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lookingformoondrop · 8 months

Note

Hi!! I love your writing and hope you’re doing great. May I request a break up scenario with yandere!Andrew?

Yandere!Andrew Graves x Reader

TW: Dark material, mentions of a unalived person, manipulation, andrew calls reader a dumb bunny, very toxic relationship, Andrew drags reader around by the hair (weeee), captivity/kidnapping if you squint? Angst, very very depressing, it's been a while, so this is probably OOC ;-;

♡ Notes: GUESS WHOSE BACK! yes, I admit I was gone for quite a while, but with the progress reports of chapter 3 coming around, I figure now is my time to rise again. After I wrote all of this, I realized I might have made this a little too dark... My next work will likely be a fluff. Sorry Anon! Thank you so much for supporting, and I hope I can continue writing pieces for y'all~ ♡

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The clock on your wall ticked closer to 7 o'clock. Every sound in the room was silenced by the deafening sound of it.

At the time, buying that clock seemed like a cute idea.

It was an old thing, two big clocks held together with beautiful dark wood. And a small circle shaped glass built underneath the two clocks meant for displaying a picture.

It was placed on your fireplace mantel, accompanied by other little trinkets.

You tried not to look at the mantel or the pictures that displayed happy memories, instead opting to glare at the hands ticking closer to your doom.

You didn't deserve to glance at these memories with what you were determined to do.

The room around was in shambles. Blankets and pillows were thrown around, cups and plates stuck to the tables around the couch after hours of neglect, and every picture frame in reach with the smiling face of Andrew Graves was put down.

At any moment, Andrew was going to come through that door and open his arms for you.

You bit your lip, already cringing at the bloody spots forming. You had to leave. There was no other choice.

After what you've seen, there's no possible way you could keep hugging and kissing him...

When you first moved in with Andrew, you found yourself to be the happiest ever.

Every day, you'd roll over to face an already awake and smiling Andy, who would kiss your nose and promise you coffee.

Every evening, you'd have a delicious dinner prepared by Andrew, who would make the atmosphere romantic with candles and rose petals, all leading to a delightful night of fornication...

Yes, at times, there were small cracks in the fantasy you two had made.

You still had to go to work, and you still had projects and deadlines that needed to be met. Not only this, but you still had co-workers you needed to work with.

You had made peace with this and was more than happy to fulfill your office work, but Andrew was not.

Now that you thought about it, many times a day, he would demand for your attention. He would go as far as calling your office and asking to see you. Lunch breaks would extend to lunch hours, and your sick and vacation days were used up in a matter of weeks (back to back).

And then you get home... if you had spent a work day completely ignoring Andrew, going as far as muting him, there'd be no telling what he'd do.

It began with silence, then one word answers, but if you even started getting angry at him for his horrible communication skills, he'd finally lash out.

" Just help me understand. Do you hate me? You're ignoring me all the time so that I can run back to you and beg you to pay attention to me. Why do you even stay with me, then? "

At first, you thought maybe he was just stressed out.

You had such a beautiful relationship, and Andrew was never big on talking about stupid things.

These things could all be avoided if you communicated with him more. If you were just healthy, then nothing would be toxic. You were the shitty one in this relationship, not him.

When you took the blame for all those things, his anger disappeared.

So your life would become peaceful again.

You never considered Andrew to be possessive. He was... overprotective. That's all. He was caring for you. It's not his fault that you're so sensitive,

And now you were giving all that up, and for what? Because every now and then he'll complain about the people in your life?...

because once he'll complain about them, they disappear from your life?

...because you found one of those people in the basement freezer?

The same freezer he made you promise to never go into?

Your eyes blink up at the ceiling, the tears that were dancing on your water line finally spilling over the edge.

Suddenly, the sound of the door cracking open made you quickly wipe at your tears.

"Bunny? I'm here, where are you?" Andrew called out from the hallway.

"...In here, Andrew." You answered, holding your hands in your lap.

"Andrew? What happened to Andy? What, did I do something wrong?" Andrew walked in, having already ditched his shoes and coat.

"Y/N? Hey... What's wrong?" Andrew power walked to you, avoiding the many pillows scattered across the floor.

He leaned down in front of your knees, grabbing your hands.

You gulped, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Andrew, we need to talk about something."

"Yeah...?"

"You... you have to promise not to get mad at me."

Andrew's face darkened, "...sure."

You bit your lip and finally looked up.

But Andrew was no longer looking at you, instead staring at all the picture frames that faced the ground.

You breathed in once. You had put this off for as long as possible.

"Andrew, i didn't call anyone yet, but you need to let me leave. I dont- no- I can't stay here anymore and I -"

"No."

You sputtered but couldn't get a good look at Andrew's expression as he stood up.

"You always get me worried over nothing," Andrew scratched the back of his neck, absently playing with his sweater tag.

You stood up,

"Andrew, this is important! I- I don't feel safe anymore, I don't feel safe with you! You've been keeping so much from me -"

Andrew scoffed at you, cutting your words short.

"You're acting wacky. Are you sure you didn't take anything before I came home?" Andrew finally looked at you with cautious eyes, "Look, Y/N, you're probably tired and need a break from your phone. Give it to me, and I can put this whole thing behind us."

Andrew lent his hand out, half expecting your hand and your phone.

But you shook your head.

"I know, Andrew. I know what you did."

Andrew raised a brow, "What I did...?" His hand was still outstretched.

"Last night I wanted to surprise you with some chicken soup, but I couldn't find the meat in our freezer, so... I went downstairs to the basement instead - "

Your eyes glanced at the clock again, it's happy picture becoming distorted the more you spoke outloud,

Andrew's eyes widened, and his hand dropped, "Y/N, you promised me you wouldn't go down there."

Your breathing became shaky, and your hand grabbed at the hem of your shirt,

"Andrew, you told me that all you had down there was some hunting meat. Y- You lied, not only lied, but you... You fucking killed someone! Oh god, Andrew, why did I find my boss and his DETACHED head in our basement freezer?!"

Andrew avoided your eyes, instead opting to run a hand down his face, sighing deeply into his palm.

When he didn't defend himself, your thoughts ran wilder, and the anger that you had locked away began bubbling to the surface.

This went far beyond control and possessiveness, Andrew murdered someone. Your Andrew, the same man you slept next to for years, murdered someone.

"How many years did I spend with a goddamn murderer? I had thought that- that maybe it was this crazy elaborate plot twist, that maybe you had a good reason to keep A PERSON in a freezer, but maybe I was living with a killer who I should have left a long time ago!-"

"Enough."

You had barely any time to process what he said before he grabbed your hair and began dragging you to the bedroom.

You tried twisting from his grip, dry sobs racking your body.

"Andrew, please stop! I'm - ow!- I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not. Everything I ever did was to protect you. Clearly, you've been thinking about this for awhile."

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest, "and to think, I would've let you run around a little longer in the big world."

You continued sobbing, trying to grab at his hand. "Andrew, please!"

His hand pushed the door open, but right as he was about to enter, he stopped.

"Bunny", he crotched down to your level, his hand still grabbing your scalp, "do you love me?"

Your body shook involuntarily, your crying turning to hard hiccups. In your mind, all you wanted was to escape. To leave, to be embraced by someone who could protect you from this.

"P- Please Andrew, " you tried shaking your head despite the pressure, "s- stop, you're h-urting me."

Your chest heaved, your heart beating painfully against your chest.

Time moved slowly as Andrew searched your face, but slowly all the light he had in his eyes faded, and was replaced by a darkness that chilled your body.

"You didn't say yes." He clicked his tongue, "but that's okay, its only a matter of time."

Suddenly, he stood up and turned. Dragging you through the living room again, walking towards the basement door.

You screamed as you recognized the direction he was heading. You hit his hand, beating the grip he had on you.

Your eyes were wide and wild, trying to find some sort of escape, and your eyes landed on the clock.

Although you could no longer see the photo, you remembered the day Andrew brought it to you. He has promised to never leave you, and you promised to never leave him.

He asked you if you would love him if he was a monster.

You said, no.

All this time, you thought that Andrew would let you go. You would tell him you knew, he would turn himself in, and he'd let you go. Making all these years a bad nightmare. But the truth was, Andrew had long since known you would've found the body. The thought had crossed his mind, and he planned for the outcome even if he hoped youd be smart enough to never come to that.

When Andrew opened the basement door, he crotched down again and let go of your hair, instead moving you to his arms and holding you.

"Hey, I love you. You know that, right? I will never hurt you. Dont worry, you're going to be staying with me for a long time."

Andrew kissed your forehead, and began heading down the stairs.

Your eyes watched the door and the light that came from it as Andrew lead you further down the stairs.

Further away from the light, further away from freedom.

You cried into Andrew's shoulder, who patted your hair, until you could no longer see the light.

"You're never leaving me, my dumb little bunny."

Thank you for the ask! <3

#the coffin of andy and leyley #x reader #andrew graves #andy graves #y/n #andrew graves x reader #andy graves x reader #yandere andrew graves #yandere andrew graves x reader #angst #yandere #toxic relationship #manipulation #tw death #tw yandere #was supposed to be fluff #possesive love #possession #sorry this took so long

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shuenkio · 3 months

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Admire not from afar | Enha Hyung line

Paring: hyung-line x male!reader

Genre: Suggestive.

Cw: swearing, fantasize.

Pov: Co-workers having obsession admire at you.

Wc: 400+

Non proof read/ English is not my 1st lang.

Lhs: Nerdy-quite guy who would stalk your social media, having your face on his wallpaper, while bragging to his friends that you're his one and only boyfriend, even though it's not true.

It's getting out of hand when you realize that he's the one who left those unknown, randomly given gifts in your locker every single morning. Eventually you started to ignore and avoid him at all costs, to the point that when you went home from work one day, you found him there, sitting while crossing his leg as he lean against the wooden chair inside your apartment.

"Hello, baby boy, I see you avoiding me, so I'd like to pay you a visit. How do you like that?"

Pjs: Everyone praises him not because of his potential or talents in the workplace; it's because he's related to the CEO of the company. You hate people who are overpowered by their money and not their own work, so you're brave enough to say what comes to mind when they make a mistake.

Finally, you just got yourself into trouble; however, since he liked you enough to spare your life, he had another plan.

While going to the bathroom to wash your dirty hands, you suddenly feel a pair of hands grab your forearm before pulling you inside the bathroom stall, locking the door at instant.

"You've been a really bad boy lately, Mn! How dumb are you to not realize I'm your crazy secret Santa? Now you're going to pay for your consequences, darling."

Sjy: The happiest guy is everyone's lifesaver and lover. Whenever there's a problem in the company, he'll always be there to fix the issue using his sexy brain in a blink of an eye. As a new employee, you were impressed at how much the other workers liked him, and the answer is quite obvious.

Little did you know, not all good guys are innocent and nice; Jake also had his dark side too. He likes to take advantage of new employees like you, and at the end of the day, he'll throw them out as if they were some pieces of used trash.

Nevertheless, when he laid eyes on you, it seemed like he couldn't stop thinking about you; you're that special to make him head over heels for you that bad.

Late at night, as you take the elevator to the ground floor, Jake is also in the elevator, and you never know what will happen.

"Mn, you might think I'm all bright and amazing, but did you know that every time I see you, I love fantasizing about you being under me?"

Psh: This guy was cold as ice; no wonder he's the best employee of the month almost every single time, despite how hard he's working alone. Regardless of being friends with him for so long, you still don't know his personal life, his daily routine, or his inside. You couldn't care much since you respect his decision to keep himself.

But the reason why he won't let you visit him at his apartment is because all your pictures that he's captured every chance he's gotten were pinned and spread all over his room like a crime detective investigation. Not only is he obsessed, he already had plan B if you said no to his confession one day.

"I'd give up heaven if I had to make you mine, little man."

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to all pics&dividers

🗣️ I can't imagine makenae line going to work like what 🤓 Anyway this is my last updated this week, since I have another exam next week, so I'll come back once I'm alive again!

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wordsinhaled · 2 years

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so after that devastating ask neil answered about morpheus and calliope’s wedding i was suddenly beset by a MIGHTY need for a dreamling fix-it so... this is that. part headcanon post, part fic, entirely more than i was planning on it being. it got just a bit out of hand and is possibly a bit too sappy but i'm not sorry!!!

Hob introduces Morpheus to his longtime friends and colleagues after they’ve been together for a year. Morpheus carries the suspicion that Hob only agrees to wait this long for love of him.

He’s so excited about it, because he loves Dream, and it brings him the utmost happiness to imagine his friends, his loved ones, the people he works with, his students, getting to meet Dream—who hung the moon, as far as Hob’s concerned.

Dream is... less than enthusiastic about it. He hedges about going out for drinks with Hob’s friends, and he’s cagey about agreeing to be Hob’s plus one to the first department mixer Hob’s thrilled to invite him to. He still goes to these things, because Hob is his beloved and he sees how it lights Hob up to have him by his side at them. He’s the picture of gentility each time; shows up looking incredible, asks all the right questions, says all the right things, makes the small talk. He even personally ensures all of these people have pleasant dreams for a week following, for good measure.

But afterwards, he’s always a mess. Tense, withdrawing into himself.

After the third time this happens, Hob cottons on and asks him about it.

“What is it, love? My friends, or my colleagues, do they bother you?”

“On the contrary. Your friends and your coworkers are as lovely as you are, of course. Well—I must admit Dr. Halliwell is... not my favorite, but... by and large.”

“Oh, he’s no one’s favorite. Bloody insufferable, he is. Alright, well, is there anything I ought to be doing differently? To help make you feel more comfortable?" "You are utterly blameless in this, Hob." "That's..." Hob sighs. "A relief, I suppose. But there is something. And if it’s not that, then...?”

And little by little, it comes out. How the last time Morpheus was as serious about someone as he is about Hob, the last time he was serious enough to want to bind himself to someone... her friends and family opposed it. Opposed him. Thought him entirely ill-suited for her. And on their wedding day, the happiest of days, he was so excited to share his joy with his own family, and none of Calliope’s side were there.

“That’s awful,” Hob says, with a few choice swears thrown in for emphasis. “And it must have been hard for her, too.”

“I believe it is a loneliness she still carries. One far greater than my own.”

~*~

It comes out that Morpheus wants to introduce Hob around, too. Wants to bring Hob to family dinner with his siblings and have Hob with him to receive delegations. How he wants Hob to sit beside him in the throne room of the Dreaming. And how Dream wants to know all Hob’s friends, his little found family of students, his colleagues at the university, his neighbors. How he wants to belong in the life Hob has built for himself.

Yet surely, this is bound to end in disaster, too. Surely he is ill-suited for Hob as well, and surely all of those closest to Hob can see it. Are thinking it to themselves. Are biding their time to tell Hob I told you so.

“But... you’ve got to know everyone adores you. They’re always wondering when they’ll see you next. My students are always asking after you. Everyone tells me we're great together, actually. Never seen me happier, wanting to bake things for you, insisting I bring you along to the next thing—all of it."

"Then it is only a matter of time." "Until what?" "Calliope's family were not exactly... incorrect about me, in the end."

"So... what—you think you're ill-suited to me?"

"I am ill-suited to love."

And of course Hob can't have Dream thinking that. It just isn't true.

So he goes out of his way to be even more vocal about the things Morpheus does that are appreciated. To remind him he is loved. To remind him he is welcomed. To remind him just how well-suited he is to Hob, and how much he fits into Hob's life.

So-and-so says hello, he tells Dream, multiple times per week. Hob stops politely turning down the biscuits his favorite TA sends along, and they've always got a note taped onto the Tupperware ("For you and Morpheus") that Hob makes sure Dream sees. (If Morpheus secrets the little Post-Its away in one of the inner pockets of his coat and Hob never sees them again, well, all the better for Dream to keep them.)

~*~

Hob brings Dream to sit in on his knitting circle one week at the New Inn. All his friends are so excited to have Dream model their scarves and gloves and shawls and cardigans. Morpheus stands there for all of it obligingly, feeling the dreams in each and every one of the stitches.

"Brigitte wants to know what you'd like for your birthday," Hob says to Dream one day, after he runs into his neighbor, who is also in the group, and is held up ten minutes by her asking.

"I do not have a birthday," Morpheus says. "Not as such."

"Yeah, but they all don't know that, do they?" Hob grins, cajoling. "Let her give you something."

"What should I ask for?"

"Well, she is getting on a bit, so nothing too adventurous. She usually just knits me something every year. We could just tell her your favorite color." Hob pauses for dramatic effect. "...What's your favorite color?"

"You jest, I hope." "Right," Hob says, voice full of stifled laughter. "I'll tell her. Nothing but black as the deepest midnight for my darling."

Morpheus wears the resulting jumper, a drapey, soft comfort, constantly; and when the armpits pill and if it ever even approaches becoming threadbare he fixes it gingerly with yarn woven of finely-sifted stardust; and Brigitte has only the best dreams of exactly what she wishes to dream about for the rest of her life. It is the least gift he can give her in return.

~*~

When Morpheus finally invites Hob to visit the Dreaming, Hob comes with an easy smile for even the smallest nightmare and an ear to bend for every dream he meets. He brings a profound and open curiosity for everything about the place. Everyone is charmed. Hob is so regular that some of them are baffled. But Lord Morpheus' happiness rolls off him in tangible waves when he is around Hob Gadling. The denizens of the Dreaming can feel that their lord is lighter than he has been in literal ages of his existence.

Everything in the realm is in fragile bloom for the first time in a very long time. The sunshine is resplendent. The air is balmy. Birds sing in the palace orchards. Hardly so much as a drop of rain dares to fall for weeks.

~*~

The first time Hob is invited to a soiree in the Dreaming he frets about his outfit for days on end.

Morpheus is privately amused by it. "You do recall this event is being held in the Dreaming," he says, sprawled on Hob's bed, watching him pass the fabric of two of his bowties between his fingers, one tie black as night and one so dark a navy it could almost pass for black as well. "You do not actually have to dress for it in the Waking. Your dream-self will simply manifest your preferred attire." Hob just scoffs at him. "Of course. But my imagination's got to start somewhere, right? I don't want to accidentally manifest pyjamas with ducks on them just in time to meet bloody Oberon because my mind forgot what a good suit looks like. Can you imagine?"

"I would not allow you to experience any embarrassment in my realm," Morpheus says, possibly with undue vehemence.

Hob glances over at him. "I know, love."

And the ties go forgotten after that.

~*~

“I’ve got something for you,” Hob tells Dream, one day.

They are in Hob’s living room, sitting on the couch together, Morpheus adrift on a veritable sea of throw pillows. He could, he thinks idly, craft these exact pillows in the Dreaming, replicate their heft and the give of sinking into them, and still they would not offer him such ease.

“Hob Gadling,” he says, disguising his delight rather poorly, he thinks. “You should not have.”

But Hob is already slipping to his knees on the rug in front of Dream, already pulling a small box from behind his back with a flourish, with the sleight of hand of long-abandoned habit. “Shouldn’t I?” he asks. “You deserve beautiful things."

Morpheus stares at the ruby ring, nestled on its little velvet cushion, for so long and so intently that Hob starts to sweat.

"I know it's been a long time," he says. "For both of us."

Morpheus is still staring.

"Fuck, I had an entire speech planned. Rehearsed it and everything. Gideon told me it was brilliant. But now it's like all the good words've been knocked right out of my skull. All I can think is—I hope you don't run off in the middle of me asking you to marry me." "I will not run off," Morpheus says.

"Good," Hob says. "That's good."

~*~

Morpheus is nervous, at first, about telling people. There is a part of him that wants to hold this joy inside his heart, hoard the buoyant sensation of being loved by Hob Gadling like it is a precious commodity that will disintegrate if he lets it out.

But Hob is generous with his love. He reminds Morpheus of it constantly.

“Dream,” Hob says, one morning, propping his chin on Morpheus’ bare chest to gaze at him. “You’re my fiancé.”

Warmth tingles through Morpheus’ body. “I am,” he says.

“I’m your fiancé,” Hob goes on, and now he’s grinning so wide Morpheus is sure his cheeks must ache. “God, am I really?”

“You are,” he promises, with a little swoop of something like fear, or elation, or both. Surely he cannot just have this joy. It cannot be so simple.

“I am,” Hob says, “the luckiest person in all creation.” He says it as earnestly as if he’s saying a vow, right there in their bed.

Hob’s exuberance is contagious, and Morpheus finds that his own smile comes to his mouth unbidden.

Perhaps it could be so simple if he allows it to be.

~*~

Hob is sitting at the kitchen table, addressing invitations to their engagement party, working his way through a stack of fifty laid paper envelopes. Morpheus sits sprawled in his customary chair next to Hob’s, observing.

“That is a great many people,” he says, plucking the pen from Hob’s fingers once he finishes the current envelope and setting it down before taking Hob’s hand in his, kneading the tension from his palm. “Are you certain they should all be in attendance?”

Hob looks up from where he’s scrutinizing his own calligraphy. He must catch something in Morpheus’ tone, because his face softens from surprise into concern. “Only if you want, love,” Hob says. “You know I’d elope with you tomorrow, if you preferred that.”

“Would that bring you happiness?” Thinking on it, Morpheus is unsure it would bring him happiness, now that it is being offered as an option. Strong as the greedy part of him that wants to hoard their love is, there is also the part of him that hungers for it to be known. To be seen. To be shown.

Hob’s brows knit together, then smooth out again. “I admit there’s a part of me that wants to shout about all this from the rooftops.” He laughs softly. “And there are a lot of people who are happy for us, you know. But—” And here he turns his hand in Morpheus’, so he can hold it properly. “I want you to be comfortable. I could marry you in this kitchen and not tell a soul til after—”

“I wish to have the party,” Morpheus announces, because it is, he finds, true. “And I wish to have a ceremony. Here. And one in the Dreaming.”

“Two ceremonies?” Hob’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Now you’re just being extravagant.”

Morpheus huffs. “You have seen nothing yet of my extravagance.”

He feels none of his usual trepidation at admitting it.

~*~

Their ceremony in the Dreaming is an intimate one. The castle is resplendent with flowers, and the twilight twinkles with stars and carries a hint of magic.

Morpheus presents Hob with a crown made of dreamstuff and a mantle lined with stardust much like the inside of his own coat. Lucienne gives Hob his own key to the library. He dances with Gault in the palace gardens, face lit by the auroras rippling through her wings. The new Corinthian swears to protect him. Matthew perches on Hob’s shoulder almost the entire rest of the evening.

Late in the night, Morpheus and Hob excuse themselves to walk together in the fields of the Dreaming, and to kiss beneath the endless sky.

A fraction of the tightness in Morpheus dissipates, having Hob here. Having him welcomed by his realm. Having his own choice so honored, and Hob so loved.

~*~

There are fifty people at their engagement party in the Waking world, and two hundred at their Waking wedding reception. Most of them are from Hob's side. By the end of the evening Morpheus’ hand is sore from being wrung so many times by well-wishers, he is surprisingly tipsy off surprisingly good champagne on which Hob had spared no expense, and he feels slightly effervescent himself, even in this Waking body.

The gifts table creaks under the weight of all the presents—many of them handmade. There is a hand-painted portrait and a hand-thrown ceramic bowl and a hand-knit blanket for his and Hob’s bed and a crocheted sweater for the dog they do not yet have together. There is a queue to sign the guestbook.

He drifts in the pleasant dreams their guests have for them—Hob’s fellow professors, his research assistants, his former students, his neighbors, his knitting group, his landlord, his philosophy discussion club. These people dream of happiness for Hob; of happiness for them; of happiness for him. There is love in their hearts for Hob, and now, by extension, a new love for Morpheus.

The rest of the old weight lifts from his shoulders that night, as Hob beams down at him, and kisses him long and slow, and whispers “I love you” while his patchwork of family—their family, now—whoop and holler and clap.

#the sandman #dreamling #SMOTHER MORPHEUS IN LOVE TIME

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mattatouilletkachuk · 5 months

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Happy Mother’s Day

This is a part of Hockey Babies au

I’m trying to come up with a tag to put all stuff Nico, mom and Noelle. If you have any ideas let me know! (Also p.s a fic is coming out soon about this family and then another player player will be added soon!! ☺️

postedbynicohischer

nicohischier: Happy Mother’s Day to the woman who changed my life for the better. I thought I was the happiest a man can be but along came my schönes Mädchen and made me a better man and partner as well as giving me a the most beautiful daughter.

I love you @y/nusername and I will for as long as you let me.

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y/nusername: who’s that hot mama in the first pic? 🔥

↳ nicohischier: back of she has a man

↳ y/nusername: I don’t see a ring on that finger

nicolelaud: lol she got you there @/nicohischier

nicolelaud: @y/nusername Happy Mother’s Day babes. Hope you and Nell are doing well.

↳ y/nusername: She slept the whole night last night!!!!

jackhughes: I totally know y/nusername was pregnant in the first pic.

↳ y/nusername: liar. I was barely a month and Nico and I had just recently found out.

↳ Jackhughes: your boobs looked juicer and your hips were rounder.

↳ naterbastian: dude you can’t just say shit like that.

↳ nicohischier: Your feet are going to fall of during morning skate tomorrow when I’m done with you.

↳ jackhughes: 🤐

kristen.haula: A mom’s first Mother’s Day is so special. You’ll remember it forever. 💛

y/nusername: seriously, though. None of this would have been possible without you. I’m so lucky to have you as a partner and as the father of my child. So if you think I’m glowing in those pictures it’s because of you. @/nicohischier ❤️ 😘

User liked this comment

john.marino97: Happy Mother’s Day short stack.

↳ y/nusername: nobody make any sudden movements or we might frighten the elusive John Marino.

yourmom: my baby has her own baby now. It’s overwhelming, I think I might cry.

↳ y/nusername: Mom, you went to breakfast with me and Noelle this morning. You’re staying in the guest bedroom in my apartment.

↳ yourmom: I just miss little Nell.

↳ y/nusername: you’re literally holding her right now as I make dinner!

ninahischer: just one more week until you guys come to Switzerland! The family is going to fall in love with her immediately

user liked this comment

#nico hischer x reader #hockey babies au #nico and mama hischier #sunny’s insta edits #instagram edit #nhl imagine #nico hischier #mom!photographer #hischiers house

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spidermarkmp · 8 months

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nerdbf!sunwoo x female!reader

18+ smut warning! mdni.

note: this picture was posted and immediately my brain went 😵‍💫 so here is this :) also this is my first little story so please go easy on me.😭 this wasn’t really proof read either so if you catch any grammar mistakes, ignore it. also kind of a bad ending bc I had no idea how to end it truthfully🫡 let me know your thoughts! enjoy hehehe

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thinking about nerdbf!sunwoo just fucking you so sensually slow and hard over your desk. he’d have both his hands on your hips, thrusting up into you over and over till you’re an absolute moaning mess. you are holding onto the sides of your desk for dear life as he is abusing your poor little pussy like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, like he has many times before. something was different about this time though. this time, he kept his glasses on. the other moments you guys were intimate like this he’d always make sure to take them off and toss them to the side, much to your dismay. you’d tell him incessantly every time you guys were together that you absolutely LOVED his glasses and thought they were one of the most sexiest things about him, and him telling you off each moment. to sunwoo, he thought you were the craziest person alive when you’d say that to him. he’d often have it in his mind that glasses made him way less attractive, thinking of them as a curse to deter as many women who’d show even a slightest bit of interest in him. until he met you. you who makes sure to tell him almost everyday how god damned good he looks with his glasses on. you who would beg like a bitch in heat for him to not discard them for once every time he fucks you. if it was any other day, he would have told you no.

but when you were in those tiny little cherry printed shorts that he loves so fucking much, and sat all snuggly in his lap, legs on either side of him, spread open with your cunt so close to his clothed cock, looking so intently into his boba eyes with your own e/c ones, he just couldn’t bring himself to say no to you anymore.

so here he was, finally giving you what you longed for in your six months together. him making you fall apart with each sharp thrust of his dick, and each sharp thrust making your body jerk forward nearly having you hit your head on the wall in front of you, but you were too lost in the moment to care. you were on cloud nine right now. after so much failed attempts trying to get your boyfriend to do this simple favor for you, you felt like the happiest woman alive. and not even going to lie to himself, sunwoo was too. he should have done this ages ago if he knew you’d be this fucking tight at the sight of just him and his stupid glasses. the way you were chanting his name like a mantra had him nearly over the edge. with a new found sense of adrenaline, he quickly pulled out ignoring your groan of disapproval and flipped you over, your slightly bruised-red ass now sitting on the wooden table with your legs in the air being supported by his arms that are hooked underneath them. he looks at you deep in the eyes as he starts to steadily snap his hips forward into your throbbing pussy again, throwing his head back for a split second and letting out a deep moan at how you squeezed around him, just by looking at his face. “God…fuck baby, you keep doing that…I don’t know how long I’ll last.” he breathed out. you were too fucked out to care though, your moans getting higher and higher in pitch every time the tip of his thick cock would hit that one delicious spot inside of you. you were in a state of total euphoria, your toes curling as you felt yourself slipping away. and with his pace deliberately getting faster, his face scrunched up in pleasure with those fucking glasses on making him look as attractive and as irresistible as ever, you don’t know how long you’ll last either.

#the boyz #the boyz smut #kim sunwoo #sunwoo #sunwoo x reader #the boyz imagines #the boyz x reader #the boyz x you #sunwoo x you #kpop smut #smut

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thewiz9062 · 6 months

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Smiling Critters AU: Dogday's Psyche

NOTE: THIS IS NOT RELATED TO CANON IN THE SLIGHTEST. An accurate description of this au is that I took every playtime.co poster art and promotional material from the game and lit up the rest of canon in a bonfire. Meaning that EVERY character is part of one big cartoon. Thats it. No bigger bodies project, no child souls, no experiments, just a depiction of a cartoon. PLEASE do not ask me to do anything suggestive with anyone.

OK I know it's been a while since I posted one of these but bear with me here this one was interesting to write

So dogday

In my other posts, I've already made him a constant in everyone's lives (as he's the main character) but I want to go into how he thinks because that explains alot of his actions and most importantly, his interactions with catnap.

Tldr, dogday is elation (que demoic giggling if you get the reference)

Now usually when you see a happy go lucky character you immediately go "they've either had the happiest childhood ever and are genuinely like this or they didn't and they're faking it" and that was gonna be my original assessment with dogday. But yk.....that's bland. So i decided to mix the two: pretty bad childhood but they're happy....unhealthily so. Hear me out here:

In my au, dogday was abandoned as a baby at a foster home. So they "raised him" (they just did just over the bare minimum, I don't wanna villianize the workers though because they did have like a bunch of other kids there as well, not excusing them of course) but he was mostly left to his own devices. Normally this would dampen a child's spirit but dogday is quite a fighter, finding joy or happiness wherever he could. Whether it be picture books or TV shows, he found a way to make himself happy. And All the media he knew subtly shunned sadness or anger or anything of the sort. So now all dogday knew was happiness, as anything else was 'bad' and needed to be fixed.

The people around him didn't help his mindset either. After interacting with the other kids there, they usually had some semblance of an uplift in mood for the rest of their day. It usually didn't last long, though, because while dogday lived there their entire life, the others were there due to...unfortunate circumstances. He also could notice how the workers felt like he was a breath of fresh air compared to the other children, who mostly needed consoling, while dogday was 'self-sufficient' (they try I swear they're just not good at it)

So all in all, after 13 years of this dogday... was in a very unique state of mind. If you want a simple explanation, then he has this mental limiter. Anything happy or can bring joy can stay, and any other thoughts get snuffed out immediately. So he's not faking happiness. In a way, he just doesn't know anything else. Present him a situation where someone is sad his first instinct is to cheer them up, and usually it works, but in the situation it doesn't, he'll pretty much blue-screen. Cuz after all, it's always worked before, what else does he know?

So enter catnap.

Catnap is essentially his foil, and his main purpose is to help him see the other side of things because sun and moon dynamic yk I had to do it

Someone like catnap won't be cheered up normally, catnaps sort of nihilistic when it comes to problems, believing nothing can be done about it, cause in his situation he had no control over what happened, so why try and fix what he can't, that's meaningless. So letting his emotions pass by and move on is his way of 'comfort' So dogday's attempts at cheering him up doesn't work, and as Dogday does in those situations, he blue-screens. Normally when dogday fails to cheer someone up and he visibly panics, they'll give him a smile or a laugh, and seeing that instantly fills dogday with relief, even though he doesn't see that it doesn't reach their eyes.

Catnap won't do that however, because of his own coping mechanism. So dogday will panic, quietly spiraling into thoughts like "why isn't it working, what do I do, how do I fix this" and catnap reads his face and tells him to stop, he just needs a moment. Dogday wouldn't understand, he's never seen sadness be good for someone.

And from there his learning journey begins (aka how to feel other things)

God I love making them mentally unstable

#poppy playtime #smiling critters #smiling critters poppy playtime #dogday #catnap #alternate universe #angst #sorta?#btw the refrence was hsr

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afvenvs3000f24 · 12 days

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Unit 1 Blog post:

My current relationship with nature is very therapeutic and spiritual; I find that whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed, stressed out, or even anxious, I can always rely on nature to ground me and put into perspective how minimal some of my worries are in the grand scheme of life, and what it has planned for me. Although this relationship hasn't been consistent throughout the past decade, I feel I needed a certain disconnection to learn and appreciate it from a different perspective, through a lens that now allows my inner child to live in the present while holding an immense amount of gratitude, thoughtfulness, and to connect with nature.

This is a photo I took while on a walk with my cousins in Milton, Ontario.

Growing up, I was always outside, and most of my happiest memories from childhood include whenever my family would take us on camping trips, have our birthday parties in provincial parks, and when we would go to our trailer every weekend during summers, having a blast with my cousins catching frogs. Throughout this, I didn't realize how much I truly enjoyed being outside and how it shaped my relationship with nature. In a way, I took it for granted at the moment, and it wasn't until quarantine, when the world took a pause, that I could be away from the whirlwind high school was sometimes and reconnect with my roots. Spending those warmer days outside playing board games or just having some quality time in our backyard with my family reminded me why I used to love being outside and how much it made me feel whole in life.

Picture of me at my 5th birthday party at a provincial park.

Also, during this time, I found an interest in discovering different isolated trails and hiking spots to take my dog Bruno along for walks. When I started this new hobby, the experience was fitness-related and just some time for Bruno and me to enjoy the peace and quietness those places offered. Eventually, on these walks, I began to notice and truly take in the nature around me and all the critters whose homes I was passing by. In the following years leading up to today, I slowly leaned into a more religious/spiritual view of the world through practicing meditation, journaling, being more observant, as well as taking a world religion class in grade 12 where one of the many things I learned was how different religions honour nature and our planet. This pushed me to make a more conscious effort to be mindful and grateful for the opportunity to have accessibility and be around such a beautiful and relaxing environment whenever.

Photo of Bruno while on our favourite daily walking route by my house.

As for who offered me a sense of place, in general, I would say, my family, being that they introduced me to all the outdoor activities I love to do; but more specifically someone who introduced me to a more psychological view of nature as my "safe place" would be my mom. My mom is a very Catholic woman who often sees nature and many other things in life as gifts from God. Throughout my upbringing, I would consistently hear her stories and adventures of when she lived in Venezuela and all the beauty and phenomena she witnessed within nature personally (the ones that always stuck with me were about the Relampago del Catatumbo (a never-ending lightning storm) and Angel Falls). Through her interpretation of the world of God giving us blessings and lessons to grow, she’s always told me to be grateful and mindful of everything around me in life, regardless if it was a specific moment, place, or person because you never know when one day you won't be able to experience it again. Although throughout all those years of hearing that, I never truly understood the value of appreciating or noticing the simple things in life that we can take for granted, such as a 30-minute walk along a trail, or even enjoying the beauty of the trees we walk by daily; but I can confidently say now, that my relationship with nature has grown more than I ever thought it could, and it remains as one of the most impactful and relaxing things in my life.

A picture of my mom and I at our trailer in Whitchurch-Stouffville, Ontario years ago.

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silverofthunder · 23 days

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☆ found family – the wedding ☆

Copia & Aria (OC)

summary: And later, when he watched her say ’I do’ with the happiest of smiles, he knew that one day he would be able to let someone into his heart and love them like Aria loved her wife.

content: 0.7k words, slice of life, mild hurt/comfort, unrequired love (kind of), friendship, SFW

this is a continuation piece for found family - thoughts

More of this little series! This was originally gonna be the last part but who knows, maybe I'll write more... 😊 Also, I'm kind of sorry for this ending, if you happened to hope for something else. But this was my plan all along, so...

Copia heard the approaching footsteps but his eyes were glued to the old picture in his hand. He smiled sadly as someone sat beside him on the bench. There was a moment of quiet before a hand was placed on his arm.

”They would have loved to be here,” Aria spoke softly and Copia let out a shaky laugh.

”Yes, they would have,” he agreed, turning his head to look at Aria. She was smiling, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes – she missed his brothers, too. After all, they had been such a big part of Aria’s life. And it was sad that they weren’t there that day to see Aria getting married.

”It still hurts,” Copia admitted and Aria squeezed his arm, resting her head on his shoulder.

”I know,” Aria said, letting out a long sigh. ”But they are still with us, in our hearts,” she continued and Copia hummed in agreement, wrapping his other hand around Aria.

”You know… One day I thought that it would be me and you getting married.”

Aria chuckled lightly. ”You have mentioned that a few times. And I think I thought the same, at one point in my life.”

”Funny how things change as time passes.”

”Yeah, it’s crazy,” Aria stated. ”But not everything has changed. We still got each other, right?”

Copia leaned his head against Aria’s, feeling the warmth coursing through him.

”We still got each other,” he repeated.

Silence fell between them and Copia closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the summer air. The sun warmed his skin, childhood memories filling his mind and a smile rose to his lips.

”We were quite troublemakers back then, weren’t we?” Aria’s voice brought him back to earth after a while. She was now looking at him with a little grin and Copia nodded.

”Yeah, oh those times…”

Then Aria took a hold of his hand, her expression changing into more serious one.

”Thank you, for everything,” she said, her eyes getting a bit misty and Copia’s heart moved in his chest. For some reason it felt like a goodbye even though it technically wasn’t.

”You’ve been such a great friend,” she continued, squeezing Copia’s hand tightly. ”Everyone needs a friend like you. You’ve been there through the good and the bad and I can’t even…”

”Oh, stop it,” Copia interrupted her, trying to keep his own tears at bay. ”You should be getting sappy with your wife-to-be, not me.”

Aria gently swatted his hand and shook her head as a few tears rolled down her cheeks.

”I mean it, honestly. You’re such an amazing person and I love you.”

Copia blinked as the tears blurred his vision from his good eye and his felt warm yet there was a slight sting at the same time. There had been period of time when he had been in love with Aria and he was sure there would be always a small part of him that would love her more than a friend but he could live with it. He was happy for her and hoped the best for her.

”I love you, too,” Copia said, offering a smile to Aria. Aria smiled at him back and then just surged forward, wrapping her arms around him. Copia hugged her tightly, letting the tears run free. He would surely miss her when she would leave to settle in France.

He breathed deeply in and out, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. Aria was drawing some soothing patterns on his back, probably sensing his reluctance to let go. They still had a little time before the ceremony would start.

When they eventually pulled back, they both were drying up their tears and laughing shakily.

”You’re always welcome to visit us.”

”I know,” Copia said. ”And I will do so when I can.”

Aria’s whole face lit up, her smile wide.

”That sounds like a plan. And who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone then.”

Copia’s brow quirked up. The way Aria’s eyes seemed to glint told that she might be up to something but Copia could never be sure. But he suspected that he would find it out when he finally would visit her in France.

”Or maybe I won’t,” Copia stated, earning an eye-roll from Aria.

”I’m sure you will find someone at some point. Maybe not in France but somewhere.”

Copia shrugged.

”Well, we’ll see what future will hold.”

That seemed to be enough for Aria as she smiled at him warmly.

And later, when he watched her say ’I do’ with the happiest of smiles, he knew that one day he would be able to let someone into his heart and love them like Aria loved her wife.

#copia & aria #copia #aria oc #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfic #jen writes fics

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spinningwebsandtales · 2 years

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Bittersweet

Nicholas D. Wolfwood X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Shoot out, thoughts of suicide, violence, blood, angst (like tons of angst), steamy scenes (I needed a shower after writing them hoo boy), and some fluff

Word Count: 9.3k

Requested by @moon-esque

(A/N:) Okay fellow Nicholas fangirls this request turned into an absolute monster! And I enjoyed every second of writing it! I also may have had a meltdown when I found the gif for it as well, as it’s absolute perfection. I am so thankful you gave me this request as I believe it may be my favorite one yet. As soon as I read it I got swarmed by ideas and I am really pleased with the way it turned out. I think I had a little too much fun with the angst tho. 😅 But I hope I did it justice and it’s everything you hoped for! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Side note: Parts in italics are flashbacks. Okay I’ll shut up now! XD

Nicholas D. Wolfwood didn’t know how he earned such a wonderful life when he finally settled down. How he came across you so sweet and beautiful, he couldn’t explain that either. Or the fact that you had fallen in love with him and told him yes on that fateful day that seemed so long ago. Noman’s Land had taken so much from him and he couldn’t remember the last time he had been happy, until he had you. Like the sun you were warm but not harsh. You didn’t burn him or sap away his strength until he felt like he couldn’t take another step further. His heart ached as he looked at pictures of you he kept in his pocket, torn and worn from use and fights. He also couldn’t help but sneer at the stain of blood in the corner of his favorite photo. If it was his blood or someone else’s he couldn’t tell as so much blood had been spilled. He was just glad it didn’t mar your face in the photo as he didn’t think he could stomach the thought.

He remembered those nights fondly with you, the little house you had picked out was perfect. Others would have seen it as cramped but growing up with nothing, it was a mansion to Nicholas. Home cooked meals every night with what little ingredients you could scrounge around for and afford tasted like a feast. But the moments he was happiest was when you both would go sit outside to watch the sunsets every night, hand in hand talking about your days. He closed his eyes his opposite hand rubbing across the palm you always held. He could have sworn that he could still feel your skin against his. Hot nights were ignored as he always wanted to hold onto you tightly. You tried shoving him away more than once but he stubbornly held on, toughing out your sweaty body against his. The desert had no remorse and neither did his want of you. You’d laugh, tell him that he stinks which only made him toss you into the old tub filled with precious water before he too would join you. You’d splash him once he sat down into the tub and he’d gently nibble at your digits. He’d kiss you despite the protests until your stubbornness was all but forgotten and your world was just filled with Nicholas.

While you slept he would lay awake staring at the ceiling while listening to your slow breathing. He too would sleep if the nightmares would leave him alone for once. But every time he closed his eyes, his conscious was filled with blood and the screams of the people when he took their lives. He may have been called the Punisher but all he was punishing now was himself. You tried getting him to talk about it but he never would open up, the fear that you would find out the monster he was and is overwhelmed him. He just knew that if you found out that you would leave him and then he would have no one else, besides the group of friends he made and hurt on occasions. Vash was glad for his friend when Nicholas told him the news about the wedding, though Nicholas felt a little guilty dragging you into his messed up life.

It turned out to be the best decision he ever made as the light started to come back in his life. Then the unthinkable happened, Nicholas left for work one morning and everything was normal. He finished his day, ready to see you and kiss you until you were breathless. But when he came upon his home it was dark, empty, and scorched. There was no sign of you and no answer no matter how loud or long he screamed your name. He beat at the sand, demanding that this forsaken land give you back to him. Blood coated the wood where it hadn’t burned to charcoal. Normally the sight of blood never made him sick, but the thought that it was yours had him retching stomach acid into the churned sand. He cried, tears streaking the grime on his cheeks until rage overtook him.

Nicholas came at anyone who he thought was possibly involved in your disappearance. He felt foolish believing that he could escape the Eye of Michael and it’s cronies. How could he bring you into something so terrible? Guilt riddled him as he thought of them taking you, subjecting you to whatever horrors they deemed fit as they had did to him as a child. His stomach churned in worry, but he couldn’t find any signs no matter how hard he looked. People either died to quickly or passed out from fear or the pain that he inflicted, he couldn’t get anywhere or come up with the answers he needed.

Those nights sitting with you out on the little porch of your home was getting hazier and hazier as time passed, while being covered by the blood he spilled and smeared across his name. He became feared once more The Punisher walking again, toting his cross shaped machine gun with no remorse or pity upon his targets. Not even his friends could make headway let alone find him as Nicholas constantly stayed on the move. He couldn’t stop as the thought of finding you was his driving force, staying at the front of his mind at all times. Even Vash couldn’t seem to track him down and it just made the blond haired man more frustrated the longer time went on.

A year passed since you disappeared, no trace ever came up again. No name, no breath of you, nothing. Nicholas finally cracked, despair swallowing him whole as he sat in a run down room in a sleazy inn contemplating ending it all. He refused to eat, he couldn’t remember the last time he had even bathed. He was unshaven, unkempt, and his clothes were beyond repair. But he couldn’t find the motivation to even care, you had become his everything his only sole purpose to breathe, and he had betrayed that abandoning you to whatever cruel fate had taken you. He unwrapped his weapon, searching blindly for the little pistol tucked inside. The weapon was perfect for him as it would mark his grave in a dark poetic sort of way. Though he felt like he didn’t deserve a grave, he prayed that they would just toss his corpse into the sand and let the worms have their share of him. Without you seeing him through, life held no meaning. You would have argued otherwise but you were no longer with him, you probably never even existed. He chuckled darkly, finally losing his mind as he was beginning to believe you had been some sort of figment the Eye of Michael had cooked up. Something to keep him complacent until the time came to rip you away and causing their greatest weapon to lose his mind and go on a search for revenge taking out the trash with him.

He cackled insanely finally finding the weapon he had been looking for. He couldn’t keep on, the sorrow and pain finally too much to bear. He didn’t deserve to go out quietly or easily. A old man’s natural death had never been a part of his plan in the universe, and he didn’t deserve you anyway he decided. You were the exact opposite the light in the darkness, the steady island in a storm. While he was a never ending black hole that sucked everything good in the world and destroyed it. He held the pistol to his chin ready to end it all, though he knew that it was pure cowardice driving him. Pressure squeezed upon the trigger, he closed his eyes welcoming the end of his pitiful existence when the door slammed open. The lock uselessly tumbling to the floor in shattered pieces.

Vash the Stampeded stood before him in the doorway, pistol drawn. Vash wasted no time pulling the trigger, shooting the weapon from his friend’s hand. He was more surprised at the state of the strong man before him than anything else. He shook his head watching the dark haired man sink into the thin mattress, as he finally gave in. Nicholas tried to hide the tears but they wouldn’t stop coming. He had purposely been avoiding Vash and Meryl for as long as he had been searching for you. He knew they wouldn’t approve of his methods and Vash would have ended up being more of a pain than a help as Nicholas dished out his form of searching. But now that he had finally given up on you, fate had to set the red coated man right there at the time of his lowest. Without you he didn’t think life was worth living. Without you Noman’s Land was emptier and far from ever being the same again. Vash looked to Meryl the woman suddenly frightened by the Punisher they had been beside for so long.

“Go ahead and wait in the other room. I’m going to stay with him and I would rather you not be around if he tries anything else,” Vash said turning back to his long lost friend. Without argument Meryl left leaving the two men alone. Vash didn’t know even where to begin as Nicholas just laid there despondent and clearly not going to come around anytime soon. With Meryl safe, Vash felt more comfortable to do whatever necessary to get the undertaker back on his feet. Despite how grim everything looked on the outcome of finding you, Vash couldn’t give up. Not when it came to the person who had brought such joy to Nicholas’ life. Finally Nicholas passed out, the physical and emotional exhaustion taking it’s toll and sweeping him under the waves. Deep in his unconscious state he could still feel you, hear you, and touch you. At first it seemed to be too cruel to stand but now he took more comfort in it than pain. The memories you both had shared and made together keeping some parts of him together, though those were starting to crumble too the longer he went without you.

“Nicholas,” your voice called. Nicholas grunted trying to stay in darkened bliss, but you were relentless when it came to the pursuit of what you wanted. You called a little louder before starting to jostle him around a little. This time you got a groan out of him and you laughed. You rubbed his chin, the scruff of his unshaven face tickling your palm.

“Wake up,” you cooed moving towards his ear. Despite being obnoxious and playing with his earlobe, Nicholas stubbornly remained asleep. You stroked his black locks, thinking about giving them a trim before you huffed in annoyance. He could sense danger and be on his feet in moments, but in these moments where he truly got the relax and cling to you he was hard to awaken. You thought it was mostly from his rough way of life and never really having a place where he felt comfortable. So you never gave him grief if he overslept or was hard to wake up. This morning was different though as you were ready to start your day and couldn’t free yourself of your husband’s tight grip. So now you decided that desperate measures were going to have to come into play. Cupping his jaws you lifted his head where you could reach before kissing him deeply on the lips. He stirred more, trying to break away but you stubbornly refused to let him go. It didn’t take long until he was lazily kissing you back, his lips a little chapped from the heat and dusty wind. Dark eyes opened, groggily staring at you with a little gleam of annoyance shining through. You beamed obnoxiously at him, glad that you finally got what you wanted.

“I swear,” you laughed kissing him again. “You could sleep anywhere and through anything Wolfwood.”

“Can,” he grumbled, “and have. But it’s hard to sleep through an incessant wife that refuses to let her beloved sleep.”

“You can keep sleeping,” you poked his nose. “But I need to get up. There’s food to make and chores to do.”

“And let my pillow go about her day? No thanks.”

“Your pillow is retiring so let me up,” you wiggled and squirmed. Nicholas just continued to glare which wasn’t working as he was too cute with his sleep mussed hair and groggy expression. You snorted trying to fix the worm’s nest he called hair to no avail. He wordlessly lifted himself off of you but kept a secure grip so you couldn’t get away from him. You sucked in a breath as he gently crawled his way up to your face. His warm breath puffing against your skin he slid one hand down towards yours before interlacing your fingers. He squeezed gently before pressing his forehead to yours making you both sigh in bliss. This had become a habit between you two, that no one else got to see or know. Nicholas had been the first one to do it and it just had become a thing between you both. You couldn’t think long about the history behind his gesture before he was kissing you deeply, taking your mind off everything but him. You sighed sinking further into the mattress while he kept one hand in yours and the other keeping him up over your body. Knowing he had you right where he wanted you Nicholas released you, licking your lingering taste from his lips before suddenly crashing down on top of you. You yelped and grunted at the sudden weight.

“Nicholas,” you gasped trying to shove him off, “you’re crushing me!”

He huffed, maneuvering the majority off of you but refusing to let you go as he nuzzled into your plush chest. His breathing began to slow letting you know that he was on the verge of going back to sleep.

“Noooo don’t go back to sleep,” you shrieked causing Nicholas to grumble but it didn’t take him long before he was back to sleeping just glad to have you in bed with him.

Nicholas blinked blearily as the sunlight streamed through the broken window of the room he had rented. His machine gun was clear across the room and no weapon was within his reach. He moaned wearily trying to rise from the bed as his joints protested. After all the horrors he had put himself through, he was finally paying the price of pushing himself so hard. Without seeing, he knew he wasn’t alone as the thoughts of last night came flooding back. He shook his head trying to disperse the last of the memory that had decided to haunt him in his sleep before rubbing at his eyes. A familiar red coat caught his eye before he spotted the sleeping Vash sitting in a chair at his bedside. For just a few moments he allowed himself to glare at the man who had interrupted him from finally getting the freedom from pain he so wanted. Without you nothing in life was worth living. Vash would completely disagree with Nicholas’ outlook, but the blond haired man had always had a sunny outlook no matter how bleak things looked. Nicholas scoffed, earning a tired grumble from the man he had called friend for many years. He got up to cross the room back to his weapon but Vash woke up before he could make it there.

“Get out.” Nicholas snarled his patience worn thinner than ever.

“Good morning to you too.” Vash replied getting up from the chair and stretching his limbs. He yawned widely scratching at his messy blond hair before his bright blue gaze settled upon the other man.

“I didn’t want your help and I don’t need it either,” Nicholas suddenly shouted. He was sure everyone in the inn could hear but at this point he no longer cared about anything. “And why did you stop me? I didn’t ask anything from you and this is my business to take care of!”

Vash glared back at him, though his eyes weren’t filled with rage but a sadness that ran so deep nobody could explore the depths. He had lost so much and was still losing daily for so long that he couldn’t keep up with everything. Vash had become so close to the man they called The Punisher he couldn’t stand the thought of him just throwing his life away, especially if there was even a iota of a chance you still lived. “And let another one of my friends die? I wasn’t going to let you kill yourself. (Y/N) is still out there and she needs you. What good are you if you’re dead?”

His brother’s forces are people who he knew well. He couldn’t help but think you were still alive. In his own way he had been looking as well but if he wasn’t careful he would wind up getting you killed by Knives, if his brother knew Vash had interest in you. It was a horrible game they had played for so very long and Vash had learned to play it well. Nicholas was a different player though and he couldn’t tell him what to do. Everything was falling apart and you were needing the man you loved greatly now and he about snuffed himself out. Vash was relieved that he could intervene just in time before your last hope was taken away.

“I didn’t want you to find me and she’s dead.” Nicholas suddenly whispered. “It would be better if I just met her now in the afterlife.”

“She’s not dead,” Vash replied the conviction strong in his voice.

“I would have found her by now Vash! Nobody is talking and do you think you can extract information better than I can?”

Nicholas knew that Vash didn’t believe in his methods, but he didn’t care, not at this point. If he thought the Eye of Michael was going to give out information without spilling a little blood, he had another thing coming. Though Vash knew the members well he didn’t have the strength to do what Nicholas could, at least that’s how the undertaker saw things. He didn’t know deep down inside that Vash knew that if it would have changed things he would have done it.

“They wouldn’t be trying so hard to keep you away if they weren’t keeping her alive,” Vash tried again to reason with him. “They don’t want you taking her back as they know they can control you that way.”

“They don’t want me to go on a rampage.”

“You ARE going on a rampage Nicholas!” Vash couldn’t believe it as he felt like he was losing more ground than gaining when it came to stubborn Nicholas. Did he not realize how sloppy he had gotten in his rage? The proof was littered across the land in the form of blood stained sand. “Do you want to know how I found you?! The corpses you left behind, it wasn’t hard to track you.” Vash shuddered at the memory of half alive corpses being gnawed on by worms and scavengers as they laid there barely breathing. The haunted mutterings of a dead man gone mad about a black shape, of the Punisher’s return and his quest for vengeance and answers. “If I can track you the Eye of Michael really are, keeping just out of your reach. Do you know how fast word travels especially when it comes to word on the Punisher making his big return? You idiot no wonder you’re not getting anything done by yourself. Besides do you think (Y/N) is that weak that she would die so easily?”

“No.” Nicholas couldn’t help but grin at the memory of you saving him more than once.

“Exactly. So stop sulking and get ready to go, we have to rescue her.” Vash left no room for arguments, “But before we do you have to shave that stupid beard off your face.”

Nicholas glared, “She always liked it.”

“I knew she had poor taste when she married you,” he laughed slapping the undertaker on the back. He left Nicholas alone with faith that he was back on his feet and wouldn’t try anything rash. Meryl was waiting outside the door, her eyes were a little wet as she had heard the conversation. Vash embraced her trying to comfort her as he wanted her at her best as they tried to survive, to bring you back home. He had to find food as Nicholas was weak and still on the verge of collapse from not taking care of himself. It would be a hard battle and he didn’t know the horrors that laid before them, but no preparation could have readied them for what they would find.

You were dragging behind him, the exhaustion of the trip finally taking it’s toll. Nicholas tried to walk slower but no matter what pace he took, you couldn’t keep up. He couldn’t blame you as you both had been traveling for some time, it was getting to him but he couldn’t afford to show you that. He wanted to stay strong for you and help you through the blocks you stumbled across. He had known you for a couple years now and he was protective and he enjoyed the company. You were less annoying than Vash and despite having a sharp tongue like Meryl he found that he could tolerate your sharp wit better. Though he still teased you as harshly as he did the dark haired woman. He grinned at the though of you and Meryl having an all out battle of wits. He would pay good money to see that, though he’d have to put his whole wager on you. Once you got mad enough nobody was able to outwit you. He found that out several times and had ended up with a red mark on his cheek on one or more occasions.

He smirked looking back at you, despite stumbling around you gave him a grin. You never complained sticking close to by his side, it always amazed him. When you both had first met it had seemed like chance, but now he could call it destiny as you had no reason to stay by his side. You were a bounty hunter and a good one at that. Your name traveled fast across Noman’s Land, that even he The Punisher knew just who you were. You had crossed his path, hunting another bounty when the people of the barely civilized town started shouting about the local orphanage. Without a word you and him sprung into action, taking no mercy upon the bandits that had decided they could pick upon the poor children and their caretakers. Nicholas watched in awe as you protected the little ones with no thought of your own safety, you’d even saved him a couple times that day. He grinned at the memory as you and he decided that day to not part ways but to become partners. He’d always worked alone, preferred it even. But since you came around he found that being alone wasn’t as fun anymore. You continued to carry your trusty weapon, but now using it for more than just money. You brought out the best in Nicholas and he felt better for it. He held out his hand to you as the sun begun to darken, his skin tough and calloused but still soft in it’s own way. You didn’t hesitate interlacing your fingers with his before he pressed his forehead to yours. You both continued to walk across the sand.

Vash was proving hard to keep up with to Nicholas now as his body was drained of all fight. But the stubborn man known as the Stampede refused to let his friend give up no matter what. Meryl stayed out of their way, afraid that any second Nicholas could lose it at any moment and that wasn’t far from the truth. Vash was the only one who didn’t fear him.

Vash didn’t say much or explain he just lead his team with a strength that could only come from certainty. When he had first met you while traveling with Nicholas he knew that you were good for the Undertaker. It was a match made that benefited both parties but mostly Nicholas as he had never really had anything good in life and whatever good was ripped away in a horrible way. But now he was dealing with loss again and without proof of your demise Vash wasn’t letting the possibility that you drew breath go down in flames until he had solid evidence that you did in fact perish in the Eye of Michael’s bout of revenge. He worriedly looked back as the dark haired man stumbled, clearly losing the fight to continue onward. Vash would drag him, carry him if need be. He needed you and you needed him, it was cruel fate in this world that had brought you two together and the same fate had ripped you from him. Vash wanted to stand before fate, tell it that it wasn’t going to do such a thing to his friend, even if it meant that he had to rip you from it’s horrible grasp.

Vash had met you several years ago when he had come across Nicholas once more in his journey. It was hard for him to imagine the Undertaker settling down so quickly with one woman. But as soon as you had said your name and shook Vash’s hand, he knew immediately why Nicholas had kept you around. You laughed easily and you could turn in a second and be serious. Plus you could give The Punisher a run for his money when needed. Vash found you easy to talk to so as the fire he had built glowed in the night, Vash sat closely lost in conversation. You both exchanged stories while Meryl sat at Vash’s side. The only one who wasn’t sitting nearby the group was Nicholas. Standing in the dark, a shadow lost in the desert and the only thing you could see was his lit cigarette gleaming when he took slow drags from it. Though you couldn’t see him you could feel a slight tension in the air. You just shrugged it off mentally as him pouting for not being the center of attention. You found you liked Vash, not in the way you loved Nicholas, but the blond haired man was so easy going, he was a jewel to talk with. You forgot your problems in the midst of company and you felt like you could relax like you hadn’t gotten to in years.

When the fire began to wane, everyone knew it was getting quite late. Vash helped you up from the sand with a gentle hand. You thanked him graciously and found your way to Nicholas. He glared at the retreating red coated man’s back. Jealousy was an ugly monster for everyone, but Nicholas had given in so easily. You weren’t going to put yourself forward to appease him as it was something that he was going to have to look on himself. You patted his cheek, leaving him there to go get yourself comfortable for sleeping. Moments later Nicholas laid down beside you, his body language stiff and full of anger. You rolled your eyes continuing to ignore him when he suddenly rolled you over. You found yourself looking straight into those livid dark eyes and without another word he kissed you deeply, putting all his frustrations out in the form of a rough and sloppy kiss. He left you breathless when he finally pulled away, pulling you possessively into his chest. He didn’t have to say a word as he felt like he had staked his claim once more. You laughed quietly letting him do whatever made him feel better. Vash was handsome but he couldn’t compare to your Nicholas.

Vash chuckled at the memory, looking back once more towards Nicholas. He seemed to be walking better now, his heavy cross no longer dragging him down so precariously. He seemed to have a new life being brought back with each step he took. Maybe hope was beginning to form back into his very being. Nicholas loved you like he had loved no other. He hid his feelings behind his cocky attitude or dark sunglasses. He refused to let anyone close or see the real him. Then he met you and he buried himself deeper, afraid that you would find the true being that hid inside. You forcefully drug him into the light, exposing all his darkness and you remained. You bared your darkness, showing him that he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t the only tragic being lost in the world. Everybody carried regrets, you were just created to help him through his. That’s why he married you, made you his officially. But just as much you were his, he was yours as well.

He couldn’t afford to let people know of his tragedy and what he brought upon the people just trying to make their way in the horrible uncaring world. He chuckled darkly seeing the blood still dripping from his rough skin. You had wiped that away, where he could see hands to be proud of. Once you disappeared that blood reappeared stronger than ever. He was drowning in a sea of crimson and all he could do was poor more into the sea as he drowned. He didn’t care who stood in his way, if they were a part of the evil that he had once been a part of they would die. Slowly, painfully, he would wrought upon then a thousand times worse than they could possibly think of to do to you. Stealing you away from him, was going to prove being the biggest mistake that they had ever made.

He grinned wickedly, madness once again taking over. Meryl shivered at the unhinged posture in Nicholas’ body, Vash just shook his head pain gripping his heart. You needed to still be alive, nobody else could shake him from this darkness swallowing Nicholas D. Wolfwood whole. Nicholas had once again become the man who was pushed by revenge and an objective to bring as much pain as possible to the people who wronged him. A true Punisher trekking across the sandy planet, staining it a deeper red with spilled blood of innocents and enemies alike. Vash needed your help, now more than ever.

They settled down when darkness coated the horizon and left them without a sliver of light to track. Nicholas sat far away from Vash and Meryl, preferring to be alone despite their protests. He looked up at the sky remembering looking at the worms dancing through the night sky with you. He missed those quiet moments on the porch with you. He could still feel you next to him, talking about mundane things you had done throughout the day. It made him grin as he never thought he would be able to have such a simple life with someone. The first night in the new house had been his favorite out of all the memories he shared with you.

It wasn’t much and it had been empty for so long that all the hospitality that a home brought had long ago left. But to Nicholas it looked like a mansion as he hadn’t known of much comfort in life. You were so happy to have a place to call home with your husband you adored. You wanted to be the best wife you could be for him as he wanted to be the best husband for you. You both worked together, cleaning what little you could with the little bit of supplies. There wasn’t much to eat but it felt like a feast as Nicholas sat across from you on the floor. You hummed in delight at each bite and it was catching as Nicholas began scarfing down his share.

The night was quickly coming, darkening the few rooms to where it was hard to see. You had a couple threadbare blankets draped across the floor as a makeshift bed, but you only had one pillow. Nicholas searched for you in the dark, his hand finally finding your arm he pulled you to him. The silver light from the moons streaking across the floor and painted your smaller form in pale light. Nicholas licked his lips, finally having you to himself in private. A hunger had been stewing in his being and as soon as he closed the rickety door to the bedroom, it erupted and he had to sate himself before he went wild.

You trembled slightly in his grip sensing his needs and feeling the same as him. Now that he could see you better thanks to the moons’ light he stroked your hair letting the long tendrils slip through his fingers while the other roamed your feminine form. You stroked his face, feeling the sharp lines of his jaw littered with a sparse beard. He explored you as he opened himself to you. He untangled his fingers from your soft locks to thread through your fingers. He kissed the back of your hand, littering every scar and callous with a loving kiss and making his way up your arm. Nicholas nibbled at your neck causing you to moan and moving your head to give him better access before he pressed his forehead to yours. He stood there for awhile just enjoying taking in your scent and the feel of your body against his burning one. He was an impatient man and when you tugged at the few buttons that he kept buttoned on his shirt did his patience fly out the window. Before laying you down on the blankets laid across the floor he removed the shirt that had you so desperately tried to remove yourself. Nicholas hovered above you pressing kisses wherever he could, losing himself to you in the darkness. You held onto him tightly, grasping his back as he devoured you.

Nicholas awoke to sunlight streaming through the window across him and your bodies pressed together. Your haired glowed like a halo in the light and your skin a caramel kissed by the golden rays. He sucked in a breath as he lost himself in your beauty. He could still fell your lips pressed against his while you nipped at his collarbone. Your body tattooed against his fingertips and scratches littered across his scarred back. He chuckled laying back but still holding you into his side. He dug a cigarette from his abandoned pants laying in a pile on the floor. He lit a match, igniting the cigarette and blowing a cloud up in the air. You groaned in your sleep, tapping his bare chest.

“No smoking in the house,” you mumbled causing him to chuckle.

“Let me have this just this once,” he replied. “You tired me out last night.”

“You’re the one who thought once wasn’t enough,” you glared sleepily but relented in the argument with pink tinged cheeks. He squeezed you, thanking everything he could think of that he had you laid beside him in his little world.

Married life became easier and easier as the days passed. Nicholas found a job where he could bring a little money home to you and you were able to stay home to greet him every day. That was his favorite time of the day as you waited at the door, the light shining behind you silhouetting your shapely form just for him. Some nights he would just kiss you, others he would spin you around before kissing you, if he was feeling really lively he would dip you then press hot kisses to your mouth before deepening them. But majority of the time he would interlace your fingers together, kiss you deeply, tongue stroking against yours, and then press his forehead to yours. You had said that those were your absolute favorite, so he indulged you with this type of affection every time he could. He remembered one evening you were beyond ecstatic for him to be home. You had your hands behind your back as you danced from foot to foot. Nicholas began to wonder if someone had put worms down your pants when you pulled a piece of fabric from behind your back.

“I sewed us some curtains so maybe the sun won’t bother you as much in the mornings,” you shouted gleefully. Though definitely not sewn by a professional with the stitching all crooked and imperfect. You were so proud of yourself that Nicholas couldn’t help but fall in love with you further and love the curtains you made for the home. The next evening you had made him a handkerchief that he wore in his pocket proudly. That fateful morning though when he left, everything had been normal. You sent him off with lunch and a quick kiss. You always stood in the doorway watching him leave until you could see him no longer, then you’d go back inside and do whatever needed to be done.

Nicholas had been excited all day to leave work, to go home and see you as he earned a little extra income, so he stopped on his way home to buy a special treat for you both. With a slice of cake in tow for each of you he headed home. He expected to see you standing in the doorway like normal, waiting for his return. But instead of your form greeting him, he was met with smoke as his and your house smoldered from a raging fire. He screamed, dropping the treats into the sand while he stumbled down the dunes of sand between him and home. He called your name, screaming it until his throat strained. Still you didn’t answer, the smoke stung his eyes causing tears to stream down his dirty face as he took in his destroyed home. The curtains you had made so carefully fluttering in singed tatters. Still no sign of you remained just large puddles of blood and then a long streak that ended a few yards out in the desert. Nicholas knew immediately who had done such a thing, he found his machine gun he had put away just for you, scorched but still in working order and set off to destroy the people who took you from him.

Nicholas groaned in his sleep, patting at his side to try and find you lying right beside him. All his hand met was cold sand and the cool metal of his machine gun. He huffed as the memories of your disappearance rushed back all at once. He heaved a sigh pushing himself upwards and looking towards the horizon. The first pink light of morning greeted him as did Vash’s snores and Meryl’s quiet breathing. He pulled a cigarette and rose from the ground before lighting it. He smoked several before the other two even started to stir. He had thought hard about just leaving them again, but Vash had the uncanny ability of being exactly where Nicholas didn’t want him, so to save himself rage he decided to stay. Vash knew exactly where he was going and despite his best efforts Nicholas hadn’t made any headway in finding you. If Vash was correct that you still were alive, he’d owe that stupid needle noggin a drink. Several drinks. He scoffed throwing down the stub left of his cigarette and put it out with his shoe.

“Glad of you to join me,” he growled. “You two going to get up or do I have to start the day myself?”

“Breakfast first,” Meryl replied before turning over and falling back to sleep. Vash chuckled but Nicholas was not amused.

Once they were back making progress Nicholas didn’t seem as anxious, though he was walking better today than he had yesterday. He couldn’t shake the feeling that you were close. His heart was hammering against his chest and he couldn’t fight down the butterflies in his stomach. His eyes darted around, trying to spot any movement or sights of anything particular. All he could see was the large expanse of sand stretching as far as the eyes can see. Vash was talking with Meryl, both laughing about something Vash said when Nicholas suddenly stopped and stiffened. He caught a scent on the air and the gleam of metal a few yards away.

“Get down,” he roared racing back to the others. He jumped, tackling them to the sand when a gunshot rang out. A high caliber sniper rifle by the sound of it. Nicholas returned fire, his stomach suddenly sick. The gunshots echoed through the sky, bouncing off the mountains miles away. Nicholas snarled, baring his teeth as he spun his weapon around.

“Sniper,” Vash yelled pushing Meryl back further.

“Thanks for the info,” Nicholas snarled. “I didn’t notice!”

“This is no time for being sarcastic,” Meryl screamed trying to protect her head.

“Then tell your boyfriend quit stating the obvious,” Nicholas roared again returning fire. Another shot echoed hitting the sand next to his feet. Nicholas danced around trying to make himself a harder target. Vash scurried around trying to keep from being hit. Shots were exchanged over and over again, filling the expanse with nothing but the sounds of gunfire like some sadistic orchestra. Nicholas panted, trying to reload as fast as he could, before he spotted a blond blur race across the sand. Nicholas cursed abandoning reloading to chase after the idiot. He should of known Vash wasn’t going to make this easy for him as he caught up to him.

“What are you doing?!”

“I can’t let you two kill each other,” Vash replied still running. Another shot rang out, hitting the sand between them. Vash yelped and Nicholas cursed again.

“You’re going to get yourself killed instead you idiot,” Nicholas threw an empty clip at him. Vash only laughed crazily while dodging the clip.

“Stop laughing!”

It was obvious where they’re attacker was laid up as they kept shooting at him and Vash while they raced towards where the shots were coming from. Nicholas was finally able to reload before they got there and the sight before them chilled his blood. The Eye of Michael had done it again. Thoughts of Livio raced forward churning his stomach but this time he couldn’t tell who the person was before him. It was a woman, the majority of her face covered by a metal mask. Her hair had been cut haphazardly, leaving it choppy and wild. Eyes that normally would show emotion and thoughts behind them, were blank and her movements were robotic. Nicholas raised, aiming at their attacker when Vash bumped into him.

“Watch it needle noggin,” he shoved him away.

“Don’t kill her,” Vash yelled once again racing forward putting himself in harms way.

“She’s trying to kill us!”

“She’s being controlled,” Vash tried to get Nicholas out of killing mode. The dark haired man wasn’t having it as he aimed again. But this time Vash stepped in front of the woman. Nicholas cursed, contemplating just shooting through Vash and killing them both in one go. At least he’d have some form of revenge against his attacker and get rid of a headache to boot. At last his more rational side tore through and he lowered the gun. But it wasn’t wasted on him that she pulled a pistol from behind her back, shooting at Vash who was still dodging bullets like it was some sort of deadly dance. Nicholas charged forward his feet churning up sand as he reared the large, heavy machine gun with his whole body and swung it like a bat. He hit the strange assassin at her side sending her sideways several feet.

“Quit playing patty cake with her,” Nicholas shouted. “You’re going to die! We end this now!”

“Don’t,” Vash panted. “Don’t kill her Nicholas.”

Nicholas racked another round into the chamber, “Yeah cause she’s so intent on making up and becoming friends.”

“You’ll regret it,” Vash tried to argue.

“There’s bigger things that I regret. Taking out another nobody is not going to be another one.”

She still laid sprawled out, trying to rise from the ground. Nicholas reared a foot back sending it into her side, cracking a rib and putting her on her back. She didn’t even cry out in pain due to the control she was under. It reminded him so much of Livio it made his arm tremble as he aimed. He put a foot on her chest keeping her pinned. He shook his head trying to rid himself of doubts, it gave her freedom to suddenly reach for her boot and pull a knife. Without a second thought she plunged it into Nicholas’ thigh. He grunted stumbling backwards as blood began to ooze down his thigh.

“You sorry,” he started but she ambushed him. Swinging and shooting, he barely kept up. Twisting his body, stepping backwards, and using his cross as a shield. With the barrage he couldn’t return anything until she stumbled. He swung across hitting her straight across the jaw. His hand cracked but her mask shattered. What he saw next caused him to sink down and scream out in anguish.

His (Y/N) stood right before him, her stare as blank as the dead. What made her her was nowhere to be found as she continued to rock from the hit he just gave her. Vash dropped his head feeling Nicholas’ despair coat the atmosphere.

“No! No no no no! It can’t be,” his voice cracked. All he could do was scream at the sky and curse everything that had brought him here to this moment. He wanted to find you so bad, but he never wanted to find you this way. Brainwashed and used for something you weren’t meant to. It was Livio all over again and he found it worse. They tainted you, stripping you from your humanity making you into a killing machine. He should have seen it, should have protected you. His failures all came crashing down burying him quickly to where he could drown from the overwhelming anguish.

“Don’t kill her,” Vash cried trying to crawl forward.

“I,” Nicholas heaved as he teetered on the verge of throwing up and taking his own life again. “I can’t! I can’t do it!”

“Save her,” Vash tried again.

“I can’t!”

“You can! Nicholas please!”

“Kill me,” Nicholas pleaded. “Vash shoot me please I can’t stand it!”

“She needs you,” Vash screamed tears flowing down his cheeks. Nicholas sobbed loudly, his tears staining the sand while blood spread around him from the knife still lodged in his thigh.

“They took her from me! Kill me Vash!”

“I am not shooting you!” Vash was growing angry. He had felt such despair like Nicholas was feeling, but not getting up and dealing with the problem was solving nothing. Nicholas couldn’t look at your face without the guilt eating at his insides.

“Nicholas she’s crying,” Vash finally made it to his side forcing the Undertaker to look up. Sure enough you stood before the two men, whole body shaking and tears flowing freely from one eye that wasn’t swelling shut.

“She’s still in there don’t give up on her. She’s fighting,” Vash shook Nicholas violently. “Get your stupid pigheaded butt up and save your wife right now or I may just change my mind and shoot you anyway!”

Nicholas rose, his legs shaking. He stumbled almost falling back down as his body fought the whole way. She was right there, not in a good state but he had wanted to find her. It had felt like his sole purpose when she was stolen from him. Now she was here and needed him now more than ever. He would have crawled through the very pits of torment to find her and bring her back. He had never thought about them turning her into a weapon. Before finding him she had been the best bounty hunter. She could give him a run for his money when it came to aim and fighting. It made him chuckle at their shooting contests before grimacing. She was definitely better on her game as he still was sporting her wound that made walking harder. He would lose all the blood in his body if it would bring her back, he would let her shoot him before he ever riddled her lovely body with bullet holes. He almost did and it made him sick. He was stupid he should have realized it was her way before he broke the horrible mask they had forced upon her.

“(Y/N),” he smirked before coughing up blood. “Come back to me.”

She shook her head, fighting for control but the programming was taking it’s toll as she reached for another pistol. Nicholas walked right into the barrel, encircling her wrist with his hand and lowering the weapon to point to the ground. She fought at first her strength waning as she tried to raise it back up to his face. He kept a steady grip keeping it pointed down while he wiped the blood on his pants leg off his other hand. He reached up stroking her cheek, she flinched from the touch before calming back down.

“N…N,” she tried to speak and he shushed her. He trailed downwards from her cheek, sliding across her neck, and down her arm to where he could grasp her hand. Stroking at the skin on the back of her hand he gave himself time before threading her digits with his. She gasped in a breath, light going in and out of her eyes. He grinned taking his time with bringing her back to him. Leaning downwards Nicholas took in her scent, his hot breath puffing across the skin of her collarbone and neck. She shivered involuntary the old (Y/N) still under the surface fighting to get out. He took his time looking right into her eyes before he finally made it to his destination. Nicholas gently placed his forehead to hers.

“Wake up already would you,” he whispered breathlessly. She gasped in his grasp and fell to the ground. Nicholas caught her, grunting from the weight on his injured leg. You cried loudly, unable to move just laying limply in Nicholas’ arms.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed ashamed to look in the face of your husband. “I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Nicholas shushed you kissing you deeply. “I’m the one who should be sorry. This is all my fault.”

“I tried to kill you,” you wailed. “You and Vash! And Meryl!” Tears wouldn’t stop flowing as they streaked the dirt and blood across your face.

“It’s not like you never wanted to kill me before,” he chuckled darkly.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, “No never kill. Maybe stab a couple of times or something but I don’t think I could live without you.”

Nicholas grimaced moving his leg around a little with the knife handle still sticking up. “Well you succeeded in getting one stab in at least.”

You gasped touching the handle and causing him to hiss. “Still a little tender,” he winked.

“I’m sorry!”

“I’m not,” he whispered. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

“Thank you for bringing me back,” you whispered back. “Though you did bust my face up and break one of my ribs.” Nicholas grimaced but wasted no time in kissing you again. Vash stumbled back to where Meryl waited to check up on her and giving you two a little privacy. You tended to Nicholas and yourself as best as you could, you would need to get you both to the nearest town for an actual doctor to take care of your and his wounds. But for now you both wanted to just stay there for a little while longer and not think of all the horrible things that just happened. Nicholas cursed a little later when he remembered he promised Vash drinks if he was correct in your state. Though you hadn’t been yourself when found, you were still alive. You looked at your husband worriedly before he waved the concern away. You would just laugh at his dilemma anyway. Vash helped you two get back home after Nicholas and you had been seen by a professional doctor and cleared to go home.

You took in the state of you and Nicholas’ home, hot tears coming quickly at the state of the wreckage. Nicholas held you close knowing that you two were more than a house.

“Anywhere with you is home to me,” he finally spoke after you cried for a little while. “We’ll build it back better than ever.”

“We don’t have to,” you said worried about the funds.

“I’ll keep working and we’ll use it to build it however you want,” he kissed you. “Your wish is my command m’lady.”

“Can we get a room in town to stay until then?”

“Already on it.” Nicholas lead you towards the darkened city. “Vash is useful when he’s not being annoying.”

You laughed, “He’s your best friend.”

“Unfortunately,” Nicholas snorted. You laughed, refusing to let go of Nicholas. You had been so afraid that you would never get to see him again when you were captured. You had thought about him every moment of every day until they had stripped everything from you. Then all you could remember is the blackness that engulfed you. You shivered at the thought of the blank being they had created from you. Nicholas mistakenly took your shivers as you being cold as he held you tighter. He never wanted to lose you in such a way ever again. He didn’t care that his past had come back to haunt him, he didn’t care who he had to take out. As long as you were safe and by his side he needing nothing else. You were his everything his world that he wouldn’t give up for anything. He looked down at you with a warm smile.

“I think I need to catch up on the loving you’ve been holding out on me,” he smirked and you blushed.

You slapped his chest, “Pervert. Is that all you think about?”

“When it comes to you yes. And how am I a pervert when I’m your husband?”

You huffed looking away teasingly, “You just are it’s your natural mentality.”

“Like you don’t think about me in a perverted way.”

“Never.”

“I beg to differ,” he snorted leaning in towards your ear. “Remember that one night…”

“Stop,” you screeched blush rushing down to your neck. Nicholas laughed causing your heart to skip a beat. How you had missed him, you never wanted to be taken away from him ever again. You stepped closer intertwining your fingers. Nicholas bumped your forehead quickly as he didn’t want to stop walking. The desert was becoming cold and he was ready for a room to spend the night with you once more. He had found you and he didn’t care what he had done to get you back by his side. He never regretted anything and he would tell anyone who asked that he would do everything the same as the outcome had brought you back. He squeezed you tighter losing himself in your presence. You were his paradise, it didn’t matter where he was at as long as he had you and you felt the same way. The worms light the sky as you both came to the city, ready to rebuild your lives after the terror had torn it apart. Hand in hand you both faced the future bravely and ready for whatever arose.

#Nicholas D Wolfwood X Reader #Nicholas D Wolfwood / Reader #Trigun Stampede #Nicholas D Wolfwood #Trigun #Request #Not My Gif #My Writing

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jmagnabo92 · 1 year

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PM - 49 Photo

@prongsfoot-microfic

When Harry finds a photo of James and Sirius kissing, he’s got some questions and Sirius has a lot of explaining to do.

AO3

***

“Hey, Sirius,” Harry says, tentatively from the doorway of the drawing room.

Sirius hated being in this house again, but at least he has the opportunity to spend time with his godson/son. Of course, Harry didn’t know that he and James were married or that Lily had only been a surrogate – well, sort of – James and Lily had been together briefly before he and James got together, and Lily had fallen pregnant. Lily hadn’t been sure about marriage and kids and everything while she was a major target in the war, so he and James had agreed to raise Harry as theirs. Lily would be a godmother, but they would raise him.

Only the prophecy had happened, and everyone had known that Harry biologically belonged to James and Lily. So, they made assumptions and those two went into hiding and – well, the story continues from there.

As far as everyone knows, Sirius is just the best mate.

“Hey, Harry. Everything, okay?”

“Er, well, I – I sort of found something and I – I don’t really know how to ask, but…”

Harry nervously offers him something in his hand that he accepts. He looks down to see a picture of himself and James kissing. They were dressed up in fancy dress robes and had a small wedding – just the three of them. Lily had performed the ceremony, she had gotten the ability as a special present to them for agreeing to take Harry in as their own (of course, he was biologically, James’) and allowing her to stand back a bit.

“Er, Harry, there’s something I haven’t told you – a lot actually,” Sirius states. “Why don’t we have a seat?”

Harry nods and they sit on the little couch in the room. It’s quiet as Sirius doesn’t know where to begin, too lost in the photo – one of the happiest days of his life. He and James hadn’t been together long, only about three months, but they had always known they wanted forever.

After a minute or so, Harry clears his throat. “Are you – going to explain?”

Sirius clears his throat. “Yes, er, you see – James was always more than my best mate. I – I can’t tell you when I fell in love with him, but it was long before this kiss.” He pauses. “But you see, James was kind of – well – he kind of confused his feelings a lot. He did fancy your mother, a lot, but he also had similar feelings for me, but he assumed they must’ve been platonic because you don’t have those feelings for a best mate.” Sirius laughs. “He was obviously mistaken.”

“Uh-huh, go on.”

“Okay, well, he dated your mother at the end of seventh year and into the beginnings of the war, but then realized that he wanted to be with me – Lily actually helped him figure it out,” Sirius states. “And we got together. This photo is of our impromptu wedding, we wanted to be married before you came along.”

Harry frowns. “How did I come along then?”

Sirius takes a breath. “Lily became pregnant right before your father and I got together. It – it complicated things. It was decided that James and I would raise you as a couple, as Lily – she loved you, but didn’t want to make you a target, the war was too much … it was a complicated time. We were going to be your fathers and she was to be your godmother.”

“Then why does everyone think –”

“Technically, biologically, they’re right about your parentage. And assuming the situation with James and Lily and – and … I was afraid that no one would believe me. After all, the war was full of assumptions and craziness and I lost James and you in one night and ever since then… well, no one here is taking me seriously, so I – I thought it was better that I didn’t tell you about all of this.”

Harry nods. “I suppose that makes sense. Still, I – it would’ve been nice for you to tell me that you would’ve been my dad, too.”

“Pads,” Sirius states. “Dad and Pads. We used to joke about it all of the time.”

Harry grins. “I know it must be hard to be without Dad, but I’m really glad to have my Pads, here.”

“I’m happy to be here with you, too, kiddo. And at least, now, you know that it would’ve been the three of us as a family.”

“At least we still have the two of us and this photo.”

Sirius smiles. “And lots of stories.”

“I’d love to hear them.”

“And I’d love to tell you.”

#Prongsfoot #Bambibelle #Sirius & Harry #Sirius and Harry Saturday #Sirius Black #James Potter #Harry James Potter #49

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majaloveschris · 2 years

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Why nothing makes sense, part 2.

NYC pap walk edition

Hi everyone. Today's Ted Talk is about: Why does everything make less and less sense.

Before I share my thoughts about the pictures that came out, I'd like to let everybody know, that if you want to believe that they're truly together, it's okay. I don't want to convince anybody that I'm right or that I know exactly what's going on. I'd like to add that even if they are truly together, I don't care about her age. They are both grown up, so don't send me asks saying he manipulated her when she is a 25-year-old woman, not a minor, not a child. We all know about her history with Lucas, so claiming she is just an innocent girl who was duped by Chris is a stretch. You know she isn't my favorite person on Earth, but I don't know her personally. If they are truly together, good for them. Having said that, I can't say I completely believe in this relationship thing, not because I'm jealous of her or because I think I'll end up with him, so please save me from these types of asks as well. It's because of the timing, the way the thing has been going on or said, the way they posed, and everything about this makes me suspicious. All is said, let's start.

The first thing I'd like to start with is the fact that they've supposedly been together for a year. That means they had to get together and hang out before Las Vegas. This, of course, makes it more unlikely that nobody has ever seen them together. After one year together, they are in a serious relationship, but she is nowhere to be found. She wasn't at the Halloween party, his sister's wedding, or his best friend's wedding. And don't tell me, she was maybe there, because we got pictures, for example, from his sister's wedding, and the person who sent it those pictures, confirmed she wasn't there. She even started untagging herself from Chris related posts. Why? Why would she do that if they were about to go public? Makes no sense. Don't even bring up the laser focus or Dodger being his long-term partner. I doubt that he (or even his team) would be stupid enough to make comments like this. People said maybe they were on and off; then where is that huge love and happiness? Because if you are on and off with somebody, that means that you have a disfunctional relationship; why make it public then? And no one believes they were able to keep quiet for an entire year, when people made such a big deal about LV when he wasn't even in the videos or seen with them. And now, suddenly, when her show premieres, we have likes, comments, articles, and even a pap walk?

The timing. I've already talked about this, but I'd like to mention it again. They've kept this relationship secret for a year, and then they decided to make it public exactly the same day her show premiered. They had several opportunities to go public, but they didn't do it. And the whole path to this point was suspicious, at least to me.

Now let's talk about the pictures and the video; honestly, they look awkward. And I'm not talking about the age gap, because, let's be honest, nobody would guess they have 16 years between them. But the way they held each other's hands and walked next to each other in the video was even worse. They didn't talk to each other; what was even the point of that whole video? They were simply walking awkwardly next to each other, no handholding or interaction. She was busy with her bag, while he was squeezing his phone in one hand and putting the other one in his pocket. No couple vibes. I walked happier or with more life next to boys I liked, and I hadn't been dating them for a year, and I wasn't so in love with them, and I wasn't the happiest I've ever been. They covered almost their entire faces with masks and sunglasses. It couldn't be for the sake of them not getting recognized when this clearly was the pap walk somebody said would happen. Having said that, they drew even more attention to themselves because no one else was wearing one. They both looked like they didn't want to be there, they acted uncomfortable. They didn't act like a couple that's been together for a year and is so in love.

Chris has done a few paparazzi walks, and none of them were this awkward, not even the Lily one. Apparently the same photographer took these pictures. At least when he was with Lily, it looked like they enjoyed each other's company. I also really liked how Page Six tried to make readers believe it was unintentional and that they were incognito. Yeah, that's really believable. Then it was written that even though they were shy in front of the cameras, they were so in love. They acted the same way during the whole photoshoot, even when they couldn't have known somebody was watching them. And of course, if you want to lay low, you go to Central Park, because who would go there anyway? And their masks and sunglasses didn't even match.Fan videos also didn't help. You can clearly see how uncomfortable they look, and he even let her hands go after the pap walk; he rather kept them in his pockets.

Everything about this seems phony and manufactured, especially everything that's happened since the trailer was released.

That's my opinion. I think it's PR. If you think otherwise, that's okay too. I respect everybody's opinion, so please do the same.

https://twitter.com/i/status/1591143758477033475

https://twitter.com/i/status/1591114781989404673

#cevans-love #ab dating bullshit #chris and alba pr #chris and alba in nyc

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phoebe-delia · 2 years

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take my hand, wreck my plans

Happiest of wedding days to my darling friend, M. @makeitp1nk. You might not remember this, but a loooong time ago you said that the Taylor song that reminds you the most of your relationship is "willow," so when I set out to make your wedding gift/drabble, I knew what my prompt would be. (Ignore the fact I've technically done this song before shhhh that doesn't count).

Wishing you a lifetime of happiness. I love and adore you.

I knew everything about you, and yet nothing at all, back then. I knew your favorite food, the way you take your tea. I knew your birthday—though it was hard not to; it's practically a national holiday. I knew your pre-and-post Quidditch routines, the way you grip a wand. I knew every angry twitch of your scowl, every angle of your smirk, the force of your fist.

I thought I knew you, then. But now, you're so much more.

It was the silliest thing; you were just talking about crunchy peanut butter. The merits of it, its reputation compared to its creamy counterpart. We were at the supermarket, and you were holding a jar in your hand and talking to me, and it hit me with the force of a stunner that there was nowhere else on the planet I'd rather have been at that moment.

Which is strange and surprising to me, even now. I never knew that home and safety could be found in another human being. I thought those things were bought and built with concrete, with magic. I thought the best parts of life were tangible; had measurable value. But when I think about some of the happiest moments of my life—the summers I spent in lavish palaces, the decadent dinners, the extravagant shopping trips—I always end up remembering how you light up at calendars with puppy pictures. I think about the way you dance—only at home, only with me—using your entire body. I think about how you make my tea better than I can, at this point.

I always thought I knew the way my life would go. Growing up, I imagined moving into the manor with my future wife and sending my parents to live in a comfortable cottage in the south of France. I pictured lavish parties, poring over finance documents late at night, being doted on by house elves, and inheriting the respect of the wizarding world earned by my Father and his before him, and so on.

And especially when the war came and put that future in shambles, I tried to piece together the parts of myself and my life that I liked, and proceeded from there. I predicted years of struggle to earn a respectable standing in our world. I imagined being shunned, ridiculed, and possibly even in prison.

But then you—marvelous, heroic, stupidly-selfless you—walked into the courtroom and saved my life. Again. Wanker.

And you didn't stop there. It would've been enough just to keep me out of Azkaban; it was more than I deserved, or so I believed at the time. But you were persistent. You showed up at my tiny flat once a week; the one on the outskirts of Muggle London where the water heater only worked for an hour in the middle of the night, and the elevator was perpetually broken. You showed me Muggle currency, how to do my own laundry, and how to work a mobile.

You taught me how to shop at the supermarket. And made me my first peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

The idea that such happiness and joy are experienced freely is a preposterous truth for me to understand; and yet it's one I relish each day. It's one I don't take for granted.

You turned my entire world upside down and still made sure I landed on my feet, our hands clasped. You defied every expectation I had—for myself, for you, for the world. And you prove to me every day just how right it was that I was so wrong.

Read it on ao3!

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koala-confessions · 6 months

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Introductions

I have always been an over achiever. A perfectionist if you will. Raised by a drug addict mother and an equally addicted but absent father, I was surprisingly well adjusted. I graduated at 16, became a supervising CNA before I was 18, got married, had a baby, got divorced, got married again, had 2 more, got divorced. Got into an awful abusive relationship where I literally fought for my life. Left him at 33.

I spent a whole year single and for the first time, learned who I was. What my hobbies were, my likes and dislikes, my own values and morals. At the end of that year, I was rewarded with David. I fell hard and fast for this beautiful man who taught me what love was. I found it. the secret to happiness and life. I was madly in love. Our relationship was so strong. There was only one thing stronger than our love for each other. His love for heroin. My healthiest, happiest relationship was with a heroin addict. In his chase for heroin and my chase to keep him safe from himself, I found myself doing things I'd never thought I would do. We stole with abandon. We took care of his addiction and our family at any cost. My morals fell away. I also fell in love with meth.

In my head, I was a functioning addict, we still took care of and spent time with the kids. We paid our bills, even if the money was dirty. We were in love. Crazy in love. I didn't need anyone else ever. As long as I had David.

We were married New Year's Eve 2020. I was just getting over COVID. It was the happiest day of my life. I don't recall all my vows but I know that I said, " I know that I have trouble deciding on everything, and it is a pet peeve of yours. That is why we are late to EVERYTHING and have dinner at 1 in the morning. But I have never, in my life, been more sure of anything, than that I want to spend it with you."

Those words still echo in my mind today. They echoed the loudest March 08, 2021 when he was gunned down by the police in front of my then 7 year old son while he screamed for his dad. It was all very public. My grief. He was villainized in the worst possible ways. Attacked on all ends. Reporters, ignorant people, filled my messenger inbox. Our wedding pictures stolen from my facebook, nothing was private, everything was on display.

A few days later I found his other love heroin. She comforted me for a long time. I also fell in love with the syringe. Then my morals fell away. My kids took a back burner. Everything took a backburner to the numbness I craved more than anything. Anything to escape the pain. Suicide, I tried twice. I fucked that up too. I watched as my humanity and my life, everything I was, everything I worked for fell away. The felonies built.

Fast forward 3 short years, I am a 4 time felon fresh out of jail on my last chance. I am fighting to get my kids back. Blessedly, they have loved me unconditionally through it all and I only lost them recently. They will be home in a few short months. I am in Las Vegas in a program called drug court. I was just released Valentine's Day 2024. I spent 110 days in the local jail CCDC fighting for this opportunity, to spare me from prison. It is said, CCDC stands for Cant Complete Drug Court instead of Clark County Detention Center, and the odds are certainly stacked against me. 6% of participants complete the rigorous program. I was released to Crossroads, a rehabilitation program and stay at Koala house, a transitional living where around 150 men and women also live although only about 15 of us are court ordered. I attend class 3 days a week, 3 hours a day. i have a judge I see weekly, I have a court coordinator I ask permission for everything, I attend meetings daily, I drug test randomly at ATI and have an ankle bracelet called SCRAM and an officer I have to alert of my movements. I have a probation officer and a therapist. I have a case manager and will soon start paralegal school and a job. I am not allowed to do anything or go anywhere that doesn't involve one of these things except for 3 hours Saturday morning when I am allowed to grocery shop. The program is not meant to be easy. It is meant to set you up for success, if you want it. You have to want it bad. I also have a sponsor and am working the steps.

I fast forwarded through my entire life which I am writing a book about. I want this blog to reflect the inner workings of my mind on my journey to healing, growth, insight and recovery. I don't care how many people read or don't, but for those that do maybe they will find insight or gain courage through my words. I want an ever lasting memory of this journey which may be my hardest one yet.

So, I will publicly post my inner most thoughts and struggles, my daily journaling. My insights on my path to self discovery and recovery. Here it goes.

#recovery #AA #NA #self love #self care #SELF DISCOVERY #HEALING #mental health #MENTAL ILLNESS #DRUG ADDICTION #GRIEF #COPING

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saintsofwarding · 1 year

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WE SHALL BE MONSTERS

Header by @keltii-tea

Chapter 19: A Miracle

That spring and early summer, Miranda thought, was the happiest time of her life. Each day came with blue skies and sunlight shimmering on the fields, the mountains bathed in butter light. The drone of insects in the grass; the sound of goats' bells ringing from the village, not a soul mourning nor heavy-hearted, not a death that was not expected.

Oh, there were folk buried, of course- a venerat grandmother, a hunter who had been attacked by a wolf on the slopes and succumbed to his wounds- but these were taken in stride, as they had been before, and consecrated in the proper way, given back to the Black God, in the care of the Saints. They did not rise again; their graves stayed silent. Miranda, standing in the crowd at the funerals, Eva under her hand fidgeting in her too-hot black dress, did not think of her mother rising from the dirt. For the first time, her mind was on the present, her sorrows for the recent dead, not those whom she had lost more than a decade before.

"What does it mean?" Eva had asked her as they walked home after a funeral, taking the long way, down by the river. It was Eva's favorite way; she loved to watch the dragonflies dart over the water, loved to crouch by a river bend where the water swirled still and deep, dark as peat, and watch the fish swim their lazy circles. "When the priest says...um..."

She screwed up her small face, imitating the elderly priest's droning way of speaking. "May she walk through the endless dark..."

"It means that the Black God will always watch over her, sweet girl. Venerat Violeta will be protected in the afterlife by the priest's prayers." She'd knocked her elbow against Eva's. "That's what the priest says, anyway."

Eva giggled, then, in an instant, became grave. "What if we didn't pray?"

"What do you mean?"

"If she died somewhere far away and the priest didn't pray. Would the Saints not walk with her then? Would the Black God forget about her?"

Miranda lifted her head, watching the sunlight's glitter off the surface of the river, the seams of snow clinging to the mountain peaks, never melting, not even in this late-May heat. "I don't know, Evie."

"It doesn't seem very nice if they don't."

"No, it doesn't."

"Uncle Sal was telling me some stuff." She kicked a stone into the water, then hurried over to watch it sink. "I found some of his old books and I asked him about them."

"Oh? What sort of stuff?"

"Well. There was this one book. It had pictures of a cave wall. It had some carvings." Eva shrugged, ambling back over, pulling at her black dress. Her blonde hair had begun to spring from her braids.

Miranda had to stifle a smile; had she looked that much like a hedgehog when she was a little girl?

"There was a picture of a mermaid," Eva said."And a horse! And some other ones too. They were the crests of the four kings who made this valley."

"I doubt they made the valley."

"That's what the book said! They prayed and the Saints came down and they made the whole valley with their powers! Or maybe the Black God made the valley. It sang and the song was so powerful the earth hollowed out between the mountains so the people from the crystal city could have a place to live." "Well. Wouldn't that be a sight to see."

"It said the kings married some of the people and they ruled over here and their families are still around to this day. Can we go see the four kings? Maybe they would tell us who their families are." Her eyes got big. "What if we're one of the four families!"

"I don't think so, Evie."

"But what if. I want to be a princess."

Miranda had caught her up in a hug, pressing a kiss to the little girl's sticky cheek. "You're already my princess. Want to go see the kings? Maybe you're right, and you'll be lucky enough to hear them speak."

"Can we?"

"Come on. Follow me. It's a climb," Miranda warned. "And you're getting too big to carry, like last time."

"I won't stumble."

She squeezed her hand. "I know."

They wound away from the river, taking a narrow, rocky goat-path up the side of the crag that overlooked the village. They crossed a bridge, a crude stone thing used by shepherds and hunters, mostly, that led to a tree-lined slope. The path wound up, and up, switched back on itself, disappeared a few times, but Miranda kept her eyes on the bare crag overhead, and didn't lose her way.

She kept Eva's hand tight in her own; the girl kept looking around at birds and insects, jabbering away about the other stories in Salvatore's books. Wonderful pictures, and strange monsters, and scary things, too, people that had been taken by the wolf-sickness and twisted into creatures that barely looked human anymore.

"Those pictures sound a little too spooky for you," Miranda said.

"No!" Her voice conveyed the heights of her indignation. "They're fine."

"Can't you find something in your schoolbooks to read instead?"

"Nothing as good. There was a fairy-tale too. About four creatures..." She launched into a retelling of the fairy tale as switchbacked and meandering as the path. Miranda knew the story anyway. It had been one of her father's, told to her in turn when she was a child. Four monsters of antiquity; a little girl lost in the woods. A witch; a mother and father, searching for the lost girl. Sometimes the mother and the witch were one and the same, two aspects of the same being, at once searching for her daughter and luring her deeper and deeper into the forest's heart.

Sometimes the monsters were bat lords and fish kings, a great iron horse snorting flames, a deathly shadow spinning illusions to tempt the girl into danger. Sometimes they were sorcerers, shape-shifters, eaters of flesh, people twisted by the witch into creatures to do her bidding. Sometimes they gave the girl gifts, and sometimes they took her memories, piece by piece, until she was an empty shell the witch could do with as she wished.

The story was one of the valley's oldest, from, some said, the days of the Cataclysm, the crystal city's doom. There were as many ways it was told as there were mouths to tell it. Miranda listened to Eva struggle through it, and by the time she was done, the girl found and rescued by her mother, the father burned to ashes by the witch's power, they had broken through the trees and onto the lonely rock crag beyond.

It overlooked the entire village, the tallest thing within the town limits aside from the castle: a great amphitheater surrounded by rock walls, though whether the settlers had found it this way, or whether it was naturally formed, none knew. Nevertheless, it had been carved at some point. Four statues ringed a dais in the middle, four great, melancholy kings in crowns and robes, staring over the dais with baleful eyes and hunched shoulders. Miranda put her hands on her hips, breathing hard from the climb, but Eva wandered over to the fenced-off cliffside, to stare down into the ravine on the far side.

A collection of old barns was visible in the field on the other side of the ravine; it had been converted into a munitions factory at some point by the village family who ran it, shipping guns and bullets down into parts unknown to fight the great war that had raged four years ago, far, far away from Miranda and Eva, far away from this time, this place.

To Miranda, such horrors were inconceivable, the world beyond inconceivable. Too many terrors, too many griefs too vast to comprehend. How did the people in the world outside the village cope? Far too much to feel, far too much to know. Salvatore, with his wandering mind, was fascinated by such things, though he was too connected to his practice in the village to ever leave it. But Miranda would never leave even if she could. There was little, she thought, that would draw her away. If Eva was in trouble, and the solution lay outside the valley, perhaps.

But as she breathed the sweet, warm air, as she watched her daughter in the sunlight, the strands of flyaway hair lit golden, such trouble seemed as far away as war, as far away as the dead walking the endless dark, as far away as winter, and wolves, and sorrow.

"There's a horse," Eva called.

"What was that?" Miranda joined her at the fence.

"A horse." She pointed. It was painted on the side of the barn- a horse head enclosed by a shoe. "Like in the book."

"Is that so?"

"I wonder if they're one of the families. They don't look like kings."

"Well, I doubt they would, now. It's been a long, long time since the Cataclysm. Sal said his dad always bragged they came from the oldest stock in town."

"Maybe he's a prince."

"You think Sal's a prince? Hmm. He'd look pretty silly in a crown."

Eva didn't laugh. She stared down at the factory, her hands gripping the fence bars. "Maybe..." she said. "Maybe the Black God would know."

"Maybe you should go to the priest and ask him to ask the Black God."

"Hmm." This worked. Eva let go of the bars. "I don't want to do that." She tipped her head back to examine the four kings, her eyes wide. She walked on her toes around the dais, her arms held out straight, a little bird about to take flight.

Miranda walked behind her, just in case she fell. She'd be there to catch her.

"If I got stolen would you come get me?" Eva said suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"By a witch. If a witch stole me and I got taken by monsters would you come and get me."

"Of course I would."

"Really?"

"I'd fight every single one of those spooky monsters to come get you. And then-" She swooped in and began to tickle Eva. The girl burst out into helpless giggles, the sound echoing through the amphitheater, off the somber statues of the four kings. "And then I'd give you porridge with no honey or cream for being such a naughty girl, running off like that, and then I'd send you straight to bed!"

"No! No! No!" Eva managed between giggles. "I don't like porridge!" "Well, then you shouldn't have run away!" She looped her arms over Eva's shoulders, pressing her chin to the top of her head. "Your hair is a mess. Let's go home and fix those braids, sweet girl."

"I want to stay a little longer."

"A little longer or a lot?"

"A little."

"All right, then. A little longer. Just a little."

***

"Strange thing I heard today," Salvatore said, that night. Miranda emerged from Eva's bedroom where she'd just put the girl to bed.

She gently closed the bedroom door. "What kind of strange thing? Another four-eyed fish you found in the lake?"

"No, no..." He was sitting at his desk, ostensibly writing in one of his medical logbooks. He hadn't written a word in a few minutes, but rather sat, tapping his pen against the desk, staring out the window. "No, a...couple of travelers in a nearby village. Dying. I received a shipment of aether today and the merchant told me all about it."

"What did they die of?" Miranda fixed a couple books that had fallen over on a nearby shelf.

"A sickness, the merchant said. Some sort of illness that attacked the respiratory system. They died soon after they arrived, and there was little sign they were ill before they..." He drew his thumb over his throat.

"Have some respect for the dead, Dr. Moreau," Miranda said dryly. "If it wasn't wolf-sickness, there's nothing to be afraid of. You can cure anything, right?"

"Yes, of course, I...I only wish I could see the bodies, get a better picture of what it was...for posterity's sake, you see..."

"Right."

"Eva's well?"

Miranda looked at him, sharp. "Why wouldn't she be?"

"No reason! Simply the funeral can be alarming for a child. I certainly know that I-" He stopped. The silence hung, heavy and cold, in the air between them. There was no forgetting what they had experienced together, no matter how many years went by, no matter how Miranda had learned to put it far behind her.

Always the wolf. Always the cold. And always, always, the miracle, the strange, savage thing that had transpired within her mother, the baby that was not a baby. The gift, given by the Black God. The gift that had failed her.

"It's nothing to be afraid of," he echoed. "Simply a curiosity. Like the rest." He rose, closing his book and setting his pen back in the stand. He went to Miranda and set his hand on her shoulder. In the lamplight, his face was kindly, a small smile on his mouth.

"It'll be all right," he told her, and left her, his hand slipping from her shoulder, Miranda catching it for a moment, a brush of her fingertips against his.

She heard his bedroom door shut. She waited a moment, listening to the soft tick of the clock on the mantel, the wind against the window. Then she went to the bookshelf, to the section of cracked spines and worn leather, of titles written in languages that had not been spoken save by scholars for hundreds of years.

Strange things. Strange tales. She drew the heavy books forth, one by one, setting them on Sal's desk. Sitting, she began to look through them. She found the one Eva must have been talking about, a massive tome bound in deep black hide, filled with etchings. The cave wall was near the middle, marked by a piece of paper. It looked like a tomb carving- four crests, like Eva had said, the mermaid, the horse, a sun-and-moon, a flower impaled by swords. And in the middle, a curious design of light and dark rays.

She flipped through more of the book, read the strange names. The families, ancient and venerated, descended from the four founders of the village. The kings had done many strange things, so the book said, had dug deep within the earth to search for their gods, and had been blessed in turn. Affinity for power; abilities beyond belief. Healing, and long life. And above all, holiness. A connection to the Black God itself. A connection to the divine.

Miranda would have scoffed in company. Now, alone, the room dark save for the single lamp on the desk, she began to wonder. The folk in the munitions factory; Claude Moreau's claim to nobility. Wolf-sickness. Perhaps her mother had become a monster because she was not...right, because her affinity was not strong enough. If she had been from one of the families who had escaped the Cataclysm, perhaps she would have become divine, like them.

Well, Eva would certainly be disappointed she wasn't a princess. Miranda kept leafing through the books. Monsters, wolves. Tales of the crystal city. Tales she knew. But one thing persisted, through fairy-tale and myth, through legend and holy writ. That the Black God remembered all. That the Black God never forgot the dead. That it dreamed of them, sleeping thing, and that it would remember them forever.

Miranda hoped it would remember the travelers who had died in the next village over, that they would walk in its dream until the end of the world. And she sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Black God that they had not come here, that they had not entered her small, safe world, that they had not destroyed this happiness that felt, at once, to her, like a sphere of glass.

Perfect, and breakable.

***

Nothing to be afraid of. Both of them had said that. They said it in the way of hunters scoffing the wolves would never find them in the dark, and wearing a warding amulet anyway, and glancing behind them at every step, watching the woods for the first green glimmer of eyes. And when the baker and his wife woke in the night to the strained coughs of their youngest son, and rushed in to find his skin blue and his breathing strangled, they knew the wolves had come anyway, that they had crept in their footsteps, that they had been clever, and stealthy, and silent.

Salvatore was away for days on end, not sleeping, barely eating; the baker's son died, and then his sister, and then the baker himself, and the coughing was replaced with weeping, his wife kneeling in the village square as her entire family was taken from their house and given to the dirt.

Her wails had filled the night before she was gathered up and taken inside by a neighbor. Miranda, standing awake at the window, had heard them. She would never forget them, as long as she lived, just like she would never forget her father's pleas to the priests, to the gods.

Has the Black God abandoned us? she'd cried. We were good. We were devout. Saints, please, tell me why. Why. Why would you do this to us?

Why would you betray us like this?

Miranda watched the baker and his children be buried. This time there was no sense of the natural turn of things. The skies were still blue, the sunlight still dense and golden. But she no longer took the river path home. She rushed straight back to her door, to Eva, whom she did not let attend the funerals. She didn't let her go to school. She taught her herself in Sal's study, and there, watching her daughter industriously study in her books, watching her learn and grow and make connections and understandings, she was almost able to forget her fears.

This will all be over soon, anyway, she told herself, told Sal, who paused, then agreed with her. "There are less this week than last," he said. "A temporary illness. A summer flu."

"It can't be wolf-sickness-"

"It isn't," he said. "It came from the next village over. I asked the farmers there about it. The travelers came through and after they died, several of their people did as well."

"How are they faring now?"

Another pause. Sal had looked out the window, his brow creased, his clothes rumpled. He looked older, Miranda thought, far older than he had just a few weeks before.

"Salvatore," Miranda said, more loudly. "How are they now?"

"I haven't heard from them," he admitted. He scraped his hand over his hair, lowering his head. "Not for...not since...what day is it? What month? Remind me..."

She did so gently. "July."

He looked up at her and smiled. "July," he said. "This should be a good time for you. For Eva. For all of us."

"The Black God has strange ways," Miranda said, with a wry smile of her own.

"I never knew you to be devout."

"I'm trying it on for size. What do you think? Shall I put on robes, hide my hair, spout out nonsense about saints and devotion?"

"If it would help this..." His gaze drifted, becoming hard and hollow.

"Sal." She took his face in her hand and turned it to hers. She smoothed her thumb beneath his eyes, one at a time. "Sal. This will all be made better. You'll make it better. I know you will."

"I will." He clasped her hands in his own. "Tomorrow. We'll go to the fields and spend the day in the sunlight. You, and me, and Eva. It's been too long since I've seen your face by daylight. What do you think?"

"I think that would be good for us all."

The next day's sun hung heavy and golden as an egg yolk, its light melting. The field by the lake shimmered. Miranda had packed a hamper, and together, she and Eva and Sal left the house, skirting the village, staying well away from the other townsfolk. They spread their blankets in the grass; they ate bread and goats' cheese and honey; they lay back, all three of them with hands clasped, to watch the wind move the clouds through the sky.

They spoke about anything but the sickness, about anything but the darkness, about anything but the wolves.

The light became heavy, became golden as the honey. The drone of bees grew louder. Miranda watched one crawl over their hamper, its legs laden with pollen. It seemed impossible, once again, that malady could enter their lives.

But she could not forget the baker's wife's wails. How could the Black God have done this? How could it betray them?

Eva was sleeping. She'd dozed off a while before, her hands curled under her face, her eyes flickering behind her lids. A restless dreamer. Miranda sat by her side, careful not to disturb her as she slept. She stroked her cheek, her hair, delicate as porcelain.

"I hope she's having good dreams," Salvatore said.

He knelt on Eva's other side. He still looked exhausted, worn-down, but in this light he might have simply been tired. He watched Eva, too, his brow slightly creased.

"She will," Miranda said. "This will all seem like a dream to her, one day."

"Will it?"

"Yes. Of course it will. A dream to us all."

Sal lifted his head. Behind his spectacles, his eyes were bright. "It's getting worse," Sal whispered. "The herbs...the remedies...they don't work. It's...strong. Strange. I don't know if..."

His voice crumbled. He took a ragged breath. "If I'm good enough for it, if I'm...clever enough..."

He shook his head. "Saints," he muttered.

"Oh, Sal." Miranda brushed a fleck of pollen off his cheek. "Sal, you are good enough. You'll make this right. I have faith in you. More than I have in any saints or gods."

"That's blasphemy," he said, lightly teasing.

"Then call me a heretic."

"Miranda...if it all...becomes worse..." He seemed to want to say more, then shook his head again. "No, no, I don't want to invite bad spirits."

"No. Say it."

He fastened his gaze on her once more. "Very well," he said. "If you, or if Eva, becomes ill. I will do everything in my power to cure you."

"I don't matter," Miranda said quickly. "If I become ill, do what you've done for the others. But if Eva does...please. Help her. Cure her."

"She won't become ill-"

"If she does, promise me," Miranda said. She took his hand and gripped it, hard. "Promise me, Sal. If Eva gets ill, you will go to the ends of the earth to get her back. You will do anything it takes. Anything!"

"Miranda-"

"Promise me," she said again. "Promise me."

"I promise," Sal said. "Miranda-"

She realized she was gripping his hand too tight. He winced as she let go, as she pulled back, as she stared at him across the blanket. Her mouth tasted bitter. Her heart pulsed in her throat, so fast it made her feel ill.

It was a while before either could speak again.

"I promise," Salvatore said, at last. "I will do anything. But it won't come to that. We're here, Miranda. We're all right. And we'll make it through this together."

Miranda watched the grass, the clouds. The summer sun on the lake, more brilliant a gold than the gilt icons in the church. Eva woke, and looked up at her, and smiled. This is the place, Miranda thought, where what we love will never die.

A dream, a memory. A promise.

Please, O Black God.

Please, please, please, please.

***

And when Eva woke in the night, and when Eva began to cough, and did not stop, Miranda prayed again. Please. Please. Please. She watched Salvatore by Eva's bedside, watched him cover her daughter's face with a damp cloth to relieve the pain of her coughs, watched him mix his herbs and medicines with shaking hands. She watched Eva twist and thrash on the bed when the medicines failed, watched her skin turn blue. She held her daughter's hands. She felt them clutch at hers, as if to life, as if they could hold one another hard enough, as if their will could be strong enough, they might thwart even God itself.

But they were, all of them, only human.

And when the dawn broke, and touched Miranda's face with the faint warmth of day, Eva was already gone.

***

She dreamed in the dark. Still, and cold.

The priests came, and they lay silver and aconite and mountain ash over her crossed hands. And Miranda came, and she knelt by the bedside, by her daughter's body.

Fix your braids, sweet girl. Let's go home.

She went away for a while. Inside, it was good, it was warm. A dream. This was a dream. You promised, Papa. You promised this was the place. When Salvatore and the others found her screaming, they took her somewhere else. Like the baker's wife.

That was what Sal told her, anyway. She didn't remember. It was all dark. Eva wasn't there. Sometimes it would be all right. Sometimes she could eat, or drink tea, or even walk around the yard. But then she would remember.

"You promised," she told him, and his face would crumple, and she wanted to rake her nails down it. You promised. You promised.

You lied.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, every time.

"You were right," she said. "You weren't good enough." And he would leave her, and close the door, and the door between them would close, too, and every time, she wished it would never open again, that he would leave her alone forever, that everything would.

It could, she thought.

So she made her body move. She made herself crawl- through the window, to the dirt. She didn't know when it was. The wind had a bite to it. Autumn, perhaps. The whole village was silent. Most everyone had died, she gathered, and the churchyard was too small for them, so they had to be buried on the hills, in potter's fields and in the dark forests, ten to a grave. It didn't matter anymore. She walked, as dead as the rest of them, her body simply refusing to believe it.

The stars shone overhead; Miranda tipped up her face to look at them. The dirt changed to grass under her bare feet, changed to stones. The lights of the village slid away around her, and the dark came in, endless and absolute. She didn't know where she was going, just that she didn't want to stop until she fell.

The trees enclosed her. She was wandering toward the crag, she realized, the four kings on their hill. She kept walking. The cave mouth was there, just an axe split between two stones. She didn't slow. She stepped inside.

She didn't know this cave. She'd never seen it before. The echoes of her footsteps rang away, and away, and away before her. Somewhere in the depths ran water, perhaps; it might have been voices, a crowd of whispers far, far away.

Her feet slipped over a carved lip. Steps, she realized, feeling her way by touch. Crude steps hacked into the cave floor. Faint points of light glowed on the walls. She touched one- a crystal, the kind that was common to the valley. Good. They would guide her way.

They thickened as she wound down, and down, and down, the stairway a narrow shaft plunging deeper and deeper into the earth. No one would ever find her down here. That was good. That was right.

Pulse.

And when the whispering of water rose to surround her, she knew she had found a place further away than anything, further away than her mind had the capacity to grasp.

Pulse.

It was there. In the darkness. There were statues of saints peering from niches in the cave walls, and then there it was. She felt it. Inside her. Inside everything. It was inevitable, she understood. She stopped. Her feet found the last step, then- the cave floor. A thin sheet of water covered it, weeping from some hidden source deeper underground still. Her footsteps were silent on it. She was silent: her own heartbeat, the singing wonder in her nerves, her aching feet, abraded by her barefoot walk over the stony ground above. Even her thoughts were drowned out by its sheer force. The pulse was too great, a vibration that hummed through her, through the cave, through the very matter of the air, down to the deepest whorl of her brain.

Pulse.

"Mother?"

She was there.

"Eva?" Miranda whispered.

She took form in the darkness. A little girl. Blonde braids mussed, eyes wide and bright. "Mother," Eva said, and behind her- the thing. Immense. Each pulse thrummed from it. Swollen and vast, meaty and raw as one of Salvatore's wet specimens, but huge, a hundred times the size of any creature she'd seen before, a thousand, hanging before her from the heights of the cavern.

Her vision swam, her mind struggling to comprehend it. She couldn't take it in, not fully. It couldn't be a child. But it was, it was, curled before her, so huge it seemed to fill her vision, a weight on her mind. A tide of whispers. Endless. A holy cave. Sacred air. Somewhere on it she tasted incense, tasted flowers, tasted mold, bitter as regret.

That place is here, Miranda.

She knew it like she knew her own face, like she knew her father's voice, like she knew what it was to lose and lose and lose again.

This is the place where what we love will never die.

"The Black God," Miranda said. Her voice broke into sobs, into echoes. She pressed her trembling hand over her mouth. Her legs shook.

She'd found it. Glory, glory. The thing the refugees of the crystal city had searched for in vain for so many long years, had followed their saints toward, had believed in when there was nothing else to believe. It was here. It was real.

And she was too late.

She fell to her knees.

"You have to get up, Mother," Eva said. She knelt by her. She stroked Miranda's hair. "It's time for you to be strong."

"I can't. You're gone. It's all gone."

"No." Her cold fingers touched Miranda's chin, gently tilting her head up. Her eyes were dark, sorrowful. "Don't you feel it? Its heart. Your heart. You can change it. You can change everything. Don't you understand?"

"I don't want to," Miranda whispered.

"Yes, you do. The Black God dreams, Mother. Even now. Of you. And of me." She smiled, small and sweet. "Everything can come back. Everything can live again. If only you do what I know you can do. For me."

Miranda reached up, cupping her hand around Eva's small face, the yearning unbearable. "How?" she breathed.

"Come with me."

"I...I don't understand..."

"You don't have to." The pulse strengthened. It seemed to emanate from beneath her now, from behind her, from inside her. "You just have to love me. You just have to remember."

"I will," Miranda said. "Forever."

"You just have to promise."

"Anything."

"I love you, too," Eva whispered, and she stood, and held out her hand, and Miranda took it. The darkness rose around her, the pulse almost as unbearable as the pain, the grief, taking it, replacing it. Eva's hand became slick, ropy flesh. Warm, and wet. Unfurling, and grasping. Pulling her in. Deeper, and deeper.

It took her mind in its grip, easy as she'd taken her daughter's hand, and cracked it open.

In it-

Thick. Organic. Something living, surrounding her, suffocating her; it forced its way down her throat and she choked. It stopped her scream. This was nothing, it reassured her. Temporary. Her mind was bigger than that, cracked into pieces and spilling out and out and out. Stories. Monsters. The howl of a blizzard. Gunshots in the cold. A faraway sunrise. A mountain range, hiding ghastly secrets. A city consumed in flames. The dead, rising again. A child, black-haired and pale, summoning wave after wave of monsters from the depths of her grief. A vast stirring of black wings. They burst from her back, from her arms, from her throat, tearing their way out of her.

They took her further, higher. The world spread beneath her. The monsters lurked behind the trees, in the shadows. A girl ran from them, blonde hair whipping behind her, searching, searching, reaching for the golden light on a metal horse's forehead, her fingers brushing it as if to grasp it and tear it free.

Eva! Miranda reached for her, like the girl reached for the golden light, but the girl ran on, deeper and deeper into the trees. Miranda broke into a run to follow her, but she was so fast, and the Black God was there, speaking to her, its voice echoing from everywhere and nowhere, from her own tongue, burning her lips under its indomitable power.

Gifts we gave-

Take them. Take them, and do as I say, and I will be yours. I will bring your salvation. I will give you everything you lost, returned anew.

As the midnight moon rises on black wings-

There is no death. There is only my dream. And you are one with my dream.

There is someone who will love us in another time. There is always someone waiting for us. I was waiting, Mother. A long, long time. For you.

Where was she? Where was Eva?

She is waiting for you, too.

Give her to me- please, I will do anything-

Little prophet.

I know you will.

It all shattered like glass, and before her- an abyss. An endlessness of stars. She was in them, flying, or maybe falling. She reached out, clawing, searching. She slipped between the stars. And on the far side, beyond the darkness-

-For a moment-

-For just a moment-

Eva-

***

"Miranda!"

She heard the voice from a long way off, echoing down the steps. She kept walking, silent, breathing hard, each one searing down her throat and into her lungs like fire. It didn't matter. She held the bundle in her arms, feeling it shift and squirm in her arms.

She rocked it a little. "Hush, now," she whispered. "It's all right. Isn't it? Everything's going to be all right now."

"Miranda!"

She saw the scrap of sky above. Cool wind brushed her tear-abraded face. She stepped from the cave a few minutes later, from cold stone and onto grass and loose stones. A lamp burned in the darkness, and in it she made out Salvatore's face, sweet and familiar and haggard with worry. He saw her, too, and let out a half-laugh, half-sob of pure, pathetic relief.

"Saints," he choked. He set the lantern down and rushed to her, hands outstretched. He grabbed her; he pulled her in. "Miranda- I...I thought you were gone, I thought-"

"I'm here, Sal," Miranda whispered.

Maybe it was something in her voice. He set her back, looking her up and down. Taking in, perhaps, the sticky black liquid that covered her, matting her hair and dripping behind her. The ragged remnants of her clothes. The new, unnatural color of her eyes, gold as gilt. The bundle in her arms, her overskirt torn away to swaddle the form within. "Are you...are you all right? Are you hurt?"

She shook her head back and forth. "No, Sal. I'm not hurt."

"What happened to you? Where did you go?"

"I found her."

"...What?"

"She's alive. Eva. She's alive. It's going to be all right." She smiled, suddenly. Tears slid down her face. "Look, Sal. Look."

She lifted the bundle, pulling the fabric away from the thing inside. Curled. Fetal. Tentacles unfurled; they grasped at the air, winding around Miranda's hands, her throat, her torso, as if trying to pull itself to her, as if trying to hold her in their embrace. A baby that was not a baby. A high, thin keen filled the air; Salvatore recoiled, his face drained of color, his hands shaking.

"What is that?" he stammered. "Miranda, what the hell is that?"

"You should have had faith." She covered the miraculous child's face again. "The Black God is real. It was always real. All the stories. And now I know what to do. All the bad things must end. And I will make it right again."

"You...you need to come back to the village-" He half-turned from her, going back for the lantern. "You need to rest, you need medicine..."

"There was a time for that, Sal. And you could have saved her. You said. You promised. But you didn't." She bent. There were loose stones on the ground. She found one about the size of a fist, with a sharp, jagged edge. "She died because of you. But it's all right. She'll live again because of you, too."

"Miranda?" Salvatore said, looking up. "Why-?"

His next word cut off in a cry of pain as she brought the rock down against his head.

He dropped, like a puppet with its strings cut. Miranda smashed the rock into his head again. Again. Again. The sound was wet. He'd stopped moving after the first few blows, but she kept going. The pain sets you free. Soon she was drenched in blood as well as the Black God's fluids. She didn't stop. Not until the starlight shone cold and bright, not until the blood was black beneath it.

Miranda dropped the rock. The bundle in her arms wriggled. "Shh," she said to it. "It's all right, sweet creature. Mother's here." She rocked it until it was quiet again.

She knelt by Salvatore's side. His hands were splayed; she took one. Cold, but there was still a faint pulse in his wrist, struggling.

Failing.

"I loved you, Sal," she whispered to him. "I really did. And I know you loved me. So you must understand now. You must understand that this is a gift."

He always carried a pocket knife. She found it in his coat, and unfolded it. The blade was sharp. It would do.

She lay him on his back. She folded his hands over his heart. There was no aconite, no silver, no mountain ash, but the starlight would make a fine anointment enough. She smoothed her palm down his limbs, over his lips. There was little left of the rest of his face to touch and sanctify. Methodically, she unbuttoned his waistcoat, his shirt, exposing the smooth plane of skin beneath.

She bent to his face, and she kissed him, and she straightened, and she set the knife to the clean skin, and as the Black God's gift in her arms began to keen and writhe again, as the pressure in her mind clenched down, as she tasted blood and mold and the bitter howl of agony and hope, she plunged the knife in.

#saints of warding #re8 fanfiction #re8 fic #re8 au #karl heisenberg #rosemary winters #mother miranda #salvatore moreau #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #donna beneviento #eva #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil village oc #re8 #chapter 19

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