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evans23 · 2 months ago

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RICKMAS 2024 - DAY 7 - QUIET WISHING [A2]

Pairing : Colonel Brandon x OC

Summary : The Colonel is ready to move on and to taste the delight of happiness, but your secret weighs too heavily on your shoulders.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Sadness. Depression. Mention of Abortion.

DECEMBER MOON : Part I

Also read on AO3 - Wattpad

Colonel Brandon's heart was beating to a new rhythm. The rhythm of happiness at having found someone who seemed genuinely interested in him and not in his fortune, his title or his domain. You made him smile. Better yet, you made him happy.

He still remembered your father's face when he had asked him for permission to court you. The poor man had not believed it, you whose sharp mind had scared away more than one man, here was one of the richest and most respected men in the county interested in you and did not seem put off by your intelligence which sometimes bordered on insolence. But he also feared that Brandon wanted to take advantage of you.

"My daughter... She is not like the ladies you usually frequent in the salons, Colonel," your father had told him.

"Exactly, I don't want a lady who just smiles and sits idle while spending my money," Christopher had replied in his deep voice.

"She... [Y/N] is already 28 years old and has never been... courted or proposed to... that should... worry you," your father had suggested.

Christopher had found your father's concern cute. He had recognized in him a man worried about your well-being. He had reassured him of his intentions and your father who could not miss your annoyed and pleading look had said yes.

But at already 38 years old, Christopher did not want to spend months and months playing the game of convenience. He wanted to marry you quickly.

And you too, for your part, did not want to wait any longer to leave your father's home for the safety of a husband. But the happiness you had of being courted and loved by a man like him was tainted by the fear you had that he might one day know.

"[Y/N], is everything okay ?" Brandon asked you, looking genuinely worried.

You jumped slightly before smiling at him, your mind returning to the inside of the carriage that was gently shaking you on the bumpy road.

"Yes, very well, I... it's just that this is the first time I'm going to go to the Jennings and Mrs. Jennings... she's invited me often but I didn't feel like I belonged there..."

That wasn't really all that was bothering you but you didn't want to tell him the truth. If Christopher didn't believe you, he didn't show it, too busy admiring you in the wool coat he'd given you before you left, a coat that fit you and would keep you warm all winter.

The Jennings welcomed you warmly. He already knew that Christopher was courting you and although Mrs. Jennings' insinuations had made you uncomfortable at times, the day had been pleasant. But you didn't feel entirely at home in this world. You didn't know all the rules of etiquette and you were always a little slouched, a position reinforced by your feelings of inadequacy.

"You'll learn," Christopher said kindly when you confided your doubts, "I'll help you and if you wish, I can have a governess come and see you every day. But [Y/N], I'm not asking you for anything, you know that, right ?"

You nodded gently, grateful for what he was willing to do for you, to help you integrate into his world.

That night, lying in your bed with Henry by your side, covered with several blankets to counter the cold wind that was seeping in through the gaps in the windows, a dull anxiety invaded you. What you were doing was wrong. You were going to make this honest and sincere man suffer who didn't deserve it, a man who wouldn't even look at you anymore if he knew the truth, if he knew who you really were.

12 years ago

You were sixteen years old and you were considered one of the most beautiful girls in your village. Your long brown hair that you rarely bothered to style like a real lady, your soft and delicate face, your big green eyes, your natural kindness and your intelligence made you a rather singular person. You had few friends and the boys didn't really look at you, intimidated that you could hold a real conversation.

But you didn't care, you were still so innocent about things of love. You had a simple life with your father, a man who gave you more freedom than any other girl in your village could have dreamed of having.

No one looked at you except him. A lord's son, no less than that who had noticed you one day at the spring festival that was organized every year thanks to the kindness of his father. This year the old lord had not been able to come and it was him who had come. Tall, elegant, dark-haired with a nonchalant attitude, he had immediately caught your eye. He didn't look like anyone you knew. Nobody. And you didn't look like any of the ladies he rubbed shoulders with either. Why he had noticed you among all the others, you don't know and you would never understand, but it had been the case.

He had spoken to you to talk about the weather. He was charming, disarming too. He wasn't flattering and his sincerity had made you waver, giving rise to a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

That evening, when you returned home, you couldn't forget the smile that lit up his face, but you knew that you couldn't expect anything from this meeting. You were just grateful that he had been kind enough to speak to you, to treat you as an equal.

Except that you had seen her again. Once. Twice. Three times. And he had ended up admitting to you that if he came back to the village so often, it was to see you. Each time, he had a little gift for you: a drug, a silver brooch, a handkerchief embroidered with his initials, gifts that you kept preciously in a wooden box hidden under your bed. Not to mention the dozens and dozens of letters that you exchanged, hiding them in the gap of a stone wall on the edge of the village that secretly kept your correspondence while the other went to get the letter addressed to him. The drawer of your dresser was filled with the languorous words that he wrote to you every week.

"We could leave," he had told you one day.

"Where would we go ?"

"Anywhere. We'll get married in Scotland and then... We could go to America. Or this new land that he calls Australia. They say that there everything is big and everything is wild. We would be free to be what we want."

He kept telling you that your difference in status, in rank, was of no importance and he insisted a little more each time that you leave. And soon, he had infected you with his dreams of escape, of distant landscapes and of a future where conventions, social statuses would not exist.

Back to the present

"[Y/N], will you come with me to the Christmas party that the Jennings are organizing the night before ?"

Christopher was standing in your living room, his hands nervously playing with his hat while your father prepared tea in the next room, Henry at his side hoping to see him drop a biscuit.

"I... I'm not sure I have my place at such an evening," you answered, your cheeks blushing slightly.

You knew that the Jennings would receive prestigious guests, accustomed to the codes of this kind of evening.

"I will stay by your side the whole time," Christopher promised.

You looked up as your father came back into the room, nodding vigorously behind Christopher to urge you to say yes.

"Very well," you murmured.

The Colonel smiled, a shy smile on his lips, the same one that always made you melt.

"If you agree, Mr. [Y/S], I could take [Y/N] into town to buy her a dress for this evening."

"There's no need..." you began but your father almost immediately interrupted you to give his consent.

As you walked side by side, you could feel the eyes of the evil tongues who whispered about the fact that you didn't have a chaperone. Christopher didn't care. After all, you were practically his fiancé and at your ages, there were many other things to worry about. Besides, he was a man of honour, he would never have touched you before making you his wife.

But those whispers tightened your throat, taking you back years.

11 years ago

After a year of dreaming and hoping, you had abruptly learned the truth from a maid at the manor where the man you loved lived. He was engaged. Engaged to a woman of his rank.

"Is it true then ?" you had asked him when you had seen each other in your secret place, far from the eyes of the village.

"[Y/N], I... I am from an important family. I must honour my name."

"You promised me! You told me that our difference in status meant nothing, that we would run away."

"I shouldn't have let you believe that, it was a mistake."

"William," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes.

"[Y/N], it was a dream. A beautiful dream, but you have to wake up now."

And he continued like this, in a cold voice, pretending that everything you had experienced, shared didn't count, was nothing.

"I'm leaving the region at the end of the month. I'm going to Wales. The wedding will take place there and we will settle in one of my father's properties. I'm sorry [Y/N], but you are intelligent, you must have suspected that all this was only ephemeral."

He stroked a lock of your hair, then he turned away and left without a backward glance, leaving you alone with your sorrow, your broken heart, your body in pain.

You fell to your knees, crying silently. You stayed there for a long time, hours. It was almost dark when you finally returned home. You felt empty, betrayed, in another world, so much so that you hadn't even heard your father's remonstrances.

The next day, you burned everything: the letters, the gifts, you wanted to erase him entirely from your existence. But it was too late. He had already left an indelible mark on you.

Back to the present

A lump in your throat, you listened to Christopher talk to you about the future. Children he hoped to have with you.

You had to tell him. He had to know what you had done 16 years ago. You couldn't let him believe that you were a young virgin saved for her husband. You had to tell him everything. But once again, you were too cowardly to do it, promising yourself once again that tomorrow, tomorrow you would talk to him.

But you didn't, the days passed, you kept your secret, your regrets, your remorse and your guilt with you. But on this December 23rd, Christopher did something you didn't expect.

He came to your house without you expecting it. Your father was busy at the Hawthorne's. He was preparing the tables and the decorations for their Christmas reception. However, you didn't hesitate to let Colonel Brandon come home. You knew you had nothing to fear with him, and besides, your four-legged companion would protect you if necessary.

Christopher stood in front of you, a little nervous. He felt a certain resistance in you, but he hoped that what he was going to ask you would break down your last defences and that you would teach him to understand your silences and your sometimes shifty glances.

"[Y/N], I wanted to ask you something," he began, pacing back and forth.

You were sitting by the fireplace, your heart pounding.

"I love you. With a deep and sincere love."

Your breath caught in your throat as he stopped in front of you, his hands crossed behind his back.

"I don't want to wait any longer. I don't want to waste any more time. I know I want you in my life. You touched my heart when I thought it was no longer possible."

"Colonel Brandon," you said, emotion choking your voice somewhat.

Christopher looked at you surprised. You only called him that in public, never in private, not since he asked you to use his Christian name.

"I..."

You couldn't continue. Sensing your hesitation, he took your hands in his, so strong, so powerful.

"I know I'm not perfect. I'm not the most handsome man in the kingdom, and my past has been filled with pain and regret. But I'm grateful to God for making me endure all of this. Thanks to it, I learned to recognize a true soul."

"Christopher," you began but he stopped you by raising his hand.

"I would like us to go to the Jennings' party tomorrow night as your fiancé and for you to allow me to tell my best friend that you have agreed to become my wife."

You turned pale. As if he could sense the tension emanating from your entire being, Henry came to rest his head against your leg. You absently took him on your lap, your eyes wide.

You looked up to see the hope in Christopher's, and you felt sick. You put Henry back on the ground and stood up abruptly to walk away.

"[Y/N]," Christopher said softly.

He didn't understand. What were you doing ? You weren't like Marianne, you couldn't be. He had thought he saw in you what he had been looking for for so long, and here you were about to break his heart, like all the others.

"I can't," you whispered.

His words were like a slap in the air. Brandon took a step back, hurt.

"Why ?" he asked firmly, "was I just a game to you ?"

"No ! Never ! I... Christopher... I..."

Tears welled up in your eyes and you bit your bottom lip until it bled.

"[Y/N], explain yourself. I want to know," he commanded.

"I'm not what you think I am. You deserve a much better woman than me who is worthy of walking by your side."

"[Y/N], I don't expect you to be perfect. But I want you to be honest."

"Honest... I wish I was, but I'm afraid you'll never look at me again."

"[Y/N], what do you mean ?"

Christopher felt worry rising in him. What could you possibly be hiding ?

"I... you'll probably despise me after this, but please, don't tell anyone, ever. I'm telling you because I owe it to you. What I did was wrong. I shouldn't have given you false hope, but please, Colonel Brandon... Christopher... keep my secret, I beg you."

You were crying for real now. Christopher helped you sit up and handed you a glass of water.

"Despising you ? Never. What could you have done that was so bad ?"

His tone was soft, his gaze worried. You hesitated for a split second, then spilled the beans.

"There... many years ago, when I was only 16 years old, I let myself be seduced by a young lord. He... he was insidiously sweet and he made me a thousand and one promises. He promised me a bright future, dreams that I would never have dared to imagine, but...

11 years ago

"My dear, you haven't stopped throwing up for three days. We should really call the doctor," your father had told you tenderly.

"It's not necessary, Dad. We don't have much money and I'll get better soon, there's an epidemic in the village. I probably caught it when I went to sell our apples to Mr. DeGardener."

Your father had nodded, even if he remained worried about you. But you knew you were lying. You weren't sick. It was worse than that.

Two months ago, William had taken you to his house in secret. A magnificent home like you had never seen before. His parents were away, traveling to Scotland with three-quarters of the servants. He had let you in discreetly, under the noses of the few servants still present.

He had taken you to his room, kissed you on the cheek, forehead, nose, mouth. Up until then, nothing more than what you had already done. He then went down your neck and one of his fingers had gently lowered the collar of your dress to place a kiss on the top of your breasts. Out of breath, you had let him do it.

He slid his other hand along your leg, raising your dress up your thigh to place his hand under your drawers, and there again, you had not pushed him away. You knew what was going to happen, you were not as naive as you seemed... well, at least you liked to think so.

Several times, he had asked you if you were sure, if you wanted him to stop. When he had unbuttoned your dress, when he had slid it down your body, when he had removed your wool socks, your undershirt and one last time, before his hands slid your drawers down your legs

And after you had whispered "yes" to him one last time, he had laid you down on his bed and had taken your purity, your innocence, your entire body.

You obviously couldn't tell your father this, but there was one person you could confide in. You knew she wouldn't judge you and she would never tell him again.

You had waited until the next morning, for your father to leave for work to leave him a note and you had left for your grandmother's house. She lived in a modest house a little outside the village, nestled at the end of a path lined with old twisted trees that filtered the autumn light, making their foliage almost unreal.

With bruised feet and a fragile mind, you had timidly knocked on the door, your shoulders weighed down by an emotional fatigue that devoured you more than anything else. Your grandmother had come to open the door. When she saw you, her face had lit up with a toothless smile. Her white hair was tied up in a strict bun and her face, marked by the years, was marked by a little more worry when she saw you with red eyes and a defeated expression.

"Grandma, I didn't know where to go," you had said, bursting into tears.

She had immediately pulled you into her arms. You still remembered her scent of lavender and wood and for the first time since William had abandoned you, you felt safe.

She had led you to the fire and while she made tea, you had unpacked everything. Absolutely everything, while your grandmother had sat in her old, worn armchair, a blanket around her shoulders, listening to you without saying a word.

"My dear," your grandmother had finally said at the end of your story.

"I loved him, Grandma. And I believed him when he said he would marry me," you had said in a hoarse, almost inaudible voice.

"I know, my dear. But you are not the first young girl to be taken in by the sweet promises of a young man in search of pleasure."

"He left me like I was nothing. Like we had nothing in common and all his promises were nothing but wind," you said, crying even harder.

"You're no less precious, [Y/N]. No one needs to know what happened, it's yours," your grandmother had said wisely.

"Except... Oh, Grandma ! I'm expecting his child !"

Your tears had redoubled, almost choking you as your throat was so tight.

"There is no forgiveness for girls like me. I'm lost and when the whole village finds out, my father's name will be sullied."

The old woman had immediately stood up to hug you.

"No one needs to know. You made a mistake, that's true, but that doesn't define you. Neither you nor your worth. It's what you do from now on that matters," she had said firmly.

"What am I going to do, Grandma ?"

The old woman thought silently for a moment, her fingers clenched on the armrest of the chair you were sitting in.

"I... I'm going to go see your father..."

"NO !" you cried.

She silenced you with a look, the same kind of look she used to make you understand, when you were a child, that you were getting a little too insolent.

"I'm going to tell him that I'm not doing very well and that I want to go on a pilgrimage to talk to God. He'll tell me that I'm too old and I'll tell him that's why I want you to come with me, to watch over me."

"Where shall we go, Grandma ?"

"I know a place where we can help you."

"Grandma, you're not judging me, are you ?" you asked, consumed by guilt.

She took your hand in hers and squeezed it with all her strength.

"My poor little darling. You carry a weight that is far too heavy for a young girl, but you are not the first young woman to let a man abuse you. Listen to me carefully, this secret will be ours and you must never, ever let it define you or dictate the rest of your life, understood ?"

You didn't answer and she squeezed your hands a little tighter.

"Understood ?" she asked again with more force.

"Yes," you breathed.

"Good. I'm going to take you to a small, remote convent run by sisters who are rather... let's say more caring than others. They'll give you a choice. Either stay there until you're delivered and they'll then take care of your child, entrust him to a good family who can't have one or..."

You saw her hesitate and you raised a questioning look.

"Or what, grandmother ?"

"Or some of them know... they know how to make angels."

Your breath hitched. You knew what she meant.

"It will be your decision, [Y/N], but know that no matter what you decide, you will do what you believe is right and I, I will always love you just as much."

She hugged you again, whispering to you that anyone who dared to judge you would know nothing of the weight of the human heart. And a week later, you found yourself in this convent, surrounded by sisters who were not as caring as promised, who had made disparaging remarks to you under the disapproving gaze of your grandmother, but despite the sermons, one of them had created an angel and you had returned home as you had left, at least in appearance. But the specter of your guilt, you knew, would never leave you.

Back to the present

"It was supposed to be the best solution, an end, but it was only a beginning. I woke up after days of fever, weakened, my body bruised and my heart... my heart completely empty," you said without even trying to hold back your tears.

Christopher looked at you, his features serious but his eyes not devoid of compassion. He had listened to you from start to finish without interrupting you.

"That day, I lost my faith and my dignity. You see, Christopher, I am not what you think. I am not pure. I am just a slut who... who made an angel out of the child she was expecting. I am not worthy of you, of your love."

A heavy silence fell, broken only by your sobs. Christopher crossed the distance between you and took one of your hands in his. You tried to pull it away, but he stopped you.

"Please, Colonel, don't tell anyone. My father never knew, nor did anyone in our village. This secret belonged only to my grandmother and me. Today, my grandmother is no longer of this world, I am the only one carrying this secret. Please, please, keep it to yourself, I only revealed it to you so that you understand why we can't be together," you said in one go.

"[Y/N], look at me" he asked with authority.

You timidly looked up, afraid to see anger in his eyes, but you only saw love.

"I don't despise you. All I see is a young woman who, far too young, had to go through hell. But you came out stronger. And today, you don't have to carry that burden alone anymore," he said in a soft voice.

You shook your head violently, ready to protest, but he stopped you.

"You have survived much pain, much suffering that few could have borne," he continued with unwavering compassion, "and you are still here, standing before me, strong, fighting. It takes a strength that I can only admire, not despise."

"But I am not pure. I am broken," you whispered.

"And me too, life has broken me many times. But I got back up every time, like you. Life is like that. We all carry our burdens, but they shape us. You are not broken [Y/N], you are like a reed. The wind wanted to break you in two, but you only bent for a moment before getting back up."

His words resfelt like a balm on your bruised heart and for the first time in a long time, you saw hope and the possibility of finally letting those old wounds heal.

"I don't deserve you," you said weakly.

He squeezed your hand a little tighter as if to anchor you to reality.

"You deserve all the love in the world. And I love you. I love you as you are, for who you are. No matter who you were, what you've done. And if you're ready to accept me with my own demons, then I promise to love you, to protect you and together we will build a future far from the ghosts that haunt us. A future where there will be only hope, happiness and you can always lean on me."

You probed him as if to make sure he wasn't playing you, but you saw only sincerity and love on his features.

"[Y/N], do you agree to be my wife ?" Christopher asked softly.

"Yes," you said between sobs.

He held you close, resting his chin on the top of your head. When the front door opened, he quickly stepped back.

"[Y/N], what's going on here ?" your father asked, looking at Christopher suspiciously.

"Dad..."

"I asked [Y/N] to be my wife and she agreed," Christopher answered for you.

Your father's face might have made you laugh if you weren't still reeling from the confession you had just made.

"Well, that's a surprise," he finally said, sitting down heavily on an armchair.

The Colonel took his leave, not without kissing your forehead tenderly, almost possessively before taking his leave.

The next day, he picked you up for the evening at the Jennings, a ring between his fingers.

"It belonged to my mother," he told you as he slipped it onto your finger. "And now, it's yours. And you're mine," he said as he kissed your temple.

And you left for the Jennings, you wrapped in the wool coat that Christopher had given you, he had the biggest smile you'd ever seen on his face. And in that dark night where the cold bit your cheeks, you let yourself go against him when in the carriage, he wrapped his arms around you to warm you. But it wasn't so much his arms that warmed you as the promise of a future that you had never dared to hope for before. And silently, you thanked the heavens for having heard your quiet wishing.

#alan rickman #colonel brandon x female oc #colonel brandon x reader #sense and sensibility #rickmas2024 #evans23

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cillianmurphysdimples · 10 days ago

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A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic. (Part Eight)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful, and all total bollocks.

Gif credit - @remembering-angels

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes - not suitable for under 18s.

TRIGGER WARNING THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DISCUSSIONS/REFERENCES/INFERENCES SURROUNDING PREGNANCY, WOMENS CHOICES, IRELANDS ABORTION LAWS AND ABORTION.

We Got Issues

Part Eight: Y/N feels Cillian's absence when he leaves for his first day of filming, but she feels the shift of his mood even more forcefully when he returns. When he makes her feel badly, she lays down some truths about their life. [Sexual scenes. Discussions of an adult nature]

@remembering-angels @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @lavender-haze-01 @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme

.....

“Y/N.”

You slowly open your eyes as you hear your name, and it's only then you realise you'd even fallen asleep at all. You had returned from the restaurant a little after ten pm, and had spent a little while watching as Cillian had paced up and down the room while you lay in bed. Evidently, you'd nodded off at some point. You groan and turn your head, and smile sleepily as you see him standing at the side of you, dressed and wearing his jacket, with his beanie on and his bag thrown over his shoulder.

“I did call you a bit earlier,” he says, looking a little tired, “And I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye,” he says. He bends at the waist and assaults your forehead with deliberately sloppy kisses, then peppers them down the bridge of your nose before pressing his mouth hard against yours. You reach up your arms and cup his face, and he's so warm and soft, and you wish he'd woken you sooner so you could have taken him for a while before he left at least. He laughs against your mouth, and reaches up to curl his fingers around your wrists. He slowly extracts himself from your grip and you grumble as he draws your hands down off his cheeks. “It’s a quarter past seven,” he says. “I'll be back in a wee while, well, about six or so,” he says. “But I'll ring ya, yeah?”

You sigh and push yourself to sit up against the headboard as he straightens back up again, repositioning his bag on his shoulder. “If you have time, don't worry about me. Good luck, and enjoy.” You smile, rubbing your eyes to clear your vision. “Love you.”

Cillian smiles sweetly, his eyes sparkling a little as his cheeks push up, and it leaves you with a warm feeling. “Love you, too. See you later.” you watch him leave, shoving his earbuds into his ears as he vanishes out of the door, letting it close with a bang behind him.

You look around the room, suddenly you feel his absence incredibly deeply. You'd spent so long together over the last couple of months with his work being either in Ireland or him being home, and now that he is gone, despite you having come along for the trip, you suspect that you'll be a bit lost without him. You know, too, that after this stint in London, you will return to Dublin and he will continue on, and you know you'll experience a form of loss without him. It makes you laugh, in your sadness, because there had been years before when you'd never even known he existed, let alone considered you might ever feel this way. You sigh, and rest your head back against the headboard. You have your laptop, and a day's work to occupy you ahead of you, and even though you've missed out on the chance for breakfast with him, you know that you can have dinner together when he arrives back later in the evening.

-------

“No, no problem at all, Amanda.” You say, holding your phone close as you lean forwards on the bed at the sound of the hotel room door clicking open, then banging closed again. “Yeah, honestly. I've sent that email to the department head in Galway, about the Shaughnessys, and if they don't get back to me before midday tomorrow, I'll ring through.” You smile, still talking, as Cillian steps clearly into view with a sleepy look but a gentle and genuine smile. “No worries. Talk to you tomorrow. Bye.” You hang up the phone and immediately push up onto your knees, opening out your arms as he drops his bag and jacket down onto the floor. It's six forty, and he's home, and you're so happy. “Hello,” you grin, wrapping your arms around him as he comes close to the bed. His face is slightly pink where he's clearly scrubbed off make-up, and he smells of the cold air more than his usual aftershave, but as his arms wrap around you and his lips press to yours, that's all that matters to you.

He rubs the flats of his hands up and down your back, and when he breaks the kiss he smiles at you softly. “You know, that's not how you say that.” he says, and instantly has a broad smirk.

Frowning, you shake your head. “What?”

“You said it like Shawnessy, it's not, you say it as Shocknessy.” He laughs, and you wonder why you've never been corrected by anyone in your work circle for your pronunciation of that surname before.

You eye him as he stands before you still, his arms still wrapped around you, and slowly you poke out your tongue. Drawing your tongue back in between your lips, you raise your eyebrows, “And to think I missed you.”

He smiles and pushes his lips against yours again softly, “I missed you today, too.” He says softly, tapping his right hand against your back before he releases you entirely.

“So you had a good day?” You ask, smiling, watching him as he stands at the side of the bed with his hands on his hips.

He nods, “Yeah, it was good. Busy, like. Sure, it's muscle memory and all, and at the same time it's been so long it feels like forever since we were all working together.” He sounds exhausted, and his accent is a little softer, and you know he's spent the entire day being an Englishman. “It's been good craic with Packy acting the maggot half the day,” he smiles softly. “It's been ages since I saw him properly.”

You give him a bright smile, amused by the fact that he seems so enthusiastic in his words, but his face displays nothing close to that level of cheerfulness. “Steven knows you've the premiers coming up, during filming, here and back home?” You remind him, wondering if he's going to be able to manage the balancing of all the plates he's starting to spin after being home for a few months since he'd finished filming with Eileen and Emily down the country at home. He had been slowly preparing for his return to work with Steven, with gym sessions, diet changes, and lots of meetings, but you'd got so used to him being around almost all the time that now it felt like a big shift, and you hadn't anticipated the changes in his temperament that would accompany it.

“He does, yeah,” he nods, and gives you a smile that dimples his cheeks but doesn't move near his tired eyes. Paradoxically, while you can see he's tired, you can also see he's wired - he won't sit or settle, not without winding down, and you imagine that it could take him a while. “And I've a few interviews, Zoom calls and all, when you head back to Dublin.” He says, pushing his hands into his pockets. “It'll be fun juggling that with the night shoots in Manchester.” He says, raising his eyebrows quickly then dropping his face back into a totally unmasked, almost moody looking expression.

“Isn't there an interview on the cards after the London premier, with Ben and Matt?” You ask, sitting down onto the mattress as you feel your knees beginning to ache at being pushed into the bed. He nods his head, but doesn't offer another word, so you just smile softly. “Did you want me to order us some dinner?” You suggest, reaching over to close your laptop down. “Or I can go out and get us something. I imagine you're not up for sitting out in some random restaurant tonight.”

“Ah, sure, whatever you want to do.” He says, and he sounds so indifferent that you know he doesn't even want to talk right now, let alone make the decision. There's an edge to his voice, and attitude of sorts, almost like he's bothered by you speaking, and you're not sure if you're imagining it, it's residual from work, or it's just that he's tired and had enough social interaction for the day.

You try not to take it to heart, and instead you climb off the bed and put your laptop away neatly. You leave your phone on the bedside table, and you push your feet into the slippers you'd left beside the bed. “Do you want a drink?” You offer.

He's dragging his jumper off over his head, and as he drops the garment onto the end of the bed, he shakes his head. *No, I'm grand. I'm gonna run a bath.” He smiles at you softly as he jerks his head towards the bathroom door, then disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door and pushing across the lock as he goes inside.

You frown - he doesn't frequently lock the door at home when he takes a bath, so why now? You try desperately not to take it to heart, but you find yourself feeling pushed away, despite the warm greeting he'd offered you as he'd returned. You perch on the edge of the bed, staring into the near distance as your mind runs off with anxious thoughts. You know it's probably silly, but it doesn't stop them forming. You berate yourself, and still they come. You don't even notice the room darkening or the time passing until you finally raise your head and find you can't see too well around the room. You move towards the bedside table and turn on the lamp, then pick up your phone. You check the time and realise you've been sitting there, away in your mind, for over half an hour.

It's close to an hour and a half after he first disappeared before Cillian emerges from the bathroom. From your position lounging on the bed, watching Emmerdale - something you never do - you turn your head as he closes the bathroom door behind him. His hair is damp and sticking up all over where he's scrubbed at it with a towel, and he has a towel carefully tucked over and wrapped around his waist. His body had been changing gradually as the last few months had ticked by, but particularly over the last few weeks. Staring at him, still covered in droplets of water and nearly nude, you realise you haven't actually admired his body in something other than sexual activity for a little while. Gone are his angles and slightness, and in their place are more definition and shapes of a different kind. He smiles at you as you stare, and you drop your gaze, a little embarrassed to be caught. You mute the TV and drop the controls onto the bed.

“Nearly conked out in there,” he says and when you look back up at him, he smirks. He seems brighter now and it's exhausting to keep up with him. “Did you make a choice on food?” He asks, and you can hear he sounds cheerful, almost playful, and try to reconcile with yourself that he's come a little more back to himself in the warm water, and not to take his shifts in mood and attitude to heart. You try to replay Sophie's words from the night before in your mind as a reminder that your anxiety cannot be allowed to make every small difference in him into a negative indicator of your relationship.

“No," you shrug, “I was waiting to see what you wanted. I know you said to do whatever, but I didn't want to get something you didn't want after being busy all day.” You get up and sit more forwards the edge of the bed, with your legs hanging down over the side, but turn back awkwardly to look at him.

“You've been working too.” He says. He crouches down, holding the towel in place, to search through his case beside the bedside table for pyjamas and boxers. He stands back up a moment later with the items in his hand and tosses them onto the bed. “What about just ordering a pizza?” He suggests after a moment of quiet and he turns his back to you as he sits on the edge of the bed. He lets the towel drop to the floor by his feet. Your eyes wander over the freckles that pepper across his back and shoulders, one of your favourite identifying features of his, and as you move your eyes up you realise you miss the way his longer hair curls up at the nape of his neck now that it has been shorn away for filming. He pulls his underwear and pyjamas on without having dried off properly, and when he stands up again and turns back to face you, you can see the grey t-shirt form a polka dot pattern almost immediately where it clings to a few droplets across his chest. He rubs his hands across his hair, flattenif it down a little, and dries his hands against his thighs. He looks comfortable, though, and you try to resist the urge to just drag him onto the mattress and snuggle against him. It's what you want, it's all you want, but now he's focused on the food you were trying to entice him with when he got back, and you don't think he'll allow you the softness. “Y/N?” He calls your name. “What's wrong with ya?* He laughs, and you blink yourself out of your lack of focus.

“Sorry, what?” You look him in the eye.

“Y'alright?” He asks, and he walks around the foot of the bed and meets you around at the other side. He cups both hands around your face and kisses your lips before you answer. When he draws his face back, he smooths his thumbs back and forth across your cheeks. “I said, do you fancy pizza?”

It's on the tip of your tongue to say ‘no, I fancy fucking you on the bed because I missed you all day and I feel like I need to do something to keep you’. It's there, but it doesn't come out. “Yeah, okay,” you smile, and you breathe in deeply through your nose as he kisses you again, his hands still holding your cheeks. You reach out your hands and plant them onto his hips, kneading at the flannel fabric of his pyjama bottoms,

“You're not yourself,” he says, his nose almost touching yours. You want to tell him that he isn't, either, but you shrug your shoulders.

“I'm alright,” you say, lifting your tone to ensure you sound jovial. “Go on, you order the pizza,” you pat your left hand against his hips and draw your hands away, and he releases your face at the same time. “But if you're going fully veggie, then you're on your own.” You tease. “And I want to hear about how it was being thrust back into the world of Tommy Shelby.” You smile softly, and you watch him smirking as he begins scrolling through his phone to order the pizza. You're happy that you can see your Cill back in him again, and you consider that perhaps he just needed some alone time, a break from having to be personable, when he'd got back earlier, and swallow all of his bad feelings down as far as you can.

----

Your arms are wrapped around Cillian's back, your knees widely parted, and you’re granted kiss after kiss as he fucks into you slowly, with sensual nuzzling and gently huffed breaths into your ear. He's needy and yet it feels routine, lacking the passion of previous fumbles of late. You keep your arms around him, though, and it isn't at all unenjoyable - his movements are actually hitting the spot well - but you feel like he's far away in his head and that you're sinply offering stress relief. You can tell by the thrusts of his hips that he's about to cum, and it startles you a little when he abruptly pulls back, leaving you open and exposed, before fucking his fist as he towers over you on his knees. Five tugs with his wrist and he ejaculates with a moan, and he leaves his mark across your stomach and breasts. It isn't the first time he's done this, but you're so taken by surprise by the change from sensual love making to being wanked over that you don't know how to react. You look up at him, unsatisfied and frustrated, as he releases himself and sighs. Though his cock is softening slowly, it is still swollen and proud as he kneels. He leans over you again, hands planted into the mattress either side of you, by your shoulders, and he leans down and kisses your lips softly. You participate in the kiss, but your mind is still going over the abruptness of the switch. And all you can think is that you'd rather he'd stopped midway and just got a fucking condom.

You make an attempt to move as he moves away, but he holds out his hand. “Stay still,” he says gently, whispering and husky, and he disappears into the bathroom for a moment before returning with a dampened flannel and a towel. He hands them to you and turns his back to redress, and for a moment it crosses your mind that he might be a tad embarrassed. You clean yourself up before sitting up, and you reach to the floor for your discarded pyjamas. After pulling them on, you take the towel and flannel back into the bathroom and drop them into the hanging laundry basket, shoving them down towards the bottom, not entirely sure you could stomach the embarrassment if the room attendant knew what it was off the bat. When you step back into the main part of the hotel room, he's sitting on the edge of the bed. “Sorry,” he says, and you raise both eyebrows in lieu of words. “I didn't bring condoms…” he says with a sigh.

“Didn't seem to matter over my birthday,” you say, a little petulant, and he looks at you as if it is only dawning on him at that moment.

“Fuck,” he drops his head. “Y/N, we - I…” he begins and you hold up your hand.

“I'm clear on your opinion, Cill.” You say, “Okay? I'll keep an eye on things and I'll… deal with it, if it needs dealing with. We get twelve weeks back home, right? Keep up the campaigning, Cill, and maybe they'll extend that eventually.” You sound spiteful, you know, but he's made you feel dirty, and at this moment you just want to go home. You don't know why you spat political lines, but you're hurt still and though you've been pushing all those feelings from before your birthday down, the truth is it still hurts you terribly.

“I didn't say anything like that.” He defends himself quickly, raising his voice almost instantly.

“Well you don't want more kids, do you? And we just told your son I wasn't pregnant. So, if it turns out I am, then I'll sort it out.” You match his tone. “You changed your mind and I don't want to hurt your sons. I can't keep being the bad person to them.”

“Y/N!” He snaps.

You know he doesn't like how blaise you're being, but you're not going to discuss this again because you'll break if you do. You can't bear to consider that just maybe his mind is going to change once again. You won't allow it. You shake your head and there's a scathing smirk on your lips. “And to think this whole fucking row could have been avoided if you'd just brought condoms.”

“I don't remember you mentioning a fucking condom at any point either, tonight or your birthday.” Cillian's voice is sharp and loud, and for just a moment you wonder if you're going to get that rare but mighty side of him - the vicious tongued little bastard who slams doors and swears at you rather than his usual manner of swearing to you. The rare temper that stings with its nastiness and growls insults so colourful they'd make a whore blush.

“I'm not the one who changed my mind on the turn of a screw,” you say and you can see a tiny movement by his eyes that tells you his temper isn't too far away. “I've told you, I know what your opinion is. When I find out either way, I'll sort what needs sorting.”

“Y/N! You say that like you're going to take the bins out, for fucks sake.” He shakes his head.

You sigh and shake your head. “You don't want another child." You shout. "You said that, Cillian. So what else am I supposed to say, or do?” You keep your voice from edging too far into fury but you know you're loud.

“Why are we doing this right now?” His arms are wide out at his sides, and the thickening of his accent doesn't seem so endearing this time. “Jesus!” he rubs his hands across his face and when he drops his arms, his face doesn't look cross anymore. Instead, he looks sad. “Y/N, if you're pregnant then we need to talk about things.”

“We talked,” you say, “You've changed your mind, Cillian. I get it. I have to be okay with that. I'm not okay with you going from making love to spilling your balls over me like I'm a whore.” In truth, it's not the act itself but the change in his nature, and leaving you completely unsatisfied whilst he still got what he wanted, what he needed, despite it being him without the condoms he so desperately seemed to think were important again.

His cheeks colour pink a little, and you can see he sees his mistake. “I'm sorry,” he shakes his head.

“Maybe I should go back to Dublin tomorrow. Your head is full of so many things right now, and I don't want to add to it.” You sigh.

“I want you here.” He says, and he crosses the floor space before you to cup his hands around your face. “I want you here.” He repeats. “I'm sorry for being in my head, I'm sorry for not thinking, and I'm sorry you didn't think you could talk to me about what might or might not be growing in there.” He releases his right hand from your face and touches it to your stomach. “It's a conversation, okay? If you're pregnant, it's a conversation. It has to be. It isn't just about what I want.”

“Isn't it?” You ask, then you consider it for a moment. “No.” You say. “No, it's also about what it'll do to us, to your boys, to Yvonne.” You can see he wants to say they don't matter, but he doesn't because he knows as well as you that it's everything but you two that are the deciding factors in what happens. “It's too early to take a test. When enough time has passed, I will, and we can go from there.”

He looks at you with a mix of emotions you don't fully understand. He’s a little scared, and clearly embarrassed, but there's something else in there that you don't know how to read. “Don't go home,” he says, drawing his hands away from you. “Please, stay here like we'd planned.”

You sigh slowly, and decide to be completely ridiculous to break the tension. “I'll go and buy some condoms tomorrow.” You say, “If you think I'm going to let you take me halfway and then abandon me again, you've got another think coming.” You don't want to fight, so once again your pain is pushed down. You need him too much to keep fighting, so you push away what you really feel. It isn't healthy, you know, but you don't want to go back to not having him again.

You can see him working over your words before he seems to finally catch your drift. “Oh,” he raises his eyebrows. “Well, maybe I should fix that?”

You laugh, and you're not sure if you're amused or just don't want to fight anymore. “Can I cum on your tits?” You ask and he closes his eyes, shaking his head as he laughs, his tongue resting on his bottom teeth. “It's fine,” you say, resting your hand in the middle of his chest, caressing him over the material of his pyjama top. It isn't, but you make it fine. “Can we go to bed and hug like a normal couple?”

“Y/N, we're far from normal.” He says, wrapping his arms around you. “Whatever is ahead, like I said before, yeah, whatever happens, I love you.”

Once again, you bury everything in the recesses of your mind. You won't forget, but you can't hate him at all. “I love you, too.” You whisper into his chest.

#cillian murphy #fanfic #fanfiction #adult themes #reader x cillian #reader x cillian murphy #female reader x cillian #female reader x cillian murphy #female y/n x cillian #female y/n #female y/n x Cillian Murphy #y/n x Cillian #y/n x cillian murphy #discussion of adult themes #read warning

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minustwofingers · 1 year ago

Text

exoplanet part 7

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used)

series masterlist (read parts 1-6 here!)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: stuck up awful rich people. mentions of: abortion (sowwy ** i can't write kids), homophobia, throwing up, general awful elitism, heavy drinking, implied minor character death, and we talk about stuff like unethical labor practices/basically slave labor. depictions of: violence, guns.

a/n: hey yall....sorry for taking literal months to write this. and sorry in advance for what you're about to read, since this is admittedly a little far removed from tlou. and i'm also sorry if this isn't what you guys are expecting—i know i made you wait a long time for this, so it was tough for me to finally get around to posting because i didn't want to disappoint anyone. also it was just sooo sad writing the last scene because i just didn't want it to end!! anywayyyy enjoy

wc: 14.6k (i know...i know...)

tags: @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28 @sugarqueencosmos @iriswalrus @chiao1209 @lovecaraya @thatgiraffefromtlou @alwayslongingforyou @thelastofshimmer

May 16th, 2029

Welcome to AskAI! Enter your questions below and I'll try my best to answer :)

How does Cordyceps spread?

Ophiocordyceps unilateralis is mostly commonly spread between humans by the medium of bodily fluids, though this was not always the case. In the early stages of the outbreak, most carriers were infected by the presence of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis spores in flour from a Jakartan mill. It is still unclear how the contamination occurred.

Is saliva included in bodily fluids that carry Cordyceps?

Yes, Ophiocordyceps unilateralis can be spread through human saliva. Other bodily fluids include blood, feces, mucus, and semen.

So if someone were to kiss someone infected with Cordyceps, would that person be infected too?

Yes, because Ophiocordyceps unilateralis can be spread through human saliva.

How long would it take before seeing symptoms?

If Ophiocordyceps unilateralis spores were to be introduced to an individual via mouth-to-mouth transmission, the approximate incubation window has been recorded to be no longer than 8 hours.

How long would it take to be detected by a standard testing device?

Our testers would detect the presence of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis within an hour after exposure. Note that this only refers to the conditions outside of Terranova. There has never been a detected case of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis in Terranova’s history.

Thank you.

You’re welcome! Please leave feedback on the AskAI Feedback Form if you have any ideas as to how I can improve <3

One year later

“And there’s no way we can skip?”

“You know the rules.”

Dina rolled her eyes and sighed as you two stood at the door of your parents’ penthouse, waiting to knock. “Maybe if you went and I said that I was sick or something.”

“They’d know you were lying.”

“They’d probably be happy if I missed dinner.”

“I don’t know if happy is something they can be,” you said. You tried to make it light and joking, but it came out with the heaviness of truth. “Plus, they’re not exactly thrilled with me either.”

“Not exactly thrilled” was the understatement of the century. Ever since you’d come home with a pregnant outsider toting a gun and covered in dirt, your parents had convinced themselves that you’d somehow become corrupted over your time living outside.

But Dina had it way worse. Your parents were so scandalized by her rugged ways and the fact that she’d gotten pregnant out of wedlock that they’d nearly fainted upon realizing you were advocating for her Terranovan citizenship.

You both had had the good fortune of avoiding any further tense interactions with them for the last few months, but that morning you’d awoken to an email that contained an invitation to their home for dinner. It was noted that Dina had to attend.

So here you two were. Dressed in uncomfortable, stiff clothes and nervously twiddling your thumbs.

“You’re going to be fine,” you promised Dina. It sounded like a lie. “I’ll do most of the talking, okay?”

“If you say so.”

You rang the doorbell.

It took just a few moments before the door swung open.

“Hi Chris!” you greeted, plastering a smile on your face.

Your family housekeeper smiled back with a neutral warmth. She looked slightly thinner than you remembered when you saw her last just a few months ago. “Hello. Miss Dina, please remember to keep your shoes on this time.”

Dina flushed bright red. The last time she’d come over for dinner, she’d taken her shoes off and had been given a very stern lecture by your mother about how improper stockinged feet were for dinner. “Of course not, ma’am.”

You sent her an apologetic look and stepped inside.

“Your parents are in the sitting room,” Chris told you as she took your coats.

You thanked her.

“Why don’t they ever come up to greet us themselves?” Dina whispered to you.

You shrugged. “No clue. They just never have. They probably don’t want to have to take a break from whatever stimulating conversation they’re having about the country club happenings.”

She snorted. All of a sudden, you were overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude for Dina and her spirit. After your family had essentially decided you were hopeless, family get-togethers had become torture. Dina was your lifeline.

As Chris had said, your parents were found lounging in the sitting room, your mother fanning herself with one hand and holding what looked to be a gin and tonic in the other, your father sitting across from her in a tastefully worn armchair.

“Girls,” your mother greeted. Her eyes looked flinty and flat. “How good of you to come. I was worried you’d lost your way.”

It was a classic Y/L/N insult for latecomers, but it was barely a minute past 6:30.

“The elevator wasn’t working,” you offered. “We had to take the stairs.”

“Hm. Well, come and sit. Petra can get you a drink.”

A tall girl who couldn’t have been much younger than you was standing at the other end of the room next to the bar. She had bright ginger hair that stood out starkly against the neutral beige of her uniform and a small, squatty nose. You’d never seen her before in your life.

“Is she new?” you asked.

“Who, Petra? Oh, I think so. It must’ve been…oh, I’m not sure. This March, I believe? What do you think, darling?”

“Around then.” The solid ice globe slid against the glass with a clink as your father answered, taking a long pull of his bourbon after.

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Dina politely.

Your mother let out a labored sigh. “Dear, I’m very glad to see you working on manners, but there’s no need to engage with the help.”

Dina didn’t answer, instead sending you a meaningful look.

“Well, not usually,” she continued. “Though it is appropriate to interact with them in matters that are considered strictly business. Take, for example, the fact that neither of you have managed to order a drink yet. Petra, come.”

You stared at your hands, folded tightly in your lap. If there was anything you hated more than your parents, it was how they treated the help. And, though you’d never say it out loud, you didn’t understand how two middle aged adults needed more than one full-time housekeeper on hand. Chris made sense. Petra was entirely unnecessary.

“We really don’t need anything,” you said to Petra when she was in front of you, looking rather pale. “But thank you.”

The tension in the air refused to dissipate, not even when you were relocated to the dining room and had the crutch of picking away at the three courses served to you.

Dina, having been thoroughly scolded by your mother the last time she dined with her, was clinical in choosing which utensil to use for each course.

Your mother babbled on and on about the country club and the book club. Your father occasionally butted in with a few dull, lifeless comments. There was something especially dead in his appearance, like he was running on zero sleep.

“You may be curious as to why I asked you two here today,” your mother said after the main course plates had been cleared. “First of all, I wanted to extend my congratulations to my daughter for graduating in just a few days.”

“Thank you,” you said stiffly.

“And more importantly—”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“—I wanted to announce that your father will finally be retiring,” she said. “He’s been working so hard for the last few years. Isn’t this wonderful?”

“That’s really great, Father,” you said, feigning a smile to hide your confusion. You hadn’t known that your father had even worked, much less hard enough to warrant a formal retirement.

“Thanks, dove,” he said.

“When’s your last day?” you pried, wondering if you could manage any more information out of him.

“This Friday.”

“Hm.” So much for that. You exchanged glances with Dina as Petra reappeared with a tray of small goblets filled with colorful globes of sorbet.

“You’ll both be expected to be in attendance at his retirement party,” Mother added. She was frowning deeper now.

“Even me?” said Dina.

“Yes.” She smiled tightly. “And please note that they’re unaware that we helped you through your…little problem. I can’t imagine why that would ever come up in conversation, but I would really prefer it didn’t.”

“Uh huh,” responded Dina, her eyes wide.

When Dina had arrived, your family had given her two options—have her child and give it up for adoption, or terminate the pregnancy then and there in secret. Refusing to comply would lead to your parents being entirely unwilling to sponsor her citizenship as it was far too unseemly to be an unmarried mother. Though it was clear your parents thought she was devastated by the prospect, she’d confided in you later that she hadn’t realized that that had been an option for her. She’d taken the second option without a second thought, telling you that she didn’t feel ready to be a mother.

The unfortunate part of it all was that your parents held this over her head on occasion, using it as leverage to make Dina feel like she owed them. Hence why she never felt entirely comfortable with telling them off.

That your parents had kept the abortion a secret was hardly a surprise. Abortion was one of those issues that no one liked to talk about. Though it wasn’t the hardest procedure to get, it was never publicly discussed. You’d never personally known of anyone who had gotten one before, but the clinic had been so full when you’d attended with Dina nearly a year ago that you were beginning to second guess that fact.

“Anyway,” said your mother lightly, “Darling, have you heard anything from the Thompsons recently?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t seen Richard in quite some time.”

“It’s funny you say that. Melanie was supposed to host the Garden Club party last week, and you’ll never believe what happened.”

“What, honey?” Your father stared dully at the tablecloth, entirely unengaged.

“When I stopped by, the rest of the girls were already there,” your mother said. “Just sitting out in front of her building looking very confused. I walked right up and asked what was going on—you know, now that I’m co-president, I need to keep things in order—”

“Yes, honey.”

“—And Angie tells me that they’ve been ringing her for ten minutes and she hasn't answered. I decided to give her a call, and straight to voicemail. So we all sat out there until it started raining. We never even got an apology text.”

“Oh,” said your father, looking a little more engaged. “Is that really?”

“Yes,” your mother said. The attention made her sit up straighter. “It absolutely was. It was incredibly inappropriate. I couldn’t believe it. And to think that she stole that hosting spot from me…”

“Do you know if she’s alright?” your father asked,

She shrugged. “I should hope not. That’s the only excuse she could have for what happened.”

“Hm.” Your father moved the melting sorbet around without clinking his spoon to the crystal. “It seems that quite a few of us have been dropping off the face of the Earth.”

“It must be because of the long winter,” you said diplomatically. “Too much darkness makes us all a little loony.”

Your mother raised a brow and hummed in assent. “I suppose so.”

“Is that why groceries are so expensive now?” you asked. It had become a new development. About 6 months after you and Dina had returned, the prices on the shelves had rocketed upwards.

“Something like that,” your father said vaguely.

“What does that mean?”

“Y/N,” your mother warned.

“It’s alright, dear,” your father said, waving his hand. “It’s really nothing interesting. Supplying this city has always had its challenges. This year just happens to be especially hard.”

“What kind of challenges?” pried Dina.

“Shipments are always difficult to orchestrate,” he said. “As is quality control. It’s nothing that we haven’t seen before. Prices will go back to usual within a few months. The pendulum always has to swing back.”

It was a saying he always used—the pendulum analogy.

Dessert wrapped up quickly. Your mother gave you the official date for your father’s retirement party and ironed out your graduation details, and before you knew it you and Dina were off into the night.

“Thank fucking god that’s over,” said Dina as you two trotted down the street to the metro.

“Tell me about it.” You zipped up your jacket to ward off the slight chill in the evening air. “I’m really sorry you had to deal with all of that. I appreciate you coming with me. I know they’re awful to you.”

“Well, they’ll be worse if I don’t go,” she responded, her eyes cloudy for a second. She was right. One misstep and they could have her citizenship and their financial sponsorship rescinded.

“True,” you conceded.

The metro was bustling with people as you and Dina hopped on to the yellow line that would take you to the university residences. It was modeled right after the Parisian metros, with its Art Nouveau signs and themed stops. There was only standing room, so you two clutched onto the stainless steel poles in the middle.

The doors made a groaning sound and a speaker crackled as the announcer came on.

“Doors closing. Please stand clear of the exits. This is an express train with service to University Park. Other stops include 25th Street and North Village. There will be no evening service to Rotingham.”

You and Dina seemed to come to an unspoken agreement to remain silent and process the hell that had been dinner with your parents as the train lurched forward into motion. You closed your eyes and would’ve rested your head against the handrail had it not been so gross.

The only fortunate thing about your parents was the fact that they were incredibly easy to get to, despite living on the other side of the city from the university. What would’ve normally taken 40 minutes with transfers was cut down to 15 with the use of an express train that ran right from the station outside of your apartment.

You had resolved to just sit in silence when the train came to a screeching halt.

Your eyes shot open, meeting Dina’s confused gaze.

The lights above flickered, then sputtered out to leave you in darkness.

There was a hushed silence amongst everyone in your train car.

“What’s going on?” Dina whispered to you.

“This happens sometimes,” you said quietly back, but it was sort of a lie. It wasn’t entirely uncommon for the lights to go out, but you’d never had it happen in tandem with a train stopping on the tracks before reaching a station. And especially not an express train…

The lights flickered on again, and there was a shared sense of relief as a few of the train’s occupants let out a shaky laugh.

“Thought we were going to have to walk!” said a ruddy looking old man sitting across from you. The car responded with polite chuckles.

“Apologies for the delay,” came a voice over the loudspeaker—a human voice, not an automated one. “There was a disturbance on the tracks that had to be dealt with. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused. Service will continue as usual.”

The train lurched back into movement, the dark walls of the tunnel moving past in a blur.

“That was weird,” Dina remarked once you two had gotten to your stop and were walking up to ground level.

“Yeah,” you said, frowning. “I didn’t want to tell you then because I didn’t want to freak you out, but normally express trains never stop, especially not at this time of night with less trains in service.”

“What qualifies as a disturbance on the tracks?”

“I have no clue,” you confessed. The sun was hovering just barely over the horizon, its last rays of light reflecting aggressively off of the skyscrapers in the distance from which you came. “Someone probably dropped something big like a suitcase onto the tracks and blocked the way. It happens.”

You were purposefully avoiding the elephant in the room—that it had probably been a person on the tracks. It wasn’t especially common—not nearly as common as you heard it was in places like New York before the outbreak—but it happened on occasion. Terranova wasn’t the best place for everyone.

“The Thompsons are Simon’s family, right?” Dina asked you. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the cheerful chatter of fellow university students socializing and drinking on the green next to the sidewalk.

“Yeah,” you said. You and Dina had occasionally hung out with Simon since returning. You noticed that Simon had really taken a liking to Dina, but neglected to mention it since his parents were actively attempting to arrange a marriage between him and some girl in the Art History program at your school. “Have you talked to him at all? I haven’t heard from him for a week or so.”

“Me neither.” Dina tightened the dark braid that fell over her shoulder as she walked, looking rather troubled. “I didn’t realize his parents were missing.”

“They’re probably fine,” you said. “I seriously wouldn’t worry about it. There’s nothing here that could hurt them.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I just forget that there’s no infected here sometimes. Like, tonight, I thought I was gonna have to start swinging on someone in the train when the power cut.”

“God, same.” You shivered. “It’s weird to know that we don’t have to worry about that anymore. But I think it’ll get easier with time.”

“Yeah,” said Dina, but she didn’t sound convinced. “Well, I’m going to text Simon and see if he’s alright. Or maybe call him. I’m sure he’ll know what happened.”

“Let me know what he says.” You’d ascended the steps up to your shared apartment and were slotting the key into the keyhole. “By the way, did I ever formally invite you to my graduation?”

“Not that I recall.” Dina followed you in and kicked her shoes off.

“Well, consider this your formal invitation,” you said, turning to grin at her. “It’s this Saturday. Be there or be square.”

“Will there be free food?”

“And anything you want to drink,” you told her, though you weren’t entirely sure of that fact. You’d only ever been to one graduation in your life, and that had been years before it was socially acceptable for you to drink anything beyond the odd glass of watered down wine—but you recalled a memory of particularly free-flowing champagne flutes being passed around.

“Consider me sold.”

You had to be going crazy. There was no way.

You entered the numbers back into the graphing software again. Then again. Then one more time, just to be sure you were seeing what you were seeing.

“Everything going alright over there?” asked old Professor Gunther, looking up from his grading and his steaming cup of tea.

“Um—” You blinked, hard, then looked back down at your calculations. “Professor, can you look at these for me? I think I must’ve made a mistake.”

“Of course, my dear.” He graciously accepted the notepad full of barely legible numbers that you came up to hand to him and adjusted the glasses on his face so he could squint more efficiently. “And what is this exactly?”

“I’ve been parsing through the data on that star—that K star you’d been watching for a while—and, um, I’ve noticed something.” Your voice shook nearly as much as your hand as you pointed to the scribbled numbers. “Can you, uh, graph these? And put them into a different program than StarBlast? And look at the spectra? It’s giving me what I think is—actually, I don’t know. You do it and I’ll show you what I got.”

“I’m confused about what you could have possibly done wrong,” he said, though he was already opening his own laptop and starting up a different program that you hadn’t used before because of how much you hated the GUI. “Did you try to parse it by hand to check?”

“Yes,” you said. “Horrible idea. Took me forever.”

“And you got the same result?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” He took off his glasses to wipe them off, then began typing in the data you’d emailed to him earlier for bookkeeping purposes. “Let me see what I have.”

The agonizing few minutes it took for him to enter him already had your mind spiraling with possibilities as the implications sunk in. If you were right—if this was right—everything was going to change in your field.

The spectra graph roared to life.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard your professor say. “Is this—”

“I think so,” you said. “I think so.”

What you two were looking at held more than one piece of crucial information. The first was nothing but basic calculations of a Doppler Shift that detected that there was a planet. Your calculations estimated its size at roughly the same as the Earth, with a similar orbital period and distance from its star that placed it in the habitable zone.

That wasn’t anything earth-shattering. There were plenty of Earth-sized planets in the habitable zone, implying that if the conditions were right, there was an environment conducive to organic life.

What was, however, were the spectra emissions that you were staring at, slack-jawed and skin prickling.

“Methane,” you whispered. “And oxygen. And phosphine.”

And not just a little—enough that it suggested biological processes that could only occur with the presence of life.

“I think you should finish writing this report,” Professor Gunther finally said.

You froze. “What?”

He turned to you, his glasses sliding down his bulbous nose and a kind smile on his face. “I’ve made enough discoveries in my life. This one is yours to claim.”

You were overcome with so much gratitude that you launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

Gunther good-naturedly patted your back with the enthusiasm of a grandfather being pestered by his grandchildren. “This is your moment. Take it.”

“Thank you,” you said, pulling back with tears welling up in your eyes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He smiled again. “It’s truly my pleasure. I feel lucky to have had a student like you.”

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to start crying.”

“We can’t have that,” he said, standing up and handing you back your sheet of calculations. “You have work to do.”

You settled back into your work across from him, nearly buzzing with excitement as you finished typing up your findings. It would be a long process for the study to actually be published—long, painful, and undoubtedly draining—but it would be so worth it. You’d be the one who discovered a planet that (most likely) harbored life. For the first time in history.

Though you wouldn’t be publishing a paper any time soon, you still had to log the planet into the “global” (not exactly global given that there was no other place on Earth with the same technology as Terranova) database. And with that meant giving it a name.

In that moment, it was like time froze as the cursor blinked in the box. There was nothing but the blood rushing in your head, the dull hum of the fluorescent lights above, and the slight stickiness of the leather desk chair beneath you.

You gulped. It was standard in the department to name planets after the astronomer that discovered them. You’d never had a planet named after you before. You’d only ever crunched numbers that Gunther had given to you to analyze spectra emissions. This was the first time you’d ever actually discovered something that hadn’t already been logged before it had landed on your desk.

And yet…

You closed your eyes. Suddenly you were back in the meadow at Jackson, tracing the wisps of the Milky Way with your finger as you and Ellie talked about the constellations. You saw the childish excitement on her normally stern features when she held the moon rock for the first time. You saw the wonder in her eyes when you told her a new space fact that she’d never heard before. That she’d never had the opportunity to learn before.

Your fingers moved before you could stop them, quickly tapping out the name “Ellie” into the box and hitting the enter button.

For the rest of the day, you regretted it. You tried not to think of her anymore. It was something that you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t do after you spent the entirety of last summer miserable and doing nothing but turning over the memories in your mind until Dina made you do something with her.

It was difficult. You wanted to put it in the past, because you couldn’t think about her without thinking about how she probably wasn’t even alive anymore. Which didn’t make any sense. Nothing ever made any sense about Ellie. Even before you predicted she’d been bitten, she’d already been behaving erratically—not packing her things, not saying a real goodbye to Joel, catching more food than their small group of three could possibly need near the end. It was like she knew that she wouldn’t be able to go.

Which didn’t make any sense, because why go all that way knowing that it was for nothing?

Which made you think about how bizarre she was before leaving. How sad she seemed when she told you that she was going, like even then she knew that it wouldn’t happen.

And you hadn’t gotten sick from her, even though you should have. She’d kissed you long after she would’ve been bitten. And you knew from your frantic research upon arriving that you should have tested positive when Simon checked.

So why hadn’t you? And why had she?

It was things like this that could keep you up for days if you weren’t careful. It was awful, but sometimes you liked to believe that she had really been sick and had died shortly after. You had a vision of her killing herself before fully turning, and even though it hurt to imagine it, it was the most humane end of them all. If she was dead, then maybe there was an afterlife, and maybe a piece of her was watching over you. Maybe she was still with you. Maybe she finally was able to rest.

You hoped that little piece of her had seen her name the first planet with life after her.

A tiny smile crept across your face, but inside you felt devastated. You were going to mourn her again all day, like you always did when something reminded you of her. And you were probably going to dream of her, of her stupid grin and the way her hair felt when it tickled your face.

Pull it together you thought glumly. You had to be normal for your father’s retirement party that night, and you had just under 4 hours to do so.

“Ugh,” you said, staring at your phone as you stood with Dina near the door, both of you dolled up and ready to go to the party.

“That’s how I feel too,” said Dina. “I’m going to kill myself if anyone brings up anything about how hard my childhood must’ve been and how I’m doing such a good job adjusting one more time.”

“Ha,” you said. “Mom just texted me to tell me that we need to stop by theirs first.”

“Why? Aren’t they already at the venue?”

“Yeah,” you responded, wrinkling your nose. “But apparently she forgot her gift for him—some vintage Rolex she got restored for him.”

“A vintage what?”

“Stupidly overpriced wristwatch,” you explained.

It took less time than usual to get to their building. Despite it being at peak busy hour, the platforms seemed eerily empty.

“Is there some holiday going on?” Dina asked, sitting across from you so that you both had your own row of seats.

“Oh, I’m such an idiot,” you said, clapping your forehead with your hand. “Of course there is. That’s why my father held his retirement party today. It’s the first day of this festival that goes all week.”

“What’s it for?”

“I honestly don’t know the background,” you admitted. “Most people just use it as an excuse to get incredibly drunk. I think it has something to do with the founding. It’s, like, the only time that public intoxication is okay.”

“Damn,” said Dina thoughtfully.

“The trains will probably fill up on our way back,” you said, sighing. “Hopefully it won’t be too bad. Worst comes to worst we can walk.”

“It gets that bad?”

“There’s hardly standing room,” you said, recalling the last festival you’d been around for—the summer before you’d been catapulted to Jackson. “And it just reeks of drunk people. And you have to be really careful, because I hear the custodial staff has to work overtime to clean up all the vomit.”

“Gross,” said Dina. “And here I was thinking that it was just all being proper and mannerly.”

“Everyone has their limits,” you said lightly.

The penthouse felt just as oppressive as when you came for dinners, like you were walking into the lair of a dragon who was coming back at any moment. Chris was gone—likely participating in the festival herself—but you were surprised to see the figure of Petra bent in a corner as you entered, dusting the top shelf of their bookcase.

You and Dina politely greeted her before ascending the steps to your father’s office.

“Why did your Mom put it in here?” Dina asked as you began shuffling through papers to find the box that your mother had described over text.

“My father doesn’t work in here all too often,” you said, opening a few drawers and seeing no trace of the green and gold box. “He just uses it to file away things.”

“What does he do?”

“I actually have no clue,” you confessed. “He doesn’t talk about it, and I don’t ask.”

“Do you want to see if we can find out?” Dina asked with a conspiratorial raise of her eyebrow as she motioned towards the filing cabinets. “Just a quick look. They’ll never know that we were here.”

You took a moment to consider. If Chris had answered the door to let you two in, you would’ve told her that you couldn’t, because she would definitely snitch if she knew. But she was nowhere to be seen, and Petra looked like she was busy enough downstairs.

“Sure. Why not.”

The first few cabinets held nothing interesting—just spending reports and copies of contracts that were written in legalese.

“It looks like he works with whoever supplies this place,” remarked Dina as you two skimmed the papers and saw records of contacts all over the continent, from the old continental US and South America, each detailing something boring about shipping dates and inventory.

But then came the third cabinet, with papers dated back before you were born with what looked like sketches of barren looking buildings and hand-scrawled notes.

“What are these?” you breathed, laying them out on the ground.

“I think…” Dina squinted. “I think that these might be manufacturing plants?”

“Oh?” You dug further around in the cabinet to see if you could find any further illuminating evidence.

“Yeah,” said Dina, staring as she began to flip through the pages already on the floor. “Holy shit, dude. This is…sort of messed up. Look at how small these living quarters are.”

You peered over her shoulder to see the architectural sketches of what looked to be more of what you imagined a prison to be. There were long bunks stacked on top of each other in what looked to be a never ending line, the mattresses barely even large enough to be considered twins.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, and you nearly leapt.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” said Petra. Her voice was low and raspy. You noted that it was the first time she’d ever spoken.

“Oh, uh—” You began to frantically gather the papers, hoping she hadn’t seen. Would she tell your parents? “Sorry if we disturbed your work. My parents, uh, they asked us to get something from—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you.” You stared up at her steely green eyes, wondering what had compelled her to approach you and Dina. “Um, is there anything we can do to help you?”

“Don’t drink the bourbon,” she said, so quickly that it seemed to fluster her.

“What? Why?”

“Just don’t do it,” she said again. “Better yet, don’t drink anything except for the water.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling genuinely apologetic. “I’m not sure if I understand.”

Something crossed over Dina’s face, and suddenly something in her seemed to shift. Her features paled. She knew something you didn’t.

“I came from one of those places,” Petra said, motioning to the diagrams that you were staring at. “They’re not—they’re not somewhere you want to be. We all try our best to come here. That’s what they tell us, you know. Do well enough and you’ll get sent to where everyone gets to live a life of grandeur and luxury. But they barely send anyone, and when they do, they get shitty positions like this.”

Your breath caught in your throat as your understanding slowly grew. Of course. How had you been so stupid to think that wealthy people were ever going to have any of their kind work any real job?

“You two were the ones who came from outside, right?” Petra continued. When you two nodded, she crouched next to you. “And you were wondering what was going on with the prices?”

You nodded again, awestruck.

“Your Dad’s little spiel on it being about bad weather is bullshit,” she said, her words hard. “People are getting tired of this. They’re realizing they’re never getting out. You know what it’s like out there—it’s scary. It’s tiring. So many people get sick, so many die. So when people finally caught onto the fact that the work they’re doing is nothing but dressed up slavery and that their chances of getting out are basically zero, they start doing things to mess with the system.”

“Like contaminating the products?” Even as she said it, it seemed like Dina already knew the answer.

Petra just gave you two a long look.

“So that’s what he meant by quality control,” you said, the realization hitting you.

“Among other things.”

“How long do you think we have?” asked Dina.

“Not very long at all.”

“You guys can’t be serious,” you said, nervous laughter catching in your chest. “Do you seriously mean that Terranova isn’t going to be around for much longer? Is that what you’re saying?”

Petra shrugged and stood up. “Believe whatever you want. But from where I stand, it looks like there’s only two possible ways out of this situation. That is, unless you guys all become farmers.”

“I don’t think I’m following,” you said.

“Two options,” Petra said, sighing heavily. “Either we starve or we don’t. And the latter means taking a really big fucking chance on what we bring in.”

“But the system has worked for so long,” you said, more to yourself than anyone else.

“Too long,” she amended. “It was never sustainable. Maybe if you people had been okay with just eating native plants and wildlife. Maybe if you people were okay with changing your way of life. But no, you just had to have your fucking oranges from Florida and your coffee from South America.”

“Don’t lump me into this,” said Dina. “I just got here.”

Petra laughed, but it was a hard and sharp sound. “Well, chances are you won’t be here for long.”

“Hang on,” you said. “We’re still doing quality control inspections. The most likely scenario is that we’re going to have to cut down on imports—not that we’re about to go up in flames any minute.”

“I hope you’re right about that,” she said in that voice that told you that she thought that you definitely weren’t and didn’t see the point in arguing further. “Anyways, I’ve got to finish working so I can get home before dark. Be careful, okay?”

“You too,” you said. “And thanks for…not saying anything.”

It was a bit presumptuous considering that Petra hadn’t really given you any good reason beyond her word that she wouldn’t mention you lurking in your father’s cabinets, so you and Dina were thorough in carefully placing each file back into the correct place, just in case.

“Do you really think what she said is true?” you asked once you and Dina had located the watch and were on the metro once again.

Dina shrugged. “I mean, it makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Look,” said Dina. “I know that this might be hard for you to hear, but I’m pretty sure this place lives off of what’s basically slave labor. If there’s any humanity left in the world, I would like to think that Terranova would eventually fall.”

You swallowed hard, then blinked. For a moment you thought you were going to throw up. “I never knew. I didn’t realize.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Dina’s voice was surprisingly patient. “You were a kid. But you’re not anymore, so it’s time to grow up and face the music.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t either.”

The two of you fell into a silence as the train sped past empty platforms bathed in shadows and you thought and thought and thought.

There was just too much happening today. First Gunther’s lab, then Ellie, now your entire worldview toppling.

As the train windows continued to blur the background of the tunnels and empty stations, your mind spun with reflections of your childhood—of you enjoying simple luxuries that you didn’t realize came at the expense of others. That you didn’t even think to ask about. You’d mindlessly trudged along, eating your exotic fruits and drinking your expensive tea and wearing clothes built from indulgent fabrics just because you could. Even when Dina had asked where the oranges came from all the way back in Jackson, you hadn’t let yourself wonder. You hadn’t let yourself consider the possibility that it was anything less than the sanitized fairyland that you’d been brought up in—perhaps because you knew all along.

And that made it even worse.

Dina seemed to understand, sending you a few glances without prodding.

“Do you think we need to leave?” you asked, your voice just barely a whisper.

“Us leaving isn’t going to do anything,” Dina said, like she’d been expecting it. “And how would we even do that? It’s not like we can just charter a helicopter again to drop us off back in Jackson.”

Something twisted inside of you. “Oh, God. You’re right. We couldn’t even leave if we tried.”

And you might have to try, a sinister voice inside you whispered. What if Petra was right about the contaminated products? What if they missed something when checking imports?

You’d never been taught how quickly the fungus spread in the original outbreak, and you knew little about the normal amount of time it would take any sort of disease to infect the entire population. But you did know how densely populated everything was. How reliant everything was on a few strictly maintained channels, like public transportation.

It wouldn’t be hard for it to all come crashing down, really. It would just take the right place at the right time and—

“Don’t freak out, Y/N.” Dina laid a hand on your shoulder. “We’ll figure something out if it comes to that.”

You smiled at her, grateful that you didn’t even have to put your words into thoughts. “But if we can’t leave, what do we do? It’s not like we can just sit by and do nothing.”

Dina pulled her bottom lip under her teeth, worrying it before answering. “I don’t really think that we have a choice. Right now, at least. I don’t know if there’s anything that just the two of us can do.”

“I’ll find more,” you said. “I’ll talk to my professors—my friends at university—Simon—”

“Do you think that we’re the only two that know about this?” asked Dina. “Because I really don’t. Maybe your friends don’t. But anyone in the military and anyone who was around when this was founded has got to know. They just don’t care enough.”

Something slowly iced over inside of you as the implications sunk in.

Gunther had probably known. No, scratch that—he definitely did. He was an academic who had been in his 30s when the world fell apart. Any adult would have asked the same questions that Dina had upon arrival.

“We’ll figure something out, I’m sure,” said Dina firmly. “Okay? Don’t worry.”

“Speaking of Simon,” you said, narrowing your eyes, “Did you ever get in touch with him? Is his family okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” said Dina. “He texted me back a bit ago. Said something about how he was just busy and that his family had been camping up in the mountains.”

You two faded into silence.

The retirement party came and went without much trouble. On the outside, at least. You were a mental wreck, barely able to keep it together as near strangers came up to you and expressed how much bigger you were since they’d seen you a decade and a half ago.

You noted with muted suspicion that Simon’s parents were nowhere to be seen amongst the crowd, not even by the lavishly decorated bar.

That night, you did dream of Ellie. It wasn’t the usual. Ellie wasn’t turning in front of you or bleeding or crying out in pain with a bite mark on her arm. She wasn’t yelling at you for failing her and letting her get bitten without even noticing. No; instead, she lay beside you in your meadow spot and talked to you.

And somehow that was so much worse.

“I named a planet after you,” you said, feeling hot tears pool at the seams of your eyes that you squeezed together to avoid sobbing. You knew you were dreaming. You always knew you were dreaming—seeing Ellie always seemed to prompt a degree of lucidity that was otherwise missing in your sleep.

“That’s really fucking sappy of you.”

“I miss you.” It came out like a compulsion, like you couldn’t stop it. “Are you here? Are you with me?”

“Y/N,” Ellie said, turning to look at you. The darkness made it difficult to see her whole face, but you could see the look of pity on her features in the gray-blue of the moonlight. “Of course I’m not here. Don’t be stupid. I’m dead.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re not. Like, if something happened.”

“Something did happen. I died.”

“Fuck you.”

She smiled sadly, and for a moment you thought her eyes looked more reflective than usual. “It’s not very helpful to think that way. And what can I tell you? I’m not even real.”

“I’d like you to try,” you whispered.

“Fine.” She sat up, pulling her legs into a lazy tangle as she looked at you. “What did you seriously expect, dude? You were never going to stay. I wasn’t going to go. If I hadn’t been bitten, I’m sure I would’ve orchestrated some way to get out of it. My family is back in Jackson. I liked you just fine, but you’re not my family. That shit’s deeper. Different.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. The sharp pain in your chest faded into a cold sense of familiarity. Then, because she wasn’t real and there was no reason to feel embarrassed about bearing your emotions:

“You feel more like family than anyone here.”

“Then that sounds like a you problem,” said Ellie, flatly. “I’m not gonna let you guilt trip me like this. Boo fucking hoo, you grew up richer than everyone else on Earth and had to deal with strict parents. Do you realize what actual, real problems are? What about the people who make your lifestyle possible, huh? What about them?”

“I didn’t know.”

“Then you’re fucking stupid.”

The tears were streaming freely down your face now. “I would do anything to be back with you. I wanted to stay. I miss you so much. I don’t know what to do with myself without you.”

“And I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”

“Will you just say that you miss me too? You don’t have to mean it. I just want—I just want to hear it.”

“I can’t miss you. I’m not around anymore.”

Ellie watched as you curled in on yourself and sobbed so hard you thought you were going to be sick.

“You’re so weak,” she said after a few minutes. There was no venom in her tone. It was as if she was merely relaying something as inconsequential as the weather to you. “All you do is expect other people to care for you.”

Not real. Not real. Not real you repeated to yourself in your mind with growing franticness.

She wasn’t real. None of this was real. Ellie was never that affectionate with you, but this was another level. This was something personal.

“You said that being weak isn’t bad.”

“And you said that you were going to make sure I was going to get to Terranova.”

“And it’s not my fault that you decided to go gallivanting alone in the woods.”

“You could’ve tried harder.”

“I did as much as I could.”

“Sure you did.”

You bolted awake. The hair at the nape of your neck was wet with the slick of sweat. For a moment, you let yourself catch your breath, reorient yourself in your surroundings.

Your room. You were in your dorm room, with your space posters and your books. Ellie hadn’t been here. She hadn’t said that. You were okay.

A blaring noise jarred you as you realized that your alarm had made you wake up. Your alarm, because it was graduation day and you needed to be ready for a full day of festivities.

“Fuck,” you muttered, scrubbing your face with you hands. The last thing you wanted to do after this was have to see your parents and pretend like you like them for appearances.

She's gone. She's gone. She's gone you repeated in your head like a mantra. It was over. You shouldn’t have named that stupid planet after her, because she was gone and she always would be.

It would only be a matter of time until your parents would start asking you about your dating life, you realized as you brushed your teeth over the shiny white basin of your sink, the minty bubbles making your lips tingle. They’d been willing to entertain your reasoning of wanting to focus on your studies while you were at university, but you knew they’d been looking for prospective engagements behind your back.

It took you longer than usual to get ready, your mind wandering as you lingered in different corners of your apartment. You kept the lights off, opting to let the cool, gray daylight from the gloomy clouds wash the surfaces of your room.

“Hey,” said Dina, appearing from her own room and leaning against the doorframe.

“Good morning,” you greeted blandly, your attention on the necklace that just wouldn’t clasp around your neck.

“Looking spiffy,” she said. “By the way, did Simon say anything to you?”

“No.” You paused and turned to her, a frown on her face. As far as you were concerned, you really had no reason to be in contact with Simon beyond the general pleasantries.

“He just called me,” said Dina. “He seemed—I dunno. Like, weirdly frantic. He was saying that we need to stop by his.”

“His” was inconveniently on the opposite side of the city, even further past your parents’ place.

“Why? Pretty far for a short jaunt.”

“He was really insistent,” pressed Dina. Her long black curls were unruly, her skin sallow in a way you hadn’t seen in a while. She hadn’t been sleeping as well recently, it seemed, just like you since you’d spoken to Petra. “Maybe we should just stop by.”

“Did he say anything about why?”

“I tried to ask,” said Dina, frowning. “But the call dropped.”

“I hate how horrible service is in your room,” you said.

“Me too. Anyway, are we gonna see him?”

You shrugged. “I guess. We have some time. I’ll text him too just to see what’s going on.”

Dina was ready in just a few minutes, pulling a light blue sweatshirt over her shirt and stepping into her shoes.

“You look soooo cute,” she said, pinching your cheeks. “My little grad.”

You rolled your eyes, but the size of your smile ruined it.

For once in your life, you noticed that the university green outside of your apartment was suspiciously empty.

“Quiet,” Dina noted as you made your way to the metro. “It’s eerie.”

“People were probably partying all night,” you said. “Celebrating graduation and whatnot. I imagine everyone’s sleeping off a hangover instead of having to get up at the crack of dawn to voyage across the city.”

Dina held up her hands. “Gee. Sorry.”

The train was a little more populated. Some older Terranovans had newspapers cracked as they licked their fingers to turn the page. The silent hum of the train lulled you into another soliloquy as the tunnel plunged you into darkness.

You had to stop thinking about Ellie. You needed to move on, as awful as it was. You’d named a planet after her. She’d be forever remembered in the stars, and that should be enough. You didn’t need to keep dragging her memory behind you like a corpse, because she was dead and she was never coming back and she was—

On the platform?

Your mouth dropped as the doors of the train slowly rolled open to reveal a short girl with shoulder length auburn hair slowly ambling towards the platform. She was wearing a pale green short sleeve that had some sort of edgy spatter pattern on it—something that was very Ellie-esque. But something wasn’t…

It took you one breath to notice that neither of her bare arms had any tattoos. It took you another to see that what you had initially assumed to be a pattern was actually blood-soaked fabric formed from red rivelets that trickled from a wound on her neck.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, grabbing Dina’s hand. “Do you see—”

“Everybody run!” Dina screamed, leaping up from the train seat and dragging you with her as she bolted off the train and to the opposite exit.

The girl wailed and barrelled towards the train car, her eyes locking onto the nervous movement of the passengers. You froze. It was slowly becoming obvious that this wasn’t Ellie, from the slightly different set of her eyes to the unfamiliar button nose. But it was hard to not feel anything but sympathy for the monster before you. She was just a girl, probably younger than you.

“Fucking go, Y/N,” Dina snapped, yanking you harder and onto the platform just as Not-Ellie leapt onto one of the newspaper readers. “It’s not her.”

She didn’t need to tell you twice. In seconds you two had sprinted to the mouth of the stairs, feet pummeling against the pavement as the sounds of the carnage unfolding behind you followed.

You ran. You didn’t stop running, not even when the screams faded and you and Dina were blocks and blocks away, hidden in an alley. Not even when your lungs were so empty and sore that they felt like they were breaths away from breaking, not even when you were sure there was nothing left inside you.

Dina kept your pace, blindly following your lead as you darted in between streets and side alleys until you reached your parents’ apartment.

“Do you think there’s more?” you managed to whisper through heaving voices once you stood on the steps.

You and Dina hadn’t ran into anyone after the metro, undead or alive.

“Not here,” hissed Dina. “Inside first. Then we evaluate after we’re safer.”

For a moment, the phantom dread from your normal life spilled over and you were afraid of facing your parents. It was almost laughable—there were deranged infected hosts looking to eat your flesh roaming the streets, and you were worried about seeing your parents.

“I’d almost prefer out here, too,” said Dina, looking as if she’d read your mind.

The apartment complex was also empty and eerily quiet as you two ascended the steps. Dina had insisted that you took the stairs, pointing out that the elevator was far too risky.

“It might get stuck,” she’d whispered as she’d pulled you away from pressing the button. “Also—unnecessary noise.”

You nodded wordlessly, following her up the steps until you reached the top floor.

Still no one to be seen.

The spare key was still hidden under the flower pot, and the penthouse door swung open easily. You and Dina locked it behind you before dragging a small bookcase in front of it, piling on books until no one could physically break through.

“Sweep the apartment,” Dina said lowly, reaching over to grab the fireplace poker that was in the entryway. “Behind me until you get a weapon.”

For a few tense moments, you cowered behind Dina as she navigated you both into the dark, empty kitchen. Every breath that left your lips was shaky and uneven. Your fingers trembled around the handle of the butcher’s knife that you’d retrieved from the block.

Nothing was on the first floor.

Nothing on the second floor, either. There was no sign of your parents anywhere. By all accounts, it seemed that they’d just up and left for coffee. Which is probably what they’d done, given that your father had just retired and had nothing better to do.

“Fucking thank god,” you’d cried out once you’d swept the last room, collapsing onto the sitting room sofa. “Jesus Christ, Dina. What the fuck. I can’t believe I just—”

The words petered out as the adrenaline rush that had been keeping you at least someone composed dissipated, leaving you a shaking and inconsolable mess.

“We’re so lucky that we got out in time,” said Dina, her eyes blurry and unfocused.

You took a break from your crying to look at her. “What?”

“The doors close automatically,” she said flatly. “No motion sensor. If that girl had shown up any later—if we hadn’t noticed her in time—”

“We would’ve been stuck on the train with her,” you said, cold realization trickling into you. “Oh my god. That probably happened to the people on the train who weren’t quick enough.”

“Or didn’t know any better,” Dina added. “Didn’t you say that no one here really understands what the infection is? That it makes people hosts?”

Your heart dropped. “We’re so fucked. We need to get out.”

“Have a plane anywhere?”

“Oh, god, Simon,” you wailed. “He was probably—he must’ve known—his parents must have—”

“Let’s not dwell,” said Dina firmly, brushing her hands off on her pants. “Okay. Let’s take inventory of the situation. That girl likely wasn’t patient zero. Wherever she came from was around…8th street?”

You nodded.

“Right. 8th street, which is where the majority of non-student residential living spaces are. Chances are that if it wasn’t already, it’s all over that area. We came south, which is away from the most densely populated area and probably why we haven’t seen anyone else. We’re up high with what seems to be currently running water, no current activity in the building, and plenty of both perishable and nonperishable food.

“But this isn’t permanent. The power grid is going to fail soon, and plumbing is likely going to go next. And if we somehow make it long enough, any infected in the building are going to turn into clickers, and they’ll stop at nothing to get in. Our window is limited. If we wait to get out, they’re going to get stronger and grow in numbers. We need to play this right.”

“So what you’re saying is that if there’s any possible chance of escape,” you said, feeling the blood drain from your face, “That we need to take it.”

Dina nodded, her face hard.

“How long do you think we have until we have to make that choice?”

She winced. “Probably 2 hours ago. There’s likely enough infected scattered around the city after the metro incident that it’s all over now.”

Your stomach dropped.

“But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try,” said Dina. “It’s only going to get worse the longer we wait. So if that big fancy scientist brain of yours has any genius plans of how to get us out, please hurry it up and say so.”

“Well,” you said, your mouth dry as you brainstormed aloud, “We are at the southern tip of the city. We’re probably not all that far from the border. The problem would be getting across—and, of course, getting there in the first place. It’s designed to be deceptive so that raiders can’t find it.”

“We’re not going to cross the border,” said Dina. “We’re never getting across on foot unless it’s been destroyed. Simon told me about how it works. There’s quite literally zero chance unless we start tunneling underground.”

“So no crossing on foot,” you said weakly. “Noted. Well. Uh. Can you fly a plane?”

“Depends. Do you have one?”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Come on, Y/N. Think. There has to be another option.”

Another option. Another option. Think, think, think…

Scientist brain. Science.

Like your degree. Like the lab you’d been working in last year. Like the ill-fated experiment that you’d scrapped after the university cut funding for it after your accident.

Like the time that you’d actually succeeded in inventing teleportation, even if it was accidental.

Like the contraption that was likely gathering dust in an unlocked lab room just a few blocks away.

“Dina,” you said, “I’ve got it. But I need you to get me to Gunther’s lab.”

The only good thing about today was the fact that Gunther’s lab, which was normally an inconvenient train ride away from your apartment, was in fact within perfectly reasonable walking distance from your parents’.

There were many bad things, though. Namely the infected now roaming the streets. And the plumes of smoke rising in the distance, suggesting that the Terranovan authorities were attempting to quell the issue the old-fashioned way.

With two knives and a pistol in your hand (you’d never been more happy to see something actually useful in your father’s antique collection), you were at least feeling more prepared to slowly creep back down the staircase of the building and out onto the streets.

For the first two blocks, everything remained uneventful. You and Dina stuck close to the shadows, being careful not to speak, make any noise, or bump into anything noisy.

Then a girl that looked somewhat familiar to you came stumbling around the corner, cloudy orange saliva dripping from her ashen lips. She locked onto you and began to excitedly chitter, her jerky movements becoming more pointed as she started approaching.

“Knife,” Dina whispered, flicking your arm once she saw you raise your pistol. “Too loud.”

It was your first kill without the help of a bullet. As the blade slid across the throat of the girl, you realized where you recognized her from—she’d been one of the students you’d tutored back in high school. You’d always liked her. Her name had been Liesel, and she was one of your best pupils. She’d been so bright. You thought she’d end up skipping senior year and just coming with you to college.

Not anymore. You tried not to think too hard about the look you’d seen in her eyes right as you severed her carotid artery—something human, something cognisant. You couldn’t cope with what that implied.

Did Ellie look like that? No, surely not. It’d been over a year. She was likely a clicker by now, her freckled face entirely swallowed by the spore shards. But was she still in there, like Liesel had been?

The next ones were easier—random men whose eyes remained flat and flinty even as you sent them to their ends. By the time you and Dina had broken into Gunther’s lab, you were splattered in blood and assorted mystery fluids.

The sterile building was empty and deathly silent. Each step on the tiled floor echoed, the fluorescent lighting painfully bright.

“Are there any workers in here usually?” Dina asked, her voice low.

“Rarely,” you whispered back. “It’s normally totally empty beside me or Gunther.”

“I hope you’re right.”

A long screeching that sounded like it came from a few doors down made you freeze.

“Let’s move,” Dina said under her breath. “I don’t want to find out who that is.”

Gunther’s lab was nearly just as you remembered it. The only difference was the missing files on his desk, which suggested that he’d taken his work home with him.

As you’d hoped, the prototype you’d developed in your third year was under a white sheet, almost entirely untouched.

“This is what sent you to Jackson?” Dina whispered in wonder, her fingers hovering over the wires but not daring to touch.

In actuality, it was a very small contraption, just transistors and gates and wires that crossed over each other like veins. It had been intended for use on laboratory rats. It’d never been sized to people. But if this was your only shot…

“I can’t remember exactly what Gunther and I did to—”

Scratchhhhhh.

Your blood ran cold. Something was outside the door.

“I’ll cover it,” said Dina, her voice firm. Don’t worry.”

And you wouldn’t—not when there was one zombie against you and Dina, armed to the teeth.

“Uh, anyway—” You blinked as you stared down at the mess of wires. “Technically what happened was it short-circuit—”

Scratch scratch scratch

You gulped. “Um, like I was saying, it short—”

Scratchscratchscratchscratch

To punctuate the point, the door creaked and shifted.

Dina pressed her finger to her lips as she slowly crept over to the door, standing on her toes to look through the thin strip of plexiglass that ran across the top of the door.

For a moment, you thought that she’d frozen. Then she quietly stepped over to the desk, snatched the pen Gunther had lying around, and scribbled something onto it. She handed it to you, her finger still posed over her lips.

7 of them. All big. I think they followed us from the street.

Just as you finished reading it, the doorknob began to turn, back and forth and back and forth against the lock.

Dina pulled the note from your fingers to scribble something else out.

Don't say anything. Noise will send them into a feeding frenzy. Door won't hold long. Do whatever you need to fix it and get us out.

You nodded, your heart crawling in your throat. If you couldn’t figure out how to fix this in time…Gunther’s lab was on the 6th floor.

There were only 3 bullets in the pistol—you’d checked. And a kitchen knife was fine when you were out on the street facing one infected at a time, but 7 in an enclosed space was different.

You probably weren’t going to get out of here alive.

Not unless you pulled it together right now.

You pinched the bridge of your nose as you tried to run through all possible ways to recreate the conditions that had sent you to Jackson. You needed that special iridescent wire, which you could see shoved into the corner. You needed a power source. You needed a working circuit board.

You had all of it. You could do this.

SIlently, you retrieved the spool of wire and began reattaching it to the board in the pattern you vaguely recalled from your work.

The lights flickered above, and it was all you could do to keep yourself from swearing out loud.

The power needed to hold. It needed to hold for just one more minute, just for a moment while you finished configuring the—

Your hand knocked the spool to the floor.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The thudding started slower but crescendoed into the sound of groaning wood as the infected outside began to pound at the door.

Dina waved a slip of paper in front of you with wide eyes that said Hurry the FUCK up!.

You sent her a desperate look back. Your hands were shaking so hard that it was a miracle you were even able to feed the end of the wire through the pliers to snap off the end. You dug your nails into the protective sleeve at the end to expose the tip of the wire.

The door held just until you plugged the wire into the input.

As it hummed to life, sputtering and sparking and shimmering in the air, the lights flickered once, then plunged you into darkness as the sound of wood splintering came from the door.

Someone—it was probably you—screamed as a crowd came barrelling through the door, all hunched shoulders and gaping maws.

Then you grabbed the hand of Dina and felt yourself tumble into nothingness.

The sky was clear and bluebell blue above you when you came to, your back pressed uncomfortably against the sun-warmed earth. Every part of you ached like you’d just been run over, just like it had that day one year ago that started it all.

You didn’t need to look around to confirm—you were certain of where you were. You just knew it.

A groaning sound made you shoot up, clutching at the pistol in your hand.

Dina was sprawled on the ground next to you, rubbing her forehead with her hands.

“We did it,” you said, astonished. “We actually did it. We got out.”

“And you launched us out to Jackson.” Dina was sitting up now, looking around with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ. Are those things coming with us?”

“I don’t think so,” you said blandly. Your hands were still shaking, just as they had in the lab moments before.

The backpack you’d packed with supplies lay strewn on the ground, covered in the dust of the clearing.

“Are we—”

“I think so,” you said. “Funny how it sent us to the same place it sent me. I guess we’ll never figure out how, though.”

“Yeah.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you acclimated to the bright Wyoming sun, the warmth of the air against your skin.

Your heart lurched as the implications sunk in. Now that you couldn’t pretend like Jackson had been some sort of distant memory, you were going to mourn Ellie all over again whether you liked it or not.

“It’s going to be weird without her.” Dina was apparently on the same page.

You choked back the sob that came up, rubbing your eyes angrily. You would not cry right now, not when you had more important things to attend to.

“She really did love you, you know,” Dina continued, also apparently oblivious to the fact that you were just barely holding it together. “Even if she never said it. I’ve never seen her like that around anyone. I hope you haven’t been beating yourself up over what happened.”

You sent her a tight smile. It was odd, talking about Ellie like this with her. You’d never had before. It was one of those topics that you both knew to just avoid. “I just hope Joel is alright. I can’t imagine how difficult that would be—losing two daughters just like tha—”

A twig snapping in the woods sent you into silence, your hand drifting back down to your pistol as you spun around.

For a moment, all you could hear was the breath that hitched in both your and Dina’s throat. Then a girl with short brown hair burst through the tree line, her gun set on you.

“Ellie?” you gasped.

She fell still, mouth agape and eyebrows nearly touching her hairline.

“Ellie, what the fuck?” said Dina, recovering much quicker than you. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I—” Ellie dropped her pistol so it pointed to the ground, staring at Dina incredulously. “What are you doing here?” Then she rounded on you. “What did you do? You promised to stay in Terranova.”

You couldn’t answer. You were just so starstruck that all you could was stare, taking in everything about her. She was certainly Ellie—with her stupid little flashlight on her backpack strap and her fern tattoo and the perpetual grumpiness etched on her face. It was strange to think that you could have mistaken anyone else for her.

“Well?” she pressed, stepping closer, her mouth in a hard line.

“Terranova fell. It’s gone. I did what I had to do to get us out.” The words came out quietly. Then, without thinking: “You’re alive.”

“Long story,” said Ellie. “I think the scanner was defective.”

“That sounds like a pretty short story.”

She stared at you with an expression of such odd devastation that you felt your heart drop.

Dina jumped to her feet and launched herself at Ellie, throwing her arms around her neck and laughing hysterically. “I can’t believe it. I just—I just—you’re alive. I’m so glad you’re alive.”

Ellie, for her part, stood mostly still, awkwardly patting Dina on the back until she was released. “I’m glad you are, too.”

You tried not to feel jealous, but it was hard not to. Dina could jump into Ellie’s arms and tell her nice things like that without having to think twice because they’d always been friends. You did, because you weren’t sure if Ellie would want that anymore.

You didn’t try to touch her as she walked you and Dina back. She followed suit, not even trying to speak to you.

By the time you were walking through the walls of Jackson and waving to the gaping passerbys who were shocked at your return, you felt like you were going to be sick.

Ellie was alive. She’d never been dead, and you’d left her out here while you and Dina got to eat fancy Brazilian chocolates and Floridian oranges and artisanal bread. You’d been actively trying to forget her instead of trying to find her.

And now she was here, next to you. And she didn’t seem even remotely interested in you. But could you blame her? It had been a year. You’d left her to come back to Jackson all by herself. She didn’t have any reason to wait around for you. She’d probably found someone else. Or gotten back together with Cat.

And who were you to think that she’d even be interested in you if there wasn’t the guaranteed casualness from a definite end date?

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Joel appeared on the front porch as you and Dina approached with Ellie flanking you, his eyes wide.

“Joel!” you cried out, your angst briefly forgotten.

His eyes darted between the three of you, his face awash with shock. “Did ya just get sick of living there or something?”

You looked down and surveyed your outfit. You were clearly wearing something that was intended to be formal—a flowing graduation dress—but you were splattered with blood and viscous mystery substances and covered in a healthy layer of dirt. You’d clearly gone through some shit.

You were struggling to come up with a response other than “hey” when you were reminded of something you’d shoved into your bag while you’d been preparing to leave your parents’ penthouse.

Feeling smug that you’d managed to remember, you reached into your pack and fished around until you found what you were looking for.

“We just figured you’d be almost out of this by now,” you said dryly. The value-sized bag of coffee beans dangled from your fingers, its maroon packaging catching in the sun.

His face split into a wide grin as he shook his head in disbelief. “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. I guess I’ve got to tell Tommy that we don’t have to ration anymore. C’mon, let’s get you settled.”

Joel insisted that you move back into your old room instead of the vacant cottage down the street, which was equal parts touching and equal parts terrifying. Ellie lingered by the doorway as you unpacked, disappearing down the hall when you finally lifted your head from your few belongings to say something to her.

You let out a long, labored exhale, dropping onto your bed and curling your knees up to your chest. You’d since changed and showered the dirt and blood off, shed your tattered graduation dress and left it gathered in the corner like a snake’s molt. The setting sun filtered through the curtains, turning the walls golden.

You didn’t know what to do. That you could even come back to Jackson had been a thought you hadn’t dared to consider until this morning, when there were no other options. That Ellie was still alive—well, you hadn’t had any time to strategize or plan for that one. You were still reeling from seeing her for the first time in a year, all summer freckles and flyaway hairs escaping from a loose hairband.

She’d looked even better than you’d remembered. There were certain parts of her that you realized you’d forgotten—like the scar on her eyebrow, the way her voice sounded. It made you feel nauseous, knowing that despite your best efforts, you hadn’t been able to keep the real Ellie alive in your head.

You’d already eaten something with Tommy and Maria, who had been insistent on hearing from you and Dina about the events in Terranova. Joel had left you to your own devices with instructions to see him tomorrow to figure out work after you’d had a decent rest, so there was really no reason to go roaming around hoping to run into Ellie.

But you really wanted to. You checked the clock again, seeing that it was already past 9. Dusk had already fallen upon Jackson, the setting sun now just a suggestion of a golden line on the horizon.

You had a feeling you knew where she was.

The meadow was just as lush and green as you remembered as your feet carried you across the grass. It seemed that really nothing had changed—except for the horses in the distance, where you could see a small foal beside a chestnut mare that you were pretty sure was Shimmer.

“Hi,” you said, settling down next to Ellie’s spot under the tree.

If she was surprised to see you, she didn’t show it. She just sighed and fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt.

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” you said, keeping your eyes locked on the darkening sky. “I just wanted to come find you to tell you that I understand if you don’t—want me like that anymore. I’ll leave you alone if you want me to.”

Even when she took her time responding, you didn’t dare look her way.

“Is that what you want?” You couldn’t quite decipher the tone she’d used.

“Obviously not,” you said mildly. “I would never want that.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your gaze dropping to meet hers. You were just about to speak when—

“The scanner wasn’t defective,” said Ellie. Her voice was soft, her own eyes falling to look at her tattooed arm.

“Of course it was,” you said, feeling very confused as to why she was suddenly detouring into something so unrelated. “If it wasn’t, you’d be dead already.”

“I’ve been bitten twice.”

You blinked, sure you’d heard her incorrectly. “Sorry?”

“I’ve been bitten twice,” said Ellie again, this time with more conviction. “That’s why the scanner came back red. There was nothing wrong with it.”

“Then how…” Your words trailed off.

She didn’t let you ponder long. “I’m immune.”

Immune.

You closed your mouth—it’d been hanging open unceremoniously for a moment—and tried to fit this very startling fact in with everything else you knew about her. What did being immune mean? And why was she telling you now?

“You knew from the start that you couldn’t come with me to Terranova,” you realized aloud.

Ellie was gnawing at her bottom look as she looked back at you. You noted that she didn’t offer up any corrections.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You couldn’t hide the hurt in your voice. “Why did you lie to me like that?”

“I found out that I was immune when I was back in Boston,” Ellie said, the words spilling out of her. “I was in this abandoned mall with my best friend—Riley. She told me she was leaving to be a Firefly, and I begged her to stay and kissed her and for a moment I was so sure that something was going to change between us—something for the better. But then…” She waved her tattooed arm in front of her. “We both got bit. I survived. She, obviously, did not.”

Something deep inside you twisted as you tried to imagine how traumatizing that must’ve been for someone that couldn’t have been older than 14.

“And so I thought that maybe, you were my chance to right what I’ve done wrong,” continued Ellie. Even though she wasn’t looking at you anymore, you could see the reflective sheen of tears in her eyes. “I’ve gotten to live while so many other people have died. I just can’t handle another. It’s not fair of me to keep someone here when there’s somewhere safer for them. It’s selfish, and I’ve been that enough.”

It was as if you’d found the last puzzle piece for the jigsaw of Ellie Williams. All this time, you’d been struggling in your attempts to understand why she was pushing you away—and why she changed her mind so suddenly.

Now you got it. Ellie had come into this knowing that she’d likely never see you again. She’d been betting on it, even. It was all some convoluted way for her to set things right in her head, for her to forgive herself for Riley and whoever else she’d lost.

“You could have told me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I would have understood.”

Ellie sent you a sad smile, shaking her head. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone that I’m immune. It’s one of those things that only Joel and Maria and Tommy know about. No one else. They’d fucking kill me if they found out you knew.”

“I’m really sorry.” The fabric of her t-shirt was soft under your fingers as you rested a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m really sorry for how much of an asshole I was to you,” said Ellie. You didn’t miss the way her eyes had widened when you’d reached out to touch her. “I didn’t want to be that way. I always wanted more. I just couldn’t handle having that, knowing that you were going to leave anyway. I thought it’d be easier for the both of us if you thought I was awful.”

“Didn’t work very well.”

“Clearly.”

“I forgive you,” you said, moving your hand so you could thread your fingers into the loose strands that she hadn’t pulled into that baby bun she always wore.

Instead of kissing you like you thought she might, she threw her arms around you and crushed herself against you, burying her face into your neck.

You held her there, feeling the way her frame trembled under the weight of a sob and tracing patterns across her back.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your chin rested atop her shoulder. “I thought about you every day.”

Ellie clung to you harder as you shifted.

“I’m really sorry,” she said again, muffled against your neck. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“I’m not.” You finally pulled away so that she had to look you in the eyes. Under the soft bath of moonlight, her green eyes glowed. “Terranova shouldn’t have existed in the first place. I’m glad that I got out. And I’m even more glad that it brought me back to you.”

Her hand found yours, your fingers tangling.

“I used to spend all my free time wondering what you were doing up North,” said Ellie. You felt her thumb brush across the top of your hand. “I thought that maybe if I imagined you happy, it’d be easier.”

“What did you think I was doing?”

The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Lots of studying, I assumed. And going to fancy events for rich people, eating all that expensive shit that the rest of the world can’t have.”

“Not far off,” you admitted. “But you missed how much time I’d spend wondering about you. I dreamt about you all the time. Sometimes I’d see people who looked similar to you and it’d ruin my whole day. I couldn’t believe that you were gone. I think that deep down I knew that you weren’t.”

She squeezed your hand. When you looked down at where you were touching, you noted how there wasn’t such a stark difference between you and her anymore. The doll fresh-out-of-the-box skin had disappeared in favor of scars and marks collected from your time in the real world.

“I really thought you’d be safe there,” said Ellie.

“You don’t need to worry about me like that anymore,” you told her, cupping her face with your free hand. Her eyelids fluttered half-closed as she leaned into the contact. “You’ve done enough. You can care about me without taking responsibility for everything bad that ever happens to me. You deserve to have something good without suffering because of it. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not anymore,” she agreed.

When you kissed her, it felt like coming home. There was something so achingly familiar in the slope of her neck, the slight chapped-ness of her lips, the almost silent click of her jaw as her mouth parted with a gasp as your hands twisted in her hair.

You weren’t quite sure how you managed a year without it.

The skin of her neck was just as soft as you remembered against your lips, her response just as reactive.

“What’s this?” you asked, pulling away to point at what looked like a small tattoo on the side of her neck. You hadn’t noticed it before—her hair had been covering it.

“Oh.” Ellie looked sheepish. “My free birthday tattoo from Cat. It’s the moon.”

“I see that,” you murmured, brushing her hair back more intentionally to get a better look at it. “Why that phase?”

“It’s the phase it would’ve been on the day we met,” said Ellie. She was bright red now. “Don’t fucking laugh. I know that it’s stupid. Shut up. Stop!”

You desperately tried to stop your giggles, schooling your face into something straight and no-nonsense.

“I spent so long wondering if you even liked me,” you told her. “And now you’ve gone and gotten a tattoo dedicated to me. I feel so validated.”

Ellie rolled her eyes.

“I have you beat, though,” you said, quieter now.

She looked back at you, her brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“When it comes to grand, stupid gestures,” you explained, your finger pointing up to the sky in the general area that you’d collected your data from. “There’s a planet named Ellie up there now.”

Her jaw dropped for just a moment. “You’re kidding.”

“No.” Now you were feeling slightly self-conscious.

“You would do something like that,” Ellie muttered, more to herself than anything. “A whole fucking planet.”

You let her drape an arm around you, pulling you into her until your head fit into the space between her shoulder and her chin.

“So,” Ellie said, and you could feel the words vibrate in her diaphragm, “What now?”

“What do you mean, what now?”

“I mean, what are you gonna do now that you’re stuck here with me for the foreseeable future?”

“Enjoy being stuck with you,” you said. “Maybe get a matching tattoo. Give you the piece of the meteorite I nabbed from the display case in my lab. But mostly spend my time bothering you.”

When she didn’t answer, you shifted so you could look up at her. She was already looking back, her eyes soft and the corners of her lips pulling into two dimples.

“Is that alright with you?’ you ventured.

Her arm tightened around you, fingers gently pressing into the flesh of your forearm like she still couldn’t quite believe you were there.

“You can be so fucking stupid sometimes,” she said. “I get a tattoo for you and you’re still asking if I want you around.”

“It’s been known for you to make rash decisions,” you offered dryly. “I didn’t want to jump to any assumptions.”

She rolled her eyes, still smiling down at you, eyes awash with the reflections of the stars above.

Slowly, you reached up and touched her face again, letting your fingers relearn her features, tracing the paths created by freckles—just like you had in her bed all those months ago.

But unlike last time, she didn’t stop you. She didn’t do anything except let you. There was something in her demeanor, something that was fragile and vulnerable and everything that you wanted her to be with you.

“Is this going to be enough for you?” she asked suddenly, her voice raw.

“What do you mean?” Your fingers paused and rested at her cheekbones.

“It’s just—” She blinked hard and cast her gaze up to the sky. “You grew up so differently than me. I’m not going to be able to give you that fancy Terranova life. Are you sure this is going to make you happy?”

“Yes.”

She looked at you, an eyebrow raised skeptically. Your hands moved to cup her face, fingers threading back into her hair.

“Don’t make that face,” you chided.

“I just find it really hard to believe.”

You took in a breath. Perhaps more elaboration was in order.

“I’ll put it like this,” you said. “I spent most of my life thinking I needed to be something extraordinary to be happy. I put so much time into trying to be special and nothing I did ever felt like it was enough. But then I met you, and one day I realized while I was here that I didn’t need that anymore. Just being around you makes me more content than I’ve ever been. I don’t want to be like what I was before. I would consider it my greatest success if I got to lead an ordinary life with you.”

You took her brief silence as an opportunity to press your lips to the corner of her mouth.

“Believe me now?” you asked.

Ellie nodded, leaning in to drop an affectionate kiss at the top of your nose.

And as you sat there, nestled into the warmth of her side and craning your head up to the sky, you’d never been more sure of yourself.

This would be more than enough.

final a/n: ok so some apologies are in order for this one! first of all, sorry for aborting jj lmao. i just couldn't envision doing light speed travel with a baby strapped to dina. big apologies for not including a final smut scene. i actually had one semi-drafted out because i wanted to write one where ellie bottomed bc i feel like it would really hammer in that she was finally choosing to be vulnerable, but the shift in the scene tone just didn't sit right with me. sometimes i write bonus scenes for big fics like this, so if there's enough interest i might write a short one shot of the scene i scrapped/other scenes that i also scrapped. also, speaking of things i scrapped: i had an alternate ending in mind where joel actually did die and ellie went on her seattle rampage + y/n realizes she's alive and tries to sneak out with dina to find her. i might end up writing that one too, depending on interest! anyway, thank you all for coming along on this journey with me so far! it's not totally over yet...the epilogue is still in the works! i appreciate hearing what you guys think of this and hope you all enjoyed !!!

also idk if this is important to bring up but i will say that i didn't realize the kind of message i'd be sending when i wrote a protagonist who's from a place like terranova—exoplanet isn't meant to be some sort of piece that makes you empathize with ignorant beneficiaries of slave labor...it's just the way it shook out and for that i'm sorry 😭

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams x y/n

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random-imagines-blog · 4 months ago

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Imagine being Stephen Strange's rival and a backfiring spell causes you to blurt out your thirsty thoughts about him.

“Hopefully this works,” You muttered to yourself, and started to make the hand motions for the spell. Speaking of, it was one that you had come up with yourself, a truth telling spell that was more brutal than the one already created. You thought that just not being able to lie wasn’t good enough - you wanted to hear whatever came to their mind when the question was asked. Stephen Strange had information that you wanted, and you were planning on getting it. You shot the spell out, pushing it hard, directing it right to the cornered Stephen. He was able to counter it with a reflecting spell that you didn’t know of, a strong one which sent the spell right back onto you. Stephen looked rather pleased with himself with that one, the stupid smug expression on his face. “Yeah, laugh it up, chuckles,” You said, your mouth moving at the same time as your brain. “That face might be sexy but it’s also really stupid.” “Did you just call my face sexy?” Stephen asked, lowering his hands in surprise. And you realized that yes - that is what came out of your mouth. “Shit,” You said. “You are not supposed to know what is going on inside of my head! This is a nightmare.” “Tell me what you really think,” Stephen said, crossing his arms in front of him, that smug look back on his face, the surprise having been wiped off when he realized how useful this could be. But what was on your mind was something that you certainly didn’t want to share. Regardless - it came out. “If we were to make out, I feel like all the hairspray and gel that you wear would put up a resistance and it just would ruin the moment,” You said, despite attempting to hold your lips together with your index finger and your thumb. The stunned look came back and then a short laugh from the sorcerer. “You know what - I actually really hate you sometimes but my god, is it ever fun to see you and wonder how ticklish your facial hair would be.” This was not good. Not good. NOT GOOD. You were backing up, and as you were, you kept saying, “Abort mission, abort mission, I’m kinda sad I didn’t hurt you because that means I can’t nurse your wounds and potentially see you shirtless - FUCK.” You turned around and ran, outwardly just spitting out curse words while Dr Strange was too bewildered to follow you.

Requested by: Anonymous

#Dr Strange #Dr Strange x reader #Dr Strange imagines #Stephen Strange #Stephen Strange x reader #Stephen Strange imagines #Marvel #Marvel imagines #x reader #imagines #stephens

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ghostsvacuumcleaner · 2 years ago

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Metamorphose | 2k

my masterlist | ao3 ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ✦ Summary: You and Simon deal with the pain of losing a baby. ✦ TW and general warnings: established relationship, angst, fluff, sensitive content (abortion), depression and eating disorder mentions, it's painful but he comforts you

A/N: Hi everyone! Since I'm working hard on some requests I've received and in the next chapter of Shades of Red, I decided to release this kinda old drabble of mine here. I'm not too satisfied with how it ended up but enoughly to post, so enjoy <3

I'd also like to mention that I have a taglist for my longfic Shades of Red but not one for my general writing and drabbles so I'll make a post for it, but till then, if anyone's interested in being tagged in my general posts and drabbles, please let me know <3

The sky is colored in blue, pink and purple.

Mostly blue.

You stare outside of the window while it changes, a golden yellow sun by the morning that rises; it spent too much time burning bright in the also bright blue sky. You counted the hours till it started descending. Now, the sun was nothing more than a little line by the horizon, and the sky was fading into cold colors, fading into the cold night.

You feel hungry, but it felt wrong to eat knowing you’d be sick of your stomach the second food hits it. You’re not in town anymore, Simon decided it would be better if the two of you took some time out in the country, where it was safe and you’d have time and space to do the things you loved. Running with your dog, swimming in the lake, breathing the fresh air. Truth is, you don’t feel like doing anything. Your legs are too tired, you’re sleepy, you’re tired. You’re very tired.

You heard him on the phone earlier. His voice was hoarse and low, he argued you wouldn’t want to receive visits. You could tell whoever it was - was insisting, pushing him too hard into allowing them to visit you. He blatantly denied, and you could feel his mood changing in a bit of seconds, his patience running low and the moment he turned off and let out a huge snort; and it had been perhaps two hours since that happened.

You let out a tired sigh, your empty sad eyes stare down at a small sign of movement under the window you were staring at. A little cocoon, seeming to be still inhabited, was hanging from a little line in there. You knew it was supposed to keep hanging till the moment that little caterpillar metamorphosed into a butterfly, and broke the shell, flying out freely. But for some reason you can’t understand - as well as many things in nature, this one cocoon is about to fall.

Your shaky hands reach out for it and before it hit the ground, you carefully pull it and it detaches without a second guess. You take a small look around the room and grab a small empty cup where the water you were supposed to have drunk evaporated, and place the small thing inside of it.

“There you go.” You mutter, the first time you hear your own voice in days, maybe weeks.

Some things aren’t supposed to happen. And you’re not supposed to die without being conceived the chance of living, even if only for a day.

You reach for Simon downstairs, minutes later. Looking pale for the lack of food you’ve been putting yourself through, tired for even standing, collateral effects of the strong medication you’re taking for the sake of your life.

“Baby.” You mutter, and he turns instantly from the alluring stare he was giving the fireplace. Your man’s sitting in a cozy armchair, drinking tea - cold at this point - and dissociating just like yourself. You blame yourself for a second: how can you put him through so much? Isn’t he suffering as much as you, why are you isolating him?

“Yes, my love?” He quickly responds, like he craves for hearing more of you. “Another nightmare?” he asks, standing to come closer to you.

You shook your head. “No… I found this.” you show the cup between your hands; Simon doesn’t seem to get it at first glance. “A butterfly. It’ll come out anytime, the cocoon is moving.” you state.

“Oh.” He raises an eyebrow, and sighs a little. “What a cute thing… Should we put it in the garden?” He asks, so much calm in his voice you feel yourself a little lighter.

“I want to see it.” You state. “The butterfly, I don’t know what type it will be, I’m curious.”

Simon looks at you like love would, if love was a person. He’s as tired as you, you can tell. Maybe his legs work a bit more than yours and his hands have the capacity of doing the hard work still, but his mind is as empty as yours.

“Of course.” He nods, and reaches for his own coat, placing it around your shoulders. You feel warm and cozy to the smell of him. “We can watch, come on.” he suggests, and grabs onto your hand.

His squeeze is light and calm, and your body follows him instinctively, not thinking about anything but the comfort you crave right now.

For the past few days, the only thing you could think of was the void in your belly. The void you haven’t felt in months; when you told him you were pregnant, Simon stared at you in complete despair and horror for at least ten excruciating silent minutes. You weren’t used to the idea as well, you’d have to interrupt your current work, you’d have to dedicate yourself to learn the slightest about being a mother.

It is a lie that every woman is born knowing how to hold a baby. When the two of you would visit some of your friends and their children, you’d try to picture yourself as holding your own baby instead of holding theirs. You couldn’t. They’d tell you that oh, god, don’t hold him like this, while laughing. But for you that was a sinful despairing moment.

Simon knew better than you, as a matter of fact. He held babies correctly, unintentionally - but very correctly.

You didn’t know if you were supposed to feel envious of his natural ability or proud of having this man as a daddy to your baby.

You learnt to love the little thing growing in your belly. He did, too. He would often bring gifts to you - keeping track with your cravings, and also buying things for the baby. Baby’s little room would be full soon enough. This little creature who wasn’t even born yet was everywhere around your house. The worries about conciliating Simon’s work with your pregnancy were starting to catch the two of you off guard, and soon as he asked for a license to take care of his pregnant wife, that day. That night. So much pain, so much blood. He wasn’t a small lifeless fetus anymore, it was a whole baby. It was a girl. She had a name.

Some things aren’t supposed to happen.

“Your parents want to visit.” He mutters, the two of you sitting in the swinging chairs by the garden, surrounded by dozens of different kinds of flowers. The weather is fairly cold, but you don’t feel it with his coat around yourself. “Told them you wouldn’t want to.

“I don’t.” You agree. “Tell them I need time.”

“I did.” He fixes the coat you have around yourself, and glares into you as the sky fades into deeper tones of dark blue. “I was a little less polite than that, but I did.”

“If you weren’t, they wouldn’t listen.” You argue, looking at him now, too. Your eyes fall deep into the void of his own.

For the first time in those two painful weeks, you can feel his pain flowing through his damaged soul. Like yours.

“I know. Terribly stubborn blood you have, dear.” he mutters, moving your hair off your face. “Did you manage to eat something today?”

“No. I’m sorry.” You mutter, your voice failing for the first time.

“Don’t do this to me.” His voice comes out pained like yours. He closes his eyes, and his jaw clenches in sadness when he sees the tears start gleaming through your eyes. “Don’t apologize. Don’t cry…” he asks in an almost begging voice.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, love, this is all my fault, it’s-” you catch your breath in your throat and suddenly, you’re falling apart. Days of nothing, weeks of not feeling anything but pain in your chest, despair, panic, and now you’re falling apart in front of him. Your tears stream down your face like overflowing rivers. “It’s my fault.” You say, grabbing handfuls of your hair and tugging your face on your knees.

Simon feels his own eyes get drenched as he can’t hold his own rivers by seeing you like this. He kneels down to the ground in front of you, pulling your hands from your hair, carefully stopping you from hurting yourself; feels excruciating to him to be able to do nothing.

“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” He mutters, and you feel your body moving up. He holds you like you’re lightweight and takes his seat where you were sat at, now, holding you like a baby against his lap. You tuck your face on his chest now, the tears wetting his shirt, your painful voice coming out in low groans of pain, a painful cry of a mother who lost her children. The sad dead eyes of a father who watched this happening and couldn’t do nothing about it. The grief of parents, who didn’t have the chance of raising their children.

“Why? It hurts so much, so much.” You say beneath your cry, your eyes drenched, your face red from all of the crying. His hand is caressing the back of your head as he silently cries.

“I know. I know it hurts.” his voice is almost a blow of the wind, a whisper. “I can’t possibly know how it feels for your, my darling, but it feels bloody excruciating to me, everyday. I miss her all of the time.” He admits, his voice like the one of a kid who just lost its parents. “I miss talking to her, feeling her kick in. I miss her.”

For the past few days, the two of you seemed to be speaking in foreign languages.

Couldn’t understand each other. Couldn’t comprehend. He was in pain, so were you. None of you could see each other, understand each other. The two of you needed space. The fights, the screaming, his complaints about your refusal to get help and your anger for not feeling understood.

Right now, you feel understood.

Who could understand a grieving mother more, than the kid’s grieving father?

You miss moments that didn’t exist. That didn’t even happen.

You shouldn’t have died without even getting the chance of living. Even if for a day.

“I’d give anything to have a day with her. A fucking day, just one.” You mutter in admission, as you hug in his arms and feel his warmth start to make you calmer by the second. Simon closes his eyes in acknowledgement.

“Me too, darling. And I don’t know what can we possibly do so this hurts any less, but I’m pretty sure we can make it easier if we’re together in this.” He affirms, his hand reaching for your face and washing away your tears. You look at his eyes for the very first time in weeks now. “We face it together.”

The sky is painted in dark blue now as night approaches and the cold finally starts rising completely. You feel it hitting your skin, as Simon has you in his arms and you hum a low lullaby to the air. He runs his hand across your belly like he somehow tries to heal you from the void you’ve been feeling.

If she feels empty, then I’ll fill her with my own love.

You close your eyes and even though in this terribly uncomfortable position, you feel warm, and you feel cared. You rest. You fall asleep in a matter of seconds

None of you had awakened in time to see the cocoon hatch and the butterfly fly out. But for the past months, for the past years - when you were facing the task of emptying your baby’s room along with Simon, or when you were working - and even in other times, when you’d catch yourself thinking about her, you’d see a blue butterfly flying around you.

Simon was too skeptical to believe, but even so, he’d always catch every butterfly he’d see, and bring it to you. “Look, who’s coming to visit!”

#simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fic #simon riley fluff

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anamericangirl · 2 months ago

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Hi! I’ve got a question. So, I’m in my early 20’s (so, I’m not considering pregnancy now LOL), but I have both physical and neurodevelopmental disabilities (ADHD+autism). How do you think, if I want kids in future, but I’m doubting due to my genetics and what if they gonna suffer the way I do/did? Is it eugenics? And what should I do? Am I a bad person? :( thanks !!!!

No you're not a bad person :)

What makes something eugenics is killing off a person because of "undesirable" traits they may possess.

Believing you shouldn't reproduce because of your genetics makes me sad for you and the things you believe about yourself. Like of course having disabilities like ADHD and autism aren't ideal but they don't devalue your worth as a person. Your life is still worth living and you have intrinsic value that doesn't go away just because you face some unique struggles and if you were to have children and they had the disabilities it would be true about them as well.

I understand not wanting your children to suffer through disabilities but here's the truth: any children you have, even if they are perfectly mentally and physically healthy, are going to suffer and you can't prevent all of it. It's part of life. But that doesn't make life not worth living. It also has beautiful moments of joy and peace and happiness and if you abort a child with disabilities to "save them" from potential suffering, you are also depriving them of all the wonderful moments they are guaranteed to experience in life.

The truth is even though we all suffer at times in our life, people don't actually prefer death to these struggles. Even through suffering people work through it to survive because we know the suffering is temporary and getting through it is worth it. And if people do get suicidal in these times we don't go like "yeah I understand because look at the suffering right now. We just need to let them kill themselves because otherwise they are just going to suffer" because that is crazy. We know they are depressed and need help because death is not the answer to suffering.

The same thing is true for unborn babies. killig them because of suffering they are bound to face is not the answer.

If you want children in the future I say you should go for it! Sure, they might have some disabilities but that's not a reason to not give them a chance at life. You can be a good parent and any children you may have can have beautiful, happy lives.

Hope this was helpful!

#anon #answered

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daryldixonfanfiction · 6 months ago

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What you fight for! pt.12 - hush, hush, hush (*18+)

Masterlist

Summary: Running low on food Daryl eyes an abounden’t strip mall….

Warnings: *18+, SMUT!, quickie, age gap, unprotected p in v, fingering, Daryl being the king of consent because he's a gentleman, mutual pining, fluff, Daryl so in love he calls her beautiful and an angel, disturbing walker encounter, subtle implied una!iving of toddler (not by Daryl or carecter), protective!Daryl, pregnancy symptoms, attempt of abortion, vomiting, anxiety, angst.

wc. 6.1k

Daryl didn't need to see Julia cry to know she was still sad…and deeply so.

It was evident in the way she looked at him, as if to tell him something, but each time he was left waiting for something she could not say. It was almost as if she was scared about something, and she had been, she had voiced it that night, desperately sobbing into his chest,

“No! They are gonna find us! And - and, they’ll kill you and then they are gonna rape me!”

The last words had made his blood run cold. And the thought of those men, or any other man thinking Julia was ‘free game’ triggered that same protective instinct that made him say what he did.

And he had men’t it, just like he had said it.

For Julia soothing came natural but for him it was still new. He was still learning to be soft, to kiss her more gently and not rush into it, mindful of how she seemed to prefer softness. Almost every night she had looked at him with those pleading brown eyes and he couldn't find it within himself to deny the intimacy being inside of her. Before he had viewed sex as a simpele primitive desire to be met, but with her… It was far deeper. It had become a way to show what he couldn't say out loud - the affection that burned in his heart, to connect and protect.

The intimacy of touche.

Her hands on his face, the way she brushed hair from his eyes and the way she looked at him. The feeling of her soft hand in his was the sweetest touches he had ever felt before, and Daryl couldn't help but yearn for what could be, if she was his and he hers. To belong with someone, to belong for someone.

Whatever this was slowly blooming between them he found himself struggling to navigate true those feelings. He wasn't sure what he felt or it was more what to name those feelings, if there was even a label for it? But then sometimes he knew what he felt, especially in the night with the confidence of intimacy he could fully express himself and then in the day time all of a sudden he didn't, and it would go on like that, a repeating cycle.

Julia nodded tiredly to his wakeup call - still blinking past the short nap as she stood, Daryl took her by the arm to assist her sleepy body in standing, taking notice how color drained from her face and he assumed it was due the lack of nutrition.

Larwill, a smalltown in Indiana came to view, in their search of food Daryl navigated them upon a road, train tracks crossing across it. On his guard, his senses are hyper alert and aware. His eyes scan everything: the fallen leaves that blew on the road, the surrounding buildings, walkers and always checking his back ensuring no one was on their tail. Eyeing a strip mall along the town's map, Daryl steers them off the road to cut true a neighborhood, but before he can Julia tugs at his arm, bringing him to a halt. They stand on the train tracks, and Julia begins like many times before,

“Daryl…”

He stood there waiting, his eyes softening, “Yeah?” he prompted. He could see her swallow nervously before the next words came out,

“I’m…I’m…”

And he could see her trying and he hadn't pushed her before, but this time he did, questioning,

“You’re what?”

It was af she didn't know were to look as he was studying her face, her delicate lines, the way her dark curls turned golden in the autumn sun, but his mane focused was her voice, what she was trying to say, and then finely it came,

“I’m p- anemic.”

Anemic? Iron deficiency.

Daryl took the information in and finding truth in her eyes he moved closer to examine her face. Julia let him, he pulled down her lower eyelid and indeed the inside layer was a pale pink, not a vibrant red like he knew it should be. Daryl was no doctor but it was evident that it was like she said, understanding one would be unwell when lacking iron. He took her chin, tilting it side to side as he questioned,

“You need medicine for that, right?”

“I will be fine without them,” Julia insured. “Just… wanted to tell you is all.”

Daryl hummed in understanding. It was good that she did and he had known something was wrong. He just wished she had told him sooner and he had noticed Julia had a knack for not telling him when she was feeling unwell, like when she had twisted her ankle she had never once complained, neither from that bruise around her throat that was now gone.

Releasing her chin the autumn breeze blue her hair into her eyes, Julia tamed the curls away, securing it behind her ear. It was easy to get lost in her beauty. The brown of her eyes coming out in the sun, like a pool of honey or a leaf falling from the trees. His gaze drifted upon the road behind, because even though the store encounter happened many days ago it still pulled at him. It was a very scary thing what beauty could make bad people do.

Daryl knew it was selfish for many reasons, to have thoughts of hiding Julia from the world as he pulled her hood over her head, Julia watched with a confused expression. He did it in an act of protection, as if counseling her appearance would work against any prying eyes.

“That’s better,” Daryl stated almost to himself as he adjusted it so it would cover her face as much as possible.

“Daryl, are you trying to hide me or something?” Julia questioned.

He took a deep breath, before he answered, “You should keep it on.”

“Why, it’s uncomfortable?” Julia poutted, adjusting it out of her eye line.

“Just listen to me, okay.”

“Fine,” Julia relent’s. ”but only if you tell me why.”

And how did he explain it without causing more fear? Adjusting the hood back down to his liking, he stated,

“You’re pretty.”

He thought it was self explainable what he was insinuating, but somehow he had offended her, maybe even anger her.

“Are you trying to make fun of me Dixon?”

“No, of course not.” She did not like being called pretty, noted. “You are very beautiful,” he corrected, and Julia blinked as if surprised, he continued, “I’m not trying to scare yah, but if we run into bad people we don’t want to draw the wrong attention. Yah, understand?"

Julia's face fell at the words and he knew he had failed, and terebully so. Now she was certainly frightened.

“Fuck,” he sighs under his breath. “I ain’t good at this,”

“It’s okay,” Julia reassured. “I know you mean well.. right?”

Daryl nodds.

He could see the worry build behind her eyes and the uneasiness in her posture. Softly with the intent to comfort some of that worry he guided her with a hand on her lower back,

“C'mon.”

“Why aren’t we following the tracks?” Julia hesitates in her step. “It's a straight shot, right?”

“It's better to take the road past the neighborhood, it’ll only take us a few more minutes tops.”

“But that’s twice as far.”

“No tracks,” he said matter of factly, ending her questions and they continued away from the tracks.

Finding their way to the strip mall and inside a casual dining restaurant two jars of pickled vegetables would be their meal for the day. Daryl pleases the jars on the kitchen floor were they sit against cabinets,

“Allwright, which one do yah wann't?”

Julia raised her head from his shoulder looking between the jar of pickles and pickled snap beans, the weight of her head returns against him,

“You pick, you found them,” she said tiredly.

Julia was too polite to speak up so he grabs one, her gaze following and he gives the pickles to her. Julia perked up, taking it eagerly in her grasp. As he opens his, digging in Julia struggles to open the lid.

“Here,” he beckoned, Julia handed the jar over and with a pope it was opened.

Julias lips peeked his cheek, thanking him for something as simple as opening a jar of pickles. But he couldn't contain the flutter in his stomach nor his chest swelling with pride. It was embarrassing how he was behaving and he had no control over it.

Julia sighs intently, loping her arm around his bicep as she leans against him having finished their meal and said,

“Can’t believe you found anything edible in here.”

"Yeah," he agreed, looking down where her head leans against him and her arm around his.

The feeling of them just sitting there with no words shared between them was nice, her presence calming in many ways. Her hand that wasn't around his arm he grasped in his, curiously comparing the obvious size difference between them. Hers was smaller, so much smaller her fingers ended where his began. Her skin feels soft compared to his own worn hands, her nails clean and clipped short.

“What are you doing?” Julia asked.

“There so small,” he stated.

And he had noticed a lot about her was - her head, her feet and her ridiculous small ears.

“You think so?” Julia said, placing her palm against his.

“See,” he said. The tips of her fingers reached where his fingers joined his palm, dwarfing hers. “they are.”

Julia laces her fingers with his, she looks up at him, a kind smile playing on her lips. He desperately wanted to kiss her, he always did.

“Daryl?”

“Yah?” he breathed, slowly leaning in for a kiss. But before his lips met hers, Julia asked,

“What you said before..did you really mean it?”

He searched her face, her eyes waiting for his answer - and maybe he hadn't realized it until now, but Julia was completely unaware of the beauty she redieted. He had assumed she knew, believing she had grown up hearing it her entire life. The impact she had on him, on people, children - how could someone like her not know he would never understand,

"Yah, way?”

“Just..no one has ever called me that before.”

And he couldn't believe someone as stunning as her had never been called beautiful. She was as breathtaking as her heart, her soul singing to him every time she looked at him. He must have gotten lost in her eyes, her soft breath brushing along his face. It felt like he would die if her lips weren't against his. So he fully leaned down, his lips enveloping her in a desperate kiss, and she always tested so…sweet.

Pulling away ever so slowly, studying her intently Julia blushed, he leaned in once more, and Julia looked away smiling coyly. He loved her smile, it sparked fireworks within, making his heart drum all the way to his fingertips. His thumb brushed against hers and with one swift pull he pulled her into his lap.

He secretly liked that he made her nervous - how innocent she was. She was something sweet in a dark world filled with everything that was the opposite of innocent. He felt ashamed of it though, even if knowing she was of age. Pressing her hand against his beating heart her eyes remained there on his hand on top of hers,

“Julia,” he spoke. “Look at me.”

To his command her brown eyes met his, he could feel the pull between them there, a burning force connecting them. His hand moved from her back to her neck, she leaned into it, her head tilting back in that perfect angel for a kiss. His mouth pressed to her forehead, then her cheek trying to resemble some of that softness, but his firm lips would never be as soft as hers.

“You have no idea, do yah?” he spoke against her skin.

“About what?” Julia breathed.

“How beautiful you are.”

He didn't know where the confidence came from, but he wanted her to know. He continued, his inner thoughts spilling from his lips,

“You're an angel and you don’t even know it.”

Julia took a breath to speak against it, before she could even tempt it he enveloped her in a kiss that turned into a passionate makeout session. Their lips fit like pulse peas, their tongues dancing until oxygen became life threatening… Breathing, breathing was like reaching the surfers, but he wouldn't mind if he drowned in the depths of her.

There breathes hot and heavy as he leaned his forehead against hers, that lower pressure formed in his lower stomach, his body heated and he asked with his eyes closed,

“Yes or no?”

Her hand cupped the side of his face, always soothing him with her touch and she spoke,

“You don’t have to ask, I’m always gonna want you Daryl.”

If his heart wasn't beating before it sure was now, it felt like it would burst true his chest and explode into all the colors of love.

“Yes or no, Julia?” he repeats. The urge to have her was almost overwhelming.

“Yes,” Julia breathed easely. “It will always be a yes.”

With Julia’s verbal permission he allowed himself to give in. His hand holding her to his beating heart traveled along her clothed body, from her hip, to her waist then her breast - feeling her nippell hardening under his touche. Unzipping her jacket slowly he held eye contact there, pretty brown eyes looking back at him. She was truly divine, an angel in his eyes. Her hand on his halted his motion, her jacket half opened and he respects her nonverbal request to keep it on.

Julia’s body was reacting to his touch so easily now. A few layers of clothing did not seem to bother her and she seemed to enjoy his touch just as much with it on, though he was desperate to feel her soft skin, to make her feel as good as he felt touching her.

Their lips connected and her sweetness envelopes him completely. The feeling of her caressing his cheek and the softness she provides was his safe haven. His erection rests against his stomach, painfully hard between their bodies. The feel of her reaching for it, her small fingers rubbing him over his pants drove him almost over the age and he had a feeling he would not last longer than a quickie. God help him.

He didn't know what came over him as he rose to his feet taking her with him in his arms. Julia yelped, holding onto him tightly around his neck. He didn't waste any time taking advantage of the kitchen's surfaces, placing her down on top of a prep table. He loomed over her, caging her in with his palms flat on the cold aluminum surface. He had visions about things he wanted to do to her, to have her on a table was one of many.

Julia stared up at him with dilated eyes, her hands slid from his neck to rest on his rising chest, he dipped his head to meet her lips. The kiss was intoxicating his senses, the world around them disappeared and she became it.

Fumbling with the belt, not wanting to break the kiss he opted to pull down his zipper instead, freeing himself of the tight confines of his pants. Julia looped her hands around his neck as he began undoing her jeans, and with a grunt he hoisted her onto him, pulling down her jeans in the same motion just enuff to expose her. He put her back down so her butt was right at the edge of the table and her front easy to access. Julia steadied herself, hands flat behind her as he stood between her spread legs, holding them up under her bent knees.

He begins to grind against her, then pulls the hem of her underwear to the side, holding it there to expose her completely to him. Arousal was glistening between her folds, he lobbed himself in it before he aligned himself and slid inside her opening. Julia’s head fell back as he washed himself disappear in and out with every stroke, his length glistening with her arousal. Julia sighs and a few ‘mmh’s’ of pleasure escapes her as he grunts with every push of his hips against her body. Her soft features was filled with pleasure, her mouth agape and he asked,

“Feel good?”

“Yes, yes,” Julia nodded with her eyes closed.

He had learned the angels she liked, the pace she preferred and what made her more vocal. So he fisted her undergarment to push himself deeper as he rubbed circles there with his thumb. Julia reacted heavily in response, her sounds becoming louder. The sound of her wetness filling his ears spurred him on and he pulled her in, cradling the back of her head, kissing her feverishly. He leaned into her further, the kiss deep as his movements. Caging her in with her legs on top of his shoulders he pulls away to watch her. She looked perfect like this, and to know she was enjoying what he was doing to her made him feel a deep pleasure as well feeling the incredible feeling of satisfaction.

He held her hips firmly, pushing himself in and out, and the more he focused on her beauty or her tight walls squeezing him combined with the friction..he was nearing climax faster than he'd like. Guiding her legs back to his sides he lifts her off the table into a stand and carry position, Julia clings onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck for support,

“Daryl, what are you doing?”

“It’s all right,” he calms. “I got yah, just hold onto me.”

“I don’t know Daryl. I- I have never done this before.”

“That’s all right, I’m doing all the work, okay?”

“Okay,” Julia agreed, the trust in her eyes making him want her even more.

Still inside of her he begins thrusting upwards using his hips while keeping his legs fairly straight, wimpers leaves her like never before. His arms carry all her weight as he trusts her up and down his length. The urge to go at full force and release himself had never been as strong as it was now. Desperately he was fighting against it looking up to the ceiling, because he liked to hold it off and be all wet and sweaty by the time he finished. So he tried to think about something unrelated that had nothing to do with him pushing himself inside her body. But his attempt to hold off his climax was almost impossible, the urge to give into that primal desire has him in an inner battle,

Thrust. God she feels good. Thrust. Stop thinking! Thrust. Fuck, she’s so tight. Thrust. Stop thinking, goddammit!

“Fuck, Julia. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunts thrue his movment’s.

Julia was taking him so well, her sounds growing lower and lowder, it was his favorite thing to hear. And if he had known this was what it took to hear her like this - he would have had her in this position sooner.

It wasn't long before her legs began to shake, her arms pulling him into a desperate embrace feeling her near her height of pleasure like he did his own. Her walls began to tighten round him, squeezing him. Then her whimpers stopped as her pelvic muscles contracts vigorously, her body spasming in his arms as pleasure wrecks her body. And just the same blood rushes to his ears, the intense feeling surged through him and he erupts with a guttural growl as he stills inside of her completely.

It was an outer world experience, he had never experienced a climax so intense, it was spiritual in a way. It just lasted for an intense three or five seconds before his body felt completely numb, it was a miracle that he was still standing with her in his arms. A moment of clarity steadied his grip, her body becoming heavy as she completely relaxed against him, her breaths heavy as his own, their chests expanding and retracting angst one another. He felt himself soften inside of her and unwillingly slipped out into the cold air making him miss her warm walls instantly. Julia’s head rests against his shoulder, her breath hitting the crock of his neck and she looked… pale again. He knew he had to find that medecin before her condition worsened. Her eyes were barely opened, he tilted his head down to catch her gaze and he asked softly,

"Hey, you alright?”

Julia nodded tiredly against him in response.

He pleased her down on the table, tucking himself away and kissed the top of her head. Julia leans into it, with his fingers he brushes curls away that had fallen into her face, he worried he had done too much, that he had been too ruff in his moment of desire.

Julia slipped off the table to stand on her feet and pulled her jeans back on, her face becoming just as pale as it was before they had eaten.

“Yah sure, you're pale again,” he points out.

Tilting her chin upwards to cash her gaze, Julia stared up at him as if thinking and he worried that he really had done too much.. but then, a reassuring smile spread across her lips, and she said with that soft tone that filled his lungs with sweetness and made his heart drum,

“You’re so sweet, Daryl.”

And he wondered how someone like her could exist?

“Edison’s Apothecary and boutique,” Julia read out loud.

Daryl banged loudly on the entry, leaning his ear close to the door and listened for any indication a threat was inside, when nun did he began working the lock open with his knife.

Watching from behind she couldn't help but rewind what he had said, and how it made her feel. That he thought she was an angel and even called her…beautiful. Daryl was a passionate lover and a gentle one. The idea of actually telling him was always there, on the tip of her tongue. Telling him she was anemic was true, but it was not the whole truth, it was a white lie. She felt absolutely horrible for not telling him about the little life they had created and it was growing rapidly, each day waking to a bigger stomach.

Julia stared at the back of his head and she reached into her pockets secretly reaching for their baby underneath. Though she knew he wouldn't know if he saw, she was just being paranoid. Maybe it was because she knew she was with child and she could feel the difference there, though she was just over 7 weeks along now, her stomach looked like it was just bloated, like she had eaten a big burrito.

But she would eventually get so big to the point he would know and he would ask. What was she to say then? She didn't know how to go about a situation like this, and she felt very…vonerbulle when so much was at stake and it felt like she was not allowed to think of herself, she was afraid to be selfish and she desperately wanted to fulfill what she was set out to do. But becoming closer along their journey his soft side did not only exist when they made love. It was in the moments when he worried, in his attentive gaze and in the subtle touches true oute the day that made her feel safe. It felt like he genuinely cared for her on a deeper level that secretly made her hope his feelings were one of love, like her own.

Daryl locked back at her and Julia took her hands out of her pockets to adjust her hood.

“Stay back,” Daryl ordered.

Julia washed with a yearning gaze as Daryl swung the door open, his broad frame entering. And oh, how she needed to hear those three syllables of love. Because…if Daryl told her he loved her, she would feel secure enuff to tell him the truth.

“Clear!” Daryl announced.

Julia stepped inside. A wife of a sickening odor makes her stomach turn and a gag escapes her, but she stands against the urge to throw up, forcing the bile down.

“What are you doin’?” Daryl questioned.

“Don’t you smell that?” Julia said, trying not to breathe through her nose.

It was so strong the smell felt loud.

Daryl didn't say anything, he just looked back at her with that unreadable gaze she knew were thoughts behind. Inwardly Julia panicked for just a second, realizing what she just said. But he didn't seem to catch on.

They continued to venture inside the small gift store. Julia shines her flashlight on the counter table, there were polaroid pictures of a happy little boy who couldn't be older than three placed beneath the dusted glass counter. Postcards and souvenirs are stacked on the shelves behind, keychains with names caught her attention. Turning the counter rack until her eyes landed upon a familiar name, her heart ached with a forgotten sadness in her chest.

There were so many people she never had gotten to say goodbye to that was gone.

She moved on to Daryl who was working a counter shutter open, shining her flashlight upon the big letters above.

Pharmacy, it read.

The counter shutter rolled up revealing a small rome stocked with medication. Daryl jumped up and over the counter, Julia followed. Inside Daryl begins skimming true the bottles and askes,

“What did yah take for anemia?”

Julia wrecks true her brain, trying to remember what her mother used to get her and then she remembered,

“Vitamin-B12, folic acid or just iron pills.”

“Allwright, there should be here somewhere,” he mumbles as he goes through the bottles on the shelves, reading each etiquette intently before placing it back and moving on to the next.

Jullia looked around herself but she wasnt searching for anything really dreading the idea of having to take any sort of medicine again. She had an aversion for it, or more so had grown to hate it. But it was her own fault having shared that she was anemic and did not have the guts to tell him what she was planning to and this time she was the closest to actually saying it, but just the same she got scared.

An open shelf cabinet stands between them and she can hear Daryl on the other side continue going to true bottles of pills as he grumbles incoherently to himself. The smell was even stronger in this part of the store and she felt like she was on the constant verge of gagging and at the same time felt drawn to know where it came from.

“Yah, finding anything?” Daryl askes.

“No, nothing,” she answered.

Julia felt bad, she wasn't even looking. But as her eyes wandered they landed on a small bottle of misoprostol. Looking at it closely there was a clear warning for pregnant women wich caught her attention and on the contrationing/warning, it read,

:Do not take if you are pregnant and do not become pregnant while taking this medicine because it can cause miscarriage…

That was the only thing she needed to know what this was and what it could be used for. And Julia had known she had to find a pharmacy and here she was face to face with that choice. It was important to her to feel free to take medication if she so desired. And If the world never ended and she found herself in this situation in the state of Georgia, where it was illegal to perform any attempt of abortion after six weeks, she would be committing a felony, punishable by sentence of imprisonment up to 5 years. Knowing that no pharmacist could refuse to give her the drug nor be questioned for what she was going to use it for felt freeing just as much as it terrified her.

The thought of bringing innocence into the world of uncertainty and chaos, where evil lurks in every corner, where one wrong step was death or worse feels overwhelming. Wanting to do the right thing was hard when she didn't know what the right thing was. Was she evil if she ended the pregnancy or was it cruel of her to keep it?

A loud thud caught their attention, halting them in what they were doing. Daryl moved to the counter and listened to the sound that repeated. Julia was quick to hide the misoprostol in her pocket, gauging him if it was a treat or not.

“Sounds like it’s stuck,” Daryl said.

“Walker?” Julia asked, leaning over the counter trying to see where the noise came from.

“Yeah,” Daryl affirmed, going back to what he was doing.

The sound continued, and she didn't know if it was curiosity or the feeling of uneasiness that something else was in there with them that led her feet to investigate. Carefully she exited the pharmacy. Her heart was pounding in her throat as she shined the flashlight on the backroom door. Her gut screamed danger but continued through the door that stands ajar and she went inside the dark room with her knife in hand. The source of the bad smell was somewhere in here, the air was moist and shining the flashlight along the dirty floor she could see kids comic’s littering the floor. Beginning to feel that urge to vomit she forced herself to continue further led by the flashlight revealing a worn crib that was left empty. Empty boxes are mesley stacked against the wall, and the wall looks damaged, the wight paint withering away and peeling off. Big spots of black mold grow along it, like a dark trail of spots.

Julia flinches and turns hastily to a sound beside her. A female walker with a broken leg leys on the ground barely moving, her jaw gone and her body and clothes almost fully decomposed. HUSH, HUSH, HUSH, is written on the wall and to her absolute horror, a baby's shoe floats in a sink filled with bloody fluid.

Her heart sank to her stomach and she pieced everything together. They had been smelling… that little boy she had seen from the counter, the same shoe floating in the sink. His own mother had smothered her baby to death, presumably from walkers hearing the crying and trying to get in, explaining the handprints outside.

Julia stumbled backwards out of the room knocking over souvenirs that crashed to the floor.

“What the hell you doing?!” Daryl emerged from his surge, but when he looked at her his eyes changed and his tone softend, “Hey, what's wrong?”

No words came out instead her stomach lurched and her hand clasped over her mouth. She bolted outside, her chest burned as stomach acid rose up and down on to the pavement. Standing hunched over with hands on her knees to steady herself she spitted to rid her mouth of the foul taste, feeling how her throat was strained and hurt from the intense force. Feeling herself on the verge of blacking out she tried to focus on breathing and slowly the outside world came back. The white noise recedes to give way to bird song, the sun warming her face and feeling of the refreshing touch of the autumn breeze steadies her. The distant call for her name became clearer, she focused on that, his familiar touch grounding her.

Daryl was holding her firmly by the shoulders, his blue eyes filled with a desperation she had never seen before. He guided her to stand up from her hunched over position, then pulled the hood over her head, reaching out and taking her hair and tucking it away. She watched with eyes that glimmered and a face that must be noticeably unwell as she felt. Daryl stared into her eyes for a moment causing her chin to wobble. She tried to speak, but her voice was shaking so much she could hardly get the words out,

“There was…she…”

“I know, I know,” Daryl soothed softly.

She knew he must have seen it too by the look on his face, but he didn't know the full extent to her reaction to such a horrifying sight. If she kept the baby would it only live so shortly to meet such a gruesome end? To smother one's baby to death because it was either that or watch it be eaten alive, because…a baby didn't know how to be quiet?

Daryl pushed his water into her hand but she denied it weekly.

“You need to drink,” he insisted.

But she denied it again with a shake of her head. Even the thought of a sip of water made her nauseous - then she looked up at him with pleading eyes that burned,

“Hold me, please hold me.”

Daryl enveloped her into a soothing embrace, her head tucked beneath his chin and he held her there tightly to himself. The sound of his heart against her ear and the calming strokes on her back calms her as she breathes him in. The hug communicates a deep empathy, there was no need for words, just him and only him at this moment. And Julia had decided what she needed to do, what she had dreaded and felt so torn between.

A deep sadness fills her heart by the weight of her choice, but it was the right thing. The possibility of such a cruel end had awoken a deep fear for their unborn child, so before they went to bed she excused herself to do her business further in the woods from where they had set up camp for the night.

Julia sits on the forest floor with two pills in her palm and a bottle of water in the other. She inhales a shaky breath before popping them into her mouth, swallowing down with water. For a moment she sits there and lets it sink in…but was this what she truly wanted? The sound of leaves blowing in the wind and the last birdsong singing she took a breath, in and out trying to soothe some of that anxiety. Looking down at the medecin in her hand a deep regret settels in her stomach and her invoice screamed,

No, what have I done..What have I done.

In her panic she forces fingers down her throat, making herself vomit out the pills she had swallowed. Sitting there in the moss covered ground she realized that truly she wanted to keep the baby and she had known that all along. Putting a hand against her stomach as she closed her eyes she imagined hearing its heartbeat and how it would be to see it on a screen of a ultrasound.

“Sorry, my little one. I’m never gonna do anything that’s gonna harm you again, I promise,” she whispered to the baby.

“What are you doing?” a deep voice startled her from behind.

Julia recognised it as Daryl. He walked up to her, making her fumble with the bottle, hiding it away and spilling some of the pills in the process that she hid with moss just in time before he could notice.

“Nothing,” she lied, standing on her feet. “I just tripped on my way back.”

His blue eyes searched hers, narrowing to the water bottle in her hand but he didn't say anything. Instead he walked her back to camp and they settled into their sleeping bags, his arms holding her just as tightly as when he had embraced her. And even though she felt the safest in his arms, enveloped by his protective warmth she couldn't find the courage to tell him. The fear of Daryl's reaction scared her deeply.

Because he wouldn't let her continue with their journey, surely. He wouldn't want her around...Whether it be because of selfish reasons or because he felt she would be in

unnecessary danger. She felt he would be the type to view pregnancy as a time of fragility...He already treated her like she couldn't protect herself and she knew if he wanted to he would hide her from the world. Maybe she was spyreling but that was how it had felt when he said she needed to cover herself up, to not bring any unwanted attention. And she knew he only did what he thought was right, that he didn't know any better.

And with that thought she drifts away, too tired to fight sleep any longer.

Part 13 masterlist

#apocalypse #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #fanfics #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #whatyoufightfor!#pregnancy #love story #zombie #post apocalyptic

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mychlapci · 6 days ago

Note

DRatchrod momson Bad Ending

Rodimus is secretly depressed after his parents announce they’re (finally) going to have a real conjunxing ceremony. Rodimus wants to be happy for them, he really does, especially for his poor mommy. He’s still allowed to stay with them, especially when Ratchet’s sparked again and his carrier instincts want to keep Rodimus around.

His daddy’s relaxed enough that Rodimus is allowed to nurse from mommy and can get away with a little humping. But then mommy gives birth and Rodimus feels out of place. His younger siblings are going to grow up in peace and with their parents together. He’s jealous of them and he’s jealous of daddy. Had things gone differently, he would’ve been the one conjunxed to mommy and siring sparklings. Rodimus is also hurting because since he was young, he wanted to be the one that made his mommy happy.

Rodimus makes the decision to leave, not wanting to hurt anymore and also not spoil his mommy’s happiness. They try to keep in contact, share messages and pictures but gradually they stop. Ratchet and Drift do miss him, he was their firstborn, it hurts them that he decided to leave and that their younger children won’t know their older brother.

Then it happens. Ratchet dies and Drift has to message his wayward son that mommy’s gone.

Rodimus can’t handle it. He shows up drunk and his siblings all watch in curiosity and disgust. One of them stands out to Rodimus, the very image of his beloved mommy. Maybe Rodimus can stay…maybe he can get to know his younger brother a little better.

Drift sees who Rodimus is looking at and knows exactly what he’s thinking. It takes every bit of self control Drift has to settle for a verbal warning, to not lay a servo on his brother.

“Why? You planning on keeping him all to yourself?”

Drift’s disgusted but he’s also disappointed. He forgave Rodimus all those years ago and stopped punishing him. He really wanted to believe Rodimus moved on. Instead, he has to protect his innocent family from Rodimus’ perversion.

Maybe this is the point that has Drift telling Rodimus the truth about the inbred sparkling he made with mommy, the one Pharma aborted, all to get back at Rodimus for being a bad son.

oughh that's so sad. we're getting so fucked up with this. Rodimus never really moved on, and it's hard to hide when his mommy dies and he wasn't even there. his stupid dad was, when it really should've been him, making babies with Ratchet, giving himself his own siblings, making mommy happy. aaaaah and Rodimus trying to fixate on a sibling that looks just like Ratchet... Drift won't let him, but maybe after their very public and very trashy fight during Ratchet's funeral Rodimus is even more determine to fuck up Drift's family.... Maybe he tries to get close to his estranged brother anyways, tries to smooth things over, makes Drift out to be the bad guy. Tells him all about his Deadlock days, how he knocked up Ratchet and left him behind for millions of years...

#valveplug #texty #dubcon #incest mention #incest kink #pregnancy mention

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pablitogavii · 2 years ago

Text

Panic

Summary: You help one of your friends who suspect she is different, but when Pablo finds the positive test in your shared bathroom, he starts to panic.

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Reader

Warnings: none :)

"Oh my God! I'm pregnant! Like actually pregnant!" Amelia said as tears fell down her cheeks and you held her hand reassuring her that she was not alone.

She was in an abusive relationship for a whole year and when she finally was determined to leave, this happens...it was valid that she was sad and helpless.

"I don't want it! He will never change! And he won't let me do an abortion...he will kill me if I even mention it.." she sobbed and you took the test leaving it on the washing machine before helping her up and taking her to the living room to calm down and drink some water.

A few days pass...

Pablo was packing for his next big match in Madrid, when he noticed the test rested on the washing machine thinking he was crazy but those two solid lines made his stomach flip.

He googled "how many lines means she is pregnant?" (ofc he did :) and seeing that it was two his jaw kept clenching as he stared at it in disbelief.

His girl was pregnant...and she didn't tell him. Why?? Is she scared of his reaction?

He heard you come home from Uni and he hid the test inside his bathroom purse before walking to the living room to meet.

"Ugh..my feet hurt so much" you say falling onto the couch before smiling wide when you noticed him at the door of your shared bedroom.

"How are you amor?" Pablo carefully asked thinking that maybe she was going to tell him now but when she just smiled saying she was alright he knew she was planning on keeping it a secret...but for how long does she think that would work?

"You sure? No sickness?" he poked and she gave him a questioning look wondering what's gotten into him all of the sudden.

"Not really...I mean yesterday morning I was s little sick " she said not really seeing the significance of this but all Pablo registered was "morning sickness" his stomach clenching.

Pablo sat down and she moved to rest her head on his shoulder and he pulled her closer gently kissing the top of her head. He was scared and no doubt shocked but even though it wasn't planned, he would never be angry with her..and would never stop loving her.

"Are you packed for tomorrow?" she said sadly and he nodded reassuring her that he will be back home before she even notices he was gone.

"Impossible Pablito...I'm gonna miss you every hour you are gone..both of us" she said and his face turned serious while she chuckled.

"Me and Pablo 2.0" she said pointing at the big bear Pablo got her for Valentine's Day to cuddle with whenever he had to travel.

"I still give better cuddles than him!" Pablo said proudly and she giggled straddling his lap and kissing his lips a few times before they hugged.

You watched a show for a few hours before it was time for bed since Pablo had to wake up early to meet his teammates and you were really tired from a long day at the Uni.

"Amor? Is there no more pickles?" you ask from the kitchen and Pablo got up walking up to you. Were you just having cravings??

"Um..yeah there are some spears in the fridge. Why?" he asked and she chuckled opening the fridge and taking the jar out.

"So I can eat some duh?"she said biting one and he felt more nervous with every passing moment...maybe if he shows that he know, she won't be scared to tell him the truth.

"You craving them?" he suggested and she just shrugged nodding her head wondering what got him so curious about her eating habits.

"Let's go to bed, mi campeon" she said putting the jar away and they left. She was sleeping peacefully while Pablo could barely stay motionless...he was going to become a dad...like it was scary but also some part of him only wanted that with you.

Barcelona won the game in Madrid and Pablo was coming back tomorrow. He couldn't really contribute much on the pitch considering that his mind was elsewhere but he was glad that didn't cost his team.

"Hola, bonita. How are you feeling? Have you been sick again?" Pablo asked on a FaceTime and you reassure him that everything was fine apart form how much you hated sleeping alone.

"Congrats on a win, my cariño. You looked a little distracted during the game, everything okay?" you ask since Pedri did tell you that Pablo was acting strange the whole trip being quiet and searching some private information online.

"Everything is fine, don't worry about me amor. I've just been a little tired lately. Can't have all games be perfect.." he said and she nodded deciding to let it go for now knowing that if something was seriously going on, Pablo would tell her about it.

On the day that he was coming back, you promised Amelia to go to the abortion center with her. She needed someone there and being her best friend you promised to be her support.

She was still having bruises barely healed form the last time baby's father 'got angry' so it was understandable why she didn't want this to be her life but it was still a difficult choice.

Pablo arrived to the Camp trying to call you numerous times but your ringer was off since you wanted to be fully present for your friend who was getting checked by the doctor.

"Dónde estás querida!?" he said to himself after leaving another voice mail and Pedri reminded him that he can use Snap Maps to pinpoint your location.

He never really does so, but you also never dodge his calls for hours..he was worried and checked to see that you were at the nearby Abortion Center.

Abortion Center..

Pablo started to panic grabbing Pedri's hand and pulling him to the parking lot before telling him to drive as fast as he could. He needed to get there on time..he needed to be there for you..to tell you that you don't have to do this because of him.

"Santa Mierda Pablito! Is she.." Pedri asked after reading the sign and Pablo just rushed out of the car without a reply yelling your name on top of his lungs.

"Ai chico, you can't be yelling! This is a hospital!" one of the older nurses said and he apologized begging her to tell him if she saw you while showing her your picture rested on his arm from his phone.

"Yeah, she went to the second floor" woman said

"Muchas gracias!" Pablo quickly said before rushing up the stairs again yelling your name and you heard him from one of the rooms when Amelia was already done.

"Go, I'm okay.." she smiled and you nodded walking outside seeing Gavi's tearful face meet yours.

"Pablo? Que pasa? What are you doing here?" you ask drying his tears afraid that something terrible happened form the way he looked like.

"Amor, I know..it's okay. I'm not angry...I know we are young, but we love each other and we will figure it all out together...I don't have to travel as much..I won't leave you hanging, I promise...just please don't let them kill our baby!" he held her waist pulling her in and she felt her heard melting despite the fact that this was all absurd.

"Pablo.." you tried to speak but he kissed to shut you up.

"I'm not pregnant Pablo!" you push him back a little having to say that since he was definitely acting crazy.

"What?? But...but your test in the bathroom..and why are you here then?" he said and you smiled shaking your head realizing that you forgot to toss away Amelia's test in all the craziness.

"I'm here with a friend..it was her test...plus you bought be tampons a few days ago because I am on my period, idiot!" you chuckled and Pablo relaxed running his hand through his hair before cheering loudly being sushed again by nurses.

"You are on your period! That's right! Oh Díos mio!" Pablo said and you laughed pulling him into a hug before raising you off your feet and twirling you around.

Amelia's mom came to pick her up and she thanked you for being there with her before you and Pablo went to Pedri's car to get home.

"Okay seriously guys! Are you pregnant or not!? Is that why you were googling baby bottles and best pacifiers online?" Pedri said the moment we came in and you burst out in laughter while Pablo blushed in embarrassment.

"I'm not pregnant. Pablito got some things mixed up Pepi..please drive us home" you say and the boy sighed turning the engine on and dropping you off in front of your apartment building.

"So you were googling baby things??" you ask while you were cuddled up in the living room by the fire drinking some chocolate milk Pablo loved so much.

"Stooop! I thought you were pregnant so I saved some ideas.." he said and you smiled kissing his cheek really feeling better that you have a man who would not leave you alone no matter the situation.

"Can I see it?" you ask and he groans pulling out his phone showing you some pictures he saved on his camera roll.

"All these are for boys? Were you expecting a son, Gavi??" you tease and he tossed the phone to the side ticking your sides before laying you down and hovering above you.

"Don't test me or I might get my son after all.." he smirked kissing your neck before both of you giggled at the whole situation.

Hope you liked it! :))

#pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi #gavi #gavigif #pablo martín páez gavira #pablo gavira #fc barça #fc barcelona #fc barca

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thatssonanii · 10 months ago

Text

Chapter Twelve

A/N: I'm interested in knowing who yall wanna fight more after this chapter.. Nadine, Gia or Josh😂😂 ⭐⭐LIKE, REBLOG, COMMENT & SHARE⭐⭐

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of abortion, typos, 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Masterlist

Chapter Eleven

Flashback #1

“When you was still in Texas you complained about missing me and how I don't come visit enough but you get ya ass here and don't come see me or text.” Sefa fussed, pushing her away from him. “Nope, don't hug me. Move.”

“Stop being like that. You know Zay be hogging me to himself. He cry when I got to work.”

Sefa finally stopped pushing her away, allowing her to hug him. He squeezed her just as tight as she squeezed him. When Moriah and Zilla met as kids, she made herself the third musketeer to Sefa and Zilla and fit perfectly.

“He cry without you?” Sefa laughed.

She nodded then frowned, swatting Zilla's hand away from her face. “Stop it, Fatu.”

He kissed her cheek, laughing when she wiped it away. “I was just tryna fix your hair, damn. What's up, Sefa?”

The two men slapped hands and hugged.

“Nothin, Moriah was tellin me the reason she ain't come see me or text me is cause you cry without her.”

Turning to his left, Zilla stared down at his girlfriend with his brows furrowed. When she tried to hide behind Sefa, he caught her by her hips pulling her into him. She squealed as his fingers dug into her hips.

“I cry? Is that true?”

She giggled trying to get away from him. “It is. You do, cry baby!”

“Fat,” he called, pulling her into a bear hug, “Tell the truth.”

She giggled. “Okay, okay, you don't cry! Let me go.”

Upon releasing her from the hug, Zilla thumped her ear prompting Sefa to step in. He knew if he didn't, the two of them would continue their play fighting just like when they were all kids. In the midst of their conversation, Trinity came back outside to retrieve Moriah to bring her back inside. Sefa turned to his younger cousin expectantly, making him laugh.

“What? Why you looking at me like that?”

Sefa folded his arms across his broad chest. “You know why. Updates, uce. How yall been? Everything straight?”

Whenever Sefa would visit Zilla, their conversation always went to Moriah. If Zilla didn't bring her up, Sefa did. Their talks were pretty similar each time; how she was doing, if she had come to see him, how much Zilla had missed her, if she'd called Sefa. The older cousin hated the way Zilla deflated and got sad whenever he admitted that he still hadn't gotten a visit from her and how he knew she was upset with him.

“Yeah, we good. Our schedules had us missing each other but hers finally calmed down so that's fixed.” Zilla responded, leaving out the revelation and struggle the couple just went through. “Don't worry, man. She ain't going nowhere and neither am I.”

Sefa visibly relaxed. Although he saw how they interacted with each other he knew looks could be deceiving. Hearing that they were okay from Zilla gave him some solace but he wouldn't completely have it until he heard it from Moriah as well.

“That's what I wanna hear. I told you if you got her when you got out that you better hold on to her and do the right thing, didn't I?”

“Yeah, you did. I'm doin both. I ain't perfect but I try.”

“Ain't tellin you to be perfect,” he explained with a chuckle, “Tellin you not to be your regular hard headed self.”

Zilla sucked his teeth playfully. “Yall love callin’ me hard headed. I listen sometimes.”

“Keyword being sometimes.”

Back at the grill, Jon joined his brother and cousin helping them load the cooked food into the pans to make room on the grill for the other food. He listened to Jacob tell him about the last show he was at but noticed his brother's body language was off.

“Hold on, Jacob.” He turned his attention to his brother. “What's wrong with you, Josh?”

“Nun, I'm cool.”

Jacob sucking his teeth let Jon know something was off. He looked between the two of them.

“I miss something?”

“He don't like sis. He don't think uce should be with her,” Jacob explained ignoring Josh's glare.

Jon laughed loudly for a few seconds until he realized neither man was laughing along with him. “Wait … you forreal? He don't like Rye?”

Jacob shook his head, giving a disappointed look.

“And why don't he like her?”

“Don't know. He ain't told me.”

Jon turned to his brother with a confused look. “Why don't you like her?”

“He don't need to be wasting his time with her. He need to be with somebody that ain't gon turn on him later on.”

Jacob and Jon stared at him in disbelief.

“Ima ask you something and you better tell the truth.”

Josh huffed, taking the last of the chicken off the grill. “What, Jon?”

“Did you and Rye sleep together or date or something?”

“Soooo how are things with your mom?”

Moriah frowned at the question, giving Trinity a side eye. “I told you I cut that lady off.”

“I was asking to make sure,” she laughed. “I'm sure that made things better with you and Zilla.”

Avoiding eye contact, Moriah gave a slight nod put her attention on the cheese she was grating. On the way to the house, Zilla promised that he wouldn't say anything to his cousins about her fertility and Angel during this family event. Even though she never promised, she felt like it was implied that she wouldn't either. Trinity stopped chopping bell peppers to stare.

“You might as well go ahead and start talking.” Trinity pushed. “I'm listening.”

Moriah whined. “I can't. Zay promised he wouldn't say anything so I can't say anything.”

“Did you promise?”

“No, but,” Moriah was cut off by the older woman.

“Okay then. Start talking, I'm listening.”

“Okay but you cannot tell Jon or anybody else.”

“I won't, I won't. I promise.”

She sighed taking a few moments. “I finally told Zay that I was pregnant when he got locked up and that my mom made me abort the baby about 12 weeks in. It was a bump to get over but we're okay now.”

Stopping what she was doing, Trinity threw her arms around her and squeezed tight. Knowing that she would cry if she hugged back, Moriah stood as still as she possibly could waiting for the hug to be over.

“I'm sorry, sis. I knew she was a piece of work but I didn't think she was cruel like that. How'd he take it?”

“Not good but we talked about it after some time passed. We're good.”

Both went back to their tasks in silence. The partial revelation hanging in the air between them. Moriah willed herself not to let the rest of the words escape her. She squeezed her brown eyes shut tight and tucked her lips in, counting back from 20 in her head. When she opened her eyes, Trinity was staring at her.

“Sorry, I'm okay. It was a while ago but it's still hard sometimes.”

“You're not okay. I know it still hurts and it still bothers you.” She leaned in once more to rub Moriah's back. “How did you still talk to her after that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I felt obligated I guess.”

“Well, I’m glad that you know now that you aren’t obligated to her in any way, sis.” Trinity felt bad that she had soured the mood with her question and wanted to lighten the mood back up. “When is this wedding, honey? I need to know when I need to be off and get fitted for my bridesmaid dress.”

Moriah laughed, emptying the grater. “What wedding are you talking about? There’s no wedding.”

“Uh yes ma’am there is a wedding. One between you and Isayah.”

“What … you speaking it into existence?” She joked.

Trinity laughed, bumping her shoulder. “I don’t need to do that. Yall are getting married, he made it very clear that he ain’t going nowhere and neither are you.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “As of right now, there was no proposal so no wedding. But when there is one, I'll let you know.”

After the fallout at Kamille's house, she called on one of the people she knew who could get her sister together. While it wouldn't do the trick completely, it would get Nadine to at least think about what she was doing. Her older sister was starting to spiral, it was getting out of hand. Despite their siblings divorcing, Kamille and Gabriella stayed friends and in for the most part constant contact. When Gabriella got the call, she weighed her options– should she call or should she show up.

Nadine snatched her door open, her eyes narrowed at the person on her doorstep.

“Aren't you gonna invite me in, ex-sister in law?”

Not waiting for a response, Gabriella pushed her way into the house and headed for the living room. It had been a few years since she'd seen the inside of this house but it hasn't changed one bit, just like the person who lived in it.

Slamming the door, Nadine followed her to the living room with a less than pleasant look on her face.

“Sure, Gabi, come on in. Make yourself at home.”

Gabriella smiled, getting comfortable in the recliner that was deemed as her brother's many years earlier. “Don't mind if I do. I mean this is my brother's house and he says I'm always welcome in and to anything that he owns.”

Nadine sat on the sofa adjacent to her guest. “Don't walk into my home uninvited again, Gabi. This is not your brother's house and hasn't been for quite some time now.”

Gabi smiled, tilting her head slightly. “True my brother hasn't lived here in quite some time but it's still his house. Last I checked, it's his name and his name only that's on the deed. He just let you stay here after the divorce because of my niecey pooh.”

“Is there a reason you're here? You know I don't like you.”

“And that feeling is mutual, sweetheart.” Gabi motioned to her face. “You might wanna put some more ice on that bruise. It looks worse than the one you left on my Moriah.”

“The one I'm gonna leave on you is gonna be even worse than this.”

Her words made Gabi laugh hysterically. “Oh, please, Nadine. You know what happened the other three times you tried me. But I think … I think this time, I'll just call Leata. I'm sure she wouldn't mind going upside your head again.”

“Gabriella, you have exactly two minutes to tell why you’re here and what you want before I call the police.” Nadine spat, rubbing her temple.

Gabi stared at her, taking her ex-sister in law all in. Her facade was slipping, she was starting to run herself down which was sad considering how beautiful she is.

“I remember when you were pregnant, you were so happy to be having a baby girl. You called my parents as soon as you and San got home, your joy flowed through the call.” Gabi recounted, keeping her eyes on the older woman, “You would call my mother and talk about how you and babygirl were gonna be best friends, have mother daughter dates, and how you were gonna be her cheerleader for life. But ever since you divorced San, hell before then, all you’ve done is harm her. You’ve left scars on that girl that will never heal, you’ve taken away any chance of moments that mothers and daughters are supposed to share. You’ve tried to break your own daughter down because you’re mad at my brother.”

Nadine rolled her eyes, taking a seat on the sofa with a hard sigh. “You flew across the country to talk to me about my child? This could have been a phone call.”

“It shouldn’t be happening in the first place, Nadine. I shouldn’t have to fly across the country to check your evil ass but here I am. If you’re mad at Hassan, you should be taking it out on him and not Moriah. That girl has never done anything to you.”

“You think you’re so smart, Gabi. You always did. Nobody is mad at Hassan.”

“Tell that lie to somebody that believes it. You’re mad at him but you wouldn’t dare take it out on him and I know why.”

“Oh please tell me why? I’m dying to know, Gabriella.”

Gabi chuckled. “Because somewhere deep down in that heart of yours, you think that my brother is gonna come to you and tell you that he wants to get back together. So you don’t wanna mess those chances up.”

The momentary look on Nadine’s face told Gabi everything she already knew. She knew since the couple started divorce proceedings, Nadine never thought Hassan would actually sign the papers. She thought that he would make some grand gesture giving in to what she wanted and they would go back to being married.

“Yeah, that’s what it is.” Gabi laughed. “You think my brother is stupid enough to take you back so you’ve been careful not to be nasty to him. But do you really think he’d take you back after the way you’ve treated his babygirl? Especially after he finds out about the shit she never told him. You’ll be lucky if he ever looks in your direction after that.”

“Just get your ass out of my house! You come in here thinking you know everything when you don’t know shit!” Nadine yelled trying to regain her composure. “If I wanted Hassan back, I would have him back.”

“Oh really?” She asked with a hint of humor. “So you think that after the way you’ve treated his pride and joy and doubled down on everything by wishing death on his son in law, that he also loves to death, he’d take your sad ass back? Even your twisted ass can’t believe that.”

Nadine jumped up from her seat, screaming. “That boy is not his son in law! Stop saying that! My daughter will not marry him and he will not be in my family!”

Clapping, Gabriella stood from the recliner a wide smile on her face. “What a beautiful performance! You deserve an Oscar for that, boo. Cause you know like I know it is only a matter of time before they’re married and you’re forgotten about, Nadine.”

“No! They’re not getting married! They will not stay together, if it’s the last thing I do!”

Gabi scrunched her face waving her finger in Nadine’s direction. “Yeah, he’s definitely not gonna want your ass back after I tell him about this tantrum.”

“Get out!” Nadine screamed as loud as she could but Gabi was unphased.

“I’m leaving but only because I’m done here.” She started to leave the living room then backed up. “Seriously though, I would start lowering your expectations about getting San back and start hoping he invites you to his wedding since you won’t be getting one to Moriah’s.”

Nadine had to do a double take, thinking that she heard wrong. “Wedding?” She swallowed hard.

“Oh yes. There’s a new lady in his life, we love her. Especially Moriah. She even knows about your looney ass and doesn’t care. She’s a keeper for that part alone,’’ Gabi gushed. “You know you might get lucky. San may take pity on you and give you this house outright to soften the blow of you never ever getting him back.”

The silence almost made Gabi burst into laughter but she held her composure. Before coming out to Texas, she had a talk with Hassan about what they wanted to accomplish from her visit. He wanted to take the heat off of his daughter for as long as he could so he was okay with Gabi revealing Tamera’s presence in his life and the seriousness of their relationship. The siblings knew that would keep her mind occupied with him instead of Moriah and Zilla.

“Toodles, DiDi! See you at the wedding. And I know I don’t need to say this but,” she paused dramatically. “Please don’t wear white, you’ve had your turn already.”

As she was leaving the house, she laughed hearing Nadine’s tantrum over her revelation. Their plan had worked, she hoped that it would prompt her in losing interest in Moriah and Zilla or at the very least last longer than Hassan predicted it would. When she got into her rental, she texted her big brother and Kamille to let them know the job was done.

“Why your face all tore up? Rye told you it’s time to come in. It’s yall bedtime.” Sefa joked, noticing the frown on his cousin’s face.

Zilla looked up from his phone and shook his head, trying not to be irritated. “Nah, it ain’t Rye. And I run this, I go to bed when I want.”

Just as those words left his mouth, Moriah poked her head out smiling, making Zilla jump a little and the men laughed. All except Josh, he sat quietly watching the interaction.

“Yall okay out here? Need anything?”

“We good, sis,” Jacob called back still laughing. “Yall good in there?”

She nodded, giving them all a slightly confused look. “Yeah, we’re good, Just watching a movie. How much longer yall gonna be out here?”

“As long as we want!” Jon piped up playfully.

Moriah laughed, “I was asking the ones in the top 5, not number 6.”

Zilla, Jacob and Sefa ooohed in response.

“Damn, she got you,” Sefa laughed. “We don’t know yet, Rye.”

“Thank you, number 2. I don’t know why six is getting beside himself.” She joked, dodging the bottle cap Jon threw at her. “It’s getting late so don’t be out here too late, Zay.”

He sucked his teeth at his cousins’ snickering. “I won’t, Fat.”

“I mean it.”

“Fat,” he called out, staring at her, “I’m grown, I come in when I want to.”

The cousins turned to look at Moriah.

“Oh then your grown ass can find another bed to sleep in if you not in the bed when I get in the bed. You got a hour, Isayah.”

Moriah went back in the house, the cousins laughed even louder as soon as she closed the back door. Zilla frowned playfully at them.

“Man, whatever. I go to bed when I want, she just tryna show out.”

“Nah,” Jacob laughed, “That was you tryna show out and sis put you back in your place.”

Zilla’s phone pinging interrupted him, he sucked his teeth when he checked his notifications. Sefa tried to look at the screen.

“Rye making you come in now since you was tryna show out.”

He shook his head still reading. “Nah, it ain’t Fat.”

“Who is then? Whoever it is must be annoyin cause your face tore up again,” Jon noted.

He put his phone in his lap, looking around at them careful to keep his tone down. “Yall know that backstage girl, Gia?” They all nodded waiting for him to continue. "She been commenting under every picture I posted today, she reposted every story I posted and now she messaging me. She can’t take a damn hint and it’s gettin annoyin as hell.”

“She like you or something?” Sefa asked.

He nodded. “She say she don’t but I can clearly tell she do. She be touchin me and shit when she talk to me no matter how much I move her hands off of me and will stand in my way if I don’t stop to talk to her. She can’t take a hint or she just ignoring them.”

“I get you tryna be nice but just tell her you got a girlfriend and you not interested.” Jon shrugged.

He huffed hearing his phone go off again. “I always tell her that shit. She always say she just tryna be my friend and keep doin the same shit.”

“She must not have met sis yet.”

Zilla nodded at Jacob. “She did! At the show this week! Fat almost beat her ass, she called Fat my sister then said cousin.”

“Sister?” Sefa repeated with a frown. “Yall don’t look nothin alike”

“And that’s what Fat said. She knew what the hell she was doin.”

“Next time she try you tell her the skating rink story, I bet she leave you alone then. The thought of getting her ass beat until she piss herself will make her stop.”

He shrugged. “All I know is, I ain’t gettin my ass beat cause she can’t take a hint.”

“Is she cute?” Josh asked, now leaning into the conversation.

“She straight, I ain’t looked at her like that.” Zilla responded with a shrug.

Josh gave a shrug of his own, Jon stared at his twin mouthing ‘no’ to him and Jacob sat back ready for what would come. Sefa sat perplexed as he looked through Zilla’s many notifications oblivious to the imminent danger his brother was about to put himself in.

“Ion understand what the problem is, uce. She cute, she clearly like you and putin in the effort. Why not talk to her?”

Zilla glared at him. “What you say?”

“I’m just sayin, shorty clearly shootin her shot. Go for it.”

Zilla started to laugh at his cousin. “Oooh, Fat must’ve already told you. Chill, ion want that girl, I’m good where I’m at.”

The way Josh’s face screwed up at the mention of him talking to Moriah was far too dramatic for it to go unnoticed.

“Hell nah she ain’t tell me nothin.” Josh spat. “I’m tellin you as your big cousin that you need to try another option. Being with Moriah was cool and all but you gettin older and need to be thinkin about settling down. She ain’t who you needa be settlin down with.”

“I know I ain’t just hear that. I know you ain't just tell me to leave my lady.”

The tone of voice was unmistakable to the cousins. They knew their younger cousin was pissed but Josh was the only one who didn’t care. Sefa tapped his arm trying to get his attention but Zilla’s eyes never moved from Josh.

“Wait, Josh ain’t mean that. He was just playing. Right, Uce? Tell em you were playing.” Jon said trying to ease the tension and save his brother.

Jacob spoke up a slight smirk on his face. “Naaah, he wasn’t playin. He meant that shit. Let your brother stand on that shit he said.”

“I know you don’t like nobody tellin you what to do but you need to listen to me. You love her but you can’t change who she is." Josh reasoned not backing down.

Sefa sat confused, looking between them wondering if it was something his brothers and older cousin had forgotten to tell him and Zilla.

“Ain’t no need to change who she is. She fine as is. The fuck is you talkin bout, mane? My lady straight.” Zilla argued, trying to calm his nerves.

“She gon end up just like her mom and you gon end up alone and heartbroken just like her dad if you stay with her.” Josh answered matter of factly. “Everything cool now but that's the same way it was with her people until it wasn’t. Thats what you want? Give everything to her ass just for her to divorce you, take the kids and the house? Cause if that’s what you want then I’ll leave it alone.”

Sefa spoke up seeing the rage boiling over in his younger cousin. “That ain’t cool, uce. She ain’t like her mom and whatever happened between her parents ain’t got shit to do with us or they relationship.”

Josh waved his brother off, “Fuck that. It got everything to do with them and us. If yall wanna stand by and let him ruin his life by staying with her then that’s cool but I’m not. She just like that lady, I can see that shit already. Save yourself, go date Gia or somebody else but don't stay with her ass.”

Zilla’s eyes met Josh’s with rage just begging to be released. Again he spoke calmly trying not to get too worked up. “Moriah ain’t nothin like that bitter ass, weak ass, evil ass bitch. This the last time ima tell you forreal. And I mean that. Ion know who the fuck you been talkin to and ion really care but when it come to that one in there I ain’t finna play bout her. Whatever you think you know, forget that shit. You my cousin and I’m tryna respect the fact that we family but you keep sayin that shit and I won’t.”

Jacob was proud of his cousin for staying calm knowing how much he cares about and loves Moriah. He knew Josh was lucky they were all related because Zilla would have beat the shit out of anybody else for Moriah without a second thought.

“I love you, Isayah that’s why I’m tellin you this,” Josh replied sincerely, “She gon end up bitter, weak and evil just like her mama. Why would wanna put yourself and your future kids through that? Especially when you don’t have to.”

At the mention of kids again, Zilla got up heading for Josh but Jon and Sefa quickly pushed him back then stood between them. Josh jumped out of his chair with his hands up in surrender showing his younger cousin he meant no harm while Jacob sat in his spot watching everything unfold with his beer in hand and a smile on his face.

“Chill, uce.” Jon said, attempting to calm Zilla down.

Zilla tried pushing them out of his way, seething with anger. “I told you stop sayin that shit! Moriah ain’t like that fuckin lady, aight? Do you even know what the fuck that bitch did to her?”

“And she gon repeat the same shit to your kids, uce! Listen to me!”

Again, Zilla reached for his cousin. “What fuckin kids, man? What kids? That bitch made her abort my fuckin son and made her tie her tubes! She made Fat life hell while I was gone and you sittin here actin like you fuckin know her and you don’t know shit! Don’t speak on my fuckin lady again, I mean that shit!”

All four men stared at him in shock, they were at a loss for words. Zilla angrily wiped the tears from his eyes, his body shook with rage but he backed away. He knew the emotions she had inside of him, although partially for Josh, were mainly for Nadine and he didn’t want to do something he couldn’t take back. Jacob sat his beer down and stood, going to put a comforting hand on Zilla’s shoulder only for it to be shaken off. Zilla snatched his fallen phone up and stormed away from them into the house.

Jon pushed his twin harshly. “This why I told you to leave that shit alone but you just had to say some shit.”

“I told you that boy ain’t right in the head about sis and now you see and know why.” Jacob added, shaking his head.

Josh shrugged. “Even more reason to leave her ass alone. She gon resent him for that shit on top of everything else.”

Sefa stared. “And you still goin? Leave that shit alone. They happy. Her mama already tryna split them up and here you go. They need support not whatever the fuck you doing.”

“I said what I said. It’s tough but somebody gotta tell em.”

“I should go get em and let em beat yo ass for saying that shit after we just found that evil ass shit out.” Jacob said in disgust. “Sis is family. Better learn to be okay with that shit or learn to be okay with not seeing Zay.”

Zilla took a few minutes in the kitchen to calm his nerves before going to the den where Trinity and Moriah were watching their movie. Both women were cuddled under their own blankets on the large sofa watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre. He lightly nudged his girlfriend’s leg.

“What’s up, Zay?”

“Come on,” he said gently pulling the blanket off her, “I’m ready to go to bed.”

“My good sis go to bed when she ready. Right, Rye?” Trinity piped up playfully.

Moriah laughed softly, “That’s right. I was just playing, baby. You could’ve stayed out there as long as you want to.”

He gave a quick, quiet chuckle. “I know. I was ready to come in. Come on.”

Moriah told Trinity good night and grabbed her blanket and phone to follow Zilla.

Getting to their room, Zilla moved around quietly as he got his things ready for his shower. Moriah watched him, she could hear him mumbling under his breath.

“You okay, Zay?”

His movements paused, he looked over at her. “Yeah, I’m straight. You comin in with me?”

She thought for a second then nodded. There was something bothering him but she knew him well enough to know that he would tell her when he was ready to.

The next morning, Zilla woke her up early telling her to get dressed for a surprise he had for her. Apart of her wanted to whine about it being six in the morning but a bigger part was too excited about the surprise. During the drive to her surprise she must have asked him a thousand times to give her a hint or to flat out tell her what the surprise is. She scrunched up her face when they pulled up to a tattoo studio.

“Uuuuh what surprise is in there?” She asked then gasped. “Ooooh! You getting that one that I told your ass not to get covered up? Thank God.”

He rolled his eyes and smirked. “No, I ain’t. I like my tattoo, you don’t gotta like it. But my therapist gave me homework to plan something for us to celebrate Angel and this is what I planned.”

“Oooh you’re gonna get a tattoo for him? I love that, Zay.”

He laughed. “Not me. We. We gon get one for him.”

Her smile dropped into a frown. “Oh no, I'm not. No, no, no.”

“Why not?” He asked turning the car off.

She pouted. “It’s gonna hurt.”

“You so scary,” he laughed, “Mean as shit and scary as shit don’t go together. But I’ll let you bite me if it hurts.”

She sat quietly pondering the proposition for a moment. “Anywhere I want?”

“Anywhere appropriate in public, Fat.”

“And you won’t complain?”

“Won’t complain.”

“Deal! And if I cry, you cannot tell anybody,” she added.

He stuck his pinky to her. “Only if you go first.”

“Mmmm … fine fine!”

Six hours later, the couple was leaving the shop with their fresh tattoos. Zilla’s placed under his on his upper arm below his father’s name and Moriah’s on her forearm. While they were there, Zilla went ahead and added Moriah’s name by his right eyebrow. The couple stood in front of his car in an embrace.

“You did good for your first one, Fat. Zilla proud of you. You ain’t even cry.”

She smiled wide at his praise. “Thank you, I wanted to at first but it was just my nerves. It wasn’t that bad.”

“I told your scary ass that,” he pointed out. “And we’ll be back as soon as I figure out where Zilla name goin on you. It gotta be a special spot.”

“Boy, I’m not fooling with you. Anyway … I can’t believe you got that though. Why couldn’t you put it somewhere else?” She laughed.

He leaned down to kiss her. “The same reason I couldn’t put Mama name nowhere else, I ain’t want to. This where I want my favorite ladies cause I want everybody to see em and know.”

“You could’ve put it on your chest, Zay.”

“If Zilla put it there then Zilla gotta be shirtless all the time,” he pointed out. “Is that what Fat want?”

Moriah laughed at him, rolling her eyes playfully. “No, Fat does not want that. You get on my nerves. Shawn and Booker are gonna kill you.”

“Naaaaah,” he drug out laughing. “I told them. They was cool with it.”

“Or did they just know that you weren’t really asking and you were gonna do it anyway?”

He leaned his head down to her shoulder laughing. “Shit probably so. They know I can make good choices. Shit best choice I made was you.”

She stared up at him. “I can’t tell if that was a compliment for you or for me.”

“Both,” he answered, kissing her head. “Wanna get food before we go back to the house?”

“For everybody or you wanna sit and eat?”

“Sit and eat, Fat. We got something else to do when we get back to the house.” He informed her.

He released her from their embrace, leading her to the passenger side and opened the door for her. She stared at him as he reached across her to fasten her seatbelt.

“What we gotta do? Trin said she was sleepin in.”

“We got snugglin to catch up on. Ain’t you say I hadnt been wantin ro?” He asked, still leaning over, his face inches from hers.

“I mean yeah but your cousins are there and probably awake.”

He shrugged. “Guess you better learn to be quiet.”

#aao #zilla fatu #Zilla & Moriah #the samoan dynasty #the bloodline

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simscici · 2 months ago

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Previous / Next Beginning (Gen 8)

Image transcripts (PT & ENG):

Regina: Desde o momento que chegamos aqui você está com essa cara de choro…

Callie: Ah foi mal, eu to estragando o clima? Não sei se a Low te contou, mas eu… perdi o meu bebê não restando tanto tempo para o parto normal… Estou tentando lidar como posso, mas é difícil ainda…

Regina: Espera, você está assim ainda por causa daquele feto? Meu Deus, você nem conheceu ele e tá assim? Quero dizer, nem era um Sim de verdade ainda… Tudo bem ficar triste por um tempo, mas tudo isso?

Callie: …

Regina: Aí sério, é cada uma… Hoje em dia você deveria ficar feliz em não ter filhos. Fiquei até com dor de cabeça…

Natisse: Ah já chega. Eu posso saber o que você tanto late aí?

Regina: Latir?? Olha como você fala comigo, garota, eu mal te conheço.

Natisse: E acha que eu quero te conhecer? Depois de ouvir essa besteira que você acabou de falar? 'Deveria ficar feliz em não ter filhos'?! O que você sabe sobre o que Callie passou, hein?

Regina: Ah, por favor, Natisse. Ela fica se fazendo de vítima o tempo todo. Eu tô só dizendo a verdade. O mundo tá cheio de problemas, um aborto é só mais um.

Callie: Meninas, por favor…

Regina: Vocês são dramáticas, todo mundo perde alguma coisa em algum momento, Mas fazer essa tempestade toda? Ela deveria parar de ser um fardo pro Touma e todos ao redor e seguir em frente.

Natisse: Você é patética, Regina. Acha que ser forte é ignorar os sentimentos dos outros? Acha que minimizando a dor de alguém, você parece superior? Eu prefiro mil vezes ser "dramática" do que uma pessoa sem empatia, fria e cruel como você.

Regina: Se acha que gritar comigo vai fazer a Callie se sentir melhor, boa sorte.

Natisse: Não, mas deixar claro que pessoas como você, que acham que podem falar o que quiserem sem consequências, não vão ficar impunes… isso me faz sentir um pouco melhor. E Callie não precisa da sua compaixão, Regina. Ela precisa de pessoas que realmente se importem.

Yellow: Natisse, espera, Regina tem o jeito dela, mas… às vezes as coisas saem errado, ela só não tem tato. Não acho que ela quis realmente ofender Callie. Talvez fosse melhor deixar isso pra lá.

Natisse: Deixar isso pra lá? Low, você ouviu o que ela disse? Ela tá minimizando completamente a dor da Callie! Como você pode ficar do lado dela?

Yellow: Eu não tô do lado dela, Natisse. Eu só acho que, em momentos assim, brigar só vai piorar as coisas. A gente tá falando de tópicos sensíveis aqui, todo mundo tá nervoso… e, olha, Regina só foi infeliz com as palavras. A gente não precisa tornar isso ainda pior.

Natisse: Então é isso? Você quer que eu engula tudo isso só pra evitar confusão? Não é assim que as coisas funcionam, Low. Às vezes, as pessoas precisam ser confrontadas. E Regina precisa ouvir que o que ela disse foi errado. E você… você deveria saber disso.

Regina: Since the moment we got here, you've been wearing that sad face...

Callie: Oh, sorry, am I ruining the mood? I don’t know if Low told you, but I... lost my baby, and it was so close to the normal delivery... I’m trying to cope the best I can, but it’s still hard...

Regina: Wait, you’re still like this because of that fetus? My God, you didn’t even get to know it, and you’re like this? I mean, it wasn’t even a real Sim yet... It’s okay to be sad for a while, but all this?

Callie: ...

Regina: Seriously, this is too much... Nowadays, you should be happy you don't have kids. You’re giving me a headache...

Natisse: Oh, that’s enough. Can I know what you're barking about over there?

Regina: Barking?? Look how you’re talking to me, girl, I barely know you.

Natisse: And you think I want to get to know you? After hearing that nonsense you just said? "You should be happy you don’t have kids"?! What do you know about what Callie went through, huh?

Regina: Oh, please, Natisse. She’s always playing the victim. I’m just telling the truth. The world’s full of problems, an abortion is just another one.

Callie: Girls, please...

Regina: You’re all so dramatic. Everyone loses something at some point, but making a whole storm over it? She should stop being a burden to Touma and everyone around her and move on.

Natisse: You’re pathetic, Regina. Do you think being strong means ignoring other people’s feelings? Do you think minimizing someone’s pain makes you seem superior? I’d much rather be "dramatic" than a cold, heartless, and cruel person like you.

Regina: If you think yelling at me will make Callie feel better, good luck with that.

Natisse: No, but making it clear that people like you, who think they can say whatever they want with no consequences, won’t get away with it... that makes me feel a little better. And Callie doesn’t need your compassion, Regina. She needs people who truly care.

Yellow: Natisse, wait, Regina has her way, but... sometimes things go wrong, she just doesn't have tact. I don’t think she really meant to offend Callie. Maybe it’s better to let it go.

Natisse: Let it go? Low, did you hear what she said? She’s completely minimizing Callie’s pain! How can you side with her?

Yellow: I’m not siding with her, Natisse. I just think that, in moments like this, arguing will only make things worse. We’re talking about sensitive topics here, everyone’s on edge... and, look, Regina just chose her words poorly. We don’t need to make this even worse.

Natisse: So that's it? You want me to swallow all of this just to avoid trouble? That's not how things work, Low. Sometimes, people need to be confronted. And Regina needs to hear that what she said was wrong. And you... you should know that.

#família vilela #not so berry challenge #the sims 4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #simblr #sims 4 simblr #ts4 #sims 4 #Gen 8 #nsb peach

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witchofhimring · 1 year ago

Text

Loyalty Chapter 11

Synopsis:

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen x Reader

Jason Lannister x Reader (minor)

(more to come!)

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, moontea/abortions, suicide, mentions of rape (not to the reader), Plot twist at the end!

This chapter has a suicide in it so do not read if this topic triggers you.

Great torrents of blood threatened to engulf you in its furry. Here and there you were buffeted with no power to stop it. Utterly bereft of the power to save yourself there was only despair. Owen's cried wailed in your ears. Desperately you tried to find him, but had not the power. "Owen!" You cried out. The babes crying suddenly stopped and the torrents of blood ceased. Now all there was before you was a sea of blood. An eerie quietness settled over the scene. Suddenly a deep moan shook you. Collapsing, you fell into the blood. Your green dress was stained, dripping with dark blood. From the bowels of the sea rose a great Weirwood tree, blood cascading down its great trunk. "Turn back." I moaned and groaned. Faces twisted themselves into the bark. Horrid, terrifying faces peered down at you, each more ghastly than the last. "Time. Time!" It bellowed down at you. Then the tree twisted into a great circle. The circle of time.

"Are you well, My Lady." You were slumped against a chair by the fire. Lady Mari pressed a hand to your forehead. "You have been mumbling in your sleep. How long has this been going on for?" You were not sure if telling Lady Mari the truth was wise. She might take you for something unnatural. Lady Mari had brought up a strong smelling drink that smelt of pine. The taste sat heavily on your tongue and lips. Warmth flooded through your body, making the toes and fingers tingled. "Since I got to the castle." You lied. "It is a strange place, My Lady. I will not be sorry to leave it behind." You had informed your ladies about the impending departure. None looked too sad. It might also be good for Clarissa to get away. If word had not yet spread to Highgarden then things may go well. You had asked Prince Aemond to make them keep silent. But that may not be enough. Even if they said nothing now there was no guarantee that things would stay that way. Most of these women came from great families so threats or bribes would not work.

"How is Clarissa?" "Not much better." Lady Mari said gravely. Clarissa was like poor Queen Helaena, driven mad by grief. Harrenhal was no place for a woman of her condition. Hopefully the entourage from Highgarden would arrive soon. Prince Aemond mentioned that Jaecerion would be arriving soon. You missed him, however complex your feelings were. Letters were rendered null as he often disappeared to Gods know where. You had asked if Alys might come. But Prince Aemond said she was a servant of Harrenhal and he had need of her. Why Prince Aemond needed Alys in particular way beyond you. Too bad there was nothing to be done about it.

You were starting to feel better. Although the dream still dwelled upon you, its power was not so strong. Deciding to visit Alys you got up and threw on a robe. Owen was with his wet nurse and would be fine for a while longer. "I need to be alone. You may go." Lady Mari nodded and left. You opened the shutters to bring some natural light into the room. The shutters flew open and a great wind seemed to pull. Your hands were pressed against the windowsill forcing you to look out on the forest bellow. Except it was not a forest. There was a sea of flood stretching far and wide. A Weirwood tree stood out far in the distance, its branches reaching towards you. "Save yourself! Come to me!" A voice cried out. With a frightened cry you stumbled back. The ground sent an echo of pain through your body. "Fuck." You groaned getting up. Once again you went to the window, warily this time. To your astonishment everything was normal. A forest, not a sea of blood, greeted you. The wind was blowing but weakly. There was no haunting voice, just birds in the trees. Had your fear over dreams bleed into the waking world? "It is just a dream." You tried to convince yourself. Tried being the word. You wanted to tell someone but who could you trust?

Alys might know. After all, she did not follow the New Gods. So down you went. Never before had you been to Alys's room. But you knew the way. Alone you went, bringing anyone else was counterproductive. It got colder the further down you went. You received several glances but no more than that. Finally you arrived at the entrance with its enormous iron double-door. To the left hand side there was a small wooden door. A guard stood there, spear in hand. Despite the curious look he threw your way no one stopped you. The flight of steps was slightly steeper than what felt safe. With one hand on the railing you descended. The servants hall was empty as most of them were unused. The servants Harrenhal did posses were likely out and about. You reached the end of the hallway. At the end was a thick wooden door. It was locked. Damn.

You knocked on the door and waited. Hopefully Alys would hear. After about a minute (or so you thought) there was still no Alys. Turning on your heal the door suddenly opened. "Y/n. I am surprised to see you here." "I do not mean to intrude its just...well this is rather important." You looked back to see if anyone was spying. "I something the matter?" She inquired. "Yes." At the moment it was best to be honest. "Alright." Alys opened the door and stepped inside. Instead of a room you entered another staircase. Alys lead the way, you followed. It was a short journey and Alys unlocked the next door. With a creek the iron hinges moved. Although you had never been inside the servants quarters you doubted the rest had a room as large as this. It was slightly larger than the room yourself occupied. Was Alys in charge of the servants? It would at least explain her accommodations. It was not only the size but objects that lay around. Her bed had comfy green sheets that were likely filled with feathers. The candleholders had engraving imbedded into the metal. Heavy leather books lay around. Not many could read. Maybe the books belonged to the library? Your brain could explain away the books, but the other objects were more mystifying. A gold necklace, silver cuffs, an amethyst! What had Alys sold in order to get these? And they were all there in the open, just lying there!

"Like them?" Alys did not seem the least bit perturbed. There was much about Alys you did not know. She was charismatic and could read. But right now you had so many more questions. Was she just a servant? The only explanation you could think of was that these were gifts from wealthy patrons who's children Alys had taken care of. None of it was hidden, like Alys did not give a damn. Alys pulled out two chairs and bided you to sit down. Going to the fireplaces she ladled a drink into two cups. "You do not need to do that." Alys smiled. "It's polite." You took a sip. Suddenly relaxed you leaned back in the chair. "I have been having these dreams. Though I am not sure if they are just dreams. They recur and today I saw them in the waking world." Alys leaned in slightly with unfeigned curiosity. "What type of dreams?" "There is always a Weirwood tree and blood. Lots of it. And I hear voices. They cry out and I think it is some sort of warning." Alys seemed to ponder your words, thinking them over. "What are these warnings?" "They tell me I am in danger. They tell me to turn back." "Turn back where?" "I do not know."

You left after that. Solidarity was greatly desired. Harrenhal was large and one could be utterly lost in its walls. Being lost was what you wanted. Maybe you could simply disappear into these walls and become another ghost. To Widows Tower you went. Over a hundred years ago another widow had lived here. Princess Rhaena Targaryen, whom some called the Queen of the West had withered into a white haired crone. Rendered old before her time, the woman who could have once been Queen died. Princess Rhaena Targaryen died alone and bereft when she might have been Queen. Although men came first there had been female contenders. As you looked out of a window, thoughts about how Princess Rhaena Targaryen must have felt. Ever woman who had been considered a Queen or heir in her own right had died rather nastily. Was this a curse by the Gods, raging at a woman's impudence. Or just pure bad luck?

The trees rattled bellow you, their leaves clicking in the wind. A great whistling had been blown up. From the north it blew like a herald of warning. Dread filled you. This war had dragged on for over a year. So much of Westeros was burned or bathing in blood. They spoke of how Prince Aemond had set the Riverlands ablaze, how Rhaenyra starved Kings Landing, thousands of families trampled into the dirt. One side would win, but what would be left to rule? A bereft kingdom left to slowly rot like a diseased body. And what would be left of you. If the Greens won you knew things would still not go back to what they once were. The safe trappings of your childhood had been ripped and shredded. If the Blacks won that was even worse. You might flee abroad to Essos. But what life was that for your son? Stripped of his birthright and thrust into a foreign lands. He would never know Westeros and live a shadow of what he might otherwise have been.

Voices emanated from the other side of the door. Who else was here? Alys and Prince Aemond stepped through. It was Alys who noticed you first. "Lady Y/n." Alys curtsied. Prince Aemond simply gazed at you. "Pardon." You nodded and quickly left. Leaving Prince Aemond and Alys to their conversation you descended the stairs. You wondered what Alys and Prince Aemond were discussing. Prince Aemond was not one to interact with servants personally. Even if they did why come here? What was it about their conversation that was so private? Even though it was not your business curiosity still dwelled inside. Ellyn suspected Prince Aemond of an affair, and you wondered if it was true. Though why anyone would want to carry out an affair in the Widows Tower was beyond you.

Once you might have been hurt by the thought of Prince Aemond with another woman. These days all that remained was a dull squeeze of the heart. An residue of your feelings was all that remained. You body remembered the pain, but the heart felt little. For some time you had mourned that girl. Stopping on a flight of stairs you swayed slightly. This hurt was greater than an unrequited love. A girl dressed in green laughing and dancing with her friends. Long walks in the garden and eating lemon cakes. Hiding with Prince Aemond in the alcoves. Those days had been bright and full of laughter. They were another life far removed from this one.

That night you dreamed not of blood and Weirwood tree, but of light and happiness. In this dream you ran through halls, the back of a green dress following. The laughter of other girls rang throughout the corridors. The pink flowers brought over from Essos were in bloom. Some of the girls plucked them creating flower crowns which they worse. Sunlight showered down from above illuminating the Red Keep. On and on you ran, wishing it would never stop.

When the woke a cold reality broke over and you wept. "My Lady, are you well?" "Yes. I am fine."

"Is that everything?" The maids were accounting for your things. Any day now Jaecerion would arrive and take you to Highgarden. You were not sorry to leave Harrenhal in the least. This place could crumble for all you cared. In Highgarden you might be happier, where the sun was strong and flowers bloomed. There was no great love for Lady Jenna but that was such a small sacrifice. You did not want your son to grow up in these walls, there was already a foreboding over Owen being born there in the first case. "You may pack that. I doubt there shall be any need for those before leaving." Your jewels had not been used in a while. There seemed to be no need to wear anything fine in Harrenhal. There was one set you would keep out. A gold and ruby necklace with matching earrings, rings and headpiece. You would not arrive in Highgarden looking like a maid.

"Will we have a guard?" Asked Lady Dara. "Of course, we will be very well guarded." You reassured Lady Dara. "What of Lady Clarissa?" That was a harder question to answer. Clarissa, poor girl, was hardly better. The maester finally gave up trying to make her chose and it became clear that Clarissa would have this child. She was not so far along that some thick clothing could not cover it up. Lady Joan would likely already know, even if you had yet to receive any letters on the matter. As Dowager Lady of Casterly Rock you could have Clarissa stay. In the meantime she could stay in a room and give birth there. The baby could be cared for by another and hopefully Clarissa's reputation would mend. Maybe you were being too optimistic about the outcome. You just prayed this would all work out in the end.

"She will come with us." Lady Cara looked perturbed. "Will a maester be accompanying us, or at least a midwife?" You shook your head. A request had been made and denied. The claim was that Clarissa was not far along enough to need one. A ridiculous claim, you knew the true reason. Lady Mari had seen babes delivered but that was about it. Otherwise you best pray Clarissa remained well during the journey.

Lady Mari entered, announcing her entrance with the words; "When will the papers arrive?" By papers Lady Mari was refering to the business of getting Casterly Rock under the authority of your son. Or rather his regents. Your deceased husbands brother, who had been his brothers heir until your son was born, would rule until Owen was of age. "They were sent to Highgarden." Surprisingly, Lady Mari looked unsettled. "What is is?" "I just find it odd that the documents were not given right to you. Why send them to Highgarden when currently you are here? I am not accusing your family of anything but one may take it upon themselves to witness matters not concerning them." Lady Jenna might not be the warmest person however she was a Tyrell, just as you were. "Be my etes and ears" she had said. She needed you as well, with your status as a Tyrell. Either way, Lady Jenna's granddaughter would marry your son so why would be conspire against you? "We need all parties present and some can not make it to Harrenhal any time soon." That was the less important part, at least for you. You just wanted to flee this place. The greater distance between yourself and this place the better.

"Well I think its taken an awfully long time for this matter." Was all Lady Mari said. You sensed anxiety in her, back rigid with warry dark eyes. You assured her that all was well. The past year had been a horrid stain on everyone so perhaps it was no surprise Lady Mari was so anxious. But you did have to wonder why Lady Mari so mistrusted Lady Jenna. To your knowledge Lady Mari had never met the woman nor did you know of any correspondence. Lady Jenna was not the most a agreeable woman and had long fingers, all the better for taking things. And there were certain papers you would keep out of her hands. On the other hand she was still family, and you were a Tyrell. It had been her who suggested you marry Jason Lannister in the first place. Just because Lady Jenna was unlikable did not make her a traitor.

"Who's book is this?" Lady Dara held up a heavy leather bound book. The symbol of the Wheel of Time was stamped on its cover. You immediately took it. Normally you were careful not to to be caught reading books of this nature. While not witchcraft some might consider reading of the Old Gods heretical. Most nights you hid them under a mattress, but in the chaos of the past few days you had neglected to take precaution. "Oh, I had taken a few books from the library." You tried to sound innocent and silently thanked any god out there that only those two were present. Quickly you took the book and told Lady Dara they would be put away later. You made sure to put it out of sight. While both ladies fussed over some furs you quickly hid the remaining books.

The remaining books that were not place in the library belonged to Alys. You wrapped them up and went downstairs. The guard let you pass silently through. You made sure there were no servants present to witness anything. Knocking on the door Alys let you in. "Finished them already? You're a fast reader." Commented Alys. You took the opportunity to look around the room again. A crude carving on a hand sat beside her bed. Another book lay on the bed, embossed with golden lettering. You examined closely a glass scull looking out through hollow eyes? This was so strange. Despite what Alys said you felt she was holding back. Even if these had been gifts from grateful patrons all of it would have been confiscated by Prince Aemond. Unless he truly was having an affair with her. He trusted her, headed Alys's council.

"I notice you like my objects." You had just spotted an odd bronze contraption. A circular globe surrounded by three thin discs. Alys reached out and the discs spinned. "What is that?" In wonder you inched closer, examining the engravings. "These are the constellation. The Old Gods broke apart a woman and casted those pieces into the air. To guide passengers to their destinies." Here you were regarding a symbol of the Old Gods. Both entranced and anxious, for the Seven may consider it heresy, you gazed further. "Would you like to see more?" A weak protest knocked at your consciousness. Something was off but you did not know what. Deciding to indulge in curiosity you said yes, you would like to see more. Alys unlocked a cabinet and a treasure trove of wonderous devices and objects. You had only seen such things five years ago when in Old Town. Alys reached into the back, pushing past serval objects. A metal box was pulled out and Alys pulled out a key from her dress. Unlocking it, Alys pressed her lips to it. The lid clicked and opened. A small pinch of disappointment prodded you. Just as small piece of bark with a painted design. In dark red was the symbol of time. Alys seemed to hesitate for a moment. A look of trepidation passed in her deep eyes. But she quickly blinked at it was gone. "Is everything okay?" "Yes. Sorry. Pick it up." Alys reached outYou reached in and carefully touched the delicate piece of wood.

Pins were digging into your index and thumb. Little fiery flames were pinching at every nerve. Your right arm seized up in agony. It spread to your chest, wedging deeper. Your heart hammered painfully like a hand was wrapping itself around the organ. The ground was pulling you down. The room was melting before you pooling into a great pool of blood. Hands pulled you back, blood enveloping your body. Iron in strength they held you down with all their might. Flashes of a past that was not your flitted past. A hidden passage, a staircase descending into darkness, a circular room, a brown tattered tapestry obscuring what lay beyond. You reached out and a young woman suddenly appeared, e/c eyes boring into yours.

Something, or rather someone, pulled you away. It was like being pulled out of a great body of cold waters. Laying there dazed and shivering you made out Alys's frantic form above you. She was saying something but she might as well be talking a far way off. Her very touch burned hot in contrast to every inch of your body which was so cold. Slowly feeling and sense returned. Everything once more became clear, and with that horror set in. With a great cry you lurched up. It did not matter that Alys was looking beseechingly up at you, one trembling hand extended. All you could focus on was the light in her eyes which looked mysterious and now so terrible. And in that fear came mistrust, fear and anger. Before Alys could even say anything you were gone, footsteps echoing into the darkness.

You did not stay long enough for Alys's tears.

She had failed. Alys numbly sat there, bereft. Her mission had failed. Entrusted with everything Alys knew now she had failed. It was too soon and there was no taking this back. The girl would never trust her again. Getting up with some difficulty, Alys slowly approached her cabined. Our of everything this was the most ordinary object. A simple wooden bowl. But it was forget from a Weirwood in the days when Andals hued both Northern flesh and trees. She had saved this small bit and fashioned this. Going to the Weirwood was not always an option, especially not in these times. Alys picked up a jug of cold water and poured it in. Leaning over its surface Alys muttered in a language no man living today would understand. Once many could speak of this tongue, now only Alys remained. In the waters depths Alys saw, and despaired. Now there was only one logical outcome. But as Alys turned one last image came, yet she did not see.

You had ignored for some time the whispers surrounding Alys. You more than most understood the maliciousness those rumors carried. These people who called Alys a witch likely did it out of petty jealousy. Well, you once thought that. The truth was that your suspicion had mounted. In defiance of all the rules Alys exercised considerable power. Prince Aemond did not easily take to women. You had been his only female friend of the opposite sex. The most beautiful women had been presented and yet Prince Aemond had turned his back. These women all came from great families and yet he gave not a damn. Alys's looks were head turning. Alys was not just beautiful, she was gorgeous. All this was not truly suspicious. Alys's looks were extraordinary, where even Prince Aemond could not ignore her. The worst bit was bitterness dwelling inside. She had a strength and power you could only dream of. A strength you could not even fathom.

Some said Alys was the daughter of Ser Lyonel Strong, a bastard. Others protested she was much older. One said Alys, on the day Aegon the Conqueror burned Harrenhal crept out from the woods. To this day, so she said, Alys took the form of a woman and stalked Harrenhal. Images of what you had seen flashed before your eyes. The darkness seemed to close in around you. Servants in the corridor threw themselves out of your way in haste. Away you fled, the brief bond forget with Alys severed.

Your babe was held close. Owen was innocent as to the happenings, you on the other hand were not spared by innocents. Ordering Lady Mari to never let Alys near again you barricaded yourself inside. Fear was a powerful feeling and it confined you to bed. There you lay shivering despite the warm fire blazing. Owen was securely attached to you. Most of all you feared for his safety. How many times had you allowed Alys near your son? Never again. That night you fell into a fitful sleep, seeing Alys's green eyes in the shadows. And dreadful dreams came again.

This time there was no blood but a vast stretch of barren plain. Everything was grey and cold, dark as a cloudy day. You were dressed in green and looking down one could see blood. Pulling back the sleeves you saw bloody wrists weeping as the sticky red substance poured out. Out from the ground half rotting corpses clawed their way out. Ellyn, Vaeron, Alana's and others unrecognized. One was a man with brown hair and blue around his mouth dressed in Tyrell green and gold. In a great throng they rose and surrounded you. "You are one of us." And together each seized a limb and bellow you were dragged.

Never before had you woken with such terror. Barely managing not to tumble you raced out of bed. Owen was barely secure on your arms. He started to fuss and then let out a weak cry. Cold air rushed past as you raced down the halls. This was witchcraft and Alys was behind it. You had been such a fool. Even before arriving you saw her face yet ignored every sign. She was cursed and so were you.

Prince Aemond's door was nearly broken from its hinges. The Prince, alarmed, was on his feet. Only in battle had his ears rang as they did now. You stumbled in and were at his desk. "A witch. Alys Rivers is a witch. Your Grace you must believe me! Warily Prince Aemond shifted. His eyes shifted around, right hand gripping a sword. "And why would you think this?" He did not sound convinced and it frustrated you. "She is! Alys Rivers gave me an object which when it touched it transported me to another realm. Many nights I have dreamt of that place but in that moment I was there." Prince Aemond sat down and pondered your words. Against your wishes he did not look alarmed. Did he think you a liar, or mad? You were shacking with fear by now. It you had your way you would flee this place, now. But everything relied on Prince Aemond and him believing you.

"What does this object look like?" Prince Aemond leaned back, his elbow resting on a knee. Now there was concern and it helped temper your fear. "A simple bark of wood, no larger than my palm. It has the Symbol of Time drawn in red." "Symbol of Time?" You supposed he should not know as a follower of the Seven. "Circular with runes around the rim. You will find it in a cupboard, it is in there." Prince Aemond steadily rose, this brows furrowed. He had grown thin in the past months. Shadows highlighted his gaunt features. He now reminded you of his grandsire Lord Otto who himself had looked older before his time. Worn out by war Prince Aemond was no longer the young boy who spent his days cowering the library. Once he was flushed with youth, just as once you could have trusted him with anything. You clutched Owen to you as he paced. Finally Prince Aemond said he would summon men and bid you depart. He would search her chamber and see if your worries held merit. In your chambers you lingered. The sun set and blood red bleed across the sky like a great blanket. Eventually Prince Aemond turned up alone. Alys Rivers had already disappeared.

You were unprepared for the grief that was reaped upon you the next day. Sitting in a chair you realized that Alys's presence would be sorely missed. She had been the closest thing to a companion these past months. The ladies were fin enough company, but Alys had been something special. And you had a feeling her like would not be seen again. Something great had been lost to you and was now far away. Doom had cast itself upon your mind as everything felt hopeless. The world now felt so small with to end to the misery. Far from solving everything Alys's sudden departure had done more ill. A witch she was but was someone to you. Anger still remained, only now it was directed at yourself. With the shock gone you wondered if this all had been a horrid mistake. The worst bit was that all of it was your own making. The only thing that helped was the notion that she may have wished you ill. Witches could not be trusted.

The nightmares still came. Alys's departure had not stopped them. This was not a surprise. These dreams had perpetuated your mind before she came. You checked your room for tokens, anything that would curse. At least you knew she could slip in nothing after you sent Prince Aemond after her.

The days dragged on until a week had passed. Time was spent solely in your room. The only thing to occupy your sullen mind was Owen. Your son had grown fast with thick hair growing on his head. Nothing gave you more joy than to see this child growing strong. You has sent letters to your sons great uncle to make sure everything was in order. It made you antsy that the business of getting your son recognized as Casterly Rock's lord. Lord Gerard Lannister (your sons great uncle) would be regent. While slightly miffed at having been passed over you understood why. It was not even as if you knew anything about being regent in the first place. Going back to Casterly Rock was not safe as of now. The only reason Lord Gerald Lannister was meeting you so soon was because after you left he had disappeared. By disappeared one meant Ser Gerald was assisting in the hiding of King Aegon. After, he had slipped into Highgarden. The Westerlands were in ruins and too dangerous.

Almost everything had been packed. Waiting, which had been an annoyance before, was becoming unbearable. You wanted out right now. This place was horrid and haunted, ghosts or not. The full horror was falling down all around you. Nothing could forestall the fear you now felt. Sick with worry you clutched Owen to your chest and hid from the world. Lady Mari would read to you, choosing happy stories of maidens finding their prince. Those stories always ended happy, although you supposed that was why Lady Mari chose them. Instead of being a balm such stories were a torment. It just put into stark focus how wretched your own way. Even Ellyn's fate seemed tempting. Cold in the ground with no feelings. Oh to be in a place were nothing could hurt you.

The sweet dreams of days in Kings Landing were worse than nightmares. At least when free of the blood and haunting voices waking was a relief. But those sweet dreams of times long past were the only times you were free. Far from the cold cruel world you basked in the memory of light and a sweet spring. Or you were in the alcove enjoying peace. Prince Aemond, when he was Aemond, was there. The two of you would talk of happier things. Because in those times there was no war. No death stalking the link gobbling up lives. Bitter tears broke over when you woke. Owen was all you lived for now.

"Let me see." You cooed. Owen opened his beautiful eyes and he had you. A tiny smooth hand grasped yours eagerly. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and Owen made a happy squeal. You laughed. "My beautiful baby boy." Picking his up Owen was deposited in your lap. He loved being surrounded by silk. The material of your dress enveloped him in a hug. Owen stretched up happily and you smoothed his curls. A rapid knock at your door was heard. Scooping up Owen you called out. The door had been locked and tightly bolted. "Hello?" "My Lady, Prince Jaecerion has arrived!" Immediately you were up and unlocked the door. Lady Mari looked as relieved as you felt. "When are we leaving? Now?" "First thing in the morning My Lady." With a sigh of relief so much weight was suddenly lifted. You walked past Lady Mari down to the entrance hall where surely Prince Jaecerion sat. The second you entered his head turned. Jaecerion looked the same as he always had. His silver hair was longer but that was it. The brightness in his eyes remained undimmed and the second Jaecerion laid his eyes on you he was on his feet. In just a few short strides Jaecerion had pulled out into a tight and completely informal hug. His hair fell around you like a curtain and although no one else could see it, pretty lips ghosted your forehead. A hand ran down your back. Its thumb gently tracing the path of your spine. "Y/n. I have missed you."

Hardly anyone else was here. Just Prince Aemond and Lady Mari who just walked in. Jaecerion then noticed your son. "This is Owen Lannister." You did not see the look in Jaecerion's eyes, only that he was taking in every inch of your sons face. "He looks like you." You smiled, pleased by the compliment. "Would you like to hold him?" "No." Realizing how he came off Jaecerion quickly covered it up. "My armor might harm him." He quickly said. Disappointed you fastened your hold on the baby. Jaecerion seemed to gather his bearing, for the next moment he was smiling, cheerfulness in place. "I hope your stay was comfortable." He said no without conviction. For anyone who got a look at Harrenhal knew this was no place to relax. "Hardly My Prince. I shall be glad to leave it." Jaecerion chuckled. Gallantly he extended a hand which was excepted.

Meanwhile Prince Aemond seemed removed from his surroundings. His gaze was focused on the steadily dying flames. As you came closer he looked away and your gazes locked. There was something dancing in his eyes. In the purple was fire, images dancing in an erratic trance. Then you blinked and it was gone. "The fire. Does strange things, light does." You though looking into the flames. And then something strange happened. As you looking to the flames a fiery tree was conjured from the flames. Its image flickered and licked at wood. Eyes seemed to be on you, peering onto the very depths of your soul. Suddenly you were far away from this place, only the dancing fire existed. The, just as suddenly a face appeared in its place. Skeletal and thin its evil eyes pierced you with a penetrating glare. It opened its wide mouth with sharp teeth and a cold breath swept the hall. Suddenly everything was dark.

"Y/n!" You were back. Or at least you might have been. Everything was still dark with the scent of smoke filling the air. Someone on your left stumbled into you. You could tell it was Prince Aemond. "Apologies Lady Y/n. What in the Seven Hells is going on?!" Owen had started to wail and you clutched him to you. "I do not know. Guards!" This time it was Jaecerion. Frightened, you just stood there. You could still see that face, although it had disappeared. Its momentary presence made you could in a way nothing else did. That horrid rotting face that emanated cold. And not just any cold, but the type that snuffed out all life. Was this Alys's doing? Had the witch retaliated against you in her anger?

You only saw light when the doors came in. The contrast was so intense you looked away. Owen felt so heavy in your arms. "Y/n, are you hurt?" Jaecerion walked towards you. "Yes." Shivering, you felt a cold sweat run down your back. Your legs quacked underneath you and Prince Aemond immediately darted forward to secure Owen. "Thanks." Was all you could muster. Jaecerion lead you out of that hall. You left that room where unimaginable things took place. While you could leave the room, some things you would never leave behind.

That night you prayed fiercely to the Gods. Hands clasped and on your knees feverish words tumbled from cold lips. To The Mother you prayed, for she may be the most merciful. An idol of her you kept was clutched in a trembling hand. For months it lay forlornly at the bottom of a chest. May The Seven spare you. However some said that there were evil powers beyond the gods. Evil ones in the shadows. Had you come so close to falling into their grasp? All you could do was pray and hope against hope that their mercy would extend to you. So little mercy in the world, even The Seven was limited in that regard. But retribution they had plenty and you may yet fall under its knife.

Owen lay on the bed beside you. He was awake by made no sound. His breathing was all you could hear, with the occasional sniffle. You prayed for him most of all. "Please, I beg of you, let my son live." And yet The Seven may punish him too. Children were often a victim to their parents crimes. And you had been a bad daughter of the faith. Alys may have been your punishment. Praying it would go no further your knees throbbed. Still, you prayed.

Something was looming out there, you just knew it. Far away, yet its malice was great. Carrying with it cold wind imaginings of an endless cold came. This thing, whatever it was, wanted to kill. You imagined it might be Alys, out there with her powers. They had yet to find her and with a war raging no one cared to. The threat may be greater. Your brief flirtation with heresy may have brought the attention of more sinister beings.

When your door opened you jumped and and scooped up Owen. Sagging in relief you realized it was only Owen. "Oh Gods. I am sorry I thought you were something else." Jaecerion looked around the room. "Who else were you expecting?" You sensed jealousy in his tone. "No one in particular. This place is haunted." Jaecerion seemed to relax. "I never took you as one afraid of ghosts. You use to read them to me." Back with you, Jaecerion and Prince Aemond were children you used to take turns reading stories. It was mostly you scaring the living daylight out of the boys. "Harrenhal changed that." Jaecerion walked over to the bed and sat beside you. "Will you had him off to a nursemaid." "No. I want my son with me. At least until we leave this place." Jaecerion looked up at the canopy above. "Afraid of Harren's ghost?" He joked. You on the other hand did not find it funny. "We are leaving early?" "Yes." You stood up and walked over to the crib. Your arms were aching so you allowed the crib to do its job. You flopped into a chair and Jaecerion followed.

"How is your mother? I know she is a captive but have you heard everything?" It was odd to think that once you saw Dowager Queen Alicent every day. Now two years had passed and her face was a mere memory. "Exhausted, last I saw. My sister is treating her well so they say. But I don't trust that cunt." You did not bother to enquire after Helaena. Everyone knew poor Queen Helaena had gone made. You thought about the girls who had been your friends. Lady Lenita and Lady Flora were still alive, but that was all you knew. Strange to think of days when you had all been together.

"Will you be staying with me when I get to Highgarden." "Regrettable no. My brother will need me. So long as Rhaenyra continues to live, and her bastards, there will be a war. The only satisfaction I can get is that two of hers are dead." You looked away. Now as a mother yourself something akin to pity and revulsion stirred within you. Pity for Rhaenyra and revulsion at the satisfaction of Jaecerion's face. A surge of panic came when you realized you actually felt pity for Rhaenyra. "Of course you feel sorry. You are a mother. That does not mean you support her." You told yourself.

"I want you to marry me." It was so sudden you nearly forgot to breath. With a tightened chest your eyes shot towards Jaecerion. Your heart hammered. Was Jaecerion serious? "Do you....want to?" Unsure, you regarded him warily. Although Jaecerion had made his feelings quite well known you still felt uncertain. Of course at twenty you were still young. Remarried was on the table but you had put no great thought into it. "Of course I do!" Jaecerion seemed eager. Jaecerion was handsome and all a woman could wish for. As Prince his wife you would be a princess. You did not love Jaecerion but you cared for him a great deal. Such a match was not bad. But you felt that by saying yes you were deceiving him. Likely Jaecerion would believe you loved him in a way you did not. "May I have time? I am not saying no but there is so much to consider." Jaecerion did not look too upset. He would rather you say yes, of course. But you were not spurning him either. This was simply asking him to wait.

Jaecerion took one hand in his. "I know these past years have been difficult." A thumb stroked worn knuckles. His pretty mouth was not far from your own. "If I can provide anything, all you need do is ask." His voice sent shivers down your spine. The way his eyes looked at you was one gazing at something they desired. Your heart was beating almost painfully, facing beyond belief. "And what would that be?" You knew what he wanted. But what else could you say? In your defense you knew what he meant. But a feeling of trepidation had dawned upon you. Sleeping with Jaecerion was not a good idea. At least not at this moment. They might talk and there was just something nagging at the back of your brain not to. You could not deny that a man gazing at you in such a way was exhilarating. Starting to feel hot between your legs you closed them together. For the first time you felt intense lust stir up within your belly. It enveloped your core and threatened to take over. Jaecerion came even closer, his hands impossibly hot against your knees. A lusty part of you wanted him to continue. To take you here and now, consequences be damned. "Do you mean it?" "Of course! Y/n I want no other!" He had taken your elbows and set you on your feet. While his grip was not painful there was an iron strength to it. Jaecerion was pressing you to his warm body. Despite the layers of clothing you could feel his cock stirring beneath. His desire made it harder to ignore your own.

There were other matters to concern. What would Lady Jenna think of? As a widow and groan legally you need to rely on her leave. But you were also a valuable asset to your family. A bad marriage could put you on their bad side. "I will bring this up with my relatives and heed their council. I do want to marry you Jaecerion, but I want to make sure this is the right decision." Jaecerion knelt before you in a startling gesture of passion. "But you want to?" Your fingers held his in a tightening grip. "Yes. I do."

After that he had left. It was late and most were in bed. You watched him leave with the desire to call Jaecerion back. Your breathing was ragged like one after a run. Desire swelled within you, heating by the minute. "Oh Gods Jaecerion." You closed the door behind and slumped against it. The dress felt too tight and warmth pooled between your legs. You might have called him back if discretion were not a thing. Closing your eyes you lingered on this new sensation. You had never felt this way with your deceased husbands. It was shameful, you knew. But Lord Jason was dead, so would the Gods punish you? Desiring a man in widowhood was not a sin. Plenty women, as so often their husbands outlived them, remarried.

For the firs time you imagined what it would be like to marry Jaecerion. Living in Kings Landing, being a great lady. You would have a husband who loved you. And Gods willing you may have more children. They would be Targaryens and perhaps ride dragons. Everything you would posses. Nevertheless something was still lingering at the back of your consciousness. Eyes went to Owen, soundly sleeping. How would this decision affect Owen? Marrying Jaecerion would tie him closely to the royal family. His half siblings would be first cousins to the king. A union between house Lannister, Tyrell and Lannister would bolster your sons influence. You would hate to have him fostered elsewhere. Despite not being adept at politics you knew they would never allow the heir of Casterly Rock to remain in Kings Landing. That was the sacrifice parents had to make. Despite this, it would bring advantage and in Kings Landing you could keep him safe.

You summoned Lady Dara to undress you. The entire time your mind was racing. "You are shaking My Lady. Shall I get a maester?" "No. It is just cold and I am tired. That is all." Wearing a nightgown and cloak you went to Clarissa's room. You brought Owen as a precaution, trusting no one with the babe. While unwell Clarissa was not dangerous. The stench of sweat hit you. Gathering courage you walked inside. A sputtering candle was all the light provided. On the bed covered in sheets lay Clarissa. You thought she might be asleep until the floor board cracked beneath. A small whine, gentle yet strangely loud, and Clarissa rolled over. "My Lady?" Her voice passed in a wheeze. Her dull green eyes were only illuminated by candel light. "Yes, it is me. We leave tomorrow. Is that not good?" You sat down beside Clarissa. All she did was continue to stare. You noticed she was now looking at Owen. Then you looked to Clarissa's belly, swollen. Bringing Owen may not have been such a good idea. "I feel so alone." Clarissa's eyes welled with bitter tears. Something caught in your throat. You had to remind yourself not to cry. To see one brought so low, especially Clarissa, would make anyone pity this poor girl. A lonely young girl away from home with only despair in sight. "You have us." Brushing a messy piece of hair back you gently stroked her cold cheek. Briefly Clarissa closed her eyes and tears streamed. "And I swear I will protect you." You wanted to protect Clarissa and make this all feel like a bad dream. No one deserved to be bereft of companionship. "Tomorrow we will leave this place. Is that not nice? Highgarden is beautiful and we can spend days under the trees. We have everything planned out for you. You will have the best care and want for nothing." Clarissa looked away and started to cry aloud. You tried to comfort her but Clarissa was in a world of her own. She was practically gasping with sobs, shaking as if ill.

It was not your words that finally made Clarissa stop but exhausting. Finally she slumped against the pillow. You were now sitting on the bed, one hand on her for head.

Clarissa had stopped crying, leaving only hopelessness in those haunted eyes. Your belly ached when you realized there was nothing to be done. Clarissa was so deep in her grief that pulling her out seemed impossible. All you could do was pray Highgarden would bring Clarissa the peace she needed. "Good night Clarissa. Tomorrow we leave and I promise it will get better.

Liar.

"You must shed your colours." The voices called out as they always did. The blood and trees were back terrorizing your dreams. This time you could not move. Something beneath the blood had you rooted. Whatever had you dug its small claws into your flesh. They were small possessing sharp tips. You tried to pull free but it was hopeless. As always you were completely helpless in these dreams. Then there was laughter, the type that sent a chill. Curling into yourself the only thing to do was pray for a reprieve. "The Seven will not reach you here." A voice chuckled. The ground rumbled and you closed your eyes. The voice laughed and laughed and laughed. You looked truly pitiful.

Suddenly you were being pulled by the legs. Whatever had its teeth into you was yanking you along. Trees grew higher and higher. Their leaves were a bright green and its trunks a golden brown.

"Stop it!" This voice was new. Turning around you saw a young woman. She had the same hair and eyes as you. From a distance one may think she was. But despite the similarities she was not. She was trying to run towards you. One hand reaching out, terrified eyes. Instinctively you tried to turn back. Closer she came and you realized she wanted to help. "I can not move!" You were still trying to get free. Finally one feet was free and you looked down. Vines covered in thorns had winded into flesh. Trickles of your own blood dripped with a sickening plop.

She was almost to you. Just a few more steps and.... "No!" Both of you tried out. A vine struck out like a serpent and wound itself around her neck. Now it was you trying to get to her. The girl struggled, her eyes never leaving her face. Slowly she choked, legs frantically kicking. It did not matter how much you struggled. There was nothing you could do. An when her body was let go she fell to the ground. And then something, or someone, let out a bloodcurdling scream.

The screaming did not stop. Sunlight replaced the bleak landscape and the screaming went on and on. You stayed in the bed not daring to move. Footsteps came closer and fear pounded in your heart. When the door slammed open you burst out of bed and seized Owen. Instead of a stranger it was Lady Mari. "Are we under attack?!" Then you noticed the tears in her eyes. Lady Mari was shaking where she stood, red lips trembling. It was she who had been screaming. "Wh-whats happened?" Lady Mari sobbed and gripped at her dress. "It's Clarissa. She's hung herself."

Notes: A grim ending to a grim chapter. This chapter made me sad to write😅. Clarissa was originally mean to die last chapter by I felt it was getting too long. Part one of this series is coming to a close with about 3-5 chapters remaining. Thank you to everyone for reading this far!

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