#(knees on the ground crying) the tragedy. the tragedy. the tragedy.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP idea: Yeti Orders

Danny Fenton gets sent to Gotham by a worried FrostBite who thinks he's overworking himself. Danny will do no hero work for an entire year on his Yeti doctor's order to let his core heal from overuse.

He was even shipped through a portal to a similar universe with almost exact ectoplasm levels so that his usual foes would not bother him. The plan was to hide as a human in Gotham, letting his poor core get the much-needed rest.

Frostbite's contacts—whoever they were—managed to set up Danny's fake identity, complete with a home to call his own.

It was a somewhat run-down place, but it was isolated from the rest of the city due to some gas leak a few years back. It was safe to move into, but no one wanted to face the memories of the tragedy. Danny lives alone in the far corner of the city and loves it.

Danny is also told to try to avoid any high-stress-inducing work, so with that in mind, he finds himself applying for a job at the public library. He's a just age out of the system orphan who moved to the big city to try and make a new life for himself.

Every day, he skips onto the city bus, which stops just outside his street; he rides towards the center of Gotham, picks up a latte and some new pastry at the cafe near his work, and spends days filing away books. He gossips with his co-worker Barbara about his nonexistent love life and starts to feel normal for the first time since he was fourteen.

Danny giggles with Barbs about the most eligible bachelor under forty list two months into his medical retreat. He is swooning over Bruce Wayne- though Babs makes a face - when the door to the library is kicked open.

The two librarians gasp as a group of men wearing question marks march in a group of tightened people at gunpoint. Danny doesn't have time to react before two barrels point at him, and a man yells for them to join the group.

He is forced to kneel alongside random citizens unlucky enough to have been caught on the street. Babs is knocked off her chair to the ground. The man laughs as she tries to drag herself closer to the group, which causes Danny's core to flaar in rage.

Two hours go by, with everyone on their knees, surrounded by guards. They are hostages, but what for, Danny doesn't know. All that he can pray for is for everyone to stay calm until help comes.

Sadly, that doesn't seem to be the case when a baby wakes in his mother's arms and won't stop crying. The guards quickly lose patience with the panicking woman until they drag her away from the group and rip her child from her arms.

Danny can't stay by and watch anyone, not with the gun being pointed at a little one.

He ignores the ache his core thumps with as he prepares to change into Phantom and save everyone. Yes, Frostbite will be angry, which may set back all the healing he's done, but Danny doesn't think he has a choice.

"I'm going-"

A crash from overhead interrupts his battle cry as a figure drops down on the main guard. Danny watches, amazed, dumbfounded, as the person does some quick flips, kicks, and punches, dancing out of the way of bullets and taking down the kidnappers one right after the other.

They didn't even use powers. Just some form of martial arts. It was amazing.

Soon, the figure stands, surrounded by bodies, and really, this should be on a poster; it's such an excellent shot. The person, now that he's not a blur bouncing around the room kicking ass, looks like a man with a with a metal staff. He has a red and black costume, with a long black cape on his shoulders.

He walks over to the woman, handing her back the baby that he managed to save mid-punch. She clunches to her child, sobbing so hard she shakes and the man carefully offers her some comfort.

Danny might just be in love.

"Is everyone alright?" a new voice asks suddenly, right in the middle of the circle of hostages, causing Danny to release a scream. Seeing as everyone stops to turn to him, he is not proud of the fact. Danny glances at the newcomer who spoke, feeling his face heat up.

This one is mostly in blue, but his outfit is obviously made from the same material as the bo-staff man. He has an amused smile on his lips, which should be illegal.

"Don't mind, Danny," Babs says as someone helps her back into her chair. "He's not from Gotham. This is his first Bat encounter."

Everyone nods like that makes sense, no longer staring at him like he lost his mind. More and more Bats eventually show up, having defeated the Riddler- apparently a man who regularly kidnaps people to make riddles out of?- and everything gets sorted.

The Bats stay long enough for the police to show up and haul the goons to jail. Witness statements are taken. The medics treat anyone injured, and in all the chaos, the Bats vanish.

Babs closes the library early, sending Danny home with a relieved smile and the next two days off. At that time, he finds out everything he can about the Bats, and he is amazed that a whole clan of them is running around saving Gotham.

Danny quickly realizes that he doesn't need to be Phantom here. The city already has heroes keeping her safe.

Instead, he becomes the Bat Clan's number-one fan. Buying a laptop just to join fan forums, watch old footage of the Clans, and join the BatBurger loyalty program.

By the time the Libary reopens, Danny caved into the urge to write fanfiction. He uses Phantom as his username, figuring no one would ever know. He may enjoy his yeti orders a little more now.

Meanwhile, Babs is showing Tim the fanfiction about Red Robin falling in love with a civilian. She laughs at how much Tim gets into it because Danny really does have a talent for the written word.

"Has he written anything else?" Tim asks once he catches up with the latest chapter.

"He just posted a new story about Batman falling in love with Bruce Wayne," Babs says, watching the numbers on his views rise. "It's only five chapters so far, but apparently, the world-building is amazing."

"Phantom wrote that the Bats were a ghosts of some kind." Dick yells from where he is also reading the Red Robin fanfiction, "Frankly, I'm flattered by how hot he made Nightwing sound."

"You sure he's not a threat?" Tim asks, clicking open the new fic with barely concealed glee.

"No. Danny has a weak heart. Per his doctor's orders, he can't be in any stressful situation. He's just a sweet kid who became our fan after the save from Riddler." Babs says, "I highly doubt we'll see him near the cape scene."

[fujii-draws]

Ultimatum

[trulyumai]

Be My Distraction

pairing: emperor geta / wife! reader

Synopsis: Bloodshed wasn't in your interest. good thing you had your emperor there to comfort ill feelings.

Warnings: blood, violence, fighting.

Enjoy!

You’ve been married for eight months and twenty three days. It was rough in the beginning— to be belittled so easily and forgotten within every moment the two of you spent together. 

But over time, the jokes, the pradling eased. He didn't grab you as much, or as roughly as he once did. The scratches, the bruises faded with time, no more did they grace your cheeks, your arms. 

You learned early on that the man craved violence— sought it out in the coliseums every so often. Blood didn't seem to bother the emperor, in fact, the more that the maroon color graced his presence, the better. 

You, however, could do without. 

It was so hot- so stuffy that day. Humidity clung to your skin like an unwanted sickness. Sweat dabbed at your brow as you tirelessly fanned at your face, sitting just beside Geta himself. The crowd was ever so loud, jovially crying out, impatient for the show to begin. 

The emperor sat, knees spread with an arm bent on the rest attached to the chair. 

“This will be a good one,” Beside him, his brother; Caracalla hummed in agreement, giggling at the aggressive pushes and shoves the citizens gave to one another. 

You couldn't imagine how hot it must be down there, so close to the pit. 

Even up in the stands, you thought you might melt. 

“Wife, did you hear me?” 

Flinching you looked back at Geta, meeting his intense gaze upon your form. 

“W-What?” 

“I said, are you ready to be entertained?” 

The movement in your hand stopped, it was useless trying to fight such a heat. Not wasting a breath you answered. 

“Of course, husband.” 

Smiling, the man stood and raised his arms to the citizens. Screams erupted, they cried out in response to the man of such power, of such terror. 

With his arms back at his sides; the signal was given. 

The fight could commence. 

Roughly turning back to the box, Geta sat upon the edge of the throne, waiting to see the first death of the match. 

Not wanting to disappoint him, you stood straight, facing the clashing of swords, the crying of men. A particular soldier had ill timing with his slash, missing his foe entirely. It left him open for a second, but that was all the time that was needed. With a quick slash, the man's entrails dangled from his stomach, painting the ground a bright red. 

It was unbearable to see such a display of violence, to see these men's lives end right before your eyes. 

Your palm met with the skin of your lips, afraid of the rising bile you covered your mouth tightly, eyes gazing over with wet desperation. 

A distraction— you needed one and quick. How embarrassing would it be for the wife of the emperor to throw up her morning meal? 

In front of her own citizens? 

Nothing was working, the sounds, the clashing was too loud. The blood littered the field, running freely over the crevices with its own dirtied purpose. 

Your breathing was beginning to be too fast, too quick to catch up with. 

Think, think, think- 

“Wife?” 

Oh gods. Not now. You couldn't take the poking, the showing of bodies that lay limp and torn. 

Geta noticed the desperation in your eyes, the way you squeezed your mouth shut like a tragedy just struck before the coliseum.

“Wife. Look.” 

“Geta please-” 

A hand reached out, a mirage of colors graced your vision. 

His hand? 

His.. rings? 

“Oh…” you sighed, reaching out with both hands to grip onto the bigger one in front of you. 

“New rings?” you smiled. The bile no longer burned the back of your throat, with ease it bubbled down and the taste of your previous meal left instantly. 

“Indeed. See this one?” His pinky moved lightly, it moved up and down meticulously.

You nodded and the jewelry around your neck sounded out. The man couldn’t help but look upon it, with a smile of his own. 

The golden chain you wore, decorated in the finest stones lay about your image, resting just above your collarbones. He remembered gifting it to you not long ago, just upon the third full moon of this month's harvest. 

Your touch brought him back to the present. To your sweating form.

“This one brings good fortune.”

“Good fortune?” 

“Mmh,” he agreed, once more setting his eyes on the show in front of him. 

Couldn’t show everyone how soft he could be with his betrothed. His reign would lose its footing; a weakness she brought, they would say to him.

“What would you need that for, dear husband, when you have so much already?”

He could see you from the corner of his eye. Saw the way you stroked at his fingers with a light- loving touch. 

Your hands were much softer than his, he had to resist letting out a pleased sigh at such a discovery. 

“There can always be more.” He spoke low, distracted by the onslaught of men that paraded around the ground floor. 

“...I suppose.” The nausea was replaced with a wave of comfort. His heavy hand sat atop your lap, with your smaller fingers dancing across the new set of rings upon the man's digits. 

“Husband?”

Geta hummed. With no response, it meant he was starting to get impatient, itchy with anger. 

“Can I hold your hand here, for a while?” 

The emperor didn't say anything for a concerning amount of time. The comfortability was wearing off with every scream and groan that left the pit. Swords clashed on and on. 

Not wanting to upset your husband further, you tried to back up, to take the words out of the air. 

“Im sorry, forgive me-” 

“I suppose.”

Geta’s eyes never strained from the fighting and yours never left his image. But even from the side, you could see a softness that wasn't there before. The way his hand relaxed against yours. Ever so rough upon your oiled and cared for palms. 

That was all that needed to be said. 

You watched on, caressing Geta’s hands every so often in unspoken affection. 

A/N: we love a man that can calm down his wife with barely any effort. something about big scary men being soft with their wife has me in a chokehold and im sorry

[nemesyaaa]

AND I SAID " ROMEO TAKE ME SOMEWHERE WE CAN BE ALONE."

AND MY DADDY SAID " STAY AWAY FROM JULIET. "

“ I TALKED TO YOUR DAD, GO PICK OUT A WHITE DRESS. IT'S A LOVE STORY, BABY, JUST SAY "YES. ”

🌹 it was a tragedy but you were already hooked. if you die for me, i would die for you, as he always murmurs in your ears.

romeo!jj who knelt down for you the first time he saw you in that rose garden, on one of his knee, dressed in his shining silver armor. he was a fallen prince that reached for his sinned princess.

romeo!jj who complimented your sublime, long dress, a gift from your father, but who wanted to see you without it.

romeo!jj who helped you lace up your corset, but had to refrain from touching you in front of your servants every time your breasts bounced above the cleavage.

romeo!jj who helped you undo your dress, sliding the threads through his hands, while kissing your skin every time he undid a lace.

romeo!jj who liked to irritate your father because he was young and arrogant. romeo!jj who showed up at balls where he is not invited, drinks from the cup of wine of your dad before throwing it on the ground, and sneaking among the guests to find you. you. the woman he seeks and wants. romeo!jj who kicked out all the dance partners you had, just because he was the only one who can make you dance.

romeo!jj who fighting your father with his precious sword in front of everyone, while making you dance. he was meticulous, his blade never touched you.

romeo!jj who may loose the fight but will end up finding you on your balcony later while you wait for him in the light of the moon.

romeo!jj who kissed you passionately, with the love you deserved. romeo!jj who was all dirty after a long battle, messy sweaty hair that smell victory, bruises on his pretty young face, and blood but who refused to be far away from you.

you were his juliet to whom he wrote love letters with ink stains but you loved to smell his scent in every word.

romeo!jj who was not a music lover but such a fan of hearing you play the harp late at night.

you had tried to teach him but his hands were always somewhere other than on the tiny fragile ropes.

romeo!jj who forced you to leave your prison while your parents slept to take you to have fun. you threw yourself off the balcony and he caught you in his arms. but often complained about the size of your dress. sometimes, jj fantasized about seeing his princess in silver armor.

you had tried to push him away dozens of times, but it never worked because he was stronger than you at this game. romeo!jj wanted you, and even if he had to have the world against him , it didn't matter, because he would let this world burn for his only love.

romeo!jj who fought duels with all his rivals, and who took pleasure in capturing you whenever he could. he had a big white horse and took you for rides. sometimes he dreamed of being an evil prince and kidnapping you, and locking you in a giant tower. but you were too beautiful in his eyes to be hidden from the world.

you were his juliet, the one to whom he revealed his scars, to whom he let see his weaknesses, his true nature, weak and sensitive.

you were his juliet and he agreed to cry in front of you because of his father.

you were his juliet, a sin. but he was in love. no matter how much hell tormented him, he would descend there for your beautiful eyes.

he was your romeo, and he taught you how to use the sword, one hand on your waist, and another on his weapon. romeo!jj who had engraved the initials of your name on his blade.

he made you a soldier capable of fighting, but you remained his princess who would never be able to kill anyone. but you didn't have to worry, that was his favorite part. fighting for you.

he was dressed to kill every person that pissed you, and make him jealous, and you were dressed to be his favorite pure and soft angel. and in the future, his perfect wife.

romeo!jj who knew how much your families hated each other but couldn't stay away from you for more than five minutes. romeo!jj who planned to run away with you.

romeo!jj who knelt in front of you one day, “will you marry me ?” with the most precious ring in his hand. romeo!jj who had found nothing better than to make you cry on your birthday with his surprise. romeo!jj who wanted nothing more than for you to be his.

even if your father humiliated him yesterday because a capulet would never marry a montague. that the blood of your family was superior to others. that he would never have you.

there had been another fight between the two. he never gave up, even when your father placed a blade against his throat, forcing jj to go on his knees. you begged your father to not kill him. while you cried your heart out, jj's blood stained your dress, he whispered in your ear.

“ already in tears for me? i didn't fuck you well yet. don't be a crybaby, princess. your romeo will not die tonight. ”

you wanted to hit him. but you smiled at him when he got up.

but you knew that his own father had also beaten him for this betrayal and shame that was your love for each other.

“ my father is going to kill you.” you said with a soft voice, your fingers stucked in his blonde curls, while he was on his knees, his hands on your waist covered by your big princess dress. and his eyes all over you.

“you are the only one capable of killing me. and you've already done it a million times.”

“ don't die, jj. i forbid you. you think you can conquer everything like achilles, but you will die because of your ego. you are young and i still need you."

" you trust me ? "

"my father is a monster. he won't be afraid to kill you."

" are you afraid of dying with me?"

“nothing scares me more than dying without you., jj. ”

but you had let yourself be blinded by love and happiness, you could never have known, neither you nor jj, that it was the last time you kissed his cold and bruised lips.

and the saddest part was that you died without knowing where your romeo was. you had both been consumed.

you had forgotten god, and you had been punished with jj for that.

credits to @daddldee for the dividers <33 moodboards was made by me. and i'm proud fr 😭 yes, it's inspired by love story/white horse by taylor swift, dont ask me why 😔 i dont think it's really angst but yes, both jj and reader die at the end💀

[jezebelblues]

saturn bound | h.s

summary: in which the world ends in your point of view, alongside your husband.

cw: death, angsty-ish i guess? unedited, grammatically correct in upper case if that tickles ur fancy.

word count: approx 1.4k. she’s a shortie

| this is in first person! (perspective of you, as reader) i was iffy about a 1st perspective so i edited in both 2nd and 3rd, but 1st person felt right. sorry if u hate, ladies.

No one would remember me as YN, no one would remember my husband as Harry.

As the world crumbled into its final moments, you’d think that chaos would envelope everyone whole. That people would be running, screaming, fighting, as if they could somehow wrestle with the jaws of fate. Mothers clutching their children, fathers desperately barking orders to no one, families collapsing under the weight of hopelessness. Dogs howling into the wind after their selfish owners sped off, children sobbing as the air itself seemed to shudder with terror. A cacophony of fear.

You’d imagine fear cause these people knew their life was going to end.

And it was there undeniably, fear. Not the frantic kind, though. A different one—a quiet terror that settled deep in the bones, cold and ancient, like the Earth itself had finally whispered its last breath into our ears. It didn’t matter what was ending us—whether the dead were clawing from their graves, or if the sky had split apart and let loose the fires of heaven, or some disease had snatched us, unseen, from within. It didn’t matter. Not really. Because the truth was simple, inevitable: today, all life on Earth would be snuffed out, and we would become nothing—a floating spec of a forgotten afterthought.

There would be no future, no one left to carry the stories of humankind forward. No history books filled with our triumphs and tragedies. There would be no mourning of our extinction, the things we took for granted. Earth would be a blank—unknown, just one of countless casualties of time. If there was anyone out there in the universe with us, the children of this planet, would be memories swept away like dust, if even that. There would be no tears shed for us. The universe, so vast, would hardly notice our passing.

Some prayed. Desperation forced them down to their knees, begging for salvation, for some kind of afterlife, something more beautiful than their end. The thought of death so terrifying that they’d hope and pray they’ll end up in heaven—hell, even. Anything other than nothing, than eternal darkness. I understood, in a way, because nothing is scary—we’re alive, we’ve never experienced it—it’s impossible to wrap your mind around nothing.

Others drank. I joined them, a bottle of tequila in hand, the burn numbing me just enough to make peace with the fact that I would die today. And my Harry, the man that gave me his last name, would die beside me.

Harry Styles, the man the world adored, the man I called my husband—sat next to me, his head resting softly against my shoulder. We watched as Saturn, impossibly close now, loomed over us, over our home, like an executioner asking for our final words. Its rings shimmered, casting a glow that drowned out the stars. The air was thick with sobs, with whispered prayers. People clung to each other like lifelines, as if the touch of another human might hold them here, in this world that was no longer theirs. Some screamed, but most just stood and stared, watching death arrive with a strange, defeated calm—a cobra swaying in dance before striking its prey.

Harry’s hand found mine, gripping it tightly as if to stay grounded. He tried to pray, the fingers on his left hand trembling with the grasp of his cross pendant, but his voice cracked, breaking on the words. Tears ran down his face, but I couldn’t cry. There was nothing left in me to give to hope or fear. Once, faith could’ve been my anchor, but now it felt like a lie I might tell myself to feel safe. There was no safety here. There was no escaping this.

And so I watched, as those I had once called neighbors, friends, fought against the inevitable. They ran, though there was nowhere to go. They screamed, though no one could hear. They prayed, though no god would answer. It was almost pathetic, the way they clung to the last shreds of life. But maybe it gave them some comfort. Maybe that was all anyone wanted in the end—their last conjured thought to be at least I tried.

"You know-” he trailed off softly, his voice breaking the stillness between us, "I always thought we'd have more time. That mayb-” He sighed. “Maybe we'd get old together."

His words struck me like a blow. "I thought so too." I whispered, feeling the ache in my chest grow heavier. It felt so cruel, to have found this love, this overwhelming, all-consuming love, only to have it ripped away after two years of marriage. "We deserved more, H.”

My husband’s thumbs ran circles upon the back of my hand, his tears glistening in the glow of Saturn. His lip quivered, voice shaky. “We can be old now.” He sent me a sad smile, pressing a kiss into my temple. “Happy fiftieth anniversary.” He murmured, playing with the ring on my finger.

I couldn’t stifle the whimper that fell from my grin, nodding to his words. I stared at his wedding band that shimmered in the light before passing the bottle of tequila between us—a toast. To fifty years of marriage. That would’ve something to drink to.

One swig turned into three, three turned into five. It had helped stopped the tears eventually.

Harry turned to me, his face inches from mine, and I could see the weight of the world in his eyes—a humorous irony, really, now that we really are practically weightless as we pull into Saturn’s gravity. He raised a hand, cupping my face so gently, as though I were something precious that he didn't want to break.

"If I could choose how it all ends," he whispered, his breath warm against my lips, "I'd choose this—here with you. If this is the last thing I feel, the last thing I see, then maybe it's not so bad."

Alcohol couldn't stop the tears then. They spilled over, warm and unrelenting, because what else could I do? I pressed my forehead against his, our breaths mingling as the world began to fall apart around us. The rumble of the Earth cracking, the low roar of Saturn's tug—it all seemed so distant, so unimportant.

"I don't want to lose you." I choked out, my voice barely a whisper.

"You won't, YN." His voice was unwavering, as if he had the book of answers hidden in his pocket. His thumb brushed over my cheek while his lips parted once more. "You'll always have me. Always."

And then he kissed me. It wasn't desperate or rushed. It wasn't the kiss of two people saying goodbye, just an I’ll see you later. It was slow, soft, full of everything we had been to each other. His lips were warm, delicate, and for a moment I could pretend the world wasn't ending. I could pretend that all we had was time.

Saturn’s light bathed the earth in colors that had never seemed so tragically gorgeous—deep purples, blues, and grays, all spinning around the our dying planet. The rings twisted and churned in the sky, pulling our world apart piece by piece, and the wind howled as if it cried for us. The stars dimmed, one by one, turning away from the spectacle of our destruction, unable to bear witness. Maybe they chose to die along side us, not letting Earth go through it alone.—like they were the only ones who’d mourn our death. I silently thanked them, though inanimate, I swear I could feel their empathy.

Harry gripped my hand tighter, his skin warm against the cold air. I brought his hand to my lips and kissed his knuckles. Our foreheads met again, a united front. His green eyes met mine, full of sorrow, of love, of things unsaid. I wanted every one of the five senses to envelope only him. Our last moment to be together, not watching the world collapse, but here, in this space we had carved out between us.

I kissed him. One last time. The taste of salt from his tears mingled with the liquor on my lips. “I love you.” We whispered together, our voices lost in the roar of the sky falling apart.

And then it was gone.

The cold sank into my bones, but it no longer mattered. My heart slowed, and the world around me faded. No more breath in my lungs, no more blood in my veins. Just the void. And as we drifted into that nothingness, I held onto one final hope—that there is some sort of afterlife, so I could find my Harry again.

Yet, the Earth was gone. It dissolved into the void like dust. The stars, too, blinked out one by one, and the universe spun on, indifferent. We were forgotten, nothing left to even decompose in our boundless grave. Perhaps the dead stars that’ll become something more will be our headstones—an indication we were once here.

But for now, it was as if we never existed in the first place.

btw if you feel like you’ve seen this before, i originally wrote this on wattpad in 2017. it was horrible :D but i liked the concept, so this is it readjusted. hope u enjoyed even just a lil <3

[noira-l]

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: The one who promised to give you the whole world, has just taken it away from you.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader, geto suguru x f!sorcerer reader (mentioning)

warnings: heavy angst, hurt/little (no) comfort, after 'premature death', suguru deflection, outburst of anger, description of the burnt village, description of heavy feelings, crying/hysteria, mention of blood.

author's note: We are beginning the origins of a hard and dark period in their lives. One that will leave a mark for years to come. I'm planning a few chapters like this, to show what happened before it all started. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Everything you had known and were familiar with up to that point - ceased to exist.

The realisation you had achieved seemed to dull your mind. You could not even flinch. Only your eyes showed what was happening inside you. Your mouth could not open.

The scorched earth seemed to soften at your steps. The ash was still in the air, even though the dust had settled a very long time ago. The smell of scorch, blood and pain lingered in the air. A stench settled in your lungs, a void in your head, and your body clung to the ground, trying to let you know that you should focus at this point. The colours of black, dirt and grey blurred before you, creating an unpleasant contrast with the green and vibrant scenery far, far away from this circle of death. You couldn't get the word out - still.

The noise in your head. Outside - silence.

Deadly, burned, silence.

One of the last houses had just collapsed, leaving a cloud of incinerated debris and silence. There is nothing left. Absolutely nothing.

Your house, his house, the whole village. It has disappeared.

The streets in which you used to fly kites disappeared covered with the debris of buildings, broken trees and piles of bodies that lay scattered all over the place. The fields you once harvested from, unable to produce crops again. The building you once called home, unusable. Everything was empty, crumbling under your touch with ease. Even the bodies that lay twisted in painful grimaces.

Of all this, only one small button survived, shining far away on the horizon. Left as a signature, a memento, or perhaps proof that what had happened was true.

How could you believe that he had done it?

--

Loud slam.

A chair smashed against the wall. The whole room in shambles. Desk bent in half. Books scattered in every direction, mementos broken, personal belongings stuck in different ends of the room.

Another loud bang, an attempt to break the next piece of furniture, successful. The wooden limbs of the last chair hit the old floor again and again, practically creating holes in it.

Scream followed. A long, loud frustrated one. It expressed anger, pain, helplessness, agony. The voice faltered slightly as the furniture cracked. The sound turned into a sob, full of bitterness and tragedy. Tired breath mingled with it, fighting to take control of your lungs.

Your knees fell to the floor, powerless. And your body followed immediately afterwards on its own.

Thick tears obscured your vision. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't see anything, everything inside you was twisting, aching.

You thought you were dying.

Spasms overwhelmed your body, driving you into hysteria. A million thoughts streamed into your head. Questions, questions, questions.

Why? What happened? How?

Frustration, clenched your hand. Bitterness closed your mouth. And helplessness trashed his room. You became a vessel of your emotions.

Trembling.

Every bone in your body, every muscle clenched. Your breathing uneven, trying to bring calm to your body, to no avail. Your fists clenched painfully, to the point of blood, your teeth clenched, trying to stop everything that was happening inside you. You tried to kill these feelings inside you, to use every force known to you to stifle all this mass that seemed to torture you from the inside.

whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy

Why? Suguru, love?

.

WHY?

Another scream, this time equally mixed with crying. A fist impetuously hit the floor, once, twice. A pause. Then a third and a fourth. Streaks of blood flew from the force with which your nails dug into the skin of your hand, on impact, tearing everything more. Your blows made a hole in the wood.

You lay down on the damaged floor, curled up in a ball, squeezing your body inwards as if you were trying to absorb yourself. You made no attempt to open your eyes. The whole world had lost its meaning anyway. There was no point in looking at it. Everything had fallen into misery.

There was nothing you could do anymore. He was gone.

I don't understand - That's all you kept repeating in your head.

You don't know how long you lingered in his room, your thoughts jumping from blaming yourself, looking for a reason, to dreaming figure thoughts of making things right. At one point your head became totally empty, but you kept crying, sobbing endlessly.

Someone's presence appeared close by.

Satoru had been standing there for a long time.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do, how to react, what to say, so he stood in front of the entrance to the room, paralysed, analysing everything that was happening.

He heard every sound, the screaming, the crying, the pleading. He saw every blow, the broken piece of furniture, your cursed energy that was about to smash the whole room from the force with which it was rising. This sight frightened him, because it manifested everything he felt internally, only he forbade it to himself and didn't let it show.

You, you did not shy away from expressing the storm that was now raging within you. Like a weather phenomenon, lightning was coming out of you, destroying the room, thunder, in the words you spoke and rain, in the form of the thick tears you shed from yourself. Gojo knew that after every storm there would come silence, he was just waiting for it to calm down.

And so it did, your cries, though still there, were getting softer and softer. He leaned over the mangled body and glanced at your face.

Satoru had never seen someone so… defeated in his life.

Grief, sadness, despair painted your face in such a way, that he was sure, he had not had the correct definitions of those words before.

The sight of you, broken and fragile, pulled at something deep within him. The words he had always used to comfort others, to lighten the heaviest moments, failed him now. They felt hollow, meaningless in the face of the raw devastation before him. He reached out a trembling hand, hesitating just above your shoulder, unsure if his touch would bring you any solace or only deepen the chasm of your sorrow. He stopped his hand.

He didn’t know what to say, how to heal the wounds that had torn through your soul. All the power he possessed, all the strength he wielded, was useless against the reality of loss that had shattered your world. He was Gojo Satoru, the strongest, yet he felt utterly powerless in this moment.

He also torn his world apart.

He took half of his heart too.

Satoru knew, how you felt.

He didn’t say anything. Words felt useless in the face of such overwhelming grief. What could he possibly say to make this better? To fill the void left behind? He knew words wouldn’t bring him back, wouldn’t undo what had been done.

So he stayed silent, allowing the quiet to settle around you both, a cocoon in the ruins of what was once a room full of life and memories. Satoru knew this wasn’t something you could just move past, something you could heal from with time alone. It was a wound that would leave a scar, a permanent reminder of the loss you’d endured.

But he also knew you wouldn’t have to bear it alone.

His presence was all he could offer, and as inadequate as it felt, he vowed to stay by your side. He’d seen the destruction, felt the raw energy of your pain, but he wasn’t afraid of it. Satoru had faced countless dangers, had walked through hell and back, but this—being here with you in your moment of utter despair—felt like the hardest thing he had ever done.

Because you were showing him what he couldn't afford on his own.

Which he wanted so damn much.

He wanted to fall apart, to break down, to cry, to get angry, to shout, to scold himself - everything.

However, he couldn't.

His strength was a curse.

"The strongest" cannot be like that.

Time passed slowly, each minute stretching into eternity. He could feel the weight of your emotions pressing down on both of you, but he stayed, unwavering. He stayed because he knew you needed him, because he couldn’t bear to leave you alone in this darkness.

He felt that if he left you alone with this, he would lose another person he somehow cared about.

He also felt he would lose himself, because by letting you go, he felt he would be giving in on his own emotions that were manifesting through you.

Eventually, your sobs quieted to soft whimpers, and then to the occasional hitch of breath. The storm within you had subsided, leaving behind the debris of what once was, but there was a stillness now that hadn’t been there before. It was the calm after the storm, the silence that followed the chaos.

But it was a scorched.

One battle won, not a war.

This war will prove to be a long one. Painful.

It will be very hard to win.

Satoru does not know if he will be capable of winning it.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

tl (open): @kalopsia-flaneur

[prettypinkporkchop]

My my those eyes like fire

You put the meat inside the zip lock bag and put it in your purse. You are ready to go back out into the woods and see your wolf friend.

One day, you were in the woods upset about something when this gray wolf befriended you. At first, you were scared of the gigantic creature. But, you realized he's so kind to you. Every day, you go out there, hang out with him, and feed him.

He has become your only friend since you've lost your best friend in an accident. You two moved together to start over when tragedy struck. Now you're alone and grieving.

You get deep enough in the trees to where you know he will be. You place down your bag and cross your legs, waiting.

It doesn't take long when you hear a happy whimper and running. You turn, and the wolf is right in front of you, licking your face. You play your hands in the beautiful fur and laugh.

"Okay, okay!"

He sits down next to you, leaning into your arm. You softly pet his head and reach into your bag. His ears perk up, and he looks to see a big thing of meat.

You place it in front of him, and he starts eating it.

"So crazy my only friend is a beautiful wolf." You sigh and then scratch its back. "But I don't mind. I know you won't hurt me." You smile.

The wolf finishes eating and lays its head in your lap. You play with its ears and run your fingers through his neck. He seems to love it as he's trying to keep his eyes open.

"Maybe I should name you?" You giggle.

The wolf opens its eyes, stands in front of you, and keeps his dark brown eyes on yours. Every time you look into this big boys eyes, you feel a connection. You don't have room at home for a whole ass wolf! And Forks probably has a law for that, lol.

"How long can we sit out here today, huh?" You ask as if it would answer. But you always leave when he does.

The wolf places its pay on your knee. You put your hand over the paw. Then, a howl is heard. Followed by another one. The wolf backs away, running a bit forward, howling back, and then runs away.

You stand up, dust off your pants, and go back home.

------

You just got off work, and now you're back in the woods. Hopefully, the wolf will come see you at this time. It's only during the day that you two visit. But right now, you don't want to be home. You're scared of the dark and being alone in the woods, but at this very moment, you just want to not hurt anymore.

You plop down on the ground and start crying. You hope he comes to you.

You end up falling asleep.

"Wake up." A deep voice in your head says.

You jolt awake and notice the gray wolf is lying next to you. When you woke up, it woke him up. He lifts his head and whimpers.

"I'm okay." You sniffle and cuddle into him. But once you do that, he gets up and looks at you.

"What?" You ask.

He stomps his feet and huffs.

"Oh, you're right. I should be in bed, huh?" You giggle and stand up. You start to walk out of the forest but see he is behind you.

"AWE, my guardian." You keep walking, and he doesn't leave your side.

You get home, and he runs off.

"Bye, friend." You mutter.

-----

Another day in the woods, it's a different time like yesterday. You're feeling awfully cold. You feel like you aren't alone, but maybe you're just tripping. It's okay, wait for the wolf.

A hand grips around your neck from behind. It was the coldest hand you've ever felt. It lifts you up and you meet piercing red eyes.

"Who are you?" She smirks at you.

Her grip is too tight for you to speak. Her long and curly red hair is blowing in the wind.

She breathes in, closing her eyes. She opens them and smirks at you.

"Wow, you smell so good."

Your eyes start getting blurry due to your breathing being constricted.you see tiny black dots.

"Victoria, put her down, now." You hear in the distance.

You're dropped to the ground, coughing. You look up and see three different wolves chasing her down.

You sit, trying to compose yourself when the familiar wolf sits next to you. His paw reaches up and softly lands on your back. You lean into him on instinct and cry. The wolf huffs, leaving behind the trees. You hear rustling, and you stare up at the high rocks and trees. Soon, a young man that you find to be the most attractive person ever steps out and looks down at you. (THE GIF ABOVE IS WHAT YOU SEE PLZ SAVE ME).

Before you can say anything, a few howls are heard. He looks back down and then runs off.

-----

You sit on your porch, drinking some wine, thinking about everything that just happened. If only you could call your best friend to tell her.

Your glass is empty, and grab the wine bottle next to you. You move the little bit left at the bottom. "No wonder I'm so tipsy." You sigh.

"You know it's never good to drink that much." You jump and look up to see the guy in the woods. He walks closer to your porch, putting one foot on the step and looking down at you.

You scoff and look down. "Did you see what happened back there?"

"I did. Are you okay?" He sits.

"I guess. I'm just so confused. So over it." You sigh.

"We killed her. She uh.. that was a vampire. Her name is Victoria."

You laugh in distress and nod your head, "Yeah let's keep adding on to crazy. Wolves and vampires?" You down the last bit of the bottle.

"I'm Embry. I'm the wolf. Every day I had to see you." He looks into your eyes.

You realize he wasn't lying because of his eyes. It's the wolf. You feel how he makes you feel.

"That's embarrassing. You know everything about me."

"No, it's not embarrassing." He moves up the steps, sitting on the porch beside you.

You sigh and lay your head on his shoulder. "I'm so tired." You sniffle.

He reaches over, holding your cheek. "Y/n, is it a good time to tell you something life changing?"

"As if my life hasn't already changed. Go ahead." You wrap your arms, pulling on his neck so your head moves closer toward his neck.

His scent is relaxing you. You feel genuine love for Embry. You don't want him to go. You're so happy that he's not just a wolf.

"I imprinted on you."

------

A FEW DAYS LATER:

Embry wraps you tighter in your blanket, holding onto you as if you could disappear. You love falling asleep with him. You love him. He loves you.

His warmth fills you up and you lift your head up looking into his eyes.

It feels like fire staring back at you. You lift your hand, touching his chin.

"Are you about to kiss me?" He asks, looking over your face and bringing his gaze down to your lips.

You slowly nod your head and lean in. He leans in, too. Next thing you two know, the gap is gone. His lips fit in yours. You push further and add your tongue. He plays with his tongue as you two mix saliva.

You throw your blanket off of you, half of it hanging off your bed. You quickly straddle his waist and hold his face.

He breathes heavily, and your heart speeds up. You want all of Embry. You want to be one.

You notice he's scared to touch you as if you're going to break like glass. You grab his hands and lower them to your bottom. He softly squeezes before flipping you over, making him on top. He smiles down at you, chuckling.

"I love you. Like... a lot. Is that weird?" He asks raising an eyebrow.

"No, because I love you."

-----

You stand next to Bella and Edward. Your mind racing as Edward enters the wolves minds.

"Embry's doing good. He's very good." He says.

Riley slowly walks up, making you and Bella jump back.

"Seth! Take her!" Edward yells.

Seth steps to you, and you jump on his back. He doesn't waste a second to start running at full speed, taking you away as Embry requested.

Seth and you sit in the woods. He shifted back to boy Seth. You two sit next to each other, picking grass.

"Sucks, I can't be in the action. But I'm glad you're safe." He nudges you.

"Yeah, it's weird that I was a target, too. It's not like I have anything to do with Bella and Edweird." You giggle.

"It's because she saw you and then wanted to attract us. Wipe us out with the Cullens. Like, okay, I do not care about your drama. Sorry, your boyfriend died?" Seth, and you burst into laughter.

-----

You grab Embry's shirt, pulling him down for a kiss. Your room is cold, but now you feel Embry's temperature.

His hands grab onto your arms, keeping you in place and kissing you back.

He won. You won.

[myosotisa]

Old Heart - Part 1 - Barely

‖ chapter summary: Faced with tragedy, you are forced to travel across the country with a series of people you barely know in order to reunite with your only remaining family. The second leg of your journey, and your traveling companion for it, promises to be way more than you bargained for.

‖ tags: enemies to lovers, age gap (41 and 25), forced proximity, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, HEA, "zombie" apocalypse, reader uses she/her pronouns, no y/n, no physical description given, minors dni

‖ chapter warnings: death of a parent, gun violence, grief, existential dread

‖ word count: 8.3k

‖ ao3 ‖ masterlist ‖ tag list request ‖ next ‖

Tuesday, August 9th, 2016 – Quantico, Virginia - 13 years Post-Outbreak

Out of everything you’ve learned in life, you know without a doubt that it really only takes one moment to change everything.

One moment, you’re walking through a safe zone you’ve lived in for the last 10 years with your dad. It’s a normal Tuesday morning and the two of you are on your way to the mess hall for breakfast. It’s the only time you have to see him because he normally works late on the base. So, despite your hate for mornings, you got up, met your dad in the hallway of your tiny apartment, he’d hold out his arm and you’d loop yours through it before going on your way together. It’s a routine, same time everyday. Has been for years. And today is no different. It’s raining lightly but the sun still shines. You wonder if you might catch a rainbow after you’ve had your eggs.

The next, you’re on your knees in the mud. There’s blood on your hands. There are people scattering, ducking for cover, running and crying out in fear. Your whole body trembles as you reach out toward the prone form in front of you. The familiar tan of his sunkissed skin. The smattering of freckles across his collarbone and up his neck. Your eyes, the ones everyone said matched perfectly, staring straight up into the sky. Unseeing. A bullet hole completes a 3 point triangle with them as they dull.

The one after, there are hands dragging you away from him, through the mud, through the crowd. You’re kicking and you’re screaming but you can’t even hear it past the shot still ringing in your ears. Armed guards descend, reaching to check for a pulse. As if someone could survive a shot like that. They circle like vultures to a carcass.

You lose sight of the gathering crowd as you’re dragged around a corner and pushed up against a wall. Every instinct in your body screams run, fight, lunge, survive but there’s a forearm to your throat and a single finger on your lips. When you blink away the tears, Helen is there. She works with your dad, you’ve had dinner with her more than a few times. Her eyes are bloodshot, her breathing heavy as she presses you to the wall with her entire body. The pressure and the brick digging into your back ground you for the moment.

“We need to get out of here, now.” Her voice is a soft hiss, her eyes darting toward corners and through alleyways. She’s anxious for sure, maybe even afraid. “You’re not safe here.”

There are a million questions you want to ask. What happened, how did someone get past the defenses, what are they going to do with him, how is she here, how did she know, what is she so afraid of. They all get lodged in your throat in a chokehold worse than the one she’s applying, the only sound that comes through is a broken sob.

Her posture folds then, taking an inch back and moving both hands to cradle your jaw. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I know. But we need to go. There’s no time.” Her thumbs wipe across the tears on your cheeks as she holds you just a bit tighter. Like that’s the only way to keep you together. “Do you understand?”

You don’t understand. Not at all. There is not a single thing that you currently understand. But you nod and let her hold your hand anyway. You follow her through side streets away from the mess hall. Away from your life as you know it.

Here one moment – gone the next.

Saturday, August 13th, 2016 – Louisville, Kentucky

“I really think you’ll like him, he’s still the coolest guy I know. Always has been.”

This is your 3rd time meeting Dustin Henderson. You’d been deposited into his care (mostly against your will) 3 days ago. The only thing he had going for him as a traveling companion is his bright smile and infectious enthusiasm. He’d accepted your silence with the ease of someone who was used to running their own conversations, even seemed excited just to have a new audience, no matter how little you participated. If you were being honest, you were grateful for the noise.

“I think this is the 7th time today you’ve said that I’ll like him.” You hear what you think is him huffing, but you’re too focused on tossing a stress ball into the air above you to bother looking over. You’re laying on a brick wall outside of St. John’s United Church of Christ, a few miles from where you and Dustin had slept for the night. “Why a church, anyway? There must be a million other potential drop off points in this place.”

“Dunno, Eddie always wants to meet at churches. Maybe because they’re normally pretty big and recognizable.”

The ball drops into your hand and you lower your elbows to rest, turning your head toward him with a small frown. “He a man of God or something?”

Dustin lets out a snort of amusement, his curls wobbling from where they stick out underneath his hat. “Definitely not.” He offers you another bright smile before he returns to scanning your surroundings. You would assume from his demeanor that he’s goofy – well intentioned, undisciplined. But you’ve seen how he wields the shotgun slung across his torso, how he seems to be able to hear things you’d think impossible, how he navigates through the ruined cityscapes of his domain with ease. He’s sharp as a whip and not afraid to get his hands dirty. A clever disguise of prey to lure in predators. He’s a part of this team for a reason after all.

Struggling to sit up with a groan, you lean forward to drape your forearms over your knees. “So, how much does he know?”

“About?” Dustin pauses, then shifts toward you when you don’t reply. All you offer is a loaded look, waiting for him to catch on to what you’re really asking. His eyebrows draw together in confusion before it appears to hit him. “Oh. Well. He knows you’re Robin’s sister.”

“Half-sister,” you correct easily.

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes. “He knows you’re Robin’s half-sister and he’s tasked with getting you from point A to point B.”

“So nothing, is what he knows. Absolutely nothing.”

Dustin’s arms, brushed with dirt and a subtle sheen of sweat, cross over his chest as he leans further back against the wall you’re sitting on. “Yeah, I guess.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you pull your pack into your lap, digging through for your water bottle. “Listen,” you make a noise to let him know you’re paying attention, “you know it’s not my call who knows. Nancy decides when to bring people in.”

Immediately, you dig your palms into your eyes in frustration, rubbing in tight circles and unable to keep the tension from leaking out into your tone. “Why does everyone just do whatever Nancy says? Who the fuck even put Nancy Wheeler in charge?”

“Your dad did,” he replies, as if it isn’t an absolute punch to the gut. As if it doesn’t make fire burn up your throat and beg to burst from between your lips in a scream. He seems to recognize it soon after he says it, and decides the best way to move on is to sit in an awkward and tense silence for the next 30 minutes. Which is fine. Whatever. Works for me.

In fact, the next time he makes any sound or movement at all, he’s shifting forward, primary hand gripping his shotgun. “Dustin?” He holds out a hand for you to stop as his head tilts a bit down, his eyes closing to focus. You search the area visually and listen hard to see if you can get even an inkling of what he’s hearing. Coming up short, you simply watch as he trots down the small set of stairs between you and the street, directing his weapon west. You flounder, trying to decide if you should hide or pull your own pistol.

Just as you’re about to roll off the wall to duck behind it, a long whistle rings out. 4 distinct tones that echo past the debris of nearby fallen buildings and through the gothic architecture of the church behind you. Dustin’s posture immediately softens, his gun lowering slowly as he repeats the whistle back, adding an extra note at the end. He turns back, taking the steps two at a time as he returns to where you're sitting. “Your new babysitter is here.”

“Dustin, I swear to God, that’s not funny, and I will break your fingers.”

He barks a small laugh until he catches sight of your glare, then quickly raises his hands in surrender with a muttered apology. You’re about ready to continue to tear into him when you see a figure in black appear in the corner of your eye.

You’ve heard a lot of stories about Eddie Munson over the years, most you doubt are true, but have never actually met the guy. You know he's a little bit older than Steve, putting him in his early 40s. He’s been running the smuggling train through Kentucky, Tennessee, Missouri, and Arkansas for close to 10 years. He’d been part of Hopper’s original team, loosely connected via radio and scattered across North America. While you’d heard more about him in the last 2 days from Dustin than you had the entire rest of your life, you know he worked with Robin, Steve, Nancy, and your dad already. While you couldn’t say you’d ever stopped to wonder what he looked like, it definitely was not this.

But walking out from behind a solitary pillar, it couldn’t have been anyone else. A pair of dusty blue jeans and black boots, a red flannel tied around his hips, a white t-shirt that almost shines from how bright the sun beats down, a black biker jacket layered over it. His near-black hair is pulled back behind his head and, despite having a pair of aviators on, he still raises a hand to block the sun from his eyes as he surveys the area. When he catches sight of the two of you, his arm swings down to his side and he begins his approach. You watch carefully – studying his gait, the length of his legs, the broadness of his shoulders, the narrow waist tucked beneath leather. He’s tall, lean, strong. Intimidating, even without any weapons visible on his person. While Dustin is a predator disguised as prey, Eddie is a wolf, plain and simple.

Your sweaty palms press to the dusty, sun bleached concrete on either side of your knees as you face him. Dustin meets him halfway, arms wrapping around torsos to clap on backs as they exchange a happy greeting. While you had become very aware of Dustin’s fondness for Eddie over the last few days, you’re still surprised to see the affection returned in almost equal measure. By all appearances, the older is gruff, unapproachable, untouchable. But he still hits the underside of Dustin’s cap to knock it off, and, when the younger dips to reach for it, loops an arm around his neck to ruffle his unruly hair. They start elbowing each other and pushing lightly, messing around like brothers and acting half their age. Acting like there isn’t an apocalypse, isn’t a war, isn’t death all around them.

It’s hard to believe something like that is still possible. Relationships like that still exist.

Dustin is pulling Eddie back toward you before you’re ready for it.

“And this is your package to deliver,” Dustin offers with a grin, ignoring the hard glare you send him once again. Eddie raises the sunglasses from his eyes and it takes everything in you to stay firm as he studies you just as you had studied him. This close, you can see a bit more – the bits of gray woven into the dark waves of his hair, the sun-creased laugh lines that remain despite his neutral expression, a scar that arches down the corner of his lower lip and chin, disappearing into the subtle fuzz of a salt and pepper shadow across his jaw. But you mostly get caught on his eyes. They’re youthful in appearance: wide, bright, and a rich, beautiful shade of warm umber. Despite the crow’s feet that arch out beside them, if you’d looked at his eyes alone, you’d assume he was your age and no older.

“Hey,” he seems to finish his study of you first, offering nothing more than a slight head tilt of acknowledgement before his aviators hit the bridge of his nose again and he redirects back to Dustin. “So I get her from here to Three Corners, right? When are they expecting us?”

Doesn’t even ask your name or anything. Like you weren’t even there. Like you weren’t even a person, just a package to be delivered. Dustin doesn’t seem to notice as he whips out his map and they discuss the route the two of you will be taking so the younger can report it back to Colorado when he gets home. The frustration boils in the base of your gut again, a bubbling pool of lava that is desperate to erupt.

“We’re gonna have to stop in Memphis for a day or two,” Eddie explains, rubbing the back of his sweaty neck with his palm as they look over the map.

“And why’s that?” You cut in, some of the heat invading. Both men look toward you, as if just realizing you’re still there, before Dustin finally acknowledges your question.

“Memphis is Eddie’s base of operations. The two of you can get some actual sleep, bathe, and stock up for the rest of the trip there.” Eddie grunts an affirmative, back to facing away from you and leaning over the map Dustin has spread over a concrete pillar.

Your tongue presses against your cheek in annoyance, staring hard at the sun-faded leather that drapes over his back. “So how long until the next hand off?”

This seems to humor him, a small laugh huffing out of his nose as he shifts back toward you and lowers his sunglasses. “Desperate to get rid of me already?” There’s a bit of a tease in his tone that makes the boil bubble faster, the tension in your jaw getting tighter. Without waiting for an answer, he grabs the map and slaps it down next to you. “4 days to Memphis,” his finger tip touches the paper map, dirt under his nails, and drags from Louisville to the southwest corner of Tennessee. “2 or 3 days in Memphis to stock up. Then another 4 or 5 days to Three Corners.” Before you can really see where Three Corners is, he’s folding the map back up into its usual rectangles and holding it toward Dustin. “So I’ll be outta your hair and you’ll be outta mine in 14 days max.”

Your former partner gapes at him, taking the map and slowly drawing it back towards his chest with a dropped jaw. “Eddie, come on-”

“Jeez Henderson,” you interrupt with full disdain, hopping off your perch and wiping the dust off your clammy hands, “this is the guy you were so excited for me to meet? Whatta riot.”

This, finally, gets a reaction out of Eddie. Strong eyebrows raise as his head tilts, gaze hard on you as you turn away toward your backpack. “Listen, I don’t know what you think this is supposed to be, but it’s not a fucking field trip. I don’t care who you are or who you’re related to. We’re not going to be friends. I’m going to get your privileged ass from here to where it needs to go, alive mind you, and you’re going to shut up and do what I say.”

Steam billows out of your nose as you whirl back toward him, hands clenching into fists at your sides. “Privileged? Field trip? Look man, I get you’re old, but this complex that’s radiating off of you is really a bit delusional. We get it, you’re so seasoned and experienced and that makes you so much better than everyone else. I feel like I’m about five seconds away from getting ‘y’know back in my day’d.”

His own jaw sets tight as his neutral expression falls into a sharp glare. “You fucking brat, I should just-”

“HEY.”

Dustin’s voice isn’t loud – not when anything or anyone could be nearby and hear, but the volatile nature makes it feel as though it should be a scream. Both your and Eddie’s mouths snap shut as you face him, his cheeks flushed with something that looks like embarrassment. “Is this going to be a problem? I thought you were both adults.”

A scoff. “I dunno, is she actually legal?”

A glare. “Does a senior citizen count as an adult?”

“Guys.” Dustin looks furious. You aren’t sure if you’ve ever actually seen him mad. “I don’t need a guarantee that you two are going to be friends. I don’t care, actually. You can both be stubborn idiots if you want to be. But I do need a guarantee that you won’t get each other killed.”

A harsh silence falls over you all like a blanket of fresh snow. You’re fully capable of putting your sudden negative feelings toward your new escort aside to get through the next 2 weeks. Making a fast enemy out of anyone you meet isn’t the best way to go about life in this world, but making friends isn’t exactly a great idea either. If he can keep his ego in check, you can easily make it through 2 weeks of silence and then forget about each other at the end of it.

The two of you make eye contact again, the shape of his eyes barely showing through the tint of the lenses. A silent appraisal. Can I trust you? And the answer looks to be a resounding: When pigs fly.

“We’ll be fine.” Eddie answers first, breaking away from your gaze to look over at Dustin again. “Haven’t died yet, have we?”

The younger looks at you, like he also wants your word on if this will work out. As if you have a choice in the matter.

“All good, boss,” you offer with a half-assed salute and smile before shouldering your pack with a huff. “On the road we go.”

Eddie gives a stiff nod then claps Dustin on the back once more as he passes. “I mean it, you guys,” Dustin continues as he holds out a hand to you. “If she ends up dead, Steve and Robin will kill you. And if you get him killed, Max will hunt you down.”

“Not going down without a fight, Henderson,” Eddie’s cocky grin is back, the tension that built quickly between the two of you immediately pushed to the side. “Don’t worry about us.”

He begins to walk back the way he came, motioning over his shoulder for you to follow, while you give Dustin one last pleading look. “And get home safe to Sally, okay?”

Dustin nods, hitting the brim of his hat with a finger. “Will do. Check in when you get to Memphis.”

All you do is wave back at him as you scamper to catch up with Eddie before he disappears back into the debris he emerged from. You keep your eyes on the wiry bun of hair at the base of his skull as you follow in his footsteps, leading you in the direction the sun will inevitably set at day’s end.

Very little is exchanged between you and Eddie over the next 3 days. As soon as you’re out of Louisville city limits, he leads you to where he stashed an old pickup truck. It won’t have gas to last even a few hours, but with some luck, there will be enough to scavenge along the way. You offer to trade off driving, explaining you’d learned on the base, but he says it won’t be needed.

Luckily, there’s a CD player in the car. You don’t recognize any of the songs, but the music helps fill the silence. It doesn’t help with your boredom however. After spending way too much time trying not to notice Eddie’s mannerisms – like how he bounces the leg that isn’t on the gas pedal almost all the time, how he taps one finger to the beat of whatever song is playing, how he mostly drives with his right hand and his left elbow propped up on the door – you start digging through the glove compartment.

“What are you doing?” His voice makes you jump, having not heard it in hours.

“Snooping,” you answer plainly, not even bothering to look at him as you dig through the mess of papers and trash in the small space. He lets out a long suffering exhale but makes no move to stop you. Eventually you find a paper map, slightly stained and a bit tattered, but it will do the job for a little while.

You unfold it over your lap and find Louisville. It becomes a challenge to see if you can figure out which way Eddie took you out of the city, but you find your sense of direction in a moving vehicle a bit lacking. South and west, that’s for sure, but you’d made more than a couple turns before getting onto this long, clear stretch of road and you’re not even sure where you started beyond the city. There had been a few hazards along the way, mostly broken down cars, but they were easy to maneuver around and Eddie had seemed entirely prepared for them. It made you wonder how often he made this same trip back and forth.

The next 15 minutes are spent looking out the window waiting for a road sign to fly by. With that info, you should be able to get a better idea of what highway you’re on and maybe even where on the highway based on the exit. Your patience rewards you with a faded green sign in the distance – a shield symbol with the number 62 in the center and says the upcoming exit is for ‘Central City’. Really? Couldn't it be something more unique?

Regardless, you bend back over the map and use your finger to trace across the weave of roads and cities, trying to find where you might be. You’re able to find US Highway 62 stretching west across the northside of Kentucky, but nothing that says Central City. The tension builds between your eyebrows as you pull the map a bit closer to your face, thinking maybe you’re just missing it.

“Look at Nashville,” you whip toward Eddie, who is looking between the paper in your hands and the road. He sounds wholly bored, but tilts his chin to direct your attention back to the map. “From Nashville, trace your finger straight north until it hits 62. We’re a little bit west of that.”

There’s still no ‘Central City’, but you figure it’s probably just too small to show up on a map this size. “Why didn’t we drive down through Nashville?” You find yourself asking, eyes scanning the wrinkled paper. “It seems more direct than this.”

“Roads into and out of Nashville might as well be graveyards.” He goes back to leaning his cheek on his left fist. “Nashville itself is totally wiped out. Well, not wiped out, but you get what I mean. All that's left is clickers and corpses.”

“Oh, okay.” 

Having completed your goal, you carefully fold the map back up and set it on the dashboard. The gravity of his statement hits you hard despite the casual nature he shares it with. You remember reading in a book a couple years ago the population of Nashville had been over half a million people. Half a million. There’s no guarantee they’re all mindless Infected now, some probably got out, but statistically speaking…

Better not to think about it.

The rest of the days are spent listening to the same 14 songs on repeat, stopping along the way to siphon gas and hit supply caches he has set up across the state, breaking to eat or go to the bathroom, and sleeping. You take turns keeping watch while the other sleeps in the bed of the pickup. He explained he didn’t want to drive at night and risk trying to siphon gas in a dangerous area while it’s dark, so when the sun starts to set, he pulls the truck off the highway and into the closest tree line to hide away.

During the first night, you find another reason to resent Eddie. When he lays down on top of his sleeping bag, it only takes moments for him to lose consciousness. The second his eyes close, his breathing slowly gets deeper and the tension in his face falls slack. He wakes just as easily, but the rate at which he’s able to fall asleep is more than enough to keep the heat in your veins from fading. When he does wake up and gruffly order you to get some sleep, you lay down and stare at the stars overhead. Sometimes you actually manage to drift off.

Sleeping in the car is easier. Especially because it keeps you from more awkward silences with Eddie.

The third night is colder than before. You’re at a higher elevation than home and edging closer to winter every day. In the woods at night, the wind kicks up and sends shivers down your spine no matter how tightly you pull your jacket around you. While Eddie softly snores in the truck bed, you sit on the running board below the passenger seat, your sleeping bag wrapped around your shoulders to combat the cold, in silence.

You’ve come to learn that silence is your worst enemy. Infected have patterns, ways to outsmart them. People have weaknesses, morals, and desires. Hunger, thirst, FEDRA – they all have motivations for why they exist and ways to beat them or get around them. Silence, on the other hand, is overbearing, all encompassing. The quiet settles into your bones, leaks into the marrow, infects the white blood cells that are born there, uses them as weapons to subdue the boiling in your blood. Silence lays across you like a heavy, fiberglass blanket suffocating all of the air out of a fire.

It's a fertile breeding ground for thoughts better left alone.

One thing about living most of your life on the base at Quantico is you never saw too much of what the rest of the country looked like. The tall walls of concrete kept your community mostly secluded from the rest of the world and people like you had very little reason to venture outside those walls. You knew how to use a gun, how to drive, how to fight. For emergencies, your dad had insisted. Because you never wanted to catch yourself wishing you could when you really needed to know. Now, after days of driving past dilapidated towns, broken down cars, cracked streets, and the odd infected, it’s a harsh dose of reality. One you had thought you were prepared for, but evidently not. So you sit in your sleeping bag and remember the quilt from your bed, the one your mom had given you, with its faded pastels and fraying edges. The random poster of some boy band on the wall after you’d found it in an attic and put it up just to have something to look at. You miss the Christmas lights you’d hung along the ceiling after convincing your dad they used less electricity than a normal lamp. The walk to the mess hall in the morning when the world was just waking up and most people around didn’t have reason to be in a bad mood yet. The Carolina Wrens that rested along power lines and sang their high pitched songs. The guarantee of scrambled eggs and oatmeal for breakfast, and maybe some jam and toast if you were lucky.

You miss your dad.

Mistakenly acknowledging the grief you’ve been avoiding – just forcing yourself to keep moving, to keep fighting, to keep going – feels like releasing something long kept captive. It claws its way up your throat, starts to buzz in your ears, presses hard against the backs of your eyes. You try to scare it back down into the pit it came from, but you realize too late the path you’ve gone down and don’t have enough fire left to keep it at bay. It roars and howls, tears and bites, grows and climbs until it overtakes you completely.

You press your face into the polyester around your shoulders to muffle the first sob as it rips out of you. Let it soak up the tears that pour out as your back bends, drawing you in towards your knees, instinctually trying to make yourself feel smaller. Like maybe if you curl in tight enough, you can compress the waves that start to batter you so forcefully that they won't have room to move. Make it so the churning in your gut can’t erode at the concrete you’ve poured down your spine to keep yourself upright. This can just be a small release to take the pressure off the top. This won’t be the breakdown. The breakdown will never come.

If you’d been lucky, Eddie wouldn’t have heard your muffled cries. Would’ve slept right through your unwilling moment of weakness. But he wakes just as easily as he goes down to rest and has ears like a bat even in REM sleep. He sits up in the truck bed and leans over the side toward where you’re sitting in what you assume is panic, but you don’t dare to look. Instead, you just beg your body to stop sobbing, to stop trembling, to hold it together in front of him.

It doesn’t listen.

Dead leaves muffle the steps of his boots as he hops down to the ground and approaches slowly, like he’s trying not to spook a wild animal. Your choked cries and gasps are still muffled by the fabric pressed to your face – but it’s not exactly hard to guess what’s going on.

Eddie kneels a respectful distance away, his voice soft as the night itself. “Are you hurt?”

The gentle tone, the concern he shows in something so small almost destroys you. Almost tears you right in two. Almost makes the breakdown happen right here and now. But remembering how he’s acted since the two of you met – how this is the first time he’s asked you anything at all – has enough heat roaring to life to stifle your sobs and stop the tears. It takes a few moments of harsh swallowing and rubbing at your damp skin before you straighten up, blinking the last tears away to face him head on. “I’m fine.”

He huffs through his nose, his head tilting a bit to the side like a curious dog. “Yeah, you look real fine.” And if he hadn’t said it so sarcastically, with such disdain…

Better not to think about it.

Pushing off his own knee, he rises to his feet with a groan, arms stretching skyward. “You should try to get some sleep. I’ll watch for a while.”

Running the backs of your hands under your eyes, you shake your head harshly and focus your gaze back out into the woods. “My shift isn’t over yet.”

“No offense, sweetheart, but you’re not exactly keeping a good watch like this.”

Your eyes roll and you pull the sleeping bag tighter when another shiver rolls down your spine. “Oh yeah, none taken. Asshole.”

Leather ladened arms cross over his chest as he cocks one hip back and looks you over. “You’re cold, you’re tired, and you’re crying. Use my sleeping bag to warm up and get some rest. I’ll wake you up a few hours before sunrise so I can get another nap in before we hit the road.”

You want to fight him. You want to tell him to fuck off and go back to sleep, let you keep doing your job. But the small amount of kindness he’s shown, added to the way you’ve lost all the heat and steam that kept your engine running, makes it near impossible to argue. So instead you stand and shuffle toward the back of the truck, brushing past him without a word. You’re about to lift your shoe up onto the back bumper when a soft call of your name has your attention drifting toward him.

Eddie is barely illuminated in the moonlight. A shadow of himself in the dark. You can’t read his expression, can barely see the vague outline that implies he’s looking in your direction. “I’m sorry, y’know. About your dad.”

“Yeah,” you lift yourself up onto the truck bed with the very last bit of energy you have left. “Yeah, me too.”

Neither of you say another word as you shuffle down into his sleeping bag and layer yours on top. It’s still heated from his time spent in it and it smells of pine, whiskey, and something human. With the warmth surrounding you and the stars above, you find just enough comfort to allow you to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

Tuesday, August 16th, 2016 – 10 miles outside Memphis, Tennessee

The pickup rumbles to a stop, waking you from your nap. Your head tilts up from leaning hard against the window in shock. After wiping some drying drool from your chin and stretching your shoulders in the limited space, you look to the shadows out the windshield in confusion. Eddie flips the engine off and pulls the emergency break from beside his seat. “How long was I out? Do we need more gas already?”

“No, Sleeping Beauty, you were only out for an hour.” It really is comical how easy it is for him to take you from half asleep to wanting to snap his head off. “I know you need your beauty rest, but we gotta walk the rest of the way.” His door swings open with a creak, echoing in the concrete room you’ve parked in. Choosing to keep your mouth shut and just follow his lead instead, you open your door and slide out of the seat, your legs already protesting from how they were contorted while you slept.

“Is this a garage?”

“Yup.” Walking around the front toward him, he already grabbed his backpack and has it laid out on a table littered with gear. Pistols, rifles, ammo, machetes, metal pipes, baseball bats, knives, canned food, batteries – a spread perfect for any survivalist. It must’ve taken ages to collect it all, and even more work to keep it stocked this well.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. “Is this all your stuff? Or do you work with other people?” Eddie throws an annoyed look over his shoulder, like you should know better than to ask him anything. Embers fire to life as you walk up right next to him, looking directly into the side of his face while he keeps his eyes on cleaning his pistol on the tabletop. “Is it so horrible just to make conversation? Would it really kill you to be a normal person and talk to someone?”

“Maybe it would. Why the fuck do you even care?” The retort is cold but provides you with a bit of clarity. The chill isn’t directed toward you, but at the idea in general. The issue isn’t just you. The issue is someone caring. You just happen to be the one doing it.

“I don’t care,” you assure him as you swing your own pack onto the table next to his, opening it a little too aggressively and pulling out your own pistol. “Just bored.” The magazine clicks out of the grip at your request, falling into your opposite hand. You silently count through the remaining bullets and reach for the box of 9mms on the table. Your skin tingles with the heat of his glare but he doesn’t make any move to interrupt. You take enough to fill the empty space and let the rest clatter back into the box.

“I share the garage with someone else.”

The admittance falls as he rocks the slide back up the frame and clicks the parts back into place. He doesn’t look away from his work so you don’t either, trying not to react too much to him answering a question. The last thing you want to do is say something wrong and make him clam up again. Would probably be safer to talk about the plan than potentially ask anything else about him as a person. At least, if you wanted to avoid the silence. “How far out of Memphis are we?”

“Couple hours walk,” he’s much quicker to answer as he slots his pistol into a holster near his waistband and goes digging through a box full of what looks like rocks. “Too many patrols and blocked roads to bring the truck further without getting caught.”

“Why are we worried about getting caught? By FEDRA?”

He glances over at you, eyebrows drawn together tight like he’s confused. “Civ’s aren’t supposed to leave the QZ. If I got caught and they recognized me, we’d be fucked.”

Nodding once in understanding, you started putting your things back together with a bit more care than you’d ripped them open. “So we’re sneaking in.”

“We have a few routes in and out of the zone that we rotate through for safety. The closest one had some Infected lurking around last time I was there, but they might have cleared out by now, so we’ll try there first.”

You shoulder your pack again and spend the rest of your time waiting by snooping more. The garage is small and pretty dark, the only light coming from the open door to the outside. Just big enough to fit the truck, the work table, and room to stand between them. There’s nothing personal that could be traced back to anyone and most of the weapons are in locked containers. Nothing a pair of bolt cutters couldn’t get through with a little bit of elbow grease but still better than nothing.

Eddie claps his hands together in what seems like an attempt just to startle you – and it succeeds in making you jump as it echoes against the walls. When you turn on him, steam rushing up from below, his shit eating grin is the happiest you’ve seen him since you left Louisville. “Ready?”

Choosing (again) to exhale the heat instead, continue to avoid the animosity for as long as you can, you tuck your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “When you are.”

The sun is absolutely blazing when you both step out of the shadowed garage and into the bright heat of the morning. You’re surrounded by light gray concrete on all sides, the sun’s rays ricocheting off of every surface until the light is hitting you from all directions. Even squinting hard with your hand over your brow does little to assist your eyes in adjusting to the new normal. When Eddie steps back up, garage door lowered and locked behind you, he has his aviators back on and looks perfectly content.

Prick.

“Must be shit around here in the summer.” You’ve only just made it outside and you’re already tempted to take off your jacket despite the subtle breeze.

“It’s shit everywhere in the summer,” Eddie’s grumbled reply is almost quiet enough for you not to hear, but offers another piece of information. He hates the heat. “Come on, ‘s this way.”

Outer Memphis is utterly deserted. Both by humans and infected. Hell, even seeing an animal at this point would be shocking. But that doesn’t mean it’s missing life, not at all. Greenery stretches all around you as you walk through the suburbs and toward the city center. Vines climbing up walls and poles, grass and weeds pushing out from between sidewalk cracks, bushes weaving their way into chain link fences. Trees left to go wild grow towards each other, making canopies of shade here and there as you walk down the empty streets. The leaves have just started to turn into yellows and oranges, some falling and scattering in muddy piles across the pavement. If you hadn’t known any better, it would’ve looked like humanity just disappeared one day and left the Earth to reclaim what was hers. But you do know better. And the signs of what actually happened are everywhere if you know how to look.

Shattered shop windows of every pharmacy, liquor store, gun shop, and grocery. A rusted and warped metal sign calling the area a FEDRA quarantine zone, matched with another that tells you to look out for signs of cordyceps infection. An apartment building with a yellow ‘X’ spray painted across the door and dried fungus peeking out through the cracks in the frame. Lines of cars in off street parking with the wheels stripped, hoods open to scavenge for parts, gas caps hanging from tanks siphoned. Deep brown streaks of long-dried blood arching across the pavement towards alleys and behind buildings. 

While it can be easy to look at the plant life thriving and feel serene, really focusing on the details produces a sulfuric taste in your mouth. One that can only be washed away with liquor or enough time to forget.

You’ve been walking for close to two hours when a wide palm suddenly lands on your chest, halting you in place. It mostly freezes you in shock and disbelief at the touch, but when you look up and see Eddie staring at you with a single finger pressed to his lips, it’s enough to make your heart rate kick up in your chest and a cold sweat break out across the back of your neck. Neither of you move for a few moments. You try to focus your ears in to listen, wanting to try to understand these stimuli Dustin and Eddie seem to instinctually respond to. At first, all you can hear is the brush of leaves across concrete. Attempting to push past that, squeezing your eyes shut as if that will help you extend your senses further, you pick up on the edge of something deep. It’s a rumble in the distance, pitched low and long as it rolls through the air. Almost like a groan.

Brown eyes pitched black by tinted lenses meet your own as soon as you look for them. Wordlessly, Eddie directs you towards the sidewalk where a car sits with its wheel wells flat to the ground. He follows close behind as you cross over and duck behind it, shuffling towards the back bumper to try and peek around the other side. You’re looking out over a 4 way intersection and you spot the source of the noise towards the northern end.

Three infected stand in the street, deep moans pouring from their throats as their heads twitch erratically. One’s arm is broken, bent unnaturally backward, and all three have torn clothes and are covered in dirt. There’s visible fungal growth along their skin, indicating they have been this way for some time, but their eyes remain uncovered. Runners.

Shifting back to being fully behind the car, you hold up 3 fingers to Eddie. His expression is stone as he circles his finger in the air before him. Confused for a moment, you realize he’s probably asking you to check the perimeter and make sure there aren’t more. A careful glance around yields nothing. You return to him with a shake of your head. His middle finger and thumb pinch together 3 times in quick succession, his eyebrows raising in a question. It takes you another pause to consider what the motion means, what exactly he’s trying to ask you. It’s not like the two of you had considered beforehand how to communicate in case danger arose. But some part of your brain nags at you: He’s asking if they’re Clickers.

Going with your gut, you give another small shake of your head and mimic a person running with your own pointer and middle finger. He exhales through his nose in what seems like both relief and amusement before motioning for you to get behind him and reaching for something in a side pocket of his bag. By the time you’ve inched your way around so he can look out beyond the car, he’s produced an intense looking slingshot and a small tan pellet. Unable to ask what the hell he’s doing, you can only watch as he places the pellet into the sling and begins to pull it back hard, his bicep straining against leather with the movement. The tip of his tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth as he takes aim.

It goes sailing – your eyes can barely track it as it arcs high and sails directly over the heads of the infected. You think maybe he missed trying to hit one of them, but his true intention becomes clear when it makes contact with the ground. There’s a small flash of white accompanied by a sharp crack that echoes between the buildings on either side of the intersection. All 3 heads immediately turn on the noise, one so forcefully it almost knocks itself off its feet, before they take off running. Eddie counts to 3 under his breath and then grabs your bicep, pulling you along with him as he jogs across the intersection and a couple blocks further. You rip your arm from his hold but continue to follow close behind as he ducks around a corner and into an overgrown city park.

Once you deem you’re a safe distance away, you chance talking again. “That was a pretty neat trick. What are those things?”

His long legs don’t stop moving so you try to keep the pace as he continues to hurry away from the scene. “Little mix of gunpowder and a couple other things. Some brainiac made the recipe as an alternative to fireworks or sparklers for the kids, which then turned into kids throwing them everywhere and pissing off the guards, which got them banned and confiscated. And, well…” The corner of his mouth pulls toward his ear, dry lips spreading in a sly smile. “FEDRA contraband is fair game if you know where they keep it.”

For the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh. It bubbles up unexpectedly, the feeling foreign by now, and bursts from between your lips in a bark, one you’re quick to stifle with your hand as it trails off. “Y’know, I thought people were supposed to grow out of their rebellious phase by your age.”

His smile disappears just as fast as it occurred, a flat look directed your way. “Very funny,” is his grumbled reply, huffing as he adjusts his pack. “Come on, we’re not too far.”

You perk up at the idea of this hike finally being done, especially with the promise of a bath on the other side. Jogging up to his side from where he’s walked away, you ask for confirmation with a little bit too much enthusiasm. “Really?”

“QZ was set up in the Medical District, just east of the Mississippi,” he explains without looking your way, his head swiveling on an axis. Ever vigilant, circling his surroundings like a hawk. The two of you approach a small, wrought iron arch, bracketed on either side by hedges that have to be 9 feet tall. You assume it leads out of the park but Eddie stops you before you can cross through. “Wait here a second.”

Eddie leans his head through, looking both ways like he’s about to cross the street before disappearing to the right. Unease prickles up your spine as you hear the shift of greenery ahead, your lower lip drawing in between your teeth in a nervous habit. The silence builds, starting as a pressure at the base of your skull and growing into a ringing in your ears. It spreads down through your nerves like radio static as you shift uneasily, anxiety setting in quickly the moment you’re left alone. Adrenaline drumming up, you’re close to either yelling for him or bolting when he finally calls out:

“Okay, we’re clear, come on out.”

You pass through the archway and into a tunnel of vines. The sun filters through as the leaves shift, projecting dancing shadows on the packed dirt floor. You turn right and push ahead, using your arms to part a curtain of hanging vines. There’s a concrete staircase on the other side leading up. Halfway to the top, you look ahead and see Eddie.

His back is to you as he stands tall and proud. His silhouette is surrounded by bright blue sky on all sides. The red flannel around his hips and loose bits of his hair sway in the breeze as the sun beats down on the cracked leather of his jacket. His hair is frizzy, his jeans dusted and worn, his boots spread wide as he raises a hand to his brow to look out. A few steps further and you see he’s standing on a sort of balcony over a decorative town square, a murky fountain in the middle and dilapidated statues lining the walkways. It’s situated on a hill, well above the city center that stretches beyond. You can see straight over the buildings of downtown, to the barbed wire-lined walls of the Quarantine Zone, and beyond to the Mississippi River as it rolls.

Eddie turns to you, slowly walking backward toward the stairway down into the square, hands in his pockets with the thumbs sticking out. “You coming or what?”

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thanks for reading!! if you liked it, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment, they make my day 💜

[achaotichuman]

Eris Vanserra

Through a combination of spite and wanting to write out my feelings, I've created this slice of tragedy. Thank @fell-in-luvs for putting the idea in my head.

Trigger warnings- Domestic violence, physical abuse, mild thoughts of suicide, implied self-harm.

Head between his knees, hands over his ears. Just keep breathing. 

Porcelain smashed against the ground, and he heard her screaming. Just keep breathing. 

He yelled at her, voice reverberating through the hallways. 

She screamed at him, still young, still unknowing of what pain it would cause, to never raise his voice at her. 

Then she screamed, she screamed in pain and Eris sobbed into his knees. His small, red face, wet with tears. On wobbling knees, barely big enough to open the door he had been sitting beside, he reached up and pulled down the door handle. The glistening gold burning from fire leaping under his skin. The five-year-old threw the heavy wood open with all the strength in his body.

She was thrown across the wooden floors of the bedroom, crying so loudly as blood poured from her nose, and her eyes swelled from a bruise now blooming. Beron reeled his fist back, screaming at her disrespect, at her insolence. 

Eris screamed, the boy leapt at his father, flames sparking on his hands, “Stop!”

He hit his fathers legs as his lungs burned for air. The continuous chant of begging and demanding pouring from his hoarse throat, “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

Even with all the fire he found within himself, Beron grabbed his short red hair and threw him down to the ground. Eris cried as the air whooshed from his lungs, he gasped and gasped, but his throat refused to allow any oxygen within. 

“See what you’ve taught him, you fucking whore!” Beron screamed at his wife. 

She cried, arms trembling as they tried to lift her from the ground, but it was of no use as her husband descended upon her again. Fist pulling back, a scream and the cracking of bone as he met her jaw again and again. 

“Let her go! Let her go!” Eris shrieked. A bruise appeared on his face as a red mark. He was shaking until it was so hard to so much as walk, he tried to rush at Beron again. But the male pulled up a wall of fire that scorched Eris’s hands and face. 

Eris screamed and threw up across the floors. Darkness edged in his vision and he looked up to see the image of his mother, bawling as she bleed and bleed. She begged and pleaded, but Beron’s hand wasn’t merciful. 

“Stop it! Please stop it!” Eris cried from the floor. 

He remembered the light of the moon from that night. How it shone in through the large glass windows, all shut and locked. He remembered how it shimmered across his mother’s blood smeared across the floor. 

Eris blinked the images away, forcing his eyes back to what he was seeing. His mother stared into her food, hands neatly folded in her lap. Beron howled with laughter, and the sudden laugh caused both to flinch suddenly. Though Eris’ was far less noticeable. 

With no eyes on them, with every courtier at the dining hall preoccupied with sucking up to Beron. No one at any particular spot, as the formalities had been forgotten after the thirteenth bottle of wine had been opened. 

Eris reached out, hands gentle and calloused, they just managed to brush the back of his mother’s hand. The six-year-old that begged for his father’s hands to keep off his mother’s skin peeking through. 

But this was no longer the woman that remembered her own will. This was no longer the woman who braided flowers into his hair at celebrations, and she was no longer the woman who patched his knees when he fell off his horse. 

She pulled away from his fingers so abruptly a nearby lady looked over. Quickly her eyes turned back to Beron’s sneering grin. 

“Mother-” The word slipped from his throat before he could stop it. 

“You’re just like him.” His mother hissed. 

Eris stared. 

Not one of his father’s hits, not one of his words, or training, had ever…

Punched him as hard as that. 

“Mother-” His voice cracked, breathing was hard again. 

He was back on the floor, without air in his lungs, he was back in that bedroom. He saw her behind that wall of fire again. 

“You are just like him.” She said again.

Her flaming russet eyes looked up to see him. They burned. They burned with a hatred so bright, Eris flinched again. 

Those words held words, words that stung more than ones she actually voiced. ‘Go on, tell him I am willing to defy you.’

“Please-”

He wanted to sob. He wanted to run into the arms of his mother in a field of grass under the protection of oaks and Autumn leaves. He wanted her to look at him and smile. 

‘Please.’

‘Please, I’m still your baby boy, aren’t I?’ 

“Please-” 

“I hate you.”

Beron standing over her, tears streaming down her face as she cried and begged.

Eris felt his father’s leg underneath his hands again as he tried to burn the male. 

I hate you. 

You’re just like him. 

Just like him. Just like him. Just like him. Just like him. 

“Eris!” Beron boomed. Eris’ head snapped up and his face fell into the mask of false respect and bitter smirks.

“Yes, Father?” The words had the slightest of shakes to them. Not enough that anyone noticed. No one would ever notice. 

“Come join the head of the table, my boy! Lord Entrice has some news to share.” Beron had such a sadistic glint in his eyes. 

Run, every bone in his body said so. He didn’t feel safe. He wasn’t safe. He was never safe. 

Eris stood and beside him, his mother huffed a laugh. His eyes snapped to her once again, and there she stared at the meal before her, but he saw her hating eyes, and her smirk, ‘Go suck up to him.’ Was what that smirk said. 

She didn’t dare lift her head to meet his eyes. Beron called again, voice beginning to border on agitated. 

Just like him. 

“Yes, Father.” Eris answered. 

When Eris retreated to his quarters that night, he saw nothing. He felt nothing. Like his whole body was on another plane. His soul retreated to some small corner where it heard nothing. Like a child putting their hands over their ears and chanting ‘Lalalala I can’t hear you’.

He didn’t remember when he locked the door, he didn’t remember when he bathed or changed, or sat down beside the fire. He didn’t know why he was sitting on the floor and not on the lounge. He didn’t know why he was sitting so close to the flames, and he didn’t know why he was staring into them without ever looking away. 

Just like him. 

You’re just like him. 

A smile curved on his face, even as tears welled in his eyes. 

I hate you. 

Then what’s left?

Lucien was gone. 

His other brothers refused his help. 

If his mother hated him?

What was left? 

The rest of the Autumn Court, a logical voice told him, trying to pull him back from the edge. The rest of the Autumn Court would need him one day, he would have to be living for that. 

The Autumn Court had survived this long, was he that necessary? 

To improve their lives he was. 

Was he? 

Just like him. 

He was just like him. 

Eris didn’t remember taking a knife in his hands, and he didn’t remember holding it over the fire. 

But he did remember the pricks of the blade over his arms. And he did remember the marks it left. 

Just like him. 

I hate you. 

What was left?

[greycaelum]

Hello,how are u?

I've been a fan of your writing for a while now,and im really in need of some comfort

If you can,could u pls write a oneshot gojo x fem!reader where reader is also a sorcerer and one year younger than gojo and they've been friends for so long,and one day reader's mother talks about her marrying someone she doesnt like (her mother tells it from kindness) and it messes reader up to the point of panic attack and crying?and she calls satoru so he could help her calm down?

(you decide whether reader and gojo are in a secret relationship or not.)

Im in need of comfort rn and i would love to see ur writing on this matter

Kaleidoscope Series—Love Me Now, Love Me Never Chapters: {Pacify Her}

—Gojo Satoru X Sorcerer Reader

𑁍 Synopsis:

"Dear..." Your mother's voice called you, and her eyes held you in softness. 

"Why didn't you ask me, first Mother?" Your heart felt as if it was made of sand collapsing as you realise the betrayal.

"Because we know this will be your reaction. You work tirelessly, barely coming home. I simply wish for someone to care for you. Someone who will look out and care for you."

"I could take care of myself." Your eyes watered. Why? Why are you deciding on my life without my opinion?

𑁍 Genre: angst to comfort, traditional arrange marriage

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (2k)— spoilers for anime only! mentions of teen years & Hidden Inventory Arc, arrange marriage, secret relationship— use of endearments (baby and sweetheart), crying, locking self in the closet, implied panic

𑁍 A/N: Hi sweetheart, work has been keeping me, I'm sorry that this one took a while even though I tried to do it as soon as possible, I hope everything will get better soon and this one helps to comfort you. Sending you a very tight hug! —Grey,

He's obnoxious.

Gojo Satoru in his teens is a menace. One that crawls up on you every time he spots your shadow to pull your hair and poke fun at you.

You've known the man since your first year in college. Nanami often looks at you in worry and helplessness whenever Gojo Satoru comes over to tease you. Haibara looks up to him and would often join in the fun, unbeknownst of your irritation.

Good old day, you've come to treasure deep in your heart. When everything was easier. When life seems to be lighter.

You came from a fairly influential sorcerer clan. Prized for your reversed curse technique that paved your way in the jujutsu society in the less physical struggle over brutal means. But that didn't spare you from stomaching the horrendous scenes curses can inflict. Haibara was the catalyst of your life's turning point.

Everyone started falling out. You see your raven-haired senior left without a goodbye, leaving nothing but the biggest tragedy in your generation. Nanami left as well, unable to take the bullshit of the people behind the power sacrificing the lesser ones as pawns to maintain their status and influence. And Satoru...

"Are you leaving?"

On a cold night, he found you staring at the stars under the tree nearby the training grounds. A bag strapped on your back, and normal clothes you'd wear for your day off. You could see exhaustion brimming around him even though he was in the shadows.

"Everything is in shambles." You sighed, tucking your chin on your knees. "Are youleaving?" You watch him slip his hands into the pockets of his pants and look up at the sky.

You watch your senior's face, he looks so young as you trace his jaws to the softness of his cheeks, the faint glimmer in his ocean eyes from the slit of his sunglasses holds the weariness he has to suppress for so long, slipping through the night.

You have to think again that this man is just a year older than you, still, a teenager in adolescence that is forced to play soldier. Gojo Satoru has become so distant you can barely recognize the youth despite the pretty face he has.

"I can't." He answered after a long time.

And you just know the indifference of that answer. The feeling of being unable to walk away despite wanting to.

"Thought so. Guess we have a long time annoying each other, senpai." You chuckled and stood up, dusting yourself and turning in the direction of the dorm you started walking.

A force collided against your back and your ears are being rubbed until you squirm and glare at the perpetrator.

"Uh-huh? Looking forward to that brat." He just grinned and ruffled your hair.

You can't pinpoint it anymore. Was it when you covered him with your overcoat so he could just hide and swallow his exhaustion as you sit beside him, holding his hands inside his Infinity? Or was it when he started finding you every day, dragging you with him and Shoko? Or was it when he took your hand and your heart felt at peace amid the chaos?

"I'm tireddddddd~" Satoru let out a long sigh and rub his face against your back while his long arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you perched on his thighs.

"Satoru, there are people outside!" You tried squirming away, even pinching the man off of you but to no avail. He's latched unto you like a leech. It's so embarrassing to be caught like this, the only ones who knew are Ijichi, Shoko, and Principal Yaga. Other than that, you're viewed as Satoru's favorite kouhai. Unbeknownst to them, you and this menace have been going out since you were 19.

"Who cares?" He pulled down his blindfold and batted those pretty lashes. Satoru blew you a kiss and giggled at your sour expression. "How could you be so cute? Just like me." He coos at you.

You turned away huffing with your arms crossed over your chest and let yourself be cradled into your beau's arms.

"I have to go to the ancestral house later, my Mom asked me to come. Just reheat the food I left in the fridge and don't stay up late."

Satoru nodded and shifted you to the side, tucking your head underneath his chin.

"Should I pick you up?" Satoru quietly asked, even though he already knows the answer.

"No, they'll get suspicious." You bit your lip. "I'm sorry..."

It's been years and yet your relationship is kept behind the curtains. Satoru has never thought he'd be one to be kept a secret, but after your persuasions even though he badly wants to drive off the men lurking around you whenever they think you're single. Risking your safety to prove your relationship is not enough, he agreed this is for the best.

"Nothin' for you to be sorry for sweetheart." Satoru kissed the top of your head. "Just call me when you're done then I won't worry much."

Being brought up in a more dynamic and liberated childhood, growing up, you know you had it easier than other sorcerers. Your clan may not be part of the elites, but it is an established and recognized clan that is important to the jujutsu society for the special ability of reversed curse technique.

"Mother," you called the regal woman talking with your distant relative.

"Dear, we've been waiting for you. How about you changed into comfortable clothes first then look for us in the study?" She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

You did as you were told, changing into a furisode prepared for you and led down to the study. When you opened the door you found your grandmother, and mother waiting inside. Seeing the stern look on your grandmother's face you suddenly felt the pressing matter this talk is about to make. Your heart pounded and anxiousness started filling you up as you took a seat across from your mother.

"It's the time for you to get married Y/n. Do you like any man right now?"

"G-Grandmother?" You stuttered and look at the straight-faced woman in disbelief. Her eyes held nothing but seriousness. It's as if he could slice through anything with her gaze.

"You've never brought a man home, I'm afraid you'll be a spinster if I do not intervene. The son of the Chiba Clan is a proper and respectable man. He can provide for you and keep you safe." There's finality in her voice that has no room for your reason. When you look at those eyes, you see your Grandmother has already finished everything before you could speak anything about this matter. "Life is short, in this world we're moving. Don't waste that time being all alone." Your Grandmother stood up and pat your shoulder, she quietly left the study leaving you and your mother.

"Dear..." Your mother's voice called you, and her eyes held you in softness. 

"Why didn't you ask me, first Mother?" Your heart felt as if it was made of sand collapsing as you realise the betrayal. You never want to be angry at her. You know she loves you and looks out for the best of your interest. But this one simply breaks your heart.

"Because we know this will be your reaction. You work tirelessly, barely coming home. I simply wish for someone to care for you. Someone who will look out and care for you."

"I could take care of myself." Your eyes watered. Why? Why are you deciding on my life without my opinion?

Your mother looks at you, and sadness clouds in her eyes. "I'm very sorry, but please try. You give yourself away too much in your work, is it so bad to wish that you have someone stay by your side?"

"No mother. But I—" Satoru's face flashed in your mind. Really, you were just scared to be used out of political means so you hid your relationship. You knew it was unfair to Satoru who loved you regardless of anything but he never asked you to go against your principles just to give in his wishes. He has always valued you more than anyone's opinion. "—I will never any man besides the one I chose."

Your tears threatening to spill. But you kept it in. And walk out of the door despite your mother's call. You ran to your room, having a hard time keeping yourself focused from the trembling of your hand.

You shut your door and ran to the closet, squeezing yourself inside the large and dark wooden wardrobe. With shaking hands, you held your phone and ran through your call logs. Every ring you feel your heart hammer against the cages of your chest, your feet getting cold despite the socks. Static ringing through your ears.

"Baby? You coming home?" Satoru's groggy voice, answered.

A sense of relief flooded you as you listen to the faint shuffling in the background. You wanted to cry, but you bit your lips so you could hear his breathing. 

"Sweetheart? Somethin' wrong?"

"'T-Toru," you hiccuped, angry at yourself for sobbing hard.

"Why are you crying? Where are you?" Worry filled in his voice. "I'm coming to get you." You heard hurried footsteps and the slight panic in his voice.

"Baby? Are you there? Don't hang up alright?"

"Toru, 'T-Toru, Toru," you chanted in desperate sobs, grounding yourself in his name despite the darkness you're in.

"Yes Baby, I'm here. On my way to fetch you. Calm down alright. I'm here."

You shut your eyes close. Wishing the next second you open it Satoru is in front of you. But every second that ticks, the colder your palm gets, the harder your heart pounds, dreading the mere idea of marrying a stranger you barely know. Your throat is constricted, and your chest heaves out the intangible pain seeping into your heart.

To give up Satoru? Not a chance.

"Open up baby," the call turned off and a knock bumped your wardrobe. "We're going home, sweetheart." You could hear the panting that the person is trying hard to mellow down and calm his voice.

The door opened and Satoru squatted down. His clothes are disheveled from the hurry. Your bleary eyes locked on him and you saw his shoulders slacken, but they immediately squared up as he beckon you out of the closet.

"C'mere."

You didn't have to be told twice, crawling out and into his arms, your clutch his shirt as his arms wound around you.

"What happened? Tell me so I can understand what upset you, sweetheart." He coos to you, settling you between his propped knees while pressing a kiss on your temple.

His cool spicy scent invaded your panicking senses. The more you listen to his heart the slower your breathing gets and eventually, you're pushing yourself closer to him, throwing your arm around Satoru's neck.

"They thought I'm not in a relationship and arranged a marriage partner for me."

You felt Satoru's grip over you tighten. He didn't speak but you could feel his sour mood.

"Are you scared?" He moves you to look him in the eye. A flicker pass through his eyes, but before you could recognize it, that pained glint was gone.

"I'm upset." You replied honestly.

You know your mother never meant to hurt you. But your family is meddling in your life too much that it's not even needed. How could they decide on it before asking you when you'll be the one living that marriage?

"Who am I, baby?" Satoru cup your cheeks and pressed your foreheads together.

"You're Gojo... you're my Satoru." You whispered, warmth spreading in your chest.

"Mnn, that's right. Who would dare take you away when you have me, sweetheart?" Satoru opened his eyes and could see the steeled resolve in those ocean eyes.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey

[devilat-thedoor]

Hands to Yourself Pt7

🤍heeey, babes🤍

No preface for this one. Just a special apology in advance… i hope you guys still love me after this👉🏽👈🏽💖

Part 6

Word Count: 11.7k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ as usual, Minors DNI. Mentions of sickness. Violence. TW for tragedy/trauma/injuries.

It’s not possible…

Jake’s hands were cupping your face, willing you to snap out of your trance, to just look at him. This wasn’t a dream. It was a cruel nightmare and now all you wanted was to wake up and make it stop. His voice invaded your consciousness, gentle and calm, and your eyes finally focused on him. “Are you here, baby? Are you with me?” Despite the soft timbre of his tone, he was perturbed, but hiding it well for you.

“Jake, I wanna go home.” Your lip trembled and he didn’t argue, just grabbed his keys from the table top and tucked your phone into his pocket.

Daniel came up, asking if everything was alright and you watched mindlessly as Jake leaned in whispering to him. Danny nodded once and walked off. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion as your boyfriend took his jacket off, placing it over your shoulders and led you through the swarm of people. You could feel them all staring as he walked you through the door and outside. Jake pulled the car door open, “Get in, love. Watch your head, please.”

Once you were tucked into the seat, he closed the door and rounded to his side, climbing in. You leaned your head on the window, still warm from the sun, now set and replaced by a shimmering full moon. The car pulled out onto the road and after a few minutes, Jake reached over, taking your left hand in his. He didn’t say anything and you didn’t expect him to but when his thumb grazed over the stone, sitting on your ring finger, you ripped your hand away. “Pull over.” The words gasped out and he turned to look at you, opening his mouth to say something. “Jake, pull the fucking car over! Please!” He saw the way you were clutching your stomach and whipped the car onto the shoulder of the road, along a large, empty field. The car wasn’t even stopped, let alone in park, yet as you unlocked the door and pushed it open. You hit the ground hard, using your hands to break the fall.

Jake was stepping out after turning the hazards on, scolding you. “Y/N, what are you doing? You could’ve hurt yourself!” He came around to you and his attitude softened as he saw you crawling towards the grass, heaving out your dinner. He dropped to his knees beside you and gathered your hair into one hand while rubbing your back with the other. When you finally sat up, breathing heavily, he went back to the car and pulled a few napkins from the glove box. Returning to you, he sat down and wiped at your mouth. He looked at you, expecting you to be crying but your face was contorted with anger. He tried to decipher what you were thinking, searching your face and body for any clue, but came up short. “Baby…”

You ignored him and looked down at your palms, illuminated by the moonlight and riddled with tiny pebbles and road debris. Blood dripped from a small cut on your right hand where a shard of glass was embedded. Calmly brushing the dirt away, you carefully pulled the piece of glass out, wincing from the sting. You stared at the shard, pinched between your fingers, for a few seconds and flexed your fingers on the bleeding hand. Jake took the glass from you and held your wrists, examining your palms. You allowed him to dab at the cut with a napkin, his touch so incredibly gentle. When you finally spoke, his head shot up, a look of shock across his face. “It’s not true… It’s not yours, it can’t be. She’s a fucking liar.” You kept your eyes on your hands as your breathing picked up, the bitterness in your tone was evident. “I’m not playing her games anymore, Jake.”

Jake pressed the napkin into your palm and forced your fingers to close around it. “Hold this here, please.” He picked up the rest of the tissues, scattered in the grass surrounding him. “C’mon love. I wanna get you home.” You allowed him to pull you to your feet and help you back into the car. The drive resumed and seemed to drag out, taking too long, when all you wanted was to crawl into bed and wait for this horrible nightmare to end. Jake turned into his spot in the driveway and cut the engine. You didn’t wait for him as you hopped out of the car and stalked up the path to the front porch. You reached for the door knob, forgetting that it was locked. Your keys were left inside, right on the other side of the door, and Jake wasn’t moving fast enough. A frustrated growl roared from your chest as you repeatedly jiggled the knob and slammed your fist on the door. “Hey. Baby, I have the keys…” You couldn’t hear him as your growl evolved into a raging scream that you were sure the neighbors would hear and think you’re a psycho. The gash on your hand started bleeding again from the way your palms slapped against the wood. “Y/N, stop!” He gripped your shoulders, turning you away from the door to face him. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, a mix of emotions flooding you at once, and you collapsed into him. He held you with one arm, keeping you tucked into his chest as he fumbled with the keys, trying to get inside. Finally, he found the correct key, sliding it into the lock and twisting. He pushed the door open and walked you inside, guiding you into the front hallway. “Let me lock up and we can get settled.” Jake released you, turning around to pull his key from the door. Closing and relocking it, he turned back to you. Having discarded your shoes, you were already gone. He let out a defeated huff, hanging his keys up, and walked further into the house to find you.

He didn’t have to go far. You were curled up on the couch, laying in the fetal position with your hands tucked into your chest and your back to him, hot tears dripping from your eyes. You weren’t necessarily crying, but the emotions needed to drain somehow and this was the least exhausting way to do it. Jake came up behind you, hovering over your slumped form. “Love, let’s go to the bedroom, come on.” His hand was gentle on your arm, slowly rubbing up and down.

You shook your head, wiping at your cheek. “No. I wanna stay here.”  Your gaze stayed focused on the back cushions of the couch, staring blankly.

His hand left your arm as he straightened up with a sigh, “Okay. That’s fine, I’ll go get some blankets and-“

“No.” You cut him off abruptly, “I wanna stay here…” You clarified, putting a heavy emphasis on the ‘I’. “You go to bed.”

Jake’s eyes were trained on you, willing you to look at him, but you couldn’t. You knew you were being selfish, knew that he was probably feeling exactly how you were, but your subconscious was telling you that you needed to be alone. That you didn’t deserve his comfort, so you pushed him away and he knew exactly what you were doing, “Y/N, don’t do this…” The hurt was clear in his tone, “Baby, please just come to bed with me. Please.” His voice cracked on the last word and you almost gave in, let yourself have him, let him hold you. But you didn’t.

You squeezed your eyes shut as your lip quivered, “Just go, Jake.” It was a meek mumble as you let out a shaky breath. You heard a sniffle, followed by his footsteps, retreating deeper into the house. The silent sobs started racking in your chest as your thoughts ran wild. Everytime things felt like they were falling back into place, she was there to tear it all apart, again and again. Trapped in an endless, torturous cycle, you had nobody to blame but yourself. This was your punishment, the consequences of your poor decisions that you were finally being forced to reap.

After a while, your body went calm. You still laid in the same position, in the clothes you’d gone out in, welcoming sleep to overtake you. But it never came. Time ticked by and you rolled over to look at the clock on the wall, barely visible in the dark room. The only source of light was from the small wax burner that sat on the mantle above the fireplace. In an attempt to get more comfortable, hoping it would aid in helping you fall asleep, you unbuttoned your jeans, sliding them down and kicking them onto the floor. You yanked the soft throw blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around yourself, closing your eyes. Still, you stayed awake. Glancing up at the clock again, it had been 2 hours of you flipping and twisting, trying to force yourself into slumber. Something didn’t feel right. Your body was aching to be near him, to hold him. But you couldn’t bring yourself to go to him, not after how you’d sent him away. You let out a heavy sigh, sitting up and bringing your knees to your chest, hugging them tight. Jake knew you too well, almost like you were a part of him, but you were still surprised when you heard his voice, soft but stern, coming out of the hallway and towards you. “I’m not doing this, Y/N. You can either get up and come to bed with me or we can squeeze together on the couch, I don’t care.” He was standing behind the couch, peering down at you, “But I know you can’t sleep. Not alone. Not after what happened tonight.”

You tilted your head towards him, staring at his hands that rested flat on the back cushions. Allowing your body to fall to the side, you laid your cheek across his left hand, feeling his knuckles against your skin. He brought his right hand up, smoothing it over your hair, before bending to kiss your temple. You closed your eyes at the comforting feeling of his lips. “Okay.” Looking up at him, you finally met his eyes for the first time since you’d left the bar. He looked exhausted, a dejected expression over his face that made your heart ache. “Bed… Please.”

Jake nodded his head without a word. Taking your hands and pulling you up from the couch, he lifted you over the back of it and placed you on your feet. You let him drape an arm around you and lead to the bedroom. He flicked the light on, leaving your side to move to your dresser. He pulled a tank top out and came back, offering it to you. You shook your head, refusing the garment as your eyes flicked to his dresser. A small smirk graced his lips as he walked to his dresser, dropping your shirt on top of it and opening a drawer. He fished around for a few seconds before grasping a t-shirt in his fist. He was in front of you again, holding the shirt up for you to see. The old, faded red one that he was wearing the first time you’d seen him. You thought he’d gotten rid of it. Silly of you to think, considering he never throws his clothes out, still wearing items he’s had since he was a teenager. You bit your lip as a smile formed and nodded. He slung the shirt over his shoulder and twirled his finger, silently telling you to turn around. You obeyed, spinning until your back was to him. He pinched the zipper of your corset top between his fingers and began dragging it down until it fell apart. Jake waited for it to hit the floor and then pulled the tee over your head, letting you slide your arms through the sleeves. When you turned back to face him, he cupped your face with the softest touch and kissed your forehead, leaving his lips to linger for a moment. You hugged him to you, your arms around his bare torso, hands flat on his back. His own arms encased you, holding you firmly. He rocked you to and fro for a long minute and you could’ve fallen asleep right there, but he finally spoke, causing you to look up at him. “Are we gonna talk about it?” He felt you tense against him and immediately regretted opening his mouth.

“Tomorrow. I’m too tired.” You broke away from him and climbed into bed, situating yourself in the middle of the mattress. Jake hit the lights, shrouding the room in complete darkness and came to bed. You waited for him to lay down and curled into him, throwing your leg across him and laying your hand over his heart. He pulled the duvet up and over you before settling his hand on your thigh beneath it, tickling his fingertips over the flesh with a light touch. Your eyes began to close almost instantly and you whispered one last thing to him as you fell into a deep slumber. “I love you no matter what…”

_____________________________________________________

Jake POV

No matter what.

Despite the fact that she was here, snuggled up to you as you’d wished she had been all night, you still couldn’t sleep. Your mind was wide awake, caught on one thing. Reaching over to your nightstand, you grabbed her phone that sat beside yours and unlocked it. You opened the messages, skipping over the few unread threads she had and found the one with Sage’s name on it. You stared at the single message, trying to find some hidden, secret meaning behind it. But it was crisp and clear. ‘I’m pregnant.’ Closing the messages app, you placed the phone on the stand again, careful not to disturb her. You replayed the night in your mind, combing over every fine detail to figure out where you went wrong. The condoms weren’t expired. You made sure to squeeze out any excess air when you put one on. You remembered Y/N, your sweet girl, pulling the rubber from your dick. Nothing was leaking from it. She would have noticed if it had broken. It had to be a lie. Sage was conniving. She’s proven it on more than one occasion, at this point. But you still couldn’t figure out why she would go to these lengths or what she truly wanted.

You were pulled from your thoughts when she shifted against you. A sleepy hum grumbled from her throat as she turned over. Her back was to you now, but she stayed pressed into your side, always sure to have contact while she slept. Even nights when she was angry with you or you with her, which was rare, she couldn’t resist skin to skin. Letting her toes linger on your legs or her fingertips graze yours from the opposite side of the bed. It was her way of saying ‘even though I’m upset, I still love you.’ No matter what. You rolled over, fitting with the contour of her body, and pulled her as close to you as you could get her. She stirred briefly, her left hand coming to grasp yours where it rested on her soft belly. You could feel the cool metal of the ring on your skin, causing a smile to ghost over your lips. Pressing a kiss to her shoulder, you nuzzled your nose into her hair, breathing her in as you finally dozed.

9:31am

The morning came along with an empty bed as you slid your palm over the surface, searching for her. Rain was violently beating down on the window. A loud crack of thunder shook the house and you opened your eyes, digging your knuckles into them to rid of the sleep that lingered. Taking a moment to stretch your limbs and allow your body to wake up, you wondered where she might be. Did she leave? She wasn’t supposed to work today. You looked to your left, seeing her phone on your nightstand, right where you left it. So she was home. Tossing the comforter from your body, you swung your legs off of the bed and stood, sliding on a pair of sweatpants. You stalked out of the bedroom, making a beeline for the kitchen when something stopped you. Turning to look down the hall at the closed bathroom door, you stepped closer, holding your breath to listen. To be sure you heard what you thought you did. When you got close enough, you pressed your ear to the door, careful to not make any noise that would alert her of your presence on this side. She’s sick again… You backed away from the door and headed into the kitchen. Filling the electric kettle, you plugged it in to heat up and moved to the cabinet above the coffee pot. You dug through it, sifting through all the teas she kept stocked in there. You pulled the peppermint and the ginger, both great for nausea, but you were unsure of which she’d prefer. Looking back and forth between the two boxes, you were startled when she walked into the room, greeting you with a quiet ‘good morning.’ You turned to look at her, her face pale and hair tied into a tangled knot on top of her head. “Good morning, love. I was gonna make you some tea.” You held the two options up to her, “Didn’t know which one you’d want.”

Her eyes darted back and forth between the boxes and went back to your face, “Did you hear me in there?” Her voice was quiet, shy, almost. “I’m sorry, I-“

You drew your brows together, “Don’t be sorry. You can’t help it if you’re sick.” Dropping the boxes to the counter, you slipped around the island and padded towards her. You took her face in your hands, looking over her as you swiped the thin, wispy hairs from her clammy skin. “You think you caught a bug?”

She gave her head a gentle shake, “I think it’s just the stress from everything. I don’t know…” Her hands came up to grip your sides, a pained look scribbled across her features. She dropped her eyes to the floor, “We have to talk about it now, Jake…”

“I know, my love.” Your voice matched her somber tone as you said it. “Let me make you tea first and we’ll sit, yeah?”

“Peppermint, no sugar. Please.”

Your hand went to the back of her neck, pulling her forward to peck her forehead. “Whatever you want, baby.” Walking back to the counter, you picked up the box of peppermint, pulling two teabags out and resting them in the awaiting mug.

“Thank you, lover.” She turned on her heels, walking out of the kitchen. While you waited for the kettle, you fixed yourself a cup of coffee, desperate for the caffeine to get you through this conversation. You finished your cup just as the electric kettle beeped, telling you it was done. Just as you began pouring the steaming water over the teabags, she came back into the kitchen, carrying the throw blanket from the couch. You watched as she went for the back door, stopping to look at you. “I wanna enjoy the storm a bit.” She answered your questioning stare.

You offered a warm smile. She did always love a good thunderstorm. “I’ll be out in a minute, just finishing up your cup.” You waited for her to slip out the door before putting the teas away and cleaning up the small water spill on the counter. Picking up the two mugs, you made your way outside to find her stretched out on the swing on the far side of the covered patio. The rain echoed off of the roof, a bright flash of lightning flickering through the dark clouds.

She pulled her legs up to make room for you to sit as you handed her the hot cup of tea. Once you settled onto the swing, she extended her legs again, draping them over you. You sipped from your mug, resting your free hand on her thigh. The wind blew and her skin erupted with goosebumps. She shook the blanket out with one hand, “It’s chilly this morning… Can you cover my feet, baby?” You gave her your coffee to hold and took the blanket from her, stretching it over her legs and making sure her feet were wrapped up.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you stared out to the yard, watching the heavy drops hit the ground, a few bolts of lightning streaking the sky every now and then. It felt so peaceful. Everything always felt peaceful with her. She just had that effect. Being in her presence like this, it was like being tucked in by your mom as a kid after she’d read you a story. Like putting your feet on solid ground after a roller coaster ride. Safe. She was your safe space, your comfort. You looked at her, catching her profile as she gazed out at the horizon. She looked absolutely serene and you felt a sharp pain in your chest, knowing that you were about to rip her from her tranquil state. “Y/N…” Her head turned to you, a faint smile on her lips, “Do you think-“

Her smile dropped in a split second, replaced by a grimace as she looked back out to the distant trees. “I don’t.” She took a gulp of tea, turning back to you. “I know that condom didn’t break. So unless there’s something you’re not telling me, which I highly doubt… It’s not possible.” She shrugged, seemingly done with the topic, but you could see she was deep in her thoughts.

“Talk to me, love. Tell me what you’re thinking.” You gave her a leg a gentle squeeze to let her know you were all ears. 

She took in a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. “She’s not…crazy enough to get…” You watched as she shook her head, pulling her thoughts together. “She wouldn’t get pregnant just to say it’s yours…would she?”

You took her hand, trying to be as reassuring as possible, “Even if she is pregnant, it’s not mine, it has nothing to do with us. We can just bury this all in the past where it belongs.” 

“Jake, she could go public with this.” She looked scared, suddenly. “If she starts telling people that she’s pregnant and that it’s yours… With the tour coming up? You know how everyone speculates, how they draw their own conclusions.”

She had a point and now you were worried too. You kept a calm demeanor, attempting to stay composed. “Even if it came to that, we can do tests, right? Prove she’s lying? That it’s not mine?” You took great care in keeping your life off stage very private. The idea of that changing had you clenching your jaw in anger. How would that make you look? People, fans believing that you would step out on Y/N. How would it make her look?

“I won’t let it come to that. I need to talk to her.” She pulled her legs from your lap and leaned into you, snuggling into your side. Using your feet on the ground, you pushed gently, allowing the swing to rock you both. “I’m gonna talk to her, Jake.” She said it with finality.

You wrapped your arm around her, rubbing her back softly, “We’re not gonna let it put a rift between us.” She sipped from her mug, nodding in agreement as she listened. “I’ll do whatever I have to make sure that doesn’t happen.” The silence was back, nothing but the sounds of rain and thunder around you. After a bit, the thunder drifted, echoing in the distance as the downpour slowed to a mere sprinkle. Her body was limp in your hold, her hand barely holding on to the cup of tea. You placed your empty mug beside you on the swing and carefully took hers. “Hey, are you sleeping?” You whispered, not wanting to wake her if she was.

“Hmmm. No…” The sleep was heavy in her voice, telling you that she was, in fact, drifting off. She lifted her head and you caught sight of her droopy eyelids and flushed cheeks.

You pressed the back of your hand to her forehead and then her cheek. “You feel okay, baby?” Her skin was warm, but not too warm.

She sat up, rubbing her hands over her face, “Yeah…I think I’m gonna go lay down for a bit.” She leaned in, giving you a single kiss and pushed the blanket from her legs. You kept an eye on her as she stalked back into the house. It was odd, she never napped this early in the day… Chalking it up to the stress, as she’d said earlier, you let her go. You stayed outside a little longer, but when the rain finally stopped, you picked up the two cups and the blanket, walking back inside. After putting everything back in its place, you went down the hallway, peeking in the bedroom to find her sound asleep under the thick duvet. You pulled the door shut, leaving just a small crack and went into the spare room. With a deep sigh, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and dropped into the leather chair, clicking Josh’s contact. As it began to ring, you sat back, thinking of how you were going to avoid the inevitable mess coming your way.

__________________________________________________

Her POV

Rolling over onto Jake’s side of the bed, you groaned, stretching your body out. The room was bathed in a warm glow, letting you know that the storm was long gone. Your hand traveled across the bed, finding your phone that was tucked beneath a pillow. It was after 1pm. You’d slept for a lot longer than you intended and you weren’t even sure why you were so tired to begin with. Dragging yourself from the bed, you had your mind set on a hot shower, but as you pulled the bedroom door open, a savory aroma coaxed you towards the kitchen. When you came around the corner of the kitchen doorway, you found Jake standing over the stove. “What are you making? It smells so good.” You came up behind him, looking over his shoulder into the cast iron skillet.

He half turned, pulling you into his side, giving you a better view of the food, “It’s just veggie stir fry.” You felt him kiss the top of your head before continuing, “You hungry, love? It’s almost done.” He stirred the various vegetables around the pan, wafting the scent throughout the room.

Reaching your fingers into the pan, you plucked out a steaming snap pea and popped it in your mouth. “I’m starving.” You mumbled around the food and went in for another piece but Jake caught your wrist.

“Baby, it’s hot.” He laughed as you fought out of his grip and grabbed a pepper. “Two more minutes, Y/N. Give me two minutes and I’ll have a plate for you.” He playfully shoved your shoulder and you pouted your lip at him, only to be met with a smirk and a shrug from him. You stomped your foot with a loud huff and went to the island behind Jake, hoisting yourself up to sit on the marbled countertop. The growling in your stomach was becoming more intense as you waited. You watched Jake stir the food a few more times before he cut the burner off and went to grab dishes. He looked so domestic. Hair pulled into a low bun, tiny tendrils falling free around his face. Loose, black linen pants with a lightweight shirt, only a few shades lighter. Of course he left the top couple buttons open, revealing his smooth chest, adorned with his staple Atocha coin hanging from his neck. He stood in front of you now, holding the plate he’d prepared for you. You took it out of his hands and placed it beside you on the counter. “Need silverware, love.” He pointed to the drawer that was blocked by your dangling legs.

“Ask nicely…” You gave him an expectant look with the raise of your eyebrows. Jake didn’t say anything, just grabbed your knees and pushed them apart, spreading them far enough for him to pull the drawer open and grab two forks. He pushed the drawer shut, stepping closer to you and fitting himself between your legs, looking up at you with a smug expression. He was so incredibly handsome, so sweet. Your hands came up to hold his face, so warm, as you gazed down into his mesmerizing brown eyes. He dropped the forks to the countertop and brought his hands to your hips with the softest touch. You pulled him in, lowering your mouth to his in a gentle kiss, pouring your heart into it. You could only hope that he felt your love, and you were sure he did because you could feel his. Felt it in the way his fingers squeezed into your skin, the way his pillowy lips moved against yours or how he inched closer until your chests were pressed so closely that you could’ve sworn your separate hearts were beating as one. The kiss carried on for a minute, but when you finally broke away and opened your eyes, they landed on the teardrop sitting on your ring finger. A smile tugged at your lips as you pulled your hands from his face. “Do I really get to marry you, Jacob?” You traced over the ring with your thumb before Jake took your hand in his.

He brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles and then one to the diamond. “Only if you really want to… No pressure.” He pinched your side, forcing a yelp out of you as you giggled. 

You stared up at the ceiling, scratching your chin and pretending to be deep in thought. “I mean, I guess that wouldn’t be the worst thing.” You dropped your eyes back to him, a giant grin over your face, “I can’t think of anything I want more, baby.” You pecked his lips swiftly before pushing him away and picking up your plate. “Except maybe this food…” Gathering a forkful of veggies, you took a bite as Jake turned back to the stove to get his own plate while grumbling a smart remark under his breath. He came back and leaned against the island, eating his food. You ate in silence, enjoying the delicious lunch that Jake had taken his time to prepare. After you finished, you hopped off of the countertop and padded to the sink, rinsing the dish off. “That was fucking perfect, baby.” You turned to face him, rubbing your hand over your tummy, “You should quit your day job and become a homebody, spend your time cooking for me. You’d make such a great stay-at-home dad. Taking care of the laundry and the kids and-” You stopped, realizing what you’d just said as Jake’s eyes blew wide. Fucking idiot. You wanted to slap yourself for not thinking before opening your mouth. “Jake, that’s not- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like-“ He looked away from you, staring into space as he sucked his lips in. “It was just supposed to be a joke, I wasn’t thinking about her…” Your voice was small as you spoke.

He looked back at you then, “That’s not something to joke about, Y/N…Not in this situation.” He pushed off of the counter and moved past you to put his plate in the sink.

“Jake, baby…” You put your hands on his waist but he pulled out of your hold, turning to face you.

“No. Do you realize how quickly this could ruin my life? My career?” He rubbed his hand aggressively over his face, but softened his tone, “I’m trying to stay calm and collected about this, for you, but I’m stressed out too… This affects both of us, I get that, but I think I have a little more that’s at risk here. This isn’t a joke.”

You recoiled at his statement, taking a few steps away from him. “You don’t think I understand how bad this can get?” You shook your head with an incredulous laugh. “I know how negatively something like that would affect your career, but to say it would ruin your life? Our life? That’s a bit egregious, Jake…” He didn’t mean it the way you took it, but you were still bubbling with anger. You began to walk away, but stopped and turned back to him. “And for the record, I meant our kids. Not you and fucking Sage. Is that so bad to imagine? Having a fucking family with me? Or would that ruin your life too?” Your voice was echoing in the kitchen. You weren’t sure when you started yelling or why, but your mood did a full 180 from the state of happiness you were in just moments ago. Jake opened his mouth to respond but you were already stalking out of the room.

He followed closely behind you and you tried to slam the bathroom door shut before he could make it in but he stopped it, slapping his palm against the wood. “Don’t walk away from me, Y/N.” His voice was still calm, but there was a certain edge to it. “You know damn well that I didn’t mean it like that.” You moved from the door, allowing him to push into the bathroom. He stared at you, standing in the middle of the room with your arms crossed over chest. “I’m at a high point in my career, you know that! Having kids isn’t in the plan, we never talked about that.”

“Can you just go, I wanna shower…” You were shooting daggers at him but he stayed planted. “Jake, GET OUT!” You pointed to the doorway behind him.

He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, clearly aggravated, but he kept the same even tone, “What is going on with you? How did this turn into a screaming match? Love, I don’t wanna fight with you.”

You dropped your head into your hands, “I don’t know. I just-” Your voice cracked, giving away the fact that you were about to start crying. “I know babies aren’t in the plan, but- Jake, as slim as the chance may be… The possibility that someone could have your first child and it’s not me…” You trailed off as the tears began to fall.

Jake closed the gap between you and lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him, “Y/N, there’s no babies. No kids. Put that out of your head, focus on this.” He gestured between the two of you, “Forget what I said about my life being ruined. As far as my career goes, my fans and my family will support me no matter what… But as long as you’re in my life, nothing could ruin it.” He brushed his thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear.

You sniffled, nodding your head, “Okay.” Using the back of your hand, you scrubbed at your face, clearing the rest of the tears. “I’m sorry… I don’t know why I’m crying.” You laughed quietly through more sniffles.

“These mood swings are giving me whiplash, baby.” He pulled you into a hug as you laughed a little harder, “God, you drive me crazy…”

______________________________________________________

Jake joined you for your shower, but now that it was done, he had left. He had a meeting with his brothers and told you it would probably turn into a late practice. You took a bit of time to clean up the house and catch up on the laundry that was accumulating. By the time you settled into the couch to find something to watch on tv, it was almost 6pm. You clicked the power button on the remote, and the tv lit up, already in the middle of a movie. Pitch Perfect. You allowed it to play, enjoying the humor and the music in it. It came to the scene of the riff off and the main guy started singing ‘Feels Like the First Time,” instantly sending you into a flashback. You and Sage winding and grinding in the middle of the bar while the song played loudly over the speakers. The night you’ve been wishing you could erase from existence for weeks now. You shut the tv off and tossed the remote to the opposite side of the couch. Picking your phone up, you released a deep breath and opened up her text thread. You stared at the last message she’d sent for a few seconds before finally bringing up the keyboard and typing.

You 6:08pm: i would appreciate the chance to talk to you about this.

You 6:09pm: in person.

You waited for a reply that wasn’t coming as your messages stayed on ‘delivered.’ You dropped your phone to the couch, ready to just call it a night and climb into bed, when you heard the notification chime. Snatching the phone up, you fumbled to unlock it, but it wasn’t Sage.

Odessa 6:17pm: i’m bored. you wanna come over for a movie night? i have wine😏

You giggled at the message, typing out a reply.

You 6:18pm: putting on my jammies and RUNNING. be there soon with snacks😘

Jumping up from the sofa, you waltzed to your bedroom and changed into your comfiest sweatpants and a cropped tank top. You made a quick pit stop in the pantry to grab a few bags of chips and some candies and chocolate, stuffing it all into a tote bag. You walked out of the house, locked the door behind you and got into your car. Starting the engine, you made sure to send Jake a text, letting him know what you were doing, and began your drive to Odessa’s.

Rush hour traffic had died down almost completely though the city, so the ride didn’t take long at all. As you pulled up in front of the house, she was already bounding down the walkway to meet you. “Babe, you got here so fast! Do you need help with anything?”

You climbed out of the car with the tote bag and closed the door. “No, I don’t need help, Dess.” She pulled you into a tight hug and yanked you up the path to the front door. Once inside, you slid your shoes off and turned to Odessa holding the bag up, “Where do you want this? I brought a variety.”

She leaned over the bag, peering into it, “Oooooh. Just take it straight up to my room, I have the bed made up for us.” She pointed towards the staircase as she began walking in the opposite direction, “I’m gonna grab the wine and I’ll be right up.” You watched as she disappeared through a doorway and followed her instructions to head upstairs. You stepped into her and Danny’s bedroom, illuminated with twinkling fairy light around the perimeter of the ceiling. Very on brand for Odessa. The was littered with pillows and blankets, way more than just the two of you would ever use, but she was nothing if not an overachiever. You chuckled to yourself at the sight and dropped the bag to the bed. “Why are you just standing here? Get comfortable!” Her voice startled you as she came into the room.

You threw your hands up, “I don’t know where you want to sit! I was waiting for you.”

She moved to the bed, placing the bottle of wine and two stemless glasses on the nightstand beside it. “I don’t care, babe. Sit wherever you want and I will find my place around you.” She popped the cork and poured the deep red liquid into the cups.

You crawled on the bed, crossing your legs beneath you and sat down just as she offered you a glass, “Thank you, hun!” Odessa climbed into the bed next to you, pulling a pillow into her lap. You took a sip of the wine and turned to her, “So what are we gonna watch?”

She picked the remote up, pointing it at the tv, “What are you in the mood for? Something scary? Action packed with some shirtless, hunky men?” You laughed as she wiggled her eyebrows at you. “You’re probably looking for something romantic, huh? The Proposal… The Wedding Planner… Bridesmaids…”

“Dess!” Your grin grew so large it was almost painful, “Ughh. I still can’t believe it.” Setting your cup on the nightstand, you fell backwards, letting your head hit the pillows, and held your hand in the air above you, gazing at the ring.

Odessa followed you, laying down and staring up at your hand. Her head was leaning into yours as she grabbed your hand, pulling it closer to her face, “My GOD, this is gorgeous! I wanna eat it!” Her finger traced around the shape of the stone. “Daniel better have explosions and fireworks when he decides to put a ring on it, because Jake set the bar high.” She paused for a beat before dropping your hand, “You guys left so fast last night, I didn’t get a chance to really gush over it.”

You sat up abruptly, “Uhhh, yeah.” She shot up after you, giving you a questioning look. “So, I got this text last night… That’s why we ran out of there…” You picked your phone up from the bed and opened the messages then handed it to her. Her eyes went wide as she read it, drifting up to you and then back at the phone.

“This is- I mean, no? Right?” She stammered through her words as she processed the single text.

You shrugged, “I- We don’t think it’s true. Jake had a condom on, and it wasn’t broken so…”

Odessa dropped your phone to the bed, “Y/N, the tiniest pinhole in a condom can make all the difference… Are you sure there-“

“No. Dess, there’s no way. She’s- She just-“ You couldn’t get your mouth to form a proper sentence as the now familiar nausea started in your stomach. “I tried to get her to talk to me… She won’t answer my text.” Raking a hand through your hair, you took a composing breath, “Jake is freaked. He hides it well, but I know him… Me? In my heart, I don’t believe her, not for a second. She’s done nothing but manipulate me since I met her and I think it all goes back to this weird obsession she has with my boyfriend.”

“Fiancée.” Odessa corrected in a taunting tone, instantly lightening the mood. “If you don’t think she’s being real, then she probably isn’t. Shit, she was my best friend and I’m realizing that I didn’t know her at all.” She shrugged, picking her wine up to take a drink. “But as far as talking to her goes, I bet I could get her to come here, if you want me to?”

“If you think she’ll come, yeah. Do it, text her.”

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and you watched as she began typing, brows pulled together in concentration. “I asked her to come over for a movie night, told her I missed her.” She hit the send button and you both waited quietly for a response. Her phone vibrated almost immediately and she scanned the screen. “She’ll be here in a half hour. What are you gonna say to her?”

“Well, I can’t flat out ask her if it’s true.” You looked down at your hands, poking at the fresh cut on your palm. “She’s just gonna stand in front of me and tell me that she’s pregnant, lie or not. I don’t have a way to prove her wrong.”

Odessa’s eyes squinted as if she was thinking hard, “I might have an idea…” She didn’t elaborate, just hopped up from the bed and walked into the en suite bathroom. When she didn’t come back right away, you followed her trail to find her rummaging through drawers. Her hands landed on a box and she pulled it out, closing the drawer. “This could work.” She shrugged, holding up a box of pregnancy tests.

“Dess, why do you have those laying around? Are you-?” You watched as she shook her head, a horrified look on her face. 

She placed the box on the sink and walked back into the bedroom, explaining as she went. “As I said, condoms aren’t always reliable… Sometimes they break on me and Danny. I just like to be prepared, yanno?” She shrugged as she sat back on the bed. “I don’t wanna wait until I’m violently vomiting and angry all the time with raging hormones to find out if I’m pregnant.”

You climbed back into your spot on the bed as well, picking up your wine to take a few sips. “You don’t use birth control?”

Odessa was digging through the bag of snacks that you’d brought as she answered your question. “Nope. I took the pills when I was younger, but they had a lot of negative effects on my body.” She grabbed the bag of BBQ chips and broke them open, popping one into her mouth. “I didn’t think it was worth it, so I stopped. And I know there’s different forms of it now, but Danny, he and I are always careful.”

The smell of the potato chips wafted in your face as she reached back into the bag. You couldn’t hide the grimace on your face, “Eww. Those smell wretched, Dess.” You pushed her hand away from you to get away from the scent. 

She gave you a look of confusion, “What do you mean? They taste so good!” She held a chip up to your face, waving it around, “What’s wrong with them?” A gag crept up your throat and you clamped your hand over your mouth to stop anything that might come up with it. Odessa dropped the chip back into the bag and rolled it up, moving it far away from you to the nightstand. “Fuck, babe. Are you pregnant?” She joked, laughing softly.

“What? No. I’m not pr-“ You shook your head a little too fast and Odessa noticed.

“Y/N… Are you?” She eyed you cautiously now, eyebrows raised high.

You shook your head again, a bit slower this time. “No… I’m on birth control, there’s no way.” You were convincing yourself more than her. After the way Jake reacted at the mention of babies earlier? You couldn’t be.

She moved her head, forcing you to catch her eyes, “Babe, that’s still not 100% effective if you forget to take it…”

“I get the Depo shots. No room for error or forgetting.” You looked down at your phone, “I should have an appointment coming up, actually.” You scanned your calendar for a posted appointment date, but nothing was there. A feeling of dread crept through your body as you scrolled up, sifting through past weeks. “Fuck.”

“What?” Odessa leaned in, peeking over your phone screen to find what you were looking at. “Fill me in here, I’m lost.”

You opened your mouth and closed it a few times, unable to gather your thoughts. “I missed my appointment in June…” Your eyes darted back and forth, trying to come up with an explanation as to how you could be so careless. “I- It must’ve been when everyone was on vacation… I was working so much, barely even thought to eat most days…” You pushed your hands into your hair, balling them up into fists. “I can’t be. Jake, he- This can’t happen, it’s so wrong.”

Your breathing became labored, a tight feeling constricting your chest. “Hey, Y/N, just relax.” Odessa was rubbing her hand down your back in a soothing manner, “Don’t freak out until you know for sure. And you have options to decide what’s best for the both of you. Either way, Jake will understand, I’m sure.”

“No, he won’t. He- Fuck, I’ve been so sick lately and I-” You stood form the bed, looking back on the past couple of days as you paced back and forth. “He’ll be so mad… He doesn’t want…this…” You stopped, motioning to your belly.

“Okay, babe.” Odessa was at your side, holding your shoulders. “Let’s get you some peace of mind and we’ll go from there, alright?” She took your hand, pulling you back towards the bathroom. She released you as you crossed over the threshold and went to the sink to pick up the box, pulling the plastic package out of it. “Come here.”

You took slow steps towards her as she ripped the wrapper open, revealing the stick inside. “Dess, I don’t think I wanna know.” You hugged your arms around yourself, trying to contain your anxiety. “And what about Sage? When she gets here… the test?”

She shook her head, “There’s two more in the box, don’t worry about her right now.” She grabbed your hand again, placing the stick in your palm. “You know how to use this?” All you could muster was a slight nod. “Honey, if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to… But I’ll give you a few minutes alone to decide, okay?”

She patted your shoulder softly and moved around you to exit the bathroom, “Odessa, wait…” You caught her hand before it dropped from your arm. “Just stay with me? Please?”

Her smile was warm and comforting as she turned back to you, “Of course, babe.”

You took a deep inhale, blowing the air out in a gust as you shuffled to the toilet, slid your pants down and sat. Odessa gave you a reassuring nod and you pulled the blue cap from the stick as you started to pee. Your hands were shaking and you tried to keep them as steady as you could while placing the test between your legs to catch the stream. You held it for a few seconds before pulling it back and clicking the cap back over it. Your stomach was in knots as you finished, standing up and moving to the sink. You put the test facedown and washed your hands, feeling slightly dizzy. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out…”

“You do look a little pale, hun.” She swiped the hair from your neck, “I’m gonna go grab you some water, just sit down for a minute.” You watched her walk out of the bathroom and slid to the floor, listening to her footsteps descending the staircase. The minutes seemed to tick by in slow motion, stretching out and filling you with more dread as they passed. You rubbed your hands over your pant legs, trying to wipe away the sweat that was accumulating on your palms, but it was no use. Were you ready to be a mom? Your mind went to Jake. If this test did come back positive, how could you tell him? Would he even want you anymore? You pushed the negative thoughts way out of your head and stood up. You stared at the stick, laying upside down, obstructing the view of the small screen. The thing that held the weight of your future within a single word or two. You waited for Odessa to come back, not wanting to be alone when you flipped the test over to reveal the results, but several minutes had passed and she hadn’t returned. You grasped the stick in your fist and held it tight as you walked out of the room, heading for the stairs. Just as you reached the top of them, a voice halted you in your tracks.

“Dess, you’re my best friend… You’re supposed to be on my side.”

You listened intently, trying to hear Odessa’s response. “I want to believe that you’re not this twisted, Sage. But what you did… what you’re doing… It’s sick.”

“I didn’t do anything! Y/N is putting shit in your head! Manipulating you the same way she does Jake!” You almost went barrelling down the steps, but Odessa was at your defense.

“Don’t you dare! She would never, Sage.” Her voice held a threatening tone that you’d never heard from her before. “You need to let this go. Let this fucking obsession you have with him go…”

“Odessa…”

“Sage, STOP!” As long as you’ve known Odessa, you have never heard her raise her voice like this, not out of anger. She was always such a peaceful person. “You’re not actually pregnant, are you? This is just a fucking game to you, isn’t it? God, that’s despicable.” The disdain was clear in her tone.

You inched closer, moving down a few steps as Sage’s voice rang out aggressively, “You don’t know what you’re talking about! This is all-”

She cut Sage off, spitting her words with venom, “Then come upstairs. Take a test and fucking prove it to me! Stop trying to tear their lives apart!”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you or anyone! This is between me and Jake!”

You were rushing down the stairs in a fury now. Odessa was countering as you were rounding the corner into the kitchen where they stood. “Give it up, Sage! Jake will never want you! They’re getting married for Christ's sake!” She had her hands on her head as if the conversation was driving her mad. “You’re acting insane! You can’t actually think that he wants anything to do with you?!”

“That’s not true, Odessa…and I’m not crazy.” The floor creaked as you came into view and Sage’s eyes immediately connected with yours before falling to your hand, catching a glimpse of the ring. “No… I don’t believe that, it’s not real.” She shook her head, meeting your stare. “I know he wants to be with me, you’re just in the way.” Her voice was quiet now as she eyed you with disgust.

“You’re out of your fucking mind, Sage. You need serious psychological help.” It took everything for you to stay collected when all you wanted was to pounce across the kitchen and slap the look off of her face. “Cut the goddamn act and get a fucking grip!” You didn’t realize that you were waving your hands around, but Sage did.

She locked onto the pregnancy test, gripped tightly in your right fist. “What the fuck is that?” She pointed to the stick, taking a few strides closer to you. “What the fuck is that?” She repeated the question, now only foot in front of you.

Entirely fed up with her, you held the test up, finally staring down at the small screen. A huff of disbelief left your mouth with a wicked smirk as you looked back to her, “Well…One of us is pregnant.” You shoved the test into her chest, prompting her to grab it, “And I think we both know it’s not you.”

She stared at the stick for a moment and when she looked back up, she was seething. “No. No, it doesn’t matter.” You watched her toss it to the floor, “It’s not his… It’s probably Sam’s. I know you’ve been sleeping with him and Jake knows it too! I made sure of that!”

“So it was you. Those messages, the picture? That fucking video?” The back of your hand cracked across her face before you could stop it. “You scheming little tramp! What were you hoping to achieve with that, huh?”

Sage’s hands shot out, shoving you in the chest, “Don’t fucking touch me!” She was moving by you as you stumbled, slightly. “He’ll see right through it.” Her finger pointed at your stomach. “And when he does, he’ll come to me.” She was out of the kitchen and heading for the door.

You gained your footing and started after her but Odessa stopped you, “Let her go, babe. She’s a psycho.” The front door slammed shut and you were breathing hard, trying to process everything that just happened. When you were quiet for a minute, the concern was clear in Odessa’s voice. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

“No… I don’t think I am.” You swallowed the sickness rising in your throat. “I’m pregnant.” Your palm went to your belly.

“Oh, hun.” She led you over to the breakfast nook in the corner and sat you on the bench, “Everything is gonna be okay.” She spoke so gently, “I don’t know how you’re feeling right now, but I do know that this is heavy news for anyone to receive. Everything you’re feeling is valid”

You chewed on your lip as you began crying, “How am I gonna tell Jake? He-” Your body shook with shuddering breaths, “The mention of a baby alone sent him into a spiral. He doesn’t want-” There was no way he would have a positive reaction to this. “I can’t do this if it means losing him, Dess.” The thought made your heart hurt.

“Y/N, I told you, you have options.” She was kneeling in front of you, rubbing your knee, “But you can’t properly weigh those options until you talk to Jake first.” A sob ripped from your chest and she moved to sit beside you, hugging you to her. “I know you’re scared, babe… But you have to give that boy more credit.” She laid her cheek on your head, running her hand over your hair in an attempt to calm you, “He is absolutely and entirely in love with you, nothing can change that. No matter what he’s said about the subject before, he’s gonna have a different opinion now that it’s for real.”

You tried to take her words into consideration, but there was still a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that this was going to end in disaster. “I don’t- I can’t be- the-” You hiccuped through your sobs, trying to get your thoughts out, “I can’t be the… r-reason that h-”

“Shh. Just calm down for a minute, babe. Breathe.” You closed your eyes, listening to her soft, sweet voice coax you into a state of tranquility. When you finally relaxed into her, she spoke up again, a hint of a smile in the way she talked, “For the record, I think you’d be a badass mom…”

A chuckle tumbled from your mouth as you pulled away from her, wiping your eyes. “Thank you, Dess. For comforting me, for standing up to Sage.” You flung your arms around her, “For everything. You’re really the best friend anyone could ask for.” She hugged you back, telling you that she loved you. “I love you too… I should go get my phone and see if Jake is still at the studio.” You pointed upstairs as you stood from the bench. She gave you a nod and you turned to head out of the kitchen. As you walked into the bedroom, your phone was already ringing. You dug around on the bed, trying to find it in the pile of pillows and blankets. When you finally found it, a number you didn’t recognize was on the screen. Swiping the green button, you answered, “Hello?”

A man’s voice came through the other end, “Hi. Is this Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Uhh, yeah, this is her… Who is calling?”

He cleared his throat, “This is Matt. I own the garage space that you rent.” There was a pause before he continued, “Something- Uhh… The garage caught on fire.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You felt like you couldn’t process what he was saying. “The garage caught on fire? No… My food truck, it-”

He cut you off, “Fire department is here now, they got the fire out but-”

“But what?” Your mouth was dry as you tried to swallow your panic. “Is the truck okay? What’s the-”

“You’d better just get down here to survey the damage, I’m not sure how bad it is…”

You hung up the phone and rushed down the steps, fumbling to get your shoes on. Odessa heard the commotion and came out of the kitchen with a grin, “You rushing off to share the news?” Her face dropped when she saw your frazzled appearance. “Babe, what happened?”

“There was a fire at the garage. I- Fuck.” You dug through your purse for your keys. “They don’t know if the truck was damaged. I gotta go.” Your hands caught a key ring, pulling them from the bag.

Odessa was sliding her shoes on now, “Shit, let me go get my keys, I’ll follow you down there.” She went back to the kitchen in a hurry, returning seconds later with her own keys in hand. “Come on.” She ushered you out the door, pulling it shut behind her.

She broke away from you, moving towards her car in the driveway to your right as you jogged down the path to get into your own car. You started it up, your hands trembling harder than they’ve been all night, and pulled out on the street, making your way towards the city. You drove in silence, praying to any God that would listen for the truck to be unscathed. In light of everything going on, all the uncertainties that could bring your life down in shambles, this was something you couldn’t fathom. Next to losing Jake, losing the business that you’ve worked so hard to build would be the worst thing that could happen to you. Your eyes flashed to the rear view mirror, spotting Odessa’s headlights as she trailed behind you. You were flying down the road, only minutes away from the garage at this point. It felt like you caught every single red light through the city as you came to it. Sitting at a light, you thought about calling Jake, asking him to meet you at the garage. If it was as bad as you felt it might be, Jake would be the only thing that could keep you together. Just as you reached for the phone, the light turned green. You put your hand back on the wheel and moved your foot from the brake, pressing the gas. There were two more lights before the turn to the garage and you willed them to stay green, to just let you pass without hindrance. Coming up on the second to last light, it was red and as you tapped the brake, preparing to stop, it changed to green and you hit the gas, accelerating towards it. You were coasting through the intersection when you turned your head, catching a pair of headlights coming at you from the left. There was no time to react before the sudden impact sent your car rolling and, in the blink of an eye, everything went black.

______________________________________________________

Jake POV

You could feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. Placing the pick between your teeth, you dug it from your pocket, observing the name on the screen. You put your guitar down, resting it in the stand and spit the pick into your palm. “Daniel, why is your girlfriend calling me?”

He shrugged, pulling his own phone from his pocket, “I don’t know, maybe I missed her call? Isn’t Y/N with her? Maybe it’s her calling?”

That thought hadn’t crossed your mind. You slid the green icon and brought the phone up to your ear, “Hello?”

“Jake? Can you hear me?”

You tried to hide your disappointment at the sound of Odessa’s voice rather than your girl’s. “Odessa? Yeah, what’s up?”

Something about her tone made you feel uneasy, “Uhh… It ummm.” She was panicking, “It’s Y/N, Jake… There was an accident, she-”

“What do you mean? What kind of accident, Odessa?” Your voice was shaking, “Where is she, let me talk to her.” Your brothers were all standing around you now, trying to find out what was going on.

“She can’t- Jake, she’s not-” You could hear her crying through the phone as she stuttered.

“No. Don’t fucking tell me- Where. Is. She?” Josh was whispering something to you, but all you could focus on were the sounds of sirens on Odessa’s end.

She sniffled, and took a breath, “They’re taking her to the hospital… It’s bad, Jake. Really bad.” She paused, like she was holding something back. “She’s- Oh God…” All you could hear were her heavy sobs now.

A sick feeling was rippling through your insides, your voice felt far away as you spoke, “She’s what? Odessa, tell me what the fuck happened!” Danny put his hand on your shoulder, telling you to bring your tone down but you shrugged him off. You moved around the studio, gathering your things in a frenzy when Odessa’s voice finally came back.

“It was Sage… She hit her and the car rolled. It all happened so fast, I don’t know…She was unconscious when they took her.”

You froze, feeling lightheaded, “Which hospital?” Her cries were back and you could tell she was trying to calm herself to answer you, but your patience was gone at this point, “Which fucking hospital, Odessa?!” You felt yourself flinch at your harsh tone as she mumbled out the name of the hospital. “I’m going now.”

“Jake, wait!” She yelled before you could hang up, when she realized you were still on the line, she continued, “Y/N, she- s-she’s pregnant, Jake.” 

Your hand dropped from your ear, taking the phone with it. The world stopped spinning and you stopped with it, frozen in place as her last word sunk in. Josh was in front of you, gently shaking your shoulders, “Jake! Look at me!” Your eyes focused on him, “What happened to Y/N?”

“I have to go, I gotta get to the hospital, she’s-” You tried to move past him, but he held onto you. “Josh, let me go, I have to-”

“Jake, let one of us drive you, you’re not getting behind the wheel like this.” You nodded in agreement and your twin grabbed his keys, following you out the door.

Josh sped through the city to get you to the hospital. Your heart was in your throat the whole time, thinking about how fast everything could end. Tears were falling from your chin and you wiped at them with your sleeve, unsure of when you started crying. When he finally pulled up to the emergency room entrance, you jumped out of the passenger seat and ran into the building. You looked around frantically for anybody that could just help you get to her.

A nurse came up, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Are you alright, sir? Can I help you with something?”

You whipped around to face her, “My girlf- Uhhh. Fiancée. My fiancée was in an accident.” You dragged your hand over your face, trying to form a coherent sentence. “I need to see her, I just-. Is she okay? Can I see her?”

“Sweetie, calm down.” She tried to sooth you with her voice, “We just had a few come in from a car accident, I can help you find her, okay?”

You nodded your head at her. Josh had parked the car and was coming through the doors now, “Jake, did you find her? Is she-”

The nurse cut him off, “Oh… Is your name Jacob Kiszka?”

Your eyes went wide as you met hers, “Yes. I- That’s me.”

“Oh, honey.” She held her hand over her chest as relief washed over her face, “Your fiancée is just fine, only a few scrapes. She’ll be sore for a few days, but she’s been practically begging for you since she came in.” She turned around, gesturing for you to follow her, “I’ll take you right to her, I’m sure she’ll feel a lot better seeing you.

You glanced at Josh, not quite feeling relief yet, and fell into step behind the nurse. Odessa made it seem so much worse, but she’s okay… She’s safe. But Odessa’s last words bounced around in your mind, causing you to address the woman. “She was- She’s pregnant…” It felt weird to say it outloud. “Is she- The baby… Is- Are they both okay?” You didn’t expect the fear that settled on you as you waited for her confirmation.

She stopped in front of a door and pulled a clipboard from the wall beside it. “Sweetie, her bloodwork and scan don’t show any signs of a pregnancy.” Her brow furrowed as she scanned over the papers, “I don’t see anything here regarding that. Those at home tests aren’t always reliable…” She tucked the clipboard back into its place and gripped the door handle, pushing it open. The nurse was blocking your view of her as she stepped into the room. “I have someone here for you, honey.” You tried to move around her, but she was planted in the doorway as she talked to her, “He’s just as eager to see you as you are to see him.”

She finally moved further into the room, stepping aside so you could get a glimpse of her, sitting in the hospital bed. “Jake, babe, I-”

Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard and you cut her off before she could keep talking, “What the fuck is this?” You stared at Sage in disgust. “You’re fucking demented, you know that?”

The nurse looked back and forth between you and her, trying to understand what was going on. “Mr. Kiszka, she-”

“She’s fucking crazy! That’s not my girlfriend! She’s the one that caused the accident!” Your voice was echoing off the walls now, “Where the fuck is Y/N?”

The woman’s eyes went wide as Sage tried to hide behind her curtain of hair, “The other girl is- Oh, sweetie…”

No…

.

.

.

.

.

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[nagito-kissmaeda]

Community Gardens - Komaeda/Reader

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO [here]

Word Count: 4734

Contains: No warnings as of yet Summary: You were a member of the reserve course before everything went to hell. Now you’re helping the Future Foundation by tending to a small farm on Jabberwock Island, the real Ultimate Farmer was busy, so you will have to do.

The last member of class 77-B has just woken up, and he has questions.

AKA: A talentless reader teaches Komaeda about the smaller things in life, and maybe they fall in love.

Read on Ao3

The classroom is empty, but for you and the inky black hands hiding in the shadows. Reaching out with long grasping fingers that pass right through your flesh like you aren't even there, voices whisper close to you, pressing their cold lips against your cheeks, your throat. Fingers trail down your spine and sink their nails into your vertebrae. 

A set of hazel eyes turn to you. The form they reside in shifts and changes like dye poured into water, indiscernible but for those eyes. Their desk drips with blood like it is alive. You gasp for air, looking down at where your own hands are clasped around your throat, squeezing tighter and tighter as rivulets of blood spill out over your fingers, dying them a permanent red. You can't breathe. You can’t-

It’s with a jolt that you finally wake up from the familiar nightmare. A cold sweat slowly drips down the nape of your neck, catching the cool night breeze sneaking in through the open window. Your voice catches in your throat and you cup a hand over your mouth, sobbing loudly into your palm. This dream has been a constant companion since the tragedy, you’re lucky to get four hours of sleep most nights.

You squeeze your eyes shut and rub them with the heels of your palms trying to force the images lingering in the corners of your vision to dissipate. Your limbs are shaking, and you can feel your heart racing. There’s no way that you’ll be able to get back to sleep if you don’t manage to calm down. So you take a deep breath in through your nose and swing your shaky legs over the side of the bed. Your bare knees are covered with scrapes and bruises from accidents around the farm, or from kneeling on the hard ground for too long. Your calves are covered in bites from strange insects that live on the island, and a particularly nasty cut that you didn't want to bother Tsumiki about. 

It hurts when you slap your hands against your cheeks, but it does manage to wake you up a little more, you can feel your legs swaying underneath you when you finally stand up. Knees wobbling, as your body prepares itself to run from something that isn't actually there. You push your hair back from your face and sigh as you head out the front door of your small cottage to stand on the porch. It’s just on the outskirts of the farm, overlooking some of the flowerbeds that you planted when you had some time to spare. Koizumi likes to come around and take photos of the honeybees sometimes, so it’s nice to know the flowers have been useful.

The cool ocean air blows through your hair and dances around your bare legs. You take a deep breath in through your nose and look up at the sky. The stars are beautiful on the island, much more beautiful than they even had been in the city. It isn't until you feel the wetness of tears rolling down your cheeks that you realise you’ve been crying.

“I didn't expect to see you this late.” A voice says, startling you, “I hope I didn't wake you.”

Komaeda is standing just beyond the flowerbeds, soft white hair blowing in the breeze. It looks even messier than usual like he has been tossing and turning for hours. The moonlight catches in his curls like dewdrops on a spider’s web. 

“Oh, hello!” You say, hurriedly wiping away your tears with the back of your hand and replacing them with a smile, “I didn't expect to see you either. Are you doing okay?”

“Fine, thank you.” Komaeda says, his ghostly green eyes digging into the marrow of your bones, “How are you?”

You know that he caught you crying and yet, you still lie, “I’m doing great, thank you for asking!” 

“Ah, then I guess you were just having trouble sleeping?”

It feels like he is interrogating you. Needling you. Nails are digging sharp into your palms as you watch him cross the flowerbeds to meet you on the porch. When he’s close enough, you notice the heavy bags under his eyes, and the slowed blinking of his tired eyes. You melt, all tension leaving your shoulders as you reach out towards his face. Quickly thinking better of it and letting your hand drop back to your side. You swallow. 

“You look so tired.” You whisper, “Did something happen, Komaeda-san?”

He laughs, a wheezy little noise that makes his shoulders quiver, “You know what happened. I can tell you aren't sleeping either.”

“I am sleeping.” You say

“Ah, but not very well. Am I right?”

“No. Not very well.” you sigh, “but this isn't about me, I'm worried about you.”

“I haven't been sleeping at all.” His mouth curls into a sad imitation of a smile, lips only tugging up on one side like anything more than that would be painful, “Nightmares. Best to stay awake.”

You find yourself nodding. The last thing you want to do is burden Komaeda with your problems when he already has plenty of his own. So instead you manage to give him a small smile and gesture back into your cottage, “Do you want something to drink? I have tea.”

“Tea sounds good, thank you.”

He follows behind you as you head back in through the front door, ducking under the dried flowers you have hanging from the ceiling. The cottage is very small, and really not designed for entertaining, you surmised that it once must have housed the Jabberwock island groundskeeper, back when it was a tourist destination, “Take a seat and I’ll boil the kettle, it shouldn't be too long.”

Komaeda sits gingerly in one of the wooden chairs sitting by your small kitchen table, you can hear him gently rapping his fingers against the tabletop, “I’m sorry for intruding.” Komaeda says, laughing airily to himself as the tapping of his fingers grows faster, “I walk by here at night because I know I won't run into anyone.”

“Anyone except me.” You reply, grabbing two chipped teacups from a cabinet, “Sugar?”

“Ah, no. Thank you.” Komaeda clears his throat and leans forward on his elbows, “Allow me to clarify my previous statement though, please. I---ah, I meant that I wouldn't run into anyone I didn't want to see me.”

There’s a pleasant tingling in your fingertips when he says that, but you try to ignore it.

“Your being talentless, it…” he takes a long breath in through his nose, “It means I am able to discuss certain things with you that I would not feel…” His brow furrows like he is trying to think of the right word, and he eventually settles on, “ comfortable talking to the other ultimates about.”

You aren’t sure how to respond. Your heart is beating hard but slowly in your chest, an anticipation is building inside of you. The kettle finishes boiling, and suddenly the room feels deathly quiet, “Do you...want milk?”

“Yes, please.” Komaeda breathes

As you walk over to your very sparse fridge, you watch Komaeda from the corner of your eye, “I’m glad that you feel comfortable around me, but I don't understand why you can’t talk to your fellow ultimates about these things.” you grab the bottle of milk from the fridge and move it to the counter where you start preparing the tea, “I’m sure they would be glad to help, I mean, I know that Hinata-san is worried about you.”

He seems to grow smaller in his chair, sinking into himself, “I am…not ready.” You hum thoughtfully, placing the chipped teacup on the table in front of him before taking your own seat. The tea is still a little too hot and you burn your tongue, “It’s going to take time, it took time for the others as well.” “It isn’t just what happened in the Neo World Program.” He replies, a nervous twitchy smile appears on his lips, “Or even what happened in Towa City, there is something…aha…something sickly inside of me, something dark and--and--” His breath is coming faster now, but it doesn't frighten you. One of your hands reaches out and rests on top of his. It's like he comes to his senses, blinking quickly and tugging his hand away.

“I--I think I am…” his arms slowly curl around himself, and his eyes turn down to the ground, “I am using you...to work through some, ah... personal problems. 

“Oh.” You reply, your heart turning to warm butter in your chest, “Well I--uh. I don’t mind being used…If it helps”

Komaeda laughs under his breath, “You… don’t mind?” he laughs some more, it makes his bony shoulders shake, “What is wrong with you?” You don’t know how to answer that, “I’m not sure.”

His hands are still shaking when he picks up his teacup, “I’ve been nothing but dismissive of you, what do you gain from this?” he whispers before raising the cup to his lips. 

In the dim light of your kitchen, you can see the way his bony knuckles protrude from his skin, the sickly blue veins hiding just below the surface. His thin hand quivers as he takes a sip, but he moves with a practiced grace and elegance despite his weakness. 

“I like seeing you happy.” 

Komaeda’s eyes widen, peering at you from over the rim of his teacup, “You…like seeing me happy.” He repeats slowly like he is committing the words to memory. 

Your heart races and you are terrified that you might have overstepped one of his delicate boundaries, “If I can help you find some joy in this world, then-” you swallow, hands clenching and unclenching under the table, “Well, that would mean I've done something wonderful.”

His teacup clinks when Komaeda places it back down, “What if I can’t? What if there’s no joy left for me?” You give him a wobbly smile, and ignore the beginnings of tears prickling in your eyes, “You won’t know if you don’t try!”

***

You are surprised when you see Komaeda walking towards the farm only a day after your last conversation. Usually, his visits are at least a week apart, but you are not at all disappointed to see him earlier. A new shipment from the foundation must have finally arrived because he is now wearing a shirt that actually fits him. It dips tantalizingly low at the collar, low enough that you catch the slice of both his collarbones. 

“Good morning, Komaeda-san!” You call out to him, waving from where you are crouched by a garden bed.

He raises his hand in greeting, and comes to stand beside you, “what are you doing today?” He asks

You hum to yourself, watering some barely sprouting red cabbages, “Watering and then hanging some netting up around the fruits that are coming in.” You shoot Komaeda a sunny smile, “The blueberries are almost ready! Which is very exciting, but does mean we need to keep them safe from birds and fruit flies.”

Komaeda nods, “Necessitating the netting.”

“Bingo!” You stand up and wipe your dirty palms on your knees, “For now, do you want to grab the spare watering can? As always, I’d appreciate the help.”

He does as asked, he knows exactly where you keep the spare and is quick to help you start watering the vegetables. There’s something tense and shaky between the two of you, the conversation in your cottage was more personal than any other you’ve had, and to see him again so quickly leaves you feeling especially fragile. 

His hair is tied up today, and you find yourself tantalized by the expanse of his bare neck for reasons you’d rather not acknowledge just yet. Solidifying these feelings might be the end for you, and knowing your track record, might drag him down with you. Komaeda needs someone to look after him, and if he isn't ready to let his friends do that for him, you’ll suffice for now. Not that you mind, you’re honored to have been given the chance. 

“How much longer did you say you would be staying with us?” Komaeda asks suddenly, not looking up from the garden bed. 

You’re surprised by the question, unsure why he would care to ask, “Probably just a month from now, maybe longer if Souda-san hasn’t gotten irrigation sorted by then.” You turn to look at him, and notice that he is still avoiding your eyes. You swallow, “Why?”

His eyes dart to meet yours, and then back down just as quickly, “Everyone is going to miss you.” You freeze, gripping tightly to the handle of your watering can. After a few deep breaths, you force a smile, “There’s no reason for them to miss me! Not when they’ll have you to look after the garden instead.” Komaeda stops watering, he stands up straight and his eyes are firm when he looks down at you, “You know that isn’t what I meant.”

You laugh, trying to ignore the aching, “What else could you possibly mean? Come on, I have to get the netting set up and it’s going to be tough without an extra set of hands.”

The awkward feeling gets worse. You head over to a nearby shed and pull out several feet of rolled up netting, Komaeda follows quietly behind you as you make your way over to the plot of fruits you have growing. The berry bushes and fruit trees had some time to grow on the mainland, so most of them are almost ready for their first harvest after just two months. You kneel down in front of the blueberries and smile as the small green growths that (given proper care) will be proper edible food very soon. 

“The hard work has paid off, huh?” You say to Komaeda, “Thanks for all your help these past few weeks, it’s been nice to have company.”

Komaeda doesn't say anything in reply, he just gives you a look that you have trouble interpreting. His brows pull tight, and the curve of his mouth almost reads sad . 

“It’s okay if you aren’t in the mood to help, today.” You suggest tentatively, “Just let me know, okay?”

Komaeda laughs breathily, “ I’m fine. I can help.”

“Alrighty, then.” You pull yourself up from the ground and pass Komaeda one end of the netting and some garden pegs, “Just pull that to the other side of the plot, over the top of the plants. The pegs just go into the dirt, it’s pretty loose so a firm push should be enough to get them in.”

Nodding quickly, Komaeda lifts the netting up and over the blueberries, settling into a crouch on the other side as he starts securing it. You do the same on your side, watching how his hair dances in the light breeze. 

“I asked Mikan about her knitting.” Komaeda says, peering across at you, “Like you said I should.” You smile, warmth blooming in your chest, “Yes? How did that go?”

“You were right. She isn’t very good at it.” He replies, but is smiling as he does, “It’s getting better as she goes though, she’s managing a pretty straight line now. It ah-” he shrugs a shoulder, “It seems to make her happy.”

“Maybe you should pick up a hobby. I know there isn’t much to do around the island, but I’m sure you could find something.”

Komaeda smiles at you from across the blueberries, “I’ve already taken up gardening, that’s enough for now.”

Your cheeks warm, “I’m glad.”

The both of you settle into a comfortable silence for some time, and once you finish covering a collection of blueberry bushes you quickly move onto the next. Komaeda is a fast learner and takes half the netting from you as before without you needing to ask him to. You can’t help but think about that conversation the two of you had in the middle of the night.

“Can I ask you a question?” Komaeda begins, tilting his head to the side. 

You smile, “I don’t see why not.”

“Why didn’t you just go to a normal school? The reserve course was incredibly costly and if I hadn't been scouted I would have been-” He sighs, “Never mind.” “No it’s okay. I won’t be upset, say what you want to.” Komaeda stares at you a moment, before a sickly little smile crawls up the side of his cheek, “I, aha, would have been too ashamed to even step foot on the grounds, why weren’t you?” “It wasn't my choice to make, Komaeda-san.” Your brow creases, and you sit cross legged on the ground when you finish securing the netting, “Things have changed a lot since then, but at the time I had parents who just wanted what they thought was best for me, no matter the cost. I think you’ll find most of the reserve course students were in the same boat, we were just kids, you know?”

He goes silent for some time, staring down at his hands and picking at the cuticles on his remaining flesh fingers. You know him well enough now that you just let him think it over, sitting quietly and waiting until he works out what he wants to say. The ocean breeze is calm today, but it still tosses around the leaves on the ground and tangles in Komaeda’s already unruly hair. 

“Was it…a good education?” He asks quietly, “By regular standards, I mean.” “No.” You answer truthfully, “All the tuition fees from the reserve course went straight to the Ultimate division, we were underfunded and most of our teachers didn’t pay much attention to us.” You look down at your lap, worrying your lower lip, “They did experiments on us too sometimes, small ones, not invasive. Just to see how we would react in certain circumstances. I mean, you know what they did to Hinata-san, I think they were gathering data for that .”

Komaeda doesn't say anything in response, though at first it seems like he wants to. He doesn't look up at you, he pretends to busy himself with some of the pegs, but you know he finished pegging everything down a long time ago. 

After a while, you take an uneasy breath and say, “I don’t think Hope’s Peak had our best interests at heart.” He scoffs under his breath, “Why would they? I couldn't expect them to waste their time on the talentless when there were more important educations to foster.” “No, Komaeda-san.” You say, gently, “You’ve misunderstood me.”

He peers up at you, something pained hides behind his eyes. 

“I don't think they had anyone’s best interests at heart. Not even yours.”

***

It’s Koizumi who comes by next, as always she’s clutching tightly to a well worn polaroid camera. You haven’t heard much about it, but apparently the digital camera she favored had an almost full memory card when she awoke from the simulation and she was too scared to open it up and wipe it. So for now she’s making her way through the collection of dusty polaroid film cartridges in the Jabberwock Island gift shop. 

You’re in the middle of weeding around some of the carrots when she comes up the path. She’s wearing a thin green sundress over a white t-shirt, the breeze kicks up her skirt and it dances around her ankles. Like you, she’s also sporting a wide brimmed hat to protect her face from the sun, she tilts the brim back and shoots you a warm smile. 

“Hi Koizumi-san!” You say brightly, it’s been a bit since you’ve seen her, “What can I help you with?”

She laughs and shakes her head, “I don’t need help with anything, I’m just dropping by to check in on you.” She takes a quick look around the farm, “Everything seems to be growing nicely.” You nod, “We almost have some fruit, shouldn’t be too much longer now.”

“That’s good! You’ve done well.” Koizumi says, but her smile wavers when she adds, “Hey, I was just wondering…Why didn’t you come to the party last week?”

“Oh.” You reply, turning your attention back to the garden bed, “I was just tired, sorry.” Koizumi hums, fingering the shoulder strap of her camera, “We were all pretty upset that you couldn't make it. Some more than others.” she looks quite stern when you peer up at her, mouth pulled in a tight line, “You can come to the hotel, you know? You don’t have to stay up here by yourself.”

You shake your head, “Thanks for offering, but I have a lot of work to do. It’s easier for everyone if I stay here.” “Well, if you insist.” Koizumi says with a shrug, and you are glad that she’s dropped the subject, “We’re not going anywhere, if you change your mind.” There are a few stray weeds left amongst the carrots and you go back to pulling them out, too nervous to look Koizumi in the eye anymore, “I probably won't, but that’s very kind of you.” The wind is stronger today, and it knocks your hat straight off your head. You don’t mean to, but having to struggle to catch it before it blows away has a giggle bubbling up and out of your chest. Putting the hat back on your head, you turn to Koizumi to ask if she is alright, and are stunned by the flash of a camera. 

You blink for a few seconds, and Koizumi chuckles good-naturedly, “Sorry, sorry. That was just the first real smile I’ve seen from you, my instincts kicked in.”

Another laugh escapes you, though this one is nervous and insincere, “I smile all the time, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shrugs, “When you take as many photos as I do, you get pretty good at picking out a genuine smile.” she gives you a look that borders on sad, “You are very good at faking it, though, I’ll give you that.”

***

The nightmares keep you awake once again. Desperate for fresh air and the quiet crashing of waves on the sand, you stumble to the back of your farm where the grass disappears and the beach begins. It isn’t as large as the beach by the hotel, only two meters or so of sand and gentle lapping saltwater, but it’s just you here, so two meters is all you need.  

You kick off your sandals before sitting down in the sand, tucking your knees up to your chest and burying your face in them. You should tell Hinata someday, maybe right before you leave. It won’t help any, it won’t undo what’s already happened but keeping this secret buried deep and festering in your chest is killing you. Everyone is so nice to you, everyone is too nice to you. There is nothing of value that you can offer, nothing you can do, all you ever do is run and run and run and-

Someone is calling out your name, from the sound of it, they’re standing out the front of your cottage. You sniffle, and try your best to sound like you haven’t been crying when you call out, “Down here!”

It takes a few minutes, but you do eventually hear the sound of shoes crunching on the sand. Something cold taps against your shoulder, and you turn around to see Komaeda holding a can of Blue Ram out to you. He has at least five more in a plastic bag hanging from his other hand, “Do you want one?” He asks, “They help.” Trying to ignore how instantly your heart warms when you see him, you reach out to take the can from him, apologizing under your breath when you fingers brush against his, “Thanks, Komaeda-san,” You say quietly, gesturing to the space beside you, “Take a seat if you want.”

He does, wordlessly. His long legs cross beneath him, and you notice that he’s wearing a pair of loose cotton pants instead of his usual dark jeans. Reaching into the plastic bag, he pulls out a can of Blue Ram for himself and cracks it open, heaving a long sigh before he turns to you, “Are you sleeping?”

“I am.” You reply quietly, opening your own can with shaky hands. 

Komaeda smiles, and repeats his assertion from nights before, “But not very well, am I right?”

“No.” You reply knowingly, “Not very well.”

The silence hangs in the air for a moment, you sip gently at your Blue Ram, you haven’t had one before and it’s a bit too sickly sweet for your taste. Komaeda looks especially pretty in the ocean breeze with his low cut shirt and unruly hair, you sigh and close your eyes to keep from staring at him, “How are you, Komaeda-san?” He shrugs a shoulder, “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about Hope’s Peak Academy.” “Oh.” you reply, “I hope I didn't upset you.” “ You didn’t upset me.” 

That’s good to hear. You know that Komaeda’s boundaries are firm, even if he isn’t willing to disclose where they lay. You are glad you haven’t crossed any. 

He reclines backward a little, resting back on his elbows and peering up at the stars, “My luck it-” he frowns, like he isn't sure how to continue, “Well it isn't consistent, aha. I try to control it, the outcome of it, I mean, when it backfires.” You have enough sense not to interrupt, but you do spin slightly to better face him as he speaks. He looks beautiful in the moonlight. 

“Even then I never really have full control, no matter what I do.” He gulps a desperate breath, his voice growing shaky, “They never… helped me.”

The salty air tosses and tangles in your hair, and your voice is high and weak in your throat when you whisper, “Who didn’t?”

He laughs breathlessly, “Hope’s Peak. I didn’t take much notice at the time, the fact they were even interested in a talent as worthless as mine was so exhilarating that I couldn’t think about anything else but-” he makes a choked sound and sits back up to he can wipe his eyes with the back of his hand, “They knew what my luck did to me, but never taught me how to control it. They had experts and researchers but they were all too busy watching us and studying us to actually help .”

You lean forward, hand shaking when you reach a hand out and rest it on his knee. For all you know about Komaeda, about his opinions of himself and his talent and his emotional state, it feels like you’re missing all the surface level information, the things he divulges on a first meeting. You swallow, “You don’t have to tell me, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to but-” his eyes meet yours and you are stunned briefly into silence, steadying yourself, you ask, “What does your luck do to you?”

Komaeda starts laughing, but it sounds almost painful and his shoulders tremble with the intensity of it. You fall backwards when he suddenly stands up and takes a few determined steps towards the water, he bends down and grabs a rock from the shoreline, giving you a pointed look before arcing his arm back and skipping the rock across the water once, twice, thirteen times and even more beyond that. He turns back to face you, arms crossed against his chest like he is waiting for something. Then, after what feels like a few agonizing minutes, the ocean rises, and a wave much larger than any you had seen at the small section of beach crashes directly into the back of him, soaking completely through his clothes. 

It was only a taste of it, but you understand completely. 

He seems surprised when you stand up, but you’re so desperately emotional that you aren’t thinking straight. It only takes a few monumental steps to reach him, and then you are standing on your toes and wrapping your arms tight around his shoulders and burying your face in his chest. 

Komaeda makes a choked sound above you, and one of his hands eventually settles shakily on your waist, “I’m all wet.” He says shakily, “I’ll ruin your clothes.” You hold him tighter, “I don't care.”

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The Tragedy of Love, Death and Maggots part 14

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13

Still- It was foolish to choose to let myself rot in here beside a woman who would probably die. It was foolish to waste time that could be better spent rebuilding my life from the corpses of my lost companions. It was foolish to hope.

But a fool I was, and a fool I had always been. There was a third choice beyond staying at my post and walking away. There has always been a third choice, even if I had neglected it so often. There was a third choice, and it was to not give up, to get back up on my feet, to try and try and try, no matter how many times I failed.

My bones creaked, my muscles screamed, and oh, oh, did my body cry. But I bit my tongue and swallowed my pain, because for once, I wasn't going to leave another person behind. 

I wrapped my arms beneath Mrin's armpits and hauled, lugging her against the ground. A long time ago, I went for a first aid course. They taught us how to carry people there, with fancy names like fireman and piggyback. I couldn't remember any of it, and I wouldn't have had the strength to do it anyway.

But I hauled all the same, feeling my muscles clench and bones pop as I did so. My head throbbed like the worst hangover in a dozen lifetimes, and my fingers cramped such that I thought I'd never be able to move them again.

But still I hauled. My knees ground against each other, heels digging into the ground. I could taste blood from where I bit my tongue. Something tore in my back, and my vision flashed red and white like Not-Athena gulping down Brett.

And I continued hauling. 

I pulled and dragged and heaved all the way to the very end, to where a single leaky pipe stood. An oasis. I dropped Mrin down, collapsing beside her as I did so. What had possessed me to think giving all our water skins to Brett was a good idea? Damn it all.

With one dusty, aching hand, I caught a few droplets of water and washed Mrin's face. Her bare hands were skinned and covered in cuts from the concrete I had dragged her across, but she seemed stable. I dribbled some more water into her mouth and dripped my iodine onto some gauze. 

Slowly, gently, I daubed it against her wounds. First the arms and the legs, cleaning them of the dust that permeated everything. Then it was her gums, taking care to clean it out with tissue afterwards. Then, last of all, I wiped the empty rim of her eye. Even after so many years, it pained me to see her socket. There was something so ugly about it, so visceral and harsh. 

I cradled her in my arms after that, alternating between hydrating her and myself. With the water and the knowledge that the stash of cans was in a hole in the wall somewhere nearby, I found myself drifting off to sleep once more, leaning in a corner uncomfortably.

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[kckt88]

The Day Love Died.

Summary:

Assassins invade the Red Keep and tragedy soon follows.

WHAT IF VAERA DIED THAT NIGHT INSTEAD OF AEMON?

AU One-shot of Dynasty!!

Warning(s): Blood, Sorrow, Grief, Mourning, Death, Anger, Self Harm, Ambiguous/Open Ending.

Word Count: 3320

Author Note: A companion piece to Courtship/Wedding & Consummation/Bath Time/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/Blood & Cheese/A Time for Grief/ Rooks Rest & the Silver King/The Gullet/Taking of a City/Harrenhal and the Rivers/The Gods Eye/The Fallen Queen/New Beginnings/Ravenous/Don't Leave Me/Another Plane of Existence/Gēlenka Zaldrīzes I/Gēlenka Zaldrīzes II & Gēlenka Zaldrīzes III.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Aemond collapsed to his knees.

The blood, there was so much blood on the floor Flowing in every direction.

Time seemed to slow down as Aemond lifted his wife into his arms.

As the blood began to slither out of Vaera’s nostrils, she placed her hand on Aemond’s cheek and caressed it with her smooth pale fingers.

A moment later, Vaera’s hand slipped from Aemond’s cheek and fell down by her side.

A raspy exhalation rose from Vaera’s throat, the last sound she ever made.

Vaera’s precious amethyst eyes had lost all of their emotion and soon became sightless orbs that stared uncomprehendingly into nothingness.

How long had it been? Seconds Minutes Hours.

Aemond had lost all comprehension of time, as he held the body of his wife against him.

The sounds of muffled voices never registering as they passed by like the wind.

Aemond refused to let go of Vaera, he held her close, his lips pressed to her cold forehead.

He began rocking from side to side as he started to hum the Valyrian lullaby that he once sang to their sons.

“Brother” whispered Aegon as he crouched down.

Aemond shook his head and pulled Vaera closer to him.

“M-My sons?” whispered Aemond, his voice cracking.

“Mother and Helaena have them” replied Aegon.

“Aemond”

“W-What?” asked Aemond.

“We need to let the silent sisters prepare her” whispered Aegon.

He didn’t want to let her go; he didn’t want to say goodbye and as much as he wanted to keep hold of her, he knew that he couldn’t.

“O-Ok” said Aemond softly as he clutched his wife’s body in his arms and slowly rose from the ground.

As he carried his wife’s body, Aemond couldn’t help but notice how light she seemed.

Aemond tightened his grip on Vaera’s body as he walked wordlessly through the corridors. Maids and servants alike silently bowing their heads in respect for the Princess.

Aegon waved off the Kings Guard and silently followed his brother.

Aemond watched as the silent sisters prepared and wrapped Vaera’s body.

Several times they had tried to have him removed, but he refused. He would not leave her.

The sound of the bells of Kings Landing ringing in honour of the fallen Princess, echoed around the candle lit chamber.

“N-Not her head. She doesn’t like things covering her head” cried Aemond desperately.

The silent sisters obeyed and left Vaera’s head free of the wrappings, once they were finished, they bowed respectfully and left Aemond and Aegon alone.

As Aemond stared mournfully at his wife’s wrapped body, the realisation that she was truly gone suddenly hit him. The grief completely overwhelming every fibre of his being.

“M-My wife” sobbed Aemond as his bloodstained hands reached forward and he fell to his knees in front of Vaera’s body.

Aegon moved to sit behind Aemond, and he wrapped his arms tightly around his younger brother’s chest, holding him tightly and keeping him grounded whilst he cried.

“S-She’s gone” gasped Aemond between the sobs that wracked his chest uncontrollably.

So uncontrollably that Aemond could no longer speak at all. Could do nothing but cry, his face dripping tears and snot whilst he struggled to breathe, clinging to his older brother like his life depended on it.

Long minutes passed, stretching on into an hour. Longer. How long, Aegon didn’t know. All he knew was that his brother never stopped clinging to him. Never loosened his grip. Even when Aegon started sobbing himself, their shared overwhelming pain near unbearable as they mourned the loss of Vaera.

The entirety of the Red Keep had been put on high alert, no one in and no one out unless it was absolutely necessary.

The goons that had murdered Vaera had been apprehended by Ser Criston in their attempt to flee and were now languishing in the black cells.

Aegon had demanded that they be tortured repeatedly for information, and despite their initial stubbornness both Blood and Cheese began to crack as the torture intensified.

They claimed that the news of Viserys death and Aegon usuring the Throne had sent Rhaenyra into early labours and after hours of agonizing pain, she had delivered a stillborn deformed half human half dragon monstrosity named Visenya and after the death of Lucerys, Rhaenyra had gone mad with grief and ordered Daemon seek retribution for her fallen children.

They named Daemon as the one who had arranged for the assassination, in revenge for the deaths of Visenya and Lucerys.

Aemon and Jaehaerys had been the intended targets, but ultimately it was Vaera that lost her life.

Both goons were inevitably put to the sword. Their severed heads mounted on spikes.

But Aemond still struggled with the loss of his beloved wife and the days before her funeral, he would sit in the Sept with her body for hours on end.

He would rest his head against her and weep. His tears soaking the cloth that covered his wife's body.

Aemon and Rhaegar were also suffering in the wake of their mother death. They had nightmares and would only sleep if they were cuddled up to Alicent or Helaena. During the day, they would hover around their aunt or grandmother, clinging to their skirts.

The funeral for Vaera was a sombre affair.

It was as private as it could be. Although whispers of ‘Rhaenyra the cruel’ were heard across the realm. The ruthless Black Queen who had her own daughter murdered in cold blood.

Vhagar rustled her hole ridden wings gently as the High Septon performed the funeral rights.

Soon the time would come upon him to utter the words, and Aemond didn’t know if he could give his old girl the command that would reduce his sweet wife to nothing but ashes to be interned in the Sept.

But then an earth-shattering roar echoed through the sky.

Cannibal descended from the clouds, landing with a ground shaking thud.

The normally ferocious dragon cooed and trilled expectantly as he cautiously approached Vaera’s funeral pyre.

Cannibal stared at his mother’s prone body for a moment before he craned his neck forward and nudged her gently, but she didn’t stir.

He nudged her again and again until the dragon’s eyes widened in alarm. It was then that the Cannibal finally understood that his rider was truly gone.

The great dragon threw his head back and cried with sorrow and despair at the loss of his first and only bonded rider. His high-pitched grief-stricken shrieks echoing through the air.

Aemond closed his eye and let out a small sob, at the Cannibal's devastation.

At the sound of movement, Aemond opened his eye and stood stunned to silence as he watched Cannibal gently lift his rider from her pyre and hold her tight as he opened his huge black wings and lifted off the ground.

“Aemond. No” urged Aegon as he took hold of his brother, in an attempt to prevent him from mounting Vhagar.

Those in attendance stood silently as they watched the Cannibal ascended into the clouds, carrying the body of his rider.

“Come back. Please. Come back” begged Aemond.

“It’s ok. I’m here” said Alicent sadly as she too wrapped her arms around her second son and held him tight.

“S-She’s gone. H-He took her” cried Aemond as he watched Cannibal disappear into the distance with Vaera’s body.

“I know” replied Alicent; closing her eyes as the cries of a heartbroken dragon echoed through the still cloudy sky.

After Cannibal had disappeared with Vaera’s body, Aemond had wanted to mount Vhagar and go after him, but Aegon refused to let him leave Kings Landing and as a precautionary measure he’d been confined to his chambers.

Aemond paced around the lounge area of his chambers, everything that had belonged to Vaera was still there, right where she’d left it. The comb on her vanity, the dresses in the wardrobe and the leather-bound sketchbook he’d given her as a courtship gift.

With shaking hands, Aemond picked up the sketchbook and opened it, letting out a strangled sob as he stared at the charcoal drawings.

His wife had such an eye for detail, her sketches of bugs and flowers were impeccable, as were her drawings of their dragons. But it was the sketches of him that made his chest constrict painfully.

Pages and pages of his own face staring back at him, almost as if he was some kind of muse to her.

Aemond threw the sketchbook across the room and then let out a roar of rage as he tore through his chambers, tipping over the vanity table, toppling over the bookcase, smashing everything he could get his hands on.

In his anger he ripped the framed picture of Vhagar off the wall and launched it across the room, the glass of the frame shattering on it’s impact with the floor.

Aemond picked up a shard of glass and stared at almost as if he was mesmerized.

His weapons had been taken from him when he’d been confined to his chambers, but this piece of insignificant glass was his salvation, his escape from the pain. He would be free; he would fade away and his broken soul would reunite with hers.

Aemond pressed the glass against his wrist and dug it into his skin, gritting his teeth at the sharp sting of pain.

He watched as the blood began to run down his arm in rivulets a twisted sense of release and satisfaction filling his mind, even as he dug the shard of glass deeper into his skin.

He would take every ounce of pain, every ounce of suffering, if only to see her again.

“AEMOND” shouted Alicent as she rushed to his side and knocked the glass from his hand.

“Mother” gasped Aemond.

“Call the Maester. NOW” ordered Alicent as she took a handkerchief from her dress pocket and pressed it against the oozing cut on his wrist.

“I-I don’t-“ muttered Aemond.

“H-How could you do this to yourself?” asked Alicent as she pressed harder against the wound on his wrist.

“How do I stop this pain? How do I make it go away?” wailed Aemond as he pressed his face into his mother’s shoulder.

“We deal with it together” said Alicent her voice wobbling.

“I-I just want her back. I want her in my arms” sobbed Aemond.

“I know you do. But please Aemond, don’t do this. Think of Aemon and Rhaegar, they still need their father” said Alicent as she motioned for the guards to stay where they were.

“Y-Your Grace. Maester Orwyle is here”.

Alicent nodded sharply before she beckoned the Maester inside the chambers.

The Maester removed the now blood-soaked handkerchief and examined the wound.

“He will need stitches” muttered Maester Orwyle.

Alicent nodded and took hold of Aemond’s hand, squeezing it tight as the Maester began treating his wound.

Aemond barely reacted as the needle and thread continuously pierced his skin, he stared blankly at the floor, unmoving and silent.

‘Aemond Where are you?’

‘I’m here’ said Aemond, squinting.

‘Help me; please Aemond.’

‘I can’t see you’ exclaimed Aemond grimacing as he held a hand over his face; trying in vain to block out the bright light that surrounded him.

‘Aemond Please help me I need you’.

‘Vaera. Tell me where you are’ begged Aemond, looking around wildly in all directions.

‘Aemond Please’

‘I need you to tell me where you are’ shouted Aemond.

Suddenly a set of cold arms encircled his body and Aemond whirled around; Vaera stood in front of him; her amethyst eyes wide and lifeless Her long silver hair; unbound and lank; her lips blue and cracked.

‘I-I love you’ breathed Aemond as he wrapped his arms around Vaera’s freezing body.

‘Oh’ gasped Vaera; holding a hand to her chest.

‘NO. Vaera’ shouted Aemond; as dark blood began to pour from the wound on Vaera’s chest; pooling endlessly at her feet.

‘Don’t let me go Aemond Please’ sobbed Vaera as Daemon suddenly appeared behind her; his lilac eyes glinting mercilessly.

‘Don’t touch her Get your hands off her’ screamed Aemond; trying to reach out for Vaera, only to find himself rooted to the floor; unable to move.

‘You couldn’t save her then and you won’t save her now’ cackled Daemon as he placed his lips against Vaera’s cheek.

‘Stop. Don’t touch her begged Aemond as he still struggled against the invisible force that bound him.

‘Pathetic’ rasped Daemon.

‘Help me’ pleaded Vaera as she stood immobile in Daemon’s grasp.

‘It’s too late for that’ retorted Daemon as he plunged the dagger into Vaera.

‘NO. VAERA’ screamed Aemond; tears streaming down his face.

‘There’s nothing you can do,’ said Daemon; as he ran the blood smeared dagger across his tongue; laughing wildly, watching gleefully as Aemond collapsed to the floor beside Vaera.

‘Don’t leave me. Please Not again’ sobbed Aemond as he lifted Vaera’s un-moving body into his arms and buried his head into her neck.

‘She’s already gone’ said Daemon quietly as he kneeled down.

‘You took her from me’ cried Aemond.

‘It’s what she deserved, letting a cunt like you touch her’ laughed Daemon as he placed a hand on Aemond’s shoulder.

‘Leave me alone’ cried Aemond.

‘Little one eye lost all his fight now his wife is dead’ retorted Daemon; his maniacal laughter ringing in Aemond’s ears as it grew louder and louder.

‘VAERA’ screamed Aemond.

Aemond shot up in bed; breathing heavily as his heart pounded hard in his chest; his hands shaking uncontrollably.

It was all just a nightmare; but as he looked at the vacant space next to him, his heart sank, and he realised that the love of his life was truly gone; and she wasn’t coming back.

As he lay back down and closed his eyes; Aemond could still hear Daemon’s laughter ringing in his ears.

“Please Aemond. Talk to me say something” begged Alicent.

Aemond didn’t answer; he remained silent, ever since he’d torn through his chambers destroying everything, he could get his hands on, Alicent had ordered he be moved to rooms closer to her so she could keep a closer eye on him.

Aemond sat at the window, gazing every so often at the sky. Hoping and praying that he’d see a dragons silhouette amongst the clouds. But he didn’t, Vaera was gone and so was her Cannibal.

Where the dragon had taken her, no one knew. The last anyone had seen of the fearsome Cannibal he had flown east across the narrow sea.

Perhaps her loyal dragon had returned her body to the place of their ancestors in Old Valyria, or he’d flown further than anyone could ever discover and simply laid himself to rest alongside his rider. Bound together as one, even in death.

He’d never see her face again; never hear the sound of her voice or feel the touch of her lips.

“I know it hurts son. But please try to find some solace in all of this”.

“There is no solace in death” muttered Aemond despondently.

“Think of Aemon and Rhaegar, they’ve already lost their mother, don’t let them lose their father too” urged Alicent.

At the mention of his sons, Aemond let out a chocked sob. He wasn’t worthy of being their father, not now, not when he’d failed in his duty to protect their mother.

He couldn’t even look at his sons without seeing Vaera and it broke his heart.

Every night he would dream of her; calling for him, begging for him, screaming for him as she fell victim to Daemon again and again.

“Please Aemond” trailed off Alicent.

“I keep dreaming of her” whispered Aemond sadly.

“Oh” exclaimed Alicent; unsure of what to say or think.

“Every night; she calls out for me; and every night he kills her. Over and over again”

“It’s just a dream” said Alicent softly.

“How am I supposed to live without her?” cried Aemond.

“I know it will be hard, but you can”.

“We were going to have more children, we were-” said Aemond letting out a strangled sob as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks.

“You need to eat something”.

“I’m not hungry” said Aemond.

“You’ve not eaten a proper meal in almost a week. Please Aemond; I can’t lose you”.

“Like I lost Vaera you mean. I honestly don’t care mother. I don’t care about anything anymore except for one thing” said Aemond.

“What’s that?” asked Alicent.

“Killing Daemon with my bare hands” said Aemond viciously.

“You’re not thinking clearly”.

“I’ve thought of nothing else. He’s going to get what’s coming to him. He took Vaera’s life so I will take his” said Aemond banging his head against the windowsill.

“Aemond. Stop. You’ll hurt yourself” pleaded Alicent fearfully.

“Good. Anything to stop feeling like this”.

“You don’t mean that” said Alicent.

“She was my everything” sobbed Aemond.

“It’s breaking my heart seeing you like this” cried Alicent.

“Then leave. I don’t want you here. The only person I’ve ever wanted has gone and she’s never coming back” snapped Aemond.

“No, Aemond; you don’t mean that”.

“Yes. I do. GET OUT” shouted Aemond.

Alicent stared wide eyed at her grief-stricken son before fleeing the room in tears.

“Why don’t you love us anymore daddy?” whispered Aemon.

“I-I just-“ stammered Aemond.

“I miss you daddy. Please don’t hate us” said Rhaegar clutching his stuffed dragon teddy to his chest.

“How could you think that I hate you?” asked Aemond quietly, his back pressed against the hard wood of his chair.

“Because mama died instead of us” replied Rhaegar sadly.

“What?” exclaimed Aemond.

“T-The men that killed mama, they were going to kill us-“ muttered Aemon.

“-But mama saved us” whispered Rhaegar.

“We were supposed to die. Not mama and that’s why you hate us because you miss mama so much” sobbed Aemon.

Aemond’s heart clenched painfully as he lurched out of his chair and wrapped his arms around both of his sons and held them tight to his chest.

“Never for one minute think that I hate either of you” whispered Aemond.

“Daddy” whispered Aemon as he buried his face in his father’s curtain of silver hair.

“I’m so sorry my boys. I-I just miss your mother so much” muttered Aemond softly.

“We miss mama too. But we don’t want to lose you, daddy,” said Rhaegar.

Aemond squeezed his singular eye shut and held his sons as close as he could. Despite his grief over losing Vaera, there were still two little boys that had lost their mother in the most horrific of ways. They needed him, now more than ever.

Deep in the pit of his own agony, Aemond knew that Vaera would be ashamed of him if she could see him now.

Abandoning his sons to wallow in his own grief had only served to punish them, and they didn’t deserve it.

He needed to pull himself together. Not just for himself. Not just for them.

But for her.

Aemond knew the day would come when he would inevitably have to face Daemon, and he would welcome it. He would meet his uncle with a fiery vengeance, and he would make him pay for what he’d done, for what he had taken. He would not see his uncle so quick from this world, he would prolong the agony and torture him until he begged for mercy, which would not be granted. Daemon deserved to writhe and scream in agony and Aemond would be at peace.

His sweet wife would be avenged, and he would do it with a smile on his face.

Far across the vast salted waters of the narrow sea, a dragons roar echoed across the night sky.

Many figures in blood red cloaks bowed before the still body of a fallen Princess.

Torches of fire pressed into the ground, forming a circle around the stone alter.

A fresh human heart and a shorn piece of silver hair, offered to the flames.

‘ānogar hen zaldrīzes’ (Blood of the dragon).

‘Perzys hen uēpa valyrio’ (Fire of old Valyria).

‘Kipagīros hen va ñellyrty perzys’ (Rider of fire made flesh).

‘Zyhys oñoso jehikagon Aeksiot epi, se gis hen syndrorro jemagon’ (We ask the Lord to shine his light and lead a soul out of darkness).

‘Zyhys perzys stepagon Aeksio Oño jorepi, se morghultas lys qelitsos sikagon’ (We beg the Lord to share his fire, and light a candle that has gone out).

‘Hen syndrorro, oños. Hen ñuqir, perzys. Hen morghot, glaeson’ (From darkness, light. From ashes, fire. From death, life).

The fire of the torches flickers in the wind.

A brief twitch of fingers.

Amethyst eyes open once more.

[southelroydrive]

safe from the world.

pairing: nancy wheeler x f!reader summary: you and your girlfriend take a moment to yourselves before the battle against vecna. word count: 1.3k title: intertwined by dodie warnings: none a/n: probably not accurate to the canon timeline, a short draft whilst i painstakingly write this ghostface!ronance au

the world seemed to be at peace that one spring morning. a truly spectacular thing despite everything the town of hawkins had been through in the last few days. but, as nature began its rebirth, you find a rare moment of serenity in the seemingly cursed town.

the wind rustles through the trees, birds chirping their sweet symphony that fills the peaceful quiet that surrounds lover’s lake. morning dew still clings to the grass, glistening in the sunlight as it casts a golden haze over the town. a breeze of the wind swirls around you, brushing against your skin with the soft caress of a lover. 

“we’re almost there, i promise.”

her voice, a caress much like the wind. it wraps you in its embrace, soothing the terror that plagues your mind in a time like this. the death and tragedy, the horrors that scar the back of your eyelids as you try to sleep each night, all slipping away with the weight of her hand in yours. you feel the blades of grass tickling your ankles as she guides you along.

a tender smile spreads across your lips, not uncommon in the presence of the girl in front of you. the picturesque display of nature around you fades away, not worthy of your attention when you’re distracted by her curly hair that bounces with every step of her boots against the ground.

in fact, you're so distracted that you don't notice your foot getting caught in a tree root. in a matter of seconds, you let out a panicked yelp that alerts her, head snapping to look back at you and a sharp cry of your name leaving her lips. your eyes screw shut, anticipating the moment your body hits the grass-covered ground but it never comes. instead, her arms wrap around you, your face smacking into her shoulder.

“sweetheart!” she gasps through her laughter, stumbling backwards as your entire body weight slams against her. “be careful!”

“sorry, sorry! it was an accident!” you can’t help but laugh along with her, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. your hands press against her chest, gently pushing yourself upright. her grip loosens around you, resting lightly on your hips just to be safe.

her chest vibrates with her dying laughter, a soft sigh spilling from her lips as she gazes up at you. her lips curl into an amused smirk, but her eyes still hold the same tenderness they always do as she looks at you. she carefully brushes your hair, smoothing down the frazzled pieces from your stumble. 

“come on, before you break a leg.” her loving gaze shimmers with a teasing glint as she pats your cheek, placing a sweet kiss to the tip of your nose before abruptly turning around. her hand slides into yours once more, keeping her grip firm as she gently tugs you along.

“hey!” you whine, lips forming into a pout despite the fact she couldn’t see. but she can practically hear it in your tone, making a smirk tug at your girlfriend’s lips. with another soft tug, you roll your eyes and fall back into a comfortable silence. 

it’s not long until you reach the clearing, just as she had promised. the trees wrap around the space, offering you complete privacy from the prying eyes of the town. nobody but you, your lover and the lake, which sparkled with every ripple of the water. the sun gracing the land in its light. 

nancy’s hand slowly slips away from yours, fingertips brushing against yours as her feet carry her to the edge of the lake. you watch as she lowers herself to the ground, knees pulled to her chest. she learned a long time ago not to care about the mud staining her skirt, rather a delicate reminder of the time spent with you.  

her head turns to look back at you, the tenderness in her eyes never leaving once. fingertips brushing against the grass, an invitation. 

you take it. 

you walk over, sinking to the ground beside her, your legs stretched out in front of you. she rests her head against you, her rosy cheek warm against your shoulder. like a moth to a flame, her hand finds yours. covering it with hers, the pad of her thumb grazes over your skin. 

her touch lingers on the scar that decorates your knuckle, a scar she knows all too well. she could never forget that night, the flickering lights, the beastly screeches and piercing gunshots echoing in her ears. the same night, the same scar that proved that she had broken her promise. she was going to keep you safe, she wasn’t going to let anything hurt you. why did she let it hurt you?

“nance?” your voice is gentle, like the ripple of the water or the breeze, when you call out her name. and in an instant, her worries melt away, tucked neatly into a box for another time. her attention now solely devoted to you, the you that is safe and, most importantly, alive.

head tilting down to look at her in the eyes, your brows are laced together in concern. lips twisted into a small frown, gazing at her with a benevolence that makes her heart warm in her chest. “you okay?”

“now i am.” she whispers, meeting your gaze with her own look of affection. and she means it. with you, the storm that is nancy wheeler’s mind calms, you’re the sun that permeates the grey clouds that form her thoughts. 

and when her eyes flicker back down to the scar on your hand that has long healed, she tries to see it as less of her mistake and more of how brave her girl is. a display of how much you had grown in those few years.

a peaceful silence falls over the two of you, and as you sit together in your own safe haven away from all the ugly truths of the town you lived in, you feel at peace.

nancy suddenly shifts, her head lifting off your shoulder and hand leaving yours. you turn, watching with a loving smile as your girlfriend tilts her body to lie down in the grass, her own head resting in your lap. her curls form a halo around her face, your own angel on earth gazing up at you with eyes that hold nothing short of pure love and affection.

your hands quickly find her hair, brushing through the curls you love so much. she rewards you with her soft hums of pleasure, like sweet music to your ears. her eyes shut, dark lashes fluttering.

the tenderness of this moment with the love of your life makes the rest of the world come to a stand still. you knew there was nothing else you would ever want, for all you could ever need was right in front of you. and as that silence washes over you once again, the looming threat of what is to come fades away.

until she breaks it.

“angel?” she murmurs, eyes cracking open to peer up at you. blue eyes filled with uncertainty, causing your own expression to twinge with concern. 

“yes, nance?”

“do you… do you think we’ll be okay?”

her words make your movements falter for a moment, your girlfriend’s uncertainty becoming clear to you now. you are both no strangers to the monsters of the upside down, yet you know how much responsibility she feels over how this battle will turn out. you let out a deep sigh, your breath shaky as your free hand finds hers once again.

“we’re gonna be okay, baby. i know it.” 

you accompany your words with a squeeze to her hand. and, despite the fact that nancy nods in response, you both know your words aren’t entirely true. there was simply too much that could go wrong to safely say. yet, in this moment, all your worries were better left unsaid. scared that speaking the truth could make it a reality. 

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

because no matter what happens in the next few hours, when you’re forced to fight horrors that will remain unknown to the rest of the world, you know that you have your love. and that’s all that mattered. 

[mrskreideprinz]

| August |

Rhinedottir x Oc!August | Minors do not interact

Warnings: Oc x Canon, Female Original Character, Angst, Blood & Injury, Needles, Medical Talk, Medical Instruments, Stitches, Nightmares, Trauma, August has PTSD, Talk of Death, 1.8k words.

A/n: This took a little over a month to write but it was so worth it.

Summary: Although August finds herself safe and sound after tragedy struck her, she begins to realize that there are some things that someone cannot be freed of even in sleep.

It was approximately sunrise when August awoke in a cold sweat. The hair on her body stood at attention as she clutched at her chest. She counted down from a hundred, a method she’d used successfully all throughout her childhood, but sadly that method had been failing her as of late. August waited until her breathing slowed to a somewhat normal pace before attempting to crawl out of bed.

August winced the moment she stood up, wrapping an arm around her waist while she whimpered in pain. Carefully and quietly opening her bedroom door she looked around to make sure she was indeed alone before journeying out.

Lights are all off. Perfect, she’s still asleep.

August limped towards the kitchen and kept her eyes trained on the front door. She was nearly there, just a few more steps and she could make a quiet escape for some fresh air. After everything August had gone through she indeed needed the comfort of nature most of all, and it was nearly in her grasp. Just one more step, her hand on the knob and..

“Where are you going?” A voice called out in the darkness.

August cursed under her breath. She could already feel the eyes of a certain woman fixed on her hunched form.

“Going for a walk. I need.. fresh.. air.” August could barely get her words out due to the extent of her pain, practically pushing out every word by sheer force.

“You can barely fuckin’ walk.” Rhinedottir spat. “Did you actually think I couldn’t hear you?”

August turned her head to glare at Rhine who had suddenly appeared beside her. “Yes.”

Rhinedottir couldn’t help but chuckle, completely unbothered by August’s dirty looks. Tears ran down August’s face as she realized she looked like a damn fool. Just as stupid and naive as the day Rhine found her.

“I’m glad you find my pain funny.” She grit through her teeth.

Rhinedottir hummed as she grabbed August’s face to inspect it, tilting it side to side to study it fully, then letting it go gently upon seeing a few tears fall from her eyes. “When’s the last time you slept?”

August turned her head away, still firmly standing her ground by the front door. “Last night.”

Rhinedottir turned around to switch on the light to the kitchen. “How long?”

August moved her body so that she could face Rhine, but in the process she ended up hurting herself and whimpered. “Long enough.”

As she wrapped an arm around her waist again she hissed in pain as she felt a sharp stab on her side, and instantly fell to her knees on the floor.

Rhine was quick to rush to her side. “God damn it.”

Rhinedottir lifted up August’s shirt but not before August weakly grabbed her wrist. “N-No.”

Rhine scoffed and ripped August’s hand off of her wrist before forcing the cloth of her shirt up to expose her wound that had been reopened, obvious by her bandages that had now been soaked with blood.

“Fuck me, I have to redo your stitches.” Rhine groaned in frustration while August writhed underneath her.

For as weak and vulnerable as August felt she sure fought like hell against Rhinedottir, who worked tirelessly to restrain her. After lifting up the bandages and inspecting it she deduced that August indeed would have to be restitched and in the state she was in that was a recipe for disaster. Rhinedottir tried to lift up August into her arms but she was quick to push Rhine away, crying harder with every move Rhine made to restrain her. Which was no doubt making the situation all the more worse for August’s wound.

Rhine did the only thing she knew to do and pinned her down by her wrists, forcing August’s eyes on her’s in the process. “Look, I have to restitch your wound and I know it hurts but if you keep fighting me I will strap you onto the table myself.”

August stopped suddenly with a look of fear now spilling into her eyes.

“Got it?” Rhine asked in a stern voice.

August nodded with tears rolling down her face as her bottom lip trembled. Mentally she began to prepare for what was to come, balling her hands into fists at her side as intense anxiety washed over her. Rhine very carefully picked up August and walked to the nearby vivisection table. Already August had several questions rushing inside her head, but she ignored them for now. Once Rhine had comfortably situated August onto the table, she quickly gathered the necessary supplies, rushing back to August’s side as quickly as possible. She felt queasy and lightheaded upon watching Rhine sort through the tools, her eyes widened each time she looked at one of the intimidating instruments. Already she was dying to escape.

Rhine had begun to fill a syringe with a clear liquid, and afterwards she turned her attention to August. The poor fawn looked at Rhine with pleading eyes, ear pulled back while looking at her with a fearful expression , terrified of what she was about to endure.

“W-What’s that?” August started to sweat from panic.

“Hold still. This’ll numb you up.” Rhine replied as she injected the first shot.

Rhinedottir made sure to get at the very edge of the wound, wanting to ensure that she caused the most relief for August as she could. For a moment she pondered whether the numbing agent would be enough to relax August. First and foremost Rhine had to be quick, and if she couldn’t manage that then her and August would both be in for a very rough time. It wasn’t until after the second injection was administered that Rhine finally saw August’s face begin to relax. Afterwards, she started to carefully pierce the thread through her skin.

She’s going to need at least 10 stitches, Rhine thought.

————

For the most part August had held strong through the entirety of the process, nearly falling dozing off when Rhine had tied off the final knot. Rhine inspected it a couple times before finally letting August know that she was in the clear, wanting to be completely sure she has finished everything when she eventually told August. She couldn’t afford a fuck up like that especially in the state August was in.

Rhine gently nudged August’s hand to get her attention. “I’ve finished your stitches.”

She had to say it a few more times for her words to truly sink into August’s mind, but she eventually got the idea. August winced as she attempted to sit upright. She nearly fell back onto the table, but thankfully Rhine was quick to grab her and lift her up.

“You need to be more careful.” She warned.

Finally August was able to sit up and catch her breath. Rhine watched August while she washed her hands of the blood and filth. She took internal notes of August’s behavior and how her breathing became more labored.

Hopefully that will pass soon, Rhine thought.

She made a few more mental notes of the symptoms August was exhibiting and what she would do in the unfortunate scenario that her situation worsened. Thankfully, Rhine could relax, even if only momentarily.

“How long was I asleep?” August asked, pressing a palm to her forehead.

Rhine dried off her hands and moved to stand beside August. “Not that long.” Her eyes met August’s and could immediately see how tired she was. “Regardless, you should try to sleep.”

August averted her gaze and furrowed her brows. The words she wanted to say had quickly died on her tongue. What was it she truly wanted to say?

“I’ll help you back into bed.” Rhine offered a hand towards August but she leaned away from her.

August could not see Rhine’s angry expression but she did indeed feel a cold sensation spread across her body when she was met with her silence. August had learned quickly that Rhine was not someone she wanted to piss off, but that did not make it any less possible to do so.

“I wasn’t asking.” Rhine warned.

August’s body stiffened up before she let out a heavy sigh and ultimately grabbed on to Rhine’s hand. The walk to the bedroom was too quiet and August didn’t dare say a word. When they finally reached the door August just stood there quietly. She dreaded crawling underneath the comfortable blankets only to have more nightmares. She wanted more than anything to tell Rhine about the nightmares. She wished Rhine understood. It just wasn’t that easy, though.

“Okay, I’ll let you get some sleep.” Rhine said, her voice surprisingly soft.

With a sad expression August watched as Rhine turned her back to her and shut the door behind her as she left. Once that door had closed and the darkness rapidly enveloped August she began to cry. It was quiet at first, a path of tears were left on her cheeks as the ache in her chest grew, but eventually they became hushed whines. Her hands trembled as she reached for the hem of her dress and clenched it in her fists.

As much as she tried to stifle her cries she simply couldn’t. Not when she saw their faces twisted in an unnatural fashion, something she should’ve never been alive to witness. She remembered- No, she was unable to scrub the sight of their burning bodies from her mind. It was a torment that even sleep could not free her from. She felt a shriek looming inside her throat, and her hands itched to tear her skin clean off, rip the fur from her body, but that would solve nothing. Punishing herself would not bring her family back, no matter how hard she wanted it to.

Stuffing herself underneath the blankets she squeezed her eyes shut and covered her mouth with both hands as she allowed herself to let it all out. At some point she would need to truly open up about that night, and August hoped that Rhine could’ve been that person, but there was nothing but regret and anguish between the both of them. Maybe if things had been different, perhaps if Rhine had left her to die things could’ve been different.

The thought stung August. Had Rhine not saved August that night then maybe she would’ve been reunited with her family. Instead she was forced to live and learn to survive, neither of which August knew a damn thing about. She missed them, so dearly she wanted to feel their warmth again, but such a thing was a mere fantasy now. August wanted to laugh with her brother and sister again. She yearned to feel the love of her mother and the guidance of her father, again. Instead she would have to settle for the harshness of Rhine and hope to the archons that it would be enough.