and one of his hoodies in your hands. But your smile immediately fades away when you see the paper between his hands.

''It's nothing.'' You tell him coldly, snatching the paper from his hands and putting it back in the box then sliding it under the bed. Daniel places a hand on your waist and forces you to turn towards him, despite you trying not to let him. He forces you to sit on his lap and takes you in his arms.

''Don't.. please..'' He hugs you tightly, almost taking your breath away. You feel his breath faster than usual against you and he nuzzles into your neck, running one hand up and down your back.

You wrap your arms around him and rest your cheek against his hair. His scent soothes you, as usual, even if he smells slightly of sweat. But it strangely makes you feel good.

''May I ask you.. why?'' He asks you after long minutes of silence. He continues to hold you close to him, hoping he can get you to talk.

''I...I'm feeling so.. low.'' With each word you say, your voice trembles more. Tears well up in your eyes and you can't help but let them fall down your cheeks. Daniel sits a little further in the bed and this time, he presses your head against his chest while continuing to caress your back.

''It's like.. I don't know. I'm just.. I just feel like nobody understands me.'' You keep crying softly, holding back your sobs. ''Like, whatever I want to do is so hard.. just living is hard.'' Daniel lets you open up and talk to him. It's the first time he sees you like this, sobbing and shaking in his arms.

''I understand you.'' He caress your hair. ''I've been there too. And it was you who got me out of this black hole.'' he kisses your forehead as you look up at him with eyes full of hope.

''Me?..'' You repeat, more tears falling down your face.

''You gave me love, you gave me affection, you taught me to love myself and you gave me confidence in myself again.'' He smiles at you, his own eyes now wet. ''And I'm gonna do the same. I'm gonna help you. I'm gonna give you all the love I have in me, I'm gonna show you that you are enough and I'm gonna get you out of this black hole.''

His words make you cry even more and he hugs you tightly, stroking your hair and back to calm you down.

''Everything's gonna be fine. I'm here.. I'm here..'' He kisses your forehead again, determined to get you out of this hell.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Croatoan | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: implied suicidal ideation, canon violence, canon gore, medical stuff lol

Word Count: 6176

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Sam had another vision; one involving Dean killing some dude strapped to a chair. Apparently, the dude had been begging, saying, “It’s not in me!” 

‘What’s not in him, though? A demon? THE demon?’ you thought as he relayed his story.

“Well, I’m sure he had good reason,” you told Sam when he was finished.

“Well, I sure hope so—”

“What does that mean?” Dean grunted.

Sam didn’t reply.

“I mean, I'm not gonna waste an innocent man,” he scoffed.

Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother.

“He wouldn’t, Sam,” you stated, your tone warning.

“I never said he would!”

“Sure seemed implied,” you commented.

“Look, we don't know what it is,” sighed Sam. “But whatever it is, that guy in the chair's a part of it. So let's find him, and see what's what.”

“Fine,” Dean said.

“Fine,” said Sam.

The rest of the drive to Crater Lake, Oregon, was done in silence. 

***

You pulled into the small town of Rivergrove along the main strip of small businesses and homely apartment complexes. Most of the shops almost looked like wooden cabins, and you approached a man sitting under one of the wooden overhangs cleaning a rifle. 

“Morning,” Dean called.

“Good morning. Can I help you?” He turned to you.

“Yeah.” Dean pulled out his badge. “Uh, Billy Gibbons, Frank Beard, Kymberly Herrin. U.S. Marshals.”

The man furrowed his brows. “What’s this about?”

“We're looking for someone,” he answered.

“A young man, early twenties,” added Sam. “He'd have a— a thin scar right below his hairline.”

The man seemed surprised. “What’d he do?”

“Well, nothing. We're actually looking for someone else, but we think this young man could help us,” Sam replied. 

“Yeah, he's not in any kind of trouble or anything; well, not yet,” Dean chuckled. He looked down at the intricate tattoo on the man’s forearm. “I think maybe you know who he is… Master Sergeant.” He smiled. “My dad was in the Corps, he was a Corporal.”

“What company?” the man asked.

“Echo-2-1,” Dean replied, smiling proudly. 

Sam got back to business. “So, can you help us?”

The man hesitated before talking again. “Duane Tanner's got a scar like that. But I know him. Good kid, keeps his nose clean.”

Dean nodded. “Oh, I'm sure he does. Um. You know where he lives?”

“With his family, up Aspen Way.”

“Thank you.”

You bumped into a telephone pole as you and the brothers headed back to the car. You looked down at it, and something caught your eye. There was a single word etched into the pole: “CROATOAN.” You brushed your fingers over the etching. “Guys, look.”

“Croatoan?” Dean read.

“Yeah.”

Dean looked at you blankly.

Sam gave him a look. “Roanoke? Lost colony? Ring a bell? Dean, did you pay any attention in history class?”

“Yeah! Shots heard 'round the world, How bills become laws…” Dean trailed off.

“That's not school, that's Schoolhouse Rock,” Sam scoffed.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Anywho,” you cut back in. “Roanoke was one of the first English colonies— late 1500s-ish?”

“Oh yeah, yeah, I do remember that,” Dean said excitedly. “The only thing they left behind was a single word carved in a tree. Croatoan.”

“Yeah. There were theories,” you continued. “Native American raid, disease, famine, but nobody really knows what happened. They were all just… gone. Wiped out overnight.”

Dean cocked his head to the side. “You don't think that's what's going on here, I mean—”

Sam cut him off with a sigh. “Whatever I saw in my head, it sure wasn't good. But what do you think could do that?”

“Well, I mean, like I said, all of your weirdo visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow, so…” Dean trailed off.

“We should get help. Bobby, uh, Ellen maybe?” Sam suggested.

“Good idea,” you said. You pulled out your phone to call Bobby, only to discover you had no signal. “Great. No signal.”

The two brothers took their phones out as well. 

“Huh, me neither,” said Sam. 

“Nada,” Dean stated.

“Payphone, maybe?” you tried, leading the boys over to one. Unfortunately for you, all you heard was a beeping to signify no signal. “Line's dead.” You hung up the phone.

“I'll tell you one thing. If I was gonna massacre a town, that'd be my first step,” Dean noted, pointing at the payphone. 

***

You pulled up in front of a homely, slightly tacky cabin. Sam rapped his knuckles against the door, and almost immediately, a teenage boy opened it.

“Yeah?” he grinned.

Dean flashed his badge. “We're looking for Duane Tanner; he lives here, right?”

“Yeah, he's my brother,” the boy nodded.

“Can we talk to him?”

He sucked in air through his teeth. “Oh, he's not here right now.”

“Do you know where he is?” Dean pressed.

“Yeah, he went on a fishing trip up by Roslyn Lake.”

“Your parents home?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, they're inside,” the boy nodded.

“Jake?” a voice called. ‘Oh, that’s his name.’ “Who is it?”

Dean spoke as the owner of the voice appeared. “Hi, U.S. Marshals, sir, we're looking for your son Duane.”

Mr. Tanner seemed confused. “Wh— Why? He's not in trouble, is he?”

“No, no, no, no. We just need to ask him a couple of routine questions, that's all.” Dean flashed a winning smile.

“When's he due back from his trip?” questioned Sam.

“I'm not sure.”

“Well, maybe your wife knows.”

The man’s eerie smile was far too cheerful for the current conversation. “No, I don't know, she's not here right now.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Your son said she was.”

Jake seemed caught. “Did I?”

This whole thing was weirding you the hell out.

“She's getting groceries,” Mr. Tanner smiled. “So, when Duane gets back, there's a number where he can get a hold of you?”

“Oh, no,” Dean said. “We'll just check in with you later.”

The three of you turned back down the steps, and you waited to talk until you heard the door close. “That was kind of creepy, right? Little too… Stepford?”

“Big time,” Dean replied.

You headed around the back of the house, ducking down to avoid being seen by the Tanners. You caught sight of a poor woman with mussed up blonde hair tied to a chair sweating and crying. You cocked your gun as Dean kicked in the door, and you quickly shot Mr. Tanner in the chest when he tried to charge you with a knife. You turned to Sam and Dean who were over by the window.

“He got away,” Dean grunted, referencing Jake who had leapt out of the window.

“Great,” you sighed. You turned your attention back to the woman in the chair and noticed a profusely bleeding wound. “Dean, start the car. Sam, get her to the backseat. I’m gonna patch her up as best I can til we can get to a doctor.”

The boys nodded and rushed to do your bidding. You rushed to the trunk of the Impala and pulled out your makeshift first aid kit— a collection of wraps, bandages, antiseptics, antibiotics, sutures, sewing needles, thread, and painkillers you gathered from random pharmacies and kept in a small, vintage tin box with roses etched into the lid and occasionally refilled. You hurriedly got in the backseat with the woman, and you kept her conscious by asking her questions about herself. You learned her name was Beverly, and that her two sons, Duane and Jake, went fishing and hunting together all the time. Her first sign that something was wrong was that Jake didn’t go with his brother on the trip. After her hiccups mourning the death of her husband— for which you profusely apologized to her— and hissing in pain as you kept pressure on her wound, you finally arrived at a small clinic on the main stretch of road. 

You held the pressure on her shoulder as you led her into the clinic, yelling, “Doctor! We need a doctor!”

A young woman in a pleasant floral jacket and cute pink headband came rushing out, concerned. “Mrs. Tanner, what happened?” she asked the woman on your shoulder.

“She’s been attacked,” you explained, hurrying past her.

“Dr. Lee!” the young woman called.

The doctor instructed you to head down the hallway into an examination room. You gently placed her down on the bed, and Beverly moaned as you shifted position around her to continue holding her shoulder. The doctor came into the room moments later followed by Sam and Dean, who stood at the doorway. You filled the doctor in on the medical history you’d gathered from Mrs. Tanner on the way to the clinic, and the doctor immediately set to work stitching the wound. You tossed the tattered and bloodstained jacket Mrs. Tanner had been wearing into the garbage and washed your hands up to your elbows. 

Beverly began to explain what happened to the doctor, who seemed shocked. “Wait, you said Jake helped him? Your son Jake?” the doctor asked.

Beverly nodded. “They beat me. Tied me up.”

“I don't believe it,” the young nurse breathed out. 

“Beverly… do you have any idea why they would act this way? Any history of chemical dependency?” Dr. Lee questioned.

“No, of course not. I don't know why. One minute they were my husband and my son. And the next, they had the devil in them.” Beverly shook as she spoke.

You walked out into the hallway with Sam and Dean.

“Those guys were whacked out of their gourds,” Dean commented.

“Ya think?” you snorted. “And what I don’t understand is, if they already beat and subdued her, why put that giant gash on her shoulder? That wound was fresh; like it happened this morning. Everything else seemed a few days old, at least.”

“Yeah, this whole thing is weird, man,” Sam added. “What do you guys think? Multiple demons, mass possession?”

“If it is a possession there could be more. I mean, God knows how many, it could be like a friggin' Shriner convention,” Dean grumbled. “Of course, that's one way to wipe out a town, you take it from the inside.”

“I don't know, man. We didn't see any of the demon smoke with Mr. Tanner, or any of the other usual signs,” Sam reminded his brother.

“Well, whatever. Something turned him into a monster. And you know if you woulda taken out the other one, there'd be one less to worry about,” the older brother chided.

Sam huffed, “I'm sorry, alright? I hesitated, Dean, it was a kid!”

“Boys, relax!” you scolded, standing between them.

Dean looked over your head at Sam. “No, it was an ‘it’. Not the best time for a bleeding heart, Sam.”

“Dean,” you murmured harshly. 

Dr. Lee stalked out of the lab, heels clicking loudly on the floor to let the brothers know it was time to stop arguing. 

“How is she?” you asked her.

“Terrible! What the hell happened out there?” she questioned.

“We don't know,” Dean shook his head.

“Yeah? Well, you just killed my next door neighbor.” Dr. Lee crossed her arms over her chest.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you told her. “All of us would’ve been dead if I hadn’t.”

“Maybe so, but we need the county Sheriff. I need the coroner —”

Sam cut her off. “Phones are down.”

“I know, I tried. Tell me you have a police radio in the car?” Dr. Lee pleaded.

“Yeah, we do. But it crapped out just like everything else,” Sam said.

The blonde ran a hand through her hair and began to pace. “I don't understand what is happening.”

“How far is it to the next town?” you asked her.

“It's about forty miles down to Sidewinder.”

“Alright, I'm gonna go down there, see if I can find some help. You’re coming with me.” He looked down at you before clapping Sam on the shoulder. “My partner 'll stick around, keep you guys safe.”

“Safe from what?” Dr. Lee questioned pointedly.

“We'll get back to you on that,” Dean responded. He then led you away from Sam and Dr. Lee and out to the Impala.

“What’d you do with Mr. Tanner?” you asked him.

“He’s in the lab somewhere. Man’s heavier than he looks,” he joked as he began to drive off.

“Dean, I killed him,” you mourned. “He was just a guy. Now, his two sons don’t have a father. He was a person.”

“(Y/N), since when are you all morally gray?” Dean questioned gently. His usual bite behind his sarcasm was missing. “I get it, but he wasn’t ‘just a guy’ anymore.”

“I know that,” you said. “That’s what I’m starting to get worried about. Normally, I wouldn’t think twice. Vamps used to be people. Hell, one of my first vamp kills was my parents. I don’t know what’s happening to me, man. I don’t hesitate— hell no— but… I don’t know.”

“Hey, I get it.” He reached across the seat and grabbed your hand. “I’m a straight shooter, too. I’m in the same place you are.”

You scooched across the bench seat and kept your hand entwined with Deans, playing with his fingers. You leaned your head on his shoulder, and he pulled your hand up to his lips and kissed it, eyes never leaving the road. 

“Things keep getting weirder, dude. Since when do we second-guess?” You tried to muster a laugh, but your heart wasn’t in it.

“I know. This whole thing is spinnin’ out of our control. I hate it,” he admitted. 

“Yeah, me, too,” you murmured. “I wish we could’ve met under normal circumstances.”

He chuckled. “Hm. Me, too.”

The rest of the drive was spent hand in hand and silent. You continued to play with Dean’s fingers and kept your head on his shoulder. Only when you saw two cars blocking the road and men standing with their large guns drawn did you pull your head up. Dean’s grip on your hand tightened— whether to reassure you or himself, you weren’t sure— as he rolled to a stop. You noticed one of the men in front of you was the teenager from the Tanner house, Jake. He stopped the car, frowning. Something banged on the roof of the car, making both you and Dean jump. His hand never left yours, and he shifted his body toward the man leaning down into the window almost protectively in front of you. “Oh-ho-ho. Hey,” Dean awkwardly laughed.

“Sorry. Road's closed,” the man at the driver’s side window grinned.

“Yeah, I can see that. What's up?” Dean questioned.

“Quarantine,” was his simple reply.

“Quarantine? Why?” you asked. Dean stiffened and tried to hide you more with his body when you spoke.

“Don't know,” the man tsked. “Something going around out there.”

“Uh-huh. Who told you that?” Dean asked, sass lying just below the surface of his tone.

The man’s face was blank when he responded. “County Sheriff.”

“Is he here?”

“No. He called. Say, why don't you get out of the car and we'll talk a little?”

Dean laughed nervously. “Well, you are a handsome devil, but I don't swing that way, sorry.”

“I'd sure appreciate it if you got out of the car, just for a quick minute.” The man’s stoicism was beginning to drop, and the anger bubbling just below the surface was becoming visible.

“Yeah, I'll bet you would.” Dean released your hand to quickly throw the car in reverse. The man grabbed his collar and held on for dear life as you tried your best to pry his fingers off. Thankfully, Dean swung the car around, finally cutting the man loose, and sped away. The sound of guns firing at the car filled your ears, but none of the bullets seemed to be hitting their desired target.

“You okay?” Dean asked you, throwing you a worried look.

“Yeah,” you heaved. “You?”

“Peachy,” he grunted.

Suddenly, the ex-military man you first met in town stepped in the path of the Impala, brandishing a rifle.

Dean slammed on his brakes, and you put your hands on the dashboard to steady yourself.

“Hands where I can see 'em!” the man yelled.

“Son of a—” Dean grumbled, holding his hands up. You did the same.

“Get out of the car! Out of the car!” he commanded.

You slowly slid across the seat to the passenger’s side door as Dean started climbing out. You took the opportunity of your hands being hidden behind the door to quickly whip out your handgun.

“Drop the gun!” you ordered.

“Put it down, now!” the man yelled back at you. “Are y’all part of 'em?!” 

“No!” Dean answered. “Are you?”

“No!”

“You could be lying!” Dean protested.

“So could you!”

“Alright! Alright,” you broke in. “We could do this all day, alright? Let's just, uh, let's take it easy before we kill each other.”

The sergeant relaxed slightly. “What's going on with everybody?”

“I don't know,” you admitted.

“My neighbor— Mr. Rogers, he—”

Dean interrupted the man. “You've got a neighbor named Mr. Rogers?”

“Not anymore,” the man responded gruffly. “He came at me with a hatchet. I put him down. He's not the only one, I mean, it's happening to everyone.”

“We’re heading over to the Doc's place, there's still some people left,” Dean explained.

“No, no way. I'm getting the hell out,” the older man stated.

“There's no way out, they got the bridge covered, now come on,” the older Winchester said.

“I don't believe you,” the man replied.

“Fine, stay here, be my guest.” It was then you noticed Dean was pointing a handgun at the man, too, who hesitated before walking over to the backseat of the Impala. He swapped his rifle for a handgun as he stooped down into the backseat, and you kept your gun trained on him over the back of your seat. The older man kept his gun aimed at you, but his eyes would frantically flick to Dean every now and again.

Dean looked between you and the man and put his gun away to be able to drive back to the clinic. “Well, this ought to be a relaxing drive.”

You pinned the sergeant to his spot in the backseat with a hard glare and your gun on him. He returned your glare and pointed gun the whole way to the clinic. Despite your aching arms, you refused to falter. “What’s your name?” you asked him, still on your guard.

“Mark.”

“Mark. Nice to meet you, Mark,” you smiled despite your situation.

Dean slowed to a stop in front of the clinic, and you and Mark mutually agreed to relax your guns. 

“Sammy? Open up!” Dean banged on the door to the clinic. 

Sam appeared at the glass a few moments later and allowed you inside. You kept your gun cocked and in your hand but pointed at the floor. 

“Did you guys, uh, get to a phone?” Sam questioned, looking between the three guns you were all brandishing.

“Road block.” Dean turned to Mark. “I'm gonna have a word. Doc's inside.”

Mark looked between the three of you, hesitating, before heading inside.

“What's going on out there, guys?” Sam asked.

“Man, I don't know, I feel like Chuck Heston in the Omega Man. I mean, Sarge is the only sane person I could find. What are we dealing with, do you know?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah. Doc thinks it's a virus.”

Dean snorted. “Okay, great. What do you think?”

“I think she's right.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Really,” Sam answered. “And I think the infected are trying to infect others with blood-to-blood contact. Oh, but it gets better. The, uh, the virus? Leaves traces of sulfur in the blood.”

“Cool. Demonic virus,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah, more like demonic germ warfare,” Sam added.  “At least it explains why I've been having visions.”

“It's like a Biblical plague,” noted Dean.

“Yeah. You don't know how right you are, Dean. I've been poring through Dad's journal, found something about the Roanoke colony,” Sam began. “Dad always had a theory about Croatoan. He thought it was a demon's name. Sometimes known as Deva or sometimes Resheph. A demon of plague and pestilence.”

Dean laughed humorlessly. “Well, that— that's terrific. Why here, why now?”

“I have no idea. But Dean, who knows how far this thing can spread? We gotta get out of here, we gotta warn people—”

Before any of you could speak, Mark called from the back of the clinic, “They've got one! In here!”

Dean entered the room behind Sam. “What do you mean?” he asked Mark.

“The wife. She's infected,” Sam explained.

“We've gotta take care of this. We can't just leave her in there. My neighbors, they were strong. The longer we wait, the stronger she'll get,” Mark urged.

You hesitated, but only for a moment, before brushing past Sam and Dean into the lab with your gun drawn. 

“Whoa!” the sweet nurse from earlier exclaimed. “You're gonna kill Beverly Tanner?”

“Doctor, could there be any treatment? Some kind of cure for this?” Sam pleaded.

“Can you cure it?” You turned toward Dr. Lee.

“For God's sake, I don't even know what ‘it’ is!” she cried.

“I told you, it's just a matter of time before she breaks through,” Mark told you.

“Just leave her in there, you can't shoot her like an animal!” the young nurse said.

You slowly walked over to the door of the utility room Beverly was being held in. You, Dean, and Mark held your guns steady on the door. Sam carefully opened it to reveal Beverly huddled on the floor in a corner, crying into her knees. She jumped as you approached. “Mark, what are you doing? Mark, it's, it's them!” She pointed at you, Dean, and Sam, who stood over your shoulder. “They locked me in here, they— they tried to kill me! They're infected, not me! Please, Mark! You've known me all your life! Please!”

“You sure she's one of 'em?” Dean asked, looking at his brother. 

Sam nodded. Mark pulled back, looking distraught, and you took the opportunity to step forward. 

In an attempt to hear as few of her cries for mercy as possible, you quickly fired one shot square between her eyes. Guilt immediately clawed at your throat, and you thought you could throw up. You stowed your gun and crouched beside her crumpled form. You moved her into a less disturbing configuration, laying her on her back with her arms crossed over her chest. You closed her paralyzed, open eyes and brushed through her hair with your fingers. With the back of your hand, you wiped your own eyes and stood, leaving the room and shutting the door behind you. 

Choked up, you pushed past a concerned Sam and Dean and headed out to the car. You grabbed your duffel bag to have some reason for going outside from the trunk when you heard a sound from down the street: a car approaching. Your breath caught, and you ducked behind the wall of the clinic’s entrance; back pressed to it. You peeked out briefly to see Jake was the one driving the car with the man who had tried to kill you and Dean earlier. Soundlessly, you slipped back inside the building and turned the lights at the entrance off. 

You locked both the door to the entrance and the door to the waiting room behind you, hurriedly pulling down the shades and turning off as many unnecessary lights as possible. You turned the light off in the waiting room and stormed into the lab where everyone was huddled together. You pulled down the shades behind Dr. Lee wordlessly.

“(Y/N/N)?” Sam asked gently. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re here. Everybody, get yourself a weapon from my bag if you know how to use one. Don’t grab one, get injured, and then get infected, got it?” you ordered.

Sam nodded and grabbed your bag from you. He threw you your bowie knife and pulled a hunting knife from the duffel for himself. 

The young nurse, who you learned was named Pam, dropped a vial of blood, and she screamed. “Oh god! Is there any on me? Am I okay?”

Dr. Lee tried to calm her down. “You're clean, you're okay.”

“Why are we staying here? Please, let's just go!” Pam cried.

“No, we can't because those things are everywhere,” Dean stated firmly.

Pam began to sink to the floor. “Oh god!—”

“Hey, shh, shh,” Dr. Lee told her.

Sam turned to you and Dean who stood together by the lab’s entrance. “She's right about one thing,” he said just loud enough for the two of you to hear. “We can't stay here. We've gotta get out of here, get to the Roadhouse? Somewhere. Let people know what's coming.”

“Yeah, good point,” Dean nodded. “Night of the Living Dead didn't exactly end pretty.”

“Well, I'm not sure we've got a choice,” Mark cut in. “Lots of folks up here are good with rifles— even with all your hardware we're- we're easy targets. So unless you've got some explosives…” he trailed off.

You looked up at the shelf of medical supplies and turned to Sam. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“Yeah, actually.” He grabbed a bottle of potassium chloride and waved it at you.

“I’m lost, what’s happening here?” Dean questioned. “Speak, nerds.”

You deadpanned at him. “Potassium chlorate bombs. I’ve gotta figure out a way to ionize the chloride and get some oxygen in it; otherwise, this’ll never—”

Your explanation was cut off by a loud banging on the door.

“Hey! Let me in, let me in! Please!” the voice called as you approached the door.

“It's Duane Tanner!” Mark announced. He opened the door to let him in, and you grabbed your gun in your jacket immediately.

“Thank god,” Duane breathed out, walking into the clinic. 

Mark locked the door behind him. “Duane, you okay?”

Dean quietly asked Sam, “That's the guy that I, uh—” he clicked his tongue.

Sam nodded, seeming shaken.

“Who else is in here?” Duane went to step into the lab, but Dean grabbed his arm.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, chief,” he said. “Hey Doc! Give Duane a good once-over, would you?”

Dr. Lee led your group into the lab. “Pam?”

Pam seemed to understand what that meant and moved to gather medical supplies.

“Who are you?” Duane asked Dean.

“Never mind who I am. Doc.”

Dr. Lee nodded nervously. “Yeah, okay.”

“Duane. Where you been?” Mark asked softly.

“On a fishing trip up by Roslyn. I came back this afternoon. I— I saw Roger McGill being dragged out of his house by people we know! They started cutting him with knives! I ran, I've been hiding in the woods ever since. Has anybody seen my mom and dad?”

Your heart squeezed in your chest and bile rose in your throat.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” Dean whispered to you. 

You could barely hear him over your heart pounding against your ribcage. You then noticed a deep gash in Duane’s left leg. “He’s bleeding.”

“Where'd you get that?” Dean interrogated.

“I was running, I must have tripped.” Duane’s cool tone was making it difficult to read whether he was infected or genuinely had no idea what was going on.

“Tie him up, there's rope in there,” the older brother ordered. You complied and dug the rope out of the supply closet.

“Wait—” Duane said, attempting to stand.

“Sit down!” Dean commanded, pointing his gun at Duane.

“I'm sorry, Duane, he's right,” Mark agreed. “We've gotta be careful.”

“Careful? About what?”

“Did they bleed on you?” Dean questioned, not answering the young man’s question.

“No, what the hell? No!” Duane frantically answered.

“Doc? Any way to know for sure, any test?” Sam questioned. You could tell he was trying to deescalate the situation before his vision came true. 

Dr. Lee sighed. “I've studied Beverly's bloodwork backwards and forwards.”

“My mom!” Duane cried.

Dr. Lee continued. “It took three hours for the virus to incubate. The sulfur didn't appear in the blood until then, so… no, there'd be no way of knowing. Not until after Duane turns.”

Sam looked over to his brother. “Dean, I gotta talk to you. Now.”

Dean looked over to you, and you nodded, standing up from where you’d tied Duane to the chair he was sitting in. You drew your gun and trained it on him while the brothers stepped out into the hall.

Dean reappeared a minute or so later.

“Where’s Sam?” you asked him.

He didn’t answer you. He simply cocked his gun and looked past you at Duane. Pam and Dr. Lee startled to their feet, chests heaving as they looked between Dean and Duane.

“No, you're not gonna—” Duane heaved. “No, no, I swear it's not in me!”

“Oh God. We're all gonna die,” Pam cried.

“Maybe he's telling the truth,” Mark tried.

“No, he's not him, not anymore.”

“Stop it! Ask her, ask the doctor! It's not in me!” Duane pleaded.

Dr. Lee shook her head and hesitantly looked at Dean. “I… I can’t tell.”

Duane began to sob. “Please, don't. Don't, please. I swear, it's not in me, it's not in me, I swear, I— I swear it's not in me. No, don't.”

Dean seemed to get choked up, too. “I got no choice.” 

You stared at him, eyes almost pleading him not to pull the trigger. However, you would also respect his choice if he did; you knew the risks. Dean trembled, hesitating, and finally lowered the gun. “Dammit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. 

He left the room, and you followed. Dean let Sam out of the room he’d apparently locked his younger brother in wordlessly and kept stalking down the hall. Sam simply looked after him for a moment before turning back to the lab, but you followed Dean further.

He turned into a dark exam room at the end of the hall. You did so as well, making sure the curtains were drawn as tightly as possible before you flicked on the desk lamp. Dean sat in a chair while you sat in another, facing him. Neither of you said a word for a moment. 

“What made you stop?” you asked him.

He hesitated before answering. “Sam,” he replied simply. “And you.”

Your breath caught at his admission. “Me?” you asked, just loud enough for him to hear. 

He nodded, unable to meet your gaze. 

“Why?” you asked softly.

“Couldn’t let you watch me do that,” he muttered. “And… I want you to see me how I see you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean— You just— You remind me that there’s good out there. In all this crap. You make me wanna be better,” he admitted, gaze still pointed to the floor. 

You reached over and tilted his chin to face you with your index finger, forcing him to look at you. “Dean—”

He cut you off by surging forward to crush his lips to yours. You sighed into the kiss, winding your hands around his neck and threading your fingers through his hair. He cupped your chin with one hand and grabbed your waist with the other. You kissed once, then again, then one final time before simply resting your foreheads against each other’s. You nudged his nose with yours, eyes still closed, and he stroked circles on your hip with his thumb. 

The two of you were broken apart by the sound of a scream and two shots being fired off. You barely shared a look before sprinting toward the sound with your guns drawn.

“It’s Sam,” Mark told you. “He’s infected.”

Your jaw went slack at the sight of Sam on the floor with an open wound on his chest and Pam lying dead on the floor beside him.

“Oh, god,” you breathed out, turning to see Dean completely shocked and terrified.

*** Your group had Sam tied to a chair with a bandage over his wound. Dean was angry, and Sam seemed defeated. Your heart broke for both brothers and for the fact that you were gonna lose an amazing friend soon. 

“Nobody is shooting my brother,” Dean stated firmly.

Duane argued, “He isn't gonna be your brother much longer. You said it yourself.”

“Nobody is shooting anyone!” you shouted. 

“He was gonna shoot me!” Duane gestured toward Dean.

“You don't shut your pie-hole, I still might!” Dean grunted.

Sam’s sad voice caught everyone’s attention. “Dean, they're right. I'm infected; just give me the gun and I'll do it myself.”

“Fuck that,” Dean scoffed.

“Dean, I'm not gonna become one of those things,” Sam pleaded.

“Sam, we've still got some time—”

Mark cut Dean off. “Time for what? Look, I understand he's your brother, and I'm sorry, I am. But we gotta take care of this.” He pulled out his gun.

“I'm gonna say this one time— you make a move on him, you'll be dead before you hit the ground. You understand me? Do I make myself clear?!” Dean growled.

Mark’s face was set in hard lines. “Then what are we supposed to do?!”

Dean tossed Mark his kets. “Get the hell out of here, that's what. Take my car. You've got the explosives, there's an arsenal in there. You two go with him. You've got enough firepower to handle anything now. (Y/N), you go with them.”

“Dean, no!” you said. “I’m not leaving you!”

“Sweetheart, you have to—”

“No!”

“Guys, no. No. Go with them. This is your only chance!” Sam cried.

Dean turned to his younger brother. “You're not gonna get rid of me that easy.”

Mark chimed back in. “No, he's right. Come with us.”

Dean just stared at him.

“Okay, it's your funeral.” He led Duane and Dr. Lee out the door.

“Thank you, for everything,” Dr. Lee told you as she left.

“Don’t mention it,” you said halfheartedly.

She shut the door behind you, and Sam began to cry.

You were repeatedly surprised by Dean’s sense of play and slight immaturity at the grimmest of moments. “Wish we had a deck of cards, or a foosball table or something.”

“Don’t do this,” Sam pleaded. “Just get the hell out of here.”

“He’s right, (Y/N), you should leave,” Dean tired.

You crossed your arms and spoke with authority despite your soft tone. “Dean, we’ve discussed this already. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“Give me my gun and leave,” Sam begged.

“For the last time, Sam. No,” Dean stated.

Sam slammed his fists against his chair. “This is the dumbest thing you've ever done.”

“Oh, I don't know about that. Remember that waitress in Tampa?” Dean shuddered.

“Dean, I'm sick. It's over for me. It doesn't have to be for you two,” Sam sobbed. “You can keep going.”

“Who says I want to?” Dean admitted.

“What?” you and Sam breathed out.

Dean pulled his handgun out of his waistband and put it on the file cabinet behind him. “I'm tired, Sam. I'm tired of this job, this life… this weight on my shoulders, man. I'm tired of it.”

Sam scoffed. “So, what, so you're just going to give up? You're just gonna lay down and die? Look, Dean, I know this stuff with Dad has—” 

“You're wrong. It's not about Dad. I mean, part of it is, sure, but…” he trailed off.

“What is it about?” Sam questioned.

A knock at the door broke the tense silence settled over the room. “You'd better come see this,” Dr. Lee called through the door.

You quickly untied Sam and brought him out to where Dr. Lee, Dean, Mark, and Duane were already gathered. 

“There's no one. Not anywhere. They've all just… vanished,” Dr. Lee explained.

“Croatoan,” you realized, looking over at the telephone pole opposite you.

***

Miraculously, the virus didn’t incubate in Sam’s blood. Strangely, when Dr. Lee looked back at the Tanner samples, the sulfur was gone, too. Confused and slightly uneasy, you and the brothers packed up the Impala. 

“Hey, the Sarge and I are getting the hell out of here, heading south. You should come,” Duane suggested to Dr. Lee.

“I'd better get over to Sidewinder, get the authorities up here. If they'll believe me. Take care,” she told them.

Mark waved to the three of you as well as Dr. Lee. 

“What about him?” Dean pointed to his brother.

“He's going to be fine. No signs of infection,” she grinned.

You turned to Sam.

“Hey, don't look at me. I got no clue,” he said.

“I swear, I'm gonna lose sleep over this one. I mean, why here, why now? And where the hell did everybody go? It's like they just fuckin’ melted,” Dean griped.

“Why was I immune?” Sam wondered aloud.

“Yeah. You know what? That's a good question. You know, I'm already starting to feel like this is the one that got away.” Dean walked around to the driver’s side of the car and pulled away from the town. His words hung ominously over the car for the remainder of your drive.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

Last Bullet!

And I'm aiming this to the number 1 diasomnia fixation fan- locked in, loaded, and aimed.

*SNIPE!*

@hanafubukki

You're last! And there is a reason as to why you are last- I hope this ain't too personal for the other bloggers whom are about to read whatever I got going on here- I'll explain why Hana Asteria looks like who she is in my fanart I swear-

Read more if you'd like! Even though it's reserved for Hana, this'll be fine. It's an appreciation post anyway-

Hana,

I know I've said this before and I'll say it again; thank you and I love your posts, they've genuinely saved me, along with other writers on this platform.

I've never thought about any reason to live, really. Even though I was really young (and still am) it was partially my fault for thinking that way. But, I know, no one would blame me for thinking such thoughts because a terrible life would mean I'd vividly remember the terrible ones instead of the good ones, the trauma I've been through had taken a huge impact on me, a lot of emotional abuse from my family and lots of harassments and other things from my former school, losing a baby brother that could've grown beside me, the amount of hurtful words I've heard from others to the point of breaking my confidence and finally caving into a small space of my comfort where I do not find it comfortable communicating with others at all. I still have this anxiety whenever people speak to me, whether through internet or real life, I'm struggling with self-care and honestly don't see a reason to, especially if there are a billion more people out there, that night, that one fateful night when I was going to do something dumb to myself, I had seen no reason to live. This was the time where I first discovered TWST and the fandom, and if I'm being honest, it made me live a little more since I was interested in the game. All the characters, their dynamics, realtions, background, and storyline all quite resonated with some of my situation despite the huge differences, it still related and I'm sure others relate to most of these characters. I was more drawn to Lilia than the others, Lilia was first. It was silly and cute of him when he first showed up [-side down]. And I was immediately attached when I lesrned more about him, but it didn't help when life got a bit worse before discovering Tumblr.

Had I have not known this app had existed, I sure wouldn't be here posting. When I first came into this blog and searched up this fandom, hoping it exists here, I was elated when it did. Never had I thought that people write about them, nor would I ever think they'd like to write them in platonic/romantic relations with 'reader'. I was honestly so happy seeing these posts, I'd come here every time school finishes, a day of hell would be done and I'm free and instantly running to this app for my indulgence. It wasn't until I've lost a brother of mines. "Solar Estre", my beloved brother I've kept thinking of. I hated the fact everyone had to leave eventually and it forced me to protect myself with detachment and a sense of connection to the internet. I really wanted to end everything, until I saw your blog about Diasomnia.

I wasn't exactly a fan at first, since I've seen your post a few times before actually viewing it, until it caught my eye for some reason. I'd think about your posts and blog name, then I'd check it. One of them had suicidal implications and I was interested (surprise, I saw that post bc I was depressed at that time- how convenient), and I cried from how much Lilia looked like he cared, (in his dreams- when reader thought of jumping off to wake everyone in the dreams- it resonated with my thoughts of doing it. And it made me stop and think when I saw the second part of it.

I wanted to read more fics about Lilia and the others when I'm available, and I loved your OC so much. It helped me find a sense of comfort whenever I saw Asteria ♡♡, and I wanted to talk to you about it, but that time I was too scared- I thought you'd ignore it, considering you're an adult with work, so I left it be to not disturb you, or any of the popular TWST blogs.

When I first saw Nessy's blog I thought of her OC to be adorable, along with Lilia. She inspired me to be a shameless yumeshipper! And fiend actually was the last to motivate my passion for drawing again.

You see, I've lost my passion in the things I used to be interested in things before, I used to do them a lot. Especially poetry, drawing, dancing, singing, and wanting to become a fashion designer or an architech. Until, a certain boy, (ehem, a guy with the T in his name) had ruined everything I had that made me felt "me". I had coped most of it as my OC's lore before discovering any of this.

I thought of your OC as a universe of some kind, I couldn't pick which star could resonate with your OC, she reminds me so much of the universe and I'd love to make this post about her, a Universe Hana!AU. Hana is some space guardian and a certain bat fell in love with the universe guardian.

I think this is it, that's all I have to say,

And to all the bloggers out there, the ones who write, read and comment, or make arts.

Thank you, if only you knew, you saved a life.

-Ms. Lambs

[le-trash-prince]

Tag Game: Scenes I will never forget

Rules: Share 5-10 scenes you can't forget. Not your favourites, the ones that got stuck in your brain for any reason.

thanks for the tag @befuddledcinnamonroll!

These are not in any particular order

Bad Buddy kiss: probably a cliche but it's iconic. Everything here is just timed so perfectly.

2. VegasPete torture scene: I don't think I'm particularly quiet about my electrokink. I watched KP for the first time with my bestie and was basically just frothing at the mouth and shrieking ELECTROCUTE HIM ELECTROCUTE HIM ELECTROCUTE HIM and then they did it. For me.

3. Pit Babe Dean's Betrayal: literally everything about this scene was so visceral. One of those moments that you could see coming years before the characters did, and yet it was so full of raw emotion I couldn't help but be torn apart. (I couldn't find a gif of this scene but just look at this silhouetting)

4. "I never saw you as a son, I raised you like a dog." a truly lifechanging moment for me tbh... anyone who knows me knows how much this scene is everything to me.

5. Ayaka is in Love With Hiroko: no notes.

6. Shen Wei on his knees in the rain. You see this clip in the OP and it's like "oh okay angsty rain scene" and then you see it in context and it's like oh- oh my god my fucking heart

7. Ossan's Love 2016 final scene. When this first aired, Haruta was a completely unknown character, and it was a short-form story, so it felt like I wasn't completely sold on Haruta or his feelings for Hasegawa for most of the story, but the final punchline hit so perfectly and had me laughing and reeling, and it just felt so perfect. This is one scene that I absolutely missed when they made it into a full series, but it just doesn't work outside of this format. The "maybe just one more time to be sure" and then cut to credits will always be iconic to me 😭

8. KimKenta drift sequence. Already seared into my brain permanently. Is anyone else doing it like them? Yes Pit Babe is on here three times, is anyone surprised tho

10. Given - Fuyu no Hanashi. idk the whole anime was building up to this one moment. Mafuyu spent so long trying to find the words to express what he was going through, and they leave you wondering until the very last moment if he'll finally be able to find his voice onstage. And then it just pours out of him, and his voice is so raw and unpolished and you're hit with all of this kid's grief. I remember starting Given bc it was like "oh a music BL!" and then from the first shot, I got punched in the gut with frankly the most poignant potrayal of grief after a loved one's suicide that I've ever seen. This clip doesn't even fully capture how loaded this one scene is bc it cuts out the build-up prior to Mafuyu finally opening his mouth, and it also like. doesn't finish the song lmao. but gifs just don't cut it for this one.

tagging @toptensupakorn @autisticbokutoenthusiast @cosmicmoonwhisperer if y'all want to!

[hellspawnmotel]

Do you have any top 5 (10 if you have too many) magical series you'd recommend and why? I think on your old account you mentioned Princess Tutu but I don't remember the why

yes! princess tutu is very important to me and if you asked me what my favorite anime is, ptt would still be the answer. watching it as a teenager actually taught me a lot about storytelling and became the foundation for how I look at all fiction. it was kind of a "media analysis 101" course for me. besides being a fantastic story about stories, it also has one of my favorite protagonists and favorite straight couples in anything, ever. and it's cool and you learn a lot about ballet.

but uh.... as much as I love magical girls as a concept I don't actually have many shows that I've finished. I think I've kind of aged out of being able to enjoy most regular magical girl stuff, though there are still some I'd like to check out. anyway, I've seen people consider princess tutu, revolutionary girl utena, and madoka magica as kind of an unofficial trio of "good 'dark' mg shows that actually have something interesting to say about girlhood" and they would also be my recommendations. utena is far and away the best of the three though so if you're only gonna watch one watch that one (just mind the content warnings). I'm not gonna get into the 'why' because if you haven't heard plenty about utena and madoka already idk where you've been.

even though they're not magical girl shows, they are Girl Shows so I'll round out the five by also reccing haibane renmei and alien 9. in very short words, haibane renmei is about depression/suicide and alien 9 is about the inherent horror of hitting puberty as a girl. both are very thoughtful, kind of surreal, can get pretty dark, and have gorgeous art.

[ponett]

wait, you could have gotten a follow up with Ken himself? did that go very far or were you not interested? i getta imagine even if you dont like his work, asking the man himself about his days on the comic would be illuminating.

I could have. Part of me was definitely curious, since there's so much we don't know about what was going on behind the scenes at Archie and Ken's one of the few people still interested in talking about it. But it's also like... I dunno, I just like to keep some distance between me as a critic and him as a creator. I can talk about his work, I can talk about things he's said publicly about his work, but I don't need to drag him directly into it. It's the same reason why I've never interacted with him directly on Twitter, even though people loooooooove to get into arguments with him about Sonic shit. As critical as I've been of both him and his work, I have zero desire to grill him in person.

Were I to interview him, there are basically two paths I see here:

Option A: I do a totally cordial softball interview, magically putting aside my well-established opinions on the guy from my decade spent running TKP, and use it as an opportunity to get some more insight into the creation of the comics from him. And then what? I go right back to poking fun at him on my Tumblr blog that has his name in the URL? I'm pretty soft on the guy these days compared to all the Sonic fans out there who think he's The Literal Devil, but still, there's no way for this to not feel like entrapment to me. Like I'm just playing nice so he can give me ammo for when I turn around and continue poking fun at his work and his occasional legal threat. And even if I never use anything he says in that interview against him, since I finished covering his Archie Sonic run for the blog years ago rarely have any reason to even bring him up, my audience will sure as hell comb through every word he says to find more coal for the hate train.

Option B: I'm more critical of him to his face, in which case I'm basically just bullying a kinda pathetic old man, who's already alienated most of his peers and committed career suicide, for writing some children's comics I didn't like 20-30 years ago. There is not a single iota of me that wants to turn into Ken's equivalent of that asshole who paid to be a guest on the BumbleKast just to ask Ian Flynn a bunch of questions that boiled down to "hey so this story you wrote sucked, why'd you write it that way?"

It just doesn't feel right to me no matter how you slice it. Ken's not some monstrous public figure who needs to get held accountable for his actions in an interview or something. At the end of the day, it's just comics. It's not that serious. He can continue making his weird little Lara-Su Chronicles comics and putting his foot in his mouth of his own accord, and I can continue being like "lol remember when Knuckles got called a 'proud man-child' at his own funeral" as a side thing to my own creative career, and never the twain shall meet

[achillesisnotcomingdown]

If you had to choose one of OdyDio to canonically die in the Iliad, who would you choose? Odysseus or Diomedes?

What would be/is your favourite Iliad au?

How are you today?

How do you think Diomedes would react to Odysseus getting speared like a chicken kebab in the Iliad?

What do you think Athena would think about OdyDio?

1. Odysseus. (I didn't see you said in the Iliad until I finished writing my monologue TT )

By the time of the Iliad, Dio had a way harsher life. He was at war since he was 14yo, and probably never expected to survive most of the things he has been through. But it does get better, eventually.

Odysseus, however, had (to my knowledge) a pretty chill life until Troy. And it's only once he tries to get home that he really goes through horrible things.

You see, Dio's past is harsh, but Ody's future is even harsher. It's a parallel I like between them. Also I just posted about my HC of Dio being (passive) suicidal, so the fact that he outlived Ody would be very unexpected and interesting.

However if it's during the Iliad, as you actually said, I'd prefer Dio. Atm Ody's story barely started while Dio could be considered to be dead at his apogee.

2. Lately I have been thinking about... CoD x Iliad.... The guys of the Trojan war, they're SAS.... Idk if I'd call that my fav one, but it's definitely something i need to think more about.

I rly like au where Ody comes home to Penelope and Dio, and then they all live happy and together.

3. Great!! The bus ride has been pretty fun so far :3 rn it's 3am, I was half sleeping for the past 2h, and im torn apart between feeling excited and quite energetic and the urge to nap again lol

4. Listen, I am pretty sure Ody does at some point get kebab'ed. I have heard about that but. I genuinely don't remember reading about it (I forget many things I read). As I don't visualise the scene at all its a bit tough for me to answer sry TT (i knew I should've take my Iliad with me... /Hj)

5. She's happy to see her favourite mortals (I like to think she actually has a sweet spot for them both) being close, although sometimes it's a little too close (throw back to one of my last posts lol). Also I hc that (like most gods) she doesn't rly understand/care for the mortals' cultural laws, so she has none of the era's homophobia. It's kinda like you adopt 2 stray cats and one day you see them grooming each other, you're like "yay they get along great :)"

[glubsurleseuil]

Don't be scared - Chapter 1

This is the first chapter - Next

A Pennywise X F!Reader fanfic 'cause I need to get these ideas out of my head before they eat me up. I'll post this thing on AO3 when I'm not so lazy to create an account. If I go ahead with it, it'll be NSFW, sexually disturbing, gory, violent, reader is an autistic drepressed suicidal girl… In short, skip it if you're a sensitive soul. For the rest of you, enjoy (I hope).

(Note: It was translated by Deepl, English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise for any mistakes. If you want to correct me, don't hesitate!)

(Note 2: The image is by @fandomscreenshots but you should already know that because what she does is amazing)

You've always lived in Derry, Maine. Well, actually you were born in Derry, went to school in Derry and, like any good citizen, you now work in Derry. You don't like it, you never have, and you know that no matter what you do, you'll never like it.

Firstly, because no matter how hard you try since childhood, you just can't seem to make any friends. Worse, people seem to have agreed to shut you out and hate you. At best, they ignore you, at worst… well, let's just say there are certain people you've learned to avoid at all costs, so you don't have to spend the evening licking your wounds…

Secondly, because there's something unhealthy about the general atmosphere of this town, as if it were being devoured by a cancer that affected not only the surrounding greenery, but also the buildings and even the people. A cancer that could be called suffering, melancholy or despair. And although no one knows where these feelings come from, everyone seems to accept them as an inevitable burden.

Tonight, like most evenings, you're working at the Canal Rouge, a rather quiet bar where people can drink and listen to local artists perform on a small stage. You're a waitress, and it's not the most pleasant of jobs, especially when you're a woman. Fortunately, your boss is a woman too, and she's very strict about the respect customers show her staff, so things could be a lot worse.

But tonight, you're in a particularly bad mood. Fatigue has always been a difficult thing for you to deal with, and lately your nights have been… tormented. You've been having a dream, always the same with little difference, on and off for over a week. It's a hazy, dark, incoherent dream that's hard to remember. What you remember most is anguish, fear… and an unbearable feeling of being watched by something dangerous, making you feel like prey waiting to be devoured. When your therapist asked you to describe this dream, even with random words, you said 'fear', 'red' and… 'clown'. You laughed after saying that last word, a nervous, uncontrolled laugh, like a continuation of the one you always hear in this dream before waking up.

But tonight, the worst is yet to come, because you have to serve Jenny's gang as consumers, young people your own age who, like you, are stuck in Derry and like to pass the time by annoying other people. Especially you, since you met them in kindergarten. You know you won't be able to get home safely tonight…

And your fears are confirmed as you finish your shift. As you emerge into the alley to which the service door leads, you see them laughing at the end of it, looking in your direction. This is the way home. You quickly think of another option, but you know that even if you take a longer route, they'll be able to corner you sooner or later, and that's what they'll do. Unless… you go through the forest…

You don't hesitate, knowing that your pursuers won't follow. Their parents have given them the same instructions as you: never go into the forest at night. Ever. Your father had made it clear that he meant business by emphasizing his order with the back of his hand. But tonight, you're a grown-up, and between your dead father's old superstitions and Jenny and her gang's guaranteed beating, the choice was quickly made.

You head into the forest, at first more worried about your pursuers who, as expected, quickly abandon their target. Then you decide to turn on the torch on your phone, as it quickly becomes very dark between the tightly packed trees in the middle of the night. You recognize the path you're on and follow it to the ancient oak tree where you used to climb as a child to escape the bullies. But even this place, reassuring by day, gives off a menacing aura by night…

All is quiet, too quiet for a forest where animals should be going about their nocturnal lives. You get the impression that a kind of fog is floating around, light but unnatural, and as you look at the thick branches of the oak tree, you get a strange feeling… Like a memory from another life… Like a dream…

Suddenly, there's a sound. A sound you know well, having heard it every night for over a week. A laugh. A clown's laugh… You turn in all directions, shining your phone in every nook and cranny around the oak. And just as you realize that there's nothing there, that maybe it's your imagination playing tricks on you, the laughter starts up again. You jump back against the tree, light pointed ahead, anticipating the appearance of someone, something… The laughter becomes more distinct, closer… But it's not coming from in front of you, nor from the sides… It comes… from above?

With a quick gesture, you point the light towards the branches of the oak tree and there, hidden in the shadows of the leaves, you see it: a clown. No, THE clown. The one who has haunted your dreams, distressed your nights, devoured your sanity. This present moment has repeated itself endlessly in your nightmare and now it's all happening for real, clear as day and just as terrifying.

With a muffled scream, you drop your phone, the lamp face down and your legs buckling beneath you. The little light that escapes from beneath your phone only faintly illuminates the bottom of the tree, but you know IT's there.

And it's not long before he leaps down from the tree. You can only make out a silhouette in the darkness, and as you hear him coming closer, you try to remember the end of the dream. It's all a blur, and all that comes back is a vague memory of a hunt in which you are the prey… Back on the grassy ground, you pull yourself back as best you can with your hands, never taking your eyes off the presence. Is this how you're going to die?

He moves slowly closer, slipping into the shadows. You can make out that he's leaning forward, then addressing you in a childlike voice.

"Hiya Y/N! I'm Pennywise, the dancing clown!"

He suddenly picks up your phone from the floor, pulling it up slowly, light downwards, gradually revealing his appearance as he continues.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you, you know? Don't be scared, I'm not going to kill you…"

As he utters these words, light finally shines on his face, reflected in his abnormally large and sharp teeth, piercing yellow eyes focused on you, and horror fills you.

"… yet."

The instinct to survive gives you new energy. You leap to your feet and flee the way you came, briefly illuminated by your phone in the clown's hands. You run at full speed, ignoring the noises behind you that make you think he's chasing you. If you've got a chance of getting away, you're going to take it. In fact, the forest exit isn't far off. One last push! You close your eyes and accelerate again… when hands often clutch your collar, brutally stopping your momentum.

"There you are, you bastard!"

"I told you she'd come back! She's such a pussy!"

"No way out now, you bitch!"

Jenny and her gang… It was Tim, the big muscular guy who caught you. They were waiting for you just outside the forest…

"Why are you running so fast? Are you afraid of the big bad wolf?"

They burst out laughing, but the sound reaches you distorted. The adrenalin from your run is wearing off too slowly and you can still hear your heart pounding in your eardrums. You struggle on, your brain unable to make sense of what has just happened. Suddenly, you hear a foul noise. A kind of hoarse, inhuman growl, coming out of the depths of the woods like an echo to their pitiful mocking laughter. You feel Tim's hands trembling with uncontrollable fear on your collar and watch their faces disintegrate before your eyes. Tim lets go and they all flee in a single scream of terror, leaving you behind.

You turn around, your body still tired from your frantic run, and you quickly understand what made them flee: golden eyes, shining menacingly in the darkness, perched on a huge, muscular, fur-covered figure, its multiple sharp teeth accentuating the evil growl rolling down its throat. A werewolf.

You barely have time to realize that it's the clown from earlier before he disappears between the trees with a hoot that sends shivers down your spine. Just as you regain your strength to flee, something falls near you. You examine it carefully: it's your phone, and as you turn the screen towards you, you see a message written in a torn red font:

DON'T BE SCARED

You don't wait any longer and run towards town without looking back.

[r3starttt]

CALL ME BY YOUR NAME | 03

fic M.list | read this or DNI

an: pretty short BUT it’s because nsfw part it’s gonna be long soooo I’ll do it separately, stay tuned y’all 😍☝️

"Is it better to speak or to die?" Your mom says, gently running her fingers all over your arm. Your dad, on the other side, kept his gaze fully fixated on your mom, who kept on reading a German novel.

It was raining, the type of rain to male everyone want to sleep, the one that could be perceived as white noise. Outside there was barely sunlight, the ambience was cold and the sky was all gray. You found comfort in it.

Lights went off, all at once, no warning at all. "You know we...you can always talk to us, yeah?" Your dad whispers, taking you out of that trance you've been since yesterday. Do they know? Does she know?

You simply nodded, reciprocating the sheepish smile your parents were giving you as a sort of comfort you kept ignoring you needed.

-

You can feel her eyes all over your body. The sound of her legs moving around the water, accompanied by the birds chirping, it makes you nauseus.

She wasn't here yesterday, and you simply could not stop thinking of her, what she did, and with who? Why not you and why, no matter how hard you tried, it couldn't be you the one.

If it wasn't because of the sunglasses you'd be out of here in less then a second, hiding in your room and pretending to not notice when she arrives home or leaves, pretending to not hear her muffled whines right next to you every night, pretending to not take a quick look outside your balcony whenever you hear her swimming, or pretending to not slick your ear to the bathroom door whenever water starts running. Because ironically, you do hate her, and it seems like the longer she stays the less you can handle her.

"Gotta go to town in a little bit to pick some things up" Abby con barely finish her sentence when you're already replying. Your voice elicts a smile on her face, pretty cocky as usual "Oh, I can go. I'm not doing anything today"

She just shrugges, taking her legs out of the water "then why don't we go together?" Your elbows act before you let them, forcing you to stand almost right when her voice is heard. You hated her for this.

-

You kept remembering the first time you brought her her. It was impossible to not regret it, after all it felt like suicide. You've done this to yourself just to not be a stubborn daughter for once.

It's strange, even when she first came you knew something was different, that's what lead you to act different for once. Maybe it wasn't you but her the problem.

You opened your mouth, letting her place the cigarette on it. She'd been making you wait for a while and your hands were busy, so far this was the only decent thing she's done for you, and it's not even on purpose. The lighter came closer to your face, and so did she. You haven't seen her this close, it's probably the first time you get to see what colors her eyes are. And even when it takes seconds, the contact it's enough for you, and you can swear you feel the warmth coming out of her body as well.

"I thought you didn't smoke?" You can see her siluette walking vaguely around you, taking her bicycle again "I don't" The defensiveness in her voice, you reciprocated her foolish smile.

"So, world War two, huh?" The metal of the bicycle had barely hit the railing that protected the omenage when she was already walking away from you, again. "No, this is world War one"

A 'huh' brushes past her lips. Abby restes her elbows on the railing, letting out a small hiss at the warmth of it. How stupid, you think.

"I don't even know about the.. battle of Piavé?" Her sandals hit the ground at her every step, hands running along the railing. "Píave, one of the most lethal battles of World War one" your hands rest on your stomach, crossed to support each other. And even though your eyes are looking at the statue in front of you, you can still feel her essence neare you, eating you alive with just the eyes.

"Is there anything you don't know?" You knew for a fact she meant to be nice right now, but you felt like putting some force on it, some sort of invisible barrier, because once you let her have her chance with you, you wouldn't stop her. And it wasn't meant to be, it couldn't. "I know nothing Abby"

You shocked your head, walking on the opposite side to where she kept resting. Taking a long deep drag of the cigarette "is that so? Because you seem to know more than anybody else around here". You both had sunglasses on, but even like that every time your glances coincided, the feeling was so strong it felt palpable.

"If you only knew how little I know about the things that matter" there's a sarcastic tone on your voice, unintentional but real. "What things that matter?" She clicked her tongue, extending her arms so the palms of her hands could be fully resting on the metal fence. "You know what things". Your arms crossed over the fence, hiding your face in between.

"Why're you telling me this? The smells of the cigarette suddenly became unbearable. "'Cause I thought you should know?" Even though she's away from you her laugh is still audible enough "Because you thought I should know?" There's a hidden tone on her voice you just can't decipher, and it causes you such a painfull feeling each time it appears, like you're the one doing it all wrong, like you're the adult. "'Cause I wanted you to know?" You tried to fix it, immediately regretting it.

You both walked to what was left ot the fence, each on one side. You kept repeating your las sentence, how stupid it sounded, how stupid you are. Until you're face to face again with her, and you feel so mature, so understood.

Her left hands is placed on her waist, one knee slightly flexioned and the other hand taking the cigarette away from her mouth as she lets the smoke fly to your face. She seemes hesitant, nothing she's ever been with around you but only when your mom's around. She's afraid.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" You do the same, admiring how the smoke passes through her face so gracefully. Quietly nodding as her eyes wander all over your face. Have you get it?

Before you realized your head was resting on her chest, the only thing visible now were both of your feet against each other "Shouldn't have said anything" Abby moves her free hand to your back, making small circles over it as she heard your statement. "Just pretend you never did"

The moment you threw your cigarette on the floor she did It too, gently pushing you away. The sound of the sandals brushing the pavement was comforting, human, and it meant you two were, after all, the same in some sort of way.

"What does that mean? We're on speaking terms, but not really?" You mock. "It means we can't talk about those kinds of things, okay?" You don't know when but at some point your teeth were biting on your inner lips, painfully hard. You couldn't look at her, she felt like someone you should fear, and you still hated her. "We just can't"

She gave you one last pat on the shoulder, it felt wrong how motherly she was. Maybe you were the one wrong after all. You just waited for her to get her sheets, unsure still of what they were.

Maybe it was karma, they were all a disorder and not whorth the wait, or that's what you heard her say as she walked towards you, clearly annoyed.

-

"The Alpi Orobie, water comes straight down from there"

This was your form of apologizing, taking her to your place, a small lake away from everything and everyone. She seemed to enjoy it.

It was quiet besides the birds chirping and the water running. After the rain the sun comes lighter than ever, good timing you guess. It wasn't practically hot, just nice enough.

"I like the way you say things. Don't know why you're always putting yourself down, though" she whispers. Abby really wanted to make things better, she felt the same way you felt for her. But it felt wrong to be the mote mature between both, acting like the stupid one just to get you. She was trying to fix this, and it was torture that you simply never gave her the chance to, no matter what she did or said you always had something smarter to make her sound lame. "So you won't, I guess?"

"You're really that afraid of what I think?" You bite your inner lips again, tasting the mix of blood and saliva mixing on your tongue. Simply nodding once again, dragging your feet to get closer to her until both yours and her fingers are touching. "You're making it hard for me" "I know"

Quietly, grabbing her hand you drag her to a small piece covered in grass. She'd give you enough signals to take what you needed of her, at least for today, and you weren't planning on waisitng it.

Her whole body is covered by the sunlight and you swear she's never looked this good. The strands of her hair gracefully dancing along the breeze passing by her face. Her white blouse covered in wet, letting you have the most delicious sight of her body.

Not even sitting and you have her on top of you. Middle finger running over your lips and your tongue containing on its space, painfully. You wanted- needed to suck her fingers, to feel every inch of her body, and it was torture to not have it.

Abby knew what you wanted, she was craving it as much as you. But for the first time in her whole life, she'd losen control about everything, and you were the one behind it. The reason she's been touching herself till sleep every night, the reason she even considered to stay for months in Italy. You had made of her and her life a chaos, and somehow that made her hate you as much as you hated her. It was hilarious how she even ended like this, whit someone like you.

Her lips pressed on yours, two tender kisses that she despised more than anything in this life. Not because of you but because of her being the one to initiate them and you the ones to cut them off.

And it's not that you wanted to, but this was driving you insane, because it felt like you've imagined, but somehow you've finally made conscious about what this stupid kisses mean, for both.

There's a trail of saliva connecting your lips as she pushes you away, so abruptly it almost hurst. Not only physically but mentally, making you wonder if she even meant it in the first place. "Better now?" Her cocky voice makes you want to punch her right in those lips until she can't ever speak again. You remember why you hate her since the moment you ever saw her or heard her voice.

Not fair, she gets what she wants until she doesn't want it anymore. You're just one more of her interests that will eventually fade away.

Without thinking you push her back, making her lay on the grass. It pinchs on your bare legs the moment you sit on top of her, not even the nature is being pity with you. She reciprocates the kiss tho.

"Mmm-mmm" you hear, feeling the vibrations on your lips and her hands on your waist one more, begging you tu move away and stop this. To pretend it didn't happen like what she said some hours ago.

You hate yourself for this. But you obbey. Abby repeatedly says 'no' pulling away from you. Her hand dances over her lips, getting rid of what was left from your desperation on her face. "We should go"

"Why?" You tease, opening your legs on one last attempt to get her at least for one minute more. "I know myself, okay? And we've been good" her hands both place on your knees, palm pressed tightly on top of your skin, closing your legs. "I wanna be good"

-

You've ran away the instant you noticed the blood running down your noise to your lips. It's by far the grossest hemorrhage you've got. Yet nothing unusual, just the mix of stress and warmth being too overwhelming for your body.

Abby tried not to pay attention to it, or worry. But she needed to see you were good, she needed to take care of you, or just help you get clean. It felt like she was the reason of it, but the sight of your parents in fron of you, so focused on whatever thing they were debating about. She simply couldn't, it would be either too obvious or not the best idea for you.

She feared to let you down like this, but also hated to be the reason behind it all on the first place. She's never regretted something this horrifying in her whole life, ever.

She'd fallen in love with you at her worst moment, and feared more than anything to hurt you, to have any sort of effect in you. Because you had a whole life ahead of you and she simply didn't.

-

Traitor, I'm such a pussy, please forgive me, don't avoid me. I'm sorry? I'm sorry, can't stand that you hate me, forgive me, what did I do wrong?

"Can't stand the silence, need to speak to you" were the words you wrote for her, on a random notebook you sometimes uses as a sort of journal. She was awful. "Grow up, see you at midnight" she replied. You were awful.

-

12:00 am

Crickets chirping, empty dark blue sky and countable stars decorating the ambience accompanied by the moonlight. Romantic to say the least.

She was smoking, you've realized the reason behind it. "Come inside" you whispered, hoping it was loud enough for her to hear but enough to catch anyone else's attention. Which means, trying to not let your parents hear you begging her to let you fuck her, at least once.

She tossed the cigarette violently, almost as if she had resentment for you still. Which she simply couldn't.

Sitting at the end of your old bed she finally spoke to you, not verbally but vy extending her arms so you could crawl to her. Abby smelled like pine and cigarette, it reminded you of alcohol. Is suits her.

"Can I kiss you?" Abby's hands move to the sides of your cheeks, making enough force against them so you couldn't move if given the opportunity "yes please" you whispered back, already opening your mouth. She pressed her lips on yours, making her tongue palm against yours deliciously. The sound of your saliva mixing was the only thing heard in the room besides the clothes rubbing against each other.

Abby laughed, breaking the kiss to stand up and walk to the side of the bed. The door slapped at it, so hard the floor vibrated. You stated at the whole scene in amusement, hoping for once in your life your parents where in this same situation so they wouldn't care "fuck you" you screamed silently at her.

[mik0is0bored]

"Don't say you don't have enough time."

Chapter ii: the feeling of decay

Contents page !!

Offical Playlist🎧

Status: ongoing

Note: I didn't like my original megumi x reader fic, and I've wanted to do a jjk college au for like a few weeks, so here's this <33

Description: You've begun your life as a college student this October. And boy, it is not as fun as it seemed in those corny, romance movies you always watched when the leaves changed color. College is stressful. Buying the correct textbooks, then trying to figure out where your dorm is, and the most stressful it seemed, was trying to figure out where the hell your first lecture is. The weeks roll by, and you feel more and more burnt out as the days crawled by, your mental health wasn't doing so good either. But when you meet the spikey black haired guy with green eyes (who occasionally helps you study), you begin to hope that the stress will lighten up soon, that it won't last forever.

Tags: Megumi Fushiguro x fem!reader, burnt out reader, mentions of depression, suicide (one chapter!), swearing, no curses au, college au, peers to lovers au, SFW

Note: Taglist is open! Comment on this post or any post related to this fix or use inbox to request being added to the taglist!

Your pov ->

You made your way out of your room, your phone and keys in your pocket, your cup of noodles in your hand as you shut the door.

You looked down at your sleeves, sighing to yourself seeing they were covering your wrists.

As you walk, you think of everything that has led up to this point in your life. Being a college student, holding a cup of noodles, and on your way to the dormitory kitchen to add water to the noodles.

You remember the guy who walked out of his door at the same time you did. You remembered how spikey his hair looked, it kind of reminded you of a hedgehog.

You hummed to yourself at that thought. You thought about it, how messy his black hair was, and your mind began wandering.

Was his hair soft?

How long was his hair if he brushed or straightened it?

Was it dyed hair?

Did he brush his hair at all?

You shake your head slightly, tying your own hair back behind your head in a low, messy bun. You remembered how your hair had to be perfect to go anywhere. Now, as of late, as long as it wasn't in your face at times, you didn't care what it looked like.

You began walking in the direction of the kitchen, your mind wandering back to what the guy had looked like. He had deep green eyes, which had slightly noticeable circles under his eyes.

You remembered your headphones in the pocket of your hoodie, slipped them over your ears, and pressed play on your phone, causing the playlist to start.

You eventually make your way to the kitchen, and sit the cup of noodles on the counter, as you peel off the top, showing the noodles and small bits of vegetables and chicken in the styrofoam cup.

You exhale, still listening to your music as you add the slightest amount of water from the sink to noodles before turning off the sink.

You shuffled over to one of the three microwaves, gently putting it in the microwave and setting it for a minute.

You could've just boiled water, but the microwave method was so much easier if you were honest.

You leaned against the counter and scrolled through your socials, and after a minute was up, the microwave beeped, indicating it had finished cooking the noodles.

You open the microwave and take your noodles out, then walk over to sit at one of the dining tables in the lounging area.

His pov ->

Megumi walked out of his room, seeing a woman probably a few inches shorter with brown hair thar went down to her shoulders. All he could do before the two of you passed was nod.

And if he was completely honest with himself, he couldn't lie, saying she didn't look pretty, because she did, but of course, he'd never admit it.

Megumi noticed how messy the woman's hair was, and how she continued to make sure her wrists were covered, he couldn't help feel a pang of concern for the woman who lived across the hall from him, which was you.

He shook the feeling off, knowing he was probably still too tired.

He walked down the stairs and out of the dorm building, looking around campus.

The weather was a little chilly, but it was nothing Megumi couldn't handle. He held his hands in his pockets, walking on the paths around campus.

The falling leaves everywhere were several shades of yellow, orange, and red, and the wind occasionally hit his face, fanning his hair out over his face, or his black hair getting in his eyes.

As if his hair wasn't already messy, it was even messier by the time he got back to the dorm building.

When he got back, he decided to head over to the dorm building kitchen, maybe find something to eat.

When he walked into the kitchen area, he saw you again, the woman who lived across the hall from him. Damn, he really needed to ask your name instead of mentally calling you "woman who lives across the hall"

Megumi noticed that she was wearing headphones. He honestly felt the need to talk to her, but he knew people didn't talk to him because of his tendency to be a little too blunt and bit of a pessimistic realistic.

He was conflicted on what to do before exhaling to himself before walking over to one of the fridges in the area. He couldn't find anything that really stuck out to him, so he quietly closed the fridge before getting over himself and tapping on her shoulder.

Your pov->

You felt someone tap your shoulder, nearly jumping at the touch, but managed not to. You hummed quietly as you took off your headphones and turned to look up at the person who had tapped your shoulder.

When you turned your head, the spikey black-haired guy who lived across the hall from you stood behind you. Your head raced with a million thoughts, as in "why would he talk to me? ", among several others.

You managed to find your voice as you looked up into his deep green eyes.

"Uh, can I help you?"

He just stared back at you for a few moments before speaking.

"It's nothing, I just noticed you're the same person who lives across from me in the dorm hallway. I was just curious what your name was."

His voice reminded you of a dark night. During a thunderstorm, his voice seemingly calmed your nerves.

You hummed quietly, nodding slowly before you decided to speak up.

"It's fine. But my name is [y/n]. What's your name?"

You watched his face, studying his expressions, the way his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he processed what it was you had said.

"Megumi Fushiguro. Nice to meet you."

You nodded quietly. His name was Megumi, got it.

You wanted to try and start a conversation, but you were unsure where to begin, so you spoke, slightly unsure of yourself.

"So um. What's your major?"

"I'm majoring in philosophy. You?"

You nodded. From this first encounter only, you felt as if he fit to be majoring in philosophy. It makes sense, you guess.

You mentally stop your train of thought to answer his question.

"Pychology."

Megumi nodded, somewhat intrigued by your response.

The two of you didn't get into deep conversation like each other's backgrounds, which led you to attend this specific university. It was just a simple conversation that lasted about a few minutes.

He nodded quietly after the conversation had ended as you watched him walk away.

Megumi Fushiguro, the guy who lived across the hall from you. His name was Megumi Fushiguro.

Second chapter !!

Sorry for this chapter being shorter (it feels short to me but idk) I was in a rush to finish this second chapter because i hadn't written in at least 3 weeks and um yeah

This one i tried to keep as little angst out of it as I could because honestly I'm too tired to write angst rn so yeah

I hope you guys liked this chapter

(Bolded users i can't tag, sorry!)

Taglist: @missunrise @1l-ynn @cloudserenity @theremainsof @ist0leurc0ffee

[icey--stars]

You Would Never Hurt Me (Pt. 2)

Azriel struggles with his injuries, but luckily, Eris is there to help him. (All H/C) - 1.4k words

Initial Request: Hiya! I've been binge reading all your fics and I'm obsesseeddd!! One particular one caught my eye tho: You would never hurt me. It's my favv from all the fics you've written

I'm not the anon who requested it in the first place but still I thought I'd ask: would you want to write a 2nd part of the fic, maybe where the two actually navigate what happened and Eris helps Az heal from his injuries

Anyways even if you don't feel like writing it, that's okay too! Thank you for the anon who requested it for coming up with the idea and to you for executing it so well!!! 💞

Author's Note: Okay, first off: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE TIME! I completely blame my stupid AuDHD brain for forgetting as soon as I replied to that ask. I literally took a sticky note and put it in the most obscenely annoying place on my monitor as soon as I remembered.

This isn’t much (mostly because I avoided the plot at all costs) but it is a lot of cute hurt/comfort for our boys <3

TW: Graphic References to Severe Burn Injuries, some very clean references to a possible NSFW topic lol, and possible suicidal mention? (in other words: az wants to help with the evil and he’s very injured but would go anyway and get killed.)

{ ao3 link } { Part 1 } { Part 3 }

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Azriel huffed in frustration yet again as he attempted to stretch his fingers enough to grip the water glass in front of him. Eris wasn’t in the room for dinner just yet since he was finishing one more piece of paperwork. And Azriel was determined to handle drinking water on his own. But instead, his goddamn muscles were not cooperating. He’d even figured out this morning he couldn’t contract them enough to wrap around a tea mug. Instead, he’d been forced to suffer the humiliation of his mate holding it up like he was a child.

Eris walked in and Azriel finally just gave up, leaning back into his chair.

Eris’s brows furrowed as he sat beside Azriel. “Same problem?” Eris asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Azriel grimaced, looking down at his lap. “Yes,” he grumbled unhappily.

“You know Madja said it would take time for your muscles to start to work again,” Eris reminded him. “Why didn’t you ask for help?”

“I should be able to at least drink water on my own, Eris,” Azriel insisted, looking up at him now. “This is pathetic.”

“No it isn’t,” Eris said firmly, raising a brow. “Did you forget that Cassian said your skin was melting off?”

Azriel leaned his head back, sighing. “I didn’t forget. But this is three weeks later.”

“You only just barely got out of your bandages,” Eris said, tilting his back down gently to meet his eyes. “You’re not meant to be able to do everything you could before.”

“Not being able to grip something as light as a water glass is pathetic, Eris. Even you can’t deny that.”

“It isn’t pathetic for the injury you sustained,” Eris said, his tone indicating he was beginning to get a little frustrated with Azriel. “Don’t you forget that fact, Az.”

“I should be out there helping,” Azriel growled. “Not sitting here, being forced to do stupid fucking hand exercises to make it so I can grip a dagger again.”

“Do you think I’m out there helping right now?” Eris asked, tilting his head. “I know you want to, Az. But you know, you fucking know you’re down for the count. And the moment you can fight reliably like you did before, then you can join the battle. But until that moment comes, you are only as strong as your shadows and siphons. Not being even able to make a fist is a liability, Az. You know that. I know that. And I hate saying it because you know I want you out there already, fine and ready to kill. But you can’t be.”

Azriel opened his mouth to begin to reply, but his words fell short and he closed his jaw with a sigh. He put his head on the table, his brows furrowed in frustration. Eris dragged him over onto his shoulder. “I know that you hate sitting here and doing nothing, Az. But you have to unless you want me literally locking you up.”

Azriel chuckled. “You could try,” he challenged playfully.

“And I’d win,” Eris insisted. “Come on, let me help you. When your hands heal, I’ll let you do anything you want to me for a week as payment. Fair?”

“Make it two,” Azriel bargained.

“Two, non-consecutively,” Eris countered. “We do have a court to run, Az.”

Azriel chuckled. “Okay, fine. Deal,” he allowed.

Eris grinned and lifted the water glass to his lips. He gently tilted it back, allowing Azriel to gulp it down before setting it back on the table once he was finished. Then, for the rest of dinner, Eris took turns in feeding Azriel and himself, commonly having to calm down Azriel’s frustration throughout the process. He felt like a child and he hated that.

“Can you at least tell me what’s going on with the daemati?” Azriel asked as they settled onto the couch next to the fireplace in their room.

“There’s nothing of interest,” Eris replied. His shadows whispered that his mate was lying and he sighed. Rhys probably said something along the lines of “if he learns of what is happening, Az will run off to do it himself and then die.” Which was incredibly annoying. It wasn’t entirely wrong, but he did want to be informed on the situation at the very least.

“No other attacks or signs?” Azriel asked, raising a brow.

“Nothing,” Eris lied again.

Azriel hummed. “I know you’re lying, Eris.”

Eris turned toward him with a raised brow. “And?” He challenged. “There’s nothing that is important for you to know right now, Az.”

“Censoring your own mate?” Azriel asked, raising a brow right back at him.

Eris sighed in annoyance. “There’s been a few small signs closer to the Night Court. Your spies are already on high alert. And you’re not going anywhere near that place until the threat is vanquished. There are two daemati already there. They’ll be fine.”

Azriel huffed, knowing his mate was right. But he was incredibly annoyed at not being able to do anything. He was very deadly when he wanted to be. But he couldn’t be right now. He was a liability, like Eris said. And even he couldn’t deny that.

“Relax,” Eris whispered, wrapping an arm around Azriel gently to pull him onto Eris’s chest with his wings hanging limply wherever they ended up. One off the side of the couch and the other between the couch and their bodies. “Trust me when I say that your family is going to be just fine. You’re not the only capable warrior there. I think they even have the Valkyries standing guard over Nyx until further notice.”

Azriel hummed and nuzzled closer to his mate, finally letting a bit of the tension melt away from him. “They need a spymaster,” he insisted weakly. “And a shadowsinger.”

“And they will have one when you’re healed,” Eris reminded. “I’m pretty sure the Cauldron was more of a threat than some measly daemati thinking they could control a High Lord and succeed. I think Rhys even sent word to the other High Lords to keep their mental shields sharp, even offering to give them training to ensure the daemati gains nothing.”

Azriel hummed. That was interesting. Rhys wasn’t usually one to train others on that. Was Eris lying about the danger? “Did any accept?” He asked curiously.

“Tarquin, I believe, wanted to make sure he actually had strong enough shields, but the others replied that they’re fine,” Eris replied. “Nothing to worry about, Az.” He leaned down, gently kissing Azriel’s forehead and holding him closer with a sigh of contentment.

Azriel laid there with his mate for a while, finally just giving in and letting the subject fall into oblivion. Later, when he was attempting to take a bath since he went on a walk with Eris for his dogs, he found himself staring down at his hands. The scars were slowly beginning to reveal themselves. Some were the same as before since he’d memorized the pattern a long time ago. But some were severely worse. His hands kept feeling tighter and tighter as they healed.

“Az, stop staring at your hands,” Eris chastised from in front of him. “Unless they hurt, just let them be.”

“They’re tighter than they were,” he mumbled, letting them fall into the water.

“Then we’ll put some lotion on them after the bath,” Eris reminded him. “Then we’ll go to bed. It’ll take time, Az. But they will heal.”

“It takes too long,” Azriel complained quietly.

–––––

About a year later, Azriel was allowed to return to his duties. The daemati hadn’t been much of a problem so far since the day they mind controlled his mate. In fact, the daemati seemed to have fun with their tail between their legs, yelping as they tried to escape Rhysand and Feyre. Azriel’s hands were still tight, but he could at least use his fingers again for the most part.

It took another three years for them to return mostly to how they were before the attack though. His ability to feel most things that were not pressure-related had been permanently damaged, it seemed like. He could barely feel the softness of a blanket anymore, or even Eris’s soft hair. It annoyed him to no end, but he was adapting slowly to it. A couple years down the line, he might be completely used to it.

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A/N: hope you enjoyed!!

Tagged in all ACOTAR Stories: @bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @bubybubsters, @fieldofdaisiies, @skyesayshi, @lilah-asteria,

Tagged in all Azriel Stories: @ladylokilaufeyson5, @marina468,