#this is a story idea I had a long time ago

[cxrrodedcoffin]

☆ 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐧 ☆

Vigilante Older!Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader (Part 1/3)

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬 @bloodibambiidoll @babygorewhore 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡!! ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶ ꒱ྀི��� ᯓᡣ𐭩

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝♡

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dom!rafe, older!rafe, age gap (rafe’s mid 40’s, reader is mid 20’s), established relationship, murder, mentions of past abuse, mentions of missing persons & kidnapping, handcuffs, condescension, praise, reader isn’t a virgin but experiences a couple firsts, daddy kink, breast play, oral sex fem receiving, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, doggy style, overstimulation, squirting, pet names (doll, baby, babydoll, princess, sugar), rafe’s a smartass with a heart of gold, he talks you through it

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.8k

Rafe Cameron was your neighbor. That’s all he was ever supposed to be, but three weeks ago when he broke down your front door after hearing your pained screams echoing down the secluded street, everything changed. He held no hesitation in beating your abusive boyfriend to a bloody pulp, and by the time you had regained awareness of your surroundings, Rafe was dragging you out of the house, leaving your boyfriend’s lifeless body to rot in the house you once called home.

You’d had your flirtations in the past, in fact, that’s what you and your boyfriend had been arguing about before he tried to kill you that night. He saw the way you looked at Rafe, knew you had a crush on him, and his brain made the jump that you must have been sleeping with him. It’s not like you hadn’t thought about it back when you were single, he was classically handsome, but he was also twenty years your senior, and you surely would’ve been the talk of figure eight if the two of you had actually started seeing each other, so you’d resigned yourself of that idea a long time ago.

When Rafe took your hand and dragged you behind him out of that house you didn’t have any urge to try and run from him, it was like you knew he was doing what was best for the both of you. You followed behind him the entire time he spent scrambling to gather things around his house, packing up the most important parts of his private life inside an old duffel bag and pulling several large stacks of cash out of his safe before running with you in tow to the body shop down the road to hotwire the most inconspicuous car there. You were ready to go, to leave your mundane life behind if it meant being with him like you’d spent many sleepless nights fantasizing about.

There were many pressing issues at hand, tasks that needed to be completed to ensure you wouldn’t be caught. You needed aliases, a story to cover your tracks as you drove cross country to evade arrest, and what Rafe suggested after hours of contemplation made your heart skip a beat.

“If anyone asks what we’re doing on the road, I’m your dad, and we’re going to visit family, got that?” His left hand held strong atop the steering wheel, the strength of his grip making the veins in his forearm particularly prominent in that moment. You swallowed, eyes wide as he took his eyes off of the road for a split second to see you slowly nodding your head in understanding.

“Like anyone’s going to believe I’m your kid.” You joked, your voice cracking despite your efforts to disguise how flustered the thought of calling him dad made you.

“Believe it or not babydoll, I am actually old enough to be your dad. I doubt anyone will think it's that far-fetched of an idea.”

“We don’t even look alike.” You scoffed, turning to watch the expanse of technicolor trees climbing the mountain side directly out your window.

“No one’s gonna be paying attention to our family resemblance if we stay under the radar, just keep your pretty mouth shut and you won’t have to worry about it.”

That thought was the only one you could conjure for the next two hours on the road until Rafe pulled into the parking lot of a seedy old motel so the two of you could get some much needed rest. He had to go out for gas and to buy a change of clothes for you and him at the truck stop down the road the next morning, shaking you out of your slumber to drag you to the closet and handcuff you to the hanger rod in the small closet.

“Now don’t think I don’t trust you babydoll, I do, but these are an insurance policy in case that silly little mind of yours decides to go all rational on me, understand?” He locked the first cuff around your wrist before looping the chain over the bar and securing your other one, leaving you to struggle against the metal.

“C’mon Dad, just take me with you.” You teasingly pleaded, pushing your chest out as you tried to take a step toward him.

“Can’t, it’ll look suspicious if we’re with each other all the time. You have to stay here and I gotta get this done so we can get back on the road. I’ll be back in twenty minutes tops.” He left you there, slamming the motel room door behind him as a silent threat to be good. You did, staying in place and stirring over how you could manage to take this whole dad thing further to push Rafe’s buttons as much as you could. You were getting bored. As much fun as running from the law was, the miles of highway and generic gas stations and fast food places were starting to meld together into one monotonous blob in your head, and you wanted some good old fashioned entertainment. You made a plan, figuring you’d slowly execute it over the next few days.

The next thing on your fugitive checklist was a change in appearance. You dyed and cut your hair in a truck stop bathroom after a couple days of driving, knowing your face and signature long locks were likely all over broadcast television at that point. Rafe, on the other hand, wasn’t too keen on the idea of chopping off his beloved mullet. He’d grown accustomed to it, spent twenty years perfecting the length and cut to his liking, but he knew he had to part ways with it if it meant keeping you. He hadn’t had a buzz cut in decades, not since his early twenties, and he wasn’t sure how it would suit his more mature features, but your words of encouragement gave him the push he needed to grab the electric clippers and head for a mirror.

When he finally walked out of that old motel bathroom, you had to bite back a moan. He was hot before, no doubt about it, but with the buzzcut? You wondered what it would be like to feel that peach fuzz against your palms as you pushed his face further into your pussy.

“Thoughts?” He studied the look on your face, that glint of something desperate in your eyes as the corners of your mouth pulled into a soft smile.

“I love it! Very dilf of you.” You beamed, giggling to yourself while shifting to your knees on the creaky old motel bed as he closed the space between you.

“You realize you just implied you want to fuck me, right?” He folded his arms over his chest, toned biceps framing firm pecs and you had to swallow back a groan at the sight.

“I know exactly what I was implying, Dad.” You pulled him closer by the bottom of his shirt, the look of amusement on his stubbled face only emboldening you further.

He stood at the side of the bed, looking down at you as your hands found the back of his neck, rubbing over the soft patch of hair at the nape just to feel the velvety smooth texture for a moment. The sound of the nightly news droning on the television across the room quickly became drowned out by the white noise of both of your bated breaths. You couldn’t take it anymore, all the stolen glances and unspoken tension. You needed him, now.

“Rafe, please.” The words came out like a whine, more needy than you’d intended.

“Please, what?” He cocked his head to the side, the corners of his lips pulling into an inquisitive smirk.

“You know what.” Your hands moved over his shoulders and down to his chest, fingertips ghosting over his shirt.

“I need to hear you ask for it. I’ve made a lot of fucked up choices in my life and my morals may not be that sound but I do have some that I won’t compromise on. I need to know I’m not taking advantage of you.” He took your wrists in his hands, stalling your movements until you made eye contact with him.

“I may be young but I know what I want, Rafe. I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I moved in next to you.” He wasn’t exactly surprised by your bluntness, but hearing those words in your angelic voice still threatened to knock the wind out of him.

“Fuck, baby, you’re breaking my heart here. You know how many times I fought the urge to knock on your door and just flat out ask to taste your sweet pussy?” He dropped your wrists, instinctively going to run his right hand through his hair only to be reminded he’d just buzzed it all for you.

“God, Rafe, I wish you would’ve, we could’ve avoided this whole thing.” You sighed, hands returning to his chest as you looked almost painfully into his tired eyes. There was so much built up energy between the two of you, emotional and sexual, and as a tear slipped down your cheek, all Rafe could think about was how pretty you’d look crying with his cock in your mouth.

“If we were still back in Kildare I’d be showing you off all over town, making every one of those little frat boy assholes jealous with you on my arm.” His tone dipped an octave as his rough hand met your cheek, brushing the tear away. His eyes bore into yours until you looked down to his chest to hide your flattered blush.

“I’ve wanted to pull the goddamn car over and pound you into the backseat on the side of the highway for three weeks.” He exhaled as he spoke and something broke inside of you, a chain snapping to let you finally crash your lips against his. It was crushing, all plush lips and slipping tongues, small gasps for air as your hands groped at one another, pulling at fabric until you’d both managed to discard your shirts.

“You’ve really been hiding these from me this whole time, sugar?” He sighed, large hands groping your breasts over your thin lace bralette.

“I wasn’t hiding anything, it’s not my fault I’ve been living in baggy truck stop shirts for weeks.” You shot back, arching into his touch despite your attitude.

“Didn’t know you had slutty little things like this on underneath ‘em.” He snapped the thin strap against your shoulder, taking note of the way you mewled in response to the short sting the action caused.

“I don’t want to talk anymore Rafe, just fuck me, please.” You whined, your hands haphazardly undoing his belt to allow his worn jeans to fall to the ground.

“That’s not how I do things, babydoll. We’re gonna talk until I say otherwise.“ He paused his movements for a moment, looking into your eyes and it took everything in you not to avert your gaze. You didn’t know why you suddenly felt so intimidated by him, you’d been firing back snarky remarks at him for weeks, what was turning you into this shy thing all of a sudden?

You just nodded, eager for him to keep going. He hesitated, narrowing his eyes for a moment before resigning to continuing his efforts to pull your bralette over your head, finally fully exposing your breasts. He flashed you a smile before pressing a kiss to your lips, gentle at first before devolving into something more hungry, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip as he made his way down to your neck. Your hands found their way to his hips, palming his half-hard cock through his briefs and the low groan that grumbled up from his chest made you reach for the waistband. His hands wrapped around your wrists, halting your movements as he pulled away from your neck, his face only a few inches from yours.

“Slow down, doll. I’m not losing out on the opportunity to see what makes you tick just because you’re impatient.” He chided, holding your wrists together with one hand while he opened the bedside table drawer to search for something.

“I thought guys didn’t like this foreplay stuff.” You sighed, trying to see what he was reaching for.

“That what your little boyfriend told you?” He pulled the handcuffs from the other day out of the drawer, clicking one cuff around your left wrist before moving your arms behind you, securing your right wrist in the remaining cuff.

”You’re gonna learn real fast how good this ‘foreplay shit’ can be for the both of us. I’m going to talk you through every last thing I do and you’re going to tell me exactly how it makes you feel.” The look on his face was serious, not a hint of insincerity in sight, and yet, you couldn’t quite believe what was being demanded of you.

“You want to hear me?” You clarified, the innocence and underlying hurt in your voice almost sending Rafe into another blind rage over how your boyfriend had been treating you before he took care of him.

“I need to, that pretty voice is what keeps me going every day.” Rafe wasn’t usually so sappy, that snarky attitude of his running rampant for as long as you had known him, but there was something about the softness you held underneath that opinionated exterior that made him want to be soft with you. You could go toe to toe with him in sarcasm any day, but he wanted to meet you in that softness you didn’t show very often. He continued his position at the curve of your jaw, leaving open mouthed kisses across your skin that made it feel like he would devour you whole if given the opportunity.

“You’re purring like a kitten and I’ve barely touched you.” You could feel his smirk against your skin along with the cockiness in his tone and as much as you wanted to retaliate, put him in his place, you couldn’t find the words. He was impossibly good, each nip and suck of his lips and teeth down the column of your neck drawing quickened breath and needy whimpers from your kiss-bitten lips.

He continued the trail down to your collarbone, ghosting his lips over your skin as his hand splayed out over your stomach, gently pushing until you took the hint and laid back on the bed. You could feel your cuffed hands digging into you, repositioning them to sit in the curve of your lower back, the slight discomfort quickly falling to the wayside as Rafe’s mouth returned to your chest, plush lips wrapping around your right nipple. His fingers found the left, brushing rough fingertips over your sensitive bud as he sucked softly, movements working in tandem to draw as much sound from you as possible.

You stretched your legs, thighs absentmindedly spreading to allow him space to slot his toned thigh between them as he continued to shower your breasts with attention, marking your skin with bruising kisses and tweaking your nipples until you couldn’t help but moan his name.

“So sensitive babydoll, you like when daddy plays with your tits?” He pulled away from your chest, shifting so his face was above yours, his pupils blown with desire as he took in the sight of you all worked up for the first time.

“Mhm.” Your face flushed at the bluntness, his confidence and curiosity such an interesting change of pace from the men you’d been with before.

“Speak up.” His playful tone turned serious again, his hands moving to your hips as he pulled your hips to the end of the bed, your clothed cunt pressed against the thick of his bare thigh. You gasped as he flexed the muscles in his thigh, rocking against your aching clit through your increasingly wet panties.

“I’m not him, princess. Let me hear you.” He gently gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him as he brought his movements to a halt, watching your face drop in disappointment from the lack of friction.

“I didn’t know it could feel like this, I love it, Rafe.” Your voice held a slight tremble as you forced yourself to share your thoughts, still so unfamiliar with the notion that a man could want to know how you’re feeling.

“God am I glad I killed that piece of shit. He didn’t fuckin’ deserve you.” He sighed, a hint of pride lacing his low tone as he ran his hands over your sides, feeling every curve of your body as he slowly dropped to his knees beside the bed. He slid his hands over your hips beneath the fabric of your underwear, pulling the thin cotton slowly down your legs.

“Look at me.” He waited for you to carefully prop yourself up on your elbows, the cuffs digging into your wrists from the angle. His eyes held your gaze in an almost intimidating stare, his hands moving to rest on your thighs.

“You ever had your pussy eaten baby?” His question caught you off guard despite how obvious it seemed given his current position, and you were sure he already knew the answer from the look on your face.

“N-no, every guy I’ve been with said it was gross.” As soon as the statement hit Rafe’s ears he could feel that anger rise to another level, the need to make you forget about every shitty guy you’d been with stronger than ever.

“Where are you finding these assholes? I’ll kill the rest of them too, just say the word.” His tone was lighthearted but you knew from the look on his face that he was the furthest thing from joking. You laughed him off, your attention pulling to his hands finally pushing your thighs apart, making space for him to slot his broad shoulders between your legs.

“Rafe, you don’t have to.” You tried to pull your legs together but to no avail, the action only spurring him on. He hooked his hands underneath your thighs, pushing your knees up to your chest to give him full access to your cunt.

“No shit, I want to. Need you to keep your eyes on me so you can see how much I’m enjoying tasting your sweet pussy.” He locked eyes with you as he dipped his head lower, watching the way your brow furrowed and a soft gasp left your lips when he gave the first drag of his tongue through your folds. He smiled briefly before diving back in, lapping hungrily at your dripping entrance before sucking softly at your clit, the way your thighs tensed under his grip a physical indication of how much you were enjoying it.

He glanced up at you, watching the way your bottom lip quivered with every whimper and moan of his name in response to his tongue expertly flicking over your clit. His right hand slowly slid down from your thigh, his pointer and middle finger prodding teasingly at your entrance before sinking into your wet heat, the new sensation making you buck your hips against him. He pumped steadily in and out of you, massaging your walls with each flex of his fingers as he pulled his mouth off of you.

“How does it feel babydoll? Everything you hoped it would be?” He smirked at you and you had to fight the urge to laugh at the almost ridiculous question. You knew he knew how good he was making you feel, and yet he still wanted you to stroke his ego. He sure was living up to the reputation he held back on Kildare, that’s for sure.

“Yes, fuck, it’s so good, just keep going, please.” You sighed in frustration, desperate to have his mouth on you again. He had the nerve to laugh, but you couldn’t find it in you to call him out on it, just relieved to see him lowering his head back down to your cunt.

He wasted no time, flicking over your clit at an impossibly quick pace, his fingers curling up to hit that soft spot inside of you until you were throwing your head back, barely able to support yourself anymore as your elbows gave out behind you, falling back against the mattress as your thighs began to tremble. He wrapped his lips around your clit, humming in satisfaction as he felt your walls clamp down around his fingers, the sound of his name falling from your lips in a desperate cry like music to his ears.

He continued lapping gently at your cunt, working you through your orgasm until he could slowly slip his fingers from you, his digits coated in your cum. He waited for you to catch your breath, taking a moment to recover before propping yourself back up on your elbows, looking down at him through half lidded eyes. As soon as your eyes met his he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking your slick off of them slowly, savoring the taste. Your lips parted in a small gasp, barely even audible, seeing him enjoy going down on you just as much as you had enjoyed it.

He rose to his feet, putting his erection right at your eye level and your small gasp turned into something much more substantial, the sound drawing Rafe’s attention.

“Did that really turn you on that much?” You squeaked out, your voice much more unsteady than you intended it to be.

“I told you it would be good for both of us, I don’t lie about shit like that.” He took a step toward the edge of the bed, His thumbs slipping into the waistband of his underwear before pulling it down, his weighty cock slapping against his thigh as he did so. You bit your lip, watching him wrap his hand around the base of his shaft before tapping the tip against your sensitive clit, the action sending a jolt of pleasure straight to the coil in the pit of your stomach. He rubbed his shaft through your folds, coating himself in your wetness as he watched your expression change from confusion to curiosity to desperation.

“Feel that? It’s all for you, babydoll.” He leaned forward, his face only a few inches above yours as he continued rubbing himself against your cunt, teasingly brushing over your clit in a way that had you squirming and silently begging for more.

“What, baby? What do you need?” He asked, feigning ignorance to what he knew he was doing to you. This was the longest any of your sexual encounters had lasted and he wasn’t even inside of you yet.

“Need you inside of me, please.” You whined, trying to shift your hips to position him lower. He took hold of your hips, stopping your efforts before abruptly flipping you onto your stomach in the middle of the bed, your head almost hanging off the end. You felt the mattress shift under his weight as he positioned himself behind you, pulling your hips up to meet his so you were kneeling before him. Your cuffed wrists made it impossible for you to lift your upper half without assistance, your face and breasts resting against the mattress with your cunt on full display.

“Bet your shitty little boyfriends never showed you how to do anything other than missionary, that right?” You whimpered out a soft “yeah” as you pushed your hips back, feeling his head bump your entrance for a moment before he pushed fully into you, slow enough to allow you to get used to the angle but not torturously slow. He was over playing games now, all he wanted was to show you what you’d been missing with every man who wasn’t him. Your eyes rolled back, the unfamiliar angle stimulating your sensitive walls in ways you’d never experienced before. He steadily increased his pace, his balls slapping against your clit with every slam of his hips, that familiar pressure building impossibly quickly.

“Who’s that pretty girl on the tv? She looks awfully familiar.” His voice pulled your attention away from your impending orgasm for just a moment just as he took hold of the handcuffs and pulled your arms back, putting the tv right in your line of sight. The image that flashed before you made your stomach flip, a group of three photos of you with your physical traits and last known whereabouts listed beside them as the news anchor read off a teleprompter, “Nationwide search for missing Kildare, North Carolina woman continues as police expand their search into three new states.”

Your eyes glossed over, the sight all too surreal and the feeling of his cock hitting places so deep inside of you that you weren’t even sure they existed before this very moment too much as every nerve ending in your body erupted in euphoria, the strained cry of pleasure that ripped from your throat almost drowning out the news broadcast.

“You like seeing your missing poster plastered everywhere? Want everyone to know I own you now?” He teased, continuing to fuck into you as you mumbled incoherently in response, too fucked out to form a proper response.

“Listen to that, they’re saying I kidnapped you, callin’ me a monster. If only they could see how good I’m making you feel right now babydoll, how good your daddy’s making you feel.” His words pierced through your post orgasm haze, pressure starting to build in your tummy again.

“Oh my god, daddy, it’s too much, I can’t, please!” You begged, overwhelmed by the pleasure still coursing through your body as he brought you closer and closer to another orgasm with every thrust, his remarks only spurring you on.

“I know you can baby, your pussy’s gripping me like a vice.” He laughed again, but you could feel his hips starting to falter, his thrusts becoming sloppy, he had to be just as close as you were.

“Fuck, who’s your daddy, baby?” He groaned, watching the way your ass reverberated back against him with every thrust.

“You are!” You moaned, so close to the edge.

“Say it.” He commanded, a darkness present in his tone that hadn't been there before.

“You are, Rafe, you’re my daddy!” You cried out, a white heat unlike anything you’d ever felt before rushing through you as you felt a warmth gush from your cunt, your body going limp against him, his grip on your hip and the cuffs being the only things to keep you from completely collapsing into the mattress.

You barely registered him pulling out of you and cumming on your ass, the warmth of the white stickiness dripping down into your folds being one of the only things able to draw you back to reality.

“You ever done that before?” His voice sounded miles away, your ears still ringing from your release.

“Done what?” You asked sleepily, turning your head to look at him. When you saw the liquid dripping down his lower stomach and thighs onto the wet spot on the bed, your eyes went wide, trying to scramble to your knees the best you could with your wrists still cuffed.

“Oh my god, no, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!” The panic in your voice startled him, but that quickly turned to anger as he thought about what your shitty exes had done to you to make you feel like you needed to apologize for something so natural.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” He soothed you the best he could, grabbing the key to the cuffs and undoing them as he rubbed the red marks on your wrists to ground you.

“You’re not mad?” You asked, blinking back the tears that had gathered in your waterline.

“God, no. I’m gonna be making you squirt all the time now that I know you can.” He laughed, trying to lighten the mood again. You smiled, and his anger quelled. He had to remind himself that those assholes were in your rear view, he was your future. That’s all that mattered.

“What about the sheets?” You asked, standing from the bed to pull the wet linens off of the mattress, bunching them up in a pile in the corner of the room.

“I’ll just go ask for new ones at the front office, you go hop in the shower and I’ll join you when I get back.” He reassured, kissing you on the forehead and using the loose sheets to dry off his stomach before reaching for his scattered articles of clothing to get dressed to run to the office.

—

tagging: @starkeysprincess @rafesfawn @eddiesxangel @theeternaloptimistt @drewscoquette @rafesangelita @rafelust @bunbun-3 @poopiefartz @coquettebiatch @lilbunnyorwhatever @alejstarkey

please message me if you’d like to be untagged <3

[stylesispunk]

Silent strain | part vii

outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

previous part | next chapter

summary: Joel still holds on to the idea of ​​giving you the world even though everything feels broken.

w.c: 9k>

warnings: angst, mentions of murder, mentions of death, panics attacks, fluff.

a/n: Hello! I have to be honest. I don't feel really connected to this story since I stopped thinking about it for 3 weeks. I don't know if this chapter makes sense at all. I went to my drafts and tried to join all the different ideas I had written for this chapter 😭 I didn't want to end this story here and there will be one more chapter 🥺 thanks for your patience and sorry for my outbursts. By the way thank you so much on all the love you had given to my marcus acacius fic that one was carefully written haha ✨ Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

For the last few days, the house had been quiet.

Unbearable quiet.

The air seemed to be charged with some kind of machiavellian aura. You could breathe the fear coming out your lungs mingling in it with it in some kind of joke. Because after a long time of surviving and doing everything, you could to arrive to a place where you could come to close your eyes at night without the fear of being murdered. The dream faded.

After a long time, you felt hopeless and scared.

After a long time, you had to face the imminent death of someone you loved.

Your biggest fear.

You had seen your sister died before your eyes when the world became mad. You saw Tess died sacrificed for you all, and now, you almost lost your daughter.

Joel hadn’t left your side since you were dismissed from the infirmary.

He had been watching you. At nights when you were finally sleeping, he kept himself awake just to see you sleep and making sure you were fighting your demons in your dreams.

It cut him deep in the heart to feel it, to hear it, and to acknowledge. The sight of you, every day in front of the window with your arms crossed around your middle as a shield from the outside broke his heart. Joel’s heart ached as he watched you, your usual force now cloaked in fear.

The soft light from this morning highlighted the bruise on your face, the purple and blue tones reminding the events that had happened just a few days ago. He hated it, the mark on your skin, the haunted look in your eyes, the way your hands shook no matter how tightly you tried to hold yourself together.

The ring he had given you laid on your finger, shining as the only light you could see during the clouding morning.

He hated this. He hated that someone had dared to put that mark on you, hated that he hadn’t been able to stop it before it happened. But more than anything, he hated seeing the fire in you dimmed, replaced by this trembling fear he didn’t recognize in you.

You had been holding Rosie close every day. The grip on her became almost desperate, like you were afraid she might slip away if you let go, and Joel’s chest tightened at the sight.

And the moments like this, when she was lost in sleeping dreaming about butterflies, you were gripping your arms around your middle, again and again.

Joel cleared his throat softly, not wanting to startle you, but enough to pull you from whatever dark thoughts were haunting you. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and gentle, like it was meant to keep the fragility of the moment intact. “You’re gonna wear a hole in that spot if you keep standin’ there.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him, the tiredness in your eyes making his stomach churn. But you didn’t speak, just offered a faint smile that didn’t quite reach your face before turning your gaze back out the window.

He stepped closer, his boots barely making a sound on the wooden floor. “Hey,” he said softer this time. “You’ve been standin’ there all mornin’. Come sit with me.”

“I don’t want to.” You replied, “I’m looking…whenever he comes back. I’m going to kill him.” 

Joel’s breath caught in his throat at your words. The cold, steely tone in your voice sent a chill down his spine. It wasn’t just the anger, he’d seen you angry before, it was the edge of pain buried underneath it, sharp and raw.

He studied you for a moment, the way your jaw was clenched, your arms still wrapped tightly around yourself like you were holding something in. Joel sighed softly, stepping closer until he was right beside you, his hand brushing against your arm. “I know you’re hurtin’,” he said carefully. “I know you’re angry. Hell, I’m angry too- “

You didn’t look at him, your gaze fixed on the horizon like you were waiting for some shadow to reappear. “He hurt her, Joel. Hurt Rosie. And he-” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, fighting to keep it steady. “He tried to kill me.”

“I know,” Joel said, his voice heavy. He wanted to reach for you, to pull you into his arms, but he didn’t. Not yet. “And if it comes to it, I’ll be the one to handle it. You don’t gotta carry that on top of everythin’ else. That ain’t who you are anymore.”

Finally, you turned to him, your eyes blazing with a despair “You don’t get to tell me who I am, Joel,” you snapped, your voice trembling. “You think I don’t know what killing him means now that we are here? But do you think I care? He almost took Rosie from me. I can’t--I won’t let him get away with that.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, the weight of your words cutting into him. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that contrasted the fire blazing for your words.

Tears welled in your eyes, and you looked away again, shaking your head. “I can’t sleep well, I can’t breathe, knowing he might come back.”

Joel’s hand moved to your shoulder, grounding you. “We’ll protect her,” he said firmly. “I’ll protect you. I swear to God, he’s not gonna hurt either of you again. I won’t allow that.”

You blinked and turned to look at him, your eyes glassy with tears. “I just... I can’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “If you hadn’t been there, Joel... if Paul had...”

Joel shook his head quickly, cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing over the unbruised side. “But he didn’t. I was there, and I’ll always be there. No one’s gonna hurt you or Rosie again, you hear me?”

Your lower lip quivered, but you nodded, the tears finally spilling over. “I feel so stupid. I’ve faced worse before, but now... I can’t even step outside without panicking.”

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his chest, holding you as if he could shield you from the world. “You’re not stupid,” he said firmly.

You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him, and for the first time in days, you felt a flicker of safety amidst the storm. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you whispered.

Joel kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. “You’ll never have to find out, darlin’. Never.”

“Never leave me, please” you whispered, your voice trembling as your eyes locked with his. The love in Joel’s gaze was overwhelming, deep and steady, like it could ground you even in the midst of your unraveling. In that moment, it felt as though he could heal every wound in the world just by looking at you like that.

He didn’t say anything right away, but his hands cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your skin. His touch was so tender, it almost broke you all over again.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “Always. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

The weight of his words, the sheer promise in them, weakened you. You leaned in, pressing your lips to his with all the love, fear, and gratitude coursing through you. The kiss wasn’t hurried or frantic; it was deep, purposeful, filled with everything you couldn’t put into words.

Joel responded with equal intensity, his hands steadying you as if anchoring you to him. The kiss deepened, and you poured every single feeling you had for him into it, your love, your fear, your desperate need for him to know just how much he meant to you.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested on his neck. His eyes stayed on you, dark and filled with so much love it left you almost breathless.

“You are my world,” he murmured, his voice rough with honesty. “There ain’t nothin’ that’s ever gonna take me away from you.” He paused, “No Paul, not even Tommy” he said, finally allowing himself to be angry with his brother for not acting properly when you needed.

You smiled softly, your fingers lifted, tracing the familiar lines of his face. “You heal me, Joel,” you whispered. “In ways I didn’t think were possible.” You sighed, “I’ve slept just because you are by my side,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the vulnerability you rarely showed.

Joel's eyes softened at your confession, the lines of his face etched with worry and love. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms securely around you, as if shielding you from everything outside your small, shared world.

“I’ll always be here,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “No one’s gonna hurt you again, not while I’m breathin’. And I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He tilted your chin up slightly, meeting your gaze with an intensity that both comforted and steadied you. “You believe me, don’t you?”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I do,” you whispered. “I just... I don’t want to lose you, Joel. Not again. You mean everything to me. Rosie and Ellie need you. I need you.”

His lips pressed into a firm line as he kissed your forehead, lingering there for a moment before speaking. “You won’t lose me. Not to this world, not to anyone.” His tone carried a weight of conviction that made you believe him, despite the dark corners of your mind that tried to tell you otherwise.

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if holding on to him could ground you further. “I love you,” you said, the words spilling out with a mix of desperation and relief.

Joel tightened his embrace, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I love you too, darlin’. More than I’ll ever be able to say.”

The days that followed, the tension between Joel and Tommy hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and unrelenting. The anger in Joel’s chest refused to leave and every time he thought about Paul, about what he had done to you, about Rosie crying in your arms, about Tommy and Maria’s insistence on letting him live because he was the most capable doctor in Jackson, made his blood boil.

Joel stayed distant, avoiding Tommy whenever he could. But the inevitable day came when Tommy finally showed up at your door.

The sound of footsteps outside was followed by a knock. You opened the door cautiously, seeing Tommy standing there, his posture tense, but his face holding a mix of determination and concern. He wasn’t going to let this go.

“Can we talk?” Tommy’s voice was low, almost pleading, as he stood at the threshold, not pushing any further without an invitation.

You glanced back at Joel, who stood in the corner of the room, his arms crossed, jaw clenched. His posture was rigid, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. You could feel the weight of his gaze on Tommy.

“You’re here now,” you said quietly, your gaze flicking between the two men. "Let’s just talk. It’s time to sort this out.”

Tommy looked at you, grateful for your willingness to listen, but then his eyes moved to Joel. “I’m not here to argue,” he said, his voice steady but carrying a hint of frustration. “I just want to make sure you both understand why I did what I did. Maria and I- we thought it was best for Jackson.”

Joel stepped forward then, his voice tight, filled with a simmering anger. “Best for Jackson?” he spat; his words heavy. “You think keeping Paul around is what's best? After what he did to my family? After what he did to her?” His gaze flicked to you, and his face twisted with pain and rage.

Tommy’s face faltered slightly, but he stood firm. “We can’t just murder people, Joel. We’ve got to think about the bigger picture here.”

“The bigger picture?” Joel’s voice broke through the silence, louder now. “The bigger picture is you letting him get away with what he did. You think a doctor’s skills are worth more than the safety of someone?”

You stepped in between the two men, your hand on Joel’s chest, trying to diffuse the tension that had only escalated. “Joel.” you said softly, your voice firm yet gentle.

Joel’s anger didn’t subside, but he took a deep breath, his gaze hardening as he met Tommy’s eyes. “I get it, Tommy. I do. I get you don’t kill people. But this is not about you or me. It’s About her, about Rosie.” He nodded toward you, his voice softer but still filled with that quiet fury. “You failed us, and I’m not gonna forget that.”

Tommy’s face tightened, but he didn’t flinch. “I’m not asking you to forget,” he said, his voice growing quiet, but steady. “I’m asking you to try to understand. I had to make a choice. And I’m sorry it hurt you. I didn’t want that. But we can’t just act on anger. It’ll destroy us all.”

The silence between them was heavy, the weight of their words hanging in the air. Joel’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the two brothers just stood there, glaring at each other. You could feel the tension in the room, the hurt, the unresolved conflict.

“I’m gonna kill him, Tommy” you say, leaving no room to even think about an answer. The words left your lips before you could even stop them. You meant it, if you were just speaking out of fear, anger, or something deeper. But in that moment, it felt real. It felt like the only thing that made sense.

Tommy’s face paled; his eyes wide in disbelief. He took a step back, as if your words had physically hit him.

“Don’t say that,” Tommy said, his voice shaky now. “You can’t mean that. No matter what Paul did, that’s not-” He looked to Joel, who stood silent, his jaw clenched tightly as his gaze fixed on you.

Joel’s expression didn’t soften. His eyes were filled with an intensity you knew all too well, but it wasn’t just anger anymore.

“I can’t let him hurt us again,” you continued, your voice steady. “Not after what he did. To me. To Rosie.” Your hands tightened into fists at your sides, the thought of what Paul done still fresh. “He can’t be allowed to walk away from this.”

“I get it. I know how much you hate him. How much you want to make him pay. But that’s not the way” he said, trying to open a door to your own feelings and make to see you beyond the anger.

You shook your head, the frustration bubbling up. “You don’t understand. You knew what he did and you did nothing to stop it.” You could feel the tears threatening to spill again, but you fought them back. “I can’t just let it go.”

Joel’s gaze softened at you, and he gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. The tenderness in his touch was a stark contrast to the rage that was building inside you.

“I don’t want you to become like him,” Joel whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I don’t want you to lose yourself in this. You’re better than that.”

Tommy stood quietly behind Joel; his face pained. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but the words caught in his throat. He looked between you and Joel, his hands rising in a gesture of helplessness.

“Please,” Tommy said softly, the weight of his voice more sincere now. “I don’t want to lose you both. Not like this.”

There was a long silence, the tension between the three of you palpable. You could feel the storm brewing in your chest, the fury, the fear, and the loss. But looking at Joel, his eyes filled with that quiet, unshakable love, something in you began to still, just slightly.

“Joel…” You whispered, your voice cracking as you tried to hold onto your resolve. But the reality of the situation hit you, the sheer weight of everything that had happened.

Joel’s hand never left your cheek, and he pulled you closer, his body shielding you, his love steadying you. He didn’t need to say anything more. The silence spoke volumes, louder than any words ever could.

For the first time in days, the raw anger inside you began to dull, if only for a moment. And in that moment, you knew what he was trying to do.

 keep you whole.

You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath as Joel held you, his strength grounding you in a way words never could. The storm within you hadn’t passed—it was still there, simmering—but his touch, his love, gave you a moment of clarity.

“I don’t know how to let this go,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers clung to the fabric of Joel’s shirt, desperate for something solid, something real. “I can still feel it, Joel. What he did. How he made me feel powerless. How he put our daughter at risk.”

Joel nodded, his jaw tightening as he pulled you closer. “I know, darlin’. I know.” His voice was thick with emotion, his own rage barely contained. “But you’re not powerless. You’ve got me. You’ve got Rosie. We’ll face this together. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably in the background, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked at the floor, at the walls, anywhere but directly at you. When he finally spoke, his voice was hesitant but firm. “Paul’s gone. I made sure of it. He’s not coming back here. He doesn’t get to hurt you or your family again.”

You opened your eyes, pulling away from Joel just enough to look at Tommy. “Gone where?” you asked, your tone sharp despite the exhaustion in your voice.

Tommy met your gaze, his face solemn. “Out of Jackson. Banished. He’s on his own now. That’s his punishment.”

It wasn’t enough. Not for you. But the flicker of guilt in Tommy’s eyes told you it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

“Banished?” Joel’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “That’s supposed to make up for what he did? You think that’s justice, Tommy? Letting him walk away alive?”

Tommy winced but stood his ground. “It’s all I could do, Joel. You know that. Maria and I—”

“Maria.” Joel’s voice was laced with bitterness, his lips curling into a sneer. “Of course, Maria had a say in this. She always does.”

“Don’t do that,” Tommy shot back, his tone defensive. “Don’t make this about her. She’s trying to keep this place together, same as me.”

Joel shook his head, his grip on you tightening protectively. “This ain’t about Jackson. This is about family. And you sure as hell didn’t act like it when you let him off easy.”

The tension in the room thickened, the weight of Joel’s words pressing down on all of you. Tommy opened his mouth to respond but stopped himself, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice low. “I didn’t mean to let you down. Either of you.”

You watched him carefully, the sincerity in his voice softening your anger but not extinguishing it. You leaned into Joel, your voice steady but quiet. “We needed you to protect us, Tommy. And you didn’t.”

Tommy’s face fell, and for a moment, he looked lost, like the younger brother Joel used to shield from the world. “I’ll do better,” he said after a pause. “I promise.”

Joel didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked down at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you wanted. You gave him a small nod, your fingers brushing against his hand.

“Fine,” Joel said gruffly, his tone still heavy with distrust. “If he comes back, if he so much as looks in our direction, I won’t wait for you to make the call.”

Tommy nodded solemnly, knowing better than to argue. “He won’t,” he said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

With that, Tommy turned to leave, pausing at the door. “I meant what I said,” he added, looking back at both of you. “I’ll do better.”

Joel didn’t respond, his attention already back on you as the door clicked shut behind his brother. His hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that had spilled during the heated exchange.

“You, okay?” he asked softly, his voice a stark contrast to the anger he’d directed at Tommy moments ago.

You nodded, though the ache in your chest lingered. “I will be,” you whispered, leaning into his touch. “As long as I have you.”

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over Jackson as you stepped outside for the first time in days. The cool breeze felt foreign on your skin, and the familiar hum of life around the town was both comforting and unnerving. People moved about, their voices mingling in the air, but it didn’t take long for you to notice the glances, those fleeting, pity-filled looks that made your stomach twist.

Joel had left early for patrol, a reluctant decision that you’d seen weigh on him. Before leaving, he’d turned to Ellie, handing her the silent responsibility of looking out for you. She had protested initially, grumbling about not being a babysitter, but her eyes had softened when she looked at you. Joel knew, as did you, that Ellie’s sharp wit and unwavering loyalty were exactly what you needed to ground yourself amidst the whispers of the town.

“Come on,” Ellie said now, falling into step beside you. “Let’s go to the stables. I think is time to introduce you to Shimmer.”

You gave her a small smile, grateful for her enthusiasm. “Think so? I haven’t exactly been good company lately.”

“Don’t start with that,” Ellie replied, her tone firm but not unkind. “People in this place don’t know what they’re talking about half the time. Who cares what they think? You’re way tougher than any of them.”

Her words stirred something in you, a small flicker of strength you hadn’t felt in days. “Thanks, Ellie.”

She shrugged, her usual smirk returning. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all mushy on me.”

The two of you made your way through Jackson, the familiar paths slowly feeling less daunting with Ellie by your side. She talked about anything and everything, her rambling stories pulling you away from the stares and murmurs. By the time you reached the stables, you almost felt like yourself again.

As you ran your fingers along Shimmer’s mane, Ellie leaned against the stall door, watching you with an expression that was rare for her, soft and patient.

“Y’know,” she started, her voice quieter now, “Joel worries about you a lot.”

You nodded, your hand still brushing against the horse. “I know he does. I worry about him, too.”

Ellie hesitated, as if weighing her next words carefully. “You don’t have to be okay all the time. It’s fine if you’re not. But...you’re important to him. And to me. So, if you need anything, just...say it, okay?”

The lump in your throat was back, but this time it wasn’t from fear or sadness. It was gratitude, pure and simple. You turned to Ellie, her usual tough exterior softened just enough to let her sincerity shine through.

“Thank you, Ellie,” you said, your voice steady. “For everything.”

She grinned, her cocky demeanor sliding back into place. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t mention it. Now let’s get moving before Joel gets back and freaks out because you’re not at the house.”

You laughed softly, the sound surprising both of you. For the first time, you felt like you were taking a step, however small, toward reclaiming the part of yourself that Paul had tried to steal.

Joel would come home later, his expression softening the moment he saw you standing in the kitchen, Ellie at your side, and Rosie cooing softly in your arms. The sight of you holding her, your face showing a glimmer of the strength he had always admired, eased the tension in his chest.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and warm as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. His gaze lingered on you, taking in the small smile that graced your lips as you bounced Rosie gently.

“Hey,” you replied, meeting his eyes. There was still a shadow of everything you’d been through, but there was also something more—hope.

Rosie reached out a tiny hand toward Joel, her soft babbles filling the room as she wriggled excitedly. Joel couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he walked over, pressing a gentle kiss to her head before turning his attention back to you.

“You been good today?” he asked, his hand coming to rest on your waist, grounding you in that quiet, unshakable way only he could.

“I’ve been okay,” you admitted, glancing at Ellie. “Ellie made sure I didn’t completely lose it.”

“Damn right I did,” Ellie said with a smirk, though her tone was laced with affection. “You should thank me. I could’ve let her go feral.”

Joel chuckled, his fingers brushing your cheek. “Thanks, kid. Knew I could count on you.”

Ellie shrugged, playing it cool, though her smile betrayed her pride. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get sappy on me.”

Rosie giggled in your arms, her tiny hands now tugging at Joel’s shirt. He let out a low laugh, taking her from you and cradling her against his chest.

“You been keepin’ your mama company, huh?” he murmured to Rosie, his tone soft as she babbled in response.

You watched the two of them, a warmth spreading through your chest. Despite everything, despite the weight of the past days, there was this, your family. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t easy, but it was yours.

And as Joel wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close while still holding Rosie, you realized that no matter how rocky the road ahead was, you’d face it together.

Later that night, the house had settled into a calm quiet. You and Joel were in your bedroom, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the space. Joel sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair while you folded Rosie’s tiny clothes, setting them neatly in a small basket by the dresser.

A knock on the door broke the silence.

“Come in,” you called, glancing up to see Ellie poking her head inside.

“Just wanted to say goodnight,” she said casually, but the softness in her eyes revealed more.

You smiled warmly, setting down the clothes. “Goodnight, Ellie. Thank you for today.”

Ellie waved a hand, brushing off your gratitude. “It was nothing. Just, you know… don’t go all weird again, okay? Makes me feel like I gotta be responsible or somethin’.”

Joel chuckled from his spot on the bed, his gruff voice carrying a note of fondness. “You’re plenty responsible, kid. More than you give yourself credit for.”

Ellie scoffed but didn’t argue. Instead, she gave you a small smile, her gaze lingering on you for a moment. “Night, guys.”

“Goodnight, Ellie,” you and Joel said in unison, watching as she closed the door behind her.

The room fell quiet again, the air filled with a comfortable stillness. Joel shifted, standing to walk over to where you stood. His hands settled on your waist, his touch firm but gentle.

“Got somethin’ I wanna ask you,” he said, his voice low.

You looked up at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “What is it?”

Joel took a deep breath, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for the right words. “You know… maybe we could…” He paused, seeming almost unsure, then continued, his voice quiet but filled with a flicker of hope. “Maybe we could find a farm. Somethin’ out there, for us to live together. Rosie could grow up there, maybe Ellie could come too.”

A small smile crept onto your face, the idea warming something deep within you. The thought of a place away from the constant need to survive, a place where Rosie could learn what it meant to grow up safely, it was more than you’d ever thought to hope for.

You squeezed Joel’s hand, meeting his eyes. “I’d love that,” you murmured, imagining the life you could have together on that farm. “But maybe… let’s give Rosie a bit more time. Let her grow a little. She’s just starting to get to know this world, and Jackson’s safe for now.”

Joel’s face softened; his eyes filled with a warmth that made you feel completely at home. “Yeah,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “Ain’t no rush. Just… it’s good to have somethin’ to look forward to. Somethin’ better for her. For us.”

You leaned into him, letting the silence settle over you, both of you holding onto that shared vision. A little farm, a life of peace, a future beyond the fight, one that you could finally believe in.

“Wherever you go, I’ll follow you, Joel. Always.”

He let out a breath, his shoulders easing, and a quiet smile formed on his face. “Guess I’m the luckiest damn fool in this world, then.”

His words made you smile, and you closed the small space between you, resting your head on his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you. The warmth of his embrace felt like the safest place in a world that had taken so much, yet somehow, you had found each other. And that was more than either of you had ever thought to hope for.

His lips brushed over your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, each kiss tender and deliberate, as though he wanted to mark every part of you with the love he felt.

“We’re gonna get married,” he repeated, his voice low but steady, as if speaking it aloud made it more real. His fingers traced soft circles on your back, his touch reassuring and protective. “Then we’ll make that farm happen. A place for Rosie, for us. Maybe some chickens, a couple of goats. We’ll figure it all out.”

You laughed softly, the sound light in the quiet room. “Chickens and goats, huh? You planning on becoming a farmer, Miller?”

“Don’t see why not,” he said with a small grin, his eyes twinkling with a rare spark of humor. “Figure I can learn, long as you’re by my side.”

Your hand came up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your palm. “That sounds perfect.”

His gaze softened, his arms tightening around you.

You smiled, lifting your head to look at him fully. “Dream as much as you want. Just know that wherever you go, I’ll be right there with you. Always.”

His jaw clenched slightly, emotion flickering across his face before he leaned in, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to your lips. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“You’re my whole damn world,” he said quietly, his voice thick with sincerity. “Now get some sleep, baby. You deserve it,” Joel murmured, his voice soft and soothing as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

You felt the exhaustion finally catching up, the weight of everything settling down now that you were safe, here in his arms. His hand traced gentle circles on your back, a calming rhythm that lulled you closer to sleep.

With your eyes closing, you whispered, “I love you, Joel.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice a low, comforting rumble. “I love you, too. Now rest. I’ve got you.”

And with those words, you let yourself drift, knowing that, for once, everything was exactly where it needed to be.

A few weeks later, the world outside your home didn’t seem as suffocating as it once had. You found yourself stepping out more often, though each time felt like a small battle. The whispers of pity had dulled into occasional glances, but you didn’t care much anymore. What mattered was reclaiming pieces of yourself, the parts that had been shaken to their core.

Joel had noticed the shift in you. It wasn’t just bravery returning; it was something darker. There was a hunger in your eyes, a quiet, burning thirst for vengeance. He didn’t need to ask to know what you were thinking. He had seen it in the way your grip tightened on your gun when you joined him on patrol for the first time, in the way your eyes scanned the horizon as though searching for someone. Searching for him.

Paul.

“I don’t know if this is the best idea,” Joel had murmured that morning, watching you strap on your gear with determination. Rosie was with Ellie, safe and sound, but Joel couldn’t shake the unease in his gut.

“I need this, Joel,” you replied firmly, your voice leaving no room for argument. “I can’t sit in that house anymore, feeling helpless. I need to do something.”

Joel hesitated, but he couldn’t deny you. He knew the feeling of needing to act, of needing to take back control. So, he let you come, though he kept a protective eye on you every second.

Now, as the two of you rode along a quiet path outside Jackson, the sun dipping low in the sky, you felt the weight of your riffle against your shoulders, silent reminder of the decision you’d already made in your heart. If Paul was out here, if by some chance you found him, you wouldn’t hesitate. You couldn’t.

Joel glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his jaw tight. “You’ve been quiet,” he said, his voice low.

You turned to him, your expression guarded. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” he pressed gently, though he already had a good idea.

You hesitated before answering, your fingers gripping the reins of your horse a little tighter. “About what I’d do if I saw him out here.”

Joel’s hand twitched on his own reins, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And what’s that?” he asked, his tone careful.

You looked straight ahead, your voice unwavering. “I’d finish what he started.”

Joel’s breath hitched, and he pulled his horse to a stop, forcing you to do the same. He turned to face you fully, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. “You really think that’s gonna fix this? Killing him?”

“It’ll fix the part of me that still wakes up at night hearing Rosie cry,” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended. “The part of me that can’t shake the image of him grabbing her, hurting her.”

Joel’s face softened, but his eyes remained steady on yours. “I get it,” he said quietly. “God, I get it more than you know. But that path? It doesn’t end. You take that step, and it stays with you. Forever.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting deeper than you wanted to admit. “You’ve done it,” you whispered. “You’ve done what needed to be done.”

“And it’s carved pieces outta me I’ll never get back,” Joel said, his voice rough with emotion. “Pieces I don’t want you to lose, too. Not when I’ve fought like hell to keep you whole.”

“Have I ever told you about how my sister really died?” You asked, stopping on your tracks.

Joel froze at your words, his brows knitting together as he watched you. The rawness in your voice, the way your shoulders tensed, told him this wasn’t something you’d ever shared before, not with him, not with anyone.

“You don’t have to-” Joel started, but you cut him off, your tone firm yet fragile.

“No, I do,” you said, gripping the reins tightly, your knuckles white. “If I don’t say it now, I don’t think I ever will.”

Joel dismounted his horse without a word, grounding himself on the dirt path, his full attention on you. He didn’t try to stop you again. He knew you well enough to know that this was something you needed to let out.

You took a shaky breath, your eyes fixed on the horizon. “She wasn’t just sick,” you began, your voice trembling. “She didn’t die because we ran out of medicine or supplies. She died because someone decided her life wasn’t worth saving.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides as he listened, his heart sinking at the pain in your voice.

“We were desperate, starving. I’d gone to trade what little we had for anything that could help her, food, medicine, something. But the man… he said no. Said it wasn’t worth it for someone who was already on their way out. I begged him, Joel. I begged him with everything I had.” Your voice broke, tears threatening to spill as the memory clawed its way back. “He just walked away.”

Joel took a step closer, his chest tightening at the sight of you, so strong yet so broken by the weight of the past.

“When I got back, she was already gone,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “And I’ve hated myself ever since for not doing more. For not forcing him to help her. For not-” You stopped, your breath hitching as tears slipped down your cheeks.

Joel reached for you then, his hands gently cupping your face, pulling you to him. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said firmly, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “You did everything you could. Don’t carry that blame, not for a second.”

“You looked up at him, your tears reflecting the fading light. “She was Ellie’s age, and I’ve carried it every day, Joel. And now, with Paul... I can’t let him walk away like that man did. I can’t let him think he can take something so precious from me and just go on living.”

Joel’s gaze softened, his thumb brushing away your tears. “I understand,” he said, his voice low and unwavering. “More than you know. But listen to me, you’re not the same person you were back then. And this time, you’re not alone. You have me. You have Rosie. Ellie. We’ll make it through this together, but not like this. Not by lettin’ that hatred eat away at you.”

You let out a shaky breath, his words sinking in, though the fire inside you still burned. Joel leaned his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please, don’t let him take any more from you than he already has. Don’t let him steal the light I see in you every day.”

“If it has to be done,” Joel paused, “It’s gonna be me the one to do it for you.” He finally said.

You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat as the gravity of his promise hit you. His hands remained steady on you, grounding you, while his eyes held that unyielding intensity, a mixture of love, pain, and determination.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t want you carrying that. Not for me.”

His jaw clenched, and he shook his head slightly. “It ain’t about what I want to carry,” he said firmly. “It’s about what I won’t let you carry. You don’t deserve to live with that weight, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it off you.”

Your heart ached at the sheer depth of his devotion. You reached up, your hand resting on his cheek, feeling the familiar scruff beneath your palm. “You think I can’t live with it, but I’m not sure I can live with you doin’ it either,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

Joel exhaled sharply, his forehead pressing harder against yours. “I know you’re stronger than you think, darlin’. But I also know what it’s like to live with somethin’ like that. I won’t let it twist you up inside. You’re the one thing in my life that’s still pure. You are carrying my secret already.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a blow. Your hand faltered slightly against his cheek.

“You’re carrying the only thing I can’t tell Ellie yet” he murmured, his voice thick with unspoken emotion.

“Ellie’s carryin’ that guilt without even knowin’,” Joel said, his voice cracking. “And you’re carryin’ my guilt. I see it in your eyes, darlin’. You’re strong enough to hold it, but it doesn’t mean you should have to and I can’t let you to carry this responsibility.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you cupped his face, your hands trembling. “Joel,” you breathed.

He shook his head slightly, his forehead brushing against yours as if he couldn’t bear to pull away. “That’s my burden to bear,” he said quietly. “Not yours. Not Ellie’s. You didn’t ask for this, darlin’. I brought it to you, just like I brought so much else.”

Your hands steadied on his face, thumbs gently tracing the lines etched deep from years of pain and survival. “You think I can’t handle it,” you said, your voice soft but firm, “but I can. Joel, I’m not breaking under this. You’re not dragging me down—you’re keeping me standing. We’re carrying this together, even if you can’t see that yet.”

His eyes closed briefly, his breath shuddering as he let your words settle over him. “I just…” He exhaled, shaking his head as if trying to push away the weight of his guilt. “I just don’t want to lose the parts of you that make me believe there’s still good in this world. You’re my light, darlin’. I can’t let this world take that away from you like it’s taken so much from me.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You’ve lost pieces of yourself to protect the people you love, Joel. But you didn’t lose your heart. You didn’t lose the ability to care, to love. That’s what I see every day. That’s why I love you.”

Joel’s hands slid up to cradle your face, his eyes glassy as he gazed at you. “You make me wanna believe we can have somethin’ better. You and Rosie… Ellie…” He trailed off, his voice cracking under the weight of emotion.

“And we will,” you whispered, your own tears slipping down your cheeks.

For a moment, the room was filled with the quiet hum of your shared breath, the weight of Joel’s secret and his pain hanging between you like a fragile thread. Then, as if finally surrendering to the truth in your words, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“I’ll do my best,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your hair. “But I’ll never stop tryin’ to protect you. That’s who I am. That’s who I’ll always be.”

You nodded against him, your own arms wrapping around his waist as you clung to him. “And I’ll protect you, too, Joel. Always.”

……………………………………….

The next morning, you woke to the quiet sounds of the house, birds singing outside, the soft rustling of the wind through the trees. But as you blinked awake, a familiar sense of unease settled deep in your chest. You turned to find Joel already up, getting dressed in his patrol gear, his movements steady and practiced.

But there was something about the way he moved this morning, something that made your stomach twist. The sense of calm you’d felt the night before had faded with the dawn, replaced by a gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that lingered. “Joel,” you called softly, watching as he fastened his boots.

He turned toward you, his expression softening when he saw you awake. “Mornin’,” he said with a small smile, though there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

You frowned, pushing the blankets aside as you slowly got to your feet. “You got patrol?”

Joel nodded, adjusting the straps on his jacket. “Yeah. Gotta keep an eye on things, make sure no one’s out there stirring up trouble.”

The unease inside you only deepened as you stood there, watching him. You wanted to say something, to voice the feeling that gnawed at you, but it was hard to put into words. You’d been through so much together, and you knew the risks. But there was something in the air this morning, something different.

“Be careful,” you finally said, your voice low. You moved closer, your eyes searching his face. “Please.”

Joel’s eyes softened at your concern, and he reached out to touch your arm gently, his fingers warm against your skin. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll be fine. I’ve done this a hundred times.”

“I know,” you murmured, but the unease refused to leave you. It settled deep, a cold weight you couldn’t shake. “It’s just… I don’t know. I have a bad feeling, Joel.”

He gave you a reassuring smile, though there was a glimmer of something in his eyes that made you wonder if he was hiding something. “You’re just gettin’ anxious, that’s all. Ain’t nothing to worry about.”

You didn’t believe him, but you didn’t press further. He could see it in your face, the doubt, the fear, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“Look, I’ll be back before you know it. And I’ll be careful, promise. I told Ellie to check on you when I get out there. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

You nodded, though the worry still clung to you, heavy in your chest. You watched him grab his rifle and head for the door, your heart tightening as the unease only deepened.

“Come back safe,” you whispered, though he was already out the door, the sound of it closing behind him leaving you with nothing but the silence of the house.

The day passed in a haze; your every step weighed down by the gnawing feeling in your chest. Rosie was a constant, her small hands gripping onto your fingers as you walked through the house, but even her giggles and soft coos couldn’t shake the sense of dread that clung to you.

You tried to keep busy, shifting from one task to the next, preparing food, tidying up, organizing things in a way that felt normal. But it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t right. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Joel, to the way he’d left this morning, and to that unsettling feeling that something was going to happen.

Rosie’s tiny laugh broke through your thoughts, and you turned to her, forcing a smile as she looked up at you with her bright, innocent eyes. “What’s so funny, huh?” you whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of her head, but the sensation of unease lingered, like a shadow you couldn’t outrun.

You carried her around the house, humming softly to calm her, but the tension inside you only seemed to grow. You tried to focus on the present, on her needs, but your mind kept returning to Joel, to the patrol, to the feeling of something wrong.

You spent hours moving through the motions, your hands busy with Rosie, but your mind was somewhere else. You couldn’t shake the weight of the silence. Even the usual comfort of Jackson, the rhythm of life, the sense of safety felt distant. You wanted to believe that Joel would come home safely, that everything would be fine, but every part of you felt like it was bracing for something.

Every time you heard a sound outside, whether it was the wind brushing through the trees or footsteps in the distance, you jumped, your heart hammering in your chest. You knew it wasn’t rational, but the dread wouldn’t leave.

You glanced at the window once more, eyes scanning the horizon. The day stretched on, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being stuck in limbo, waiting for something you couldn’t see or name, but could feel settling deeper into your bones.

By the time the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the house, your nerves were frayed, the silence between you and Rosie growing thicker. She had fallen asleep in your arms, her little breaths gentle against your chest, but even her calmness couldn’t settle your mind.

You tried to push everything aside, focusing on her, but as the evening wore on, the darkness began to close in. The sounds of Jackson, usually comforting, seemed muted, everything felt distant, like you were separated from the world outside, and the only thing that existed was the growing ache inside you.

You forced yourself to sit down on the couch with Rosie, running your fingers through her hair, trying to lull her back to sleep. But all you could hear in the back of your mind was the warning, something was wrong, and you couldn’t ignore it.

The clock ticked on, and the hours seemed to stretch impossibly long. Joel should’ve been home by now.

Your eyes drifted to the door, and for the hundredth time, you found yourself wondering if he was okay. You could feel the weight of the night pressing down on you, the silence now suffocating, and no matter how hard you tried to focus on Rosie, the bad feeling wouldn’t let go.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore.

And then, it came, the knock at the door.

The sound shattered the quiet like a thunderclap, and your heart leaped into your throat. For a split second, you stood frozen, staring at the door as the sound of it echoed in your chest.

Rosie stirred slightly in your arms, her small body shifting against you, but you didn’t move, didn’t speak. The knock came again, more urgent this time, and it felt like the world was holding its breath.

You slowly set Rosie down on the couch, her sleepy gaze not yet aware of the tension in the room. You walked toward the door, each step heavy, your mind racing with possibilities, none of them good.

When you finally reached the door, you hesitated for just a moment, your hand resting on the cold metal of the doorknob. Your chest tightened with each breath, and you could almost feel the weight of whatever was about to happen bearing down on you.

With a swift motion, you swung the door open.

Standing on the other side was a familiar figure, one you didn’t want to see right now. Tommy’s face was grim, his posture stiff and anxious. The second his eyes landed on you, he froze, his expression darkening further.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady, but it trembled nonetheless.

 “Where’s Joel?” The question was simple, but it felt like it would crush you to ask it out loud.

Tommy looked down, unable to meet your gaze, his lips pressed into a thin line. His silence was enough. You could feel your chest tightening, your breath coming shallow.

��Tommy…” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You needed to know, needed to hear him say it wasn’t what you feared. But the way he held himself, the way he refused to look at you directly, it told you everything you needed to know.

“He’s… he’s not coming back right now,” Tommy said, his words falling like a weight in the room.

Your breath caught, a sharp, cold wave crashing over you. “What happened?” you forced out, each syllable like a blade.

Tommy’s jaw tightened, and he glanced over his shoulder as if searching for something he couldn’t find. “He… got caught up in a situation. We’re trying to find him, but-” He stopped himself, eyes flicking to the ground. “He wasn’t alone.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You barely heard him over the rush of panic flooding your mind. You reached out for the doorframe to steady yourself, the cold wood grounding you as everything else around you seemed to blur.

“Where is he?” you managed to ask, barely able to hold back the tremble in your voice.

Tommy looked at you, his eyes softening with regret, and then he finally spoke the words you were dreading to hear. “I don’t know yet. But we’re looking. We’re gonna bring him back.”

But it didn’t feel like enough. Not nearly enough.

The dread you’d felt all day was now a full-on tidal wave crashing through you. And the silence between you and Tommy stretched on, thick and suffocating, as your world began to unravel again.

You looked at Tommy, but his expression was distant, haunted by the same dread that clung to your own heart. His eyes were hard and red, but there was a flicker of something beneath them, something that looked like guilt, like he had already resigned himself to the possibility of losing Joel. And you couldn’t bear that. You couldn’t let it be true.

The world around you seemed to fade away, the noises of Jackson growing muffled, distant. It was just you and that empty space in your chest.

Where is he? Why can’t they find him?

“Please,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. “He can’t be-he can’t be gone.”

Tommy’s silence was enough of an answer. You felt your knees go weak beneath you, your vision blurring, and for a moment, the world seemed to close around you. You barely caught yourself against the nearby wall, your body trembling violently as a cold sweat broke out across your skin.

“No”you gasped, shaking your head. “No... No, no, no...”

Everything around you shifted, the edges of reality blurring like the melting colors of a fading drawing. The walls seemed to warp, stretch. Your breath was quick and shallow, heart pounding in your chest.

Tommy’s voice reached you, but it felt like it was coming from miles away. “We’re gonna bring him back,” he repeated. But his words felt wrong, distant. The hollow tone of them echoed in your mind.

And then it all snapped into place.

A flash of bright light, too bright. A sharp pain in your chest. Joel’s face. Blood. The unmistakable scent of the forest. A scream, raw and panicked, splitting through the air.

You felt yourself falling, your vision spinning. The world kept shifting, twisting in strange angles you hadn’t seen before. Memories of Joel, his soft brown eyes, his smile, his touch. They all merged into one blurry mess, until they were impossible to separate. You reached out instinctively, your hands clawing at the air. But there was nothing there to hold on to. Just emptiness.

Was it real? Was he really gone?

A jolt of pain sliced through your head, and you gasped, your whole body seizing with terror. You could hear your voice, but it was distant, like someone else was screaming your name, calling for you to wake up.

"Wake up!"

Your eyes snapped open.

The room was still. The silence was deafening. Your chest heaved, each breath sharp and jagged as you fought to understand where you were. Everything felt wrong, like it didn’t belong. The cool air caressed your face with calloused fingertips.

You were still in your room.

But where was Joel?

Was he really-?

You turned, heart drumming against your ribcage as your eyes scanned the room, your pulse ringing in your ears. And there he was. Joel. Alive. But he wasn’t moving. His form was just an indistinct shadow in the moonlight, still and silent as the night itself.

Your breath caught in your throat as you reached for him, hands trembling.

“Joel?”

You whispered his name, too afraid to speak louder, afraid that it would shatter the fragile illusion you were holding on to. Your hands brushed against his arm, and the relief that flooded you was instant.

His skin was warm. He was real.

But as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you noticed something odd.

Joel wasn’t looking at you.

The way his body was turned, half-covered by the shadows, the slow rise and fall of his chest... it wasn’t like him. Something felt off.

And then the silence broke. His breathing was ragged, strained.

Your heart stopped in your chest.

A voice, barely a whisper, weak and broken. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

And with that, everything slipped once again.

Was it real? Was this a nightmare you hadn’t woken from yet?

You couldn’t tell anymore.

Tags 💌: @jasminedragoon @orcasoul @missladym1981 @hiroikegawa @eleganthottubfun @lumpypoll @cuteanimalmama @thespookywookies @goodvibesonly421 @karaslqve @greenwitchfromthewoods @somedayheaven @bambisweethearts @joelsteinfeld @guelyury @biapascal @picketniffler @mrsyixingunicorn10 @httpvomitello @kulekehe @callmecath1 @persephone-girl @colmiillo @pedroswife69 @keileighr @capswife @fallout-girl219 @sullyselena @cymbalta-slut @my-tearsricochet

[whereisloe]

my angel ໒꒱

“come from way above” ❀ sevika x reader 𓆝. 𓆟

Got this idea while writing a Silco fic and realized not enough people are writing for this fine ass woman OHMYGOF

I miss my wife, tails. i miss her a lot.

“This doesn’t hurt, does it?” you’d ask as you treated Sevika’s wound, carefully watching every faint expression on her face as you did so. She only grunted in response before letting her head fall into her hand. Considering the positions you both assumed, the woman had been towering over you as you sat comfortably between her legs dressing her abdominal wound. “Aaw , we’re almost done. Just keep being good for me, yeah?” You’d tease with a passive pat to her thigh as you prepped yourself to wrap her waist.

“Shut up” She’d force through a wince as you applied pressure to the deep cut, wrapping it as you did so. “You talk too much”

Once you finished the wrap your hands were quick to roam. Snaking up her chest, and latching onto her neck as you pulled your lips onto her jaw. “Keep getting hurt like this and I might just have to give Silco a little visit for all the trouble he keeps putting you through” Sevika scoffed, half-amused at your wit as she leaned back into the chair. “That man would eat you alive, sweetheart” The petname came off more condescending than endearing as Sevika undermined your words, even brushing off the genuine concern behind the joke with a bittersweet smirk.

“Oh, you promise?” Now it was your turn to laugh as you watched that smirk wipe clean off her face when her expression grew darker. You ignored her very obvious mood change and continued cleaning up your gear. “Y’know, maybe I could get you that pay raise. What do you think?” You’d stand from your crouched position and slowly spin around, flaunting your body at the woman. You even grabbed her rugged hand and bring it to your hip as you knelt into the seat of the chair that had been exposed between her legs.

“Hilarious.” She wouldn’t even half mind you as her hand quickly replaced your hip with a cigar. You rolled your eyes at her passiveness before returning to the ground to clean up your mess. At some point you even walked away allowing Sevika to smoke in peace as you cleaned your equipment.

Once you reentered the room, you’d find Sevika casually reclined on your couch with an unlit cigar still hanging out the side of her mouth. As you got closer her eyes locked on to you, roaming you up and down but once they reached your face, they softened. Just two gentle, big eyes admiring from a distance as you admired back. You were snapped out of your trance when she threw a lighter at you. You caught the metal with ease and examined it. “You forgot to light me” She said plainly, attempting to hide the sentiment she held toward the action. It was reminiscent of the first time the two of you met outside a brothel. Long story short, Sevika was quick to describe you as a huge distraction to her mission that day despite your short interaction that even you barely remembered.

“How cruel of me” You knelt down in front of the couch, now back to admiring your partner from below as her half lidded eyes met your wide ones. Her hand, rough as it was, gently held your cheek as her thumb brushed over your bottom lip. You felt yourself melt into her warm palm as the contrast between her calloused hand and your plush skin sent chills down your skin. You sparked the lighter twice before bringing it to the end of Sevika’s cigar.

She watched you. Allowing the flame to illuminate your soft expressions, and in her eyes, manipulating your features. Making you resemble yourself that night many years ago. She wasn’t any less taken by your more aged features if anything she appreciated them. Glad to see you grow older alongside her than having to admire your beauty from an ageless photo. You would notice her unwavering stare once you tossed the lighter aside and decided to make brief conversation. “You know, I don’t remember much of the first time we met” Sevika took a puff of her cigar before nodding urging you to continue. “But I remember without a doubt the second time”

“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t” She chuckled under her breath as the memories came flooding in. You took note of her already flaking cigar as she held it between her two fingers. Quickly, you placed your ceramic tray gently to her stomach just in time to catch the ash. “That guy had a lot of nerve putting his hands on you, you’re lucky I was there. Otherwise, who knows the things he would’ve did—” Sevika cursed at the thought.

“Well, you were there and I am forever grateful for you,” your voice was low as you rub senseless shapes across her wrist with the pad of your thumb. “my angel” the words were hushed as you kissed the base of her palm, then her wrist, down her arm, and back up her shoulder until you reached her nape where you took a moment. In this time, you pushed yourself onto her, feeling her shift to a more seated position to accommodate for you, you straddle her hips as you tossed your arms carelessly over her shoulders. The ceramic tray had fallen out from under you meeting the concrete with a shattering sound as the shards dispersed. “Damn it” You sighed as you began shifting away from your partner only for her to rest a heavy hand on your waist.

“I’ll clean it, later” Sevika gently guided you back into herself only to latch onto your neck. A shaky breath left your agape lips as you laid helplessly above Sevika. The heat in your cheeks only spread as she shamelessly left those sticky love bites all over your neck.

The sounds that fell from your lips only further egged her on as she found herself getting lower and her hand higher as it slid up your stomach. Eventually, you grew fed up with her slow teasing and brought your fingertips to the seams of your shirt and watched as Sevika’s gaze grew harsh with anticipation. You were ready to lift the cloth but quickly felt your blood run cold as three heavy knocked fell against your front door. You practically jumped out your skin as Sevika scowled at the source of the noise. “Fuck, I’ll get it” You held a hand over your heart as your slowly opened the door, meeting the eyes of a man who seemed to be one of Silco’s goons.

“Sevika, boss needs ya” The man completely disregarded you. You huffed under your breath and glanced up noticing how she was already behind you, prying the door further open. “Gotchu, now get the hell out of here before somebody sees you” Sevika’s voice was cold and harsh as she talked with the man, her tone almost foreign to you as you waited behind the door for Sevika to finish. Once she did, the door was shut with a frustrated grunt as she leant up against the door contemplating her next move.

“You need me to kill him?” From behind, you brought both your arms around her, pressing your face against her shoulder, you felt her laugh. “I’m sure you could.” She turned around and pressed a brief kiss to your temple. “Drinks on me next date to make up for this”

“Drinks are always on you” Your thumbs rubbed anxiously against her waist as you become increasingly aware of how much you hated when she left.

“Guess I need to stop fucking up, then” She gave your cheek on last stroke before turning to leave only to be stopped when you grabbed her mech hand. “You’re off to a bad start if you’re just gonna leave like that” You pulled yourself into her chest, standing on your toes as your lips locked with hers. Moving in tandem, Sevika fell against the door as you cupped her face in your palms and grew warm as her hand fell on the small of your back. Toward the end of your kiss you felt that warm, genuine smile of hers form against your lips as you fell back onto your heels.

“Be sure to fly back home to me, my angel”

god punishes me by making my wives fictional :( also have yall read that hexstrap fic??? sevika please just the tip 🙏😩

[mazamba]

(So in the original Star Wars timeline (Legends, not Disney Canon), it's hinted that Earth humans are descended from humans that were exiled from Coruscant. Since we're setting this in the future instead of the past, I had to flip it)

"Please give them my condolences for your fallen soldiers," sighed Optimus, "as for Earth... well, this galaxy and ours have been linked for a long time."

As they prepped Omega for the trip, the Autobots gave them the full story. How humans came from a planet called Earth, and Megatron had been trapped there for fifty years.

They told them how the Decepticons had taken their revenge on Earth for imprisoning their leader, eventually razing it to a cinder, and how they barely managed to send the survivors to a distant location they'd then purged from their systems and memories to make sure the Decepticons could never find them.

"Except they did," sighed Ratchet, showing her a display, "see these? That's the DNA of humans from Earth, and those are the samples Sari gave us. No doubt about it. You're an Earthling."

"I've been living on Coruscant for three hundred thousand years, way before humans arrived," Sari offered, "back then there were two other sentient species there, the Taung and the Zhell, but they went to war around two hundred thousand years ago. No idea how that turned out because I left Coruscant on an early FTL ship, but by the time I came back some twenty-thousand years later, humans had colonized the ruins. I just figured the Taung had been wiped out and that the Zhell had evolved into a human-like species. There are a lot of humanoid species, so it made sense at the time."

An idea suddenly hit her and she started giggling.

"And, this just occurred to me, they had a myth. The humans I met used to say they came from another world that was destroyed by an ancient enemy. They called their home-world Urthha!"

Closed RP w/@mazamba

Ahsoka Tano is seen down in the lower levels, looking for work to continue paying for her place. She was no longer a Jedi, so she needed to find work. In order to pay for her place she was staying, while also getting food to fill her belly. Ahsoka sighed knowing she wasn't going to be able to find a proper job without getting her hands dirty.

"They want me to steal from a known crime lord or to steal from the Jedi Temple to retrieve a lightsaber from one of the fallen Jedi," Ahsoka knew both of these would either get her killed or arrested. She knew the Jedi Temple needed to be warned about this, but didn't understand why this person wanted the lightsaber.

"Well, I'll need to find work somewhere in order to pay for my next rent," said Ahsoka as she stops in her track when she sensed something. "What was that?"

@mazamba

[clarkeybabey]

❝ everybody wants a taste ❞

# summary; sharing is not always caring

# playlist; jealous, nick jonas, gold rush, taylor swift, the boy is mine - remix, ariana grande, brandy, & monica!

# word count; 1.2k

# note; I did not intend for this to be so long originally, whoops. kinda hate this

"And you're positive you don't wanna come along, darlin'," George asks for what seems to be the hundredth time this evening as he pulls his coat on, he's been begging for you to rethink your decision for the last twenty-five minutes, and you aren't budging this time.

Shaking your head, "I can't leave my baby two nights in a row, honey, that's outrageous," you frown, gesturing down to your dog who has cuddled herself up against the blanket that's still warm from the dryer. He groans, tossing his head back in an attempt to gain extra sympathy points, "Plus, all this laundry and love island to catch up on."

He comes trudging back towards you, flopping down on the bed dramatically, "Don't wanna go without you," he pouts and you kiss his jutted-out lower lip, when you pull back he's fighting a smile and losing miserably, "I'll be right here waiting for you to get back, I'll even try an' stay up for you, okay?"

Defeated he sighs, ""Kay, I love you," he kisses you this time, a real one, long and slow. His hand comes up to find the pulse point on your neck as his tongue slides against yours.

You catch on quickly, grabbing his shoulders and giving a light shove, "I love you and you know how much I enjoy your kisses, but go have fun with your friends, my lips'll be here when you get back home."

Standing up from where he had thrown himself just moments ago, mumbling, "Fine, fine, I'll fuck off," he throws a wink and a kiss at you as he walks from your shared room, you hear his keys jangle as he grabs them from the hook, followed by a third goodbye, and the door being pulled shut behind him.

You stay exactly how he left you for a while longer, at least until the washer beeps when you get up to swap the laundry around, you find Poppy sat by the door staring at you with her tail wagging a hundred miles per hour.

The idea of a walk this late without George has you wishing you had let him stay, "Sad world we live in, Pop, wishing I had a man to keep me safe from the bloody dark," you let out a breathy giggle to yourself at your words as you shove one of his hoodies over your head and slide your slippers on.

The door slams heavily behind you as you trudge down the stairs, the cool air nipping at your once-warm cheeks wind rash was the least of your worries as you make your way down the street lamp-lit sidewalk, every sense heightening. When Poppy stops to sniff one you fish your phone out of your pocket, tapping through your friend's Instagram stories.

When you get to Chris' you notice George in the background of a video of him and Arthur. Not just George though, him and a girl, he's leaned against the bar on his elbow, smiling at something shes said. It's friendly, and probably a fan, but why has she been touching his arm for what feels like ages? The video felt like it was nearly three hours long.

Screenshotting, you zoom in on the two, not even noticing the scowl that's situated on your face. You feel a pit in your stomach and it burns a hole straight through you, you're not usually the jealous type, but you're never left home either. Fans know you exist and they've slowed down the whole throwing themselves at him thing quite a bit, George never establishes boundaries, assuming they know where the line is.

Deciding you've seen enough of that, you tap through to the next slide, this time it's the four of them standing together, arms over each other's shoulders: Arthur, Chris, George, then the girl you swear you've never seen in your life. Both posts have been up for just under ten minutes.

That was enough social media for the evening, you internally establish on your walk home, turning your phone off just in time for it to buzz from what you assume is a text that you don't even bother glancing at.

Once you've made it back inside, you no longer feel like doing any more laundry, instead you kick off your shoes, hang your jacket up by the door, snuggle up in the warm duvet, and press play on your show. Before you know it you have watched two hours' worth of Love Island and fallen asleep, you don't even notice when the boys come fumbling back into the flat.

That is until George's cold hands meet your cheek, you push him away mumbling about him fucking off, and turn away from him. He snorts and apologizes with his hands up in surrender he knows you can't see, "Better change your clothes and brush your teeth, no outside clothes on my clean sheets," and he does just that before returning from the ensuite, scooting into bed behind you, pulling you into him.

You do your best not to let him cuddle up to you, letting your jealousy overpower how much you'd missed his presence alone, "Missed you lots, sweetheart, Chippo was asking 'bout you." You hum, not bothering with a verbal reply and he quickly picks up on how abnormally stiff you are against him.

"Something wrong," ignorance is bliss and sometimes your boyfriend is exactly that, but you can't blame him for being so confused this time. In his mind, he wasn't even home to piss you off so he's stuck raking through his mind in search of one thing, anything relatively bad he's done through your whole relationship

You shrug, finally speaking up, "No, jus' saw Chris' story, jealousy's a disease and mine chronic," he can hear the pout in your voice, doing his best to stifle a giggle, and failing as your feel rattle through his chest, "Nothing to be jealous of, darlin', she only knew me from your tiktok," he snorts as his fingers draw shapes on your back beneath your shirt.

And now you feel silly for ever thinking something strange was happening, this was exactly why you hardly ever got jealous, it was always something like that or "She just wanted me to get a picture of her with Arthur."

There was never a time where he made you feel as if you shouldn't be secure in your relationship, but when you're left alone your mind does such stupid things, "Dont feel silly, any time anyone comes up to you, I feel the same way, just bite my tongue, 'cause I don't want you to think I don't trust you."

"And before you say it, I know you trust me, if you didn't we wouldn't have me it this far," he presses a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your nose, and finally your lips. He smiles against your mouth, and when he speaks again his toothpaste-y breath fans over your face, "Now g'night, beautiful, I love you more than you know."

All of a sudden you're a puddle in his arms, "Goodnight, I love you... so much," this time he can hear the smile in your voice at the sound of it he can't fight one of his own.

[sansaorgana]

— FOREVER BOUND

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Maia!Reader

SUMMARY — You and Mairon were created together by Eru and ever since you remained nearly inseparable. He chose to follow Melkor but you stayed loyal to your gods. Even though he was believed to be slain, you meet your soulmate once again many years later in Númenor where you serve the Valar by helping Tar-Míriel with your counsel.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I started writing this fic like two weeks ago but I got distracted in the meantime with different ideas 🤧 (Y/N) is used here as the Reader's "real" name, therefore I gave her human form in Númenor a name and that is Maneth, which apparently means Departed Spirit. The dynamic between Sauron and the Reader is lowkey inspired by that quote from Wuthering Heights – He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. Also, I was very fixated on making the short prologue of this fic sound like it was taken from The Silmarillion but it was a challenge, especially when English is not my first language, so yeah, I have to admit I used "the chat" a bit to help me in the beginning (and only there) 🙈. It didn't write even a single sentence for me, though, it only helped me with reshaping the phrases to sound more like the way I wanted them to be. I have never used AI to help me write my fics, so I feel a bit weird with it but I think the prologue sounds great now, so I decided to keep it this way. However, I wanted to admit to it here because I would feel bad otherwise. Once more – "the chat" did not write even a single sentence for me. I only needed its help with finding better sounding phrases to express what I have already written all by myself and it was only for the short prologue of the story. I didn't put any warnings but I think that – if you squint – it can have a bit of a twincest vibe...? 😳 At least I thought so while writing some scenes but maybe it's just my messed up mind going into such places 🙈 The fic is quite long but I didn't want to divide this one into two parts.

WORD COUNT — 7,930

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

FOREVER BOUND

Together were they fashioned by the thought of Eru Ilúvatar, Mairon and (Y/N), kindred spirits among the Maiar, and thus were their fates entwined. Mairon was drawn to Aulë the Smith, whose lore of crafting and forging he learned with eager mind, while (Y/N) was taken under the care of Varda Elentári, the Queen of Stars, and to her was revealed the mysteries of light and the heavens.

In those days of ancient bliss, when the first flowers were made to bloom, Mairon would gather their blossoms for (Y/N), and together they would abide for hours in fields unmarred by shadow. Often, he would craft jewels of wondrous beauty, offering them to her in token of his affection. Yet his most treasured gift to her was a ring, fair and unmarred, crafted in the purity of his early days, before his spirit turned to darker counsel.

It is said that (Y/N) wore that ring ever upon her hand, and that when Varda revealed to her the art of setting stars in the firmament, she bestowed the first star of her own making with the name «Mairon», that his light might endure forever.

In the later days, when Mairon fell to the shadow and allied himself with Melkor, he sought ever to draw (Y/N) to his side, weaving words of guile and repentance. Many times did he deceive her, and she, moved by their bond, hoped he might yet be redeemed. Yet she held fast to the Valar, and her faith remained unbroken.

Mairon's descent brought sorrow unending to (Y/N), and often she pleaded with the Valar to grant him mercy. Yet Varda would have her no longer as a disciple, for the brightness of her spirit had dimmed, and her heart clung still to one who had been corrupted. Then Nienna, She Who Weeps, took pity upon (Y/N) and took her into her care, teaching her of endurance and grief. And it was Nienna who spoke in favour of Mairon when Melkor, feigning humility, sought pardon from the Valar, for she understood well the love that bound (Y/N) to him.

Yet no reunion came to pass, for Mairon fled from the wrath of the Valar, and he vanished into the shadows of the world, so that some claimed him slain. The star that bore his name faded from the heavens, and it is told that (Y/N) wept until her tears filled a lake in The Southlands, and thus was the dark and bitter Lake Núrnen brought into being, a testament to her sorrow.

You were sent to Númenor to aid the Queen Regent with your counsel. Míriel suspected that you were no ordinary human being but she knew better than to ask too many questions. Very quickly you were promoted in her council, which was visibly making Ar-Pharazôn uneasy and suspicious of you because you had shown up out of nowhere one day, posing to be a noble Lady from Middle-earth… but who truly knew where you were coming from? 

The fate of this beautiful island given to the ancestors of these people was uncertain, though. It was teetering between glory and ruin. You were there to make sure they would choose the right path when the time of difficult decisions would come.

When you heard that one of the captains brought a She-Elf to Númenor that he had found in an open sea, you knew immediately that it was no coincidence. It was surely the very beginning of something new. Something exciting and worrying, too.

The time you had already spent in Númenor was enough for you to fall in love with the island and its people. The Queen Regent was truly your friend and you hoped for nothing else but for this realm’s happiness.

You were standing next to Míriel when Captain Elendil walked two castaways inside the hall. She-Elf you recognised immediately because it was Lady Galadriel. She, however, could not recognise you because of your disguise. At the sight of a dirty, ragged common man walking beside her, you felt an odd shiver going down your spine.

You looked down, nervously, when he looked up to meet your gaze. Your fingers busied themselves with a ring that decorated your finger for long centuries now – it would never leave you, no matter what form you were in.

You could not understand why some random human was making you feel such odd sensations as if the air between you two vibrated and caused disruption inside the room.

“No one kneels in Númenor,” the Queen Regent announced to Lady Galadriel and her new friend when they attempted to do so.

Out of curiosity that you seemed not to be able to stop, you looked up again when the man did the same. Your eyes met and you could barely contain yourself because the soul trapped inside the form you were in was about to explode.

He was no ordinary human being and you wondered if Lady Galadriel knew about it.

Who could it be, though? The Valar would not send any help for you here without warning you beforehand. Even if they would, no other Maia was able to make you feel this extraordinary way. 

No other Maia except for one.

The fingers fidgeting with your ring squeezed it tighter at the memory of Mairon. He had been long gone now and all that seemed to be left of him was that ring. Not even his star shone bright in the night sky anymore.

The only part of Mairon that still remained was not that ring, though. It was you – he would forever live inside of you like you had lived inside of him and like part of you had died the day he had been slain.

“Speak, Elf. Name thyself,” Míriel ordered Lady Galadriel and Galadriel’s eyes found yours. She tilted her head but decided not to comment although now you were certain that she could sense what kind of spirit you were.

“Galadriel of the Noldor,” she introduced herself. “Daughter of the Golden House of Finarfin. Commander of the Northern Armies of High King Gil-Galad.”

The man she came with looked at her with furrowed brows before deciding to introduce himself as well.

“Halbrand,” he said. “Of The Southlands,” he added.

“A man and an Elf, together?” You asked as you approached the Queen Regent.

“Circumstances arose that–” The man named Halbrand began but Galadriel did not allow him to finish.

“We are companions by chance. Met on the open sea. Your captain here, delivered us from certain death,” she looked at Elendil. “All we ask is that Númenor continue his mercy and grant us ship’s passage to Middle-earth.”

The crowd gathered inside the hall began to chatter between each other. It was uncommon to see an Elf in Númenor these days and Galadriel was far from humble. Her demands were not making anyone here happy and you could sense that.

The only man whose aura you could not sense was him again – the filthy commoner.

Míriel exchanged a meaningful look with Ar-Pharazôn before her cousin spoke.

“It’s been generations since a ship of Númenor was permitted to make such a journey on an Elf’s behalf,” he told the Elf, harshly.

You wondered how Galadriel would accept the fact that here, in Númenor, she was not an authority to anyone and her presence was barely intimidating. You knew her heart was of a pure kind but it was no mystery amongst the Valar, the Maiar and the Elves that she also needed to be humbled very often but such occasions were quite rare.

“It is because of the Elves that you were given this island,” she reminded but such words only worsened her situation. “Surely you can spare a few planks and a rudder.”

Míriel looked behind to stare at your face, visibly searching for your counsel. You shook your head slightly to let her know that you did not think following Galadriel’s orders was a good idea. It did not escape Ar-Pharazôn’s eye as he shot you a deadly glance. He hated the influence you had over his cousin.

“Our ancestors were not given anything,” the Queen Regent smiled softly at Galadriel as she walked down the stairs to approach the Elf and her human companion. “They paid for this isle with the blood of their kin.”

“What the Elf means–” Halbrand tried to save the situation.

“Then if blood be the price of passage, I will pay it,” Galadriel interrupted him again and you sighed softly. “But one way or another, I will depart.”

One of your tasks in Númenor was to help rebuild the friendship between the humans of this island and the Elves. Lady Galadriel was definitely not helping you.

“I welcome you to try,” Míriel nodded.

“I have no need of your welcome,” Galadriel continued with her rude remarks and Halbrand looked at her with panic in his eyes before looking back at the guards by the doors.

“And you are quickly wearing out yours,” the Queen Regent warned Galadriel. “Guards,” she called for them.

“My friends!” Halbrand exclaimed, getting everyone’s attention and you despised it.

You despised it because your weak human form struggled once more to contain your trembling spirit. You were scared that you would be this island’s doom yourself any given moment if you suddenly erupted as if you were a volcano. Your fingers began to tremble and you lowered your gaze, pretending to be humble.

“It seems to me that our leaving presents some complications,” Halbrand pointed out. “Perhaps it’d be better if we stayed–”

“Stayed?!” Galadriel barked at him.

“Long enough, good Queen, to give you and your advisors adequate time to weigh our request,” he looked up at you.

You were holding your gaze lowered but you knew somehow that he was staring at you. You could feel his eyes piercing you through because the way he was staring was not of an ordinary kind. He was not glancing at your flesh but at your soul. You felt as if you were naked in front of him and as if there was nobody else inside this palace except for you two.

The ring around your finger seemed to get heavier all of the sudden as it reminded you one more about the only creature in this world who had known you so well and who could have made you feel similar.

“A few days, perhaps?” Halbrand looked back at Míriel and you sighed out of relief once you got free from his burning gaze.

The Queen Regent looked back at you once more and you looked up only slightly to nod at her. Ar-Pharazôn rolled his eyes but he did not disagree – at least not openly.

“Three days,” he ordered. “And the Elf is to be restricted to palace grounds.”

“I will not be made a prisoner!” Galadriel protested.

“I would sooner knee-cap a stallion than seek to imprison the mighty Commander of the Northern Armies,” Ar-Pharazôn answered ironically and the crowd laughed at her. “So, you shall be Númenor’s guest.”

You could feel the tension in the room slowly relaxing and you nodded at the Queen Regent before walking out in a hurry, feeling Halbrand’s eyes on you as you were walking out in a haste with your skirts gathered in your fists, rushing to your chambers to collect your chaotic thoughts.

You had a malicious feeling creeping up deep inside of you – no, not even a feeling. An odd, eerie certainty. And as much as you wished for it to not be true, you also wanted it to be and you felt guilty for experiencing such cursed yearning to see and touch him again. Your Mairon.

When you heard from your maid at the end of the day that the human named Halbrand ended up in jail already for starting a fight, you simply could not stop yourself from paying him a visit. You walked inside the prison area of the palace carefully as you moved quietly throughout the hall with your dress flowing behind you gently.

The man was sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the wall. He was smirking as he watched you with no reaction whatsoever. Once more you noticed that you could not sense his aura or predict his mood like you usually could with most creatures, even the noblest of the Elves.

“You are no human,” you stated as you stood right in front of his cell. Halbrand snorted at that and rolled his eyes. “Who are you?” You asked and he only shook his head.

You grabbed the bars and squeezed them tightly as the silence broke due to your ring clashing with the iron. The sound echoed and Halbrand turned his head around rapidly while he squinted his eyes at your ring.

“Are you him?” You asked, nearly desperately. “Are you my Mairon?”

Halbrand stood up finally and even though he seemed to be more serious now, he still had a playful smirk on his lips. He approached you with his arms crossed and you caught yourself staring at his tan, flexed muscles before you looked up to meet his sparkling eyes once more. Nothing but the iron bars between you two and it was you squeezing them tight although he was the imprisoned one.

“You would look like a crazy maniac if I was not,” he whispered, leaning in. He was so close that you could feel his warm breath on your face.

“You were supposed to be dead…” you whispered and closed your eyes, feeling warm tears streaming down your cheeks. You squeezed your fists even tighter around the bars as your whole soul vibrated throughout your human form.

“I am sorry to disappoint you,” Halbrand answered.

“Your star has faded away, I have cried so many tears, have been outcast by Varda because with you, some of my own light faded away, too,” you revealed in a trembling voice before opening your hazy and wet eyes. He was staring at you without playfulness now. “I know it would be better for this world if you stayed dead but I feel joy to be with you again,” you confessed.

His rough fingertips brushed the ring wrapped around your finger as he smiled sadly.

“This ring remains older than most creatures of this realm,” he pointed out.

“I have never taken it off, Mairon,” you assured him. “Nothing in this world is older than the bond between us.”

“That is quite blasphemous,” he smirked and you shook your head as you had no idea what to say to that. He was right – you should not claim such things, you were no god. But yet, whatever was between you and him – it felt so overwhelming, so overlooming. 

Your souls were entangled, made of the same stardust. You were the same spirit, the same heart, the same blood; only split in two forms and that was enough pain to be apart in that way. Spending centuries without him at all, thinking he was dead… It was like death itself.

But Mairon was back now and alongside him back was the part of you that had died with him.

“Will you tell them about me, (Y/N)?” He asked, quietly.

“I should, should I not? You are up to no good,” you sniffled your tears back and your eyes met his. You let go of the iron bars and extended your hands to cup his scratched cheeks. When you touched, you felt your whole body trembling, barely able to contain your spirit and your power.

“I am up to the greater good. You know that my path is the right one; it is the only path. My only goal is to heal,” he assured you and leaned in to place a soft kiss upon the palm of your hand as you gasped.

“Up to no good then,” you let out a small chuckle through your tears. You knew him enough already to know what it meant.

You wanted to get rid of the iron bars and to kiss him. His form differed from his previous one but it was never about his flesh – it was always about whatever it contained.

You had never really kissed, though. All those centuries you had spent with each other, you had spent it on yearning and gazing at yourselves, stealing soft pecks upon your cheeks or knuckles, giving each other gifts and talking sweet to one another.

Because you knew that the Maiar had not been created to love – not like this, at least. They had not been created to know the pleasures of the flesh or its desires. They had been created to serve the gods.

Perhaps something had gone wrong during the act of your creation. Perhaps it had not – perhaps it was that part of him living inside of you that craved to be close to him at all times just like the part of you living inside of him craved to be close to you.

“Join me, (Y/N), come with me, be my Queen,” Halbrand whispered and you froze, taking your hands away immediately.

“Not even half an hour I was given to enjoy your return for you are trying to deceive me once more,” you remarked, harshly.

He had been known to tease and tempt you countless of times but your soul remained pure no matter what.

“Melkor is no more. I am my own master now but I will never be whole without you by my side,” Halbrand was the one to wrap his hands around the iron bars now as he moved even closer while you took a step back. “Varda outcasted you? I will make sure no one in Middle-earth worships her no more for you will become their Queen of Light.”

“Revenge is not what I seek,” you shook your head. “Please, Mairon, your words are like daggers. I cannot handle them,” you turned your head around as more and more of your tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Refuse me as much as you like, (Y/N). A part of you lives inside of me and that is my lightness. A part of me lives inside of you and it is the part you consider rotten. Be careful, my dear, for the rot likes to spread,” Halbrand warned you although his voice remained sweet.

“I have never considered anything coming from you to be rotten,” you laid your eyes upon him again.

“Can you not see, my sweet? They keep us apart because together we would become so powerful that we could outcast the gods themselves,” Halbrand continued and his whisper caused a shiver to go down your spine. His words were wrong… So wrong. “Together, we could be anything we wanted. We could be forged into one flesh if we wished, forever bound.”

“If you cared so much about us being together, you would let me lure you back into the light instead of trying to tempt me to join you in darkness, Mairon,” you whispered in Quenya.

“It pains me when you keep insisting that my path is the darkness. Your blind obedience to our creators is much darker to me, my love,” he answered.

Perhaps you would go on like that – and knowing you two, you could do that for ages. But you were interrupted by Lady Galadriel, who looked you up and down with curiosity as she entered the prison.

“The most trusted advisor of the Queen Regent,” she greeted you, “but the least trusted one amongst her subjects. You come from Middle-earth, they say. A noble Lady. But I have never heard of you before,” Galadriel pointed out.

“Must Elves know all about human affairs?” You challenged her and she smiled, softly.

“Human? Yes,” Galadriel answered. “There are spirits, however, that remain out of our grasp. They are no gods but nearly like them. Sent to us by the Valar when we need aid,” she squinted her eyes.

“I shall remain out of your grasp then,” you nodded and she nodded back.

“What is going on?” Halbrand whined, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms again. Putting on an act of a common man in front of Galadriel and even though you knew you should scream into her face that he was the very darkness she had sworn to fight and defeat – you chose to stay silent. Perhaps he would redeem himself, perhaps he would realise that he might be given a second chance if only he decided to choose the right path this time.

Perhaps, before outing him to the outside world, you would try to fix his way of perceiving which path was the right one.

And you knew he had been given too many chances already but your heart would never give up on him. You would forever find excuses for him and try to make it right between you two.

“You…” Galadriel approached the iron bars as she smiled softly at Halbrand. “You do not belong on this island.”

“If there’s one of us that doesn’t belong here, Elf, it’s you,” Halbrand shook his head.

“I’m not so sure of that anymore,” Galadriel’s eyes sparkled as she briefly laid them upon you. “But one thing I am now certain. You are more than you claim,” she took a step further. “I found this in the Hall of Lore,” she handed Halbrand a scroll of paper that made you squint your eyes.

He took it, pretending to be unbothered. And when he opened it, you saw a heraldry drawing, suddenly realising he was wearing a pendant with the same mark. What was the game he was playing…?

“That’s funny. I found this on a dead man,” Halbrand winked at you before he looked at Galadriel with a smirk. “Thought the pattern suited me,” he added and sat down on a bench inside his cell.

Galadriel sighed and she glanced at you, as if she was expecting you to help her. You did not move an inch, however.

“Many ages ago, a man bearing that mark united the scattered tribes of the Southlands under one banner,” she told Halbrand. “The very banner that might unite them again today. Against the evil that now seeks to claim their lands. Your lands, Halbrand,” she emphasised and you sucked on the inside of your cheeks after realising what his clever scheme was. “Your people have no King for you are him,” Galadriel kept insisting.

Your Mairon, the great deceiver, knew very well that eagerly agreeing to all of this would not be as powerful as trying to pretend to be uninterested at first. Therefore, he looked away and chuckled.

“That’s an odd thing to say to a man in a cage,” he pointed out. 

“A cage you have landed in because you chafe under the rags of the common,” Galadriel claimed as she looked at you again. “My Lady, you must tell your Queen the truth.”

“No Elf will tell me what I must or I must not do,” you smirked as you shook your head at how arrogant she was. You had to play your role but even as your Maia self, you wanted to humble her. “I doubt one pendant proves this man’s heritage enough.”

“What about his testimony?” Galadriel was not giving up as she looked at Halbrand again. “The armour that ought to rest upon your shoulders weighs upon your soul, Halbrand.”

Long silence occurred, in which you were able to watch the master of deception performing his craft. The way he kept staring at the drawing, his face full of mixed emotions and confusion, guilt. The way he grabbed the pendant with his hands and brushed it gently with his fingertips. Everyone would believe him.

“Be careful, Elf,” he said eventually. “The heir to this mark is heir to more than just nobility,” Halbrand stood up to approach the iron bars. “For it was his ancestor who swore a blood oath to Morgoth,” he reminded her and you were in awe how he used the bits of dark truth about himself to toy with her and test the waters.

And how oblivious she was, how eager to keep following the scenario she had already prepared for this situation to go with in her head.

“I am not the hero you seek,” Halbrand shook his head.

Indeed, he was not.

“For it was my family that lost the war,” he added.

“And it was mine who started it,” Galadriel insisted. “Ours was no chance meeting,” she pointed out and looked at you again. “No fate, nor destiny, nor any other words men use to speak of the forces they lack the conviction to name. Ours was the work of something greater,” she smiled at you and you forced a smile back.

Was she thinking that it was you who caused this meeting? Gods, if she only knew…

“You must see it,” she looked back at Halbrand.

“All I see is an Elf who won’t put down her sword,” he remarked.

“Come with me to Middle-earth,” she leaned in to be closer to him and you felt an odd sting of pain inside of your heart. Was it jealousy that another woman dared to stand so close to your Mairon…? Most likely. “And together we will redeem both our bloodlines.”

“How?” Halbrand asked, looking at her intensely. “You’re stuck on this island and you’re still short an army,” he smirked.

“That is all about to change,” Galadriel smiled and turned around to walk away.

You glanced at the man one last time before hurrying after her.

“Lady Galadriel!” You called out her name once you were outside the prison.

“My Lady,” she turned around to face you and you nearly bumped into her. “I did not expect to encounter an emissary of the Valar in Númenor, I must admit,” she bowed her head slightly. “How should I address you?”

“Here, in Númenor, you must call me Lady Maneth. In Valinor you would know me as (Y/N),” you introduced yourself and Lady Galadriel’s eyes widened slightly.

“(Y/N)...” She breathed out. “You know more than anyone else how important my task is. We must stop the darkness from spreading,” she pleaded.

“No,” you shook your head. “You must stop pushing this man… Halbrand… Into whatever you are trying to push him into,” you scolded her.

“Do the Valar have different plans for him?” Galadriel wondered out loud.

“It is not about him,” you winced, not wanting to discuss Mairon any longer with her. “It is about you, Artanis. You are beginning to become the very darkness you swore once to destroy,” you warned her.

“What do you mean?” Galadriel furrowed her brow as she took a step back.

“It is still cheating when one betrays a cheater. It is still a theft when one steals from a thief. And it is still a murder when one kills a murderer. Because it is not the matter of whether one deserves it or not – it is a matter of the act itself being committed. Too many pure and good souls were lost to us, driven by the desire to do justice,” you lectured her and you could feel her anger and frustration rising, however she would never dare to lash out on an emissary of the gods.

“Pretty words, that is all you can offer, meanwhile people are dying,” she spat out.

“Do you truly care about them, Artanis, or is their suffering your excuse to pick up the sword once more?” You asked but she was walking away angrily already and all you could see was her back, disappearing in the darkness of the corridor ahead of you.

You turned around once more and sighed at the doors leading back to the prison. You decided to leave Halbrand alone for the night but you worried about what would happen next. If he was about to choose the wrong path again, you would have to reveal his true self to everyone and interfere with his scheme.

Hope was all you had as you fidgeted with the ring around your finger.

“The visions are back and worse than ever,” Míriel confessed to you. “I suspect that it all has something to do with the Elf,” she added as she was trying to read your face but you made sure not to reveal anything.

“I knew that people of Númenor despised her kin but I underestimated the delicacy of the situation,” you admitted as you moved closer to the Queen Regent. “This is beyond worrying. The future of Númenor depends on your relationship with others. It is no time to make enemies instead of friends,” you warned.

“It would be an easier task to convince them that the Elves are not our enemies if only Lady Galadriel was not so…” the Queen Regent sighed, looking for the right word.

“Insufferable?” You chuckled and she nodded with a smile. “Elves differ from humans. They are not raised to be humble.”

“You know a lot about their kin,” Míriel pointed out, trying to make you confess who you truly were once more. She would never ask openly but sometimes she was teasing you this way.

“There are quite a few in the lands I come from,” you only answered.

“The lands you come from… Are they not The Southlands?” Míriel raised her eyebrows. “Like that human man?”

You took a deep breath in. If only you had known back then that your backstory would cause problems a few years later… But it was too late to change it because it would be highly suspicious.

“Yes,” you nodded. “But he is a commoner. I was a noble,” you added.

You were interrupted by Captain Elendil leading Lady Galadriel to you. She bowed her head slightly and exchanged a meaningful look with you.

“Lady Galadriel wishes for an audience,” Captain Elendil said and the Queen Regent nodded her head.

You stood still because these days she wanted you by her side always, no matter what. You did not even have to ask if you should leave or not.

“What is it?” Míriel asked when Galadriel stood on the other side of the table, facing you. She laid out two scrolls of paper in front of you – one was the same she had shown to Halbrand on the previous day and the other one was much more worn out and dirty.

“I found this in the Hall of Lore,” Galadriel informed the Queen Regent mysteriously and you allowed Míriel to see the items with her own eyes as you kept standing there with your hands clasped behind your back.

“You vex me, Elf,” Míriel looked up at Galadriel. “I welcome you as a guest and you gallop off to our countryside to steal ancient scrolls whilst your Southlander companion assaults our citizenry.”

“He is understandably quick to temper. His people are dying,” Galadriel explained.

“His people?” The Queen Regent asked, surprised.

“I believe the man you hold in your dungeons is no common brawler, but the lost heir in exile to the throne of The Southlands,” she revealed.

Míriel turned around to look at you and you raised your eyebrows slightly. You were not sure what to say to that. Should you help Mairon or interfere with his schemes? The answer was only easy for your mind but your heart wished to never cause him any trouble.

“Lady Maneth comes from The Southlands. She would know about that,” the Queen Regent informed Galadriel and the Elf looked at you, intensely.

“I cannot be sure,” you only said. “That there was a long gone line of Kings, I have known. That there are still their living descendants, I have not been aware of. That is not impossible, though,” you explained.

“His people are scattered. Leaderless,” Galadriel looked back at Míriel. “But with your backing they might unite behind his banner. And fight.”

How oblivious she was. His banner was nothing she would want to ever see floating in the air. His banner was nothing she would want to ever see people follow.

“What do you mean backing?” Míriel asked, taken aback by Galadriel’s proposal.

“Sauron was once your people’s enemy, as much as mine,” Galadriel reminded her and you moved uncomfortably. “I call on you to finish the task left undone.”

You might have hated this name more than he hated it. It brought you nothing but pain when others would address your Mairon this way – The Abhorred.

“I shall go,” you spoke, interrupting the tension between the two women. Míriel looked at you with a slight panic in her eyes because she did not want to be left alone with Galadriel but you simply could not stand being there anymore, hearing her talk about your Mairon. “I shall question that man, Halbrand. Mayhaps I will find out if he truly is what the Elf claims,” you said and Míriel nodded at you although you could sense she still felt uneasy to be left without your counsel.

You walked past Captain Elendil and went to the prison area of the palace like on the night before. Halbrand was sitting on the bench this time, with his back leaning on the iron bars. At the sound of your footsteps, he did not even flinch nor turned his head around. He did not have to. He knew it was you coming.

“Mairon…” You crouched down in front of his cell and wrapped your fingers around the bars. “Do not follow her, resist her temptation. Stay here with me.”

Halbrand turned around slowly with a playful smile on his lips as he looked down at you. You were not on your knees but it still seemed as if you were begging him.

“Stay here with you? Are you not a grand Lady on this island?” He asked.

“I can be anything I want and so can you,” you reminded him, your whisper was nearly inaudible but you did not need to speak your words out loud at all for him to hear them anyway. “We can live a lifetime here and then change our forms once more, start all over again. Over and over for the whole eternity. Far away from the rest. If I am to ever abandon my life alongside the gods, it will not be for your darkness… But it could be for this. For us.”

Halbrand stood up and the distance between you became even bigger now as he kept looking down at you with a hint of adoration mixed with pure contempt. He had to think you were pathetic and some part of him found it adorable but the other part found it embarrassing.

“It does not have to be Númenor,” you added. “We can go anywhere.”

“Let us go to The Southlands then,” Halbrand smirked. “Be the Queen alongside me.”

“You have made your decision then, I see,” you sighed and leaned in to press your forehead to the iron bars. “Will you ever love me enough to choose me over power?”

Halbrand did not like your choice of words as his eyes darkened. He crouched down as well, slowly, in a nearly threatening way. Now you were on his eye level as he looked intensely at you.

“Will you ever love me enough to choose me over your gods?” He asked.

The sound of footsteps made you stand up quickly and fix your dress. Halbrand also moved up and sat down on the bench. It was all done right in time because the guards walked inside the prison, dragging Lady Galadriel behind them. You watched with widened eyes as she was being thrown inside one of the cells.

“Don’t tell me,” Halbrand chuckled at her. “Tavern brawl?”

“Sedition,” she answered and Halbrand laughed as you gave her a scolding look.

When you joined Míriel again, she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, staring outside the window. She turned her head around to smile at you gently and then she went back to staring ahead of her.

“And?” She asked.

“He asked for my hand,” you informed her with a playful smirk and the Queen Regent turned her head around once more to look at you with wide eyes.

“The audacity…” She sighed.

“Why?” You asked her with a soft smile.

“For a commoner to propose such a thing to a Lady like you… Even if it was only to jest–”

“It was not to jest, “you interrupted her. “If he is what Galadriel claims, then he would be my King,” you pointed out and an odd feeling filled your whole body when you called Mairon your King. A malicious one but also honey-like warm; sweetly spreading throughout your body.

“You are above human Kings, are you not, Lady Maneth?” Míriel raised an eyebrow at you. It was the very first time she asked such a thing so openly.

“I cannot answer that, my friend,” you smiled at her mysteriously, “but if he chooses to follow the path Lady Galadriel pushes him onto, I might have to follow him.”

“And abandon Númenor?” The Queen Regent asked. “Abandon me?”

“I am sorry,” you sighed. “Following him might be a task much more important than watching over this island,” you revealed to her.

Even though you were not given direct orders from the gods, it was obvious that watching over Mairon was more important because keeping his schemes under control would only profit in the end for everyone, including the people of Númenor. Míriel could not be told all the details, therefore she would never understand and she would feel abandoned by you. It was the price you had to pay.

It was an excuse, of course. Choosing to follow Mairon to Middle-earth to make sure he would not go back to his evil ways and that he would use the position Galadriel was giving him to do good instead… It was nothing but a noble excuse to simply explain the fact you wanted to follow him.

It was different now, though. It was not one of those times when he had begged you to come with him, straight to Morgoth. No, this time there was a string of hope that he would truly redeem himself. And of course he would have a bigger chance to do so with you by his side.

“It seems so important… Everything happening in Middle-earth. More important than I suspected. But if even you are willing to leave my side to go back there, it means there are things happening there that are much bigger than me,” Míriel said. “I must rethink Lady Galadriel’s words now then,” she informed you and walked past you to walk away. “Just like you must rethink Halbrand’s proposal.”

“Yes, I must,” you nodded at her and looked outside the window yourself. The sun was slowly setting and the view was beautiful – you wished it would forever be like this; so peaceful and calm with pink and orange hues.

Like back in the day when you had been sitting in the flower fields with Mairon, staring at the skies, your bodies filled with no malice – only pure yearning for one another.

The orange skies of the evening sky always reminded you of his ginger hair from back then and how you would brush it with your fingers, staring in awe at how the sunlight seemed to sparkle upon it.

You were standing by the guards’ side as you watched them open Halbrand’s cell. They nodded at him and he nodded back. The guards left you with him alone and an awkward silence occurred between you two.

“There, you have it your way,” you finally said, quietly.

“You must have missed me terribly,” he crossed his arms and chuckled but you did not want to laugh.

Your eyes filled with tears immediately at the mention of all those centuries you had spent thinking he was gone forever. You lifted your wet, glistening eyes to lay them on his and he clenched his jaw as he moved slightly while all playfulness left his expression.

“Do you know why I could not be killed?” Halbrand approached you to cup your chin and you shook your head. “Because of the part of me still living inside of you. As long as you are alive, I cannot be slain,” he explained. “However, the part of you that lives within me had to suffer for all those centuries alongside me and there is not a day passing when I do not regret causing you such pain.”

“Oh, Mairon…” You gasped and threw your arms around his neck to pull him closer and hug him.

However, he had something else on his mind. He blinked slowly a few times and cupped your cheeks now with his rough hands as he leaned in to join your lips together.

For the first time in your immortal life, you finally found out how sweet his lips were. And gods, how good they felt… How right. Your souls intertwined at that moment, every missing piece finding its place as if you were forged into one body.

“Before we were created, we had been a piece of stardust in the abyss and we had been one flesh then, of that I am sure,” Mairon whispered after breaking the kiss. “I should have kissed you much earlier, my love, for I have never felt so whole before.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I am glad you are kissing me only now,” you added and he raised an eyebrow at you. “For if you had kissed me like that back in the day, I would have followed you into corruption straight away. I would have worn black armour forged out of iron and I would have become Morgoth’s most zealous Lieutenant by your side – only to feel your lips on mine again,” you confessed.

Just when you finished voicing out your blasphemous feelings, Halbrand’s lips kissed you once more. This time he lowered his hands to intertwine your fingers with his. You felt him smirking when he felt the ring on your finger brushing his skin.

“Let us get married. Straight away,” he breathed out. “You are wearing my ring already. You have worn it for all eternity.”

“It would be only fair if you wore something from me as well. Something to mark you as my own like I am yours,” you pointed out.

“What would it be, my sweet?” Mairon caressed your cheek and you smirked at him a little before you reached out to the back of your neck.

You had prepared your gift for him this very morning when you already knew he would be released. There was a pendant around your neck, hidden under your dress. You took it off now and handed it to him as he slightly moved away at the sight of it.

It was a beautiful pendant surely although you made sure it would not look too feminine, so he would wear it at all times. However, what it contained inside was what truly intimidated him – it was a small portion of your light that you had sacrificed to lock in there. Wearing it could save his soul, of that you were sure. But in his eyes it surely was a form of imprisonment.

“Have you not sacrificed enough of your light for me already?” Mairon asked.

“Never enough. I shall sacrifice as much of it as I can to save you, my love,” you insisted and pushed the necklace into his open hand as you closed it around the pendant.

Mairon forced a smile as he swallowed thickly and opened his hand again to stare at the necklace before slowly putting it around his neck and hiding it under his tunic.

“Thank you,” he whispered in Quenya and you smiled back at him, encouragingly.

It had been ages since you last wore armour. Lately, the Valar had been using you more as a politician than a warrior but you still remembered the wars you had taken part of. Back then you had been on the opposite side of the field from Mairon but now you were by his side, riding your horse next to his as people of Númenor were throwing flowers at you. 

You took a deep breath in when it was time for you to jump off of your mare. What you were about to do would be equal to making a final decision about your fate – leaving Númenor meant forsaking the task that had been given to you by the Valar. However, you wanted to believe that they would value your new task even more; the one you had given to yourself. To watch over Mairon and make sure no one would know him as Sauron ever again.

He helped you to get on the ship and when you held his hand tight and he grinned at you, your heart filled with love and warmth. There was, however, a hint of worry because you knew what a skilled deceiver he could be. 

To become the King and Queen of The Southlands and to erase the darkness from that long-forsaken land was your shared goal now. Or so he had been promising you. To unite the tribes of that realm and to make sure they had a bright future. And once your mortal forms would become old enough, you would abandon or transform them to start a new life somewhere else. To heal more and more lands, more kins. 

You wanted to believe the healing would be done in the right and proper way this time because now he had you by his side.

Your new husband and an old companion smirked at you and squeezed your cheek playfully before turning around to join Captain Elendil to speak to him as the ships sailed out of the harbour. Lady Galadriel stood next to you instead and she glanced at you from the corner of her eye.

“I know it is not my right to ask about the ways of the Valar and the Maiar but why would a spirit like you marry a human and abandon the task originally given to her?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“The road goes ever winding,” you answered her. “Not even the Valar or the Maiar can see all its paths.”

“Your devotion to this cause makes me believe I was right to fight so eagerly for this to happen,” she said and you smiled to yourself. She was so desperate.

“You are right, Artanis. It is not your right to know about the ways of my kind,” you patted her shoulder and gave her a faint smile as she nodded, staring into the horizon.

You looked there, too, but your mind was absent. You were scared and unsure – some part of you nearly wanted to be as blind as Lady Galadriel because she seemed to be so certain and fearless.

You turned around and realised that he was looking at you already. And at that moment, he looked like the Maia he had been created as – so pure with that wide smile and the sun shining behind him, creating a halo around his form. He looked handsome as ever in Númenorian armour, so different from the one he had been wearing as Morgoth’s Lieutenant. 

You gave him a wide smile back, so full of love and devotion. Perhaps his star would begin to shine in the night sky once more.

MASTERLIST

[matchalovertrait]

Happy 1 year!

What started off as cutesy wholesome gameplay quickly turned into a heartfelt and fulfilling creative outlet for me—seriously! If one year ago you told me all the things that would happen, I would not believe you! I did not think I had any of this in me. We've seen the story of an immigrant, the struggles of the working class, the importance of family and community, forgiveness (when deserved), Diced Junior, love and heartbreak, enemies to lovers, betrayals, self-introspection, and the intense climb to stardom. Now we are awaiting the continuation of Alegría VS Caruso and Operation Fox. I thought I was going to speed through this challenge fairly quickly. Maybe we would have been on Generation 4 by now, but exploring these characters and their stories brings me a lot of joy (no pun intended). I'll just be playing, writing, or daydreaming and more ideas will start flowing out of nowhere. So, I'm aware this legacy is quite long and doesn't flow well at times, but I am incredibly grateful to all of you who decided to join me on this journey. You guys are amazing with all the support, advice, laughs, and inspiration you give. Thank you 💖

I also want to point out that I've been on break for almost a month (I will return soon!), and it astounds me that some of you still think about it. Some of you even keep the Alegria Legacy alive by referencing it in your own stories! That makes me so happy. Thank you again 💕

[silentscrying]

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track two: kowalski, status report

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, alcohol, mentions of drugs/drug dealing, toge bullying, unbearably cute dogs. || sfw. 9k words.

"I SHOULDN'T CUSS in this, right?"

It’s the day before the other four artists premiere their sets at Battle of the Bands, and you haven’t been home since six in the morning. You’re running on caffeine and spite and the pursuit of the story, parked on a high stool across the bar from the one and only Ieiri Shoko.

Toge leans on the counter beside you, opting to stand. He’s agreed to pay for the next snack run in return for you letting him be your partner. You both know you’re going to end up doing most of the writing, but you don’t really mind. Toge would if you asked him to, but you love this kind of thing in a way he just doesn’t. Plus, he’s better with a camera than you, and he’s taking photos tomorrow night.

You laugh, pulling out your phone to record. “You can say whatever you want as long as it’s honest. Be candid.”

“You might regret saying that!” Gojo calls from the back, and Shoko silences him with a glare.

“Are you coming or not?”

Gojo grins and finishes up whatever he’s putting away in the storage room, then strides out and leans his elbows on the counter.

“Do you mind if I record?” You point to the open voice memo app. “Makes it easier to quote you correctly.” You also just hate running interviews when you’re scribbling hand-written notes the whole time. You’d much rather have a genuine conversation and worry about the details later.

Shoko waves a hand airily. “No problem.”

“Absolutely,” Gojo says. “You can probably sell that for thousands.”

You set the phone on the counter, next to one of the tiny pumpkins scattered across it in celebration of the beginning of October. You and Toge bounce back and forth as you run through the standard start-of-interview checklist, having them spell out their names, getting their ages, hometowns, degrees, all that jazz. And then you launch into the stuff you really care about.

“So, you opened The Fix about ten years ago now, correct?”

Shoko nods. “Yeah, a little over two years after we graduated.”

You look at Gojo, whose eyes are even more alarmingly blue in the daylight. “And you were hired right away?”

“Utahime first, then me,” he nods. “Best for last, y’know.”

Shoko snorts. “We knew each other in school. I just took pity on him.” She smirks as Gojo’s jaw drops. “You can quote that.”

“Right, so all of you were friends in college. And you came together to start this place—what was the idea behind it?” Toge chimes in. “You said you studied nursing, Shoko?”

And you sit and listen as Shoko explains. Back in college, she was at the top of her class. By graduation, she’d been accepted to basically all the best med schools. She had her pick. She could do whatever she wanted. But she realized that what she wanted wasn’t that at all.

The medical field is brutal, she tells you. It’s all late nights and emotional burnout. People yelling at you, misplaced anger when you give them the bad news. Getting attached to people only to watch them waste away.

“I needed to get out before I got too far in. Maybe it was selfish,” she admits. “But I wasn’t cut out for it. I have so much admiration for medical professionals, but I couldn’t be one of them. A few clinicals and I was already feeling the consequences of giving too much of myself and getting nothing back.” She shrugs. “So I named it The Fix, as some kind of homage to the medical background. And I figured I’d just make sure it’s safe.”

Something sits heavy in her gaze as she stares at something behind you, middle distance, like she’s remembering.

“Why a college bar?” you ask, nudging the phone across the counter to pick up her voice better. “I mean, the extra security, thinking about underage drinking, dealing with a bunch of broke university kids. You could’ve just as easily opened a different bar in a more lucrative area. What was the appeal?”

She smiles crookedly. “Appeal. Well. My senior year, I was working in the local ER. And I saw… god. So many kids came in there needing their stomachs pumped, or kids who’d done laced drugs, gotten roofied, harassed, it was… I mean, it was a city university club scene. They weren’t safe. And I just felt like I needed to give them that. I couldn’t stay there as a nurse or a doctor. But I could do this.” She shrugs. “Sorry. That was probably way too much.”

“No,” you say quickly, smiling at her. “That was—that’s what we came here for. Shoko, that’s amazing. And it’s not selfish, taking care of yourself. You’re still here taking care of others.”

You don’t know Gojo well. Most of your stories about him come secondhand from Nobara, who knows him through Megumi. She paints the picture of a flamboyant, obnoxious bartender who’s more like a weird uncle to her than anything. From what you’ve seen of him at The Fix, you know this to be mostly accurate—he’s rarely serious, always taking flack from the students and giving it right back, ragging on Utahime, begging Shoko to play his playlist instead of Geto’s and knowing she’ll never cave. But now, as he listens intently to Shoko, you think you’re seeing another side of him.

There’s something troubled on his face as she speaks, like he wishes he could reach into the past and help. Like he regrets it.

The bar’s not the only thing that has a different side in the daylight.

“She’s right,” Gojo tells Shoko. It’s not much, but she looks up at him a bit surprised, something in her expression softening. A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, not quite there but not quite not. “You’ve got a pretty big heart under all that RBF.” Shoko rolls her eyes, the moment over.

“What about you?” You turn to Gojo, nudging the phone his way. “Why a college bar?”

Shoko turns toward him, leaning a hip against the bar, just as curious as you are. “I think kids deserve to be kids,” he shrugs. “And if I—if we—can create a space where it’s actually safe for them to do that, it feels important.” His gaze shifts from you and Toge to the empty bar, the stage and floor and high-top tables that tomorrow will be full of music and laughter and students knowing they’re allowed to let loose here.

“There aren’t a lot of places out there that are exclusively for students,” he continues. “It’s this weird phase, college, where you’re figuring out who you are, trying to take risks without losing too much. It’s a lot. And you look at the crime rates, date rape drugs, theft, DUIs, in the city, and it’s just—this place gives them the room to learn and grow and mess around and have a good time without the danger of the… I don’t know. The outside world. Does that make sense?”

He drums his fingers on the countertop, then seems to abruptly remember the recording and stops. “I think it’s just… well, no one’s allowed to take youth away from young people. So that’s why I’m here.”

You wonder what Gojo was like in school. He majored in gender studies, which you’re pretty sure is what Todo is at least minoring in, too—you’re not sure how it’s applicable to anything, but Nobara says he likes to pull his diploma out from behind the bar and say he’s an expert in women. It seems a far cry from this rare, more subdued version of Gojo you’re seeing right now. You’d guess he’s grown quite a bit in the time he’s been here. And Shoko’s been here to witness it.

He’s not a business owner, like Shoko or Geto. And according to Nobara, he definitely doesn’t need this gig to make a living. He’s here because he wants to be.

“These last few years have been nice, in particular,” he offers. “Just ‘cause some of us have kids going here. I mean, you know the Fushiguros. Suguru’s got the twins. And I know Ino’s not Nanami’s kid, but they’re tight.”

“Wait, what?” Nanami is the bar’s primary security guy, a bouncer who never lets a fake ID fool him. He’s part of the reason this place is so safe. Toge spins to look at you as you blurt out the question, caught off guard. “Uh, sorry. I just didn’t—I didn’t know they knew each other.”

Shoko studies you with tired, intelligent eyes, and you can’t help but feel the tables have been entirely flipped. You’re the one being interrogated, wordlessly, by the woman across the counter. You feel like every thought in your head is scrawled across your face for her to read.

“Yeah,” Gojo says, unaffected. “Ino looks up to him a lot, I think. Even though he’s an old man who reads the newspaper for fun.” He snorts. “He’s a good guy, though. And Ino’s a good kid.” He finally clocks the way Shoko’s looking at you and cocks his head, appraising.

Thankfully, Toge cuts in with another question. “So, we’ll be around tomorrow for the bands and to take some photos and observe,” he explains, glancing at you to make sure he’s got the information right. “Will Geto be around?” You’d wanted both owners’ perspectives, and now that Gojo’s reminded you of the twins, you’re even more curious.

“Yeah, Suguru and Utahime will be here tomorrow night,” Shoko says. “And Nanami. Geto would totally be down to talk to you some other time, too, when it’s a bit quieter.”

“Amazing,” you say, pulling the phone back toward you. You’ll need details, follow-ups, but you need to process this first, write some things down while they’re fresh in your mind. ‘Thank you so much for this. We appreciate it.”

“Anytime, kid,” Shoko says, waving you off. “See you tomorrow.”

As you turn off the recording, Gojo and Toge have already devolved into conversation about the bands and predictions about tomorrow night. A few posters are scattered across a low table near the door, and you pick one up, smiling at the blocky lettering advertising Black Flash. There are posters advertising all of the artists, and they look amazing, straight out of one of the alt rock venues in the wider city.

“They’re sick, right?” Gojo calls, nodding to the posters. “I gotta hang those up, actually. Thanks for the reminder.”

You wave goodbye to Shoko and Gojo and lead the way out, Toge just behind you.

“Man,” he says, and you brace yourself, recognizing his teasing tone for what it is. “They said Ino’s name and you look like scared Bambi or some shit.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, elbowing him.

He holds his hands up. “I’m just living in pursuit of the truth! Like Kusakabe would want.”

“Is your camera battery charged for tomorrow?” you say in a blatant attempt at a topic change.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Toge Inumaki, chronically irresponsible student and—”

“Okay, sorry I asked, holy shit.” He sticks his tongue out at you. Then he hesitates, frowning, and then he’s pulling out his phone and calling someone in his favorites list before you can see who it is. “Hey,” he greets. “What? No, she didn’t kick me out. Hey. Hey.” You snicker and Toge glares at you, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Yutaaa,” he whines. “Do you know where my camera battery is?”

—

Even when you’re not the one on stage, you live for Fridays at The Fix. Tonight you’re doing double duty—because of the dual elimination at the end of the round, all of the competing artists are here. It’s not a requirement, but you want to see what you’re up against, and the sentiment seems to have carried. You and Toge are also in reporting mode for your project story.

The band on stage right now is… well, you can’t say new wave metal is really your thing, but it’s definitely theirs, and the audience is loving it. The Cull, you write in your notes. Look up names.

You couldn’t make out the lyrics if your life depended on it. It’s three guys and a girl, vaguely familiar, but you’re fairly certain they’re seniors and absolutely certain they’re baked right now.

“God, this is loud.” Yuta winces, turning to face you, and then his eyes flicker to something over your shoulder. You divert your attention from the stage and just catch the brief commotion in your periphery. Nanami has a kid by the elbow, and he’s escorting him out the side door, expressionless. The kid’s obviously drunk out of his mind, tripping over himself, shouting something that Nanami doesn’t bother to respond to.

Maki follows your gaze and wrinkles her nose up in distaste.

“Who’s that?”

“My cousin,” she says flatly. You glance quizzically at Megumi, who is definitely standing five feet away and not being escorted out of the bar.

“Dude, how much family do you have at this school?”

She sighs. “Just Mai and Megumi and him. Naoya. He’s a piece of shit.”

“Clearly,” Toge says. “He broke the M theme. No respect for the family alliteration.” Maki kicks him in the shin.

“One last round for The Cull!” Panda calls from the stage, and your ears slowly, very gradually stop ringing with the raging new wave music. The stage techs get to work behind Panda as he introduces the next group.

“Up next, making their debut, we’ve got a sophomore girl pop trio. Give it up for MOTION CAPTURE!”

There’s a big cheer from the bar, and you turn to see Geto grinning. Three girls take the stage, the blonde one grabbing the mic and adding, “All caps!” The girl beside her is very obviously her twin sister, though her hair is straight and dark while the blonde’s is tugged into pigtails. Light and dark. The girl on keys has a long, black bubble braid that she pushes out of the way as she settles in to play.

The blonde plugs in her electric and calls out, “Alright, I’m Nanako.” She tests out a chord, the sound reverberating, filling the bar all the way up to its high ceilings. “That’s Mimiko, that’s Remi, and we’re just here to have a good time.”

“Hey,” a voice says behind you, and you jump. You turn to find Takuma holding two drinks, offering one to you.

“Oh! Aw, thanks, you didn’t have to do that. How much do I owe you?”

He rolls his eyes. “Nothing.”

“Takuma—”

“Nothing,” he reiterates. “Anyway, The Cull. Thoughts?”

You take the drink and try it while you think on your answer—it’s the same thing Nobara got you last week. How did he know?

“I didn’t really understand any of the lyrics,” you admit, shrugging. “They weren’t bad. Not really my genre. Do you know them?”

Takuma shakes his head. “I had a gen ed once with that Rin kid, but I don’t know the other ones. These girls aren’t bad, though.” He’s right—they’ve launched into an Olivia Rodrigo cover that’s actually decent. They could work on their voice control, but they’re young and fun and having a good time and working the crowd, and that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

You sing along, alternating between your drink and exchanging quips with Toge and talking with Takuma. You like this new balance between your band and his, the easy camaraderie.

When the girls wrap up their set, you whoop and cheer and Kirara shamelessly watches Hakari move things off the stage, arms bare in his cut-off tank.

“You’re subtle,” Takuma tells her, and she tugs his beanie down over his face.

“Hey!”

You grab his drink before he can spill it and grin as he yanks his hat off and readjusts it. His hair is a fluffy mess underneath, and it’s kind of endearing.

When the girl pop trio is done, two guys take the stage, one in white and one in black. They’re clearly related, dark hair and pale skin and piercing eyes, and Panda introduces them as the Kamos. You don’t know if they’re brothers or cousins or what. But they’re good—they sing a few alt rock covers, play guitar.

“Damn,” Nobara sighs, a little longingly, her gaze settling on Choso as he takes over the chorus. “They’re…”

Beside her, Yuji wrinkles his nose. “Dude. That’s my half-brother.”

Nobara hums noncommittally. “And?”

He groans, tipping his head back and staring at the exposed beams of the ceiling, run through with colored lights. “Why does this always happen?”

Toge is taking more photos of them than is strictly necessary, considering your story is about the bar and not the band, but you let him have this. Scattered throughout the crowd are more kids with cameras, freshmen from the entry-level reporting classes with big underage stamps on the backs of their hands. Somebody mistook Toge for one of them earlier, and Maki hasn’t let it go all night.

You jot down atmospheric notes on your phone, little things that’ll help set the scene for your project lede, keeping an eye on the bar as much as you can. Geto has jumped in at the bar, which he usually does when the place gets busy, and Gojo is terrorizing Utahime again.

“How’d your interview go?” Takuma asks, nodding at your notes. It shouldn’t faze you so much that he remembers what you told him about your story, but you can’t help the little kick of your heart in your chest at the reminder.

“Good! Really good.” And then you catch sight of Nanami, back at the door after calling a cab for Maki’s asshat cousin. “Actually, Gojo mentioned you.”

Takuma’s brows shoot up. “Gojo? Why?”

Nanami has always seemed incredibly reserved, stony and silent in a way Takuma has never been. You don’t want to pry, but you’re also curious about the relationship between them, how they met, what they are to each other. The journalist in you wants to know.

And then there’s the part of you that just wants to know Takuma.

“Well, he was talking about the twins and the Fushiguros, and he kind of mentioned something about you knowing Nanami?” You try to sound casual, jerking your chin toward the door where Nanami is posted, like a tall, blond guard dog.

“Oh,” he says, surprised, but he shrugs, not seeming too alarmed by the question. “Yeah, I’ve known Nanami for… a long time. He’s kind of a mentor. He’s the reason I met Fushiguro in the first place, actually, ‘cause of him knowing Gojo.”

You’re considering asking how exactly they did meet when the Kamos wrap up, Nobara staring up at them dreamily, and the stage clears out for the final artist.

Whatever questions you had are thrown out the window, because you know who this is. Everyone knows who this is.

Fifth-year student and resident SoundCloud rapper, Ryomen Sukuna. Or D!SH0NORED1, according to the posters.

“Oh, here we go,” Megumi groans.

Despite his reputation on campus, you don’t know anyone who’s actually close to Sukuna, except Uruame. You mostly know that he deals at the skate park and that he’s clean about it.

And that his raps are truly, genuinely horrible.

He lets Panda give a stilted introduction and launches into a verse, mic too close to his mouth, making hand gestures or stepping to the beat of his backing track. His tattoos are even more stark and bold under the stage lights.

“My blood type’s B, your type is me, my zodiac Caprisun, it might be controversial but you’re still lookin’ at me, son!”

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Kirara mutters. “I’m gonna bleach my eardrums.”

“Caprisun?” Nobara whispers. “Oh, dude.”

You might be a terrible person for thinking it, but watching this guy’s performance makes you feel infinitely better about your odds of advancing in the tournament.

His final song is a new one he introduces as Frosted Flexin’, and Maki looks like she’s about ready to keel over dead.

“Frosted flexin’, I'm the cereal king, pourin' oat milk in the mix, yeah, I'm doin' my thing,” Sukuna spits in his low voice, swaggering up to the front of the stage. You are trying so hard not to lose it.

“Sukuna being an oat milk truther wasn’t on my bingo card,” Toge says.

“Got the swag of a squirrel and the brain of a dove, call me trash, but you're still showin' me love.”

“Thoughts on the amount of swag a given squirrel possesses?” you ask Takuma. He laughs, loud and bright, and then seems to very seriously consider the question.

“I don’t know if campus squirrels have swag. They live in luxury. They probably eat better than we do,” he says. You can’t argue that—you did once see a squirrel outside your sociology class run by with a full bagel in its mouth. “The wilderness squirrels, though, I think they got a scrappy kind of swag. Like, I wouldn’t cross them.”

You nod sagely. “I want them on my team in the apocalypse.”

He nudges you with a shoulder. “Am I on your team?”

You glance at him, make a show of looking him up and down. Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think he’s blushing a little. “I don’t know. How fast can you climb a tree?”

Sukuna is nearing the end of his song, now, saying, “Off-tune, out of sync, yeah, I know it's a sin, but you'll play it back twice 'cause I still might win.”

He actually, physically drops the mic and Hakari swoops in and catches it, clearing his throat and saying into it, “Yep, friendly reminder that equipment’s expensive! Everyone give our last artist of the night a hand, yeah?”

There’s scattered applause and more than a few confused faces as Sukuna lopes off stage, and Panda hops back up to explain the voting system for anyone who wasn’t here last week. “QR codes to the Google form are posted around the bar,” he says.

Out of all eight artists, the bottom two will be eliminated. You’re nervous. But voting was open last week too. You can’t vote as a member of the band, and it’s all done through school Google accounts to avoid double votes or the link getting sent out to non-students.

“Open until tomorrow morning,” Panda reminds the audience. “Results and second round schedules will be posted on the Instagram at some point tomorrow! That’s it for this Friday at The Fix. Have a great night, folks. Get home safe.”

Gojo whoops dramatically from the bar, and Panda gives him a weird look before getting off stage.

Your friends start heading toward the door, and you grab Toge and excuse yourself to catch Geto at the bar. Gojo sees you first. “The newsies!” he calls.

“Like the musical?” you say in lieu of a greeting. “Banger soundtrack.”

“I could dance on newspapers,” Toge says.

“Geto!” The Fix’s other owner smiles at you, soft and genuine. Part of his dark hair is pulled back and the rest hangs loose over his shoulders, a stark contrast to Gojo—like the Kamos, you think, or like Nanako and Mimiko. Light and dark. “We were wondering if you’d be down to set up a time to talk. Has Gojo told you about our story at all?”

Geto smiles, drying a glass and leaning against the bar. “He told me he’s gonna be the front page of every paper in the city, which I assume is a horrid exaggeration,” he says. Gojo looks affronted. “Shoko mentioned you’re doing a feature for class, though. I’d be happy to.”

“We have our Monday night class time open for field reporting the week after this one,” Toge offers. “Will you be around?”

“I will indeed. Utahime, too, if you want to speak to both of us. And Gojo won’t be here, which might be beneficial for you.”

“Suguru,” Gojo gasps, pretending to stagger back. “You wound me.”

“Mhm,” he says, unaffected. “What time works best for you two?”

You set up a time to interview Geto and Utahime, then say goodbye to him and Gojo and run to catch up to your friends. It’s a nice night, and since you didn’t have to deal with instruments, you all decided to walk.

“How goes the… journalisming? Journaling?” Takuma asks when you fall into step beside him.

“Good, all good. Reporting is maybe a better word, but valiant effort.”

“I like journalisming. Can you just submit words to the official dictionary? I’m gonna do it.”

“No,” Toge says, and you blink. He shrugs. “What? I tried once. But the only submission form I could find was for the Bureau of Linguistical Reality and it wasn’t like, a legitimate dictionary form. There’s all these requirements, it’s horrible.”

“What word did you try to submit?” you ask warily, not sure if you actually want to know.

“Some things,” Toge says solemnly, “are better kept secret.”

The night is hazy, only small rays of moonlight piercing through the cloud cover, and you make your way through the campus roads guided only by the streetlamps and Maki’s reliable sense of direction.

Part of you wants to ask Takuma to come over, or Yuji to insist the band come over to his place again, just so you can keep talking. But you have work to do, things to write and transcribe, lists of follow-up questions to make, and that’s only your workload for this one class. You still have exams this week, and you need to study now so you can balance it with rehearsals. Assuming you actually advanced to round two, that is.

And part of you worries you might be taking this too fast, too. You don’t typically integrate people into your life so quickly. You like spending time with Takuma and Kirara and Yuji and even Megumi, though he’s pretty quiet. You just don’t want to jump in too far too fast.

At your place, you say your goodbyes and head up to your room to get some work done. Toge uploads his photos and puts them in your project folder on Drive. And you spend the night doing what you do best, aside from drumming—writing.

Youth for the young: JU alumni run safest live music bar in city limits

You don’t even notice the time until it’s past one in the morning, and you’re nearly asleep at your desk. The dark has crept across your room, the only source of light the desk lamp and your laptop screen. Finally, you push the computer shut and flick off the light, flopping into your bed. A few missed messages pop up when you hold your phone up, wincing at the bright screen.

takuma: just letting you know i made the treacherous journey home safely takuma: many miles of hardship takuma: thought i was gonna die halfway there

You smirk and type out a reply.

you: did kirara have to save you takuma: i resent that takuma: (yes) takuma: wait why are you up it’s so late you: journalisming you: why are YOU up takuma: travel adrenaline takuma: (coding project due monday that i just started) you: TAKUMA

The next text to come through is a voice note, and you can’t help smiling as you hit play and his voice fills the open air of your bedroom.

“Okay, in my defense, I thought it was due next Monday. Which maybe isn’t my defense because it means I just can’t read due dates, or maybe I just can’t read, but I thought I had a lot more time and then one of my classmates texted me asking for help on this block of code and I told him I hadn’t started and he was like oh my god, Ino, it’s due in three days, and I was like no it’s not, we have so much time—turns out we don’t have so much time, so I’m over here staring at my screen until the vessels in my eyes pop—”

He yawns, and it makes you yawn too, despite the screen separating you. “Sorry, agh. Anyway, I have to write this program that uses some kind of randomized generator…”

You find your eyelids fighting gravity, exhaustion washing over you as he explains the project and all the reasons he’s not that worried about getting it done by Monday because actually he’s on a roll and it turns out the code isn’t that different from a similar project he did last year so he can just lift the main blocks over and wow, he’s tired, and you stifle a laugh as the voice memo comes to an end and he says, “Okay, gosh, I should go to bed. You should go to bed. Stop journalisming, Skip, get some sleep. G’night.”

You grin, plugging your phone in and sending him a voice memo of your own.

“I’m done journalisming. Still haven’t written that story on you, though. Night, Takuma.”

The last thing you see before you fall asleep is his reaction to your text. It’s a thumbs up, but after a few seconds, it disappears, replaced with a heart.

—

“I’m gonna die,” Nobara groans.

You’ve been checking Instagram every hour on the hour for the bracket results, but to no avail. The five of you are sprawled out in the living room, a Fleetwood Mac record spinning in the corner, cups of coffee and tea and scattered remnants of breakfast dotting the table and the floor and the windowsill.

You have post notifications on for the Battle of the Bands Instagram page, but you check anyway, as if you somehow missed it.

“Okay,” Maki says. “Cut it out. No phones.”

“Maki,” Toge groans. “How do we live with the suspense?”

“Go around and give a rundown of your week?” Yuta suggests.

“Aw, highs and lows, it’s like elementary school,” Nobara says happily. “I’ll go first! High: annoying slacker guy in my marketing class got a shit grade on the group project and the rest of us got As. Low: Skipper won’t give me Ino lore.”

“Lore,” you mimic. “I don’t have any lore. We’ve known each other for like, two weeks.”

“That’s enough time for lore,” she insists. “What’s your high? Ino?”

“Okay, jeez,” you say. “Maybe it’s that Toge and I had a really good first interview for our project story.”

Toge blinks at you.

“Fine, maybe it’s Takuma.”

Nobara grins in a way you can only describe as malicious. “Okay,” you say, pointing at her. “Low: whatever that is.” She sticks her tongue out at you.

“My low is Skipper bullying me in class,” Toge says. “And my high is she said she’d be my partner, so I’m not gonna fail.”

Yuta nods sagely. “Maki?”

“Uhh,” she says eloquently. “My parents won’t stop pestering me about fall break. But I aced a test on Thursday in anthro, so there’s that.”

“You’re not going home, right?” you ask. She shakes her head resolutely. Maki doesn’t go home unless she absolutely has to—one thing she and Mai actually have in common.

All of your phones go off at once, a mix of buzzes and beeps and Apple watchfaces lighting up, and Nobara screams. “I can’t look!” she cries. “Someone tell me!”

You click on the notification and pull up the post, heart racing.

The first slide is a generic Battle of the Bands announcement with the cool ass graphics you’ve been seeing on the posters. Whoever designs those needs a raise. The second image is the bracket for next Friday, with the first knockout round of three—only one group will move on to the finals. “Who is it?” Nobara asks anxiously, pacing the room. “Oh god, I’m gonna die.”

“Shibuya Incident,” you read off, unable to keep the smile from your face. “Angel.” Nobara groans overdramatically. “And the Kamos.”

You swipe to the next screen, heart in your throat. OCTOBER 18, it reads. THE CULL. CURSED TECHNIQUE. BLACK FLASH.

“Oh my god!” you scream. “Oh my god, we made it!”

Toge yanks you to your feet and starts hopping around the living room, and Nobara shrieks with joy as you pull her into the celebration. Even Maki and Yuta are sporting wide smiles as they watch the three of you bounce around like kids on a sugar rush.

“What, no Sukuna?” Maki teases when you’ve calmed down. Toge clears his throat and does his best impression, going as far as to make his pants sag a little around his waist.

“Frosted flexin’, I’m the cereal king, pourin’… uh, duh nuh nuh, something doin’ my thing,” he says in a deep voice. “Uh… squirrel? Somethin’ fuego, that’s Spanish, uhhh…”

“Oh my god, let me look it up,” Nobara cackles, pulling up SoundCloud. “It’s I’m the king of bad decisions, got a throne made of Legos, took a bite of my mic and said these bars are fuego.”

Yuta physically winces. “Does he really sag his pants like that?”

Toge shrugs. “It felt right in the moment.”

“Wait, who’s the other one eliminated, then?” you ask, running through the bands in your head. Yours, Takuma’s, Black Flash, the Kamos…

“Motion Capture,” Maki says.

“No, it’s all caps. You have to shout it. MOTION CAPTURE!” Toge hollers. Nobara snorts.

You aren’t entirely surprised, but you have a feeling the girls aren’t too put out about it. They’re young, too—they’ll have their time to shine eventually.

You grin, flopping back onto the couch. “Okay, rehearsal when? Tonight?”

“Yeah, I have to go to a friend’s to figure some stuff out for a project, but I’ll be back at like… five?” Yuta says.

“Oh, fuck, I gotta go too!” Nobara says, darting toward the stairs.

“Group project?” Maki asks.

“Shopping! I gotta pick Miwa up in like, ten minutes!”

Maki rolls her eyes fondly. Yuta stands up and grabs his bag, heading toward the entryway, and the rest of you gravitate instinctually to the kitchen. Nobara is out the door moments later with a wave and a shout, and Toge grins.

“What,” Maki deadpans, not a question.

“I printed memes to hide on her Polaroid wall. Be right back.”

You snort, turning your attention to the window to watch Nobara cruise down the block. The view of her sleek, small car is interrupted by Yuta’s jungle of plants.

“I hope they’re not too cold,” he says, frowning as he tugs a jacket on over his white hoodie. “Do they look okay to you?”

“Yeah,” you say, pointing to the one in the white, ovular pot. “Especially this one, it’s getting so big! What’s his name, Snorlax?” Yuta had a phase where he named at least six plants in a row after Pokèmon.

“No, that one’s Rika, after that TV show,” Maki corrects, not looking up. Yuta blinks, looks between her and the plant, whose vines have started to creep up the window. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Both of your eyes on her have her looking up from her phone, expression flat and unaffected. “What?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “I didn’t know… anyone paid attention.”

Maki shrugs. “You talk to them out loud.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Yuta laughs and waves one last time before he walks out, closing the door behind him. You count to five in your head and then whirl on Maki, entirely unable to keep the shit-eating grin off your face.

“Kowalski, status report.”

She blinks at you. “What?”

“I said—”

“No, I know, just—on what? What happened?”

You groan, dragging the heels of your hands down your face. “Maki. Please.” You gesture wildly between her and the door, wondering if she’s genuinely this oblivious or if she’s just as good a liar as Mai. “Are you—did we not just witness the same interaction? Jesus, Maki, put the boy out of his misery!”

Seeing Maki frazzled is not a common occurrence. The most agitated you ever see her is talking about her family or trading passive aggressive jabs with Mai. This is an entirely new sort of disarray—she’s flustered.

“I—what?! I can’t do that! And he’s not miserable. He’s that nice to everyone.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands with your elbows on the counter. “Maki! He likes you. And your face is telling me you like him back.”

She scoffs, turning her head down and crossing her arms defensively. “I’m not messing things up by dating my bandmate. We live together, Skip, he’s my best friend, if things got messy—”

You hold up a hand. “First of all, offensive. I’m your best friend. Second of all, I hear no denial. Also, it won’t get messy. You are the two most mature people in this house and you know how to separate personal from practical. If anything, it’s gonna kill the vibes of the band and the house if you just keep stewing in the sexual tension.”

“Oh my god,” Maki groans. “There. Is. No. Sexual. Tension.”

“There’s always sexual tension,” Toge announces, walking in and jumping up onto the countertop, legs swinging. He looks between the two of you innocently. “What are we talking about?”

“You might be of some help, actually,” you say, turning to Toge with your hands clasped.

“Uh, actually? Not oh, Toge, you’re always so helpful, thank god you live with me and keep my life interesting—”

“Nevermind.”

“No, pleeease,” Toge insists, sticking out his lower lip. “What?” His gaze shifts to Maki, who’s blushing a furious red. His mouth turns into a small O. “This is about Yuta?”

You didn’t think she could get any more scarlet, but here she is.

“Does everyone think that?” she groans, throwing her head back in exasperation.

Toge shrugs. “I thought we were all just quietly skirting around it until you both snapped.”

“Nobara doesn’t skirt around anything,” Maki says.

“Well, there’s no way she doesn’t know,” you point out. “Maybe she just respects both of you enough to leave it alone.”

“Hah!” Toge snorts, poking you in the ribs. “That means she doesn’t respect you. She wants the Ino lore.”

“I’m gonna tell Nobara about the memes.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Abruptly, you realize you never got around to Yuta for highs and lows, what with the chaos of the brackets dropping. “Ah, guys,” you say. “We missed Yuta.” You pull up the house group chat.

you: YUTA DROP YOUR HIGH AND LOW IN THE CHAT you: YOU ARE NOT FORGOTTEN freak no. 1: yes you are utah: haha aw that’s nice utah disliked a message from freak no. 1 utah: uhh low is maybe that toge keeps leaving memes all over our room. like i keep finding them tucked in my notebooks and everything freak no. 1: SLANDER freak no. 1: LIBEL you: not the same thing freak no. 1: SHUT UP utah: high is someone remembers the names of my plants!! :) nobara: Sorry, using voice text while I drive. Who knows the names of your plants? You and God? utah: maki! :)

“Okay, well, respond,” Toge says, poking Maki in the side. She glares at him and likes Yuta’s message.

“Guys,” she says exasperatedly. “What the hell am I supposed to do? Does he know?”

And you’re not sure, honestly. You don’t know that Yuta is even aware of his own feelings, let alone aware that Maki reciprocates them. You shrug helplessly. “How about… ask?”

“Jesus,” Maki says.

“Not him, Yuta.”

Maki socks Toge in the shoulder and levels him with a disdainful look. “You are the bane of my existence.”

“And the object of all your desires,” Toge proclaims in a horrendous Bridgerton accent. He made you watch all of it with him in two days. Maki refused.

Now, she just shoves him, and he squeals as he falls off the kitchen counter.

“Children,” you sigh. “Do you need to be separated?”

“Yes!”

—

“Why is this so hard?” You stand with your feet planted on Takuma’s skateboard, which is confoundingly, entirely different than balancing atop your longboard. “Oh my god.” You lurch forward as the board rolls a bit to the left, unable to stifle the squeal that comes out of your mouth.

Takuma stops it with one foot.

“Your center of balance is lower on a longboard,” he laughs. “Like, here.” His hands wrap around your waist and you tense under his grip, and he immediately freezes, jerking his arms back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No! No, it’s okay,” you blurt, sheepish. “I just wasn’t expecting it, I—here.” You try to fight the blush furiously rising in your cheeks as you take his wrists in both hands, putting them back where they were. You clear your throat, suddenly too warm. “Um. Okay, so—do you turn the same way?”

“Pretty much. You just lean,” Takuma says, and you shift your weight to your heels, letting him steady you. “It’s a bit harsher than you would on a longboard, though. Unless you want me to send you right into kickturns?” His tone is teasing and you pretend to consider, tapping a finger against your chin.

“Mm. Maybe later.”

You’ve been at the skate park for a while now, and you’ve only recently ditched your longboard for the skateboard. Takuma brought the extra board you saw hanging on his wall the other day, and he uses it to demonstrate while you practice riding back and forth, getting a hold on your balance. After you feel like you can make it a good distance without pinwheeling your arms, you come to a staggered stop beside him.

A flash of blue-green hair grabs your attention, and you watch a kid in a lightning bolt hoodie slip under the ramps. The park has been pretty deserted today aside from a few guys doing tricks in the pit, a chilly Sunday with the sunlight muted by the clouds.

“Ooh, drug deal in action.” You poke Takuma in the side.

“Ah, probably Sukuna. He deals here all the time.” Sukuna’s business is one of those things everyone’s aware of but nobody talks about. He’s consistent and pretty safe, as far as drug dealers go, but he’ll deny any involvement while smoking a joint if he has to.

“Who’s space buns?”

“Uhh…” Takuma narrows his eyes, and the guy slips out again. “Damn, that was fast. Oh, that’s Hajime. Another senior, I think. They hate each other. Fastest deals I’ve ever seen.”

“I wonder how much of his songwriting is just… while he’s really, really high,” you muse. Swag of a squirrel doesn’t strike you as a particularly levelheaded thought, but hey, it’s certainly memorable.

Takuma leans in and says conspiratorially, “I’m pretty sure I heard him dropping bars here the other day when I was with Yuji.”

You snort and look up at one of the smallest ramps, one you think you could handle without falling on your face, and point to it with a raised brow.

“Oh, moving up in the world?” Takuma kicks his board up and starts walking over, and you do the same. Before you put the board down at the top of the ramp, though, you hold it up to the light, noticing a few short, white hairs caught on the surface.

“Is this… fur?” Maybe there was a cat hiding out somewhere when you were over. Kirara seems like she’d have a cat.

Takuma sighs. “Yeah, the dogs shed like crazy. It gets everywhere. I don’t think I even left that on the ground.”

Your jaw drops, and you stare at him until he looks back at you. “Dogs?”

“What? Yeah, Fushiguro’s—”

“Fushiguro has dogs? Dogs plural? In the house?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No!” you cry. “What? Oh my god! Where were they on Wednesday? How many? What are their names?”

Takuma leans back on the rail next to the ramp, grinning. “I can’t believe you didn’t know. Oh my god. They’re so cute. Tsumiki had them Wednesday, I think. Mandated auntie time. Do you wanna meet ‘em?”

“Do I want to meet them?” you repeat, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Uh, yeah. Are they home? Oh my god. I love dogs.”

“I couldn’t tell,” he deadpans, but he’s smiling still. “Yeah, they’re home. And you can meet them if you go down this ramp without dying.”

“You’re cruel,” you say, situating yourself on the board. “But I will. And then I’ll meet the dogs and become their best friend and they’ll love me more than you and Megumi combined.”

“Confident.” He comes up beside you, checking your stance. The ramp didn’t look steep or long at all from your vantage point across the park, but now that you’re atop the board, it feels suddenly very steep and very long. “You got it. Just don’t panic, keep your stance.” He drops his own board and cruises down the ramp, hardly even trying.

“Okay, go!” he calls from the bottom. “C’mon, Skip, the dogs are waiting.”

“Oh, god,” you murmur, the wind catching your words and whisking them away. You ball your hands into fists and push off, planting your foot back on the board and trying to keep your knees bent, but not too stiff, as you careen down the ramp. Don’t panic, keep your stance. You’re at the bottom in what feels like nanoseconds, and the sudden shift from ramp to flat ground has you stumbling off the board with an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak of alarm.

“Nice!” Takuma laughs as he catches you, the board rolling a few more feet ahead. His arm is wrapped around your front, the other holding you up by the shoulder, and this time you don’t tense under his hands.

“Thanks,” you say a little breathlessly, grinning, the tiny spike of adrenaline making you almost lightheaded. He lets his hands drop when you’re steady on your feet, and part of you mourns the warmth a little. But there are more pressing matters at hand. “So, about those dogs?”

You opt for your longboard on the way back down your street, cruising along beside Takuma, who has his extra board tucked under his arm. You’ve got a lot to do tonight, all the last-minute preparation for another crazy week, but you can and will drop everything to pet a puppy. Or two. Always.

And they’re actual angels. Big, fluffy angels on earth, one white and one black, and they’re all over you the second you open the door.

“Hi!” you say happily, sinking down to their level. The white one immediately tries to burrow into your lap. “Oh, hello! You’re so nice, aren’t you?” You glance up at Takuma. “Where’s Megumi?” You grab the white one’s collar and check the tag—Shiro.

“Shiro thinks she’s a tiny dog,” he says, bending down to ruffle the fur behind her ears. “Uh, Fushiguro’s at the animal clinic. He works there Sundays. And Tuesdays, I think.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, he’s a vet student. You didn’t know?”

“I did not.” The black one is licking your face, and you giggle and check his tag, too. Kuro. “Hi, Kuro. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“He’s got such a soft spot for animals,” Takuma says as he kicks off his shoes. “You should see when they both try to sleep in his little twin bed. It’s ridiculous.”

“I love them,” you say, burying your face in Kuro’s scruff. “Hi, doggies. You’re awful cute, you know that? Mhm. Yes you are.”

When you finally look up again, Kuro’s cold nose nudging insistently at your palm, Takuma is leaning against the wall, looking down at you with his phone discreetly angled your way. “Takuma!”

He laughs, not bothering to hide it anymore, very clearly taking photos of you with the dogs. “It’s cute!” he insists. “I’ll send them to you. Proof for Fushiguro of your master plan to make them like you more than him.”

“And you,” you remind him.

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

You gesture pointedly to the two dogs, who are all over you and not him. It’ll be a nightmare trying to get all of Shiro’s white fur off your black jacket later, but it’s worth it.

“You’re new,” he says. “New scent. It’s the novelty factor. I am their favorite.”

“You sure? I’m pretty hard to compete with.”

He smiles, looking from you to the photos he took of you and the dogs. “Yeah,” he says. “You are.”

—

The first half of the new week goes by in a rushed routine of classes, homework, and rehearsals, each night ending with you collapsing into bed, new and old lyrics fighting for dominance in the back of your mind. Sticks re-taped and drum heads re-tuned, assignments turned in and drafts edited. Your classes are ramping up as midterms approach, and Yuta bounces between his own work and poking his head into everyone’s rooms, making sure they don’t forget about dinner.

Toge follows through on his snack run promise, and the two of you spend hours on Tuesday afternoon trading two different flavored bags of Doritos back and forth, Toge writing photo captions while you edit your story lede.

Takuma, Hakari, and Kirara have offered to help Cursed Technique record a single on Wednesday night, and the five of you have been drilling the new song you wrote up, down, and sideways.

Finally, Wednesday arrives, and you’re all crammed into the recording studio space, instruments set up and headsets tuned in.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Nobara says to Hakari on the other side of the glass. She taps a finger on the mic in demonstration, and you hear it in your own headphones.

“Great,” he says. “Skipper?”

“Skipper? I hardly know her,” Toge says, earning a harmless smack upside the head from Yuta and a not harmless smack upside the head from Maki.

“I will throw these at you,” you tell him, holding up your sticks. Toge sticks his bottom lip out, pouting.

A snicker from beside you draws your attention back to Takuma, kneeling just beside the throne as he adjusts the kick mic. He has you hit it a few times while Hakari monitors the levels. You feel oddly self-conscious like this, him looking up at you, but then he smiles and it’s not strange at all. It’s stupid how fast he can put you at ease with a look.

“Nice,” he says. “Okay, that should work, yeah, Hakari?”

It’s Kirara who answers, “Yeah, you’re good.”

Takuma stands up, claps his hands together once, and looks at you. “Okay. Kill it, Skip.”

“Yessir.” You salute him with a stick and he makes his way to the other room, closing the door behind him.

“All good?” Yuta asks, glancing at each of you in turn before giving Hakari a thumbs up. It’s strange to be on this side of the glass, to think about your music being played back, to think about it on Spotify, out in the world.

“Next Fix,” Takuma says into the mic, locking eyes with you through the window. “Take one in three, two…”

The song starts out simple. You click your sticks together near the mic, on two and four, while Maki lays down a four-bar loop.

Yuta keeps glancing at Maki while she plays, utterly unaware, and the look on his face is so soft you want to shake Maki by the shoulders until she does something about it.

Nobara’s got her eyes closed with the headset over her ears and her hands around the mic, entirely engrossed in the song.

“It’s comin’ on, comin’ strong, spinnin’ up out of the blue, mmm,” she sings, stretching out the vowels. “And I’m on the ground, bleedin’ out, until my next fix of you, ooh.”

Now you start up with a light rock beat, closed hat and a bit of a dragging buzz on the snare hits. Just as you transition into the beat, Toge comes in with some low chords and Yuta moves down the line in syncopated sixteenths.

Hakari is nodding approvingly and Takuma has a wide grin on his face, and you can’t help smiling back.

“I need it like a lung,” Nobara sings, swaying a bit. “I need it like a light. It’s got me twisted up. I need you here tonight, tonight, tonight, oh, oh, I wanna—”

And this part is your favorite—Nobara sings each two-syllable phrase while you pound on the toms twice, emphasizing it with the kick, and then the backup vocals echo her. Get my (get my) next fix (next fix) of you (of you, of you, of you.)

Kirara pumps her fist in the air twice, in time with the beat, and your bandmates can’t keep the smiles off their faces. You’ve got something here, you really do. This might be your best one yet.

When the song’s over, Nobara whoops and tugs off the headphones, jumping around the cramped studio space with a grin on her face. “That was so cool! Oh my god. Guys, we sound good. We actually sound good.”

“Damn,” Kirara calls. “Okay, girl drummer. Good shit.”

“Not bad for a first run,” Maki admits, adjusting her bass strap over her shoulder. “Do we wanna try recording backups separately at all?”

“Good call.” Takuma nods. “Let’s run that again without the backups and record them over, see what happens.” He’s in full producer mode, flipping switches, colored lights reflecting in his eyes as he and Hakari talk shop away from the mic. He’s good at this, you realize, running sessions like this, making sure things go where they need to go, that everyone’s heard, that things get done. It’s a little bit like watching him skateboard, or seeing him on stage. There’s a confidence to him here, a smooth, easy energy. He’s in his element.

“Alright,” he says after a minute. “Let’s hear that again.”

And you play it again. And again. And again. And you are so in love with this moment, with your band, with a couple rowdy kids on the other side of the window, the rasp in Nobara’s voice and the expression on Yuta’s face and Maki’s obliviousness and Toge’s consistent, head-banging keys, and your drums and your words and the music, and the lyrics feel right to you.

You need this like a lung.

directory | prev. |

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32

a/n: GUYS. loml @shutuppeter is so downbad for soundcloud rapper sukuna that she's writing fanfic of my fanfic😭 credits for frosted flexin' are all hers LMFAO so go check that out (MDNI for that one though).

yutamaki nation rise. also, i kinda love this fic. there may be spinoffs for other characters in the works...

[celaenaeiln]

are you still doing the post where you explain the ranking?? don’t mean to be impatient i was just wondering! (take your time) <3

@imperatrice21

Hey y'all! You asked and I deliver ;)

Alrighty let's get to it!!

So in THIS POST which is being referred to, I had created a ranking of Bruce's favorites in order from most to least.

And this was the ranking:

Dick

Damian

Cass

Jason/Tim (tie)

Tim/Jason (tie)

Steph

Now lets get into why.

Dick

I don't want to rehash why Dick is the favorite because I went into a lengthy explanation in the referred post as to why. It's not even close, and it's really explicitly stated that Dick's the one that Bruce likes the most. If you haven't read the post or want a refresher, I've already linked it but here it is again - OG POST

Infinite Crisis Issue #3

and also

JLA (1997) Issue #73

"The only time I ever feel pride is when I look at Nightwing. Sometimes I think he's the only thing I ever did right."

When something happens to Bruce, he only tells or trusts Dick with the information of what happened.

Batman and Robin Eternal Issue #1

His only message was addressed to Dick. Like I could go on and on about this, but I feel my other Dick and Bruce posts give a pretty good idea on how Dick is special to Bruce.

And that's where we will leave the blatant adoration for Dick by Bruce and move on to the next person, cause really, 'nuff said.

Damian > Cass > Tim/Jason > Steph

Dami!! I also explained a bit of why Damian is so loved by Bruce through the comparison of Bruce's reaction to Damian death vs Bruce's reaction to Jason's death in the referenced post, but I never talked about why he's the next in line for favoritism.

Rather, it's a process of elimination of who does Bruce not like the least which we can find through how Bruce treats each member of the batfam and reacts to traumatic passings.

6. Stephanie

The least favorite is, unfortunately, very obvious and it's Stephanie.

Why is it obvious? Because Bruce treats Stephanie like utter shit. I have never seen him act so callously to a member of the bat crew aside from Stephanie. He literally didn't even care that Stephanie died in the War Games arc.

He didn't even want Stephanie in the first place, only using her to manipulate Tim back into being Robin because he knew Tim care about her and knew the dangers of being Robin so he wouldn't want her getting her.

Robin (1993) Issue #92

And so she becomes Robin, eventually.

But Bruce and Stephanie have an extremely strenuous relationship. Stephanie is very independent but Bruce like obedience. A long time ago he would have appreciated independence but not anymore, not when the result is death.

On the final mission of Stephanie being robin, Batman gives her repeated orders that she disobeys.

Robin (1993) Issue #128

Bruce becomes completely fed up with her and fires her.

Long story short, Stephanie steals one of Batman's plans for the city that involved Matches Malone. Steph doesn't know that this is one of Bruce's identities and the whole thing quickly goes way out of control and sets off a city-wide bloody war - AKA War Games. Stephanie gets caught by Black Mask who tortures her and she dies from her injuries in Leslie's Clinic when she escapes. But -

Batman (1940) Issue #633

And after this happens, this bitch sits down has a drink with Dick, who woke up from coma or something I can't remember (he was dealing with the aftermath of Tarantula which is why he wasn't around. Also Alfred threatened to kneecap him if he didn't get back on the bed) asks Bruce what he's gonna do -

And what does he do?

Batman (1940) Issue #634

Bitch. This is the only time (the War Games) Dick walked out on him after Bruce asks for help. Fun fact, Leslie intentionally let Stephanie die even though she could have saved her. She let her die to teach Batman a lesson about making kids Robins. It was later retconned that Leslie secretly saved her life but in the original, Stephanie was gone. And Batman straight up did not care.

He didn't care about Stephanie as a person and ignored her passing, completely unaffected.

So that's why Stephanie's 6th on the list.

5. & 4. Tim and Jason (Tie)

I don't want to rehash this again because I truly do not believe I can go into more detail about why they're a tie and who Bruce loves more.

THIS POST I made for anon who asked about the tie will be the answer. But I want to highlight @canthandlethishit 's reblog because in my post had said I didn't know why it feels like Tim was slightly less even though Bruce treated him better.

This line: "there’s a saying “the kid who cries gets the candy/milk” and sometimes being too easy to raise makes a kid receive less love & attention from their parents"

EXCELLENT! Fantastic analysis!!

3. Cass

Cass is tricky because because Bruce doesn't actually have a reason for liking her. He just does. I think what Bruce really loves about her is her dedication to making Gotham good.

Batgirl (2000) Issue #50

Batman & the Outsiders (2019) Issue #17

I think the reason Batman treats her so well is because she acts like a daughter to him. None of his children are so open with wanting affection as Cass is, ironically. And Bruce appreciates that. He's a dad and some part of him, behind all his walls, wants to be needed as dad which Cass does for him. She understands what he wants because she's good at that and loves him because she wants it too. Cass is Bruce's only daughter. So it's a combination of dedication to faith that Gotham City can be better as well as the fact that she's ready to genuinely be a daughter for him.

2. Damian

A big part of it is that he's Bruce's blood son. I know we make jokes about being wanted vs forced or whatever with Damian but Damian's arguments in those jokes do hold.

Aside from Dick, Bruce doesn't react to anyone as strongly as he reacts to Damian. When Damian was dying and died, he lost it. I would provide panels but it's basically the entirety of Batman and Robin (2011).

A part of it, is also that Bruce actually raised Damain. He and Dami struggled with each other for the longest time and still do, but that's his son.

Batman Incorporated (2012) Issue #10

The following panels of Bruce going crazy are, as you probably guess it, in the OG Post and the Eldest Daughter Syndrome Post where I talk a little about the effect Damian's death has on Batman.

[daisymbin]

hii! been obsessed with your writing lately. thank you for sharing with us!!

if it inspires you, i would love to see your interpretation of prompt 46 from the fluff prompt list ("you doodled hearts in my notebook again.") with university! chan.

always excited for your stories, take care!!

ah!! thank you for your kind words and thank you for requesting this!!! ugh university fics always gives me the butterflies 🥲

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // chan's m.list

fluff prompt #46: "you doodled hearts in my notebook again."

you had missed a lecture the day before, overwhelmed with assignments and life, and chan, being the helpful seatmate that he was, offered to lend you his notes. it wasn’t the first time he’d done it, but this time felt a little different.

you weren’t sure why, but when you took his notebook, you felt a little nervous, maybe because you'd always liked chan more than just a friend.

the next day, you returned the notebook, trying to act casual about it. “thanks again for letting me borrow it. i swear, i’ll catch up on everything soon,” you said, handing him his notes with a small, apologetic smile.

chan took the notebook with a bright grin, always more than happy to help. “don’t worry about it. you can borrow it again if you need it.”

“you’re too nice,” you said, giving him a teasing look.

“only because you’re my favorite study buddy,” he joked, though the words slipped out a little more naturally than he intended.

later that night, chan found himself finally sitting down with the notebook after a long day, eager to check if you had caught up on the material. but when he opened it, he was caught off guard.

there, scattered across the pages, were little hearts doodled around his name.

he let out a breath, half-laughing in disbelief. again?

this wasn’t the first time it had happened. months ago, when he had lent you his notebook for the first time, you had drawn hearts around his name, and he had been so embarrassed that he didn’t even mention it to you. it seemed like a one-time thing. but now, here it was again—little hearts marking his name, just as sweet as before.

chan’s fingers traced over the doodles as his heart began to race. he tried to convince himself that it didn’t mean anything. maybe you just liked drawing hearts. but deep down, he wondered—was this your way of telling him something?

the next day, chan sat next to you in class, unable to hide his small grin. you sat down next to him, but he was already focused on his notebook, pretending to take notes, though his mind was completely elsewhere.

you looked at him, wondering why he was being so quiet. finally, after a few moments, he spoke up, his voice light but teasing.

“you doodled hearts in my notebook again,” chan said, his eyes playful as he watched you.

you blinked in confusion. “what? i did?” you stammered, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

chan nodded, turning his notebook toward you, showing you the page where your hearts were still drawn around his name.

“you did. and this isn’t the first time either,” he added, his voice softer now, like he was trying to understand. “didn’t you do this before, a long time ago?”

your face flushed a bright shade of red. “i—I didn’t even realize I did it,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “it’s just... a habit.”

chan’s lips curled up into a soft smile as he watched your nervous reaction. “you really don’t realize it, huh?” he teased gently.

you sighed, trying to laugh it off. “nope, no idea. i just doodle stuff when i’m bored, you know?”

but chan wasn’t buying it. he leaned in a little closer, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “are you trying to tell me something with all these hearts? or is it just a coincidence?” he asked, voice dropping slightly.

your heart raced, and you nervously fiddled with the hem of your shirt, avoiding his gaze. “what do you mean?” you asked, feigning ignorance even though you could feel your face getting hotter by the second.

chan raised an eyebrow, his playful smile growing. “are you trying to tell me something? like… maybe you have a crush on me?” he asked, his voice light and teasing, though there was an edge of curiosity behind it.

your mouth opened and closed as if you were searching for the right words, but nothing came out. the teasing in his tone made you even more flustered, and you struggled to think of something to say.

you managed to mumble, suddenly feeling way too exposed, “it’s just… hearts, right? i always doodle hearts. no big deal.”

chan couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up inside him. “right, just hearts. everywhere. around my name,” he repeated, his voice a little more teasing this time.

you huffed, clearly embarrassed. “okay, okay! maybe i got carried away,” you admitted, now trying to hide behind your notebook. “it’s just something i do when i’m bored. no hidden meanings, promise.”

chan’s grin softened, and he looked at you with a more genuine curiosity. “are you sure?” he pressed, his voice lowering slightly. “because, you know, you can tell me anything.”

you bit your lip, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. “it’s really nothing,” you whispered, but you weren’t sure if you believed that anymore.

chan studied your face for a moment, his smile softening into something more tender. “well, if there’s something you want to tell me... i’m all ears,” he said, his tone sincere.

you didn’t know what to say to that, so instead, you just sat there, lost in his eyes for a moment longer than you should have. but chan could see it all, the way you were looking at him, it was the same fondness he had in his eyes when he looks at you. he wonders if you can see the fondness in his eyes.

“well,” chan said softly, his smile still there but with a little more sincerity, “maybe i’ll just take it as a sign that you like me too.”

your heart skipped a beat as your eyes widened,"too"?

chan watches as the pieces of puzzles slowly click in your head before you let out a small smile

“you think so?”

chan nodded, his voice playful yet serious. “i think it’s pretty obvious.”

and for the first time, you smiled at him without hiding. maybe there was something more to the doodles after all.

[merlincmgirl]

Masturbation - Tech x FReader - NSFW

Summary: When you wake up feeling a bit needy and an empty bed, you go off to find your handsome trooper to help you. Only he's got a few ideas of his own for you to try.

Characters: Tech

Pairing: Tech x F!Reader

Word Count: 4,208

Warnings: masturbation, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjobs, praise, dirty talk. I think that's it really, if there's anything else, please let me know!

Author's Note: So once I began writing for this one, it just seemed to all flow out of me. I wrote it a bit softer than I thought I would, but Tech deserves all the love and softness in the galaxy.

It had awoken you from a blissful sleep. Heat rolling over you as small cramps pulsed between your legs. You didn’t need to reach in your underwear to know that you would be wet. Whatever you were dreaming about had certainly seemed to arouse you enough that you were feeling needy.

Luckily for you, your boyfriend was readily available to help you out and give you some much needed release. However all you found was cool sheets and an empty bed. Tech had slipped out a while ago it seemed. Normally you would be the one who encouraged and cajoled him back into his bunk with you. It was something his brothers were very thankful to you for; Tech didn’t get enough sleep as it is, but he could never say no to you.

It helped that you couldn’t sleep without him. Every time you slid into bed, he would wrap himself around you, warmth pressed against you as he whispered softly into the quiet atmosphere of his bunk. It didn’t matter what he was saying – sometimes it was facts he had found out that day, a new project he was doing or, stories about different cultures and communities – his voice was always the one that lulled you to sleep.

But now, it seemed that instead of drifting off for a few hours himself before it was his turn on watch, he had instead slipped out of bed and was somewhere on the ship.

You warred with yourself about going to find him, but the pulsing need between your legs was enough to convince you. Just the memory of those long, dexterous fingers curling inside of you had you biting your lip on a moan and clamping your thighs together. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself down with, you quietly got out of Tech’s bunk, careful to not disturb the other sleeping troopers around you.

There was only one place that Tech would be if he wasn’t in the bunks. The doors swished open as you walked into the control room. Tech was lounging in the pilot’s chair, long legs swivelled around to rest on the co-pilot’s chair. His eyes didn’t leave the piece of machinery in his hand that he was tinkering with, but he still removed his legs for you to sit down.

“You’re up late, cyare” Tech remarked, glancing up briefly to take you in. “couldn’t sleep?”

Sending him a soft smile, you leant your head on your hand, taking him in. “Something like that. You weren’t in bed when I woke up” you chided, raising an eyebrow at him. Tech didn’t sleep much as it was, and you worried just how long he could go before it all caught up with him.

Tech blinked, looking up at you now and frowning. “I apologise, I had an idea about how to improve the propulsion thrusters of the ship. You looked so peaceful, I did not want to wake you” Tech explained, stopping his tinkering and turning his attention to you.

“Thank you, love” you smiled, feeling the ache thrum through you now that you were sitting next to your lover and how thoughtful and adorable he had been.

“You have not told me why you are out of bed. Was it another nightmare?” he frowned, placing the contraption down and reaching to squeeze your knee. Nightmares were a common enough occurrence for everyone aboard the Marauder. It wasn’t unusual to have your fair share of them as well, especially as you’ve been by their side throughout the war.

“No, not this time. I actually had a really good dream” you admitted, lips pulling into a teasing smile as you squeezed your thighs together. Already you could feel the slick soak into the material of your pants.

“Oh, what was this dream?” Tech asked, his eyes running up and down over you, scanning your face as he catalogued every minute expression. He must have seen something he liked because his breath hitched a little.

“Hmm, you know, I can’t really remember the details but I know that I woke up feeling very, very wet” you grinned, parting your legs slightly so his hand fell to your inner thighs. “Do you want to feel?” you smirked suggestively, trailing your hand down your body until you reached the hem of your sleeping shorts.

Tech’s eyes went wide, everything in his mind screaming at him to lean forward, yank off your pyjamas and pull your legs wide so he could see just how wet you were. However, a thought popped into his head, it was the perfect opportunity to collect data to confirm his research as well as tick something off his kink list. There was a number of things he still wanted to try, but this was the perfect opportunity for one of them.

Sliding his hands up your thigh until he could feel the heat of your core through his gloves. He could just imagine how wet you were underneath your shorts and pants. “Cyare, may I request something different this time?” he asked, eyes rising to meet your curious but loving ones.

“Of course you can Tech, this is a partnership. You’re free to express your wants as well” you reminded, hands slipping to entangle in his own. It had been something you were determined to teach the boys, putting their happiness first and that it was okay to have wants and needs that went against their training or orders. It was still an uphill battle some times, all of them stubborn and loyal to a fault, but you were getting there, especially with Tech.

He used the hand entangled in his to tug you up from the chair and pull you into his lap. Helping you settle against him, you couldn’t help admire his beautiful brown eyes through his goggles. They were beautiful, and warm and reminded you of the hot chocolate that you used to make with your grandma whenever the weather turned cold.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tech frowned, hands coming to rest on your hips as his thumb rubbed soothing circles into your shorts.

Unable to help it you let out a little giggle at the stupidity of the genius clone. “Because I love you, di’kut. Always have and always will” you muttered, resting your head against his.

Tech sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you close to him in the pilot seat. “And I haven’t even taken my clothes off yet” Tech remarked, lips quirking up into a small smile.

“Ha-ha, look who think he’s a comedian!” you retorted, rolling your eyes at him before pressing a swift kiss to his cheek. “Now come on, tell me what you were thinking about” you encouraged, cupping his face and stroking your thumb along his sharp jaw line.

“I want to see how we feel while we both mutually pleasuring ourselves in front of the other. From what I’ve found, my research indicates that it can be a very enjoyable and pleasurable experience for all involved. And the feel of someone’s eyes on you, watching you touch yourself can heighten your own pleasure” Tech explained, eyes eager behind his goggles as a blush filled his cheeks before heading south down his neck.

“You want us to get off in front of each other?” you stated, making sure that you had heard him correctly. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to do it, you did, it would be a very fun experience for both you and Tech, but it was something that Tech had never brought up before.

“Technically, yes. Although if you do not wish to do this, we can continue with treating your night time urge in another way” Tech replied, heat rising through him as you ran your hands down his chest, resting on his racing heart.

The thought of it did excite you, the sight of him touching himself, jerking himself off to you, while he watched you do the same did have an appeal. But you thought about the ache in your core, the need to be filled and you warred with yourself. There was nothing to say that you couldn’t ride him in the next round.

But Tech so rarely asked for anything, especially for himself. So how could you deny him his request when you wanted to try it just as much as him.

“Alright then, how do you want to do this?” you agreed, leaning forward to press small kisses along his jaw and towards his ear lobe. Nipping it with your teeth had a full body shudder rolling through Tech. Giggling, you repeated the same on his other side.

“I want you sitting opposite in the co-pilot’s chair, cyare. Take these off” he murmured, tugging on your pyjamas. Just as you went to get off his lap to do as he asked, one of his large hands came to the back of your neck, pulling you down to meet his lips.

Tech always kissed like it was a new experience for him, always taking the time to map out your mouth, leave little nips and licks to your lips to encourage more moans out of you. His kisses were always something you adored, all encompassing and all consuming as you lost yourself to the feel of his lips against yours, bodies pressed close to the other.

“What was that for?” you breathed, panting slightly at the breathless kiss.

“Thank you, for agreeing to do this for me” he replied, voice shaking a little. He wasn’t unaffected by the kiss either.

Smiling sweetly, you cupped your lover’s face and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “I’m doing this for me as well, Tech. I want to explore this with you” you assured him, nuzzling your noses together before climbing off his lap and stepping away. “But I think you should get naked too” you suggested, playing with the hem of your shirt teasingly.

“Yes, excellent suggestion, cyare” Tech nodded, stripping off his blacks in record time. He was so cute in how eager he was to try this with you.

Not wanting to leave him the only one undressed, you too pulled off your shirt and tugged down your shorts and panties, kicking them to the side. The cool air of the control room had you shivering a little, goosebumps raising along your flesh.

Taking a seat in the chair, you pulled your legs up to balance your heels on the edge of the seat, spreading them wide to give Tech the perfect view of your cunt. A flirtatious smirk crept over your face as you looked at him, his eyes glued to where you were leaking because of both the dream and Tech’s suggestion. “This what you had in mind, love?” you teased, hands drifting to your chest as your nipples pebbled in the conditioned air.

Tech’s eyes shot up to yours, blown wide behind his goggles and an awe expression on his face. He couldn’t believe one of his fantasies was coming to life right in front of him. You looked absolutely gorgeous spread out like this for him, and he could feel his cock start to harden more at the sight. He thanked the gods that he had already stripped his armour off for this watch. His codpiece would have been way too tight for any rational thoughts to stay in his brain.

“Yes… you look beautiful, cyare” he breathed.

You blushed at the sincerity in his voice. Not that he would lie to you, but sometimes it was hard to take in his loving compliments.

Deciding to distract yourself, you ran your eyes over Tech’s lithe but sculptured body. Taking him in, you enjoyed the way his muscles tensed and jumped under your heated look. Oh what you wouldn’t give just to touch him, or run your tongue down the contours of his chest.

Travelling lower, you allowed yourself to look at him, just as much as he had looked at you. The bronze skin of his half mast cock gave way to the dusty pink head at the top and you couldn’t help but bite your lip to contain your moan as you watched it twitch under your gaze. It seems that you weren’t the only one affected by the little game that you were playing. He was rapidly hardening under your gaze and you sent him a wild smirk. He blushed even more, hands coming to fidget with his goggles nervously.

“Going to record this, love?” you asked, excited to look back on the recording if he was. Tech was known to record nearly everything, a hobby of his. And you were no stranger to being his muse.

“If I may?” he asked, seeking your permission. With a nod from you, the red light on the corner of his goggles flickered and blinked into life. “Good, I want you to touch yourself for me. I want you to make yourself feel good” he instructed, legs widening as he adjusted his position in the seat.

Licking your bottom lip, you watched as his cock bobbed at the movement. You wished you could take him into your mouth, get a taste of him while he helped you seek your own release. But you had been told to touch yourself, and that was something you were good at.

If nothing else, you knew your own body, what brought you pleasure, what a swipe of your fingers could do. How a harsh tug on a nipple would feel and how to get you over the edge in record time. This would be something you enjoyed. So you started on your chest, giving teasing, barely there touches to your nipples, encouraging them to stiffer peaks.

As they hardened under your touch, you began to work them in your fingers, rolling the nipples in your fingers before squeezing and massaging your breasts. Pushing them together as you continued to feel the heat building and building in your body.

A small gasp left Tech, and you couldn’t help but grin wickedly at him. He always loved your breasts and thighs, preferring to squeeze them and mark them up with his mouth and fingers. So you sighed softly in return, letting the way his eyes run over you. It left a trailing heat in their wake but Tech was right, it was certainly adding to the pleasure of it all.

When your nipples were sensitive from your attentions, you slid your hands down your stomach. You kept your touches light and teasing, just enough to entice but not enough to get you really worked up. You wanted to get these together with Tech. So you trailed your fingers over your stomach and down to your hips, tracing patterns into your skin that you didn’t even think about, just doing what felt good to you.

“Mesh’la” Tech breathed, and you peeled your eyes open to see that Tech was staring at you, face flushed and mouth slightly open.

“I thought this included both of us touching ourselves, Tech” you prompted, tilting your chin towards the hard cock that was straining between his spread thighs.

Tech seemed to have forgotten about his own pleasure, too lost in watching you and seeing how your touches were electrifying you. It wasn’t easy to distract Tech, but you couldn’t help but feel a shot of pride shoot through you at how the way the normally controlled clone was unable to complete his own task.

“Come on, Tech. I want to see you touch yourself” you encouraged, letting out a groan as he finally – finally – began to touch himself.

Tech took himself in hand, his grip tight but not restrictive as he gripped the base of his cock. Realising that he needed lube to make this feel amazing, he reached into his belt and pulled out the bottle of lube he carried everywhere. Just in case. Drizzling some on his cock, he hissed at the cool temperature, but it did nothing to cool his desire as he began to stroke up and down his shaft. A small moan escapes from his lips, thoughts running wild of just how it would feel to sink into you. To feel just how wet you looked as he could see your glistening folds in the low light.

Unable to pull your gaze from him, you slid two fingers down between your legs, brushing against your bundle of nerves. It had you gasping, legs twitching a little at the spark that small touch sent through you. As you continued to tease your clit, you watched as Tech pumped his cock. It was a pretty cock, just like everything about Tech was pretty. His cock curved slightly, but was quite long and of a normal girth. It felt amazing inside of you, and you couldn’t wait to feel him. You’d pin him to the chair and ride him if you had to.

Honestly, just watched the way his skin began to flush, the sweat beading on his temple as he kept his eyes on you as well as pleasuring himself and the way his eyes couldn’t move from you had you feeling like you’d combust from this alone.

Deciding that you had enough teasing, you parted your lips, exposing your centre to him and making him groan out in want. Your fingers easily slid along your slit, you were soaked, slick pooling and collecting on the chair beneath you. Distantly you couldn’t help but feel sorry for whoever would be sitting in the chair next. You definitely would have to clean all of this up.

“Go on, cyare, push your fingers inside. I want to see you” Tech instructed, focus now on your entrance as you did what he said. He let out a small growl in answer to your cry as you pushed both fingers in. They were eased in due to how wet you were, the slick aiding in the stretch. “Good girl, mesh’la” Tech breathed, gulping slightly as he ran a thumb over the head of his cock, collecting the pre-cum that was beginning to leak from there and spreading it down his shaft.

Hooking your legs over the arm rests to help keep you spread wide for him, you let out a tiny cry of Tech’s name, conscious to not be too loud. You didn’t want anyone coming in to disturb you. You began a teasing rhythm, pushing in slow and withdrawing fasts as you curled your fingers inside of you. When you realised that Tech was matching your pace, you felt your breath tighten in your throat and your cunt clenched around your fingers.

It must have been clear to see for Tech because he moaned your name, his other hand coming down to cup and cradle his balls for a moment before withdrawing. Slowing his hand down to match your pace once more, he let out a low groan at just how beautiful you looked all spread out before him, two fingers buried inside of you.

“You’re prettier than the stars above, cyare.”

Heat flooded your face at his words, feeling the way his compliment sunk into your skin. Every time he complimented you, it made you feel so beautiful and loved. Tech would never lie to you, so if he told you that you were beautiful and pretty, then he meant every word. It was spoken as fact, and Tech was rarely wrong.

“Tech! You can’t say stuff like that” you gasped, hips bucking into your hand as you pressed another finger inside of you.

“Why not?” he frowned, fearing he had upset you.

“Because how am I meant to think when you say stuff like that” you whined, finding that sweet spot inside of you as you began rocking against your hand. The other slid down to rub at your clit, making you flutter around your fingers some more.

“Fuck Tech!”

Forcing your eyes to stay open, no matter how much you wanted to close them and sink into your pleasure, you watched as Tech began to massage and roll his balls with one hand, the other continuing to pump his leaking length. Oh why did he have to suggest this? You wanted to touch him, you wanted to kiss him and feel just how much you were affecting him.

After waking up half ready to orgasm, and your teasing touches and the mouth watering sight before you, you could tell that you were close to the edge. But there was something you need. You needed Tech. You didn’t know if you could fall over the edge like this. But Tech could always give you mind shattering orgasms, even when he was pushed for time, he always found a way to satisfy you.

“Won’t you help me? You know I don’t like getting off on my own” you pouted, hoping that would convince him to come over here and fuck you through the chair.

“Just a little longer, cyare. You can do that for me, right? I want to see you fall over the edge just watching me stroke my cock to you” Tech panted in encouragement, nearing his own end.

“Please!” you begged, increasing the pressure on that spot inside of you and rubbing at your clit in a way that you knew would push you over the edge. So why was it not doing so now? You wanted to cum. Wanting to adhere to Tech’s lustful words, but it was like you were dangling over a precipice.

“Cum for me” Tech growled, keeping his eyes firmly on you as he bucked up into his hand, teeth gritted as he tried to hold off his own orgasm.

“Tech!” you whined, feeling your release flood through you, legs shaking and panting for breath as your body pulsed with pleasure. It seemed all you needed was his permission before you could fall over the edge.

It took you a moment to realise that Tech was cumming to, his load shooting up to splatter as far as his chest. Both of you were unable to move, just soaking in your releases and slumping boneless against the chairs. Your whole body felt so sensitive, so alighted with the rush of endorphins that came with amazing orgasms.

After a while, you startled as Tech moved, reaching into his belt pouches and crawled over to you. He carefully and reverently washed you down, mindful of how sensitive you still were. With gentle touches, he made sure that you were clean before looking up to smile at you.

Taking a wipe off him, you began to clean him up also, keeping your touches tender and careful as you slid the soft material against his cock. It twitched at your actions, making you giggle and press a kiss to his lips.

“Do you know what, love? I think you were right. Having you watching added to everything” you admitted, running your hand through his hair as he stood up. He scooped you up in his arms, before taking a seat in your chair and holding you on his lap.

“I am glad you feel the same way as I do, cyare. It seems that this endeavour was a success. I look forward to reviewing the recordings when I collect my data” Tech agreed, kissing along your shoulders and up to your neck.

“Maybe we could look at those recordings together sometime? I think that would be really, really hot” you breathed, turning to catch his lips with yours. Tech cupped your face, holding you steady as you kissed, letting all your feelings show in the way you kissed him back.

“I am always open to suggestions, cyare” he chuckled, pulling back just to hold you even tighter against him.

“Think you’ll be able to sleep now?” you wondered, glancing at the clock on the control panels.

Tech sighed, shaking his head before agreeing that it was probably for the best if he could get some sleep. And besides, it was nearly time for Wrecker to take the watch.

“Alright, lets get dressed and clean this place up. We don’t want anyone getting the shock of their lives do we” you grinned teasingly, climbing out of his lap and already reaching for the wipes in his utility belt.

“I assure you, as soldiers, we’ve seen more shocking things than one of us making love to their cyare” Tech rolled his eyes, but helped you clean everything up before helping you step into your clothes.

“I know” you chuckled, leaning up to press a kiss to his chin. “How about we go and get some rest now, huh? You’ve worn me out without even touching me. That’s a hell of an accomplishment, love” you remarked, handing him the contraption he was tinkering with earlier.

“Believe me, you have also achieved that accomplishment, cyare” Tech smiled, taking your hand in his and leading you out to the bunks so he could wake Wrecker for his shift.

You felt pride swell in your chest. It had been a very successful night all round then. You were quite grateful for whatever you had been dreaming about. It couldn’t have worked out better if you tried.

[itstheval]

Memory of Dreary Days / Siffrin Gets An Earring

A @livesworthlivingau Side Story

It was a lovely autumn day, and Siffrin was miserable.

This wasn't anything new, they'd come to realize. The events of Dormont had changed - and possibly Changed - them, but that was months ago, a little over a year now. No, this frustration was newer, possibly the last few months, but they'd managed to identify it over time.

They watched Mirabelle and Isabeau, in front of them, chatting about what Changes they might want to make in the future. Isabeau had a whole list of ideas, but Mirabelle was being more cautious, as usual. Odile was watching and writing, and Bonbon, they were sitting on Nille's shoulders as both of them added their two coins when they had an idea. Leaving you, Siffrin the Traveler, as an outsider. Again.

It wasn't their fault, you knew it. You were empty inside, and this entire adventure you were on was to fill you. That was something the doctor had mentioned, that you seemed to agree with…You didn't have a past, so they were making you one, because they wanted you to. So why were you being talked over, and around? Why were they treating you like a pet, not someone with their own ideas?

The only thing worse than knowing it was it being known, unfortunately. It seemed like they came to a pause in conversation, and Isabeau looked back as though remembering you existed after so long ignoring you.

"What about you, Sif? Got any ideas for big Changes?"

You could laugh. You could sob. You remembered being as large as the sky, and just as filled with stars. You pictured yourself, star-headed and lightless-skinned.

"I don't think so! That's a Vaugardian thing, isn't it?"

The words were more bitter than you imagined them to be, and the second they left your lips you knew that they were wrong. A second after, you told yourself otherwise. "Words can't be wrong", the doctor had said, "If you mean them. You're trying to express yourself, not win a game." Well, from the way everyone else's faces fell, that was good, because you'd have just lost hard.

"That doesn't mean you can't Change! There's Houses everywhere that will take you in and help you, too."

"Yes," Odile continued. "I've thought of using them myself, during my time here, but I never had time to stay in one place, what with…everything."

"Really, madame? You're so pretty! What would you even change?"

And the conversation was off again…Odile explaining her heritage yet again, too-thick hair and too-wide eyes for ka bue, too-thin eyes and too-thin hair for Vaugarde. You wondered, sometimes, if Ka Buans had thought she was as pretty as Vaugardians do. You wonder, in the moment, if they'd bother talking to you again.

They hadn't.

You'd caught Isabeau looking over at you, with something more thoughtful than pity, but you could see the pity in it. Whatever he had in his mind, it wasn't enough to make him ask about anywhere else, or change the subject. Quietly, you thought about how much nicer it would've been if you'd just gone for a comfortable lie instead.

▬▬▬

It was a rainy, autumnal day, and Siffrin was bored.

It wasn't anyone's fault, everyone knew that was just what happened in Autumn. You found somewhere to stay until the rains ended, or you trudged through the worst mud that you could imagine. Bored or miserable, and to the family the choice was obvious. Siffrin had been…letting themself think of them that way for a while, even without telling them. Their little secret. Maybe not their family, but they were the family, and nobody could blame him for that, right? Watching Mira read to Bonbon, watching Isa and Nille talking about, of all things, carpentry, and Madame writing in those inscrutable books of hers.

You hated it. You hated listening to it, you hated being part of it, and you hated being trapped in it. It was nothing like the loops, you knew, but it was almost worse in its way. Watching everyone else with a role, with something to do, and you off to the side like some pet. You'd already napped yourself dry, and nobody had begrudged you sleeping through breakfast, even if it meant you were likely to stay up well after the candles were out at night. But the rest of your day…

You sighed. Sitting there wasn't going to make you any happier, and you'd already looked at all of the books Mira had brought with her. You'd read through the horror stories until they started showing up in your dreams, when Mirabelle had banned you from reading any more of them because of how you'd been whimpering in your sleep. Isa had tried to defend your right to read, but the looks Odile had given him had made him blush in a peculiar way and stop trying, and that had been the end of it. The less said about the romances, the better. You understood that Vaugarde was an open place, but the things they dreamt up to keep two people from each other felt so cliched, so unreal, so impossible that you couldn't get into them.

So, you laid there, in a bed, in a wooden room, staring at the ceiling until the morning came.

How familiar.

That thought sent a shudder down your spine that you knew everyone noticed, but you got out of bed before any of them could comment on it. No, you were dealing with this. You weren't being dealt with, not this time. You hopped up, and walked over to Odile, who closed her book as you approached.

"What could you be writing down now?" you found it in you to ask. "Vaugardian rainy-day games? I thought you were a master at those." The joking tone managed to reach your voice, you thought, and you were glad for it.

"Oh, I wasn't writing at all. Believe it or not, I'm designing something."

"Designing?" The surprise in your voice was clear.

"Well yes. You have your woodcarving…Or had it, when we were near forested areas enough to find scrapwood. Mirabelle has her writing. I thought I should perhaps try my hands at something creative."

"Oh, can I see?" This was WAY more interesting than laying in bed!

"If you can guess what it is, then yes. It wasn't fair that I didn't get to see your face when my research was revealed, after all." Her smile was coy and knowing, but she did, ultimately, have a point.

"Oh, is it…" You looked around, trying to think of what could be in the room that she could draw inspiration from.

"Clothesmaking? Like Isa plans to?"

"Nice try, young one. But that's your one try for the day." Odile's eyes turned up as she thought about the idea. "Besides, do you think I'd compete with Isabeau? In something he's planned for that long?"

You had to concede the point.

▬▬▬

"Carpentry?"

"Can you imagine me swinging a hammer, Siffrin? I know my limits, and they stop well before there."

▬▬▬

"Bookbinding!" You thought for sure you had her on that one. Something to do with her precious books, and something she could study from Mira's colleciton and her own?

"Sadly, no. But, now that you mention it, maybe I should."

▬▬▬

So the days had passed, until things were clear again. The world was colder now, and you could feel it around your cloak, but everyone was well prepared for it. You'd all gotten your own instructions on what to purchase, and been sent off to pick up supplies, which had taken the whole day between bartering and transporting. Thakfully, without Mira there you managed to get a Savior of Vaugarde Discount, and used the extra coin to pick up a pain au chocolat. Some things, it seemed, were eternal, and this one you didn't mind.

So it was that you returned to the inn, one hand with a canvas bag full of smaller bags, spices and flour and other things for Bonbon, the other letting you munch away happily, but you found yourself pausing outside the door. Something was wrong, you could feel it. You finished your treat quickly, and opened the door with a hand on your dagger. A pre-feeling, something that you couldn't put words to, told you that there was something going on beyond the door

You were right.

But not how you thought.

Instead, the family had been standing around in a half-circle, seemingly waiting for you to get back! You barely had time to rescue the groceries as a Bonbon-shaped missile impacted your legs and held you, Mira following after on the other side and Nille even stepping in to ruffle your hair, as Odile looked on fondly, and Isa…Hid something.

As lovely as the feeling was, your suspicions were raised far too high.

You managed a laugh, and to pull yourself free of the hug after enough time that it had started to loosen, before staring down Isa. Watching his cheeks darken was almost worth he price of admission, even as the others spoke around you. Again.

"I told you he'd notice!"

"You hardly had a better idea, Mirabelle."

"Uh-uh! We shoulda done it at dinner! Make sure he's comf-ta-bul."

"Comfortable, Boniface."

"That's what I said!"

It all flowed around you, as you stepped closer to Isa, and sighed. "I know what bonding earrings are, Isa." You allowed, holding out a hand, making him stutter even worse - and sending a roil of laughter around the room from everyone else.

That wasn't it? Then what was he hiding?"

"You're half right, I'm afraid. This is actually something we'd all been thinking about for a while…The past week just proved how important it was. It's not bonding earrings, but…"

As Odile spoke, Isabeau brought a black jewelry box around, holding it out to you. His words were trembling and small, in the way he always seemed to do only for you. You wished he wouldn't…his big booming voice was always so nice.

"We noticed you don't have any earrings yourself, Sif! And…I mean, you're as Vaugardian as any of us, if you want to be. Not that you should feel like you have to give anything up for us! But! I thought this might…make it easier to remember?"

What…were they saying?

Isabeau opened the box, and instead of one of his black i-earrings like you'd expected, a pair of star-shaped earrings rested inside. They were a light shade, just dark enough to notice around your hair, and obviously handcrafted. The edges were imprecise, the designs weren't symmetrical, and you could feel the love in every angle.

You stared. You didn't know what else to do.

Isa was saying more things, and it sounded like other people were responding, but you lifted up a hand to the box. A shaking hand, you realized when it was halfway there. Trembling, uncertain, but you didn't dare stop now. Not when they'd put so much effort in.

"-know what I was working on, the past few days. It's something of a rush job and it shows, but it's even more Vaugardian to have it made by your family, isn't it?" Odile was speaking.

Made…by your family.

Made by them.

You cried. You wrapped your arms around the giant body of Isabeau and you cried and you sobbed and you bawled and for once in your life, you weren't ashamed of a single sound you made. There wasn't any room for it in your heart. Not with everything else you were feeling.

Everyone else was holding you in moments. You turned, as best you could in the group hug, to include all of them. You knew you were getting tears and snot all over them and you didn't care. They were there. They were your family. They…You were one of them.

In that moment, of all moments, you were loved.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #63 – Saga, Book 1 by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples

I first starting reading Saga a literal decade ago (I think literally because Rachel Maddow recommended it on a podcast? Which, god, what a 2010s sort of sentence). I absolutely loved it at the time, and read intermittently until it went on an extended hiatus. So extended, in fact, that I’d kind of assumed the series was dead and only learned it had restarted a couple years ago quite recently. So, seeing as I am now in need of a new comic, I figured I’d restart from scratch and work up to the new stuff. It holds up! (and the letters to the editor are a fascinating cultural time capsule).

The series follows Alana and Marko – star-crossed lovers who eloped together from opposite sides of a brutal and galaxy-spanning race-war – and their newborn daughter Hazel as they evade the numerous forces trying to see them all murdered before than can become an embarrassment. The first arcs of this are most one long blind panic finding transport off-world and only afterwards deciding upon a destination, it’s only in the last volume (with the pointed assistance of Marko’s parents) that there’s any thought of finding stability or a status quo. Along the way, both the family and the series collect a wider and wider circle of colourful hangers-on – and the narrative begins switching focus to give real narrative focus and character arcs to three different groups that find themselves tracking down the family. None of them are particularly happy lives, but they all make for very compelling drama.

The best way to describe this is I suppose a ‘science-fantasy dramedy’. Which sounds viscerally and violently wrong, but the comedy and the drama are both absolutely vital motors keeping it running. And this is the incredibly rare work that actually makes them work together seamlessly. It’s an incredibly vulgar book in a dozen different ways, but the characters are all plausible and compelling, and once you have granted the slightly contrived explanation for why both governments care so immensely about Marko and Alana the plot coheres enough to never take you out of the story. Which is helped by the pacing being fast and tight in a way that always kept me (at least) engaged. I do deduct points for the wise author character basically looking directly at the fourth wall and saying ‘and the profound message of my work is-’ (moreso because said message is truly eye-roll-inducingly vapid and dumb, granted), but that’s easily forgiven.

The comedy was...more hit-or-miss. There is a lot of clever wordplay and funny, high-context character beats. There are also a bunch of just absurd or striking visual gags or background details that really work. And then there is the giant with balls so big and hideous that they almost crush someone to death.

It’s been said (by people with far more knowledge of and investment in the medium than I) that mainstream American comics are these incredible wells of repressed sexuality – full of physically implausible women dressed for a burlesque and with panels framed by a particularly sleazy tabloid photographer, but oddly coy about actually talking about or including sex itself. Which tracks with my limited experiences, but might just be bullshit I don’t know – what I do know is that Saga is basically the exact opposite of that.

Which is to say, this is an intensely sexual comic, but an atypically non-sexualized one. Which is a bit of an odd distinction, but compare how Saga shows an uncensored orgy and how any given artist at a con draws prints of Power Girl and you’ll get the idea. This is on balance a very good thing, occasional junior-high-level visual gags and gross-out humour aside. Sex is a part of life, of varying importance to different people but something present and shaping the world regardless (and Marko and Alana very much do believably seem like a couple that’d have a kid together without a huge excess of planning beforehand).

Aside from Alana, Marko and Hazel (and hangers-on including a phantom babysitter and Marko’s somewhat-approving parents), the various groups hunting them get a really surprising amount of page-count – The Will, Lying Cat and Prince Robot are all basically main characters in their own right, and Gwendolyn, Sophie, Upsher and Doff aren’t fair off. It’s an immense accomplishment that a series of 28-30 page comics manages to bounce between so many characters and always keep them all moving, both physically and emotionally. (The character work and character design of this is worth at least the price of admission on its own, really).

The thing that most makes me love the comic is, I think, how it will introduce characters and tell you explicitly they are murderers and monsters – and then show them struggling and risking their life out of guilt or altruism or love, show them falling for people and being part of rich social worlds, show the trauma and baggage and shitty relationships that made them who they are. Make you care about them and root for them, want them to accomplish what they need to to get a happy ending – and then have them destroy something or kill someone else you’ve grown to care about. Aside from the really obvious stuff about intolerance and war, it’s one of the most consistent themes of the series that monsters have lives and loves too, which is frankly something I wish more stories (and just, people) took to heart.

The setting is glorious, in a ‘mural on the side of a stoner van’ sort of way. Laser guns and spaceships that are giant flying trees, a kingdom of robots with TVs for heads and the planet-sized egg of what’s basically a living black hole – nothing that’s designed to bear scrutiny, but endlessly inventive and evocative and clearly very fun for the artist.

The most striking thing is that – even for now, let alone fucking 2012 – the comic is just incredibly diverse. Even leaving aside the really weird or cartoonishy exaggerated species there’s more diversity in body type and silhouette in one crowd scene of Saga than in most Hollywood movies I’ve seen recently. Same with race and sexuality—the whole setting seeming functionally queernorm except for the one couple whose character arc requires that they come from Planet Homophobia is slightly eyeroll inducing but again, compared to the early 2010s norm it’s soaring so high above the bar you can’t even see the ground.

So yeah, have fallen entirely back in love with it. Can’t wait to start in on Book Two.

[safetycar-restart]

hi!! this is my first ask so I have no idea if I’m going it right but here we go ,,

for actual days I’ve been thinking of sub max winning his first championship!! once all the celebrations are over he just wants his dom - imagine showering him with endless praise, giving and giving all he wants because he deserves it!! he deserves it as the prettiest world champion ever <3

I hope you’re having a good day!!

- 🖇️ anon <3

Alright this ask was sent literally months ago but since Max has just won his fourth title this seems like the perfect way to return!! I figured I'd write this as though he just won his fourth for obvious reasons.

So firstly, we all know how much Max likes to party to celebrate and he loves celebrating with his team. For the first few hours after his championship is finalised he's floating on a high. He's so sweet and so cuddly with absolutely everyone, pulling everyone into hugs, offering everyone some sips of his drink, etc.

He's just so happy.

You stay in the background at first, just watching from a distance as he enjoys himself. His mood is infectious and you let him enjoy it as long as he wants.

There's a brief moment of confusion before it's time for the red bull team picture though. Max is in the middle of course. He wraps his arm around the person to his left and then frowns when he looks over at them and looks around in confusion. He had assumed you were next to him of course and now he won't let the picture be taken until you make your way over.

It requires climbing over multiple poor red bull mechanics because Max refused to allow to just join them on the floor. No no you must be next to him!!!! So eventually you manage to make your way over and the picture can finally be taken. You give him a kiss on the cheek for the second picture, and in the third he's somehow smiling even wider than in the first.

He spends a long time celebrating with his team, buying everyone drinks and getting as many hugs as humanly possible. But when the party starts to move outside of the track and people are trying to decide which club to end up at, Max just looks for you and comes over with a smile on his face.

He's draped himself over you in an instant with absolutely zero regard for how you might handle taking his entire weight. (The only reason you don't both up on the floor is that you were leaning against a wall for support, otherwise you'd have fallen right down with him in your arms, you do try to tell him this but he doesn't seem to care).

You ask him where he'd like to go next, fully expecting him to say he's going to some party or club but instead he just says he wants to go back to the hotel. You double and triple check this with him but his answer remains the same.

You go back to the hotel and the entire drive over he's retelling you the story of the entire race. You just smile at him and stroke the back of his head and remain silent rather than trying to remind him you watched the race live and he already told you everything earlier. He can tell you the story a hundred more times if it means he stays this happy.

When you finally manage to wrestle him into the hotel room he's immediately asking to shower with you. He goes to the bathroom and waits so sweetly for you to unclip his collar so it won't get wet and then to join him in the shower. He doesn't try anything at all actually, though he does sort of just stand there expectantly until you roll your eyes and begin to wash him. He's lucky he's cute.

He curls up in bed with you after that, his collar back on and his hair still wet. He falls asleep about halfway through his second retelling of the race.

[itsstrange]

A Little Bit Warmer

Fandom: MW, MW2, MW3

Relationship: Zombie Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

A/N: I’ve Had This Idea Since Zombie Ghost Was First Introduced But Never Got Around To Officially Write It Down, But Now, IT’S OFFICIALLY HERE!! Had So Much Fun Writing This One.

Also, This Will Definitely Be A Mini Series! Another Thing, This Was Also Semi Inspired By Warm Bodies. 🤗

{ANY WARNING TRIGGERS WILL BE POSTED IN THE BEGINNING IF THE STORY!}

Summary: Is It Possible That There Is Such Things As Miracles? Or Does A Cold Heart Eventually Finds Its Warmth?

Word Count: 12k

Warnings: (Yes) Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Murder, Slightly Graphic Content, Guns, Knifes, etc, Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst, Zombie Protective Ghost, Jealous Zombie Ghost, Eventual Smut,

Call Sign: Kali

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ENJOY! 💀🫶

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October 18, 2026

S.C.H.Q

23:00 pm

“How low are we?”

“Low. A lot of children and families are getting sick with this damn weather,”

“What about the emergency vault? I thought we did a big score not too long ago? Filled it up with supplies?”

“Like I said Lieutenant, a lot of children and families are getting sick. It’s spreading like wildfire. And fast. The medical ward is getting overwhelmed with people that they’re down to their last case of supplies,”

“Any casualties?”

The older man sighs, rubbing at his eyebrow, “One so far,”

Fucking great.

You sigh heavily. Leaning your exhausted body against the desk. It had been such a long couple days that the moment you finally arrived at base all you wanted to do was fall asleep for a week straight. You had gone out of the safe zone with a group to try and clear more sections of the city to keep it safe, to expand your community, to make more shelter considering it kept growing as the days went by. So after 8 days of being out of the safe zone, sleeping in uncomfortable conditions, killing herds of flesh eating Zeds, killing looters, you had successfully came back to base with great news. You and your team were able to successfully recover another hot zone, another great victory where everyone in your group made it back with no injuries. No bite marks.

Yet, despite the great news you had for your leader, bad news was landed on your shoulders once again. Fucking typical with this goddamn unit. You had barely gotten off the humvee when a soldier walked towards you with a message that you were needed in the Generals office. Which resulted in you standing near General Shepherds desk as you listened with exhausted eyes that threatened to close on you.

Your long term friend, teammate, partner in crime Phillip Graves stood beside you. His own exhaustion lingering on his stubble jaw.

“When are we heading out?” You ask after a heavy exhale, hands resting on your vest as you stare at the man in front of you,

“Tomorrow. 0500,” Well there goes my beauty sleep. “You and Graves along with the rest of your squad will head up North.”

You nod at the man. Taking in all the information given. It was nothing you’ve never done before, practically done it your entire life. First stop was to head over to Lincoln Grove, where a small downtown with multiple stores stood. You’ve raided most of the stores, but some still remained untouched so it was worth checking out. Main mission was to head further down, passing the barricades of the safe zone towards Red Lines where a hospital stood somewhere in the section.

Easy enough.

Only it wasn’t. Red Lines was known for its activeness of Zeds, Lurkers, runners and Ghouls. Ghouls were rare to be seen out in the city, they mostly hid where it’s dark so they can ambush anyone who pumps warm blood. But still, even they make random appearances during the day.

Red Lines was one of the most uncontrolled sections of the city, it wasn’t where the pandemic first hit, but it was where most of the population lost their lives. It remained untouched. Every time a group went through in hopes to control it, they never came back. Not a single soul in the group would make it back.

Unfortunately, Shepherd was a stubborn old dog and continued in trying to push out every infected there is to officially claim Red Lines. Why? Because he knew by owning Red Lines he’ll have higher authority when it came to medicine. His main goal was to claim that hot section just to control what comes in and out of the hospital.

And you knew he’d do anything to own it.

“Any questions?” Shepherd asks, eyes averting from you to the man beside you, when neither spoke up he nods his head before dismissing you both,

Without another word, just another exhausted sigh falling from your lips you walk out of the man’s office then down the hallways to get out of the building to get to your private quarters. Which really was a rundown apartment complex that was right across from the business building where Shepherd stood hid.

Fifth floor to be precise. Inside the biggest office there was.

Almost every soldier from Shadow Company lived in your apartment complex. Shepherds orders. Claimed his soldiers needed to be ready and alert for anything and everything. The actual truth you knew that he just didn’t want to admit to anyone or the civilians was, he simply wanted his soldiers closer to him for better and faster protection from anyone and anything that tries to threaten him.

The thought alone makes a loud scoff leave your lips as you walk down the stairs to the first floor. Graves, who was walking beside you and speaking to you the entire time—which you obviously weren’t paying attention to— sends you a look. Brows knitted together as you both make your way out the building.

“Somethin’ funny?”

You look over to him, eyes locking for a second before you avert them back in front of you as you push through the semi broken glass doors.

“Yeah. Funny how I thought I was gonna get a good nights sleep today,” You throw in a lie. Well.. not really,

Graves snickers at your words, placing an arm around your shoulders to tug you closer to his side as you both make your way to the apartments.

“Come on up to my room and I’ll give you a good nights sleep,” Graves purrs into your ear, a scoff leaving your lips as you shove him off you,

“In your wildest dreams Philip,” After so many years of working alongside the Texan man you’ve grown use to his flirtatious comments,

Philip Graves was a man known for his words. Especially when it came to luring woman into his bedsheets, something that personally makes an acid-like taste in your tongue at the thought of it. No matter how much you need to unwind or just forget about this shitty ass world for a few minutes, you will never accept his offer. You saw Graves as a close friend, a teammate, and surprisingly a brother. And you knew he knew that too, mostly because you have rejected him multiple times, but Graves was such a stubborn man that he didn’t take no as answer. Obviously he’ll never push it, once rejected always rejected, but that didn’t mean he’d try again every so often.

No matter how many disappointments you gave him after each rejection, he never once gave up.

You knew the man was a man-whore, never one to take a relationship serious, which is why you also declined his offer. Not that you’d ever want a relationship with him. Hell, the thought of possible being in a relationship with him only made you scrunch your face in disgust. He was a friend to you, nothing else.

“Oh (Y/n) (L/n) you fill my soul just a little more each day,” Says Graves, hand planted on his chest as he pouts his bottom lip at you,

“Good. Because one of us has to be the brightness in this friendship,” You give him a smile as you walk through the black gates of the apartment complex,

Other Shadow men and woman can be found passed the gates. Some spoke to one another in the lobby, sitting on the beaten down couch, smoking, drinking, eating, cracking jokes. The apartment was everyone’s safe space. Where they can unwind, relax after completing their tasks, sleep in their proper quarters before having to get up before or at crack of dawn to start their rounds once again. Although, since civilians keep joining the team and the apartments had limited rooms, some soldiers unfortunately had to bunk with other soldiers.

Thankfully, the higher the rank one was, the privilege they had in having their own rooms. Hence, you and Graves.

You both slept on the 7th floor. Overlooking the entire safe zone. Getting a perfect view of the once beautiful city of Chicago. Yet, despite the view and the single apartment you had, you still hated the fact that you had to climb seven flights of stairs to get to your door. It was times like these that you loathed living on the highest floor.

Your legs shook as you climbed the stairs, even considered asking Graves to piggyback you to your floor but you knew that man would you haunt with that memory till the day he dies. And you knew he wouldn’t stop there. As stubborn as that man is he’ll find you in the afterlife and torment you for existence.

So, with an annoyed huff you climbed the rest of the stairs till you made it to your door.

“See you in a few hours,” You hear Graves as he walks further down the hallway, not sparing him a glance you simply wave at him as you push open your door,

Your apartment was decent. Well.. decent as it’ll ever be in times like these. Once entering the small living space, a small hallway greets you with cracked walls, the paint chipping off on either side with smudges of dirt or mud. Once walking further into the home it looked… more decent. A broken tv hung on the wall next to some windows, which some were boarded up as they didn’t have a window— which you were in the process of fixing them somehow— next, there was a single beaten down brown love seat against the wall towards the entrance. A medium coffee table stood in front of the loveseat with your AR-15 leaning against it. Then a medium size generator leaning against the opposite wall where you hung a metal bat on the wall as some sort of prize.

As mentioned, the living room seemed a little more decent, the kitchen however was just a mess with your armory. Guns and cases of bullets engulfed the kitchen. You never made or ate your food in your apartment, you mostly ate at Taz’s Diner where everyone ate together. So it was pointless to have a kitchen when it was never used for cooking, so you made it into your armory instead.

Now going towards your room where you can rest was slightly in better shape. In the center of the room laid your king size bed— something that Graves personally found for you one day while out on patrol, the ever so kind man he was. Grey and orange bedsheets laid on top of the comforter, a brick wall stood behind the bed that had a couple shelves with multiple books. It was another way to destress yourself, minus the working out or going to kill some loitering Zeds, books has always been helpful. So you’d collect as many you can find, causing you to have a mess of stacked books on your shelves.

It surprises you how they’ve managed to hold on for this long or how they haven’t collapsed on you as you slept.

A few more trinkets can be found in your room that you’ve either found or was gifted by some close friends, close civilians or Graves.

You tried to limit your collections, only wanting to keep things that seemed important or useful, yet, books were the only exception.

A metal desk leaned against the wall across the bed. Maps, bullets, a couple parts from guns, dirty rags, tape, tools and markers were scattered on the desk. Then right next to it was your window to the view of the overrun city of Chicago. Some buildings and sections of the safe zone was brought back to life, small dimmed string lights can be seen from your room, then passed the safe zone remained the cold, dark side of Chicago. Every so often you sit on your window sill, cigarette in your mouth as you scan the view, the expanding life just a few floors down, then back to the destroyed city where your mind would often get trapped in the past. Remembering nightmares you wish would vanish from your mind, including the good memories.

They were nothing but pain. It was never good to remember the past, because it reminded you what you once had, what you lost. And those were the nightmares you tried avoiding.

So, shaking the thoughts away, you shrug off your tactical vest, your heavy boots, holsters, jacket, and your tactical belt before falling face first on your mattress. Causing the poor comforter to make a loud noise from the force fall, something you could care less at the moment, all you cared for was sleep.

Nightmares or not, you were getting your sleep.

****

October 19, 2026

S. C. H. Q

0430 am

“You seen Graves?” You ask a soldier, Portman, was his name, as he sat inside a humvee. He simply points in the direction of a tent,

“The General asked to speak to him,” The young soldier says,

With knitted brows you sip your warm, very warm coffee as you make your way towards the tent. Why would he ask for him? Is he changing the plans last minute? If so why weren’t I involved in the conversation? Question after question popped in your head as you make your way through other soldiers to get to the tent. However, just as you rounded the corner of other parked vehicles you hear faint, but loud enough whispers to know people were talking to one another. Your brows knit tighter once more, trying to figure out what was being said but before you can even walk inside, Troy— one of Graves’ idiotic friends who you loathed— steps outside. His face expression showing distaste when he meets your gaze. Yet, not a moment later Graves steps outside with an oddly distant look. Brows knitted together almost in a frown, however once his eyes land on you they instantly change. As if nothing happened.

Why the fuck was Troy apart of the conversation?

“There you are! Beginning to think I had to drag your ass out of bed,” He claims as he fixes his vest,

You give both men a wary look. Your eyes averting from them to the tent behind his shoulder.

“Everything okay?” Graves shakes his head with an annoyed look,

“Busting my balls it’s all,”

“Regarding?” You ask, brow slightly raised,

“None of your concern,” Troy comments, causing you to glare at him, yet before you can argue back Graves is pulling you away from him by wrapping an arm around your shoulders,

However, you still throw the piece of shit a raised finger as you’re forced to walk away.

As Graves lead you towards the trucks you asked again if everything was alright. You knew the General was a miserable old dog at times and would give shit to anyone he decided to target, so you knew what Graves felt at the moment. However, you couldn’t wrap your head around anything Graves has done wrong in the past few days or weeks. So it just seemed off.

“Don’t worry bout’ it sugar. It’s handled,” The man smirks down at you when he sees the way a mask of annoyance hovers over your face at his pet name,

Oh how he knew how much you loathed that pet name and oh how much he loved using it to simply get a rise out of you.

“You’re lucky I’m sleep deprived otherwise I’d toss this whole cup of coffee on you,” Your comment earns a loud chuckle from him,

“Thank god to your lack of sleep then,” He claims as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to lead you both towards the humvee’s where soldiers were loading in,

After another 5 to 10 minutes of briefing the soldiers of the mission, loading the trucks of empty duffle bags for medical supplies, checking and counting ammunition for every rifle, everyone began climbing into the trucks.

Once you checked your vest multiple times, checked each component, your extra magazines, your holsters, your combat knives that you had tucked behind your back, drank your cup of coffee before pouring another one, you finally climb into the passenger seat while Graves took the drivers side.

Once signaling the man you were ready, he shifts the gear before feeling the truck moving down the road. You stare out the window, watching kids wave goodbye as their parents stood right behind them, a small smile tugs on your lips as you notice their proud, wide smiles as they wave goodbye. Yet, your heart also gets pulled on by sadness at the fact they are living in a world with such cruel conditions, instead of the happy, semi-safe world it use to be. Now, they had to fight to survive. They had to become soldiers to survive and help protect their new home.

“ETA to Red Lines is approximately an hour ladies and gentlemen. Keep your eyes pealed for any movement, safeties off once out of the safe zone,” Your thoughts are interrupted by Graves speaking into the radio,

‘Rog,’

‘Copy,’

‘Copy that sir,’

Multiple voices can be heard through the radio as they announce their confirmation.

“Get some shut eye Kali. I’ll wake you up for whatever reason,” Graves calls you by your callsign before voicing his offer, his eyes focused down the road,

No matter how heavenly that sounded, you knew it wasn’t a good idea. He needed an extra pair of eyes looking after him, after the team. Plus, if you were the last to survive Shepherd would have your head if he found out his team got killed because you wanted to get some extra sleep on the road.

“No I’m good,” You respond, slowly sipping on your coffee,

Graves turns to look at you, observing your sleep deprived frame before looking back towards the road. Just staring at you alone made him exhausted. You needed sleep and he’d forcefully put you to sleep if that’s what it took to make you catch some extra hours.

“(Y/n) seriously, gets some sleep. I’ll wake you when I need you,” He tries again, voice calm and comforting as his baby blues look into yours,

You softly chuckle, appreciating his concern, “I’m okay. M’not that tired anymore,”

That was a total lie.

Because after 10 minutes of driving down the dark, destroyed, abandoned roads of Chicago you swiftly dozed off. Empty coffee cup nearly falling out of your hands if it wasn’t for Graves’ quick reflexes.

The man slightly chuckles at you as he observes your sleeping frame before focusing his eyes back on the road. He knew you trusted him enough to be vulnerable around him, to have faith in him in keeping you both alive when one was resting. He hoped it’d remained that way. But deep down, he knew it won’t, not after today. He knew it was going to be a difficult decision if you don’t come around the new regulations that Shepherd will have back at base.

The rules made sense. But he just knew you’d be against it. And that alone brought an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

*****

Red Lines

0800

“Alright, Eagle 3 stays out here. Keep watch for any movement. Eagle 1 you’ll take care of building A. Find anything valuable that we need. Eagle 2 you’re with me and Lieutenant Kali. We’ll scope the bottom before making our way to the pharmacy unit,” Graves lays down the orders, looking at every soldier who simply nods back at him,

You on the other hand couldn’t help the annoyed look on your face when Troy would be tagging along with you and Graves. You’d rather much get chased by a group of Zeds than walk beside him. That man was not to be trusted by any means.

“If things get too complicated you retreat. Whatever you find is whatever we’ll take. Got it?” You join on the orders, receiving more nods from the soldiers,

“Remember. Safeties off. If anything moves you shoot to kill,” Graves says once again before sending everyone to their positions,

Meeting Graves’ gaze you send him a nod before following him up the stairs that lead to the hospital building. Once inside the lobby, Eagle 1 slowly and quietly parts away to checkout their side of the building. Guns raised and ready to fire. From the corner of your eye you watch them walk past the doors before disappearing from your sight. Once the lobby was clear to move forward, you and Graves lead the rest of the soldiers down the hallway.

As you made your way down the hospital you kept your gun tight to your shoulder, finger off the trigger but close enough to be used in case of anything. You and the group slowly and quietly searched each room. Your eyes cautiously scanned every inch of the place, noticing just how rough this hospital had gone through after the outbreak.

Hospital beds, equipment, papers, wheel chairs, broken windows, everything you can possibly think of was scattered across the floor, the hallways. The ceiling tiles were broken, wires hung from above, vines somehow made their way inside the hospital and have overtook the walls, the entire hospital was out of power but emergency lights still flashed, casting a red bright glow throughout the building.

However, the further your group walked into the building the worst everything got. Blood stains coated the floors, the walls, bodies that have been dead for months maybe years were left on the ground. Yet, what made everyone on edge and more cautious of their surroundings was how fresh some blood stains were. Everyone kept close watch on everything, every corner and every room.

Luckily, no living dead was seen, yet, causing you to reach the pharmacy wing with no issue. Although, it still didn’t mean everyone was safe, they still had to stay cautious.

Yet despite scanning the pharmacy for any danger, no one noticed a pair of white frosty eyes watching them in a dark corner the whole time. Watching a specific person in the group.

While two soldiers kept watch on the entrance of the door, the rest of you tossed as much medicine as you can into black duffel bags.

“Bronx start piling these bags on something with wheels,” You call out to the soldier who kept watch as you start on your second duffle, throwing variety of medical supplies inside,

From alcohol wipes, rubbing alcohol bottles, medical bandages, band-aides, any working thermometers, stethoscopes as a request from some doctors back at base, anything you saw that was of use you’d toss it in the bag. As you helped Graves carry another loaded bag onto a medical trolley that Bronx has brought from somewhere in the room, a faint noise coming from outside the double doors has everyone stopping.

“Anyone hear that?” Silo, another soldier that was placing pill bottles inside her duffle calls out,

“I did. We should bail Graves,” Troy claims, eyes directed at the doors,

“Negative, we’ve got orders,” You demand the soldier. Ignoring his words you continue tossing items inside the duffle,

With a grunt the man goes to place the duffle bag on the trolley, mumbling words underneath his breath which was most likely directed towards you but you continue to ignore him like any other day. As Troy placed his bag amongst the other filled bags, another noise that sounded like glass being stepped on comes from outside the doors, catching everyone’s attention again.

“I’m telling you something’s out there,” Silo repeats again, taking a step away from the doors, weapon slightly raised,

The sound of a shot gun being pumped rings in the air, “Graves, let’s bail!” Troy harshly growls as he points his gun towards the door,

Your own ears heard the noise, causing your blood to run cold. But you knew the base was running low on everything. You were already here, at least three bags worth of medical supplies, you couldn’t just leave them. Not when people, families, kids are slowly suffering and possibly dying. You had to take it back with you.

The stores that you’ve checked before coming to Red Lines were no use. Everything had been cleared, leaving every shelve empty. So you had to go back to base with something.

“We have orders Troy!” You remind the man as Graves slowly walks towards the double doors, rifle of his own pointing upwards, finger ready on the trigger for anything,

Troy only throws a scoff at you, “Fuck the orders!”

Jesus he’s more of a fucking pussy than I thought. You think to yourself as you turn to face the man, who still had his shot gun up in the air. Signs of sweat lingered on his temple.

“Fuck you! Families are at stake they need medicine!”

“That’s my point! None of this matters anymore they’re all gonna die anyways!”

Now that raised a flag.

“What?”

“Troy shut up that’s enough!” The look of panic and anger on Graves face raised more flags, what the hell were they hiding?

“What the fuck is he talking about?” Graves looks at you, that same odd look in his eyes from earlier was back, but he simply shakes his head with closed eyes,

“Nothing! Look, there’s nothing out there alright everyone just needs to stop being fucking paranoi—,”

“Phil!” You scream just as you see a large herd of Lurkers and Runners pushing through the doors,

Graves was able to slam the butt of his rifle towards the first Zed reaching towards him, sending him on the ground as he’s quick to shoot the rest.

“Aim for their heads!” You hear him scream as bullets begin flying in the small pharmaceutical,

In less than a second mayhem irrupted. Snarls, growls, screams, pained screams, bullets, windows, glass shattering can be heard in the building. Whatever medical supplies were left had been pushed off the counters or damaged by bullets as the living dead attacked. You had unloaded a whole magazine on the dead causing you to reach for your belt to grab another mag when you glance around the horrific sight unfolding in front of you. Multiple soldiers had been pinned in the corners by herds, pained screams surrounded the pharmaceutical as each soldier got mauled by the living dead.

You watched with wide eyes as you see one young soldier being dragged towards the back of the building by a herd, you go to reach for his wailing hands but before you can grab ahold of them you’re being slammed against the counter. A grunt rumbles in your throat when something digs into your hip, causing pain to travel up your side.

Turning, your met with the most gruesome face inches away from your own.

A runner in the process of forming into a Ghoul. His skin grey and rotten. Patches of skin missing or peeling from its face, blood either fresh and dry stained his entire torso. His mouth. Eyes wild and wide as it tries to latch its teeth onto you. Which you’d like to point out, most of his mouth was completely missing. Only bits and pieces of skin held it upright, giving you a disgusting and traumatic view of his teeth as he growled and snarled.

You groaned out loud as you try pushing the runner off of you. Doing your best in forcing his face away from you by placing your hand under his neck, forcing it away from you, your legs struggling to also kick him away from you. But it was no use because he was ravenous for you, causing him to use all his strength to mark you, eat you. Although, noticing how you’ll probably get bit by this piece of shit if you don’t fight hard enough, adrenaline rises in your veins, giving you enough strength to push him backwards till you slam it against the other counter. Bottles of pills, liquids of you don’t know what the fuck fall from the top shelve, some of it landing around you both or on you as you both struggle with each other.

But as you fought with the runner you somehow lose your balance, causing you to fall backwards, bringing the dead with you.

Another pained groan rumbles in your throat as the weight that falls on top of you nearly takes out all the air from your lungs, but with the little strength you had, you held the runner above you. Away from your skin. But your arms were quickly growing tired, causing an angered, frustrated, slightly fearful yell to fall from your lips. You cannot die this way.

However, before the dead can get a taste of your throat you feel him being pushed off you. Confusion settles on your face at the sudden moment, but is soon replaced with another feeling. Fear and worry as you see a tall, very tall being nearly hovering above you. The bright glowing red light illuminates his features, giving you a glimpse of a skull mask. From where you were on the ground you noticed military gear covered his entire frame, however fear—panic overtakes your body when you noticed this military man was not in fact alive. No. He was infected. The blood and slightly rotten skin was enough proof for you.

As the dead inches closer towards you, you instinctively crawl away from him. Trying to get away from him, away from his ravenous state. You even managed to throw your knife at him while crawling away, causing it to latch onto his right shoulder, yet he only pulls it off with no care in the world as he continues inching closer to you. Crawling away quickly turns into you curling into a ball when he suddenly launches at you. As you waited for the end in a tight ball, your eyes are quick to shoot open when you never see it. In fact, you turn around when you see the tall infected military man fighting off a Ghoul that was apparently fighting him to grab onto you.

Not thinking much about the odd situation you quickly rise to your feet before running to grab your rifle from the floor.

Just as you grip the gun, a pair of strong arms clasping around your shoulders brings a shriek along with a jolt from you. You go to punch the infected, but Graves quickly spins you around to look directly in your eyes.

“We gotta go!” He yells over the ongoing commotion and without any hesitation he drags you by the arm to leave the death trap,

You quickly follow him, but just as you jump over the fallen trolley you stop to quickly pick up a duffle bag that had medical supplies before continuing in following him out the building. Graves yells at you to fucking run for your life, literally, as more horrific shrieks and snarls echo throughout the hospital as you, Graves and of course Troy run down the hallways.

More bullets fly in the air as the three of you shoot any oncoming herds. Felt like a never ending nightmare, but the three of you eventually make it outside. Where Eagle 3 had been mauled to death.

“Fucking Zeds!” Graves curses underneath his breath at the horrific sight,

Blood, lots of blood coated the pavement. Limbs, ripped intestines were scattered throughout the floor, turning your stomach as you scan the gruesome scene. If you had the time you’d definitely puke your coffee and protein bars, but your life was literally at stake. No time to puke your guts.

No pun intended.

“Fucking bastards! I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you! Come on!” The sound of Troy yelling like a complete maniac brings you out of your thoughts,

“Troy get your ass in the truck!” Graves yells from inside the humvee, already igniting the ignition and placing the gear in drive,

Adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you grab ahold of Troy’s tactical vest before dragging him towards the truck. Who was still yelling harmless profanities to the infected, who by the way were rapidly forcing themselves out of the building, causing you to push the idiot inside the humvee before quickly climbing inside yourself. The moment the door shuts Graves all but burns rubber on the pavement, leaving the herd of dead running after the truck.

*******

S.C.H.Q

1000 am

“I’m telling you sir, everything turned into a shit show,” Graves explains once again, exhaustion written on his face as he rests his hands on either side of his hips, “There was nothing we could’ve done. Sons of bitches ambushed us,”

“Goddamn it Graves,” Shepherd growls under his breath as he massages his forehead,

“With all do respect sir, you knew what we were walking into. That place is just damn near impossible to get through. We’re lucky enough to even stand here and tell you it was a failed mission,” You go to defend the Texan, earning a small glare from the old dog,

“Not lucky enough. Not everyone made it back,” You hear Troy behind you, feeling irritation rise in your chest. He’s been such a fucking Parrot since you’ve arrived at base,

But like usual, you ignore him, not even sparing him a glance. Yet, he still kept going. You hear him push off the wall as he walks closer to the group huddled around the Generals’ desk.

“My men would still be here if you’d just listen to me. But no! You just had to keep fucking grabbing medicine did ya!”

“Well excuse me for wanting to fucking save lives! For doing my goddamn job!” You yell back, facing the man to stare directly into those dark, coward, brown eyes of his,

“Yeah? Well look what that got us! One duffle bag filled with medical supplies that’ll not even last a week and the lives of soldiers lost because you wanted to save people who aren’t worth saving anymore!!” The moment those words left his mouth, your fist was quick to make contact with his left cheek. He stumbles backwards against some chairs.

Everything you were feeling; exhaustion, hunger, rage, adrenaline, annoyance, irritation, all of it had combined. Causing you to lash out. Physically. Besides, he’s had coming.

“That’s enough! Both of you!!” Graves once again is pulling you away from the man storming at you,

Although, Troy wasn’t close to reach or touch you because Graves had placed a firm hand on his chest, forcing him to take a step back.

“Now you listen here Lieutenants!” Shepherd announces with a dark tone, rising from his chair he fixes his uniform before walking around the desk, “I understand this is a tough situation on both your parts, but killing each other won’t bring anyone justice!”

“But what I do need is both of you to be on the same page! I’m already dealin’ with a herd of sick, panicked folks out there demanding for any sort of help! The last thing I need is to deal with both of your childlike behavior!”

You send a small glare to Shepherd from the corner of your eye before bringing your fuming orbs to the idiotic dirty blonde head. Who now sported a small gash on his bottom lip, bringing some sort of satisfaction knowing it was you who caused the small gash.

“Now I know we’re all frustrated and stressed about all this mess. But we gotta keep our heads on straight! So with that being said, Lieutenant Lennon go on and catch a breather. Lieutenant (L/N) you’re dismissed. Get some shut eye, I know you need it,” Shepherd orders with a cold, firm tone, eyes challenging you, “You’re dismissed Lieutenant. We’ll spell you later on in the night,”

You don’t argue. Mostly because Graves gives your arm a slight shove with his elbow, a message to just let it go and follow orders. So you do just that. Not sparing either men a glance you storm out the office, the door slamming shut, rattling the windows with its force. Not stopping, you head down towards the steps of the building, ignoring other soldiers standing on guard or the looks directed your way, you just kept walking till you eventually reached outside. The fresh air hitting your heated skin.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath through your nose. Holding it for a few seconds before exhaling deeply through your mouth.

This whole morning was a fucking shit-show and you blamed no one else other than Shepherd. If he wasn’t so obsessed in overtaking Red Lines, everyone from your squad would have been alive. If he’d just send your troop to another location that hadn’t been touched before, none of this mess would have happened.

More time is being wasted, more lives are being taken by a goddamn flu that this base has no medical care for, especially now since the mission was a failure and whatever was inside the duffle was not going to be enough. If you were feeling stressed before then this only made your shoulders heavier at the thought of multiple families slowly dying for the lack of medical care.

“I’m assuming the mission didn’t go as planned?” A soft voice coming from your left has you opening your eyes,

Sandy. One of your closest friends’ girlfriend stood beside you. Her blonde hair held in a messy bun as she wore a grey coat, light brown long sleeve underneath with some old brown timberland boots on her feet. You observed her features, trying to see any signs of sickness and immediately feeling relief when she looked completely fine. Your eyes then fall down to the little boy by her side, bright green eyes looking up at you with a wide smile. You smile down at him, ruffling his short dirty blonde locks.

“Was a fucking disaster,” You mumble under your breath, locking eyes with the woman,

She gives you a small saddened smile, one hand reaching out to your arm to give you reassurance while the other cradled her growing bump.

“All that matters now is that you’re back. That you’re alive,” Sandy states with the same warm smile,

You give her a small smile as you look down at her hand rubbing soft circles on her stomach, “How’s the nugget?”

Sandy’s smile widens, “He’s good. Kickin’ and punchin’ in there. Think he wants out already,”

You chuckle at her response, “Just like his father. Stubborn as hell,”

Sandy softly chuckles. A glimpse of sorrow hovering over her eyes at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. But you knew she was strong, stronger than you that’s for sure because she pushed down the growing ball in her throat and continued smiling at you.

“Listen.. whatever we brought it’s.. it’s not enough. So regardless if you both aren’t sick.. just go to medic. Better safe than sorry,” You tell her with a small smile, which she returns, appreciation written on her face for your constant help,

She truly did appreciate everything you’ve done for both of them after Billy had passed away. At first she didn’t need your pity, but once she saw you were determined in keeping Billy’s promise, she slowly began opening to you. A bond was soon formed between you three, and you absolutely cherished it.

After kindly declining her offer in grabbing some breakfast with them—considering that’s where they were heading in the first place before running into you— you wave them goodbye before heading towards the Shadow Company’s apartments. Looks from multiple soldiers were sent your way, word had traveled fast about the failed mission which you weren’t surprised about, but still grew annoyed for this squads loud mouth. Nothing is ever kept a secret. Yet, you held your head high, giving dark threatening glares at soldiers who dared look your way, making them look the other way with a panicked expression in their eyes.

It felt like an eternity when you finally made it to your private quarters. Once the door was shut and locked behind you. You toss your keys somewhere on a nearby couch, placed your rifle against the coffee table, start to shrug off your boots and vest before making your way towards the bedroom. Where you fall face first on the mattress, slightly rattling your shelves from the rough impact, although at that moment you could care less if they decide to give its last breath and have it crumble on top of you.

You just needed sleep.

And that’s exactly what you got. Within five or so minutes you start to drift away, the sound of heavy rain beginning to pour just outside your window helps your exhaustion take over your body, helps the stress from yours shoulders to disperse for the time being and sending you into another deep, dreamless sleep.

++++

1900

BANG!

BANG!

The loud, extremely loud noise has you bolting from your bed. Your breath uneven as you scan your surroundings. Your bedroom remained still, only the sounds of rain hitting against your window can be heard, but before you can calm yourself, convince yourself it was just another nightmare you hear it once again. Only difference it has you jumping from bed when those loud sounds were familiar sounds of gunfire. With quick movements you slip on your boots before darting outside the bedroom, you quickly grip your rifle before running out the door.

The hallways were empty, but as you hurried down the steps, it was then you began hearing muffled screams, which then grew much louder and clearer that sent a dark shiver down your spine the moment you stepped outside into the pouring rain. It was absolute chaos outside. People were desperately running from something, someone, while others sought for safety. You tried asking a civilian for answers but they only pleaded with you with a frightening look as they ran away from you

“What the fuck?” You whisper as you watch them bolt down the road, but your eyes wildly turn at the sound of more horrific screams,

Your eyes grow wide as you catch a Shadow dragging a woman by her hair as she screams and pleads with them. Immediately, you ran towards the commotion where you roughly shove the soldier away, causing him to lose his balance. “What the hell are you doing?!”

His eyes stare at you with confusion, determination, yet they also had uncertainty and fear in them, “Following orders!”

“What?!” You yell the same time when more frightful pleads and screams are heard before hearing another round of gunfire echoing down the street,

The loud, piercing noise has you flinching, but nonetheless run towards the rapid fire. Your feet come to a complete stop when you see the horrific sight in front of you. Inside a gate we’re at least five Shadows with rifles, but your stomach turns when your eyes land on the pile of bodies that were stacked upon each other. The sight alone has a gasp falling from your lips, never in a million years did you think your team would be slaughtering civilians. Civilians and..kids.

The moment you see soldiers lining another group of people, along with kids, you run towards the gated area.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You demand out loud as you shove the soldier that was about to raise his rifle,

Taken aback by your sudden presence and sudden shove, his eyes were just as wide and frantic as yours. Even with a mask covering most of his face you can see the horror in his face. “G-General Shepherd, Lieutenant. He’s ordered a sweep of the community,”

“A what?!” You question with genuine confusion and horror,

You should have seen it coming, of course the old man would do something like this to keep himself safe and away from any sort of danger. But killing innocent lives? You knew Shepherd was crazy with his risky motives, but now, you were convinced he had finally lost it.

Yet, before you can demand him to put the rifle away and free the civilians, a loud voice is calling after you. Turning around, your met with another soldier jogging after you.

“Lieutenant (L/N), General Shepherd wants you in his office. It’s urgent,”

“Damn right it’s fucking urgent!” You growl at him then turn back to the man who still had his rifle in his hand, “I don’t know what kind of shit ass order he gave you, but that’s enough! Let these people go,”

Just as you turn to walk with the other man, a voice is calling after you, “But Lieutenant.. General Shep—,”

“General Sheperd has lost his goddamn mind!!” You yell over the pouring rain, your eyes firm and angry, “Now I’ve ordered you, to stand. Down!”

The soldier hesitates to lower his weapon, even spares a glance to the other soldiers who stood by with the same hesitance, but they all eventually lower their weapons and allow the civilians to leave from the gate. All of them sprint away with frightened screams, once you knew not a single soul was apprehended you followed the soldier to the building where the piece of shit was. Although, you couldn’t deny the uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of your stomach, you knew something bad was soon to come.

As you made your way through the streets, the streets that were once filled with certainty, safety, and joy, were now filled with absolute darkness and silence. Only the sound of the pouring rain surrounding you can be heard, along with faint screams coming here and there. You eventually make it to the top of the building where you shove open the door to his office, causing it to roughly collide with the glass window.

“Wanna explain to me why we’re killing half the fucking community?!” You yell as you march towards the desk where the old dog sat with a grim look,

Other soldiers who were nearby took a step closer towards you, indicating they’d hold you down if you’d tried anything.

Troy stood right beside Shepherd, his hands clasped behind his back as he glared at your storming frame. You also didn’t miss the way he takes a step forward in a protective manner, which makes you tighten your hold on your rifle. Your eyes then turn to the left of the office where Graves leaned against a stack of piled cases, his own rifle hung around his neck, dangling in front of his body, but it was his eyes that had a unfamiliar dark look in them.

“Lieutenant, I need you to calm down,” Shepard orders, his voice horsed as he spoke to you,

“Calm?— calm down?! You just ordered to kill innocent lives! How the fuck do you expect me to calm down!” You scream, your voice bouncing off the walls as you step closer to the desk, but hands gripping on your elbows has you halting your steps,

“Because Lieutenant, what I’m about to tell you is something I need you to understand!” Shepherd sternly states as he slowly rises from his chair, his eyes looking at you as you shrug off the soldiers,

“Understand what?! That we’re becoming mercenaries?!”

“Understand that this goddamn flu we got going on is only becoming more of a problem!” The old man starts, he remains behind his desk as he continues, “More lives are being infected with this flu every god forsaking minute and we don’t have the medical equipment to cure it!”

You shrug your shoulders from frustration and rage, “So what?! So that means you have to start killing people for it?! What happened to isolation?! Or quarantining the sick?!”

“Quarantine won’t do any justice here!” Troy joins in, his gaze firm as he continues standing by the General’s side, “Like General Shepherd said, everyone is being infected by the second. We need to kill the sick to kill the flu!”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You couldn’t believe Graves was allowing this! All he did was stay quiet throughout the whole argument, just switching his gaze from you to Shepherd to Troy then back to you. After everything you’ve all been through, every near death experience, this was how your relationship would end? He wouldn’t try and attempt to back you on this? How can he agree with them? How can he kill in cold blood? What happed to him?

“Does that also include children?! Innocent children?!” You yell at every man in the room, but your eyes land on Shepherd when he inhales deeply through his nose, his shoulders straightening as he looks directly in your eyes,

“Whatever it takes. Lieutenant,” Your blood boiled in your veins at his words,

Your anger, hatred, frustration, exhaustion, everything you were feeling at the moment, you let it take over. Your vision immediately gets clouded with pure white hot rage, your heart pounded in your ears, the hair on your arms raised as your hands shook.

End him. Fucking kill him! He’ll never get away this.

“You crazy old fuck!!” You yell as you raise your rifle in the air, the barrel directed towards Shepherd, his eyes wide as he stares at you,

The situation had escalated rather fast. Your finger pressed the trigger with no hesitation, igniting the chamber to go off, but just as you had raised the gun towards the man and just as you pressed it, someone is knocking the rifle out of your hands. Because of this, the bullet only clipped Shepherd on his left shoulder. Which still had him stumbling backwards against the wall as he clutched onto his injured shoulder.

Almost immediately as the rifle fell to the ground, you feel large hands grasping your arms, but you quickly fight them off by twisting from their hold and snapping one of their arms, bringing an agony scream from them. It was then you realized it was another Shadow.

Yet, just as you hurt one soldier, more pair of hands are grabbing ahold of you, forcing you to the ground but your body was filled with adrenaline, rage that you used it to push against them. You roughly knock your shoulder against another Shadow’s firm chest, sending him tumbling back towards the other that had held onto you.

The moment both of them had fell to the ground, Troy was next in grabbing onto you. He gripped your hair as he pulled your head backwards, earning a pained scream from you. He threatened you disgustingly close in your ear that only seemed to intensified your rage, so with your free arm, you let your fist connect with his face once again where you hear a cracking sound before seeing him tumbling backwards against the wall. His hands reached up to his bloody nose as he groaned in pain.

“(Y/n)! Stop!” You hear Graves’ scream, your eyes avert to the Texan, noticing then he had his rifle pointing at you but held out a hand as his blue eyes pleaded with you,

It was at his moment that you knew, he’d shoot you if ordered too.

You stared at him with hurt, angered, betrayed eyes. How can he possibly allow this to happen? Why would he allow this to happen? You knew Graves would often do so some shady stuff or risk his life in order to get the job done, but this?! This was beyond not okay. This was not the Philip Graves you knew.

“Troy don’t!” Graves yells, his eyes wide as he watches the man behind your shoulder,

The moment the words leave his mouth you quickly turn to bolt out the office just as bullets start to fly. A bullet still manages to get lodged in your right upper arm as you ran out the door, but it wasn’t enough to halt your steps, instead it only heightened your adrenaline to run faster down the hallway. That was until you see more soldier running down your way, causing you to push through a random door just as their own rifles start sending live rounds your way. It felt like an eternity of you running through the building, dodging numerous bullets with your name on it, fighting Shadows who only ended up getting their life ripped from them by your own hands, but you eventually make it out the building. Except it wasn’t in a nice way.

Just as you had gotten to the second floor of the building and were focused on running down the hallway, one of Shepherds soldiers had caught you by surprise. He had emerged from a dark corner and had tackled you against the window, shattering it on impact. You fought him for a few minutes before you see him lunge at you in frustration, sending you both flying out the window. The both of you tumble down the second floors rooftop before landing roughly on the street. You groaned heavily as you laid under the pouring rain, your entire body flared with pain as you laid on the ground gathering your breath. But a voice in your head screams at you to get up. It took some strength, but you eventually pull yourself up and off the ground.

It was then as you slowly got to your feet that you noticed the man you were fighting with didn’t have the same luck as you. He had landed on nearby humvee, where you had landed on a tent filled with crates and cardboard boxes. Still wasn’t a painless fall, but at least you survived it.

With a hand clutching onto your aching abdomen, you limp away from the building, but the moment you had gotten a few feet away from said building, more shots are being fired in the air, forcing you to run through your pain.

You ran through crowds of people who were also running scared in different directions as those sons of bitches fired away. Not caring if they shot an innocent life, not caring if they shot innocent children, they didn’t care what was in front of them just as long as they got their job done. And their job was capturing you. Alive. Alongside “sweeping” the community.

But from the looks of it they had excuses ready to share to Shepherd on why they wouldn’t be able to bring you in alive.

Fearful screams are heard all around you as you ran through terrified crowds. Slightly being shoved or tripped by the civilians as they ran anywhere to find safety, fearing for their lives. You didn’t blame them. This was supposed to be a community where it should have felt safe for them, where they can rebuilt themselves, where they can depend on to stay alive, now they tried finding any escape to survive from those murdering cunts.

You ran as fast as you can to a dark alley where it led to a barricaded tunnel, the tunnel that led outside the headquarters. A tunnel that nobody knew about. A tunnel you had created as an emergency escape, no matter the situation. Whether it was an attack from Looters, from other rival groups, from Zeds, or in your case at the moment. Being captured and killed by your very own team who you thought was your family.

With quick movements you pull apart the gate from the floor, causing a small opening to get to the other side. The muddy floor covered your tactical gear as you forced your way into the small opening, huffing and puffing as you used whatever energy you had left to escape. Just as a flashlight points down towards the alley you were already on your feet running down the tunnel. Looking behind your shoulder you see more lights running your way, which only caused you to run faster. Once out the tunnel you turn to your left to head further away from the base, careful to stick to the shadows as you see more soldiers outside the base in guard. Pointing their lights to see if they find anything, anyone.

After what seemed like eons of dodging their spotlights, you quickly run further down the streets, however, just as you thought you were at a safe distance, before you can even process it somebody had tackled you down. A loud groan falls from your lips as you land painfully on your ribs, again. The captor who had tackled you fought with you, forcing you to turn around as he tried his best in zip tying your hands together, but of course you fought back. With irritation of not being able to control your squirming frame, the soldier forces you to turn forward right before letting the butt of his rifle land a heavy strike on your face. Causing your world to spin for a hot second.

“Eagle to base, I’ve got her. I repeat, I’ve apprehended Lieutenant Kali,” You hear him say into the cold night air, your mind slightly still dazed from the brutal blow to the head,

You didn’t know what the other person in the radio orders him to do, but knew it was nothing good because you see him nod before slowly making his way towards you. You tried crawling away from him, despite the blood trickling down the side of your temple and dizziness clouding your mind, you tried your best in moving away from him. But it was no use because he was quick to grip you from your ankles before roughly dragging you against the floor till he hovered above you, however, before he can do you any more harm he’s suddenly being tackled to the ground by a dark figure.

A brutal scream is being irrupted into the dark sky as the dark figure eats away at the soldier. Fuck. Holy shit. You think to yourself as you remain frozen on the floor, watching the gory scene unfold right in front of you. It didn’t take long for the screams to die out. Just when they did, the dark figure rises from the floor and slowly turns to you. It was then you noticed it was the same Zed from earlier. The one from the hospital. Your brows knit together in confusion, not quite understanding how he was standing right in front of you, just a few feet away. Did he follow us? You think once again, but before the Zed can try and pounce at you too the sound of more Shadow Company’s soldiers come running down the street, catching both yours and the Zeds attention. Using the opportunity of him looking down at the group of soldiers running your way, you quickly rise to your feet before bolting further down the street. Away from the soldiers, away from the flesh eating zombie.

Because if it wasn’t bullets that would kill you, it would be in the cold hands of the Zed.

You ran without looking back. Not really caring where you were heading, you just knew you had to get somewhere safe. So you ran down the darken streets of Chicago, the streets that were once filled with noise and joy, now they stood in cold frozen silence as the fungus eats away at the buildings and streets. Vines overtaking numerous houses, buildings, burnt cars, making it look indeed out of a horror movie.

After running aimlessly down the roads and cutting through multiple buildings without looking behind your shoulder, you squeeze through a broken down garage door that led to the other side of the home. However, just as you managed to fit through and turned to run once again, your feet come to an abrupt stop when your eyes land on a large herd of zombies.

Neither of them had noticed you yet. But it wouldn’t be long for them to pick up your scent and started chasing you, so to avoid that at all costs, you slowly begin to backtrack your steps as quietly as possible. But just as you moved a leg you see a creeper coming from the corner, noticing how he desperately begins sniffing the air, causing his dead buddies to do the same as they try following your scent.

Panic rises in your chest as you watch them slowly turn in your direction, but before they can get a visual of you a large cold hand covers your mouth, earning a muffled scream as you feel a firm arm wrap around your shoulders and hauling you out of their sight. Fear and adrenaline rushes in your veins as you try fighting the Zed, mentally preparing that this is how you die, this is how you’ll get infected. Despite you still trying to wiggle yourself out of the strong arms, you knew this was the end. After so many years of fighting to stay alive, so many bullets you’ve caught, so many lives you took, this was your end. None of it mattered anymore.

As you continued to fight your way out of his hold, you feel the way his hand tightens around your mouth the same time he pins you closer towards his chest. Noticing the way the heard of Zeds and Creepers slowly walk past the little alleyway you both hid from. The darkness helped hide you two, but your heart hammered in your chest as you watch with wide eyes, seeing them desperately follow your scent, seeing them pick up their pace when it must be fading into the night sky. After what seemed like centuries, the Zed that held you against his chest eventually lets you go, which you are quick to take a large step away from him.

Your breath came out of your mouth in quick panicked pants. Eyes still wide as you avert them from the tall figure to the walking dead. You weighed your options. Either stay and fight off the tall one or run and risk getting chased by the rest of the herd who seemed to be in good distance, but still. You don’t know how many more of them are out there.

So, you settled on fighting the tall one. Would you win? That’s highly unlikely. But hey. You’ve survived worse situations.

Slowly backing away from the military Zed, your eyes held his white, frosty, gaze. Then, from the corner of your eye you spotted an old, rusty iron crowbar, which you quickly grip onto it. Still holding his gaze, your hands tighten their hold on the bar when you see the Zed now walking towards you, a loud, threatening growl rumbling from it. You continue taking slow steps away from it, but just as you did you hear another loud, deep, gurgling growl, only except this time it didn’t come from the dead in front of you. This time it came from behind you.

Fuck sake give me a break. You mentally curse as you slowly, oh so slowly turn around. Only to be met with a large, very, very large obese zombie. Your eyes grow wide as your mouth falls open at the monstrosity standing just a few inches from you. This night was seriously determined in ending your life one way or another.

Yet, before your life can officially come to an end, you’re suddenly being tossed backwards against the cold concrete. A pained groan vibrates in your throat as you land awkwardly, but just as you fell you see the dead soldier once again launching at the large zombie.

“The fuck?” This time you voice out your thoughts as you remain watching the way the tall soldier fights off the other zombie, as if it was preventing it from reaching you,

There’s no way. That’s clearly not happening right now. There’s no way this very dead soldier is fighting off another zombie to get it away from me. I’m just going bat-shit crazy. That’s what’s actually happening right now. You think to yourself as you continue staring at the sight in front of you, eventually, you slowly crawled away then finally jolt to your feet before once again running out of the alley. As you ran, growls echo right behind you, but you never stopped. You once again continued running till you knew it was safe to stop.

You honestly don’t know how far you got, but you eventually come to a stop when you get to a suburban area that was deserted. Your lungs burned while your ribs stabbed at your sides. The rain never ceased, in fact it only seemed to intensify as the night went on, which you then realized you had to find shelter to gather yourself, deal with your throbbing arm and dry yourself before you die of hyperthermia. That’s how much luck you had.

As you panted heavily under the pouring rain, eyes observing your surroundings to catch a glimpse of any movement, any danger, you had missed the way a dark figure blended well in the shadows of the suburban area, as well as blending his heavy footsteps with the rain. That was until you turned around to check if no one or anything was indeed following you, but the moment you turn around your entire body is jolting from fright as the tall tactical Zed stood inches away from you.

“Fuck!” You curse as you fall backwards again. Which you’d like to point out that you’ll be waking up with some serious bruises on your lower backside from the repetitive falls,

You slowly crawl away from the dead, but the more you try distancing yourself, the more it walked towards you with a faint growl. Little did you know he— it was completely irritated with you and your lack of mobility. As you remained frozen on the soaked, cold ground, while your eyes stared upwards to him, you didn’t expect him to let out a grunt before walking past you. You watch his dark figure walk towards a house behind you, he climbs up the steps with a slight limp before ramming the door open with his shoulder and walking inside. Something you definitely, definitely were not expecting. In fact, you were so confused, speechless and shocked that you remained sprawled on the floor, the heavy rain still pouring down on you.

This was beyond a fucking weird and odd night for you. However, after a long minute, you get to your feet, but you stand your ground. Your eyes darting from the opened door of the home, to down the dark, cold, pouring street, then down the street you came from. You contemplated whether you should just run, again, or… No!! That’s a terrible idea!! It’s a trap! The moment you step foot into that house he’ll just launch at you!!

The voice argues in your head as you stay standing outside in the rain. You had such wild options right now that neither of them sounded safe or great. However, the option was made for you when you hear a loud shrieking noise echoing down the dark street. Can this night get any worse? Instantly your feet are moving to the house. Yet, just as you stand on the front porch of the rundown home, your eyes squint to get a glimpse of inside the death trap, but sigh heavily when darkness is all you can see. Your eyes then scan outside, trying to see if you can find anything of use to protect yourself with, but only thing you find are pieces of rotten planks of wood that looked like they’d snap on the first hit.

So with no other option, you slowly step inside the home. Your eyes trying to see through the darkness, luckily, the moon was bright enough to cast some sort of light through the broken down windows, but it still didn’t calm your nerves. Upon entering the home, the first thing that welcomes you is the stench of dusty, murky old walls, then a flight of stairs that lead upstairs. On your left, laid a destroyed den with rotten couches that have been flipped upside down, books, glass littered the ground, then to your right you assumed was the living room since you got a glimpse of some more couches. You weren’t able to fully get a view since the sound of heavy footsteps climbing down the stairs jolts your body to action mode.

Your hands curl as you prepare yourself for what’s to come. Your eyes never leaving the dark, tall figure slowly coming down the steps. Thick silence surrounds the both of you when he finally stops at the end of the stairs, your gazes locked on each other, that’s until the dead gives a grunt before slowly turning to walk to the right, entering the living room. Again, just like outside you watch him leave with tightly knitted brows, confusion once clouding your mind. This is definitely the most weirdest thing you’ve ever experienced. You stood there, not sure of what you should do next. Your eyes then look up the steps, a debate running in your head. It was simple, either go up, lock yourself in a room and try to catch some sleep— if that ever happens— or remain downstairs to keep a close eye on his.. intentions. Although, you were convinced on what exactly his intentions were.

Eventually, after what seemed like minutes passing, a cold, uncomfortable shiver runs down your spine, making you decide in heading upstairs. You slowly walk up the steps, keeping your gaze locked behind you in case he decides to attack you from the back. Your priority wasn’t on checking upstairs for any other of his brain eating friends, you had assumed upstairs was clear since you didn’t hear any commotion upon entering the home and had seen him coming from upstairs. With a ridiculous thought, you assumed he had checked the whole house before you had stepped inside.

It was such a dumb thought that it even caused a scoff out of you as you continue making your way up the home. Your steps causing the old staircase to groan under your weight. Once up the second floor, you scan your surroundings until they settle on a door on the far end of the floor. You quickly make your way inside the room and shut the door behind you. It didn’t have a lock. Fucking perfect, but you did see a desk near the window, so with quick steps you walk towards it before dragging it towards the door with heavy grunts. You make sure to jam it right under the doorknob, it wasn’t much but you knew it’d keep him from entering while you slept. Or at least tried to get some sleep.

More time had passed by. After getting a better look of the room you chose, you realized it must’ve belonged to a male in his mid twenties, possibly in his thirties. Old playboy, alternative rock band posters hung on the walls, a mess of papers, old shoes, clothes, books, CD cases, was displayed on the wooden floor. Once discarding your wet clothes and managing to find dry clothes that shockingly fit you, which was another pair of dark jeans and a faded grey AC/DC t-shirt, you checked your injured arm. The bullet was lodged between your flesh, making it a bitch to pull out you eventually remove the piece of metal with some old scissors you found.

Definitely wasn’t sanitary nor was it not painful but what other choice did you have? After semi bandaging your arm with some shirts you finally settled under the covers.

You didn’t exactly fall asleep right away, your mind was on high alert to even let your eyes close. Every little noise you’d hear it’d sent a wave of paranoia, causing you to grip onto the wooden baseball bat you had found somewhere in the room. The paranoia never ceased, especially when you’d hear movement coming from downstairs, reminding you that you were in fact not alone.

Sleep and exhaustion does eventually force you into sleep. Little noise would often wake you, but those eventually drifted away in the air as sleep overtook you. You just prayed to god, if there is a god, that you’d wake up in the morning.

And if you did. You’d gladly escape with the first chance you’d get.

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-> Aahhhhhhhh After 3 Long Months!!!! It’s Finally Here!!!!! I Have Been Working On This One Back & Forth!!

-> Like I Said, This Is By Far The Longest Fic I’ve Ever Written. I think I Usually Always Stop Around 9k Words But This Is Definitely My Longest Yet! 😭

-> I Really Do Hope Y’all Liked This One Because… I’ve Worked On It For So Long 🙃

-> But Anyways, It’s Finally Yours To Read! Give It Some Love, Share Your Thoughts Much Love To Ya’ll & Expect More Chapters To This Mini Series! 🫶🫶

-> Turn On Post Notifications!! For More Updates!!! 🔔

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[jullbnt]

I really enjoy all of this too :D

Aonuma's comment about nostalgia was also because he genuinely seems to think more freedom = better games, so he doesn't understand why some fans like me prefer the old Zelda formula when it was more "restrictive" in his opinion.

I still prefer to keep the timelines separated but what you're saying makes sense, I better understand how it could work! I like the idea that the merging would be the result of very careful planning by the gods/goddesses that would take millenia, it's kind of fascinating (you're right "just" was a bit of a stretch). Don't worry my take is probably very confusing too, it has time travel and a whole crazy fourth timeline ^^

It's definitely been a while since SS, though I always found the time scale in BotW a bit ridiculous (10 000 years since the first Calamity just sounded like an alternate way of saying "a very long time ago" to me). Oh you didn't like the dragons in BotW? I love seeing them flying over Hyrule, I always stop to watch them. At least they're way better than the ones in SS, I still think they looked kind of terrible 😆

Yes Faron is the Water Dragon in SS and Lanayru is the Thunder Dragon, which never made sense to me (especially with Farore's Flame still being green and Nayru's being blue). The opposite would have been better in my opinion. It's a real pain in my side because the dragons play a big role in my story and I want them to be the same ones from SS (with an explanation for the way they changed), so until I find something not too convoluted to explain the swap I just ignore the inconsistencies… Anyway even with their elements swapped I think it's hard not to see the link with SS, especially with the sacred springs being on the map (sure SS only had two, but still). And if the dragons don't talk it's simply because they play no role in BotW ^^

I don't mind when things are a bit vague because it allows us to theorize, but I still think something as big as Rauru claiming to be the first king when he is not should be explained, that's way too confusing. What you said could be the case, but then I would have loved an explanation from Rauru himself. It didn’t need too be very detailed, just that he founded this new version of Hyrule on the ruins of an ancient kingdom with the same name.

(Also the new timeline we got in TotK Master Works is very confusing, it really makes TotK look like some kind of reboot. The events of Skyward Sword are never mentioned, the Secret Stones replace the Triforce, and Rauru is confirmed to be the first king of Hyrule. But maybe it could work with your theory, the gods/goddesses could merge the three timelines and then start all over again in this way. But I really wish they wouldn't kind of erase previous lore this way).

I think it's a bit different for the Oocca and the Minish, since both TP and MC had the excuse of being released before Skyward Sword and the official timeline (and they weren't sequels to other games). I won't argue about MC though, I think it never really fit in the timeline because it's too different from the rest.

In TP the entire story wasn't about the Oocca and they weren't the ones to seal Ganon, to name the Sages, to be the first rulers of Hyrule… Shad only theorized that they were the real creators of Hyrule, and since no one travels through time to see it happen there's a possibility that he just got them mixed with the Skyloftians.

Hyrule in game is the size of Kyoto, but I think we can assume in reality it would be a lot bigger, maybe even like a continent. I mean I can't imagine having a desert, a jungle, a volcano, and a few snowy montain chains cramped up together in such a small area ^^ Hebra alone could be the size of the Alps or something like that. But I agree, it would definitely be nice to know what's happening outside of Hyrule!

Yes the stones are blank power modifiers, I just find it a bit… lame. But my major issue with them is that I don't see how owning one makes anyone a Sage. As I said in previous games Sages had important roles and had a more spiritual aspect to them than just being warriors with magicial abilities (that's more like being a Champion from BotW). Usually the Sages all need to be awaken by Link for their shared power to be effective, which is something I like a lot. In TotK you can go straight to Ganondorf and fight all the bosses without the help of the Sages or with only half of them if you're good enough, and since I've seen people do it with only one heart we know that Link is canonically perfectly able to do so. That makes the Sages useless (the same could be said of the Divine Beasts in BotW, but it's less lore breaking. Though the fact that you can beat Ganon without the Master Sword is another story).

It's as if OoT Link didn't need the Sages to seal Ganondorf in the Sacred Realm and could confront him any moment after fighting all the bosses in a row. That would basically ruin Ocarina of Time.

I know about On'nen, I've actually read a bit about it to better understand Zelda lore and Demise's curse (though I may not have gone as deep as you). I'll definitely check QuestWithAaron, that sounds very interesting (thanks!). I didn't know gloom was Shoki though, I didn't understand why it was not malice anymore in TotK so that's a good point. But I think it confuses things even more between TotK Ganondorf and BotW Ganon for people who don't know Shintoism, which isn't ideal.

I still don't think Ganondorf with a secret stone would be more powerful than Ganondorf with the Triforce of Power. TP Ganondorf has just as many reasons for his resentment to grow after being exiled to the Twilight Realm, but he still can't break the Master Sword and he has a piece of the Triforce. I was really expecting an explanation for that later in the game, especially after Ganondorf recognizes Link and Zelda at the beginning and mentions Rauru (I was so excited about this, it felt big). That's one thing I hope I can better explain in my story.

Btw in French malice is indeed called "rancœur" (rancor) and gloom is "miasmes" (miasma). I'm not sure the official reason for weapon durability in BotW was malice, but it could be a good way to explain it!

Haha the Zonai being evolved Remlits is a fun idea ^^

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You're welcome! Yes something like Croifluances could work, though I prefer Confluances. It sounds closer to Crossflows so it could be a good idea! For Mipha it would be Cour Sainte Mipha (saint is masculine). Cour might not be the right word though, in French a "cour" is an open space enclosed/surrounded by buildings (more like a courtyard actually!). The French translation went with Parc Mipha, and I could also see something like Promenade.

Yes games centered around the non-Hylian races would be interesting. Though I think what I would love to see most in a future game is a Gerudo King that is not Ganondorf and is portrayed in a positive light.

OoT and MM are my favorites so I completely agree, I want to see something like that again. The subtext and depth of these games were unlike anything they did since, I really miss it ^^

Hi, sorry if this is a bit rude. 😅 I guess that I was just wondering. How would Jabul Waters, Zora Cove, & Crossflows Plaza be named in French?

I'm trying to give Jabul Waters an interesting name that works to go with my hc & I came up with "Jabuleaux." And Google Translate tells me that Crossflows Plaza would be Place des Flux Croisés. And, I'm seeing that Anse is the term to refer to a cove &, if that's true, then would Zora Cove be Zoranse? At the same time, somewhere else, it said that Anse actually means beach.

And, I believe that a town by a swamp would have cher, quier, bren, brin, or Hor- in it?

I'm sorry if this is weird... 😅

Hi! Don't worry it's not rude or weird at all! I offered to help and I'm happy to do so :D

Did you check the official French translations? I had a surprisingly hard time finding the French version of the map online so here's a screenshot I took myself:

Jabul Waters = Eaux de Jabule (this one only appears when I zoom out)

Zora Cove = Baie Zora

Crossflows Plaza = Place de l'Estuaire

In case you didn't know the Zelda Wiki often lists names for places or characters in various languages in the "Nomenclature" section of its pages. It's very helpful especially if you're searching for the original Japanese names. If we look at at the different names for Crossflows Plaza we can see that a literal translation from Japanese would be something like "Exchanging Place". I checked the Jisho dictionary and it seems to be an accurate translation, though "Place for Cultural Exchanges" would be more meaningful.

It's not exactly a good name in English so it makes sense that the localization team would come up with something like Crossflows Plaza instead, which in my opinion does a very good job of stating that this is both the place where the river meets the sea and where the two Zora tribes traditionally meet each other.

Other European languages all settled for variations of "Estuary Plaza" ("Place de l'Estuaire" in French), which is fine but looses the "cultural exchanges" aspect of both the original name and the English translation.

I've been trying to come up with a French translation of "Crossflows Plaza" but it's not that easy. To me "Place des Flots Croisés" or "Place Flots-Croisés" would sound better than "Place des Flux Croisés", but I still find it a bit weird ("flot" meaning flow, tide or stream). "La Croisée des Flots" is another option if you agree to get rid of Plaza/Place (it means "the intersection/junction of streams"), but I don't think it works very well as a name.

You could also mix words to create a name the same way it was done in English, something like "Place Croiseaux" (croiser/cross + eau/waters). If any of my French speaking followers is feeling inspired, please share your ideas! :)

(I just thought of "Place Cruciflot" and found it too funny not to mention 😆 maybe it sounds too much like crucifix)

In French we also have the word "confluence" that has the exact same meaning as it does in English: either the meeting of two rivers or a gathering of some kind. So to me the most obvious translation would be something like "Place des Confluences" or maybe "Place Confluence", as it would preserve the dual meaning, but it's not very fancy or creative. Maybe we could simply change the spelling to something like Place Konfluans, the same way "Village Côtier" (Seaside Village) is spelled "Village Kothié" (Seesyde Village). But it doesn't look like a French word anymore so I'm not sure that's something you'd like.

As for Jabuleaux, it can work but I prefer the official translation "Eaux de Jabule". Same thing for Zoranse, we would say "Anse Zora" or "Anse des Zora". The official French translation is "Baie Zora" (Zora Bay), which I think is more appropriate given the size of the sea inlet (in my understanding an anse/cove is a small baie/bay and isn't very deep). I think maybe it should have been bay in English as well instead of cove, but I might be wrong! Also I believe "anse" isn't used as often as "baie" and might be confusing for most people, so I would go with "Baie Zora".

I'm not sure where you found this information about swamps and town names? I didn't find anything to confirm it but I might not have looked in the right places.

French towns are often ancient and their names can derive from other languages such as Celtic, Occitan, Flemish, or regional dialects, so that's a very difficult question and I'm not sure I can give you a satisfying answer ^^

I still did a little search and found an Old French word for swamp, "palud" or "palu", that still appears in some town names such as La Palud-sur-Verdon, Saint-Pierre-la-Palud, Lapalud, etc. (today we say "marais" or "marécage"). You might be right about "bren", it could be something like muddy in Gallic.

There's also "vign" or "mign" (from Celtic), as in Mignéville or Lévignac, or l'Île de Migneaux on the Seine river (this one's in my city!).

Near where I grew up is a town named Hazebrouck, it literally means "hare swamp" (brouck/broek = swamp in Flemish). For a bit more French flavor you could maybe use -broucq or -breucq instead of -brouck.

I think the vast majority of French people have no clue about all of that (I didn't except for the last one and it's more Flemish than French), so I'd say don't oversweat it ;)

And that's all! I hope you'll find this helpful ^^