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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 months ago

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The Keys Of Heaven [Chapter 4: The Giver Of Life]

Series summary: Three years ago, Father Aemond Targaryen performed a miracle. Now he is a cardinal, a media sensation, and a frontrunner to be elected pope. You are a nun who has been brought to Vatican City to assist with the papal conclave. But when your paths cross by happenstance, you must both reckon with your decision to join the Catholic Church…and what you want from the future.

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), references to abuse and violence, volcanoes, bodily injury, death, peril, scheming, pining, some drugs/alcohol/smoking, Catholic trivia you never asked to learn, kangaroos!

Word count: 6.6k

🦘 A very special thanks to my Aussie slang consultant @bearwithegg and also her mum (any mistakes are mine) 🦘

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

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Boats speed past him as he approaches Nea Kameni, fishing vessels, sailboats, small yachts weighed down with tourists and celebrities and business tycoons, and even if they were to turn back towards the erupting volcano—which none of them are—they wouldn’t be able to carry all the people stranded there to safety without going under themselves. This is why when Aemond commandeered a boat from the Old Port of Fira, he chose the largest one, a Grand Banks trawler that can withstand the burden of fifty desperate souls clawing their way abroad. The owner, a man in a suit who looks like he could afford the $2,000,000 price tag, had just been coming down from the cockpit and immediately handed over the keys when Aemond demanded them. Who could mistrust a priest?

“What will you do, Father?” the man had asked in a thick Greek accent, and then, when he saw Aemond’s pale blue eyes flick to the rupturing volcano: “No, you can’t, it’s suicide.”

But it’s not: it’s a resurrection, a chance to be born again. Aemond’s cassock is a humble and undistinguished black, the color of mourning, the death of his old life, the promise of something brand new. Why should people worship Mother Teresa or Joan of Arc or Thomas Aquinas and not him? It is not talent that he lacks. It is only their attention; it is only a miracle.

Now asteroids of pumice and scoria and basalt and obsidian are raining down into the waves thrashing around him, sea spray swashing up over the deck, and the sky is dark with ash and noxious lung-searing fumes, afternoon turned to nightfall. Red veins of lava are snaking down Nea Kameni, and the tourists trapped there are like specks of ants as they flee across the island, their own boat buried in a landslide and useless. And it is not just thankless obscurity that Aemond is leaving behind. It is the person he was when he left Nisyros as a teenager, escaping things he does not think about if he can help it, and most of the time he succeeds.

The ocean is sloshing, swirling, steaming where lava spills into the waves and makes them boil, and to leap into the currents would be certain death. He knows he won’t have long once he docks; even in the shelter of the tiny crescent-moon harbor, the boat will soon be ripped from its moorings by the fury of the sea, and then he will be trapped too and perish in the cinders and the heat and the suffocating toxins that have replaced the oxygen in the air. So he climbs over the deck railing and ropes the vessel to one of the piers that is still standing, and by the time he turns to wave to the castaways they have spotted him and are flocking to his boat in the same way thousands of believers once received the loaves and fishes from Christ.

“Father! Father!” they are screaming in the apocalyptic gloom, the earth quaking and the air like acid, and as they sprint down the embankment he points to warn them: a lava flow that is pouring from the exploded crater, a red-glowing river that will consume them. The tourists look back and see the molten cascade and shriek hysterically, pleading, praying, knowing they cannot outrun it, feeling the lethal heat of it already, blisters bubbling up on their exposed skin.

And then—as Aemond’s hands are still raised in warning, as the tourists have their back to the lava flow as they race for the boat—a new fissure opens up in the earth and Aemond watches as the lava floods down into it, and the besieged visitors to the island are spared. Then they are swarming the boat and Aemond is helping them aboard—Thank you Father, bless you Father—and already he can hear them repeating a lie he does not correct: Did you see that he stopped the lava? It was there and then it was gone, a godsend, a miracle.

It’s almost too dark to see, but Aemond steers the boat out of the harbor and begins crossing the narrow strait of the Mediterranean Sea back to Fira on Santorini. As his passengers cling to each other and meteors of volcanic rock pummel the vessel and splash into the waves, he reaches into one of the pockets of his black cassock—one day red, one day white, he cannot stop himself from thinking—and finds there the rosary that a girl once gave him on a beach in Sydney, Australia. He thinks of her sometimes, but not in a way he could explain to anyone else. She is a ghost, a whisper, far more than a friend, far less than a lover, and yet a ricochet that he hears again and again in moments when he thinks he has forgotten her.

What if I never met her on that beach? What if we had never left?

There is a blinding pain and then the impact of his body hitting the deck and then nothing, and later Aemond will learn that a piece of pumice struck his left eye and fractured his skull. Blood flashes red across the white paint, hemorrhaging like the poisons from the earth. His ash-soiled collar turns crimson and sopping. As the boat is tossed by rough waves and the sky grows ever-darker, the afternoon sun eclipsed, Aemond’s devotees staunch the bleeding and keep him safely aboard, and one of them takes the helm and manages to guide the vessel safely back to Santorini.

And when Aemond wakes up three days later—missing an eye, gaining immortality—the first thing he does is fumble for the remote so he can turn on the television and see witnesses acclaiming his miracle on Alpha TV: Father Targaryen saved us, Father Targaryen made me believe again.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s going on between you and the nun?” Lucky asks.

He and Aemond are standing beside the koi pond in the Vatican Gardens. It’s early, and the older cardinals are still scraping their arthritic bones together as they crawl out of their beds. The December morning is grey and dull like iron. Near the bottom of the pond, comets of gold and white and red and black scales travel unhurriedly through rippling water like the darkness of the night sky.

Aemond, preoccupied, puffs on a Karelia cigarette. “I told you. We met when we were children.”

Lucky lights a cigar and takes an impatient drag. That’s not what he meant, and they both know it. “Who is she to you now?”

“Nothing. We’re friends.”

“Not a good enough answer.” Lucky flicks ashes onto the sand-colored tuff pebbles, damp with daybreak mist. “Auclair is running around saying you have an improper attachment to her. Kazi told me there was candle wax all over her face. How did that get there, I wonder? Par hasard?”

Aemond hesitates. His cigarette smolders between two fingers of his right hand, a tiny pinpoint of pulsing red light. “I was consoling her. Auclair...in the chapel, she accidentally dropped a candle on his cassock, and he grabbed her arm.”

Lucky’s brow furrows, incredulous. “He struck her?”

“He startled her.”

Lucky doesn’t understand. “And this compelled you to...lose your composure entirely, risk everything we’ve worked for? Auclair startling a nun?”

Aemond shrugs, peering into the koi pond. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“Aemo, are you serious about this?” About being the next pope.

“Yes,” Aemond replies immediately.

“Because...you know...it would not be the worst thing in the world if Jake got it. Or another moderate, an obscure consensus candidate we could dig up, some old unassuming Italian, the conclave is full of them. And if we pivot now, we might be able to box out Jahoda, even without you.”

“But that’s not what you want.”

Lucky smiles and opens his hands. “I am of the conviction that your gifts are too extraordinary to waste. I think you’re the best of us.”

Aemond averts his gaze as he takes a drag on his cigarette. “I’m not without flaws.”

“Oh, you have them, I’m sure. Pride, wrath, envy, lust.”

“A multitude of earthly motivations.”

Lucky chuckles, a gruff baritone rumble. “And who among us is selfless? Kazi joined the Church because in Poland in 1985, his job options were soldier, coal miner, or priest, and priest was the clear winner. Cam wanted his parents to be proud of him, I wanted a better life in Haiti. And Lando…well…I’m not sure, perhaps that was genuine.” Lucky exhales a plume of smoke and looks at Aemond. “I won’t pretend to know your ignoble reasons for joining the Church, but I’m certain you had them. Mortals don’t often do things out of pure altruism, we are imperfect by design. But that doesn’t mean we can’t still try to make the world better.”

“And you believe my elevation will facilitate that.”

“I do,” Lucky says honestly, then his expression turns fierce. “But you must either commit or get out of the way. You cannot sabotage this conclave and give the Chair of Saint Peter to someone like Jahoda, and you cannot be the pope if you intend to continue indulging your temptations. It is not just a sin, it is murder. When you hurt the Church, you are hurting everyone who might have been saved by it.”

Aemond nods, but he is still distracted. He finishes his cigarette and tosses the end of it into a row of laurel hedges slick with dew. Then he gazes across the gardens at the stone statue of Saint Agatha, eternally young, sinless, vulnerable. He says softly: “I just never thought I’d see her again. I couldn’t remember her name or her hometown, but I knew she wasn’t from Sydney, so how would I ever find her? Then to cross paths with her here...it’s an almost impossible coincidence. And to let her go for the second time seems so wrong. Painful. Intolerable.”

“Do you think I don’t know what it feels like to care for a woman? To love one, even?”

Aemond is stunned; he’s never heard this before. He waits for Lucky to continue like a priest listens silently in the confessional booth.

“I had a girlfriend when I was young,” Lucky says after a while. He kicks away some of the tuff pebbles, drops the end of his cigar in the trough, buries it in the shards of volcanic rock. “And she got pregnant. I couldn’t marry her, I was already planning to join the Church. But I promised that I would provide for her and the baby to the best of my ability. It would have been like Auclair’s situation, you know? Rumors, sure, but that’s all. Visits a few times a week. A child with my face. She took it better than I thought she would, honestly. She understood why I wanted to be a priest, and she knew we would all benefit from my position. She was pragmatic, even at eighteen.”

He has a child? Aemond thinks, astonished. He understands what that’s like?

But no: It would have been like Auclair’s situation, Lucky said. Not it is, not it was.

“She was living with her parents because she couldn’t live with me,” Lucky continues. “And one night when no one else was home, men broke in to rob the house thinking it was empty. They found her, and they killed her, slit her throat down to the vertebrae of her spine. There was no reason for it. She wasn’t trying to stop them or anything. She was hiding in a closet, six months pregnant, just waiting for them to leave. And if she and I had been living together in our own home, she wouldn’t have been there when those men shattered the window and climbed inside. I think about that all the time. It never goes away. Forty years later, and I’m still picking up the phone every day, hearing her father’s voice tell me what happened over and over again.”

The burning in Aemond’s throat makes him think of embers, lava, the gridiron Saint Lawrence was roasted alive on. He lays a gentle palm on his friend’s shoulder. “Lucky, I’m so sorry.”

“There have been times when God spoke to me so clearly it was like He was standing in the same room. And then there were other times...” Lucky closes his eyes for a moment, breathes deeply and unsteadily, shakes his head. “Many, many others, when I heard nothing, and my doubts filled me from my heart all the way down to my fingertips, and it was so heavy and so dark, and it’s contagious, you see, that sort of faithlessness. Contagious and unbearable.” Then, miraculously, he smiles. “But when I saw the news reports about what you did on that island, all those people you saved...parents, children, lovers, friends...all the sudden, it was so much easier to believe. How can one deny the existence of God when a miracle worker walks among us? Fifty witnesses, fifty lives spared, there’s been nothing like it since the ancient times, if you even give credence to those accounts. God has blessed you so abundantly, Aemo. How can we ignore that?”

Aemond lifts his hand from Lucky’s shoulder. What did God have to do with it? “I think I understand,” he says instead.

“In my good moments, I remember the suffering of Christ and all those martyred saints, souls who were so pure and so loved by God, and who were welcomed home by Him when their time came, and who will live on eternally. I have to believe that, Aemo. That we aren’t forsaken, that we aren’t alone, that death isn’t the end. All people have to believe that.”

“Then I’ll do everything I can to win,” Aemond says. When he looks down at the pond again, he sees a dead koi floating there, its scales a vibrant glittering gold. Another one? He gestures to the fish. “Help me bury it.”

Lucky is mystified. “Why?”

So she won’t get in trouble. So they won’t send her away.

“Just help me,” Aemond insists, and Lucky does.

~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s like Whac-A-Mole with all these Italians,” Kazi says over lunch, miming smacking them with a mallet. He means the three candidates that have rapidly surged and then fallen again when it became clear they didn’t have the votes: Cardinal Edoardo Rossi, Cardinal Davide Marino, Cardinal Frederico Abatantuono. The frontrunners remain unchanged; but in the last ballot, only a single vote separated Aemond from Jake, and they both lagged conspicuously behind Jahoda. Lando, now with five silent, anonymous supporters, is clearly stymied.

Outside, it has been drizzling. You and the other nuns are delivering baskets of bread and bowls of Sicilian-style fish stew to the cardinals: garlic and herbs and vegetables and sea bass, capers, golden raisins, a steaming broth of white wine and blood red tomatoes. Across the dining hall, the nonagenarian Cardinal Bogdi Marcu of Romania has spilled soup on himself and Sister Nuru is helping to clean him up. The lean, white-haired Cardinal Auclair is stalking between the tables, pausing to whisper to other cardinals, who frown and nod at whatever he is telling them. You feel your stomach drop, but try not to appear nervous.

He’s duplicitous, and everybody knows it. He’s a sinner, he’s a liar. And he doesn’t have proof of anything.

“How’s it going?” you ask brightly as you set a bowl of stew down in front of Aemond. “I didn’t get to say hi at brekkie.”

You certainly didn’t; he was absorbed in conversations with his companions and had barely looked at you. Now he is still evasive, sipping his glass of water and pretending to brush bread crumbs from the sleeve of his red cassock. Randomly, you wonder what he is wearing under it. Beneath your white wool habit, you have on a simple navy blue cotton skirt and a light jumper, striped with black and white. “Hello, Sister,” Aemond says flatly, fidgeting with the large gold cross that hangs from his neck.

Kazi gives you a brief smile but then resumes his commentary on the revolving door of Italian candidates. Lucky and Cam don’t acknowledge you, in the same way so many cardinals treat the nuns as invisible. You are perplexed; your heartbeat is thudding, hot and ashamed.

What do they know?

“Thank you, Sister,” Lando says quietly as you serve him his stew.

“Everything alright?” you ask Aemond, trying to sound cavalier.

Please don’t ignore me. Please don’t decide this is over.

“I think it’s best to keep some distance for now,” Aemond replies, a low murmur without eye contact.

“Sure.” You steel yourself, keep your expression impassive like a statue’s, then hurry back to the bowls of stew that are still waiting to be delivered. Your white runners squeak against the tile floor. The thin iron chain of your medallion is cold against your throat. Your composure must waver once you’ve turned away from the cardinals; Rhaena is concerned when she sees you.

“Are you good, mate?” she asks.

You force a smile. “Yeah, just a bit knackered.”

“Have a snooze this arvo?”

Before you can reply, there is a loud voice from across the dining hall, Kazi cackling as he points to one of the windows: “Oh look, there is a rainbow outside. No one tell Jahoda, he will spend all afternoon lecturing it about how it is destined for Hell.”

Cardinal Auclair leaps up from where he was hissing to a group of cardinals from Ireland. “Brother, can we desist with this slander? In his work on the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, Cardinal Jahoda played a pivotal role in the drafting of the Dignitas Infinita of 2024, which condemned violence and discrimination against homosexuals—”

“While the Church itself remains prejudiced against them. How many stones can we hurl from our glass house?”

Auclair smiles patiently, as if he is speaking to a child. “Cardinal Jahoda has unfailingly advocated for the dignity and salvation of every person, no matter how imperfect. Perhaps if you read more, you would know that.”

“I read about how he spoke out against the distribution of condoms, even in the midst of HIV outbreaks,” Kazi flings back.

Jahoda stands, his chair screeching against the floor as he pushes it out. All gazes snap to him. Cardinal Auclair looks on with eyes that flash like silver coins, grinning. “You progressives, you visionaries,” Jahoda growls, his voice deep and commanding. “You will take a system that works for ninety out of a hundred people and burn it to the ground until we can all suffer together. The Bolsheviks promised liberation. The Soviets promised equality. The Enemy wraps sin and chaos in beautiful words and thus we are seduced, but Brothers, we must resist this temptation. Our Faith has endured for two thousand years, but what is the Church without traditions? What should we ask the over one billion Catholics on the planet to believe in if we do not know ourselves, if we are forever redacting and revising and daring to place our weak mortal judgment over God’s?”

Throughout the dining hall cardinals are muttering, some in disapproval, more in concurrence. Kazi rises to his feet. “But the Church is always changing, Brother. Should we never have permitted Mass to be held in local languages, or moved away from our teachings on the divine right of kings, or improved our working relationships with other faiths—?”

“And yet it is this tolerance of other faiths and doctrines that so often imperils the most vulnerable!” Jahoda says, and now some of the cardinals are applauding. “I still remember that summer when Brezhnev’s tanks rolled into my country. I remember helping my neighbors paint over all the road signs so there were none left except those that pointed the way back to Moscow, I remember giving the soldiers wrong directions as they threatened us with their guns, we who were children, we who were having our innocence destroyed before our own eyes.”

Kazi sighs; he’s heard this so many times. “Yes, yes, Brother, we all know you were there in Prague championing democracy—”

“And my father took a bullet for it!” Jahoda thunders, and no one has anything to respond with except hushed awe or reflection or shame, and after a moment Kazi sits down and gives Aemond an apologetic glance like he knows he’s made a mistake.

Maybe Aemond won’t win, you think, and what you feel in your ribcage glowing warm and low like embers might be hope.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Sister!” you hear someone shout frantically, and here comes Sister Penny hurtling out of the Domus Sanctae Marthae just as you are headed there to tend to the washing. There were two more ballots in the afternoon, two clouds of black smoke loosed from the chimney of the Sistine Chapel, and so there is no new Holy Father yet. Dinner is in a few hours. You are ravenous to see Aemond again and yet dreading it; he fills your skull like sea water, stormy, swirling, full of riptides.

What is happening to me? Where can this lead?

“Sister Penny?” you answer. She is characteristically frazzled, strands of unruly red hair escaping from under her veil, her pale freckled face flushed. She canters to you, huffing from the exertion.

“Would you do me a favor, Sister? I’m so sorry to spring it on you like this.”

“No wukkas, mate.”

“Would you please ride with Cardinal Marcu to the airport?” Sister Penny says. You envision him: slow and stooped and shaky, wrinkled, archaic, a relic of a far older Church, here only as an advisor to the cardinals, over eighty and therefore ineligible to vote in the conclave. “He has an urgent medical appointment he can’t reschedule, a CAT scan or something. Sister Augustina had arranged for him to travel home to Romania today, and she promised she’d accompany him to the airport, but obviously she’s not here anymore and I just found out about all of this when I saw Cardinal Marcu in his room packing his suitcase. He’s expecting a chaperone, and I have to supervise the dinner preparations.”

You study the brick wall that surrounds Vatican City. “But I’ll be allowed in again, right?”

“Of course,” Sister Penny assures you. “We have a driver, you’ll stay in the car the whole time. As long as you don’t speak to anyone outside, you haven’t violated your oath of secrecy.”

You smile, relieved. “Beautiful.” No one assisting with the conclave can contact the world beyond the Vatican for any reason aside from an absolute emergency, not even greeting the crowds gathered in Saint Peter’s Square, not even a phone call or a text. To break seclusion is to risk not just expulsion from the conclave but excommunication from the Church, lifelong banishment, perpetual dishonor.

“Assistants from Cardinal Marcu’s parish have flown in and will be there to meet him at the airport and escort him the rest of the way. You’ll just keep him company in the meantime.”

“Schmick.”

“What?”

“Cool, I got it.”

Sister Penny exhales, mollified, and pats your shoulder gratefully. Behind her, you see Cardinal Marcu shuffling out of the Domus Sanctae Marthae with one of the other Romanian cardinals, who is carrying Marcu’s suitcase for him and soaking in those last convoluted ramblings of wisdom. “Thank you so much for your flexibility.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say cheerfully. “To help.” And as far as Sister Penny knows, that’s true.

Soon a Vatican employee arrives, sitting grim-faced behind the wheel of one of the tiny white Fiat Pandas in a black suit and sunnies. He is heaving Cardinal Marcu’s suitcase into the boot and Sister Penny is wishing the elderly cardinal farewell when you notice Aemond watching from a side street, one of the narrow snaking paved paths draped in the shadows of the buildings. You wander over to meet him when it becomes clear he’s waiting for you to.

Aemond says uncertainly, looking at the gate and then back to you: “You’re breaking seclusion?”

“I’m not breaking anything.”

“But you’re leaving.”

“I’ve been asked to accompany Cardinal Marcu to the airport. I’m not stepping foot outside the car or speaking to anyone else. No phone, no radio, I won’t even roll the windows down. I’m not being unduly influenced. I’m not violating any rules. It’s cruisy, I’ll be back in an hour.”

Aemond glances uneasily at the gate again. “Tell them to send someone else.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have the authority to refuse Sister Penny’s requests. But you do.”

But of course he won’t say anything; he can’t be perceived as interfering on your behalf, he can’t fuel the rumors. And so Aemond only frowns, vexed, conflicted, powerless in a way he so rarely is now.

“Goodbye, Cardinal Targaryen,” you quip as you turn away.

But he’s not done yet. “What if something happens and they won’t let you back into Vatican City?”

“You can’t talk to me anyway, so why do you care?”

Aemond doesn’t reply. He only watches you leave, his remaining blue eye fixed and brooding.

You spin around and walk backwards a few steps. “See you at dinner,” you say with a smirk. “From a distance, of course.” Then you whirl towards the car, your white habit gusting in the brisk December wind. On the periphery of your vision, the red pillar that is Aemond stalls a moment longer and then strides off in the direction of the Domus Sanctae Marthae. From the other side of the brick wall, you can hear that the crowds gathered in Saint Peter’s Square with their signs and their prayers and their candles are singing Joy To The World.

You climb into the back seat of the Fiat, and there the prehistoric Cardinal Bogdi Marcu is eagerly awaiting you. You have the sense he would be just as pleased to see Sister Rhaena, or Sister Penny, or Sister Nuru, or Sister Helvi, or anyone else, really; he just doesn’t want to be alone. This is one of the great triumphs of the Church, however marred it may be by the inexhaustible failings of mankind. You get a family for life, and it is over a billion souls strong.

As the driver exits Vatican City via a skinny paved street—passing through a gate monitored by the Swiss Guard—and follows the perimeter of Saint Peter’s Square, Cardinal Marcu points with gnarled arthritic hands and describes the features to you: nearly three hundred marble columns encircling the piazza, cobblestones made of volcanic basalt, two fountains, an ancient Egyptian obelisk that has stood at the center since the 1500s. Then he begins yammering about the horribly sinful shows he’s stumbled across recently while home in Romania—Big Brother, Survivor, Love Island—and how there’s been no decency on television since that shameless American president spoke about his affair with a White House intern, something Cardinal Marcu seems to think transpired just a few years ago. You smile and nod along politely.

Ordinarily, the ride to Leonardo da Vinci International Airport would only take half an hour, but traffic is bad and many of the roads near the Vatican are closed or altered to accommodate the tens of thousands of tourists who have made the pilgrimage here to witness the ascension of the next pope. From the back seat, you watch Cardinal Marcu toddle out of the Fiat and into the waiting arms of two assistants, and by the time you’ve returned to Saint Peter’s Square, dusk is descending and the sky is pink and gold. The driver sighs as he waits in a long line of taxis, the route blocked by a tour bus that took a wrong turn and is now being directed by a fleet of police officers to spin around on the narrow street. Your driver, avoiding the radio, turns up the volume as he listens to an Andrea Bocelli CD. You have the ludicrous temptation to ask: Can you play some Bruce Springsteen? Can you play Atlantic City?

From the far end of the piazza, you gaze at the façade of Saint Peter’s Basilica, where statues of Christ and his apostles preside over the sea of congregants with their flickering candles and their handwritten signs. You see supporters of Cardinal Jahoda waving miniature flags of the Czech Republic and Hungary and Germany, Jake’s followers from Lebanon and Jordan and Syria and Cyprus, Aemond’s devotees from Greece and Italy and the United States. One woman’s poster reads, alongside a newspaper article about what happened on Nea Kameni framed in blue glitter glue: I believe in miracles!

As car horns blare and the driver mutters in Italian, your eyes trace the perimeter of the square. Perched atop the marble columns like benevolent gargoyles are the statues of over a hundred saints: Saint Lawrence who was roasted alive on a gridiron, Saint Sebastian who was pierced by arrows, Saint Lucy whose eyes were gouged out, Saint Thomas Aquinas who died comfortable and revered. Absentmindedly, you touch the plain iron medallion that hangs from your neck. You wonder which of the statues is Saint Agatha.

A small, flimsy-looking metal fence separates the road from the entrance to the pedestrian area. The Fiat rolls forward a few sluggish meters, then stops again. The driver groans. You have to get all the way around the piazza before you can enter Vatican City via one of the stone gates manned by the Swiss Guard. You imagine—against your will, and yet undeniably—that Aemond is waiting there, anxious to ensure that you are granted reentry and thus your stolen time together is not yet over.

“I can walk from here,” you offer, before you remember that isn’t allowed.

“Stay in the car, Sister,” the driver barks in a thick Italian accent, then he gets out and slams the door shut behind him. Through the windshield, you watch him jog over to where the tour bus is still blocking the road and start shouting at the police officers. At first they yell back, then the driver shows them a badge identifying him as a Vatican employee and the police officers are suddenly much more accommodating, pointing him towards a side street that is blocked off by orange traffic barrels but will presumably be opened for him.

As you wait for the driver to return to the Fiat, you peer through the window at the crowd again. It is beginning to thin out, now that today’s ballots are past and twilight is approaching. The sky is turning fiery, blood orange and incandescent amber. The driver is walking back to the car and the traffic barrels are being moved aside. Your eyes catch on a group of Filipino tourists carrying massive cardboard cutouts with Lando’s face on them, and they are laughing as they chat with each other and share a package of Sky Flakes, and you smile and then—

There is a vicious jolt, the shriek of metal on metal, and the Fiat is spinning as it crashes through the metal barrier and into Saint Peter’s Square. Pedestrians are screaming and running; your head whips around and cracks against the window, and for a few seconds the pain is blinding, your vision black and your hands flying up to cushion your skull, and when you start getting glimpses of the world again you see just enough to realize what has happened: a lost tour bus has rocketed out of the side street and collided with the car, and as the bus squeals to a stop near the edge of the piazza, the whirling Fiat smashes sideways into one of the massive marble columns. The door you’ve been pinned against by the centrifugal force caves in; you are thrown from your seat and then yanked back by the seatbelt so forcefully the air is wrenched out of your lungs. You gasp for breath, letting your head rest against the cool window.

You think nonsensically, your skull hammering: I’m just going to have a quick snooze.

Your eyes dip shut for what could only be a minute or two. Muffled through the mangled car, there is the distorted, dreamlike warbling of voices: Italian, English, other languages too. You don’t want to wake up; being conscious is where the pain is, and the weights dragging you down into the darkness are overwhelming, intoxicating.

It’s too hot. Why is it so hot?

Your eyes flutter open, and what you see through the car window is rising threads of black smoke and the dusk-colored radiance of flames. Pedestrians from the square are pounding on the doors and shouting that there is a nun trapped inside.

That nun is me, you think dazedly, and then you lurch into full and horrifying alertness.

You click off your seatbelt and bolt across the back seat; both doors on your side of the Fiat are barred by the marble column. You unlock the door from the inside and then yank the handle...but the door remains closed. You try again, and again, and the car is getting hotter. It’s no use. The impact of the bus warped the door somehow and now it’s stuck, and you can’t get free. Pedestrians are pulling on the outside handle and trying to bust out the window, some are attempting to roll the car away from the marble column to unblock the other doors. The flames are growing taller, and now there is so much smoke the faces of the people trying to save you are obscured.

You scramble over the center console and into the passenger’s seat, where you tug franticly on the handle. This door won’t open either; you are imprisoned, you are entombed. The people outside are backing away as the heat becomes unbearable. They are calling for firefighters who will be able to extinguish the flames or pry a door open or break a window, but by then it will be too late.

“No!” you scream, pounding your fists on the window. “No, don’t leave! Don’t give up yet! I’m still alive in here, please help me!”

But the fire is scorching, the fire is lethal; the metal inside the car is hot enough to scald you when you touch it. You are in an oven. You are dying. You are Saint Joan of Arc tied to the stake; you are Saint Lawrence being roasted alive.

“Help me!” you sob, beating your hands against the window. Sweat is slick on your palms and pouring down your face. Your skin is flushed and burning. The rubber soles of your runners are melting into the floor. “Help! Someone help, please!”

But your would-be rescuers are gone. No one can withstand the flames. You can just barely decipher their silhouettes through the wall of thick, churning grey.

You curl up against the window, fumble your rosary out of the pocket of your habit, and clasp the white pearl beads, taking deep trembling breaths into your lungs. Dark acrid smoke sears your trachea and capillary beds. Sweat stings when it streams down into your eyes.

“I’m not ready to go,” you tell God in a choked, terrified whisper. “Please don’t abandon me. I’m not ready, I’m not ready. There are too many things I haven’t done yet.”

And then you see him cut through the smoke like a red blade, undaunted by the inferno, moving swiftly so he won’t be consumed by it, won’t be claimed, won’t be incinerated. The fire glows on his face; the flames are reflected in the blue of his eye. Aemond rips his gold cross off his neck and then there is a clang and a snapping sound; later, you will learn that he shoved the cross into the door gap and struck it with the heel of his hand so hard he split his palm to the bone. The car door pops open, and you collapse into his arms.

You try to flee from the blaze with Aemond, but you can’t walk; your knees and ankles buckle, your skull is throbbing and the world spiraling. You stumble and Aemond grabs you, drags you, pulls you singlehandedly back from the brink of oblivion.

He’s on fire, you think dizzily as the smoke begins to clear and the clamoring pedestrians reappear, shouting in relief and astonishment.

“That’s him!” you can hear people saying. “That’s Cardinal Aemond Targaryen!”

Aemond feels the heat of the flames licking on his shoulders and rips off his cassock, and it billows in the wind like a red sail. Underneath he has on black trousers and a white dress shirt, the top few buttons torn open in the turmoil, a small gold medallion glinting against his bare chest. You’ve never seen this before. Through the haze of shock and smoke and pain, you wonder who he is wearing.

Aemond realizes before you do that the wool of your white habit has caught fire, and in seconds he has tugged it off of you; but underneath your navy blue cotton skirt and light jumper are smoldering too.

Is he going to strip me? you think, disoriented. Here in front of everybody?

But no, Aemond has other ideas; he hauls you into the cold pattering water of one of the fountains and splashes into the pool with you, cradling you as you sputter and shake violently, the adrenaline evaporating, the agony in your skull and spine all-consuming. You are crying as you cling to him. Your rosary is still tangled in your fingers. By the marble column, the Fiat is now entirely engulfed in flames. The sirens of firetrucks are approaching.

I almost died. And if that was the very end, what regrets would I have?

“I’m here, I’m here,” Aemond is saying, taking the pins out so he can remove your veil, smoothing back your hair with the hand he’s not yet aware he is hemorrhaging from, blood pouring from his palm like a stigmata. “You’re safe now. Shh, you’re alright. Nobody will hurt you. I’ll never let anything hurt you.”

Cardinal Seaborn appears, panting from his sprint across the piazza. His crimson cassock is rumpled and his zucchetto blown away, his face furious. Behind him, the metallic shell of the Fiat burns luminously. “You broke seclusion!” he booms at Aemond. “You could be disqualified! You could be excommunicated!”

“Then do it!” Aemond roars back, his blood running down your face, copper on your lips, scarlet salt on your tongue.

But of course, Cardinal Seaborn cannot dismiss him, this man who has just performed his second miracle and will so effortlessly be declared a saint upon his death. Pedestrians have gathered around the fountain like pilgrims to a holy site and are taking photos and video clips, they are cheering, they are praying, and they are chanting loudly enough that even the cardinals inhumed within the walls of Vatican City must be able to hear: “Targaryen, Targaryen, Targaryen!”

You murmur to Aemond as he holds you, icy water lapping at your charred jumper, your skirt fanning out like a koi fish’s tail: “Well, you’re defo going to win now.”

And then there in the fountain, as the dusk sky spins high above, you black out and sink into an infinite, starless sea of silence.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #hotd fic #hotd fanfic

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libraryofloveletters · 6 months ago

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Chapter One: United Front

Jenson Button x Teammate!Fem!Reader

Warnings: new teams, friendships are being built and brought down at the same time, jenson is a bit unsure how to feel now that the spotlight isn't on him, jealously, championship fights are coming from inside the house, so many feelings, the basis of the story is being built here, the initial sweetness wears off.

Word Count: 2,520

Author's Note: welcome to the new series! I promise I will try to be consistent, I'm excited to see what's in store.

Bound By Fate Masterlist

Young and naive; the headline that covered all the front pages from the moment you stepped foot on track.

You, y/n l/n, were all but 22 years old when you had your Formula One debut. Mclaren had been good to you, Ron was more than happy to have you on the team - young, fresh talent, no one does it like you.

The first year had been painstakingly hard, it was a big jump from test driving. A fuck up on a closed track doesn't have a much of an impact as one on a full, live track with thousands of people watching. It took you a few tries - Australia, Malaysia, China, Bahrain and Spain before you found yourself in sunny Monaco.

Your first points, your first podium finish. It was insane to think you managed to get your first points and podium on the same day.

That was the day you knew you were doing what you were supposed to be doing. That you did deserve your spot there and you were going to do everything in your power to prove to everyone that you were worthy of it.

You proved your worth, despite getting a late start on your point scoring, you managed to rack up 73 points over the course of the season. By the end of it, you were all but 4 points short of the championship podium. Speaking of championships, you remember the day as if it was yesterday.

The rain brought a sense of excitement with a tiny bit of fear. You and Lewis were starting P6 and P7 and the current championship contender, Jenson Button was in P12. All he needed to do was score 5 points, needing to move up from P12 to P4. He didn't do it coming in one place short but still winning the championship by a landslide, washing Sebastian and his own teammate, Rubens, out.

When the news broke that Jenson would be moving to Mclaren, you felt every emotion possible; happy, sad, nervous, scared, calm.

You had no idea what you were in for, unsure if you two were going to get along or if he'd be an arrogant stuck up prick. Up until that point, you had very minimal contact with Jenson. A hi and hello in passing, a chat at press conferences; you weren't part of the inside jokes or the hang outs, you were there to race and that was that.

It took only the pre season and before you knew it, the two of you clicked like the last two pieces of a puzzle.

"When your drivers get along, it's easier to work, to fight for wins, for championships." Jenson read the quote from Ron, a bass added to his voice as he paced the length of your hotel room. The two of you had returned from dinner not too long ago; a post podium tradition you've built in a short time.

"He'd be pissed if he heard you," you tell him, sitting cross legged on the bed. Jenson shrugs, tossing the newspaper he picked up from the lobby onto the nightstand, flopping down next to you.

"Oh well," Jenson tells you, looking over at you. "Good job today, I don't think I told you."

You two had come in P1 and P2, Jenson taking second place as he's done the last 3 races.

"Yeah, thanks." You smiled, "you did well too."

The two of you had been in contention for the championship all season, fighting for P1 and P2 back to back all season. This was your second season as teammates and you were having a better run than the first time. The first season, you were close, right behind Sebastian and Mark; you in P4 and Jenson in P3.

It was a year of dominance for McLaren, for you and for Jenson.

Despite what the reporters were predicting, you and Jenson were as close as always, nothing but 4 single points separating the two of you.

4 points was all that separated the two McLaren drivers going into the summer break, you in P1 and Jenson in P2. You had one more race before the break, a chance for Jenson to push himself into the first place spot for the break.

You weren't giving in.

Friends or not, you had cemented yourself in the P1. You belonged there, you worked too hard to let it go. You'd do anything to make sure you stayed there, playing dirty if need be.

You and Jenson find yourself sitting apart from each other, Sebastian and Fernando between the two of you. There's a sea of reporters in front of the 4 of you; the 4 drivers in the first 4 slots of the championship.

All but a few points keeping all of you apart, it really was anyone's game at this point.

The first reporter speaks, starting the questioning. "Jenson, as we head into the summer break, do you feel confident that you can secure those 4 points and ultimately beat your teammate in the standings?"

Jenson chuckles, glancing over at you. "It's possible, 4 points isn't a lot but knowing y/n, she's going to put up one hell of a fight."

You smiled at his response, nodding. Sebastian chuckles, nudging you with his shoulder. He knew you just as well as Jenson did, the two of you have had it out on track. You gave it your all every race, you didn't have anything to lose.

The same reporter added another question but directed to you now. "Y/N, with the upcoming race this weekend, do you plan to give Jenson a bit of a break and let him secure those 4 points, or will you be pushing hard to keep your position ahead of him?"

You picked up the mic, "why should I give him a break? I know we're teammates but we're not fighting for the good of the team, we're both in contention as of right now. Both Jenson and myself are here to win, a win is a win. I know Jenson wouldn't give me a break, so I'm not planning on giving him one."

The reporters seem to be eating up the answers from both you and Jenson, the spotlights were on you two. There's a few more questions being asked.

You and Jenson are the picture of perfect teammates, or at least, that's what you want everyone to believe. On the surface, you're both laughing, exchanging inside jokes, and giving off all the right signals of camaraderie. But beneath the surface, something's shifting; something neither of them seems to notice yet.

Small moments linger too long, words are said with just a touch more edge, and there's a tension in the air that no one can quite put a finger on. The rest of the room feels it, though, the subtle cracks beginning to show, the invisible divide growing wider with each passing moment.

It’s only a matter of time before it all comes to a head, and when it does, no one will be able to pretend it was ever fine.

Dismissed from the press conference, you find yourself prepping for the race, going through your usual routine. You get dressed, pull your hair back into a braid and you get yourself hyped for the race and always, you wait for Jenson, the two of you heading to the grid together.

P3 for you and P2 for Jenson. Sebastian was on pole with Fernando in P4 along with the rest of the cars lined up behind you.

It was windy and grey, you looked up at the sky, trying to see if the rain would come down. Your engineer, Mac, tells you not to worry about the weather. If need be, you'll pull in and switch to wets.

You didn't like this.

There’s a gnawing feeling in the back of your mind, your stomach twisted in on itself. A sense that something’s off, but you can’t put your finger on it. Everything looks fine on the surface, but there's something about the way the air feels thick.

You can’t shake the sense that something is about to go wrong. You just don’t know what or how.

It’s like waiting for a storm you know is coming but can’t quite see. The feeling lingers, heavy, and all you can do is wait for the shoe to drop, knowing it’s only a matter of time.

You look up at the sky once more, the grey clouds rolling in over the Hungaroring, you can't help the unsettling feeling that's creeping up on you.

There's a hand on your shoulder, bringing you back to the present. Jenson stood in front of you with a cheeky smile, "taken up bird watching, y/n?" He asks.

"Shut up," you huffed, smiling at him with your arms folded over your chest. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Good luck." You smiled and Jenson returned the smile. "Yeah, you too."

You put your helmet on, getting into the car. Last minute checks to make sure comms were working and everything was in order. You go over weather changes and the plan with Mac once more before he pats your head, giving your shoulder a squeeze and the grid clears off.

You couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. One last look up at the grey clouds, the fans standing around with umbrellas and ponchos in case of the rain. Your focus on the lights ahead.

3..

2..

1..

Lights out.

It’s been a tough race, the kind that keeps you on the edge of your seat. The three of you, fighting tooth and nail for P1, constantly swapping positions. Every lap felt like a high-speed chase between you, Jenson, and Sebastian. You had the advantage at some points, then Jenson would slip past, and Sebastian was always lurking, waiting for any opening.

The intensity of it was like nothing else, the tension thick with every corner.

Just as the race was reaching its peak, the skies darkened. What had been a perfect, dry track quickly turned into an unpredictable nightmare.

The rain began to fall, light at first, then harder, turning the surface into a slip and slide. Drivers were forced to change, and the pace slowed dramatically. Every move became a calculated risk, and tire management was now as crucial as ever.

With the rain coming down harder, the decision was made: time to pit for wets. The pit crews were ready, and as you peeled off into the pit lane, the world outside seemed to blur. Tires were changed quickly, but it was a crucial moment, getting it wrong could cost you.

When you rejoined, the race was no longer about who was fastest, but who could keep their cool as conditions got difficult.

In the end, it was Sebastian who managed to hold on, keeping P1 until the checkered flag waved. You pushed hard for that last minute move, and came in just behind him to secure P2. Jenson held his ground, taking P3, making it a tight top three right to the finish.

Despite not getting the win today, the results put you in a good spot.

With that P2 finish, you still managed to maintain your lead in the championship standings, staying ahead of Jenson and Sebastian as the midseason break rolled in.

It’s a small gap, but it’s enough.

You head into the break in P1, with the knowledge that you’ve got what it takes to hold onto the top spot. The competition is strong, but the battle is far from over. Every point counts, and you’ve just set the stage for what promises to be a hectic and messy second half of the season.

You all stand together for the photos at the top of the podium, the bright flashes of cameras filling the air. There’s something different about Jenson.

You can feel it, a subtle coldness coming from him, a distance that wasn’t there before. As you glance his way, you catch his eye for a split second, but instead of him acknowledging it, he quickly turns to speak to Sebastian, his attention fully on the German.

The moment is brief, but it leaves a strange feeling lingering.

You tell yourself it’s probably nothing, just the exhaustion from such an intense race. Emotions run high after a race like that, and maybe the tension is just getting to everyone. You try to brush it off, chalking it up to the pressure of the day, the fatigue that comes with giving it everything on track. But even as the photos continue and the celebrations roll on, you can’t help but wonder if something's changed.

The 3 of you together for a photo, covered in confetti, champagne and rain, there are smiles on your faces, your arm around Seb, bottle of champagne in your free hand. Jenson's focus is on Sebastian, he doesn't even so much as look at you.

After the podium, you head straight to the press pen, where interviews are lined up and the usual buzz of reporters fills the air. You and Jenson are across from each other, each doing separate interviews, the distance between you both oddly noticeable now, the tension from before the race smothering everyone in its vicinity.

The reporter in front of you smiles and asks, “How’s everything going? How are you feeling after today’s race?”

You nod, trying to keep things positive, even if there's a strange weight hanging in the air. "I’m good," you say, smiling. "Happy with the points, happy for the team. A double podium is a good result, and we’ll take it."

Meanwhile across the pen, Jenson’s interview seems to take a different turn. When Jenson was asked about his race, he didn't hold back.

“I wish I’d been P1," he says bluntly. "But I’m focused on the bigger picture. The championship is what matters. What other drivers get in the standings? Doesn’t make a difference to me.”

The reporters picking up on the contrast, turn back to him. “Y/N had some nice things to say about your drive today," one of them says.

Jenson barely looks up, his response flat. "I’m sure she did," he mutters, brushing it off without a second thought.

It’s a small moment, but the tension in the air is palpable. Everyone in the room feels it, the growing divide between you and Jenson.

Somehow, you’re the only one who doesn’t see it. For you, it’s just another race, another round of interviews. The contrast between the two of you couldn’t be more apparent.

You, still smiling, still positive, unaware of the ice that’s slowly creeping into Jenson’s tone. You had no idea what was brewing just beneath the surface. You hadn’t picked up on the subtle shift; the small moments when Jenson used to smile at your jokes, the times he’d offer advice after races, the camaraderie you thought you shared.

Now, it was like you were looking at a stranger.

But it’s clear to everyone else that something’s shifting, and the cracks are starting to show.

---

taglist: @67-angelofthelordme-67 @clementinesjuice @tazskylarstonguepiercing @amelielazozo @percervall @elissa-shelby @that-aesthetic-chic @vi0letblu3s @reiofsuns2001 @23victoria @sebvettelsgirl @Briannash-worlds @Darkomiomi @ru-kru @Myescapefromthislife @mehrmonga @dear-fifi @steamy-smokey @aishisorbet12 @feelslikealbon @kimiracing07

see the masterlist to add yourself to the taglist!

#bound by fate series #jenson button #jenson button x reader #jenson button x you #jenson button x y/n #jenson button imagine #jenson button fanfic #jenson button series #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x teammate!reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 series

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uyinq · 1 month ago

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SCOTT STREET ― RHETT ABBOTT

(dividers from uzmacchiato)

[rhett abbot x reader] [artist! reader] [slow burn] [exes] [angst, fluff, and eventual smut]

· · warnings ﹕profanity, death, alcoholism, daddy issues, anxiety, hurt/comfort, smut.

Country living was never really your style– You always knew that. You always felt made for bigger things, better people, and concrete streets. You always hated Wabang, Wyoming– the close-knit community, the way people talked, and the fact that there were only a handful of things to do. But most of all, you hated the Abbotts. Especially after you handed your band-aid-covered heart to Rhett in high school, and he stomped all over it, digging his spurs into what you thought he would mend.

You shock everyone in town, including Rhett Abbott, when you’re suddenly back in town, almost a decade after falling off the face of the Earth.

AVAILABLE ON AO3 (10 chapters available, tumblr releases will be staggered.)

SPOTIFY PLAYLIST Chapter 1 ﹕Anyways, Don't Be A Stranger

Chapter 2 ﹕Silver Springs

Chapter 3 ﹕Leather and Lace

Chapter 4﹕Emotional Motion Sickness

Chapter 5 ﹕Not Strong Enough

Chapter 6 ﹕Landslide

Chapter 7 ﹕Waiting Room

Chapter 8 ﹕Sun Bleached Flies

Chapter 9﹕Cool About it

Chapter 10﹕Lover, You Should've Come Over

Chapter 11﹕Once More To See You

Chapter 12﹕It Ain't Me Babe

Chapter 13﹕Pushing It Down And Praying

Chapter 14﹕Bridge Over Water

Chapter 15﹕Let The Light In

Chapter 16﹕I Know The End

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dancingtotuyo · 2 years ago

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Woman | Joel Miller x Reader

Complete, Rating: Mature/Explicit

Watch her take me by surprise

When she lets me call her mine

Do you ever really know?

Can you ever really know?

Summary: Joel Miller returns to Jackson bringing back memories and feelings from 20 years ago, but you refuse fall into the universe’s trap again. Your table is at capacity. Adding another chair will only kill you when they get taken away.

Tags: Joel Miller X Reader. Age Gap. smut. hurt/comfort. Life in Jackson. single parent. post season/part I. Mostly TV show canon compliant. TV show versions of characters. playing with the timeline. Tommy’s been in Jackson for a lot longer.

Warnings: descriptions of blood, gore, trauma. Grief & loss. Loss of a spouse. Violence. Smut/Explicit content. Panic attacks, depression, anxiety. MISC canon topics. Chapter specific warnings before each chapter.

Playlist - Updated with each chapter release

Part I

1. tame the ghosts in my head 2. a clouded mind and a heavy heart 3. pick up your clothes and curl your toes 4. walk with me, i think we’ll find a way 5. sleep the hours that i can't weep 6. play my bloody part 7. when she lets me call her mine

Before - A Woman Story

Five peeks into your life before Joel Miller reentered it, recommended to read in between Part I & II of Woman

Part II

8. a cry of my heart to see 9. the fear of what’s to come 10. hold you from the world and its curse drabble. what's that i see? 11. up from the dust, inconceivable love 12. love with urgency but not with haste

drabble. love will not break your heart but dismiss your fears

Part III

13.with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair 14.in the cold light i live to love and adore you 15.holding my breath for you epilogue. the ghosts that we knew

More Reading:

lover of the light Willa's third birthday

Summer of '03 The bridge: A scene that happen in every universe and also the point of divergence.

Landslide A no outbreak AU: Can you and Joel find each other when society stands tall, dictating what is and is not acceptable? Or will it keep you from one another?

Bonus Content:

Art commission based on chapter 12

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #woman (Joel Miller)

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knightjpg · 5 months ago

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landslide | chapter 4

chapter tags: alcohol mention, reader has a toxic boyfriend, implied cheating on reader by said boyfriend

prev | next

You dream of the ocean.

Blue against blue, hot dry sand between your toes. The aftermath of salt under your tongue. You're swimming. You look, feet kicking, hands paddling, but there's no shore to break your line of sight. The horizon stretches until it fades, a blurry blue line as vast as the world.

You don't feel afraid. You're just tired. Your arms and legs feel so heavy, and the water feels heavy, too. Waves are coming faster, weightier; you dip below and break through the surface—

until you're pulled under.

Buried alive under big heaving wells, swallowed down by surface gravity. You claw against the water, desperate, fighting for air—

and cough yourself awake. Your chest hurts, tight with the remnants of your nightmare, and for a split second you feel panic when a weight presses on you; but it's just Kettlebell who curled up on top of you somewhere during the night.

Upon feeling your hand in his fur his head lifts, big dark eyes blinking hello. Then he yawns and hops off you. Now that you're awake his job is done, and he can go annoy Mim in peace.

When you swing your legs over your bed you groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. Your temple throbs, occasional pinpricks of pain shooting like stars over your eyes.

Last night comes back to you slowly.

The bar, the too-many drinks, no sight of Dave. The kind stranger who listened to your blubbering about your boyfriend.

Hot shame rushes through you now that you recall your words in the wondrous, headache-inducing light of sobriety. God. You totally unloaded on a guy you'd never met before and then he...

He called you a cab, didn't he? And made sure you were sent home.

You bury your head in your hands and mouth the words what on earth is wrong with me.

The mortification is enough to eat you alive. You vow you'll never let it get that far again—with alcohol or waiting for Dave that long. Speaking of which...

You raise your head and grab for your phone. Predictably there's an apologetic text from Dave waiting for you:

01:24 Srry missed your calls, smthing came up with a friend x

You stare at the screen for a long moment.

Slowly, like your fingers haven't quite made up their mind yet about replying, you type out an answer.

08:50 I waited a long time for you.

You chew your lip as you send it, feeling anxious and small. When Kettlebell returns to the bed to let you know his and Mim's food bowls are still offensively empty, you shake yourself out of it and go through the motions of your morning routine.

Before you hop in the shower, however, you can't resist another peek:

09:22 Make it up to you?

You exhale.

See? He doesn't say it explicitly, but he's sorry. He'll make it up to you. He cares about you.

Life happens, things get in the way. You have to believe that. What is a relationship if you can't trust your partner?

What is a relationship if not the feeling of throwing yourself off the tightrope and waiting for the other to catch you mid-fall?

“Wear the sluttiest one you have,” Liv says. Her voice crackles on speakerphone; her face is out of frame on the video call, bending down to apply her eyeliner.

You laugh. “The sluttiest—? God, I don't know if I even have anything like that.”

You sift through your clothes again, slowly, pulling out one or two things that might make the cut. It's been a while since you've gone out with just friends, just for fun, just for yourself.

Without Dave.

He hasn't made good on his promise to make it up to you yet—says that with his holiday coming up he's extra busy, has to make sure things don't fall apart once he leaves.

The reminder of the stupid Bora-Bora trip with his stupid marketing colleague has been enough to leave you on edge.

And while you don't think Liv and you will ever become best friends she's been kind. When you texted her in a fit of tears about Dave flaking on you again you expected excuses for his sake—

You're so lucky!

—but instead she called him a cunt and said you should join her and some others to go dancing. Shake your ass and make him regret on losing out on time with you, she'd said, and even though it's not your thing you agreed.

If only to feel like you could.

“Wait, what's that one? The black one?” Liv peers into the camera. One eye is perfectly made up, smoky dark eyeshadow contouring an arched, pencilled-in brow.

“This one?” You pull the dress off its hanger and hold it up for the camera to see.

It was an impulse buy. On sale. The fabric felt soft and stretchy, and even though you could see your panties in the changing booth mirror when you bent down you loved the look of it too much to leave it.

You'd just started dating Dave. You remember you were still feeling giddy and excited with that nervous kind of confidence that made you blush and smile and think maybe I'll wear it for him one time.

It's been gathering dust in the back of your closet ever since.

“Yesss,” Liv says. “That's what I'm talking about.”

When she goes back to her make-up table you hold the dress up in front of the mirror.

It doesn't feel like you.

It feels like the person you once really wished you were, and even that wishful optimism is no longer part of your repertoire.

You turn around. “Hey, do you think—”

Your phone buzzes, covering Liv's face with a popup that says in big white letters incoming call!

You grab it quickly, throwing your dress on the bed. “Hang on, someone's calling—”

With one swipe Liv disappears, and you hold the phone to hold to your ear. Unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Simon.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” you smile, and shake the massive hand held out to you. Simon runs warm; his grip is firm and brief. “I, um. I heard about your mother passing. From Beth. I'm so sorry.”

He averts his eyes for a moment. They're a lovely warm shade of brown, starkly contrasted against his pale skin and blond lashes. Up close you see shadows of nicks and scars. Souvenirs from his work.

“Thanks.”

He hardly says another word all evening. At times it feels more like he's watching over rather than participating in your little party of friends gathered at Tommy and Beth's apartment; a hulking shadow brooding in the corner, shying away from the inner circle of light and laughter.

It'd be easy to forget he was there, but you don't.

You're a little fascinated by him. If Beth is like your sister, what does that make him? Family by-proxy-by-proxy. You've heard enough about him to decide he's got a good heart underneath his withdrawn demeanour, and it makes you eager to forgive what others might see as rudeness.

You sneak looks all throughout the get-together, in between board games and salty snacks and bad jokes. Try to map his heavy brow, his serious gaze, the scar running over his chin that mirrors the one Tommy has on the back of his neck.

After the first few times you chalk it up to coincidence. But when you look again, again—those brown eyes meet yours. It confirms:

Simon's been looking at you, too.

“I don't understand,” you say.

You're not convinced this isn't a prank call. No, worse—a scam. Even when “John” reads out Joseph's place, date, and time of birth—even when he could tell you Beth's middle name or Tommy's last place of work.

There's just no way.

“Just... after eight years? Isn't that a crazy long time...?”

A begrudging pause. “I can't tell you everything, sweetheart. Confidential. You understand.”

You try to. Simon left you something, John said. Wouldn't say what. Couldn't say how. But it's for you, if you want it, just making sure—

Of course you want it, you tell him. You have a P.O. box, he can send it anytime—

“It was requested you receive it in person,” John says. “On base.” Paper is shuffled and shifted in the background. Faintly you hear a door open and close. “There's one not too far from your address.”

“John” gives you the directions, and a quick google shows that he's not lying; there really is a base close by, and it fits John's description.

“Okay. Um... Do I need to bring anything?”

“Your ID should do.” John clears his throat. “I'll have one of mine handle it. Mention my name—John, Captain Price, whatever you like—and they'll sort you out.”

“Alright. Thank you...”

You end the call feeling dazed. Tonight was supposed to be for letting go of everything, for living in the now, in the moment—and suddenly the past comes knocking at your door.

The anxiety returns like a wave crashing on your shore.

You should be over this by now. It's been so many years. You've cycled through all of grief's vicious stages, and the sadness and loss has dulled to the point you don't think of it anymore every day. And even then—it was Beth who was your best friend, Beth who you cried for the hardest. Not Simon. Simon was—

(family by-proxy-by-proxy)

—special.

But him leaving you something behind shouldn't be enough to derail the peace you've clawed out for yourself.

Right?

You tell Liv it was a family thing when she asks, but she's concerned, says you look pale; “Are you sure you're up for going, babe?”

You open your mouth to say yes.

Before you can, though, a notification pops up. It's Dave. You told him you were going out earlier today and received no response—more and more often these days, you remember thinking—and shrugged. Put it out of your mind.

You open the text.

Oh I was thinking we do chinese tonight and a movie marathon

You bite your lip, hard. Text back, Sorry, maybe some other time?

He's not usually one to respond so quickly, but the three dots pop up before you're even done typing.

We can go out together sometime

Just call and cancel

I'll get your fav <3

—you crumble.

It's pathetic, but right now all you want is someone's arms to bury yourself into and to cry on a familiar shoulder. To not be alone in a crowd of strangers with girls that you don't know very well.

You take a shuddering breath and try for your best apologetic smile. “Liv? Sorry. Um—I think the family call thing got me a little harder than I thought.”

How do you explain what Simon was to you? What Beth and her family were to you?

“I'm really sorry for flaking on you suddenly, but is it okay if I go with you next time?”

“Of course, babe,” Liv rushes to assure you. “Take it easy, okay? You really don't look so good. We can go out dancing anytime—I'll add you to the groupchat.”

“Thanks. Have fun,” you tell her, and she says she will before the screen goes dark.

With trembling hands, you press the call button.

“Um, sorry. Am I in the way?”

“Not at all.” The guy before you flashes you an easy smile. “Want one too?”

You nod yes, and watch him pour you your drink. He has nice hands; slender, nails neatly trimmed, a plain watch around his wrist.

“I'm Dave,” he says as he hands you your drink. You accept with a smile and offer your own name, and go through the usual so what do you do for work, who do you know here, did you come with a friend, what food did you bring to the potluck?

“Er,” he says a little sheepishly, “just drinks, I'm afraid. I can't cook to save my life.”

“It's not so hard once you get started. They've got these food delivery boxes now, where you just get everything you need for a meal.”

“Ah, I want to, but. You know.” Dave gestures with his hand. “Work keeps me so busy when I get home all I want to do is pass out.”

You give him a sympathetic smile. You know that feeling too, all too well. “So that's why you're here, huh?” you joke. “To eat your fill and then leave before the cleanup?”

Dave winks. “Oops. Saw right through me.”

In the end Dave does stay for cleanup, though you suspect he only does so because he wants to talk to you after and ask for your number.

You're a little surprised at yourself for giving it.

It doesn't have to mean anything, you tell yourself later on the way home. It can just be practice. Getting back into the dating scene after disappearing from it for a few years.

Worst case you try a one-liner on him and he ghosts you.

Part of you hopes he doesn't, though. You enjoyed talking to Dave. He seemed nice. Normal.

Uncomplicated.

Beth would want that for you, too, you decide when you close the door behind you. A nice normal bloke you can live a nice normal life with. You can't hide yourself away forever; the excuse of work keeping you too busy to socialise is wearing thin.

Who knows? You smile to yourself as you drift off.

Maybe this could be the start of something really good.

Dave leaves early in the morning when you're still half-asleep in bed. You don't remember getting there last night; he must've carried you over after you fell asleep on the sofa.

You wrinkle your nose at the empty plastic containers littering the low table in the living room. It's messier than you remember it; Dave even forgot his jacket, still thrown over the back of the sofa. You pick it up and dust it off—

...?

You frown and lean in, sniffing the jacket.

Traces of something sweet and fruity still cling to the fabric.

You stand there, in the still morning light spilling through the windows, holding the jacket and staring at it. You're overreacting. You're reading into it. You're so sensitive. Jumping to conclusions.

Dave doesn't usually wear scent, does he?

crazy bitch, possessive cunt, stupid whore—

...But maybe he's started to. You'll... you'll ask him about it. That should be okay, right? You'll ask him, and then he'll say oh, yeah, just trying out this new thing.

And the world will be right again.

Tears prick at your eyes and you blink them away, carefully hanging Dave's jacket onto the hanger in the hallway. You avert your eyes as soon as possible.

You don't want to think about it.

If you do, you'll just make yourself go crazy. Talk yourself into doing something stupid, like calling him and then blubbering accusations at him like a lunatic.

You breathe out. No. This is your free day, and you're not going to spend in moping inside. You scoop up Mim, who's come out of his hiding place, and kiss his little head while he purrs in your arms.

You're going to feed your cats, feed yourself, and then...

Then you'll go to that military base. Get it over with. It'll get you out of the house, out of your head, make you think about something else than Dave wearing a woman's scent.

Even if that something else is the dead brother-in-law of your equally dead best friend.

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #simon ghost riley x reader #x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x y/n #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader

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sos-gone-deeper · 26 days ago

Text

I Could Be A Good Mother (Travis Martinez x Reader) (Part 3)

Winter has started to show signs of stopping, but that glimmer of hope is lost when Shauna suddenly goes into labor.

Part 2 | Part 4

Notes:

- This chapter has HEAVY topics!! Please be aware before reading.

• Childbirth

• Loss of a child

• Grief mentions

- fem!reader

- takes place as winter nears an end (the cabin hasn't burnt down yet, but the snow is starting to melt. I wrote winter to be less severe, I know it's not entirely show accurate)

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One of Travis' first fond memories of you came in the fall. He was still awake, facing away from you, when he heard a soft voice from across the room. He carefully rolled over, cracking his eyes open in the direction of the sound.

There you sat, singing Landslide by Fleetwood Mac to a drowsy Javi. You ran your hand through his hair, smiling softly, the other hand planted on the ground to hold you in a sitting position.

"Well I've been afraid of changing.."

Travis understood how Javi was already fast asleep. Your voice was angelic, so sweet it felt like his ears were rotting just listening to it.

"'Cause I've built my life around you..."

He wasn't far behind Javi, softly slipping out of consciousness as your voice lulled him to sleep.

Every night he made a point to listen and see if you were singing to Javi, who claimed nothing else helped him sleep. He tried using your Walkman, or just listening to the silence, but Javi could never get to sleep. It became a routine thing: every night it was a different song. Travis was impressed by your range of music knowledge. From Kate Bush to No Doubt, you knew everything.

Morale was boosting as the snow begun to melt, but it all went away as Shauna cried out in shock over her water breaking. Coach took off into the woods, and that's where the panic started. The only adult that could even attempt to help had taken off. You had taken Javi into the room Coach Ben was residing in, not wanting him to have to see such a graphic thing with all he had already seen.

"Trav?" You said, peeking your head out the door. Travis came to you from where he stood over Shauna.

"I don't want to leave Javi in there alone." You said, stepping out of the room. "Do you want to sit with him?"

"Um..." Travis looked back at Shauna, then back to you. His hunting was going better now that he was going out earlier, and as a result the color was back in your face and your baby bump was much more pronounced, your hand resting on it. Even if it meant less sleep for him, seeing everyone- especially you - starting to look like themselves again was worth it.

You smiled slightly. "I think she'll be okay without you, I'll go sit with her."

"Okay." Travis said, slipping past you and into the room. As he did, his hand glided over the small of your back, moving you away from the door.

There was no way of knowing what the hell was going on between the two of you. Small touches, fixing each other's plates when it was time to eat, all of it could be chalked up to his worry for you and you simply showing appreciation. But it's not like you were friends before the crash. Sure, you caught him staring sometimes in biology, and you'd occasionally talk to him at the practices he was forced to come to. But if he was just worried for you, why did it feel like something more?

Shauna was freaking out, slipping in and out of consciousness. You almost gagged at the sight. Sure, you and Shauna had always butted heads, but you knew she needed a friend.

Her crying and screaming was becoming a lot to handle, knowing you'd soon be going through the same thing. Everyone was trying to calm her, Misty assuming her place by Shauna's legs.

"I can't believe Misty Quigley is going to be delivering my baby." You recalled saying to Travis a few months ago.

"Shauna." You said, sitting behind her. "You gotta calm down."

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down!" She yelled.

Okay, maybe your choice of words were too harsh. "I'm sorry," You quickly said, "Just breathe, can you do that?"

She grabbed your hand and squeezed. You squeezed back, vowing to her over and over again that you wouldn't leave her side, she's got this, it's going to be okay.

It's going to be okay.

After what felt like an eternity, Shauna finished pushing and immediately blacked out.

"Shauna?" You gasped, touching her forehead. She was still breathing, but looked incredibly pale.

It was common knowledge that after babies are born, they're supposed to cry. Those many hours in heath class pre-crash had taught all of you that. So when a beat passed, and the baby hadn't cried out, panic set in. And when a minute passed, Misty frantically trying to help the little baby boy, everyone started to accept it.

Shauna's baby was dead.

You felt the tears pushing up your throat and at the back of your eyes. Shauna, who had the softest doe eyes, who always checked up on her teammates, who was so gentle and kind, had lost her baby. And when she woke up, someone would have to tell her.

The door creaked and you snapped your head up. There was Travis, horrified at the scene in front of him: Shauna passed out, everyone near tears, and Misty holding an unresponsive baby.

Javi's head tried to peek over Travis' shoulder, and he quickly pushed him back, shutting the door and rushing over.

"What? What happened?" Travis breathed out.

"Travis..." Natalie started to say, but the words wouldn't leave her mouth.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened. Travis knelt down next to you, looking at Shauna's pale, sweaty face. "Is Shauna okay?" He asked.

"She's still breathing." Misty said, coming closer to feel for a pulse.

Dead silence. No one knew what to do except stare as Misty wrapped up the baby in a blanket and covered Shauna.

Tears started flowing involuntarily. Tears for Shauna, for her baby, and, for some reason, for Jackie. Those two were inseparable, and here was Shauna, all alone, losing the two things that kept her grasping to hope out here.

"Hey," Travis rested a hand on your shoulder. "It's okay. There was nothing you could do."

"I feel awful." You muttered, still holding Shauna's relaxed hand.

"Was it a girl?" Lottie asked. Probably something to do with her wilderness bullshit.

"A boy." Misty said.

"I hope it's a boy." Javi had said to you. Fresh tears pricked your eyes.

Shauna started to rouse, and you backed away, unsure of what to do or say.

"Where's my baby?" Shauna rasped out.

"Shauna.." Tai said, frowning. "He didn't make it."

"What, no! He was crying. I heard him crying." Before anyone could react, Shauna gently but firmly grabbed her baby, pulling him close.

Now everyone was crying. Seeing the strong girl reduced to tears was way too much for you all.

"He's crying. I can hear him crying. Why can't you?" Shauna looked to you with pleading eyes.

"Why can't you hear him crying?"

You wrapped an arm around her, resting your head on top of hers. No one else moved, but they didn't need to, because Shauna wouldn't accept any comfort. Nothing can calm a grieving mother.

By the time the sun had set, Shauna had calmed down. They placed the baby in the meat shed, not to eat, but to keep there until the ground was soft enough to bury him.

Coach hadn't returned, so you decided Shauna needed the big bed. She couldn't walk, so you and Taissa slung your arms around her and carried her in.

"I think I'm gonna sleep here tonight. With her." Tai whispered to you.

"Okay." You replied. You looked past Tai to Shauna. "Goodnight, Shauna."

No response.

Travis was outside, using the campfire to cook some of the leftover deer on. There wasn't much left, and after Shauna declined, everyone offered it up to you. You sat on the porch, watching him, while Javi fiddled with his hands.

You sat together silently on the porch, eating straight from the pan and not saying a word.

Javi hadn't taken the news that badly, but his heart still hurt for Shauna. She had been helpful, nice, and kept him company when you couldn't. When he heard it was a boy, that's when he swallowed thickly, looking at the doll he had made perched on the fireplace.

"I'm going to bed." Javi said, standing.

"Okay. We'll be in soon. Goodnight." You said, squeezing his arm.

"Goodnight guys."

"Night, Javi." Travis said, offering a forced smile.

The cabin door swung shut behind the two of you, and Travis scooted closer.

"I'm scared, Travis." You admitted.

"I know. Me too."

"What if that happens to me? My baby? And - and what happens if I die? I can't-"

"You're not gonna die." Travis said gently but sternly. He sat the pan on the other side of him. "Im not letting you die. They aren't letting you die. Everyone's gonna be right next to you."

"They were right next to Shauna." You said.

"Well, Shauna lived. But I-I think it's gonna be fine. You and the baby. And we're gonna get rescued soon, and you can go and live a normal life with her. Or him. And Javi will be right there the second you need a babysitter. Or Van. I would trust Van more."

You giggled. "I don't trust any of them with my baby except for Javi. Maybe Akilah. Or Tai." You looked to Travis. "What about you?"

Something in Travis' expression changed. "What about me?" He asked.

"I mean, what are you gonna do after rescue?"

"I hadn't really thought about it." He said softly.

"You could come with me. We could get a house, be roommates. As long as you don't mind a crying baby."

There he was again, picturing that big house from his dream. He'd assumed you'd want to get back to your boyfriend, but he hadn't heard anything about him since you'd been out here, beyond the story of his distaste for you despite dating you.

"Well, what about Andrew?" He asked.

"What about him?" You replied. "He doesn't care about me. He's only dating me because of his stupid friends and his desperate need to impress them." Travis looked upset. "He doesn't care about the baby. And I doubt he'll even remember me when we get back."

"How could someone forget your face?" Travis asked, genuine curiosity laced in his voice.

"What's going on?" You asked softly. "I can't tell what you want. I can't tell if you're worried about me, or worried Javi would lose a friend. I can't tell what's going on in your head."

"There's a lot going on in my head." Travis said. "But I promise you, I'm worried about you. I'm worried because you kept this hidden, and if I'd known that, I probably would've done things a lot differently."

"Like what?" You asked. Probably the cocky attitude he had, telling you to grow up every time you cried, not letting you hunt with him because there was just no way he could risk you scaring the prey. He'd never admit that in reality, he was scared something would happen to you. A wolf attack, a stray bullet, anything that could've hurt you.

"I just- I could've been nicer. That's all." Travis said after a beat of silence.

You rested your hand over his. "I like this side of you a lot more, Mr. "I'm So Manly And Tough".

Travis scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Low blow." But his cheeks were visibly red. Whether from the cold or from your touch, there was no way of knowing.

"If something happens-" You started to say before Travis cut you off.

"Don't say that." His eyes were glazed over.

"If - I feel like maybe there's something I should get off my chest."

"What?"

You both knew full and well what it was, but you knew you had to say it.

"I just- I really appreciate everything you've done for me. And you did it all even when you didn't know me that well." You started.

Travis cut you off. "I don't need to know you to know you're a good person."

"Well, sure. Okay. But I'm just trying to say that I really appreciate it. I appreciate you. And maybe I read into this the wrong way but I still need to let you know that I really, really like you, Travis."

Silence. You knew you shouldn't have said anything. It was probably Natalie. They hunted together, and up until this point they had been the best of friends. So close you were worried they were more than that.

"I really like you too."

Your head snapped up as Travis continued. "I just assumed you were fine where you were, playing soccer and dating that absolute Chad of a boyfriend."

"Yeah, he wasn't the best." You said through a laugh. But Travis looked serious, so you stopped.

"But I just wanted to step up, especially for you. I'm fine with losing the little respect the girls gave me, and if Nat wants to be mean about it, I'm fine with losing my hunting partner too. I'd lose it all for you."

There was only one way for you to one-up him after that last sentence. So, you acted without thinking about it too much, and kissed him.

He kissed back.

You both pulled away, smiling, and went in for another kiss. But before your lips could connect, a creak came from inside the cabin.

"20 bucks says Javi is still up." You said, standing slowly.

"He can wait." Travis said, grabbing your arm gently.

"No, he cannot." You said with a giggle. "It's late, and you're gonna be up early."

"Fine, under two conditions."

"Let's hear it." You said. Both of you were standing now, his arms holding your shoulders, you looking up at him.

"Share my spot. It's warm, I have like 3 blankets."

You smiled. You'd been waiting to see if Travis would say anything as you scooted your bed a little closer every night, claiming it was to check on Javi. "Done. What else?"

"How much Mazzy Star do you know?" Travis said after a moment's hesitation.

You started to laugh, and Travis looked embarrassed. "No way. No way Travis Martinez listens to Mazzy Star."

"Okay, well I do and it's only one song. 'Fade Into You'. Do you know it?"

"Of course I know it. Why?"

"Javi likes it. I know you sing to him every night, sometimes I listen too."

"Oh, I knew that. Why do you think I sing that loud instead of whispering? Gotta make sure you get sleep too."

Travis grabbed your hand and led you into the cabin to his bed. You didn't lay down immediately, and instead assumed your place by Javi, who was laying down, ready to sleep.

After a full rendition of Fade Into You, Javi was out like a light and Travis was too, but he immediately stirred when you laid down next to him. His hand wrapped around your side, coming to rest where the baby was kicking. He smiled into your hair as you both drifted off to sleep.

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First off I am so sorry it took me this long to write this! I was so stuck, I didn't know how to write Shauna's scenes. Also I was worried it would come off stupid to do a love confession almost right after Shauna loses her baby, but I think it turned out good :) Also this chapter was SO long I'm so sorry lol. Thank you for all the love on the other chapters!!!

#akilah yellowjackets #jackie taylor #mari ibarra #misty quigley #natalie scatorccio #shauna shipman #taissa turner #travis martinez #yellowjackets #van palmer #travis martinez x reader #yellowjackets fanfic

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kidicaruslover911 · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 4: Interwoven Nostalgia

Mizu x Fem!Reader

a/n: uhhh btw reader is 22, Mizu 23 and Taigen is like 26

fun fact i did my research and during the 17th century, a trip with a boat from japan to europe took AT LEAST 2 whole years if the weather allowed it plus the stops for repairs and refreshments. you had to sail all the way around east and South asia, just to continue around africa and then sail upwards towards the european continent. i thought it’d be cool to share that with you

story on AO3

summary: Hope y’all missed Taigen (I didn’t 😒) a little more is revealed about the reader and her true occupations (idk if you could say it like that lol)

est. wc 9.1K

“I am owed my honor…” You heard an unknown voice announce.

”Then take it!”

‘What the hell were they talking about?’

Grunting in pain, you felt the freshness of the sea’s water brush against your face, slowly but surely beginning to regain consciousness as the last thing you remembered was a Fang charging right at you, his eyes locking onto yours as you cut his head clean off his shoulders.

Next thing you knew, your body was lying face down on the beaches ground, and you couldn’t seem to move a muscle.

When you tried to speak, your voice felt hoarse, and the words came out in a weak whisper.

Your vision was clouded and everything around you was a blur.

You couldn’t seem to catch your breath, but luckily, your heart was still pounding in your chest.

It was as if time had stood still, leaving you alone with your own thoughts.

Guiding a hand to your side, warm liquid soon covered it and you knew that it was only a matter of time before…scratch that.

You weren’t dying. Not yet. You couldn’t.

Bringing your bloodied hand back to your cheek, some of the scarlet fluid trailed down onto your chin, shaky breaths emanating from your lips, head completely empty.

With a fall from that height, your body felt like it had shattered into a thousand pieces, but you could feel that the majority of your bones had somehow stayed intact.

Why or how? You didn’t know.

A true miracle.

After killing one out of the Four Fangs, another one had set his eyes on your wounded side, noticing how much more blood would trickle onto the ground as the current situation forced you to perform literal acrobatics on the cliff’s landslide.

So what better opportunity than to strike your already weakened opponent in the bloody side of her abdomen? Strike you and not die.

He managed to do one of the two things he had intended to accomplish.

The Fang put your life a little more at risk, causing you to emit a piercing cry that echoed throughout the cliffs as you dealt him a fatal blow mid-air, completely dismissing the fact that you had no real support whatsoever before losing your balance and…

You had blacked out.

But apparently, not for more than a few minutes, in which the Four Fangs leader had died following another man’s appearance.

Wait- Another man? Other than the Four Fangs? Talking about getting his honor back?

Your eyes shot open immediately, a gasp leaving your lips as your blurry vision disappeared, looking over to just to be met with an unconscious and blood soaked Mizu with right next to him a stranger holding a katana over his head, ready to kill him.

If you had been attentive enough, you would’ve noticed the uneasiness in the man’s demeanor and how he wasn’t sure if this was truly what he wanted, but it was too late for that.

Fuck your wound and your ringing head, before you could even think about it, your fingers found their way around your katana, hardly helping yourself up with an annoyed grunt as you glared daggers at the stranger, running up to him as a battle cry left your lips.

His blade was about to drop onto your companion’s unresponsive body, right before he turned to meet your furious gaze, his pupils dilating as he looked he wasn’t sure to believe what he was seeing.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” Your small fist had managed to land a harsh punch onto Taigen’s face, making him fall onto the wet ground as his little gang only eyed you in pure shock.

There they were again, chasing after your friend, chasing him with wooden sticks and stones when all he did was try and find something for him to eat.

Not on their watch. They’d rather watch him starve to death than even catch a glimpse of his round blue eyes.

Luckily you had somehow made it in time, hitting their leader as you stood in front of Mizu, your small body earning him somewhat of a shield and this time, you came prepared.

Your blue eyed friend didn’t like this. She didn’t like it one bit. She didn’t like how you always put yourself at risk just to try and protect her from whatever.

You had a smaller bag bound to your side and it was filled to the brim…with stones.

Enough stones to take on Taigen and his horde.

You may have been small but at the time your talent in throwing various objects with great precision was something you had already developed at an early age.

And at the sight of your unspoken threat, the boy could only scowl, hardly laughing.

“Oh, look who it is guys? The dogs savior!” The kid smirked. “Or should I say, the dogs owner? Must have lost his pup again.” He rolled his eyes, never leaving your sight.

His insulting words only made your blood boil even more. Your stance was unwavering as you grabbed onto one of your stones, ready to shot your shot.

“Mizu is NO dog! And I’m not his owner but his friend! He didn’t do anything wrong and even if he did, I won’t let scum like you beat him up again! If you want to get to him you’ll have to beat me down first.” You exclaimed loud and clearly as Taigen couldn’t care less about your friendly feelings and empathy for the boy.

”His ‘friend’, huh? Then I guess that you should’ve kept him on a better leash, Y/N.” Taigen spat at you as he slowly got up again, pointing at the two of of you.

‘That brat.’ So she won’t have it any other way…

You weren’t scared because you knew what you were fighting for.

You were fighting to protect your friend. Your one and only. You were almost sure that Mizu would do the same for you and therefore, you had no regrets.

“GET THEM!”

Not her, not her again’ He thought.

Was it a curse or a fury? A vengeful spirit or some sort of ghost?

Just what in the world was he fighting right now?

Where was the little girl he so easily used to beat up despite her never backing down and always coming at him until she was left unconscious?

Where were the little fists that tried to reach him but couldn’t because of his superior strength and height?

The girl he so easily threw onto the ground, years ago when she challenged him in company of her master, dodging quickly but never striking correctly.

Where were the long taken breaths because of your short endurance and burning chest as you desperately aimed your messy hits at him?

No where.

None of it was to be found. Little Y/N had died a long time ago and was never to be seen again.

Weakness was never to be seen again.

With the way some of your blood had covered your cheek, dripping down your chin…and the way your eyes held nothing but pure rage and hate for him, Taigen just didn’t know how to keep his composure anymore.

A woman? Attacking him the way you were? No.

There was simply no way. He wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t allow you to dishonor him.

Not like she dishonored him.

A disgrace, that’s what you were, sullying the purity of the blade you handled with such grace and care…but a woman couldn’t possibly wield a sword the way you currently did, it just didn’t make any sense.

And yet, you were.

Taigen’s breath hitched as he caught a glimpse of your gaze. Irises filled with murder.

This wasn’t your first time doing this.

Now each breath you took was short and calculated with the sole intention of killing the man whose defense kept on crumbling with each blow as you fought him away from Mizu’s body.

You made sure to make him stay on the defensive as Taigen could only question whose idea it was to teach a woman to fight with such skill? Or to fight at all?

‘Could it be…?’

It had to be her.

You kept approaching him with your weapon drawn, your eyes locking on his.

Despite your injury, you stood tall and confident, at least you tried to, ready to defend Mizu at all costs.

Lunging at Taigen, your sword flashed through the air in quick, precise strikes.

Taigen was able to parry most of your swings, but a few managed to break through his defense, making him stumble back, his heart pounding in his chest.

Your attacks became even more fierce as more blood streamed down your side, adding more fuel to your rage.

You moved with agility and speed, your sword cutting through the air like a bolt of lightning.

Taigen, on the other hand, was struggling to keep up, his eyes fixed on your blade as it slashed closer and closer to him.

Between your relentless strikes, you spared a glance at the crest that was embroidered onto his kosode, making you want to laugh as you almost immediately recognized and ‘remembered’ what school he was from.

The ‘prestigious’ Shindo dojo. Again? But of course.

Against all odds, Taigen managed to find his resolve and charge at you, swinging his sword at you with all his might.

The two weapons clashed with a deafening clang, and for a moment, it seemed as if you had almost lost your balance.

But you were not to be deterred, and countered with a swift swipe of your own, cutting his hand in the process and knocking the sword out of the his hand, sending him falling onto the sand.

A loud yell could be heard from him, the man grabbing onto his injured hand as he tried to stop the blood from flowing.

‘No…This can’t be.”

He knew who you were. His heart knew.

But his mind rejected the idea of you, a woman dishonoring him in such a humiliating way. It wasn’t even a legal duel yet you still managed to beat him, in such a weakened state too…

’How the hell is she still standing?’ You only glared at him, lazily dragging your swords in the sand before holding it upwards into the air.

‘She’s completely crazy…It that it? This is how I’m going to die?’ Taigen stared at you as he tried to back away, pushing himself backwards as your steps only followed his fleeting ones.

You stood over him, eyes empty, blade held high, ready to deliver the final blow…but something stopped you - your blade escaped your grasp, hitting the ground as your knees followed, your members becoming limb and your breathing hectic, making Taigen raise his eyebrows at you and stare at you in slight confusion and relief.

You almost forgot how much blood you had been losing lately and honestly, you doubted the fact that your stamina was the only thing keeping you alive until now.

At the end of the day, you weren’t immortal and your head felt way too light, making you place your hands on your blood soaked side once again as you tried to prevent any more blood from escaping, a nasty sensation getting ahold of your abdomen.

This sudden change in attitude gave Taigen the chance to snap out of his trance and quickly get ahold of your blade, switching the tables as he gathered his courage and decided to show no mercy, just like you did moments ago.

He was a samurai and he had gotten his honor broken twice now. First by Mizu and now by you. A woman.

This had to be a warrior’s worst nightmare. Just when would it stop? Now.

He was going to put an end to this continuous humiliation now.

Now was his chance, you were vulnerable, unable to resist or protect yourself, agonizing on the ground as your back was the only thing facing him.

Taking one last breath, he visualized how your blade would pierce through your spine, warm blood splattering onto the beaches sand as your body would simply fall limb, unresponsive, before he’d turn your form around, seeing the shimmer of life leave those same restless eyes of yours.

And it would be as if it had never happened.

As if no woman had ever eyed him with the indifference of an assassin, slaughtering yet again another helpless victim.

It would have never happened.

’You are a samurai, she stained your honor…and she showed no mercy whatsoever…no mercy… no mercy…no mercy…no mercy…no…’

…

He couldn’t. Watching your painful squirming, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

It didn’t feel right and even with the recent events, he wasn’t one to backstab an opponent.

He had more respect for you than that.

You on the other side were waiting for an impact to release you from your torment, only to feel…none.

With a conflicted sigh, Taigen set your blade to the side, kneeling next to you before hesitantly placing his hand on your shoulder, which you instantly slapped off.

‘He has the chance to kill me here…right here and right now…what the fuck is he waiting for?’ You thought.

The time to kill your enemy is when you can, and yet he still didn’t strike you.

Despite your almost successful attempt to unalive him, he felt…pity for you.

You were in a miserable state and no one deserves death in such circumstances.

Not even you.

“Leave…” You gritted through your teeth.

Mumbling something underneath his breath, a single look at your side was enough for him to tell that you were doing anything but fine.

“You…leave.” You had recognized him the second your blades clashed against each other, remembering the terribly arrogant little brat he was.

Sure, people change, but that didn’t mean anything.

You didn’t trust him one bit.

Sparing him an exhausted glance to the side, you didn’t understand why he wanted to be all helpful and caring all of a sudden.

He tried to kill Mizu. Someone you care about.

Honorable or not, he considered killing him and that was reason enough for you to hate him even more than you already thought you did.

Even if you were sure to have banned these memories from your mind.

If it wasn’t for that, maybe, and only maybe you would’ve approached him in a more diplomatic manner.

Yet some people only understand the severity of their actions when their own life is in danger.

Taigen was no exception.

Mizu was tougher than he looked and so did you.

None of you would die here.

Not on your watch.

And if it weren’t for your blood loss, Taigen would’ve been a dead man by now, that much he knew.

If he had to be honest, your cold reaction didn’t surprise him at all, but then again, he couldn’t let you die here like this. Or Mizu.

He couldn’t afford to let you die if he had the capacity to help you somehow, he just couldn’t, not when he almost died by both of your hands, which unironically earned you both a place onto his shameful rematch list.

The thought did cross his mind: Since there were no witnesses of your impromptu ‘match’, his defeat against you never happened. You never legally challenged him and therefore he never lost.

That was if you decided to keep your mouth shut.

Keeping this deduction in the back of his mind, Taigen spoke to you again, this time more insistently.

He may be a samurai, a ruthless warrior, but he was still human and moral ethics weren’t something he lacked understanding in.

”Listen…I know that I’m probably one of the last people you’d want to talk to right now, but this is only going to work if you let me help you. We need to get you a doctor…I mean, we need to get you both a doctor.” Taigen tried to speak some sense into you, grabbing your bloodied hand to get a better view of your injury.

He needed you guys alive.

You both owed him his honor now. One more than the other as much as he hated the thought of admitting it..

”I am a doctor and I- I don’t need your help…nor do I need your compassion, Taigen. I’m fine.” you breathed out, glaring at him.

You’d rather choke on a thousand acupuncture needles than to have someone like Taigen help you.

”Of course, you definitely look like one right now, especially with the way you’re just waiting to bleed out…”

While this guy was just halfheartedly mocking your statement, you seriously regretted leaving your medical supplies down town.

If only you hadn’t forgotten them in the restaurant…How the hell did you even forget something like that?

After a few moments, silence returned as Taigen tried to reason you again.

“Y/N, my point is just that-“

Before he could even attempt to finish his sentence, a large man with a shaven head, no hands and a wooden stick in his in his mouth came running at him with all his might, taking him by surprise and pinning him to the ground within seconds.

‘Ringo…’ You thought, weakly glancing up at him.

Unlike the sweet and joyful nature you had seen so far, right now, the man was furious.

”GET OFF HER!” He barked, keeping Taigen to the ground.

”WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?”

Ringo angrily glared at him, waiting for a response.

“Not me, NOT me. The Fangs.” Taigen hastily answered as he turned his head towards you and Mizu.

The large man only spared you a look, a shocked gasp leaving him as he immediately got off of Taigen, hurrying to kneel beside you.

”You’re the swordswoman from the death duel earlier! I wasn’t sure if you had already left the town but I you forgot some of your belongings in the restaurant, so I thought- Oh… oh no…” He trailed of as he saw the state of your abdomen.

”Miss…you’re-“

‘Swordswoman…Death duel?’ The words resonated in Taigen’s head yet he couldn’t make any sense of them as he silently rose to his feet, keeping track of the conversation.

Ringo was about pick you up in his arms but you stopped him with a movement of your hand.

“Listen here, uhm..’Ringo’ was it?” You panted, still holding onto your side.

He nodded.

Taking another deep breath, you spoke. At least you tried.

”Alright, then listen. My name is Y/N and I’m Mizu’s old…friend. Delighted to meet you.” You struggled.

Accentuating your words the best you could, you quickly explained how you and Mizu were ambushed by the Four Fangs, how Taigen tried to kill him and how you managed to keep him away from your unconscious companion, almost costing him his life.

”Thank you for paying attention to my belongings but…Mizu is dying. Your master is dying as we speak, my friend is dying and we can’t waste any more time here while doing absolutely nothing.”

Thinking shortly, you had made your mind up.

You could pass out at any moment now but since Ringo had retrieved your medical armamentarium from the restaurant, that saved you a lot of time.

‘Maybe I could try and…’ You trailed off before verbalizing your decision.

“We need to get him somewhere safe…somewhere I can treat him properly“ You emphasized as you gestured at Mizu’s motionless body to which Ringo furrowed his brows, rapidly making his way towards Mizu.

”Master…Master no…” The chubby man urged Mizu into his grasp, picking her up in his arms as her sword escaped her grasp.

“He needs your support more than I do and I’m the only doctor available here so I guess-“

At the sound of your offer, Taigen just had to say something.

Treating Mizu when you weren’t in any better shape? You couldn’t possibly be serious.

“What? No. Y/N, you can barely walk let alone stand for too long. You can’t treat anyone right now.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” You simply spat at him, making him protest even more.

“You won’t last a minute trying to ‘heal’ him and he doesn’t always need you to-“

“I already told you: I’m fucking fine. Why do you care anyways?” You let out an angry grunt, using your katana as a support to help you up again, more blood spilling onto the sand.

“Now why don’t you make yourself useful and help us get him somewhere far away from here?”

‘She didn’t change a bit. Still defending this dog at all costs.’ Taigen side eyed you.

You felt dizzy, but it was as if your body was moving on its own, with one mission in mind.

Keeping your friend alive.

Walking slowly walking ahead, a crimson trail sticking to your path, Taigen and Ringo were flabbergasted as they could only stare at you in disbelief while you let out sighs and breaths of exhaustion.

‘She can’t possibly care that much about Mizu… to the point of risking her own life…’ But he knew that trying to change your mind would be of little use, seeing you already making your way forward.

“There’s a shrine, up the mountain. He’ll be safe there.” Taigen murmured, taking Mizu’s blade and the Fangs leader’s broken sword with him.

‘I doubt that she’ll make it up there alive.’

Ringo also tried to persuade you from overstepping your body’s boundaries, claiming that he knew his way around some quick medicine too, but you refused to listen.

The only thing that rang in your head were one of the first words your master spoke to you.

”You’ve got a stubborn soul little one, I doubt that anyone could ever break it. After all, when I look at you, it’s as if I could see all the worldly desires in your eyes…I like that.”

‘Tsk…that woman.’

_______________________________________________

When you finally arrived at the shrine, you mumbled a quick prayer, excusing yourself for sullying this sacred place with your bloody form and hoped that whoever was up there, would help you keep your friend with the living.

Your friend.

What an hour ago seemed like an uncertainty was now crystal clear for you.

Mizu was still your friend. At least in your perspective. He must be, right?

Why else would you put yourself through such a hassle? Insisting on treating his wounds by yourself when you couldn’t even walk properly?

You cared for him, that much was true and you’d definitely go through the same alarming process for any other patient.

Right? Right.

Dismissing those insignificant thoughts, Ringo entered the shrine, Mizu seemingly having a bad dream as he called out unintelligible words in his unconscious state.

You followed them as you heard Taigen’s steps follow yours which made you halt in your tracks and have Taigen bump into your back, a confused expression on his face.

You only glared at him over your shoulder, not needing to say anything.

He was staying outside. End of the discussion.

Luckily, Taigen wasn’t in the mood to exchange any more words with you for now, and just rolled his eyes as he leaned against the shrines wall, giving you three the privacy you needed.

To your surprise, Ringo came prepared.

You hoisted a rug made out of straw over one of the wooden beams of the shrine, blocking out the view of Mizu’s body, away from prying eyes.

Ringo gently laid Mizu onto a blanket he had taken out of his receptacle, before getting some water to clean your blood stained hands and handing you your medical belongings.

While he was doing so, he couldn’t help but glance at your side. He just hoped that your endurance was as durable as you made it seem.

”Don’t worry. I won’t pass out on him.” You simply added, already feeling his anxious eyes on you.

“I have a patient to take care of and I will stick to doing so. You said you knew your way around medicine…if you could cook up some soup for him, with some yarrow and peppermint, that would be great.”

His eyes narrowed at your request. He trusted your judgment.

”I’ll add some elderberries. For his immune system.” Ringo nodded as you held a satisfied look at him.

‘Not bad. He knows the basics.’

Sitting besides Mizu, your first instinct was to unbind his scarf to check his pulse.

As you did so, it wasn’t too long until a surprised look rose in your eyes as you slowly took the cloth off, gently turning his head to the side while your cautious fingers grazed his rather…soft skin, checking his pulse as you let out a relieved breath.

He was alive. That was one fear out of the way.

But by further inspection you could only wonder.

‘His neck is so…delicate.” You thought, scanning his neck for an Adam’s apple only to find none, making you frown just a bit.

You made sure to try and keep a somewhat unbothered front since you didn’t want Ringo to notice your slight stupefaction.

Although…

Ok so, Ringo hadn’t really thought this through.

Taigen definitely wasn’t someone he wanted near Mizu since he tried to kill him and didn’t know that he wasn’t truly…let’s just keep it that way.

But since you claimed to be Mizu’s ‘old friend’ (?) and so ardently insisted on treating him on your own, he thought that you must’ve known something about that little secret of his.

Thinking nothing more of Mizu’s pretty neck, your hands moved to unbind his obi, asking Ringo to hand you a wet cloth you had sunken into some hot water, you carefully moved your friends haori to the side, making his injuries more accessible to you.

Some parts of the garment kept sticking onto his wounds, making the process take a little bit longer, your eyes getting bigger and your brows furrowing lower the more skin you unveiled, until…

”Ringo, if you could hand me-“ Sticking out your hand without looking at him, you spoke shortly trailing off as your breath slightly hitched, your eyes falling onto his exposed body with a scowl.

‘What in the world…what’s this?’

The man executed himself, paying no mind to the sudden shift in your voice as he pressed the wet cloth into your hand and started to cook up the medicinal soup for Mizu to drink later.

You quietly thanked him before returning your attention to Mizu, whose true identity didn’t really matter to you.

It was as if you didn’t care.

You didn’t care at all to be honest. You couldn’t care less because you were actually worried. Worried sick.

For his, no, her health. You didn’t utter a single word or at least, you were unable to because of how shockingly unsafe and painful those bindings looked on her chest.

For a second, you thought about removing them, but decided not to do so.

You felt like removing those bindings without her permission would be the most insensitive thing to do ever and so you left them as they were.

Yet the mere thought of her compressing her chest like this over probably more than just a few years made you sick.

’His, no…her ribs must’ve been completely compressed, her breast tissue damaged, her spine alignment altered…just imagining the chronic pain she had to endure, and overall the state of her lungs? How the hell did she even breathe with those on?’

You thought about all the medical consequences her bindings may have had on her as you asked Ringo for your needle and tread, ignoring how badly your hand was shaking.

It made you anxious.

Memories flooded back to you and you tried so badly to keep your composure, fighting back barely visible tears, starting to stitch her shoulder as neatly as you could.

“So it was you…” You whispered to yourself, a chuckle of relief gracing Ringo’s ears as you thought of a dirty job you never accepted and yet it was exactly that one job that had never truly left your mind.

In the end, you understood why she did it, why she had to get through all this suffering.

’Damn you, Mizu.’

Well, at least now you knew where her bad posture came from.

Minutes ticked away as you finally finished completely treating Mizu’s injuries and accomplished the unthinkable.

You let out a deep breath, letting Mizu’s apprentice know that you were done. Literally.

”Ringo, I…” You gestured at her clean stitches.

His reaction made your heart feel content.

“Oh my- You did it…you actually did it! You treated all of Master’s wounds! All of them..” Ringo stared at you with an amazement as you only gave him a tired snicker in return.

“Most of them were short but deep and he still has a high fever and cold sweats. I trust that with the combination of your foods and my treatments, he’ll be back on his feet in no time. He’ll live.”

Giving you a compassionate smile, Ringo spoke in agreement.

”Of course he will live. Master is the last person that knows how to die…”

“And it seems like you don’t really know how to either.” The man’s smile faded as his gaze fell on your side again.

You lightly caressed Mizu’s burning forehead, thinking of how lucky she was to have an apprentice like Ringo by her side.

Remaining a hundred percent loyal to her even though she was a complete stranger to him.

Remarkable.

And even if she stated that ‘he wasn’t his apprentice’, the little bell tied on the man’s feet said otherwise.

He told you about how she had bought it for him, because of how ‘naturally stealthy’ he was and how she’d keep on bumping into him all the time.

”Master said that the day I take that off, I’ll be discharged from my duties. I hope that that day never comes. After all, he is the greatest samurai I’ve ever seen and I wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s apprentice.”

Nodding silently, a beam rested on you face.

”Hm, I see. But why is it that you wish to serve him so badly? He may be ‘great’ to you but he can also be quite the difficult person you know…”

”Maybe, but I don’t mind”

Ringo’s answer was almost immediate and definitely took you off guard as you didn’t think he’d be such a patient guy.

“You sticked by his side until now too, no? Even though you just met.” He questioned, curious about your reasoning behind that decision but you didn’t answer.

”I want to become a samurai and be great, just like him. Just like you. You have the ability to save people’s lives and also to…take them.” His voice faded a bit on the last part.

‘Like me? Is that what greatness meant to him?’ You side eyed him.

His words reminded you of a less stressful time in your life, when you once so desperately pleaded your master to teach you her ways with a similar logic as Ringo just had explained to you.

You remembered the sole question she asked you at the time, a question that would decide whether yes or no, she’d consider to see as more than just a liability.

Your fingers were now attentively ghosting over Mizu’s cheek, eyes never leaving her almost peaceful form and scrunching your nose at the thought of your master.

You owed her your life after all.

Greatness…

”What does ‘greatness’ mean to you, Ringo?”

The question left your mouth before you could do anything about it.

”Well…” The man hesitated.

”You said that you wanted to be like Mizu or like me but what is it that he or I do… what is it that makes us so ‘great’ in your eyes?”

You made sure to use a masculine pronoun for her when speaking out loud, just in case Taigen would be listening in.

Speaking of which, you kind of wondered what he had been doing all this time.

Not giving Ringo a chance to answer, your own question somehow irritated you a bit.

You didn’t think that you were great at all.

You knew your worth, but a lot of your actions were anything but great.

Constantly disrupting the precious line between life and death was not something great.

It was nothing to be proud of.

Maybe it was in some people’s eyes but you just didn’t know what to think of it anymore.

At least, you made the majority of your money with that.

Some deserved that immoral disruption and in the end, you chose that path.

No one else.

After a moment of short silence, you slowly rose to your feet, a little hiss escaping your lips which alerted Ringo about your wound again.

”I- Miss Y/N, you should let me take care of it.” He pleaded, seeing you get up cautiously again.

Yet you ignored him, walking towards the entrance, your back facing him.

”Nothing great comes from being a samurai, Ringo. You are a good man with a good heart, but if you think that you’ll learn the definition of ‘greatness’ by following people like him or me…you’ll end up getting disappointed or even hurt very badly in the long run.”

You wanted to keep him away from any more bloodshed than needed but you knew that he wouldn’t listen.

“And I cherish your kind words, but I am no great person.”

A warning.

That was a clear warning, because you weren’t sure that he truly knew what he was signing up for by staying by Mizu’s side.

A path littered with death.

Nothing for a pure soul like his.

And you doubted that she’d have any interest in teaching him anything about ‘honor’ or ‘greatness’.

She wasn’t a samurai and neither were you.

The only person that could somewhat help him on the subject would be Taigen but he was anything but great.

You’d rather have yourself teach Ringo than that guy.

Greatness wasn’t something one could teach and everyone had a different opinion on the topic.

Standing in the middle of the doorway of the shrine, you took a look at your side once more.

It wasn’t bleeding as much as before but that wasn’t really a good sign.

Taigen was sitting on the front steps, turning to look at as you finally took notice of the bald spot on the back of his scalp, making the sides of your mouth quirk.

Huh…It all made sense now.

’Was this the ‘honor’ she took away from him?’ You mentally laughed.

Taking another step forward, Taigen could already see the snarky remarks coming and shot up from his seat, towering you with a mean glare as he stood in your way in order to intimidate you.

’This guy has some serious explaining to do…’

All you could do was let out a faint laugh, feeling your vision slowly darken which the man didn’t find funny at all.

”I was blind drunk when we fought and it wasn’t even a legally registered matc- oh… Y/N? Hey? Hey! Y/N??”

Before he could finish justifying himself, your barely conscious body fell straight onto him, resulting in Taigen having to halfheartedly catch you in his arms, worriedly calling out your name.

“Y/N?! Y/N- RINGO! Quick, she just passed out too!”

You may be Y/N but at the end of the day you were not immortal.

_______________________________________________

Later that same evening you had somehow woken up before Mizu, eyes flickering at the sensation of a magically stitched and thoroughly cleaned wound.

With the faint taste of medicine in your mouth, you pushed yourself to sit up, faced with a humming Ringo who had the touching idea to sew your kosode back together where it got ripped and washed all the blood off, the garment being perfectly folded next to you.

You were left in your black haori with nothing underneath. And your hakama of course.

It was your side that was injured and all he did was to treat it for you.

“Useful…” You muttered at him with a smile.

”Oh! Miss Y/N, you’re awake.” The young man noted as he returned his attention towards you.

“How long was I gone?” You rasped at him, feeling your throat being dryer than ever.

“About 5 or 6 hours actually. And yet you still woke up before Master. I made you two drink some of my medicine, and so, if you’re already awake I’d say that Master won’t be taking much longer.”

You nodded as you looked at Mizu’s immobile body, her expression being as relaxed as ever.

Clearing your throat, Ringo rapidly handed you a cup of water to rehydrate yourself before you let your eyes fall onto the kosode.

“My kosode…” You started as you looked at your folded clothing, feeling the fabric of your haori grazing your bare chest.

“I- I promise I didn’t look! Taigen came in at some point but I don’t think he saw anything he shouldn’t have. I just wanted to take care of your wound as quickly as possible. I don’t think anyone here would want you dying on us…”

Ringo panicked as he didn’t want you to think of him as some weird pervert that got his fill of your body while you were unconscious or anything like that.

Letting out a playful scoff, you paused him in his anxious rant. Ringo would be the last person you think capable of anything like this.

”Thank you, Ringo, for…not letting me die.” You thanked him with a light laugh “And don’t worry, I would never think of you like that.” Reassuring him with a touch on his stump.

Enjoying the moment of silence, you slowly but surely got dressed again, standing up again to which Ringo didn’t protest this time.

You were about to exit the shrine as you heard the chubby man’s voice echo in your ears.

“Miss Y/N…I have a question.”

You paused in your steps which he took as a green light to ask away.

“Earlier, when I took off your kosode…like I said, I swear that I wasn’t looking and I didn’t want to assume that you were a criminal but…”

”Give it to me in one sentence, would you?” You already knew what he wanted to get at and he could notice the dangerous shift in your voice.

“You saw my back, didn’t you?”

A defeated sigh met you, followed by a positive hum as Ringo didn’t want to touch sensitive subjects if you weren’t comfortable talking about them.

But he was still curious.

“Are you the person they call the ‘Damsel of Devastation’?” He asked innocently.

’The Damsel of Devastation’. The oh so famous yet mysterious female assassin that had been roaming Japan these past years, avenging women and easing their misery by killing their persecutors in exchange of a few coins.

It didn’t matter if one was a poor fisherman, or a lord with all the treasures of the world at his feet.

If a woman wished to be avenged she just needed to find a contact that would sort of lead her directly to you.

How? You didn’t know.

Maybe it was because of the many brothels you had stayed in…But all you knew was that even if you never stayed in one fixed place, they knew how to find their way back to you.

Rumors had it that a crane adorned the upper half of your back…How that came out was still a mystery to you.

‘Those gossipy prostitutes…’ was your best guess.

Fulfilling women’s unspeakable desires was what you did.

You had a sword and you knew how to use it. Confident and bold, a sight for sore eyes and yet so unpredictable. That was you.

And now, you had been caught, like a child with its hand in a box full of candy.

”Do you think I am?” Your eyes narrowed.

”’If by chance you see a crane on her back,then avoid her path or prepare for death, for it will attack. Avoid the path where the crane is seen, or a grim fate you shall soon meet’.” Ringo recalled as he saw your gaze darken.

Whoever came up with these lines must’ve been your biggest fan. Seriously.

You only laughed, turning to look at Ringo who held a serious expression on his face, leaving his question unanswered as you decided to take your leave.

”I’ll be taking a bath in the hot springs we passed by earlier.” You announced, amused by the man’s reaction.

As you made your way out of the shrine, you walked down the stairs only to find Taigen a few meters away, sitting in the snow and using a cut down tree trunk as a table.

‘Why is he still here…’ You cursed.

Seriously. Why was he still there?

A candle lightened his sight as he was writing something onto a paper.

No, two separate papers?

Mindlessly humming some tune, you walked up behind him, a hand quickly coming to cover your mouth yet the laughter that followed couldn’t have been more genuine.

You had to love Mizu for this one. She really fucked his up hair but not even in a bad way.

The cut was extraordinarily clean, didn’t even hurt his scalp. Excellent, just as expected from a swordswoman like her.

Taigen’s head snapped almost too quickly as he hadn’t noticed your presence yet your unrestrained laughing told him everything he needed to know.

“Well, I guess we can all see how ‘great’ you are from here now.” You giggled, pointing at the bald spot on his scalp.

“I AM GREAT! Mizu costs me my station and honor. I’ll have it all back when I return with his corpse.” He blurted, glaring at you like some spoiled brat that didn’t get what it wanted.

Looking over his shoulder, you read some sort of contract about a fight and…

”Hm. Forget it.” You spoke suddenly, reading the contents of the contract that held your name on it.

Getting back in front of him, the candles light illuminated your features, letting a hand rest on your hip.

“I didn’t kill you when I easily could have, Y/N.” Taigen started.

“So? That is your own burden to carry.” You retorted.

If he truly wanted you dead, he should have struck the moment he had the chance to. Sucks to be him.

”Your impudence truly knows no boundaries…Just shut your mouth and sit already. I’m almost done.” He gestured at you.

”Well excuse you, mister.” You rolled your eyes. “And I am not shutting my mouth. You already have my answer Taigen, I’m-“

“A contract for a duel. To be legal, registered and witnessed. The only thing left now is the date.” He handed you the paper as you scanned its contents for the second time, reading them out loud this time before ripping the contract apart, a fake smile finding itself on your lips.

”YOu-“ The male raged.

”I am no samurai and I couldn’t care less about that broken honor of yours.” You paused, taking in his murderous gaze.

“Mizu might owe you but I do not. I have no interest in stoking anymore futile conflicts with you ever again. And you are certainly not someone worth risking my life against.”

That hit him.

“If you truly want everyone to know that you got your ass beaten by a woman, be my guest but that will be your own lifelong shame to carry.” You spat at him.

You were being merciful.

You were sparing him from being publicly humiliated and he was being rather slow in understanding that.

Also you also just really didn’t want to fight him again.

He’s a pain in the ass. As simple as that.

Telling people about how you beat some big shot samurai was the last thing on your to do list.

“I’ll consider keeping this our little secret.” You added, finally disappearing into the woods, as you could sense literal steam fuming out of his ears.

And yet again, you had pissed off another man.

Seems like you simply couldn’t help it.

_______________________________________________

Enjoying the warm water that bathed your tired muscles, you let out a content sigh as the heat soothed your achy joints, and you closed your eyes, with your hair let down, allowing yourself to relax against a rock which supported your back.

Your clothes laid next to you, along with your sword.

You had taken your hairpin into the water with you, just in case something or someone might just feel like attacking you.

And you were right.

Soon enough, you heard the resonance of steel in the air and seconds later, you felt it against your own neck.

She said nothing but you already knew very well who it was.

Nonchalantly pushing her blade to the side with your hairpin, you scoffed.

She stood right behind you, towering over you while you simply sat in the water, not fearing any harm.

“Couldn’t even wait for me to finish my bath, huh?” You smirked, as she now held her blade over your head.

“Ringo told me everything.”

“You owe me.” You murmured, eyes closing again.

”…” Unfortunately, you were right.

”What do you want?”

”…An explanation.” Mizu rasped.

A chuckle erupted from your lips as you heard her request.

“Well, I guess that you aren’t the only one then.” The fact that she was a woman didn’t seem to shock you at all, not that she didn’t mind but it just made her even more suspicious of you.

Silence greeted your ears before she lowered her blade again, centimeters away over your head.

“The Fangs, I believe they called you the ‘Damsel of Devastation’.”

“Hm…” You nodded.

“I’ve heard about you and your ‘services’ and I don’t need a wanted assassin by my side.” She explained sharply.

”Bold of you to say, ‘unnamed samurai that cut through Shindo Dojo and had the Four Fangs on his back’” You mocked.

“Plus, you just said it yourself. I risked my life for you”

“I didn’t need you to do that.” Mizu replied coldly.

You shrugged. “Maybe, but a few minutes later and Ringo would’ve been met with a nasty surprise. Nastier than it already was.”

A short sigh was drawn by her as you just decided to ignore how stubborn she was being and simply get to the main point.

“Since you are so kind hearted and so ardently begging to pay me back for my efforts, I’ll just set one condition.” You cooed, still sitting in the water as you heard Mizu sheath her katana again.

At least she was considering to listen for once.

So you took your chance. This time a bit more formally again.

”Let me travel by your side…Please. That’s all I’m asking for. You’d have a free doctor, easier access to information and a vain beauty by your side.” Your eyes sparkled in delight, lightly joking on the last part.

“And needless to say that I know more than ‘just a way’ around a sword. Or any other weapon really. The choice is yours.”

Your ‘offer’ was tempting to say the least.(she knew that you’d keep on following her regardless of her answer) Mizu had to admit that you did have your qualities.

You had a stubborn soul, just like her…you were a doctor, a warrior…a friend?

Well, after your display of tenacity towards her, she knew that you were definitely still her friend.

But how could she trust you when you were one of Japans most researched killers?

Your true intentions were more than just vague to her but she failed to understand why you clinged onto her so badly.

“Is it a white devil that you work for?” She had her reasons for thinking so.

You hummed a ‘no’. You had no reason to lie to her.

Strange.

”Do you have a master who makes you want to risk your life, then?”

”Barely.” It had been ages since you had last seen that woman anyway.

“…”

”You keep me busy. I like that.” Well, that was only half true but she didn’t need to know that.

After a moment of contemplation, you knew that you had her right where you wanted.

You turned around in the water to face her, your eyes looking up as they met her rainy ones.

“How do I trust that you won’t kill me in my sleep?”

A mischievous smile graced your lips as you let your head rest in your hand, her gaze never leaving yours.

“You know, with all the dirty jobs I’ve taken on myself, there’s one that stuck out to me the most.”

Silence.

“It’s the one and only job I never accepted in the end but I still think about it from time to time…” You started, making sure she listened to your story.

”About two years ago, when I was passing by a small town, a person came to me for my ‘services’…”

”A woman.” Mizu’s voice cut through. “You barely kill for any men.” She added.

At least, that’s what the rumors said.

You nodded again. “A prostitute.”

“When she spoke to me at the time, she wasn’t really herself. She was frustrated and somewhat furious actually, as if she had been missing out on some precious ‘nutrients’…”

Continuing your rant, Mizu listened closely, trying to figure out what you were getting at.

”A drug addict. My best guess would have been opium.”

”…”

”Anyway, I told her to name me a price and you wouldn’t believe it: ten thousand koku!…”

Mizu only quirked her brow at the price.

“A bounty only few could resist.” You emphasized as she hummed in somewhat agreement.

“That was until I asked her who she wanted me to get rid of…so she explained how she was living with her daughter on a farm, married to a guy that lost his title or something like that-“

That’s when you saw Mizu’s body tense up, eyes glaring daggers at you as your words felt like the worst poison to her.

”Terrible mother if you ask me…” You continued mindlessly.

“She said that she had no use of her own daughter anymore, that her and her husband refused to give her any more money for her ‘medicine’ and how she struggled to feel any love or true affection for that same daughter…”

For some reason, she was hesitant. Her hand was hesitating to draw her sword at you again.

And you weren’t making it any easier.

”I don’t kill women. I give women satisfaction.” You husked at her as you could see how desperately she was trying to read your next move.

“Satisfaction that can only be obtained by their enemies bloodshed.”

Enemies that were often out of their reach and so, they needed a ‘latter’.

You didn’t think of yourself as a hero.

Other women did but you didn’t.

Why would you?

”She told me that her daughter would be easy to recognize…standing tall…strong…empty eyed…” You murmured, slowly making your way out of the water, furthermore revealing your glistening wet body, grazed with the illumination of the moon as Mizu subtly tried everything in her power to keep her eyes on your face only.

Not that you cared right now, really.

Moments later, your hand found itself ghosting its way on her shoulder, droplets of water falling onto it as your fingers found their trail onto her neck, continuing your very interesting story.

Meanwhile her hand was still hesitating about the thought of killing you right where you stood.

She wouldn’t dare. You knew it. She knew it.

Yet you were shameless.

Absolutely tormenting her with your oh so innocent yet harsh words and your calculated yet sensual touch.

But for some reason she couldn’t explain, she didn’t dismiss your intrepid hand. Not yet.

“Ten thousand koku, for a mixed girl with eyes colored like the deepest parts of the ocean.” You suddenly captured her chin between your slender fingers, making her look at you with her oceanic eyes, eyes that were currently filled with pure distress, disdain and…something else.

“I ended up telling her that I would see what I could do…only to leave the next day, having lost interest in her proposal.” You could see relief. Very slight relief in her orbs.

“To me, her daughter seemed to be some innocent woman, living her life with her husband while trying to keep her mother from drugging herself. Nothing worth fussing over.”

You finished with a tilt of your head.

You didn’t know if it was luck, or the fact that you had listened to your gut feeling, but at the time (and still today) you simply weren’t interested in killing off half breeds.

Especially when they didn’t do anything wrong.

Her hand shot up to grab your wrist tightly but before she could do anything about it, you leaned into her ear, whispering.

“If I tried to kill you, awake or asleep…you wouldn’t even think of letting that happen now, would you?” You smiled, your husky voice playing into Mizu’s uncertain mind as she could feel your warm breath fanning against her cool skin.

“Besides, what would I gain from that?” She was not going to answer that.

Seeing her absolutely unpleasant expression, a sudden laughter bubbled up from your chest, breaking the boiling tension at last and leaving Mizu completely bewildered.

“Pfft. Jeez, I’m just kidding. You couldn’t possibly have thought that I was being serious?” You snickered as Mizu’s grasp on your wrist loosened, her cold gaze returning to you.

”Hm. I barely laughed.” The woman answered indifferently.

“Well, yeah. I can see that.” You rolled your eyes, freeing yourself from her grasp as you covered your wet body with your haori again, finally showing some decency.

You took the rest of your clothes, Mizu handing you your katana with a puzzled look in her eyes.

Taking it, you finally walked away with a quiet ‘thank you’, shortly stopping in your tracks once more as you spared her one last glance over your shoulder.

”I just hope that whatever it is that this mixed woman is doing today…will leave her satisfied in the end.”

Not only satisfied but happy.

That’s what you truly wished for whoever that woman may have been.

Mizu didn’t feel the need to answer any of that. You had spoken enough nonsense to her today and she just wished to be left alone right now.

“Oh, and don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

And after chirping her a quiet ‘good night’, you finally left, leaving her by herself to recollect her numerous thoughts you had so aptly disheveled.

‘Defeat is a cute look on her face…’

a/n: uhhhh idk how to feel about the way i wrote the whole ‘mizu is actually a woman??’ scene. i was very unsure while writing it too but I hope you guys didn’t find it too bad. I just didn’t want the reader to make such a big fuss out of it but rather be more subtle about it.

Masterlist | Next Chapter

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gg-pedro · 1 year ago

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masterlist!

series: can you hear the music

summary: everyone in jackson is trying to distract themselves from something. you teach ellie piano and find yourself trying to help more than one miller settle into their new world. you learn a few things, too.

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, AFAB!reader, platonic!ellie x reader, implied age gap, fingering, unprotected sex, oral, dom!joel, protective!joel, pet names, brief descriptions of an injury, mentions of blood, gore, hurt/comfort, some fluff, mental health discussions, joel grieves, lots of angst

chapters (completed):

1: reaction forces

2: don't invest in me

3: landslide

4: the archer

5: roar of thunder, hear my cry

6: i would bet the house on you

oneshots:

spin worlds (3.6k): strings attached are easy enough to ignore when you're only trying to survive. when joel gets hurt, the world stops spinning, and you realize that you matter more to each other than you ever let yourselves believe.

Joel Miller's Midwestern Road Trip Fantasy (2.4k): an AU of the journey out to wyoming, wherein you and joel's car troubles take a little more elbow grease to solve than strictly necessary.

#cyhm series #masterlist #gg-pedro writes #pedro pascal #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #Joel Miller x reader

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ogh-rambles · 8 months ago

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Rewriting Fate - Chapter 4

chapter 3 > chapter 4 (you're here!) > chapter 5(in progress...)

word count! 2k.

warnings! only curses but if u count angst as one... a/n: oh boy we're back with the famed scene (click here for the full scene of the art below!)

A short, comfortable small talk envelops your party as Katsuragi guides you both to the village, an ever-present smile on his face.

“I see… I’m glad you left that place before the landslide hit.” The man hums thoughtfully. “And your friend…”

Katsuragi’s gaze eventually lands on the golden feather that sways from Kuni’s neck, the latter restless under his intense stare.

His dark eyes grow wide at the sight, shocked to see an item of such importance so far from the mainland where Tenshukaku stands. “You... You have the Plume of Luxury. What affiliation do you have with the Shogun…?”

You stiffen at his words, watching as he quickly notices Kuni’s avoidance in question to the topic behind the feather. Kuni nervously clutches the golden ornament in his palm, moving closer to you.

Pausing, Katsuragi clears his throat, nodding to himself as he averts his attention away. “I suppose it’s for the best that you keep your background to yourself.”

Kuni nods quietly, tucking it into his collar.

Your eyes move on from the two, quickly distracted by the plentiful clusters of homes and warmly lit windows emerging in the distance, exposing a much more lively view of Tatarasuna than you were previously familiar with. The buildings were in their prime, the wooden panels worn yet steady under your feet as you made your way into the village under the cover of night.

The aching sensation in your heart grows strong as you take in the prosperous village, knowing what is to come in a matter of years. Guilt, maybe. Hope? You’re already scared of the butterfly effect that was inevitable with your arrival, but you can’t help but wonder what would happen if you gave a small hint here and there. Would Tatarasuna still be thriving in the future as it is now?

Your wandering eyes meet the prototype beside you, who lights up under your attention, still holding onto your sleeve with his firm grasp.

What will happen to him then?

You barely stop yourself from face-planting into a wall of muscle as Katsuragi stops abruptly in front of a small home. He slides the door open and turns around, gesturing inside.

“I will take you both to my superior, Nagamasa.” Katsuragi briefly explains, ushering you both into the warm interior before he heads in himself.

Your shoulders sag at the heat that enveloped your shivering body, noticing a small, dusty fireplace nestled into one of the corners. It seems newly built, you note as you stare into the embers. A couple of leftover stone bricks were still stacked up precariously against the wall.

Kuni looks around, starry-eyed as he stands rather close to you despite the extra space, his synthetic skin cool against you. The one room was a little cramped to be housing three people at once, but you couldn’t complain. It was much better than the small cavern you and Kuni had found a few moments ago.

You lift your head, eyes wide at the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Ah, Katsuragi. I need your help with something, do you think… Oh?” A man, a little older than Katsuragi walks in from the other room, slipping through the sliding frame doors. He looks a little taken aback by the two strangers who seem just as lost as he. “And… whom might they be?”

So this was the man who would later be the one to slay Katsuragi when everything fell apart. You hold back a grimace, the soft murmurs between the two men turning into white noise in your ears as you study Nagamasa discreetly.

He hadn’t made an appearance in the game, so you were at least a little curious about what he looked like. Dark brows are drawn into a tight crease, and brown eyes, clear and sharp, flicker from his yoriki to you and Kuni.

He rakes a hand through black hair as he nods at Katsuragi’s explanation. The locks were a little unkempt, loose and just barely brushed his shoulders as he moved to face you.

“I apologise for the wait. Welcome to Tatarasuna village.” He murmurs, steady gaze flickering between you and Kuni. “Kasturagi has explained to me that he found you both while patrolling on Nazuchi Beach.”

It wasn’t really a lie. Katsuragi had found you on the beach as he said but had excluded any mention of you finding Kuni in Shakkei Pavillion.

You nod along to Nagamasa’s words as Katsuragi turns to the other man, gesturing to you.

“Yes, this is…” Katsuragi paused, looking a little sheepish. “Ah, my mistake. I forgot to ask you both for your names in the rush to get you both here.”

You blink. “Oh. Right.”

With hidden trepidation, you tell them your name, eyes darting down to your hands. Now your name was out there. You quickly move on from there, turning to the one sitting beside you, staring at you with wide shining eyes. Right, you hadn’t even told him your name.

Kuni whispers your name under his breath, lips curving into a small smile that had you mentally squinting against the pure light that emitted from him.

“And you?” Nagamasa quirks his brow, briefly eyeing the expensive-looking fabric that the other had donned.

Kuni shuffles uneasily beside you. “I don’t have one.”

The older man gruffly hums, scratching at his chin while Katsuragi frowns. “Don’t have one, you say…”

Katsuragi thinks for a moment before raising an offer with a subtle tilt of his head. “How about giving yourself a name? What do you think about that?”

The puppet’s eyes widen. “A name… for me?”

"You can think about it as you settle down in our village." Katsuragi leans back, crossing his arms across his chest. He seems pleased at the other's reaction.

The prototype nods as naive hope and admiration blossom in his hollow chest.

Nagamasa watches the interaction with an unreadable, neutral expression, clearing his throat.

“Now, about living in Tatarasuna…”

After introducing you to his superior, Katsuragi welcomed you both into his own home, offering a place to sleep for the night before they set up a place for you both to live in for the rest of your stay here at Tatarasuna.

As you comfortably lay in the warm futon that Katsuragi had so generously laid out for you in a spare room, you absentmindedly stare up at the ceiling. Your new companion was and had been staring at you for quite some time now, sitting on his futon instead of slipping under the covers.

You think back to the conversation you had with Nagamasa.

The inspector had given you two a chance to start a life in Tatarasuna after you revealed that you had no memory of ending up on the beach. You were to start learning the basics of swordsmithing by tomorrow morning along with Kuni. Despite having eased your worries about meeting Katsuragi and continuing the story as it was planned, you can’t help but feel a lingering concern.

Sighing exasperately, you flip to your side, staring back. Innocent indigo eyes blinked at you before a whisper filled the room. “Not sleeping? I thought you said humans needed to sleep?”

“Mn. Not tired.” You prop your head up on the pillow to face him better. “Why don’t you lie down? I know you don’t need sleep but the futon is comfortable.”

You watch Kuni let out a soft ‘oh’, before sliding into the covers stiffly, unsure of his movements. He glances at you for approval. “It’s… soft.”

“Isn’t it?” Settling down, you breathe out, the heavy weight on your chest a little lighter after talking to him. “Even if you don’t need to do the things humans do, doesn’t it feel nice to do them anyway?”

A soft shuffling noise comes from Kuni as he turns to you, the covers pulled up to his chin. He nods.

The corners of your lips naturally lift in amusement. “Now go to sleep. Isn’t it boring to stay up doing nothing all night?”

Shifting slightly under the thick blanket, the puppet finally shuts his eyes, letting his body rest like he saw you do before. It’s a little strange, allowing his body to fall slack when he’s so used to being aware of everything, eyes wanting to take in everything that the world presents him with.

Listening to your soft breaths fill the room, he can’t help but make his artificial lungs mimic yours. He knows he doesn’t need to breathe or sleep. But as he finds his body relaxing, his mind goes quiet.

Finally, he lets himself rest in your presence.

Sitting up, you watch with a bittersweet smile as your companion ‘falls asleep’. Moving slowly and quietly, you slip out of the sheets, your steps silent against the tatami mat as you cautiously move towards the doors.

You glance back with finality at the unmoving form under the sheets, your distant eyes skimming over his dark hair splayed out on the pillow to his tranquil resting face.

You had been contemplating executing this plan since you had first met him in the pavilion. Initially, you had thought that you had ruined everything by leaving the domain with him, however, things had worked out in your favour and now things were where they had always been.

Now only you were the abnormality in this moment. You weren’t supposed to be here. Staying would only mean you would distort the story more, and the thought of a future you didn’t know frightens you.

Feeling the biting wind against your skin, you rip your gaze away, slipping out the doors and closing it behind you with a soft click, walking across the wooden panels of the deck that surrounded the home. You had to leave before your hesitation got the better of you and you ended up making a decision that you would regret.

Your feet touch the grass as you ready yourself to leave.

“Where are you going..?”

Your heart sank, head whipping around. Shit.

He’s staring at you with wild, desperate eyes – confusion and terror written all over him. They dart frantically across your face, as if searching for any reason you might have for leaving the room without him.

It's almost painful to look at him, his trembling hand gripping so tightly onto his veil.

“...”

You say nothing.

What could you even tell him? That this was for his own good? That you swear that you’ll come back to him in the future?... That you were terrified to ruin his life more than it would become?

His expression grows more and more distraught at your silence and he stumbles towards you, desperately clutching at your clothes.

“Do you not like it here?” His thready voice quivers, sounding smaller than ever. “That’s okay, we can go…!”

The inner turmoil was back again, hitting you in full force. It was for his own good, you think to yourself. You’d rather carry the burden of leaving him rather than—

“... I’ll go with you! Wherever you go! Wherever!” His form shudders with every word, tears pooling in his eyes. “So...! So... Please... Please, please, please, please.”

“... Don’t leave me.”

You fail to swallow down the building lump in your throat, steeling yourself as you breathe in and—

…

You find yourself back inside, face vacantly fixed up at the ceiling again. The pressure on your heart is replaced with the arms of a desperate puppet clinging onto your body, his futon discarded for your own. He’s tense, and the extreme closeness is a little stifling but you can’t bring yourself to complain or push him away.

His face is buried into your shoulder, and your heart squeezes with immense guilt as you feel him hiccup softly against your shirt.

Your plan failed.

Closing your eyes, you exhale slowly as you tentatively reach up and card your fingers through his silken hair. He goes quiet, holding your arm tighter.

… There was no way you could leave now.

#rewriting fate #UPDATE!!!! WOOO #scaramouche x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin wanderer #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche #scara #kabukimono #my writing

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hell-much · 4 months ago

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FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE

Sequel to Once In A Lifetime

Sansa Stark’s life has been turned upside down. What began as an all-consuming, whirlwind romance with photojournalist Margaery Tyrell—four unforgettable days spent together in the heat of a searing summer of 1973—has grown into a connection deeper than Sansa could have ever imagined. For once in her life, for the first time in her life, Sansa is truly happy – but as winter nears, new struggles rise on the horizon. Torn between the love she shares with Margaery and her obligations as a wife and mother, Sansa is forced to navigate an increasingly complex life. With unexpected obstacles in her path, she grapples with the impossible decision of whether to preserve her family or embrace the freedom of her love for Margaery. As the weight of her choices intensifies, Sansa comes to a painful realization: Sometimes, just when you think things can’t get worse, they do.

[CHAPTER 1 - AMOUREUSE]

[CHAPTER 2 - TOP OF THE WORLD]

[CHAPTER 3 - SUSPICIOUS MINDS]

[CHAPTER 4 - BETWEEN THE LINES]

[CHAPTER 5 - LANDSLIDE]

[CHAPTER 6 - IT AIN'T ME BABE]

[CHAPTER 7 - SO FAR AWAY]

[CHAPTER 8 - DARE TO STRUGGLE]

[CHAPTER 9 - I WISH I KNEW HOW IT WOULD FEEL TO BE FREE]

💋UPDATE - [CHAPTER 10 - I WILL SURVIVE]

#sansaery #bridges au #sansa x margaery #foiml #here we are #no pressure but I'm so sleep deprived I'll cry if I don't get like 5 comments minimum overnight

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stylesispunk · 2 years ago

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"The not so invisible string"

Not outbreak! Joel Miller x f! reader.

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other in the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of cheating, smut in the next chapters.

status: ongoing

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

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wings-of-ink · 6 months ago

Note

what exactly is a magic hunter?

Ooh, this is a good question.

So "magic hunter" is a catch-all term that people in this world use. It's a pretty cooked-down way to define anyone interested in magic, usually magic artifacts and devices (but also people), who makes it their job or hobby or whole identity.

You've got bandits, like the ones you may have run across in Chapter 5, that seek them for fame and profit. They were drawn by the landslide in chapter 4 because it's possible that something secret was uncovered during it (artifacts are found in caves and such at times).

You've got scholars who are super curious, trying to solve mysteries and riddles from the time of the gods and even before that (back to "the world that came before"). They're unusually truth-seekers as well - wanting to see if what they read in history is accurate.

There are religious people both from benign or dangerous cults that covet them. Their reasoning can vary from desiring power (ways to elevate their god or some such) or even just preserving tokens of the gods. They tend to credit all magic to gods, and to some magic alone is worthy of being worshipped.

And you could even classify certain merchants (*cough*). Some people simply like to buy and sell magical curios or use them because they like them - maybe similar to a toy collector.

In short - anyone who seeks magic because of a variety of motivations can classify as a "magic hunter." They tend to get a bad reputation in general because of the actions of ones like bandits and zealots. People roll their eyes and get a little standoffish about them.

#god cursed if #asks #gc if world

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lucid-loves · 1 year ago

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Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 4

Pairing: Ghost x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 3.6k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to lovers trope, slow burn, fluff, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After Makarov gets away once again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you in each interaction.

Chapter Synopsis: While you are alone in your own hotel room, the men talk about you over Italian cuisine. This includes speculation on Ghost’s feelings for you. Meanwhile, you are already gearing up for infiltration to tap the target building. Ghost decides that he wants a front-row seat to your show.

A/N: I am adding a taglist from now on for those who want to be a part of one. I made a post asking people to like it if they wanted to be part of it. If you would like to comment that you want to be in a taglist, you can do so on this post~

Taglist: @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @dory-98 @cum-tea-and-towels @completelymarveltrash

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

Good God, authentic pizza was absolutely amazing. The standard for pasta was incredible as well. It beat the standard cafeteria food back on base by a landslide. The 141 grimaced as they thought about someday having to return to the food back home. Even the food they’ve eaten out of your fridge has been refreshing to their taste buds. Soap was the most vocal about his dread of the mass-cook cafeteria food as he devoured another slice of heaven. “Christ, going back to bland spinach and soggy rice is going to be fuckin’ painful!”

“Remember when they tried to do a taco night. Fucking hell, the lettuce was dripping fat like a sponge.” Gaz added as he took a swig of whiskey. It wasn’t the Italian choice of liquor to pair with food, but it was the 141’s choice. Not Ghost’s though. He missed his Kentucky bourbon.

“Last Thanksgiving was the most painful for me. Turkey was drier than my fuckin’ belt.” Soap chuckled, trying not to drip sauce onto the bed with how his whole body laughed with him. They were eating in one of the double queen hotel rooms, away from the public eye. When they were all together in a group, they often garnered attention. Such was the price for being such large, capable men.

“Anyone reckon that Hex is up yet? Food is gonna get cold.” Price inquired. They had saved some food for you. A plate full of different things since no one knew what you liked. Even Kate didn’t know when they called to ask her. Still, they tried their best anyway. And their best was getting cold on a ceramic plate.

Soap shook his head in refusal. “I’m not gonna knock on her door. The lass scares the shite out of me.”

Gaz laughed out loud. “Soap? Afraid? Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Hey, you weren’t the one that nearly lost an ear! With fuckin’ car keys of all things.” He defended, taking a long swig of his own drink. He clearly wasn’t going to forgive you for that any time soon. It made him annoyed when he thought about the fact that you probably didn’t care.

Price shrugged and poured himself another drink. “You were kinda asking for it, Johnny. I think I would’ve nearly killed you too if I’m being honest.”

“Well, Lt. made the joke first and he didn't nearly get stabbed.” He continued to argue, looking to Simon for an answer on how it was different when he cracked the joke. Ghost just stared with indifference, sitting in the corner with his mask halfway up. Even if he was with the people he trusted with his identity, he just felt more comfortable hiding his face while he ate.

The room went quiet for a moment as the men thought about it. Out of all of them, Ghost seemed to be the one that was able to get the closest to you. You still pushed him away by miles, but it was definitely closer than they were getting. Kyle took another slice of pizza, the fresh basil so vibrantly green that it looked like it was glowing. “How do you feel so comfortable pushing her boundaries, Lieutenant? One attempt at our lives is enough for us to back off. Yet, you seem to keep going back for more.”

The men waited for an answer, an idea crawling into each of their heads. Price had already picked up on it by now. He noticed as soon as Ghost lifted you in his arms. Gaz vocalizing his observation out loud just now triggered Soap to realize it too. A slow, knowing smirk crept along Soap’s lips. Simon scowled at the insinuation, reading all of their minds. “All of you can bury your ideas six feet under. I’m just trying to get her to trust us. The mission will go a lot smoother if she does. The sooner we do that, the sooner we can go home.”

All of them returned to enjoying their meals, unconvinced by Ghost’s protest. Was Simon attracted to you? Absolutely. Did he like you? Well, he certainly didn’t hate you. The biggest problem for him was that you were dangerous. Not just from an ability standpoint, but from an emotional standpoint. While he did want to get close to you, he still wanted to keep you just out of arm’s reach emotionally because he knew that you would burn him. Poison him with that venom of yours. He knew if he really did fall for you, he would never stop falling.

For the sake of the mission and his own preservation, he convinced himself that you were only a temporary attraction. A beautiful woman with incredible power that will return to the unknown as soon as this is all over. His teammates knew better, though. In all their time of knowing Simon, he has never shown interest in women. Always too busy. Always too focused on work. Not even making time for hook-ups. When you came into the picture, you got his attention in a way they have never seen before. That meant a lot to them.

“Regardless, you have the honor of delivering our assassin her dinner, Lieutenant.” Price smirked, abusing his power as Captain to avoid feeding the feral woman next door. Ghost clenched his jaw, cursing out John in his mind as he got up.

The men continued their lighthearted conversation as Simon walked out, plate of food in hand. Taking a deep breath, he walked to your door and knocked. When there was no answer, he thought that perhaps you were still asleep. So, he took out his spare keycard to the room and welcomed himself in.

The room was dim, large shadows casing over the beige walls. A few laptops were running on the desks, already hacked into the security cameras of the target building. You’ve actually been up for a while and have been busy getting things ready for your infiltration. It was alarming when you woke up in your hotel room instead of the car at first. However, it didn’t take you long to figure out that someone must’ve carried you. You were pretty sure who it was, but you didn’t dwell on it. There was work to be done and you had wasted too much time with sleep.

Kate helped you get into their systems. From there, a layout of the building was mapped out along with the IDs of everyone working for Makarov. You have watched enough security footage to take note of the guard routes. All that needed to be done was planting the taps to allow you to listen in on everything. Nothing was going to be unheard. Not even the sound of a guard taking a bathroom break.

Simon watched you fasten a black belt tight around your hips that carried a collection of small throwing knives. You wore new pants, a long sleeve turtleneck with a hood, and boots. All tight. All black. His hands ached to reach out in order to trace your prominent curves. He wanted to feel the thin fabric of your shirt, the heat of your skin exuding through it.

Instead of that, he placed the food down on top of your dresser, resisting the temptation. “Not going to eat first?”

You didn’t even glance his way, something he wanted to fix immediately. “No. It will weigh me down. I had room service bring up some fruit earlier. It will tie me over until I get back.”

“You’re leaving now?” He questioned, anger rising in his tone. You should have let them know that you were awake. That you were set up with the tech. That you wanted to proceed with the mission with a lookout. You shouldn’t have intended to do this alone.

But, you couldn’t help it. This is how you have always worked. Besides, to you, there was no reason to waste time with unnecessary things like knocking on their door to let them know you were ready. What were you? A fucking dog looking to be let out? “Now is better than later. Security usually lets their guard down after meals. It’s not too late in the night to expect intruders too. Now is the optimal time for me to place the taps.”

Simon scoffed at your unapologetic reasoning. “And you were just going to do this alone? Not even someone to watch the cameras out for you? What if you get compromised?”

Here we fucking go again. You grabbed the taps sitting on the desk, putting them in a small satchel securely tied to your belt. “Can you not criticize the way I do things every fucking conversation? I’m doing what I do best, Simon. I’ve never been compromised before. That’s a streak I intend to keep.”

He stepped towards you, his frame menacing as he towered over you. Hearing your name come from your lips was still something he wasn’t used to. Despite that, he wasn’t going to let you do this alone. This time, his tone was gentle yet resolute. “I’m letting the force know and I’m going to monitor the cameras.”

Looking up into his eyes, you could see that he wasn’t going to waver from his decision. There was no point fighting about this, you finally decided. Not even twelve hours ago was your last fight with him. A part of you was getting tired of it. Stepping back towards the hotel window to leave, you threw in the towel. It wasn’t going to stop you from getting the job done anyhow. “Do whatever you want. I don’t give a shit.”

“Hang on.” Ghost stopped you, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist. He pulled you towards him, using the advantage of his strength to have you close to him. Anticipating you to either reach for your knives or strike him with your other hand, he prepared to guard himself. However, you never used the same trick twice in a row.

Like a forceful tango, you stepped your full weight forward to catch him off balance. You then pushed further as he was forced to step back lest you headbutt him, your hand now having the room to land on his chest with a quick, sharp force. In Simon’s fall, you swiped his sheathed knife from his own belt. Before he knew it, he was laying on his back on your bed, you straddling him, his eyes locking with yours that blazed with victory.

Ghost’s strong hand was still wrapped around your wrist, but your free hand had his own knife pressed against his chest. Right over his heart that was thudding against his chest like it wanted to break out. The hot blood in his body was pumping into overdrive. Not in fear of death. No. In pure, passionate attraction. He swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to still pull you down and kiss you through his mask. Even if it would cause the knife to be plunged into his heart, the thought of being able to share a passionate kiss with you didn’t seem like a bad tradeoff.

Tendrils of your hair fell past your face, framing a beautiful jawline he wanted to trace with his lips. The image of you gasping in shock and pleasure as he squeezed your hips flashed in his mind for a second. It wouldn't have been hard to do. His other hand was still free but frozen as you pressed the tip of the blade into his chest. He also imagined the potential sweetness of your tongue, giving him a taste of dessert after dinner. He wanted to be the one to catch you by surprise and submit to his will. Only, you would love it and beg for more through feverish kisses and the grinding of your hips against his.

Christ, he was getting a boner.

He wasn’t the only one who was feeling it, though. The sound of your own heartbeat was flooding your ears. You couldn’t seem to pull away from his blue eyes that so heatedly begged for you to come closer. The heat already felt from your body pressing against his didn’t feel like enough. Especially when you began to feel his growing hardness pressing against you. That just made your own sex tingle with need.

You got off of him quickly, putting distance between the two of you. What the fuck were you doing?! What the hell was wrong with you?! You haven't been with anyone for so long, but it was no excuse to get so swept up like this. Not with someone like Ghost. Not with someone like Simon Riley. You needed to get a fucking grip. Get your head on straight. Damn it, you were better than this!

Slowly, he sat up and cleared his throat, trying to pretend that what just happened wasn’t the sexiest thing he’s ever been through. His knife was tossed onto the bed next to him, your movements quick as you rushed to get the fuck out of there.

However, when Simon called your name, you froze. He sounded a little breathless, his voice making you shiver. “Hex, wait.”

Simon stood from the bed to grab something from the desk. Cautiously, he walked towards you, now learning his lesson that it wasn’t a great idea to just grab you so suddenly for multiple reasons. At a slow pace, he opened his large palm to show you a small earpiece. Still being careful with his speed and touch, he lightly brushed your hair behind your ear and inserted the earpiece for you. You flinched as his fingers brushed against your jaw, butterflies erupting within you.

“You’ll be able to hear me through this. I won’t say anything unless I really have to. You’ll be able to talk to me through it too. Whatever you want, whatever you need, just say it.” Ghost promised.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. You feared that using your voice would reveal just how flustered you were over what just transpired. Instead, you gave a simple nod and headed back to your window.

The nighttime breeze flooded in as soon as you opened the window, the chill seeping into your bones. Good. You needed to cool off. Without looking back, you slipped out into the night, leaving Simon behind to wonder if supposed enemies were supposed to be attracted to each other like this.

The shadows concealed you, the moonlight accentuating them on every surface they could touch. Quietly and quickly, you moved from shadow to shadow until you stumbled upon the targeted building. From the outside, it looked like a rundown, abandoned office building up for sale. The place was hidden away, tucked behind the forefront of what Italy wanted to offer instead. Beauty.

You watched armed men standing guard, looking out into the alleyways for enemies. Sticking to the shadows, you crept along the side of the building before spotting an open window just above you. Taking a deep breath to focus your mind, you sprung into action. With a few wall jumps, you were right in one of Makarov’s weapons depot.

From the laptops back at the hotel, Ghost carefully watched the footage, almost holding his breath as he searched for you. His team gathered into the room once he told them you had left already. They had assumed that all the time he spent missing with you was just him helping set up the tech. He didn’t correct them on this. Like you had said before, never underestimate the power of assumptions.

Relief washed over his shoulders as soon as he saw your figure invade the building. Just as fast as you had entered, you hid, dropping a tap that was modeled to look like a dead fly onto the dirty tile. The place was dusty, the smell of stagnant air filling your lungs. The men here didn’t care about the cleanliness of the place. Fortunately for the 141, that meant that they wouldn't have to worry about anyone cleaning up the “dead flies.”

All of the men watched the footage as you swiftly made your way from room to room dropping flies. Soap double checked to make sure that the enemies’ own footage was still scrubbed as you worked. Regardless, you moved so carefully that any video of you just looked like a weird, black glitch. You were in your zone. This is what you did for years. This is what you have secretly missed doing.

Every move you made was calculated, following a strict regime based on the men’s own schedule. As you dropped more and more taps, Price began to check if they worked on his end. Sure enough, they could hear everything.

Gaz noticed that Ghost’s body was rigid, his eyes refusing to leave the screens. He was keeping track of you like he would lose sight of you if he blinked. Wanting to ease his worries, he began to prepare some tea using the hotel’s electric kettle. Kyle was always one to look out for his friends like this.

A hot cup of black tea was placed in front of Ghost, the smell already releasing the tension in his muscles. Gaz pat his stiff shoulder. “She’s gonna be alright, bruv.”

Ghost gave a silent nod, finally taking a moment to let his eyes wander off of the monitor to have a sip of tea. Now that he was more relaxed, he viewed your movements in a more admiring way. None of them could pull off how smoothly you moved. How easy you glided through like a gust of wind passing through. Even when you were close to an enemy, you kept your cool, refrained from killing, and moved on without detection.

You were a god damn modern-day ninja. A fine one at that.

In less than an hour, you had swept through the whole building without detection. Every tap was planted. Not once did you hear Simon in your ear either. You were glad. You felt like if you heard his voice through the earpiece it would break your flow. But, a part of you did yearn to hear his deep voice so close to you.

Getting out was the easiest part. Having no one seen you come in, you took the same route out. When you came back through the window, you were met with grateful smiles and words of praise that were foreign to your ears. Ghost wanted to be the first one to say something about your skills, but loud-mouth Sergeant Soap beat him to it. “Damn, Lass! I think you just set a record for 141!”

“That was quite impressive stuff there, Hex. It was like you were never there. Kate was right about you.” Price grinned as he thanked you in his own way.

Gaz hopped on the headphones to listen to the taps as soon as his Captain moved. “All of them are working just fine. I’ve only ever seen moves like that in movies and video games. Job well done!”

You were unsure of what to do with all of this attention, never having experienced it before. When you worked alone, there was no one to tell you that you did well when you got back. You didn’t know if all of this flattery made you feel good. In all honesty, the confusion you felt about it made you a little sick to your stomach.

Weaving past them all, you grabbed your cold plate of food that Simon brought to you earlier and left without a word through the door. After receiving some worried glances from his soldiers, Price provided some words of reassurance. “Don’t worry, men. Hex probably isn’t used to having people wait for her like this, let alone praise for good work. Give her time.”

As the team brought back some of the tech to monitor from their rooms, Ghost stepped out into the hallway to look for you. He initially thought that you would be in one of their rooms to use the microwave, but you were nowhere in sight. While he wanted to keep looking, a call by his Captain to help made him call it there for the night.

And so he spent the rest of the night bunking with Soap, listening in on private conversations and thinking about you. Meanwhile, you spent your night eating a cold dinner alone on the hotel rooftop. Overlooking the city, your own mind occasionally wandered against your will towards Ghost and how it would feel if his heat saved you from the autumn winds chilling your skin.

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vitaminseetarot · 2 years ago

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PAC Pick a Ride: Your Next Big Adventure 🌌🌠🌃

Thank you for voting in my latest poll! I'm surprised and glad to see that Next Big Adventure won by a landslide! Seeing as we have the New Moon in Sagittarius on the 12th, it makes sense that we are collectively interested in seeing what the next chapter has in store. Please note that some of these other topics mentioned in my polls may appear in future pick a card readings, so stay tuned.

So without further ado, let's get into our piles! Pretend as though you are a Knight from your favorite tarot deck about to embark on your next journey. Please choose your mode of transportation:

1 - Plane 2 - Ship 3 - Motorbike 4 - Train

Pile 1 - Plane

Cards: Re-Evaluate, Pencil Sketch, The Pilgrim, Ceres - Nurture, Patience, 26. Protection - Finding What's Important; I Magician, 10 of Pentacles, 4 of Pentacles, XIX The Sun Channeled Locations: Canada, Singapore, Morocco, Ukraine, Australia, Philippines, UK, New Zealand, NYC, South Korea

Hi pile 1, you've chosen to travel by air, bypassing all the long troublesome routes. After all, the sky's the limit! Isn't it nice to measure your distance by how the crow flies sometimes? You're ready to catapult yourself into the next big adventure; I can tell there's a lot of excitement to see what's ahead here. You'd rather get to the next phase of your life instantly yet with ease. This is likely the pile with big career goals, especially if moving or actual traveling will be in the big picture. Maybe you're dreaming of traveling by plane as part of your future dream job? You don't just want to get there, as great as that is--it has to be done with intention.

You're in the process of drawing out what your next life would look like. The future seems full of creative possibilities, but with Pencil Sketch next to Re-evaluate, you're being asked to pay attention to the details. How do you want things to go one month from now, and one year from now? As great as it would be to have an entire decade mapped out, it's unrealistic, but it doesn't mean you can't draft some concepts. You should have something in mind, though, instead of setting out with a knapsack and praying for the best. If your next career or long term project could be anything you wanted, are you going to hop into something for 10 years that doesn't end up panning out in your favor, or would you rather delicately test something for a year before diving in? Moving forward can be exciting, but if you're going by plane, you will need some coordinates.

I think your reading is super straightforward, pile 1. You've got a lucky edge going for you with the tarot cards here. Whatever kind of career goal you have in mind, you may have a chance to "make it big" at some point. That won't come without a lot of foresight and careful investment, however. Don't try to rush into any big decisions right off the bat. I occasionally see the Magician card as the one signifying "read between the lines". If any contracts get involved, be very careful and read thoroughly. Don't be afraid to ask questions or seek clarification. The ones giving you the contact would rather see you jump in it blind, but you've got the crafty Magician energy to help you out during this retrograde period.

As eager as you are to begin your next journey, you're being asked to consider what you want to grow over the long term. This reading wants to shift the focus away from the end goal, even if there's a message here about acting with intention. Setting intention doesn't mean straying away from the present moment to only consider what happens in the end. Part of paying attention to detail means being aware and present in what's happening around you. The present moment is a crucial aspect of your growth period, and it wants you to gently guard after and care for your goal as though it were a plant. You know the fruit of the plant will be ready to eat when it's there and fully ripened, but in the meantime you can enjoy its flowers and fresh budding leaves.

Enjoy the gentle growth process, because once you do start to take off, you may be shocked by how high you'll find yourself in mere seconds. The initial lift of the plane as it begins to run with the sky can give you a wonky feeling like your whole world is shifting and moving with you. Your sense of time can change, requiring adjustment. If you're unprepared, the change could feel overwhelming. Make sure that by the time you're ready for that big takeoff in your work or projects, you will have built up a solid foundation to ground you once you're ready to come back down to earth. That's how you'll build lasting success in your life's next adventure. Stay optimistic, because that positive shift could come sooner than you think!

Pile 2 - Ship

Cards: Limitless, Calla, The Alchemist, 10. Capricorn - Achieve, Express Love, 11. Invention - Burning with Passion; X Wheel of Fortune, 4 of Wands, VII Chariot, 10 of Swords Channeled Locations: India, Greece, Ethiopia, Thailand, Spain, Iceland, Turkey, Croatia, South Africa

The seas are calling you, pile 2, calmly asking you to take only what's truly needed with you. The water's may be choppy, but out in the expansive blue seas, you can feel connected to the coasts of the entire world. With a firm grasp of the ship's wheel, you designate yourself captain as you adjust your sails and set your sights for the hidden treasure that lies ahead--or perhaps beneath your anchor. You're entering your next big adventure lit up with grand ideas for what to do all laid out on your map. Over the vast horizon, anything could happen, and you could find yourself shaking hands with anybody new. This pile may be seeking proposals or offers of some kind, ones that will let you dream bigger than you have before. This pile likely has a good idea of where to go next, or at least some interesting things written down.

These cards ask you to make peace with some aspect of your past. It could be that whatever you had planned before didn't entirely work out in your favor. As much as the online community talks about how rejection is divine protection, sometimes having plans fall apart is not going to feel good, even when you're just glad it's over with. The worst thing can be the feeling of not knowing what to expect after a fall. But your next chapter is showing a lot of promise in things to come, so don't let your past be the omen of your future. The tides are turning right now, and if you can focus on what you'd like to accomplish next, you'll be able to shift those tides in your favor. The first step is to see that you've survived the bad times, and that in itself makes you a victor. With that, you can move ahead with more confidence than before.

That's the thing about Capricorn energy: it thrives in conditions that others would consider too harsh or demanding. It's the drive to take the roughest materials and make diamonds from them. Once you can decide to make peace with what you've gone through, you can take the nuggets of wisdom you've garnered to make a beautiful new path for yourself. You dissolve the worst of your experiences and bring them together to make it better, as the Alchemist card suggests. The difficult times and failed attempts were not for waste; you've gained a lot of valuable growth that will provide a smoother current toward success in your next endeavor. This could be the pile that wants to start a business. Please know that simply starting a business, or even taking the first steps to plan one, takes a lot of guts already. If you've managed to go that far, congratulations! It takes a lot of hard work for a new business to be survive the long haul. So celebrate your milestones, no matter how small they seem.

Part of what makes this next chapter so fortuitous for you is how the energy is transiting through. You could be hit with a wave of inspiration from out of nowhere. If you've been stuck in one place without any wind to carry you through the fog, be prepared for that big splash! All hiccups set aside, you're still brimming with a lot of zeal for your next idea. You may even receive a cascade of insight, so be sure to write these things down as they come. You never know if something silly and small could end up helping you out later on. Your next big adventure is going to put the spark back in you, with a feeling of having a second chance at life, as Calla lilies represent rebirth. Don't be afraid to get excited over what's to come, pile 2. Your faith that things will work out for the better is contagious, as is your gratitude for the accomplishments you've made so far.

Pile 3 - Motorbike

Cards: Breathe, Snowboard, The Heir (Rx), 5. Leo - Shine, Balance, 21. Resilience - Finding Your Limits; 6 of Cups, Queen of Cups, Page of Wands, XIII Death Channeled Locations: Mexico, Italy, Midwest US, France, Norway, Egypt, Chile, Brazil

Your pile is like the fiery passion of the wands suit. Independent and bold, you chose to take open road for your next adventure, blazing a new path in front of your very eyes. You have an eagerness to take the world by storm, going wherever your first impulse wishes to carry you. This pile has a lot of drive to move forward to the next chapter with as much speed as possible, optimistic to find that next golden opportunity. And you're not afraid of a little showboating along the way. You even have the Snowboard palette card, which is a sport involving nothing but speeding down slopes and catching incredible air. This pile is the most excited for their next adventure.

Except actually, pile 3, you're being asked to slow down a little bit. And I get it! I get that this message can be so frustrating when you see what looks to be an endless highway yet the speed limit says 55. That might be a good pace for many folks, but for this pile it's not nearly enough! The thing to keep in mind is that this process of moderating your pace is for your overall benefit. See, you have the only reversed archetype card in all the piles. The card speaks of untapped potential, which is still there. It's simply saying that whatever you're seeking to do next, you're not totally ready because there is too much you're still carrying with you. To go with the motorbike analogy again, any leftover baggage from your past is going to weigh you down so it's in your benefit to review what you have before you can move forward. The more you let it go, the faster you'll be able to pick up the pace.

You have a lot to be proud of with how far you've come already. This pile likely thrives on challenges and sees overcoming them as a big part of spiritual development. Which can be true in many cases, and you demonstrate clearly that you're not afraid of what's to come next. It may come as a shock to you that your next chapter might be a little more quiet than expected. This is likely because, if you've gone through a lot of growth in your last chapter, it makes sense to have some downtime to balance things out. The Queen of Cups can be introverted energy, but she knows how to use her alone time to replenish her soul with art and meditation. You may have more time to spend by yourself steeped in creative drive rather than trying to accomplish too many things in the outer world.

This is one of the more spiritually oriented piles; over this next big phase in your life, your creative skills may flourish and evolve to another level. Maybe for a while you've been inclined towards artistic pursuits, but feel a desire to expand upon what you're already doing. With this energy, you're in alignment to have more time and energy to devote towards passions like painting, sports, or music. In this way, you can take that immense enthusiastic drive from the Page of Wands and channel it into something constructive or purposeful, even if you don't intend to monetize it.

Your next big adventure is tackling the speed limits that exist within you: the self imposed beliefs that tell you how fast you can go or where you're allowed to proceed. Thing is, in your inner world, you have a lot more freedom than you would on any highway. You can choose for yourself how you wish to manifest your passions into the world, and you can decide how much or how little passion you put into your work. Things like imposter syndrome can be their own mountains to climb, and this time around you're more geared up than ever to take it on. Once the spiritual mountains have been overcome, you'll be able to top anything the next chapter in life brings you.

Pile 4 - Train

Cards: Nucleus, Billiard Green, The Gambler, 44. Sixth House - Sustainability, Trust, 1. Vision - Contemplating the Future; XVIII The Moon, 10 of Wands, 3 Cups, XV The Devil Channeled Locations: West US, Sweden, Japan, Czech Republic, Netherlands, Slovenia, China, Germany, Switzerland

You've picked the solid, earthy pile of moving forward to your next adventure by train. Locomotion is slow but it's steady and reliable with time. Fully embodying the principles of inertia, once it moves it keeps moving, but it takes a lot of initial effort to get things going. Something you've worked on is slow going, but you're close or nearing the finish line. Once this is accomplished, things will move much more smoothly for you without so much push. Your next chapter will be steady, but it will be easier than before because it's already in motion.

I find this pile intriguing, y'all. You have Gambler above the Billiard card, and the Devil card shows a casino as well. It's almost bringing to mind old train heist movies. There's action, adventure, mystery, and a lot of fun here in this pile. Your next big adventure could involve having more chances to go out and have fun with friends. You could meet new friends around this time who will have a lot of extra pep in their step. They'll get you out of your shell if you've been in one for a while. Alternatively, if you see yourself as a party loving daredevil already, this new friendship may slow you down and protect you a little, in a good sense. They'll either be the head to your heart, or the heart to your head.

This pile is definitely more inclined to go with the flow in the next chapter. I almost typed 'glow' on accident, so perhaps you'll also experience basking in a 'glow' of some kind. You could be overcoming a huge obstacle at this time and look forward to more unstructured down time. You're encouraged to take time to enjoy yourself before moving to the next phase, but to also balance it out by taking moments to see where you'd rather go next. It's easy, after a huge achievement, to lose pace once the "now what?" sign is reached on your path. Go-with-the-flow doesn't necessarily mean 'fuck around and see what happens', lol. Try to find a middle ground here between playing and planning.

Your work-life balance will likely have some kind of pressure valve released like steam. You've had to really push for what you wanted this year. When opportunities looked scant, you had to tap in to your own power and immense resources to pull through. You've done so in flying colors. So your desire for freedom and thrills after a hard chapter is totally understandable. If you're not finished with something, there's almost a temptation here to run from it now and deal with it later. This isn't recommended; push through to the end because soon you will find yourself on the other side basking in the glow, and relaxing will be so much easier once you're fully done.

There's also advice to not get too carried away with material desires here. Your next chapter may have your finances fluctuating up and down, so try to stay steady with investments. If a windfall comes in, don't spend it all in a day. The Trust card here is talking about how you trust yourself with your resources and energy. When you're able to carry a greater amount with more responsibility, more will be added to you in due time. You're being asked to make small and consistent investments with wherever you're putting your value and resources into. Nothing wrong with wanting to splurge on something nice of course, especially if you've been working hard and you want to reward yourself. This is more to do with long term investments over the next few years.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™

Decks Used: Tarotwave, Starcodes Astro Oracle, Citadel Oracle, StarDragons, Opal Oracle, Starlight Messages, Color Palette cards

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