#Deaths Defiant Event

[ask-dawnanddusk]

The hatching had been near silent, something that concerned the duo perhaps a little more than necessary. If it weren't for the fact that everything else was quiet, these early hours of the morning, they probably would have missed it.

The tiny hatchling wiggled around within the egg, the shell cracking slightly at their efforts. Dawn and Dusk both watched on eagerly, silently cheering on the little one inside. Eventually, the shell fell away completely and they could finally see their new child.

She slowly blinked amber eyes open for the first time, curious already as to the world around her. Her body held a mix of colours from both dawn and dusk, dark outer markings patterned with stars. She was startlingly silent, however aside from that she seemed completely healthy.

They could immediately tell she was like them and, as beings embodying the ever changing sky, could easily see what she represented. Thus they had the perfect name for her the second she hatched.

And so it was that Twilight came into the world.

[actress4him]

June of Doom 2023

I have somehow managed to create an entirely new series with entirely new ocs out of thin air just for this event. My plan is to make all these prompts into one continuous story (some of them will be combined, some out of order), so wish me luck and we’ll see how it goes!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in the future pieces of this series!

Day 1 - “You don’t want to do that.” | Collapse | Locked Door | Fear

Day 2 - “Get in.” | Sobbing | Survivor’s Guilt | Salve

Contains: lady whump with male whumper, kidnapping, restraints, blindfold, knife, long-term captivity, fantasy prejudice, death mention

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The first thing Lainey notices when the car trunk opens, letting in the slightest bit of sunlight beneath her blindfold, is that the air smells fresh. There’s no trace of car exhaust or street vendors or anything that she’s used to smelling in the city. It smells like…dirt and leaves. Like the forest when she goes hiking on occasion. And it’s quiet, too, other than a few birds singing. 

If the bumpy roads and route that apparently took them the entire night weren’t enough indication that she’s been taken out into the middle of nowhere, this seals it.

The harsh hands that had first grabbed her by the dumpsters behind her work latch onto her arms again, yanking her up and out of the trunk with frightening strength. She cries out in surprise, struggling to find her footing on cramped legs before he’s prodding her into a walk. The sharp tip of a knife she’d only caught a glimpse of last night pricks at her spine. 

“Look, um…I don’t know what you want from me, but…my family doesn’t have much money or anything. My dad’s in construction and my mom does alterations. And my boyfriend isn’t rich, either, he just works at the coffee shop next door to my store. So if you’re looking for ransom money…”

“Get in there!” His hand slams into her shoulder from behind, and she stumbles forward, toes stubbing against a wooden threshold and nearly sending her sprawling on her face. They’re inside some kind of building now, she can tell even though the rough fabric across her eyes prevents her from seeing anything but darkness. The smell of fresh air fades away, replaced by must and old wood, and the stillness grows to an almost suffocating level. 

“You know, it’s kinda hard to walk through a strange place blindly and with my hands behind my back! If you want this to go more smoothly then maybe you should just take off all this crap and -”

“Shut up, before I add a gag to ‘all that crap’.”

She presses her lips together. Talking too much when she’s anxious has always been a struggle, though this time it’s more like terror than anxiety. Her parents had always warned her about bad guys and talking to strangers and all of that stuff, like all parents do, and that’s extended into her young adulthood as concerns about those prejudiced against magic-users grow. But she never thought she’d get kidnapped. 

“They’re gonna be looking for me, you know,” she blurts, unable to hold it in. The man is steering her with one hand on her shoulder, presumably avoiding furniture and making their way through the building. “My family. They’ll find you. They’ll make you pay for this. The police will find you and throw you in jail for the rest of your li-”

The knife leaves her back only for the hilt to smash into the back of her head. She stumbles again with a gasp, her head spinning and aching. 

“I said to shut up.”

Biting her lip, she does her best to comply. 

They halt their march, and there’s a series of clicking, scraping, and squawking sounds from directly in front of her. Locks, her throbbing head supplies. Quite a few of them. Her heart goes from pounding in her ribs to climbing up her throat. 

“Down the stairs.” 

That’s all the warning she gets before she’s pushed forward again. Her breath catches as her foot is forced to move, feeling tentatively at the darkness in front of her until she finds the first step down. Her second foot joins it, then she feels for the next step.

“You’re too slow.” He grabs onto her arm and begins barreling down the stairs at what seems like a breakneck pace. Her feet somehow mostly keep up even though her brain is screaming about not knowing where the steps are, and anytime she does miss one his hand just yanks her back upright. She’s pretty sure she’ll have a bruise on that arm from how hard he’s holding her. Maybe some on her ankles, too, from banging them around on the steps. 

Her legs are trembling by the time they make it to solid ground again. “Remember,” she huffs, the adrenaline of the trip making her tongue loose again, “that whole thing about it being hard to walk blindfolded?”

To her surprise, he responds by ripping it off her head, tearing out a few strands of hair with it. She winces at the pain and the sudden influx of light, but quickly forces herself to take in her surroundings. 

It’s quite obviously a basement. There are no windows, the only light coming from buzzing fluorescent lights overhead, and the floors and walls are all concrete. One wall is lined with cabinets, the contents of which she’s sure she doesn’t want to know, and the floor is dotted with mysterious stains that she’d also rather remain a mystery.

That’s as far as her observations take her, because it’s at that point that her blue eyes clash with a pair of dark brown and her thoughts screech to a halt. There’s another girl down here. She’s just sitting there, on the floor, curled up against the wall and staring back at her with a blank expression. Her face is streaked with dirt, and there’s blood crusted up in her hairline. Her black hair has been chopped off, short and uneven. She looks small, and frail, and far too thin, and…kind of like she shouldn’t be alive.

Footsteps on the stairs jerk Lainey out of her trance. Spinning away from the woman on the floor, she sees the man - the first good look she’s actually gotten at him, though it’s still just his back - halfway up the staircase. Leaving her down here. Leaving her to turn into a phantom of a person like this other girl. 

“Hey!” She runs after him, awkwardly since her hands are still ziptied behind her back. “You can’t just leave me down here! I’m a human being, okay? I have rights!” She stomps up the stairs, a much easier task now that she can see. “And I told you already, you’re gonna be in so much trouble when the police find you, you’re -” 

He’s walking through the door, about to disappear, and she picks up her pace, heart pounding. “Hey! Stop!” The door slams, the locks all clicking and squeaking back into place. “Get back here! You’re gonna regret taking me, I swear!” She can’t bang on the door with her fists, so she kicks it, instead, slamming the toe of her sneaker into the wood over and over again.

“You don’t want to do that.”

She barely hears the quiet, rasping voice over the ruckus she’s making, but it echoes against the concrete and catches her attention. Pausing her assault on the door, Lainey frowns over her shoulder at the woman down below. “I’m not just gonna sit here and take this! This door isn’t that strong, you know what? I could probably even kick it down if I wanted to…”

“If you keep causing a scene, you’re going to make him mad, and he’ll come back.” The pitch of her voice never changes, and she doesn’t move even her head from her position. 

“Good! If he comes back, that’ll give me a better chance to escape. He didn’t look that big, maybe I could overpower him and get out the door.” Never mind that he’d been strong enough to easily lift her, right now she’s just desperate to get out. Facing the fact that she’s trapped here is too terrifying to even consider.

She can’t stay here. She can’t.

A sliver of emotion finally finds its way into the woman’s next words. “If he comes back, he’ll hurt you. And if he’s mad, it’ll be ten times worse. So if you have any sense, you’ll sit down and shut up and conserve your energy for when he comes back on his own schedule.”

Something about what she says steals any remaining fight from Lainey’s body. She stares at the locked door for a long moment, breaths coming too fast and too shallow. “He’s…he…” She backs down one step, getting the distinct feeling that she doesn’t actually want to be standing here when the door opens. Her gaze is pulled back to the woman on the floor. “What does he…do?” She doesn’t want to know, but she needs to.

“Hurts us.” Her voice has gone back to flat and emotionless. “Well…hurts me. I can only assume that you’ll be the same. Having someone else down here is…new.”

Slowly, she plods back down the stairs, looking over the drab room again until she’s standing directly in front of the other woman. She doesn’t want to sit down. Sitting feels like settling in, and that feels like giving in. 

“Does he…want…?” Her eyes flick up and down the girl’s body almost involuntarily, as if she’ll be able to see the evidence of exactly what’s been done to her. 

Somehow the woman seems to read her mind. “No. Not that. Just anything else he can think of. Should I assume you have magic, too?”

Her stomach flips. She’s not used to being called out like that. “Um…y-yeah?” She said ‘too’, so it’s probably safe.

“Yeah. He’s one of those types. Thinks he’s doing the world a favor by keeping us out of it.”

“Great,” she sighs, shifting back and forth on her feet. A few seconds later, she flops down to the floor. She’s not giving in, she’s just exhausted from not sleeping last night and from all the adrenaline that’s starting to dwindle. 

“How long…have you been here?” Another of those questions she needs to know the answer to but doesn’t want to hear it.

“What year is it?”

“What?” She feels suddenly lightheaded, though her brain is too busy swirling to pinpoint why. “It’s, um…it’s 2023. June first.” Just in case she’d actually meant to ask month or day, instead.

Her previously empty expression shutters, eyes shutting and jaw tightening. It takes a long, anxiety-filled moment for her to respond, and her voice is hoarser than before when she does. “F-...five years. I’ve been here…five years.”

Lainey feels like the floor has dropped out from underneath her. She might say something, she’s not even sure, she’s too busy flailing in midair as she falls, trying to find something solid to stand on. Five years. Five years of being locked in a basement being…tortured. Five years of no one finding her. That’s not going to happen to her, right? It can’t. She has family, she has people who will be looking for her. 

She sucks in a desperate breath. “But…how…? You…didn’t you have…someone to miss you?” She’s heard of the cases where people go missing and are never found, of course. They’re always presumed to be dead, though. Not still surviving in a basement after five years. 

The girl shrugs one shoulder, eyes still shut. “Thought I did. Maybe they tried, and gave up. Maybe they never actually cared to start with.” 

“Maybe they, um…maybe they’re still trying. Me being kidnapped might help give more leads. I mean, my family will definitely be looking for me. My co-workers would have known right away that something happened, I just went out to take the trash and never came back.” She nods firmly. “They’ll find me. Find us. He can’t keep getting away with this for long.”

Opening her eyes slightly, the girl stares at her for a moment before shaking her head and closing them again. 

Lainey isn’t going to let it discourage her, though. She has to keep believing her own words or she’ll spiral. “Hey, what’s your name?”

She swallows. “Isa.” Her eyes open again, though her gaze stays on her knees. “Isabela, technically, but…everyone always called me Isa.”

“Isa,” she repeats, trying to get the Spanish vowels correct. “I’m Lainey. I’d say nice to meet you, but…”

“Yeah.” Isa gives that one-shoulder shrug again. This time, something clinks against the wall behind her, and Lainey becomes suddenly aware that she’s wearing a metal band around her throat.

“Wait, are you…chained to the wall?” She leans forward to see, and Isa flinches before trying to cover the movement by wrapping her arms around her legs. Her arms are dotted with bruises and scars of various kinds that stand out against her brown skin, and her wrists are so small that she’s pretty sure she could wrap her smallest fingers around them. 

“Yeah. He doesn’t do it too often. But he’s been gone for the past…few days, I guess, and he doesn’t like letting me roam while he’s out.”

She says it so matter of factly, like it’s just a part of life that should be expected. “He’s a creep and he can go curl in a hole and die,” Lainey growls, fists clenching behind her back. 

“Sure.” Isa leans her head against the wall. “Just don’t make him mad. He likes to be called ‘sir’, and he doesn’t have a lot of patience for having to repeat himself. We’re both better off if you just do what he says.”

Lainey grits her teeth. “That’s not happening. Look, I know you’ve been here a long time and you’ve had to…do whatever you had to to make it. But there’s two of us now, and only one of him. There’s more of a chance that we can overpower him or outsmart him. We could escape.”

Shaking her head, she stares up at the ceiling. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up like that. It’ll only hurt more when they come crashing down.”

She can’t imagine what Isa has been through. Doesn’t want to think about the fact that she may soon go through some of it, herself. But she can’t understand why she refuses to even consider trying to figure a way out of here, when she now has somebody to help her. 

Unable to sit and do nothing any longer, she levers herself off the floor and begins walking the perimeter of the room, familiarizing herself with every inch of the space. “I’m gonna figure out a way out of here, no matter what you think.”

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Next | Masterlist

[theoldsports]

married.

Coriolanus Snow x reader | 5.5k words

alcohol makes consent messy, substance abuse, manipulation, arranged marriage, public humiliation, two-way abusive relationship <3

Coriolanus may well replace Lupin as my favorite guy to write for. he’s fucked up. i can’t fix him, but i could certainly make him worse.

As quietly as possible, [Y/N] closed the door to Coriolanus’s lavish new apartment behind her. She didn’t particularly want him to know that she had left the apartment in the first place. There were always too many questions.

[Y/N] had recently moved in with Coriolanus since their engagement. Her parents had arranged their marriage with his grandmother, affectionately called the Grandma’am not long before she passed. Coriolanus was about the most desirable bachelor in the Capitol. Not only was he an excessively handsome twenty-three year old, but he was also growing increasingly wealthy and had recently received his first assignment as a Gamemaker working on creating a new arena structure for the Hunger Games. Everyone who was anyone in polite society knew of Coriolanus Snow.

And [Y/N] hated him with everything she had. She had to see his defiant smirk in school every day for years since they were twelve or so. She hid from him every chance she got at home. [Y/N] slept in another room away from him. The only advantage of their marriage were the politics and name recognition for the both of them.

“I didn’t realize you were going out.” Coriolanus said flatly, snapping [Y/N] from her thoughts. She hadn’t even realized he had been in the apartment’s common area. He was sitting calmly in an putrid-looking armchair, alarmingly still.

[Y/N] gasped and clutched her chest in surprise. “Is there a problem with my leaving?” She said quickly.

“No problem.”

[Y/N] looked at him curiously. “Okay.” She said and moved passed him to her bedroom.

After a moment of pause, Coriolanus appeared in her doorway. He leaned against her doorframe with a hand in his pocket. “Where were you, by the way?” He asked plainly.

“I don’t see how that’s your business.”

“It was beginning to get late. Our engagement party’s in two hours. I cannot very well attend an engagement event without my fiancée. So. Where were you?”

“Dry cleaner’s.”

Coriolanus let out a scoff. [Y/N] could see him get hot under the collar. “You expect me to believe you were—Where’s the laundry?” Coriolanus questioned.

[Y/N] reached into her coat pocket for the stub of her laundry receipt. “Dropping off, not picking up. You’re on Lucky Flickerman’s next week. Dropping off my dress ahead of time. Anything left you would like to accuse me of?” [Y/N] sighed, leaned against her desk chair.

“Do not speak to me like that,” Coriolanus begun, sighing. It was obvious that he felt undue humiliation from her response. “It’s childish and unbecoming.”

“So is your being a hypocrite.” [Y/N] snapped back instantly.

The pair fought daily. Never had Snow laid a hand on her, but it wouldn’t be surprising if he did one day. [Y/N] didn’t recall any particular fights he had been involved in at the Academy, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.

“Stop acting like a child!” Coriolanus repeated. “Are we not allowed one remotely pleasant moment together? You know I don’t want this just as much as you, but here we are. Can’t we be civil?”

“I am capable of civility, yes. You, on the other hand…”

“You’re disgusting. You don’t know how to listen. It blows me away. I asked you a simple question that a married couple should ask the other when one is gone. Now you’re screaming at me like a little girl. Grow up.”

“Grow up? You wanna talk about childish; you’re selfish, demanding, and cold. I’m scared to death of you. You make me feel like a toy, not a person, Coriolanus. I was always pretty fucking certain children had toys, not grownups.”

“Good gracious… Fine! Be that way. Cause a fucking scene!” Coriolanus screamed. His temper flared. He got that look in his eye that only men can get when they lose something they wanted. “My coat and tie are black. I’m assuming you’re not intending to clash or something, so just letting you know. Y’know. Communication. The polite thing to do.” He reported and stormed out of her room to his own. Her door slammed so hard behind him that she feared in may splinter off its hinges. What must the neighbors think of them?

[Y/N] resisted the urge to shout for Coriolanus to drop dead.

She was left to ready herself alone. As she pulled out her dress (that wouldn’t look foul against Coriolanus’s coat and tie) from the closet, she caught a glimpse of the engagement ring on her finger. White gold with a moderately sized ruby set in the middle. She was told both the gold and the stone were real, but she had her doubts to some extent. She found it was difficult to believe anything Coriolanus said. The ring made it clear that Coriolanus didn’t truly know [Y/N] because she had always worn silver jewelry. She felt isolated from all her prior jewelry pieces as now, none of them matched.

Then, [Y/N] stepped into her dress. A flowing black ballgown with a full petticoat and a glittery exterior over the fine satin it was made from. She couldn’t quite complete the buttons running up the dress’s back. She sat down at a small vanity Coriolanus had purchased her to do her hair and makeup. She assumed he would be hard pressed by the fact she couldn’t button the back of her own ballgown; that she was incapable or needy.

After dragging kohl and shadows over her eyelids, among other things, she set out to find the correct pair of shoes to match the dress.

The problem with dressing to match Coriolanus is that he was excessively tall. This meant every dress had to be accompanied by the tallest heels one could find. [Y/N]’s ankles ached just thinking about a night in shoes like that again. With her makeup done and her dress unbuttoned down the back, [Y/N] set out to find the red heels Coriolanus had purchased for her. She sat unceremoniously on the floor with her large skirt fluffed out around her to dig in her closet for the shoes.

Coriolanus was fastening his white gold and ruby cufflinks that matched [Y/N]’s engagement ring when he knocked at her door.

“Yes, what?” She shouted from the floor.

Coriolanus pulled the door open without asking if she was decent. “I was going to ask if you were ready, but I can see that you aren’t.” He sighed. Coriolanus never apologized after a fight, instead he tried to placate in whatever way possible. He was incapable of an apology, [Y/N] thought. Whether it was buying her something, taking her out, helping her find something she had lost, that’s what he would do to ease his own guilt. If he could feel guilt.

[Y/N] sighed as well. She was unwilling to engage in verbal sparring with him now. She lowered her head in a visual show of defeat. “I can’t find my other shoe,” She said weakly. “The red ones you got me.”

“The red heels?” He asked quietly. Coriolanus perceived she was not much in the mood for his attitude, and felt his residual anger cool off several degrees.

[Y/N] nodded hopelessly. She didn’t want to go to the engagement party. She didn’t want to be marrying Coriolanus under terms such as these. [Y/N] felt like property and everything hurt.

“Let me look,” Coriolanus said. What he meant to say was ‘I’m sorry for everything,’ but what he said was: “I’ll help you look. Don’t wrinkle your dress, alright?”

[Y/N] stood up awkwardly, holding the falling bodice of her dress up. She felt uncomfortable being so vulnerable in front of him like this. “Sorry, I couldn’t button the back.” She said. With her free hand, she reached around the back of the dress in an attempt to close it.

“Don’t apologize. I’ll get it. Turn,” Coriolanus commanded plainly. [Y/N] did as he said. He notched the buttons down her back with ease. “You should’ve called for help. I didn’t realize you were struggling.” He said. He patted her shoulder to signify he was done with the back of her dress. Coriolanus moved in front of her closet and bent down to find the missing left red shoe.

It was silent for a moment. “Of course you weren’t aware I was struggling.”

Coriolanus offered no reply. He understood what she meant.

“Aha!” He said after a few moments, holding up a matching set of shoes. Coriolanus placed them on the floor in front of her so she could step into them. He offered [Y/N] a hand for stability as she did so.

“Thank you,” she said. “Hey, Coriolanus?”

“Hm?”

“Are you nervous?”

“No,” he replied, standing up from the carpeted floor. “Are you?” Coriolanus’s blue eyes were piercingly inquisitive. Eyes that didn’t want to know you, but to consume you.

“Yes.”

“Really? Why?” Coriolanus asked. It didn’t feel rude or hot-tempered. It was merely a plain question. It made [Y/N] feel safe to answer, even though she remained guarded.

“I’m presenting myself as the soon-to-be wife of the most important thirty-under-thirty in the Capitol in an arranged marriage. And you hate me. You have hated me since we were children. My life is over, Coriolanus. This is for you and for my family’s honor, evidently. What do I have left?”

“You think I hate you?” Coriolanus asked, bending his neck to look at [Y/N]. “I don’t hate you.” [Y/N] wasn’t sure how truthful the statement was.

“Well, at least, you don’t like me.”

Curiously, Coriolanus placed a hand on her neck and dragged his thumb across [Y/N]’s jawline. “That’s such shit, [Y/N]. I didn’t realize you thought that of me. That you… Felt that way at all,” he started carefully. “Rather, and this sounds silly, I enjoy arguing with you. I sort of thought you did as well. You’re ruthless, I admire that,” He smirked and paused for a breath. “I do like you. Believe it, or not. I’ll just have to figure out a way to show you better,” Coriolanus’ hand slid from [Y/N]’s throat, down her side and back to eventually rest at her waist. She blinked up at him, surprised at the luxury of such unexpected contact from him. “Your life is not over. You wanna work, work. You want to not work, stay home. Please, allow me to do what I can for you. I can open doors. Whatever you want, name it. Things, opportunity,” [Y/N] nodded at the word ‘opportunity.’ “You’re meant to be my wife and I’m… really, I’m one of the best resources there is around here. Let me use that advantage. Had I known sooner, I wouldn’t have wasted all that time and money buying you things you hate.” He attempted a casual joke, holding her too close to him.

They were closer physically than they had ever been. Due to their proximity, [Y/N] had to rest her hands on Coriolanus’ chest as she stared up at him. She didn’t know what to say, so she nodded and straightened the red rose at his lapel. “You just might get yourself that unified front with me if you bring home your work…”

“You’re interested in Gamemaking? Since when?”

[Y/N] rolled her eyes. “We’re going to be late. We can speak about this later.”

“By all means.” Coriolanus leaned down awkwardly and kissed her. Maybe it was out of duty, maybe out of desire. Neither of them knew. They had shared the occasional peck on the lips for social reasons before, but this felt a bit different. It was charged somehow. A promise.

When they separated, [Y/N] stared at Coriolanus. He was all eyes - blue, blue, blue. He blinked at her. She blinked back. “Come on, we’ll be late to our own party.”

—

The whole ride to the event venue, Coriolanus had kept his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh. This was an unusual gesture. Normally, he didn’t chance touching her, even by accident. It was an unspoken agreement to keep their distance.

“I’m gonna be sick.” [Y/N] groaned into her palm as she exited the vehicle, led by Coriolanus toward the door of the event hall. The building had been destroyed when they were children in the war and had been recently restored to its former glory.

“Same thing as earlier, or did you decide I’m the worst person on earth?”

“Same as before. Haven’t decided about the second thing. My parents are going to be here too. You remember them?”

“Yes. I’ve met them… Twice, I believe—”

“Tread carefully.” [Y/N] said, offering no additional support.

Coriolanus nodded in solemn understanding. His eyebrows knitted together, knowing one more nasty, exhausting troublespot would be in his way tonight. He hated social gatherings as much as [Y/N]. With all the gentleness he could muster, Coriolanus took her hand. “Heading inside… Unified front?”

“If I must.” [Y/N] said.

With that, the night took off. Bright flashing cameras reflected off the black and white marble of the building, and applause rang off the large, cavernous walls. Everyone was shaking their hands, greeting and congratulating them, and stopping them for overly pictures at every turn. For a moment, [Y/N] truly believed that everything in her life was perfect, because everyone around her seemed to assume that it was. It made the pill of her future easier to swallow.

Coriolanus led her around the room with ease. He introduced her to many individuals whose names she would not remember tomorrow. She was beginning to develop a stunning routine of artifice with him as Coriolanus puppeted her around the room. Each interaction functioned with a greeting from Coriolanus to the stranger, he would remove his arm from [Y/N]’s waist and drag it down her arm into her hand in order for her to showcase her striking gown. Then he would say “isn’t my fiancée beautiful?” or “isn’t she just divine?” or “what a lucky man am I?” [Y/N] would chuckle and compliment him back with “my Coriolanus, ever the charmer!” or “isn’t he just divine?” or “what a lucky woman am I?” accordingly. They would smile sickeningly and pretend they were in love, he would lean in and kiss [Y/N] on the cheek, and she laugh warmly at his ‘spontaneity’ and place a hand on his chest, or straighten his tie.

After that, they would move on to greet the next poor sucker and repeat the process.

Eventually, [Y/N] dragged Coriolanus off to the side so she could relax her artificial grin. “Sorry, I need a moment. My face hurts. And that last man and his wife, was that his wife? They stunk. They smelled so foul it is unreal.”

Coriolanus smirked. “Those were my next door neighbors growing up. Vile. They’re very heavy morphling users, if you couldn’t tell with the glazed over look and twitchy eyebrow.” Coriolanus mocked.

[Y/N] laughed, hard. “Oh, you’re terrible!” She jeered. “Damn, what I wouldn’t give for morphling tonight…”

“Don’t tell me you’re a junkie, now.” Coriolanus pressed.

“Junkie is such a strong word…”

“Well, since I can’t get you high out of your mind at the moment, best I can offer is posca. I can grab you a glass and you can hide from the onslaught for a moment.” Coriolanus offered.

“Please. A particularly stiff glass if you can swing it. Or whiskey!” [Y/N] said. She watched Coriolanus turn to leave for the bar. [Y/N] tucked herself in a corner behind a noble Corinthian column for a moment of peace. A few people came and went that she greeted with that 1000-watt fake smile of hers, but she was mostly left unbothered. [Y/N] caught sight of a clock and realized Coriolanus had been gone for several minutes longer than he should have. She excused herself from talking to some old woman that claimed to be some distant great aunt or something of Coriolanus’ and set off to locate him and her posca.

Cutting through the crowd, [Y/N] spotted tall Coriolanus over most everyone’s heads, holding two glasses of posca, and speaking to her parents.

Fuck.

Her parents.

[Y/N] rushed sharply towards Coriolanus. She stopped short of approaching. She wanted to listen in for a moment to what they might be saying. [Y/N] knew her parents were of the socially treacherous sort. She turned her back to them and stood, pretending she didn’t know they were there.

“…Hasn’t given you too much trouble.” She heard her mother laugh.

Coriolanus laughed uncomfortably back. “Ha, not too much, no,” He said. “She’s quite fiery, for lack of a better word, though. Tough. She’s a tough woman.”

“You’re a strong young man, Coriolanus. I’m sure you’ll find a way to put her in her place. You can’t have her compromise your image and all that, you know. She can just be so destructive.” Her father said.

[Y/N] felt her heart sink. The positive interactions she had with Coriolanus were slipping out of her mind by the second in overhearing the conversation.

“Ah, yes sir,” Coriolanus said. “We’ve got a whole lifetime for—“

[Y/N] turned around and stomped over to Coriolanus. “There you are!” She said, returning that winning smile to her lips. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, dear,” [Y/N] the pet name coming from her mouth made her nauseous. She grasped Coriolanus’ arm firmly. “And you got me a drink? You really are a dear, aren’t you?” She smiled and turned to her parents. Coriolanus felt tense beside her; she could feel it in the muscles in his arm.

Both her mother and father embraced her lovingly. “Oh, [Y/N], you look beautiful as ever.” Her mother said.

“Thank you,” [Y/N] said flatly, not returning the compliment. “If you’ll excuse us, there was someone else I wanted Coriolanus to meet. We’ll be back around soon. Love you!” She muttered, pulling Coriolanus away from her parents.

“Give me that.” She said, as soon as they were out of earshot, taking the glass of posca from Coriolanus.

“They’re…” he started in reference to her parents.

“Dreadful. I know,” [Y/N] heart felt broken. She didn’t even have a chance with Coriolanus without their humiliating influence. She didn’t want to dive into rationalizing his overheard conversation. So she just morosely stared down at the floor.

“They’re cruel to you,” he remarked as [Y/N] drank. “They told me I should work on breaking your spirit.”

[Y/N] took a long drink from her glass. “Are you going to? Break my spirit, I mean.”

“Haven’t decided,” Coriolanus replied. “Is tonight terrible so far for you?”

“Absolutely and unendingly.”

“Shame, since it’s supposed to be for us,” Coriolanus frowned. “Here’s what we’ll do. Drink up and we’ll dance. You told me you liked to dance once. Still true?”

“Uh, yes. You remember that?” The truth was that Coriolanus forgot very little.

“Too much talking, not enough drinking.” He replied, reaching out to tip the stem of her posca glass up, forcing the drink towards her lips.

“You’re a dick.” [Y/N] snapped. Her voice echoed from the round glass at her mouth.

“Never heard that one before.” Coriolanus said sarcastically.

A total of five empty posca glasses were settled on a cocktail table between them after about forty-five minutes of chatter and drinking. Coriolanus seemed looser than before, but focused as ever. The third glass, and the last half of Coriolanus’ second, had sent [Y/N] over the edge into drunkness, however.

“Dance with me now?” [Y/N] slurred slightly.

Coriolanus held his hand out as an affirmative response. She took it and he led her towards the dance floor. “FYI, I’m going to lead. You’re falling apart.” He leaned in to whisper teasingly as they approached the shiny wooden floor.

“If you’re shit at this, I reserve the right to take over as lead.”

“You have zero faith in me,” Coriolanus said, grabbing her too firmly in a waltz hold. She placed her hand on his broad shoulder. “Don’t think, just follow. I’ve got you.” He said, staring at her. Blue, blue, blue eyes, completely unreadable. Coriolanus sloppily led her around the dance floor, keeping the spins to a minimum. Sober, he was probably a fairly decent dancer. [Y/N] was reflexively a fine dancer as well, but a bit sloppier than normal. The thing that was actually holding back her dancing abilities, were the damn red heels. Her feet ached and she didn’t think she would be able to keep up with much more than a waltz in them.

The next song began after only half the length she had expected from a waltz, [Y/N]. It was a brisk foxtrot; all reliant on footwork. As Coriolanus led her into the first sidestep, [Y/N] kicked off her heels without missing a step. She harshly kicked them aside, sliding them to the edge of the dance floor. [Y/N] found she felt tiny now in front of Coriolanus. His smirk doubled at the sight as well. “Better?”

“Much. How about you shrink six inches next time so I don’t have to grow six inches. Seems fair to me.”

Coriolanus laughed cordially. His laugh turned into a sigh when he noticed [Y/N]’s lack of reply. “Are you angry with me?” He was aware that she usually was angry with him, he was asking specifically she to the conversation with her parents.

“Yes, why?”

“Because you’re being extremely rude.” Coriolanus said sharply.

“And?”

“No reason, just making conversation.”

Coriolanus couldn’t figure out what [Y/N] was looking at over his shoulder, but he didn’t care enough to ask. “Wanna make it up to me?” [Y/N] asked. “Posca wasn’t enough.”

“I’ll consider it. The terms?” He replied, spinning her through a tempo change.

“I want to make my parents hurt. I don’t live under their roof anymore. She’s been staring at me since I took my shoes off. See? I’m embarrassing her. And you know how big you owe me.”

This gave Coriolanus pause. Really, he didn’t owe her anything worth a damn. She was as bad to him as he was to her. “Why?”

“You said you could grant me opportunity. Grant me the opportunity of making her feel a fool for making me marry you, Coriolanus. I’m drunk. This offer is only going to work right now.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Blowjob.”

“I have an idea,” Coriolanus said immediately. [Y/N] grinned. His job was having wicked, awful ideas, so it was nice when he delivered. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“By the end of tonight, you will,” Coriolanus grimaced. He rotated the pair of them on the dance floor so [Y/N]’s back was to them and he could keep eyes on her parents. “I’m going to touch you.” He whispered in her ear when the music shifted to something more akin to a rumba.

“What?”

In seconds, [Y/N] felt Coriolanus’ nose slide from where he had whispered in her ear and down her neck to above her pulse point. He planted one kiss to her throat. Coriolanus waited before kissing her again to make sure she didn’t throw him halfway across the event hall in rage first. After that, he felt he had the go-ahead to work more forcefully. Coriolanus sensually kissed hard up and down the right side of [Y/N]’s throat, while both of them tried to keep their fuzzy brains clear enough to keep dancing. He kept kissing and sucking at her neck until she let out a nice loud sound of pleasure. That was when he pulled away. He was happy to see a nice purple bruise starting to form on her exposed neck.

“How was that?” He asked dryly, trying to hold off a pending erection.

“You’re out of your mind. Do it again.”

“I’m pretty sure my boss is here, [Y/N]. That was… great, but unless there’s—“

“We got lectured our entire growing up at the Academy to make sure we were to be winners by any means necessary, Coriolanus. Push the envelope. It’s our night. We can do whatever we want. Let’s make it count, at least. With all these cameras here? You keep this up, and your face will be on every periodical in Panem.”

“Yeah, for terrible reasons!”

“Any press is good press and you know that. ‘TROUBLE IN THE ARENA?: GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE BREAKS DOWN AT PARTY,’” she said, showing a fictional headline example. “Below it, a nice picture of me crying and you dusting me off like a dutiful husband. Have your way with me and eventually I’ll snap and cry and accuse you of something you didn’t do, then you can ‘put me in place,’ so to speak. Control the fucking news cycle til everyone knows your name.”

[Y/N] could tell that Coriolanus had in fact agreed to gamble with his image when his hand slid down her back and grabbed her ass. His mouth ducked back into her neck as well, biting harder than [Y/N] expected. [Y/N] let out a painfully loud moan without meaning to.

“You want a show, let’s give ‘em a show.” He muttered against her skin. Coriolanus pulled his hips flush against his. The fabric of her ballgown being the only meaningful barrier between them. After a few moments, they had given up any chance at a rumba. Coriolanus stood over her, kissing her bruisingly hard anywhere we could reach.

“Coriolanus,” [Y/N] muttered. She gripped his shoulder tightly to steady herself. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Coriolanus took his hand out of the one that was clutching hers and slid it up to grab her face harshly between thumb and forefinger. “Can you shut up for a minute? I’ve let you run your mouth all day. It’s getting annoying,” He said, the mask of kindness slipping from his eyes. “You have had a complaint about everything. I put up with it, too. It’s getting… really,” Coriolanus’ hand gripped her ass harder over the ballgown. “Fucking annoying. You’re already making me do all this because I’m a dick. Stop being a brat. Please keep your mouth closed until I want it open, okay?”

He was holding her face so tightly that she couldn’t even nod. That’s when she saw the cameras start flashing, as Coriolanus gripped her by the face like a spoiled child and rubbed her ass in front of everyone she knew. “Yes.” She tried to mumble, but it came out squished.

“Great, then, we’re clear. Don’t think, just follow.” Coriolanus leaned forward and kissed her blazingly. That’s around the time [Y/N] could hear her mother in hysterics stomping to the bathroom. She sighed with relief, but also burned with humiliation. It felt like Coriolanus was practically trying to fuck her with her clothes on.

[Y/N] couldn’t believe this. This wasn’t brutally argumentative Snow, this wasn’t pseudo-gentle Snow. Who was this? What the fuck was he doing? Why did it feel good? [Y/N] felt a shiver tingle down her spine as he kissed her. Aggressively, she kissed back in an attempt at delivering that ruthlessness Coriolanus said he prized. He squashed that quickly and leaned her back, almost knocking her off her feet. She pulled back breathlessly.

[Y/N]’s eyes were darting around the room, watching everyone watching her. She was the show tonight. For the first time in her life, someone had made her the real center of attention that she always craved to me. Coriolanus granted her opportunity. It fucking worked. Her gaze shot back to Coriolanus, looking down at her possessively. He was mouthing something to her, but her intoxicated brain couldn’t signal her eyes to focus enough to piece together his words.

“What?” She whispered, leaning away from him.

More clearly this time, Coriolanus mouthed. “Hit. Me,” He leaned in close to her ear and whispered. “I told you. I’m leading; I have an idea.”

[Y/N] started to shake her head ‘no’ at her insane exhibitionist fiancé, but she remembered she was the one that had asked for a show. Without asking why, [Y/N] feigned disgust and stepped away from Coriolanus. She raised her hand and sharply slapped him across the face. This elicited gasps of shock from their guests. She could see a red mark beginning to develop on Coriolanus’ fair cheek.

Violence like this is what people in the Districts did. This was not what well-bred, promising youth from the Capitol did. The chatter in the room grew in the form of prying hushed whispers. The band stopped playing. This was not how beautiful young girls behaved at their engagement parties. [Y/N]’s stomach dropped. She looked angrily between her vile hand and the mark on Coriolanus’ face. Both of their expressions showed that she had hit him harder than they expected.

“How many men, [Y/N]?” Coriolanus asked, forcefully.

“What?” [Y/N] asked, shocked. She had no idea what he was talking about.

“How many men have had you behind my back?”

It was a fucking act. No truth to it at all. He wanted a rise out of her and so did the cameras. This was exactly what she had asked him, she didn’t realize how seriously he would take her.

[Y/N] sighed. She understood her role and she was going to play it perfectly. “One. Only one, I swear. None since you caught us in bed.” Lie. “Stop. We’re…” she glanced around, playing ashamed of the cameras. “We’re in public, Coriolanus. Please. Don’t cause a scene.” She said, parroting what he had said to her that morning.

That line did the trick. She saw the vein in his forehead pop out. “Don’t cause a scene? You struck me!” Coriolanus roared. “That’s unfair, and you know it.” The ghost of a smirk played on his lips while he clutched his face.

“You wouldn’t hear reason! The accusations you made of me, Coriolanus. You—You—“

Coriolanus surged forward and grabbed her by her forearms. “Accusations that are warranted. I don’t know how you expect me to trust you after something like that! Do you think I’m made of stone?”

“Yes!” [Y/N] yelled truthfully.

Coriolanus paused. “[Y/N], I hurt just as much as you do. You’re drunk. You’re not thinking straight,” He placated. “I just can’t stand to see how these men look at you like that, knowing you would trade me for them in a heartbeat.” He brought the tempo of their fight down with his false melancholy.

“Coriolanus…” [Y/N] said tentatively. “I wouldn’t… Not now. We’ve put that behind us. I-I’m yours and—“

“I made this whole night about you. I…” Coriolanus swallowed dramatically. “I love you.” Lie? “I love you, I spend all night trying to show you that I don’t want anyone but you. I try to make you feel special so you won’t stray again. And you, you hit me… I can’t do anything right enough for you.” He turned his face away, feigning hiding tears and released her arms.

Without the stabilizing touch of Coriolanus, [Y/N] was starting to feel uncertain on her feet from the alcohol. Far from gracefully, [Y/N] sank to the floor, her skirt fanning out around her as it had when she was searching for her shoe earlier that evening. From the drink, the tension and the state of her shambling life, [Y/N] let out an unexpected sob. Coriolanus turned his head in genuine surprise at the sound. “I’m sorry, my love,” she started through sniffles. “I’m sorry. Forgive me,” She looked up at him as her mascara began to drip down her cheeks. “Please forgive me. You have every right to leave, but please, Coriolanus, you’re all I have left.” That part was true. It was all gone. Her childhood home, the security of her parents, university and the Academy were behind her, taxing relationships with friends she had outgrown. Coriolanus was all that remained. [Y/N] cried harder. “I made a mistake.” She howled.

Coriolanus was impressed, to say the least. Cautiously, he knelt down in front of [Y/N]. He would remember this image of her for his whole life. With her mascara running, her stockings ripped, her shoes long missing, the top of her extravagant dress sliding too low for public consumption, she was divine, truthfully. That was her. That was how he would always want to remember her. “Darling?” He said quietly.

Now, the bastard was left open to play the dutiful savior, just as she had teased earlier.

[Y/N] started to twist the engagement ring off of her finger, theatrically. Coriolanus took her obvious bait and took her hand to stop her. He slid the ruby ring back down her finger calmly. “Darling, I’m not going anywhere. You’re drunk. You just need a little help, right? You mustn’t drink so much. It breaks my heart to see you like this,” Coriolanus squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “You need me. I’m not going anywhere. What kind of husband would that make me if I did?”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re a good man, Coriolanus,” LIE. “You’re too good to me.”

“Come on,” Coriolanus rose from the floor and extended a hand to her. “Let’s get you home, huh?” He said condescendingly.

[Y/N] took his hand carefully. He pulled her up and she stumbled to her feet. Coriolanus wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and pulled her closer. He glanced around in surprise to address the crowd that had gathered in front of them. “I’m sorry for everything you just had to see. Please be kind to my fiancée; she’s had a lot to drink. Posca, right?” Coriolanus darkly attempted a somber joke. “I should’ve kept a closer eye on her. We’ll be getting home. Thank you all for coming out to celebrate us tonight.” Sorry to call it a night with so much night left.” He said softly.

Coriolanus led her to the edge of the dance floor where he had spotted her shoes. He grabbed the red shoes from the floor and carried them dangling from his free hand as he walked her to the door and down the stairs to the sidewalk. [Y/N] had a vague memory of Coriolanus summoning their driver via the valet at the door. She was too busy noticing how her stockings caught on the sidewalk with every step.

“Darling?” Coriolanus whispered, leaning down to whisper to her. “You were brilliant.”

“Really?” She sniffled hesitantly. “Because I’m fairly certain that everyone in that room hates me.”

“Any press is good press.” Coriolanus reminded her with a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“For you, maybe. I made a mistake asking for that…” she kicked at a stray stone on the sidewalk. “I am probably the biggest villain in Panem right now.” [Y/N] said, shaking her head a little with a sad laugh.

“Not a villain,” Coriolanus scoffed. “A star.”

PART II HERE

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @ndycrls @arminsarlerts @catlover420sstuff @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @watermelonharry @ohantonia @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @nananarwhal @taykorsyogurt

sorry - some of them would not process and actually tag! i tried!!!!! non functional tags indicated with strikethru

[cha0ticspacebi]

Creeping Death

You get sick and your boyfriend Eddie comforts you.

Pairing: Boyfriend! Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.3 K

Tags/Warnings: Reader gets her period. Otherwise this is all fluff. Eddie being a dork, hurt/comfort. I don't care if it's SFW, MDNI 18+ only

Author's Note: If anyone has been wondering where the hell I've been I've been sick as fuck and this is inspired heavily by true events.

It started with a familiar tickle in your throat. One that seemed to come right around this time every single year no matter how careful you tried to be. You were getting sick. Hey. It comes with the territory of teaching 23 tiny germ favorites on a daily basis. Wanting to try and fight it before it got too bad, you stopped at the drugstore on the way home and grabbed the essentials. Preparing to hunker down for a little extra sleep. Hoping that you’d wake up with that tickle gone in the morning.

Well morning came and you were so congested you couldn’t breathe right out of both sides of your nose.

MDNI Banner Credit

Rolling over and snatching your phone from the nightstand you sent out two messages. One to work saying you’d be out for the day, letting them know where they could find emergency sub plans and another to your boyfriend Eddie. Just a quick Hey, I’m feeling pretty gross. Not going into work. We’ll have to reschedule our date tonight. Love you. And with that you went back to sleep.

Being sick fucking sucks, is the first thought you have as you wake up feeling worse than when you did earlier. You knew you needed to crawl out of bed and grab the medicine you’d had the foresight to get the night before; But that sounded like a task of herculean proportions. So instead you decided to lay there for as long as possible until a noise startled you awake from where you must’ve fallen asleep again.

You could hear footsteps moving around in the kitchen area of your small apartment. The pattern of movement sounded so familiar and it wasn’t fear that filled you, it was relief. Relief that probably in just a moment you’d be greeted with that adorable head of floppy brown hair and the biggest, most beautiful brown eyes ever to grace the face of the earth.

“Hey angel,” his voice was low as he poked his head in your bedroom door, “You feeling any better?”

You poked just your head out of the soft blanket cocoon you’d been living in now for over 12 hours, “No.” Your voice was scratchy and talking immediately brought out a harsh cough, “What time is it?”

“Oh baby you sound awful,” he ignored your question and stepped inside the room more. Sitting just on the edge of the bed, “Have you taken any medicine in a while?”

You shook your head, “S’too cold out there.”

He laughed. That alone was enough to brighten your mood for just a moment. Until you started coughing again, “Already my little germ queen, come on out. You’re going to take some medicine, shower and I’m going to make you some tea and soup.”

Your defiant noise of protest caused Eddie’s brow to raise, “You know I’m right baby. Come on, you’ll feel better if you get up. Do this for me and then you can lay back down. I promise, but you need to eat something.” His hand finds the small of your back even though it’s covered in many layers of blanket, “Sweetheart.” His tone changed when you made no effort to move. It was lowered to one that left no more room for discussion.

Slowly you squirmed out of the bed and downed the medicine he handed you before trudging your way to the bathroom for a hot shower. But first, sleeping for so long naturally caused your bladder to fill and as soon as you stood up it was full to bursting. Any relief you might’ve felt was short lived though because it didn’t take long for you to figure out why you felt more run down than normal.

Eddie’d gone into the kitchen just as he said he would and was just pouring the hot water into your favorite mug when he hears you let out an agonizing FUCK!  

In his never ending attentiveness he rushed to the door and tapped at it, “Baby are you ok? S’everything alright?”

“I started my goddamn period!” Another groan came from the other side of the door, “This should be a fucking crime!”

“Oh baby that sucks! Hold on just a second, I’ll be right back ok?” His gentle tone somehow made dealing with the fact that not only are you sick but now it just got a whole lot worse. After finishing up in the bathroom you decided to eat before taking a shower. Just as you opened the door Eddie was walking towards you.

“When you said you weren’t feeling good this morning I wasn’t sure if it was germy sick or period pains– guess I was right in getting both,” he gestured to the two distinctly different baskets in his large arms. One had cough drops, extra soft tissues, and a box of your favorite tea. The other had a few of your favorite snacks in a variety of salty and sweet, a new hot pad shaped like a potato that you can heat up in the microwave, and your preferred brand of pain relief. 

The pressure formed behind your eyes instantly. Your stuffy nose began dripping as tears formed in the corners of your eyes. Without a word you collapsed into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and crying into his faded Sabbath shirt. Letting out a whiny sort of muffled thank you as you speak into his shirt, “Eddie you didn’t have to do all this.”

His arms being already occupied he instead leaned down slightly and kissed the top of your head, “None of that. I know I didn’t have to baby. I wanted to. I love you–” he kissed you again, “Gotta make sure my girl’s taken care of.”

After telling him that you’d shower after eating you followed behind him like a lost puppy into the kitchen but he stopped you, “Go sit on the couch. It’s almost done and I’ll bring it to you.” 

The soup and tea he made you was just what you needed. The warmth from the broth soothed your raw throat and his presence next to you as you sat and watched reruns of cartoons from when you were kids soothed your very soul. Of course he insisted he do the dishes. He laughed at your weak protests, “Eds you know I’m feeling a little better. I can help with that.”

“Certainly not!” he stepped back into view holding an empty paper towel roll, “Do you hear that?” He held the roll to his lips. Your brow quirked up with curiosity at his playful antics, “The horns of Gondor call for you sweetheart!” He blew into the tube causing a noise that sounded remarkably close to the real thing as heard in your shared favorite movie. You erupted with laughter which, as good as it felt, was short lived because after just a moment you were coughing instead. He dropped the tube and started to go grab you a cough drop, but you stopped him, “M’ok baby.” You tried laughing again with just a little less enthusiasm, “Maybe just don’t be so freaking cute anymore.”

He laughed, “You’re the cute one angel. Now be a good girl and put The Fellowship in the player so we can watch it after your shower.”

✧༺ ☕︎ ༻✧

Your cold turned out to be a lot worse than you both thought. After a trip to the doctor’s and one round of antibiotics later you started to feel a bit better. But you like to think it’s most likely thanks to Eddie’s “expert” care. However, the morning after you were both sure that you weren’t sick anymore, Eddie got sick. He stayed over and when you rolled over to kiss him good morning, his forehead was burning up.

“Please honey,” you tried to reason with him, “You probably have what I have. Go to the doctor’s. You’ll feel better if you get some stronger medicine.”

He scoffed with a loud cough, “I’ve got all the medicine I need right here.” His “medicine” being his ringed fingers clutching at your thigh from where you both rested on the couch and the shot of whiskey in his hand. His fever broke and he was right as rain two days later.

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (2)

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, ...)

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE characters (Chris, Claire, Ada, Wesker, Jill, Sherry, Hunnigan, Rebecca, Baker Family, Merchant, Patrick, Luis), VtM concepts (Camarilla, Anarch, Sabbat, Second Inquisition, Toreador, Ventrue, Brujah, Gangrel, Nosferatu, Malkavian, Tremere, Ghouls).

Taglist: @admirxation @xoxostarlet ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 2: Dead City Blues

8 years ago…

Claire rapped loudly on an inconspicuous black steel door, one among many within a dreary, gray slab building. The sound echoed off the concrete walls, but there was no answer.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, checking the address written down in marker on the palm of her hand again. Yeah, this was the place, alright.

Banging on the door a second time for good measure, she whipped her head from side to side, skittishly surveying her surroundings while she tapped her foot on the ground impatiently. After what had recently happened, she was on edge, wanting to make sure she hadn’t been followed. Unfortunately, she was met with nothing but silence.

Where the hell was this guy? Trying the door handle, she rattled it and it clicked open, unlocked. Gingerly, she took a step inside, closing the door behind her. Well, she didn’t come all the way here for nothing. Might as well snoop around and see what she could find.

On the other end of the room stood a work desk overflowing with papers, some neatly stacked in piles, others scattered across its surface which was haphazardly littered with sticky notes. The desk lamp shone brightly, illuminating the dust motes circling lazily in the air, and a laptop lay open beneath it, the text cursor blinking on a blank document, seemingly mocking her. Next to the desk were a bunch of filing cabinets with some of its drawers open, as if someone had been rummaging through them but had left in a hurry. There was a worn leather couch to the side, along with a large potted plant and a couple of cushioned chairs. For clients, she presumed.

The laminated wooden floors creaked underfoot as she moved forwards cautiously. She sensed that she wasn’t alone, but wherever she looked, there was not a single soul in sight. Everything was completely still. Too still, she thought, playing with the rings on her fingers nervously. This wasn’t her territory. She was risking her undead skin, but there was no other choice.

“You have some balls, showing your face here,” a voice from the shadows taunted.

With a jerk, Claire pivoted sharply to confront the source of the disturbance, leaping backwards as she bared her fangs and hissed aggressively.

The voice tutted, “Defiant brat.” A man with dirty blonde hair and icy blue eyes appeared from the corner of the room. “You Anarchs really live up to your name.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Leon Kennedy?” she questioned, the name spilling out from her mouth like a foreign object. However, she regained her composure, relaxing her stance as she smirked, unable to resist another one of her sassy comebacks that often got her into trouble. “Tell me, Camarilla pretty boy, how’s it like being the Prince’s lapdog?”

With blinding speed, Leon raced in front of her, holding her neck in a vice-like grip as her feet lifted off the ground. “You have ten seconds to explain before I rip your fucking throat out!” he snarled, while she choked and sputtered, struggling to break free from his grasp.

Summoning her strength, she tucked her chin, raising her arms up before using the momentum to swing her hips to one side, while simultaneously slamming her elbows into his forearm. A deep growl escaped his lips as he let her drop to the ground. “I need… your help,” she coughed violently. “My brother…”

He squatted down beside her, eyeing her with barely masked contempt. “And why should I help a filthy lick like you?”

“Please,” she begged, even though groveling in this manner made the hairs on the back of her neck stand. “They said you were one of the best. That you’d know how to find even those who don’t want to be found.” Tears lined her lashes as she looked away in humiliation, willing them not to fall.

His features softened in reflex action, as he saw brief vignettes of the past flash before his eyes of people coming to him for help, and the despair seeping through their pores. Their silhouettes morphed with Claire’s, blurring reality with fiction. It was inherent in him to help others. He hadn’t forgotten it, even though he was no longer human. 

“Fine,” he managed to make out through gritted teeth. “I only take payment upfront though.” Reaching his hand out towards her, he helped her to her feet, as she dusted off her red leather jacket.

“Yeah, about that…” she scratched the back of her head sheepishly.

“Let me guess, you’re not exactly rolling in riches, are you?” he sighed, his expression drooping suddenly in weariness.

Claire bit her tongue, trying to hold back on making another snarky remark about the elitist Camarilla sect and its bullshit Ivory Tower. Leon cocked his head, staring at her curiously, unveiling his fangs deliberately like a shark. Shit, maybe he was one of those Kindred who could read minds.

“Look, wait—” she raised her hands in front of him as though placating a raging bull. “If you find him, Chris…” There was a long, pregnant pause, as she shuffled her feet anxiously. “I’ll owe you a life boon,” she breathed, sealing her fate.

A life boon. She must be completely desperate, he thought. He’d never been owed one before, seeing as how he was just another mundane neonate in the underworld of upper class Kindred, which meant that he’d graduated from being a fledgling under the wing of his sire without fucking up. He was good enough to be considered a cog in the machine for his elders to use like a pawn in their silly games. But for the past 15 years, give and take, of his unlife, he always played by the rules, or around them, never going beyond the point of no return.

Life boons were rare in these nights and he wasn’t about to say no, but at the same time there was that nagging conscience within him that wondered if he was taking advantage of her. No, the Kindred world worked differently from the Kine’s… well, actually they were pretty similar, but— he shook his head to snap out of it before he could sink deeper into the rabbit hole.

Clearing his throat, he extended his hand again, offering it to her. “You got yourself a deal then, uh, miss…?”

“Claire.” She grabbed his hand and shook it firmly, nodding tersely at him. “Claire Redfield.”

“Right, Claire, tell me everything you know so far.” He gestured towards a pair of seats near his desk.

After he had gathered all the information he needed, he sent her off to the door like the gentleman he had been raised to be. Before heading out, she turned around, unclasping the silvery chain that hung around her neck. Attached to it was a matching pewter feather and a robin’s egg blue gemstone set within it. 

“Take this.” She released it in his hand. “Show it to Chris and he’ll know I sent you.”

With that, she disappeared into the cool, dead of night.

The next time they saw each other was a week later, inside an abandoned motel. There was trash strewn across the entire floor and an overhead light buzzed and flickered.The plaster had been torn apart from the ceiling board and loose cables hung from its opening.

A gruff, bulky man leaned against Leon’s shoulder which acted like a makeshift crutch, as Leon steadied him with a firm grip, half-carrying and half-guiding him to a soiled mattress in the middle of a room. The man patted Leon’s arm, indicating that he wanted to take a break. He slid down against the wall, resting in a sitting position on the mattress. His clothes were caked with mud and half of his face had been severely burnt, as charred black flesh curled at its edges. There was a gaping bullet hole in his thigh, and rusty colored blood soaked through his tactical pants.

Apart from the scratching and scampering of rodents, the place was silent. Though the uncanny peace was disrupted just a split second later, when a screech could be heard from the other end of the room. “Chris!”

In a blink of an eye, Claire dashed forward and knelt in front of her brother, grasping both of his shoulders as tears streamed down her face.

“Some FIRSTLIGHT agents got him real bad, but he managed to get out of the thick of it,” Leon explained. “They were searching for him, so he was stuck there for a while.”

Chris brushed his sooty fingers against his sister’s cheek, leaving charcoal marks in their wake. “Don’t worry, we got them back,” he rasped, shifting his gaze between Leon and him, as he grimaced through the pain.

“Shhh, don’t speak.” She brought a finger to his lips, trying to hush him. “Fucking SI bastards,” she seethed.

The Second Inquisition. The bane of every Kindred’s existence. They targeted everyone indiscriminately, regardless of sect, and had been around in one form or another since the beginning of time. Today, they were a conglomeration of intelligence agencies who made it their life mission to eradicate the undead. Apparently, even the Vatican was involved, Leon scoffed at his internal monologue, before directing his attention back at Claire. “Your brother’s had a blood bag, he’ll need—”

“Shit’s fucking disgusting, 10 out of 10 would not recommend,” Chris warned hoarsely, before erupting into a coughing fit.

Claire groaned, shaking her head in exasperation. “I swear, it’s like talking to a brick wall with this one.”

Leon peered around the room, double-checking to ensure that no one else was there. He shouldn’t stay any longer than necessary. “Since my job here is done, I’ll take my leave,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, as he turned towards the exit sign.

“Leon?” Claire called out and he looked back at her in puzzlement. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugged, flipping his bangs away from his face.

“I owe you,” she declared, her serious demeanor reflecting the sincerity of her words.

Chris glanced between the two of them. “We owe you,” he chimed in.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Present day…

Jasmine incense and fruity puffs of shisha smoke wafted throughout the room he had just entered. Translucent red silk sheets draped around the ceiling and the side walls, giving off the illusion of being in the hull of a ship, as well as a false sense of security. The beaded curtain he passed through made a tinkling sound as the pearls clacked lightly together, alerting others to his presence. This was a place where gossip was woven, secrets were spilled and deals were made. Leon knew this all too well, especially since he had his share of many such dealings with his sire in the past.

He was in luck today. Apart from her, there were only ghouls here, ordinary humans whom she recruited into her service and imbued with her strength. One of them nodded at him in acknowledgment, offering him a cordial glass filled with claret liquid. “Our finest.”

Clearly, they had anticipated his arrival. How nice of his sire to inform them, he ruminated sarcastically. Taking the glass from her, he swirled it, noting how smoothly it strained down the sides before sniffing the rim faintly.

“We also have live vessels, if you prefer,” she suggested.

He frowned slightly, signaling with a subtle hand wave to decline her proposal as he drank from his glass. She backed off, allowing him to walk past towards a majestic set of marble doors, lavishly decorated with ornaments and intricate figures carved into them. Tracing an outline of a distorted face of a child with his finger, he recalled how in his early years, he’d been so enraptured by everything in this godforsaken place, and most of all, her. He lifted the aged bronze knocker, tapping it twice before pushing open the double doors.

And there he saw her, in all her terrible glory, basking like a queen in an elegant kimono robe on her opulent, plush bed, adorned with a velvet headboard and its frame crafted from the finest woods. Every inch of it was covered in luxurious fabrics, from the embroidered duvet to the pile of sumptuously soft pillows. Kneeling beside her on the ground was a half naked ghoul, lapping hungrily at the crimson fluid flowing from her wrist. A blood-stained dagger lay on the bedside table.

Ada caught Leon’s gaze and smirked at him.

“That’s enough for now,” she commanded, and immediately, the ghoul straightened himself, averting his eyes as he retreated from the pair of them.

The gash on her wrist closed up on its own. “Just the monthly top up.”

Leon made a face at her elaboration; the betrayal and hurt were still raw in his memory, as if they had only occurred yesterday.

“Oh, don’t be so sour, Leon,” she laughed. “You can’t possibly be still hung up about that?”

“You used me, Ada,” he simmered. Despite the infrequency of their meetings in the recent years spent apart, she knew how to push his buttons. “So, I’m sorry if it’s a little hard for me to act like nothing ever happened between us.”

She let out an irritated sigh. “You sound like a child throwing a tantrum right now,” she retorted, picking at her nails in growing boredom. “And tell me, which sire doesn’t use their own progeny?”

He clenched his fists in anger but held his tongue. This wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on. He reminded himself of the purpose of his visit and chose not to let her snide comments ruffle him.

“Good boy,” she cooed approvingly. “I see you haven’t lost all of your manners. Blood bond, or no blood bond.”

He winced at the term, as a sudden wave of nostalgia, combined with ensuing nausea, hit him. The visions were so vivid:

“Do you love me?” She stroked the side of his cheek tenderly as he lay naked and panting on top of her pale breasts. 

“Yes, yes, of course,” he fawned.

“Prove it.”

Cradling her hand, he brought the underside of her wrist to his lips. “I’ll do anything! Say the word and I’ll die for you, a thousand times over.”

“Then drink, my love.” Her eyes glowed violet as her mouth shaped into a cruel, yet alluring smile.

And he sank his teeth into her, like a good little boy.

Back then, she only needed to say “Jump,” and he would ask, “How high?” without realizing that drinking from her so often would result in a nearly unbreakable blood bond. He committed despicable acts in her name, things he would rather scrub from his mind and forget about, but they continued to haunt him.

When he lost his shine and the appeal of being something new, she discarded him like yesterday's newspaper, chasing after the next high she could find. The problem with the bond was that he was obsessed with her, often breaking out into insanely jealous fits that tormented him for days when she took on a new lover. He had almost killed one of them, which, in turn, could have resulted in his Final Death at the hands of the Prince, had he been successful. Time away from her was all it took for the bond to wear off, though it was not without its difficulties. He whined like a lovesick puppy during the moments he was alone, rotting like waste on the stone cold floor. His vulnerability was like a disease; he hated every bit of it and swore never to descend to such a state.

When he returned to the Court like a new man after an agonizing period of being weaned off the bond, he suddenly found himself no longer in vogue and stumbling his way through the dark, seeing as how it was always his sire who called the shots around town. In a twisted turn of events, he ironically ended up falling back on the career he had originally given up to be with her, in order to be of use to the Camarilla, or polite vampire society, if you will. 

And then, there was the vessel business. To keep up with the expectations and obligations impressed upon him due to their formal relationship as sire and childe, he continued to bring her the vessels she requested. The only requirement was for them to be of ‘exquisite taste’ and he obliged whenever he could, though this time, he put in just the bare minimum to get by. Yet, some part of him still cared for her, in spite of what she had done, even if he would never let himself admit that.

Coming back to his senses, his eyes adjusted to the scene before him. Leaning back on her bed and propped up by the pillows, Ada patted the empty side next to her, inviting him to take a seat, and he followed her lead.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Negotiating was never one of his strong suits, especially not with Ada, but he had to try. He gulped the rest of the liquid down, fiddling with the glass in his hand. “Ada, since I joined you, you know I’ve never asked you for anything…”

She cast him a prolonged sideways glance. “You’ve piqued my curiosity. Go on.”

“I want to Embrace one of my own.” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush. Better to get it done and over with.

“You? Becoming a sire?” she snorted in disbelief before bursting into giggles. “I mean, you’ve always been a bit of a mommy’s boy, haven’t you?”

“I can handle it,” he responded curtly with a cold and unbroken stare.

“Hmph.” Pulling herself into a seated position against the headrest, she folded her arms and turned to face him. “I have to say though, this is even more interesting than when you joined the Anarchs.”

A disgruntled noise escaped his throat. “I didn’t join the Anarchs—”

“No matter.” She raised a hand to silence him. “Wesker seems to think it useful of you to be our unofficial emissary. And what the Prince says, goes, after all.” A sly grin spread across her cheeks, barely concealing her fangs.

Clearing her throat, she continued her line of questioning. “So, who is this prospective childe?”

“One of the owners of Café Noir on Blake Street, just east of Circular River,” he mentioned, racking his brains for any viable excuse to make you sound like the best possible candidate for the Clan of the Rose, the Toreador. His and Ada’s clan. Like sire, like childe.

There were some who thought of them as divas and perverts, but these Kindred were wrong — they were so much more than that. Passion and obsession were their greatest strengths. They could make or break minds with it, crushing you until you were nothing but a tiny speck on the Earth, to be shunned and forgotten. Everyone had something to bring to the table, and let’s just say what counts as an art has always been a purely subjective matter.

“I was tipped off that the Anarchs are looking for ways to claim the area as their domain,” he explained further. “She’ll give us the edge we need to prevent that.”

“Anything else?” she probed.

“She’s young, idealistic—”

“A lot like yourself, back in the day.” A rueful laugh escaped her lips.

Leon continued forward without missing a beat, he needed to convince her without letting her statement get to him. “Hot-blooded, but not to the extreme like those Brujahs, just the right amount of fight in her. I’m sure you’ve heard of the events they’ve hosted over there—”

“Ah, yes,” she nodded. “Very underground and avant-garde.” There was a twinge of dismissiveness in the way she said it.

“Yet pandering to the people,” he added quickly, attempting to cram in even more noteworthy achievements he had recognized in you. “Well, you can’t deny that she can stir quite a crowd—”

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Ada interrupted him for the third time in a row, and he was struggling to maintain his composure in response to her accusation. “How predictable.”

“That’s besides the point,” he snapped, turning away from her to avoid her mocking scrutiny.

She tutted, stretching herself out leisurely like a cat who had a mouse trapped between its claws. “The real question is, why don’t you ask the Prince yourself?”

“You know why,” he muttered, still unable to look her in the eyes.

“Say it.”

Swallowing his pride, he pursed his lips before speaking. “I’m just a simple whelp. But you, as an esteemed Harpy, know how to please him.”

“Very good.” She reached out and ran her lithe fingers through his silken locks of hair as he shuddered at her touch. “Just like I taught you.”

Curling her fingers under his chin, she turned his face back towards her. “You know this won’t come for free…”

“I am well aware.”

The look of determination in his eyes nearly startled her. She hadn’t seen that fire in him for a while. “Sometimes, you surprise me,” she admitted. “No wonder I keep you around.”

“Do we have a deal?” he pressed, trying to keep the conversation on track.

“If I were you, I’d be careful what I wished for.” She trailed one of her taloned nails along his bottom lip. “In any case, I’m counting this as a major boon, so you better be ready to pull your weight when the time comes.”

She was always playing games. With him. With everyone. It was what she thrived on. But his choices were limited. “Have I ever failed you?”

“Don’t make it the first,” she warned, a gleam of danger flashing across her eyes. “Well, come then, kiss me.”

Suppressing his reluctance, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers as she asked, submitting to her entirely as the deal was sealed.

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Leon?” he heard you call out from behind the bar the minute he’d stepped through the entrance. You looked like you had seen a ghost.

It had been a while since he had returned, but there were other more urgent matters he had to attend to in the meantime. Did you miss him? Was this what it was all about? He strolled over, watching you chew your lip apprehensively.

He tried to place his hand on your shoulder in concern, but you shrank away from him like a wilted flower. There was a pang in his chest. He didn’t know how you had the power to unintentionally hurt him in this way. “Is something wrong?”

You were trembling so badly, the cup you were holding rattled noisily against its saucer. “What did you do to me back then?”

A pained realization swept across his face. You had remembered the last words he had said this time, waking up confused to find yourself unsullied, not a hair out of place, wondering what on earth he meant by his remark. God, he wanted to hold you now and beg for your forgiveness, but it was too late.

“You know, I liked you…” Your mouth had contorted in anguish. “If you wanted something, you could’ve just asked.”

“Please, I can explain,” he pleaded, finding himself on the opposite end of the table for once. “I swear, I won’t do anything to harm you. I just need you to trust me, please.”

Your forehead creased as you pondered your next move, eyeing the man in front of you with suspicion. He seemed so earnest and had treated you with nothing but kindness before. Yet, beneath the surface, there lurked a predatory nature intrinsic to him. Although it scared you, you found this side to him fascinating, and it drew you in at the same time.

Finally, you came to a decision. “Patrick?” you motioned towards your curly-haired brunette colleague while not once shifting your gaze from Leon. “I’m gonna take the night off and spend some time with this gentleman here.”

Sliding Leon’s business card along the counter towards him, you made sure to talk loud enough for the blonde man to hear it. “If you don’t see me in the next day or two, you know what to do.”

You tried to laugh it off as a half-serious joke, just so they wouldn’t worry… too much. And with that, you grabbed your jacket and headed off into the night with him.

[misc-obeyme]

what are your thoughts on the cheeky lil cow boy (belphie)

Ah yes, Belphegor, a bit of a polarizing character in general, I think. People seem to either really love him or really hate him.

Generally speaking, I think he's deceptively cunning, but not in a malicious way. He's pretty chill most of the time, but he'll do stuff like manipulate his brothers to get them to do his chores for him. Except for Beel, of course. And really they are a unit. Belphie is always ready to fight for Beel and vice versa. But I also really like how they just quietly support each other. Someone will say oh Belphie fell asleep in this weird place and Beel will immediately be like I'll go get him. Or Belphie will be like we need to make sure we bring food to this thing because Beel will get hungry. Like they're just always thinking about each other and I think that's really sweet.

Belphie will also call people out if he wants to. If he has no reason to keep it to himself, he'll straight up tell you if he thinks you're doing something questionable. And his issues with Diavolo indicate to me that he has a problem with authority, like he would be more defiant if he wasn't also lazy lol.

Inevitably, though, we can't really talk about Belphie without discussing the Lesson 16 Incident. At this point, I think most people are aware of those events, but just in case, I'll put the rest of this under a read more. And also it's kinda lengthy, so be forewarned lol.

First of all, I have to say that I was honestly so confused about what was happening in Lesson 16 that I didn't fully understand that Belphie had killed MC. I had to read it multiple times and then read what other people were saying about it. So I never had an intense reaction to it.

But to be fair, it wasn't like we didn't know there was something weird going on the whole time. I knew it was the youngest brother locked up there and it seemed like it was wrong, so that made Lucifer out to be the bad guy of the situation. Then it turns out that wasn't the case at all.

Belphie is manipulative. That's just part of his character. And when he has something that he's trying to do, he's going to use that skill to get it.

Some people are still mad at Lucifer for locking Belphie up at all. Some people are obviously quite upset that Belphie killed MC.

But here's what I think.

It isn't that black and white. Aside from the confusing time travel shenanigans, this event is one of the most realistic things that has ever happened in the story.

Belphie shared Lilith's love of humans. Together they wanted to learn more about the human world. It would be easy for him to blame himself for her interest and what ultimately led to her death. But even if he didn't, he saw the way that it tore his entire family apart.

It wasn't just that his dad got mad at his sister and they had an argument or something.

It was that his dad was going to end his sister's existence and in defiance, his older brother rebelled. And there was a war. This was not some squabble. This was siblings fighting siblings.

Belphie watched his brothers and sisters fight and hurt and kill each other and it all came back to Lilith falling in love with a human.

And then he fell with his brothers, cast out of his home, losing everything he's ever known. His brothers are changing and suffering just like he is.

They don't talk about it. They clearly all keep secrets regarding it still, things that don't come out until MC comes along. Which is supposedly thousands of years after the fact (at least in OG). That means Belphie has had all that time to let that trauma fester. To let it twist inside him. To let it morph into the one thought that became most dominant: that humans are bad.

Is that a fair assessment of what happened? No, of course not. But we're dealing with a war traumatized fallen angel that clearly hasn't worked through any of these feelings in thousands of years.

And then he defies Diavolo and Lucifer panics.

Yes, Lucifer should have found a better way of handling it. But remember what happened to him when he defied authority? He is trying his best to protect Belphie. He is trying not to lose another sibling. He is also still traumatized and therefore overreacting out of fear.

And so was Belphie.

Imagine being locked up like that and a human comes along. A human is free among your brothers to do whatever terrible things humans do while you're powerless to stop them. Of course he's going to try to manipulate that human into setting him free. Of course he's then going to eliminate them because humans have been historically bad for his family.

I read this situation as Belphie being both afraid and angry that a human - the thing he's convinced himself was the main cause of his sister's death - has become so close to his brothers and has the access to his family that could cause another rift among them.

You could say that it was Belphie's idea to get MC to have all the pacts, but that isn't really true, either. By the time MC meets Belphie, they already have a pact with two of his brothers. He sees them already starting to worm their way into his family. And he knows that the only way to get out of the attic is to encourage it. He doesn't really have a choice.

Maybe everyone can now call me a Belphie apologist. But I'm always coming at this from an outside fictional standpoint. I'm like listen he's a flawed character and it's actually pretty realistic of him to react this way considering the circumstances.

However, he did kill MC. And that's why my own MC, Ciaran, has issues with Belphie for a while. It's also traumatic to have someone kill you, so it isn't like I'm saying MC should just forget about it or forgive Belphie immediately. I think it probably should have taken a lot more time for MC to trust Belphie again. Certainly that part of the story was a bit rushed.

But they're dealing with lesson format constraints and also it's a silly otome game so I guess fully formed character arcs can't be expected. Especially since we aren't dealing with routes and they have to cram everybody into the same set of lessons.

In the end, I think Belphie is an interesting and complex character. I think there's a lot of space to explore more about this particular aspect of him, but due to the format of the media and the lack of routes, his more in depth character arc just doesn't exist.

I personally have no problem with Belphie as a character, but I also understand why people don't like him. I am always of the opinion that everyone is free to love or hate or have any emotions at all about fictional characters lol. This is just my personal opinion.

[iwantjaketosullyme]

𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ᴘᴀʀᴛ Ⅳ: ᴍɪʟᴋ, ʜᴏɴᴇʏ, ʜᴀʀᴍᴏɴɪᴇꜱ

➺ pairing: aged up!lo'ak x f!metkayina!reader (fluff) ➺ series summary: lovesick!lo'ak does all he can to win the heart of oblivious!reader ➺ chapter summary: ❝ Sullys stick together, so he knows that his disappointment will be cut into little pieces and divided equally amongst his family members, another burden shared. ❞ (w/c: 3.1k) ➺ warnings: kiri nd tuk bullying lo'ak (he had it coming), throwing up (minor), lo'ak is still a silly billy🤭 a/n: sully shenanigans continue ! i'm making tuk 10 yrs old in this even tho everyone else is 5 yrs older. if she was human, tuk would defo mutilate her barbie dolls then beg jake to buy her more. someone needs to save lo'ak, reader rlly thinks everything is life or death lmaooo. na'vi dictionary at the end :)

« 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬┃𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭┃𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 »

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

It is evening. Eywa has strung the stars in the sky, illuminating her dear Eywa’eveng with the same tanhi that litter the skin of her children. The constellations are visual retellings of the stories of humble Na’vi made legend after achieving exploits for their people, a reminder of the greatness found in unity.

All clan activities have wound down – the fishers have hung up their nets, divers have inspected their findings and hunters have laid down their spears. At the centre of the shore blazes a strong and defiant bonfire. Its flames are fanned and fuelled by the life that pulses in the Metkayina gathered around it who convene to share tales of the day’s events.   

The soft scraping of fingertips on wooden bowls fills the air as separate family units come together to share a communal meal and enjoy the spoils of the day’s hunt. A myriad of voices can be heard; the croak of an aged elder, the babble of a babe and the peeved huff of a particular young Na’vi male.

Over the din of the clan’s combined chatter, Lo’ak’s expression of his annoyance is only heard by those that are sat right next to him. On his right-hand side sits Neteyam, who is half-concerned about what it is that has his baby bro so upset, but simultaneously trying to keep up with Tuk’s recounting of the scenarios she had made her figurines act out today.

On the other side of Lo’ak sits Kiri, who is praying to the Great Mother in her head, begging for the grace not to hit him if he sighs one more time.

“Hey Lo’ak, are you going to tell us what’s wrong or are you going to keep sitting there with a face like a slapped palulukan’s arse?” Kiri’s voice cuts off Tuk’s rambling, the girl deciding to take matters into her own hands. She couldn’t bear seeing his pinched expression in her peripheral vision for a second longer. Her remark brings the attention of the whole family onto Lo’ak, whose brow only furrows further in lieu of a response.

Scandalised by such a comment from her daughter (who typically had her head too high up in the clouds to engage in petty name-calling), Neytiri’s face flushes in shock. At the same time, Jake struggles to suppress a chuckle and manages to cover it up with a faux-stern “Kiri!”, forehead creasing into a frown that is nearly convincing enough. Nearly.

It was easy to see that something was off with Lo’ak – where he would usually have scarfed down his helping of food in the first five minutes of the meal and spent the rest of it badgering Tuk and Kiri for the food in their bowls with a cheeky ‘are you gonna eat that?’, he’d been pushing the same piece of fish around for the past thirty minutes. 

If that was not enough of a sign, the clearest indication of his displeasure could be seen in his tail that hangs limply in the sand behind him, or his folded-back ears that had not even perked up at the sound of Tuk’s stories, for which he usually provided the sound effects. 

It was for these reasons that nobody was truly surprised at Kiri’s outburst. They had just been hoping that Lo’ak would open up without being prompted first.

With the hubbub of the clan’s numerous conversations in the background, Lo’ak’s silence is loud. While he is embarrassed to have been caught in the act of sulking (Eywa, he couldn’t even mourn a love that died before it lived in peace), he is more so hesitant to declare his premature failure to the people who had been so ardently supportive of his romantic pursuit.

Sullys stick together, so he knows that his disappointment will be cut into little pieces and shared equally amongst his family members, another burden shared. But Lo’ak is tired of being a burden, and has been for a while.

Ever the attentive older brother, Neteyam recognises the resignation in the hunch of his shoulders. Planting a warm, comforting hand on one of them, he chances a gentle coax, “Tell us what’s up baby bro, I’m listening.”

Realising that the family will not be satisfied until he supplies an answer, Lo’ak heaves a final sigh before revealing what has been troubling him – to nobody’s surprise, you. He relays an abridged version of the conversation the two of you had in the afternoon, purposefully leaving out the part where he too had laid his soul bare. 

As he discloses his grievances, Lo’ak’s eyes are cast downwards, anxious fingers fiddle with the songcord attached securely to his tewng. His new favourite pastime is pondering over which trinkets he will choose to signify your and his union, your first child and the countless other life events he longs to share with you. What he would choose, he corrects mentally.

After your proclamation of seeing him as merely a friend earlier today, his future projections of a life with you are now conditional, a distant alternative in the far-away realm of possibility. 

Eventually gaining enough courage to look up from his lap, he shares the news of his relegation to the dreaded friend zone, which to him is a fate more damning than exile. He finishes by imploring somewhat desperately, “So how do I make her want me back?”

The most unlikely of advisors in the affairs of romance answers. “You can’t. And you will never be able to,” Tuk declares. Quite frankly, she is already tired of this conversation and has not forgiven Lo’ak for indirectly interrupting her storytelling. His moping around has shifted everyone’s attention away from her and onto him. She will make him pay, if it’s the last thing she does.

Flabbergasted to the point of agitation, Lo’ak’s head whips to the side to grill Tuk, beaded braids smacking his face in his haste. “And how would you know, huh?” He continues with a sing-song quality in his voice, “You’re still a baby.”

After releasing a petulant huff of indignation, Tuk replies, “Because you’re a boy so you have cooties, duh!” Endlessly tired of having her opinions disregarded because of her young age, she drives her point further. “I bet she won’t even talk to you if you don’t talk to her first!”

Lo’ak’s initial reaction is one of hurt. Still insecure in the status of his relationship with you, he is especially sensitive to criticism, even if it comes from his kid sister. In spite of this, although he would never admit it, Tuk’s childish banter breaks Lo’ak from the bondage of his melancholy and is a welcomed reprieve from the unchartered waters of love he has been struggling to navigate. 

Thus, he allows himself to be enraptured by the familiar push and pull of sibling rivalry and resolves to do all he can to prove that his belief in your love is not just fuelled by fantasy.

“Oh, you wanna bet?” His sudden determination to make your feelings towards him evident becomes a quick priority, even though he is not too sure of them himself and that was the exact reason for his previous sulking. “Go on,” Lo’ak goads, “pick the forfeit.”

Knowing that there is no way that this will end well but also knowing both siblings are too far gone to be dissuaded now, Jake, Neytiri, Kiri and Neteyam separately reach the same conclusion. Better to sit back and watch it all unfold than attempt to meddle. This is gonna be a long night.

“Loser has to give up their yovo fruit for a month!” Tuk responds, a challenging glint present in her large eyes. She is well aware that yovo fruit is Lo'ak's dessert of choice and cannot wait to delight in the pained look on his face when he is denied of it.

Spurred on by the flair for showmanship that he most definitely inherited from his father, Lo’ak shakes his head and demands higher stakes. “Nah, that’s too easy. What’s something you really want?”

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth,Tuk responds, “Well…I do need some new figurines to play with…” and looks at Lo’ak expectantly, waiting for him to connect the dots.

“Already??” Lo’ak asks, confused. “I made you a new ikran toy like two months ago, what happened to him?” Blessed with an uncanny knack for woodwork, Lo’ak was Tuk’s preferred manufacturer of the figurines that were the subjects of her elaborate storylines, some of which were cause for concern.

“She was a girl. And I just lost her tragically in battle. IED. You would know if you were listening.” Tuk likes her play time to be as realistic as possible. She quite literally simulated an IED explosion by throwing the figurine in the central fire of the marui used for cooking, when nobody was looking. All that remains of the fallen comrade is the pile of ashes Lo’ak stares at accusingly later in the night when he returns home.

“Okay, what about the toruk Dad made for Neteyam that was passed down to Kiri, who passed it down to me, who passed it down to you?” Their father had spent months crafting that particular piece and it was a cherished part of each of their childhoods. There’s no way Tuk would dare destroy it.

Undeterred, Tuk answers. “He’s senile. Not fit for flight and too slow for guerilla warfare. It’s an ikran eat ikran world out there y’know.” She completes her explanation with a casual shrug, as if to say ‘well, what can you do?’

Caught in the crossfire, Jake willfully ignores that she looks at him when saying the word senile. She had been taking advantage of every chance to remind him of his age ever since he and Neytiri made the terrible mistake of trying to introduce her to the idea of them having another baby. Her firm belief in her right to be the baby of the family was not to be questioned. Ever.

Lo’ak groans and throws his head back in exasperation. He misses the days when the best comeback Tuk had was sticking her tongue out at him. As the years go by, more and more of Kiri’s effortless sass rubs off on her and he always seems to be her victim of choice. Eywa’s justice for him teasing her mercilessly when she was little, he admits to himself, albeit begrudgingly.

“Fine!” He relents, “bet’s on! I’m gonna make her fall for me and you’re gonna kiss my big, blue, striped a-”

“Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk’itan!” “Boy if you don’t-”

Neytiri and Jake’s respective exclamations of admonishment cut Lo’ak off swiftly, identical disapproving glares putting an effective end to the verbal tug of war he and Tuk had been engaged in.

Naturally assuming the role of peacemaker, Neteyam raises both his hands in a sign of caution, attempting to diffuse the situation before it escalates any further. He then turns to Lo’ak and with a teasing smirk tells him, “Forget all this bet talk, bro. You’d better go pray to the Great Mother because your skxawng ass needs all the help you can get.” 

His gaze softens when he becomes serious again, smirk melting into a genuine smile. “If you get her blessing, your courtship is sure to succeed, baby bro!”

Ruled by his propensity to act rashly, Lo’ak does not detect the sincerity in Neteyam’s advice and brushes him off. “Nah bro, I got this. Lemme let Eywa have a rest day for once, alright?”

Neteyam and Kiri share an incredulous look; was this the same man that looked one prod away from tears a few moments ago?

He will do this his way. A Sully man through and through, Lo’ak ups the ante.

With renewed vigour, Lo’ak crams handfuls of fish into his mouth as he devises a plan to get your attention, his appetite returning with a vengeance. As he plots, Tuk resumes her storytelling and the family falls back into the lull of easy conversation.

(*for atmosphere, you can play 'na'vi river journey ride through' here*)

Soon after, the long, low and heavy note of the clan horn carries over the shore, signalling the end of the communal meal and the prompt beginning of communal worship. Designated Na’vi make their way around the bonfire, collecting the gourds that the meal had been served on. The gathered Metkayina set their used bowls aside, placing them behind the logs they are sat on before rising to their feet.

This moment coincides with Lo’ak’s thoughts aligning, finally settling on the plan he will put in motion.

Subtlety is key, he surmises. He needs to be suave, mysterious, intriguing. No lady can resist the charm of a smouldering gaze, after all. With the image of every elusive male protagonist in the tawtute romance films he had watched at the forefront of his mind, Lo’ak fixes his face into what he thinks to be a firm, guarded expression and sets his gaze on you. To him, he looks like he is brooding in the corner of the evening gathering, veiled countenance emitting an allure that is sure to attract you to him. 

When the singing has commenced and you still have not turned to face him despite him practically burning holes into your face with the strength of his stare, he beckons you over in his head. As he struggles to keep the intense look on his face for an extended period of time, a vein bulges prominently from his forehead. For the first time, he finds himself jealous of Payakan, wishing he had the ability to communicate with echolocation like the tulkun.

Swaying in time with the rhythm of the beat being drummed by the clan percussionists, you are brought out of your reverie by a short nudge from Tsireya. Once she has your attention, she points a clandestine finger in Lo’ak’s direction. Focus shifting to where she is pointing, you observe Lo’ak and the expression on his face. He appears to be…pained?

Your eyes are full of concern as they meet his, look to your left, look to your right and meet his again, noticing that his unwavering gaze remains on you. You pat Tsireya’s back, indicating your exit before crouching down and slinking towards Lo’ak, weaving between the singing Metkayina around you. 

He sees you coming his way and thinks well, looks like Tuk owes me a whole lotta yovo fruit. As the distance between the two of you reduces, his anticipation for what you will say mounts to the point where he feels he could almost burst. For the second time today, he awaits your words with baited breath. 

“Oh my Eywa, Lo’ak are you constipated?” Up close, he looks even more disturbed than he did from afar. The pinched together eyebrows, clenched fists and pursed lips – from your training as a healer you recognise these as the telltale signs of constipation. “Good thing I always keep a stash of paywll leaves on me!” You reach into the pouch of herbs slung around your torso, medical mode activated and ready to treat him.

His hand shoots forward to stop you from going any further with your movements, touching yours in the process. He becomes so overwhelmed by the direct skin on skin contact that he gets all flustered, looking worse than he already did. He wants to tell you that he’s perfectly fine and this is a big misunderstanding but he can’t. Riddled with nerves, his throat swells up and blood rushes to his cheeks in embarrassment. He’s blushing. 

Continuing your spontaneous medical examination, you press a hand to his cheeks. His temperature is burning hot. How could you be so silly? You chide yourself mentally. He’s clearly suffering from food poisoning! 

Thinking back, you remember that the hunting party had returned to the village with the catch of the day a little later than usual. Perhaps the cooks were in such a hurry they undercooked some of the fish?

Before he can so much as say ‘I’m a silly skxawng’, you’re dragging him by the wrist until you are a short distance away from the gathered clan, behind the cover of a tall tautral plant.

He does not get the chance to ask you to explain yourself before you turn him around to face you and shove two of your three fingers down his oesophagus. If he thought the first time he met you was the most embarrassing moment of his life, this current moment quickly proved him wrong. 

Not only was he forced by the triggering of his gag reflex to pass up the contents of his stomach, he was doing it in a spot that was not far enough away to ensure no other clan member would hear the nauseating sounds, even over the sound of singing. Making matters worse, in his sorry attempt to psych himself up before executing his plan, he had eaten a behemoth amount of food. And now, there is a behemoth amount for him to pass up.

When he appears to have fully emptied the contents of his stomach, you crouch down to be level with his bent-over figure.

“All better?” You ask.

“Y-yeah,” his voice cracks pitifully. “Much better.” He nods his head, as if convincing himself. “Thanks.” 

Lo’ak looks up to find a dopey smile on your face and he knows that you must be happy to have saved him again, because he is happy to have been ‘saved’ by you again. Even though things didn't go as he had planned, as he looks into the depths of your eyes he cannot bring himself to regret a single thing.

He returns to the fellowship after a little while, painfully aware that at least parts of the debacle had been audible. He is met by sympathetic looks from his family, barring one person. Tuk.

She refuses to give him anything even though he had technically won the bet – you did talk to him first. Adamant, she insists that he still owes her a month’s worth of yovo fruit and a new toy. When he presses, attempting to stand his ground, she narrows her eyes menacingly and calls for Neytiri with a mighty “Sa’nu!” and Lo’ak knows that the odds are woefully against him.

As he predicted, Neytiri forces him to make the toy for her anyway. 

Knowing he is now at her mercy, Tuk demands, “I want this one to be a tsurak. Blue, yellow and green.” Lo’ak turns to leave, but she is still going. “And don’t you dare cut corners this time!”

He turns back to find her in a bossy little pose, arms crossed over her chest. “I noticed the smudge in the paint on the last one, penis face.”

Lo’ak pivots to look to his mother for support, but she is already walking down the pathway, inwardly questioning why she decided to have four children.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

na’vi dictionary

eywa’eveng- na’vi word for pandora // tanhi - na’vi bioluminescent freckles // palulukan - thanator // tewng - loincloth // yovo- type of Na’vi fruit // ikran - mountain banshee // toruk- great leonopteryx // marui - tent // skxawng - idiot // paywll - dapophet (healing plant) // tautral- beanstalk palm // sa’nu - mummy // tsurak- skimwing

© iwantjaketosullyme tumblr 2023

☼ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵:

@heirtothekingdom , @bebkyu , @amiah24 , @inlovewithpandora , @alathan13 , @girlnred , @ggujkie , @aemondhoe , @malandrinhass , @itsyagirl01 , @mookiepookiesblog , @idekstopasking , @thelxnelyworld , @whitch123 , @camila-alejandra26 , @draiochtwrites , @leoloeleosworld , @seokmin130 , @apple-law-pie , @daddyvinniesleftnut , @flwrsatsuns3t , @thehoneymushroomhealer , @marsbars09 , @andraga12 , @randxmthxughts , @awriana , @izuoyarmin , @cumikering , @manzana-nita , @sakura-onesan

𝘭𝘮𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰/𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 <3

[j-eryewrites]

Infected

MAIN MASTER LIST | SERIES MASTER LIST

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Word Count: 12.7k

Disclosure: I do not own the plot or the characters from The Last of Us. This is a “what if” fic based on the HBO television series and the game The Last of Us.

Warnings: Character deaths, canon typical violence, zombies, detailed descriptions of gore, detailed descriptions of violence, crude language, mental issues, unhinged characters, usage of firearms and weapons, (let me know if I missed any!)

Authors note: finished this at 3.00 am in the morning, but I don’t care! hope y’all enjoy this chapter!

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Piper should have been tired, yet there she sat. Her back was stiff, tall, and defiant. Hell, even Joel could admit to himself he was exhausted and sore from the night before. Not to mention, the throbbing pain in his hand. Joel felt as if he had a million splinters stuck deep within his skin. Each time he moved his hand, the pain would spark a chain reaction. At least the swelling had gone down. That was a good sign. A sign he would have taken notice of if he wasn’t so busy staring down the teenager in front of him. 

There was no indication in her stance and glare that she was at all affected by the events of the night before. The only sign of otherwise was the dark circles under her eyes. A biological betrayal. Joel hadn’t noticed it before, but the more he observed Piper the more he began to think that those dark circles may be a permanent feature on her face. Yes, he remembered clearly now. She had those same dark circles when they first met. However, this time, they were a few shades deeper than before. Missing a whole night’s rest would do that to you. Joel was all too familiar with the dark circles that grew under his own brown eyes. It was hard to get a good night's rest when it felt like everything was out to get you. It didn’t help that it was actually the case. One wrong move. One extra second of sleep could mean death. 

“If you stare at her any longer you may implode, Joel,” Tess muttered. Her voice filled to the brim with sarcasm. 

He didn’t respond to her. Only kept his eyes on the girl in front of them. 

Tess sighed and followed his gaze. From her perspective, she saw the falter in Piper’s posture. Her posture was slumped over ever so slightly, though, from Joel’s view, it would be mistaken as perfect. The young girl's body looked about ready to collapse to the floor in a deep sleep, however, Tess knew that in cases like these, the mind won over the body. 

It reminded her of her son when he was a toddler. The argument of ‘I’m not tired’ flashed in her mind. Her kid didn’t know any better. He wanted to stay up and not miss a single thing, but as a knowing mother, she knew that rest would allow him to experience the world untainted from the grumpiness that came when one was tired. 

So Tess wasn’t surprised when she told Piper the exact same thing she’d tell her son. 

“You know, life’s just a bit more pleasant when you get some sleep. Trust me,” Tess said softly. She knew it was best not to push this subject. “Why not get some shut-eye before your sister wakes up? We’ll stand guard.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather not place my life or my sister’s life into the hands of someone who got us caught by FEDRA last night.” Piper kept her gaze on Joel as she replied. Her genuine tone had the same snarkiness that was present in her sister’s voice. 

Tess chuckled at the encounter. “Suit yourself.” She sat back in her chair and looked between Joel and Piper once more. The two were more similar than she’d like to admit. They had that same tired yet proud look in their eyes. Their bodies were on guard in front of those they protected. The unwavering stubbornness that Tess had grown all too comfortable with was apparent in both Joel’s and Piper’s demeanour. 

Ellie stirred awake from behind her sister, causing Joel to tighten his grip on the gun. Instinctively, Piper moved her body so that it defended more of her sister. Tess sighed. Joel wasn’t making this easier and neither was Piper who sat even more on edge, any sign of weakness in her posture was long gone. 

“Morning,” Tess called out. She saw how Ellie wiped the sleep from her eyes only for them to land on Joel’s gun. Great now, both girls were on edge. Way to go Joel. 

“Do I look like I'm infected?” Ellie mumbled bringing up the elephant in the room. 

Joel grunted, leaving Tess to interpret for the girl. “Show us your arm.”

“Yeah, it's not getting any worse, is it?” Ellie spat as he pulled up her sleeve to display the bite mark on her arm. She wasn’t liking the idea of waking up to the threat of a bullet in her body. 

Tess nodded allowing Ellie to return her sleeve to normal. 

It was quiet in the building and Ellie didn’t like the quiet. Her eyes darted across the room and widened in remembrance. They were out of the QZ. In the open city. 

“If we're out in the open city, why aren't we getting swarmed?” Ellie asked. It was her dying question. After all the rumours she had heard floating around the QZ, you couldn’t blame the girl for being curious. 

“Don't worry about that,” Tess replied. It only served as fuel to the flame. Ellie opened her mouth to ask another question when Piper cut her off. 

“Well, I'm gonna,” Piper growled. It was then Ellie noticed the tension in the air. A shiver ran up her spine as she saw the glare her sister was sending Joel. Joel’s glare was just as harsh. Man was Ellie glad to not be on the receiving end of either of them. 

Tess cocked her brow. It was her turn to be curious. “What was Marlene doing with an infected kid?”

“She’s not infected,” Piper spat. Her voice was seething with anger and only served as an instigator in the battle between Joel and Piper. 

“She found me after I was bitten,” Ellie blurted, hoping to diffuse the tension. 

Tess moved her attention to Ellie. “And she didn't shoot you.” For a moment Tess could swear there was a new line on Piper’s forehead. 

“Clearly not. She locked me up and had her guys test me every day to see if I was getting sick,” Ellie explained. 

Now this interested Tess. “Test you how?”

Ellie sighed and rolled her eyes. “I have to pee…”

“Test you... how?” Tess repeated. 

“They'd make us count to 10 and hold out our hand and then keep it steady. But, you know, I think what really impressed them was the fact that we didn't turn into fucking monsters. There. Happy?” Piper spat. 

There was a momentary pause in the conversation. Joel’s eyes narrowed and Tess’ brow furrowed. Did their ears hear right?

“Wait, both of you?” Tess finally enchanted her confusion. 

Without another word, Piper yanked back her jacket, just as Ellie had done before, and presented her arm for the adults to see. 

The wound looked different from Ellie’s, at least to Tess it did. No prominent veins were spiralling out from the scabbed-over wound. In all honesty, it just looked like a normal bite mark. The only thing that dismayed Tess was the depth of the wound. It was deep. Something that would only happen if there was a determined force behind it. Something she’d only seen from Infected. 

“Now can I please?” Ellie grumbled. She was squeezing her legs tight to her body. 

Tess took one more look at Piper’s arm before dismissing Ellie to use the makeshift bathroom. “Fine. Back there. You can find a spot. And here. Tear out a few pages.” She chucked a magazine she had found to Ellie who caught it with ease. 

“There's not gonna be anything bad in here?” Ellie asked as she tiptoed over to the room Tess had pointed to earlier. 

“Just you,” Piper smirked back at her sister. 

“Oh, funny,” Ellie responded. 

Tess smiled. That simple action reminded her that they were just kids. Kids who were doing the best they could with the world handed to them. Kids who were bit and infected, but still kids. A grumbling beside her shook Tess out of her nostalgic trance. 

“Broken. Maybe a hairline. It'll heal fast,” Joel mumbled just loud enough for Tess to hear. He was cradling his hand. Nasty bruises had formed along his knuckles. The skin was an angry red as Joel’s free hand brushed over the injury. 

“She made it through the fuckin' night, Joel. Apparently so did Piper.” Tess said in disbelief. These girls were the fucking future. They were something she hadn’t had in a long time. Hope. They were hope. 

“It doesn't matter,” Joel scoffed. “It's gonna happen sooner or later. All right? We're still close to the wall. We sneak them back into the QZ. We find a different way to get the battery.” 

“This is our best shot. We take them back to the QZ, someone's gonna notice their arms, they're gonna scan them...then they'll kill them. They kill those girls.” Tess couldn’t help the desperation that slipped into her voice. 

“Well, better them than us. You need to stop talkin' about these kids like they’ve got some kinda life in front of them.” Joel said. 

Tess ignored him. Joel was never one to believe. It would break his stubborn ass if he ever did believe in anything. Ellie emerged from the back room and sat down next to her sister. She nudged Piper’s shoulder and nodded toward the backpack. 

“You two hungry? You can share some of ours.” Tess offered. Joel grimaced as Tess raised the food out to the girls. Fuck, Joel thought Tess. She was going to hope no matter what he said. 

“Thanks,” Piper replied, her voice empty of gratitude. “Marlene sent us with our own.” Just then she handed a sandwich to Ellie and retrieved one for herself. The two girls didn’t waste time digging in. 

Tess smelt an old scent that hit her nose. Her stomach began to grumble at the thought. “Is that chicken?”

“Yeah,” Ellie replied. Her mouth was full of food. “Marlene said they get it from smugglers.” She paused. “...Guess not you guys.”

Tess was surprised when she heard Joel’s voice speak up. “Hey. Hey! Why...why are you so important to Marlene? And don't lie to me or we'll take you back.” 

“You take us back, you don't get your battery.” Piper plainly said. 

“You heard that?” Joel asked in disbelief. 

Tess butt into the conversation before it could sour again. “Then you must've heard that he wants to shoot you too.” She stood up from her seat despite Joel’s protest and crouched down in front of the girls. “I'm gonna talk to you two like you are adults. Okay?”

Ellie immediately nodded in understanding. Piper just glared at Tess, who glared back until the girl nodded as well. Tess needed them to understand. 

“Joel and I aren't good people. We're doin' this for us because, apparently, you're worth something. But we don't know what you're worth if we don't know what we have. So answer my question.”

In a quiet voice, Ellie muttered, “She told me not to tell anybody, and now I'm telling the first people that I…” Ellie was cut off by Piper. 

“There's a Firefly base camp somewhere out west…” Piper explained. 

“…with doctors. They're working on a cure,” Ellie finished. 

“Mm-hm. I've heard this before,” Joel grumbled. 

“And whatever happened to me...to us...is the key to finding the vaccine,” Ellie replied. Her voice was unsteady but full of belief. 

Joel was taken aback. Did this girl really believe it? “That's what this is? We've heard this a million times. Vaccines, miracle cures. None of it works. Ever.” 

“Fuck you, man. I didn't ask for this.” Ellie cried. She was hurt, but so was Joel. 

“You and me both. This isn't gonna end well, Tess. We need to go back.” Joel instructed. 

Tess turned her efforts back to Joel. “Let's just finish it. It doesn't matter if she is or she isn't what the Fireflies say. If they believe that she is then...we get what we want.”

Joel narrowed his eyes at Ellie. “If she so much as twitches–” Joel warned. 

Suddenly there is a loud screech followed by hollow clicking noises. 

Immediately Piper, Tess, and Joel all turn to Ellie. “Don't,” they say in unison. The power of their voices makes even Ellie pause for a moment.

“Okay. Okay? Okay.” Ellie receded back behind her sister, but not before catching sight of Joel’s gun. 

“Can I have a gun?” Ellie asked. 

Once again three voices fill the air. “Absolutely not–No–Ellie, don't even think about it.”

“Okay, Jesus! Fine. I'll have to throw a fuckin' sandwich at them.” Ellie groaned. She didn't like the idea of having three versions of her sister. One Piper was enough. 

“Let’s go,” Tess told the two girls. 

Without another word, the two of them pack up their bags and in one motion, swing them over their shoulders. Joel grunted as he lifted the makeshift barricade from the door. The shelf was heavy and put an unnecessarily large amount of weight on his injured hand. It didn’t take long for the barricade to be moved and the door to open. 

Light from the sun flooded into the room and for a moment it looked as if Joel had disappeared into the light. 

“It's clear.” Joel’s gruff voice started before he fully submerged himself in the daylight. 

While some light found its way through the cracks back in the building, it could not prepare Piper’s eyes for the vast amount of light outside. Her eyes closed shut before opening once again. Her pupils shrunk as they adjusted to the early morning light. 

“Whoa,” Ellie gasped in disbelief. 

“Yeah, looks different in the daylight, huh?” Tess said. 

Tess was right. Things did look different illuminated by the sun. Piper could clearly see the decaying buildings that were overgrown by vines and weeds. The greens swirled around the greys and browns on the buildings. She could even see some trees that poked their way through the giant holes in the roofs. Underneath her feet was a road cracked and crumbled. There was barely a hint of the yellow and white paint that once outlined the streets. Cars were rusted over and doors were forever glued shut. On top of it all was a layer of dew. The rain storm from last night left its mark as the plants and wildlife try to soak in as much water as they can before the sun's heat dries it up. 

Joel let the two girls take in the view. It’s not every day you get to see the ghost that humanity left behind. “We should get movin'.”

The group trudged along the roads. Broken glass from the buildings glittered as the sun reflected off of it in just the right spot. They twinkled almost like stars in the night sky. As they journeyed deeper into the city, more and more buildings made friends with the ground, no longer having the strength to stand as tall as they were designed. In the road ahead, sat a crater. The indented in as the grey shade of the road turned a deep black. 

“It's like a fucked-up moon!” Ellie cried out in awe. 

“Ellie, be careful,” Piper warned as she saw her sister approach the crater. Her legs pushed up onto the side of the crater to look down into the vast hole. 

“Is this where they bombed?” Ellie asked. She picked up a stray rock and dropped it into the crater. Her brown eyes followed as it scraped across the ground finally resting in the center of the circle. 

“Yeah. They hit most of the big cities like this,” Tess explained. “They had to slow the spread somehow. Worked here, but it...didn't in most places.” She walked over to Ellie to help nudge her along. Then she stopped and so had Joel. Piper and Ellie shared a puzzled look. 

“So, the State House is across there. It's about a 10-minute walk if you could go straight.” Tess noted. 

“So?” Piper asked. 

“Long way or short way?” Joel replied. His question was directed towards Tess. 

“I mean, it's the long way or the "we're fuckin' dead" way,” Tess stated. 

“Well, I vote the long way just based on that limited information,” Ellie muttered. 

Tess and Joel ignored Ellie’s comment and continued to talk amongst themselves. Piper, just for a moment, noticed the similarity to a book she had read. Something about how parents will converse amongst themselves as if the kids aren’t even there. But to think that, Joel and Tess would have to be parents and Piper and Ellie the kids and together they’d make a family. Once again, an idea that Piper wholeheartedly disagreed with. 

“We have to check it from the hotel first,” Joel directed Tess. 

“Okay,” Tess replied, she looked back at Ellie and Piper. For what reason Piper wasn’t sure. 

Soon after, Joel readjusted his hold on his gun before taking a step forward. Then another and another. There was the crunch of gravel under Piper’s shoes and she found herself and the group walking once more. 

꧁_____________꧂ 

Her feet were sore and the soles of her shoes were worn. The sun beat down on her back and a smooth layer of sweat had formed on her back. It was making her shirt uncomfortably stick to her skin. Her socks rubbed against the back of her heels scraping against the sensitive skin. She imagined it was turning a shade of red from all the friction. Ellie was soon to change the way her weight balanced on her feet. Toe to heel instead of heel to toe. This seemed to ease the friction, however, it produced a dull pain in her feet. One that seemed only to be relieved with a good complaint or two. “Why aren’t we already fucking there?” Ellie groaned. Already she felt a relief just sharing. 

“You'll know it when we're close,” Tess replied. 

“I didn't know last time,” Ellie muttered. 

“How did you get bit?” Tess asked in an attempt to distract the young girl. 

“Ellie–” Piper whispered, but Ellie interrupted her. 

“You know the old mall in the QZ?” Ellie asked. She didn’t care if her sister was as cautious as a mouse around cats. Ellie liked Tess and her instincts told her that Tess could be trusted. Almost. 

“The one that's sealed off and boarded up, and no one's supposed to go in... ever? That one?” Tess clarified. She looked back at the two girls unsure that they would have been stupid enough to go in there. 

Piper lowered her gaze to the ground. She stuck a foot out to kick around a small pebble on the highway. She was adamant about not looking at Tess, Joel, or Ellie for that matter. Her shoulders slumped over and Joel took notice of how quiet it had gotten. 

“Whatever. I snuck in. Wanted to see what it was like. Didn't think there was gonna be anything in there, and then one just came at me outta nowhere. Thought I got away, but…” Ellie’s voice grew quiet. Maybe she didn’t trust Tess enough with this information. The blood. The pain. The screams were all too fresh. Ellie knew that if she closed her eyes she would see Piper. She would see her sister tear into her skin. She would replay the scene. Ellie felt sick thinking about how the Piper she had grown up with disappeared when she was bitten. Piper was desperate and afraid. But what disturbed Ellie more was the thought that grew in the back of her head. Something in her knew what would have happened to Piper if Ellie had turned. 

Tess’s voice broke Ellie out of her thoughts. “So it was just you in there, alone?”

“Yeah–I mean Piper was with me, but yeah. Just us two,” Ellie mumbled. 

Tess halted. She turned to Ellie and Piper. There was a curious look on her face. “How old are you?” Tess asked the two girls. 

“Fourteen.”

“Seventeen.” Piper and Ellie said at the same time. 

In Tess’s eyes there flashed a hidden respect for the girls. “Wow. Well, I mean, you got some balls on you, sister.” 

“Thanks,” Ellie muttered to the two of them. She didn’t know about Piper, but Ellie grew to like Tess. The woman wasn’t a complete asshole like Joel was. In fact, she was almost like a mother. Almost. 

Piper had told Ellie what she remembered of their mother. Blue eyes. Light-coloured hair. Piper wasn’t sure if it was blonde or light brown, but Ellie was confident it was light brown. After all, Ellie and her sister’s hair was brown. When Ellie was young, she liked to imagine what her mom would look like based on the vague description Piper had. For some reason, the image that came to mind was Piper. An older version of the course, but it was still Piper. Piper had always been there for Ellie. She stepped up when no one else would. But now as Ellie was thinking about it, the image of her mom changed into one that looked like Tess. 

At first, Ellie disliked the idea. There were no similarities…except that Tess had light brown hair and blue eyes. Just like Piper had told her. Tess was kind in her own way. She would walk next to Ellie and talk to her. Hell, Tess even stood up to Joel for the girls and offered her some of her food. 

Well, shit. 

Ellie shook her head to toss the thoughts out. She can’t get attached. She’s just cargo. Tess will leave just like everyone else. But it couldn’t stop Ellie from hoping.  

“Nobody's gonna be comin' after you, right? Like, Mom, Dad ...boyfriend?” Tess wondered. 

The momentary lap in Piper’s character dissipated. She snickered under her breath as if having anyone out there who would care enough about the two girls was just as possible as pigs flying. “Dead, non-existent, and no. No one gives a shit about anyone other than themselves,” Piper scoffed. 

She didn’t notice the flash of sadness in Tess’s eyes as she heard the teen’s response. “Yet you care about your sister,” Tess noted. 

Piper’s jaw clenched as she raised her gaze to glare right at Tess. “That’s different,” Piper hissed. 

“Right,” Tess replied. She knew when to not bite back. 

Ellie, sensing the tension in her sister’s attitude, chose to change the subject. “Everyone said the open city was crazy. Like, swarms of Infected running around everywhere.”

Again Piper scoffed and rolled her eyes. She kicked the pebble she was playing with so hard it cracked a rusted car’s window. “It’s fucking propaganda that’s what it is. Want us to stay inside the QZ. Keep us to be their soldiers and dogs.”

Suddenly Joel spoke up from behind the group. “No…not exactly like that.” He eyed Piper carefully just like Tess did moments before though with a tinge of appreciation. Piper was right after all.

“You know, people like to tell stories,” Tess explained. 

“So, there aren't Super-Infected that explode fungus spores on you?” Ellie wondered. She twirled around on her heel. Her hands made what seemed to be an explosion, as she created sound effects. Her eyes went wide as her hands flew apart. 

“Shit, I hope not,” Tess laughed. 

“Or ones with split-open heads that see in the dark like bats?” Ellie continued acting out what she thought each Infected would look like. 

The laughter faded from Tess’s voice. “Uhh…”

Suddenly there was an inhuman screech. It echoed off the decaying buildings. The noise got louder and louder as the sound travelled. The group froze. Ellie’s eyes widened. 

Piper clenched her eyes shut and clenched her fists. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands as she slowed her breathing. Her nails pierced her skin and the warm trickling of blood forced Piper to open her eyes once more. She quickly looked around the group. No one was paying attention to her. Piper quickly brushed her hands on her jacket, wiping the blood away. 

“What was that?” Ellie asked. There was a tinge of curiosity in her voice. 

“Let's keep movin',” Joel instructed. He looked to Tess who nodded in agreement. As the group continued on, Joel couldn’t help how his sight moved down to Piper’s hands. What really drew his attention was the tiny punctures in her skin that were bleeding. Tearing his eyes away from Piper’s hands, Joel fought to keep the thoughts of concern that popped up into his mind. 

This kid was cargo. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

꧁_____________꧂ 

When Joel and Tess discussed going to the hotel, Ellie and Piper didn’t think much. However, the two teens couldn’t help the gasp that left their mouths as they took in the building in front of them. Tess chuckled to herself upon seeing the girl’s reactions. While Piper’s reaction was a bit more subtle than Ellie’s, Tess knew that the young girl was still excited. 

The hotel was overgrown with nature. Vines snaked up the walls. Surprisingly, most of the glass windows were still intact. The layers of dust that accumulated after twenty years reflected the midday sunlight creating an unearthly glow. It was almost like the hotel had a halo of light surrounding it. Inside was even better. The main floor had flooded and was transformed into what Piper imagined a jungle would look like. Trees shot out from the murky water and their green leaves reached towards the sunlight that trickled through the gaping holes and cracks in the hotel’s ceiling and walls. Piper could hear the sound of trickling water and the croaking of…frogs? 

“You've gotta be kidding me! Ya ever stay in a place like this?” Ellie exclaimed. She spun around in a circle as she gazed up at the ceiling and the treetops. 

“Uh, no, a little out of our league,” Tess replied. 

“How do you even know what this is?” Joel asked. 

“Have you heard of books?” Ellie said with as much sass as her small figure could produce. “Wait, are we going in there?” She wondered. Her voice was no longer filled with sass and instead was replaced with fear. 

“Yeah, we gotta get to the stairwell on the other side,” Tess explained. 

“Well, I…” Ellie eyed the murky water. There was no bottom in sight and it looked deep. There was no way to tell what could be lurking in there. “...I don't know how to swim.” She looked to Piper and Tess for reassurance. 

“Seriously?” Joel shot back. His tone was full of disbelief. 

“Do you think we have pools in the QZ?” Ellie retorted. 

Joel rolled his eyes. “No, smart ass. I mean…” He jumped from the steps and into the water. 

Ellie’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. “I don't know how I was supposed to know that.” She said defensively. 

Piper came up beside her sister and placed a hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Ellie. Do you have your extra pair of socks?”

Ellie grinned and rolled her eyes. There was the Ellie that Piper knew. “Yes, Mom…” Ellie said. 

“Good,” Piper nodded before stepping into the water. It rose just below her hips. There was one thing for sure, Piper did not like being wet. She hated how the water sloshed in her boots. She especially didn’t like the feeling of her socks being drenched. To make matters worse. Her pants were sticking to her legs making it even harder to move through the water. What Piper didn’t like most was that she was slow. The water dampened her speed and reflexes. Something that made her vulnerable. 

“This is so gross!” Ellie exclaimed. She, unlike her sister, was enjoying the experience. Ellie dropped her hands into the water and splashed around a bit. She even flicked some water at Piper who sent a tidal wave in Ellie’s direction. Ellie was now positively drenched but loved every bit of it. It reminded her of playing with those water guns Riley had found. 

There was a box-like shape in the corner of the room. Next to it was a brass suitcase holder. Ellie’s eyes widened with excitement. “Oh, check it out!” She trudged over to the desk, Piper in tow after her. “Ding, ding.” Ellie rang the bell on the desk. 

Piper appeared behind the desk. Her arms pushed up to slightly raise her body out of the water. Something she regretted as the cold air hit her soaking-wet clothes. “Good evening, madam. How may I help you?” Piper said in her best impression of what she thought a hotel worker would sound like. 

“Yes, sir. I would like your finest suite, please.” Ellie replied. Her voice was just as ridiculous as Piper’s had been. 

Piper raised her brows and broke character. “I’m a sir?” 

Ellie sighed, breaking character as well. “Well, fuck, you sounded like a man just there. Your voice was deep an’ all.” 

Piper waved her sister off. “Okay. Fine.” Then Piper switched back into her “man” voice. “Yes, ma'am. Would you like me to take your luggage?” The words were over-enunciated and Piper’s mouth exaggerated the movements of her mouth. A hint of a smile appeared on her face. She was having fun. 

“Of course, sire,” Ellie replied. 

“Yes, ma'am. Right away, ma'am…” Piper motioned to the suitcase carrier. “Here get on the thingy,” she instructed Ellie. 

Ellie eagerly hopped on and Piper began to push the cart. Ellie squealed with delight even though the cart was moving slower than a snail. A giggle escaped Piper’s mouth just loud enough for the entire group to hear. 

Tess smiled fondly at the scene. 

“You're a weird kid,” Joel muttered. There was no malice in his voice. In fact, Piper was even sure she heard a hint of amusement. 

“You're a weird kid.” Ellie spat back. 

Piper smirked at Ellie’s response. Suddenly a dark figure splashed in the water below Piper. It touched her leg and she yelped. “Oh fuck!” She quickly jumped back from whatever it was. Her body was stiff and defensive as she tripped and fell into the water. 

Joel moved to the girls without thinking. His gun was ready to fire and protect them. He didn’t notice how his breath grew tight realizing he couldn’t see Piper. At that moment, Piper’s head shot out of the water and she gasped for breath. Adrenaline was pumped into her system. 

“Oh, my God,” Ellie said as she saw what scared Piper. It was a skeleton of what she assumed was a hotel worker. “Uh, sorry,” she mumbled to Joel.

He let out a small sigh of relief and lowered his gun. He kicked the skeleton away from the two girls. Then he found himself looking down at Piper with a look in his eyes that he couldn’t place. Joel extended a hand out to the teen. 

“You okay?” He asked her.  

Piper stared at Joel’s hand. Water droplets trickled down her face and dripped down her brow bone. She wiped her face and for a moment considered taking his hand. Maybe she could let someone care…never. Piper brushed the thought away just as she did with Joel’s hand. She didn’t need his or Tess’s help. Piper and Ellie were just fine on their own. 

“Yep. Fucking fabulous,” she growled. 

꧁_____________꧂ 

Piper had been silent the rest of the way through the swamp of the hotel and up the ten flights of stairs the group climbed. She didn’t even let out so much as a breath. Joel was pretty much the same. The two of them shared a strained aura. Their boots sloshed and water continued to drip onto the floor. 

“Fuck... Holy shit.” Tess grabbed her lower back and sighed in relief. Her joints ached. 

“Come on, it wasn't that bad,” Ellie teased. She and Tess had talked the entire way up. Ellie was positive their conversation kept Piper from losing it. 

“You try climbing ten fuckin' floors with our knees. See how ya feel.” Tess’s gaze moved down the hallway and she groaned at the sight. A wall had caved in. Something that wasn’t there the last time she and Joel were at the hotel. “Well, when the fuck did that happen?” 

Joel was already down the hall. He was trying to open the doors, but each one seemed stuck. 

“Maybe that one,” Tess suggested. It was the last door in the hallway. 

Joel tried the door and shook his head. “No.”

Tess sighed. “All right, well, I mean, maybe I could climb up there, work my way around, and open it from the inside?” She suggested. It would be a tight fit. 

“Uh, no, well, I'm the smallest, so it'd be easier for me to get through,” Ellie replied. 

��No,” Piper stated. 

Tess nodded in agreement with Piper. “I’d listen to your sister. If you die then we get nothing. You stay.” She turned to Joel. “Can you give me a hand?”

Joel extended his hand and Tess took it. He lifted underneath her thigh and boosted her up. Tess was able to grasp some rubble and squeeze her way through the debris. “You good up there?” Joel called out. 

“Yeah, uh, it's a bit of a mess, so I'm gonna need a few minutes,” explained Tess. Her voice was muffled. 

Now that Tess was gone, the group grew silent. Ellie huffed in boredom before leaning against the wall. Piper stood looking at the crack where Tess had disappeared from. She clutched her arms close to her body and shivered. The mix of cold air and soaking wet clothes was a deadly combination. Joel peered down at Piper’s shivering body before he reached into his pack and pulled out his jacket. Without a word, he draped it over Piper’s shoulders. He didn’t give her a chance to refuse as he walked away and sat opposite Ellie. 

Piper sighed and drew Joel’s jacket closer to her body. Her shivering calmed down. “I’m going to change into my spare clothes. Ellie?” Piper shot her sister a look. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll change my socks,” Ellie mumbled. 

Piper nodded and turned around and walked to the end of the hall before opening the doorway to the staircase. Joel was not worrying about Piper as she walked away from his presence and into the dark stairwell. 

Ellie, in the meantime, had peeled over her wet socks and switched them out for dry ones. She leaned against the wall and huffed in boredom. 

Joel felt a weight in his pockets and remembered he still had Ellie’s switchblade in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw how Ellie’s expression changed instantly. 

“Where did you get that?” She asked, extending her hand out. Joel tossed it to the girl. 

“Pulled it out of the FEDRA guy’s back. Thought you might need it.”

“Thanks,” Ellie whispered. Then she flipped out the switchblade and began to play with it. The silver blade turned and twisted in her grasp. 

“Nice knife. Where'd you learn to do that?” Joel asked. 

“The circus. Where are you from?” Ellie replied. 

“Texas.”

“What about Tess?”

“Detroit. It's in Michigan.”

Ellie scoffed. “I go to school. I know where Detroit is. So, uh, you two like a…”

“Pass.”

“How'd you end up in Boston?”

Joel grumbled. These questions were serving as a shitty distraction. “Pass. No more questions about me.” 

“How long do Infected live?” Ellie asked. She stopped flipping her knife. 

“Oh, I thought you went to school,” Joel leered with a tilt of his head. 

“It's a really shitty one.” 

“Well, some last about a month or two. But there's others been walkin' around ‘bout 20 years.” Joel explained. 

“Ever kill one?” Ellie asked. 

“Yeah, I killed lots of 'em.” 

“…Was it hard? Like, knowing they were people once?” Ellie’s voice got quiet. 

“No,” a voice from beside Joel and Ellie spoke. It was Piper. 

“Sometimes,” Joel said at the same time. 

Joel turned his head to look at Piper. She was wearing his jacket over a brown, green, white, and blue striped tee shirt underneath along with a dark pair of jeans. She had the sleeves of his jacket rolled back. It was huge on the teen girl. 

“What about that guy last night?” Ellie asked Joel, bringing his gaze off of Piper. It was another question Joel did not want to answer. 

Suddenly there was a rustling noise from behind one of the doors in the hallway. Joel shot up from his seat on the floor and pushed Ellie and Piper behind him. His gun raised. 

“You can put the gun down, Joel,” Tess's voice instructed from the other side of the door. There was a click and the door swung open. There was a look of unease on Tess’s face. 

“What now?” Joel stressed. 

꧁_____________꧂ 

Well fuck, was the collective thought as they stared down at the writhing pile of Infected. The sight was nauseating. The bodies of the Infected slithered along the ground. Moans filled the air and merged into one sound of death. Piper couldn’t help the foul thoughts that plagued her mind. Her entire body was on edge as she watched the Infected below. She felt like something was crawling underneath her skin, prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. Something that would shred her skin apart and kill her from the inside with its sharp claws around her heart as it tore her apart. 

“There's so many,” Ellie muttered. She was in shock. The image of the Infected on top of her from three weeks ago was still fresh in her mind.  

“The last time we were here, they were still deep inside the buildings. Then I guess enough people came through looking for the QZ, they went inside seeking shelter… and that's how they get more and more of the city bit by bit, year after year,” Tess said. 

“They're connected,” Ellie whispered, scared her voice would alter the Infected below. 

“More than you know. The fungus also grows underground. Long fibres like wires, some of them stretching over a mile. Now, you step on a patch of cordyceps in one place, and you can wake a dozen Infected from somewhere else. Now they know where you are, now they come. You're not immune from being ripped apart. Do you understand?” Tess leaned close to Ellie. Ellie was quick to nod her head. 

Piper on the other hand turned away from the ledge. She took in a sharp breath in an attempt to control her shaking. She clenched her eyes tight and felt a cold tear slide down her cheek. The mark from where she bit her arm burned as the screams from that night thundered in her head. 

NO. NO. ELLIE! NO. NO. PLEASE…I CAN’T…NO!!

“It's important. I'm tryin' to keep you alive,” Tess told Ellie. 

The words twisted in Piper’s mind. You can’t keep Ellie safe. You can’t keep her alive. She got bit because of you. It’s your fault. 

No…I’m sorry. I can keep her safe. I CAN!!

It’s when Ellie speaks that Piper was taken out of her dark thoughts. 

“So, we're not goin' that way,' ' Ellie noted. 

“No,” Tess said. 

“What do we do then? Short way?!” Ellie’s eyes flashed with worry. If she remembered correctly, the short way was the “we’re fucking dead way”. 

“Museum,” Joel's voice said. 

Ellie shivered. She wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the knot that formed in her stomach. The “we’re fucking dead way” it is. 

꧁_____________꧂ 

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me,” Piper snarled. 

The museum was overgrown with fungus.  Yellow and white tendrils slithered up the withering walls of the museum. Like roots, the fungus spread out from the entryway of the museum. The fungus almost looked painted on. It reminded Piper of the spray paint art found on the walls of the buildings in the QZ. However, this design was deadly. 

“Well, there's a way across from the top floor,” Tess told the two girls. She pointed upwards. 

“Well, then I guess it's fine,” Ellie shrugged. 

“No, Ellie. It’s not fucking fine!” Piper exclaimed. She wasn’t about to let her sister walk in there. Had she not remembered what Tess told her? The Infected were connected by the fungus. One wrong step and hell would descend upon them. 

“We used to take it all the time,” Tess reassured Piper. Well, I tried to. 

“Okay,” Ellie said. 

Piper shook her head. “I’m not fucking going in there. Neither is Ellie.” Piper grabbed the hood of her sister’s jacket and pulled Ellie to her side. “We’re not going in…,” Piper growled. 

“Look, it was fine. Piper, you’ve gotta trust me.”

“Trust the person who walked up straight into that FEDRA agent? Hell no.” Piper’s eyes narrowed and her body grew stiff as Tess took a step forward. 

“Awesome,” Ellie said sarcastically. She sighed and tried to remove herself from Piper’s grasp, but her grip was too tight. “Jesus Pipes, calm the fuck down. Tess says it's fine, so –”

“It's bone dry. It could mean they're all finally dead in there,” announced Joel. Joel’s deep and calm voice eased some of Piper’s nerves. 

“Oh, man. See Piper, we’re fine.” Piper sent Ellie a warning glare. “Mind if you let me go?” 

Reluctantly, Piper released Ellie’s hoodie. Ellie shrugged off her sister’s hand and turned to Tess and Joel who were on the ground sifting through their backpacks. 

Joel pulled out a large flashlight and waved it in front of the girls. “Marlene pack you one of these or just sandwiches?”

“Yeah,” Ellie nodded. She and Piper pulled off their bags and began to look for the flashlights Marlene had so graciously given them. 

Piper groaned. “Where is that fucking thing?” Then she reached into her pack and began to pull out everything in search of the flashlight. First, it was her wet clothes, then a makeshift first aid kit, some rope, and her gun. Joel’s eyes widened as she pulled out the gun from her bag. His hand instinctively hovered over his own. 

Something that didn’t go unnoticed by Piper. “What?! I know how to use one of these things.” She waved the gun around. “It’s not like I’m gonna shoot you. Plus it's empty.” She opened the cartridge and indeed it was empty. Joel’s hand left his side. “Just grabbing my fucking flashlight,” Piper grumbled finally finding the damn thing. 

Joel’s shoulders didn’t relax until Piper had shoved the gun back into the bag. She made sure to place it at the very bottom of her bag. She didn’t need to give Joel another reason to shoot her. 

“Okay, so… more ground rules.” Tess swung her bag back over her shoulder and placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders. Her eyes switched between Piper's and Ellie’s eyes. “We're gonna go slowly. If we come up against anything, you get behind us and ya stay there, okay?”

“Yes,” Ellie said. 

Tess sent a look to Piper as she scoffed. “Yeah. Jesus. I’ll stay behind you.”

Tess pulled back accepting the girl’s acknowledgement and pulled out her gun. 

“I have a spare hand…” Ellie suggested. She pointed to the guns in Tess and Joel’s hands.

“Congratulations,” Joel said as he stepped over the dead fungi and into the Museum. 

“Yeah... cooked,” Joel noted as the group settled into the building. The only source of light came from behind them and their flashlights. Piper was surprised to find that the roof and walls were intact. Part of her was half expecting half of the building to have collapsed and to be overrun with plants and fauna just like the rest of the city. 

“Oh, finally, some fuckin' luck,” said Tess. 

“I guess we should've gone this way in the first place,” Joel confessed as he looked around the museum. All was quiet and still. He and Tess quickly check a side room to make sure it was clear. Maybe they were in luck. 

Ellie on the other hand did exactly what Joel and Tess told her not to do. She wandered away. Piper followed her sister. Her hand tightly grasped her own switch. Ellie turned a corner and jumped back. “Oh shit! What the fuck did that?” She pointed her flashlight behind the corner and Piper ran to her side, her hand ready to strike. It seemed like Tess and Joel had the same idea. 

“Ellie…” Piper muttered. She pulled her sister away from the dead body. 

It was a man. His throat ripped open and his shirt torn. Thick blood seeped from the wounds. His eyes were wide open with terror; Frozen in time the moment his life was stolen from his body. 

Tess tensed beside Joel.” Maybe… maybe he was attacked outside and crawled through the doors. The door was open. Could've been him. I don't hear anything.” She said hopefully. 

“Who would you hear?” Ellie asked curiously before Piper’s hand flew up to cover her mouth. Piper leaned in close and shushed her sister.

Ellie got the message and pulled Piper’s hand away. “Who would you hear?” Ellie whispered. She looked at Tess and Joel. “Are you saying an Infected did that?”

“Shh,” Tess pleaded. 

“Because I've been attacked by one and it wasn't like that.” Ellie pointed to the body, her voice growing louder than a whisper. 

“You know the bat-like ones?” Piper said. Ellie nodded. “Well–”

Joel’s jaw clenched as Piper spoke up. “Okay, from this point forward, we are silent. Not quiet. Silent.” He brought a finger to his lips. 

“What…?” Ellie asked. 

“No. No questions. Just do it.” Joel commanded. 

Ellie sighed, or she would have if Joel was not giving her a death glare. Tess motioned for Piper and Ellie to walk behind Joel. The girls followed Joel as Tess took the back. Her eyes darted from side to side to look out for any sign that could warn her. 

Piper and Ellie stepped over the fungi that spread all across the floor and spanned across the walls and ceiling. Piper didn’t care that Joel stated the fungi were dead as she walked on her tiptoes to avoid even the tiniest fragment of fungi. 

As the group moved up the stairs of the museum, Piper could see piles of debris and shattered glass mixed between the large root-like tendrils of the fungi. It seemed like the stairs were the focal point for the fungi. It grew denser making it harder for Piper to find a safe place to step. Ellie resorted to hopping from one place to another. 

There was a creaking sound from above before a rumbling CRASH! Suddenly a part of the ceiling collapsed down onto the stairs just a few feet in front of Joel. The group froze: Their breath stilled, the blood in their body stopped pumping, and every muscle in their body refused to move. All were focused on the sound. They listened as the dust stilled and fell to the floor. They waited for what felt like a century as they were reassured nothing was altered. 

Joel was the first to take a step. His movement created a chain reaction in the rest of the group. Everyone now continued to make their way up the stairs past the decaying bodies of lifeless infected. Fungi grew out of their cracked skulls and shot out of their eye sockets. 

Ellie couldn’t help but be fascinated with the Infected. She could clearly see the hollowness of the human that the monster was created from. She soon became lost in her thoughts as she imagined what these people must have been like before they were turned. Her steps soon grew careless and less calculated. 

CRACK!

The group froze again as Ellie winced. The sound pierced the air. The sound came from below Ellie. She cautiously lifted her foot off the ground and glanced down at the crushed hand of the Infected. The hand was reduced to dust and bones. She mouthed a quick sorry to Joel who was staring right where her foot once was and the group trekked up the stairs once more. 

Piper felt a wave of relief fall over her as she realized the fungi were getting less dense. The stairs finally reached an end and now she and the others stood on the second floor. Light seeped into the hallway from the windows making it just a fraction easier to see. 

Once again, Joel was the first to move. He crept towards the end of the hallway and pushed the door slightly ajar. Just enough space for him and the others to get through. Piper was the next to walk through the door. 

The second Piper stepped into the threshold, the building began to groan and croak. The ceiling screeched and a rumbling began. Tess ushered her and Ellie forward. The ceiling cracked open. In desperation, Tess shoved Ellie forward. The two of them came crashing to the ground. The two of them struggle to contain the groan of pain that built in their lungs. 

The crashing was much too loud. The sound thundered in Piper’s ears. It was all that she could hear. Then came the silence. It was deafening. All of a sudden, Piper became consciously aware of how ear-splittingly loud everything was: her breathing, the creaking of the building, the roaring of her own heart, the blood sloshing about her body, the dust settling around what used to be a doorway. 

Piper preferred the silence to what came next. It was a bone-chilling scream. One that was followed by a screech from the other direction. There were two. The creatures flocked to the sound. Tess pulled Ellie up by the scruff of her neck and backed away from the collapsed debris. Joel placed a hand in front of Piper and backed her away from the scene. The group walked step by step backwards. Their eyes filled with uncertainty as they looked for any sign of the creatures. 

Click. Click. Eeraahh! Click. 

It was coming from behind them. Piper pulled Ellie close as the Clicker came into view through the glass of one of the display cases. Ellie’s eyes widened in fear as she turned away from the shadow of the Clicker. 

“They can't see, but they can hear.” Joel mouthed. 

Ellie nodded in understanding. She needed to be silent. Not Quiet. Something was proving difficult to do. The image of the Infected on top of her clawing at her chest appeared in her mind. The creature spat and snarled as it growled into her ear with a twisted animalistic smile on its face. Ellie couldn’t help how her breath quickened in her chest as the clicking grew nearer. 

The Clicker has rounded the corner of the display case. Its’ body is only a foot or two away from Joel. 

Suddenly, Piper’s hands come to the sides of Ellie’s face. “Look at me. Breathe in and out.” Piper mouthed. Her own hands trembled viscously against Ellie’s skin. 

Ellie does what Piper asked. She breathed in and looked at her sister. 

Click. 

Ellie looked away. She saw the Clicker. Its arms twisted and fingers pointed sharp like claws. She saw the blood seeping from its mouth and the fungi that split apart its’ skull. Ellie breathed out. 

A simple breath. That’s all the Clicker needed to whip around towards Ellie. It screeched and reached out its hands. Joel was quick to aim his gun and shoot. The clicker screamed out in pain as bullet after bullet lodged into its stomach. 

“Run!” Joel cried as he fought the Clicker. 

Tess didn’t hesitate to pull Ellie and Piper away from Joel and run. Another Clicker jumped out from behind the wall and growled at Tess who fired her own gun. She dragged the girls away in the other direction. Her head whipped back to shoot once more. A fatal mistake. Ellie tripped, causing Piper and Tess to come toppling over her. The Clicker charged them. Tess instinctively kicked a nearby stand over. The noise served as a distraction to allow the three of them to crawl away. Tess motioned for Piper to take Ellie and run, just as the Clicker learned of their deception. Tess pulled out her gun once more and shoots the Clicker, effectively leading it away from the girls.

Piper and Ellie do not dare stand up. They crawled under a nearby display case as chaos ensued around them. Shots were fired. Clickers screeched. Ellie’s breath grew heavy and tense as the sounds grew louder and more frequent. 

Piper raised her hands to cover Ellie’s ears. “Calm down.” Piper mouthed. A hypocritical statement for Piper’s mind was in turmoil. She was just as helpless as she was that night in the mall. 

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

YOU’RE GONNA DIE. ELLIE’S GOING TO BE RIPPED APART. 

CRASH!

Piper and Ellie jumped out of their skin. They collectively decided to move to another hiding place. The two carefully crawled across the floor. They froze at the sound of glass breaking. A Clicker ran past them roaring as it searched for them. 

In the corner of her eye, Piper saw a display case. It was low and could cover her and Ellie’s bodies. She carefully moved towards the case. Ellie followed after her. 

Click. Click. Click. 

The Clicker was closer than ever. Piper could see the shadow of the creature inch closer and closer near the edge of the display case they were hiding behind. Suddenly Joel tapped on her shoulder. She had to cover her mouth before she yelped. Joel looked at Ellie and Piper and then at the Clicker on the other side of the display case. 

“Follow me.” He mouthed and turned around on his heel. 

Click. Click. Click. 

Joel raised one foot and then another. His body was crouched low as he stepped in the opposite direction of the Clicker. Foot down. Foot up. Foot down. 

Crack. 

Then he was on the floor. Piper and Ellie were screaming as the Infected jumped on top of them. Their arms thrashed as the Clicker claws at Ellie. Its’ mouth growled as a mix of saliva and drool dripped onto Ellie’s face. Piper cried out as she managed to lodge one of her arms on the Clicker’s neck and face. It began to snap its’ jaw open and closed. The clenching of its’ teeth pinched a chord in Ellie’s ears. Piper’s grip on the Clicker slipped. The creature fell onto Ellie, biting down. Piper cried out in pain as Joel’s gun fired. The Clicker turned its attention to Joel. It lunged at Joel knocking his gun away. Ellie froze as she saw Joel struggle. The Clicker growled and hissed fighting to rip into Joel’s skin. 

BANG!

The Clicker fell still. Joel shoved the clicker off of him and looked up. It was Piper. In her hands, she held his gun. It was a perfect shot to the head. 

A screeching appeared beside Piper as the other Clicker lunged at her. She jumped back and cried aloud in fear. The gun dropped to the floor in her moment of horror. 

“Run, run!” Joel screamed. He shoved Ellie to the side and reached out for Piper. His hands grabbed onto the jacket she was wearing and pulled her out of the Clicker’s charge. 

Suddenly, Tess appeared. She raised an axe and swung it at the Clicker. The weapon was now lodged into the Clicker’s neck. It howled in pain and turned to Tess, now preparing to jump at her. 

Immediately, Joel retrieved his gun and raised the barrel. Locked. Loaded. Finger on the trigger. Fire!

Silence. 

The Clicker dropped dead. 

“You all right?” Joel heaved. He had asked everyone in the room but his attention was directed to Tess who was on the floor holding her ankle in pain. 

“Twisted ankle, but... yeah. You all right?” Tess asked. 

“Well, I didn't shit my pants, so…” Ellie said. 

“Piper?” Tess inquired. 

The teen was in shock. Her ears were ringing and there was a dull pain in her arm. She felt something warm trickle down her skin.

“Piper?” Tess asked again. Worry filled her voice. 

“Fuck–” Piper cried. She was looking at her arm. “I mean if it was gonna happen to one of us.” 

The group's eyes fell onto Piper’s arm. Where she had rolled back the sleeves of Joel’s jacket was a bite mark. It was bleeding profusely as Piper clutched the wound. Her whole body was shaking, and she bit her lip. The taste of copper and iron flooded her taste buds. Ellie seemed just as terrified. A fear both Joel and Tess chalked up to being attacked by two Clickers. An experience that a majority of people don’t live to tell the tale of. 

“Hey...let's get the fuck outta here,” Tess muttered. 

Joel nodded and looked around the room for the window that led to the rooftop. He found it already cracked open. Ellie was the first to step out onto the roof. Then Piper, Tess, and, lastly, Joel. 

Tess groaned in pain as her ankle throbbed. Joel instructed her to sit down as he pulled off his backpack. He reached inside and pulled out bandages. He held them out to Piper who was still in shock clutching her bleeding arm. 

“Put this around your arm,” He instructed her. 

Piper looked at the bandages before taking them. “Thanks.” 

Ellie stood near the ledge. “Over there?” She asked and pointed to the boardwalk that connected over the next rooftop. 

Joel nodded, “Yeah, I know. It looks scary.”

“That was scary. This is wood.” Without another word, Ellie crossed the wooden plank and jumped onto the next rooftop. 

Piper adjusted her backpack and gripped the bandage tightly as she walked across the plank of wood. They were high off the ground. One misstep and she would go tumbling down to the ground. But Ellie was right. The thought of that was nothing compared to the bloody mark on her arm. 

“Just wait there. Give us a minute,” Joel called out. 

Piper assumed he was gonna help Tess. She walked over to Ellie who stood staring at the view of the city in front of them. Piper silently observed her sister as she began to wrap her arm. Something she struggled with. The bandage never stayed in one place. Piper furrowed her brows in concentration. 

“Pipes,” a small voice whimpered. It was Ellie. She was crying as she looked at the bite mark on Piper’s arm. 

Piper frowned and her lips trembled. “Look. You’re immune, right? We’re sisters, so I’ve got to be.” Piper’s sight grew blurry. “I just– Just help me, please.” She raised her arm up as Ellie took the bandage from her hand. 

Ellie snatched the bandage from Piper’s hand before fishing something out of her pocket. Piper’s face paled as she saw the silver blade fling to position. Ellie raised the knife over the palm of her hand. 

“My blood’s the cure, right? I’m immune so if I mix it with yours then–” Ellie winced as the blade sliced into her hand. The silver knife drew across her skin before being closed and placed back into Ellie’s pocket. Then Ellie raised her hand over Piper’s arm, who was quick to draw it away. 

“Ellie-” Piper begged. 

“Just–fuck! Piper. Please!” Ellie whimpered. 

Piper shakingly stuck out her arm again allowing Ellie to squeeze her hand shut over Piper’s arm. It was like juicing a lemon, as Ellie’s blood dripped onto Piper’s wound. Then for extra measures, Ellie took that very bloodied hand and proceeded to mix Piper’s blood with hers. 

It had to work. Ellie knew that she was immune. It was in her blood. That’s what Marlene had told her. The cure was in her blood. So, if she put just enough of her blood in Piper’s system then Piper wouldn’t turn. It had to work. It had to. Ellie didn’t know what she would do without Piper. It was always Ellie and Piper until the end. The panic in Ellie grew as she gripped her sister’s arm tighter as if she was afraid that if she let go Piper would disappear. 

“Ellie,” the panic as Piper's terror grew. “Ellie that’s enough!”

Ellie yanked her arm back and stood clutching her bleeding hand as her wide and trembling eyes glared at the bite mark on Piper’s arm. Her breaths were short, and tense and they grew quicker and more frequent with each second. 

Piper shot her hands out and cupped her sister’s face. “Breath. I’m okay. We’re okay. I’ve got you, Ellie,” Piper whispered to her sister.

Ellie was able to calm down enough to bandage her sister's wound. In turn, Piper tore off some of the fabric to tie it around Ellie’s cut. Ellie giggled as Piper kissed Ellie’s boo-boo. It was just like old times back in the QZ. 

“We’re okay. We’re gonna be okay. It’s you and me until the end.” Piper said as she wrapped an arm around Ellie’s shoulder and turned the two of them to face the view of the city. The calming scene was just what the girls needed to pull them out of the water threatening to drown them. 

The afternoon sun cascaded down on crumbling Boston. The Capitol building shimmered like a lighthouse in the dark as the gold-tinted dome roof caught the warm light of the sun. The sky was a picturesque blue and there was hardly a cloud in sight. Occasionally the dark outline of a bird would fly into view above the buildings. 

“If I had a superpower, then I would be able to fly,” Ellie muttered as her brown eyes flowed the latest bird to grace their view. 

“Oh yeah?” Piper said as she pulled her sister in closer. 

“Yeah. Then I’d be able to take you and we’d fly someplace safe. Somewhere there is no Infected. No FEDRA. No fireflies. Somewhere where it’s just me and you,” Ellie explained as she snuggled into her sister's side. 

Then there was a shuffling behind them, and Joel and Tess appeared, finally catching up with the girls. Joel came to a stop next to Ellie. He crossed his arms over his chest and let out a deep sigh before glancing down at Ellie. 

“Is it everything you hoped for?”

Ellie sniffled before answering Joel. “The jury's still out. But, man, you can't deny that view.” Then Ellie smiled. 

Joel furrowed his brows as his gaze softened. There was no malice or sassiness in Ellie’s voice as she answered. But then the girl smiled. It was a soft smile and not one that was noticeable. But it was a smile. An honest-to-God sweet smile. 

Tess looked at the location of the sun in the sky before limping over to a ladder attached to the building. “C'mon, let's get there before it's dark.”

Tess raised her leg over the edge and began her descent down the ladder. Ellie stepped out from under her sister’s arm before walking over to the ladder and climbing down after Piper. 

Joel took a step forward, but something in him made him look back at Piper. There was a dullness in her eyes as she looked at the view. So unlike Ellie’s simple adoration for it. To Piper, the view was just a little greyer and darker too. It was as if her whole world was tinted. Cursed to dull and eventually fade away. 

“You good, kid?” Joel asked. 

Piper took a moment to respond back. “No.” Then she stepped forward and walked over to the ladder. Her figure descended from view. 

Joel just stood there. His brown eyes fixed on the spot Piper once stood. It was only a “no”, yet Joel Miller was frozen in his step. It wasn’t dullness in her eyes. No, it was defeat. It was the glance at a broken soul whose pieces have scattered so far and wide that there is only the hollowness of what once was. 

Then Joel found himself glancing down. The broken glass of his watch gleamed in the sun. One thought alone was in Joel’s mind as he looked at the watch. One thought alone was in Joel’s mind as he climbed down the ladder. 

꧁_____________꧂ 

The sun had begun its descent in the sky and the crickets decided to make an early appearance. They chirped as a light breeze danced through the long grass. The leaves rubbed together making a wave-like noise every time a gust of wind flew by. Tess, Joel, Piper, and Ellie stood behind a rusted old car that had spent too much time under the harsh gaze of the sun. 

“Where the fuck are they?” Tess harshly whispered to Joel. 

Before them stood the Capitol building. The drop-off point. The place Marlene said a bunch from out west were. The Capitol was anything but alive. There was no sign of the Fireflies, except for a gigantic truck. A truck that looked entirely too new compared to the numerous rusted and crumbling cars that were scattered around the grounds. 

Joel’s eyes narrowed on the truck as he stepped out from behind the car. “Stay back,” he instructed. 

The gravel crunched under Joel’s boots as he stalked towards the truck’s driver-side door. The door was slightly ajar which allowed Joel to pry it open with his gun. The leather seats were drenched with blood. Not a person in sight. Joel’s worry grew as he trekked around to the back of the truck before opening it as well. Empty. 

“Joel? What the fuck is going on?” Tess said. She stepped out from behind the car and began to approach Joel. Her face fell upon seeing what Joel had found. 

“I don't know,” Joel replied. 

Ellie and Piper approached the truck as well. The two girls circled around to the other side looking for clues as to where the Fireflies could have gone. 

Ellie gulped as she spotted a trail of blood leading into the Capitol building. “They went inside,” she said. Piper came up next to Ellie. Her eyes followed along the blood trail. 

“Come on,” Tess dictated as she grabbed Ellie’s sleeve and pulled her into the Capitol building. 

Piper and Joel ran after Tess.

“Tess!” Joel called out. 

“Come on!” Tess hissed as she pulled Ellie along. 

“Tess!” Joel repeated. 

The scene they had found inside the building was a massacre. Ellie was the first to enunciate what they were all thinking. “Holy shit.” 

Bodies lay along the marble floor. Some were shot, blood still oozing out of their deadly wounds. Others lay face up with their necks sliced open or knives gouged into their heads. 

Ellie turned around taking it all in. She stepped closer to a particular body lying nearby. Joel tensed before pulling Ellie away from the body and into the centre of the lobby. 

“Oh, Jesus. Okay.” Joel looked around and caught sight of Tess. She was digging through the numerous crates and boxes that the Fireflies had kept in the building. 

“I mean, there's gotta be a, a fuckin' radio or somethin', right?” Tess’s voice quavered. 

“Who killed them? FEDRA?” Ellie looked at Piper as she said FEDRA. 

Piper shook her head, but it was Joel who answered. “No. One of them got bit. The healthy ones fought the sick ones. Everyone lost.” He stepped towards Tess whose movements got more and more frantic. “Tess? What're you doin'?”

Tess turned on her heel and marched towards Ellie and Piper. On instinct, Piper grabbed Ellie’s sleeve and pulled her sister back behind her. 

“Where did Marlene say that she was taking you? Ellie! Piper!” Tess demanded. 

Ellie shook her head. “Uh, I don't know. Just west.”

“Just west. Fuck.” Tess ran her hands through her hair. Her fingers gripped tightly around her light brown locks. “Okay. Well, I mean, one of them's gotta have a map on them, right? Joel, can ya help me?” Tess walked over to one of the bodies and began searching the pockets. 

“No! Tess... it's over. We are going home,” Joel said. His voice began to fill with worry. The most emotion Piper and Ellie had ever heard from his voice. 

“That's not my fucking home!” Tess yelled. She glanced back at Joel. “I'm stayin'. I mean... our luck had to run out sooner or later.” Her voice faltered. 

There it was. Defeat was embedded deep within Tess’s eyes. A look–a feeling that Piper knew all too well. “Fuck. She's infected,” Piper stated. 

Joel looked back at Piper before returning his gaze to Tess. “Show me.” 

“Joel,” Tess stepped towards Joel, but he raised his gun at her. She let out a nervous chuckle. “Oops, right?” Then Tess marched over to Piper pointing at her arm. “Take your bandage off,” Tess commanded. 

Piper glanced at Joel before she lifted up her sleeve and removed her bandage. 

Tess snatched Piper’s arm pulling it close to Joel. “Look.” 

Joel’s jaw clenched as he did as Tess told as did Piper. The bleeding had stopped and a layer of scab was growing over the wound. It was healing. Relief fell over Piper. She was immune. She was healing. 

“Joel?” Tess caught Joel’s attention once more. “This is real. Joel, she's fucking real. They’re real…” Tess finally let go of Piper’s arm. “I need you to get her to Bill and Frank's.”

Joel shook his head. “No.”

“They'll take her off your hands,” Tess continued. 

“No.” There was desperation growing in Joel’s voice. 

“They'll handle it from here,” Tell told Joel. 

“No, no, no, I can't. They won't take her. They're not gonna take her,” Joel replied. 

“They will. They will 'cause you'll convince them.” Joel shook his head. “Yes, you will. I, I never ask you for anything, not to feel the way I felt.”

Joel’s eyes began to water. His hands gripped his gun tighter as if it was his only lifeline. “No.”

“Shut the fuck up 'cause I don't have time.” She stepped close to Joel. “This is your chance. You get them there… you keep them alive...and you set everything right. All the shit we did. Please say yes, Joel, please,” Tess begged. 

Suddenly there was a snarling behind Piper and Ellie. The girls whirled around and cried out in fear. The dead never seemed to stay dead. 

“Oh fuck!” Ellie exclaimed. 

Instinctively, Joel raised his gun. The trigger was pulled. The Infect collapsed to the floor. Its hand fell to the floor and then time froze. 

Why hadn’t he noticed it before? Joel scolded himself. 

There’s a howl in the distance and it feels as if hell has descended upon them. Piper clutched Ellie close as the unanimous snarling from the distance filled their ears. 

Joel ran over to the entrance of the Capitol building and stuck his head out the door. His face paled at the sight. 

“How many?” Tess asked. 

“All of them. Maybe a minute.” Joel closed the door and ran back to the group. 

Tess ran to a nearby container before dumping its contents out. Yellow gasoline spilt across the pristine marble floor. The smell of petrol swarmed Piper’s sense of smell. 

“What are you doing?” Ellie asked as Tess ran around the room dumping out the gasoline. 

“Making sure that they don't follow you.” Tess raised up a small lighter before turning to Joel. “Joel… save who you can save.” 

Joel’s whole body clenched tightly as his eyes said goodbye to Tess. He couldn’t say it. She knew he couldn’t. Then Joel listened. He did exactly what Tess told him to. He saved who he could save. His large shoot out to grab tightly onto the girls’ arms before dragging them away. 

Piper and Ellie look back helplessly at Tess. Ellie grunts and yells as she tries to fit Joel’s grip. She couldn’t leave her mom behind.

“No! We're not leaving her!” Ellie screamed. 

Piper smiled sadly at Tess. Her brown eyes said thank you over and over hoping Tess knew. She did. Of course, Tess did. She was a mother after all. 

“Get off me, you fucker!” Ellie began to hit Joel with all her might. But Joel was hardened to violence and pain. “Piper!” Ellie began to plead with her sister. 

Piper shook her head before using her other arm to loop around Ellie and help Joel drag her out of the building. “Ellie, we have to.”

Ellie cried out in frustration. “I'm not going with you!” 

Piper didn’t exactly know when they exited the building. What she did know was about twenty seconds after, as Joel continued to haul Ellie’s thrashing figure into the field of tall grass, the building exploded. 

Clouds of fire fumed out of the windows. Glass shattered. The ground trembled and then all was silent. 

Ellie’s fight broke down. Joel let her go he watched as she scrambled forward her arms reaching out to the burning building before Piper stepped in her sister’s path. 

“Ellie,” Piper soothed. Her hand reached up to wipe away her sister’s tears. 

“Fuck you!” Ellie screamed as she shoved Piper to the ground. 

“Ellie!” Piper said, trying to stand back up to calm her sister down. 

Ellie growled before jumping on top of her sister. This wasn’t like their games where Piper was in control. Ellie was on top. Ellie was going to win. Her finger scrunched up and formed a fist. Then that fist flung through the air finding a place on Piper’s body. After the first punch came another. Then another. 

Piper raised her arms up in defence. Her body squirmed under Ellie’s weight as she tried to get the upper hand, but Ellie gave her no such opportunity. Hit after hit Joel stood by and watched. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak, so he just let it happen. 

Then there was a sickening crack as Ellie’s fist landed on Piper’s face. Blood trickled down Piper’s now broken nose. Ellie froze. Her knuckle felt warm with her sister’s blood. Then Ellie was on the ground. Piper was on her feet clutching her nose in pain. Joel just looked at the teen as she tried to nurse her wounds. 

Tears are falling down Ellie’s cheeks now. She doesn’t feel them. All she can feel is the blood of her sister’s body tainting her skin. She feels sick but there is nothing to puke up. 

There was another crack and Piper winced in pain. Her nose adjusted; the blood was no longer spilt from her nose. She could breathe now, but the blood was in her mouth. She hated the coppery taste in her mouth that was becoming more and more frequent. Piper spat out the blood in her mouth. The red liquid mixed with her saliva as it hit the ground. Piper wiped her nose, her eyes on Ellie’s stilled figure. 

She felt Joel’s eyes on her. Her dark eyes met him as she shoved her way past him. Piper began walking. She didn’t care if she had no clue where she was supposed to go. All she could think of right now was getting away. Away from the burning building. Away from the terrors that crawled in her mind and scarred her soul. Away from Joel. Away from Ellie. 

Joel let out a shaking breath before looking down at Ellie. He lowered his gaze to the ground. The earth beneath his boots rattled as Joel departed after Piper. He too needed to leave. He needed to leave before the sins of his past swarmed to the surface. So he left. 

Ellie was the last to move. Piper’s figure was now small in the distance. Joel’s figure was a couple of inches larger than her sister’s. The blood on her knuckles ran cold. Ellie sniffled and wiped away the blood. Her hands found refuge in her jacket pockets as she took one step forward. One after the other. She was deserting–leaving a shell of herself behind in that burning building. Just like she left a part of herself in that mall with Riley’s body. Just like she would continue to do for the rest of her life. Piper couldn’t protect her anymore. No one could. 

꧁_____________꧂

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꧁_____________꧂

[faces-ofvenus]

Hi, I just wanna say that I love your work;)

And listen: Jace being all dom and jealous after Aegon had propositioned to you in your wedding day, so Jace wants him to hear how good he can please you

warnings: content for adults, minors do not read.

It took a while 🙌

After all the morning events that had surrounded your family, you knew that the atmosphere at that dinner would be nothing less than tense, you were one of the children of Alicent and Viserys, but specifically the youngest daughter, and now also engaged and promised to Jacaerys, to the chagrin of your mother, who obviously didn't want any of your blood to join the children of Rhaenyra.

You still wondered why there were so many enmities, it was rumored that they were friends, but it didn't really matter, not when you were actually happy about the wedding you and your sister's firstborn had always been quite attached in childhood, for having a small age difference, you always felt and wanted to marry Jace, and he always expressed that he wanted the same, going against your mother's rules and simply talking to the boys.

But things happened, the death of lord Strong, of Laena, your beloved prince and his family moving to Dragonstone and cutting contacts with each other even if by force, it was hurtful honestly, but all was past you expected, you didn't want to be meeting Jace in these situations, to decide your brother's future, to humiliate him his poor sister and his other brothers, you just wanted that they could be together, and that your family could get along.

At the dinner table Jace's hand rested intertwined in yours, since you met again, you always seemed to be together and glued to each other, he seemed to be happier than ever, to imagine the two of you together, and how it would be to have you in his bed, he honestly couldn't stop himself from having such thoughts, when he thought you were the most beautiful woman that ever existed in Westeros, and just looking at you he felt warmth rise all over his body.

- I hope you know how to satisfy my little sister. Don't worry my dear, if you need help, just come to me.

The two of your conversation was completely interrupted by your brother's drunken and slightly coiled voice, you rolled your eyes and looked at Aegon, you knew he would do one of those, but honestly, today!? You got the stiffness in Jace's arm, and how his hands were giving you warning signs, and as you looked at him you saw his serious and defiant look.... It was hot you thought, the way he looked, but you quickly turned those thoughts away, you made your gazes meet, yours seemed to want to calm the dragon fire that glowed through Jacaerys beautiful brown orbs.

Dinner followed with more of Aegon's rather polite and indiscreet comments that you made a point of rebuking a few times, but which seemed to have no effect on your brother's drunken figure, the glint in Jacaerys' gaze had not diminished, but you could see the gears in his head, and honestly the small discreet smile that spread across his face.

Aegon was walking a little staggered around the castle, he gave a low laugh at the thought of going to pester his nephew some more, after the dinner they had, the family excused themselves, teasing and taunting Jace was never as much fun as it was now. As he got close to his door he could hear noises indecipherable to his ears but getting louder and sincerely more noticeable.

And as he opened the door the naked image of you seared into his mind, which he would find as exciting as possible, but not when it was his fucking nephew who was leading him upright with you just propped up on a headboard.

- A...ah Jacaerys m...my king

You moaned like a bitch he would say, your face had little tears of pleasure on it, your nails dug into Jace's back scratching him and leaving reddened rows as Jace took you unmercifully, and just marked you all over.

- Let them hear you, let your brother hear what a slut you are for my cock, and that only I can take you.

He put his hands on the table and pushed even harder, making you let out a shrill cry for his name, as he grabbed your shoulder for balance, and hooked your legs around his bent toes and your mouth letting out the best moaning moans Aegon ever had the pleasure of hearing, he doesn't know why he was so turned on by the scene, you looked so good in that situation, but you made sure to leave quickly so as not to be noticed by the couple, even not aware that the brown haired prince, already knew about your little importuning, not that he cared when you were taking his cock so obediently mind.

[ellie-the-oracle]

The Bad Batch Season 3 - A New Theory and the future for Tech

Spoilers ahead!

Hey you guys! So I've previously discussed how I believe that the operative character could be Tech and how that affirms my winter soldier theory. However, I am here to retract that statement as I do not believe that it makes sense narratively, as it would either copy Crosshair's story or Echo's story. I propose a new theory: the operative is not Tech, but rather Cody. Let me explain why.

Firstly, we now know (via Crosshair's confirmation) that the program Hemlock is running does not work on defective clones, as they attempted and failed to integrate Cross into said program. This would rule out Tech as he was also a defective clone.

Secondly, and more prevalently, we know (from Rebels) that some event needs to push Rex over the edge and make him quit his efforts of saving other clones. I suspect that this event could be an encounter with a brainwashed Cody, and perhaps a botched operation to Tantiss resulting in a lot of casualties.

Thirdly, why do I think it's Cody? While it's true that we were told in season two how he went "awol" (albeit by an unreliable source), that doesn't necessarily mean he escaped, it just means that he defied the Empire. We also know that this operative program is designed to repurpose defiant clones. I also want to point out how the operatives voice, while warped through a modulator, sounded like a reg, instead of a higher pitched, vaguely English accent.

Lastly, Tech has been mentioned only once in this season, briefly in conversation. Yes, Cody isn't mentioned at all but I'll get to that. The end of season two, in my opinion, felt like a lazy write off of Tech's character (in an attempt to elicit reactions from fans), that essentially served as a "wrap up" of his story (more on this in a moment). Cody's story is still a loose end though. It's also important to mention that in the EU, Cody was used as the template for the dark troopers.

Now onto the discussion of where this leaves Tech. Well...I think he's dead for good. Trust me when I say that deeply hurts me beyond words. I have related to and deeply bonded with Tech's character, so to me, his death was very real and painful, and I'm honestly still having a hard time with it (I was literally sobbing about it the other day). Unfortunately, I just do not believe that the writers of this show are capable of what the writers of Lucasfilm era Clone Wars were capable of (please dkm, this is just my personal opinion). I'm sorry but I just don't have faith in Disney, not after the sequels and most (if not all) of the live action shows they've put out. Yes, Tech should, logically, 100% be alive...if they were good writers. He has a potential love interest, a family and a potential peaceful life to live on Pabuu to return to. There are so many plot holes that would remain unanswered, and would be extremely disappointing. Tech's story is largely unfinished. Should he be dead for good, it will show the utter lack of writing talent that Disney possesses and a lack of care or respect for fans.

Apologies for the spicy takes at the end. Again these are just my personal opinions and experiences. No hate to anyone who enjoys any of those shows/movies.

[ask-dawnanddusk]

Vekpa: OHHH THAT is a NICE NEST you have for your EGG. It looks like you’re already cut out to be GOOD PARENTS. Are you… READY for the responsibilities of PARENTHOOD though? Sometimes I EVEN FEEL like I’m not good enough to be a DAD.

"Haha, thank you." Dawn said with a slight chuckle before stopping, uncharacteristically quiet. He thought for a long moment before speaking, "I have never... raised a child myself. I have interacted well with them in the past, and genuinely I really like kids. I know that we're ready as we can ever be, but still, I worry..."

"Yes, it's true that we are inexperienced, but we are not alone in doing so." Dusk comforted, "Not only do we have Maksviah, who has raised many children before, but we have the entire village below us to go to for advice and knowledge." He said with a smile, "I, personally believe we will be good parents."

"Though, if you have any advice for us, it would be greatly appreciated." Dawn said with a smile and chuckle.

[whumpay]

WHUMPAY 2023

Well, this is earlier than usual… But, as a thanks for all y’all’s help getting prompts together, I’ve decided to release the list earlier! And, well… With the new ‘Extreme Edition’ addition, I figured a bit more prep time may be warranted.

Rules:

You only have to use one (Or two, if you’re doing the extreme edition.) prompt a day! But you’re welcome to use multiple if you want to, and it still counts for both.

I know the description of the blog says it’s a writing event, but if you want to draw or make other kinds of content, that’s cool too.

Have fun, tag content warnings (such as noncon, graphic violence, etc) and try not to be crushed by the mortifying ordeal of posting your writing.

This is a pretty chill event so you can start posting whenever but I’ll be reblogging posts made to the #Whumpay2023 tag throughout May.

EXTREME EDITION: Made to be used together with the normal prompt list, the extreme edition prompt list has 31 types of whumpees for you to use. This is entirely optional, and you don’t necessarily need to do them in order. I know it says bonus points, but it basically is just bragging rights.

(Prompt list under the cut.)

GROUP ONE: PHYSICAL WHUMP 

Day 1: Heatstroke

Day 2: Asphyxiation 

Day 3: Physical Torture

Day 4: Passing Out From Pain

Day 5: Near-Death Experience

GROUP TWO: MENTAL WHUMP

Day 6: Psychological Torture

Day 7: Betrayal

Day 8: Claustrophobia

Day 9: Lotus-Eater Machine

Day 10: Trapped In Own Body

GROUP THREE: WHUMPER TYPE

Day 11: Intimate Whumper

Day 12: Good Whumper / Bad Whumper

Day 13: Reluctant Whumper

Day 14: Vengeful Whumper

Day 15: Unintentional Whumper

GROUP FOUR: CARETAKER TYPE

Day 16: Bad Caretaker

Day 17: Parental Caretaker

Day 18: Reluctant Caretaker

Day 19: Carewhumper

Day 20: Enemy-To-Caretaker

GROUP FIVE: SICKFIC

Day 21: Working Through Illness

Day 22: Surgery

Day 23: Worse Than It Seems

Day 24: Allergic Reaction

Day 25: Deadly Illness

GROUP SIX: SICK FIC

Day 26: Scars

Day 27: “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Day 28: Self-Isolation

Day 29: “I won’t let them hurt you anymore.”

Day 30: Nightmares

Day 31: Forced Relaxation

ALTERNATE PROMPTS:

X. Sadistic Choice

X. Epistolary 

X. Dehydration

X. Anger Born Of Worry

X. Death Wish

X. Stress Position

X. Gore

X. Just Out Of Reach

X. Hurt/Comfort

X. Magical Whump

EXTREME EDITION:

Whumpee Type:

Day 1. Vampire

Day 2. Young

Day 3. Stoic

Day 4. Winged

Day 5. Whumper-To-Whumpee

Day 6. Immortal

Day 7. Defiant

Day 8. Demon

Day 9. Villain

Day 10. Possessed

Day 11. Multiple Whumpees

Day 12. Robot/AI

Day 13. Cowboy

Day 14. Team Leader

Day 15. Werewolf

Day 16. Team Outcast

Day 17. Mermaid

Day 18. Asshole

Day 19. Fairy

Day 20. Hero

Day 21. Healer

Day 22. Soft

Day 23. Comedian

Day 24. Compliant

Day 25. Monster

Day 26. Traumatized

Day 27. Touch-Starved

Day 28. Stockholm Syndrome-d.

Day 29. Vengeful

Day 30. Ghost

Day 31. Alien

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

WIP Questions Tag

Rules : Answer as many (or as few) of the questions about your WIP as you can.

Tagged by @drawnecromancy! Read their answers for Le Prix du Sang here.

1. What was the first part of your WIP that you created?

Apophenia was originally a short story called "Dysthanasia" I wrote for an event on Ao3. Now Dysthanasia is the name of the series overall, and the story's a novel-length rough draft in the process of being rewritten.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?

Something short, instrumental, and spooky but with a touch of whimsy. Gotta have that little spark of fun or it'd wind up taking itself too seriously.

3. Who are your favourite character(s) and why?

I'm in love with all of them, but I have to stand by my protagonist, Isaac. He's a squishy human nerd, with no supernatural powers to speak of, but through being resourceful and more than a little lucky manages to survive awful situations. A lot of his characterization has to do with principles and compassion, but not quite in the soft or naive way readers might expect. His enemies repeatedly try to buy or break him, punishing him every time he does what he feels is right, but Isaac remains defiant, refusing to become jaded or take the easy way out. Is he destined to become a martyr? A monster? Stay tuned.

4. What other pieces of media could share a fan base with your WIP?

I'd hope The Vampire Chronicles fans would get into it. Maybe The Witcher fans, as far as characters relying on each other in an unjust world goes? Possibly readers of Octavia Butler, whose work I enjoy. I guess anyone who likes fictional organizations and the paranormal might see the appeal.

5. What has been your biggest struggle while writing your WIP?

Juggling all the backstory and worldbuilding that influences the characters and plot. So much happens before the actual story even starts. The death of Isaac's family. Renato becoming a bloodborn and his eroding loyalty to his sire. A cataclysm that reshaped the map. I'm doing my best to make these come through the text without hitting the reader with a wall of exposition.

6. Are there any animals in your story?

Living and undead! There's Renato's beloved goldfish, Tesoro. The elk, coyote, and bear Motley transforms into. Likewise the species of sharks that some of the good people of Eureka, Nevada can turn into. Or the livestock they raise, mainly sheep, goats, and chickens.

7. How do your characters get around?

Electric cars, horses, trains, or by turning into a much quicker animal.

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

I think I'm almost halfway through the outline for the rewrite? Isaac is getting to know the supernatural locals of America's friendliest town on its loneliest road, and they him.

9. What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

Renato being a hot vampire, and there being different factions to identify with will probably lure some in. Hopefully they decide to stay for the characters, emotional arcs, and end of the world too.

Dysthanasia Taglist (Sign up or ask to be +/-): @thecyrulik @thatndginger @sunset-a-story @space-writes @scoundrelwithboba (feel free to consider this a tag for the game itself too)

Additionally @izzyspussy @wintherlywords @authoralexharvey @chauceryfairytales @autumnalwalker @revenantlore @captain-kraken @angsty-prompt-hole

Blank questions beneath the cut

1. What was the first part of your WIP that you created?

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?

3. Who are your favourite character(s) and why?

4. What other pieces of media could share a fan base with your WIP?

5. What has been your biggest struggle while writing your WIP?

6. Are there any animals in your story?

7. How do your characters get around?

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

9. What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

[the-blind-assassin-12]

It Pours From Your Eyes

1200 Words for 1200 followers #3

A/N: Hi friends! Welcome to the 12-A-Palooza! This event is my way of saying thank you for sticking with me. Your support and kindness toward me and my writing is out of this world and I’m grateful for every last one of you! Moving right along with number three, and I'm not going to lie - this one hurt to write. I hope you'll forgive me.

Warnings: character death, language, 1200 words of angst.

Requested by: @something-tofightfor Song: Hardest of Hearts Character Choice: Rachael unwisely left it up to me, so I went with the most painful best option. Joel Miller. (Thank you for sending this in and please forgive me for what you're about to read. I promise I'll make it better with #4 💚)

Summary: Some things don't need to be said. Until they do.

They didn’t say it. Not one time in all those years. 

That word was a curse and they both knew it. The quickest way to lose something was to love it, and neither of them could take another loss that cut so deeply. So when they felt it on the tips of their tongues they gritted their teeth to keep it from escaping. They stuffed it back inside their chests to let it calcify in their hearts. And then they moved on to the next task. 

What they had was enough. It was everything. Solid. Safe. Sure. They took what they needed from each other, gave what they had willingly. It worked. They worked. And they didn’t want to throw a fucking wrench into the only thing that held either of them together. So even at their weakest moments they never said anything more than “I want you” or “I need you” or “Come here”. 

There were some things that were impossible to curtail, though. The tilt of Tess’ chin to catch the dust-filled sunlight dancing in Joel’s hair. The way Joel’s labor-roughened fingers landed so softly against her bruised, swollen skin. There was nothing they could do about what poured from their eyes when they looked at each other. They couldn’t change the fact that when they touched, it spread like fire. Like an infection. 

They didn’t say it. But they felt it. They knew it was there and they let it stay. As long as it stayed silent. 

What else would it be called if it wasn’t love? What else could they name the thing that grew between them like vines twining through the rungs of one another’s ribs? How else could they justify the things they’d done - and would still do - for each other? The rage and fear and panic they felt in waves when the other was in danger or at risk or hurt - what was that if it wasn’t love?

The way Tess snapped at him to just take the win for once because she wanted to see what hope looked like on his face. How he recoiled from her when she stepped toward him at the State House because he couldn’t conceive a world where the woman in front of him would become his enemy.  

Even without saying it, the curse found them. 

All the nights spent clutching onto one another, holding so tightly their arms ached, pressed so closely no words could breathe between them, all those hours in the dark without admitting the truth had been in vain. Every time they bit it back, every time they stuffed it down had been for nothing. The bitter taste of unspoken I love yous, the layers of brick they laid around their hearts - they did nothing to soften the blow when their luck ran out. 

And it had to, eventually. Luck wasn’t sustainable. It was more rickety than a couple boards balanced between buildings. They knew that. 

What they couldn’t have known until it happened, was that it didn’t just fail to soften the blow, withholding those four letters. It made the impact hit harder.

Oops, right? 

So she did what could. What she knew how to do. What they knew how to do. She loved him the way she always had in those last moments - hard and sharp and right to the quick - and then she went on to her next task.  

The defiant shake of his head and the rust in his throat as he delivered a barrage of no almost made her cave. Watching Joel Miller and all his strength be crushed under the weight of the thing they openly ignored as it continued to grow unwieldy had almost done in the last of her resolve. Almost. 

“I never ask you for anything. Not to feel the way I felt -”

“No.” This one softer, more choked. Less fight. Almost an admission, but old habits weren’t easily broken. The word stayed on his tongue as he let out another “no.”

“Shut the fuck up, because I don’t have time.” 

It was a cruel thing to say. But what could she have said that wasn’t? I love you? I always have, right from the start? How was that any less cruel? To let the only time he would hear it be that one - with death so hot on their heels they could feel its breath on their necks? No. If she hadn’t let him hear it back in their dingy kitchen, if she hadn’t said it to him while he took her apart in their bed, if she never mumbled it as she collapsed onto the mattress beside him or pressed it with a kiss against his bearded cheek before he left for a work shift, she sure as fuck wasn’t about to make him suffer through hearing it now. 

She saw everything going on in his eyes. She saw him doing the math, assessing the damage, processing the loss. She saw the protest and the panic and the anger and - oh, fuck - the sorrow. He was already hurting enough. She spared him as much as she could. 

“Joel.” 

His eyes, all wear and tear and soft leather, locked on hers and Tess took her chance to drink him in one last time. Old scars and creased skin and lips she knew so well. Broad shoulders and strong arms and the body she’d shared her own with. The man that would have to learn to live without her, as he’d already had to do with everyone else in his life. It was the hardest thing Tess had ever done, keeping that word on her tongue until the end, but she did it. For him. Instead, she went with what he needed to hear instead of what she hoped he already knew. 

“Save who you can save.” 

There was a silent conversation then, as the horde came thundering towards them and the seconds sprinted away from them. 

I want to save you. 

I know. But you can’t. I’m so sorry. 

I lo-

I know. I’ve always known. 

And that had to be enough. 

When he took the girl’s hand and dragged her kicking and screaming from the building, Tess knew it wasn’t nearly enough. But it had to be. She watched them disappear around the corner, hands shaking and breaths coming fast and ragged from the creep of the Cordyceps and the anticipation of the unknown. She watched the empty space where they vanished until the door on the other side of the room broke like a dam, a flood of snarls and snapping jaws spilling inside. 

And then she said it - when there was no chance he’d hear it, no chance those words would leave a dark mark on his heart and ruin them for his future, no chance he might turn back and throw himself into the fray to go out alongside her. Her voice was barely audible above the rush of running, growling monsters. But she said it, opened her mouth and let it leap out, tasted it, even if it was only a whisper. 

“I love you, Joel.” 

With the flick of her lighter she finished it. She saved him. 

.

.

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list, please feel free to let me know. You can also fill out the form on my Masterlist! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @nyctophiliiiiaaaa @practicalghostt @amb11 @mindidjarinin @jk7789 @tentacruelss @harriedandharassed @joelmillerscoffee @woodlandmouthh @swtaura @thescarletfang @sleepylunarwolf @trickstersp8 @princessxkenobi @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @competentpotato @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @mumma-moonchild @jedi-in-crocs @hannahkatharine @anoverwhelmingdin @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle

[kingmaker-a]

Our Broken Parts, Perfect Puzzle Pieces | Shin Ryujin

Superhero/Batman AU

Rewrite of Gotham Nights/Abandoned (1)

Vigilante Reader x Batgirl Ryujin

Warnings: Mentions of violence, death and implied trauma.

Word Count: 5.1k

Genre: Fluff, angst and comfort

Premise: You take shelter in a seedy motel after a less than stellar mission pushes Ryujin to her limits. In those quiet moments, you can't help but notice the distance years can make, as well as the cracks and scars that mark you both.

A/N: A rewrite as I mentioned previously, that references some events that happened in the original piece or that I intended to write for the original piece, though you don't have to read it to grasp the fic.

Each step is heavy, heavier than you would like, boots crashing against concrete in violent waves. Rain pelts and creeps into the gaps in your costume, hard leather and metal plates can do nothing against it.

Her voice hitches on the eve of each step, a muffled curse with each breath. Still, she bites, holds back against her teeth in your presence. You can pick out against the angered flares of her chest.

The rain is so loud it's hard to follow anything, even your own thoughts melt against it's onslaught.

Her hands are hot, clenched tight to your shoulders despite the rain. The quiver of tired, broken muscles begs her closer into your grasp. You can practically smell the blood that seeps into you.

Evidence of her hot-blooded anger.

Each stair creaks and groans under your shared weight, each breath is laboured, twisting into a mask of pain.

She quivers and shakes as you crest the landing, pulling away from you with a sharp snap to the banister, her knuckles flare white under the strain.

The more things change the more they stay the same.

There's a flicker of weak, prideful defiance that hangs in her eyes.

She can't keep this up, shouldn't keep this up.

The rain thickens, unabated and uncaring of her plight.

It's dry the way your voice finally rumbles to life, "come on I'll carry you."

It stabs and cuts deep, the scowl that peeks past her lips. Still her voice is weak, almost imperceptible against the torrent of rain.

"Fuck you," she wheezes, hazy and lightheaded. Her feet clatter against the stairs, defiant and unfocused.

You don't flinch, you don't reach out. You only follow after her, allowing her a fleeting moment of arrogance.

Pride comes before-she falters, quivers and shakes against fatigue. Her hands lurch with panic, reaching, clawing through the air.

You catch her without a second thought as her eyes flutter shut.

Even against the motel floor, your resting place, there's comfort to be had. Especially after having been dead. 

Yet it's the soft crackle of a sob that echoes through the air that jolts you awake. Torn away from the slumbering abyss, your hands slip under your makeshift pillow - your leather jacket, ear attentive, at the ready. 

The patter of rain slowly lulls you, beckoning you back to slumber. 

You needed the rest. 

Another crackle, this time racked and fragmented. It hitches, in the slightest way, painted with a shade of bad memories. 

You sounded the exact same. 

It's instinctual, automatic. You pull yourself up without a second thought, the ache of your muscles unheeded. 

It's soft and tranquil, the way she lays. Beautiful in the briefest flickers of moonlight that dare part the clouds. Her knuckles flare white against sheet and pillow, the reflection of tears cast in pale Moonlight. 

That's when you feel a knot of hesitation tighten, a moment you shouldn't notice or acknowledge. You know it without a doubt, a kindred spirit in pain and trauma. 

Her scar tissue, her broken parts should be ignored, unacknowledged for her sake. 

To call attention was to be made vulnerable and ugly to the unmarked. 

Your hands clench, as you move, shuffle away in the eves of darkness. To allow her to be herself, in all her torment. 

If only she knew she didn't have to be strong in front of you. 

But it was better this way. 

A dry gulp is all you manage, daring one last look as you slink away. 

A hot white flash paints the room and it all happens so quickly, disjointed and out of order as your mind reels. 

A sharp pain in your shoulder, in your hand? Her breath cracks and hitches, a silhouette, you. An apology at the edge of your lip as a batarang soars through the air. 

It clips your hand with a cutting ease; you were too slow on the draw. 

It lodges in your shoulder. 

There's a flash of panic over her face, a friend not a foe. "Shit, shit, shit." 

She's already tearing at the hem of her shirt, before you can even point out you'll be fine, or even the slightly used med kit. 

The floor creaks and warps in her rush, her hands hard and calloused as she tugs you. 

"It's just a flesh wound," you prod as she struggles against her tired aching muscles, it's haphazard the way she slings your arm over her shoulder, a counterfeit echo of your actions earlier. "I'm not dying, I would know." 

You offer a smile, it's token and comedic, a rare departure from your brooding demeanor. 

But someone had to lighten the mood. It's forgotten as she fusses over, a frown pressed into her lips is the only acknowledgement that you were even heard. 

Her lips part, a noise claws at her throat, a question, a response? 

It's neither as it firmly dies in the ensuing silence between you two. The silence is quaint, especially when she's all makeshift bandages and worried looks. 

It's inevitable when you end up in her spot, the single bed, the only bed in the dingy motel that you called a safe house. 

Your brain flickers back to hours ago, when your roles had been swapped. Tending to her various nicks and injuries, a rare time of solace in the storm of her new found bravado. 

A better name for it was recklessness–

Her face flutters so dangerously close, you can pick out every individual eyelash. You're surprised when her words are so soft and delicate, especially compared to earlier. 

"Hoodie?" It's soft and tentative, like fine China or porcelain as if the mere mention would fracture years of history. 

… 

You're different people now, scarred in your own distinct ways. 

It's hard not to catch the frown she so desperately tries to hide, it probably would've worked on Nightwing, on Jiu. 

A smile crawls along your lips, hand clutching against hers as she tries to pull away from your orbit. 

The two had been intimate, perhaps she would've been better off with the older far more talented Robin. 

"I haven't heard that name in years."

It's fleeting in those moments, as her frown scatters and breaks against nascent memories. You don't get to catch her smile in full, it's hidden and stitched behind a mask of cobbled detachment, trauma and pain. 

Still, you catch the flicker in the corner of teeth, the brief crease of her cheeks and the bloom of warmth behind her eyes. 

"Yeah," it's soft, yet brimming with a stubborn warmth. A blanket from childhood that never gives up, held together with… Well, love and affection. The concept felt almost starkly forei- "It's been awhile since Gotham Academy." 

There's another brief flicker in her eyes, one you can't quite pick out as her hand grips tighter against your own. 

Your throat is dry, drier than you thought. You wanna blame it on something, anything but it all feels too hollow like an excuse. 

A mask. 

You don't have the strength to fight the frown that forms on your lips, not in front of her. 

"Yeah, it has."

It's tormented the way your voice sinks and drags at the bottom of an ocean. An ocean of feeling you can't quite make out, or understand. 

It's just a tormented mess. 

Conversation drags along your throat, every thought, every idea dies unceremoniously before it even gets a chance. 

You're just thankful she doesn't leave, she holds tight in your orbit as you both share a sobering moment, the patter of heavy rain and howling winds the accompaniment. 

Her eyes are steely, yet glassy, dancing with her own thoughts. What you would give to dare a loo-

She shifts back a little as a hand shifts to your shoulder just above the lodged batarang. 

"Hood-" 

You just nod, before the worry can trickle and tremble in her voice, before it rattles through her hands. 

There's a flex, a dip of her brow before her hand twists over the batarang. Despite all her experience playing a guarded hand, it's easy for you to pick out the way her features tighten, twisting into an expression of pain as she tugged. 

It moves slowly at first and then not at all, as her eyes shift between you and your wound. 

The Ryujin in front of you was fragile, kind and overall human. A far cry from the Batgirl you had met earlier, painted in thick violent hues, the smile that clawed against her soft lips as she teetered on the edge of no return. 

Your domain. 

Your domain of twisted catharsis, of hellish flame and death. 

You can still remember the flecks of blood that painted her helmet, the devilish smile that felt oh so familiar. The corruptive sadistic pleasure of violence unbridled, to let loose, to no longer hold back against the scum of the world. 

Your hand grips over hers, her breath hitches at your touch. Words crest and tickle the edge of lips, dance at the tip of tongue. 

She was so dangerously close to the edge, to damnation in the fires of hell. 

To become a monster. 

You still remember the way her eyes just clicked even through her mask. 

To succumb, to break the one rule. 

You had been good up until that point, really good. 

But as the gunshot echoes through your skull even now?

You don't regret it one bit. 

It's over quicker than she expected, a flash of what you can only guess as a horrified kind of surprise. It's effortless the way you tug and pull the batarang out of your body. 

It almost tickles. 

Her expression shifts back to a barely veiled worry as she rushes to inspect the wound. 

You had forgotten what it was like, too used to being a lone wolf, an outcast. 

It was probably for the best that it was her of all people. 

"Hoodie-" her voice is stained, weighed heavy with guilt, you don't need to see her eyes or read her mind to see all the calculated ways she blames herself. 

Your hands clasp against hers, pull her focus towards you before she can spiral. 

It's a weird and equally rare moment to watch her unravel, a knit sweater pulled apart by a stray strand. 

"Wait." Her fingers fight against your calloused grip, your eyes stray to your wound, telling her to look closer. 

A secret. 

Her nose twitches, a tell of potential defiance brewing underneath the skin, it simmers, threatens to explode and burst like water and oil. 

Yet, she softens all the same, eyes cast downward, trailing after yours with a sway of hesitance. 

You didn’t blame her. 

Her lips tighten against each other, tensing on the edge of a frown. 

Your wound blooms with a soft ephemeral glow, a mixture of a sickly almost radioactive green twisted with a soft calming cyan. Small wisps flutter and dance as your skin slowly but surely stitches itself together. 

Your grip loosens as you push a finger to your lips, a hushed secret just for her. 

Her hand darts forward, stopping just shy of your exposed skin, dry blood crusted against the surface. Her eyes drift and linger against yours. 

It's weird and soft, the notes that play against the shell of your heart. 

To be treated like a human was an almost forgotten memory, your eyebrows knit together struggling against the tug at your core. 

Her fingers hover in place, as her eyes soften, telling you to take your time. 

Your throat is dry once again as words struggle to climb up from your heart or drift down from your brain. 

It's your hand that pulls her touch against your skin. 

It's delicate the way she feels against you, like you'd tear like paper in the rain. 

There's a moment caught between the patter of raindrops, when she leans closer to your shoulder. Her breath brushes against your cheek, tickles against every nerve ending. 

It's warm, just like the embers that bustle to life in your chest. 

A smile twitches against her lips, a thumb pressing into your skin, "when-?" 

Lost in the shuffle, she turns to you. Her smile lingers only for a second, as it too gets lost in the shuffle. 

The question dances and dies on your lips as her jaw snaps shut and her features tighten. 

You're too lost in how close she is, how softly she looks at you, how softly she looked at you. 

You don't catch the grim realization. Not until it's too late, not until she pulls away and you feel your heart crack just that little bit. 

You didn’t know it could still do that. 

"I-uh."

It's caught in her throat, it twists and claws as she swallows. 

It's not the awkwardness that cuts deep… You're used to it. 

It's the flutter of her eyes, the way she can't manage to pin herself down and look at you, look you in the eyes. 

Her lips part as yet another word dies on the tip of her tongue. 

Part of you would languish in her awkwardness, would have. 

But it's different now, when the knife is pointed at you, when the edge threatens to tear you into ribbons. 

The one other person that could understand. That you hoped would understand. 

Doesn't. 

Her voice catches like a bad lie, you've told many of them. It struggles and bashes against her, eyes clamped shut in frustration. 

It's quiet, suffocatingly so. 

You almost can't hear the rain. 

The only thing she manages is a sigh as she shuffles further away near the foot of the bed. 

Suddenly, the door is interesting for her and for you. 

You can feel it boil under your skin, itching at your veins. 

Frustration, at what and to whom? You didn’t want to think about it. 

There's a weird exposure you feel in those long dry moments… 

Vulnerable is the word. It feels unnatural against your skin, it burns into every pore no matter how much you curl up. 

Even as you tug your knees to your chest, it doesn't go away. It lingers and rots on every breath. 

It only weighs heavier in those quiet moments. 

You swore you wouldn't be vulnerable ever again. 

A promise you made to the kid that died, a dry almost ironic chuckle claws at your throat. To think you'd be the one to unravel like a shitty sweate-

"Jiu missed you, you know?" 

It's dry and robotic, alien and detached. 

Still, it's enough. Enough to pull you out of your stupor, enough so you can grasp air with tired lips. 

Enough, so your eyes can linger against hers. 

Enough to see the slightest hitch in her lips, her attention still drawn to the door. 

Only now can you see it. In the brief flash of lightning, you see her. The one hidden behind all the layers, all the strength, all the bravery and bravado. 

The broken parts, her broken parts. 

Worn and rusted, aged against the grime and filth of Gotham. 

There is no reason to think about it, no reason to linger on what ifs. To question if you could've done something, would've done something. 

Wind howls and whips at the old motel, the walls whisper and creak. 

She turns to you with glassy eyes, a sullen tug of her lips. Yet, you catch the brief flicker that is you, trapped in the reflection of her eyes. 

Perhaps you both were a pile of broken parts? 

Her lips tighten and you swear you hear her teeth clench, threatening to break under the pressure. 

All this tiptoeing, all this dancing makes you nauseous.

Subtly and trepidation is wasted on you, wasted on her. 

"So you're walking again," it catches you off guard, it's viscerally awkward even in your voice--jarring and harsh, like a punch to your skull.

You wince and you swear you feel your veins shrivel under the skin. Her eyebrows knit together, as her face shifts, a question on the edge of her features. 

Did you really say that? 

But the punch lands all the same. 

A scoff sails from her lips, fluttering into a coy smile. You can see it in the small quirk at the corner of her lips, the wry annoyance, the sheer surprise at your awkward audacity. 

Yet, it's a smile all the same and that's what you latch onto as the tension crashes to the ground around you like a glass pane. 

There's a flicker in her eyes, the brief realization, you might be a moron. 

"Well," her lips flatten as her eyes. It's calculated and measured the way she shuffles on the bed to face you. Still, you can't help but notice the small inch or two that moves her closer. She presses a finger into your chest, prodding yet playful. "I figured, it can't be half as hard as coming back from the dead."

It's subtle, the hum you feel in your heart, as her finger lingers for longer than you expect. 

A soothing mellowness that your soul has long since forgotten. It flutters against your core long after she retracts her touch.

“Yeah, I bet.” Your eyes roll, teeth chattering with a smile.

She softens in those hushed breaths, a small dainty, delicate smile. “Thanks.”

It’s all but a whisper lost between raindrops, a small eve of a moment reserved only for you. Still you cock your head to the side, eyebrows knitting together. 

“For what?”

You were far from humble, that was just who you were. At least when it came to life under a mask.

Her lips tug, tighten against each other. Sealing the air with a ruggish seriousness, a vulnerability. Yet, as your eyes cling to hers in that moment, you realize there is strength. 

“Everything,” again, it's barely a whisper against the world. A tiny fragment, a shard that glistens in her eyes, shimmering across a shared ocean of memories. 

It is unfathomable, the depths that bounce and swell with every wave. A wash with the sway of a different life brimming with naivety. 

Of a younger, innocent you. 

Alien and foreign, long since buried in the ash and mud. 

Someone best left in the past. 

Her touch is cold as her hands clench tight against your own. A shiver jitters against your palms as your eyebrows tighten, latching together. 

Yet, her grip doesn’t err or falter, as if you would slip through her fingers if she wasn't careful. 

This was something you needed to hear. 

You weren't the type for excuses nor any attempt to bludgeon someone with excessive prose and/or a dictionary in an attempt to garner sympathy. 

Though you wouldn't rule out the latter in the literal sense at least. 

You can feel the slightest whisper of her gaze, picking out every tiny minute detail held by your face. 

It's a lingering, almost loving warmth that catches against every unkempt strand of helmet hair. 

Her eyes clutch at every tired stretch of skin, carved by sleepless nights and late night patrols. 

You catch the slightest hitch of her lips, right at the corners, practically unnoticeable against the brief flicker of moonlight. 

It's easy, natural even to think of yourself as a scar. A wound, a chilling reminder of failure and disappointment etched forever into the skin of others. 

It's… Different, the way she takes you in. 

It's a nestled warming hug in each microsecond her gaze lingers. Soothing like the kiss of the sun, on that one perfect afternoon. Each detail truly admired as it's dedicated to her memory. 

You didn't need her photographic memory to know she's never like this. It's on the quiver of her lip, right at the edge between the chatter of her teeth. 

Her words would, will rip through everything like a gunshot. 

… 

You pull away, it's only natural. 

Away from her cold grasp, you tug and pull at the billowing warmth held in your sleeves. 

Her eyes paint a picture of surprise, a flare of wide white. 

Her eyebrows pick up the pieces, as her nose scrunches in tow, smearing her canvas with a flicker of pain. 

There's a small moment in between the patter of rain, that you can pick out so clearly. It's guttural, the words that claw at her throat. 

It's only natural. 

You would later learn it was an apology in its infancy, unprepared and underbaked. 

It's weird you realize as your body moves, dancing to your own twisted tango. You doubt the league of assassins intended for your training to be used like this. 

A quick flurry is all it takes, everything is a blur of fabric as you grab her hands once again. 

You can feel it in her palms, in her fingers as they flutter in surprise. 

It almost tickles. 

Her hands quickly find their spot against yours. 

That's a sentence you didn't want to pick apa- 

A smile blooms across your lips, as you watch your hoodie slowly settle on her. 

Though you're definitely not as good as you thought, even if you managed to get it mostly on her. 

She drowns in it, lets it hang in bunched waves by her shoulders, on her neck. She shrinks into it, allowing only her eyes to poke past her ardent tower shield. 

Was this how your father felt, giving it to you those many years ago? 

It's almost hard to believe it was the same, as your eyes linger against each tear and subsequent repair job you had made over the years. 

There's an urgency to her words, at least that's what it feels like as they're muffled against the waves of fabric that enshroud her. 

You catch it with ease, the soft flicker of her bravery as her eyes dim, hands pulling from yours as she tugs at the hood. 

It's a fleeting moment, the way you watch her eyes soften, a tenderly lit smile warms her lips as she hugs at the fabric, swaddled in its warmth. 

The moonlight almost becomes candlelight in those small intimate seconds as her eyes glitter like stardust. 

How you wish you could unfurl that moment and let it rest against your heart until the end of time. 

Her words are a gunshot nonetheless.

"I… Thought of you, you know?" it hangs awkwardly in the air, clogs at her throat with a dry claw. 

She splinters under your gaze, whatever bravery she had cracks, thrown ashew like broken porcelain. 

It cuts just as easily. 

Your ears bleed with a high pitched whine, the pulse of your heart booming deep into your skull. 

It only picks up in those frozen moments, as your brain twists and bends as it burns with old scorched remnants of Gotham's very own clown prince of crime. 

Your killer. 

His twisted laughter echoes and warps through your mind. 

It's a sharp breath that cuts the strings, her sharp breath. 

A look of resignation hangs every on her brow, eyes distant in your absence. 

It's sudden, explosive and violent as her grip locks against your wrists. 

As if the moment would float away to forgotten unspoken shores mired in an ocean of what-ifs. 

It's subtle the tremble that lingers against you. 

Like a million tiny wings. 

You could almost swear it was an earthquake, or the rattle of a nearby semi. 

Her jaw clenches tight, her eyes flare with a sudden panic. 

You can feel it, the uncertainty that burrows in her between cause and effect, the agonizing split second where doubt festers. 

When your mouth dries and suddenly you can't breathe as every planned, calculated thought evaporates under the newfound heat, the pressure to be vulnerable. 

It wasn't your strong suit either. 

Yet it's automatic, the way you move, pulled, guided by instinct before your own poisonous thoughts can convince you otherwise. 

Your friend needed you. 

Kindness is foreign, antiquated against the caliber of violence you have grown used to. 

Yet, somehow it returns home for you with a soft bloom and gentle touch. Even within your twisted shell it blossoms, coaxing you forward with a fervent touch. 

A soft tug and a surprised yelp is all it translates to on the surface, it's hard to fight the billowing warmth that curves across your lips. 

She's awkward, taken off-guard, threatening to make a tangled mess of your limbs as she tries to catch herself. 

It's… human, real, genuine, choose whatever word you want for it, but most importantly it's Ryujin who collides with your chest. 

Not Batgirl, not the commissioner's daughter. 

Shin Ryujin, close friend and kindred spirit whose hands clutch so desperately at your shirt it threatens to tear, her hot ragged breath that dances through the fabric and against your skin. 

Her tears burn with a molten hot anguish, it creeps through your shirt against your skin as she buries herself into your chest. It’s rough, greedy even, the way she pulls and tugs against you.

You tenderly rest your hand against her head, your touch drifts with a tranquil softness through the waves of her silky soft locks. Her shoulders shake and shudder, sobs cracking against your chest with a muffled sorrowful torment. 

It seeps into every crack and crevice you share. 

Yet as the sobs fade, relinquishing their choke hold over her as your thumb caresses the crown of her head. She peers up at you, eyes glistening and glassy. 

Her voice is raw, raspy as it cracks through the somber silence. 

"I realized you weren't so lucky."

It rips through your thoughts and tears your breath away. 

The wet shimmering tears, the tranquil cascade that made her so beautiful in the crisp hallowed moonlight.

For you. 

Her voice drags like an anchor, even with the release of burden thoughts. 

"Even as I bled on the floor, even when I got the news I couldn't, probably wouldn't walk again," her eyes drift to her legs for a brief flicker. 

There's the slightest uptick of a smile, it quirks at the edge of her lips between panting breaths as she drifts so dangerously close to you. 

It's hard to ignore the spark that creeps between the cracks, the way it settles in your broken, damaged core when she presses her forehead against yours.

She winces slightly, words caught against her throat, digging at her heart with jagged rusty edges. There’s a quiver across her features, it clings tight to her lips. 

"I loved Jiu…" Her features tighten, voice rough, dry and drawn taut with raspiness. Her eyes glitter with fought back tears, yet even Batgirl falters. 

Her tears fall once again, raindrops lost in the cascade that always dots Gotham. 

Her teeth grit together with wavering strength, as she swallows, pushing back against her fears that cling so tight to her chest. 

Her grip tightens against your shirt, before fading all together as a deep breath sails between the two of you. 

Still her voice shakes, it's an eerie experience unique to your shared burdens. Her eyes clamp shut. 

"... For you."

Another gunshot sails through your brain, ringing deep into your head, rattling against your heart. 

Words burst through her lips, tumbling uncontrollably like water through a burst dam. 

Tears still sputter through, even as her features tighten in a desperate fight to hold them at bay. 

"I can remember the way you were so awestruck in her presence, the way you'd hang on to every word."

You catch the slightest flare of her teeth, a teetering scowl as her nose crinkles. 

Her voice creaks and groans, like a strong tree branch under the pressure of a raging storm. "Do you understand how it feels?" 

Yet it’s hard for you to fit a word in, her storm, tumultuous and unstoppable in its wake. Her eyes are sharp like cold steel in spite of the warm tears that trail down her face like glimmering moonlight.

“It's etched into my brain, Hoodie."

Each syllable is laced with mourning, not venom.

"Permanently."

Somehow it burns all the same, with a sickly acidic touch to your heart. Each word sears against its weak flesh, your imperfect recollection coils tight at each snapping defiant memory.

She used to look at Jiu the same way, right?

Right?

Her lips quiver, fluttering on the edge of something more, desperate, begging to be released from the cage that torments her mind and heart.

The flames of heated anger, flare, licking at her teeth, itching into her features. Her hands grip tight against the fabric of your shirt.

You catch the slightest edge of disappointment, for whom you couldn’t tell.

But if you had to make a bet–

Her voice chokes, cracks catching in her throat drawn too by the weight of it all. Her tears mourn with a tranquil torrent bathed in iridescent moonlight.

"The worst part-" her lips shudder on the edge of true sinful confession, anger creeps and burns across each and every corner of her face. 

Yet her eyes are nothing but soft as she beholds you. 

"Is feeling myself… Slowly fall in love with you, again. To watch as you slowly creep into my heart, when you just made me feel normal. You made the academy bearable, hell, I started looking forward to school but then-" 

You died. 

There was no easy way to say it, you can see it in her eyes. Even as she clings so desperately tight to you, even in her grasp it doesn't take away from the pain she must've felt. 

Perhaps you hadn't seen it until the moment, no you definitely didn't. She was… is Batgirl, she wasn't like you and the other Robins. Jiu might be the standard, but Ryujin actively defied it. 

She was a caliber all of her own, because she didn't have Batman, she didn't need him. 

Your fate would always be tied close to his yet. 

No matter what you do. 

To put it simply… she was always just out of reach, you could barely touch the bottom of the pedestal, you put her on. 

Yet, as you gaze at her in those lingering moments as she clings to what little strength she has, to lay it all out. 

Amongst the sound of echoing soft rain, her scars, your scars, were broken parts no longer. 

It's sudden the way her voice dies in her throat, her lips snap together against yours as you pull her tight. 

There's no resistance as she melts against you, deepening each moment with a desperate longing. 

It flutters against your chest like a soaring bird.

Adrift in a sea of rain, a seedy motel, your vessel, you click together like perfect puzzle pieces. 

[lamemaster]

Debt to be Repaid

Request: Maglor

Pairing: Reader x Maglor

Summary: A no-name resident and a gorgeous stranger

An: Thank you for requesting @animatorweirdo ;) here is your drabble. Hope you like it! (What in the Hell is Happening Event)

The sterile scent of disinfectant did little to ease the churning in your stomach. You darted through the busy corridors, careful not to upset any patients or nurses assisting them. Your feet barely touched the ground before they lunged forward in another lunge. 

The residency you'd clawed your way towards for six years was crashing in front of your eyes. A dream that felt increasingly borrowed, yet losing it felt like losing the last piece of sanity you held onto.

You had to explain. It was your word against theirs. It all started with your outspokenness that just couldn't be contained. What need was there to comment on Dr. Kim or his breach of safety protocol during surgery?

 Some good standing for the right had done you. Now the accusations of malpractice hung heavy, a convenient scapegoat for a resident with an unknown past.

“May I come in?” you knock on the looming conference door that stood between you and your dreams. Taking a deep breath you step in, your eyes barely registering anything before you find him!

The stranger who now stood decked out in a suit. His dark hair, straight and sleek, framed eyes that held a glint of steel yet a lingering mirth of recognition. 

2 years ago~

“Gods, what is that?” One of the hikers in your group shrieked. The entire group paused in their way. 

Not soon the high-pitched voices called for a doctor. “We need a doctor!” The camp leader announced.

“Do we have a medical practitioner in the camp?” And that became your chance to shine. 3rd year resident at Lorien. You stepped forward expecting an exhausted dehydrated hiker only to find a silhouette of a man. 

Shrouded in scrapes and cuts, and smeared with mountain dirt, he was no more than the rocks surrounding you. The blue tinge to his skin sent a jolt of fear through you. Hypothermia was a harsh mistress in these unforgiving heights.

"Please move, I'm a doctor," you announced, crouching beside him. His wrist, frail and exposed, felt cool under your touch. Yet, beneath the chill, a steady pulse thrummed – a defiant echo of life clinging to a fragile thread.

There it was. The steady and firm beat of life even in the worst of adversity. 

He became your days and your nights for the next week. Your cautious treatment of man teetering on the edge of leaving the world at the slightest whisk of air. 

A stranger with beauty that even death seemed to want to covet. His hair long and matted with debris of every possible kind imagined. What was he doing on a lonely mountain? The blistering soles of his feet were proof of shoes long gone, tattered jacket scourged from him lost to wear of time. 

Days blurred into nights. You questioned him tirelessly, your voice a stark contrast to the mountain's silence. "Who are you? What brought you here?" Each time, silence was your only answer. You knew it was a long shot; an unconscious patient wouldn't be much for conversation..

One morning, your makeshift camp was eerily empty. The nameless man had vanished, leaving only the ghost of his presence in the undisturbed earth and the lingering scent of pine needles on the air.

Panic clawed at your throat. Had he succumbed to the harsh elements during the night? Had he chosen to disappear back into the wilderness? You searched the mountain, each step fueled by a desperate hope and a burgeoning fear.

You searched frantically, clinging to the mountain long after your group had descended, until the demands of your residency dragged you back to your world.

Present~

The air crackled with disbelief. The very man you'd nursed back from the brink on a desolate mountaintop now stood across from you in the sterile conference room, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Pleasant to meet you again," he rumbled, his voice surprisingly gentle considering the disarray he caused amongst the assembled group. "Kanafinwe," he inclined his head in a courtly bow, the incongruity of his archaic mannerisms in this modern setting sending shivers down your spine.

It just so happened the nomad, the one you'd treated with calloused hands and limited supplies, was Kanafinwe, the second son of the Noldor conglomerate – the very entity your entire hospital prostrated itself to on a daily basis.

Perhaps this time around your words will hold some weight.