#i thought i could live with it until maybe later in the winter but i was getting so frustrated with how lifeless and tangled my hair was 😭

[theflyingfeeling]

...💇‍♀️

[yeyinde]

(sighs dreamily) i loooove the way you write fucked up and gross simon. the size kink and somno drabbles have been living rent free in my mind for almost two weeks now. the recent stalker piece was also so deliciously terrifying, i actually had a dream/nightmare today that was a mixture of stalker!ghost and not-dog!soap 😭

are you planning on writing any more for either of those?

ahhh thank you!!!! this had me wondering how i could maybe blend the two and this happened.

stalking. HEAVILY implied noncon somno. size difference.

Simon decides your dog, your baby, needs a man in the house. and since you like to call yourself his 'mama,’ then it’s only right that he becomes the daddy both of you need.

Your dog does not like strangers.

He's a rescue and the sort of life he lived until now, until you, is mostly a mystery. You found him on a rainy day, panting under your awning - a gnarled mess of matted fur glued to bone. Too skinny to survive another winter. You took him in right away and gained his trust. His love. But whatever he had left to spare (lots, it seems) is strictly reserved for you. Everyone else is a threat, a worry. Even the vets he's known since you found him all those years ago still get the same wary glances, the same growls then they lean in too close to whisper something in your ear.

He's just—special. The sweetest thing ever when it's just you. Your baby. People joke—slightly nervous—that he treats you like his mother. Following you closely with his big, glossy eyes tilted up to stare at you. Loving. Cuddly. Rests his big head on your lap at night with a great, big sigh. Tired from a long, hard day of protecting his house from squirrels and the stray delivery driver.

But when it comes to others—anyone, really—he’s aggressive. Territorial. All the vets and trainers say that it's his breed. That he just needs to be trained. Exposure therapy. Behavioural. And it works for all of two weeks before he's back to his stubborn self. Snapping at anyone who gets too close to you.

You post warnings on your fence. Your front door. Take precautions when you walk him. Warn anyone who gets close that he doesn't like anyone. Full stop. No exceptions. And it works. Helps ease the stress. He still goes to therapy. To training lessons. But he's smart enough to trick them into thinking he's learning.

And it's fine. People can't get too close to you. To his house. His territory.

Or so you thought.

But he's been acting strange lately.

You caught him barking at something through the fence a few months ago; spittle flying from his muzzle as his lips peeled back, snarling and vicious. If the fence wasn't reinforced, you think he would have broken it down to get at whatever was behind it.

It continued like this for a few days. Each time you went to check and see what was there, all you find is littered cigarettes. The teenage son of your neighbour, you think. He likes to hide in the dense woods so his parents can't find him. You'll talk to him about it later. Ask if he can do it a little further away from the fence so he isn’t disturbing Baby. 

As the days grow, his growls and snarls diminish before stopping outright. In the interim, your unease grows.

It's small—at first. 

He wants to be outside more. Always whining at the back door, scratching at it with his paw. When you let him out, he runs right to that spot by the fence. Sits down, and just stares. When you go out to look, there's nothing there. Just a dark, sprawling coppice. Cigarettes on the ground. But something catches his attention. Keeps it. Holds it.

He leads you to that spot sometimes, too. Nudges you with his big, furry head to your thighs. Shepherding you to the fence, and then sits back, clearly preening. Proud.

"You're mama’s silly boy, aren't you?" you coo, scratching his ears. It must be the neighbour. Maybe a stray deer wandered by. You catch a flash through the tree line. Twin puddles of black peering through the tangled weeds. Your dog perks up, looking towards it. A deer, you think. A stray buck. You huff, patting his head. "Made a new friend, huh?"

But you can't shake the feeling that something else is out there. That something is staring at you.

Nothing, you tell yourself, fighting off a shiver. It's fine. Fine. He sneaks off at night sometimes. You hear him playing in the hallway. Wandering around the house. The tack-tack-tack of his nails against the hardwood as he walks back to your bedroom lulls you back to sleep. You feel the bed dip. Something warm against your back. You sigh, melting into the sheets—

There's nothing to worry about.

He'll protect you.

But the next morning, you find him locked outside. The patio door shut. The deck is dried from the sun, but his fur is wet. It rained last night. You drifted in and out to the patter of it on your window. The soothing weight of his body curling around you—

He must have gotten out in the morning. Rolled around in the grass. But when you put him in the tub later to scrub the rainwater off of his cost, his belly is dry.

It's nothing. He was in bed with you last night. It's fine. Fine. Everything is easy to explain away as coincidence. Nothing usual. The feeling of being watched. The missing food from your fridge. The creaks of the old house at night. Things shifting around—keys missing only to turn up somewhere else. Rodents chewing through your landline. 

The panties you shed, tossing into a corner before getting into the shower going missing—

They’re just—lost in the wash. You must have thrown the leftover food away when you cleaned earlier and forgot. The lingering scent of cigarettes. Smoke in your bed. The cloying scent of loam, humus. Fresh dirt. The stains on your bed. The strange smear in the gusset of your panties when you peel them apart.

Something thick, firm between your thighs—

Fine. You tell yourself. Everything is fine. At best, it's a gas leak. At worst—well.

Baby will protect you. 

Always. 

But the next day, he brings his favourite toy to the back door, asking to be let out, and this isn't—

It's not normal.

He's possessive over his toys. Keeps them on his daybed and refuses to let anyone touch them. Only you. He doesn't bring the. Outside, either.

But when you peer outside a few minutes later, the toy is lying by that spot near the fence. He's sitting down, tail wagging. Happy. Excited. It continues like this for the next few days. He brings his toys to the fence, coming in later, licking his lips. When you brush his teeth at night, you smell something gamey on his breath. Meaty. 

Getting out of bed a few hours later and playing in the hallway. Going to sleep with you at night, but somehow getting out in the early hours of the morning, waiting for you on the patio when you remember the huff of his breath over your neck less than an hour ago—

No. You're just—

Getting the time wrong. It's fine. He'll protect you. He doesn't like anyone but you.

You hear footsteps in the hallway at night next to the click-clack of his nails. When you jump out of bed to check, it's just him. Sitting by the back door, head craned over his shoulder when he heard you coming. His favourite toy is sitting on the ground in front of him. You fight a shiver. The feeling of eyes burning into you churns your stomach.

"I'm going crazy, sweetheart," you coo, but feel the threads of your sanity begin to snap one by one. "But you'll keep me safe, right?"

His tail wags. You pretend not to notice the gap in the patio door. Opened just a crack. You shut it, forcibly telling yourself to remember to close it next time and fight the memories of locking it before settling on the couch to watch old re-runs. You drag him back to bed, burrowing your head into his fur, listening to the thud-thud-thud of his heart in your ear. 

When you dream that night, it's of a big, scarred hand making its way between your thighs. A rasping, masculine voice in your ear commanding you to be good—

You wake up with your thighs sticky, wet. Your cunt pulsing. There's an ache there; a sting. It twinges when you move, tapering into a sore throb as you swing your legs over the side of the bed, woken up by the strange dream—fingers between your thighs, a head resting on your belly, calling you a good girl—and a noise.

A low murmur comes from the living room. You wince with the first several steps, forcing yourself to ignore the uncomfortable feeling between your thighs. The wetness that drips down your leg, some of it already dried, sticking to your skin. It’s fine. You just had a—

A wet dream.

—everything is fine. Fine. Your heart lurches. Lodges in your throat. Each beat feels like a fist against your tissue trying to break down the prison of your flesh to flee. 

You slowly inch toward the hallway, the sound, making excuses for the fear that curdles in your belly. The itch in the back of your head that calls you stupid. Demands you go back to bed. To sleep. You’ll wake up in the morning to Baby slobbering over your chest, drooling as the time ticks away in a slow crawl towards his usual breakfast. 

It’s tempting. The sleep congealing in the corners of your eyes, weighing heavy—molasses-thick—over your sense of awareness: cobwebbed in that strange, uncanny realm of sleep and wakefulness; hypnagogia turning shadows on the walls into human shapes. The whisper of wind into the brassy drawl of a voice. 

Through it all, the prickle rears. Says something isn't right. Hasn't been right for a while now. It's fine. Everything is—

It doesn't make sense at first. Your brain tries to wrap around the images your eyes feed it. Untangling the dizzying sense of confusion that runs along your hindbrain like a jagged knife; grazing tissue, scraping over nerves. The picture comes together quickly. There's no misinterpreting the shapes.

A man is lounging on your couch. Legs kicked up on the coffee table, ankles crossed. The remote is held in one hand as he lazily flicks through the channels on your television screen. The picture of ease. So relaxed, so comfortable in your space, that you begin to feel a little bit like an intruder. A voyeur peering between the curtains.

This feeling is reinforced when you peel your eyes away from the horrifying mask on the man's face—a black balaclava—and find your dog lounging beside him. Resting with his head over this stranger's thick thighs. His head perks up when you approach, tail wagging, but he doesn't get up from his spot. Content to bask in the half-hearted attention the man doles, a hand buried in his fur. Dragging over his ears. Down his back. Monotonous flicks of his thick wrist, nearly the same width as the barrel of a baseball bat.

And that just trembles down your spine in the worst way.

He's the same height as you are sitting down. Takes up two cushions on the couch with his absurd bulk. Massive, you think. And then it all rushes through you. The knife slips into your cognisance.

There's a man in your house. Petting your dog,

your dog who tries to bite the same vet he's had for years. Who trusts, who likes, no one but you—

You make a noise. Something strangled in the back of your throat. Muffed, unable to escape through the clot of your heart getting there first. It tangles around your pericardium and is too late to take back. To swallow down. 

It doesn’t matter, though. 

The man has been watching from the beginning. 

Dark eyes (a dark, black flash between the leaves—) drill into you. Staring. That familiar, unease feeling is back again, creeping up your spine. It's been him the whole time, you know. The thing behind the fence. Must be. The same brand of cigarettes you found on the opposite side is sitting on your coffee table, right beside his feet.

His chest expands with his inhale. You smell stale smoke. Something wild. The scent of the forest after a summer's rain shower.

"Finally up, are you? Thought you were gonna sleep all day." His voice is deep. Brassy. The growling roll of an approaching thundercloud. You shiver. Jerk back, but—

Baby growls.

He's never done that before. Never barked. Never snarled. Never nipped.

But right now, his teeth peel back, muzzle wrinkling as he lifts his lips. And you know it's playful. Seen this look on his face when you throw the ball across the yard. It's just him being his silly self. He won't attack you. Won't maul you. 

The man lifts his hand and your dog limbers up. Shakes. He jumps off the couch and trots toward you. Nothing is threatening in the way he moves. It's the same lumbering gait, the same happy wag to his tail, but he moves himself around you. Stands between you and the only escape.

"Baby—?"

"Taught 'im a few tricks," the man drawls conversationally—like he wasn't a stranger in your house. "Got a good boy on your 'ands. Jus' needed a bit o'trainin'—”

He snaps his fingers and Baby moves. Bumps his head into the back of your thighs. Pushing you. Nudging you toward the man. It’s so horrifying familiar that you find yourself moving without a thought. Following along. 

"He jus' needed a man in the house, didn't he? A father figure—" 

You're going to be sick. Think you would have been already if your heart wasn't lodged tight in your throat, keeping everything down. 

The man lifts his hand. Curls his fingers. 

"C'mon, mommy," he taunts, voice a derisive roll. "Come sit on Daddy's lap. It's movie night tonight."

Baby pushes you forward happily, tail wagging, wagging—

Happier than you’ve ever seen him as this stranger reaches out, grabbing your waist and hauling you onto his lap. You think about fighting immediately, struggling to get out of his hold, but he moves back and the unmistakable, blunt press of a gun sends shivers rolling down your spine. You still instantly. Back drawing tight. Fear is a wet, hot pulse behind your ribs. 

“Don’t fight it, birdie—” You feel the warm, damp press of his mask against the shell of your ear. The ridges of his lips move beneath the fabric as he speaks. 

You hear him inhale, drawing in the scent of your shampoo—your fear: an oily thick miasma pooling behind your ears, against your nape—and feel tears pool against your lashline when a surge of familiarity wells up at the solid, firm weight of his chest against your spine. His thigh slips between yours, spreading them wide over the arch of his muscle. Limp, dizzy, you fall back into his chest when he pulls you in, slotting a burly arm over your ribcage. Locked in tight. A shackle. 

“Ain’t go’ nothin’ t’worry about,” he continues, hips shifting. Moving. And—

It’s a not gun. You know it isn’t. When you whimper, it throbs—

There’s the echo of a groan in his voice when he huffs, lips pursing into a kiss. “Nothin’ at all. C’mon, Baby—” 

And Baby obeys eagerly, jumping up on the couch beside him. His snout is warm, wet, when he presses it to your arm, sniffing. Please, you think, staring into his eyes as tears swell, pooling down your cheeks. Please—

But the man lifts his arm, and Baby circles the cushion before falling against his side with a deep, content sigh. Hope is snuffed out of your chest in an instant. The man’s hand falls to his head, rubbing his skull affectionately. 

“Good boy.” Baby perks. His happiness is a palpable thing that swells around you as he melts, eyes slipping closed. “Gonna be a good boy while mum an’ dad spend some time together, ain't you, boy?”

His arm tightens around your waist. Chin notches over your shoulder as he shifts back, legs kicking out to spread your thighs further apart.

"Now," he drawls, hand sliding down to the mess between your thighs. You shiver against him, toying with the idea of running, fleeing—but he must know. Senses it, maybe. He lifts his hips, pressing the gun into your spine. A threat. A warning. But with the way he swallows you up—broad chest closing in on you, trapping you on all sides—you know it's futile.

He has you.

Your submission makes him purr.

"Baby's sleepin', so now let daddy take care'o mommy—"

[flokali]

♢ I own you, I love you | Tartaglia

warnings: yandere, dub/con, male m.asturbation, violence, threats, corruption, unrealistic sound-isolation, delusional thoughts, possessive behavior (from childe), childe/tartaglia lore-spoilers, canon divergence (maybe?), misunderstanding/miscommunication, manipulative behavior (from ajax) , unreliable narrator (ajax), ask to tag more.

pairing: afab! fem! reader x childe

word count: 10.7k

a/n: after months... here it is;; i'm so sorry for taking so long (tt),, i'll make it up to you !! istg (huhuh)

— 18+

You had trouble falling asleep ever since the day Ajax went missing.

It was meant to be yet another normal day, one that would blend in with all the others – muddled with other memories of childhood. Instead, it became the day your life began to change in ways you hadn’t even fathomed possible. 

It had heavily snowed the previous night, which left a brand new layer of pure white to cover the humble roads of Morepesok. Normally, after such a heavy storm, you and Ajax would go over to his house and play inside – making use of the fireplace his father had built and hot chocolate his mother would make to keep warm. You both would steal his father’s diary and read about his adventures across Teyvat, recreating the scenes in your minds with yourselves as the main characters, before sharing your dreams with one another.

You never had the courage back then to tell him your ideal adventure was a rather simple one, while you always dreamt of moving to a less snowy nation, one like Mondstatd or even Sumeru, you were content with peacefully traveling across Teyvat before settling down. You didn’t want to spend your life fighting monsters and exploring the world, you only really longed for a simple life, where you could work a safe job and create a new home for yourself and those you loved. It was fun to imagine yourself on a long, rewarding journey across the nation to complete a request, but you’d rather keep it as just that – a figment of your imagination.

Ajax, on the other hand, longed for the chance to become a warrior. While never too skilled with the blade, always too nervous to even kill an animal, his determination was enough to convince you he’d one day make a great adventurer like his father. He’d longed for the thrill of exploring every corner of Teyvat, roaming the land until there was nowhere in this world where he hadn’t been to. Meeting new people, learning about new cultures, fighting monsters and gaining the freedom that came with being an adventurer; Ajax’s dreams had been clear from a young age.

A part of you, albeit really, insignificantly small, always wished he’d never succeed, secretly hoping he’d leave those ambitions behind with age and become a fisherman or craftsman instead. You’d heard tales of men and women who’d joined the Adventurer’s Guild only to never come back, and even more about those who’d joined the Fatui’s ranks, and you didn’t like the idea of waking up one day to find out he’d passed in a foreign land. It was selfish, you knew that, but you hoped that maybe he’d choose a safer option, one where you two could live together, away from the cold winters of Snezhnaya and safe from the dangers of the world. Maybe you’d both move away from Morepesok, find a quaint town in Fontaine where you’d both settle down and continue being friends, or maybe more, with no worries for each other’s safety - only busy being happy and healthy.

While you were putting on your boots and coat, making sure to layer as many clothes as you could to avoid the freezing cold temperatures that came with such heavy snowfall, you remember feeling an odd sense of uneasiness, a queasy feeling settling down in your stomach making you feel sick and nauseous. At the time you had thought nothing of it, too focused on meeting up with your friend and the taste of his mother’s hot coco, but now, years later, you think it was the Tsaritsa’s way to warn you for what was to come.

You remember nearing his house, confused as to why he hadn’t met you halfway down the road like he always did. It was quiet, eerily so, only the sound of your boots and your labored breath as you battled your way through the snow. There were no kids out on the street, all the adults that would normally be on their way were missing, even the birds seemed hesitant to chirp.

Instead, you find his mother worriedly looking around the perimeters of their humble cabin, her normally neat appearance now disheveled. Her long, ginger hair was half-hazardly put up, her clothes were wrinkled, her coat wasn’t even buttoned up all the way, but she stood there, frantically looking around.Whenever you’d come over, you and Ajax would always bump into one another before racing home to see who’d get there first, but today there was his mother’s choked sobs where normally his laughter would ring.

“Auntie?” You asked, running the rest of the way as you saw her expression, the closer you got the clearer the worry in her face became and you felt yourself grow anxious.

“Sweetie,” she looks at you in surprise, not having seen you approaching - too preoccupied to hear your unsteady footsteps as you struggled to run towards her, you see her blue eyes frantically look behind you and you follow suit, “A-Ajax, he wouldn’t have been with you, right?”

“No…” You shake your head, the previous feeling in your stomach expanding across your body, your head felt fuzzy as you asked, “Isn’t he home?”

“I… I’m afraid not,” She looks distressed at your words, her eyes water as she ushers you inside while still trying to look around to see if she caught sight of her son’s bright ginger hair against the cold white that coated the roads, her hands are shaking as she holds yours and brings you into her home, “Come inside, come inside – it’s too cold out t-there, you’ll get sick.”

Behind you, you hear more people arrive, you’re almost certain you hear your parents as well, but you have no time to ask before the worried mother shakes her head at the curious adults that looked up at her – the atmosphere worsens at the realization he hadn’t snuck out to be with you, she tries to occupy herself by taking you inside so as to not give into hopelessness.

You’re confused, not too sure of what’s going on even as you see adults from around the village inside of the house, maps in their hands as they whisper about the boy’s possible whereabouts.

“Is Ajax… o-okay?” You ask, you start to feel afraid as you process their concerned faces, seeing all of these adults who’d always been smiling and assured look so worried and uncertain sent a chill down your spine.

Where was Ajax? Normally he’d be here, assuring you your imagination was running wild and that nothing was wrong, the empty space next you where he’d normally be felt awfully cold.

Nobody answers you, instead you’re taken to your friend’s room where his siblings were gathered. Their mom, who you've always called your auntie, kneels down in front of you, taking your smaller hands into hers and giving you a weak smile.

“Ajax will be fine, okay?” Her words are meant to comfort you but you feel like they’re more for herself in that moment, “He’s just… gone out for a while, but he’ll be back before you know it.”

You nod, not truly understanding what she meant but feeling as if that was the response she needed to hear.

She gives your forehead a small kiss, you feel a tear fall travel down her cheeks and into your hair but you say nothing as she leaves, noting how she desperately tried to conceal the tears in her eyes; You’d never seen her cry before and it’s only then, as you look at his siblings and the pained look in their faces, that you finally begin to grasp the severity of the situation.

He was missing. Your best friend was gone and no one had any idea where he had run off to.

That evening your parents came over and stayed the whole day with Ajax’s family, alongside the other townspeople who went and came as they searched for the young boy in the woods around the area. Normally, you had to fight tooth and nail to let them grant you permission to stay over but that night they’d been the ones to offer it first.

That night was the first and only time you had a sleepover without Ajax. You and his siblings huddled together in the living room, next to the fireplace as his mother looked over you all. You would wake up every so often to the sound of people coming and going as the search efforts seeped into the night and early morning.

The suffocating cycle repeated itself for three days. Three days, two nights, and one afternoon later, after countless hours crying to your parents in fear of losing your best friend; Ajax emerges from the woods in one piece, but he who returns is not the same boy.

The first thing that stood out was his disheveled hair, he was wearing the same clothes – which were in too good a condition for a kid who’d gotten lost in the woods by himself for three days –, and the hunting knife he’d stolen from his dad now dull as if it’d been used continuously for a long period of time. What shocked the men and women who’d found him was the blood on him – specks decorated his face and hands as he looked up at them from his position near the corpse of a bear, one easily three times his size, he’d somehow taken out. 

They’d found him in a clearing close to his house, the smell of blood had been what had alerted the rescue party – they’d prepared for the worst case scenario where the blood came from Ajax’s body, instead they found him to be in good shape even after three days by himself in the wild – perhaps a little too good, for it seemed he’d somehow taken down a beast by himself with his hands and his father’s old hunting knife. 

The news of his return quickly spreads, everyone gathered near his home as they awaited with bated breaths to see the young boy; you’re there as he’s reunited with his family, hugging your mother’s leg as tightly as you could.

Rumors spread about him having killed an animal, some claimed it had been a rabbit while others alleged it had been a beast the size of a horse, and you wondered if they had mistaken another kid for Ajax – he’d never had the guts to harm even a fly, you doubted he’d changed so much in the span of three days. But it seemed as if you’d been wrong.  

He doesn’t shed a tear, he doesn’t say a word. Not even a squeak as his parents coddle him; nothing at all. The only sounds are hushed whispers as people discuss the absurd situation and gleeful congratulations from onlookers as they celebrate his arrival and well being while giving his family well wishes. Instead, his blue eyes find yours and you’re unnerved at the empty look in them. Where there’s once been a warm light, you found an empty void that seemingly sucked you in and refused to let you go. You felt goosebumps arise all over your body the longer he looked at you.  Even as he’s embraced within his father’s arms, his family surrounding him as they cry from relief, it’s only when he makes eye contact with you that, the first time since arriving, he smiles.

You feel a chill travel down your spine as you realize Ajax hadn’t been the one to return that day. You unconsciously nestled closer into your mother’s coat, as if trying to hide from his unnerving gaze.

You did your best to ignore that unsettling feeling, opting to attribute it to the rumors you had heard instead of something your friend had done, you pushed it and as well as any doubts aside as you attempted to focus on the good news; he was here, home with his family and back next door to your own house, and that was all that really mattered.

Ever since then, he’d become more confident. His once timid personality completely disappeared and the days where you had been the stronger one, defending him from his older siblings’ teasing and the mocking from other kids, were now but hazy memories. The roles had switched quite suddenly, not that you minded it too much – there were times where it felt nice to be the one being protected rather than the protector, but it had been quite the surprise at first.

He’d become bolder and more protective, never afraid to throw a punch (and sometimes even more) if he felt like you had been disrespected. It came to a point where you’d sometimes grow suffocated by his mere presence; eventually it escalated to where he’d never let you hang out with anybody he didn’t approve of, afraid they’d hurt you and he wouldn’t be there to defend you, and he’d make sure to let it be known you were his friend first and foremost. Unknowingly, a set of rules had been implemented between the two of you. Rules that stated you were his responsibility to protect and care for, even if it meant it drove others away and left you two isolated from other kids your age.

There were times you missed the Ajax that’d gone into the woods, the freckled boy who was timid and polite – who’d rather be teased by his siblings than hurt even a bug the size of your pinky, you doubt that boy would have picked fights with kids twice his size because they’d made a joke or two that didn’t land too well. But you hesitated to dislike the new Ajax, after all, when it was only the two of you - it was as if that damned day had never occurred at all.

He was back to the sweet, delicate boy who’d blush at your jokes and avoid prolonged eye contact. Whose hand would grow warm from holding yours, who’d confess his feelings to you every night when he thought you’d fallen asleep. 

A few years later, once you were both older – now settled into your teen years, he ended up joining the Fatui and leaving your humble seaside village to go to the capital to train as a soldier. 

You cried the day he’d given you the news. As overbearing as he could be, the ginger had been your only friend that your parents consistently let you hang out with, you’d spent your whole lives together and the thought of being without him terrified you greatly.

You remember the look on his face, the way he desperately tried to look strong and not let a single tear get away, his hands that had once been soft were now calloused as he grabbed your own.

“I’ll come back for you, I promise.” He’d whispered, his lips near your ear as he enveloped you in a hug.

You don’t trust your voice not to break and so you nod, letting your nose burn from trying to contain your sobs and not worry him more than he already was.

“A-and I’ll write you letters, so you better not forget me,” he continues, and even if by now he’d long since grown taller than yourself – you’re amazed at how small and vulnerable he felt against your frame, “so please… wait for me.”

“Only if you always write to me first… ‘Cause I swear I’ll leave if you forget.” You try to lighten the mood, halfheartedly warning him as if you both didn’t know it’d take death itself for Ajax not to fulfill a promise from him to you. He tightens his arms around you and you feel a wave of nostalgia wash over you as you wonder how long it’ll be before you can both hug like this again.

“I promise.” He laughs softly, the sound warms your heart.

“Then I promise as well.”

Ever since the day Ajax went missing, you have had trouble falling asleep. 

When you did manage to fall asleep, a task which took longer than you’d like to admit without external factors such as medicine, your dreams would be strange and cryptic, often times you’d wake up in the middle of the night with a racing heartbeat and a sense of urgency, as if you’d been in danger; you’d learned to hate the images your brain would concoct during your rest. Some nights, you’d dream about that day and what would have happened if Ajax had never been found, other times you’d open the door to soldiers grieving his death; whatever tragic scenario your mind decided to present you, it would always be so realistic you’d wake up with tears streaming down your cheeks and a devastated heart.

This time, however, your sleep had come easier than expected and there were no dreams or nightmares to haunt you. No earthly worries were present and, after such an unexpected day filled with reunions and world-shattering news, you wished to succumb to a never ending night; however, the fates had other plans for you.

As you’re forcibly awakened from your slumber you feel a familiar, pleasant hand gently caressing your head. It felt gentle, their touch delicate and sweet, as if they were afraid any more force would hurt you. If the owner of said limb wished to lure you into consciousness, their touch had the opposite effect as it almost seemed to beg you to go back to sleep and forget the world of the living.

You felt truly content as you laid there, the blanket that laid atop of you was heavy and cozy,  a foreign feeling - nothing like the blankets you were used to, and the pillow smelt like an old friend, welcoming and nostalgic. It all felt like a perfect trap set out to catch you, if that were that case then you’d have to admit it was a little too good at its job as you resign yourself to cuddling closer to the fabrics that enveloped you.

If it hadn’t been for the gentle kiss pressed against your cheek, you probably would have never gotten up. You want to complain, already formulating a sentence of indignation and annoyance to throw at the perpetrator, but the warmth left behind by the gesture is cozy and fills you with a taste full of happiness and fulfillment you don’t want to sour. At the feeling of a pair of unknown, soft lips against your skin you become more alert, slowly your consciousness begins to enter the realm of the living once more while you grow aware of your surroundings. Your eyes open timidly, the leftover fatigue from such a deep rest keeping them heavy, it takes you a second or two to adjust to the light and another few to register the man that lovingly gazed down on you.

“Ajax…?” You call out, rubbing your eyes as you wonder if it really was him. You’re almost sure you’re dreaming, as embarrassing as it was to admit, it had been so long since you’d seen him in person you may have simply gone crazy and imagined the man to be here; You’re about to ask him what he was doing here, if he were real at all, but he beats you to the punch with a smile before answering you with a gleeful tone that reminds you of summers long gone.

“The one and only,” he laughs gently as the hand that laid atop your head began to ruffle your hair in a familiar gesture – reassuring you that he was, in fact, a real person and not a figment of your imagination you had come up with to deal with the loneliness, “… don’t tell me you forgot about earlier.”

He teases you, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes as he awaits your answer; surely, you couldn’t have forgotten. It’d only been a couple of hours and he had been sure to be as thorough as possible so that he left a print on both your mind and body, there was no way you’d forget making love with your soulmate. Just the thought of it sent jolts of anger and frustration down his spine, not at you - never at you, but at himself as he wonders if maybe he’d underperformed and disappointed you to the point you’d try and act like nothing had happened. If that was the case, he was more than willing to go again just this instant to right any previous wrongs.

“Earlier?” You mumble, you wreck your brain trying to think of what he meant but it isn’t a full minute before you realize what he meant. If it hadn’t been for his words, maybe his coat laying on you and your sore body would have been enough to eventually jog your memory. You feel your cheeks grow hot as you remember what you two had done earlier, you’d been so tired by the end you’d fallen into a deep, dreamless slumber that momentarily left you empty-headed when you woke up, but now the memories are rushing in and you doubt you’ll be able to forget the feeling of Childe on top of you for a long time.

Your embarrassed gaze was enough for him to know you’d remembered the dance you’d both partaken in earlier that day, the way your eyes avoided his had his heart swooning and a warm, fuzzy feeling settling deep within his very soul. 

He feels himself calm down the more he looks at your flustered face, his whole body light and intoxicated on your sweet expressions; his pants felt so tight as he watched you fiddle with his coat, he wonders if he’d be able to warm you up on the ride back to his place the same way he’d done so previously.

You were absolutely adorable to him, so very weak and fragile in comparison to him – if he wasn’t such a gentleman, he would have loved to destroy you until you were too scared to leave his side. Alas, he decided that you shouldn’t be the one to face the sharp end of his blade, instead, he’ll scar your psyche and those around you so violently you’ll have no want nor need for anything else other than him.

“So, ‘slept well, my love?” He asks, his tone sweet as to never betray his darker thoughts — you didn’t have to know about how deeply he wished to break you until you couldn’t function without him by your side. You nod while suppressing a yawn, blissfully unaware of the chaos that was unfolding due to the man in front of you, and he laughs, content with your naïveté; he missed you oh so very much, “That’s good.”

There’s a warm, almost euphoric feeling that invaded your senses as you both took the time to enjoy each other’s presence; it felt different from earlier, something had changed now that you both had finally indulged in each other’s bodies. It felt akin to drinking a warm cup of tea, comforting and pleasurable, a reminder of home and the feeling of familiarity after a long period of impersonal and foreign coldness.

“Let’s get going then,” he breaks the silence, finally standing up from his crouching position, he gives you one last pat in the head before he starts making his way through your room and inspecting your belongings – or what remained of your belongings, “the carriage will be here soon, it’s only an hour long ride away but I think it’s best we take as much as we can today and send someone to pick up what remains.”

That’s when you notice he’s fully dressed, other than for his cape that was laid on you, as if he was anxiously awaiting the time to leave. You’re confused; why was he so keen on leaving and so fastly – he’d barely been here a handful of hours. Did you misunderstand his intentions? 

“What do you…?” You ask, you rub your eyes while you sit up, using the large coat as a cover once you feel chilly Snezhnayan air hit your sensitive skin. It’s then that you can finally look at the many bags and boxes that litter the floor, and the almost empty room you laid in. All of your belongings seemed to have been packed away, almost nothing remained other than old family portraits and gifts from your parents from across the years. 

“Huh?” The sight of your room packed into boxes was enough to wake you up, you instinctively try to stand up but a firm hand keeps you in place; you look up and see Ajax looking down at you. Your eyes meet and a chill goes up your spine at the look in his, they look eerily empty. You barely feel the coat slip from your shoulders, too focused on the feeling of his fingers against your forearm and the fact he, as a soldier, could easily overpower you if he wished.

“You’re still sleepy, aren’t you?” He asks, the muscles on his arm flex slightly as he speaks to you - he sounds disappointed as he continues interrogating you, “Do you really not remember?”

You shake your head, trying to wrack your brain for any indications of what he could be referring to; you remember the news about your parents and what happened after, but moving out? You have no memory of such a thing being even discussed, lest he meant —

“You agreed to marry me,” he says, as if reading your mind, your arm is finally set free as he adjusts the gloves on his hands, “and as my wife, you’ll be living with me from now on; I assumed you wouldn’t want to stay… here for much longer, considering everything.”

“Marry you…?” You echo as you watch him parade around your room, sharp eyes taking in what was left of your belongings on display. You vaguely remember his proposal during the first half of your conversation, something about how it’d serve as an obstacle for the arranged marriage – after all, it’s not as if the wife of a Fatui Harbinger’s marriage could be easily questioned or objected to. You had agreed almost immediately, even if you had your doubts about the reasoning behind the arrangement, you’d rather marry someone you knew than a stranger.

You wished you’d thought things through better, waited a bit longer before giving your answer. Clearly Ajax had made up his mind but now, after the shock of the news began to wear off, you felt like you owed your parents and yourself a discussion. Even if you felt betrayed, like their decision degraded you to an object instead of their daughter, you wanted to head their side; if only to get closure for your own aching heart.

Instead of answering you, Ajax turns around to meet your eyes. His eyes had always had the ability to suck you in like a void, they’re never clear - always muddy, like there was a side of himself he hid from you; you could never find your reflection on them. It took you a while to get used to them, to their empty, numb look that sent chills down your spine all those years ago.

The room feels small as you both look at each other, you sit on the bed naked and he stands in front of the door as if he were trapping you in, it’s silent and intimate and it makes your skin crawl. His expression is one you can’t read, maybe all those years in the Fatui had taught him how to make his enemies cower thanks to his presence alone, because the harder you tried to understand what his gaze meant, the less you felt you knew about him.

“Yes, you said you’d marry me.” He states and, even if it wasn't phrased as such, it felt more like an order than a recalling of events. 

“I know,” you mumble, “and I… I like you, Ajax, I really do, and I’d love to be with you, but… but  I can’t run away from this without hearing them out, you know?”

“You said you loved me.” His expression changes into a frown; Had you lied to him? 

He probably sounds childish, his sentences short and repetitive like that of a toddler throwing a tantrum, but the truth was he simply couldn’t believe that you’d even hesitate to marry him; his brain completely short-circuited as he tries to understand why on Earth you’d ever think of giving anybody a chance when you had him.

“I mean, I-I do,” your cheeks feel hot as you’re quick to answer, at least you think you love him, “but… mom and dad wouldn’t just do this without a reason and you know that. I can’t just leave and never see them again without their explanation, even if it’s bad… I need some sort of closure; I can’t accept they’d just do this to me for no reason.”

“As if that changed anything, they gave your hand away for Mora, my love” He retorts, completely bewildered at your words; they’d tried to give you away to some lowlife, they hadn’t consulted you, they were going to spring it up on you one day and expect you to get over it the next, “Does a reason even matter?” 

“It does, at least I… I think it does,” you look down at yourself and notice droplets falling down against the coat, staining the heavy leather with your sorrow, you were crying and hadn’t even realized it, “I don’t want to hate them… I don’t want them to hate me.”

He goes quiet when he catches sight of your tears. He freezes, his chest tightens and he feels himself grow dizzy – it’s the same foreign feeling he got when he first heard of the engagement, he feels his knees buckle under his weight and himself sway with every step he takes in your direction. They were beautiful, your tears, so delicate and clear, they shone like crystals when the soft afternoon light came through the window just right; he wishes he could collect them in his palm and weave a necklace to keep with himself, a reminder of your fragile heart he desperately needed to protect. 

You looked so vulnerable, naked and crying, covered only by his coat. It was an intoxicating sight, he wished he could take a photograph and engrave it on his eyelids so every time he blinked he’d see this scene play out. You broke so beautifully, it was haunting to hear your voice break into sobs and wails as you mourned the life you thought you had, but it sounded beautiful to his ears nonetheless. It makes him feel insane, it was taking too much self-control from his part not to jump on you.

He sits down once more next to you, shaking limbs trapping you in his arms as he rubbed your back softly. As you cried uncontrollably, he found his cheeks hurting from the large grin on his face; it couldn’t be helped, no matter how much he tried to will it away, the joy he felt as he saw you cry was too much for him to hide.

“It’s okay,” he makes no effort to quell your fears, instead he chooses vague words of comfort to let it fester in your heart, “you won’t need to see them ever again, you’ll have me instead.”

He feels you hiccup, too deep in your own despair to formulate words. Your shaking body clings to his, you felt so scared and alone; How were you supposed to accept such a cruel, unforgiving truth? What could you possibly do to ease the pain in your heart as you thought about your parents and siblings, who had so easily given you away to a stranger. They felt so far away from you, it felt as if your whole life had been a long dream, nothing but a fantasy you were unaware could break any second, leaving you afraid and confused as you awakened to a reality you could have never seen coming.

“Come, I’ll help you get dressed,” Ajax helps you up as he speaks, essentially forcing you to face reality and displace the fogginess in your mind, he’s gentle as he makes his way with you to your closet - you vaguely note that it was still full, unlike the rest of your room it seemed he hadn’t touched it save for a few drawers here and there -, “the sooner you get ready,” he keeps an arm around you while he goes through the rack of your clothes, making sure you stay close to him, “the sooner we can get out of here.”

You nod, your head hurts but you can’t seem to stop the tears. 

Maybe he was right, maybe it was a bad idea for you to talk to them; there was truly no excuse, was there? You doubted anything they’d say would take the feeling of betrayal away, they had treated you like an object, completely forfeiting your own personhood and giving you away to a stranger for Mora. No matter how desperately you wanted to understand what they’d done and why they’d done it, the more your head and heart hurt – it was such a cruel, heartless thing to do, to throw away your own blood to whoever bid the highest for them.

You can’t even muster the strength to facilitate the Harbinger’s task of dressing you, your whole body felt heavy as he made sure to layer on your clothes, it was near impossible for you to even stand up by yourself without your legs swaying and your knees buckling under your weight. It’s only due to the ginger’s persistence and strength that you don’t collapse.

By the time you’re ready and boarding the carriage, you’re tired and too drunk in your own misery, to question why, even as it neared nighttime, your parents nor your siblings hadn’t come home yet. Not that you cared, at least not right now, seeing them was the last thing you wanted to do.

The ride home is peaceful, you’d fallen asleep early on and laid beside Childe as he caressed your sleeping cheek and gazed out the window. Your head laid on his lap, broad thighs becoming a make-shift pillow for the ride, a blanket covering your body to keep you warm while you both made your way to his residence in the capital through the cold night.

Bored, deep blue eyes mindlessly gaze at the scenery passing by, his thoughts too jumbled together for him to admire the scenery. His thoughts stray back to your mother’s horrified face as she walked in on you together in bed earlier, he chuckles to himself as he recalls the screech she let out; it felt nice to see her so uncomfortable, but it wasn’t nice enough he’d forgive her for what she’d tried to do to you; Separate you from him.

“Ajax?” She finally gasps out, her hand points at him in an accusatory manner, “What… what is going on?” 

When did that boy come back? He’d been gone for years, the last she remembered him was as a young teenager going off to join the Fatui; what was he doing in bed with you? You hadn’t mentioned him once during all these years, she had thought you’d long since forgotten about him. So why on Earth was he laying in bed with you - naked? Had he pressured you to do so? You two had such a close relationship, there was no way you wouldn’t have mentioned him to her if you two were dating - her mind was racing with a million thoughts and all of them left her worried and confused. It’s clear she’s not doing well, her breaths are visibly unsteady, her chest rising and falling unevenly while she audibly gasped for air, she’s shaking so hard you can see her knees wobble as she tries to steady herself against the doorframe; this wasn’t something she could have ever seen in coming. 

Ajax couldn’t care less, the whole spectacle was boring and wholly unnecessary; she wouldn’t get to see you ever again, she should be grateful he hadn’t simply taken you home with him the minute he saw you. 

“I came back for my beloved,” he answers carelessly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, he makes a vague gesture towards your sleeping form as if to make the point clearer, “can’t have a wedding without a bride, after all.”

“Wedding? You and her… are getting married?” 

“Yes, is it that hard to understand? Come on, ma’am, everyone could see that she and I were going to get married,” he scoffs, “you said so yourself multiple times.”

“But,” she looks visibly confused, “that was back when you two were together everyday, Ajax… you haven’t seen each other in years. You can’t seriously think that you’re getting married because you both said so when you were children.”

The audacity this woman had was near parody, clearly she knew nothing about you nor your life and it made him feel sick. She had the privilege to be a constant part of your life during all those years he was away and yet she clearly spent them doing Archons’ knows what, he was growing visibly angry the more she spoke.

“We’ve known each other long enough,” he shoots her a glare, “and I’ve known my whole life I’d marry her, whether we’ve been seeing each other everyday or not - we’re getting married and that’s final.”

“Did she agree to this?” Your mother asks, her voice rising until it was near a squeak.

“Of course she agreed to marry me!” He snaps, his tone venomous; Could she just shut the hell up already?

“Then why didn’t she mention it to her father nor myself?”

“Because we agreed to get married today,” he puts your sleeping body aside, slowly standing up and tying a loose blanket around his hips, “and neither of you were here.”

“Today?” She echos, “You came back today and asked her to marry you?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I did,” he shoots her a glance as he picks up his clothes, slowly putting them on as he goes on, “and she said yes, I think you get the point by now.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” she mumbled to herself, she made her way inside the room, careful as to not wake you up, “there’s no way she was serious about marrying you. You… you’re practically a stranger to all of us at this point, Ajax.”

His pants were on at this point, his blouse now balled into his fist as he tried to control his annoyance. This was starting to get pathetic on her end.

“I will have you know,” he interrupts her, turning around to make eye contact with the woman once more to make his point clear, “that not only have we been in constant communication since I left, she agreed quite happily to the proposal - I don’t understand what exactly is not clicking, ma’am.”

“Of course she’d agree,” she exclaims, her hands flying up in desperation as she continues, “she has liked you all her life; but were you two dating until this point? What even was the relationship between you two; how am I supposed to support her getting engaged with a man we haven’t seen or heard from in years. Never once did she mention you, Ajax, she never spoke of a partner much less a marriage, all her life she’s made it clear that’s one of the least of her concerns and you want me to believe her mind changed in one day because you came and had sex with her? You’re insane if you think I’ll allow it.”

He feels himself freeze, most of what she’s said up until now feels like background noise the moment he finishes processing her words. You never mentioned him to your parents? He knew you hadn’t mentioned the letters, not all of them at least - he’s asked you not to, but never once in the almost eight years since he left had you mentioned him - not even as a potential suitor nor as a lover. That hag is lying, right? There’s no way you’d do this to him, right? You loved him, you said you did when he was fucking you just minutes ago, you wouldn’t lie to him, no.

“Listen to me, I don’t care if you want to get married to her - but there’s an order to how things are done,” your mother shoots your sleeping form a glance, “you could have at least let us know beforehand you’d be coming, you… you should have spoken to us; you know we would have given you our blessing if you’d waited a bit longer. This is the first time you’ve seen each other in years, emotions are running high - at least give her some more time to think this through, you already bedded her… don’t make this harder on her - she was beginning to move on, she’d been planning to move and now you’re telling me she’s throwing it all away? For a man she’s barely seen in years no less.”

“You’re… you’re wrong.” He mumbles under his breath, “You’re wrong, we both love each other.”

“Listen to me,” had your mother’s voice always been so grating to the ear, “she might have said yes to you now but how do you know she won’t regret it? When did you ask her? Today, the same day you come for the first time to see her? You think that under all the emotions that’ll come up seeing you again she’ll be thinking rationally? Was this even a conversation you both had previously, Ajax? How are you so sure she loves you like a wife and not just as a friend?”

His movements slow down, his hands feel heavy as he buttons up his shirt; can she just shut up? What did she think she was doing, lying to get him out of the way? Insinuating you’d ever regret him, what a joke - you needed him to survive.

“I’m saying this not just as a parent but as a wife, you can’t rush into these things, you can’t spring the question up suddenly and not take the time to consider it properly! You… you immediately had sex with her and you want me to believe this is out of love and not physical attraction? You couldn’t even wait for her father and I to get home. You’re telling me that both of you are completely sure of what you’re doing, you want me to believe that? I’m not letting my daughter make such a rash decision in a day -”

“So what if it was in only a day, huh? You’re just looking for any excuse to oppose us getting together,” he’s quick to interrupt her, “because you are trying to get her to marry some old fuck for some quick mora.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“You think I don’t know, huh? You don’t care about her at all, do you? Lying to me that she’d never mention me, as if you didn’t know we were together all this time… acting like you care about her when there’s some fucking bitch downstairs you sold her off to.”

“What… What's this about selling my daughter?” “Don’t act stupid on me,” he doesn’t even bother buttoning the rest of his shirt before he’s pushing your mother out of the room and following her out the door, “I tried to be civil, but I’m getting really damn tired of you criticizing us and you keep on lying.”

She hits her back against the wall, she yelps in surprise but the Harbinger makes no acknowledgement of any discomfort he may be causing. Instead, gloved hands shoot up and take hold of her shoulders as he continues going at her; there’s a crazed look in his eyes as he keeps on speaking, getting progressively annoyed the longer the conversation went on.

“We – I, we never sold her off,” your mother pants, she looks up at him in confusion and fear, “who do you take us for?”

“I have the records,” he pushes her down, “there’s no use in lying to me, ma’am – I know everything I need to know.”

“You’re crazy,” she spits out, “you’re fucking crazy… I don’t what the fuck happened to you, but I’m sure as hell now that you are absolutely not getting anywhere near my daughter!”

“Shut up!” He picks her up and throws her against the wall, there’s a loud thud as her body slowly sinks into the ground, he corners her with his body, “Shut the fuck up, you hag.”

“Let go!” Tears are streaming down her eyes as she pleads,“Help, someone help! Please, upstairs… come upstairs now!”

“Listen here,” his eyes are wide open, his posture threatening as he leans over her shaking body, he’s rough in his handling of her and he knows it but chooses not to care, “she said she’d marry me, she said she loves me, she said so and so it is. There’s no debate, got it? If I want to fuck her two minutes after seeing her, I do so, and if I want to marry her after not seeing her for years, I do so. We don’t need a lying bitch getting in our way, you understand that, right? I don’t need you taking her away from me to give her to someone else. She was mine before I left, she was mine when I left, she’s mine right now, and she’ll be mine as long as I’m alive, so you either shut up and accept it or I’ll get rid of you and your fucking mistake of a family.”

“Listen here,” his eyes are wide open, his posture threatening as he leans over her shaking body, he’s rough in his handling of her and he knows it but chooses not to care, “she said she’d marry me, she said she loves me, she said so and so it is. There’s no debate, got it? If I want to fuck her two minutes after seeing her, I do so, and if I want to marry her after not seeing her for years, I do so. We don’t need a lying bitch getting in our way, you understand that, right? I don’t need you taking her away from me to give her to someone else. She was mine before I left, she was mine when I left, she’s mine right now, and she’ll be mine as long as I’m alive, so you either shut up and accept it or I’ll get rid of you and your fucking mistake of a family.”

“Get off of her!” 

Oh, your father was here.

It’s strange to think that at some point, Ajax would have considered him something akin to a second father - especially now as his stomach filled itself with venomous rage at the mere sight of the older man.

“I said get off,” he runs towards the younger soldier, at an impressive speed for a man his age, his hands lunge forward as if to tackle him but it takes one hydro blade’s slash for him to stop dead in his tracks, “I… what do you want?”

Your father looks visibly worried as the ginger brands his weapon, the sight of an unfamiliar vision user threatening your spouse is one that would make anyone think twice before taking their next step. 

“Do you seriously not recognize me?” Tartaglia laughs incredulously, “Come on, sir… I was only gone for a couple of years.”

“Ajax?” Your mother nods her head frantically as your father finally puts a name to the face of the strange man in his house, “What the hell are you doing, boy?”

“He’s going on about,” your mother gasps for air, “marrying her and - and, us selling her or something!” The awkward position she found herself in made it hard for her to comfortably speak, even so, she made sure to spit it out as quickly as possible. Her chest is heaving while she desperately tries to make your father understand the absurdity of the situation, the hydro blade in his hand was simply too close to her skin for her comfort - the power of Harbinger was nothing to scoff at and she wanted nothing more than to never find herself in this position ever again.

“We can talk this out,” your father’s hands shake as he tries to slowly approach the ginger, “there’s clearly been a misunderstanding…”

“There has been no misunderstanding, sir,” he laughs, “I know damn well what I saw and what I heard.”

“We would never -” “Yes, you would!” He nearly shouts, but he restrains himself - if only because you’re still sleeping nearby, his whole body shakes as he tries to control the volume of his voice, “And I’m getting really fucking tired of you acting like you wouldn’t, you know? Just admit it and maybe, just maybe, we can work things out.”

“We would never hurt our daughter like that, Ajax,” the older man tries to explain, “please, understand that… let my wife go and we can talk this out properly, please.”

“Talk it out?” Ajax looks at him incredulously, “There’s nothing to talk about if you won’t admit to your mistakes, sir.” “B-but we didn’t -”

“Shut up!” His blue eyes are wide open, the crazed look in them was enough to send a chill down a grown man’s body. Why couldn’t they just admit to trying to separate the both of you? Why were they so desperate to lie? He knows what he heard, he knows they were trying to ruin his chances to be with you. They were clearly trying to get in his way, they had to be conspiring against the two of you - there was no other reason as to why you’d been so hesitant to agree to his proposal, why you’d been scared to see the truth; they were brainwashing you into forgetting him, doubting him. They had to have known he’d come back, there was no way he wouldn’t have, it’d take death itself for him to give up on you.

He couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t stand to listen to your parents’ pathetic attempts at covering up their lies.

Your mother’s words die in her throat as he knocks her out with a single blow, it’s by sheer luck the impact against her skull hadn’t straight up killed her. Your father doesn’t even get to react, not even a pip can be mumbled, before Tartaglia is making his way towards him at rapid speeds, the young man’s strength was enough to tackle him down. The Fatui soldier makes sure to use as much strength as possible, all in an attempt to get his opponent to knock his head against something and pass out with as little fuss as possible. 

It’s almost pathetic how quickly he’d taken both of them down, in just a few minutes the couple was knocked out cold - not yet dead nor mortally injured but not awake, no longer able to annoy Ajax or disturb you.

It’s almost pathetic how quickly he’d taken both of them down, in just a few minutes the couple was knocked out cold, both lying motionless on the ground, their limbs sprawled awkwardly; not yet dead but no longer able to annoy Ajax or disturb you, much to the former’s delight.

Footsteps could be heard from the first floor as the guests downstairs started getting worried, standing up and roaming around calling your parents’ names - too polite to dare wander into the house but too anxious about their absence to stay completely still, the thick wooden floors muffled the sounds but not enough that the commotion upstairs couldn’t be heard. One of the many benefits of Snezhnayan architecture was the isolation you could achieve in a big enough house, he’ll keep it in mind when he picks a house to start a family with you in.

Due to your house’s size, Ajax wouldn’t have to worry too much about Andrei or his parents hearing too much, meaning he’d be able to keep the element of surprise.

The Vision user knew he’d have to avoid the dining room, the place where the guests currently found themselves, lest he lose control and kill his former subordinate the minute he laid eyes on him, however his reasoning was anything but noble; Tartaglia simply wasn’t too keen on the idea of letting him get away with his crimes just yet. 

To him, death would be too soft a punishment, it would have to be a fate worse than, not just for Andrei but every single person who was involved in the scheme.

His gloved hands make their way to check their pulses, both weak but still there - good. 

With a satisfied huff he makes his way down the hall and staircase, quick to dismiss his signature hydro blades as he purposely makes his presence known with loud, rhythmic footsteps any soldier who’d served under him would recognize.

Years of hanging out under this very roof meant Ajax knew exactly where your back entrance was, which meant that he could enjoy instilling a sense of dread into the people downstairs without risking being found.

With a lazy smirk, Ajax purposely lets a couple of framed pictures and paintings fall from the wall, his hand tracing the walls and making sure to create as much sound as possible. As he approaches the dining room, he can hear the confused, hushed whispers as someone tries to peek into the hallway but, by the time the young man finally reaches the door to look around, Ajax has long since exited the house as he makes his way to recall the soldiers he’d stationed around the neighborhood.

With a wave of his hand soldiers seemingly appeared from thin air, emerging from bushes and rounding dark corners, soon the Harbinger is surrounded by men awaiting his orders.

“Is the Galkin residency ready?” He asks, making direct eye contact with a shorter soldier.

“Yes, sir.” The man nods.

“Good,” he combs a hand through his hair as he looks at your childhood home, “there’s a knocked out couple on the second floor, the rest are in the dining room.”

“Yes, sir.” A chorus of voices respond, mechanically a group of the soldiers turn around and march into the house.

“Keep it down, will you? If they scream, knock them out,” he adds half-heartedly, “she’s sleeping, so don’t wake her up.”

The leader of the group nods enthusiastically, making sure to echo the sentiment to his men before making their way inside the house.

As their operation takes place, Tartaglia turns back around to address his remaining companions; “Make sure to make it look as realistic as possible, we need the charges to stick.”

“Yes, sir.”

He asks to see the boxes full of fabricated evidence one last time. There are at least six large boxes filled to the brim, but he focuses on one. The one that holds the most damning evidence for the most serious crime anyone could commit in the land of Cryo; Treason against the Tsaritsa. Cold, blue eyes look with a gleeful glint at the falsified letters, penned to look exactly like your family members’ handwriting, there’s more; photographs, bank records, falsified shipment records, and more.

He gives one final nod, officially sealing everyone’s fates. From this moment onwards, your family and the Galkin’s would be charged with treason against the Tsaritsa and conspiracy to overthrow the Fatui. Sure, many others, perhaps even innocent people, will unjustly be implicated but he’ll make sure to pin this on the worst people he can. He’ll get rid of two birds with one stone while he’s at it.

It takes only a couple of minutes before everyone is being pulled outside of the house and led into carriages. It’s a humiliating sight, the ones who were awake were panicked, some even crying, the ones who had to be subdued needed to be carried by two or more people as they were unceremoniously dragged away.

Ajax purposely hides away, making sure to make a mental note of who was being taken and their condition. Andrei and his father are the only Galkin family members out of the four present who hadn’t been knocked out. Your parents, your eldest sister, and younger brother are knocked out - your elder brother, and your other sister are the only ones awake. There are a couple of other people, their partners, and a few he didn’t recognize immediately. In total, there were 16 people taken from your home.

Tartaglia made a point to only reveal himself as they finally dragged Andrei out, the final person out the house. His hands were bound behind him, a confused look clear in his eyes as he desperately tried to understand what was going on. His green eyes finally make contact with Ajax’s, they widen.

“Sir? What is going on -” He’s cut off by a harsh shove from the soldier walking him, he stumbles.

Ajax almost feels bad at the sight, Andrei was a good man - if only he didn’t try to get with you. He was young, unlike the idea he’d planted into your head, Galkin had only recently turned 27 last month, and he’d been a promising soldier until he was honorably discharged after a failed mission took the lives of most of his troupe. However, if you found out about his closeness in age to yourself, you’d probably not have reacted as poorly - maybe you’d even think about giving the fucker a chance. After all, people like Andrei - honorable young men who sacrificed a part of himself for his nation - were always appealing to the masses. But never as appealing as Ajax was to you, he couldn’t be.

The Harbinger turns around on his heels, not even sparing another glance to the arrested individuals, before making his way inside your house.

It’s filled with strangers, their serious faces evident as they set up the scene - their movements calculated as they did their best to create the image of guilt. Even though there were easily five or more people in every room, the whole place felt eerily empty. In a way, he almost feels as if you two were the only people in the world - you, the sleeping beauty waiting for him to arrive.

There’s a spring in his step as he pushes the door to your room open, his eyes immediately find you buried within his coat. He’s not surprised you had managed to sleep through it all, you’d always been a heavy sleeper even during your youth. 

He ushers a soldier in with a bunch of empty boxes, signaling for her to start packing your things up.

“Wake her up and you’re dead.” He adds while he makes his way towards you, a cheeky smile on his face as he makes himself comfortable next to you.

The soldier nods, making sure to be as quiet as humanly possible as to not anger the man in front of her - at this point, everyone in the house knew that he was not exaggerating when he said such things. When it came to you, the eleventh Fatui Harbinger knew no bounds. She turns around, making sure not to look too much at either of you in fear of upsetting him.

He patiently waits for the woman to finish packing all she could fit in the boxes. By now, he’s cuddling you in his arms, never allowing you the chance to so much as squirm away from him. It’s a suffocating, possessive hold he has on you, like he was scared if he let you go even for a second you’d leave him.

“Good, thank you.” He doesn’t even look at her - too focused gazing lovingly at your sleeping form. She says nothing but bows before leaving, desperate to leave the room as soon as possible.

The minute she closes the door he pulls himself away from you, making sure to not wake you up with any sudden movements - a concern he seemingly hadn’t had before when he’d been tormenting your parents.

He’d done his best to conceal himself but the truth was that the minute he saw you again, he felt himself growing hard again. Your naked body was hidden enough he didn’t feel the need to kick the soldier from before out, but he knew - he knew that beneath it you were still dirty with him, you were bruised from his handling of you, your neck filled with his kisses and bites. Just knowing that was enough for him to get dizzy, as if all the blood that was meant to flow to his brain had been redirected to his dick. His white pants were tented up, it almost hurts from how erect it was - just the memory of you taking him inside had a wet patch forming in his underwear.

“Look at what you do, baby,” he moans, his voice breathy as he pulls his zipper down, slowly freeing his hard-on, “ah… hah, I want to be inside you again.”

Just the cold air hitting his bare cock is enough to send a jolt of electricity down his spine, he just wants to feel you again, it’s all he wants - to be inside you again and to fuck you until all you can think of his your future husband’s cock. He takes your hand, so much smoother than his battle-worn one, and cautiously shoves two of your fingers into his mouth as a make-shift gag. 

He keeps one hand there while the other one slowly caresses his slit, his touch almost a ghost on his skin as he makes sure to tease it until a glob of pre starts to form from how sensitive he already was. He takes a small amount of pre-cum and uses it as lube, making sure to spread it slowly across his tip and down his shaft with long strokes.

He’s trying his best not to bite down on your fingers but it was so hard not to, instead he occupies himself by sucking on them in sync with his hand. 

“Mhm!” He accidentally touches his vein, the thick bump was extra sensitive against the cold air and your scent, his whole body twitches.

He can’t stop his hand from gaining speed and force, the longer he’s here with you the more his hand moves. It just not enough, his hips thrust upwards as he gives into himself, fucking into his balled up hand. His tongue laps at your fingers, his lips wrap tightly around them as he tries not to bite into your flesh; he can’t stop his hand from tightening against his cock.

He continues like this for a while, humping into the air like a bitch in heat, making sure to not cum - he didn’t want this to end too soon, he wanted to continue feeling like this next to you. In your room, a place that smelt so much like you it was overstimulating him, the taste of your lips against his tongue was intoxicating - he didn’t want today to end.

“Hah, mhm…” He chokes against his moan; it’s starting to get too much for him.

It’s then that he makes the mistake of looking over to you. Just the sight is enough for him to cum, it takes just a few strokes for him to finally spill.

“F-Fuck!” He can’t stop the moan that leaves his lips, he takes your fingers out of mouth in fear of hurting you but he refuses to let it go, gripping tightly while he lets himself ride the wave of pleasure he feels.

It takes him a second or two until he finally calms down, his dick growing sensitive as he slows down his strokes until he finally stops. His chest feels heavy as he pants, his heart beating painfully loud - he wonders if maybe you could hear it even in your sleep, a part of him hopes so. His whole body is on fire but he thinks this is the best he’s ever felt, just being near you was enough to make him feel like a God.

“I… I love you,” he pants, his fingers almost leave a dent in your hands from how tightly he’s gripping it, “hah… I love you so, so much…”

Almost a little too much.

[rosedpetal]

Behave is SOOO hot! I can’t help but imagine giving Bucky a taste of his own medicine. Let’s see how he reacts when he’s suddenly too aware of the men thirsting over his wife and maybe a little bratty twist that while his wife doesn’t entertain them, she also doesn’t stop them, bonus if she keeps Bucky at a distance. then bam, he snaps. Filthy jealous/possessive smut. I’m sorry imma see my way out ur work short circuited my brain 😭

girly, he'd be PISSED

Part I | Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: smut.

Minors, do not interact.

To say you were enjoying your little power trip was an understatement.

Dressed in a long gown, with your hair up in the most beautiful bun Bucky's ever seen, a few locks loose to frame your face, and your makeup done by a professional, you were a vision to behold.

Unfortunately, it wasn't for his eyes only.

Being the wife of an Avenger meant dealing with people and fancy events. Most of the time, Bucky accepted the attention with grace, and then moved on with his life.

But on some very rare occurrences, his fans and the press also turned their attention to you.

It wasn't that Bucky wasn't proud of the gorgeous woman by his side — he gave you one of those freaking Darry engagement rings that could only be bought once by person, and married you only half a year later. 'I don't wanna give you any more time that could make you change your mind', were his exact words to you. He was insane about you. You were the love of his life, and he overcame so much to make sure he would be worthy of your love.

He worshipped the ground you walked on. And he wasn't afraid to tell you that.

But just like a man born in his time, Bucky was extremely possessive of his wife.

And he couldn't stand the two photographers flashing their cameras at you and asking you to 'turn around', 'blow a kiss' or 'smile'.

Bucky's mood was changing quickly, as he analyzed every micro expression on their faces as they took pictures of you. Your face, your dress, your fucking curves.

And you were gracefully accepting every little praise, your smile a little too bright for Bucky's liking.

While he tried to detain his thoughts to going for that dark place, were he would bash these assholes' heads on the concrete until they were beyond recognition, he couldn't help but wonder what had triggered such a reckless behavior from you.

Did he do something that riled you up during this week? He remembers unloading the dishwasher the moment you asked for it. Sometimes he forgets his shoes in the middle of the living room, but it surely couldn't be it.

His eyes darkened in realization when he finally figured you out. Letting these men fawn over you like you were a free woman... That was payback.

Bucky was very aware of your territorial nature when it came to him. For fucks sake, you let the whole world know when you were pissed at another woman for eye fucking him just by the way your eyebrows furrowed and your lips pressed in a thin line, — which once Thor made the mistake of pointing to, and the mean mug you gave the Asgardian still haunted his dreams to this day.

So, Bucky teased you for it. It was okay, right? It was just light banter. You couldn't be possibly punishing him for such a petty reason right the fuck now?

His mind took a quick turn to all the life choices he made that had lead to this exact moment. You giggling and tossing your hair while other men undressed you with their eyes.

It doesn't matter that they were simply doing their jobs. He could see how long they were taking to photograph you when... Well, Bucky was the famous one.

The moment one of the photographers' hands went for you, Bucky instantly reacted, putting himself between you and the fucking moron that seemed to conveniently forget that you were a married woman and your husband was right there.

"Don't you dare touch my wife. Keep running your fucking mouth and taking your fucking pictures and I'll show you why they used to call me Winter Soldier." Bucky's voice was low and lacking any emotion, his vibranium hand wrapped tightly around the dude's wrist.

Bucky's threat wasn't directed at you, but it went straight to your core. You felt all warm and fuzzy inside as he went all alpha mode.

The two guys quickly excused themselves after that, and you let out a light chuckle.

"Thank God, they finally left. I was worried for a second they were gonna blind me with- hey, what are you doing? Bucky, what the fuck?" You whispered as he practically dragged you back to the waiting car, quickly sending a text to Sam to let him know you two were leaving early.

He opened the door for you and you quickly scooped inside, knowing your husband was mad. Bucky sat next to you and told the driver to roll up the partition wall.

"Bucky, talk to me!" You finally snapped, annoyed. "Why are we leaving early?"

"Because-" Bucky turned to you, interrupting himself when he noted how loud he was being, lowering his voice on the next words, and pointing his index finger to your face, eyes boring into yours. "Because you decided to piss me the hell off tonight, and I'm gonna have to teach you how properly a married woman should behave."

Your eyes widened in indignation as you threw your bag in the couch. "Excuse me? How properly I should what? I'm sorry to inform you, honey, but this is the 21st fucking century, not the damn 40s."

Bucky chuckled, humorlessly. The audacity of you. To twirl your hair locks while smiling at other men flirting with you openly, and now pretend he was the bad guy for reprimanding you.

"You're gonna keep your mouth shut until we get home, and if you so much as try to be cute with me, I promise that what I have in store for you is gonna turn ten times worse."

You raised your eyebrow. Maybe you were looking for trouble today, but you sure as hell weren't about to let Bucky undermine you over his bruised ego.

"What are you now, a caveman? Is your masculinity so fragile that you can't stand the fact that I can be lusted after too? When you smirk at me across the room while women are flaunting themselves to you, you think you're the only one entitled to make me feel insecure, as if you're a goddamn prize?"

"Y/N-"

"No, please, enlighten me on why the hell you think you can joke with your friends about my possessiveness and act exactly the same, then have the guts to belittle me for it!"

"Dollface-"

"You know what? I was only posing-"

"Goddamnit, will you shut up?" Bucky snapped. "I don't smirk at you across the room to show off and make you jealous, I do it because I thought it was our thing! Some delusional girl will come to me, I'll playfully smile at you because we both joke on how ridiculous they are! I'm not trying to make you insecure, you insane little thing, I think it's cute how you react every time, and how you never direct your anger at me. And by the way, I never tossed or twirled my hair for any woman, or giggled, just to spite you!"

You clenched your fists. No. Even if he was right (which he wasn't), you couldn't just give in and apologize right now. You had reasons to be pissed, you were tired of being teased, as if you were the only one in the relationship that was overly jealous. You knew your words should've been measured, but right now, you couldn't care less. You crossed your arms, voice neutral as you gave him the fatal blow:

"You know what I think, James? I think you're not enough of a man, and what I just did broke your little illusion of power. That's what got your lady panties in a twist."

Bucky's jaw clenched, a flash of anger coursing through his veins. "What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"Are you deaf?"

Two seconds of you staring at him with your coy little act, he was fuming and he practically lunged at you. You squealed and giggled when he pushed you to lay on your back in the leather seat of the limo, breathless and flustered.

"You little minx. You're about to get spanked in the back of a limo like the whore you are." Bucky hissed in your ear, maneuvering you so you were laying on your stomach. He impatiently raised the long skirts of your dress, not even giving you time to prepare for the series of blows he delivered to your poor ass.

Your giggles quickly stopped, and they turned to whimpers.

"C'mon, brat, tell me I'm not a man now." He nibbled your earlobe, pressing his chest against your back. "I dare you. Go ahead, baby. I'm waiting."

Your ass had his fingerprints now, a beautiful shade of red in them. More beautiful than the blush on your cheeks. Your lip was quivering when he was done, finally showing mercy on your rear. You sighed in relief and he gave you a wolfish grin, his hand sliding between your thighs and collecting your arousal, gently spreading it on your folds, his voice low and full of purpose:

"We're just getting started, baby girl."

"This is not fair." You whined, your words dying down when his index and middle finger entered you, opening you up for him. You bit your hand when curled his digits, brushing against your spongy spot.

"What's not fair? Do you want me to stop?" Bucky teased, kissing your neck.

It was getting hot inside the limo, with your gown and your husband crowding you against the leather seats. The sweat was quickly forming in your skin, and it was a bit uncomfortable, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell him to stop.

"No... I just-"

"I just-" Bucky mocked you, clicking his tongue. "Can't even speak anymore?"

"It's hot." You complained, in a whiny tone.

Bucky sighed, sitting up to turn the air conditioner on, the cold breeze welcomed to you both. His fingers never left your pussy, and he scissored you hard, smirking at how you tried to keep it down so the poor driver wouldn't hear you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand from you, pulling your head back by your hair and shoving his slick digits on your mouth, which you eagerly licked clean. Bucky undid his slacks, groaning in relief when he freed his rock hard length from the constricting fabric. He pulled you to his lap, your back to his chest, your thighs spread over his.

"Think you can ride me without hitting your head in the ceiling?" He whispered on your ear as you grabbed his cock and aligned him at your entrance.

"Hmmm... Probably no." You looked up.

"Then stay still while Daddy fucks you."

Your mouth hung open when he slammed into you, harder than you expected, without giving you time to get used to his thickness. He shoved his tie on your mouth to muffle your moans, one hand on your hip and the other squeezing your breast, while he pistoned his hips up.

You didn't even make a sound.

The sound of his balls slapping against your clit and the shameful, wet noise of your pussy being rammed were enough.

"See why I'm so obsessed with you? Why I can't stand you being lusted after? It's cause the thought of someone else having this pussy makes me wanna rip my fucking hair out, baby." Bucky murmured in your ear, his movements not easing down, not faltering for a second. "I know I have no leg to stand on, acting jealous and possessive of you, but fuck if I'm taking a single risk of losing you, of losing this."

Your eyes rolled back, your walls clamping down violently on your husband's cock, and you spasmed above him, reaching your apex.

With a groan that made you blush, Bucky came in hot spurts, filling you up with his load.

His chest was rising and falling as if he ran a marathon, and he gently patted your thigh. "C'mon baby, pull yourself together. We just got home. I'm not done with you yet."

[casuallyimagining]

Set Me Free || myg (teaser)

Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: TBD (at least 10k. unclear if this is a one-shot or not) Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff, more to be added Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), drinking, soulmate breakup, more to be added

Notes: I don't really know when I might be posting this. I'm still in the process of writing it, but it feels about halfwayish done, and I'm excited about it, so I wanted to share!

teaser under the cut

“Maybe this way of life isn’t for everyone. Maybe not everyone wants their whole existence to be predetermined at birth. Maybe not everyone wants the universe to choose who they’re supposed to be with and how they’re supposed to live.”

His words stung, and until then, you weren’t quite sure why. Rejection. Not just of how you lived, and who he was, and how things had always been. But of you. Yoongi was your familiar, you were destined to be together in some way since you were toddlers and the bond gem first appeared. Not all witches and familiars were in romantic relationships–your parents were, sure, and Yoongi’s parents–but plenty of them had other partners, lives separate from each other. Platonic soulmates navigating the world together.

Until a few months before, you’d been content with that. There was no doubt you’d been best friends from the jump. You’d been practically inseparable through school. Then, months before, he’d kissed you at the winter market. Right there in the park, under the aurora. Before that, you hadn’t thought of him as any more than your best friend. But the kiss had unlocked something inside you. And now…

Now he wanted you gone. 

“You want to be free that badly?” By some miracle, your voice sounded positively venomous, even though you felt like you could crumble at any moment. “Fine.”

“Wh-”

The chain around your wrist snapped easily when you wrapped your fingers around it. The incantation meant to keep the bond gem safe became meaningless as soon as you wanted it gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been without it around your wrist. You loved it, with its gem of swirling, inky black and navy blue. It reminded you so much of Yoongi, deep and calm and unwavering. 

Without a word, you tossed the bracelet to the ground. Yoongi’s eyes widened as it hit and the jewel cracked. For good measure, you stepped on it, crushed it into dust. There was a pitiful swirl of blue magic that puffed up from the dirt. When you moved your foot, there was nothing left of the bond gem or its chain.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi’s eyes were glassy when you finally looked at him. He looked almost as crushed as you felt. “What the fuck?”

“You’re free.” And this time, you couldn’t hide your sadness behind your anger. 

I am very curious to know your thoughts on this. I'm so fucking excited to post. stupid grad school is getting in the way of me being able to devote 100% of my time to it, but god I'm trying so hard to get it done.

[goatunderthebridge]

Everyone knew that Tendou ran cold. He'd stick his hands up the other boys' shirts when they weren't being careful, chilling them to the core as he laughed. He'd even managed to convince Goshiki for a couple months that he was cold because he was a lizard person, needing to warm in the sun lest he freeze completely and die. When Shirabu saw Goshiki worry about Tendou in the winter, he knew it was time to explain that that was absolutely not the case. And it was the truth that Tendou didn't mind being cold; he had never considered himself the proper, warm kind of person anyway so what difference did it make that his body temperature acted the same way?

That was until he felt how warm Ushijima's hands were and how he flinched every time they touched.

From that moment on, Tendou began to take precautions against his coldness. He took boiling hot showers, drank hot beverages as much as he could, ate the spiciest foods, and began to wear gloves.

Ushijima didn't understand the changes. He didn't like the taste of the foods on Tendou's tongue when they kissed and he missed feeling the calluses on his hands. He frowned as Tendou grabbed his hand with his gloved one, swinging their arms once enjoined.

He notices the frown on Ushijima's face and leans closer to him. "Eh? What's wrong?"

Ushijima squeezes his gloves hand, replying, "I do not like these gloves."

Tendou hums, pulling his hand back. He hadn't really thought about how Ushijima would react to the material of the gloves. Maybe these ones were too irritable for him? He made a mental note to buy a softer pair that Ushijima would prefer.

"Sorry bud, I'll get a new pair later today-"

Ushijima grabs his hand again. Tendou's eyes widen in surprise as he watches Ushijima pull the glove off his hand and intertwine their fingers, immediately pocketing the glove before Tendou can protest.

"Better." Ushijima asserts, nodding to himself.

Tendou blinks rapidly, attempting to pull his hand back despite enjoying how warm Ushijima's hand was. Ushijima holds on though, refusing to let go and watches curiously as Tendou pulls their hands towards him.

"No, bud, you don't have to hold my hands when they're so cold! You're gonna turn into ice-"

Ushijima furrows his brows, "I do not think that is possible."

Tendou almost laughs but remains strong, adamant to make Ushijima understand. "No, no, I mean I don't want to make you feel cold."

Ushijima seems to think about this for a second. Tendou takes that as confirmation that he is indeed too cold for him and tries to pull his hand back. But Ushijima tightens his grip and pulls their enjoined hands back towards him.

"I have never been cold," Ushijima mumbles, running his other hand's thumb across Tendou's knuckles and sending a bloom of warmth across them, "I like that you cool me down."

With that, Ushijima raises their hands to his lips, pressing them firmly against the back of Tendou's hand. He leaves a warm imprint on it that Tendou relishes, squeezing his hand in response.

"I like that you warm me up." He replies before leaning fully into Ushijima and pressing their lips softly together, cold melting into warmth.

Tendou had almost forgotten that Ushijima ran hot. But it shouldn't have come as a surprise that, when it came to the two of them, they often found that what they had missed all of their lives could always be found in the other.

[yelena-bellova]

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: Violent Innocence

Plot: A separated Joel and Y/n work different angles to try and best David and his men.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, implied attempted SA, insinuated abuse, c*nnibalism, knives, guns, blood, wounds, language, loss of a child, ptsd, (16+)

A/N: This was a hard, hard chapter to get through, guys. If the quality of my writing isn’t up to its regular standard, it’s because it was truly emotionally taxing to write. I’ve also left out descriptions of certain events/discoveries/dialogue in an effort to keep the 16+ rating.

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist who does not have their age/range in their bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

I advise everyone to take a breather, or just skip to the end of the chapter, if it’s too much to handle. Ep.8 was traumatizing and I don’t fault anyone for not wanting to put themselves through it again. I’m so looking forward to finishing out this series with y’all and the finale tonight. Thank you thank you thank you for your constant support and encouragement ☀️

——————

Unlike the movies, where the main character on the verge of death is miraculously returned to the living, Joel did not wake with a start. Still lost in the haze of blood loss, hunger and medicinal side effects, his eyes hurt to open. He registered the room, remembering being dragged down a flight of stairs and falling into a mattress.

One memory dripped down before the flood unleashed.

Ellie and Y/n.

Stay awake.

Men coming.

Leading them away.

Kill them.

The footsteps on the floor above startled Joel, the ticking clock and the realization that Ellie and Y/n were gone motivated him to roll off the bed. He stifled a groan, hurrying to his feet, clutching the knife that Ellie had placed in his palm. He wobbled his way to the rear of the room, falling against a water heater that could conceal him.

Joel listened for the footsteps over the blood pounding in his ears.

They crept through the room.

He waited…until the man finally passed the heater.

Joel couldn’t have possibly known that it was the same man who, five minutes before, had clubbed Y/n and ordered David’s men to shoot her and Ellie. But he slashed his knife through him as if he’d watched it happen.

After wrestling the man to the ground and assuring that he was dead, Joel rolled off him, wheezing for breath. He tried to gather his thoughts on his back. There were more men, all looking for him, Y/n and Ellie. They weren’t back yet, which meant they’d either been kidnapped or killed. Most likely kidnapped, so long as Ellie’s bite wound hadn’t been visible. Tortured, maybe, or worse.

Joel inhaled as deep as he could and began to drag his body across the floor towards the stairs. Towards his girls.

—————————

Y/n leaned her head back against the concrete wall, wondering why the fuck there was a cage inside a kitchen.

She’d carried Ellie into it, the butt of David’s follower’s rifles pressing into her back as they forced her in. They’d both been stripped of their winter coats and weapons. She had yet to get any answers as to why they wanted them there or what they were planning to do to them. Ellie hadn’t woken up, leaving Y/n on her own to try every conceivable possibility to escape. None had succeeded.

David entered then, finally gracing Y/n with his holy presence. He pulled up a seat across from the cage, smiling politely.

“How is she?”

Y/n turned her head, indignant at the fact that David’s men had shot at them, caused Ellie’s injuries, and yet he had the nerve to inquire about her wellbeing.

David tried a different approach, “I know this all must be a bit strange…”

Y/n bristled, “I lived in Texas, I’ve seen a lot weird shit, but, uh,” Y/n took a look at her surroundings, “Yeah, a jail cell next to a butcher’s block is an unusual feature.”

“We only use it when necessary,” David held up two innocent hands, “I’d love to explain our community more to you, but it’d be nice to know your name first.”

“Beyonce,” Y/n answered without hesitation.

The preacher chuckled under his breath, “You’re very quick. Stepping in to portect your daughter, your…what, your husband? Boyfriend?”

Y/n had been interrogated so many times, had sustained so many injuries in FEDRA lockup, that there weren’t many tactics that could work on her. David trying to get a feel for her and Joel’s relationship was a waste of breath.

He sighed, tapping his hands against his knees in wait. “You know we’re not here to hurt you,” he said softly.

“Gee, I wonder where I would have gotten that idea,” Y/n retorted, “What with my fucking head splitting and my kid unconscious on the floor.”

“An unfortunate turn of events, yes,” David corrected her, “But we’re protective of our own. You can understand that, can’t you?”

Y/n didn’t move a muscle, staring David down, “Oh, yeah. We’re one and the same there,” she cracked a smile, vengeance practically dripping from her lips, “And that should scare you.”

David, however, only found her threats mildly amusing. He exhaled with a small laugh, Y/n rather preferred being underestimated. It caused people to leave their weak spots exposed. She was sure if she looked hard enough, she could find David’s.

Beside her, Ellie finally began to stir, drawing Y/n’s attention. She scurried to place her hands on Ellie’s back, helping the girl to sit up.

“Me and your mother were starting to worry you wouldn’t wake up,” David said.

Ellie’s vision was blurry and her entire body hurt, her words didn’t carry their usual edge as she told David, “Let us out.”

“Well, that’s certainly the goal,” David nodded, “Hungry?”

“Why are we in a cage?” Ellie hazily took in their surroundings.

“Because I’m afraid of you,” David gave the same calm smile he’d given Y/n, “You’re a dangerous person. You’ve certainly proven that. The others want me to kill you two for what’s happened.”

Y/n held Ellie steady as she got to her knees, neither of them particularly alarmed by David’s words.

He leaned forward, “Did you hear me say the others wanna kill you?”

“Yeah,” Ellie breathed.

“But I stopped them.”

“Fuck you,” Ellie said on behalf of both her and Y/n.

“Why don’t we just start with your name?” David asked once more.

Ellie didn’t miss a beat, “Eat shit.”

“Hey,” David’s voice rose, “Listen to me!”

As he got to his feet, Y/n did as well, coming to meet him at the cage wall as Ellie scurried to the far end of their prison. Y/n wanted to rip into him purely for startling the girl.

“You can’t survive on your own,” David continued, his eyes looking past Y/n to land on Ellie, “No one can. But I can help you,” his gaze finally flicked up, “Let me protect you two.”

“We don’t need your help or your protection,” Y/n enunciated every word clearly.

“And we’re not on our own,” Ellie added from behind Y/n.

David nodded, “Right. Your friend,” his face changed to accommodate faux concern one might use on a child, “And how is he?”

Behind her eyes, Y/n’s mind flicked to Joel, beads of sweat around his temples, breathing so frighteningly shallow, his tan skin deathly pale. She couldn’t admit to the fear pooling in her belly that against David’s men, Joel might have lost the fight.

“I can see how much you care about him, so I know it hurts,” David continued, l having broken Y/n and Ellie’s first line of defense, “But even so…you gotta face reality.”

David turned and began to circle the cage. Ellie and Y/n moved as one, Ellie crawling in the opposite direction and Y/n standing in front of her as a shield.

“That part of your lives, it’s ending,” David went on, finally stopping on the other end of the cage, “And what I’m offering you is a beginning. But if you can’t find a way to trust me, then yes,” his eyes scanned Ellie, “You are alone.”

Without another word, David walked off through a door in the kitchen, leaving Y/n and Ellie to themselves.

Y/n was on her knees immediately, holding Ellie’s face in her hands and checking her head.

“Definitely got your bell rung,” Y/n lightly ran a finger over the pink bruise at Ellie’s hairline.

“What the fuck do we do?” Ellie asked, unconcerned about her injuries.

“I’m trying to figure that out,” Y/n replied, stroking a quick hand over Ellie’s hair, “I’ve already tried to window up there,” she pointed to a small pane of glass above them, “I can’t break it. Guns are over there in the corner,” she gestured to the edge of the room. And I can’t-“

Y/n was cut off by Ellie, throwing her arms around her body. The girl pressed the side of her face into Y/n’s chest, her short breaths warming Y/n’s skin through her layers.

Of all the horrible memories Y/n carried from September 26th, 2003, there was one in particular that lived in her chest every second of every day. As she had clutched Sarah in her arms, with Joel trying to assess her mortal injuries, Sarah had tried desperately to speak. Her lips pressed together, only able to make a humming sound. Y/n had shushed her, telling her that it was okay, she was okay, they’d all be okay…and that had been the last of it.

Whatever Sarah had needed to say died on her lips, but lived on in Y/n’s mind. She had spent so long, playing the memory back, watching the girl’s mouth, listening to the buzz in her throat, unable to rest until she knew what she’d wanted to say in her final minutes.

It took her one year to figure it out, and twenty to accept.

Mom.

Y/n had failed Sarah just as Joel felt he had failed. She’d spent the last two decades telling herself she could have jumped in front of them, she could have yanked Sarah out of Joel’s arms, she could have attacked the guard…all things her brain knew there hadn’t been enough time for, but guilt and logic never agreed on anything. Y/n had begged God, the skies, the earth, the universe, anyone, for a second chance. For some miraculous, mind-bending turn of events to send her back to that day and save her daughter.

And as she cradled Ellie in her arms, pressing a kiss to the girl’s head, she knew her second chance lay not in the past, but in the future.

“We’re gonna get out of this,” Y/n said, speaking with a strength she hadn’t in twenty years, “I promise.”

David was right about one thing, they had to face reality.

Joel wasn’t coming to save them.

They were on their own.

And Y/n would be damned if she failed to save someone she loved again.

————————————

Joel had tried to keep his violent side hidden from both Ellie and Y/n during their time together. He’d slipped with the FEDRA guard in Boston, remembering the terror in Y/n’s eyes as she’d watched him beat the young man to death. Whether or not he knew it, he’d tried from that moment on to be better.

But now, with their lives at stake, Joel didn’t care about better.

Every punch he drove into the raider’s face he had tied to the chair was pure rage, the only thing strong enough to keep him upright. The pleas of the bloody pulp of a man fell on deaf ears.

“Stop…stop, please…”

Joel rammed his fist against his cheek once more, silencing him.

“Leave him alone,” the raider who Joel had yet to touch urged from the other side of the room.

“You’re next,” Joel muttered, withdrawing the knife from his belt with a spine-tingling smirk.

“Please,” the man he’d been hitting begged, “I don’t know any girls.”

Joel was a human lie detector, having seen both the best and worst of humanity. He didn’t have to second guess whether it was the right decision to drive his knife into the man’s knee.

“Marco,” the guy tried to call, his voice strained from his screams of pain.

“No-no, no-no-no,” Joel cooed, his soft tone contrasting the roughness in which he pulled the man by his hair, “He can’t help you. You focus right here. Or I’ll pop your fuckin’ kneecap off.”

The man’s breath trembled as Joel gripped him, knowing that betraying David came at its own cost. “They’re alive,” he admitted.

The hope spread through Joel, but it couldn’t outmatch the anger that doubled at the thought of Y/n and Ellie being held and tortured. “Where?”

When Joel didn’t get his answer quick enough, he reached down and twisted the knife in the man’s leg.

“Ah! Fuck,” he squealed, “Fuck! Ah! The town!”

“WHAT TOWN?!” Joel screamed into his face.

“Silver Lake,” the man panted, wincing after.

Joel reached into his pocket, taking out his map and unfolding it.

“It’s not a real town name,” his victim said, his speech slow from the ache in his jaw, “It’s a resort.”

Now that was a word Joel hadn’t heard in a long time, “A resort?”

Feeling each precious second that Y/n and Ellie were still breathing slipping away, Joel removed his knife from the man’s leg and forced his mouth open, slipping the handle in. “You’re gonna point to where we are,” he held up the map towards the guy’s head, “And where your resort is. And it better be the exact same spot your buddy points to.”

Joel had a death grip on his hair, pressing their foreheads together and feeling his near-attacker’s body tremble with fear. Trying his best, the man aimed the blade at the map, pinpointing their location. Fear could always deliver results.

Joel sat back, examining the drip of blood that served as a marker. His body ached with exhaustion, but his chest felt the same pain it had for the last three months. The kind that was usually a precursor his panic attacks, except now, adrenaline was all that followed.

“That’s where we are,” the man whimpered, “I swear. Go ask him, he’ll tell you. I’m not lying.”

There had never been a question as to whether or not Joel would show mercy. These men had seen Ellie and Y/n, knew where they were being kept, they might have even laid hands on them.

Joel slid the blade into the man’s chest without a second thought.

Marco unleashed a string of expletives as Joel caught his breath.

“Why the fuck did you do that? He told you what you wanted,” Marco whined.

Joel took clumsy steps across the room, reaching for the lead pipe Marco had carried in with him that now lay across the couch.

“You motherfucker, fuck you,” Marco spat as Joel strode towards him, “I ain’t tellin’ you shit.”

“It’s okay,” Joel nodded empathetically, calling on the same disarming tactics he had in his days as a raider, “I believe him.”

In that moment, Joel wasn’t a monster.

He wasn’t the villain.

He was a father and a husband.

And he brought the pipe down with all the fury one could possess.

—————————

Ellie was relentless.

“El,” Y/n insisted as the girl continued to try and pick the lock, “I already tried that.”

“Well, maybe you didn’t try hard enough,” Ellie replied as she tugged on it.

“Yes, ‘cause this is just so pleasant,” Y/n spread her arms out to the cage, “Look, we’re not getting out of here like that. We’ve gotta wait for him to slip up.”

Ellie looked over her shoulder, “What do you mean?”

“He thinks we’re two little lost lambs or sheep or whatever, all alone without anyone to protect us,” Y/n explained, “We’ve gotta wait for the exact right moment when he fucks up and gives us an opportunity.”

“Okay,” Ellie nodded before quickly turning back to the lock.

Y/n slapped her hands against her legs, “I just gave you the plan.”

“I thought I felt it jiggle,” Ellie insisted, shaking the lock a few more times before coming to a sudden stop and stumbling backwards towards Y/n.

Y/n caught her in confusion, “What?”

She followed Ellie’s line of vision across the room to the chopping block, falling south to the floor. Y/n’s stomach turned at the sight…

An ear.

An actual fucking ear.

In all his perfect timing, David entered just then, carrying a tray and sliding it under the cage walls. Two bowls of soup and a cup of water.

David followed Ellie and Y/n’s eyes down to the butcher’s block, frowning when he realized what they were looking. “For what it’s worth,” he gestured to the bowls, “This is just deer meat, I swear.”

Ellie and Y/n were separately connecting all the dots of why they were being held where they were. They could have been trapped anywhere in the town, their weapons stripped from them and beaten into submission. This was a purposeful choice.

“You’re going to chop us into little pieces,” Ellie stated.

“I’d rather not,” David answered, “Please, just tell me your names.”

Y/n forced herself to exhale, wondering how the hell he could be so focused on a trivial detail.

“If you wanna judge me-“ David shrugged.

“Judge you?” Ellie raised her voice to a scream, surging forward to grab the metal bars, “You’re eating people, you sick fuck!”

She kicked the tray across the floor, it landed under the chopping block. David backed away from her anger.

“Yes,” David replied, “There are only a few of us who know. But I would’ve told you, sooner or later. I guess sooner.”

“You’re a fucking animal,” Y/n seethed, finally finding the strength to speak.

“Well, yes, we all are,” David said, his sociopathic calm tone beginning to worry both Y/n and Ellie, “That’s sorta of the point,” he took in Ellie’s disgust, “It was a last resort. You think it doesn’t shame me? But what was I supposed to do? Let them starve? These people who put their lives in my hands, w-who expect me to keep them save, who love me?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Ellie shot back.

“You don’t believe that,” David shook his head, “I don’t think your friend would either. Didn’t he take another man’s life to save yours?”

“Your men fucking attacked us,” Y/n added, her tone sharp.

“He was defending himself,” Ellie replied.

“He was defending you and your mother,” David corrected, even though he was calling on Y/n, his eyes were locked on Ellie’s, “But you knew that. You see a lot. So do I. And you know what I see when I look at you?”

Y/n watched the conversation in wait, it was beginning to alarm her that he was focusing all his attention on Ellie.

“Me,” he continued, “You remind me of me. You’re a natural leader, smart…loyal. Violent.”

Ellie froze at his words, while Y/n took a step forward.

“Keep going and you’ll see how violent I can be,” she threatened.

“Now, see, your mother,” David gestured to Y/n but never once looked at her, “She is deeply afraid, faking her confidence with threats. But that’s not who she actually is. I could unlock this door, hand her her gun, and she still might not be able to do what she needs to to protect you.”

Y/n’s nostrils flared at the assumption that she wouldn’t break his neck to save Ellie.

“But you, on the other hand…” David continued speaking to Ellie, “If I let you out of that cage right now, put that knife of yours in your hand, you’d stick me in a second. You have a violent heart. And I should know…” David took slow steps towards the cage, his eyes alight, “I’ve always had a violent heart. And I struggled with it for a long time. But then the world ended and I was shown the truth.”

“Right…” Ellie muttered, “By God.”

“No,” David breathed, “By Cordyceps. What does Cordyceps do? Is it evil? No. It’s fruitful. It multiplies. It feeds and protects its children, and it secures its future with violence, if it must. It loves.”

Y/n’s blood heated to a boil, her cheeks warming with rage. Cordyceps had taken everything and everyone she had ever loved. It was the purest form of evil nature had ever created. She wanted to cut through David, whispering the names of all her lost family into his ear as she did.

But this wasn’t her opportunity.

“Why are you telling us all this?” Ellie asked, she still believed it was a conversation between three people.

“Because you can handle it,” David said, Y/n may as well have not even been in the room, “The way the others can’t. They need God, they need Heaven,” David took another step towards the cage, “They need a father. You don’t. You’re beyond that. I’m a shepherd surrounded by sheep, and all I want…is an equal. A friend.”

Alarms rang in Y/n’s head so loud, she thought they were real. But Ellie was playing the game that Y/n had told her to, and she couldn’t stop her.

“What about our friend?”

“Like I said, loyal,” David nodded before taking another slow step towards them, “I can tell the others to stop looking for him. They’ll spare him.”

Ellie looked up to Y/n, convincingly filling her eyes with hope, before looking back to David. Y/n quickly adjusted her expression to match, pretending as if Joel’s safety was the only thing that mattered.

“Really?” Ellie took a step forward towards David, “They’ll just let him go?”

“Yes,” David answered confidently, “If he leaves us in peace, they will just let him go.”

It wasn’t hard for Y/n to whip up some tears, taking a choking breath in and following Ellie towards the metal bars.

“They do what I tell them to do. They follow me,” David was getting closer and closer, his gaze fixated, obsessed with Ellie, “And they would follow us. Lord knows, I could use the help. I-“ he chortled, gesturing to below the chopping block, “Look what’s happened.”

David extended his hand, gripping one of the horizontal metal bars between him from Ellie and Y/n. They stared down at it, considering their options.

“Think of what we could together,” David said, his voice alive with passion, “As strong as we are. We’d make this place perfect. We’d grow, spread out. And we’d do whatever we needed for our people.”

Ellie reached to grab the other side of the bar, her hand perilously close to David’s. Y/n had to fight every instinct to rip her body behind her own.

“Imagine the life we could give them,” David said wistfully, moving his hand to slide over Ellie’s, “Imagine the life we could build.”

David may not have been watching her, but Y/n made effort to drop two tears down her cheeks and sniffle as if it was the most beautiful idea in the world…

“Oh,” Ellie whispered, reaching a nearly shaking palm up to David’s hand, hoping that Y/n sensed that the moment was upon them.

Ellie pushed David’s finger back, a sickening crack erupting in his hand. As he cried out in pain, Y/n dropped down to her knees, pulling him in by his belt and grabbing the keys off their hook. Unfortunately, he wriggled out of Ellie’s grasp and reached through the bars, grabbing Y/n by the throat and squeezing. Y/n gagged and choked as his fingers tightened, but she still held onto the keys.

Ellie struck a blow to David’s abdomen, causing him to drop Y/n and stumble backwards. In the sudden movement, Y/n dropped the keys to the floor and nearly fell. David was quick to come back, grabbing Ellie’s hair and slamming her face into the bars twice before throwing her down.

“You little cunts,” he seethed, picking up the keys from the floor, “Let’s see what I go tell the others now.”

Y/n coughed violently, earning each and every breath back, but bent over Ellie to make sure she was alright. The girl’s blood painted the floor of their cell.

“Ellie,” she said, crawling past Y/n and towards David.

David turned, “What?”

“Tell them Ellie is the little girl,” the girl crawled to the bars, raising her voice, “Who broke your fucking finger!”

“How did you put it?” David asked, his tone mocking them now, “Hmm? ‘Tiny little pieces?’”

He stormed out of the room, slamming it behind him and leaving Ellie and Y/n to contemplate their impending doom.

“Fuck,” Y/n whispered, rubbing her already sore neck and forming a plan in her dizzy head. “Okay, when they come in, I’ll take them and you fucking run.”

“No,” Ellie replied quickly, stumbling to her feet, “No, we-“

“You’re going to get the fuck out of here,” Y/n continued, emphasizing each of the last words, “And you’re going to run.”

“I’m not fucking leaving you,” Ellie yelled, shoving Y/n’s arms.

“And I’m not asking,” Y/n yelled back, feeling her fate slowly approaching. If it bought Ellie time, it was all worth it.

She gripped Ellie’s shoulders, wrenching her closer and locking eyes with her. “You. Run.”

———————————

The snow outside had picked up, nearly blinding Joel as he trudged through the ice, clutching his abdomen the whole way.

He’d made it to Silver Lake, against all odds, but didn’t know the first place to look. He kept his good ear peeled, trying to listen for Y/n or Ellie’s cries, but the storm made that impossible. Leaned up against one of the resort’s buildings, trying to catch his breath, Joel tried to think clearly about his next move.

Then his eyes caught the trail of blood in the snow and logic went out the window.

Joel followed the crimson that led him to the building’s door. He broke the lock with the butt of his rifle and entered, clicking on his flashlight and drawing his pistol. He crept through the shed, bending down once to search under a table and finding only old clothes and useless supplies. Then, he spotted a nearly identical trail of blood leading into the next room.

All the while his heart thudded with fear, fear of failure.

Joel made no noise as he entered the room, shining his flashlight ahead to find what was left of one of their horses. They’d captured Y/n and Ellie while riding. The picture of their kidnapping was beginning to fill with color.

Joel shone his flashlight past the horse, finding tarps over equipment and…something…hanging on the other side. He moved around the animal’s body to get a closer look…

His stomach turned.

He had to fucking hurry.

—————————

David stormed through the door with James right behind him. Ellie and Y/n scurried away from the cage’s front. Y/n hadn’t expected a second set of hands, it made her entire plan impossible.

“No! No! No!” Ellie screamed, pressing herself into Y/n’s body in fear.

David and James wrenched the two of them apart.

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Y/n screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping someone might hear them and come running, “No!”

“Get off of me!” Ellie shrieked, kicking at both of the men, “Get off of me!”

If Y/n had been on 10, Ellie’s pleas dialed her up to 12. She picked up her entire body weight and let herself drop to the floor, bringing James with her. He stumbled, but regained his footing and dragged Y/n out of the cell, kicking and screaming.

“No!” Ellie yelled, biting down on David’s all-too-close hand.

“Ow,” the preacher cried out, but stayed undeterred in his mission. He pulled Ellie out of the cell.

Y/n wrestled against Jame’s firm grip, flailing her arms as she tried to reach around and scratch him. She’d tear him to pieces with her hands, if the chance came.

“You motherfucker,” she cried, trying to catch her leg on anything that might slow them down, but he lifted her onto the chopping block as if she was nothing. James held her hands down at her sides, giving Y/n the opportunity to spit in his face.

“Wait, wait,” Ellie begged as David dragged her towards the block.

“Shut up,” James growled, narrowly dodging Y/n’s head butt.

David lifted Ellie up and dropped her harshly on Y/n, knocking the wind out of the woman with Ellie’s weight. He forced Ellie’s hands into Y/n’s, lining the two of them up.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Ellie begged, Y/n’s coughs sputtering in her ear, “Don’t! Don’t do it! Please, don’t do it!”

“You had your chance,” David spoke over Ellie as he raised the cleaver above his head.

In her struggle for oxygen, Y/n let out a final cry. For Ellie, for Joel, for her grand failure to save all of them.

This was how it ended.

“I’M INFECTED!”

Ellie’s words echoed off the walls, David simply scoffed at her.

“I’m infected,” Ellie said once more, her voice low, “And now so are you.”

David glanced down at the bite mark Ellie had put on his hand. Y/n caught it too, fighting the urge to smile. The girl was smarter and quicker than she or Joel had ever taught her.

“Roll up my sleeve, look at it,” Ellie insisted, “Look at it!”

Biting down on his lip in frustration, David slammed the cleaver down beside Y/n and Ellie’s heads, causing both of them to flinch away. He tugged Ellie’s right sleeve up, revealing the ever-present mark that Cordyceps had left on her.

“God’s will,” Y/n strained, smirking below Ellie.

James looked up at his leader in concern, “David…”

“No,” David shook his head, “No, she would’ve turned by now. This isn’t real.”

Unable to speak without them hearing her, but needing to signal Ellie that she was on board with the plan, Y/n squeezed the back of Ellie’s hand twice.

“It looks pretty fuckin’ real to me,” James continued.

Ellie pressed her hand back into Y/n’s.

This was their opportunity.

Ellie reached to her side, grabbing the cleaver and lodging it in Jame’s shoulder. Y/n threw the girl off and kicked both feet into David’s stomach, buying them a few precious seconds to escape. Bullets chased them as they flew through the door.

Y/n and Ellie ran through the rest of the kitchen, making it out into the dining room. They went from door to door, banging and pulling furiously. Nothing.

Hearing David’s footsteps down the hall, they rushed back into the kitchen to look for any weapons. Ellie reached into a wood burning stove, grabbing one of the crackling logs before Y/n shoved her out of the room and down behind a wall.

The kitchen door squeaked, announcing David’s presence. Without her gun, Y/n knew she didn’t stand a chance at going up against David, but she could buy time. She crawled away from Ellie, ignoring the girl’s frantic looks and moved behind a table, popping up once she heard David’s steps.

“You’re very determined,” David’s calm tone continued, even as he clutched the cleaver in his hand, “I’ll give you that.”

“What a parent won’t do for their kid,” Y/n shrugged, “Right, Father?”

As Y/n put a period on her sentence, Ellie stood up from her spot and threw the burning log at David, missing him and giving Y/n the chance to duck down and crawl away. Ellie had, however, succeeded in starting a fire that quickly began to eat through the drapes of the dining room. Ellie crawled back, spotting Y/n and hurrying in her direction.

“There’s no way out, Ellie,” David called, moving away from the rapid fire, “The doors are locked and I have the keys.”

While she couldn’t see the flames, Y/n could smell and hear them. They were spreading as if nature herself had started it.

“Ellie?” David called tauntingly, “Ellie.”

Y/n knew that if there was any chance for escape, it would only come for one of them. David would have to be preoccupied with something else to let anything slip through his fingers and that anything had to be Ellie. Reaching down into her boot, she remembered she still had her knife on her.

She drew a deep breath and begged for Joel, dead or alive, to forgive her.

It was the only option that ensured Ellie’s salvation.

————————

Joel couldn’t move fast in the snow, the winds threatening to shove his fragile frame down into the ice. With every step he fought, trying to see something, anything through the gust of snowflakes.

In his mind, he was begging and pleading with the universe to give him a sign, a direction..he felt more and more panicked with each passing moment that he was too late.

Joel walked a little quicker, ignoring the stabbing pain in his stomach.

He couldn’t lose them.

—————————

“Ellie…” David called again, “I know you’re not infected. No one infected fights this hard to stay alive.”

Y/n belly crawled on the floor of the restaurant, away from Ellie and closing in on David’s voice. She clutched the knife in her sweaty palm.

“So…how did you do it?” David asked the room, “What’s the secret? Or are you just that fucking special?”

Y/n was near enough to the bar that she could see the panels swing open and Ellie’s legs trailing in. She was smart enough to try and find a true weapon.

“No one likes being humiliated, Ellie,” David continued his tirade, forgetting Y/n’s presence entirely, “You don’t know how good I am! You don’t know what I could have given you! If you had just let me!”

Y/n continued her army crawl before crouching behind the wall nearest to David, waiting for her perfect chance.

“Well, I have news for you,” the “pastor’s” tone softened back to its pulpit pitch, “None of us are dying today. You see, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided you do need a father, and your mother needs a husband.”

Y/n tightened her grip on her knife, waiting, waiting, waiting…

“So I’m gonna keep you two,” David promised, “And I’m gonna teach you.”

In her years, Y/n had heard and witnessed truly disturbing events. Nothing could have terrified her more than the sick headlines about corrupt preachers, using the Word of God as a deflection, coming to life in front of her.

Y/n leapt to her feet, spininning around the wall’s end and stabbing David’s shoulder from behind. The man cried out in pain, but didn’t fall as Y/n had needed him to. He faced her, swinging the cleaver past her before gripping her throat with one hand and shoving her up against the wall. Y/n struggled ferociously, speed kicking his legs until he dropped her. He wrenched her back, throwing her to the floor, and let one of the heavy dining tables fall straight onto Y/n’s abdomen. The pressure crushed her, stealing all the air from her lungs, and left her sputtering and choking for breath.

David leaned down, his lips grazing Y/n’s ear in a way that had only ever been reserved for Joel. “I’ll deal with you in a moment,” he growled.

Y/n was too breathless to speak and the table was too heavy for her to lift. It was almost guaranteed that David had cracked at least one of her ribs. She flailed about under its weight like a bug being crushed, frantically trying to escape.

With a lack of oxygen, her ears began to ring and her eyesight began to blur. From across the room, she could see David and Ellie’s figures fighting, with Ellie’s being shoved to the floor.

Y/n’s lips tried to form the girl’s name.

The corners of her vision began to darken just as David pinned Ellie down.

Her screams poured the air right back into Y/n’s lungs.

With strength only a mother whose child was endangered could have, Y/n strained to push the table off of her. She raised it enough to shimmy her abdomen out, letting it fall on her legs with a pained groan. She pulled and pulled her body out from under the surface, Ellie’s cries of terror giving her all the power she needed to roll the rest of the way. She grabbed her knife, stained with David’s blood and crawled across the floor.

David’s back was blissfully turned.

Ellie couldn’t see Y/n.

The flames were consuming the restaurant.

Y/n inched her way closer.

David said something Y/n couldn’t hear over the fire.

Ellie screamed louder.

Y/n reached her hand out, ripping David back by the collar, stabbing him in the chest with her knife and wrenching him off of Ellie.

Ellie reached above her head for the cleaver.

The rest passed in a set of thirty blood soaked seconds.

When it was over, Y/n stumbled to her feet, reaching down to pull Ellie up with her. The room was filled with a gagging smoke, the fames mere seconds from bringing the whole building down.

Y/n rushed them out through the kitchen, the back end was their best chance at escape. Down the hall were two large black doors, the lack of lock allowing Y/n to shove her and Ellie’s trembling forms out.

The cold air greeted their heated skin, both of them struggling to catch their breath. Y/n clutched Ellie to her as she maneuvered them down the stone steps and into the snow.

They both screamed as a pair of strong arms grabbed their bodies, tugging them backwards.

“No! Get off of me!,” Ellie shrieked, the reality of David’s death ceasing to exist under the strange touch.

“No! You fucking-“ Y/n tried to shove Ellie behind her, turning around and fighting hard against the figure before she even looked up.

Adrenaline somehow granted Joel enough strength to turn Ellie around in his arms and restrain Y/n’s hands.

“It’s me,” Joel coaxed as Ellie slapped his chest.

Y/n eyes turned up at the sound of his voice, meeting his eyes finally. “Ellie,” she breathed, awestruck.

“It’s me,” Joel repeated to Ellie, her hits finally stopping as she finally returned to reality. Joel took her face into his hand, cupping her cheek and drawing her gaze to him, “Hey, look…it’s me. It’s me.”

Ellie let out little whimpers as she took in his presence, miraculously in front of her.

Y/n ran her hands over Joel’s arm, in utter disbelief that he was actually there. His hand that rested on her back slid half an inch, the movement giving her the assurance that he was real. He had come for them.

“It’s okay,” Joel told Ellie, the girl mumbling and stuttering in shock.

Ellie didn’t think twice before looping her arms around Joel’s neck and burrowing her face into his shoulder. Y/n did the same, keeping one arm firmly around Ellie.

“It’s okay,” he promised once more, taking the full force of their embrace as if it were the very air he breathed. “It’s okay, babygirl,” he said to Ellie, “I got you. I got you.”

Y/n sniffled into Joel’s shoulder, feeling his hurried kiss press against her temple. She had gone from her most vulnerable to her most safe in the course of a single minute.

After a few seconds, wishing it could last longer, Joel pulled back to look at them both. He took in the blood on both their faces, there were big bruise marks on Y/n’s neck and she was clutching her stomach. He felt ashamed that he hadn’t been there sooner to spare them the pain of whatever they’d gone through.

“Okay,” Joel said softly, taking off his coat and wrapping it around Ellie’s shoulders.

Y/n finally noticed that Joel was carrying both his rifle and all three of their backpacks. She hurried to grab hers and Ellie’s, slipping one on her shoulder and carrying the other.

Joel and Y/n got on each of Ellie’s sides, wrapping an arm around the girl and setting off into the snow. The adrenaline began to fade in Joel’s body, weakening him once again till he was limping. The searing pain in Y/n’s chest ached with every breath, she had to time each inhale in between her steps.

But it didn’t matter to either of them. They locked their hands around each other’s arm, tightening their hold around Ellie, and took slow, unsteady steps towards the river.

—————————

That night, they sought shelter in a different neighborhood, hiding in someone else’s former house.

Y/n and Joel sat upright against the freezing concrete wall, Ellie sleeping soundly between them. They each kept one hand on her as they had soothed her to sleep, but they kept their hold long after. They needed the physical reassurance that she was okay.

All day, Y/n had held it together as they journeyed as far from Silver Lake as they could. She was too determined to get the three of them the hell out of dodge to fall apart. It wasn’t until Ellie had fallen asleep, under the safety of Y/n and Joel’s protection, that the weight of what had almost happened to them fell onto her.

Joel felt the trembling from Y/n’s hand gently shake Ellie’s body. He peered across her into the dark, the moonlight catching on her face to perfectly illuminate the silent tears down her cheeks.

As she stifled her sobs, Y/n felt Joel’s fingers intertwine with hers over Ellie’s torso. She squeezed her eyes shut, his touch sending her emotions right over their edge.

Joel squeezed, trying to tell her that in the silence, in the pain, he was there. He was there for the first time in twenty years for her to lean on.

Y/n squeezed back, savoring the press of his calloused fingers into her palm. They had come so close to losing one another, but they were alive. They were alive, they were together and if that was the only thing they had to hold onto, they’d cling to it like life itself.

——————

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[niceutossu]

What Ifs | Iwaizumi x Reader

Iwaizumi hasn’t thought about you in years—or at least that’s what he tells himself. Most days, he’s too focused on work, friends, and the steady rhythm of life in Japan to linger on the past. But every so often, something breaks through. The sound of waves crashing, the bite of winter air, or the fluorescent hum of a convenience store late at night—moments that crept back into his mind when he least expected them, and brought him right back to you.

The first real friend he made while studying in California. At first, he found your cheeky attitude irritating, a little too much like Oikawa’s. You were sharp-tongued and playful, and if Iwaizumi was being honest, a little too easygoing for someone who had so many academic responsibilities. But somehow, you wormed your way into his daily life. Sitting next to him at the library, catching the same bus, calling him “Iwa” like you knew him forever.

He could’ve made an effort to completely shut you out if he really wanted to. Taken a different bus route, found a new study spot, or pretended you didn’t exist when you called out his name childishly. Except, even more annoyingly, you reminded him of home.

But you weren’t home. You weren’t like Oikawa or anyone from his past. There was more to you—things that made you different, and, he would later admit, better. You were diligent, kind, and despite your popularity, you were humble. You didn’t boast about your accomplishments, didn’t flaunt the attention people naturally gave you.

That was his favorite thing about you. When people would be whispering in disbelief over who could have possibly gotten a one hundred percent on the midterm, you remained unfazed. It wasn’t until class was over that you would let that silly, triumphant grin spread across your face.

“It was meee,” you’d tease, voice lilting with mischief. He never saw you do it with anyone else. That side of you, that playful confidence—it felt like something just for him.

Despite all of this, despite how you’d already become woven into his everyday life, Iwaizumi kept you at arm’s length. He had to. He knew this was temporary—both the place and the time you shared. He told himself it would hurt too much if he got caught up in your antics, no matter how charming. Except you had a pull, your own gravity, and by the time he noticed, it was too late. He was already in your orbit.

He was the one who broke first. The one who asked to see you outside of class, breaking his own promise to himself. He took you to the beach, and you showed him your favorite tourist spots, laughing at how unimpressed he was with the so-called ‘attractions.’ And later, when you invited him to your favorite restaurant, he didn’t mind paying for dinner, or the ice cream afterward. Somehow, with you, it didn’t feel like a big deal.

There was no label, or a need for it. The reminder of the time you had left together was enough. You both lived like you knew there wasn’t time for ‘what ifs.’

But then the time came, and the goodbyes followed. The first was when he left California for Japan. You had insisted on driving him to the airport, despite his protests that you were a terrible driver. He had teased you, of course, but the truth was, he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving you behind. He remembered looking back, risking bumping into frustrated travelers, just to catch one last glimpse of your face.

The second goodbye was harder. You flew out to visit him in Japan, and the weeks you spent together were filled with blissful dinner dates, shared memories, and the kind of closeness that made it feel like no time had passed at all. Unsurprisingly, you got along well with Oikawa, much to Iwaizumi’s dismay. He thought maybe you’d want to try long-distance. He thought you maybe you might want to keep this going, somehow.

But you were smarter than him, as always. You told him you didn’t want to.

“I just wanted to see you one last time,” you’d said, your voice trembling as you stood in his arms.

He could still remember how you felt in that moment—the way you shook, not out of fear, but because of the weight of it all. You cared too much about him to let him get tangled up in something that couldn’t work. The distance, the different paths you were bound to take—it would only pull you further apart. He understood. But it didn’t make the ache any easier to bear. It didn’t stop him from wishing he could have stayed with you just a little longer.

After that you never reached out to him again, once again saving you both from the ‘what ifs’. He threw himself into his career and met a lot of women, experienced love, real love unconstrained by time. Oikawa would ask about you occasionally—sometimes out of genuine curiosity, sometimes just to annoy him. It didn’t matter. It’d make him wonder what you’d done all these years apart. Had you gotten to experience the same? He hoped so—and that whoever you were with understood they’d always be second best to you.

At this point he’s been an athletic trainer longer than he’s known you, but you still managed to occupy a smaller corner of his mind. Still, unlike his childhood his friend, he wasn’t enough of a masochist to look you up on social media. The one time Oikawa tried to show him something about you, he’d looked away, feigning interest in something else.

But today was your birthday. His phone had made a collage of the special occasion. ‘Eight years ago, today,’ it read, with the cover photo being of your back to the camera, looking out into the sea. Iwaizumi felt his lips twitch at the sight. It had been more than enough time, right? He could allow himself to indulge in memory lane, just for a little.

The first photo: you’re wearing his sweater. He feels his nose exhale in amusement as he recalls you complaining that it was ‘freezing cold’ as you pressed yourself closer to him, teeth chattering. The next photos show you pointing out a lifeguard post, a devilish twinkle in your eye as you suddenly begin sprinting full force towards it. The blurry shots confirm he was close behind—there’s a clear shot of your laughing face as he traps you in his arms once he catches you. It softens his heart.

You had always been so beautiful, you were probably even more so now. The next images show you two inside the lifeguard post, your grin surely due to his nagging about your behavior, despite the fact he always chased after you. When he slides his thumb for the next picture, he finds a video instead.

You’re the one filming him, and he feels awkward seeing a younger version of him nervously staring back at him. He hesitates before pressing play.

“Alright Iwa, time to sing happy birthday!” Your voice rings out and his breath hitches. Over time he had forgotten the little details—like your voice. Hearing it now, how could he have ever forgotten?

“I feel stupid this is stupid,” His younger self mutters, and while he should feel more embarrassed hearing his own voice, he’s still reeling over the sound of yours.

You laugh, and it makes him feel like he can’t breathe for a moment. This is why he did not indulge in the past. What was the point of reliving this? Nonetheless, his eyes remained glued to the screen.

You turn the camera so that both of you are in the frame, albeit at a weird angle.

“Let’s sing it together then.” And you do. He isn’t even paying attention to his grumpy twenty-year-old self in the background, too focused on the way your eyes keep darting back to him as you two sing happy birthday off key.

“Yayy! Thank you Hajime!” Right. You used to call him that sometimes. And the way you’d say it, voice so sincere, it crushed him then and it crushes him even more now. You make him wave goodbye to the camera before ending the recording and he’s left alone, ears still ringing with the sound of your voice.

Now, on a newfound masochist streak, he felt himself looking up your name on every social media app he could think of. He had to know, he was alone so he could feed into the dangerous what ifs. It had been years but today was your birthday, maybe he could send you a message, maybe enough time had passed where you two could-

When he finds your account, there’s a new post. It’s you, celebrating your birthday. You look just as you did back then, with the same bright smile and mischievous glint in your eyes.

Only now, it’s directed at the child in your arms. It’s a slide show and each photo shows you in familiar places. The beach where you once watched the sunset together. The restaurant where he bought you ice cream. Tourist spots he’d scoffed at.

‘Happy birthday to us,’ the caption reads. ‘Showed baby Haji all my favorite places.’ He feels the breath leave his lungs, slow and heavy.

He shuts his phone off and sits in the silence. It didn’t ache as much as he’d expected—this final realization. You had kept him in your life, but that didn’t mean there was any space for him in it now.

He wasn’t heartbroken—just surprised, maybe. That you’d kept a part of him close by, even after all this time. He should’ve felt more guilty at the thought of the poor guy who either knew or didn’t know of his existence, which one was worse was anyone’s guess. Instead though, all he felt a strange sense of relief.

He wonders, just for a moment, what might have happened if he’d stayed, if you’d fought a little harder, if there had been room in both your lives for more than just memories. The thoughts come softly, like the waves crashing on the shore of a distant beach.

But he knows better than to dwell on what ifs. He knows, deep down, that you were right even if you were also clearly living with your own regrets. Your lives had gone where they needed to go. You had found your path, and so had he.

And maybe, that was enough. If not, he could always keep praying for another chance in the next lifetime.

[loudclan-clangen]

Yay! More lore!

They in fact cannot! Leadership is a lifelong commitment in Loudclan. Maybe they could sacrifice all but one of their lives and then just live as a normal warrior, or step down while keeping their lives, but the next leader wouldn't be able to receive their lives until the former leader was fully dead. Same goes for the Lead Healer. When they receive their lives they give up their "normal" life and become inextricably linked to Starclan/The Black Water and that's not something that can be undone.

Yes! Exactly like that! They have to die to see starclan the 1st time, this costs them their "mortal" life, so when they come back they are using their first "divine" life. When they sacrifice a life to speak to starclan they must die again in order to give the current life back, as opposed to giving up the chance of using a future life. This does mean that everytime they come back they come back slightly...different. Nothing major, they're still the same person, just like a different iteration of them. Maybe their favorite prey is different, or their dominant paw changes, minor things that no one but their closest friends and family would notice, but the leader rarely seems to notice the change.

This is going to be very vague, and I apologize for that, but if I was ever to explore one of the other clans in a blog it would be Freezingclan, so I don't want to say anything too definitively and lock myself into something I haven't fully thought out. But the answer is that no one from the other clans really knows? Freezingclan is weird, they've existed longer than all of the other clans, in fact longer than anyone can really remember, and they only decided to take the clan naming system for the ease of everyone else. They meet at gatherings and are generally quite friendly and shockingly generous, but they don't discuss their religious practices with the other clans too much, because it usually only results in confusion and fear. What I can tell you is that Freezingclan's ancestors don't go to the Black Water Pool with the rest of Starclan, as they've never been seen there and Freezingclan predates the discovery of the oil. Based on the logic of why Starclan lives in the oil (it's a pocket of eternal night) it would make sense for Freezingclan's ancestors to live in the depths of the ocean, but since their leaders don't receive lives there's really no way to prove it. It's equally possible that their ancestors just stop existing when they die and that makes the rest of the clans VERY uncomfortable so they've just stopped asking for the most part. Freezingclan certainly believes that they can communicate with them, leaving offerings of prey and herbs on the shore in exchange for plentiful hunts or healthy kits, and their Healers often slip into trances where they speak in strange languages, but no one can agree whether they are just faking it or not.

Okay, so, a lot of this ask touches on stuff that I want to cover later in backstory drops for the founders, but, I'll try to answer everything I can without spoiling anything for that! Wildfirecry is the only one who came from another Clan, he was a healer in Forestclan, which eventually collapsed, leaving him on his own. He met Fiercestripe along the way, she joined up with him, and they made their way to the valley territories. Meanwhile Owlstar and Siltsplash were born and raised in the valley. Generations of rogues, descended from kittypets who were abandoned when the mine closed, lived and died across the valley, of which Owlstar and Siltsplash were two. Owlstar was sort of a folk-hero amongst the rogues, so when he and Wildfirecry got together and decided to form a clan, many others followed. Owlstar asked the studious and strict young Siltsplash to help him keep the clan in line, and they excitedly accepted, becoming his mate and deputy. The mountain was chosen because they were seeing signs of an especially harsh winter, and it's one of the few places where the wind keeps the snow from piling several feet high. Shadedclan and Ghostclan formed for similar reasons, only they disagreed about where they should go to escape the deep snows. They absolutely did leave behind people that they miss/feel deeply guilty for leaving, but those are details for a later post!

[bombasticsalt]

Loustat and Loumand love vs fascination (take this analysis with no grammar because it's 1am)

One of the scenes that really sticks out to me with Loumand in season two is when Louis tells Armand he loves him and dreamstat starts laughing it's crazy because if this were a Louis and Lestat scene it would have been framed as dramatic and their would have been tears but it's comedic almost when Louis and Armand do it especially when you remember that we never see Louis tell Lestat he loves him yet we as the audience can obviously see he did. Both Armand and Lestat stalked Louis and they both had some sort of soft spot for him before they even actually talked to him and yet, look at how different the way Louis views their first meeting as he says he left the meeting with Lestat thinking only of him but Lestat was real he said things that he meant with Armand it's almost like their meeting is framed as some meetcute he says I will not harm you which yeah sounds sweet until you consider the fact that meetings later he talks about killing Louis. Ever since they met Armand has been presenting himself as a sheep in wolfs clothing and you can say a lot about Lestat but for all his acting he showed Louis who he really was before Louis got in too deep he shows Louis his temper he shows Louis his passions his ramblings his privilege everything I think that says something that Armand would rather pretend to be anything else but what he is a dangerous predator.

And the worst part is it still doesn't work sure love at first sight wasn't something to expect in a gothic romance but listen to how Louis describes meeting Lestat he wanted to be the man and murder the man when Louis was at the party getting ready to kill Lestat he still wanted him all to himself there was this passion for Lestat since their first meeting yeah sure Louis at the moment thinks of this memory fondly but at that time when it happened he was confused like the scene was almost eerily sweet to me

I don't think Louis feels absolutely nothing for Armand I think Louis thinks he loves Armand or at least Armand interests him at first he loves armand in the way you love a spring fling that you don't expect to last through the winter it's fun, interesting and new and that's the main problem with Loumand it lasted way longer than it should have because both Louis and Armand can't be alone a spring fling is nice during the spring when you're bored and depressed but what about when you have a thousand other things you could be doing and you're stuck in a marriage thats like a candle that went out almost five seconds after you lit it for 77 years when the person stops being interesting and fun what's really left of the relationship? Love? Yeah sure maybe but not when you know there's a person out there you loved more than anybody else somebody like Lestat

I feel like this is further proved by how Lestat and Armand react to the boys Louis confides in, for Lestat it was Jonah he got mad about Jonah because he famously heard their hearts dancing and felt the affection Louis had for Jonah especially since Lestat was a lot for Louis. It seems like Lestat thought Louis could fall in love with Jonah and leave him and for Lestat leaving equates with somebody not loving him anymore what threatens Lestat is the idea Louis might not love him and that's ultimately what Lestat wants love he needs attention more than we ever see him need blood he's greedy for it. However, with Daniel he didn't even sleep with Louis so what threatens Armand isn't that Louis might not love him anymore it's that Louis finds Daniel more interesting than him because I think deep down that Armand knows that their love was short lived and the only reason why Louis was still with him was desperation and fascination because Armand knows things even though Louis isn't exactly always curious about vampires he taught Louis how to use fire he does know things that prove useful he clearly doesn't care all that much about the great laws if he let Daniel live this experience because it was never about the great laws it's about Lestat the first interview was a call out to Lestat from Louis and Armand knew that I'm not saying love isn't involved but I'm saying I believe in my opinion it was more about him not wanting Louis to leave because Armand believes he needs a master he needs somebody else to pretend like they have control over him sure yeah him calling Louis Maitre is just for fun he doesn't have to listen to Louis in fact he doesn't listen to Louis sure he keeps Daniel alive but also he turns Daniel eventually Armand is so interesting to me because Armand is a puppet master who wants to feel like a puppet because he never really realized he got cut loose from his strings that's why he potrays himself as helpless even his clothes are meant to make him seem smaller than he actually is he makes people do things for him indirectly TWICE he lets Lestat and Louis destroy his cult coven and then hides behind the words I could not prevent it. Both Lestat and Armand are afraid that Louis will leave them but for different reasons Lestat's afraid Louis will leave him because Louis doesn't love him and Armand literally fucking tortures Daniel aesthetictly just because he's afraid Louis finds him boring he has to be fascinating or else Louis will leave.

Another reason that really shows the differences between Love and fascination is what Louis says to both of them when he wants to hurt them, Louis tells Lestat that's why he's always going to be alone and why they won't work because Louis knows Lestat he knows the thing that will hurt Lestat more than anything else is threatening to take his love and affection away and leave him all alone because Lestat is also a part of the three musketeers of making bad decisions because he can't handle being alone, with Armand though Louis calls him boring because for Louis the worst possible thing to say to Armand isn't I won't love you anymore and I'll leave it's you're boring something that hurts Armand worse if Armand isn't fascinating or fun to Louis then what's the point? What's the point to be in a marriage of spite what's the point of living if Claudia is dead Lestat fucked off to God knows where after the trial and Louis's only companion has lost all the traits that make him want to stay but Louis would rather die than be alone and unloved. But for Loumand the words I love you are like a dagger in both instances when Louis says it (it's fucking 3:46 am if they say it more than twice I'll edit) it's mocked dreamstat laughs Louis laughs while saying it in San Frisco. Love is a weapon when Louis verbally says it after Paul's death. In fact Louis not saying he loves Lestat seems more romantic than him telling Armand he does. Because we as the viewers know he loves Lestat in the way he talks about him, the way he remembers Lestat's ramblings, the way he reacts to Lestat telling him about Magnus, because even though Louis memory has bias ultimately he remembers Lestat as this beautiful monster who he was in love with we're shown that he loves him. But with Armand and Louis we're told their in love but when is it shown with Loustat their was an intimacy in the shadows because they were in a openly homophobic town but with Loumand their relationship seems more like a performance they hold hands in public but in private they're divided when Louis was supposedly falling in love with Armand in Paris he says they aren't companions to Santiago and I think that's why Armand lied about saving Louis because that was the only major thing he could do that would make Louis want to stay, Lestat turned Claudia for Louis in his love Lestat brought the azalea for Louis because he loves him he shows Louis he loves him but what does Armand do? He threatens to kill Louis he won't turn Madeline for Louis sure he tells Louis he loves him but it's not shown not like how Lestat's love is. AND LESTAT DOES IT AGAIN he saves Louis again he proves that he loves Louis again when Armand can't or won't the only thing is the opportunity presented itself where Armand could take the credit for it he could please the coven and keep the guy at the same time because if Armand wouldn't have taken credit for that they wouldn't have stayed together he would have left. Would Louis have gotten back together with Lestat? Probably not but the point is the 77 years wouldn't have happened. Daniel calls it a seismic lie because it is that's what the relationship is based on that's the reason Louis stayed because he felt like he owed it to Armand and that's why he doesn't hesitate to leave Armands when he learns it.

I think that's what makes Loumand so interesting is that Louis doesn't want someone soft he wants the chaos back of Lestat once it's taken away he doesn't want a manipulative pillow who hides all his flaws and does everything he says he wants Lestat who screams back at him with the same passion that burns like a furnace Lestat who can't help but be so passionate about everything he does Lestat who does too much and that passion makes Lestat feel so human even when he's doing the most inhumane things whereas Armand acts as if he's above it all like he's some type of God but also portraying himself as weak and helpless in other situations that makes him so inhumane which could also be why Daniel ends up falling for him.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 8 all chapters

-Your birthday falls on a beautiful spring day, and of course, you have to work. When a new customer growls into the parking lot on a shiny black motorcycle everyone crowds behind the counter to see who it could be.

It takes so little to entertain all of you, sometimes.

The boys titter excitedly about the sweet bike and torque and ccs, whatever that means.   

When the rider takes off his helmet there’s a fall of fabulous dark hair, and something inside you utterly purrs at the sight.

It’s Mr. Wick.

Maybe you should have known. His padded motorcycle jacket makes his shoulders seem impossibly broad, and as he crosses the parking lot on long legs you hear Cassie sigh behind you.

Same, girl, same.

Cassie had made you a little birthday crown to wear out of a to go cup, a la Princess Peach. You forget about the silly adornment clipped to your head, until Mr. Wick approaches the counter to make his order.

“One coffee…your Highness?” He lifts one of those dark brows with a small smirk, and fuck if it doesn't make you blush. 

“It's my birthday,” you sheepishly tell him. His expression actually softens.

“Happy Birthday, then.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Not fair you have to work today.”

You shrug. “No rest for the wicked.”

This makes him smile a little wider, and you feel that’s a good present for today.

“Hopefully you have something fun planned for later?” 

Is he fishing, or just making conversation? You can never tell with this man. 

“Not really,” you admit with a shrug.

Your parents are divorced and remarried, living far away from you in their new lives, with their new families. You know they’ll call you later, when they remember you. You’ll have an awkward little conversation that will only serve to grind up your heart into smaller pieces, rather than lift your spirits like its meant to.

Your friends are busy too. One, with her new baby who never has time for you anymore, and you totally understand (and endorse) her priorities, even if it still hurts. The other’s work schedule is exactly the opposite of yours, and you never manage to hang out anymore.

Maybe you’ll go to the thrift store after you get off work, or treat yourself to an ice cream. Nothing too extravagant. You’re saving every penny you can for your upcoming trip.

“Well, maybe something will come up.”

It’s a nice thought.

You make him his usual coffee order, and don’t think much about it the rest of the day. This warm spring day has everyone out and about, stir crazy after the thaw, and you were running full speed from open to the end of your shift. For some incongruous reason, people were extra rude too, and as the clock strikes 2 you are at the end of your rope, your smile more closely resembling a baring of teeth.

Your whole body hurts, and you think you are too exhausted to do anything fun for yourself, until you go to your car in the lot behind the brick building to find Mr. Wick—and his motorcycle—parked next to your old Rav4. He looks utterly scrumptious, if you’re being honest, those legs going on forever as he leans against the seat of his bike. His hair is waving down around his face as he browses something on his phone to pass the time.

Good on you, for only pausing for a moment to ogle him.  

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You look between him and the bike with your lip between your teeth, wondering what he’s doing, your treacherous heart fluttering in your chest.

“I thought…it might be fun to go for a ride? If you want.”

You cannot suppress a wide smile, touched to the marrow that he thought of you on your special day. “That does sound like fun,” you admit, and not just because the thought of sitting behind him on a bike makes you a little weak in the knees. The sunshine that day truly feels like a gift from the gods after such a harsh winter. “But…”

He tilts his head inquisitively.

“Don’t you have better things to do?”

He shakes his head, a lock of his dark hair falling over his eyes, and your fingers physically ache to brush it away. “There’s nothing I’d rather do,” he assures you, and damn if that isn’t enough to convince you.

“Full disclosure: I’ve never actually been on a bike before?”

His smile is nothing less than gentle, and he could have pushed you over with a feather.

“All you have to do is hold on to me,” he assures you, and you think you lose your mind a little at that.

There is slightly more to it, he instructs you as you put on a helmet and he helps you clamber on behind him. He tells you to lean slightly with him into the turns, but not too much.  The bike grumbles like a fire-breathing beast beneath you as he starts it up.

The feeling of his slim hips and taut backside between your thighs crosses some wires in your brain.

He takes you to the winding backroads of the countryside and up the mountain. You feel like you’re flying, snaking through the curves on this powerful machine, with a man you find you trust implicitly at the controls.

You laugh out loud more than once.   

At a straightaway he asks through the helmet mic, “Want to see what she can do?”

“Sure,” you answer, even though you can’t imagine what more this beautiful bike could offer.

“Lean into me, and hold on.” You obey, looping arms around his trim waist, plastered to his backside as he hunkers down for aerodynamics. You were already going fast, but when he shifts a gear you take off like a shot.

A sane person would have screamed, but all you can do is laugh.

This is the purest joy you’ve felt in longer than you can remember.

John pulls over at a scenic overlook, parking the bike so you can have a little break. You sit together on a picnic table, looking over the valley below. A stream snakes through it like a silver ribbon, shimmering in the sunlight. You sigh and lean back on your arms, lifting your face to the sun.

This has turned out to be a perfect day. John smiles a little as he looks over at you, but says nothing, just lets you soak it in.

“Thank you for this,” you finally say. “I was having such a shitty day.”

“You’re welcome.”

You sit up and rub at your neck. You have an unrelenting ache in the muscle over your left shoulder blade. It never really goes away, but its definitely worse after a long day on your feet bending over coffee.

John looks worried, bless him. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all. I just…have this thing. I think there’s a demon living in my shoulder.”  

After a pensive moment he lifts his hands in offering, moving very slowly as though he might spook you. His hands are…beautiful. Large, long fingered, calloused too. You wonder what he does, when he’s not sitting in the coffee shop or binding books. The thought of them on your body gives you a forbidden little thrill.

You do not even consider the missing digit, until he looks at his left hand and frowns, closing it to hide it at his side. “Sorry. I still forget…”

But you take his hand in yours, inspecting it closely for the first time. He allows it, though there is something vulnerable in his eyes as you do. The healed skin almost looks jagged, like it wasn’t severed with a clean cut or a surgical blade. You feel the urge to press your lips to it, as though you could kiss it better, but you just rub your thumb over the fine dark hairs there.

“What happened?”

“Someone…” He cuts himself off with a frustrated sound. “I had an accident.”

You sense there’s much more to the story, but you don’t press him yet.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Sometimes, I get the phantom aches. Mostly it’s fine though.”

You nod and angle your back to him, placing his hand on your shoulder as you shoot him a pointed look, granting him permission to touch you. His sigh is almost imperceptible, but you sit up a little straighter as he squeezes your shoulder lightly. You get the slightest taste of the strength in those hands, yet you know he could rip you to pieces if he chose to.

He slays you in a different way, knowing exactly how to use them on your sore muscles, and you can’t help but moan as he squeezes the kinks out of your shoulders. For a second he freezes at the sound, before continuing to work his magic.

“God…that feels so good.” You’ve been in pain for so long that it’s damn near better than sex.

Maybe it’s been too long for that too, though.

“You are a mess.” You know him well enough now to know he’s frowning as he says this. He kills a knot with the well-placed blade of his thumb. You feel it release and you jump a little. Though it doesn’t really hurt you, you’re not sure why there is suddenly moisture in your eyes.

It’s been a long time since anyone’s taken care of you like this, you suppose.

“Job hazard,” you sigh.

“Do you ever do yoga?”

You laugh a little at that for some reason. “I used to practice, when I was younger.” It kind of fell by the wayside. You’re always so tired when you get home.  

“Well, stretching is good for you, as you age. Take it from an old man. It helps.”

“You’re not old,” you immediately protest.

“Nice to know I still have some curb appeal.” His words are laden with sarcasm, and yet you can tell he is pleased.

He finishes the massage with a lighter touch, to stimulate blood flow, that gives you delicious chills all over. Your shoulders are your kryptonite, and you are putty in his hands. You look back at him from beneath your lashes, curious what exactly it is the two of you are doing here. Does he like you, or is he just being impossibly nice?

He doesn’t avoid your gaze, but you find you can’t read him, not one bit.

“Want to get something to eat?” he asks.

It is almost dinner time. “Okay.”

You’re a little sad as you ride back down the mountain towards town. But he pulls up to the local diner, and you have sinfully greasy cheeseburgers and shakes. Despite your protests he pays, because: “No one should have to pay for their birthday dinner.”

You know he’s fucking loaded, so you let him have his way.

“This is the best birthday I’ve had in a long time,” you admit, munching on a fry. “Thank you, Mr. Wick.”

You know he’s told you to call him John before, but fuck if you haven’t noticed how his eyes darken just a little when you call him Mr. Wick, or even just Sir at the coffeeshop. You feel like you stumbled onto something you don’t entirely understand, but it fills you with a forbidden warmth all the same.

He gives you a hooded look from across the table, and you fancy he knows that you know what you’re doing.

“My pleasure, y/n.”

He doesn’t insist that you call him John again.

[wnobin]

NO BUNNY BUT YOU! 🐰

petsitter! wonbin x fem! reader

series synopsis: your friends refuse to look after your bunnies, tokki and dokki, while you’re on an overseas programme for a week. luckily, winter knows the right person for the job.

series masterlist

part four: maybe bunnies aren’t that bad

you had finally reached your accommodation after a long and tiring flight and endless security checks that never seemed to end. you checked the time on your phone, it was around evening time which meant wonbin was most likely over and taking care of tokki and dokki. you’re not sure why you were nervous but you kept retyping and deleting your text to him. it was just a simple “how are the bunnies?” text but for some reason, your heart was doing backflips at the thought of sending wonbin a text. letting out a sharp exhale, you hit send on the message, placing your phone face down. almost immediately, your phone started ringing with a call from wonbin.

fuck shit fuck why is he facetiming me now, i’m not ready!!!!

before you could even process what was happening, you accidentally pressed the accept call button and was now connected to wonbin. “h-hey?” your voice cracked as you internally cursed at yourself, already embarrassing yourself with one word.

“hiiii, y/n!! how was your flight? i hope it was good! tokki misses you especially.”

wonbin waved to you before directing the camera to tokki who seemed to recognise you through the screen. even thiugh you were exhausted from the travelling, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of tokki’s nose twitching as wonbin gently scratched the side of her face. soon the awkwardness faded and you were both telling each other about your days. you listened to wonbin telling you about how the bunnies missed your scent and would cuddle up near your pillows, responding with soft mhm’s, his voice almost lulling you to sleep. the call continued until the bunnies eventually tired themselves out and fell asleep, meaning wonbin would have to go back to his dorm. you were slightly sad that the call ended so soon but wonbin assured you that he would call you again the next day and keep you updated on your fur babies.

laying in your bed and staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t wait for the next day to come. not because you were eager to see tokki and dokki, but instead looking forward to seeing their cute petsitter.

the next few days went the same, you would spend the day taking part in events and programmes and wonbin would send you updates of the bunnies in the morning before he went off to his class. in the evening when you were finally free to relax, you would be on facetime with wonbin, telling him about the fun stuff you did today while he and the bunnies listened intently. your calls would last for hours until tokki and dokki fell asleep. wonbin would stay on call with you as he locked up your dorm and walked back to his own, telling you about his day and how his roommate, sungchan, was still torturing him and making his life living hell over the flowerpot incident.

you enjoyed these late night calls with wonbin, it felt very domestic and nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. you thought the highlight about your overseas trip would be the new experiences but no, the highlight was seeing wonbin being all cuddly with your bunnies and hearing his sleepy voice as it got later in the night.

tonight was the last night before you flew back and as usual, you were on call with wonbin. he seemed sleepier than normal today, his words slurring and voice softer. he told you that he was just tired from sungchan waking him up early in the morning because of an insect in the bathroom. “he’s sucha wimp, i swear… but i’m not!” you giggled as wonbin tried to prove his courage and braveness in attempt to win you over. “then i’ll make sure to call you the next time tokki brings a grasshopper to me.”

“mhm, that’s good. don’t call anyone else, okay?”

you could tell wonbin was getting even sleepier, tokki already curled up by his side. wonbin was dozing off slightly, eyes staying shut longer during his blinks. as much as you liked hearing his sleepy voice, you knew he had to get some rest. “you should head back to your dorm soon, yknow? you’re already so tired.”

“mm, so lazy though…”

“then you can sleep at mine. i don’t mind and ‘s not like i’m there anyways.”

“reaaaally? you’re the best, y/n. your couch’s so comfy.”

wonbin eventually dozed off, too tired to even end the call, soft snores escaping his parted lips. you couldn’t help but to take a screenshot, he looked so pretty. his lips were so kissable. you couldn’t wait to be back tomorrow.

taglist: @istphanie @snowyseungs @nyuoqi @myizhous @jhskluv @babigriin @revehosh

[satinestales]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a fluffy, hurt/comfort where the reader has a nightmare that leaves her in tears and sobbing, and Hobie holds her and comforts her till she eventually falls back asleep? Thanks! I also just wanna say your writing is so good and I really enjoy it! (:

ocean pressure | hobie brown × reader

pairing: hobie brown x fem!reader

warnings: reader has anxiety, depression, derealisation, my english

author's note: I am so sorry for replying decades later, I had no energy or motivation to write something. I have so many drafts and ideas for new stories (the winter soldier....) and maybe one day I'll get to them. I also wanna apologise of this is too short and not as good as others, I didn't write for a long time. Thank you all for the compliments tho, you have no idea how much they mean to me. Especially since english isn't my first language <333

m.list

It's like drowning. Being at the bottom of the ocean and both of your legs are tied up. The only thing you see is the light above your head, unreachable as you’re being crushed by the sea pressure, unable to move, speak, or think. The overwhelming sense of panic as your lungs fill with water, the involuntary gasps for air, for something to save you but instead you fill your lungs with more water. The feeling of disorientation, anxiety, exhaustion. Confusion. Your limbs began to feel heavy, slow, and clumsy. Your body starts to shut down, but it never fully drowns. It forever stays at that stage. Your lungs forever feeling they might explode any second. Your head filled with anxiety and remorse. It never goes away. You’ll always be at the bottom of the ocean, forever gasping for air that will never come.

You thought maybe one day you’ll get used to the feeling, and learn how to live without the air but you never had. The pain was too great, the pressure even greater. Drowning in the same dream every night, scared to close your eyes after the sun sets.

You ought to expect it. You almost forgot about it. After months you could say you had fun. But when you closed your eyes, the water was there waiting. You hoped for the best. But you always woke up disappointed.

This day’s morning wasn’t any different. You woke yourself up by your screams and panting for air. Your nails ripped the pearl white sheets, already covered in your sweat. Forehead layered by your wet hair, blinding you slightly. It wasn’t any different from any other night. The same routine at the same hour.

That’s why you let out a gasp when you felt a cold touch on your shoulder in the shape of a hand. Your head moved involuntarily to your side but your eyes, too disoriented to recognize the face millimeters away from you. You wanted to get away, you needed to get away. You needed to breathe. Open the window. Yes. You could see the light on the other side. You needed to breathe.

Your muscle memory dragged you to the window to force it open, fresh morning air hitting your face but none filling your lungs. You didn’t realize your tears until you tasted them, salty on your swollen lips. Mumbling to yourself.

Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. A cold touch on your back. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Rough material against your cheek. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Gentle hands on the back of your neck. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. Air. The smell of burnt wood. Air. Air. Air. Air. Cold skin against your cheek. Air. Hands playing with your hair. Air. 

Air.

The smell of burnt wood. Air. It was there. There was also a certain sound. Repeated sound. Like humming. Someone was humming a song. You couldn’t recognize the song. You knew the voice tho. It was a very deep voice, calm. Comforting. Sweet.

You forced your head to move, leaving the cold skin your cheek was pressed against. Your hands were holding onto some fabric close to your waist. You wanted to punch yourself for your eyes still not being able to focus. All you could see was a big blur standing right in front of you.

You started to feel shivers on your body. The sweat on your skin slowly turns cold. Without realizing you pushed yourself closer to the person in front of you, wanting to feel a little warmer. The floor was slowly stopping to spin and the walls began to fill a shape. You were in your room. The grey walls feeling familiar. The little box in the corner of your room. What was it for? A cat. A cat. A cat. You have a cat. Of course. The little mess of clothes right beside it. Our suits. Our suits. Our. Our. Our? Hobie and you. Hobie. Hobie. Hobie. Hobie is here. He’s here. The burnt wood. Air.

“Hobie,” you caught yourself whispering. Your voice was weak and quiet. If someone were standing on the other side of the room, they would ‘have missed it. But he was holding you in his arms. You whispered to his ears. His. Hobie. Air.

“I’m here.” You heard a voice back. Caramel sweet. The hands that were playing with your hair were his. So gentle and soft. “I’m here.” You weren’t sure if he spoke again or if your brain was playing jokes on you. Grabbing his top more roughly to convince yourself he’s real. Pushing your head against the crook of his neck more firmly. Anything to make you feel grounded and safe and be real in his arms.

In the last few weeks, the dreams got worse, pushing you further into the abyss. The light almost fading with the darkness surrounding it. You had trouble recognising what's real and what's not. And his touch was too sweet to be considered real. To gentle.

He had no reason to hold you like this. Nothing to gain. It didn't make sense to you. You were convinced it was part of your dream. A trick. A little taste of air before you got pulled back down again.

But it took way too long. You were breathing for too long. So you held onto his touch for as tight as you could, waiting for the inevitable fall.

Any second now. You were gonna be robbed of your air. Seconds away from the overwhelming pressure. You were sure of it.

But your legs still stood on a steady floor. Your hands still held a soft purple top. Cold sweat still tickling your skin. Your air still holding you.

It's not real. It's not real. It's not real. It's not real. It's not real. It's not real. It's not real. It's not real. It's not real. It's real. It's real. It's real. He's real.

Air's real.

You stopped shivering. Still cold and confused but it had no power over your body. You stood still, leaning against Hobie's firm body. Listening to the music of his voice.

"I'm gonna pick you up now," You heard him whisper softly into your ear, tickling the hair on your neck. Caramel.

He gave you a few seconds to concentrate on his words before softly picking you up in his arms, making sure to not be so fast to not scare you off. You now noticed his shiny earrings. He had so many. So many designs. His designs.

Your back pressed against the soft sheets of your bed as Hobie laid you down softly, his hands not leaving your body. Your grip wouldn't allow him.

"I'm so sorry," You were able to let out as soon as you got yourself comfortable, laying on Hobie's chest. His heartbeat fast, reassuring you of its realness.

"Nothing to be sorry about," he murmured, pushing the hair out of your face, letting his hands fall on your collarbone. He was so warm. So safe. "Don't apologise." He added before you felt a soft kiss landing at the top of your head.

Your mind had trouble understanding his actions. Why would he be so kind. You have been friends for just a few weeks. You had a hard time understanding why someone would do something good for you. Something that wouldn't benefit them. To go out of their way to be gentle with you. I didn't deserve it. I don't deserve to breathe.

"I have them too," he interrupted your thoughts, not stopping caressing your hair. "Most of them are the same. They get predictable at some point." Chuckle leaving his lips made your heart skip a beat. He's real. "They're often about me losing something. Someone."

You closed your eyes. How could you be so selfish. Hobie never told you about his dreams, but he's comforting you now. You felt so stupid. Embarrassed even.

"Every time I remind myself they're not real, 'cause when I wake up, you're with me." the hand on your hair stopped. His heartbeat slowed down. No.

You quickly pushed yourself up to see face to face. His eyes scanned your face, big brown covered under heavy eyelashes. He was beautiful. Alive. Real. Air.

"I'm real," you whispered. You didn't say it for your comfort but for his. You knew you were real for your anxious ripped skin around your nails, your bloody lips and salty rivers down your cheeks. You were real for your pain.

But was he? You didn't know what to believe. Was this one of your nightmares. Did he beggin to be part of them?

His warm hand reached your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. "I know," his lips let out. You noticed a little circle of blood on his bottom lip. Like he was biting on it too hard. "I am too."

He was right. Your dreams might have been scary and skin crawling but your brain could never think of such details.

The little mole next to Hobie's left eye. The way his smile was crooked on the right side. His eyebrows were uneven, too, thanks to a small scar at the end. The star constellation freckles on his shoulder. His lip pearcing out of place.

Your brain was good at making you feel scared. But it couldn't think of something that would bring you comfort. What you saw was real. And he wasn't gonna go anywhere.

Your eyes started watering again. Overwhelmed by the feeling. But this time, it felt different. It felt good? You didn't know how to describe it. But you liked it.

The second Hobie saw a glitter in your eyes, he brought his hands to your face, squishing your cheeks. "No. I know what you're feeling. It's not gonna get to you. I'm here. Real. Feel me." He took your hand and pressed it against his chest. You could feel the familiar beat. "Very real," he whispered, looking straight at you. Like he could see your soul. You didn't flinch. "Your thoughts, them ugly ones. Not real." Shaking his head, he brought your hand to his lips, leaving them there before speaking again. "I'm too fine to not be real," A chuckle left your lips at his comment. You saw his lips form a smile, looking at you.

You nod your head, convincing yourself. He was right. He was too gentle to be formed by your mind.

"Don't ever feel the need to hide your nightmares from me." He spoke as he started laying kisses on your knuckles. "I won't hide mine from you. I'll always be here to hold you." His lips now on your wrist.

"I'm not going anywhere."

When you laid on his chest again and matched your heartbeat to his, the fear of closing your eyes was there again. But you felt safer. Because you weren't drowning anymore. You could breathe. Because his arms held you above the shore. And his existence was the air that you breathed.

[amazinglyashy]

Frostbite - Prologue [Ch. 1]

Read on Ao3 Pairings: Foreseer Zayne x Reader Summary: In the Creatio Protocore, you would find an extension on the life you had all but given up on until recently. In you, the Foreseer would find a life worth living for once in his immortality. And together, you would find just how lovely and just how cruel fate could be. Tags: N/SFW, Hurt/Comfort. Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Canon Divergence, Abuse, Domestic Violence, Chronic Illness Notes: A slightly divergent retelling of Zayne's time as Foreseer and the myths and memories that flow with it. Chapters uploaded as frequently as I can. Chapter wordcount: 1,445

Prologue - You

Freezing- that would be a good word to use to describe how you were feeling right now. It was the dead of winter, with the wind howling as it bit across the rose color of your cheeks, making you wonder how long it would be before you became a frozen icicle yourself, much akin to the ones hanging down low from the trees. The nature around you was breathtakingly beautiful, you wouldn’t deny that- the trees nearly black in color from the wet of their wood in the snow coating them, the stark contrast of black and white mixed with the pale blue of ice taking form along the branches- if you had more time, you would stop and enjoy it. Maybe start a fire to add some warm oranges and red to the canvas before you while you admired the view. But you didn’t have such time, nor luxury at this moment. 

You couldn’t tell if the ground beneath you feeling like a glacier was a bad omen or not. In most cases, the danger of slipping on the tightly packed snow would be at the forefront of your mind, but right now, it was a comforting sign that the road you were traversing was commonly used. It meant if you got stuck up here, you could find help fairly easily, possibly even before freezing to death. 

Well, until you had to fork away from the main road and take a much less common way to get to your destination. 

The route you were currently using was one that branched off several times in its length, commonly leading to local villages or nearby cities for tradesmen and artisan to go and sell their wares. Farmers would also utilize the main roadway when transporting livestock or their crops in imposing wagons, though their wheels would have much difficulty on the ice and sleet that had formed since autumn had turned to winter. Their trips were far and fewer in between, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist until spring. 

You had the lingering thought of hopefully passing a hunter somewhere along your route. You had brought some coin just in case, hoping to talk them out of a catch they may have on hand in exchange, so that you could have a bite to eat later once you were making the trip back down the mountain, huddled around a makeshift fire as you waited out the evening. 

That would be to say, if you were able to make it back down the mountain at all.

Quietly, as if on instinct, you reached up to clutch your chest as you felt a slight tendril of pain throb across your bosom. You needed to be careful, and pick up the pace. The frozen wind howling around you was dangerous for your condition, and you didn’t need to experience an aggressive flare up in the middle of an unforgiving mountain. Not when you were this close to a possible salvation. 

The area ahead of you cleared, and you could see an olden wood sign with markers and text burnt into the grain, covered in snow, but clean enough to read. You approached the gray wood that complimented the white contrast of snow surrounding it, making out a few small, nearby villages whose names you recognized from day trips the summers before now. The roadway you were on split off into three different directions, snaking to locations nearby and further away. Two of the options had paths similar to the one you had just come from- packed down snow slick with footsteps and wheel markings, the travel route being utilized faster than fresh snowfall could cover it. It was alright to walk in, with nails cobbled into the soles of your shoes to prevent a fall. Both paths promised common traffic. But the third option was quite the opposite. 

It was nearly completely powder, only packed down from more snow landing down on top of it. It looked more akin to a small, sudden cliff rising above the other pathways, like a two-foot tall wall challenging you to dare take a step onto it, not knowing if what lie beneath it was solid ground, or covered underbrush. 

Obviously, it was the one you were meant to take.

Of course, the state it’s in makes perfect sense , you thought to yourself, stepping forward to begin carefully trekking the thick climate. After all, when was the last time an official royal envoy had been sent to the Tower of Thorns anyway? Most people didn’t make it a daily habit to go and see the Foreseer. The fear of angering him or the god Astra Himself usually too much for most to bear, even in exchange for the possibility of finding out a future prophecy that greedily pertained to themselves. And the ones who didn’t fear the concept were simply too stupid to have fear of the godly and divine in the first place. You had definitely heard talk in the taverns, wild men drunk on too much ale, spilling their tales and woe about friends or cohorts going missing after a brazen trip to the tower in the mountain. Usually, it was someone who had been down on their luck, searching for a prophecy that promised better fortune in the near future. But occasionally, it was someone who wanted to grasp one of the Foreseer’s many treasures, the coin fetched for such items would be immense enough to live on for years to come, simply because of his divine name. 

That very same tavern talk was what had led you to this very moment- trudging your way as the stony spire slowly came into view, your lungs burning with every freezing breath you took. 

Yes, those who didn’t fear the Foreseer or Astra were out of their right minds, and the ones who even humored the thought of stealing something holy for their own benefit were even worse. But you were finding it harder and harder to mock them, even simply in the depths of your own mind, due to what was bringing you here today.

The Creatio Protocore. 

It was a divine relic, supposedly nestled in the center of the scepter the Foreseer used in most of his magics, knots of wood and metal curling around it as it hovered in place. It could reign destruction- leveling parts of the mountain, taking lives without an ounce of mercy from the wielder, Astra’s cruel sword and emissary, and freezing to death anyone who may speak out of line. But there were two sides to this coin- with the Creatio Protocore also capable of more than simple miracles. It could bestow life upon rot, and will tranquility on the lands surrounding. Both sides were tales you had been told, sure, but you knew the words bore some weight. You had read the scripture from the royals before and their envoys, and how the Foreseer would act when they were in his presence. 

The Creatio Protocore would be able to cure you- the ailment that scarred deeply across your chest- you just knew it. 

Not much was known about Cryoarsis, except that there were no known cures nestled among the browned, stained pages that spoke of the few known cases. And when you said few, you meant few. The amount of known cases could be counted on both hands, and missing a few fingers at that. The cases happened so infrequently, the information that spoke of the disease could be considered even rarer than the disease itself. Your deductions had found that the only possible cure would be nothing short of divine intervention. A rare miracle bestowed upon you by the gods themselves. A rare miracle taking shape, could be considered the Creatio Protocore, the main source of power for the Foreseer, and a blessing from Astra in physical form. 

So, blindly- on the basis of some tavern banter you had heard a few weeks ago and the writings you had read up on after- you were lifting your knees to your chest as you trudged your way up the last length of the mountainside you would need to reach the Tower of Thorns. The human will to live was a mighty thing, you were finding. And you knew yours was mightier than most. It hadn’t always been, but recent events transpiring had done well to change your mind, and now your only goal was to find- and take- the Creatio Protocore to cure your Cryoarsis. Even if it killed you.

Besides, you would die anyway without it. What did you have to lose, trying to go toe to toe with a demigod?

[underneath-the-sidras]

I'm Addicted to the 'If Only'

for @nessianweek Day 2: Yearning

Summary: There were times. Times when the ale in her cup had softened the roaring in her head to a dull hum. When she was half asleep, or bewitched by a particular tune the string players were playing at the tavern. Times when Nesta's mind would wander towards the shimmering light in the back of her mind, and picture what could have been. With Cassian.

OR

Nesta gets drunk and is simply a woman with fantasies / ACOFAS AU?

A/N: Felt cute, might delete later. I'm going to be honest, I've never done this before. Done what you ask? All of it! Unfortunately, an idea wiggled into my brain and I needed to write it out. Fortunately, the stars aligned and this worked out for Nessian week! That and @separatist-apologist is very good at convincing others to write their first fics. It's very imperfect, but I'd like to think of it as a way to thank all the wonderful writers in the Nessian community who have kept me well-fed with all their beautiful work for so long. This fic is inspired by the song "I Look in People's Windows" by Taylor Swift.

On AO3

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

Snow was falling over Velaris.

Nesta watched as flakes the size of silver coins dropped onto roofs and the heads of passersby as they bustled by the tavern window. The city would soon be completely covered in white, the snowflakes layering on top of one another in the street until they became an impenetrable sea of snow. She used to hate the winter in the mortal lands, how it ran their food scarce, how it forced her to rely on snuggling close to her sisters for warmth. But as she observed from the warm interior of the tavern, she was beginning to appreciate the harsh beauty of the coldest season. She liked the hard structure that came from the cold, finding it far more appealing than the dripping nature of the summertime. That, and maybe she had also begun to appreciate the isolation that came with the onslaught of colder weather. Fewer bodies on the streets meant less chance of running into certain fae. 

It had been four months since the final battle with Hybern, and Nesta had since effectively removed herself from the inner circle. Her sisters were now free to live their lives without her, no longer having to dwell on old wounds and painful memories. And Cassian…her thoughts stuttered. She tried not to think about the Night Court’s general when she could help it, casting any lingering thoughts of him to the farthest corner of her mind.

But.

But there were times. Times when the ale in her cup had softened the roaring in her head to a dull hum. When she was half asleep, or bewitched by a particular tune the string players were playing at the tavern. Times when she would wander towards the shimmering light in the back of her mind, and picture what could have been. With him. 

Would he hold her hand while they sat at the tavern, she wondered, his thumb slowly stroking the back of her hand as the music played. Would he press soft kisses into her hair and carry her home after she complained about her feet hurting? The corners of her mouth threatened to lift at the thought. 

She would teach him how to dance, firmly placing his hands on her waist and admonishing him when they slipped lower. His warm laugh would rumble across his chest, and she could feel it now. Feel how they were pressed together, how warm and smooth his skin felt against hers, and how her heart would thunder as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. 

One kiss would turn into two, then three until he was backing her up towards the wall of her apartment, his hands fisting in her hair as she cried out “Cassian–”

“Miss?” 

Nesta jolted up from where her head rested at the bar, the bartender looking over her with a mixture of pity and weariness. Her head turned over her shoulder to survey the room, suddenly aware of the vast emptiness of the tavern around her.

“Bar closed about a half hour ago,” he said apologetically, “Is there someone I can get to take you home?” Nesta shook her head, her cheeks heating. She rose quickly from her seat, swaying slightly from the alcohol.

“That won’t be necessary, thank you.” She said in a clipped tone. Using everything in her power to remain balanced, she made her way to the door, decidedly ignoring the concerned look of the barkeep. 

The cold wind greeted her instantly, a welcome sobering feeling brushing across her face. Nesta breathed in the chilly air, the ale having warmed her enough that the cold was almost enjoyable. But the bartender’s question still nettled in her mind. Was there anyone to take her home? Who would want to take her home?

The image of the Night Court’s general flashed across her mind. Cassian, her mind seemed to sigh at his name. Would Cassian have taken her home? Perhaps if she had not refused to speak to him after the war, and he had not given up so easily, he would be here. It was impossible given their history, she knew that, but it was at times like these when Nesta’s mind liked to play games of pretend. Pretending she lived in a world where she wasn’t broken and Cassian had stayed. Would he come to nights at the tavern with her or meet Nesta to walk her home, not wanting her to walk alone on the street? 

Nesta didn’t even know if Cassian liked music, or what kind, where his favorite tavern was, or what he liked to drink. 

She didn’t want to know. 

She was desperate to know. 

It was nonsensical to wonder about these things, she knew, but Nesta’s whole body ached with how much she did not know Cassian, and how much he did not know her. He should not know her, the roar in her head tried to scream out, but the foolish part of her was louder as she continued to walk through the snow-laden streets of the city. 

Did it feel alright for him to not know her? Was he tormented by it, wondering what she liked and where she was at every waking moment? Her stomach fluttered at the thought of it. Her drunken mind liked that idea, of him aching for her. 

She pictured taking Cassian to places she liked to go, her favorite tavern where they had string players on weekends, the bookstore on the corner of her street, the bakery next door to it with the chocolate-almond pastries. Letting him get to know her, and enjoying it.

As her mind wandered, Nesta found her feet continuing to walk deeper into the city, eventually pulling her to one of the main shopping avenues of Velaris. There were crowds on the street this evening for some kind of street fair, bundled but smiling fae faces gathered around food stalls and art vendors in the street. Children chased each other, throwing snowballs with all of their might in sorts of make-shift battles. 

Nesta’s foolish heart warmed at the scene. Had she been in her right mind, she would have turned back as she usually did from crowds. But tonight was different, tonight it was almost as if there was a soft golden glow around the edges of her vision, making everything seem beautiful and soft. 

She pushed forward, staying at the edge of the busy street, her stomach grumbling at the scents coming from the food stalls. She watched as a tall male turned from one of the stalls, half of his long dark hair tied in a makeshift bun. 

Nesta froze as her heart dropped into her stomach. It couldn’t be. What were the chances he’d be in this part of the Velaris? 

She should run. She would say something stupid to him, she knew she would. Something recklessly idiotic. But as her heart beat faster, it was not from fear but from hope. Had he come to see her? Desire surged in Nesta’s chest, but her thoughts halted as the male fully turned.

It wasn’t him.

Stupid. The male wasn’t even Illyrian, he had no wings. She was losing her mind this evening. 

Nesta didn’t often come to the busier parts of the city, instead opting to stay in her secluded area of Velaris where she wouldn’t happen to run into any of her sister’s chosen family. But on the rare occasions she did, she couldn’t help but wonder if Cassian would be wandering the streets as well. Both fearful and hopeful while imagining their eyes meeting while sitting in a cafe by the Sidra, or finding him drinking in the tavern next to hers.

If they did cross paths, would he reach out for her, or would he simply pass by? Nesta’s traitorous fingers twitched as she pictured it. Knew how her hands would unconsciously trail after him, how she would inhale his lingering scent to memorize it, even if he paid her no mind.

Her mind was running wild now that she had opened the floodgates. Fantasies of lives she could never have, dreams she would not share aloud even if someone tried to torture them out of her. Marriage ceremonies, children’s names, what their home would look like, and where they would live. Nesta would at first insist on living separately, the thought of living unmarried with a partner a bit scandalous still. But Cassian would sleep over so often, she would eventually acquiesce and he’d move in with her. They would have dinner together every evening when he was not away, Cassian cooking his favorite Illyrian meals for her. She would sleep on the left side of the bed, and him on the right, closer to the door. On hard nights, he would hold her extra close and run his fingers through her hair, soothing her with soft Illyrian melodies. For once her home, their home, would be warm and safe. 

Again it was as though she could feel it now, how her ear would press into his chest and hear the steady beat of his heart, lulling her to sleep. Her eyes closed.

A boisterous male laugh sounded out from nearby, warm and mirthful. Nesta’s eyes flew back open as she jerked towards the source. 

It wasn’t his laugh, but Mother did she want it to be. She closed her fists and took a breath, frustrated and entranced by all thoughts of him. 

Home. She needed to go home. 

Nesta’s steps finally took her back towards the quieter residential side streets of Velaris, her pathway illuminated by the soft glow from the windows lining the homes. She focused her eyes forward, deliberately looking towards the cobblestone at her feet. Cassian was likely in Illyria, as he usually was, training Rhysand’s armies or whatever he did up in those mountains. She had at least had enough sense not to glance towards the peaks that loomed in the distance, a subtle ache nipping at her to think of him so far. 

Instead she turned her gaze to one of the windows of the homes on the street, a rose-golden glow emanating from within. A table of friends, four males and three females gathered around a verifiable feast of a meal, laughing and chatting amongst themselves as they ate.

Nesta stood there entranced, trying to picture herself at that table, with a group of friends enjoying her company like that. Friends. What would it be like to have friends? She had a few in their village growing up, most abandoning her when her mother passed and father fell into debt. The roaring in her head started, threatening the blissful barrier the alcohol had provided. 

Would she ever feel at ease with a group of fae like that?

One of the males looked up and met her gaze, and for a moment she swore hazel eyes pierced hers. Her breath caught, as she fumbled back towards the street, walking once again, embarrassed to have been caught spying. 

It wasn’t him, Nesta assured herself. But she couldn’t get the image out of her head, of him in one of these houses, seated at a dinner table. It was ridiculous. She wasn’t even sure if Cassian had friends in Velaris outside of the Inner Circle. But the idea had sunk its claws into her mind, a desperate, pathetic hope. Every building she passed, Nesta’s eyes flitted to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of who was inside. She had to know if he was there. She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t know.

From that point on, each home she passed was like a scene laid out before her, inviting her to insert herself into the lives of the fae within. Countless lifetimes and possibilities transfixed her, as she continued to watch. It was no longer strangers she was gazing at, but her and Cassian. They were in their living room, dancing with their two children, Cassian picking her up and spinning her while their girls shrieked with delight. They were snuggled up on a sofa together, in front of a roaring fire, Nesta closing her eyes and leaning onto his shoulder. Not a single flinch crossing her face. They were cooking together, Cassian stirring and adding spices to a pot on the stove, while Nesta chopped up something on the counter. Her turning to put what she had been chopping into the pot and pressing a kiss to Cassian’s cheek, who turned to beam at her. They were seated on the floor of their living room together, her handing a beautifully wrapped box to Cassian, who proceeded to open it. 

Back on the street, Nesta reeled back as though she’d been struck. A horrid thought clanged through her. 

What day was it? 

She remembered she had gone to the tavern earlier to listen to some music and have a few drinks before going somewhere. 

To Feyre’s, she realized. 

Feyre had asked her to come to the townhouse this evening because it was…solstice. The tavern had closed early and there was the street fair because it was solstice. She had gotten drunk in order to prepare herself to face Feyre and her family at solstice. 

Suddenly the festive lights and music ringing through the streets came into a sharp clarity, overwhelming her fae senses. 

Panic clawed at her throat, she could not go. She was not ready to face Feyre on her birthday, or Elain. Or Cassian. He would be there, her heart swelled, pulling her feet forward. On this day, she knew where he would be, who he would be with, she just needed to see him. Maybe this could be her one solstice present to herself, she reasoned, to prove that Cassian was not just a being made of whispered fantasies and alcohol-infused delusion. She would just take one look, and then she could go back to her apartment. It was madness, she knew it was, but the sharp sting of reality had not yet taken hold this night. 

Her pace began to quicken, every step faster than the next before she realized she had no idea which direction to turn, thoroughly lost in the maze of the city and her mind in the dark hour. She spun around, almost losing her balance in the slick snow, completely at a loss. The ache in her chest had now turned into a sharp stab of hurt, only to be soothed by the sight of the dark-haired general.

She should turn back, she thought, towards the bustling avenue to start her search there, maybe she would even ask someone for directions. The idea of doing so would usually sour her stomach, but something stronger than fear was driving her tonight. 

She began to walk purposefully, taking only a few steps before her feet skidded to a halt. 

As though it had been dropped from the sky, the massive townhouse loomed before her. Bright festive lights twinkled among the bushes that lined the windows, taunting her as they danced, inviting her to step closer.

Her traitorous feet had been leading her this way the whole time, unbeknownst to her. Nesta bit her lip, did she dare to risk facing her sister’s family tonight? There was a split moment of hesitation before she moved past the front gate. It would only be a brief glance, as soon as she saw those hazel eyes and dark waves she would leave. It would only take a moment.

Nesta didn’t bother going towards the door, electing instead to creep along the outside of the home. What room would they be in at this hour? She made her way towards the right set of windows she remembered as part of the living room. She could only pray the Shadowsinger and her sister’s mate were inebriated enough to not be on their guard tonight while she spied. 

Her heart pounded erratically in her chest as she drew closer, a rainbow glow of holiday lights from within grazed her face as she peered up. She had guessed correctly, the inner circle was gathered around the fire, wrapping paper strewn all over the plush carpet. They must have just finished opening presents. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at her sisters, so at ease in their new lives, openly smiling as they engaged in conversation. Good, she thought, though a hint of bitterness flooded her tongue, it was good that they were happier without her. But her sisters were not who she needed to see this night. Her gaze turned frantic around the room, trying desperately to alight on the male who haunted most of her waking and sleeping thoughts. Her gaze made no purchase. He was not there.

Was he in Illyria after all? She wasn’t sure she could bear that after all the torment this evening. So she waited, watching her sister’s chosen family enjoy their holiday, as they laughed and shared stories with bright eyes, drinking deeply from their cups. It was not too far off from what she would be doing inside the house anyway, watching the inner circle play their little games while she kept to the outskirts. She was growing restless waiting for him, the urge to barge inside and ask where he was, growing by the minute. But at long last she was rewarded.

Cassian stepped, or stumbled rather, into the room with a grin plastered across his face. His dark hair was mussed, likely having fallen out of his bun hours ago, and two bottles of wine clutched in his hands. The room let out a cheer at his entrance, and Cassian handed off one of the bottles to the Morrigan. Azriel made to reach for the other one, but Cassian waved him off, uncorking the bottle with his teeth before drinking straight from it. She could have sworn she saw a look of concern pass between the Shadowsinger and her sister as they watched him, but Nesta was not interested in them. Her gaze fixed upon the male seated towards the end of the long couch, his hand gripping the wine bottle like a lifeline. 

She had said she would take one look, but she was a liar. She could not move even if she tried, her eyes greedily drinking in the male she looked for in every window and every sky. Her focus snagged on his lips, remembering the soft touch of them against her own on the battlefield. How often did she feel that phantom press in the late hours of the night. He was dressed in a dark red sweater this night, one that clung to the contours of his large frame, as if to torment her. Nesta could not help but imagine trailing her fingers over the material, what it would feel like, what the skin beneath that sweater would feel like. 

Cassian let out a booming laugh at something that was said, loud enough for her to hear through the window, and never did she wish so much to have a device to bottle sound. But the smile that remained did not quite meet his eyes, which were intermittently flickering towards the door. 

The Night Court’s general was drunk, that much was clear, but something was troubling him despite the merriment he tried plastering across his face. The Shadowsinger clapped a hand onto Cassian’s shoulder, in what seemed to be a comforting gesture. 

So badly did she want to be the one comforting him, and yet hadn’t she been the cause of most of his misery when she was around? A sober realization made its way to the forefront of her mind; all she could do was cause him pain . Those beautiful dreams of their life together could only ever be dreams. The reality was that everything she touched had crumbled and turned to ash, but she would be damned if Cassian did as well. She needed to leave, go back to her apartment and try and forget this whole night had ever happened, for both of their sakes. Preferably with the assistance of alcohol. Nesta’s foot stepped back from the window, yet couldn’t stop herself from one last glance at the male inside.

Hazel eyes met hers from across the room. Shit. Cassian’s eyes blinked slowly before widening. There was the sound of glass shattering, as the wine bottle left his hand and dropped onto the floor. Shouts of alarm rose up from the rest of the inner circle, as they jumped up to help clean up the mess. Cassian’s form quickly disappeared out of the room, his hand bracing against the door frame as he pushed around it. She needed to leave, now. 

She scrambled backwards, towards the gate, snow hitting her shoulder from the tops of the bushes as she darted by. She rounded the outside gate and stopped out of breath, hidden by the tall bushes that separated the townhouse from the street. There was the sound of the front door being wrenched open and frantic footsteps down the entry stairs. She didn’t dare to breathe as the footsteps crunched closer, hoping they obscured her own.

“Nesta?” Cassian’s voice was soft, almost hopeful. She had expected him to yell out in his drunken state, alerting the whole inner circle of her presence, but he hadn’t. The quiet sound of her name from his lips was a different kind of bliss altogether, pulling at something deep within her core. Her lips parted, desperately wanting to tell him she was there, that she was ready to try together this time, but no sound came out. 

A second pair of footsteps followed from the front door.

“Cass? What is it?” Feyre’s concerned voice floated through the entryway. Nesta bit her cheek, to keep from making a sound. The only thing worse than Cassian finding her out here would be Feyre and Cassian finding her together. She didn’t think she could survive the look of pity she knew would cross Feyre’s face if she discovered her out here.

“I saw her,” His words slurred slightly from the alcohol, but were determined nonetheless. “I saw her at the window.” Feyre did not ask who it was he had seen, seemingly understanding, but she waited a moment before softly saying,

“I miss her too, Cassian.”

A weight had dropped into Nesta’s stomach, she could not bear to hear this conversation. 

“She was at the window,” Cassian insisted, “She was here, I need to…” he trailed off. Nesta’s ears strained for the end of his thought, but nothing came. Perhaps he did not know how to approach her either, also frozen by the neverending stalemate the two of them found themselves in. Feyre inhaled a slow breath, as though she were about to explain something difficult to a small child.

“Sometimes it can seem like we see things that aren’t actually there. Things that we want to believe are there, but they aren’t,” she said gently. Another moment of silence followed. Feyre tried again.

“Why don’t we go inside? I think Rhysand and Amren were going to pull out the chessboard.”

No reply came from Cassian. Had they gone back inside? Nesta didn’t hear the door slam shut, but her heart was beating so loud she easily could have missed it. 

“I think I’m going to stay out here,” His voice quietly sounded once more.

“Cassian–”

“Just for a bit,” He amended. Nesta could hear the smile he forced onto his face, “Go, enjoy your birthday, Feyre.” She must have listened, as after a moment Nesta heard the soft snick of the front door closing. It was agony being so few steps from him now they were alone, even if he did not know it. But she wouldn’t risk him, not again. So Nesta quietly made her way from her hiding spot back onto the main road, and for once she did not glance back.

The holiday lights in the street now looked garish against the soft white snow frosting the streets. Golden glows that had once emanated from the windows, now dulled to a pale yellow. The wind blew fierce as flurries turned blizzardous, but Nesta did not bother to close her coat against the chill. Already she could feel the press of a hangover against her forehead, the walk having sobered her from the peak of her drunkenness. With it, the starkness of her reality began to return, as though she had never left. 

But as she turned the corner to her apartment, she allowed herself one final solstice present. She let her mind drift to a world in which she had run from her hiding spot that evening and into Cassian’s arms. He would lift her up off the ground, and they would stay there intertwined, swaying with unspoken apologies to one another. She would bury her face in his neck, inhaling his pine and woodfire scent, and it would smell like home. Her home. 

One last time Nesta closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as though she would smell it now.

But only the cold rushed in.

[aloesarchives]

Love and Tenacity (Tokyo Revenger One-shot)

Warning: Blood, Spoiler Warning, Angst, Swearing, Violence, Alternative Canon Divergence, Details of injuries, Mentions of Character Deaths, Lots of crying, The author(me) being an annoying narrator, Truck-kun obliterating Kisaki, Inaccurate medical information, Plot armor, super long fic, Mentions of starting a family

Series: Tokyo Revengers

Word Count: 7.2k words

Pairing: Manjiro “Mikey” Sano x Fem!Reader(Romantic), Takamichi x Fem!Reader(Platonic/Best Friends)

Pronouns: She/Her (Mikey call reader Baby and Princess)

Summary: Instead of Emma getting hit by Kisaki, you take the fall for her.

(A/N: This fic could’ve been way shorter then it needs to be but I had to word vomit a lot. Will edit this later. I actually have been planning to write this type of fic for a year now but never started it until like a weeks ago. Sorry for the inconsistent updates!)

[Not proofread! 7:19pmCST 11/29/2023]

As always, please enjoy!

The slight ringing in your ears had dulled out everything around you.

Your eyes were fixated on the sky, not a single cloud could be seen above. Like the gates were wide open for you to enter. No obstacles, no stairs, nothing between you and the endless cerulean sea that never failed to look beautiful every time.

The faint ringing created this humming effect, drowning out all and any noise. It was strange, it was almost comforting in a way you felt a sense of peace.

Your consciousness becomes like the ocean’s tide, rising and falling as time slows down. With your breathing becoming shallow with each passing second, you wondered if what you did would really change anything. What you did could really make a difference that changes everything forever. Takamichi is the only one that can time leap back and forth. Only he knows what you did affected the future. Yet were you able to live and see that reality yourself? Be alive and Takamichi telling you yourself?

Who knows, you wonder.

Face remained parallel with the sky and consciousness became faint, you were completely fazed out of reality. So out of it that you see two figures hovering over you. You can faintly hear bits and pieces of what they are saying, their voices muffled because your consciousness started to slide down the slope.

With blurry vision, you can make out the silhouettes of Emma and Takamichi. Emma, with big beads of tears in her eyes, has her hands covering her mouth to suppress her sobs. Her body shakes as she continues to cry, continuously shouting out your name. Takamichi isn’t any different. Panic and desperation was written all over him with his endless waterfall of tears. As he is hunched over your body, Takamichi continuously pleads for you to stay awake. 

To stay with them. 

You didn’t want to go, you wanted to stay with them. But your head throbbed and the aching feeling taking over your body, forming a response was something your body couldn’t do. Even blinking was hard because closing your eyes was tempting to enter eternal darkness forever.

As your two friends were desperate to save you and keep you leaving forever, your thoughts drift to Mikey and how he was dealing with all of this. Mikey has been through a lot. He lost so much and you have been there for him all the time.

Maybe Mikey was able to sort things out with Izana, or at least get some things across. You only hoped it wouldn’t be the start of leading him down a dark path.

[~~Flashback~~]

The cold winter air nipped at your lips as you made your way to meet Takamichi at the nearby park.

After the events of Bloody Halloween and Christmas Showdown, you wanted to know everything about Takamichi’s plan. You knew there was no way a junior high kid could have that much knowledge. 

There was something about him that made you want to know more about him. Prior to this, you have never met Hangaki Takamichi nor heard of him. You only ran into him when you accompanied Draken and Mikey when Kiyomasa was beating him up. Afterwards, Takamichi became this constant presence everywhere. He fought with the Toman gang when he wasn’t even a member, even saving them multiple times in the gang brawls.

This kid didn’t grow up with any of you guys yet he’s fighting for them like he’s known them for years. He was so persistent and had this conviction unlike any other person you have seen before in your life. You have to admit, Takamitchy wasn’t the strongest, smartest, or a good fighter for that matter. Yet he still goes in no matter what. He knows he’s going to lose but he still fights anyway.

Why?

You wanted that question answered by the boy himself so you asked him to meet up. He didn’t mind but he was concerned about what Mikey would think.

“Trust me, don’t worry about it. Mikey isn’t like that type of person. As long as I tell him the who, where, when, he won’t make a big deal out of it. Plus he’s not worried about you, Takamitchy.”

Is what you said to him on Friday before going home. It’s Saturday and Takamitchy was waiting for you on one of the swingsets. The anxiety was gnawing at him. Should he tell you why he’s really doing all of this? How would you react to it? 

Would you even believe him?

The chains from the swings clinked at his grip. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t know you had already arrived. Takamitchy jerked his head up at the sound of your footsteps. You greeted him and sat on the empty swing next to him. There was a small silence that fell upon the two of you. You couldn’t blame Takamitchy for being reluctant to talk. I mean, you literally pried at him to tell you his real intentions. And to be honest, the way you did it almost made Takamitchy piss his pants. 

It was like that for a moment before Takamitchy stops moving his swing and looks at you.

“Would you believe even if what I’m telling you is true?”

Caught off guard, you looked at Takamitchy with wide eyes before your signature smile made an appearance on your lips.

“I mean, I have to at this point. I’ve never seen anyone so devoted to fight and save even though they’re not powerful. You never purposely lied to them so you wouldn’t lie to me, right Takamitchy?”

Shaking his head, he looks at you with absolute seriousness.

“No, I don’t want to. The things I’m doing aren’t even for me really but they ended up involving everyone. I need to do this because I have to!”

“ *hums* Then tell me about it, Takamitchy.” 

With that, Takamitchy tells you everything about what he’s doing. How, in the future, the consistent deaths of Hana and his friends have haunted him relentlessly. That he has the ability to travel back in time to certain years depending on how much time has passed. The only reason why he got himself involved with Toman was because Hana’s death was linked to the gang. That there were futures where Draken was either dead or on death row, how some of the other members were dead in one. That one person was behind everything that kept creating such bleak futures: Kisaki Tetta.

As you listened and asked for clarification with what Takamitchy was saying, you couldn’t help but feel sympathetic, astonished, and even heartbroken. Astonished in Takamitchy doing all of this and having the willpower to keep going. But you also felt heartbroken and sympathetic because he had to witness the people his friends and the love of his life die right in front of him. You don’t blame him at all for doing what he had to do, and frankly you would do the same if it meant saving the ones you care about.

“And that’s pretty much it, (Y/N). I know it sounds crazy but it’s all true.”

“Isn’t there anyone else, Takamitchy?”

He looked at you quizzically, legitimately not understanding your lack of disbelief of what he was telling you. Instead, you were still questioning him like it was normal.

“What do you mean by that, (Y/N)?”

“As in, who else did you not see in your future timelines? You said that in other timelines, Ken-chin was dead or on death row. Other timelines, everyone else was dead. I feel like we’re missing something here. Like there has to be someone else that plays a role in the downward spiral of Mikey.”

“(Y/N), I don’t see what you’re trying to get at.”

“Takamitchy, think about it. From what you have told me, Mikey goes down this dark path because he loses the people closest in life. Shinichiro, Baji, Draken, what if there’s someone else we are not including. Like what about Emma? Do you know if she’s in the future?”

It took a few seconds to process what you just said, more so the last part. He would have retorted if it weren’t for the realization to hit him.

“(Y-Y/N), you’re not saying Emma dies, are you?”

“Takamitchy, look, I’m no detective. But think about it. If you said everyone is somewhat dead in the future, wouldn’t that include her too? Only you have been to the future, but how come you didn’t question it? You didn’t see her around when you went back to the future at all?”

“I-I…(Y/N)...”

Even though he didn’t give you an answer, his reaction and the fact his eyes are filled with slight panic gave you one. But with this revelation, it meant that Mikey was inevitably going to lose another loved one, specifically his sister. Once that fact settled in for you, your heart sank to the bottom of your soul. Heartache and agony took over your body, if Takamitchy couldn’t save Emma this time, it would guarantee that Mikey would fall into depravity. 

‘Mikey…’

You couldn’t let that happen. No, you just can’t. You loved Mikey so much that you don’t know what to do if you lost him. Just thinking about the future versions of Mikey from Takamichi’s recounts made you nauseous and break out into a cold sweat.

You know that Takamichi can’t do this all on his own. His mission will need all the help that he can get, and you were on board with it. Fuck, you do anything for Mikey and your friends.

“Then we gotta do this, Takamitchy. I may not be strong or anything but I wanna help you with this. You have my full support.”

Takamichi nods his head with his classic determined look that you’ve grown to admire. Though this meeting happened before Izana was added into the picture. Takamichi’s resolve to continue on grew more since you gave him reassurance of your help. And perhaps, this meeting only made your friendship stronger.

[~~Flashback Ends~~]

You knew you had to protect and save Emma of a fate that would lead to her premature death. You were well aware how much Emma meant to Mikey, and her dying meant Mikey losing the last family member that cared for him. 

Plus Emma didn’t deserve such a fate. She wasn’t involved in the gang at all other than being the little sister of Mikey. But even then, this wasn’t outspoken knowledge and kept hidden except for those in their close circle. To get her caught up in all of these was wrong and scumbag-level. So it was no surprise when Mikey opened up to you about Izana and their shared history together. 

But to know that Izana was trying to get Mikey to fight him by any means necessary, you expected foul play to happen. Yet, not where they were going to target someone and get them killed. It was sickening and cruel for this to happen, even in gangs filled with teenagers who were too chicken to even attempt this. But what happened to Pah’s friend and his girlfriend, it could happen.

All the more reasons to keep a close eye on Emma. But there was another reason why you couldn’t let her die. One time, Mikey took you out on his motorcycle through the city. He took you by the ocean as he zoomed and weaved through the streets of Tokyo. As he stopped and parked his bike, you and Mikey were chilling under the night sky while snacking on freshly made Taiyaki. As the two of you were talking, he mentions how he wants Emma to have a nice domestic life with Draken. You question him further and he just states:

“They care about each other. Emma loves Draken, and Draken cares deeply for Emma. It would make sense, and I would be fine with it.”

You never expected Mikey to say something like that. It’s not like he doesn’t have a way with words, it’s more of he never put much thought into it unless it was serious. So for him to say something like this really changed your perspective. Mikey does seem like a selfish and childish person, but in reality he does care for his friends and siblings. He doesn’t like being publicly vulnerable about these things. Even though Emma is his half-sister, he still loves her regardless. Since Shinichiro is gone, it’s just the two of them. So they have a very close sibling relationship.

All the more reason why Emma shouldn’t be endangered, she was a nice girl that deserves to live her life.

She was the reason why you and Mikey are together. So her dying would impossibly crush your heart and soul. You didn’t know how to live with that, more so with trying to be there for Mikey because he tends to push people away.  But you opt to sacrifice yourself in place of Emma. While not a part of the gang, you have been at their meetings and helped them with some of their brawls. So your hands are dirty compared to Emma’s.

Gosh, you’re not just doing this for a dear friend. But you’re also doing this for the boy you loved so dearly and for years. You just hoped the outcome would guarantee a better future for everyone that’s still alive.

You didn’t regret this at all because all you wished for was Mikey to be happy too.

—————————————————————————

It just happened so fast.

Takamichi, Emma, and you were exiting out of the cemetery to grab some drinks in a nearby machine. As the three of you were waiting for Mikey and Inupi to be done talking to Izana, a small humming sound could be heard in the distance. At first, you guys thought it was just the buildings and paid no attention to it. However, it suddenly got louder and the three of you turned your heads towards the street. Out of nowhere, there was a motorcycle speeding and b-lining it down the street towards you three. However, you noticed someone holding a baseball bat while riding the cycle. 

Perhaps it was pure instinct or intuition, but seeing someone holding a bat in the air while being a passenger of a vehicle isn’t a good sign. Suddenly, you shouted for Takamichi to duck while you immediately pulled Emma in front of you and used yourself as a shield. Unfortunately, your body didn’t take the hit but your head certainly did. The metallic ring of the bat and the silence followed by that was absolutely sickening. 

It was barely thirty seconds and so many things had happened. Once the motorcycle had zoomed off, Takamichi turned around and looked horrified. Though Emma was alive, she was hunched over you as she was shaking your body and calling your name. Once the brief shock wore off, Takamichi dashed over and kneeled over you as Emma stood up. She stared frightened as one of her hands had your blood on it. The comotion had caused Mikey and Inupi to come out of the cemetery to find out what was going on. As Izana left quietly, Inupi and Mikey were in a state of shock with the scene in front of them. Emma and Takamichi were crying as Takamichi kept shaking your unmoving body which laid on the asphalt.

Takamichi was trying to explain to Mikey that Kisaki did this to you but his hiccups from his sobs blocked his words. But honestly, even if Takamichi told him, he probably wouldn’t listen because all he cared about was you going to the hospital and being alive. Mikey wasted no time, he told Takamichi to place you on his back so he can run to the hospital with you. Emma wanted to go with them too but Mikey told her only he and Takamichi should go because they would be faster. Plus he told Emma that her shoes wouldn’t allow her to run and she could get hurt while running. Inupi butts in and says he’ll take care of Emma while the two of them take care of you.

The two took off as Mikey and Takamichi sprinted towards the hospital. As they take the side streets and alleyways, the rapid movement causes you to wake up for a bit. Your vision was blurry and your whole body ached, but you recognized that it was Mikey that was carrying you.

“M-Mikey… Is that you?”

Mikey doesn’t pause for a moment but he instantly softens up when he hears you speak.

“Yeah… It’s me, Baby… Don’t worry, you’re going to be okay… Takamitchy is also with us too…”

You shifted your head on Mikey’s shoulder to face Takamichi who’s running alongside him. He doesn’t smile when he sees your eyes on him but you could see the hopefulness in his. You slowly smile at Takamichi as you shift your head once more so your forehead rests on top of Mikey’s shoulder blade.

“Mikey… I don’t think my eyes are working… And my body is hurting all over that it’s hard to move around…”

“I know I know, (Y/N)-chan… Just a little longer… Please… We’re almost there… Just hang on a little more…”

Because of your injury, you couldn’t register what Mikey was saying to you but you just kept smiling. Something that made Takamichi afraid. With your forehead still pressed against him, you still try to talk the best you can.

“Mikey… Tell Emma it’s not her fault… I did this to myself… Tell Draken and the rest they have been great friends, I l-love them like brothers… And Takamichi-kun, please tell Hana that… that she’s a wonderful friend and I appreciate her a lot. Please take… good care… of her… I think you did it right t-this time… It’s up to you now…”

As you kept talking, Mikey involuntarily picked up his pace causing Takamichi to fall behind for a bit. They were so close to the hospital. If you would hold out a little longer, you would be okay.

You would be, right?

Because of the running, Takamichi wouldn’t see it but you felt it from your spaced out consciousness. Mikey was shaking, his whole body was shaking uncontrollably. It was something Mikey couldn’t admit but he was terrified. Terrified that you, the love of his love, the moon to his stars in the night sky, his best friend, would die and be lost from him forever. No, this can’t happen. You’re strong, stronger than most people. You’re one of the strongest people Mikey knows. You couldn’t go down without a fight. Though your will was strong, Mikey’s denial delusions were stronger. He keeps telling himself that you will be okay and make it out alive. That if he gets you to the hospital, it’s fine. But from what you said, the fear of your death grew stronger in him every step he took to save you. There was nothing more terrifying than for someone to see their beloved die right in front of their eyes. Takamichi knew this all too well seeing Hana die right in front of him.

For him to see Mikey go through the same thing was heartbreaking because he was supposed to prevent this from happening. Yet he indirectly caused it to happen by telling you of his time travel ability and the future timelines he witnessed. He becomes guilt-ridden as he played a role in your death, and he’ll suffer the consequences. Takamichi notices the side street that they were on and they were five minutes away from the hospital. As Takamichi caught up with Mikey, your voice became more hoarse and quiet. This wasn’t good. Mikey wished you kept quiet so you could save your strength.

“M-Mikey… You need to start to take… better care of yourself… You can’t just rely on Kenny and Em to do it…”

“(Y/N), princess, what are you talking about? What about you, you take care of me too, don’t you?”

“Yy-yeah… But I think not anymore…”

“(Y-Y/N)-chan, please… You know… I had a dream where it’s just you and me… We have our own place with our own little family… Once you put the little ones to sleep… We hangout with Ken-chin, Takamitchy-kun, Mitsuya, and everyone at our home… We get to eat and drink all the sake we want as you scold me to quiet down because I would wake up the kids… And everyone would be laughing and having a good time as you punk me around…”

You don’t respond right away, which scared Mikey for a bit, but you hummed and spoke up once more.

“That’s such… a nice dream… Mikey…”

“Yeah, baby, I think about it often. I could only imagine that life with you, I wouldn’t know what to do if it wasn’t with you… So (Y/N), please…”

“Manjiro-kun…?”

Oh god, please don’t…

“Yes, (Y/N)...?”

“I love you…”

They were legitimately right in front of the hospital when your body goes slack against Mikey's body. They were right there, if only they were faster.

After that, everything was a blur. Inupi dropped off Emma at the hospital before driving back to Toman’s meeting spot. Not long after, Draken then Hana arrived. The doctor that had his staff take you in didn’t come back out yet. As Takamichi filled them in, the minutes felt like hours. Wondering what condition you’re in, or whether or not you’re still with them or not. Hana was trying to comfort Emma who was sobbing, clearly traumatized from what had happened. Draken stands and stares at the closed ICU doors, and Takamichi stands by the chairs waiting for your news. Meanwhile, Mikey’s seating and is just a shell of himself. His eyes were void of any light and his head hung low to hide his depressive face. He was numb, he doesn’t feel anything nor couldn’t even if he wanted to. The thought of losing you never occurred to him. He always reassured you that he was the strongest, that he could protect you from anyone and anything that dared to harm you. He found out the hard way what happens when he can’t. This is what will happen to you when he’s not careful with you. 

After a few hours, the doctor came out and everyone but Mikey stood up and went over to hear your condition. Are you okay? Are you even still alive? They needed to know.

“ The surgery was a success. Your friend is alive because you brought her in within 15 minutes of what I assume was the accident that caused it.”

The friends wanted to cheer and celebrate making it out alive. But with the weight of the doctor’s eyes, it tells a different story. So all they can do is release a sigh of relief.

“However, her injury did cause some bleeding. I don’t know what object hit her, the force of the object caused her skull to have a depression fracture. That fracture created small fragments where some stabbed her outer brain layer that caused the bleeding. Though her skull will heal naturally, the force of the blunt trauma caused her to have a severe concussion. With that, after the operation, she was placed in a medically-induced coma. We believe this is the best choice for her recovery.”

“Do you know when she will wake up?” Takamichi hesitantly asked.

“I can’t say for sure. The coma is meant to help her body recover and reset her body from what has happened. Even though we placed her under, it’s not strong and she can wake up if her brain allows her to. It could be at least 12 hours or more when she wakes up though.”

The doctor excuses himself as a nurse tells them that only two people at a time can see you. Hana and Emma were the first to go. Draken decided while the girls were seeing you, to ask Mikey to come outside to have a little talk.

But it was anything but one.

There, Draken was laying it on Mikey, whaling him in the face each time. And while Mikey was allowing the blows to come. No flinching or wincing whatsoever. It was like Mikey had shut down completely. Takemitchi was trying to hold back Draken but got shocked in the face in doing so. It was a chaotic scene in the parking lot. Draken was beating the daylights out of Mikey while Takamichi was trying to split them up and ended up bowing his head on the floor. Takamichi apologized profusely to Draken because he was technically there when you got hit so he was responsible for your condition. He hadn’t realized it but Draken was crying as he raised his fist to punch Mikey again. Yet the punch never connected. He stood there, letting his tears freely fall with his lip slightly quivering to keep his sobbing from spilling out. 

“We created Toman to protect our friends, Mikey! But Pah is in jail! Kazutora is in Jail! Baji’s now dead! And (Y/N)–! She’s… She’s in a coma! Who knows when she will wake up! Or if she will wake up… What the hell is the point of creating this gang if we can't protect our family!!!”

Draken was beyond frustrated and terrified. Frustrated as within a year their friends are getting hurt or being sent away to jail. Frustrated that he couldn’t be there to protect his friends when things like this happened. He was also terrified that he was losing them so fast. Being plucked away like they were petals on a flower. The girls were done and were going to retrieve the boys for their turn. When they didn't see them in the waiting room, however, they searched around to come out to the parking lot after hearing Draken’s yelling. They only saw the aftermath but from the bruises on Mikey’s face, Takamichi’s tears, and Draken heaving, they pieced it together. Draken made way to where you were with Takamichi hot on his tail.

It was strange to see you like this. There you laid, on the hospital bed hooked onto a heart monitor and multiple IV drips. You looked so peaceful and serene where you slept, unaware of the chaos that will ensue soon. Maybe it was a good thing that you were like this, of what is to come in the showdown between Tenjuku and Toman. But reality was always uncertain, Takamichi knew this. Things may not go his plan but he’s damn sure that he will try his best.

Draken had a blank expression but his tears kept coming. He has known you as long as he has known Mikey. You and him were practically siblings, always butting heads but backing each other when the other needed help. He always looked out for you in ways you were unaware of because you always had the tendency to care for them before yourself. And now he has seen how your kind and loving heart can be seen as a weakness, people taking advantage of it because they knew you would fight for everyone before you could save yourself.

Draken kept staring while Takamichi knew he had to do it. It was up to him now to lead Toman against Tenjuku as both their commander and vice-commander are currently out of commission. Takamichi had talked with Hana and Emma before leaving. He now had a new motive to keep fight on as this battle wasn’t just for Toman:

This fight is for you too.

—————————————————————————

After rallying any of the remaining Toman members, Takamichi faces off against Tenjuku that night. 

Fuck, it was hard.

Not only being outnumbered by many, but they were down their strongest members. With Mitsuya and Smiley injured and Mikey and Draken not showing up, it seemed like the fight was already decided. But with Takamichi leading, Toman still kept on fighting, being powered by his dauntless spirit. Angry unlocked his sleeping blue orge powers and knocked down three of Tenjuku’s executives with two of them being the Hataini Brothers. Yet they still had one challenge to face.

Izana Kurokawa, the leader of Tenjuku himself.

Like any last boss fight, he was strong. He knocked down all of Toman’s best members, and he seemed unstoppable. Takamichi was getting absolutely rocked by Kakucho. Blood sept out of his mouth and nose, he was hurting all over and knew he had some broken bones, but he didn’t care. Chifuyuu tried to convince him that Toman would never win this fight, they are outnumbered and too injured to carry on. But Takamichi didn’t care about that. His conviction shone brighter than ever that night. His determination, his tenacity, was unwavering when Kisaki aimed his gun point blank at Takamichi’s face. He knew if Toman loses tonight, Tenjuku and Kisaki would win. He would never give it to them no matter what because he was so close to fixing the timeline, he would be able to save everyone. He is not letting that chance slip through, not when he can do it right now.

In the face of Kisaki aiming straight at his forehead, Takamichi wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t afraid of him, nor of Tenjuku, nor of anyone. He wasn’t afraid of you dying anymore because you wouldn’t die on him, die on your friends when they needed you.

That you wouldn’t die on Mikey because you knew he would be lost and devastated without you.

You may not be a leader or one of their strongest, but you were still a part of Toman for a reason. You were a fighter. Fighting for those who can’t fight for themselves, fighting to protect and save your friends, to keep on fighting with such conviction for your family, the Toman gang. Takamichi fully understands why you did what you did and it helped him be fearless against Tenjuku. Provoking and taunting Kisaki in every way he can, even with the gunshot wound to his foot. Takamichi smirked at Kisaki seeing him lose his composure and stood toe to toe with him. In that moment, Toman was fueled by his determination and ignited the spirit of Toman once more. Kisaki trying to save his pride looked down upon Toman for their stupid antics, thinking he’s still on top as the kingpin of everything. That only for Takamichi to give him a well-deserved punch right across his face.

Then Takamichi suddenly stood proudly with his fist up in the air, claiming that he would never give up. Everyone was confused until they followed Takamichi’s line of sight and saw Mikey. Not only that, Draken arrived too with Hina and Emma right behind him. Everyone was beyond shock, Toman for seeing their leaders and Tenjuku seeing Emma alive. They thought Kisaki killed Emma but they guessed wrong since she was standing with them alive and well. It was only then Kisaki realized his mistake, he got you instead of her. Now he knows why Toman is a pain in his side and won’t stay down.

Hina explained to Takamichi that she had to tell them about his time-leaping ability. His mission for a future where all of them lived. How she will die in twelve years time and Takamichi is doing everything he can to save her and everyone else. What she was saying sounded straight out of a movie but it was all true when his desperation and determination was right in front of them. That it was your choice to save Emma from an early death because you knew how much she meant to Draken and Mikey. You wanted to help Takamichi achieve a future where everyone is alive and okay because you loved them so much. 

After Hina told them, Mikey snapped out of his hollow state and walked to where your room was. As the nurse was checking your vitals, she saw him walking towards your window and called him over. Since your condition stabilized, one guest is allowed to see you in your room. As the nurse opened the door for him, Mikey quietly strides to your bedside and stares at you. It may not be an appropriate time but Mikey always thought you looked so beautiful and enthralling no matter what was going on. He just stares a bit more before bending over and placing a small kiss on your forehead.

‘(Y/N), I have to go help Takamichi out. Please wait for me until I help them win. Hold on just a little longer for me.’

He squeezes your hand gently but reassuringly. It was mostly for him to know that you would make it out and wake up for them. As he leaves your room and goes back to Draken, he didn’t see the slight twitch your hand gave when he let go.

Now here he is, with Draken and Toman to aid them in their fight against Tenjuku. Mikey shouldn’t be here but he knew that you would have wanted him here to help Toman then staying with you. As Izana and Mikey battle it out, Takamichi could only watch as they were evenly matched. But as the fight kept going on, Izana started to falter and grew weaker. Mikey was beating him and Izana was slowly losing his mind because of it. In a moment of desperation, Izana snatched Kisaki’s gun and pointed it straight at him. Just like Takamichi, Mikey provoked Izana to shoot him only for Kakucho to smack the gun out of his hand. They argued until a shot was fired and Izana’s face splattered with a bit of blood.

Kisaki had shot Kakucho.

Kisaki was getting annoyed that his master plan was crumbling apart like a sand castle. If he couldn’t use Mikey then he would use Izana. In a fit of rage, Kakucho charges right at Kisaki. Kisaki shot again, this time hitting Izana. But when he tried pulling the trigger again, the gun was jammed and couldn’t fire another shot. Since the gun was useless, Kisaki fell to the ground from the adrenaline rush. The chaos continued to thrive as Tenjuku’s king and his servant laid on the ground, bleeding out. Mucho shouted for an ambulance as everyone remained stunned at what had happened. As the cops and ambulance were coming, everyone was pulling out except for Tenjuku’s executives. As Mikey stares deadly at Kisaki, he looks down at him with such disappointment and disgust for causing all of this… for putting in the hospital.

Before he and Takamichi could approach the bastard, Hanma grabbed Kisaki on his motorcycle and sped off. Takamichi hitches a ride with Draken while Mikey stays with the girls. After crashing, Kisaki was being chased by a determined Takamichi. After duking it out, Kisaki points his gun again at Takamichi. The manipulator was starting to cry out of frustration as Takamichi hit him on the money for why he kept killing Hina in the future. But as always, Takamichi had the upper hand and was able to get Kisaki’s gun and point right back at him. He was so tempted to shoot if it weren’t for Mikey and Hina.

Kisaki used this little distraction to get away but Takamichi was hot on his tail.

“My plan would have been perfect if it wasn't (Y/N) and her virtue signaling! She had what was coming to her instead of letting Emma take the hit! I could have had it all!”

He continues to spout nonsense until he stops in the middle of the crosswalk. He turned back at Takamichi and told him that he was leading him on this whole time; he wasn’t a time leaper.

As Takamichi revels in this new found information, Kisaki gives his shit-eating grin to him before getting slammed by a delivery truck. In a blink of an eye, Kisaki was fatally mangled as he was trying to get back up but his legs were twisted backwards and kneecaps out of place. 

In a flash, Kisaki was dead and that was the end of the battle with Tenjuku. There was only one casualty and that was Kisaki Tetta.

—————————————————————————

It had been two days since you were placed into a coma. Takamichi and everyone came to visit you to see how you were doing. Though you weren’t in any danger, you had not shown any progress of consciousness. While it worried the others, Takamichi and Mikey never lost hope that they would wake up again and come back.

And they were right.

On the third day, Hina and Emma were going to visit you when they were told you were placed in a different room outside of the ICU. Quickly, they made their way to your new room where they found you wide awake. Sipping a capri-sun as you sat up on the bed, turning your head to smile at the teary eyed girls. Emma ran over to you and hugged you tightly, still trying to be careful of your injuries, while Hina grabbed her phone to tell Takamichi the news. Their tears were soon joyed by everyone else as they made their way to the hospital. As Mikey, Takamichi, and Draken practically spirited to your room. As they slid the door open, they were greeted by a crying Emma that was being comforted by you as Hina stands on the other side of your bed talking to you. You didn’t notice them until Mikey whispered out your name, turning your head to smile at them while still holding Emma.

Draken and Takamichi had tears in their eyes. For Draken, you survived and are up back again. For Takamichi, it means that he didn’t fuck it this time. That he was able to save you, Emma, Draken, and Izana from a bleak future. That he finally accomplished what he sought out to do in the very beginning. The closest timeline for Takamichi to give everyone a happy ending. 

He finally did it.

As Hina ushered Emma, Draken, and Takamichi out of the room, it was now just you and Mikey. You can tell he was tired, probably losing sleep on wondering if your condition would get better. As you held out your arms to him, he made haste and hugged you tightly. It was Mikey’s turn to cry as he held you for the first time in three days. His face was buried in your head as his hand held it close to him while his other arm held your upper back. You were rubbing his back and hair softly so he could bask in the reality that you were okay. 

“I was… so scared that I was going to lose you, (Y/N)... That you were going to end up like Shin-ni and Baji…”

“Oh Mikey…”

“ *holds you tighter* I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to protect you… I was supposed to be there with you… I just… Couldn’t imagine my life if you were gone…”

You soften at how vulnerable Mikey was becoming. But you didn’t know the depth of seriousness he had for you until now.

“Well, I’m alive and awake, Mikey. I’m here with you, I’m going anywhere without.”

Mikey sighs, kissing your forehead before placing his on yours with his eyes closed.

“I’m serious about you, princess. I want to be with you forever, I want to have a future with you. A future for us… I need you, (Y/N)... I love you…”

“Oh, I love you too, Majiro-kun… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With that, you two sealed the promise with a gentle but loving kiss. You love Mikey and he loves you as well. As you pull away, you hug him again before asking him to let Takamichi talk to you. He goes to get him, not before placing a kiss on your cheek. Takamichi enters the room and you grin ear to ear seeing him as he is happy to see you awake.

“Come on, Takamitchy. You can relax for a bit! You saved everyone!”

“Yeah, but you gave me a heart attack, (Y/N)!! I get why you did what you did but it still doesn’t help that I was constantly thinking about how you were doing!”

“Oh, Takamitchy. I thought I told you to have faith in me! I’m not going down so easily like that! Trust!”

“(Y/N)...”

You drop the peppy and light act and shift towards a solemn one.

“So I heard Kisaki is dead…”

Takamichi nods to confirm your question.

“How did he die? Did you kill him, Takamitchy?”

“I… I actually didn’t…”

You straightened up your posture and stared at him in surprise.

“You didn’t?! Then how—”

“He was struck by a truck at a crosswalk. He died not too long after…”

“Hmmm, I see. At least you didn’t have to get your hands dirty, Takamitchy. I couldn’t imagine you going to jail for his death. I guess even God wanted him dead too so he decided to add some divine intervention into our mix and give us a boost.” You chuckled at the last part. It was a little humorous that Kisaki didn’t die at the hands of either Takamichi or Mikey.  But rather, he died due to being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe God was tired of Kisaki’s shit and decided to help Takamichi out. Who knows? 

But what matters is you’re alive, Takamichi is alive, everyone is alive. You were able to help him save everyone and now everyone can have a future to look forward to.

“I guess your work is done here then. So are you going back to the future after this visit?”

“Most likely…”

“I understand… Thank you for all your hard work, Takamichi… I appreciate all you have done and look forward to this new future that you have set…”

“Yeah… We’ll see (Y/N)...”

As you and Takamichi hug it out and high five each other, you tell him to bring the rest inside to join you two. Draken was salty that he didn’t get a personal moment like the rest did but you told him it will happen soon enough. After visiting you, Takamichi went back to the future that night. As he shook Naoto’s hand one last time, he firmly believed that he created a better future and timeline this time. 

And he was more than correct.

In this timeline, he is getting married to Hina. Draken and Emma are married and already have a baby. You and Mikey already had your wedding and were planning your next decisions for your two’s future. As Takamichi saw how happy and bright Mikey was towards you, he knew he finally stopped the cycle. With everyone alive, he could be happy and rest with the fact that he achieved the future he wanted. Hina is alive, Draken is alive, Emma is alive, and you and Mikey are alive too. Though he wished he could save Baji and Shinichiro, this still was a good outcome from what happened.

Against all odds, Takamichi was able to accomplish his goal in saving Hina and his friends. Though it may not be perfect, it was enough that his sacrifices weren’t in vain as everyone was alive and happy. All thanks to your help and his efforts. 

Now he can fully rest and live in this future as everything is going to be okay from now on.

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

(A/N: I probably edit this later this week because I still don't know how to make good endings for my fics, lol. Sorry again if this was too long to read!)

Thank you for reading!