#large square fire pit

[shannonofrp]

Columbus Pergola Example of a medium-sized backyard concrete paver patio with a fire pit and a pergola in the mountain style.

[nithilams]

Uncovered Deck Indianapolis

Mid-sized transitional backyard deck photo with no cover and a fire pit

[bigeasybartender]

Uncovered Deck in Indianapolis Idea for a traditional backyard deck that is medium in size, has a fire pit, and is unprotected.

[gentlemensmuse]

Uncovered Deck Indianapolis Mid-sized transitional backyard deck photo with no cover and a fire pit

[lovatobostinha]

Transitional Deck Mid-sized transitional backyard deck photo with no cover and a fire pit

[bicyclesonthemoon]

Deck Uncovered in Indianapolis Example of a mid-sized classic backyard deck design with a fire pit and no cover

[acotarxreader]

Vicious little thing

Eris x Reader

Synopsis: Dressmaker for the Inner Circle was the dream job turn mundane nightmare, all in Court you could never quite warm to. A chance encounter with the infamous son of Autumn leaves you wondering if there's more to life than what it seams (get it lol cause seams not seems)

Warnings: Flirting, banter, Eris pissing Cassian off, angst, descriptions of injury, two males being creepy (but don't worry protective Eris on the scene), jealous Eris, a lil violence and torture, Lucien being an MVP as always

A/N: You guys!! I just have not been in the headspace for writing but I had this written awhile back and I just want to shout out and thank @ninthcircleofprythian @pit-and-the-pen @lady-of-tearshed for helping me out! Let me know as well guys if you have any requests, might get my brain going

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Of all the places in Night you had accompanied the Inner Circle to, Hewn City was comfortless to you, a specific cold that followed you throughout the Court only amplified off the the dripping stalactites. The slippery cobblestone streets echoed as you moved with slight tension in your steps, fresh supplies tucked under your arm. You practically counted the seconds to when you would reunite with your home deep within the House of Wind, the only place in Night Court with any ounce of warmth for your bones.

A loud bar leaked patrons onto the street, all desperate to escape their daily drivel at the bottom of a keg. Two somewhat large males leaned against the entrance, shouting loud slurs of profanity you ignored while passing, hoping to fade into the background and evade any attention. Unfortunately, you were unsuccessful and soon after felt the eyes of distorted drunken desire bore into your back as your pace quickened.

“Hey, gorgeous where’s the fire?” The voice of pure rust and smoke made the hair on your neck stand up, their footsteps getting louder with the shrinking distance. 

“Oh, no manners baby? How refreshing” The other let a slimy sick laugh leave him as his knotty hand finally caught hold of your forearm, whipping you back to face them, the beautiful fabric sailing to the floor to mop up a muddy puddle.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” The lines on your forehead deepened with disgust as you bent down to retrieve the dripping material.

“Or…” The ever so slightly taller one caught you more roughly by the arm before hauling you forward, dragging you into the mouth of an alley, the other acting as reinforcement.

“Let go of me!” Pure panic left your voice, your head darting side to side for an out as your back was pressed into crumbling brick under your vibrating bones.

“You have to give us a few things first baby” One leaned forward into you as you braced, your wrist being crushed by the other fae, their movement suddenly halting with the addition of a new voice. 

“I don’t think she’s interested fellas” The three of you found your gaze darting towards the tall figure at the end of the alley, a shoulder resting against one wall, hands casually in his pockets as if he wasn’t about to witness a crime against nature. The grip was released on one of your wrists, the taller male unmoving from in front of you while his accomplice began to square off to the still slightly obscured fae. 

Your eyes dropped cautiously down to your side to your bag, trained nimbleness in your hands had you retrieving your fabric sheers, launching them immediately into the thigh of your current captor. A near-deafening roar was released alongside your other arm, the figure at the end of the alley instantly floored the other male with a wave of unseen power. 

You scurried down the alley in the opposite direction of the three, your hands covered in a fine layer of blood that you wiped on your trembling thighs. A flush of heat came from behind you as you reached the mouth of the alley. A curious glance had you witness your perpetrators turned to mounds of ash, the sight turning your stomach into waves of unease. The thought of meeting a similar fate had your feet moving again, only to come flush against a wall-like figure. 

“Where are you going? No thank you?” Eris towered in front of you, a self-satisfied smile scanning unbeknownst to you for any sign of injury.  

“I-um-than-k thank you, General” The words were a rush of syllables followed by a deep curtsey, before you move down the street again, eager to get away from the infamous male. You heard Eris scoff a laugh before he spoke again. 

“Well okay then Ice Princess, maybe next time I’ll leave you?” 

“Do you want a medal or something for doing the right thing?” Once again your tracks were stopped but this time by your own brazen words and the silence from behind you. Turning on the ball of your foot you reluctantly faced the future High Lord, his hands still in his pockets, lips pursed in thought. He could kill you for your insolence and no one would challenge him, you were not even sure anyone would notice you missing until their trousers reached their knees.

“Huh, cute-” He smirked, closing the distance between you in a few long strides “-maybe I do want a medal” You found yourself scoffing at his words, a small blaze seemingly igniting in his eyes at the sound. 

“Get in line, General” A certain playfulness danced in his eyes at your teasing tone, normally not the response he’d elicit from others. You could feel something subtly different in the air, something missing from the mountain’s mist. “Please, call me Eris, or Savouir, lady’s choice” He outstretched a hand you somewhat hesitantly took, not going unnoticed by the son of Autumn. You realised on contact that it was the everpresent chill that you felt that had made its exit from you, flushes of warmth heating your cells gently. Eris turned your hand over in his, scanning over the callouses and their tinge of fresh maroon. 

“A street fighter?” He laughed, eyes tracing the hardened skin. “Dressmaker, for the Night Court” You smiled, taking your hand back, missing the steady pulse of heat his fingers supplied.

“Laborious crowd” His laugh returned the missing warmth to your skin and you found yourself smiling back at the towering male.

“YN?” Your whole body shook at Lucien’s voice across the street, his arms full of freshly purchased supplies for his small apartment in the city. You looked between the two males as Lucien crossed the street to join your side, Eris’s smugness only growing. You and the Prince of Foxes were relatively new friends, his exit from the Spring Court required a whole new wardrobe that you skillfully made.

“Stay away from her Eris” “Oh brother, save us the martyr act” He sighed in almost boredom, amber gaze landing back on you where you could have sworn it softened, no matter how brief. That gentle element died when Lucien’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. 

“Is that blood on you YN?!” the closer proximity opened you to Lucien’s full mother-hen inspection. 

“Yes it is but not hers, quite the vicious little thing you have here” The air of self-righteousness returned to Eris, his best shield to whatever was bubbling deep beneath. 

“Thimble, what happened?” You noticed Eris subtle flinch at Lucien’s pet name for you as he attempted to ignore his brother's presence altogether. You hated the nickname, it made you feel small, and inexperienced, despite being older than Lucien. It began when he remarked on the coarseness of your hands on his skin during a fitting, suggesting a thimble may stave off further damage. You would never see the point in covering what your years of experience had rewarded you with, the scars on your hands were evidence of a master at work, and a thimble would only hide away your efforts although that was a recurring theme for you in the Night Court you felt. 

“Thimble seems an odd nickname, aren’t they supposed to protect you from pricks? And yet here you are Lucien” Your head lowered slightly to hide the deep smirk growing across your face at Eris’s dig, Lucien unable to continue to ignore him.

“I’ll have you kn-” “-Lucien, we have to get back, I’m not finished with a dress” You cut across any possible rebuttal, eager to get out of the thick air between the two brothers, Lucien smiled softly at you before glaring back at Eris. You tilted your head to Eris again in an almost bow, twisting Lucien’s stomach as you began your fruitless journey back to Nesta. 

“Very good little lapdog Lucien, I’d watch her around scissors” He called after the two of you, his own amusement radiating from his voice. 

-

The ball was organised chaos at best, swelling music and overserved fae had you hiding out in the corner of the venue. Not your normal scene however Nesta had begged you to come, if only to witness your beautiful work in action. You had sacrificed one of Feyre’s many dresses as donor fabric to patch together what you could of Nesta’s outfit, neglecting to tell her that of course. 

“YN, this is so borrrrring” Nesta found you through the crowds, sneaking away from her role at the dais alongside her sister. It had been a few hours since the incident, a glass of wine only taking a sliver of the tension you felt about it from you. 

“Don’t worry Nesta, hopefully it won’t be much lo…” you trailed off, your eyes snagging on Eris across the vast dance floor as he both dazzled and terrified the participants in the conversation he held. 

“At least he’s not bad to look at” Nesta tilted her head to the side, inspecting her mission with curiosity as he glided through the crowd.

“Lucien says he’s torturous”

“Bet he’s good in bed” You elbowed her for her comment as she laughed, the whole conversation making you feel like giddy children.

“Perhaps he’ll make a good pallet cleanser from Cassian” she added. “Cassian who’s trying to melt him with his eyes right now, right?” You grinned, Nesta taking a stolen glance at the slowly boiling Illyrian. When Nesta wanted something, she got it and this very core defining personality trait of hers terrified you. You had been on board with the plan up until your own encounter with the heir and yet now you found yourself empathetic to Cassian’s jealousy, no matter how unfounded you felt it may be. The very voice that saved you earlier pulled your attention back into the room. 

“Hello again YN, I was wondering-” “-Who your friend is? Eris, have I really to remind you of my person” Nesta tone leeched a pure sultry decorum you would never be able to mirror. Her body stood slightly in front of you, a hand extended to reacquaint herself with the High Fae, new beats of jealousy pulsed in your veins as they made contact. Your skin crawled and boiled all at once, further tension only being added by Cassian's surveying across the floor. 

“Go find something to busy yourself with YN” Her voice was firm but said with a smile, forever toeing the line between friend and employer. You watched as Nesta masterfully led Eris to the dance floor and began to light the room ablaze with her ease of movement. The room watched on as the two slotted into one another like a lock and a key, your eyes landed on your shoes, anywhere but on the scene in front of you.

“C’mon dear friend, let's see your moves” You looked at the unfurled hand of your dear new friend in front of you, Lucien’s soft smile accompanying it. You laughed lightly as you allowed him to lead you to the dancefloor. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather dance with Elain?”

“But I’d miss you stepping on my toes” he teased as your head tilted back and laughed, despite knowing the answer to your question was of course yes. Now and then while being swirled by the Prince of Foxes, your eyes would cross the path of Eris’s before Nesta stole back the attention. A successful mission up until Cassian’s jealousy could no longer be snuffed out.

—--------------------------------------------------

The gentle pitter-patter of drizzle off the window pane of your workspace filled the room, your hands busy at work, humming along to a tune you heard weeks ago while dancing with Lucien. Back home in the warmest of colds available to you, squirrelled away in mounds of fabric and projects. 

Your hands stilled at the din of distant shouting many floors up through the house. Often you’d ignore any rumblings from upstairs but the familiar sound of a male you’d spent your time trying to forget had your curious feet wandering in the direction of the source. 

“You’re incredulous!” “No, you are!” You peeked through the gap in the huge door that led to one of the grand dining rooms, the two brothers in a stand-off across the large oak table, Rhysand glaring between the two. 

“And you couldn’t have stopped our dear darling father from travelling to Briallyn’s continent?!” Lucien barked, the table shaking slightly. Cassian matched Lucien’s scowl towards Eris, who only allowed a sickly laugh to leave him. 

“And expose myself and this little alliance? I don’t think so little brother! Alec, our father's dear advisor is already getting too curious.” 

“Oh no, nothing to inconvenience yourself!” You flinched slightly at Lucien’s razor-like tone.

“I have inconvenienced myself every day for you!” Eris’s hand shot forward in a dramatic gesture, knocking the large goblet of wine across the table, soaking Lucien as he leapt up from the cold. 

“Fuck! You did that on purpose!” He reached for his napkin to blot the deep stain with no success, Eris now also standing in his own defence. 

“It was an accident, much like your birth, do as I did and make peace with it!” Eris grinned until Lucien swished a wrist, a small ball of flame leaving his fingertips, singeing the jacket and waistband of Eris’s immaculate suit. 

“Lucien!”

“It was an accident” Lucien mimicked, Rhysand now finding his own feet, feeling grateful not to have had any biological brothers.

“Enough! We must leave to meet the other High Lords in an hour and you two are squabbling like children! Lucien, go home and find a new pair of trousers-” Lucien very much looked the role of scolded schoolchild as he winnowed out before further reprimanding “- and you-” Rhysand turned full attention to Eris, who only rolled his shoulders back to accompany a raised eyebrow “-you go and find a curtain or something to wear because if you fuck this meeting up, I will kill you where you stand”

“Aww do you promise-” Eris batted his eyelashes in faux excitement “-I don’t take orders from you”

“Fine, go smelling like a bonfire, see if Rhys and I care” Cassian shot out. 

“Perhaps I left some clothes here after I visited with Nesta the other night” Cassian practically leapt from his chair, Rhysand catching hold of his forearm leaving Eris unshaken. 

“Eris, go be anywhere but here”

“I’d suggest down on your deathbed, I can help you” Cassian chewed out accompanying Rhysand’s order. 

“The only place I’d go down on is the lovely Nesta” Rhysand released Cassian in an instant, springing the warrior over the table, your instinct having you whip the door back on its hinges, the entrance stilling Cassian in confusion as he caught Eris’s collar. 

“I’ll help make something!” You rushed out, unsure of why you were eager to rescue Eris even if it gave away your eavesdropping. 

“YN, know your place” Rhysand warned.

“I mean- c’mon S-sir you have to leave soon and let's be honest, there’ll be questions about why a lord of fire is-is emm burned…or why his face is in pieces for that matter” You watched Cassian release the wrinkled collar, exhaling deeply and jump from the dining table to the floor before striding over to you. 

“At least stab him a few times with pins” 

“Deal” you laughed before standing aside in the doorway for Cassian and Rhysand to pass. 

-

After arriving at your workroom, a flush of self-conscious energy rushed you at the mess you had been living and working in, now under the scrutiny of the son of Autumn. Towers of discarded and active projects cast shadows along the stone of the space, his eyes inspecting the smaller details of the room as you pulled out fabric rolls from the wall. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth in the tall shadows not there previously, its addictive nature nipping at your skin.

“Jacket” You ordered, a hand out to take the sooty material, Eris obliging wholeheartedly, surprising even himself. He watched you inspect it closely, attempting to hide his wonder of you as you sighed. He thought how he would very much love to watch you work, how he may very well do anything you asked of him and how foreign that very feeling was. “Sloppy stitching, conjured I suppose not handmade?” He nodded in confirmation to your question, doing his best to hide his amazement at your assessment. 

“I don’t think this is your colour-” “-Excuse you, this green is one of my court colours, how can it not be my colour?” Eris' anger startled you, snapping you out of your dressmaker autopilot, remembering your company. “Sorry-I emm- not your tone shall we say” Your panicked voice was only silenced by a laugh from Eris.

“Just kidding YN, I’m not offended” “Just a prick” You whispered to yourself as you slipped a pin cushion over your wrist, Eris smiling from behind you. You pointed at the step riser in the corner of the room for Eris to stand on as you gathered your treasure trove of supplies. 

“Take off your trousers” You threaded the soft measuring tape through your fingers from behind him. 

“Not going to buy me dinner first?” He raised his eyebrow to you with a grin you felt that maybe not everyone got to see, his hands undoing what was left of the waistband before he shook off the fragile fabric, leaving him in his undergarments. You took a deep quiet breath before sinking to crouch alongside him, measuring the length of his leg.

“On your knees so soon” You stood instantly again, pushing him playfully, stilling almost as soon as you had moved. 

“Sorry I-” “-I won’t bite you YN, not unless you ask” he winked, causing you to bite the inside of your cheek begging your body not to grin back, instead just resuming your measurements. “I should have let Cassian kill you” You whispered by his calf as he looked down at you. 

“There she is, there’s who’s fun to play with” You could hear his smile, just as you took a pin from the holder strapped to your wrist, poking him into his ankle. He hissed, rolling his ankle slightly away from you as you stood again. 

“That was for the Nesta comments” You put the pin into the cuff of your sleeve, retrieving your scissors and cutting strips of a deep red fabric without the measure, all the knowledge within your head accompanied with years of skill. 

“I was just bored and the big bat is an easy target. I have no intentions of pursuing Lady Death, don’t be jealous” He watched you in the mirror as if afraid to blink and you’d disappear. You forced your focus closer to your cutting, Eris slipping from the step to stalk closer to you.

“Why would I be jealous? I don't even know you” “Odd, I feel like I know you… but regardless, I’d imagine you’d be jealous if your relationship with my darling brother isn’t all you want it to be” You whipped around to him in shock, scissors still in hand. Eris put his hands up in faux surrender while glancing at the scissors, your eyes rolling again, placing the instrument behind you. 

“What? Me and Lucien?” You laughed wholeheartedly, Eris tilting his head to the sound, stepping from the riser. 

“No?” “Now who’s jealous?” he only scoffed at you in reply. 

“Heirs do not get jealous, they get what they want” His somewhat serious tone sent a shiver down your spine, the distance seemingly shrinking between you.

“And what does this heir want?” “Hmm” he hummed leaning forward into the gap, that tempting heat pulling you towards him, every cell screaming for the temperature in your skin to increase, to meet with his, to reach inferno.

“YN, do you have a spare-what’s going on in here?” Lucien stood in the doorway, his suit jacket in his hand, a missing button by the collar. 

“Ever the best for timing dear brother” Eris squared his stance, turning to face his kin as you wished the earth to swallow you whole.

“Let's not get into it in front of the Lady.-” Lucien rolled his shoulders back, unshaken by the sharp tone of his brother “-Thimble, please could you reattach this button? It was the one I used magic to affix and you were right, it didn’t hold” You gave a soft smile, taking it from his hands, reluctantly crossing the path between the two. 

“Come, dear brother, leave my lovely YN to work” Lucien stood back in the doorway to leave space for Eris to pass. A rush of intense heat radiated from Eris at his brother's endearment towards you, his knuckles cracking as fists formed. 

“Won’t you need me for the rest of the fitting?” He looked at you, eyes asking you to beg him to stay.

“I-” “-YN is used to finishing projects down here without the muse, she works better alone right YN?” You nodded slightly at Lucien, his voice no longer toeing the line between friend and employer, the latter taking full effect. You sank back to your work table, tacking together the fabric as Lucien guided Eris away from you, Eris slipped back on the remnants of his trousers before reluctantly leaving. The cold rushed to your bones again as the faint sound of their bickering filled the halls. 

—-------------------------------

Two weeks later

Thoughts of Eris crossed your mind while looking down on the vast woodland of coppers and bronze through a window taller than him. The flickers of rust and chestnut hues pulled you towards them like a moth to flame. You had never been in an environment like it, so famously cold but surprisingly warming to your inner world. Beron had insisted on holding a dinner with Night Court in his home, still believing his trip to Briallyn’s continent was undiscovered. 

“Okay, we go, we hear what nonsense he’s peddling and we compare notes when we get home?” The Inner circle nodded in agreement to their High Lord as he knotted his cufflink into place before outstretching the same hand for you to adjust. Just as quick Nesta called for your attention as Azriel covered a more specific game plan. Nesta had insisted you accompany her, and help to ready her for the meeting, no matter how many times you reminded her that that was very much so not part of your job. 

“It's fine YN stop fidgeting!” She snapped at you, tugging the end of her dress from your grip before she leapt from the riser to take Cassian’s arm as they moved to leave for dinner. You knew she didn’t mean to take you so sharply, she was just stressed, they were all stressed. They were always stressed, they never meant to snap at you, or at least that's what you convinced yourself of.

“We should have left you home where you would be safe” Lucien said softly, pulling you from the step riser again, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand. You couldn’t help but notice how different his touch was from Eris, and how you wished it was him with you now not Lucien. 

“Stay here YN, I hate it here as much as you, I’ll be as quick as I can back to you” He gave another smile before following the Inner Circle, closing the heavy door behind him. Did you hate it here, you wondered as you wandered around the room at the edge of Forest House, secluded away as you always were in these venues. 

You couldn’t help but listen to a vibrant voice in the back of your mind, beckoning you to come out and play. 

The distant echos of grandeur filled the halls from the dining room at the opposite end of the hall as you crept down the stoneway in the opposite direction. Before realising it, you step to a servant entrance of the grand house, whispers of Autumn guiding you through a place so new yet familiar. Your fingertips hardly made contact with the bronze of the handle before a large weight was thrown deep into your side. Overwhelming, almost suffocating heat swallowed the screams you shrieked, accompanied by a heavy hand as all pulled you from the hallway to an adjacent hallway pantry.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Eris released his hold on you, a flicker of flame leaking from his hand illuminating the closet. You doubled over, arms swaddling your stomach as you caught the breath shocked out of you. Eris's characteristic ironing-board-like posture softened at the sight.

“I-I didn’t mean to frighten you” 

“What-what the-” Eris’s hand reached for your arm, worry radiating before you cut off the action “-what the fuck is wrong with you?! You don’t just grab someone like that!” You righted yourself again, hands finding your hips as the oxygen found your lungs again. 

“Oh, you’re okay, I thought you lost your damn fucking mind coming here!” unfamiliar sharpness crossed his tongue as you scoffed at his heated whisper. 

“I’m here working” “Working? Those morons have no idea what bringing you here could cause!” His hands ran through his hair in frustration, the light flickering with the movement. 

“I won’t cause anything!-” You watched him drag his hands from his hair down his face in pure exasperation “-except it seems a headache for you” You grinned and as much as he fought it, he mirrored you.  

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the dinner?” “And aren’t you supposed to be in your cave of endless fabric?” You rolled your eyes at his rebuttal, moving to pass him only to have a soft touch take hold of your arm. The thud of a palm-sized book tumbling out of his pocket had both your gazes dropping. Surprisingly, you were first to retrieve the ornate book, its cover decorated with expansive drawings of the wood surrounding the Forest House. 

“Your diary?” You grinned, offering it back to him. 

“It’s actually…it’s actually nothing” You pulled it back into you at his ever so slightly panicked tone.

“So it is your diary?” You laughed gently, a slight rush of red growing across the Prince of Autumn's cheeks. 

“Its-its a collection of..of poetry I’m working on” He admitted, fighting his way through growing embarrassment as his eyes fixated on the leather in your hand. You smiled down again at the cover, at the idea of a softer Eris locked behind these pages, a glimpse into his world.

“We have to get you out of here” He said abruptly, as if eager to shift topics away from his hidden hobby. “Fine, I’ll ask Lucien to bring me back there” A pulse of heat radiated between you.

“I’ll bring you” 

“Won’t that impact the whole double agent incognito thing” You smirked, trying your best to not look down towards his gentle hold on you. 

“I’m sure if I murdered Lucien that would impact things more” 

“Remember Eris, I told you that shade of green wasn’t your colour” Silence swaddled the forgotten closet.

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name” The sound of his moniker sent Eris’s grip tightening slightly on your arm. “I’m sorry, was it saviour you preferred?” You hardly whispered, the swift movement that followed had your back pressed into the adjacent wall, Eris’s hand resting above your head, trapping you in the addictive warmth.

“As long as I’m the one you call for, I don’t care what you call me” he allowed himself to confess.

“This feels like a mistake” 

“So was trying to hurt you, I enjoyed every lick of flame that torched those males YN and if it had been any other male other than my brother to dance with you that night they would have met a similar fate” Eris’s smoky voice admitted quietly, amber eyes trapping you in their heat. A warm palm found its way to your waist, ushering you closer to the High Fae behind the walls of an enemy Court.

“So you were jealous?” “Shut up and let me kiss you” Every drop of your blood was heated with the perfect pressure that met your lips and your hand instinctively took a fistful of his shirt pulling him tighter into you. You felt his fingers knot deeply into your hair as his other hand tightened its grip, your mouths slotting over one another in perfect synchronicity. 

“You’re so delicate YN, your Court’s best kept secret and this world's greatest beauty, I feel like a moth to your flame-” Eris’s voice came out husky, starved for your touch “-I couldn’t explain it to myself why I felt like walking around that cursed city that day, the Mother must have known I’d meet you, that I would be drawn to you, that I burn for you” his thumb brushed over your cheek as you rested your head in the palm of his hand. A rush of cold met your skin as Eris fully pulled from you, your balance rocking slightly.

“Did-did I do something?” Eris sighed at your words, a hand tracing through his hair before he turned to face you, eyes ablaze. 

“I-I really feel like you may be worth every risk in this entire world but I am not and I will not risk your safety for my own desire” 

“I can protect myself Eris” “Not from what would seek you out because of me” The both of you stayed in studied silence for a moment, just observing one another and the energy shift between you both. 

“My court will protect me” a low sound growled from Eris's throat in response to you.

“You mean my brother will protect you?  The others care not for anyone but those in their precious inner sanctum” 

“That’s not true, I’m their friend!” You snapped back, your voice rising above a crackled whisper in anger. The words pinged an idea directly into Eris’s head, his way to push you away. “You’re their employee! They take you for granted! You can’t honestly say they treat you well can you? Do you think they’d keep you around if you lost your use to them? Their loyalty is conditional, they can’t be relied on!” A truth you frequently ignored washed over you, too much to take.

“You’ve been away from the table too long General, I must return to work” You offered the almost forgotten book in your hands back to him, his eyes only moving from the binding to your eyes. You scoffed again before moving as quickly as he had brought you to this secluded closet, rushing your away from the heat you wanted to be swaddled in forever. You tucked the tiny book into your sock beneath your dress, perhaps that was his goodbye gift to you you thought. Your path was then interrupted around the corner of the secret haven by the feeling of your body crashing into the solid pushback of metal, your hips meeting the plush carpet. 

“What do we have here?” You looked up through your eyelashes at the striking male, his broad shoulders shrouded in thick copper metal, the Autumn court of arms across his breast. 

You pushed up off the ground, doing your best to ignore your bruised tailbone. The broad, older male scanned you, his eyes snagging on your Court’s emblem stitched into your sleeve. 

“And tell me, what would a member of the Night Court be doing out of the designated area?” 

“I-I was looking for-for the bathroom” He towered over you, the smell of soot and tinder filling your airways, thick enough to choke on. He stretched out a gloved hand, lights flickering in his eyes like a sparking fire. Before you could take his hand, they curled around your wrist, hauling you forward. 

“And yet, I don't believe you” razor words said with a razor grin nicked at your nerves beneath your uniform. 

“Would-would I lie to you sir?” You sank into the lowest curtsey you could manage while still tethered to the burly male. You could feel your fingertips turn blue as the gloved hand took a tighter hold, your voice fighting not to croak as you spoke again. 

“I-I must return to my High Lord” 

“I don’t think so, this little exploration of yours must be reported” Alec snarled down at you, flicking his wrist sending yours back in a conflicting direction, a small yelp leaving your throat. “YN?” The two of you looked to find Lucien, stunned expression turning steely as he looked towards the hold a member of his former Court held on your wrist. He made short work of the distance between you, his warmed hand taking your opposite wrist.

“Unhand this Lady!” He barked.

“Lady? She is staff, staff that was where she shouldn’t have been!” Your head dipped at the ever-present reminder of your differences. Lucien scanned you briefly, a subtly deep intake of air had the scent of Autumn wind and campfire flooding his senses, his brother's scent on you. 

“I perhaps agree with you for once-” Lucien whispered down to you, words tainted with disappointment “-but regardless, she will come with me and her High Lord will take care of matters” Alec's grip only tightened further as Lucien attempted to pull you to his side, another wince decorating your face. 

“Not before my High Lord has a chance to examine what she may have learned”

“What was I going to learn in the bathroom, his Lordship's haircare routine?” Your words surprised you as much as anyone but not as much as the feeling of cracked leather meeting the side of your face, knocking you down to the plush carpet, out of Luciens hold. The side of your cheek felt as though it instantly began to swell, it matched your eyes as tears threatened to fall over the rim. You didn’t stay down for long, Alec hauling you back to your feet by your cracking wrist joint. You could feel the blood run from your lips, your skin fighting to stitch together and failing. Black blotted your vision competing for the greatest pain with your wrist.

“This female is to be brought before the Lord of Autumn. You have no authority here, run along to your master, she comes with me” That’s all you could hear before the black blots overtook the beautiful brass and copper of the Court of Autumn, no longer able to support your own weight. 

—-----------

The low crackle of a cruel flame filled your ears as an unnatural chill stretched from the icy flame. Your eyes flickered like the fire across from your cell, doing your best to come around from the sadistic male’s brutality. The cracking of brickwork met your back as you leaned into it, uncurling your legs from the ball of protection you had attempted to make. The depth of Forest House, far far away from the kind forest spirit voices that beckoned you to play, now replaced with the pained groans of other enemies to Autumn. 

“Wakey wakey” You rolled your head along the stone, supporting its weight as you looked to see the ever-feared Lord of Autumn standing on the other side of the brass caging. The metal shuddered as the guards opened them for their master. You lowered your head slightly, trying to win any favour with Beron, his low laugh your reward. 

“Anything to say for yourself?” You looked back up, fear stealing your voice as he stepped in closer, your bones rattling lowly off the stone beneath you. 

“No? Funny, you seem to have plenty of thoughts to write about” “Ex-excuse me, Lord?” You said quietly, your eyes then landing on the pocket-sized notebook in his cruel hands. You looked between it and its new holder, evident panic on your face, quickly exchanged for pure pain as the Lord of Autumn suddenly shot forward, pressing your body into the cold stone, his grip clutching your throat. 

“Beautiful sonnets and poems and prose, all with the very strong theme of escaping my beautiful court, destroying my beautiful legacy, running off with a beautiful forbidden creature, an accomplice of yours?” His even tone of pure ice contradicted the flaming heat beating through his hands to your throat. He’d kill his heir for his words, destroy him, torture him, make him beg, the idea of any of those outcomes unthinkable to you.

“Do not, DO NOT try to deny it” He tried again, crushing some air from your windpipe free. 

“Father!” Eris bellowed suddenly from behind, a small ease in pressure on your skin.

“Make yourself scarce Eris, I’m busy” His blackened eyes didn’t leave your bloodshot ones. 

“What are her charges?” Eris tried his best to keep the desperate tone at bay, Beron only held out the tiny notebook to his side, his other hand still gripping you. You watched as Eris turned practically to match the colour of your own oxygen-starved skin. 

“And she-she has admitted to that being hers?” “She was about to before your interruption!” He barked back at his eldest son, before allowing enough air into your lungs so you may speak. You looked over his shoulder to the Heir of Autumn, his eyes sunken in from worry or lack of sleep or both, you weren’t sure. You weren’t even sure how long you had been down there, how long before your Court would come for you if they even would come. These questions plagued you endlessly and now you were finally about to meet your end, your answer of who would come if you really needed help answered right in front of you in the russet eyes of a male you took stolen moments with. The male who believed himself not worthy of anything other than pain. You would not die with him believing this. 

“It’s min-” Your rasped lie cut off a flush of heat pulsating around the entire cell, Beron’s gaze snapping back to his son, a full release of pressure met your throat, your body sank to the ground, muscles screaming out for the rush of returning oxygen. You propped yourself up on your well-worn hands, fighting away blurry vision. Eris stood, shoulders settled back, flames like globes in his hands. 

“Alec, that’s Alec’s, there's more in his quarters. Go search them and you’ll see, no need to declare war with Night Court by slaughtering one of their courtiers” Pure confidence beamed from Eris, a grin then decorating his face as his father tilted his head in thought. 

“Think about it Father, it has to be someone with more access than a dressmaker? Someone with the intelligence to weave plots into poems, do you really think that a female would be capable of such?” Your heavy breath remained down towards the brick floor you looked down to, its small stones breaking away and burying into your palms and knees. You knew he saw you as more than that, and you trusted that he saw you as more than your court saw you as. You trusted him you realised. You heard Beron hum in quiet contemplation before looking back towards you, your hair matted in knots, uniform in tatters, the perfect image of weakness he believed all females had. Beron gestured quickly with his chin, his armed guards launching into action to search the quarters, no doubt going to find carefully planted prose and poems, damming in their divinity. 

“A dressmaker?” Beron questioned you once again, his head tilting as you nodded gently towards the stone, unable to lift your dizzying head. 

“Useless skill” He spat down before sinking a heavy, steel-soled boot flush with your right hand. Blood rushed to your ears as the little oxygen in your lungs escaped as a deafening roar, drowning out the sound of your breaking bones. The ring of bruises gifted to you by Alec on your other wrist clutched your shattered hand into your chest.

“You may finish her off Eris, your reward for your observant nature, I must see to the search” He smirked at his son who fought to keep his mouth from hanging open and flame from fleeing his fists. Beron sank into the fire, leaving his heir and his prisoner. Eris crashed to your side, his warm hands supporting your shoulders as you cried out. 

“I’m sorry YN, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry” He whispered into your hair, your sobs drowning in his chest. A swirl of comforting flame swaddled you both as Eris pulled you both through the heat to the outskirts of the wood surrounding Forest House. 

The Forest air was as refreshing as any of the elements as you landed gently in the clearing, Eris’s arms supporting your weight as he clung you into him. 

“They’ll be here soon my love” He gave a small saddened smile into the crown of your hair, causing you to pull back to look up at him. 

“What?” You managed, the movement of even speaking amplifying the pain in your digits. Another whoosh of air filled the clearing, Lucien quick to your side accompanied by Azriel, colour draining from the Shadowsinger’s face at the overly familiar sight of your hands. 

“Go with them YN, they’ll protect you” Eris attempted another smile as you looked from him to his brother, who tried and failed to hide his worry. 

“I want- I want to stay with you Eris” “Look at what happens when you stay with me YN, nothing good ever comes from this place” “But you came from this place” You cried out, your legs trembling again, Eris’s arm slipped around your waist again, Lucien unfamiliar with this side of his brother. 

“I told you I’m only going to bring you pain” “And I-I told you green wasn’t one of your colours, we can both be wrong sometimes” You laughed lightly through your tears, fighting your instincts to look down at your hands. Eris brushed a thumb over your cheek, keeping a stray tear from falling before pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“I have to leave you YN, I have to make sure Alec learns his lesson, the same one I will teach my father one day and anyone who dares to harm you” He searched through your eyes before stepping back, allowing Lucien to wrap his arm around you to support your body, Azriel placing a small cloth over your hand to shield you from the full extent of the damage. Eris traced the rings of bruising on your uncovered wrist, further cementing his decision. Azriel’s eyes scanned, watching for signs you had all been discovered and finding the distant sounds of guards beginning to storm towards them. 

“We have to go” Azriel ordered, Eris and Lucien both nodding. 

“Eris, please, please come with us” You begged through sobs. 

“One day YN, one day I’ll show you this Court when it’s something I’m proud of, I’ll show you all of who I am, when it’s something I’m proud of” He brought the back of your hand to his lips, only to have you suddenly pull it back before launching forward towards him. His lips on yours felt like a warm hearth, like home, his soothing heat warming the world you always thought was meant to be cold. 

“I was jealous” He admitted with his signature smirk as he parted from you, his hand running down your tangled hair receiving a light laugh from you as Lucien reluctantly pulled you back. 

“We have to go, they’re close” Azriel took your weight, hesitantly taking you some distance away from Eris, leaving Lucien and Eris with some space between them. 

“I will look after your mate brother” Eris only nodded in return before stealing another glance at you and sinking into flame. 

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

Whatcha think? Hehehehe

[fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency]

//Narrative -

When the bus pulls up to the camping site there is a massive cabin. It has beautiful window walls and an indoor / outdoor pool and hotub along with a playground in the yard.

There are fire pits and hiking trails all along the area and a campground with other smaller cabins down the hill.

In the center of the campground there is a restaurant and a little "town square" for group get togethers with other campers.

On the outer edge is a large lake with a Sandy Beach that has several rivers coming off of it - great for fishing.

//

[bloodstained-porcelain-doll]

The Kneeling Queen, ch 1 - Aemond Targaryen x OC

Read on AO3

Summary: Aemond Targaryen and Maelessa Velaryon were childhood lovers. They were each other's only comfort in a world full of darkness. When they grew up, their love blossomed until they were the only thing the other cared about. Their lives get increasingly complicated due to the fact that they're supposed to be on opposite sides of the war. Will their love survive or will it burn to ash as the war ensues? Warnings: None for this chapter, but this fic will contain violence, rough and dirty sex, Dom Aemond, mutilation, degradation, war, canonical and non canonical character deaths, non canonical dragons, mentions of rape... it gets dark at times.

Chapter 1 - Childhood Lovers

Maelessa Velaryon ran to him inside the dragonpit, after the boy she cared about most.

”Aemond, don’t go with them!” she cried, knowing full well that Aegon and the other children had hid a pig inside the tunnel, that they were going to pull a mean prank on Aemond. Just because he didn’t have a dragon. “Aemond! Let’s go see the other dragons instead,” she urged. Aemond didn’t listen, instead he followed his brother. Aegon shot a glare back at Maelessa who stared daggers into him.

When they revealed the pig, the Pink Dread, they called it, Aemond didn’t say a word. He was stoic, his face didn’t betray his hurt. But Maelessa knew him better than all the other children, she felt his pain and knew how bad it broke his heart to be toyed with like this.

“You’re all mean!” she screamed at the other kids, her voice echoing through the pit. “Come on, Aemond, let’s go,” she urged, reaching for his hand. This time he followed her, taking her hand and following her out. Only when they were far enough away from everyone else did he let his tears show. Maelessa would never make fun of him, she sat with him on the cliff until his tears dried, holding his hand.

The next day she cursed her brothers. Jace and Luke were idiots, she screamed, they were nothing but mean bullies and Aemond didn’t deserve to be treated that way. 

“He calls us bastards!” Her older brother defended himself.

“We are bastards, Jace, look at us! Telling the truth isn’t a crime,” she insisted, shoving him in the chest before running off again. Her mother, who had just given birth to her third son, her fourth child, didn’t like how much time Maelessa spent running around the castle with Aemond. She much preferred when Maelessa spent time with her own siblings, studying Valyrian and history. 

Maelessa liked it best when Aemond taught her Valyrian though, his accent was beautiful and he was a good teacher. He also taught her how to fight in secret, the two of them slipping away to the garden to practise sword fighting. She would often sneak into his chamber at night and they would practise Valyrian together and braid each other’s hair. Aemond would tell her fantastical stories and she often fell asleep on the foot end of his bed listening to his calming voice, then the guards found them together in the mornings. He was her favourite person in the world, and when they weren’t together, he was often all she could think about.

***

When Ser Harwin had died, Maelessa ran away in the middle of the night. Her mother sent guards to look for her, and dragons were sent out to help the search. Her mother flew on Syrax and Jace on Vermax, looking for her everywhere, and the guards roamed through the forests. Yet it was Aemond who found her. He pulled down the hood of his cloak and leaned against the wall of the dog training yard in Cobbler’s square.

“Thought I’d find you here, Maelītsos,” he said quietly.

”There’s nowhere I can hide from you,” she mumbled, burying her head in Rocco’s fur. Rocco was a large brown dog that she had helped train since he was six weeks old.

“No. It’s foolish of you to come here. Though I suppose you blend in rather well,” he japed. She sniffled and sobbed.

“Someone murdered him, Aemond. Spontaneous fire in Harrenhal? Not likely.”

“You shouldn’t mourn in public for a man your mother claims to have no relation to. Time to go home,” he said and kicked himself off the wall, extending his hand. She wanted to stay here and sulk, cry until she couldn’t feel sadness anymore, seeking comfort in her four legged friends’ soft fur. But she took Aemond’s hand and followed him without protest back to the castle. She kept her head down so that people wouldn’t see her tears.

Aemond sat them down on a bench in the courtyard and wiped her tears. In his arms, the sadness felt less constricting, her chest felt lighter and more free. She inhaled the scent of him, calming her body even more. He always smelled good, her prince. 

“It’s alright to be sad. Your tears are safe with me, Mae. But be smart. It was foolish of you to leave the Red Keep in your situation.”

“You’re right, I know,” she said and wiped her tears.

With a scream, Syrax crashed down in the courtyard and Rhaenyra came running towards them.

“Where have you been!?” she shouted. Maelessa didn’t answer. “Aemond, where was she?”

“Does it matter? I brought her back.”

“How did you find her?”

“There’s nowhere she can hide from me.” Aemond was proud of his statement, but Rhaenyra looked unimpressed. 

“Thank you. You may leave.” But Aemond didn’t leave. He remained calm as ever, sitting quietly by Maelessa’s side. “That means leave, Aemond!” Rhaenyra clarified as if he was an imbecile. He smiled menacingly.

“I think you’ll find even less luck in speaking with Maelītsos if you force me away from her,” he mocked, purposefully using the pet name that Rhaneyra hated. Little Mae. Maelessa however loved every single pet name Aemond made up for her. The more names he gave her, the more singled out and cherished she felt by him. 

Maelessa’s family were now moving to Dragonstone. She wasn’t quite sure why, if it had to do with the death of Harwin or if it was something else. She knew rumours circled the keep, rumours harmful to her family, but her mother didn’t reveal much to her children, saying they were too young to understand. Maelessa didn’t want to leave, though. She fought her mother tooth and nail, screaming that she refused to go. To her surprise, Alicent was very hospitable, telling Rhaenyra and Laenor that she was welcome to stay here with them. After much fighting, Maelessa’s parents had finally agreed to let her stay. After all, her grandsire king Viserys was here, and he still ruled, so what harm could come to her?

***

After her aunt Laena Velaryon passed, a funeral had been held on Driftmark. Maelessa had arrived with Aemond and his family, and her own family had come as well. Tears had been shed, but she felt she couldn’t quite grieve for someone she barely knew. In the night, when Rhaenyra sent her children to bed, Aemond had stopped the girl from going to her chamber and instead brought her outside, telling her to follow him on an adventure.

Maelessa watched in awe as Aemond climbed atop the green giant beast of a dragon. Vhagar had threatened to rain fire on him but he had stood his ground, and the dragon had rewarded him for it. She ran backwards as the dragon lunged, sand whirring into her eyes as the dragon stomped off the ground and took flight. She listened to Aemonds screams as Vhagar took off with him. For a moment it seemed he would fall off, but he had managed to steady himself, climbing back into the saddle. 

Maelessa clapped her hands and cheered, then the pair disappeared from her sight, beyond the clouds. She watched and waited for a long time before they returned, this time the scream from Aemond wasn’t one of fear, but of triumph. They landed next to her and Aemond climbed off, running to pick Maelessa off the ground and spin her around in the air in cheer joy. He finally had a dragon, and not just any dragon. The biggest one known to them, and the fiercest war dragon. The two children laughed as they walked hand in hand into the cave. 

Rhaena and Baela were in there with Jace and Luke, having been woken up from the noises of Aemond claiming Vhagar. Maelessa felt a little bad, because she knew Rhaena had wanted to claim Vhagar since she was her late mother’s dragon. But dragons chose their riders, they couldn’t be stolen. If Vhagar didn’t want Aemond to claim her, he would be dead. Which is why it angered her so when her cousins accused him of stealing Vhagar. 

Her cousins lunged first, attacking Aemond. She yelled at them to stop, even running forward to hit them back, but Aemond had no issue battling off the two angry girls. When her brothers Jace and Luke joined in though, the fight became unfair. Aemond was strong and already a skilled fighter for his young age, but four against two were bad odds. Maelessa fought her own siblings in Aemond defence, trying to hold them back. Baela and Rhaena retreated, watching as the fight grew meaner and harder. Aemond once again taunted the boys for being bastards, and Luke was the only one who didn’t know that he was right. One of them threw sand in Aemond’s face, causing him to stumble. Then Luke grabbed the knife and lunged. 

Before Maelessa could scream at him to stop, he had slashed the knife across Aemond’s face and he fell to his knees screaming in agonising pain. Maelessa ran to him, hunching over him to comfort him, shocked at the blood running through his fingers. A knight came running, way too late to break up the fight. She refused to let go of Aemond’s arm as they were all led back into the castle. She watched with tears running down her cheeks as a Maester stitched him up, sewing over his eye. 

He looked terrifying, red bloody stitches going from his cheek to his forehead. The room filled up with knights and family members, the king, the queen and her protectors, Lord Corlys and princess Rhaenys, as well as Maelessa’s own mother and Daemon. Panic spread through the room as the adults tried to make sense of the situation, figure out what had happened. The children all screamed over each other trying to tell their stories. Rhaenyra fussed over hew bleeding sons and the unharmed Maelessa backed away from them. Alicent was furious over the loss of her son’s eye, while Rhaenyra was furious over the insults thrown at her children.

“Maelessa, come here,” she beckoned, reaching for her daughter, who backed off, placing herself next to Aemond and grabbing his arm, scowling at her mother. The king, instead of siding with his son who just lost an eye, sided with the grandson who had taken the eye, questioning Aemond about the insults instead of Luke about the attack. He warned them all that the in fighting just cease, but Alicent was not satisfied, trying to convince the king to take one of Luke’s eyes as justice. Maelessa squeezed Aemond’s arm in fear, and even he seemed to think his mother was out of her bounds for the suggestion. Rhaenyra tried to beckon Maelessa over again, to come stand with her siblings, but she refused to let go of Aemond’s arm. 

“Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon,” the queen demanded. Luke cried for their mother in fear, Maelessa’s eyes widened and fighting broke out among the adults again. The king refused to let Ser Criston carry out the order, putting his wife back in place. As the king turned to leave, deeming this trial as over, Alicent leapt forward, reaching for his dagger. 

Aemond stood, wrapping his arms around Maelessa and taking her behind him protectively. Luke screamed and Rhaenyra put herself in front of him, facing off against Alicent. Maelessa was scared, scared that Alicent may hurt her mother, but Aemond held her in his arms and she clung to him fiercely, finding security in his embrace. She didn’t quite understand what Alicent and Rhaenyra said to each other as one held a knife to each other, but then the blade slashed against skin and her mother was bleeding from her arm. Maelessa gasped and dropped her hand down to grasp Aemond’s tightly. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispered in her ear. When the two women backed off from each other, Aemond and Rhaenyra looked at each other. Rhaenyra’s eyes snapped down to the clutched hands of him and her daughter, but she said nothing. Aemond then turned to his mother. “Do not mourn me, mother, it was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

Her stoic prince.

Tagging @sadgirlxangel and @ner-dee due to previously shown interest, let me know if you wish to remain tagged or not :)

[blueiscoool]

Archaeologists Discover Mysterious Jade Dragon Artifact at a 5,000-Year-Old Tomb in China

Hundreds of artifacts have been unearthed at a burial mound in the city of Chifeng, but researchers are particularly intrigued by the six-inch-long object.

Archaeologists have discovered a 5,000-year-old jade dragon artifact while excavating a burial mound in northeastern China.

The object measures roughly six inches long, four inches wide and one inch thick—making it the “largest jade dragon ever discovered from the Hongshan culture,” according to the official state news agency Xinhua.

The dig site is located in the city of Chifeng in Inner Mongolia, an autonomous region in China. The burial mound—which includes a circular tomb situated north of a square altar—is between 5,000 and 5,100 years old.

It was built by the Hongshan culture, a large Neolithic group known for its delicately carved objects that prospered in the region. Experts think that Hongshan craftsmen made some of the earliest known jade artifacts in history.

In April, researchers began a four-month excavation at the site, as Archaeology News’ Dario Radley reports. They have since uncovered human remains, fire pits, an assortment of pottery and more than 100 jade objects.

The scientists were particularly intrigued by the jade dragon, which they say is noteworthy for its size. However, not all researchers are impressed with the newly discovered artifact.

While the jade dragon is “very nice,” it’s also “not that unique,” Gideon Shelach-Lavi, a scholar of East Asian studies at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, tells Live Science’s Owen Jarus.

Shelach-Lavi, who has excavated in the area but was not involved in the recent dig, says that similar jade dragon artifacts have been unearthed at other tombs from the Hongshan culture. What’s more, historians can’t say for sure that they were crafted to resemble dragons.

“We do not really know what their meaning was during the Neolithic period, so calling them ‘dragons’ is anachronistic,” he adds.

Still, officials say that the objects are shedding new light on the history of Neolithic groups in the region.

“This is the largest stone burial mound from the late Hongshan culture ever found in Inner Mongolia,” said Sun Jinsong, the director of the Inner Mongolia Institute of Cultural Relics and Archaeology, at a press conference, per Archaeology News. “The variety of jade artifacts discovered fills important gaps in our understanding of this ancient civilization’s jade usage.”

Research at the site, which includes radiocarbon dating and topographic mapping, is still ongoing.

A ritual complex with a similar layout was previously discovered at a site called Niuheliang, located about 90 miles from Chifeng, as Jia Xiaobing, a researcher at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences’ Institute of Archaeology, tells China Daily’s Fang Aiqing and Yuan Hui.

“Such consistency in an expanded area proves that a shared belief system existed among the Hongshan ancestors,” he says.

By Julia Binswanger.

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 1

read on ao3! (111k words) | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Story summary: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse.

Word count: 2k

Chapter 1: ‘Marked for Death’

Death coated the back of Juliet’s throat.

This was not unusual. The aroma of rot and decomposition was commonplace in the body disposal department of the Boston QZ. However, if Juliet could actually taste it simmering on her tongue, it meant one thing: she needed a new mask. 

The threadbare fabric tied tight around her nose and mouth was singed earlier in the day when her shift partner tossed a body, with more force than necessary, into the large fire pit in the middle of the square. A few wayward sparks had settled on her mask, gradually burning through the cheap material. 

Juliet often wondered how the sickly sweet smell of decay could still remain when fire and smoke cleansed the air.

It didn’t surprise her, though: death always lingered. 

It was hour eight of her usual Tuesday shift. One more hour and Juliet could collect her ration cards, find her way to the nearest fabric stall then drag herself back to her tiny apartment. Exhaustion weighed heavy on her today, settling in her bones and restricting her movements. Her shift followed a pattern: walk to the loading truck, pick up a body, place it in the fire and try not to look as the skin blackened and blistered. 

The same task, the same people, every week, every month and every year of her residence in the Boston QZ. Every day was a repeat of the previous but she was safe and she was hidden, which was all she could hope for. 

More bodies, more fire and her shift was over. Another day completed. Juliet used the stained fabric of her t-shirt to wipe the ash from her hands and forehead as she joined the ration queue. She was in line behind Joel Miller, a man who had worked at body disposal as long as she had, probably longer actually.

Tall, with broad shoulders and dark brown hair speckled with grey and ash, Joel Miller towered above her with more than his height. He was impressive, intimidating. Juliet watched as he stretched his neck to the side and wiped the sweat beading on his skin, his shoulders were tight, his stance solid. 

Joel had a presence difficult to ignore, being around him always felt like the air had a little less oxygen, as though he took up a bit more space than everyone else. He didn’t talk much, or ever really, just a few grunts and hard instructions grumbled under his breath to whoever was partnered with him on shift. 

Juliet found herself drawn to Joel, despite their lack of interactions. Her eyes would follow his movements as they worked, observing his cool indifference as he performed their grim duty. She would notice him around the QZ, too. He was a ghostly presence, often found haunting street corners and disappearing in a blink of an eye. 

Juliet knew little about Joel, only that he sold drugs to her weird neighbour who had drunkenly offered her some while attempting to break into her apartment the other night. She added another lock to her door after that.

“Next!” barked the ration officer, shaking Juliet from her thoughts. 

She took a step forward and watched as Joel disappeared around the corner, shuffling ration cards in his smoke covered hands. Juliet wondered if he, too, had grown entirely numb to their gruesome occupation.

Juliet wondered if something worse, something more ghastly, haunted his daily life. 

After collecting her ration cards and buying a new mask, Juliet made her way home to her crumbling one bedroom apartment. Home was perhaps a strong word, what with its peeling twenty-year wallpaper, mould stained ceilings and less than ideal neighbours. But it was her’s. 

Turning the corner onto her street, Juliet’s eyes landed on a hunched form on the front step of her building. Juliet let out a sigh, quickened her steps and forced a smile onto her face. Margaret was waiting for her.

Margaret was her eighty-five year old neighbour who lived on the bottom floor of their building. She enjoyed long conversations, hard liquor, and gossiping about the inner workings of her neighbour's lives. 

“Juliet!” Margaret gasped out.

“Hi, Margaret,” Juliet called as she approached, her plastered smile beginning to falter as Margaret struggled to stand.

Juliet moved to hold the woman’s frail arms, she was frantic, her hands grasping at Juliet’s shoulders, desperate to gain her full attention.

“No, you must listen,” Margaret began, before doubling over, releasing a series of strangled coughs and gasps.

“Someone,” she coughed. “Someone was here…” croaked Margaret while pointing her shaking hand behind her, towards the door. 

“What? Who?” Juliet asked, she had never seen Margaret so panicked before. 

“Oh it was awful,” Margaret began, once again clutching Juliet’s arms, her arthritic fingers formed in a vice-like grip. 

“I was knitting at my dining table, working on my sweater… I must show you Juliet, it’s looking so wonderful, I used…”

“Stay focused,” Juliet interrupted, her voice soft and pleading. “What happened?”

“Yes! So, then I heard what sounded like someone marching through the hallway,” Margaret continued, her words quick and tense. 

“I knew it wasn’t yourself or Kenny because you were both working. So I got up and looked out my peep-hole.” Margaret’s voice had grown quieter, now almost a whisper.

“And I watched as two men with dark jackets walked past my door and headed upstairs”

“Next thing I know, I hear this horrendous crash. Now, I know it must have been bad because I could hear it! And you know how terrible my hearing is.”

Shock covered Juliet’s features, their apartment building had always been quiet, always lucky to avoid the crime raging the Boston QZ. 

“Did you see them leave?” Juliet asked, her voice urgent.

“Yes, thank god,” Margaret answered. “But dear… I think it was your apartment they went into, and by the sound of it, they surely broke down the door.”

Fuck, Juliet thought. Her heart now feverishly pumping the familiar blaze of fear throughout her body. “Stay here,” Juliet ordered, her voice hard as she moved to release her arms from the old woman’s grip. “I’ll go check it out.”

“Please be careful,” Margaret urged, clasping her hands together in a silent prayer. 

Stepping into the building, Juliet paused, listening. So familiar with the hum of her neighbours’ usual routines, Juliet could recognise any foreign noise. But no sound was unusual, nothing was amiss… that she could hear anyway. 

Feeling somewhat certain no strangers were lurking in the building, ready to emerge from a dark corner and grab her, Juliet decided to keep moving.

Climbing the steps to the first floor, her body was on high alert; any weariness from her gruelling shift was gone, adrenaline now coated her muscles. Only a sharp, steady focus remained. 

Reaching her apartment, Juliet stopped, her feet frozen. The door lay open with three of her four locks fractured, surrounded by splintered wood and chipped paint. The fourth lock lay on the floor by her feet, where it must have fallen after being brutally pried from the door. Juliet felt a sinking feeling deep in her gut. Each lock had become an emblem of her security in the Boston QZ. Now they were shattered. A stark reminder that her safety was never guaranteed. 

Juliet reached out, her fingers grazing the fractured wood as she gingerly pushed the door all the way open, moving into her apartment. A deep breath and a long exhale later, Juliet stood in her dining area, eyes now locked on a piece of folded paper on her kitchen table. 

She moved closer, Juliet’s body had lost its stamina, her limbs weighed her down. Each step towards the yellowed piece of paper was like wading through dark, chilled water. 

When she was close enough to recognise the handwriting, everything stilled. The air, the room, her beating heart… all slowing around her. A chorus of no, no, no, no, no, surged through her mind, spiralling inward, forming a shield around the memories threatening to resurface at the sight of that familiar scrawl. 

One hand gripped the edge of the table, tangled in the tablecloth, while the other tentatively lifted the paper. ‘My sweet Juliet’ it read in writing she knew so intimately it could have been etched on her heart. Carved with a sharp, brutal knife. 

A high pitched ringing enveloped her mind, numbing all sound apart from the echo of her shallow breaths. Juliet’s ash caked fingernails traced the edge of the worn paper, she pulled it apart to reveal a message: 

‘Juliet, 

How does it feel living so far from home? Surrounded by strangers. 

I admit I was shocked that night you left, I wondered what more you could desire, out in the wasteland of our world, that I had not provided you with? I imagine you have come to the conclusion, by now, that there is nothing else worth living for than the love of our lord. You see, I have eyes and ears in places you could never imagine. My men know the power of our lord and live with his blessing every day. I sent these men to find you, Juliet. I sent them to bring you this message. 

I have your friend Ethan in my care now, he has taken your place until you return to me. I have every hope that will be soon my dear, Juliet. He, too, screams when the judgement of our lord is upon him.  

Travel safely; the lord does not bless the sinners of this earth, 

Your father.’  

Ethan… No.  

Three years, three blissful years only focused on her own survival, liberated from the torture of her childhood. She left Ethan behind, she thought he would be safe. She was wrong, so very wrong.

Why, though, had her father waited so long to find her? To threaten her with Ethan’s safety? His life? She must have hidden well, burrowed herself so deep in the mundane of everyday QZ life, that even her father’s men, dotted about the country, had not found her for three years. 

Yet now her nameless existence had come to an end, slaughtered in a matter of seconds. Juliet’s hand clenched, crushing the paper within her palm. 

She had to go back. For Ethan, she would go back. 

The thought alone made her choke on her breath, gasping for air in the silent room.

Experience had taught her not to take her father’s threats lightly. 

Her journey to Boston was monstrous. Juliet witnessed sights which forever scarred the insides of her eyelids, appearing before her on dark and sleepless nights. Could she travel that distance again? Alone? Knowing what’s out there? No… she would die and so would Ethan. 

Juliet stumbled to her moth-eaten couch and sank into the decaying cushions. She reached her shaking hands to her eyes and pressed her fingers to her eyelids, pushing harder until only a dark nothingness remained. Her life in the Boston QZ was over…for Ethan she would return to the man who haunted her every step, his existence always reminding her she would never be fully free. 

Reluctance acceptance washed over her. For Ethan she would return to her prison, almost assuredly never to escape again. 

Removing her hands from her eyes, Juliet released a trembling sigh. Accepting her powerlessness brought a distance from her emotions. The thought of Ethan and the immediacy of the situation had started to drown out her terror and regret, leaving behind a cold numbness. 

In her emotionless stupor, Juliet started to plan her way out of the QZ.

A loose floorboard hid a map and a variety of makeshift weapons, including a switchblade which Juliet liked to keep sharp. Both were now on the coffee-table before her, Juliet hunched over the map tracing her journey with the tip of her blade.

There was one problem she couldn’t solve: this was not a journey she could make alone. Juliet survived her journey to Boston on sheer luck and willpower. She would risk her own life, but not Ethan’s. She had to get there alive.

Her blade stilled, its tip pierced through the rough paper into the hardwood table. Juliet’s racing thoughts had settled on the one person she knew had both spent a significant amount of time outside of the QZ and had a route out…

Joel Miller. 

Fuck.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is so cute- it's an 1860 railroad station in lovely Stanfordville, New York, converted to a home. 3bds, 4ba, price dropped $55K to $840K.

Love the floor and the fireplace with built-in shelving.

There appear to be some original antiques in here, like pictures, the sign case, folding chairs and writing desk.

Nice large kitchen with black quartz counters and Shaker cabinets.

I like how they stenciled signage on the walls, doors and stairs.

There's a full kitchen and family room in the basement.

Plus another sitting area with an original stone wall.

Nice bedroom with lots of closet space and built-ins.

Original doors and stairs.

This bath is very large and has beautiful cobalt blue floor tile, with penny tiles on the walls.

Very large bedroom.

This bedroom has sliders to the deck.

And, this bedroom is huge. It's more of bonus space b/c it's so open.

Cute screened in porch opens to the deck.

Look at the koi pond in the yard.

Nice fire pit area.

The land measures 2.74 acres.

[gettingfrilly]

Out Chapter 5

Read it here or on ao3

Hole in the Ed

‘ Least the rain finally let up,’ Eddy thinks to himself, needing to shed some sort of positive light on the situation if he’s gonna be able to face what’s on the other side of his front door. He had considered entering his bedroom through the back door to hide out a bit longer, but that would just be delaying the inedible, as Double D would put it. Besides, he can’t keep being a bitch about this; showing weakness in front of Chuck is never a good idea. After taking a final deep breath of soupy, post summer rain air, he wraps his stubby digits around the door knob and lets himself in.

“Eddy!” He startles, hand frozen on the knob at the sudden approach of his mom. Once he relaxes and lets the breath he’d been holding out, he closes the door fully behind him and opens his arms, his mom’s thick and hairy arms already open for a hug. He receives her easily, standing on his tiptoes so he can hook his chin over her shoulder instead of losing his face in her chest. The always present smell of cigarette smoke in her curled and towering hair and the hint of garlic on her breath starts smoothing over his frazzled nerves, same as how her hand smoothes the wrinkles out of the back of his shirt.

“Your brother’s here.” She whispers in his ear after giving him a tight squeeze, slowly departing from the hug to rest her hands on his shoulders. The look she gives him makes Eddy frown, loathe to see his mom worrying over him. It’s not surprising, though; he ended up having more than a few tearful conversations with her after he ran away to Chuck's trailer all those summers ago. Things were pretty touch and go for a while there once the pedestal he held his older brother up on had been thoroughly desecrated. 

“I figured.” He murmurs back, patting his mom’s hand before she backs away fully.

“You’re just in time for dinner.” She says as she starts walking towards the kitchen, gravelly voice louder than before. He follows her through the pink halls of his house, past the garish crosses hanging on the walls, side eyeing one of the tiny, pinned down Jesuses.

‘ You’ve never done shit for me before. Maybe do me a solid this time and I’ll pay attention in church next Sunday.’

After steeling his nerves and attempting to wipe all emotion from his face, he turns the corner into the kitchen, shoulders square and jaw set. The table is set with all sorts of foodstuffs, a large plate full of chicken cutlets in the middle of it all. It’s way more food than his mom would normally make on a Wednesday night, but it is her typical tactic of peace keeping. The smell of frying grease makes him more nauseous than anything else right now. At one end of the dinner table, with a deep scowl etched into his weathered face, sits his father. Disgruntlement and disapproval roll off him in waves, knuckles white where he grips his bottle of beer.

On the other end sits his brother, sending Eddy a smirk that makes his stomach flip and his pits sweat.

“Hey, pipsqueak.”

🝮

Eddy had kept his eyes on his plate throughout the entire meal, only just barely listening to his mom explain the situation. Something something financial difficulties, something something getting back on his feet. He can read between the lines of his mother’s vague niceties; Chuck got fired, again, for showing up to work drunk, again, and is broke, again. His brother must really be in the shitter this time for his parents to let him move back home, especially if his dad is allowing Chuck in his presence at all. The news that his brother is staying, not visiting, felt like a sucker punch to his gut.

‘Thanks for nothing, Jeezy Creezy,’ he thinks to himself as he pushes the scraps of dinner’s remains around his plate, only just barely listening to his mom and brother talk about having coffee for dessert.

“Oh shoot.” His mom mutters from the fridge, frowning into it. “Outta cream.”

“I’ll go get it.” He answers before shooting out of his seat like a bullet from a fully cocked gun, wooden chair legs scraping harshly against the old linoleum. Him and his brother haven’t said a single word to each other since his initial greeting and he already can't bear to spend another moment around him.

“Take your brother with you. Me and your mother need to talk.”

Eddy swivels his head in alarm at the direction of his dad’s deep voice. It’s the first time he’s spoken since Eddy came home, and judging by the look on his brother’s face, possibly the first time he’s spoken since Chuck arrived. It’s a tone of voice that makes both him and Chuck flinch. Eddy admires the way his mom squares up in response, brows lowered in disapproval with her hands on her hips. After a beat of awkward silence, Chuck lets out a long, low whistle, looking between their mother and father with an unimpressed glare.

“A’ight. You're the boss, pops.” He places his hands on the table to leverage himself up to his full height, grabbing his flat cap from next to his plate and fitting it snugly around his thick skull. Eddy’s eyes follow him around the table carefully, still trying to keep his expression neutral, but he can't help the slight sneer that forms on his lips. Chuck passes close enough to bump his elbow against Eddy’s shoulder, smirking down at him under the shadow of his cap brim before passing by completely and out of the kitchen. Once he’s out of sight, Eddy untenses a bit and brings his plate over to the kitchen sink, grabbing Chuck's on his way as well. His mom turns away from his dad’s glaring to shoot him a frown and reach out to touch his arm. Eddy stops her before she makes contact, giving her hand a quick squeeze before letting go.

“I’ll be alright, Ma.”

She doesn’t seem to have heard him, eyes now laser focused on the bandage wrapped around his hand. “Eddy, baby, what happened?”

“Oh, uh—”

“What’s takin’ ya?” Chuck calls out from the front door, voice painted with irritation.

“Keep your pants on!” He calls back before stomping his way.

“Oh, Charlie, grab me some smokes, too!”

“Okay, Ma!”

“Why’s everyone in this family gotta yell so goddamn much!?”

“Look who’s talkin’!”

Eddy grabs his keys from the glass bowl on the table next to the door, breezing his way past Chuck and outside to get as far away from his parents’ bickering as quickly as he can. His nerves are way too high strung right now for that shit. The rain clouds have finally started to clear, with all the heat and humidity from earlier getting sucked up into the holes of clear sky above. The previously dark gray blanket of clouds is gaining an orange hue, signifying the start of sunset. Puddles are still gathered in the many dips and divots of the cul-de-sac, reflecting back some of that faint, orange glow from above. His neighbor’s porch lights have started coming on, moths gathering at the pinpoints of bright light under the roofs of the squat homes lining the road, driveways and open garages full of cars now that the work day is over. He can already hear the familiar evening sounds of the creek coming to life, the chorus of peepers and droning of crickets audible all the way to the cul-de-sac, mixing with the sound of a mosquito flying by his ear. The neighborhood is quiet other than that, devoid of the squeals and peeling laughter of playing children that used to harmonize with the tune of nature. Peaceful. Pretty. Empty.

“Dad get a new car? Looks like a hunk of junk.” Chuck remarks, kicking one of the tires of his boxy, turd brown Dodge Omni. Eddy wants to be pissed at the insult, but, well… it is a hunk of junk. The odometer had already capped at 99,999 when it ended up on his dad’s lot.

“Dad’s car is in the garage. This is my car.” He mumbles as he unlocks it, grabbing the slightly rusted handle of the driver’s door and getting in. 

“You bought a car?” Chuck asks in a skeptical tone, getting in on the other side.

“It’s from dad’s dealership. I finished paying him back for it so now it’s mine.” It’s a struggle to keep his voice calm and stop his hands from shaking as he tries to buckle up, missing the buckle more than a couple times. His brother scoffs at him.

“‘Course dad gave you a car. Anything for precious Eddy.” He snarks as Eddy catches him pulling a cigarette out of a carton in the front pocket of his shirt in his peripheral.

“Not in the car.” He warns as he pulls out into the street, twisting his body around to make sure he doesn’t hit anything. When he looks back at Chuck, he sees him narrow his eyes at him until they’re nothing but thin slits, defiantly placing the filter between his lips and grabbing his lighter from his jean pocket. With a vicious snarl, Eddy’s arm strikes out like a cobra, snatching the lighter from him and holding it out of reach.

“Not in the car. I don’t want it to smell like an ashtray in here.” He seethes through his grit teeth, heart hammering in his chest. Fuck. Him and his big mouth and short fuse. That’s gotta get him a beating, don’t it? He’s not some helpless kid anymore, though. He’ll fucking square up if he has to. Sure he’s still smaller than Chuck, and more fat than muscle, and has no idea how to fight, but… um… 

‘Ah, shit.’

Chuck glares at him like a mastiff staring down a kitten who just swatted him, more disbelieving than angry. Before Eddy can flinch, or take it back, or beg for mercy, he clicks his tongue and shrugs, placing the cig back in its carton.

“Whatever, pipsqueak. Just gimme back my lighter.”

It takes Eddy a bit to realize that, no, he does not currently have a fist in his eye or foot up his ass. There’s no wedgie, no wet willy, and no loogie dangling over his face, either. After a brief frozen moment, he drops the lighter into his brother’s open palm and puts both hands back on the wheel, driving off towards downtown. Chuck says something about tunes, but Eddy ignores him, letting his brother fiddle with his radio. His frozen body starts to melt, ice cold blood flushing through his veins and making him shiver.

‘ The fuck was that?’ he thinks to himself, staying silent and stock-still with his eyes on the road. Past experience tells him he absolutely should not have gotten away with that scot free. His head’s too clogged up now to come up with an explanation, one painful memory after another playing in his mind’s eye, film stock skipping around and singing at the edges. His palms are sweating again. The road is getting blurry. He can’t drive like this.

‘Breathe, Eddy.’

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, the kind of breathing he used to guide Double D through during his panic attacks. He blinks hard once, again, one last time until the images clear from his head. He braves another look at Chuck, unperturbed with his head resting in his thick hand, elbow propped on the car door. One more breath and Eddy turns back towards the road, finally able to relax his death grip on the wheel.

Panic quelled, he remembers why Chuck is here. The bastard’s S.O.L. and had to come crawling back to the people who booted him from his childhood home. Beating Eddy to a pulp wouldn’t do a whole lot to keep him in their parent’s good graces, especially if he doesn’t want to get his own ass beat by Dad. With his chest lightening and shoulders relaxing, Eddy realizes he has immunity. 

“Look,” he starts, confidence building. “I’ll play nice if you do, alright? All I ask is that you leave me the fuck alone and put our zero contact back in place once you find a new job. Capiche?”

Silence. That’s fine. Eddy doesn’t need an answer. All he needs is for Chuck to follow the rules. His breathing comes to him easily now, rolling down his window to get some fresh air as he pulls up to the traffic light. The sound of his tires slicing through puddles ceases when he presses down on the brake, car stilling under the bright red light. He grunts in frustration, fingers tapping rapidly against the wheel. There’s no damn cars out. With his luck, there is probably a cop lurking around somewhere, so he does his least favorite thing in the world; he waits.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

‘Oh, Christ.’

Back to the death grip. That question from Chuck never preceded anything good.

“What?”

“Can you pull that massive stick out of your ass?” Chuck looks up. “Light’s green.”

Eddy’s mouth hangs open, but before he can say anything, the light changes, and he forces his eyes back on the road as he accelerates into Peach Creek’s dead downtown just as the street lights start to flick on.

“ What?” Eddy repeats himself, voice thin as if his lungs sprung a leak.

“You’ve been acting like a wet cat ever since I got here. Whatsa matter with you? I’m your brother, for chrissakes, not a serial killer.”

‘Oh that’s rich.’

“Oh that’s rich.” Yeah, he’s not even gonna attempt to apply his filter right now. “‘Cause you got the whole vibe down. All you're missing is a big white van with tinted windows.” He’s starting to feel manic, something in him tightening like a dog tugging on its leash.

“Hey, pipsqueak! I’m moving back home for a while. Oh gee, big bro, isn’t that swell. I sure did miss you. Missed you too, Eddy. Let’s go downtown together and catch up.” His brother plays out both roles of the imaginary conversation by himself, using an insultingly high pitched impersonation and plastering a big smile on his face. “See? That would have been the normal way for this to play out. So try being fucking normal.”

The leather on the steering wheel squeaks in Eddy’s tightening grip. “ I need to be normal? Me?”

“Yeah, you. Who the fuck else would I be talking to?” Chuck's blasé tone makes his toes curl, teeth grinding together as the street lights start to pass quicker on either side of them, their light phasing in and out of the scant raindrops still on Eddy’s windshield.

“I think I’m acting pretty damn normal about a dickweed like you showing up at my house!” He argues, unfocused eyes blurring the painted lines in the road together; or maybe it’s the speed Eddy’s picking up that makes them blur.

“Watch it, pipsqueak. I’m still your big brother.” Chuck’s voice gets dangerously low, but Eddy’s too fired up to heed the warning, foot pressing further down on the gas pedal.

“Some big brother! All you ever did was treat me like shit!” He has to yell louder to hear himself over the sound of wind whipping past his open window, the fast food receipts he throws into his back seat starting to swirl around in a frantic dance. It’s enough to make the inside of his car almost down right cold, a random, localized tundra forming in the space between him and his brother. The revving of the engine grinds against his eardrums, store fronts and gas stations blinking in and out of his peripheral like the quickly fading light of fireflies. 

“Whoa, slow the fuck down-” Chuck’s plea falls on deaf ears, the way he suddenly grips the handle above the passenger side door only spurring Eddy on. Chuck should be the one who’s scared for once in their goddamn shitstain of a relationship. Fuck him. Fuck him.

“You really thought everything would be cool between us after what happened that summer? Did you think I’d just forget and keep worshiping you?!” He’s straight up shouting now, hands shaking with how hard they grip the steering wheel. All these streetlights. The guard rails. Sturdy buildings. He could swerve so quickly, make everything crash and burn, snuff it all out.

“What the hell are you talking about?! What summer?!”

The leash snaps and leaves rope burns across his neck.

His tires squeal as he whips into the entrance to the 7/11 parking lot, slamming his foot down on the break and coming to a lurching stop with the back half of his car still in the road. He hears a thunk and a shout, whipping around to see his brother clutching the top of his head and wincing, breath hissing through his teeth. He never put his seat belt on, and now there’s a goddamn crack in Eddy’s windshield.

“What the hell, Eddy?!” Chuck roars, turning to face him with watery eyes and a bright red face.

“The summer I ran away!” Too loud, way too loud now that the car isn’t running and the wind isn’t whooshing in his ears. “The summer I trekked halfway across Erie county to get your help! The summer you beat the crap outta me in front of every kid I knew! THAT SUMMER!”

Confusion seems to distract Chuck from his anger, still rubbing at his head. In the moment of silence, Eddy realizes the radio is still playing.

“ I’m through with it, over it. Not having it, crazy shit. Not feeling this, can't deal, I quit.”

Sugababes’ pop tune is the wrong kinda sound for the tone of the scene. He reaches over and turns the radio knob, silencing it along with everything else in the car.

“That’s what you’re so hung up on?”

“What?” If he has to ask what one more time, he’s gonna freakin’ lose it. “Of course I’m hung up on it! What’d you think I’d be?”

“I dunno, I was just messing around!” Chuck takes his cap off and runs his fingers through his blue-black hair before pulling them back out to inspect them. “We always roughhoused, what’s the big deal? I mean, shit, I’m the one who got knocked out cold in the ordeal. Woke up to those three ugly chicks tryna play house with me. If anything, I’m the real victim here.”

His shoulders start to shake. That’s what his brother thinks about that summer? How fucking infuriating is that? He should be livid. He should be out for blood. He should slam his foot back onto the gas and drive straight through the side wall of the 7/11, hopefully killing them both in the process.

Instead, he finally let’s out the laugh that was making his shoulders shiver, forced out of him as a sharp bark followed by an asthmatic, deflating balloon, thumping his head against the top rim of the steering wheel and staying there. The realization creeps over him like dawn over an old building, spider webs and dust swirls shining bright in the sunlight. His brother won’t—no can’t —understand why that summer was the most goddamn traumatic thing to ever happen to him in his life. 

‘It’s trauma, Eddy. The psychological kind.’ He remembers Double D explaining patiently to him during the first sleepover they were allowed to have after running away, the two of them framed together in the block of moonlight shining through his window. ‘Wounds heal, but sometimes they scar. Scar tissue is damaged, less flexible. I wish I had known what your brutish brother was truly like before this farcical fiasco. It explains so much.’

“It’s Rolf’s fishball all over again.” He mutters back in the present, laughter dying out.

“... Uh.” Chuck sounds uncharacteristically concerned, voice low. “Should I run into the store and call Ma? You got any medications you’re supposed to be on that I don’t know about?”

He can't be pissed off at the slight towards his sanity, not when he just nearly vehicular manslaughtered the both of them before laughing like a mad man and mumbling about fish balls.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” He has to convince himself before convincing Chuck, easing his foot off the brake and onto the gas to slowly roll the car into a parking spot. All the manic energy from before disperses, seeping out of his pores and getting sucked out the open window as he shifts the gear to park. Now he’s just fucking tired, in a rung out and boneless kinda way.

“Do I have a bump?” His brother asks, pulling down the vanity mirror to check the large and flat surface of his dome piece.

“Quit yer belly achin’. C‘mon, they’ll card me if I try to buy mom’s smokes.”

“Yeah, no. If we both get outta the car right now, I’m gonna pound you into the pavement, and I don’t need the fucking drama. Stay put.” He commands, all previous concerns easily forgotten. After putting his hat back on, he gets out, slamming the car door shut behind him.

‘Ah. There’s the Chuck I know and love.’ He internally snarks as he turns in his seat to watch him walk into the fluorescent lit eye sore of a store. Once Chuck’s out of sight, he pulls the handle and shoves the car door open, kicking it shut behind himself as he reaches into his pocket for his camels. He sees the bandage on his hand when he pulls his lit cig up to his mouth, frowning at it as he takes his first puff. What a crazy fucking day. Feels like it’s been going on for eight months. And yet, this is the most normal he’s felt since him and Dee had their big fight. At least he actually has plenty of reason to be a nervous wreck today, instead of the nothing he’s been tying himself in knots over for months now.

Christ, Dee. Did they actually talk today? It feels like a fever dream, just like the whole damn day. He was only over there for about half an hour, and it felt even shorter than that. Sucking on his cig with the desperation of a drowning man sucking in water, he tries to piece together the events of his visit. Almost a year of bitter anger and zero contact, and now they’re just good? Just like that? Here’s a bandage for your boo boo, Eddy, okay, here’s some pasghetti for your tummy, Double D. Now let’s just forget all the bad stuff that happened and we can be best fwiends again forever and ever. Yeah fucking right.

Knowing how messed up it is doesn’t stop the nervous excitement that churns in his stomach when he thinks about messaging Dee tonight. If there’s one thing he’s gonna need after spending time with Chuck, it’s someone to bitch and moan to, and Double D’s always been his favorite target for that. Sure, his concern comes off as fake sometimes, and he lets snide remarks and condescending comments slip through his filter here and there, but when Eddy really needs it, he’s all empathy. Double D knows him, knows what to say, knows how to level him out. He’s been running on high and dipping into dangerous lows for too long now; what he’d give for one evening of getting off the roller coaster and plateauing for once. 

‘ There’s so much more we need to talk about. We can’t just forget what happened. ’

Great. Now the Edd in his head is making more sense than the Edd in real life. That can’t be good. “But what if we can? Can’t we at least try to forget?”

“Forget what?”

Eddy yelps, nearly dropping his cigarette as his free hand rises up to clutch at his shirt over his frantically beating heart. When he turns to yell at whoever just scared the bejeebus out of him, he realizes it’s just Chuck, a plastic bag in one hand and a case of Guinness in the other.

“Nothing, just talking to myself,” is his muttered explanation, stubbing out the butt of his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before flicking it onto the pavement. 

“Yeah, about that,” Chuck starts, a grimace etched deeply into his blocky face, “maybe I should drive this time.”

“I’m fine,” Eddy growls in irritation, swinging his car door open and slamming it once he’s inside. Chuck shrugs and follows suit, putting his purchases in the back seat before getting back into his own. 

True to his word, Eddy drives much more carefully on the way back to the cul-de-sac. He lets one arm hang out the open window, body lax and frown a gentle slope in opposition to the tension and fury he felt on the way here. The crisp evening breeze from the darkening woods and freshly rain filled creek further cools and dries the summer air, the gentle caress of it over his arm and face helping him unwind. The orange and pink sky above reflects in the puddles below, the whole world seeming muted and pastel. Bro makes no moves for the radio this time, and Eddy is grateful for the silence, listening to nothing but the peepers, his engine, and his wheels bisecting puddles. The road is largely empty, long past the afternoon rush hour. Usually Eddy is bored to tears by the peaceful living of the suburbs, but today, it’s more welcome than it’s ever been.

He manages to not even startle too bad when Chuck interrupts it.

“Hey, take a left at the cul-de-sac.”

“What? Why?” He side eyes his brother, hands starting to tighten on the wheel.

“‘Cuz I wanna stop somewhere to drink this beer before Dad gets his hands on it. This left, here.”

Eddy looks towards where he’s pointing and slows down, considering his options. Option A, he turns left. Possible outcomes: getting lured into seclusion and murdered, or drinking beer. Option B, he heads straight home. Guaranteed outcome: he can get the fuck away from Chuck, but then be faced with either his Mom’s worrying, his Dad’s piss poor mood, or both. The prospect of drinking beer in the summer evening peace and staying out of his house a little longer wins him over, letting out a resigned sigh as he turns left towards the junior high and high schools. There’s not much down this road other than the schools so he heads straight there, passing the ‘Go Cobblers!’ sign, the old wood cracked by years of rain and snow making the wood posts swell. It’s not long until the baseball field comes into view, followed by the soccer field, then the football field, the empty and silent stands evoking a sense of peace in Eddy. The parking lot shared between the schools is just as empty, and seeing as there’s nowhere else to go, he turns into it and parks. Chuck doesn’t say a word, just gets out of the car with the case of beer in hand and starts making his way towards the high school. Eddy grumbles at the assumption that he’ll just follow, but does so anyway, hands in his pockets as he side steps the school’s many rain filled potholes. His curiosity grows the closer they get to the main building, unsure this is really the best spot for public drinking, even if school’s out for the summer. It’s a squat brick building, only one story high and smaller than the junior high, which houses the kindergarten and elementary students’ as well. Small ass, crap ass town.

There’s no fence to keep them out, and Chuck shows no signs of stopping, making his way along the wall with purpose. The back of the building is in need of some serious tlc, brick walls coated in graffiti and covered with climbing vines and weeds. The tall grass is making him paranoid of ticks, a familiar sounding nasally voice in his head reminding him to check his legs later. When Chuck does finally stop, Eddy nearly walks right into him, having been too focused on looking at the ground and on the look out for blood sucking insects. He keeps his mouth shut as he watches Chuck inspect the wall, reaching out to wiggle a loose brick sticking halfway out of the wall. Which… okay? What, is he gonna pull a brick loose and open up a secret passageway? Before he can ask, Chuck shoves the case of beer into Eddy’s hands, then hoists himself upwards, feet and hands each finding their own loose brick to get purchase on. Eddy backs up with raised eyebrows, not wanting to get crushed by his brick shit house of a brother if the guy falls. Chuck continues his ascent with what looks like practiced ease, and Eddy realizes that the pattern of loose, half sticking out bricks looks purposeful, and not just like random effects of aging. Another old secret hang out spot, then. Chuck has so many of those damn things, Eddy knows that he hasn’t seen all of them. He scowls when Chuck reaches the roof and disappears from sight, beers heavy in his hands.

“How the hell am I supposed to climb up there with the beer?”

His answer comes from the heavens, an ancient looking milk crate crashing down to the ground with a dull thud. There’s a rope attached to it, and Eddy’s eyes follow it up to find Chuck on the other end, smirking down at him. As if his past method of getting drunk during the school day is something to be smug about. With an eye roll, Eddy places the beer in the milk crate and starts his ascent, reminding himself repeatedly that it’s a short way down if a brick gives way. Thankfully, he makes it up without incident, as does the beer, which was clearly Chuck’s priority since he doesn't reach a hand to help Eddy up over the lip of the roof. Whatever. Asshole.

Other than some random open pipes, something covered in a tarp, and small scattered chimneys, the roof is flat and empty, giving a 360 view of the surrounding area and a clear look at the sky above. The sunset is fully underway, a sherbert-esque mix of colors giving the world a dream-like appearance. He may as well be in a dream, this excursion with Chuck feeling more unreal by the second. Him even being here is unreal enough as it is. Maybe he’ll wake up soon, with no Chuck, not cut on his hand, and no bandage wrapped around it with care.

He turns when he hears rustling, watching in amazement as Chuck grabs the tarp to reveal a beat up old couch underneath. Even four years of his brother’s fat ass shouldn’t be enough to make it look that shit, so he assumes it originally came from the dump. More importantly, though, he scans the roof for a door and staircase he may have missed, confusion growing when he finds none.

“How—”

“Genius and ingenuity.” Chuck cuts him off before plopping down on the couch and getting comfortable, unfazed by the cloud of god knows what that shoots up from the cushion under his ass.

‘ Please don’t sit on that filthy, infested upholstery .’

Eddy does it anyway, ass perched on the arm and feet planted on the cushion, body facing his brother and the sunset, half of the sun still peeking up over the horizon. Chuck’s body is faced towards the parking lot, bending down to grab a beer and pull the clip on bottle opener loose from his wallet chain.

“Dad give you your first beer yet?” he asks as he hands the first bottle to Eddy along with the  bottle opener.

He huffs through his nose and gives his brother a tired look before taking the offered items. “You gave me my first beer. I was five.”

He narrows his eyes at Eddy before turning them up towards the sky, features twisted in concentration. Eventually, a smile spreads over his face. “Ooooh yeah. Ha, Ma and Dad were so pissed at me when you upchucked all over that white rug.”

“I think they were more pissed about the beer part, not so much the upchucking part,” he corrects him dryly, bottle hissing at him once he pops the cap off.

“Eh, it was a bit of both. Don’t know why they overreacted so much. I was only a couple years older than you when Dad gave me my first beer.”

‘ That’s exactly why they reacted the way they did.’

“Just asking so I know if you’ve started drinking yet. I don’t want you upchucking this beer, too. Be a waste of my money.”

Eddy scowls at him, handing him back the bottle opener. “I ain’t gonna, don’t worry.”

It’s not until Eddy takes his first sip that Chuck looks away with a satisfied nod, uncapping his own beer and chugging almost half of it in one go. Silence falls after that, awkward and uncomfortable. Well, it is on Eddy’s end, anyway. Chuck doesn’t seem to mind it, expression and body lax as he sinks further into the couch. It makes Eddy squirm, apprehensive of what could be bouncing around in that hollow skull of his.

“So pipsqueak, what have you been up to? Where you getting that paycheck from?”

It’s a friendly enough question, asked in a friendly enough tone. Finding no reason to be cagey about it, Eddy answers honestly.

“Getting that paycheck is pretty much the only thing I’ve been up to. I work at the candy store.”

Chuck barks out a sharp laugh. “No shit? Man, you used to beg me to take you there. I guess it was only fair, seeing as you were always helping me pawn allowances off of the ankle biters in the neighborhood. Pigeons.”

“I don’t know if I’d call your bullying pawning. You were the oldest and biggest kid in the cul-de-sac by a lot. Didn’t take much to get the chin wonder and slim to fork over the dough.” Eddy used to miss those days, the way the older kids feared his brother, and him by extension. Now thinking back to how Rolf and Kevin used to squirm makes him feel sick.

“Eh, whatever. I wasn’t hurtin’ nobody. Just scaring ‘em. Well, I might have hurt that foreign kids' chickens some. Or a lot. Hah.”

“You’re all heart, Chuck.” Eddy mumbles, sipping more of his beer. He’d be slamming them back if he didn’t still have to drive them home. Chuck has no such worries, already grabbing at his second bottle.

“You know it. So how’s the job? Exciting? Glamorous? Horizon expanding?”

It’s Eddy’s turn to laugh. “Miserable. We barely get any business. My shift is spent thinking of new ways to off myself.”

“Sounds right. Honest work is shit work. At least you get to fleece people when you’re a carnie.”

“You like it, then?” Eddy asks.

“Pfft. Fuck no. I just prefer it to any other above the board job.”

“Yeah? And what about under the board work?”

Chuck pulls an unpleasant face, hawking up something globular and spitting it over the side of the couch. “Hasn’t paid off yet. And it’s what keeps getting me canned.”

“Uh huh.” Since Eddy values having a symmetrical face, he doesn’t mention how Chuck’s drinking factors into that. “Well the candy store ain’t all bad. I get free candy when Kevin isn’t looking.”

Chuck’s eyes wrinkle at the corners. “You and your sweet tooth. Just like when I was a kid. Wait, Kevin? Ha, you work for shovel chin?”

Eddy gives him a nod. “Yeah, he’s the one who got me the job. We’re sort of friends now. Well, friend ly .”

“Imagine that. The guy who used to piss his pants at the mention of my name now has to deal with trouble making Eddy as an employee. Bet you make his life hell.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t have been able to pay Dad off for the car,” he notes, jerking his head in the direction of his rusted pride and joy.

“Well God bless you for being able to keep your nose down and stay out of trouble at a boring ass job. If I was capable of doing that, I wouldn’t have to come back to this shit hole.” He takes a pause to sip from his bear, waiting a beat before opening his mouth again.

“Too bad you blew all the dough on that garbage heap. Right?”

Eddy bristles, cheeks turning a faint pink as his ego demands to be defended.

“Hey, I didn’t blow all of it. I’ve had that job for three years, I pick up as many shifts as possible, and other than the car, I’ve barely spent a penny of it!”

Chuck’s mouth twitches, eyes flicking towards Eddy to side eye him. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah. I’m good with my money now. Had to become a penny pincher like Dad, but hey, it works.” He huffs, chest puffing out.

Chuck turns to face him fully, blinding Eddy with a wide and toothy grin, big enough to turn his eyes into thin slits. “Nice! Look at this guy, being fiscally responsible. Wish I could be more like that. You’ve grown up right, Eddy.”

Warmth fills Eddy’s body from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes, trying and failing to fight off the smile that splits his face. He gives a breathy, shaky laugh, chest vibrating with it. “I did?”

“Well sure. Doesn’t Dad tell ya that himself?”

Eddy rolls his eyes. “As if.”

“Ass.” Chuck spits again, grabbing a third bottle of beer. “Fuck that guy. Here’s to you, big man.” 

Chucks turns his smile back towards Eddy, holding his fresh bottle out for a toast. Eddy’s own smile widens, clinking his bottle against his bro’s. “Big man, huh?”

“Hey, you don’t need height to be big. Big wallets count.” He caps off his compliment with a wink.

Eddy snorts in response, shaking his head and bringing his bottle towards his lips.

“Speakin’ of big wallets. Little Eddy here has a car and a paycheck. That’s gotta drive the chicks in this hick town wild.”

The sudden change in topic makes his heart drop like a rock. He hates how quickly the heat rises to his cheeks, turning away from his brother until he’s got just one foot left on the couch, the other dangling off the edge of the arm rest.

“Pickings are slim,” he grumbles, the walls that had been lowering around him shooting back up.

“Come on, Peach Creek high’s gotta have some cuties. I know there were a few good’uns when I was around,” Chuck needles, and it prickles against Eddy’s skin like an Indian burn.

“Not really.” He brings his foot off the couch cushion and up onto the arm rest, hiding the lower half of his face behind his bent knee.

Chuck ‘pffts’ at him. “What are ya, a fag? Uggos or not, puss is puss and you’re past old enough to be getting some.”

The heat blazes across Eddy’s face, turning to glare at Chuck as he grips his bottle tighter, nearly empty now and easily chuckable. “Don’t fucking call me that.”

Chuck just smiles and laughs, the prick. “Aw, you always were sensitive. Frilly little Eddy.”

Eddy snarls, flinching and batting away the hand that Chuck reaches out to tousle his hair with. “Fuck you. Obviously I’ve fooled around some, alright? There’s just no one who’s relationship material.”

“Who said anything about relationships? Sure, a persuasive date or two hasta happen sometimes, but dating dames long term is a waste of time and money. If there’s only one piece of advice you remember from me, I want it to be that one. Don’t let those leeches get a hold of you, pipsqueak.” He takes his hand back with a smile still on his face, but Eddy can tell it’s not there with the same ease it was before.

“Fine, whatever. Just don’t call me a fag.” He drinks down the rest of his beer in one go, scowl firmly in place as he stares at the roof.

“Jeez, okay. Sorry.” Chuck relents, and out of the corner of his eye, Eddy can see the smile fall from his face. Silence falls, as well, smothering them like a heavy blanket. Seconds turn to minutes, Eddy’s foul mood rising like dough. He just needs to calm down enough to open his mouth without sounding any more defensive than he already has. Then he can suggest they go back.

He nearly falls off the arm rest when Chuck opens his mouth first.

“Our folks ever tell you why they kicked me out?

Well that’s not what he was expecting. His eyebrows shoot up as he looks from the roof to Chuck, unsure where he’s going with this.

“I just kinda figured it had to do with your rap sheet and beating on me. I dunno exactly what tipped them over into giving you the boot, though.” Eddy may have been only six at the time, but if he had been privy to why Chuck was evicted from the family’s home and lives, he’d remember it. He remembers everything else about his brother’s sudden absence with crystal clarity: his questions being met with silence, the multitude of locks and chains suddenly appearing on his brother’s bedroom door, the quiet unease in the house interspersed with his mother crying when she thought Eddy was out playing. Eddy spent his days feeling like a shadow was haunting him, a feeling he first assumed meant he missed his brother. It wasn’t until years later that he realized what he actually missed was knowing where his brother was. Knowing what mood he was in. Knowing for sure where he wasn’t.

“I got a girl pregnant.”

Eddy nearly chokes on his own saliva at the sudden interruption of his trip down memory lane, swallowing roughly as he stares at Chuck with wide, unblinking eyes.

“Whoa. Seriously?”

Chuck nods, taking his pack of cigs out and lighting a lucky strike for him to suck on. “Yep. Well. Okay, it wasn’t that exactly. I mean, that definitely didn’t help, and neither did the stuff you mentioned. But they didn’t kick me out until I told them I convinced her to get an abortion.” Smoke pours out of his mouth like fog, eyes clouded over like a rainy day. “Dad’s only Catholic when it’s convenient.”

Eddy agrees with a wince, nodding solemnly. “You got that right.”

More questions ping against the walls of his skull, unsure where to start. Most prominent, though, and one question he can’t ask outright, is why the hell did Chuck just tell him that? He can’t have actually taken him out here for a heart to heart, could he have? Eddy can’t think of any other reason for Chuck to spill his guts. No jokes, either, no irony or sarcasm. He’s just telling Eddy like it is. As if he sees Eddy as an adult. As an equal.

“Who was the girl?” He finally settles on a question, suddenly desperate to satisfy a thirst he hasn’t felt since Chuck first left.

“Dandie. Flower child from the Park n’ Flush, her parents were bohemians or something.”

Eddy’s empty bottle hangs from his loose grip, head heavy as it floods with half forgotten memories. There’s a girl. He can’t make out what her face looks like, but her frizzy blond hair floods his vision like a field of wheat he can’t see over the top of. She’s nice, too, her laugh kind sounding. She held his hand sometimes, he thinks, and he can smell her, a skunky odor clinging to her clothes.

“I remember her…” he murmurs, eyes squinting as he stares off into the distance.

“You oughtta, she fucking loved you. Thought you were the cutest damn thing. Got real pissed at me if I wasn’t nice to you,” he complains, though he doesn’t actually sound annoyed by it. 

“Dad hated her. Said her family was a bunch of lazy, drugged up hippies.” Chuck takes another drag from his smoke, letting it out slowly. “He was right, but he didn’t have to be such a dick about it.”

“You’d think he’d want her to get an abortion, then,” Eddy comments in confusion.

“That’s what I thought. As fucking always, I ended up being wrong.” He sneers, voice caked in bitterness.

Eddy clutches the neck of his bottle, scowling at the stained cushion beneath his feet. Dad always had it out for Chuck, laid into him way worse than he ever did to Eddy. Beneath Eddy’s hurt, and betrayal, and shame, and blind rage, all directed at his brother, a small part of him knows that it takes a bully to make a bully. He’d know that better than anyone. 

“Anyway. Like I said. Dames ain’t nothing but trouble. Never get too attached.”

Eddy doesn’t know what to say to that, conflicted feelings swirling inside of him. He wants to ask if Dandie was nothing but trouble, but thinks better of it.

“Trust me, a pregnancy scare is the last thing I have to worry about. I’m real careful.” It’s true, too, except by real careful, what he actually means is real gay. 

Chuck nods approvingly. “Good. Be smart, Eddy. Smarter than me.”

It’s the most sound brotherly advice he’s ever gotten from Chuck, and Eddy holds it in cupped hands like something precious.

The air around them feels delicate, like paper tissue he could tear if he’s not careful. He feels wrung out, suddenly, emotionally drained in a way that makes him long for bedroom solitude, despite the small part of him that wants to keep his hang out with Chuck going. Which is fucking weird. But he does. Chuck’s never been like this around him. He wants to analyze the moment more, turn it around in his hands and look at it from every angle, but he fears dropping it and making it shatter.

“Ma’s gonna start to wonder where her cream is.”

Chuck slaps at a mosquito sucking on his neck, grimacing at the splatter of blood on his hand. “Yeah. Let’s get.”

The sun sets on their impromptu hang out. Chuck covers the couch back up and they take off, leaving their empty beer bottles behind (one Eddy’s, four Chuck’s.) The sounds of the creek are louder than ever, sounding out like a tornado siren, but Eddy barely hears it, too lost in his thoughts. He doesn’t know what to make of their little talk, and looks forward to telling Double D about it. Maybe he can make better sense of it after talking it out and getting his smart guy take on it. His increasingly strange day is almost ending, and there’s a slight sliver of hope that maybe it’s been strange in a good way.

[bee6r]

How Could I Ever Stop Loving You

A/N: A short Carl fic for a nice sunny day 🌻 how could *eye* ~ get it?

Summary: You see Carl for the first time after he gets his eye shot out.

Warnings: Normal TWD gore/violence, angst with fluff at the end

~ !gn reader! ~

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

Abraham had told you to stay in the car when he, Sasha, and Daryl had begun shooting the walkers from the fence. So, laying on the floor of the old, rusted truck is where you stayed, fiddling with your hair and fingers, thinking about what was going on outside, and listening to the gunshots that were echoing around your head.

You hear the others yelling over the noise but can't understand what they are saying. You want to be a part of it, because you know that you are strong enough to, and that, knowing him, Carl would be at the center of it all.

And so, after a few more moments of listening to the gunshots ring out from outside the truck, you decide that outside the truck is where you should be.

The sun hits you almost immediately, and it takes you a moment to adjust after hiding yourself in the darkness. After looking around and narrowing avoiding a walker that had its eyes set on your neck, you spot Abraham and Sasha up in one of the watch towers.

Creeping closer to the fence only enhances every shot from the large guns that the others were using, and you fight the urge to cover your ears with your hands or shoulders and you climb up a tree on the edge of the fence.

"Sasha!" You call out, once you are within shouting distance. "Help me over!" She looks back, startled at first, but her face relaxes.

"Didn't want to miss the action huh?"

"Never," you respond, and she grabs your arms, allowing you safety as you push off the tree and onto the guard tower with her and Abraham.

"Hey shortie," Abraham greets you, not taking his eyes off the houses. As you follow his gaze, you notice just how many walkers had gotten through the fence. Most lay motionless on the ground, but clusters of them still roamed through the streets of the once spotless Alexandria, groaning and dragging their broken feet as they did so. You scrunch your nose, the smell hitting you abruptly. "Pretty nasty huh?" You nod,

"Unbearable."

***

After Daryl sets the lake on fire (I'm sorry I feel like that was so casual), it didn't take long for the rest of the walkers to die, their bodies decomposing before they hit the pavement.

You walk with the others through the gates, and as you look around the burning, but still intact, Alexandria, you feel at home again. Thats when you begin looking for HIM. You had expected him to meet you at the gate like he always did when you went on runs without him, but he was nowhere to be found. Rick is standing with Michonne, and the others are spread out around the town square, catching their breath and talking amongst themselves.

After a few minutes, Sasha goes to Tara, Daryl to Carol, and Abraham to Rosita, which leaves you alone. You walk over to Rick and Michonne, and as you near them, you cock your head to the side, signaling that you want to know where Carl is, but when Rick can't meet your eyes, your stomach drops.

"Where is he?" You ask, you voice faltering and low, "is he okay?" Michonne steps away from Rick, giving him a small nod, and turning towards you, pulling you by the shoulder so that the two of you can talk in private.

"He was-" she pauses, "shot." A cry escapes your lips, which you just barely manage to catch with your hand, muffling it.

"What?"

***

You wake up on the porch swing outside Denise's office, tired and your cheeks stained with tears. Denise had told you to wait until he was awake to see him, because he wasn't stable yet, which only made the pit in your stomach worse. And so, you had waited through the evening until you fell asleep, hoping that you would be able to see him in the morning, but as Denise walks across the porch towards you, you know that you won't be able to.

"Come back tonight," she says, "he should be awake by then." You nod, standing up.

"I'll be back."

---

You busy yourself with mindless activities throughout the day. Shower, eat, wash the dishes, play with Judith, go for a walk, clear the walkers, shower again. By the time evening rolls around, and Michonne forces you to eat something for dinner, you feel as if you have lived a hundred years, just waiting for something to happen.

You almost run to Denise's house, knocking quietly at the door, and waiting very impatiently for her to open it. When she finally does, you notice she has a smile growing on her face.

"He's awake," she says simply, opening the door wider, so that you may come in. "And he's been asking for you." You cross the threshold slowly, and round the corner to see him, sitting upright in bed, a bandage wrapped around his forehead and right eye. When he notices you, a smile lights up on his face, and you almost sprint towards him, leaping onto his bed and burying your face in his chest.

"Hi baby," he says, the smile still on his face.

"Hi," you whimper, "I missed you." He chuckles,

"I missed you too." Crawling completely onto his bed, you straddle him, finally pulling away from his chest, only to cup his face and kiss him. He kisses you back, gently at first, but then passionately, only breaking apart a minute later for air.

"Don't ever leave me like that again; promise?" He smiles, kissing you gently again and smiling contentedly into the kiss.

"I promise."

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

A/N: ❤❤❤ Let me know if you have any requests! (No promises I will finish them but...)

Also... go give my ao3 acc some love >>> bee_died | Archive of Our Own

[massiveladycat]

PART 2 OF ROGUE DEMIGOD EXPLANATION: HOW THEY LIVE The rogues live in various abandoned subway stations, old storefronts, and abandoned office buildings in Manhattan, often making their homes in disused rooms and closets that have been repurposed as living spaces, bedrooms, and storage areas. However, most of the camp is extended across large plains full of tents and booths, et cetera. This camp is called Camp Midtown.

These locations have been carefully selected for their ease of access to the city's many rooftops and back alleys, which allow the rogues to quickly escape pursuit from mortals and monsters alike.

The camp itself is hidden by a powerful mist that disguises it from the eyes of mortals and monsters, making it appear to be nothing more than a run-down section of the city. ANOTHER CAMP: This camp is hidden in a secluded clearing on the eastern outskirts of Manhattan, just beyond the city's limits. It consists of two separate camps, each with its own designated purpose.

The first, known as Camp Frontier, is a large tent city that serves as the main hub for the rogues. It's divided into several sections, each with its own distinct function. The first section serves as a central square, where the rogues gather for campfire songs, festivals, and other social events.

Another section serves as a training ground, where the rogues can hone their combat skills and engage in friendly sparring matches. It's also where the camp's archery range and weapons storage are located.

Yet another section serves as the camp's medical tent, where the rogues' medical staff can treat their fellow campers' injuries and ailments. A fourth section houses the camp's kitchen and dining area, where the rogues take their meals and prepare provisions for their travels.

While Camp Frontier serves as the rogues' main base of operations, it's not the only camp they utilize. The second camp, known as Camp Escape, is located several miles away and serves as a backup location in case of emergencies. It consists of several dozen tents and provides shelter for those who need to evacuate Camp Frontier in the event of an imminent threat, such as a monster attack or raid. Youngster Camp Another camp is located near the East River, in a small cove that is concealed by dense trees and shrubs. The tents are located in an open area, giving the residents plenty of space to move around and socialize. The camp is surrounded by a protective wall made from trees and branches enchanted with magic to keep monsters and other dangers from getting too close.

The camp is divided into several tents, each one serving a specific purpose. There are tents for sleeping, for training, for dining, and for socializing. The dining tent is where meals are prepared and served, and it's also where the campers come together to share stories and celebrate. The training tent is where the campers go to learn new skills or refine the ones they already have. There are also several smaller tents scattered throughout the camp, serving as  libraries, offices for the leaders, and other purposes as needed. This camp is normally for children and adults. Once the youngsters grow up, they can move to Camp Frontier with their chosen caretaker. This camp includes a central fire pit for cooking, campfires, and social gatherings, as well as a small archery range and various training equipment. The rogues have created their own system of trails and pathways throughout the park, making it easy for them to move around without being noticed by mortals or monsters. Also, it contains tunnels underground, created by devoted demigods, which lead to all of the other camps; Camp Frontier, Camp Escape, and Camp Midtown. THE BARRIER The barrier around the rogue demigod's camp is created via a powerful mixture of magical spells and charms that create a powerful shield capable of warding off both monsters and mortals. The barrier is maintained by a team of demigod mages, who constantly monitor and reinforce the barrier's strength.

The exact number of magic-demigods used to establish the barrier is unknown, but it is believed that two dozen important demigods were involved. As for the types of demigods involved, children of Odin and Hecate are among the most common, as they are known for their expertise in magic.

The barrier can collapse under extreme circumstances, such as during a blood moon or an attack. The mages constantly work to maintain and strengthen the barrier, but they cannot guarantee its complete protection during such events. The barrier's mechanism is rather complex and requires a deep understanding of magical theory. Essentially, the barrier functions by creating a field of magical energy that repels both monsters and mortals, while allowing the rogues to pass freely. Every rogue demigod member have something enchanted burned into their skin so the barrier allows them through. If they're kicked out of the rogue demigods, they can never return, and the mark on their arm will slowly fade away.

[the-janitor-esc]

[ The Medbay Expansion and Maze Project

Medical Staff Offices - second floor

Accessible via an elevator and stairs from the Entrance Floor; the elevator also goes to the "Haunted Attic" and "Fun Basement", but is hidden behind a hidden staff door in each

Between some of the offices is only wall; if you tap on those spaces, they echo hollowly

The hallway between the offices is checker patterned with squares large enough to drop a body through; the medical staff have been told step gently on or just avoid the "white" tiles, lest they be dropped into the fennel.

Wall of monitors with camera feeds for "Haunted Attic" and "Fun Basement" to monitor for escapees

The Entrance Floor (Entrance to the Medbay) - main floor

Split by a bullet-proof, blunt-force resistant glass wall, so you and your visitor can put your hands against the glass dramatically

Waiting area (includes junk mail and magazines, small TV, water cooler)

Quick visit rooms (for minor injuries) and ICU in-patient (with surgery studio)

Medical supplies lock-up (guarded by a cyberspider)

A hallway with several "airlocks" runs behind the overnight rooms (not visible from waiting room) to allow patients to be taken inside; The Janitor has made a deal with the Center about not letting patients out without medbay staff approval

Overnight Room 1 (Recovery) - For staff just recovering; stairs leading up, another set leading down; crash pad underneath an opening in the ceiling (which is sloped)

Overnight Room 2 (Quarantine) - No exit except the entrance door and vents (reinforced)

The "Fun Basement" - designed to mimic a carnival fun house; below the Entrance Floor

Hidden staff entrance/exit; staff short cuts via catwalks and one way doors

Bright and colorful with playful music (looping)

Fake lifts (not operational; voice-operated doors)

Wall maze (fake doors, trapped doors, locking doors that trap you in sections, winding and twisting on itself)

Door maze (various room layouts [upside, you're a giant, you're shrunk, etc] and surprises [pressure washer, blasts of air, etc] included; no mirrors because The Janitor didn't want to deal with Dr. Crow at the time)

Wipe-out obstacle course (optical illusion of falling into a pit via some paint, black crash pads and slightly lowering the floor)

Set of stairs leading down from the Overnight Room, set of stairs leading up to a slide that says "Exit" at the end of all the obstacles (which leads back to the Overnight Room)

The "Haunted Attic" - designed to mimic a haunted mansion; above Medical Staff Offices

Hidden staff entrance/exit; staff shortcuts via fake walls

Fake lifts (not operational; voice-operated doors)

Dark with unsettling whispering (it's an audio recording right?)

Some of the rooms get narrower and squeeze in on you as you walk through them

Wall of fake fire to walk through

Glints of eyes watching from crevices (fake right? right?)

Cardboard chibi anime ghosts on sticks pop out of the walls in some places; more spooky figurines lurch out of alcoves in others

Several spots in the floor are designed to drop out from under you and dump you onto slides that dump you into the Funnel, which dumps you back out in the Overnight Room

Set of stairs leading up from the Overnight Room, giant mouth you have to walk through, which sends you through a "meat-like" tube back into the Funnel, back into the Overnight Room

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((ooc: Also, big thanks to @kevytmaitohorsma for suggestions! <3))