#paint protection charlotte | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

comesatimecomesashadow · 2 months ago

Text

charlotte sometimes *ೃ༄

｡⋆˚࿔°‧ part ii . .

pairing *ೃ༄ il capitano / fem goth reader

fic type *ೃ༄ one-shot, angst, fluff, comfort, pining, slowburn.

cw *ೃ༄ yandere themes, mentions of stalking, reader has family drama but nothing too serious ( in this chapter ).

summary *ೃ༄ living as a recluse for the better part of your life, you'd grown used to the solitude of your daily life. however, when you catch the eye of the fiercest harbinger in teyvat ー the solitude you had grown accystomed to, dissipates.

note *ೃ༄ i know a few of you have been waiting for this capitano / goth wife reader to come out & im so sorry it took so long for me to finally post something but this got to be way too long so i decided to split it into multiple other parts. on to of that, i'm going to take a break from this fic because i wanna write for some other characters, hopefully this will keep y'all fed till later...

｡⋆˚࿔°‧ word count . . ! 7k+

masterlist *ೃ༄

In the dreary scenery of Snezhnaya, falling snow is a commonality. It falls, and falls.. And falls. Relentlessly, the particles allow themselves to be carried by the incessant howling winds — whispers of the never-ending winter. Amidst the bone-chilling iciness is where you reside.

Though you are protected by the four walls you call ‘home’, the cold attempts to penetrate through the curtain-covered windows and through every nook and cranny of your home. Inside of your quaint cottage in the outskirts, there are two stories standing tall and lacquered mahogany paints the stairs and floors of your quaint residence. Renaissance-esque paintings are hung up on the walls, giving life to the once-barren sides of the cottage. Those paintings, handpicked by yourself, tell silent stories of longing and yet at the same time, a fulfillment of oneself.

It is a melancholic feeling, you think.

Your home is decorated with trinkets; A candelabra at the corner near the front door, the porcelain angels that sit on your bookcase in the living room, pencils that litter your desk upstairs, plush pillows that sit atop your resting place — your home might not be lavish nor ostentatious, but it is yours. It is a thing you protect, a thing you keep hidden underneath the layers of the flesh of your heart.

The first time you learned the difference between a house and a home, you were young. A fledgeling, barely.

You try to not let your mind drift to that place often.

It is not a good thing to reminisce about.

Here, in your warm kitchen surrounded by the aroma of sweet baking, is better. The ringing of the timer pulled you away from your thoughts of tomorrow. For tomorrow, you were to visit a grave. It had been a few months since she had passed, but you still visited her at least once a month. She was like a sister to you, despite her endless teasing and her (sometimes) infuriating way of wording things, she was still your dearest friend.

She always liked your cookies, you remember.

‘You know,’ she would begin, ‘i’ve never been a fan of cookies, but these are amazing.’ The smile on her face as she ate cookie after cookie, sitting at your table as if she were just an ordinary person. Though, you guess, at that time she was exactly that to you. It was not that her title meant nothing to you, but when you grew more comfortable with her — going as far as to let her into your home regularly — she was ordinary.

Perhaps that is why her death hurt all too much.

‘She met her fate in Inazuma..’ The words that the Tsaritsa herself spoke to you on that day were etched onto your mind. ‘The others,’ she said, referring to the other ten of her elites. ‘-Will be at her funeral. I will inform them of your presence beforehand, should you attend.’ You did not attend that day, but the day after. When it was just you and her in solitude — like when she would come over to your quaint cottage and eat cookies on the kitchen table, ranting to you of her work troubles.. That day, it was hard to be the rock you had trained yourself to be.

The cookies were left to cool on the kitchen counter for a while. A faint meowing could be heard, followed by the sound of tiny paw-steps on the ground. You turned to see Mittens. Mittens too, was yours. He was a feline with black paws and the rest of his fur was white, except for the black skin of his nose. Mittens had been your companion long before you had made a home in this cottage.

The first time you met him, you were chasing him to get back the piece of bread he had taken. He was skinny and frail, the fur on his back was ratty and there were patches without fur.

How cold he must have been..

Despite the solitude you had grown accustomed to, it was nice to have a companion. Since taking him in, Mittens’ fur had grown to be fluffy and clean, no more tangled patches and bare spots with raised bite marks. He was an agile feline who curiously lingered around you at all times.

Like now.

Mittens nudged your hand as you reach out to scritch at his head, a slight smile on your lips. The candlelight that lit your kitchen made it smell of lavender and created a warm ambiance. In here, there was rarely any cold that seeped in through the windows, or maybe that was just you since you naturally ran hot. Sometimes, you even went outside to stand on your porch and relish the biting ice-cold temperatures.

But only sometimes.

That time was not now. Or rather, you wished it not to be. The feeling of someone watching you, however, sent a cold shiver up your spine. Like spiders running along your arms and crawling up your shoulders, the stare was felt. You looked around, your eyes surveying for any peering eyes — yet none could be found in this dark night. Mittens meowed as you took your hand away and moved to close the navy curtains, if there was someone watching you, they certainly couldn’t now.

It was uncomfortable, that feeling of knowing eyes are on you. For the past few days, you began to feel that feeling often. It lingered when you turned a corner in the inner city. It lingered when you shopped for necessities. It even lingered on those cold nights you stole for yourself; When it was just you and the cold of Snezhnaya. Those nights had been yours, yet now it felt as if something, or someone, had intruded your spaces of solitude.

For a moment, you corrected yourself.

For it was not the fact that you felt the eyes on you, that made you uncomfortable. No. It was being seen that you despised. Like a shadow, you wanted to go unnoticed, unfelt, unacknowledged.

It was safer, being invisible.

Nowadays, though, you feel naked. As if something has violated your careful isolation. This feeling, this crawling feeling, was invading. It would have done some good for it to have been a visible stalker of some sort because at least then you would have been able to confront them and make it go away. You would have been able to put a stop to it and reclaim your solitude.

But alas, you could not fight something you could not see.

The cookies were sealed in a transparent bag with a thin, red ribbon around the top and then tucked neatly into a black box. The black box had crimson accents upon its sides. You chose it for her.

Her grave, you correct yourself.

Anyway, you left the box on the kitchen table, beside the three differently sized candles that sat in the middle of your table. With that last task completed, your feet carried you up the stairs and to your comfortable, warm bed. Mittens trailed behind you, running towards the bed once he realized it was time to sleep. He jumped towards the bed gracefully and kneaded at the foot of the bed before making himself comfortable.

With a kiss to Mittens’ forehead, you allowed yourself to slumber.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“Do you happen to have these?” The young girl held up a picture of a specific set of paints. From the look of them, they were imported. Esthene inspected the picture in her hands a little more before handing it back to the customer. “I’m not quite sure, but I’ll check in the back for you.” with a courteous smile, she excused herself from her presence and headed towards the storage room.

This shop, despite being an art supply store, was not as colorful as its purpose suggested. The walls were painted in a dark auburn, the floors were of lacquered mahogany wood. There weren’t many decorations apart from the spectacular artworks on the wall and the beige curtains that were pulled apart and tied at the ends of the two windows at the storefront. The absence of clutter gave way to a sense of coziness.

You appreciated it, atmospheres like this were ideal to you.

In your hands was a clipboard. Your eyes scanned over all the supply boxes, or rather, their labels. Your position as manager of the shop often required you to take a look at the inventory and make orders according to what was needed. A newly hired employee, Esthene, came up to you to ask about the paints.

“Those, I believe, should be in the far right corner of the shop near the paint aisle. But if there isn’t any, I’ll unpack the new ones.” you told her. Esthene smiled and thanked you before returning to her post. She was new to the shop but a bright person nonetheless. Her hair was a dusty blonde color with fair skin which had freckles peppered onto it. Despite her inexperience at the beginning, she proved to be a good asset to your team. She worked fast and was quick to find solutions.

An accomplished feeling settled in your chest as you turned your attention back to the labeled boxes. It was a small help, but a help nonetheless. Despite your dark outward appearance, you quite liked helping others. It often gives you a sense of fulfillment. It was something your employees greatly appreciated about you.

You always gave more than you took.

You were generous like that.

“Are these the ones you’re looking for?” Esthene accompanied the young customer to the aisle you’d directed her to.

“Yes! Thank you!” the young girl nodded and picked out the medium-sized jar of paints she wanted. Afterwards, Esthene rang her up and the girl placed a bag of mora on the counter as payment. “Keep the change!” she said after Esthene handed her the items in a paper bag. You thought for a moment how bright she seemed, with her ‘thank you’s’ and smiles. You hoped she would keep being that way for as long as time allowed.

It was a sad thing to have that joy ripped away.

You headed towards the counter after checking the time on the clock; Closing time. As you emerged from the storage room, Esthene had flipped the sign to the ‘closed’ side of it, signifying that the shop was no longer taking customers. The shop wasn’t one of those big outlets with tons and tons of shelves. You liked that about it because it meant there would be more peace and quiet within the shop, even on work days like today.

“Closing time, everyone. Let’s get this done quick, alright?” All four of your employees nodded and got straight to work. You helped fix up the storage cabinets as well as put items that had been misplaced back in their designated area. After the sweeping, the mopping and the wiping was done, you handed everyone their paychecks and bid them farewell. You were the last to leave.

After locking up for the night, you began on your way to your dear friend’s grave. The cold air made it so you could see the breath that escaped your lips whenever you exhaled. In your left hand, was the box of cookies you had prepared for the occasion. In your opposite hand was your purse, which carried a book among other things. Your intention was to read it at her grave under the light of the mausoleum she now slept in, she often loved hearing you read to her.

‘It’s entertaining when you do it. If I were to do it, it’d sound monotonous.’ she told you once when you had asked her why she preferred your reading over her own. You smiled at the thought. Her grave was just a few blocks away. Your friend had been buried in a secluded sanctuary, one dedicated specifically for her. The Tsaritsa, in her kindness, allowed you to keep visiting her.

Though you chose to not worship the archons like most, you were grateful to her for her generosity.

It would have been devastating had you not been allowed to see her after the funeral.

Even if you weren’t seeing her face to face.

You got off of the wagon and bid farewell to the kind passerby that had driven you here. The cold bit at the exposed skin of your face, but you cared not. You approached the building and it was then that you began to feel the all-too familiar feeling of being watched. You looked around, scanning the area for the culprit, but as always, you found nothing. You grumbled and shook your head dismissively. Without any more hesitance, you walked into her grand resting place.

There, as you walked in, lay her gravestone. A pyro crystalfly was frozen in place where her head should be. You shook off the feeling of annoyance from being watched and found the peace within yourself to smile down upon seeing her resting place. Your fingers caressed the top of the marble coffin, it was cold. Though, you couldn’t feel it due to your gloves.

“I’m here, again..” You spoke, as if she could hear you. “I wonder if you tire of me, Rosalyne.” A chuckle escaped your throat while you leaned against the marble structure that carried her coffin atop it. The cookie box was placed beside you and you searched for the book in your bag. The only light that seeped in was the moonlight, which you could barely see in. So you lit a few candles for better lighting.

It was moments like these that you were grateful for the pyro vision you possessed. The time was spent with you reading classic gothic literature to Rosalyne and enjoying the cookies you had prepared while you sat there beside her grave. Of course, you knew she could not hear you, but it was nice to believe that she could.. Somewhere out there.

After about an hour, you had read a total of four chapters from the book. You decided to stop there and gather your things, it was getting quite late and you still had to walk from here to your cozy home. Mittens was probably missing you and waiting at the door for you to arrive, knowing him.

You stuffed the box into your satchel along with the book and told her goodbye. With that, you took your leave and were exposed to Snezhnaya’s cold winds again. It would be difficult to flag down another wagon.. You let out a small sigh and began your walk back to your cottage, at least the pyro vision you kept would help you keep warm.

The feeling of being watched was gone. But you kept thinking about it. It was a feeling you just couldn’t shake no matter how much you tried to do so. Your brows furrowed in thought as you walked underneath the snow and streetlights. It was only when you bumped into a man’s shoulder that you snapped out of it. “..!” your eyes widened and you immediately apologized to the man while crouching down to collect your satchel which had fallen upon impact.

But the man was faster.

“I apologize.” he said as he collected your satchel before you could reach it. He handed it back to you but your mind had gone blank after setting your eyes on the man.. Who had a black void for a face. He was draped in a fur coat of immaculate creation — you noticed — and accents of gold and silver which only served to accentuate his regality even more.

There was only one figure in Snezhnaya who was famous for his face — or his lack of one.

“..Ah. You’re..There is no need for you to apologize, the fault lies with me.” you bowed your head a little, it made you anxious that his vision was directed at you.

You hated being seen.

The familiar uncomfortable feeling of being watched returned. But this time, you knew who exactly it was that was looking at you. “Are you alright?”

On instinct, you replied, “Yes, I’m alright. I was only lost in thought, forgive me.” The chains of his helmet clinked when he nodded. It was hard not to act so formal when The First was standing in front of you, focused on you.

“May I ask what you are doing out so late?” His voice was clear, in this wind it was always a little hard to hear. But him? His voice was as clear as still water. You found no reason to deny him an answer so you nodded.

“I’m currently on my way home, Lord Harbinger.” The words felt foreign on your tongue, but there was no telling what he might do if you were to disregard his status. You had heard the rumors and frankly, you did not believe them. But it was hard to not feel intimidated when he towered over you like this.

“I see.” He didn’t say anything else after that which left the two of you in an awkward silence. This is why you preferred to stay to yourself. Small talk was a nightmare.

You bowed slightly, awkwardly. “If there is nothing else.. I will continue on my way home. Is that alright?” Your vision shifted from your feet to the black void that covered his face.

The Captain stayed silent for a moment, it seemed that he had something else to say but decided against speaking. With his silent nod, you quickly made yourself scarce from his presence. Your walk was brisk and quick in the hopes that he would let you leave without a word. Authority in Snezhnaya wasn’t ‘harsh’ but you’d rather not get involved with any governmental affairs, especially not with the Tsaritsa’s elite.

You sang a solemn lullaby to yourself while you walked home. It was stupid, but it made you feel less alone during the journey home. The feeling of being watched subtly returned whenever you turned a corner but no matter how much you looked back to check if there was anyone there, you could see nothing.

Thankfully though, you made it home that night safely.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

About a few months have passed since that night and your life went as usual. You clocked into work, clocked out of work, visited Rosalyne once a month with cookies in tow and led your quiet life with your quiet feline at your side. Everything was supposed to be normal.

Key word: ‘supposed to’.

Yet as of late, there have been more than a few instances that weren't normal. Ones that could not be counted as simple ‘coincidences’. For instance, following that small interaction with The First; He has begun to appear in places you usually did not expect him to. One of these encounters happened at a craft shop you often frequented. The shop was run by a nice old woman and her two grandchildren; It was a quaint business in which you often went to pick up supplies to mend clothing or to merely admire the unique fabrics.

One wintry afternoon, when the streets were bustling and the sun was shining, you walked into the shop only to learn from Mrs. Yachka, the nice old woman, that the esteemed Captain of the Fatui Harbingers was in her very shop. With your curiosity piqued, you subtly made your way to the back of the shop to where he was stationed. When your eyes landed upon him, he cradled a sample of silk fabric in his claws. His claws, that no doubt had taken lives during battle, were now being used to inspect a delicate piece of silk..

‘How strange.’ you would think to yourself, a placid smile forming upon your lips absentmindedly. You subtly walked to his side, pretending to look at the fabrics. Your eyes were glued to them but all you really wanted to do was gauge his expression.. from his body language of course. You deemed The First to be a reserved man and so, you thought to engage in conversation first, but he beat you to it.

With a sharp yet calm tone, The First uttered a statement to you. He let down the fabric, allowing his hand to disappear into his thick and white, winter fur coat. “It’s you.” he continued, “The woman who was visiting Rosalyne.”

Upon hearing his words, you drew a blank before the memory of your first encounter with him flashed in your mind. “Oh. Yes, that- That would happen to be me.” You felt oddly sheepish, realizing that this was how The First, The most honorable soldier in all of Snezhnaya, remembered you. “My name is ______. I understand that this is our first formal meeting, Lord Harbinger.” The title slipped from your tongue easily, yet now it was without the tone one uses to speak to a figure of authority — it felt strange to hear those words sound so .. non-fearful.

“_______.” He muttered, as if to test out how your name felt on his lips. “You may call me Capitano. I believe you were in a hurry during our last encounter.” The black void of his face peered down at you, though you felt it less imposing than the previous time it had been directed at you. Maybe it was accredited to the way the sunlight peeking through the shop’s windows made him seem ethereal-like.

You kept a small smile, “Yes, I was in a hurry to get home that night. It was late.. ” After a moment of silence, you remembered what it was that you were even speaking to him for. “Do you come here often?”

The chains on his mask clinked as he shook his head slowly. “No. I heard in passing that the fabrics here, at this establishment, were one-of-kind. There is a banquet to be held soon and the Tsaritsa has requested my attendance.” Your eyes drifted to the rolls of fabric on display.

“Are you looking for something specific or only browsing? I know this shop quite well and it would be an honor to aid you — if you’d like, that is.” You weren’t sure if it was because of his status or the oddly warm environment around the two of you, but something made it easier for you to extend your kindness to him when you barely even knew the man.

Not that it was a bad thing to be kind to strangers.

It was just peculiar how willing you were being when you usually preferred to keep interactions with others short or to have none at all.

“Which would you recommend?” His sight was once again on the display racks, away from you. This action made you feel at ease due to your inclination to not maintain eye-contact, even if you couldn’t exactly see his eyes. Mrs. Yachka watched the two of you mull over the decision. She felt less intimidated now that you were keeping him company. Of course, it wasn’t as if she was scared of the Harbinger. It only caught her off guard since it was unusual to see a decorated soldier like him at her quaint shop.

A few minutes had passed by now and you bit your lip while thinking. “-I also believe there was this navy shade of velvet that I found quite pleasing during my last visit. It should be around here..” You stepped around the aisle and made your way to the other side, the tall harbinger following after you. When your eyes landed on it, you reached out to hold it. “I believe this would do nicely and the shade suits you well, too.” Your eyes drifted up to he who was now reaching out to hold the cloth in your hand.

After The First inspected the material, the clinking of chains was heard while he nodded in approval. “Very well, I will trust your judgement as you seem to be well-versed in this area.”

A quiet laugh escaped your lips while you pressed your fingers to your lips softly, “I’m not an expert, that would be Mrs. Yachka at the front. I am merely speaking from experience.” You could not see it at that moment, but The Harbinger’s expression had softened. Your humility was something refreshing to him.

Afterwords, when the Harbinger was done speaking to you, he went to Mrs. Yachka to request a shipment of the navy velvet fabric. You weren’t privy to the details of the conversation due to the fact that you had been shopping when he placed his order, but when you were done with your little errand, Mrs. Yachka informed you that the Harbinger had paid a handsome amount for the fabric despite the price being significantly less than his payment.

You were in awe at the amount, but then realized that for a man of his status, the purchase must have been no big deal. You wondered for a moment what it would be like to have that kind of money but quickly moved on from it. After a lively chat with Mrs. Yachka, you returned to your home with the sewing supplies you’d been looking for.

Following that happenstance, The Captain appeared to you once more about three weeks after your formal encounter. This time, it took place behind your cottage. Well, not exactly behind it. See, your cottage was stationed in the outskirts of the city. This meant that while you did have your peace and quiet, you were also subject to witnessing the training of the Fatui just a ways away from your backyard.

The land was barren, as always, and vast enough for soldiers to train. It was no surprise to you that the Fatui’s armies would train there and it was certainly not a disturbance since they were far away enough to not cause you any trouble. However, you did not expect it to be Capitano who was leading the platoons behind your cottage. It wasn’t a strange thing to see the soldiers training, but in your years of living in that cottage, it was the first time you had ever seen The First leading them. Usually it was a highly-ranked Fatui Member that took care of the Fatui training.

Though, seeing as he was rumored to be the most skilled fighter in all of Snezhnaya, it wasn’t all that strange. Maybe it just felt that way due to the fact that you were acquainted with him more than you should have been.

The snow was falling outside, softly landing on the ground like a bird’s fallen feathers. It was as cold as always, but the fire at the hearth warmed the four walls of your home. Mittens nudged your leg as you were sat on the couch in front of the hearth, mending an old maroon skirt of yours. The feline jumped at the sound of abrupt knocking at the front of your door. Your brows knitted in slight annoyance, wondering who decided to interrupt your precious tranquility. At around the third series of hard knocking a sigh left your lips as you got up to check who it was. To your utter dismay, it was one of the people you least expected (or wanted) to pay you a visit.

In the seven years that you had called this cottage ‘home’, she never once had come. Nor did you want her to, for she was the woman who made your childhood an inferno. Without a second thought, your hand flew to the handle to shut the wooden door closed. But alas, she was quicker. With her foot wedging in between the door, she maintained an opening — access to you.

“What is it that you need?” you tried to speak normally, but the underlying anger was prominent in your tone.

“Need?” Your older half-sister, croaked. “Couldn’t you at least invite me in for a cup of tea? It’s the least you could do after what-”

“I have no desire to speak of past events.” You made sure she felt the authority in your voice. The wounds from your past had long-since been healed and you had no intention to allow her to pick at the scars.

You would not allow her to desecrate your home.

“We don’t have to talk about that, but I have to see you.” she said, her moss-colored eyes boring into your own.

“You’ve seen me,” you said, “Now go, Yessenia.” You observed her sharply, gauging her next move. She seemed as impatient as ever and the way she was carrying herself, you could tell she was the same woman from before. Not even time could change her. You looked upon her clothing through the small opening and just by examining it for a few minutes you could tell that the wealth she once boasted of was gone.

Unfortunately, she had no intention to leave. Yessenia sighed and pleaded with you and despite your heartstrings being tugged at, you refused to open the door an inch more. “Please, you’ve no idea how horrible everyone back home is doing — The situation is dire..” Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes. “Our mora stretched thin and without your help, i’m afraid we might be thrown to the streets, like trash- please! Have you no compassion for your family??” The tone in her voice sounded desperate.

Your mind screamed at you to refuse her entry.. but your heart, soft as ever, crumbled upon seeing her so distraught. You could clothe yourself in all the shades of black there were, but your heart could never be so noir as to turn someone in need away. What did it matter that she was unforgiving at one point? Maybe she has changed, maybe. With a heavy sigh, you opened your door to her and allowed her into the four warm walls you called home.

“Thank you,” she wiped her eyes and held your hand close to her chest. She was dressed in commoner clothing. Gone were the frilly dresses made of silk and the heavy faux furs she once donned. “You’ve been doing well, I can see.” She looked around your cozy, clean home. Without a reply, you guided her to the couch where you once had been.

“What tea do you like?” Mittens entered the kitchen adjacent to the living room alongside you, his purring long gone.

“Do you have peppermint?”

“Yes,” your replies were curt. Of course, you agreed to hear her out but you were still on guard. Her actions would tell if she had truly separated from her old self. After a short time, the kettle whistled and you meticulously prepared two white mugs of peppermint tea. Again came that feeling of being watched — it had lessened as of late, but it wasn’t completely gone.

You chalked it up to the adrenaline you were experiencing due to Yessenia’s unexpected arrival.

“I can see you still enjoy the darker things in life,” Yessenia commented, a slight giggle at the end of her utterance.

“I do.” The mug was handed to her; you took your place on the couch afterwards. The feeling of warmth and coziness should have settled in by now but the anxiety from just being around her did not leave you.

Yessenia accepted the mug and was now drinking from it. She was pleased with the drink, her relaxed expression said as much. “How long have you lived here?” She looked towards the paintings, to the fireplace and the little porcelain angels that sat atop the structure.

“In the same month I left that house; About seven years now, I believe.” Mittens jumped onto your lap and made himself at home there, much to Yessenia’s surprise.

“That cat.. It’s the same one from the alleyway? From when we were kids?” her emerald eyes widened slightly at the prospect. Clearly, she hadn’t expected you to take in a stray cat.

“His name is Mittens.” you clarified. “But there are more pressing matters than my home and my companion. You had something you wanted to speak to me about, did you not?”

Yessenia seemed a little dejected at the change of subject, but she continued nonetheless. “Yes, I wanted to speak to you.. About mom.”

“Your mother? Please elaborate.” At the mention of that woman, you became stone-faced. You had hoped that after leaving, you would be leaving that family behind too. But to your utter dismay, that was not how it turned out to be. The painful words that woman directed towards you either under her breath or to your face had left you with scars that took years to heal. If you could, you’d shut your ears and disappear from their memories.

But you had a heart.

Yessenia gazed down at the liquid in the cup, her expression downcast with her lips in a frown. “She isn’t doing so well, the business is failing and her health is not what it used to be. Brother and I have tried everything to help with the finances but nothing works, the sales keep plummeting..”

A dull clink was heard the moment your cup was set down. With crossed arms and furrowed eyebrows, you let out a sigh. “..I assume you want my father’s money. Is that what you’re asking?”

Her green eyes shimmered at the mention of your fathers savings. Before he had met his end, your father left everything to you in his will. The love you had for your father was like nothing else and you hated to see him so enamored with a wicked woman who only degraded you in your childhood, sans his presence of course. However, it seemed that he realized his mistakes and the impact they had on you, which you believe led to him only naming you in his will. Not his second wife or your two half-siblings — you.

It was unknown how he died, but there was a fire and you assumed that that was the cause. After his funeral took place, a lawyer traveled to your home to inform your step mother and half siblings that his life’s savings were to be transferred to you upon your eighteenth birthday. You hadn’t used them all up, you were wise with it. With that money, you’d get yourself a nice cottage in the outskirts and afford to have your beloved feline taken care of. After those two things had been settled, you pretty much put the rest of the money into a savings account.

After all, your father had been a rather successful doctor.

“Well, you see..” Yessenia began. She went on and on about her mother’s condition; Mentioning here and there that they had gotten themselves into debt that they could not afford to pay. “I hope you know that this is not how I would have liked us to reunite,” Yessenia held your hands in her own. “Sister, please. Her condition is dire.”

Following that moment, you sighed and slipped your hands away from her. “Allow me to see her and assess her condition; I’ll make my decision afterwards.”

Yessenia’s brows furrowed and for a moment you could see those same ire-ridden eyes from your childhood — though they were gone as soon as they appeared. “Do you believe me to be a liar? Is that why you’re asking?” Her words were sharp and reminded you of when the two of you were children. When she would tease you and blame you for any mishap.

“No,” you matched her sharp gaze. “However, I have no reason to believe this is even true. I have not seen your family in almost seven years now, how do you expect me to trust you?”

Yessenia sighed and placed her cup down on the table. “Very well. I shall take you to see her in a week’s time. Is this arrangement fine with you, sister?”

A curt nod signalled the end of the conversation between the two of you. She was gone in a matter of minutes; as soon as you watched her figure get smaller and smaller until she disappeared into the fogginess, you closed the door.

Or well, that is what you would have wanted to do.

Before you could retreat back into your warm sanctuary, you felt the presence of someone else near you. Again, the feeling of being watched surged up inside you. You were sick of this paranoia; So much so, that you were just about to close the door and call it a night. The wind and fog obscured your vision so there was nothing you could do, it wasn’t like you were going to spend the whole night searching for a culprit that may not even exist.

That was, until you saw a tall figure in the distance. A small gleaming sheen of blue seemed to be staring at you, but you knew not what it was. With your brows furrowing in confusion you walked out to your porch leaving the door closed so your feline wouldn’t venture out and get sick. “Who’s there?” You spoke loud enough for them to hear, but the wind was howling and the snow around you was making a ruckus with the way it swirled and fled. Before long, you were surrounded by the blizzard, unable to see the figure. Only your house was in a distant view. “This was stupid,” you muttered to yourself while you bunched up the fabric of your skirt to walk through the thick snow. Maybe it was because your vision wasn’t the best while in the snow-storm, but you bumped into something — someone. Slowly, your vision was brought up to see none other than the familiar mask of The First.

“Ca..pitano?” The words were hard to get out with your teeth chattering every few seconds. Maybe you should’ve taken a thick coat before venturing out to find that figure with gleaming blue lights… But then you would have likely lost them in the storm. At least now you could confirm what your stalker looked like.

“______?” The confusion was evident in his tone. With not a moment to be spared, Capitano slipped off his thick coat and wrapped it around you. ‘And they say chivalry is dead..’ you thought to yourself as you adjusted to the leftover warmth within the coat. “You’re far from home. Why?” The Captain questioned you while he escorted you back home. You wondered if he could see better than you, given these conditions.

More importantly, you wondered how exactly he knew where you resided.

“You know where I live?” you directed your vision back to him, curious as to what his answer would be.

There was the sound of chains clinking as he nodded. “I personally scouted the area before the training commenced, it would have been unwise to do so.” Your vision shifted from you to your home which was now becoming clearer and clearer to see. His answer wasn’t anything peculiar so your suspicions of him possibly being your stalker were slim to none. “However, you’ve yet to answer my question. Why did you decide to walk in this blizzard? I’m sure you know how detrimental that could have been to your health.”

“I’m not fragile, I can take care of myself.” You slurred your words a little because of the cold that bit at you. “But if you must know, I..” Should you tell him about the stalker? He was one of the harbingers.. Maybe he could actually help you with the situation? You hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I went out on a walk to clear my head.”

“In this weather?” the harbinger questioned, his voice sharp yet seemingly concerned. Soon enough, the both of you reached your cottage. It didn’t take long since you had not walked too far, thankfully. Still, the cold was troubling you. Your pyro abilities made your body less susceptible to the cold, but Snezhnaya’s winter was nothing like a normal cold.

You nodded and turned to face him once the two of you arrived at the steps of your cottage. “Yes, It wasn’t this bad when I first stepped out. I’m deeply sorry to have troubled you; I know a man such as yourself has more pressing things to take care of.” The Captain’s vision lingered on your figure. The way you shut down his line of questioning clearly indicated that you were concealing something from him. However, he also understood that the two of you were not so close for him to demand answers of that sort from you.

So with a subtle sigh, the Captain allowed you to take off the coat he allowed you to wear. You offered it back to him; Looking at him now, he had a lean build, it contrasted what you had initially thought of him. Without his coat he seemed less imposing — but the mystery surrounding him remained. He seemed much taller, if that was possible, now that you were face to.. Chest, with him.

The Captain’s claws subtly brushed over your fleshly hands as he accepted his coat back. He grunted while adjusting it around himself, it seemed there was something he wanted to say. Without a moment’s hesitation, the Harbinger cleared his throat. “If there is anything at all that ails you, do not hesitate to notify me.”

You blink once.

Then twice.

The words failed to come out of your mouth; Who would have thought that a simple sentence like that could leave you speechless? Now, you were not one to have your head in the clouds about every single man who showed you kindness. Nonetheless, when a man like the Captain — who is revered, not only in Snezhnaya, but all throughout Teyvat and who is the pinnacle of regality and unrivaled strength — His kindness would leave a simple woman like yourself, in awe.

“I.. -Yeah, yes. I’ll make sure to do so, Capitano.” you stammered. After giving you a nod of acknowledgement, he was off to the training grounds. Slowly, you crept into the safety of your home. Your eyes wide with confusion and a newfound excitement? With his kindness shown to you in these past few occasions came a plethora of questions.

If his encounters with you were not coincidences- Did it mean that Capitano had intentionally gone out of his way to seek you out?

You chuckle. “No, that would be stupid..”

#capitano #capitano x reader #capitano x goth wife #capitano x wife reader #capitano genshin #capitano angst #capitano x you #jume fics #yandere capitano #genshin capitano

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empressdede · 3 months ago

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The Secretary - 9

Chapter Nine

Serena had never in her life wanted to strangle three people at once, but Naomi, Jey, and Jimmy were testing her patience.

She was already trying to navigate the fact that she had stopped running from Roman, that she had let herself feel this thing between them—now she had to deal with his messy family rubbing it in her face?

It was too much.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are we done here?”

Jey smirked. “I mean… we could leave, but this is too much fun.”

Serena exhaled sharply, looking up at Roman. “Can you control your family, sir?”

Roman was grinning, clearly enjoying the hell out of this. “Nah. They do what they want.”

Serena glared. “That’s helpful.”

Naomi smiled sweetly. “You know, I could get them to leave, but…” She trailed off, tapping her chin. “I feel like we deserve one more moment to celebrate the fact that you’re finally letting yourself be happy.”

Serena groaned dramatically, flopping against Roman’s chest while the Usos cheered.

Roman laughed, shaking his head. “Y’all done now?”

Jey held up his hands. “Aight, aight. We’ll let y’all breathe.” He pointed at Serena. “But for real? You good?”

Serena sighed, lifting her head.

And to her surprise… she was good.

For the first time, she wasn’t fighting this. She wasn’t pushing Roman away. She wasn’t convincing herself she was making a mistake.

She was letting herself have this.

She nodded. “Yeah. I think I am.”

Jey’s grin softened just a little. “Good. ‘Cause my Uce don’t play when it comes to you.”

Serena glanced at Roman, who was already looking at her like she was the only person in the room.

Her stomach flipped.

She cleared her throat, looking away. “Y’all can leave now.”

Naomi chuckled, grabbing Jey by the arm. “Come on, boys. Let’s let them be in love in peace.”

Serena gaped. “NAOMI!”

Naomi just winked. “Love you, boo!”

And then, finally, blessedly, they were gone.

Serena exhaled, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I hate all of you.”

Roman chuckled, sliding his arms around her waist. “You don’t.”

Serena sighed, finally looking up at him. “This is insane.”

Roman smirked. “Maybe. But it’s real.”

Serena studied him for a long moment.

This was real.

And for the first time…

She wasn’t scared of that.

She let out a slow breath, her hands resting against his chest. “So, what now?”

Roman tilted his head. “We figure it out. Together.”

Serena exhaled. “Together.”

Roman smiled, pressing a slow kiss to her forehead.

And just like that, she knew—she had never been more sure of anything in her life.

Two weeks later, Serena was finally settling into a rhythm—both in her actual job and whatever this thing with Roman had become.

She and Naomi were in the women’s locker room, chatting while Naomi laced up her boots for her match later that night.

“So,” Naomi smirked, leaning in, “y’all ‘taking it slow’ still?”

Serena rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”

Naomi laughed. “Girl, I been started. I told you—you’re stuck with me and my nosiness forever.”

Serena sighed dramatically. “I regret becoming friends with you.”

Naomi grinned. “No, you don’t.”

Serena chuckled, shaking her head. “Fine. But to answer your question—yes, we’re still taking it slow.”

Naomi gave her a look. “And how’s that going?”

Serena hesitated.

Because technically, yes, they were taking it slow. They weren’t flaunting anything, weren’t making anything official in front of the entire company.

But behind closed doors?

Roman was Roman.

Attentive. Protective. Intense in ways she definitely wasn’t ready to unpack yet.

Serena exhaled. “It’s… going.”

Naomi smirked knowingly. “Mmm-hmm.”

Before Serena could respond, the door to the locker room swung open, and in walked Charlotte Flair, a smirk already painted across her face.

“Well, well, well,” Charlotte drawled, arms crossed as she leaned against the lockers. “If it isn’t WWE’s new golden girl.”

Serena blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

Charlotte’s smirk deepened. “Oh, come on. You didn’t really think people wouldn’t notice, did you?”

Naomi immediately tensed beside Serena, her eyes narrowing. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Charlotte ignored Naomi, keeping her gaze locked on Serena. “I mean, it’s interesting how much pull you have around here, considering you’ve only been here a couple months.”

Serena folded her arms. “I got here the same way everyone else did—hard work.”

Charlotte chuckled. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.” She tilted her head. “But I do find it funny how much special treatment you seem to get.”

Serena’s jaw clenched. “I don’t get special treatment.”

Charlotte shrugged. “If you say so. But, you know, people talk.” She smiled innocently. “And they have noticed how close you and Roman have gotten.”

Naomi shot up from her seat. “Girl, you better choose your next words real carefully.”

Charlotte held up her hands in mock surrender. “Relax. I’m just saying—when you’re that close to the top guy, it’s only natural for people to wonder if that’s why you’re still here.”

Serena inhaled sharply, her fingers itching to throw something.

She had worked for this job. She had earned her spot.

But now, because of Roman, people were questioning whether she had actually earned anything at all?

She opened her mouth to snap back, but Naomi beat her to it.

“You know what’s funny?” Naomi said, tilting her head. “You’re always worried about someone else’s business instead of minding your own. Maybe if you focused more on yourself, you wouldn’t have time to be jealous.”

Charlotte’s smirk faltered for just a second.

Serena stepped forward. “Listen, Flair,” she said, her voice steady. “I don’t need to explain myself to you or anyone else. I’m here because I worked my ass off to be here. Roman had nothing to do with that.”

Charlotte’s smirk returned, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“If you say so,” she said smoothly, before turning to walk out.

Naomi scoffed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

When the door shut behind Charlotte, Serena exhaled, rubbing her temples. “I hate people.”

Naomi sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You good?”

Serena hesitated.

Because, honestly? She wasn’t.

She had worked too hard to have her credibility questioned because of who she was dating—even if they hadn’t even gone public yet.

And if Charlotte was saying it out loud… that meant others were already thinking it.

Serena exhaled sharply. “I need to talk to Roman.”

Just a lil something to post this cute Sunday🫢

VIP TAGLIST : @wrestlingprincess80 @whatdoeseverybodywant @pr0tost4r @paigereeder @alyyaanna @raya-hunter01 @mzv11 @trippinsorrows @partypoison00 @isabella-2025 @jstarr86 @chrisevanswife0405 @fearlesschimera @cyberdejos2 @whowrotethenote @potatosackk @ajaxcleaningsupplies @sayyestoheav3nn @chasssssworld @christinabae @glittergirl7 @itskii01 @fame-ass-ers @li-da-savage @ashykneee @kianaleani @holisticcoach @pittieprincess22 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @amandairene88 @luvrsluxe

#empressdede #empresswriting #wwe #black reader #roman reigns #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x black reader #wwe x black reader #the secretary

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coolemmasulivan2 · 10 months ago

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Rewinding Us | 3

Pairing: Mason Mount x Reader

Summary: You and Mason built a love story over five years, but after an accident, your memories are wiped away, including any feelings for your constant bickering "rival". Can you remember your love story with Mason, or will you have to start all over?

Word count: 3826

You can read more chapters here.

I slip and wonder who I'd be If I never found you and you never found me Well, I don't wanna see

The hospital waiting room was a clean expanse of white, the walls gleaming as if freshly painted. Mason sat on the edge of a blue chair, his leg bouncing nervously. A heavy silence pressed down on him, broken only by the soft voices of nurses and a few others just like him, waiting for their loved ones.

He was alone. The others were already on the plane, on their way home. Charlotte had promised to catch the next flight out as soon as she landed in London, but until then, he was alone and in fear.

His mind raced back to the villa. He ran after you, but you'd always been surprisingly fast, a burst of unexpected energy that often caught him off guard. He remembered the times when you would run away from him, with laughter echoing through the house, often triggered by a harmless joke or the sudden appearance of an unwelcome spider.

The car had appeared out of nowhere. It was as if the world had slowed down. He remembered the shock that froze him in place, the desperate shout that tore from his throat.

Now, alone in the white room, the weight of everything pressed down on him. He should have been faster. He should have protected you.

A voice cut through the room, bringing him back to the present. “Family of Miss Y/l/n?” The doctor, a man with tired eyes, stood in the doorway.

Mason jumped to his feet, his voice hoarse. “How is she? Is she okay?”

The doctor adjusted his glasses. “Miss Y/l/n has sustained multiple injuries, primarily to her leg and arm. She’s currently in surgery to stabilize her condition.”

Relief washed over Mason. “Will she be okay?” His voice trembled slightly.

The doctor nodded. “We’re optimistic about her recovery. The injuries are serious, but she’s young and strong.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Ahm-- Not long ago, she was involved in a car accident. A drunk driver hit her car and she lost her memory. Can this…?"

"We’ve conducted tests, and thankfully, this accident hasn’t caused any further brain damage.” Mason's heart pounded in his chest. A wave of gratitude washed over Mason. The doctor continued: “We’ll keep you updated on her condition. Someone will inform you as soon as she’s out of surgery.”

Mason nodded and managed a weak smile. “Thank you!”

It was a sunny afternoon, and the air was thick with the sweet scent of jasmine. You and Mason were attending a friend's wedding, and the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air.

You never used to care about catching the bridal bouquet, but your friends teased you and something sparked inside you. With a burst of unexpected agility, you managed to catch the delicate bouquet of flowers. Cheers erupted from the crowd, but your eyes locked onto Mason's, his expression a mix of amusement as his friends made fun of him.

"Well, well, well!" His friend Toby teased him. "Looks like someone's future is looking bright."

Mason grinned, taking a sip of his champagne. You walked through him, the bouquet clutched triumphantly in your hands, a smirk playing on your lips.

"I think I need a ring on my finger, Mount!" You teased, leaning in to kiss his lips.

A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. "About that…" he began, his voice trailing off as he reached into his pocket. Your heart pounded in anticipation. "I haven't picked out the perfect one yet." He pulled his hand and it was… empty. "But I promise, it's coming."

Relief washed over you, mixed with a touch of disappointment. You hit his chest playfully. "Don't tease me like that, you idiot!"

He laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist. "I couldn't resist." He said, his voice soft. "But seriously, I can't wait to make you my wife." He pecked. A blush crept up your cheeks. You'd talked about marriage before, but hearing him say it so openly, with such conviction, made your heart flutter. You leaned into his embrace, feeling safe and loved.

"Don't say that to our moms," you teased, burying your face in his neck to hide your blush. "They'll probably start organizing the wedding the next day."

He chuckled, tightening his arm around you. "Who do you think is helping me find the ring?" He murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You pulled back to look at him, a playful glare in your eyes. "Stop it. You're trying to embarrass me."

"I'm always trying to embarrass you," he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You playfully punched his arm, but couldn't hide the smile that spread across your face. "I can't wait to marry you."

Your eyes felt heavy, refusing to open against the bright light. Your body was a battlefield of pain, and every muscle hurt. A desperate need to call out, to reach for someone, filled you, but your throat was parched.

With a huge effort, you forced your eyelids open. The room was a blur of white, the silence broken only by the steady beep of a machine. Fear and cold ran through your consciousness. You wanted to sleep, to escape the pain and confusion, but a primal instinct to survive kept you tethered to the waking world.

Your eyelids grew heavy once more. With a resigned sigh, you surrendered to sleep, hoping to find peace in the silent depths of your unconsciousness.

"The guy wasn't being friendly with you. He wanted to get in your pants." Mason said, standing before you and Declan.

You were shaking, not from the cold but from anger. Declan sensed it and placed a comforting hand on your back.

"Mase, come on!" Declan said, giving him a warning look.

Mason ran a hand through his hair. "It's true. The guy had his hands practically inside her dress."

That was it. You stood up, your voice trembling. "And what does that matter to you? You're not my boyfriend, we're not even friends, so stop pretending and don't interfere in my life."

Declan gently pulled you away from his best friend. "We're just worried about you! The guy didn't look friendly and the bruise on your wrist confirms that."

You rolled your eyes. "I had everything under control until Mount decided to step in and ruin everything."

Mason let out a frustrated sigh. "I saved you!"

"I don't need you to save me." You retorted.

"Good!" Mason shouted, with his hands in the air. "I don't intend to do it again."

You slowly opened your eyes, and as your vision adjusted, you gazed through the window on your left, realizing it was dark outside. You could hear the soft murmur of voices from the hallway, however, what truly caught you off guard was the fact that you were no longer alone.

Mason was sound asleep in the cosy armchair beside your bed. His hand was propped against his head, holding it up, while his unkempt hair suggested that he had been running his hands through it too many times.

You took another sweeping glance around the room and spotted a plastic cup filled with water. Carefully, you reached out, stretching your arm to grasp it. As your fingers nearly touched the cup, it slipped and tumbled to the ground.

The noise woke Mason up from his nap, and his heart instantly started beating faster, afraid that something had happened. But when he saw that you were awake, he let out a sigh of relief. He stood up and approached your bed.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" You tried to speak, but your throat was too dry for the words to come out. Mason realised and picked up the cup from the floor, throwing it in the trash. "I'll get you another cup. I'll be right back."

He quickly exited the room, only to return a few minutes later with a cup of water in his hand and a doctor right behind him.

"Miss Y/l/n, good to see you awake." The doctor began, his voice laced with professional concern. "How are you feeling? Any pain?” With your throat dry, still no words seemed to want to escape.

Mason stepped in to help when he saw your silent plea. “Here!” He said softly, pressing the cup into your hands. With weak hands, you brought it to your lips and took small sips of the cool water.

After a brief but intense check-up by the doctor, you were left alone with Mason.

Being alone with Mason felt weird. A depth of unspoken words and unanswered questions hung heavy in the air. If only you hadn't run from him, from that kiss, you wouldn't be in the hospital. But it had all been too much.

Mason pulled the armchair closer and sat down. His hand found yours, and a gentle squeeze was all the comfort you needed. "The others landed in London, but Charlotte's already on her way back!" He said, his voice low. You nodded, taking another sip of water. His eyes held worry. "Are you really okay? Do you need anything?"

You shook your head. “I’m fine." You whispered. The moment your gazes met, the weight of his worry seemed to lift. Your eyes drifted to your intertwined hands, his long fingers tracing gentle patterns on your palm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes held yours. No more words were needed. “How could I?” He began. "You had no memory of us! Saw me as nothing more than the guy you despised." His gaze fell to the floor. “I thought maybe you’d be better off without me, without the chaos of my life. You never complained, but I could see the stress it had on you. Dealing with the media, the fans—it’s a heavy burden. I wanted to give you a chance at a normal life.”

You looked up at the ceiling, your voice rising slightly. “That was not your choice to make!”

"I know." He whispered, his voice barely audible. "I just wanted to protect you."

A heavy silence settled between you. You squeezed his hand back. "I appreciate it. Believe me, I do." You said softly. "But If I didn't like the life we had I would have told you."

Mason emerged from the kitchen, a saviour with a pizza box in one hand and a mischievous sparkle in his eye. "Pizza break?" He offered, his voice filled with amusement.

"What about your diet?"

Mason shrugged. "I will put in more effort during the next training session." You collapsed onto the sofa, relief washing over you. As you devoured your slice, the cheesy goodness melting in your mouth, Mason leaned in, brushing a stray piece of cheese from your lip with his thumb.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this!" He said, his voice soft.. You looked up at him, your heart full. The house, once empty, was slowly transforming into a home.

"Me neither." You replied, your voice filled with happiness. "It feels surreal."

Mason smiled. "Surreal in a good way, right?"

You nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely!" You took another bite of pizza, savouring the moment. As you finished the last slice, Mason stretched out beside you, his arm draped casually over your shoulder. "I can't wait to make more memories here." You said, your voice filled with joy.

Mason turned his head and looked at you, his eyes soft with affection. Slowly, he leaned in, his breath warm against your lips. You closed your eyes as his lips met yours, a gentle and sweet kiss.

Charlotte entered the room, her eyes red and swollen. Mason followed close behind. You were lost in a drugged sleep, oblivious to the storm of emotions in your best friend.

She sank into the chair beside your bed, her hand immediately reaching out to caress your hair. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, "Oh my God, why does this always happen to her?" She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "First the drunk driver, and now this!"

Mason leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "It's been a rough year, that's for sure!" He muttered, his voice barely audible.

Charlotte's gaze snapped to him. Her eyes, filled with concern, held him captive. "Are you okay?"

He offered a weak smile. "I'm fine. Just worried about her."

She knew him too well. "Don't lie to me, Mason." She said softly. "I can see right through you."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "It's been a hell of…" He admitted, his voice raw. "What time is it, anyway?"

Charlotte stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "She's going to be okay, Mason. We'll wrap her in bubble wrap and keep her safe." A small smile tugged at her lips as she tried to lighten the mood.

Mason chuckled. He pulled her into a tight hug, kissing the top of her head. "I guess we have no choice!"

You finally returned to London after spending four days in the hospital. You flew back with Mason and Charlotte, and because your parents were worried about you, you spent the weekend with them.

"Are you going to fly back, or will you catch a ride with Mason?" Your Mom asked you.

Thinking it through, everything was clear now. Living in Manchester, having a big house you couldn't afford with your salary, the lifestyle, the constant attention from people on the street - it was all Mason's.

"Um, Mason said I could go with him." You replied your voice barely a whisper.

Your mom's face lit up with a delighted and conspiratorial grin. Since you told her what happened at the villa, she'd been on an overdrive of matchmaking, talking about how happy she was and about what a good couple you used to be.

"That means you're re-" She began, her voice dripping with excitement.

You cut her off, burying your face in your Dad's shoulder. "That doesn't mean anything!" You protested. Your Dad slyly winked at your Mom across the sofa. "It's just easier and cheaper to go with him. so stop organising our wedding in that little head of yours."

Your Mom's lips curved into a knowing smile. "That's already planned!" She muttered under her breath.

You raised an eyebrow and looked at her. "Did you say something?"

She shook her head, a playful glint in her eye. "Me? No, not at all. Just focus on the show."

Monday morning had the sky in soft hues of pink and gold as Mason pulled up to your parents' house. The familiar sight of the old brick house brought him a wave of nostalgia. He stepped out of the car, a gentle breeze carrying the sweet scent of the morning.

Your mom was waiting for him at the door, her face lightened with a warm smile. "It's so good to see you, Mason!" She exclaimed, pulling him into a hug.

"It's great to see you too." He replied, returning the embrace. Their relationship had always been easy, even during the wild times of your on-and-off hating relationship. "It's good to be back."

Your mom led him inside, the house filled with the comforting aroma of coffee. In the kitchen, your dad was holding his special mug, the one you had made him when you were a kid. "I see some things never change." Mason commented, a smile playing on his lips.

Your dad looked up, his face breaking into a wide grin. "Mason!" He exclaimed, standing up to offer a hearty handshake. "Welcome back, boy."

"Did you have breakfast, Mason?" Your mom asked him.

"Yes, thanks!" He replied, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of you. It wasn't surprising when your mom told him that you were still in bed. You'd always been a non-moring person.

"Why don't you go wake her up?" Your mom suggested.

Mason's heart skipped a beat. "Me?" He stuttered, blushing. "I-I don't think that's a good idea."

Your mom chuckled. "Oh, come on! You've got to win her back, don't you?" She teased. With a gentle push, she directed him towards your room. "Go on, then. Start by waking her up."

"But that's a terrible first step!" He muttered.

Mason hesitated, his mind and heart racing. He knew the best way to wake you up was with soft kisses, but that seemed like a recipe for disaster at this early hour and he would surely get slapped.

The door was slightly open and the sunlight streamed through it. Mason's hand hovered over the handle, his heart pounding in his chest. Before he could knock, the door swung open, revealing you, already dressed and with the luggage in hand.

Surprise flickered across your face. "Mason? What are you doing here?"

He took a moment to drink in your appearance. He didn't know how, but every day you became more breathtaking. "Uh, your mom asked me to wake you up." He stammered, his voice catching in his throat. "But I see you're already awake."

You quickly shut the bedroom door, avoiding his gaze. "Yeah, I had… a nightmare." You explained, clearing your throat. The way you averted your eyes told him the nightmare was about him, but he chose to stay silent, afraid it would cause an argument.

"Let me help you with your suitcase." He offered, trying to change the subject.

"I don't ne--" You hesitated, torn between your pride and being grateful for his help. Finally, you gave in. "Thanks!" You mumbled, handing him the suitcase.

After having breakfast, you and Mason left for a four-hour drive back to Manchester. With the open road stretching before you, the quiet was overwhelming. Your heart was racing. What were you supposed to do for four hours trapped in a car with Mason, alone?

The radio was on and its soft hum filled the car. Traffic was surprisingly light for a Monday. Your eyes wandered around the spacious interior of the car. It was very clean but there were two Starbucks cups, that he had brought. One for you and one for him. A business card from a car dealership, house keys, and a pair of earrings.

Mason must have noticed your curious gaze. "You left those here last time you drove it." He explained.

"I drove this?" You asked him, astonishment filling your tone. The image of yourself behind the wheel of the gigantic car was absurd.

Mason chuckled. "A few times, actually." You stared at him, disbelief written all over my face. "Why so surprised?"

You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "I don't imagine myself driving a car like this." You confessed.

"Well, you weren't exactly a natural." He teased. "But hey, we all start somewhere."

Your mouth opened, pretending you were offended. "I'm an amazing driver, Mount!" Mason laughed and you couldn't help but smile. "I just… I like my mini Cooper."

"I know, I know."

An unexpected calm settled over the car. It was a surprisingly comfortable silence. Lost in the calm of the road and the melody of the radio, you found yourself enjoying the ride.

But the desire to break the silence surprised you. Five years was a long time, and curiosity was killing you. I wanted to know what his life had been like, to understand what kind of relationship we had.

"How's Manchester United treating you?" You asked, breaking the silence.

Mason glanced at you, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. He'd clearly been lost in his own thoughts, and your question seemed to jolt him back to reality.

"Oh, yeah, it's been amazing." He replied, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "They've welcomed me with open arms. It feels like a family." His eyes held a warmth that was unfamiliar yet comforting. "It was a big change, but everything fell into place. I'm very happy."

You nodded, your heart pounding. It was now or never. "And… I went with you?"

He placed his hand on his leg, resisting the urge to place it on yours, a habit of his. "Yeah." He said, his voice low. "You asked for a transfer and moved with me. Didn't even hesitate."

"So the house where I've been living is ours?" You asked. Mason nodded, his expression serious. "And where have you been living?" A wave of questions formed in your mind, each one more pressing than the last.

"I rented a place." Mason replied. "Luke and Anouska have two houses for rent, and one was empty."

"Oh." You murmured, still processing the information. "Sorry about that."

"Don't apologize." he said quickly. "I chose not to tell you the truth, so it's my fault." A comfortable silence settled between you as Mason seemed to be waiting for you to continue. "We have a long drive ahead. Ask me whatever you want."

"Good, because I have a lot of questions." You admitted.

He chuckled. "Bring it on."

"How long have we been together?"

"Five years."

"Who made the first move?"

"You did!" His answer was quick.

You raised an eyebrow. "Don't lie to me, Mount! I remember the first kiss. The prank. I confronted you about it."

Mason burst out laughing, his laughter infectious. "Oh, shit, yeah!" He admitted between chuckles. "I forgot about that."

This felt right, natural. "Okay, so… how did you know you didn't hate me anymore?"

"I never hated you--" He began.

"You know what I mean."

Mason hesitated, his eyes darting away from you. "I think… I think I always had a crush on you." He finally managed to say. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to process his words. "When we first met, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. But you were with that guy, and… I didn't know how to approach you, so I acted like a jerk." You swallowed hard, trying to comprehend the man sitting beside you. "The prank… when they made me kiss you, something clicked. It wasn't just a crush anymore." You hadn't realised, but he had pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car. His hand found yours, and his gentle touch sent shivers down your spine. "After that, I knew I had to make you fall for me. I couldn't let you slip away. I couldn't waste any more time when I had the love of my life right in front of me."

His eyes held a vulnerability you'd never seen before. Your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might burst. His gaze locked onto yours. Slowly, he leaned in, his breath warm against your lips.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Then, his lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss. As your lips moved together, a wave of emotions washed over you. Love, hope, and a sense of coming home all at once.

#mason mount #mason mount fluff #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #mm7 #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #football imagine #footballer imagine #Rewinding Us

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fagtainsparklez · 4 months ago

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something i think about a lot is how despite verge’s perceived immaturity, how despite how childish and detached he portrays himself, he’s never really grown out of that self-sacrificial caretaker, shouldering the weight of it all so those he cares for don’t have to suffer

despite being a relatively new witch (charlotte has been active for at least 200 years, while verge has only been around for about a decade), verge appears to be their main leader. he’s the one sent to capture aria, he’s the one that’s in charge of the demon lord’s remains, he’s the one that leads their rituals and sacrifices, he’s the one behind the main orders everyone instantly knows to pay attention to. charlotte and manon are clearly highly-regarded/highly-ranked in their own right, but they still abide by verge’s orders at the end of the day

again, charlotte has been a witch for much longer than verge. she was his mentor, even. but when the church attacks, verge’s first instinct is to get in front of her. he does the same thing with dante in chapter 79–it’s in his nature to put himself directly in harm’s way to protect others. verge is showy and childish and bratty because it keeps attention on him. it’s exactly what he did as a child, keeping the church’s eyes on him and him alone so none of the kids in his care had to sacrifice themselves in the same way. while i don’t doubt that some of the exorcists he killed were for self-defense, or because they were corrupt in the way his other victims were, i wouldn’t be surprised if it was also just another way to paint a target on his back. no matter what the other witches did, the church would always target him the most for such a crime. verge is a leader, yes, but he leads to keep others safe before all else. a leader will be the one targeted the most, not his subordinates

and we know it works! verge is the only witch the church directly names as a target. yes, they still attack other witches, other sabbaths, but it’s clear that verge is the witch they fear/abhor the most (up until the baba yaga reveal, but even then, he’s the one at the head of her revival). everything verge has ever done has boiled down to his core need to protect and place the burden himself alone

#icarus speaks #priest posting #ask to tag #he was and always has just been that lost child shouldering the weight of it all #and it fucking haunts me #AND ITS ALWAYS THAT DAMN CHURCHS FAULT 😭#vergilius verge mtefil u literally deserve the world i’m sorry i’m so mean to u……..#but maybe u could stand to fix ur taste in men a bit. and by men i mean one man

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bubbleddisasters · 1 year ago

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Bored SO

What Genshin Vision and Weapon I think Each TWST Character would have!

(I’m going solely off Vision Requirements/Traits (Ex: Anemo = Desire for Freedom) so some may seem different then expected)

Reminders:

Anemo= Desire for Freedom, often but not always accompanied with the loss of a loved one.

Geo = Strong and Unwavering in pursuing their ideals, beliefs and goals.

Electro : Eternal Determination/ Those who may be seen as strange, but will not change themselves for others.

Dendro: The Desire for Knowledge, (Plus Human Connections.)

Hydro: A strong sense of Justice and Protection/Care of others.

Pyro : Dedicating their life to their Passion.

Cryo : Resolution in moment of conflict.

—————

Riddle: Pyro or Anemo, Sword: I believe that as his mom wanted him to be a healer, which is usually Dendro or Hydro, and Riddles Passion for Order and/or Desire for Freedom and loosing his friends granting him the opposite, could be very good additional angst material. Also Swords are elegant, and the Original Beheading weapon.. Hehe.

Ace : Geo, Hydro or Electro, Bow: I think Ace fits both Unwavering Beliefs and Not changing themselves for others very well, but also Justice and Care extremely well in Book 1.

I think it would be also amazing for him to get his vision right as he gave his speech after punching Riddle. Hydro could also be very interesting and seeing Riddle be Jealous of it, as it Represents Justice and Care, and its what his mother wanted him to get, adding another layer of rage to it all, plus aiding in dowsing Riddles Flames.

Bow wise, I think the term an “Ace Shooter” was fun irony, as well as “Trick shot”

Deuce: Cryo, Claymore: You all should have seen this coming. Got it when he decided to better himself for his mother’s sake. Geo also works I suppose. Claymore because duh. Plus it would be a fun comparison to Ace having the most lightweight physical weapon.

(Chongyun 🤝 Deuce

Cryo Claymores with Hydro Boyfriends who like to prank them)

Cater: Anemo, Spear: I won’t go into full detail, but if you know Caters backstory, you know damn well why I chose Desire for Freedom. Spear doubles as a Selfie stick, would have atleast one attack similar to Charlotte’s.

Trey: Dendro, Cataylst: Trey mentions wanting to learn all kinds of desserts, and as the mediator, fits the human connections piece well. Catalyst either paints the enemy or throws baking materials / Bakes the Enemy/Decorates them.

Leona: Dendro, Spear: I can’t explain it, but Dendro just fits him very well, specifically the knowledge piece. Also Spear because its lighter weight and has range + if you’re especially good at it could probably be used while lying down. Lazy ass Lion.

Ruggie: Geo, Bow : When I tell you he was extremely pissed upon receiving his—Anyway, this man perfectly embodies unwavering determination for their goals.

Like pre-mentioned, was extremely pissed because he originally thought it was useless compared to Hydro or Dendro, but that changed when he realized he could make shelter for the people on his street and also get alot of high paying construction jobs easier.

Bow is lightweight, and easier to use while running away aslong as you have good aim.

Jack : Hydro, Claymore: Justice and Care is literally half or more of his Savanaclaw ark. It fits Jack so insanely well (or Geo but shhh). I think Hydro would be sweet because everyone expects him to have Geo because it’s tough and strong, but sike. He uses it to water his cactuses and to cool off / Hydrate during workouts. Claymore because the guy is a walking gunshow he can lift that thing with one hand.

Floyd : Electro, Catalyst: So far the hardest to choose, but also being considered strange yet refusing to change for others is very Floyd. Physical DMG Catalyst like Wrio or Heizou, I pray for the enemy. Like:

Floyd : “I’m as cold as a lion with no hair: If you ever see me fighting in the forest with a Mitichurl, HELP THE CHURL. Cause that b*tch gon need it-“

Jade: Dendro, Sword: Knowledge and Jade go hand in hand. Also his plant obsession makes this funnier. Sword is very elegant but deadly, that also fits Jade. Electro is also an option, but considering the OG Flotsam and Jetsam died via Electrocution—Oh the Irony if both of them were Electro

Azul : Anemo, Geo or Cryo, Catalyst: Desired freedom from bulling and torment? , Unwavering Determination to reach goals? Conflict and Resolution? Yea. I would go with Dendro cause knowledge, but didn’t feel as fitting. Catalyst because obviously.

Anemo could help him in the water to swim faster, and blow away Jade and Floyd as kids, but they kept coming back so he gave up. Cryo or Geo to make a octopus pot but they blew it open.

Kalim: Pyro, Dendro or Hydro, Catalyst or Spear: Passion suits Kalim incredibly, but so does Human Connections and the desire for knowledge to help others. Hydro fits in the care department, but not as much in justice.

Alot of his attacks would be similar to Yun Jin or Nilou, (based in Traditional dance from the Middle East obviously) and adding some jumpiness to it, but I imagine his skill or run is just running people over with the magic carpet and you get to fly without stamina issues (5 star type perks lmao)

Jamil : Anemo, Spear or Sword: Desire for Freedom?!?! Thats Jamils Ark in a nutshell. Friend loss? Kalim when they were kids. (Because his parents made him stop being friends with Kalim and focus on his duties as a servant to him). I think Jamil having a Scimitar like the ones in the original Aladdin movie or a spear similar to Jafars staff would be a fun reference.

Epel : Anemo or Dendro, Claymore: Desire for Freedom coming from his own insecurities on his appearance or Desiring the Knowledge to Change it. Literally hated his vision for a long time, thought wind/nature powers were kinda stupid, useless in a fight and girly until Vil rocked his shit with Dendro in the OB fight.

Can barely lift the Claymore but by god will he try. (Similar to Razors attacks like the guy is trying his best but the claymore literally almost sends him flying)

(A bow is also a fun option and he would definitely pull a Childe and just hit the enemy with the bow itself.

Catalyst he just throws rotten / poison apples at the enemy. )

Rook: Electro, or Pyro, Bow: Strange but would never change for someone else? Rook. Passion? Also kinda Rook. I could see him receiving his vision at his first play, and using his hat to dim the light so it didn’t affect the actors and other watchers. Bow was also an obvious choice.

Has a skill that reveals all hidden quests available and how to access them.

Vil : Dendro, Catalyst : The Desire for Knowledge to attain Beauty. Saw Epel hating on Dendro Visions and took it personally. Catalyst because he can’t bother to get his hands dirty.

Idia: Anemo, Catalyst or Claymore: Desire for Freedom and Dead person you cared for? Check. Found it on his bedside when he woke up after Orthos death and called it “a Pity Prize” for him surviving. Completely pulling a Silver Wolf with the Digital / Glitch like attacks and if he has a Claymore, a Kaveh, although his little skull thing would be his Merhak.

Ortho: Non Specific (until after book 6, then Dendro), Catalyst or Bow: Kinda Similar to the Traveler, but you’d have to get into Ignihyde and use a disc drive to change his. If after Ignihyde chaps, Dendro. Similar to Nahida, Desiring Knowledge of Humans. Shoots literal laser beams at enemies.

Malleus: Dendro, Catalyst: Like Ortho, Desiring Knowledge of Humans, and from Human (I guess in this case just emotional) Connections. Specifically one day after building up the courage to hug Lilia after he helped him find Gargoyles around a town. (Accidentally called him Father in that moment, and then the Vision Appeared)

Catalyst….duh. I can see the attacks either being fireflies or mini Dragons (like how Baizhus is snakes)

Lilia: Cryo or Anemo, Bow, Claymore, Sword or Catalyst (I don’t have a bias to Catalysts I swear) : Got his after Melanors Death (F) or Malleus Hatching, and like how its mentioned Venti was once a Catalyst user in lore, and puts his bow away like one, Lilia does pretty much the same, but puts it away like a Sword.

Catalyst wise, definitely physical, bro is bouncing off the enemy and teleporting around them, same if sword. Claymore would be fucking hilarious because this tiny man having a fast attack speed while using a weapon almost the size of him is just generally hilarious. Has an attack similar to Fischls Oz , except it is instead a Bat, and yes you can fly / teleport with him.

Also like Raiden, the game prevents you from cooking as him / all the meals you make will be suspicious ones.

Silver: Hydro, Sword: Justice and Care? Silver. Definitely. Sword also seems pretty obvious, and definitely has an ability that not only has wild animals not running from you, but will come closer to you if in the area.

Sebek: Electro or Geo , Sword or Claymore: Eternal Determination and not changing for others is very Sebek, but so is Unwavering Determination to reach goals, and I think Sword and Claymore are both Obvious.

Che’nya : Electro, Catalyst: Not Changing for Others fits this wacko so well. Catalyst because obviously. His E skill makes you invisible to the enemy and wild creatures. Enemy wise, scares the shit out of them and does 80% extra damage if you hit them from behind with it.

———-

OK BYEEEE

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atlanticwrapsnc · 8 months ago

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Top-Quality PPF in Charlotte, NC - Atlantic Wraps

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#ppf charlotte #paint protection charlotte #paint protection film charlotte #paint protection film near me #ppf near me

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jerrytalbotta · 1 year ago

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High Quality Paint Protection Film Charlotte

Atlantic Wraps offers high quality paint protection film Charlotte. They offer the best paint protection film installation, to protect your cars stunning look. They are also committed to providing you with the highest level of service, so you’ll always choose them for your wrap, PPF, lettering, or sign needs. Their paint protection films protect your vehicle from scratches, scrapes, and other minor exterior damages. For more details, visit https://www.atlanticcustomwraps.com/paint-protection-film/.

#paint protection film Charlotte

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strapped-and-beheaded · 2 months ago

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Avarage therapy appointment with Charlotte and Harper

f!Harper/f!PC | 1600 words | 18+ cw: past noncon, current dubcon, implied drug (mis)use, intentionally triggering trauma responses, medical malpractice, harper should be enough of a content warning by herself tbh.

"If you will, could you start from the beginning?"

"okay... I climbed the fence to leave, just to see if I could, since I wouldn't get in trouble now. then I walked around for a bit-"

"didn't you skip something?"

"huh..? oh. right. someone attacked me just as I left, I guess. It didn't feel real, somehow, it was over before I processed what was happening I think. I really don't feel anything about it."

Harper nods in response, Charlotte feels it more than she sees it in their position. too close she'd need her glasses to see her face, tho her vision's already blurred, and her head too heavy to lift.

"Please continue" the good doctor urges her to continue talking, so Charlotte does.

She recalls walking around town aimlessly, staring at shops through windows, seeing where was hiring. All she could find was the cafe, but by the time she got there she was distracted.

Ocean, despite living close enough that the smell of it fades into the background of the town, she's never got to spend time there.

It's been orphanage to school then back for all her life. The ocean was always behind car windows struggling to peek between buildings, or a sliver of blue you try to catch from the top floor of the orphanage, once again behind glass.

Then there it is, so vast Charlotte wonders how it could have ever fit behind those tiny windows. The breeze ruffles her hair, salt smell finally obvious to her, the sun beating down on the waves bright enough to blind…

Charlotte hangs onto that memory, tries to hold onto the feeling of sand getting in her school shoes, hair getting in her face, her classmates laughter, Robin's smile and wave as she closes shop.

Sunset, leaving her frozen in place as she watches the sun dip into the water, painting it and the sky orange, clouds turning her favorite shade of pink. She tries to grasp at them, trying to last them longer, but there isn't anything solid she can hold there. She doesn't remember faces or names, she doesn't remember what was so entertaining that she let the whole day pass by on the beach.

The day does end, it gets dark, feels cold in her sundress, she remembers Bailey's word to not wander outside at night so she waits for a bus.

...

She really should have taken a map with her, her sense of direction was never good, she knows by now the walk from the beach to the orphanage is so short, God.

through the pain of a broken arm and panic and just the need to get home, everything blurred so much she didn't recognize a single building, single road, the town she grew up in really was a stranger to her all along, huh? God.

Why would she take the fucking bus again, if she just, God, if she just walked maybe. God. God. God.

She tries to plead, turning to Harper, who's sitting next to her on the bus, the doctor places her hand on her thigh, somehow it's not comforting.

The world behind the window is pitch black, the bus feels too long, the seats upon seats in a row stretching until she can neither see the back door or the driver, she looks at the other passengers, despite her best effort she cannot make out any faces.

Harper's hand rides higher, creeping under her skirt, Charlotte wants to grab her wrist, but her arms hang limp beside her body. "Please continue" the doctor says, Charlotte wants anything but, her stomach drops when she feels fingers stroking her through her panties.

she calls out for help, from Harper? from God? just anyone? for what?

Someone grabs her arm, her eyes flash white from the pain, being thrown onto the bus floor doesn't hurt compared to her arm, she can't do anything but try to protect it as- as the-

she feels the bone under skin, it's sticking out wrong, this is when she realised her arm really was broken, and that she should be getting to the hospital instead, but all she can do is lay there until people are finished with her.

Everyone's watching, from their seats, she can't make out a single face, she can barely see anything, everything is a blur, it just hurts.

"Can't you recall any more details?" Harper asks with a kiss on the cheek, no not a kiss exactly, that's her tongue, Charlotte's head is too foggy to think anything of it, somehow it feels comforting.

"I can't, I don't even remember getting home" "Bailey brought you to the hospital, I fixed your arm, remember?" Charlotte looks at the doctor's blurry face, no recognition, Harper huffs trying not to show displeasure at what she managed to remember and forget.

she pushes Charlotte to lay down, more so loosens her grip and lets her fall back into the hospital bed, her hair streams down and pools on the floor.

"What's the next thing you remember?" Charlotte continues staring blankly "what was your school life like?" "... it was fine" "and your work?" "I think.. I did housekeeping?.. Doctor I mean it, nothing, I don't remember anything"

Harper climbs closer, eclipsing the too bright ceiling light, it's some relief to Charlotte, not enough to offset the spike of anxiety over being straddled by the doctor.

"Do you remember how you ended up breaking your cast?" Charlotte grimaces, but doesn't reply, looking beyond Harper "as your doctor I need you to be fully open with me, I can't help you if you don't let me" "you... you seem to know enough already" Charlotte tries to say, the doctor's smile doesn't falter

Harper traces a line from her knees, through her thigh, to her stomach, moving up to her bare chest, Charlotte can't even twitch or jump at the feeling of cold fingers. Muscles left slack, one of her legs hang off the bed, it feels so heavy she can't imagine lifting it, yet Harper hooks her hand under her knee and moves her so easily.

"can you try a bit harder to remember, for me, Charlene?" she stops breathing, she can't even voice her complaint.

her arm was grasped again, the painkillers couldn't help to dampen the pain then, it punched the air out of her lungs, she couldn't scream. yet she still fought, not from bravery, just blind with panic.

the feeling of his hands were so vivid once, every single digit and every single action he took, every inch of skin he stained. she used to feel it crawling under her skin, but they're so faint now, Harper can't wring out any more details, she doesn't remember anything.

she doesn't know when she stopped fighting, whether being penetrated made her give up or the pain overwhelmed her. She never knew how she got out, she must have fell unconcious eventually.

then she's at the beach again, the waves climbing up her legs, too lazy to drag her back in. the ocean could swallow her, in the darkness of the night no one would see, people drown silently too right?

but the sun starts to rise, orange light intrudes on the stars, the sea illuminates like fire, the tides retreat as she hears food steps. instead of more unremembered faces she'd regret asking for help from, she looks up to see Harper.

"that's all you can remember?" she asks, standing with her arms folded behind her, same smile still plastered on her face, Charlotte wonders if she ever stops smiling "it is." she replies bluntly, she would like to forget more.

watching the sun reclaim it's place in the sky, Charlotte makes no move to get up, still looking to the ocean to see if it will finish the job it started.

So Harper kneels down to her, clammy hands craddle her face, she doesn't fight back, limbly letting the doctor kiss her. it's only a peck for now "should I increase your dosage?" it sounds more like she's pondering to herself than asking the patient's opinion.

"I won't take them, if you do" she complains before Harper's on her again "you shouldn't pick and choose your prescription like that" despite smiling still, the doctor chastizes with a pinch on her nipple, Charlotte yelps weakly.

Her limbs don't have the energy to push the doctor away from roughly fondling her chest. Lifting her arm off the bed takes so much, and all she can manage is basically petting the other blond's shoulder. She feels Harper smile against her lips at the effort.

Charlotte closes her eyes, her head feels so heavy, like her skull's overstuffed, she's so tired.

she almost dozes off, or at least something like it, but cold fingers stroking her clit brings her back. "doctor..." she whines into her mouth, then another yelp is ripped out of her throat as two fingers push into her.

Harper moans more than her as she deepens the kiss, Charlotte shivers "please... doctor..!" keeping a coherent thought is hard, she doesn't know what exactly she's pleading for, she can barely muster thoughts.

The knots in her stomach tighten, she barely notices Harper pull back from the kiss. wiping drool off her chin, she looks down at Charlotte with a crescent grin, staring at her lips like it's taking all she has to stop herself from latching unto her face again.

"now, Charlotte" she breathes a little heavy "could you restart from the beginning?"

#degrees of lewdity #harper the doctor #dol pc #dol harper #idk what to tag it #smut? kinda #morgan mention also just a little #charlotte the star #btw Charlotte does not remember what happens in the sessions she goes home and sleeps immediately and focuses on work on saturdays #her mind's a bit blanker each week tho and that's why she goes even tho she can guess at what happened with the doctor. she's fine.#at this point Harper knows more than her about her first weeks and Lottie feels. some way about it. harpers a perv about it.#anyway. I think about Dolville being a seaside town a lot. idk something about metaphorical freedom of the ocean vs. your circumstances #tenta posts #tenta writes #new tag if I write anything else

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foliosriot · 2 months ago

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LINGER ♱ CHAPTER TWO

vinny mauro x ofc (micah)

SUMMARY!!

Micah is the lead vocalist of metalcore band, Bonesmith. Being a leading woman in the metal scene is not an easy job, but she has committed herself to making a positive change in the scene and proving to everyone how she and other women belong in metal. Even if she comes off as a bit of a bitch. But her world is turned upside down when the drummer of her favorite band comes into her life.

WARNINGS!!

none

TAGS!!

@concretenoah @circle-with-me @deathblacksmoke @dominuslunae @somewhere-diamond @iknownothingpeople @cncohshit (lemme know if you wanna be tagged!!)

masterlist. linger masterlist.

There was one day left of the festival, and Micah had already done more than enough interviews. She was exhausted from stating the same things over and over again in each and every one. But thankfully, after today, she gets to go home to her dog.

Micah sat next to Scott on a pair of folding chairs under the protection of a large white tent. The summer sun was beating down relentlessly, and Micah could not be more glad to be out of it for a bit. In front of them is a table of Bonesmith merch, including a rack set up behind it with the different shirts, tank tops, sweatshirts, even a wall flag and a couple vinyls on display. They were assisting with merch sales for a little while, even if that really means meeting fans as they sit off to the side.

With her phone, Micah posts a photo of her and Scott onto her Instagram story with the caption saying “Come meet us at our merch table for the next couple hours! In between Charlotte Sands and Sleep Theory!! :)”

As they continue to meet fans and listen to whatever band is playing on the main stage, Micah has to wrangle up her mess of dark brunette locks atop her head and struggle to tie it all into a bun. Her attempt is shitty, to say the least. Her hair is thick and long and she makes a mental note to get it cut when she gets home. She’s just glad it’s no longer sticking to the back of her sweaty neck.

Beads of sweat trickle down her body as time goes on. She can feel it coating her tattooed arms, between her breasts going down her sternum, even the uncomfortable spot where her Demonia boots meet bare skin against her ankles. As soon as they are back at the hotel, she is taking a shower before catching her flight in the morning.

“God, I’m sweating balls out here,” Micah groans. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Scotty.”

“Same,” Scott replies. And with a glance at her friend, Micah knows for a fact he isn’t doing well. His naturally tan skin is coated in sweat and splotches of red irritation paint his body. His clothes are sticking to him and Micah can’t tell if it’s sweat or water, or a mix of both. And sure enough, Scott has a plastic water bottle in his hand, reaching up to empty the rest of its contents into his mouth.

“Okay, let’s call it quits, then,” Micah suggests, fanning herself. “I think Wes wanted to go to the hotel’s pool once we’re back—“

“Micah!”

The voice startles Micah. She whips around to face the front of the merch tent to find none other than Chris Cerulli approaching them. But he isn’t alone. On one side of him is Ricky Olson, and on his other side is Justin Morrow. She recognizes Justin’s wife, Shae, but there’s one more person with them that she can’t quite see because they’re hidden behind Justin’s tall frame.

“Hi, Chris!” Micah greets him with a smile. She meets him halfway for a hug, a quick embrace before she’s introducing him to Scott. Then she is meeting Ricky and Justin face-to-face, finally getting to speak to them.

It’s been a long time coming, Micah tells herself as she and Shae greet each other. She compliments Shae’s makeup, something she has always loved about the woman. But then Shae is stepping aside and Micah gets to see who else was part of their small group.

He’s about her height. Brunet hair with red bangs. A sweet, close lipped smile stretching the pale skin of his face, and Micah promptly ignores the sudden fluttering in her stomach from the gesture. A pair of sunglasses cover his eyes from the sun’s bright rays, but she can almost guarantee he’s looking at her.

Micah has never found herself speechless. Nothing has ever made her incapable of using her voice or completely devoid of words or thoughts. But, god, has Vinny Mauro left her fucking speechless.

“Hi, I’m Micah,” she greets him with a surprising difficulty to annunciate her words properly. She holds out her hand to shake his.

“I’m Vinny,” he says in return, that smile widening as he shakes her hand. The metal of his rings against her palm are jarring to her senses. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“You, too.”

And Micah means it! God, does she fucking mean it. Which takes her by surprise, because meeting new people is one of her least favorite things to do. But something about meeting Vinny sends her stomach into a pleasant downward spiral and her heart skyrocketing towards cloud nine.

Micah has to remind herself to remove her hand from Vinny’s grasp before it becomes awkward. She pulls away a bit too quickly, and she just hopes that Vinny didn’t notice.

It’s difficult to step out of Vinny’s bubble, which she can’t bring herself to do, to be frank. Not until she feels Scott come up next to her, his words not quite reaching her ears. He leads her away from the merch tent, and it’s only when the bright sun burns her retinas that she comes back to reality.

“Wait, why are we leaving?” she asks Scott.

“Are you okay?” he questions her, apparently choosing to ignore her. Micah squints up at him to see a confused but highly amused expression on his face. “I have never seen you like that, literally ever. What the fuck just happened back there?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” He scoffs at her response then chuckles to himself. “As in, what the fuck had you suddenly mute and incapable of paying attention to anything around you? I have never seen you act like that in the entire decade we’ve know each other, Micah.”

Micah isn’t sure. She knows with 100% certainty she has never acted like that a day in her life. She is always so assured of herself and confident in everything she does, so what had her so stuck in her head and unresponsive is a total unknown.

When she doesn’t respond Scott continues. “Was it Vinny?”

Was it? Ah, fuck.

Micah internally curses for her unusual reaction to Vinny. Her parents taught her to be independent and strong, which led to her belief of never needing a man to take care of her when she is all she needs. She never pursued relationships in high school and has never wanted anything to do with love. Music is Micah’s one true love and always will be. Why would she trade that level of personal commitment and honesty for a man who can’t guarantee it to her in return?

Fuck that.

So she laughs right in Scott’s face.

“That was my first time meeting him, Scotty,” she tells him with a sardonic smile. “That kind of reaction is meant for meet-cutes in romcoms, not me.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “I don’t know, Micah,” he drawls. “Have you ever considered that you’re your own worst enemy when it comes to.. emotions?”

Easy for him to say. Scott wears his heart on his sleeve and isn’t shy about how he’s feeling. It’s supposedly what drew in his fiancée in the first place, how in-tune he has always been with his emotions and feelings.

“Have you ever considered you’re an asshole and need to shut the fuck up before you get your teeth knocked in?” Micah snaps at him.

Scott just laughs, thankfully not saying anything else.

Their walk back to the band’s trailer is slow due to the heat. Too many people are walking around in such close quarters, it’s making Micah claustrophobic. The layer of sweat on her skin is uncomfortable and makes her yearn even harder for that hotel pool.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket and it nearly slips from her hand as she takes it out. It’s a text from Bryan asking if she wants to perform Suffocate with Knocked Loose before Bonesmith leaves. She almost declines just so she can leave the festival as fast as she can. But she loves those guys so much and can never deny a request like that.

So she texts him back saying she would love to. She lets Scott know and breaks away from him once he wishes her luck. Bryan said she has ten minutes to get to the stage so she can perform with them.

Micah makes it to the correct stage and says hi to all the guys when she arrives. She fist bumps both Kevins as they get ready to go onstage. Isaac initiates their super secret handshake and Nicko sends her a quick salute. Bryan walks up to her while she’s getting mic’ed up.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he says, giving her a quick side hug.

“I’m ok. This heat is killing me though,” Micah responds. “Scott and I sat at our merch tent for a while which was a mistake because I’m dying now.”

Bryan laughs lightly, one of his hands gripping his iconic microphone.

“Well, I hope you’re ready to play in this sun,” he tells her. “We’re gonna play Slaughterhouse 2 then Suffocate. Chris is gonna be playing with us.”

Slaughterhouse 2? With Chris?

Hell yeah.

“Sounds good.”

Knocked Loose goes onstage a couple minutes later and plays through a few songs. Chris suddenly comes up behind her and says hi, mic in hand in preparation for his feature. At his presence, Micah darts her eyes around in search of any sign of any other member of Motionless In White. But thankfully she only sees him.

Then there’s a break in the music from the stage, and Micah just knows they’re about to play Slaughterhouse 2. Chris shoots her a smile before hurrying to come up beside Bryan at the front of the stage. They begin playing the song and Micah is mouthing the words the entire time.

And as fast as Chris had fled the wings he’s right next to her once more. He’s breathes heavily as he gets rid of his microphone and in-ears, Knocked Loose beginning to play Suffocate behind them. Micah waits for her cue, then rushes past Chris to get onstage.

The performance goes without a hitch. Micah is drenched in sweat by the time the stagehands are taking her mic and in-ears, leaving her skin feeling tacky and slick. She needs to book it back to the trailer if she wants to make it to the hotel with the guys on time.

With one last wave and farewell to Chris, Micah begins her journey to Bonesmith’s trailer. Her ears are ringing and the sun is beating down on her relentlessly. She’s just glad she had opted for a nice pair of shorts and a big baggie t-shirt rather than the leather jacket she was really hoping to wear instead. But alas, the weather had other plans and prevented her from wearing that jacket. Which she is very grateful for.

Her phone buzzes from her pocket, and Micah fully expects it to be texts from the guys telling her to hurry up or calling dibs on taking a shower first. But, to her surprise, it’s a DM from Vinny. She has to shade her phone screen from the sun in order to read it.

chenzomauro: hey! i watched you perform with knocked loose and just had to tell you that it was fucking sick. you’re insanely talented and deserve more recognition in the scene. 🫶

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE!!

vinny makes micah dumb lol

♱ foliosriot 2025

#motionless in white #motionless in white fic #motionless in white fanfiction #motionless in white fanfic #vinny mauro #vinny mauro fanfiction #vinny mauro fanfic #vinny mauro fic #vinny mauro x ofc #vinny mauro x oc #miw fanfic #fic: linger #queue

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cinnamongorll · 1 year ago

Text

a fragile line - chapter 29

Read on ao3! (135k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Series 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, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: 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.

Word count: 10.7K

Chapter 29

Juliet's POV

One Month Later:

“But she lives right across from you”

“I know”

“If you don’t do it, I’ll have to walk all the way over there and back… and it’s snowing! What if I hurt myself?”

“That’s not the argument you want to make right now.”

“Juliet, please.”

“Fine.”

“Excellent.”

Charlotte smirked as she handed over the woven box filled to the brim with a variety of bottled herbal remedies. They rattled as Juliet took the weight in her arms and her scowl deepened .

“Tell her these ones are to help with the vomiting,” Charlotte reached into the box and ran her fingertips over a couple glass rims, “and these are vitamins to help keep her strength up.”

Despite her mild annoyance, Juliet nodded and promised that she would relay the message to Maria. There really wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for Charlotte, even if delivering her remedies meant directly interacting with the town’s leader.

The ice between Juliet and Maria had never truly thawed from their first conversation almost two months ago now. They rarely saw each other, only subtle nods of acknowledgement across the street or quick conversations about patrol, and Juliet preferred it that way.

Tommy, though, Juliet had grown quite fond of. He would always greet her with a smile on his face and some joke about her performance on patrol. Juliet would roll her eyes and demand to know how many times he would bring up that one time she fell off her horse.

Maria announced her pregnancy only a couple weeks ago. Juliet tried to congratulate Tommy but his smile grew strained and his eyes darted away from her towards a hulking figure she chose to ignore. Juliet tried not to question it; she realised a while ago that she would never really understand the inner workings of the Miller brothers’ minds, so she stopped trying… and she didn’t bring up Maria’s pregnancy again.

Now, thanks to Charlotte’s repulsion of cold weather and her never ending list of errands, Juliet was forced to face Maria and the stiff tension which lingered behind their every interaction.

“Thanks, by the way,” Charlotte said with a wink.

“Yeah, yeah,” Juliet scoffed as she turned and headed towards the door. Charlotte beat her to it and pulled open the clinic door, shivering slightly as the cold air battled with the stifling heat of the fire.

With a thin smile, Juliet tightened her hold on her box and stepped outside. It was snowing, just as Charlotte had predicted, and each flake added to the already solid sweeping of pure white which had painted Jackson for several weeks now.

Juliet hunched her shoulders together to push the collar of Joel’s jacket higher on her neck and started walking down the porch steps, moving the box out of her line of sight to watch her feet on the slippery stairs.

“See you tonight?” Charlotte called after her.

Juliet paused and turned slowly. Charlotte stood with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyebrows raised.

Tonight.

The dance.

The dance that she couldn’t even pretend to have forgotten about, when every inch of Jackson was papered with handmade flyers advertising the big event.

“Don’t even think about not goin,” Charlotte warned, standing straighter. “You promised me you’d go.”

Damnit, she had promised.

“I’ll be there,” Juliet assured her, projecting some cheerfulness into her voice to ease the lines on Charlotte’s forehead.

“Great!” Charlotte practically sang. “See you at 7?”

Juliet nodded and forced a smile on her face.

“You better head back in, you’ll catch a cold,” she cautioned evasively, looking Charlotte up and down.

Her friend rolled her eyes. “You’re not gettin out of this, I’ll come and find you if you’re not there for 7.”

Juliet knew she wasn’t kidding.

“I know,” she laughed, then lifted two fingers off the box in a wave goodbye before Charlotte decided to pull out a pen and asked her to sign a contract declaring her attendance at the dance.

“Oh! And don’t forget to look for those vhs tapes!” Charlotte called after Juliet as she began to make her way down the porch steps, heading out onto the street.

Charlotte had been searching for a tape of some old movie she used to watch when she was younger, she was desperate to show it at a movie afternoon. ‘Pretty in Pink’ Juliet recalled. Tommy was convinced that there was a box of tapes in Juliet’s house and so another task was thrust upon her.

Juliet turned and nodded very dramatically at Charlotte. “First thing tomorrow, I promise!” she shouted back then sped up to avoid another request. The snow was getting heavier and Juliet secretly hoped that it would get so bad that they might have to cancel the dance.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go…

Okay, she just didn’t want to go.

For many reasons… one being the confirmed attendance of the man she’d managed to avoid all contact with for the past month.

She’d overheard Tommy mention the other day that he’d convinced Joel to come along and Juliet almost tripped over her own feet.

The sharp bite of his rejection still burned, but the hole in her chest was starting to heal over. It was little things at first: like when she stopped waking up in the middle of the night looking for him, then when her first thought in the morning drifted to something other than him, and finally when she walked past his house and didn’t hasten her footsteps, Juliet knew that scar tissue was forming.

But this all relied on not seeing him, because when she did… when Juliet caught sight of him in the stables or grabbing some food in the mess hall… she swore that she was back outside her house listening to him say those words and brush off everything they had built together.

He made her feel like a little girl who’d gotten attached to someone she shouldn’t have.

He made her feel stupid.

He made her feel like every look and every touch between them meant nothing.

And all of that rushed to the surface when she looked at his face. His hard, angry and devastatingly handsome face.

Tonight, at the dance, she couldn’t avoid him. She’d have to look into those hollow eyes and pretend that he hadn’t meant the entire world to her only two months ago.

Juliet blinked away the threat of tears and started walking quicker.

Walking past the mess hall, Juliet watched a man on a ladder attempt to fix one of the broken twinkly lights on a large evergreen tree outside.

It was a strange sight, the lengths Jackson’s residents went to to celebrate Christmas.

Juliet had never known it to be a joyous occasion.

With her father, Christmas had only ever been a sad, cold affair with stiff, awkward gatherings and blurred lines.

There was no singing, no laughter, no trees, no lights. Her father’s community would instead join together for a reading in the community centre. Juliet would sit in the front row with her hands clasped on her lap, terrified to make even a single movement, lest she show that she wasn’t deserving of dinner.

Christmas was the only time of the year her father drank. After their meal, he would ask for whatever alcohol they could spare to be passed around the men of the community and every woman would straighten their spines.

Juliet tried her best to bury her memories of those Christmas nights, leaving behind only a murky recollection of one of her father’s men pushing her up against a wall and every muscle in her body stiffening.

The feeling of hot, sweaty hands pushing her further into the wall, holding her steady as he nudged his face into her neck and his lips spread across her collarbone. Juliet always held her breath, hoping that maybe she’d pass out before his hands drifted further.

Juliet tried to close her eyes, she always did, but the sight of her father watching them over the man’s shoulder was too vividly sickening to ignore.

Every year he allowed his men to have a taste of her… like she was a delicately wrapped present just waiting for their hungry hands to rip apart.

But it was only ever a taste.

When their fingers would drift lower and lower, starting to pull up her skirt, that’s when her father would walk over and place his strong hand on the man’s shoulder. Declaring his ownership.

Christmas always left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Juliet?”

Matt’s voice was drowned out by the piercing sound of glass bottles rattling against each other. Juliet gasped and blinked up at her patrol partner’s concerned face as he reached out to stabilise the box in her arms.

“Shit, sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Juliet stuttered.

“Are you okay?” he asked with hunched eyebrows and a serious gaze.

Juliet looked down at her box and pulled it closer to her chest, then tilted her chin back up to meet Matt’s eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good!” she replied, injecting false cheer into her voice.

“But you’re crying?” Matt pointed out quietly as his hand gently curved around her damp cheek.

“Oh,” she gasped, embarrassed, “must be the cold air.”

Matt gave her a look that said he didn’t even remotely believe her but he knew her well enough not to push the issue. Juliet knew what she looked like in that moment: red rimmed eyes and a haunted expression.

With one last swipe of his thumb under her eyes, Matt removed his hand and brought it slowly back to his side.

“Where you going with all that?” he asked, pointing to the filled box in her arms.

“It’s for Maria, Charlotte asked me to - ” she paused as a cold shiver rippled across her back.

For a second, Juliet felt the sharp awareness of a gun trained on her and her body instantly stiffened.

But it wasn’t a gun, it was worse.

Joel stood on the porch of the mess hall, his large leather jacket hanging over one shoulder as though he was putting it on but stopped suddenly. He was still, so still that Juliet wondered if time had stopped.

Her eyes washed over him despite her brain screaming at her to look away, but it was impossible when his dark eyes were focused on her like the sharp gaze of a hunter.

Slowly, his eyes moved to the man beside her and Juliet watched as his fists curled and his jaw moved before he sharply looked away.

The second his eyes left her Juliet inhaled a deep breath and quickly returned her gaze to Matt, who stood looking down at her with confusion written all over his face.

“Sorry,” she coughed, “these are for Maria, I’m just heading over there now,” Juliet explained, lifting the box and cringing as the bottles rattled again.

Matt watched her curiously for another second before his signature smile donned his face again.

“I’ll walk with you,” he decided and reached down to take the box out of Juliet’s hand, tucking it beneath one arm and pivoted to hover his other hand on the small of Juliet’s back.

Juliet didn’t look at the mess hall as they walked passed, not even when he felt that dangerous awareness spread over the back of her neck. She just focused on the crunch of snow beneath her feet and watched the clouds of breath hang in the air in front of them.

Their conversation was easy, as it always was.

Matt would recognise when Juliet’s mind drifted elsewhere and he would fill the space with chatter about his big plans for the week. And that day, the topic on his mind was the dance.

Juliet tried not to roll her eyes.

“So, are you coming?” he asked with a smirk.

Juliet shot him a dark look. “I think Charlotte would have many creative ways of murdering me if I didn’t show up,” she explained.

Matt’s laugh was warm and playful. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Juliet’s mouth cracked a smile.

They walked in silence for a while until they reached the turn off towards her street. Matt stopped in front of her and carefully passed the box back into Juliet’s arms.

“Save me a dance?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

Juliet laughed. “Sure.”

Matt ran a hand through his hair and stepped backwards. “Don’t sound too excited, Jules,” he said with a wink, and then he was gone, heading in the other direction with his hands in his pockets.

Juliet let out a slow breath and closed her eyes. Matt’s presence was a welcome distraction but the memory of her father lay steady on her shoulders, weighing her down.

He was never far from her mind, even on her good days. Charlotte spoke to her about ‘closure’, allowing herself to face what her father did to her and move past it. But that sounded like a child’s fantasy, as if she could actually ever rid herself from his memory. As if she could ever untangle herself from him.

His initials were burned into her skin but his ghost had sunk deeper into her bones, burrowing himself there and haunting her every movement.

Closure was a privilege not offered to her.

She’d had enough conversations with Charlotte to recognise that he was her abuser, although Juliet still struggled to voice the term.

He was her father, part of her DNA. How could she ever truly rid herself of him?

Juliet had tried taking herself back to that final night in the basement before Joel had found her. She thought if she allowed herself to remember everything that had happened she might be able to work through it and rid herself of some of fear eating away at her, but there were still gaps in her memory; large stretches of blackness behind her eyes where more horrors were hidden.

So, no, she wasn’t excited for the dance, or Christmas, or anything really.

Juliet was still drowning beneath the memory of her father and her only lifeline had abandoned her.

……………………………….

Charlotte’s box of remedies sat on Maria’s porch as Juliet knocked on the door for the third time.

Her knuckles struck the wood but there was still no answer.

She glanced behind her then her gaze dropped to the handle and the impulsive, impatient part of Juliet reached for the metal knob and turned.

It opened.

Juliet paused, unsure what to do. Maybe Maria was sleeping or just hadn’t heard the door… maybe she should sit in the box in the house then leave.

Juliet bent and lifted the box into her arms again and stepped into the house. It was almost an exact replica of the layout of her and Ethan’s and her feet took her into the living room before she could stop herself. A part of her was curious about how the town’s leader lived.

The room was well decorated with soft throws over the couches and trinkets on almost every surface. Juliet kept walking, slowly taking in all of the details around her.

After a moment, she spotted what looked like a small chalkboard over the fireplace and her curiosity took her there immediately. There, written on the black surface were two names:

Kevin 4/3/00 - 9/29/03

Sarah 7/20/89 - 9/27/03

A sinking feeling settled in Juliet’s gut.

They must be Maria’s kids… Joel had never mentioned being an uncle.

God, they were so young when they died. Juliet couldn’t even imagine the trauma that would leave on a person, what might happen to their perception of this already very dark world.

“Juliet?”

Her head whipped around to find Maria standing in the entrance to the kitchen, gripping a pair of scissors tightly in her hands.

“Sorry, the door was open…” Juliet trailed off, realising now how strange it was that she just walked right in.

Maria raised her eyebrows. “What’s this?” she asked, using the scissors to point towards the box in Juliet’s arms.

“Remedies,” she answered quickly, “from Charlotte.”

Maria’s face instantly softened and she tucked her scissors into her back pocket.

“Thanks,” she murmured as Juliet passed the box to her and relayed Charlotte’s message.

Once the box had left her hands, Juliet stepped backwards, feeling the awkwardness that lay thick between them. It was obvious Maria felt the same.

“Well, I better get going,” Juliet said quietly, already turning towards the door.

“Wait.”

She stopped, tilting her head back around to the town’s leader. Maria looked her up and down.

“Who’s been cutting your hair?” she asked while adjusting the box in her arms.

Juliet’s eyebrows furrowed and her chin dipped to look at her dark brown hair falling several inches below her breasts.

“No one,” she replied, sounding more like a question, as she self-consciously tugged on the ends of her hair.

A smile approached the corner of Maria’s mouth before she placed the box on the coffee table and pulled the scissors from her pocket, waving them slightly.

“No,” Juliet argued, “I couldn’t ask you - “

“It’s no problem,” Maria replied in that hard, matter of fact tone of her’s.

Before Juliet could reply, Maria had already turned and walked into the kitchen.

Juliet didn’t really have an option but to follow.

………………………….

Maria’s kitchen was a lot nicer than her and Ethan’s.

Juliet sat on a wooden chair with a towel draped over her shoulders, flinching as Maria sprayed her hair with water.

“Just a trim or are you looking for a chop?” Maria asked suddenly, startling Juliet who had gotten used to the silence between them.

She wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t even sure when the last time she had her hair cut was. It must have been when she had first arrived in the QZ when Juliet’s hair was so coated in blood and dirt that she ended up taking her blunt knife to it.

Maria’s scissors looked a lot sharper.

Juliet thought about her question and about everything that she’d been through since that last haircut.

Her hair had grown as she worked those years with Joel, and longer as she travelled the country with him. Now all she had to show for it was the length of her dark brown waves…

Juliet didn’t want to carry that weight anymore.

“A chop,” she answered finally.

Maria’s surprisingly skilled fingers began to separate parts of her length and when the first inch of hair fell to the floor next to her feet, Juliet breathed a sigh of relief.

After another few inches hit the floor, Maria broke the silence:

“You were looking at the memorial Tommy made?” she asked.

Juliet stilled the nervous tapping of her foot and swallowed awkwardly.

“I’m really sorry about your kids,” Juliet murmured as she wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, feeling her heart grow heavy for the woman who stood behind her.

“It’s okay,” Maria replied, in her usual even tone, “and kid… just Kevin.”

Another apology almost slid from Juliet’s mouth but her confusion held her tongue. She hadn’t realised that Tommy was once a father -

“Sarah was Joel’s daughter.”

Juliet’s breath caught in her throat.

Joel had a child? A child who died?

Every interaction they’d ever had, every cold word from his mouth, and every sad look in his eyes flew through Juliet’s mind. Her heart had dropped to her stomach and a cold chill ran down her spine.

She wasn’t sure how to process this information.

He never said anything. Never even hinted at the loss he’d suffered. But as the realisation washed over her, Juliet realised that he had. It was written all over his face; in the hard line between his eyebrows; in the deep grooves around his mouth, echoing a memory of a time when laughter came easily to him.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything…” Maria said hesitantly.

“No,” Juliet heard herself say, “thanks for telling me.”

Her heart ached for Joel and there was nowhere to put the feelings inside her chest. She couldn’t go to him, she couldn’t talk to him about it.

Juliet was left to reevaluate everything she knew about Joel as inches upon inches of her hair continued to fall on the floor around her feet.

…………………..

Juliet’s steps were sudden and heavy as she ran up the stairs to her bedroom. It was strange, she thought, not feeling the weight of the last few years swinging around her face.

Juliet’s hair now fell just below her shoulders and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. When she reached her room, she headed straight for the floor length mirror balancing on the wall near her window. Her chin tilted upwards as she admired the way her hair moved.

This was a good thing, she decided. A new start.

Maybe, when she went for her next haircut, there wouldn’t be as much baggage to remove.

Her heartbeat quickened as she turned towards her very vacant closet, remembering the dance that rapidly approached and her complete lack of an outfit.

Juliet had been at Maria’s longer than she realised, and the sky was fading into a worrying dark blue as the minutes ticked by.

Her fingers flicked between the hangers in her closet but her mind was elsewhere.

Joel had lost his daughter.

She couldn’t even imagine the pain.

Her grief for her father was a dark, guilt drenched lump in her throat that choked her whenever her mind drifted his way.

Her grief wasn’t a byproduct of her love for him; it was an aftermath of her fear.

Juliet didn’t miss her father. She was still afraid of him.

But Juliet knew that Joel’s grief was different. It made sense now, why his protective instincts ran so deep, and why his eyes were black wells of sorrow and remorse.

Joel’s grief for his daughter was a smouldering fire. It burned hot and, though its flames dwindled, it never went out.

It made sense, that Joel had lost someone.

This whole time, when she witnessed the haunted look in his eyes, Juliet had assumed it was Tess. Maybe Joel regretted letting her go, maybe there was another woman who he still felt the loss of.

But it was deeper than that.

Maria’s reveal was the final piece in the very complicated puzzle of Joel Miller.

Joel was dark and messy and haunted. And, finally, Juliet understood why.

Juliet unhooked a hanger from her wardrobe. On it was the only dress in her possession, one gifted to her from Charlotte.

It was long, falling below her knees, and it hugged her body in a way that made Juliet’s cheeks flush. The straps were thin, barely holding the dress up.

But the best part, in Juliet’s opinion, was the colour. It was a combination of various shades of dark red, all merged together.

It was perfect.

Juliet slipped the dress on and walked back over to her mirror, reaching to tuck her shortened hair behind her ears.

She barely recognised herself, and the thought was a welcome one.

The sky was black, and Juliet knew it was time to go. Charlotte’s threats were not to be taken lightly.

Her steps down the stairs were softer, nervous even.

He would be there. At the dance.

The hairs on her bare arms raised at the thought of Joel’s eyes finding her in this dress. Then she blinked suddenly, erasing the image in her mind.

No. Joel had hurt her. She couldn’t think of him that way anymore.

Juliet shook her head and reached for her boots, lacing them up as she sat on the bottom step.

Juliet’s feelings towards Joel were so tangled up, it was becoming impossible to unravel them all. And, now, finding out something so devastating about him just added another thread to the mess.

She stood and walked towards the front door, where her jacket hung from a hook. Its dark green canvas material still smelled like him. Juliet had to stop herself from lifting it to her nose.

It was worrying her that the thought of seeing Joel brought with it the feeling of butterflies in her stomach. Or were they moths? Churning around in the memory of the way Joel had once made her feel.

As Juliet put her arms through the sleeves, and savoured the warmth it brought, she realised that slowly her anger towards Joel had begun to fade.

He didn’t want her, and that hurt. But the bitterness within her had lessened.

In its place, were recurring waves of sadness and disappointment.

Joel didn’t want her, and it hurt; it left that deep, dark hole in her chest surrounded by a graveyard of misguided expectations.

Joel didn’t want her. But she was still here. She was still surviving.

Juliet would repeat those words at the dance, reminding herself that Joel didn’t have space in his haunted heart for her. And she would have to let him go.

………………………………

The door creaked when she entered, but no one heard.

The mess hall had been entirely transformed. The seats were pushed to the side to make room for couples to dance. There were even more twinkly lights than usual, covering every wall. Candles covered every surface, and a band was set up on a makeshift stage, playing an upbeat song.

Juliet let the door close behind her as she stood in awe, watching as people laughed and twirled and drank.

“You made it,” Ethan beamed beside her, pulling Juliet in for a hug.

Juliet circled her arms around Ehtan’s back, breathing a sigh of relief at his warm familiarity.

“You’re okay,” he whispered in her ear and then pecked a kiss on her cheek before he let go, straightening his back and looking down at her.

Juliet nodded, and a real smile started to twitch at the corners of her mouth.

“Charlotte will be glad to see you, she almost had a search party out,” Ethan said teasingly, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows.

Juliet scoffed. “I’m like two minutes late.”

Ethan laughed and lifted his eyes, nodding as another person approached.

“Your jacket, miss?” Matt requested in what Juliet had been told was a french accent, a very bad version of it she assumed, and raised his arm, waiting.

Juliet’s eyes hit the ceiling as she shrugged off her coat and placed it in Matt’s arms. She felt her cheeks warm as the cold hit her bare arms but she straightened her back and tilted her chin up, making an effort to not be embarrassed.

Matt blew out a low whistle as he tugged her jacket under his arm.

“You cut your hair,” Ethan breathed, lifting a hand to tug at the chopped length.

“Yeah,” she replied, darting her eyes between her two friends, “just felt like a change.”

“You look beautiful,” Matt said roughly after a long moment.

Ethan cut Matt a sharp look and tilted his head towards the sea of people gathered around the tables. “Come on,” he urged.

Juliet looked up at Matt who gave her a wink and a teasing smile, then settled his free hand on the small of her back and led her through the crowd of people.

“You’re here!” Charlotte screamed into Juliet’s ear as she pulled her in for a hug. “Your hair! And that dress! I was right, it looks amazing on you.”

Juliet felt her cheeks redden even more and she pulled back from the hug, allowing her eyes to drift down Charlotte’s outfit.

“You look gorgeous,” she told her friend earnestly.

Soon, the four of them settled down at a table with drinks in their hands. Juliet winced slightly as she tipped the whiskey to her lips and felt it burn as it went down her throat. It wasn’t the taste that bothered her, more the memory of it.

Juliet couldn’t help it, after a moment she began to drift away from the conversation as her eyes searched for familiar broad shoulders and grey speckled brown hair.

She convinced herself she wasn’t disappointed when there was no sign of him. It was a relief she felt, of course.

Juliet’s focus returned to the table just in time for Matt to share another embarrassing patrol story.

“I told her not to go in, but she did it anyway,” Matt explained, raising his hands as his mouth stretched further to accommodate his beaming smile.

Juliet covered her mouth as Charlotte and Ethan’s eyes swung her way.

“Admit it,” she demanded, turning back to face Matt, “you were just scared.”

He barked out a laugh and took another long sip of his whiskey. “If that’s true, what about that -”

Matt was cut off by Charlotte’s excited scream.

“I love this song!” she screeched, reaching for Ethan’s hand and dragging him to his feet, “we have to go dance.”

Charlotte led Ethan to the dancefloor, and Juliet watched as their fingers quietly interlaced in the space between them.

When her gaze returned to Matt, he was looking at her with a curious expression but chose not to voice his thoughts.

If Charlotte and Ethan had something between them, Juliet was happy for them. She left her feelings for Ethan behind a long time ago, and their friendship had transformed over the last couple months; becoming more mature and grounded on something other than their mutual fear.

“Wanna join them?” Matt asked, nudging his head in the direction of the couples dancing.

Juliet was ready to shake her head but the look in his eyes was so hopeful that she couldn’t bring herself to say no.

Instead, Juliet reached for her glass and swallowed the remainder of whiskey, then nodded sharply and rose from her seat.

Matt laughed in response, reaching suddenly for her hand as they made their way to the floor. The music had settled slightly, it was smoother, slower and she watched as the couples around them began to sway.

Matt looked down at her, sweeping his gaze all the way down her dress and back up to meet her eyes. Then his hand wrapped around her middle and his fingers spread out across her back. In one sudden movement, he pushed and their chests were flush and his other hand was entwined with her own.

Juliet’s heart started to race. This was unexpected, she hadn’t been this close to someone since…

Thankfully, the alcohol drowned out most of her nerves and Juliet pushed away all traitorous.

As they moved to the music, Juliet’s chin tipped up to admire the lights hanging above them. They looked like stars falling above their heads, and Juliet noticed the small reflections in Matt’s eyes.

Matt’s warm expression quickly shifted as his eyes latched onto something behind her, his eyebrows began to furrow and he tightened the hold on her hand. Then slowly, he bent to whisper in her ear.

“What’s got into him?” he murmured.

Juliet knew who it was before she turned her head. There was that awareness on the back of her neck again, warning her that something dangerous, someone dangerous, was watching her.

Still, her head swung with such speed her hair whipped around her.

There, leaning against the bar, was Joel.

The first thing Juliet noticed was his green shirt, and the few buttons open at the top.

The second thing she noticed was the murderous intention in his eyes.

He watched her like a serial killer stalking his next victim. His eyes didn’t stray from her face, not even as Matt tapped her cheek to pull her attention back to him.

Juliet was caught.

And the wound in her chest poured open again.

If he didn’t care, if he didn’t want to be with her… Why look at her that way? Why demand her attention?

“Juliet? Are you okay?” Matt asked, concern seeping into his voice.

“Yes,” she answered quickly, finally pulling her attention away from the man who was still watching her.

“Yeah I have no idea what’s up with him,” she laughed nervously, settling her hand back into Matt’s.

Matt looked back over at Joel then down at Juliet. “He looks like he’s gonna kill someone,” Matt said with a shocked laugh.

Juliet’s responding giggle was a little too high to be believable. But, again, Matt was too nice to ask her about it.

As the next song played, and they continued to dance, Juliet struggled to ignore Joel’s presence.

And she felt that anger start to churn in her gut again.

“Sorry, I’ll just be a minute,” Juliet apologised to Matt in a voice that sounded very far away, unlatching their fingers as she began to march across the dancefloor to the man simmering at the bar.

Her footsteps faltered as she approached him, but Juliet kept her chin up, urging herself not to be intimidated by the rage in his eyes or the way he towered over her.

Within seconds Juliet stood in front of Joel Miller for the first time in a month.

She underestimated how much it would hurt.

His black eyes scanned every inch of her face with a feverish intensity. Juliet knew she had to say something before she lost her resolve.

She licked her lips and ignored the way Joel’s eyes followed her movement.

“Is there a problem?” she demanded.

Joel took a deep breath and the scowl on his face deepened as he crossed his arms over his chest. Juliet also ignored the way the material of his shirt stretched to accommodate the size of his biceps.

“You cut your hair,” he said roughly, ignoring her question.

Juliet’s fingers instantly reached to touch the blunt ends of her hair.

“Is that why you’ve been staring at me?” she questioned, dropping her hand back to rest against her leg.

Joel’s jaw shifted. “What are you doin’ with him?” he ground out, looking behind her before his eyes returned to her face.

“Who? Matt?” she asked, confused.

The smallest tilt of Joel’s was confirmation enough.

“He’s my friend,” Juliet answered defensively, straightening her spine.

Joel scoffed and reached a hand up to rub his jaw.

“If that’s what you wanna call him,” he murmured under his breath as corners of his mouth curved into a sick smile.

Rage shot through her, hot and fast.

“What is it to you?” Juliet fumed.

Joel’s expression hardened.

“You need to be careful,” he warned, darkening his tone.

Juliet felt like she’d been slapped. Every interaction she’d had with Joel over the past two months had been strange, cryptic and insulting… and she was so sick of it.

“Of what?,” she demanded, raising her hands in the hair, “of Matt?”

Joel said nothing; his silence was his answer.

“Why?” Juliet urged, “because he might hurt me?”

Her mouth took on a snarl.

“I think I know who I should be careful of, Joel,” she seethed, breathlessly, “I think I know who might want to hurt me.”

Joel’s stone face flinched.

Juliet stepped back, breathing heavy. She didn’t have anything left to say to him.

It didn’t have to be like this between them. If Joel didn’t want her, they could have remained friends. But why did he have to keep pulling her back in, giving her signs that he might still feel something for her, only to stab her in the heart with his cruel comments time and time again?

The music finally reached her ears again and Juliet wiped the tear from her cheek, moving to turn and return to her friend on the dancefloor and try to salvage the evening.

But before she could take a step away from him, Joel’s strong fingers wrapped around her wrist, stilling all movements.

Her face was turned away from him and she didn’t dare attempt to meet his eyes. So, Joel stepped forward until his front was flush with her back and dipped his head until his lips met her ear.

Juliet shivered as though the cold from outside had pushed through the walls.

“Juliet,” he murmured against the shell of her ear.

Her eyes closed as another tear leaked out.

“I was wrong,” Joel whispered and every cell in Juliet’s body set alight.

She gasped, waiting for him to say more…

“Juliet, is everything okay here?” Matt’s voice was like a bucket of cold water thrown over her head. She wrenched away from Joel, pulling her arm free from him.

“Everything’s fine,” she assured him, hoping he hadn’t noticed the crack in her voice.

Matt looked between them, unconvinced.

Juliet reached for her friend’s hand, pointedly ignoring the feeling of Joel’s eyes on the back of her head.

“I think Charlotte’s waving us over,” Juliet said quickly, pulling him in the direction of the dancefloor.

The distance between her and Joel did nothing to slow her heartbeat or erase the sound of his words from her mind.

“What was that about?” Matt asked when they finally stopped in the middle of the crowded floor.

“Nothing,” she replied. Then before he could ask anymore questions, Juliet pulled him close and started moving to the music.

After a moment, Matt’s muscles relaxed and a smile returned to his face.

Juliet tried not to, but she turned and caught sight of Joel at the bar. He had one empty whiskey glass in front of him, and another one at his lips.

She flinched as she heard that second glass hit the wooden surface of the bar with the force of Joel’s hand.

…………………………

Hours later, the world had grown a little blurry.

The four of them were back at the table, laughing over some joke that wouldn’t have been funny in the light of day. Juliet’s arm was slung over Charlotte’s shoulders as they watched Matt and Ethan arm wrestle.

Juliet had drunk enough to dull the memory of Joel’s lips against her ear, and she had managed to continue the evening as normal, as though Joel hadn’t reignited some hope in her chest that was bound to cause her even more misery.

The lights looked brighter overhead somehow, and Juliet’s chin kept tilting up to watch them flicker.

In the corner of the hall, she heard a christmas carol being sung by a group of drunk men. For a quick second, the memory of Christmas with her father almost pulled her under… but then she looked in front of her, and watched as her friends began to join in. Their voices were loud and frighteningly out of tune, but they were joyful and they weren’t frightened. They were happy.

Slowly, Juliet's quiet voice blended with theirs and a similar smile approached her face. She pulled Charlotte closer, and felt a strange rush of comfort flow through her. Maybe this was what it was like to have a family.

When the song ended, everyone clapped and laughter rang throughout the hall. Juliet sat back against her seat with a true smile on her face.

Out of the corner of her eye, Juliet noticed Matt shift his chair closer to her and she felt his fingers brush across her hair.

“You havin’ a good time?” he whispered in her ear.

Juliet turned to face him and their cheeks almost touched. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Yeah, are you?” she choked out.

He nodded against her hair, then he pulled back and gestured towards her empty glass.

“Want another drink?” Matt asked.

Juliet probably should have said no, she’d had more than enough. But looking around, it very much seemed like the night was still young. So, she smiled up at Matt and nodded.

Matt winked back at her and told her he’d just be a minute as he lifted their empty glasses and left the table.

Juliet leaned back in her chair and adjusted the straps of her dress, suddenly feeling a bit nervous.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this between her and Matt. He’d always been flirty, yes, but Juliet had assumed it was just his personality.

But under the christmas lights and the influence of alcohol, Juliet didn’t mind his casual touch and whispered words.

Moments later, a woman’s scream cut through her thoughts.

Juliet’s head whipped around, and her view of the world tilted slightly. Her eyesight was diluted and she struggled to see what had caused a crowd to gather around the bar.

Juliet stood on shaky legs, readying herself to grab Charlotte and Ethan and run.

Just as she turned to shout an order, Juliet spotted Tommy hauling someone away from the bar.

It was Joel.

His hair was drenched in sweat, and his curls were plastered to his head. Juliet’s mouth gaped in shock and she started moving, pushing through the crowd of people, desperate to see what had happened.

But the blood on Joel’s knuckles told her more than enough.

Matt crouched on the floor beside the bar with blood flooding from his nose. A woman passed him a towel and he held it to his face as his eyes closed in pain.

Juliet’s ears were ringing in that high pitched sound.

She should have crouched down with Matt, helped him clear the blood from his face, asked him what happened, and comforted him the best she could.

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

Juliet turned before Matt caught sight of her in the crowd and she pushed against more people until she reached the exit of the mess hall, where Tommy had just dragged Joel seconds earlier.

She didn’t even hear the sound of the door slamming against the wall as she kicked it open. The skin on her arms pebbled as soon as she stepped outside into the cold, but Juliet couldn’t feel it.

Her head turned to find Joel slammed against the wall with Tommy’s hand on his chest.

“Joel” Juliet shouted as she marched towards him. She didn’t even recognise her own voice.

“Juliet?”

Her name fell from Tommy’s lips and Joel’s eyes locked onto her.

“Go back inside, I’ll be in in a second,” Tommy urged her, using his most commanding voice.

Juliet could see the fear and worry in his eyes. Tommy loved his brother but knew that he couldn’t protect him from himself.

“No,” she said loudly, “I need to speak with him.”

“Juliet this isn’t a good idea -”

“I’m not gonna hurt her,” Joel growled as he pushed against his brother.

Tommy looked between them both. “You have two minutes.”

As soon as the door shut, Juliet launched herself at Joel.

Her hands planted firmly on his shoulders and she pushed hard, backing him further into the wall behind him.

The way his head rolled and the stink of his breath as it hit her nose told her that he was as drunk as her, drunker probably.

“What the fuck was that?” she sneered. Juliet was breathless, fueled entirely by her own shock, confusion and anger.

Joel said nothing, just started down at her with half open eyes.

Juliet pushed him again, hard enough to hear a groan release from his lips.

“Why would you do that!? He’s my friend, my patrol partner,” she demanded, the words spilling from her mouth in a breathless rush. “Why would you want to hurt him?”

Joel straightened against the wall and Juliet’s hands fell to rest against his chest. The movement of her arms mirrored each breath he took.

“He can’t protect you,” Joel murmured, tilting his chin down to meet her eyes.

“What?” Juliet breathed.

“On patrol,” he clarified, “he can’t protect you.”

Juliet pulled back to search Joel’s face. Maybe this was some elaborate joke. She certainly felt like laughing.

But the look in his eyes told her that he was serious. And that just made her blood boil.

“I don’t need to be fucking protected Joel, don’t give me that,” she argued.

Joel ground his jaw. His eyes were black holes, and Juliet couldn’t see what lurked in them.

“Are you jealous?” Juliet whispered, terrified to even say the words.

Joel pushed against her until Juliet was forced to take a step back.

“Not fuckin’ jealous,” he seethed, then scoffed like it was a joke. “You’ve no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

Juliet flinched.

“Then make me understand,” she begged, “because I can’t make sense of it anymore.”

Juliet paused, inhaling a deep breath and running a hand through her hair.

“You don’t want to be with me,” she started, “I can understand that, that makes sense to me.”

Her voice cracked and her eyes filled with tears, but she kept going.

“But why won’t you just leave me alone? You keep haunting me Joel, I can’t escape you,” Juliet sobbed, using her trembling hand to wipe her nose.

Joel was silent, his face was wiped clean of any emotion.

“Now you’re punching my patrol partner? What makes you think -”

Juliet’s words caught in her throat as Joel’s hands gripped her shoulders and spun her around, pushing her against the same wall he was up against only seconds earlier.

He planted his hands against the wall on either side of her head, crowding her with his body.

“You wanna know why?” he murmured. Joel’s face was so close his breath warmed her cheeks.

She couldn’t help herself, Juliet’s chin dipped in a nod almost instantly.

“Because if it came down to it and a fuckin’ clicker was backin’ you up against a wall like this,” Joel pushed his chest against hers and Juliet gasped, “he would save himself, he wouldn’t save you.”

Juliet’s mouth opened and closed but no words came out. Joel’s breathing had grown heavier and his hands curled into fists against the wall.

“And you would?” Juliet asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joel let out a humourless laugh and moved one of his hands to cup her cheek. Juliet was always surprised by how gentle his touch could be.

“I’d let myself die to save you,” he vowed roughly, then shook his head slightly and moved his thumb against her cheek, “and I’d let other people die too if it ensured your safety.”

“He couldn’t say the same,” Joel finished in a low voice, his voice a growl against her skin.

Juliet’s heartbeat roared in her ears.

“What -” Juliet started, pausing to catch her breath, “what did you mean earlier? What were you wrong about?”

Joel’s pupils flared and he swallowed rough.

Juliet watched what looked like a thousand emotions pass through his eyes, and she held her breath, waiting desperately for his answer.

“I was wrong to think I could stay away from you,” Joel explained in a voice like gravel.

Juliet swore her heart stopped.

Joel’s head dipped until his forehead pressed against her own. “I thought I could let you go,” he continued, “I thought it’d be better for you.”

So many questions lingered on her tongue, but Juliet stayed quiet.

“I was wrong,” Joel stated. “I can’t stay away from you.”

“And seein you go behind the fence and havin’ to stay behind, not knowin’ if you’re okay,” he paused, pulling back to search her eyes, “it’s killin’ me, not being near you.”

“Then don’t stay away,” Juliet urged, her voice desperate, “be with me.”

Joel’s thumb moved to her lips, tracing the edge of her mouth.

Juliet had laid her heart out on the table. It was broken and scarred, but it could be his, if he wanted it to be.

His head shook ever so slightly and Juliet began to tremble.

“I want to, god I want to,” he murmured, staring intensely at her lips, “but I’m not good for you, baby.”

“Stop,” Juliet said suddenly, pushing against him.

“I’m not a child,” she nearly screamed, “I decide what’s good for me, not you.”

“We live in a fucked up world, and I know how to survive it. So do you. I don’t need to be protected from it, and I definitely don’t need to be protected from you,” the words rushed from her and Juliet was sick of censoring herself. “These past couple months I’ve been so angry at you, so angry, because you’ve taken my choice away. You decided that we shouldn't be together. If I want to be with you then that is my decision.”

Juliet’s heart beat so fast she was sure Joel could hear it.

He stood a couple steps away, looking down at her with his mouth agape.

Then suddenly, he took a step forward, and another one, until their bodies were flush again and his hands were on either side of her face.

“I’m too old for you,” he cautioned.

“I don’t care,” Juliet responded quickly, holding her ground.

“I’m not who I was. I’m too slow and I -”

“I don’t care,” she repeated, firmer this time.

His eyes had grown glossy and Juliet pushed her heart towards him again, wondering if he’d take it this time.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he nearly growled.

“Show me,” she whispered, then held her breath.

Joel’s mouth was on hers not even a second later. His hand curled around the back of her neck as he tilted her face up to meet his.

Juliet responded instantly, gripping his shirt with her fingers, moaning into his open mouth, trembling under his touch.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against her skin when his lips moved to her neck. “Not lettin’ you go again,” Joel vowed.

She pulled harder against his shirt, needing him closer. Joel must have felt the same because his hands slid down to her waist and his fingers curled against her, tugging at the fabric of her dress.

“So goddamn beautiful,” he growled in her ear when his hands found the end of the dress and feverishly began to climb up her thigh.

Joel’s lips suddenly wrenched from her skin when the door to the mess hall opened and a group of people spilled out, laughing and singing.

Joel gripped Juliet’s arm and pulled her into a dark corner, away from the lights in the street.

A bucket of cold water had been thrown over them, but Joel didn’t look regretful. He looked down at Juliet like he was seeing her for the first time. His eyes were warm and hopeful.

A cold wind blew around them and Juliet shivered, rubbing her arms.

“Where’s your jacket?” Joel demanded, instantly reaching to shelter her from the cold.

“Inside,” she murmured against his chest.

Joel groaned. “If I go back in there just now, think Tommy might just throw me out.”

“Well, you did punch someone,” Juliet reminded him, and cringed as she remembered the look on Matt’s face. A fierce ball of guilt grew in her chest.

Joel pulled back to give her a dark look, then he bent and tucked his arms under her legs, hauling her to his chest.

“Hey!” she screeched.

“We better get you home then, before you freeze to death,” Joel deadpanned as he carried Juliet round the corner and onto the mainstreet, heading for their street.

“This is completely unnecessary,” she argued, “I can walk.”

Joel ignored her. Instead, choosing to tuck her closer to his chest.

The lights that covered the mainstreet were gorgeous against the night sky, but Juliet couldn’t keep her eyes off Joel as he carried her all the way home, not even breaking a sweat.

When her feet hit the ground, they were standing on her porch. Juliet looked up at him, disappointed that they weren’t at his. She didn’t even want to spend a night apart.

“Don’t,” Joel whispered against the side of her head. “We’re gonna do this the right way.”

Juliet rolled her eyes. “That’s not fair,” she groaned.

“Get inside,” he ordered, “put a fire on, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Juliet watched him for a second, hoping he’d change his mind and throw her over his shoulder and they could resume what started on his couch almost two months ago.

But no, Joel was being serious.

Before she could stop herself, Juliet stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. She felt his hands curl into fists by his side as he attempted to restrain himself from grabbing her.

“Goodnight, Joel,” she whispered as she turned the handle to her house.

For the first time in a long time, Juliet left him without fear that it would be forever.

……………………….

Her mind repeated her conversation with Joel as she unlaced her boots. With each movement of her fingers, Juliet’s smile grew.

Joel wanted her.

It wasn’t all in her head.

Juliet climbed the stairs quickly, desperate to take off her dress and get into bed. As she lay in the dark she would replay every second of her kiss with Joel.

But as soon as her foot hit the top step she remembered something.

“Urghhhhh,” Juliet groaned as she dropped her head in her hands.

She’d forgotten to look for Charlotte’s vhs tapes, and Juliet told her she’d have them to her in the morning.

It was fine, Juliet knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

For the next hour, as the alcohol faded from her bloodstream, Juliet searched high and low for the box of tapes Tommy had sworn were in his house. Sweat dampened her forehead and Juliet was growing tired. But she couldn’t disappoint Charlotte.

As she walked along the downstairs hallway, Juliet realised there was one place she hadn’t checked: the basement.

Her feet paused outside the door.

Juliet had yet to step foot in the basement of her new home, terrified that it might in some way resemble her father’s.

Time seemed to slow as her eyes traced the pattern on the door handle, and her mind debated what to do.

She could wait for Ethan to get home and ask him to check. He would do it, of course.

But Juliet was sick of living with this fear all the time. She wanted what Charlotte had spoken about. She wanted closure. Maybe walking into this perfectly safe basement would grant her that. Maybe she’d realise that her father was truly gone and that she didn’t have to be afraid of these things anymore.

Despite her best intentions, Juliet’s fingers still trembled as she reached for the handle. She paused before the door opened, breathing deep as she attempted to calm her racing heartbeat.

If she wanted to move on with her life, she had to do this.

She needed closure. She wanted closure.

Juliet’s wrist turned and the door popped open, releasing a draft of cold air that settled on her skin.

She shivered but fought against the chill.

Juliet squared her shoulders and walked through the doorway. Her fingers felt against the wall for a lightswitch but she realised soon that there wasn’t one.

She nearly turned back.

But Juliet knew that she had to do this.

She tried not to count the steps as she walked down them. This wasn’t her father’s basement, she didn’t need to do that anymore.

When she reached the bottom step, Juliet took a deep breath, ignoring the dust that settled on her tongue.

The light from the hallway upstairs allowed her to see somewhat okay, and Juliet felt confident moving forward towards the row of boxes against the back wall.

Her fear settled with every step she took, and Juliet was beginning to realise that she had no reason to be afraid. Maybe she was doing better than she thought.

Juliet hit the floor before she even realised what had happened.

Her hands flew out to protect her face, but her knee burned as she hit the hard ground.

She must have tripped on something.

But Juliet wasn’t worried about that.

Her fall had sent adrenaline flowing through her body and, as she lay on the cold concrete ground, Juliet swore she saw her father standing over her.

“No,” she whispered as she covered her eyes with her hands.

When she opened them again, she wasn’t lying on the ground anymore. Instead, she sat in a metal chair in the middle of the room as a roaring fire illuminated the snarl on her father’s face.

Her arms and legs were strapped down, she couldn’t move.

This was the night her father died, before he had branded her, before Joel and Ethan had found her.

This was the part of that night her brain wouldn’t let her remember…

Until now.

Juliet struggled against her restraints as the memory choked her.

“The world is not safe, Juliet ,” her father whispered, just inches from her face. Her name dropped from his lips like a curse. “There are demons, yes. Those infected monsters, with their peeling faces and sharp teeth. But there is worse out there. Hunters, raiders who crawl the country, killing and gutting people with no remorse -”

Elijah cut himself off with a heavy sigh, then his words became frenzied. “I kept you here, I kept you safe from that. I kept you safe because you are my property, you are mine to protect. And I will not lose another daughter to -”

He stopped, letting go of her wrists immediately. The blood rushed back into them and Juliet began to feel her fingers again, but that relief was the furthest thing from her mind.

Another daughter?

Her father staggered back another few steps, he looked horrified. His mask slipped right off his face as he said those words, now he struggled to put it back on. He wiped a hand over his forehead and when he brought it back down, the horror was gone. He was seething, his whole body moved with the force of his brutal breaths.

“What do you mean, another daughter?” Juliet whispered, but her voice sounded far away.

Her father flinched. Juliet was unsure if what she was experiencing was real, or a dream. Maybe she passed out when he hit her, maybe this was all in her imagination. Because her father’s bravado had never faltered, and yet here he stood before her, visibly flinching at her words.

Elijah started to pace in front of Juliet’s chair, his steps brisk and savage. Juliet’s mind was still clouded, so it took her a few seconds to realise he was mumbling to himself.

Then he stopped, turning to face Juliet. He looked like he was arguing with himself, he was losing control, unravelling right in front of her. For the first time since she could remember, Juliet looked at her father and saw weakness staring back at her.

“Your parents couldn’t protect you, sweet Juliet,” he began. His eyes had a detached look in them, like he wasn’t really standing in front of her.

Juliet swore her heart stopped at his words.

“They didn’t have what it took to survive. They didn’t have the determination to keep you safe,” Elijah continued, raising his bible in the air as he spoke.

Nausea washed over her.

“I saved you. I saved you from them . And then I spared them any more suffering.”

He paused to inhale a deep breath, as though his words were suffocating him. But he wasn’t finished.

“You looked so much like her, with your brown eyes and curls. And your cry, when your parents died, God, it sounded so much like her’s.”

Juliet didn’t know how much more of this she could take, the nausea was overpowering her.

“I knew at that moment that you were mine, that you were my second chance. I could take you in, protect you, make sure you were never taken from me. Never stolen away.”

The ringing in Juliet’s ears returned, and she leaned forward and vomited all over the floor.

Juliet was shaking when she returned to her body, when the firm grip of her memory released her. Every inch of her body trembled.

She lay on the ground staring at the ceiling, like she had done so many times in her father’s basement.

But he wasn’t her father. Was he?

Juliet couldn’t figure out if her mind was playing tricks on her, or had it been trying to protect her this whole time by shielding her from this memory.

He wasn’t her father, not truly.

The man who had hit her, suffocated her, branded her, kept her locked up for days, weeks at a time… wasn’t actually her father.

He had kidnapped her.

Juliet felt a similar nausea rise in her at that moment.

Her real parents were dead.

She began to crawl on her hands and knees towards the stairs, ignoring the blood trailing in her wake. Her knee wasn’t broken but the skin was burst.

But Juliet felt no pain. Her mind was too consumed by its own horror.

She had to get out of here. Juliet reached the stairs and, by some miracle, stumbled up them and closed the basement door. She leaned against it, ensuring it was closed and that nothing else down there could hurt her.

Her body felt like it was shutting down.

Her whole life, Juliet had wondered if she was like her father. They shared blood, after all, how could they be different? She lay awake at night, terrified for the day she would become like him.

She gasped out a choked sob when she realised that everything she knew was a lie.

He was a madman, a psychopath. And she was his victim.

Juliet slid down the door when her legs gave out on her.

She’d had parents, real parents who might have loved her. Did other people know? In her father’s community surely people would have questioned him when he returned with an infant who he had no relation to. Wouldn’t they?

Someone there had to know where she came from. Someone in her father’s community had to know the truth about her.

Juliet’s mind was racing and her blood roared in her ears as she stood on trembling legs.

She couldn’t stay here, in Jackson. Juliet needed closure, she craved it now.

It was the only thought in her mind as she sped up the stairs and changed into the clothes she usually wore for patrol. Ten minutes later, her bag was packed and her boots were laced.

Juliet thought of nothing but a hazy imaging of her parents. She flinched every time her father’s face entered her mind, gloating about the way he had killed them.

She would go back there and find out who her parents had been and where she came from, then she would return with the closure she so desperately needed. Juliet would move on, she would be with Joel, everything would be okay.

Some distant part of her brain screamed at her to slow down, to think things through, to sleep on it. Her muscles urged her to change her mind, to tell someone, to stop being so reckless.

But how could she tell someone what raged in her mind? No one would understand.

Juliet had just learned that she wasn’t actually destined to become her father’s daughter, she was never supposed to have been raised by him, never supposed to have been hurt by him.

She had been stolen, her fate had been altered.

And so she had to steal it back.

………………………….

The streets were dead as she raced through them. Most of the town’s residents were still at the dance, leaving the path to the stables clear of any onlookers.

Juliet kept her mind focused on her task. She couldn’t allow herself to think of anything else, anyone else. She would come back, she knew the way.

The stables appeared before her quicker than she had expected but Juliet didn’t allow any fear to enter her body. She sprinted to her horse, apologising to her as she readied her for travel.

Juliet could feel wet tears on her cheeks but she ignored them.

Her horse was almost ready when she heard the stable doors open.

Juliet kicked her bag out of sight and planted herself against the wall as she held her breath.

Irritation pulsed through her. Every delay was another second where she didn’t know the truth about herself.

Juliet gasped when a face appeared before her.

A very angry face.

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’?” he demanded, breathing heavy.

“Joel,” Juliet whispered.

_______________________________

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