#i had to have a moment of silence and reflection after reading this chapter and i hope you all read it too! if not GO!!!

[heymrspatel]

"open your fucking mouth, mickey, before i do it for you"

inspired by chapter 10 of @whatthebodygraspsnot's kinktober fics 💙 part 2 of kinktober

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 4

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Angst (not that bad)

Word Count: 6680

Notes: This chapter was actually trying to fight me. I'm still not sure how I feel about it. Hope you enjoy!

Part 3 ○ Part 5

The days were blurring together the longer you stayed in this room. You've long since memorized the golden stripes and swirls beautifully decorating the navy walls, counted the teardrop-like glittering stones hanging from the small chandelier. You've gone through every closet and box in this room as well. Unsurprisingly, the room was almost empty, but you weren't looking through it to find any information anyway, you'd really done it out of boredom, and admittedly some curiosity.

You knew you couldn't complain about your treatment in this house, you'd never heard of a prisoner being treated to home cooked meals and expensive clothes. The House had even brought you books and journals in case you wanted to read or write, and Azriel brought you little treats from the bakeries in town - things you suspect he already knew you liked. He also kept you company every chance he got, even if it meant simply sitting together in silence. You didn't go a day without seeing him. But it was hard to focus on romance novels, chocolate cupcakes or even the captivating hazel eyed male when your entire reality was shattering around you.

The day after you met the High Lord and Lady, Azriel had found you snooping through the few clothes left behind by Feyre, and that same night he dropped off what he called some of your old belongings - some clothes and jewelry so you didn't have to borrow anything else from the High Lady. Everything was neatly folded and carefully arranged, it seems Azriel was extremely meticulous about how to store his late wife's belongings. He told you he's barely allowed himself to touch them in fear of ruining anything.

The clothes had since lost your scent, even if put away in a closed box it would be impossible for it to linger after a century. Still, you knew these were your things, somehow you could feel it deep inside you. You hadn't told Azriel about this, scared of getting his hopes up.

There was nothing personal in the box, Azriel was probably reluctant in letting you see them in case it overwhelmed you and triggered any more painful reactions, but there was enough for you to get a sense of who you were before.

It was clear she lived a happier and much more fulfilled life than yours. The clothes were all beautiful, if a little outdated. They came in all sorts of colors and fabrics, but even if you still liked them now, you know you'd never buy something like this for yourself.

Working at the guild, you had to prioritize functionality. You didn't have many personal belongings, you traveled a lot for missions and had to keep hidden, never staying in the same place for longer than a couple of months at a time. Your clothes reflected this, you prefered to wear pants or even your armor since you never knew when you'd be called for a mission or attacked.

You always had to be ready to drop everything at any moment so there was no use getting attached to anything or anyone. Even your favorite dagger was simply the model you've found works best for you, and you can get it anytime from different blacksmiths. The small hoops currently in your ears are the only jewelry you actually own and it's more of a way to keep the holes open for when you have to do undercover missions in which you might need to dress up.

There was no time or place for getting pretty clothes that made you feel good or buying a nice pair of earrings for the sake of it. Even less for making friends. You were living an empty life, something you always had a hard time coming to terms with, but that seems impossible to accept now that you know what you could have had, what you used to have and was taken from you.

Not being able to even trust your own memories affected you more than you'd ever admit, knowing things you considered unquestionable facts before that night were all made up. You've had to rely on what Azriel tells you and your own intuition to try and fill in the gaps. Your body seemed to be giving you clues, nudging you in the right directions but it only left you beyond frustrated that you could feel like all the answers were on the tip of your tongue but not being able to put your finger on it.

From what you've gathered, the night you disappeared from the Night Court corresponds with the mission in which you almost died, meaning someone in the guild - your handler, if your suspicions are correct - must have found you and brought you in. It's safe to say that, aside from a few lies and omissions here and there, your memories since that night can be trusted. But everything before that was all a lie, over a century of your life was nothing more than a made up story.

A burning feeling behind your eyelids has you forcefully shaking out your thoughts. You can't let yourself get consumed before you even find out what exactly happened, before you can get your revenge. And you refuse to cry in this room where anyone, especially Azriel, could walk in at any moment and see you in such a state. If you had to pick one helpful thing the guild taught you, it was how to handle your emotions.

You knew the High Lord was making good on his promise, knew that Azriel was working to help you as well. He'd only ever left your side to look into any information you could give him about the guild, though your knowledge was limited. You weren't a high ranking member and they were more than careful. You didn't know anything about the other members, as much as they didn't know anything about you.

Still, you weren't used to waiting around while everyone else did all the work and it took them over a week to schedule a new meeting with you, where you hopefully will learn more about this whole situation and what they intend to do with you. It feels like they're keeping you in the dark, something you knew you'd also do in their place, but that has left you feeling nothing but frustrated and worthless.

That meeting was happening in less than an hour and anticipation was eating away at you. Azriel promised he was going to take you to the office, letting you use him as a safety line as you've done so often these days.

Aside from the welcome information and decisions you hope would be talked through, you were also just excited to leave this room for a few hours at least. Only being able to feel the wind through an open window was getting old, and the city below this house felt like it was almost calling to you at this point, but you were too scared of seeming too interested since you didn't know if they'd find it suspicious. Just because the High Lord left the room on a friendlier note doesn't mean he'll trust you completely after what you've done.

You were technically allowed out of the room, free to walk around the House, with Azriel's supervision of course, but after your first attempt you decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

It had been mostly a miscalculation on your part. You were so consumed with your problems and with finding some sort of distraction that you almost forgot Azriel wasn't the only one you knew before, didn't stop to think what reaction they all would have to you.

Azriel asked you to join him for breakfast downstairs as he usually did, trying to get you to move around and talk with the other residents of the House. You accepted, tired of being in the stuffy room and curious to meet the General and his mate, who you've sometimes felt around the House and heard so much about from Azriel.

The atmosphere turned painfully awkward as soon as you entered the dining room with the shadowsinger at your side, making the other residents of the house look up to meet your eyes, surprised you had left the room. It wasn't long before Cassian stormed out, barely making an excuse on his way out after getting a good look at you, his mate following right behind him.

You ended up eating breakfast alone with Azriel, the same way you would have if you'd stayed in your room like you always did instead. Except now you couldn't take the general's haunted expression out of your mind. It truly had looked like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe he did.

Azriel apologized to you on his behalf, even though it wasn't his or Cassian's fault, and you're almost positive there was some sort of fight between them, though you hope not too severe. You'd hate for Azriel to get into arguments with his family over you. He didn't invite you downstairs again after that, simply joining you in your room whenever he could. The reminder of how caring the shadowsinger has been with you almost brings a smile to your lips.

“I'll make you fall for me again.”

Those words haven't left your mind since that night. You've never had anyone look at you with so much love in their eyes, and tell you something so bold with such conviction.

You're not sure you deserve it, and you're terrified you'll never remember him because you know this version of you can't ever be compared to the one in his memories. Even if you end up regaining your memories, it's impossible for things to truly go back to how they were. It's been too long and you've changed too much. The both of you know this.

You haven't actually talked about his or your feelings since that night, but it's clear that he still loves you, well he loves the female he once knew anyway, you're not so sure you're even that similar to her aside from your appearance. It doesn't feel fair to let him dote on you, knowing he's in love with a version of you that will never come back, knowing that, even with the fluttering of your heart, your feelings for him don't come close to his.

It makes you feel like you're taking advantage of him, how he's so dedicated to taking care of you and to restoring your memories, even trying to find the people who hurt you, while to you he's a stranger. Even if an extremely handsome stranger whose company you enjoy a lot, who makes you smile and even laugh despite the precarious circumstances you've found yourself in, who makes you believe you can get through this.

You can't deny you have a reaction to him either, every soft touch feels like lightning running through your veins, and every whisper of your name has goosebumps spreading all over your skin. Your body obviously still remembers how it feels to love him and to be loved by him in return, but the butterflies in your stomach don't even come close to the depth of his feelings for you. It's glaringly obvious that Azriel would do anything for you, even going as far as letting you stab him the very first night you met and brushing it off when you tried to apologize during this week.

Truthfully, falling for Azriel sounds like the easiest thing in the world, but you don't think you'd ever feel like you deserve him.

The shadows in the room start shifting ever so slightly as if reading your thoughts - something Azriel has assured you they can't do - a sign that their singer is approaching.

You put down the book you never even started and hop down from the window sill you had been sitting on for most of the afternoon, waiting for him to knock softly at the door like he always did, letting you prepare for his arrival or deny his company if you so wished. Anticipation was buzzing at your skin the longer you waited so you opened the door for him as soon as his knuckles met the dark wood, catching him off guard with his hand raised.

You can't help but smile at his wide eyes. Surprising the feared Spymaster of the Night Court has to be a hard feat to accomplish and the fact that you just did it so effortlessly makes you revel in his expression for a moment. He offers you a small smile of his own but you can immediately tell something is holding him back.

He hasn't really given you any information about their research or the guild, simply letting you know that they were working as hard as they could on it. You knew the High Lord still had his reservations about your presence in his court so it only made sense for them to keep their cards close to their chest until they knew more about the situation. You suppose he also wanted to see if any of the leads you gave Azriel on the guild actually turned out to be helpful, a last test to see if you were being truthful.

So you wouldn't be surprised that the Inner Circle had a meeting among themselves before bringing you in, one it seems like Azriel just came from, but his expression is making your anticipation steadily turn into nerves.

“Are you ready?”

Even with the lump that has lodged itself in your throat, you nod and try to give him a pleasant smile. You've been waiting for answers and you're finally going to get them, even if it feels like your heart is threatening to give out.

You quickly turn back into the room to slip on your shoes, before looping your arm around the one he offers, ever the gentlemale. He guides you through the painting covered hallways, most of which you haven't walked through before.

As you approach the room your nerves get the best of you. There are a lot more people in the office than you thought there'd be, you can hear their mismatched heartbeats from here, feel their suffocating presences. One you can distinctively recognize is the General's, it reminds you of his reaction in the dining room, how it seemed to hurt him just looking at you.

You didn't think the entire Inner Circle would be in attendance, figured that it would only be the ancient one, the High Lord and Lady aside from you and Azriel. You'll likely have to reveal more about yourself than you'd be comfortable with in any other situation, including things you're not proud of, things you know they'll judge you for, they'll judge the female they once knew for.

Azriel noticed your body tensing, your steps getting slower and the apprehension rolling off you in waves as your thoughts soured. He stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder, meeting your unfocused eyes.

Seeing the worried look on his face makes you take a deeper breath, willing your mind to focus on what's important right now and let your fears stay locked inside you. Thinking of it as another mission the guild sent you on, you've put your life on the line numerous times, you can get through a simple meeting.

You feel a familiar mask of indifference fall onto your face, the mask of a killer the guild made sure you wore almost every day of your life, but before you can rid your mind of emotion, Azriel grabs onto your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and bringing it up to his lips. He leaves a soft kiss on your skin, one that sends chills down your spine, though it's the look in his eyes that makes you stop.

You're not alone. For the first time in your life, at least in the life you remember, you're not alone. He's going to be next to you for every step of the way. You don't need to resort to assassin tactics. The blank mask was something you didn't have a choice but to use, to protect yourself from the things you'd seen, from the things you feel. But here you're allowed to delve into your emotions, to stay true to them.

Azriel gives you a small smile and lowers your hand away from his lips, proud of whatever determination showed on your face. He lets go of you, making you feel the absence of his warmth immediately, fingers twitching as if trying to reach out to his comfort on their own.

As soon as you walk into the room all eyes turn to you. You had been right to assume everyone was here. You let your eyes wander around the room briefly, noting the familiar and new faces, before settling back on Rhysand's, the reminder of the excruciating pain you've felt the last time you saw him an obvious weight on your mind.

You'd seen them all before except for the blonde sitting on the sofa by the window, her brown eyes were wide, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. You know that was Morrigan, the High Lord's cousin, and from what Azriel has told you, one of your once closest friends. Apparently she'd tried to come talk to you but it so happened to be on the day after you went down for breakfast and you denied it without a second thought when Azriel brough the option up. You wonder if that had been too harsh but you weren't sure you could handle a repeat of the Cassian situation.

Feyre and Morrigan are the only ones who attempt to throw a greeting smile your way but you can't bring yourself to respond, acutely aware of the tension in the air, eyes never straying from the High Lord's. Choosing to focus on the elephant in the room.

“I trust your stay has been enjoyable,” Rhysand muses as he points to the chair across from his desk, urging you to sit as if this were a simple business meeting. As ridiculous as the idea sounds, it does something to loosen your muscles and the snort that escapes Cassian lifts some of the tension.

“Yes, the House has been making sure of it,” you sit on the chair across from his desk, not daring to look away from him and the High Lady. He releases a simple hum at the answer, but you're too anxious for small talk. “Have you found a way to get my memories back?”

“In a way,” he offers, leaving you with more questions.

Thankfully, Amren fills up the silence in his place. “The spell suppressing your memories is the work of witches. Daemati can enter anyone's mind and make them forget certain memories but if someone had simply rewritten your memories then Rhys would have been able to fix them.”

“Witches?” The thought was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Witches use tools to strengthen their powers, to access magic they aren't privy to,” she continues, “It seems someone used a witch's tool to feign daemati powers and rewrite your memories, effectively warding them as well.”

“That's why you had such a strong reaction when I entered your mind.”

You were positive this had to be the work of a daemati. It had never crossed your mind that there could be something else at play.

“You can't undo the spell,” you conclude for them.

Witches have a completely different approach to magic than faeries. While your kind was gifted their magic by the Mother, witches have to resort to the kind of tools Amren mentioned. The resulting magic isn't organic and as such it comes with rules and drawbacks you don't experience as fae.

“We'll need to find the person responsible for it. They're the only one who can tell us exactly how to undo it,” Feyre says.

You bite your lip, your mind reeling with the information. You only have one suspect and the thought of not only finding him but also making him talk sounds beyond ridiculous. He also hasn't shown any hint that he could use witch magic. As far as you know he's as much high fae as you are, but you can never be too certain when it comes to one the best assassins in the world.

“Azriel says you can only identify one member of the guild,” the High Lord continues, barely giving you any time to process.

You nod. “I had direct contact with a few other assassins when I was called for backup but never knew their names or even what some of them look like without disguises.”

“Our only option is finding your handler, but Azriel hasn't been able to find any tracks even with the information you've given him,” Feyre stands closer to the desk now, her hand leaning on the dark wood.

“I'm not surprised. Norris is one of the most prominent members of the guild, I'm not sure how old he is exactly but I suspect he's been working there for close to a millenia.”

“Azriel is extremely good at his job,” Rhysand tilts his head slightly, as if offended for his Spymaster.

“I know.” From the briefings he's given you, he has spies all over the world aside from his shadows, who can listen and see things fae could never begin to imagine. Even with your hints, he's come closer to the guild in a week than entire countries have in decades, perhaps even centuries. “But we've been trained to kill and hide from people like him, like you. And Norris has been doing that successfully for a very long time.”

“We…” He taps his nails on the table, the sound echoing across the room. “So you're an assassin then,” the distaste clear on the High Lord's face.

You hadn't said the words out loud but everyone had probably guessed it the moment you walked back into their lives. The guild has made a name for themselves, and as much as some of your work consisted of spying or retrieving objects, most people came to the guild for mercenary jobs.

“Yes,” you confirm, forcing yourself to keep up the eye contact.

“An interesting career choice,” he muses, as if you had the pleasure of just choosing to become this monster.

The several pairs of eyes watching you intently were making you feel defensive, your temper rising up with it. It's easy to judge someone looking in from the outside. You'd been an assassin or training to become one ever since you could remember, which in reality wasn't your whole life like you thought before. Still, whether it was because you'd been taken in by the guild as a child or had your memories rewritten, you were thrown into it against your will and had since been stuck with no chance of an escape. Everyone has done things they're not proud of and you know fae in such important positions as these and as old as they are can definitely relate to this sentiment.

You weren't proud of it, far from it, but you didn't have a choice. And it's not your fault the female they knew before wouldn't do these things. It's not your fault that innocence and chance at being better she had were ripped away from you.

“Not everyone has the luxury of getting a court handed to them,” the venom drips out of your tongue, every word meant as a weapon.

You know this is a low blow, being aware of the circumstances in which Rhysand became High Lord, how he lost his whole family in one night. But if he wants cruelty, the assassin he keeps judging, you can certainly give it to them. Your bravado lessens when you feel the sharp intake of breaths around the room, most notably from the Illyrian by your side, where he still stands despite how tense his posture has become.

Rhysand's wings tighten against his body and his eyes narrow, finally letting go of the faux relaxed look he's presented you with. He takes a moment to answer you, likely leveling his temper or receiving soothing words from his mate.

“There was a time you wouldn't even dare to hurt an innocent.” This statement lacks the same bite as before, it gives way to disappointment, and it feels like a bucket of ice poured over molting lava. It cuts deeper than any amount of judgment he could have presented you with.

You straighten yourself in the chair, trying to not let it show how much this whole conversation is affecting you. “Well,” you lick your lip, now realizing how dry your mouth felt, “The only thing left from before is my body.”

His violet gaze finally becomes too much for you to bear, allowing yourself the respite of looking down at your hands. There are too many emotions swirling in his alluring eyes, even more felt around the room, the tension has become so thick you could barely breathe, couldn't even risk a look at Azriel in fear of what you'd find written on his face, terrified that the same disappointment lingered there as well.

“It's not,” the change in tone has you looking back up at him, meeting his gaze once more to find understanding reflected on it. And I can only imagine how you've been surviving through it all.

His echoing words make you pause, not being able to look away from him. It's only when wetness gathers in your eyes that you look back down, praying the room of perceptive fae don't notice how close you are to tears. You don't even remember the last time you cried, the last time someone extended you the kindness Rhysand just did, even after all the judgment.

Shadows start crawling up your legs, tentatively moving towards you as if asking permission to comfort you. You bite back a smile, keeping your tears at bay as you wonder if they moved of their own accord or if Azriel sent them to you. You relax your body, allowing them to twist and turn over your legs, mildly surprised that you can actually feel a ghost of a touch. You didn't think you could feel shadows.

You risk a glance at the shadowsinger in question, almost regretting it as you see the fondness reflected in his beautiful eyes as he watches his own shadows move across your skin. This must have been a regular occurrence before. You look away as soon as your gazes meet, not being able to bear the intensity in them in this room full of onlookers.

Unfortunately, your escape brings you back to facing the High Lord and Lady, who seem more than amused at your interaction with Azriel. The change in atmosphere from just a few moments ago almost gives you whiplash.

“You haven't told me what you plan on doing about the guild,” you try to keep your tone leveled, but looking at their reactions you're failing miserably.

“Finding your handler seems to be our best bet,” the smile on Feyre's face only falters a bit, the tension from before has almost dissipated. “Since he's the one who sent you here he might know who hired the guild and their motives for wanting the book.”

“You said he was the one who introduced you into the guild.” You nod at Rhysand. “It's possible he's the one responsible for your… accident.”

“I think so too,” you agreed, your hand moving up to touch the scar on your neck, “I've always been told this scar was the result of a failed mission, and that Norris had been the one to find me and take me to a healer.”

“We found the attackers not long after your death,” the general finally speaks up, cringing softly at the choice of word. His mate was quick to narrow her eyes at him, as if reprimanding him for mentioning it.

“He might not have actually cut my throat,” you shrug, trying not to linger in unpleasant thoughts. “He likely saw me after the attack and decided I'd make a good addition to the guild if I survived. I'm basically a ghost, that's perfect for an agent. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd done similar things before.”

“Either way, we need to find him.”

“Even if we do, I'm not sure he'll actually tell you anything.” Norris was one of the most respected members of the guild. His abilities far surpassed yours, he'd been the one to teach you most things after all. You've never been able to even sneak up on him so finding and capturing him alive already seemed hard enough, but making him cooperate and answer any of your questions was next to impossible. The Mother only knows how many fae have tried it and failed.

“He will,” Azriel stated. When you look into his eyes you can only see pure fury and determination written in them, leaving no space for any doubts. He stares into your eyes before adding, promising, “l'll make sure of it.”

Some of that confidence rubs off on you it seems, because your hesitation starts evaporating the longer you stare into his eyes. You've always been on your own, and as such you've only ever considered how you'd fare against your handler without backup. Between the famed Shadowsinger, the strongest High Lord in history, the Made Sisters, and everyone else in this room, your chances were exponentially higher. Escaping the guild doesn't feel like a pipe dream anymore.

“How do you want to find him?”

The High Lord rewards your determination with a smirk. “The only way to find someone like him is by making him search for us instead.”

“You want to use me as bait,”

“You can refuse,” Azriel assured. This explains his sour mood. You didn't think he'd agreed with this solution with the way he's been treating you so carefully, almost as if you're made of glass. You can't exactly fault him for it either, but the truth is you can't refuse. You don't know if you could ever find Norris with traditional tactics, or if the guild wouldn't send more assassins to the city, if they hadn't already.

“And keep living like this? Hiding without even knowing who I am?”

He searches your eyes, fear and vulnerability swimming in the hazel, but nods all the same. He told you he's dreamed of getting you back for a century, and thought it was something that would never come true, so it makes sense that he'd be hesitant on letting you put yourself in such a risky position. You know he understands why you need this though.

The meeting runs for a while longer, and by the time Rhysand was calling it a day the sun was already setting on the horizon, making way for the night to take over in all its glory, one that could only be fully appreciated in the Night Court.

As much as everyone seems to be warming up to you, letting go of the conflicted feelings towards having you back in these circumstances, you were extremely overwhelmed by the end. Talking to someone who knows you so intimately even though you don't have any recollection of it is a confusing experience. You could almost hear your mind screaming at you, begging for some peace and quiet.

The contrast between the Inner Circle and Azriel becomes clear in your mind. Your relationships were very different before but it's interesting to see that even when you don't have your memories, you feel so much calmer with him. That nagging feeling of being faced with something you've lost keeps rising up when they speak to you, but it doesn't come anywhere close to the myriad of emotions Azriel evokes simply by looking at you. And even if those emotions are more intense, you have a much bigger tolerance for them, as if your body would gladly accept any turmoil as long as you stayed in his company.

Just as you were about to leave the room, Rhysand invites you to join them for dinner. Everyone turns to you with expectant eyes before the words fully leave his mouth. They clearly planned it out together. This habit they have of speaking through each other's minds is one it might take a while getting used to.

You bite your lip, as you think of what to say. Cassian and Morrigan look particularly keen on the idea, it makes you feel a little relieved that the general isn't looking at you like a nightmare came true anymore, but you really don't think you can handle any more questions today, or to have them reminisce about your former relationships. You're not used to spending time with a lot of people in general, you'd go months without any sort of fae contact sometimes. You just want to go somewhere quiet, and you can only think of one person whose company would allow you to relax.

Making up your mind, you decline the invitation politely, trying to ignore the disappointment in their eyes as they bid you goodnight. This still feels like a huge improvement from where you stood with them just at the beginning of the meeting, that they'd want to keep you company when it felt like they were avoiding you this whole week. You might have gained some of their trust, and, to your immense shock, you trust them as well. It feels like a breath of fresh air after a century of not even trusting your shadow.

Maybe it's that feeling, or the immediate quiet that settles over you as soon as you walk into the empty hallway, maybe even the fact that you finally got some answers and even a plan, a chance at leaving the guild, something you never even dared to dream about, but it has you feeling a little indulgent. Your steps are noticeably lighter, and all the tension from before is now only a faint ache in your muscles.

“Azriel?” You look up at him with a smile, feeling it widen when he looks at you in answer. “Since I'm out of the room, can we go somewhere to watch the stars?”

The smile that takes over his face is blinding, it feels like it could rival the moon. It's fascinating how his beauty can still catch you off guard like this, even if you've been spending most of your time with him for an entire week.

“Of course,” he moves closer to you and takes your hand, pulling you into him, his eyes never straying from yours. It takes you longer than it should have to realize he was covering you both in shadows, too lost in his eyes to pay attention to your surroundings, how they've turned to black. He told you before that's how he winnows, though it can't be called that since he moves through shadows instead.

The light almost blinds you as his shadows disperse, giving way to a view you can't believe is real. The sky wasn't completely dark yet, stuck in the brief moments of twilight where you could still see the last rays of the sun illuminating the dark blue sky. And yet the stars were already twinkling in the sky, surrounding the full moon.

You can't help but gasp, forgetting about Azriel and moving to the edge of the roof, admiring the unforgettable view. Your eyes don't stray from it as you lean against the railing, long enough that the sun completely sets, and the streets become illuminated by faelights.

You had thought there was some sort of celebration when you first came here, but have since learned that every night is enjoyed to its fullest in the city of dreamers.

As some of your awe settles, you turn to look at Azriel as he too admires the city. His shadows had left him uncovered, choosing to scatter around what you now recognize as a training ground. You almost regret staring up at the sky for so long when you could have been reveling in his beauty this whole time.

His tan skin was glowing with the pale moonlight, eyes as bright as the stars when he looks down at you. You move closer to him almost unconsciously, as if you've been bewitched.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you sound breathless even to your ears. “The view is a lot more beautiful from up here.” Your bedroom window could never do this justice. If you looked up, it almost felt like you were walking on air, among the stars.

He turns to you fully, ignoring the captivating sight in favor of watching you. His face relaxes further as he takes you in, the smile on his lips growing and the air around you changing. He raises his scarred palm up to cup your face, whispering softly, “It can't ever compare to you.”

“That's cheesy,” you stutter, clearly taken aback by the sudden flirtatious tone.

He grins down at you, a mischievous look in his eyes, rubbing his thumb over the increasingly warmer skin of your cheek. “You're blushing.”

Azriel has been open with his feelings for you all week, making it clear that they haven't changed over the years, even with your absence from his life, but he has never been this brazen. None of the interactions you've had can be considered anything else than platonic, and even with sweet compliments and bashful admissions, he has never looked at you like this, like he truly believed just one second of looking at you was worth more than this unbelievable view.

“You know,” you start hesitantly, “We haven't actually tried everything.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to catch up to your train of thought. You can feel when he does because he tenses against you, and would have let go of your face if you hadn't placed your hand around his wrist, keeping him there.

“I think I've read it in a story before,” you lick your lips, feeling like lava is pumping through your veins when his eyes follow the movement, “Sometimes a kiss can be stronger than any magic spell.”

He leans closer to you slowly, looking into your eyes to search for any sign of discomfort. You can't be entirely sure what he finds in them, you can't feel much else but desire in this moment, but it has him clearing the rest of the way, both of your eyes closing as his lips finally touch yours softly.

A sigh escapes him when you press into him harder, needing to find out what he tastes like, what he feels like. His other hand comes up to cup your other cheek, holding you against him. You can feel him losing his restraint bit by bit, hands moving from your face to hold your neck, your waist, grip getting tighter with every stroke of his tongue against yours, a century of longing and raw passion melting into the kiss. Your own arms find their way around his neck, pulling him down, finally feeling the softness of his hair around your fingers. His chest is pressed against yours, close enough that you can feel his heart beating.

When you finally pull away from each other, you're both breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, eyes closed. You wonder how many times he's dreamed of this moment, of being able to taste you again after so long.

“Any memories resurfacing?” His voice is rough, deeper than you've ever heard it. It almost makes you hold back a moan.

“No,” you lick your lips, reveling in his taste, “but we can give it another try.”

His lips find yours as soon as the last words leave your mouth, more than happy to deliver. You might chastise yourself for giving in to temptation tomorrow, but in this moment nothing else matters. Not the guild, not your lost memories, not your mistakes. Right now there's only him, you and the stars as your witnesses.

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[whatawonderfulexistence--blog]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part VIII

Welcome back to part 8 of Fall For Me! A strange dream, reader goes to camp, and more sweet moments with the eepy Bois this chapter! Thank you so much for reading, if you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list please let me know!

WARNINGS: Brief mention on hunting practices NOT PROOFREAD

Part VII - Part IX (TBA)

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

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When you woke up your head felt like it was in a fog, the edges of your vision slightly blurry as you looked around the room. Your bare feet dropped to the floor, you shivered as you stood from your bed, it was a lot colder in here than you remember it being. You paused at your doorway, something wasn't right. Despite the fact you had crossed the entire expanse of your bedroom there wasn't a single creaking floorboard or footstep to be heard. You look back at your bed only to find your body still laying there. “What the hell?” You mutter softly to yourself. You walk over to your still sleeping form, your shoulders rising and falling with every even breath as you lie motionless beneath the covers.

“Don't worry, you'll be able to re enter your body when we're done here.” You jumped at the sudden voice that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Its tone is both a whisper and a deafening howl, the sound high pitched and somehow also impossibly low.

“God?” You ask with a confused expression.

The voice laughs, “I guess you could say that.” The silence that surrounded you was deafening as the voice faded out, it was so quiet you could hear your blood rushing in your ears, no ambient sound existed in whatever plane you had been snatched into. “Trust in Vessel, he’ll show you the way.”

You shot up in bed with a sharp gasp, your lungs burning like you had been holding your breath. Your alarm was blaring on your night stand, 8 in the morning, you had an hour until you opened. You got out of bed, listening carefully for the sound of your footsteps against the floor to make sure you really had returned from wherever the hell you had gone in your dreams. “I'm going crazy, I'm actually losing my mind.” You argue with your reflection in the mirror. “Some mysterious voice coming from my subconscious about trusting Vessel, of course I trust him. But what the hell is the way he's supposed to be showing me?” You decided to drop it for now with an annoyed groan, flying through your morning routine and jogging downstairs just as 9 o'clock rolled around. The day flew by, the steady stream of customers helping to distract you from the weird dream you had. You were just about to lock the door when the all too familiar pickup truck pulled into the lot. You smiled, pushing the door open and leaning against it as you waited to see just who had stopped by to visit tonight. You were a bit surprised to see II jump out of the cab unaccompanied, usually when he was sent to make supply runs he always had one of the others in tow. He strides over to you, reaching out to pull you into an embrace the moment you were close enough.

“I have a question for you.” He states softly once he pulls back, his hands still resting comfortably on your waist.

“And what might that be?” You smile, subconsciously leaning into him.

“Would you be comfortable coming back to camp with me?” You paused the moment the question fell from his lips. “Vessel already knows I'm inviting you, he's the one that brought it up in fact.” II chuckles, knowing exactly where your mind had wandered.

“I would love to.” He waits patiently for you to lock up, his hand slipping into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze as the two of you chat idly on your way back to the truck. You slid across the worn leather bench seat, II hopping behind the wheel not long after. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, leaning in to press a clothed kiss to your cheek.

“Are you warm enough?” You nod, letting your head fall to rest against his shoulder as he starts driving. His thumb languidly trailed back and forth across your shoulder, every so often he would glance down at you to see if you were still awake. You wound down endless back roads, slowly pushing your way down paths that had long since been forgotten until the group had ventured this far out into the woods. II attempted to dodge raised roots and potholes without much success, the makeshift road being filled with craters that rattled the pair of you around in the cab. You were thankful when the dirt path finally smoothed out, the trees opening up to reveal a large clearing with four cabins evenly spaced out around the circle. You recognized minimal details of it from the pictures you had seen in the paper. The cabin opposite the entrance was surrounded by flower beds of various sizes and states of growth, some containing a painter's palette of wildflowers, others filled with various crops that seemed to be growing very successfully. “That's IV’s cabin.” II must've noticed your impressed stare. “I will warn you though, if you compliment him on his gardening it will make him really flustered, so do with that information what you will.” He chuckles.

“Do you all have different jobs?” You ask curiously, II nods his confirmation.

“IV is the main one in charge of produce. III’s a fairly decent hunter, that's where we get the majority of the meat we eat. I’m in charge of the finances.” He lists off everyone's role around the camp. “And Vessel… well he's our spiritual advisor for a lack of a better term.” He chuckles. He pulls the truck up alongside a cabin that was more set back from the rest, it's dark wood almost blending in with the treeline.  “He’s in the middle of something, I'll take you to IV.” He smiles at you. He motions for you to wait, jogging around the front of the truck to open your door for you. He bows his head slightly as he offers his hand, you can't help but laugh softly at his actions.

“What a gentleman.” You grin at him.

“For you, only the best.” He winks. Your hand slips into his, his skin cool against yours. His eyes stay locked on your form as you hop down from the truck, the moment your feet hit the ground he's tugging you into his side, wanting to keep you as close as possible. “I'd like to be able to spend some time alone with you later, if that's alright.” The corners of your mouth quirk up in a smile at the slight nervousness you picked up in his voice. You glance up at him, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth before pushing yourself up to place a kiss to his cheek.

“I'd love to.” You whisper in his ear with a coy smile. Your attention was stolen by IV calling your name from across the clearing. II places a hand against the small of your back, gently nudging you in his direction. You meet him in the middle, giggling as he flings his arms around you and spins you in a hug.

“I missed you.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles, you found your cheeks growing warmth at the genuine joy in his voice.

“You did?” You ask softly.

“Yeah.” Goosebumps rise on your skin as you feel him gently knead at the softness of your waist. His eyes nervously dart from yours, tracing over a pattern he had found in the grass as he sucks in a deep breath. “I, um, I didn't get to say everything I wanted to you the other day.” You waited patiently for him to continue, seeing how nervous he was about choosing exactly the right words was honestly endearing in your eyes. “Do you think we could sit down and talk?”

“Of course we can, wherever you like.” You smile softly at him. He hesitantly removed his hand from your waist, carefully taking your hand and studying your reaction to make sure he wasn't doing too much too quickly. He led you to his cabin, shutting the door behind him and watching you with delight as you looked around curiously at all the small knick knacks and trinkets he had littered around the small space. His heart races when his eyes meet yours, he would never get tired of seeing the way your whole face lit up when you smiled.

“I want you to know that I really like you.” He blurts out, unable to stop the confession from coming out. “I might not be as experienced as the others, and I might take things slowly, but that's just because I don't want to mess this up.” His bright blue eyes scan over your features as he waits for you to respond.

“IV, I'm not worried about moving too slow or too fast, or whether or not you're experienced. I think you're very sweet, handsome, fun,” every compliment was punctuated with you taking another step closer to him. “I like you too, I want to see where things go, and I'm very excited to see how we get there.” He breathes out a relieved chuckle.

“I just don't want you to think that I'm not as interested as the others.” His arms slide around your waist, your instinctually slipping over his shoulders as he pulls you into him. His fingers ghost over your cheek, you lean into his touch, allowing him to carefully cradle your face in his hand. “You're so beautiful, every moment I've gotten to spend with you has been nothing short of amazing.” Your cheeks grow warm as he continues his assault of compliments. He seemed relieved to have gotten that off his chest, the usual playful glimmer returning to his expression.

“Well, I look forward to spending more time with you.” His gaze dropped to your lips for a moment before he hesitantly pulled away. He clears his throat, his eyes trailing to the window.

“Did you get to see the garden at all?” He asks, a slight nervous tremor in his voice.

“A little, but I'd love to see it up close. You have a very impressive green thumb IV.” He taps the toe of his boot against the cabin floor.

“It's nothing special.” He rebuttals bashfully. “But, it's definitely a lot better than what we started out with.” He starts to head towards the door, your hand slipping effortlessly into his as you trailed after him. He brought you to the edge of the flowerbeds, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to keep you close to his side as he pointed to all the various different types of produce and flowers he was growing, slipping in small fun facts every so often.

“I don't know how you can say this isn't anything special IV, this is incredible. You've really done an amazing job.” He froze, swallowing thickly as he looked down at you.

“Thank you, love.” He says softly. A soft smile finds its way to your lips as you watch his eyes slowly trace over your features. “Can I take you on a date sometime?” You can't help but giggle at the question.

“I would love that.” You feel him squeeze your waist, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he returns your smile. You both jumped slightly as someone shouted from across the field. II had III in tow, the taller man dropping off his pack of hunting supplies before quickly making his way over to you. IV leans down, placing a kiss to the top of your head before stepping away. You smiled as III approached, your heart immediately pounding in your chest at the sight of the streaks of sweat that had broken down his black body paint. You were unable to stop your gaze from raking across his exposed torso. Your cheeks grew warm as your eyes snapped back up to meet his, immediately noticing the playful glimmer in his expression. You nearly stumbled backwards as III’s long strides quickly landed him right in front of you, a strong hand landing on your waist to steady you as he caught your chin between his fingers with the other. Your eyes dart to anywhere but his, trying your best to hide your flustered state.

“Don’t get all shy on me now.” He chuckles. “How are you beautiful?” You manage to squeak out a ‘good’ in response. III leans down, the fabric of his mask soft against your skin as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Have you shown her around at all?” He asked IV, his hand still lingering on your waist as he pulled away.

“Just a bit of the garden.” IV responds.

“Think we should give her the grand tour?” II suggests.

“I don’t see why not.” IV immediately perks up at the idea. You reach out, taking hold of IV’s hand, giving him a coy smile as you cuddle up to his side.

“Well, lead the way boys.” II and III share an amused look over IV’s surprised expression. It takes him a moment before he finally relaxes, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before he brings your knuckles to his lips.

It had been less than a year since they had arrived in town and the progress they had already made at their camp was nothing short of incredible. IV had grown a whole storehouse of crops, all of which were expertly preserved in order to maintain the four of them easily throughout the winter and early spring. You learned that he was hoping to learn how to make preserves out of the vast amounts of berries in the area. III showed you some of his easier to navigate hunting trails, explaining that he only hunts as needed and how important to him it is to use the entire animal whenever possible. The four of you wandered down trails, each of them pointing out spots where they would like to go to read or play music. “We should plan a day to hike out to the lake.” IV suggests.

“Maybe next summer, it’s a little too cold for that now.” II responds. “I definitely think we should at some point though, I really think you’d like it there.” You smile as III places a kiss to the top of your head, his presence at your side immediately being replaced by II who wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you continued walking. You had noticed how the three of them almost seemed to be taking turns being next to you, the thought alone was enough to make butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“I was wondering where you all went.” Your heart immediately began to race at the sound of Vessel’s voice. You turn to find him leaning in the doorway of his cabin, “love, would it be alright if I stole you for a second?” He nods for you to follow him inside his cabin.You swallow thickly, feeling nervous despite the fact you knew you had to reason to worry. You’re snapped from your thoughts by II pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll go start dinner while you’re in there.” He gives you a gentle nudge in Vessel’s direction, prompting you forward. He towered over you from his position leaning in the doorway, offering you his hand once you were in reach and guiding you inside. The inside of his cabin was simple; a small wooden desk with a chair sat in front of the window, a perfectly made bed with black sheets sat against the opposite wall, the large piece of furniture the focal point of the room. Across the room from where you stood you noticed a bookshelf tucked into the corner, the shelves filled with journals, textbooks, and various decks of cards. You could feel Vessel studying you, he watched your body language carefully, trying to gauge exactly how you were feeling in this very moment.

You jumped as he suddenly shut the door, a soft chuckle escaping him at the sight. “There’s no need to be so tense, love.” He steps up to your side, trailing a finger along the edge of your jaw as he leans down close to your ear. “I’m not that scary, am I?” He purrs, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’m just a little on edge today, I guess.” You laugh softly.

“And why’s that?” He keeps you close to him as he moves. Settling himself on the edge of his bed, his hands coming comfortably to rest on the curve of your waist as he holds you in front of him. You feel his fingers gently push into you, moving you closer to him without much effort. The front of your thighs presses against the edge of his plush mattress, Vessel’s long legs caging you in on either side. You still had to look up slightly to be face to face with him, knowing you had met his eyes behind the slits of his mask as your heart began to pound in your chest.

“I have a feeling you already know the answer to that.” Your voice trembled as you spoke.

“Smart girl,” he praises, “I see you’re putting the pieces together quickly.” He ponders over what to say for a moment, carefully selecting each word in his mind. “He spoke to you last night, didn’t he?”

“Vessel, what was that?” You answered his question with your own.

“That was Sleep.” He states simply. A bewildered expression formed on your face, Vessel continued speaking before you had a chance to ask any questions. “I for the life of me can’t figure out how to even begin telling you about Sleep.” He admits with a bashful chuckle. “I hate to keep you in the dark, but can I please ask you to wait just a little while longer?” The booming voice echoed in the back of your mind. ‘Trust in Vessel, he’ll show you the way.’ 

“I trust you.” Your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

“When the time is right I’ll tell you everything, you have my word.” He promises, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his thumb trailing slowly across your skin. The cool material of his mask comes to rest against your forehead. He just held you for a moment, both of you relaxing into the comfortable silence that surrounded you. “I shouldn’t keep you too long, the others will throw a fit.” He says quietly, both of you dissolving into soft laughter.

“Vessel,” he hums in response to you saying his name.

“What is it, love?”

“I really enjoyed our time together the other night.” He froze, seeming almost dumbfounded by the words that had left your mouth.

“You did?” His response comes out timidly, as if he was dancing around those two simple words, worried it was the wrong thing to say. “Maybe… Maybe we could do something like that again sometime then.”

“I’d like that.” You smile softly at him.

Your fingers remained linked with his as he led you across the clearing, the other three members of the group working quickly to make sure everything was set up by the time you reached the table. You were handed a plate of something you didn’t recognize, but it tasted good. Your night became a blur of stolen kisses on your cheeks and laughter that easily bubbled up from your chest. “I believe II had something planned for the two of you tonight.” Vessel suddenly chimes in. “I think we should probably give them some privacy, boys.” He suggests with a patient smile. They each say their respective goodbye’s; IV pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, telling you he’ll see you soon before darting off to his cabin, III pulls you flush against him, lifting his mask just enough to capture your lips with his own. He mumbles a quiet ‘goodnight’ against your lips, his hand lingering on the curve of your waist as he pulls away. You turned to face Vessel, he held out his hand for you to take. “I’ll walk you.” It didn’t take you long to see that II had snuck off to set up a fire, a log pulled the perfect distance away from the flames to sit on. “It looks like you’re in for a nice evening.” You could feel his eyes studying you from behind his mask. “It’s a shame we have to part ways.”

“We still have a couple minutes.” Your eyes dart down to his lips momentarily.

“It almost sounds like you don’t want me to leave.” He responds with a lopsided grin.

“I don’t.” Vessel presses a knuckle below your chin, tilting your face up to allow him the chance to study your features closely.

“Trust me love, if I had it my way I already would have stolen you for myself.” He chuckles, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip. “We’ll have our time… I’ll make sure of it.” He whispers. He cradles your face gently in his hand, his eyes wandering over your features in silence for another moment before he speaks again. “II, make sure she gets home safely.” You hadn’t noticed until Vessel had startled him that II had wandered back in your direction. “Have a good night, beautiful.” A pair of warm lips press against your forehead, and just like before, as quickly as he was there he was gone. A sense of longing ached deep in your chest, one that was quickly pushed down as II’s hands came to rest on your waist. He gently turns you to face him, hand cupping your cheek as his lips ghost over yours. Your eyes flutter shut, your racing thoughts coming to a screeching halt as you let the kiss consume you.

“I’ve been waiting all day to do that.” II mumbles against your lips with a soft chuckle. Heavy, warm fabric is draped across your shoulders, your fingers instinctually reach up to rub along the edge of the thick denim jacket. “I wanted to make sure you were warm enough. It’s a nice night, but it still gets pretty cold out here.” You found yourself cuddled into his side, the campfire keeping you comfortable despite the chill in the air. II excitedly pointed out every constellation he recognized, filling your mind with tales of adventure, the bravest heroes, the most passionate of love stories. “Right there, that’s Andromeda. She’s famous for nearly being eaten by a sea monster because her mother tried to say she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs.” You can’t help but laugh slightly at the absurd story.

“Well, what do you think?” II gives you a curious glance. “Was she prettier than the sea nymphs?”

“She definitely wasn’t as pretty as you.” You stuttered out a shocked sound in response, your cheeks immediately growing warm. “You’re really bad at accepting compliments.” He points out bluntly, a hint of a smile in his tone.

“I’m just not really used to getting them I guess.” You admit with a bashful chuckle.

“You’re unfortunately going to have to get used to that then.” He glances down at you, his bright blue eyes meeting yours and freezing you in place. “You’re beautiful, I’m not about to let you forget that.”

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[a-b-riddle]

I'm just going to ask this because I need to get it out of my head. This is all in regards to your Poly141 x Reader series going on. I'm just going to recap things first.

-Price got verbally eviscerated because of all the times he got short/snapped at the reader because he came into their bookstore that they bought with their own money, put their own blood, sweat and tears into fixing up and had THE AUDACITY to call them immature for trying to break things off cleanly like a MATURE adult in a space that's RIGHTFULLY THEIRS because he couldn't be an adult admit how he shouldn't of been treating the reader like one of his men.

-Soap showing up trying to apologize and then thinking with his dick because of how the reader got dressed up for a dinner date and got a taste of his own medicine when the reader just hit it and quit it without so much as a thank you, or a goodbye kiss and basically told him to clean up, get dressed and kick rocks.

-Gaz shows up after weeks of just flaking out of any dates and just being a ghost (ironic considering Ghost's callsign) trying to talk to the reader in person when the reader had tried for months to just get a glimpse of him only to be told he couldn't right now but could another time. Then the reader just tell him, 'yeah sorry no. I don't have time for you and your mates nonsense at the moment, just swing by to get your stuff when it works for you'.

-Ghost showing up whenever the reader is in trouble and getting them away from danger only to disappear shortly afterward and give the reader radio silence. The one time that the reader tried to seek him out for just a SHRED of comfort and he just told them, 'You're only good for what's in between your legs love, you knew what you were getting into. You should've known better.'

With all this mind, I want Ghost to have everything and the kitchen sink thrown at him. I want him to be told in no kind words that his words and lack of realizing how fucked up the things he said to the reader were was the straw that broke the camel's back. I want the reader to hurl everything that they didn't say to Price to Ghost. I want him to realize in no unclear terms how if he didn't fuck up so royally and had actually attempted to give the reader a fraction of what he was being given, things would be so much better. And for some extra salt on the wound, have the reader tell him that they suppose that when it comes to his line of work, he's pretty good at breaking anything and everything he touches. It's just a shame that for anything that involves a softer touch, he winds up breaking it beyond repair.

I just love narrative/reflective irony and can't wait for the next part and wish you well for making it to the end of this ramble. 🥰

I'm throwing up.

I am so happy that y'all got it without me having to say it. YES! She is giving everything back that they gave her. John's outbursts, Johnny's lack of aftercare and Kyle's flakiness.

I will say this which I think is interesting. Simon said something hellllla shitty and unforgivable. Like it was mean and something once you say you can't take back. I will ask this and feel free to go back and re-read.

What else did Simon do? Before the phone call, what else did Simon do to reader? We know Simon wanted to hurt reader. Why? Did he plan

Spoiler below, read at own caution

Or was he just sick of being the only one out of the four guys to actually contribute to the relationship and knew he needed to be the one to drive it home that there isn't a future with them? Reader refers to Simon several times as her body guard or guard dog... But never a boyfriend or partner.

In flashbacks, we see that Simon only ever came over at night. You'll find out why in the next few chapters, but as much as I love y'all hating on Simon, I cannot WAIT for y'all to get to the why.

And remember kiddos, hurt people hurt people.

[sunshinepanic]

Unexpected Part 2

Pairing: Rafe Cameron X Reader

Summary: You and your friends blow off some steam at the boneyard but a certain Kook seems to be all you can think about.

Chapter Warning: JJ is kind of a douche, Angst, fluff. 

Not beta read we die like men

WC: 2,018

OBX Masterlist - Series Masterlist

The first thing you noticed as you slowly reached consciousness was that someone was gently shaking you and calling your name. The second was the feeling of sand and salt air blowing directly in your face and a chill from a breeze that reminded you that you had apparently fallen asleep outside. When you groaned as you stretched, the voice that had been calling your name had you snapping your eyes open as you abruptly sat up. Rafe laughed at you, "Oh, good sleeping beauty is awake.” He slapped your leg with the back of his hand. “Let’s go. The sun is coming up. I’ll give you a ride home.” Without waiting for an answer, he started off towards where he left his truck. Last night came flooding back to you as you watched his retreating form, and you quickly scrambled up to follow him, not wanting to have to walk or skate back to your house. 

Crawling into Rafe’s truck, you are once again surrounded by his woodsy scent, and it makes you feel kind of lightheaded. You toss your board into the backseat and lean your head against the window, watching the sun rise as Rafe slowly makes his way to your house. You can’t help but notice how the rays from the morning sun reflect across his face, highlighting his sharp features. You get so lost tracing the contours of his face with your eyes that it takes you a moment to realize that he has caught you staring. Warmth quickly spreads across your face as you avert your eyes and quickly look out the window. You hear Rafe let out a quiet chuckle, and you brace yourself to be called out for staring at him like some kind of crazy person, but it never comes. When you realize he isn’t going to make fun of you or call you out, you feel yourself start to relax. As Rafe pulls up to your house, you break the comfortable silence. “Thanks for distracting me last night. I know you weren’t planning on dealing with my pathetic problems or sleeping on the beach.” Rafe glanced at you as he slowed the truck to a stop. “To be fair, I tried to wake you up, but you weren’t budging. What was I supposed to do? Leave you alone on the beach.” You laughed as you exited the truck and made your way to the front door of your empty house. Rafe rolled his window down and yelled out to you as he started driving away. “I’ll see you around, Sunshine!” A smile found its way onto your face as you made your way inside and slipped into the shower.

The next few days were crazy with work. Thank God you lived three blocks from the shop. You loved your job, especially getting to teach little kids how to surf, but having to deal with annoying tourons trying to hit on you while you were just trying to do your job was getting on your last nerve. You stumbled into your house after finishing your shift and made your way to the shower. After washing your hair and the sand from your body, you pulled Rafe’s hoodie on with a pair of shorts and crawled into bed. It still smelled like him, and if anyone asked, you would absolutely deny it, but you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You wanted to find a way to thank Rafe for listening to you whine about your problems and giving you a distraction the other day, so you decided to make him a bracelet. 

You had made bracelets for all of your friends over the years, and you made the majority of the bracelets that you wore every day. You figured he would probably laugh and throw it away, but it would make you feel better knowing you gave him something, and money was tight, so you pulled out some blue string and started forming a bracelet. You attached a sunshine charm to it just to make a jab at the nickname he had for you, and once it was finished, you attached it to your other bracelets so you wouldn’t lose it and you would be sure to have it on you the next time you ran into him.

You must have dosed off because you woke up to your phone ringing. Blindly, you reached for your phone and answered it, hearing John B on the other end of the line. “Y/N/N! We’ve been trying to get ahold of you all day. Are you still coming over to pregame the bonfire?” You quickly scrambled off your bed. “Shit! I’m on my way.” John B chuckled at you as he hung up. You quickly ran a brush through your hair and applied minimal makeup. You went back into your room to grab your skateboard, but quickly realized it wasn’t in its usual spot. You made your way downstairs to the living room to see if you left it by the front door, but quickly realized that you must have left it in Rafe’s backseat. You smacked a hand to your forehead, knowing you didn’t have a way to contact him. Cursing to yourself, you slipped your phone into your pocket as you made your way out the door to walk to the chateau. 

As you were making the walk to John B’s house, your phone vibrated in your pocket. Seeing a text from an unknown number, you furrow your brows as you open it, immediately laughing as you see a short video of Rafe falling off your skateboard when he tries to stand on it. Accompanying the video is a short text. “How in the hell do you ride this thing everywhere?” You quickly text him back. “How did you get my number? I’ve been looking everywhere for that! I figured I must have left it in your truck the other day. Please don’t hurt yourself lol” As you see the chateau come into view, your phone pings with another incoming text from Rafe. "Aw, do you care if I get hurt? That’s adorable. I may or may not have stolen your number out of Sarah’s phone while she was in the shower. I figured you would like to know that I still have your board. I guess I’ll just have to see you again so I can give it back to you.” You smiled as you snapped a quick picture of yourself and sent it to him. “I would hate for you to break that pretty face on the pavement because you can't balance on a piece of wood. It’s fine, though, because I forgot to give you your sweatshirt back, so we will call it even.” You quickly receive a reply. “So what I'm hearing is that you do think I'm pretty. You can keep the sweatshirt. It looks better on you anyway.” You smile down at your phone as you feel your face get hot. You shake yourself out of it. There is no way he is actually in to you. This is probably just because he is feeling bored, and messing with you is entertaining for the moment. But part of you can’t shake the idea that maybe there is something there. You quickly tuck your phone back into your pocket as you make your way around the back of the chateau and towards the voices of your friends. 

Your friends were already well on their way to tipsy as you made your way over and plopped down on Cleo’s lap, laying your legs across Pope. Cleo wrapped her arms around your waist as Sarah handed you a mixed drink, knowing you couldn’t stand the taste of beer. You fell into an easy conversation with Pope about how things at the house were going. Then Kie piped up from where she was sitting cuddled up next to JJ. “We were wondering where you’ve been. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “I’ve been around. I've been busy with work, and I’ve just had a lot on my mind; I needed to spend some time by myself.” John B notices you becoming uncomfortable and quickly changes the subject. As you sit and laugh with your friends, you find that you don’t have any hard feelings towards Kie like you thought you would. After all, it’s not her fault that JJ obviously didn’t want you back. It was just going to take some time to get over the hurt you felt. Then, JJ’s eyes caught on the hoodie you were wearing. “Nice hoodie. Is it new?” You pulled the sleeves down over your hands as you looked to the side of JJ’s face, giving the semblance of making eye contact without actually having to. "Yeah, something like that.” JJ’s eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to ask what that meant when John B decided to cut in, announcing that it was time to head to the boneyard.

The boneyard was packed as usual. You spent some time dancing with John B and Sarah while JJ and Kie were wrapped up in each other, and Pope was talking Cleo's ear off about god knows what. After the current song ended, you made your way over near JJ and Kie and sat down in the sand. You looked around at everyone having a great time, and you couldn’t help but wonder what Rafe was doing right now. He was probably on a date or partying with Topper and Kelce. Against your better judgment, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and pulled up your text thread with Rafe. You snap a quick picture of the fire with everyone dancing in the background. “Have you even been surrounded by friends but somehow still feel completely alone?” You wait a few minutes for a response, but you start feeling like an idiot for sending the message. As you go to put your phone back in your pocket, it starts to ring. You hesitate, but swipe the screen to answer it as you quickly stand and walk away from where JJ and Kie are sitting. “Hello?” You hear loud music and voices in the background. Rafe’s voice comes through the phone. “Where are you right now?” You hesitate before answering. “I’m at the boneyard with my friends.” You wandered away from the noise to try to hear Rafe better, but all you can hear through the phone is the loud noises that are surrounding Rafe. You try to ask him where he is and why he is calling you, but the line abruptly cuts off. Frowning, you look down at your phone as you start to make your way back towards the party. 

You head back to where you left your friends, but when you get there, they are nowhere to be seen. You look around, but you don’t spot any of them. Just as you decide to go find where John B parked the twinkie, you feel someone grab your hand. Startled, you whip around, swinging at whoever was grabbing you. You weren’t planning on coming face-to-face with Rafe. “God damn it, you scared the shit out of me!” Rafe dodges your swing, raising his hands in mock surrender as he chuckles at you. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, Sunshine. Where are you going?” You look around to see if you can spot your friends again. “I was looking for my friends, but I don’t know where they went. I figured I would go wait by the car until they were ready to leave.” Nodding, Rafe catches your eye. “If you want, we can get out of here. I could give you a ride home, or we could go grab some food. I distinctly remember saying something about needing to return your death trap of a skateboard next time I saw you.” Smiling, you agree. You resolutely try to ignore the butterflies that form in your stomach when Rafe grabs your hand and leads you away from the party and towards his truck.

Next

Tags: @starkeys-world @nnarellia @iluvanakinskywalker @maybankslover @hazzarules @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @fishingirl12

[delicatebarness]

i cant read your mind | chapter six

Summary: You and Bucky, in a bathroom.

Warnings: Bucky once again has your neck in his hands.

Word Count: 746

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A/N: It's short and doesn't add to the plot.

Tags: @blackhawkfanatic | @cjand10 | @wintrsoldrluvr | @missvelvetsstuff | @buckys-metal-arm | @matchat3a | @shadowzena43 | @torntaltos | @honeydew3064 | @scott-loki-barnes

You paced the bathroom of Sharon’s place in High Town, clutching your phone tightly. How did you forget to silence it? Why didn’t you just send a quick reply? Sighing, you rested your phone on the vanity, meeting your reflection in the mirror. Your hand instinctively rose to feel your neck, still sensing Bucky’s touch. “Hi, Baby,” his voice echoed in your thoughts. You had yearned to hear him utter those words again. 

After reflection, you deeply breathed and splashed your face with cold water. Picking up your phone again, determined to confront the situation with Tim. Your heart raced as you composed a message, wondering how Bucky would feel about you trying to save whatever you and Tim were. After typing and deleting a few drafts, you finally settled on a simple yet, sincere reply. 

Before you were able to press send, the bathroom door creaked open and there stood Bucky. Startled, you quickly pocketed your phone as his gaze fell upon your dress again. You noticed his jaw clench as he looked over your body. 

“Hey,” you greeted him quietly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the guilt running through you.

His gaze snapped back up to yours, his eyes flashing with anger, “Your little boyfriend almost got us all killed,” he accused, his voice was low and deep.

Your defensive instinct kicked in as you squared your shoulders, feeling a surge of frustration. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you retorted, a sharpness in your tone. “And it wasn’t his fault.” 

Bucky’s jaw clenched tighter, “I don’t care what you call him,” he spat. You could feel the tension filling the space between. The weight of unspoken words hung heavy. His eyes narrowed as he began to step closer to you. “Was that him you were just texting?” you could almost sense the venomous jealousy dripping from his words.

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, “What if it was?” you shot back, a hint of defiance laced in your voice as you refused to back down.

“You’re still mine,” he growled, his voice filled with entitlement as he closed the distance between you. His body looming over you a like dark cloud.

Despite the urge to pull him down, you stood your ground and stood straighter as you summoned a bit of courage. “I don’t belong to anyone,” you spat at him with a tone of determination.

His gaze moved down to your neck, his hand traced the area where his touch had previously lingered. His eyes darkened with desire as he admired the metal against your skin. “You’re reckless, Baby Girl,” he murmured, you sucked in a breath as he found his grip around it. “Always getting yourself into trouble, and it drives me crazy.” 

Frustration surged through you. “I can take care of myself,” your voice barely a whisper as you gasped for air between words. 

His grip on your throat tightened as he pulled you closer, his voice husky. “You’re playing with fire.” his breath was hot against your skin. “And, you know it.” His presence, his touch, ignited a familiar desire sending shivers down your spine. 

With a shaky breath, you found yourself being pulled closer to him. The blue in his eyes deepened as they locked onto yours. For a moment, it felt as if the world around you ceased to exist. 

“You’re always so damn stubborn,” he muttered with a hint of admiration in his tone. Your lips were inches away from each other, on the verge of meeting. 

But before they could touch, a knock at the bathroom door jolted you both back into reality. You pulled away from Bucky, a flush crept up your cheeks as you turned to look back in the mirror. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but we don’t have much time,” Sharon’s voice called from the other side, her tone was urgent. 

Looking at Bucky through the mirror, you noticed his jaw clench as he looked toward the door. With a resigned sigh, he reluctantly turned back to you, your eyes meeting in the mirror.

“We’ll finish this later,” he murmured, his voice thick with promise without dropping your gaze. You swallowed hard, and your heart began to race again as you offered him a small nod. 

Bucky turned to leave the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As the door closed behind him, you took another moment to compose yourself before changing into the new outfit Sharon had provided you. 

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[vavoom-sorted-art]

SURPRISE! Of Kings and Kids - Bonus Chapter!

Neither @gaiaseyes451 nor I could get enough of this story, so here we are, wrapping up some loose ends and reflecting a bit about the events that went down, along with 5! juicy illustrations in this chapter! Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

*~*~*

Crowley sighed and softened his tone, beseeching him to understand. “Aziraphale, there wasn’t even a real choice here.” He continued to wear tight circles into the grass. “There was no plausible world where you chose the innocents over the Messiah. Hundreds of lives over, eventually, billions? I know you, making that decision would eat at you,” but I’m a demon, I condemn souls regularly. “Even if it was the right choice by Heaven’s standards, there wasn’t a good choice.” So I took the difficult part, so you wouldn’t have to hold the guilt. “I think this is as close to ineffable as you get.”

“That’s deceitful! You came to me under false pretenses!”

Crowley stopped abruptly. “Oh come on, do you really believe that?” Aziraphale’s fists clenched when Crowley spat the words at him.  

“We’ve been working together –” Crowley paused, fluttering his hands in a vague circular motion between the two of them, looking for the right term for this. “Well, not together but, but with each other-”

“Around each other.” Aziraphale was scowling, but couldn’t help but interject. “Orbiting one another, in a way.”

“Yes, exactly!” Crowley strode toward him, “we’ve been orbiting one another for millennia and you still don’t trust me?” He made no effort to disguise his incredulity. “For Satan’s sake, Aziraphale, I helped you with your Messiah. I got a Satan forsaken commendation for the massacre of children and I haven’t said shit about it to keep it a secret- to-!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s just like you spying on me with the magi. I understand, Aziraphale, I know what I am, but what more can I do to prove you can trust me?” He threw his arms out wide and dropped down onto the boulder, exasperated.

Across from him, Aziraphale seemed to be wrestling with his thoughts. “A commendation? Hell gave you a commendation for the massacre?” Crowley kept silent and listened as Aziraphale stammered half-formed thoughts.  “I know – even Hell must know how you are with children – you would never – why would they….” 

Understanding crept across Aziraphale’s face and he refocused his eyes on Crowley. “They suspected,” he whispered, his anger smothered by the weight of the risk Crowley had taken. 

Crowley made no reply, keeping his eyes stubbornly focused on the fields. Aziraphale sat on the boulder next to him. As Crowley stared at nothing he could feel Aziraphale’s eyes on him, after a few moments a timid question broke the silence.

“Did you use any miracles on the magi, that night?”

Crowley jerked his head to look at Aziraphale. He had expected any number of questions about what Hell had wanted to know, why he’d accepted the commendation, maybe even a bit of sympathy. The question about the magi, about his methods was deeply personal, an unspoken boundary. “...What?”

Aziraphale, to his credit, didn’t look away. “Just answer the question, please.” Crowley narrowed his eyes behind the lenses. Aziraphale had never been present to witness Crowley at work, at least as far as he knew. While he did take a certain amount of pride in his skills he didn’t like talking about them – especially with Aziraphale – but now he didn’t feel he had a choice. Well, here we go.

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Thanks for reading! Signing off!

and thanks to @goodomensafterdark for the support!

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

All I Have Is Yours

Chapter One

Rated Explicit | Warning: Usual period drama

Ao3

Chapter Two

“I could take everything and leave you with nothing. Your only choice would be to work at a brothel.” The prospector's words are cold, sharp as the metal of a newly made pickaxe.

“Would you… Visit me?” There you sit in the carriage-style automobile with Norton beside you, “I would hope you will allow me to still show my love for you.” Shy as you look down and toy with the button on your coat. “For free of course! I don't deserve a cent of your money.”

Norton frowns, his grip on his knee pressing hard enough his blunt nails are digging into the fabric of his new pants. A full suit with a long coat, something he never thought he would ever afford let alone own.

You place your hand on top of his, gloveless so he can feel the warmth of your hand, “I love you, Mr. Campbell. I do not expect it in return but I hope you do not mind my love for you.” 

He stares at the wedding ring on your finger, it matches his own. A simple design, gold, and he weighs on him for he is using it to keep you on a leash. A leash you happily put on yourself as you hand him the control and power he always wanted. No, Norton wants security and not have to fight for scraps every day of his life!

Norton sneers as he hisses out with venom yet it holds no potency, “Pathetic.” His head turns towards the window but his eyes are on you, the sweet smile on your pretty face he can see through the window reflection. You would– Have given him everything.

The paperwork was completed, the marriage certificate was signed, and just recently he got to see your father's company as the owner. It was in vigoring.

The arrival to the manor, his manor now, couldn't happen sooner. From what he read in the newspaper about your father, he built this place in honor of your mother who passed after your birth. The article says he put his ‘blood, sweat, and tears’ into this place but Norton has seen your father’s hands. That man has never seen a day of hard labor in his life.

The driver stops in front of the entrance to first let you out then Notorn, a bow follows and they return to the car to park in the back. You stand beside your husband, hand nervous to hold his.

A sharp whistle comes from those no longer chapped lips, “All this is mine.” Greed.

“I do hope you like it here.” You stay following him to the door where the butler opens it and slightly bows as he delivers a form greeting and welcome.

Then your husband slams the door on you, right in front of your face. 

“Do not let that waste of space in!” He ordered the butler as he took off his coat and tossed it to the maid who stood there utterly shocked and holding his coat in her waiting arms.

There is silence as he stands there with his fist clenching and unclenching, a rage that spilled threats to take him. He breathes in and out, slowly as he counts. His right hand touches his left hand where he feels your lingering warmth, those pretty eyes of yours that easily express your love for him.

The prospector has won, he has everything that bastard owned all in his name, he even has you as an insult to injury. You, pretty you, this wedding ring is based on a drawing you made and hoped he liked before commissioning it to be crafted.

“Damn it.” Hating himself at the moment, his head turning slightly at the door is so brutally closed on you with the adding insult of ordering the butler to not open it for you. Worse is there is no knock from you or so much as a peep of distress. Self-punishment? Were you expecting him to be a cruel husband? One who would give you a cold shoulder and an even colder bed? Norton’s hands clinched into fists has he hated the idea of proving such a thing right, would it not be better if he had you fonding over him while your father rolled in his grave? Worse is when you have his children! Your father’s name will die with him and the Campbell name will takeover everything all things the bastard made.

You stood there for a while, it is cold out here too, but you waited. Then you sit down at the entrance and look up at the clouds, you pretend each cloud has a story. Childish, maybe, but you lived a sheltered life and your only form of freedom was gazing upon the cloud outside of rooms you often lingered in.

A cold wind blows, the first snowfall starts and you smile wide as you stand up with your hands open to catch the snowflakes.

The door opened, the light limited by the tall body blocking it, “Get inside.” When you heard him, you jumped a bit. He hates that, which makes him feel bad even though he clings to his hatred. It was easy when he just saw your father; when he was digging through dirt. Now he finds himself both given power and control willingly by the silver spoon-fed child of that asshole.

“Thank you!” Polite. He wants to make you cry. “Tsk.” Ignoring how you are shivering yet not moving after from the door once inside. “Well! Go get warmed up.” He moves to the side letting you pass him, he can smell the perfume you wore today and see the snowflakes that got caught in your hair. So beautiful and his.

“Okay.” You leave to go upstairs.

The butler is giving him a nasty look.

Norton avoids you the rest of the day until dinner is served in the dining area. A dining area, the type he had seen only once when he was looking through a window of a house when he was cold and alone a New Year’s Day. A party as everyone celebrated… He wished he threw that brick at that damn window to this day.

As the former miner sits here with you at the opposite end of the fairly wide table, the dinner is prepared in a lovely display. It looks gluttonous how much there is for just the two of you— He doesn't know where to start so he looks to you only to see you are served something different.

The servants give you soup after seeing you more than once sniffling and coughing. Oh… He glances away silently cursing himself knowing what he did likely has gotten sick.

“(Name),” He cannot help the pain in his chest when you gaze upon him like he is the most beloved creature you have ever seen. “...” Looking away embarrassed.

“I understand.” You say.

“No, you don’t.” He says with a bitter laugh, “Your pops made sure you would not have to understand.”

This is true, your father kept you safe, clothed, fed, and loved; though his love could be overbearing and controlling. Your life was schooled, and mapped out, and you had no say in the changes and decisions made. It was only after his death did you make your first choice. In the hospital you found Norton there covered in bandages and casks, there you told him your proposal.

“Do you like it?” Watching him at first take cautious bites then becoming ravenous. Grabbing the plates, and though he did his best to have table manners, he ate a grand portion of the food made.

He is about to speak but stops himself the second he does, Norton nods his head as swallows the food in his mouth, “Not bad.”

You chuckle at his words.

[beskarandblasters]

New York or Nowhere

Part three: Dicked Down at the Deli

Bodega Owner!Joel Miller x F!Reader

New York or Nowhere Masterlist

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author's note: Okay two things: 1. I think this is some of my favorite smut I’ve ever written?!?!? 😛 and 2. In part one I included a sentence about how the reader has lived in Manhattan her whole life but I changed it to the reader being from Long Island instead. Just bringing that up because it gets mentioned again! It's really not that significant to the story but I didn't want y'all to read this and notice a plot hole/continuity error.

Chapter summary: You find yourself reeling at the fact that Joel gave you a fake number so you decide to go out with your friends. After a tense moment at the bar you leave to go confront Joel which turns into something else pretty quickly.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, no outbreak, canon divergent, drinking, argument between friends, Jessica being ignorant af, Joel being a lil creep, age gap (unspecified), making out, groping, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, sugar, good girl, pretty girl, dirty girl 😵‍💫), slight degradation, dub con bc reader is drunk, nipple play, fingering, oral sex (F receiving), semi public sex (I think??), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, pull out method, light choking, no use of y/n

You spend the next few days seething; at Joel for giving you a fake number but also at yourself for buying into his bullshit. You thought you actually had something with him, or at least the start of something. What did he gain from flirting with you and giving you a fake number? 

And the worst part is you’re having sex dreams about him; about him fucking you over the check out counter… or pressed up against the window. You imagine he has a big cock and that he’s talented with his hands. You think how big his hands are and imagine how they would feel roaming your body. Too bad it’s not looking like you’re getting that anytime soon. 

The next weekend rolls around and you and your friends are at your apartment, getting ready for a night out at a rooftop bar called Night of Joy in your neighborhood. You get ready at your apartment together, all of you doing your hair and makeup together. You, Jessica and Charlotte are in your best clubbing dresses. And Nathaniel in black jeans and a button down shirt with the first few buttons at the top undone. They can sense something is off with you but no one brings themselves to question it. 

“After we’re done at the bar tonight can we go back to that deli?” you ask. 

Charlotte stops putting on her makeup and gives you a knowing look in the reflection of the bathroom mirror but chooses not to say anything. Nathaniel, however, comes right out and says, “Why? So you can see that creepy old guy again?”

“EW!” Jessica calls from across your apartment. 

“What do you mean ew?!” you ask, looking at your friends.

“Girl, he’s ug,” Jessica says.

“He’s not terrible looking… but he’s old and creepy,” Nathaniel adds.

Charlotte keeps her gaze on you as she stays by the bathroom mirror, the knowing look never leaving her face and never saying a word.

“Fine, I’ll go by myself,” you shrug. 

“Come on, we can’t let her go alone, Jess,” Charlotte pleads. 

“Yes, we can. It’s just a bodega. She’ll be fine,” Jessica says, folding her arms.

“We established he’s a creep and you’re gonna let her go alone?” Nathaniel asks.

“I’ll go with you,” Charlotte says, offering you a reassuring smile. 

“Thanks, Char,” you respond before going back to getting ready, feeling annoyed at Jessica. Out of all your friends, she’s always the one who goes against you about literally anything. You feel your frustration bubble up but you decide to ignore it for the sake of having a good night. 

The four of you leave and walk to Night of Joy together. Charlotte and Nathaniel try too hard to break the tension between you and Jessica, talking about anything and everything to fill the silence. You play along a little, feeding into their small talk but Jessica isn’t having any of it. As if you did something wrong by having a crush on the bodega man… The same bodega man who gave you a fake number. Whatever, you’re gonna drink to forget your feelings anyway. Maybe if you stop there tonight you’ll have enough liquid confidence to confront him about it. 

You arrive at bar and head up to the roof. And to your absolute fucking delight there’s a frozen margarita station. You make the mental decision to get plastered here, head over to Beldro’s after to confront Joel, and wipe that stupid fucking smirk off his face.

You sit at a table near the edge of the roof with your friends, each of you sipping your margarita with an uncomfortable, palpable tension weighing heavily on everyone. Leave it to Jessica to ruin a night out. You look out into the distance at the view from the roof, scanning the neighborhood. You’re still somewhat new to this area. You’re from New York, yes, but really… Long Island. You came to the city a lot growing up and you feel like a “true New Yorker” but to Jessica… you’re really not. You met your friends at your new job at a PR firm and all of them grew up here besides you. And while Charlotte and Nathaniel are genuinely good friends to you, Jessica isn’t, to say the least. She’s your classic New York elitist, looking down on anyone who isn’t already from here. 

You’re lost in thought looking at the view and that’s when you notice Beldro’s a few blocks down, just barely in view. But you can’t miss those bright green awnings. The conversation starts to pick up between your friends. And though you can’t see it, Jessica notices you’re not paying attention and follows your gaze. 

“Are you gonna engage with your friends or what?” Jessica asks. 

You’re snapped from your thoughts and you turn back to your friends. Jessica shoots daggers with her glare, like she can see right into your mind and what you’re thinking about.

“So… how’s your new beau?”

“My new what?”

“Your little creep.”

“There’s literally nothing there?”

“Your behavior seems to indicate otherwise,” she says. Her words cut like a knife, making you feel guilty just for having a simple crush. 

“Why do you care so much?” your voice quivering just a bit. You shouldn’t be afraid to stand up for yourself but she makes you feel small.

“No friend of mine is going to be a thing with a New York transplant.”

“C’mon, Jess. That’s like xenophobic,” Nathaniel drunkenly adds. 

“Okay that’s a bit of a stretch but this is still ridiculous. And you say transplant like it’s a bad thing? You know I’m a New York transplant, right?” you respond, your anger and disbelief overshadowing any shred of self consciousness you had before. 

“Yeah but you’re still from here. He’s some country bumpkin who thinks he can make it here.”

“You sound insane right now. Anyone can move to New York, Jessica. I think you forget that this city is literally made up of immigrants.”

“It doesn’t mean you have to associate with one.”

“It’s hard to live in New York and not associate with an immigrant. And you know what, I’m done with this conversation. I’m just trying to have a good time and for your information I just wanna go back to that deli for the cat,” you respond angrily, looking just to truly end this once and for all. 

That seems to shut her up for now and she resigns to drinking her margarita before going up for another. 

“She can get… a little out of control,” Nathaniel says after she leaves.

“That’s one way to put it,” you mumble. 

The four of you drink together with the tension still hanging heavy in the air. You feel bad for Charlotte and Nathaniel, absolute angels for humans who are just trying to keep the peace. You get up for a second round. And then a third round. You’re just a liiittle bit drunk and frankly you don’t want to be here anymore. You have all the liquid courage you need to head straight to Beldro’s and to confront that stupid asshole. But you also can’t deny how much you want him. If there was a word for a mix between angry and horny, that would be you right now. 

“I think I’m all set,” you say to your friends. 

“Yeah, me too,” Charlotte says. 

Nathaniel downs his drink and rises from his chair. But Jessica sits at the table with arm folded and a scowl on her face. 

“I never said I was ready to leave,” she says stiffly. 

You, Charlotte and Nathaniel freeze, unsure of what to do. The three of you exchange glances awkwardly before Jessica continues.  

“Were you guys really just gonna leave me alone here?!”

“No? We just thought we were all done?” you say.

“Definitely not,” Jessica says, finishing her drink and getting up for another. She walks back to the margarita station and Nathaniel turns to you. 

“You guys go. I’ll stay with bitty,” he says. 

“Are you sure?” you ask but he waves you off. 

“Go! Be safe. Go get your creepy old man,” he finishes with a wink. 

You and Charlotte wave goodbye before heading down the stairs. As soon as you step out onto the street she asks you, “Do you want me to walk you to that deli?”

“Sure,” you reply. She nods and you both walk silently in the direction of Beldro’s. You’re grateful for her support and her friendship even though you know she doesn’t understand your attraction to Joel. 

As you walk to Beldro’s the familiar green awnings and orange exterior get closer and closer. The butterflies form in your stomach in anticipation. The nerves are kicking in and you do your best to bury them down. The whole point of getting plastered was to come here and confront Joel, not to chicken out at the last second. You stop in front of the door and turn to Charlotte. 

“Thanks for walking with me but I think I got it from here.”

“You sure?”

You nod and she pulls out her phone to order an Uber. 

“Okay but call me if you need anything,” she says. 

“I’ll be fine! But text me when you get home,” you say before waving goodbye and entering through the door. 

You see Joel at his usual spot behind the counter, dressed in jeans, a light gray t-shirt that hugs his biceps tightly, and the classic name tag. This time he’s talking to someone; a man. It could just be a customer but it’s a conversation like he already knows this person. Joel makes brief eye contact with you before averting his gaze and continuing his conversation. You walk up and down the few aisles in the store, killing time and waiting for Joel to be done. After what feels like the tenth time walking past the potato chips you hear, “See ya later, Bill” followed by the sound of the door opening and closing. 

You turn at the end of the aisle you’re in and march right up to the counter, pulling out your phone and opening the failed text thread with Joel. 

“Care to explain this??” you say, holding out your phone in front of his face. 

He blinks a few times and says, “Hang on, sugar. I can’t read this when you’re holding the phone like that,” taking it in his hand. 

“Yeah no I still can’t read this, sweetheart. Let me get my glasses.”

He sets the phone down on the counter and grabs his glasses (rectangular lenses, black metal frame) from the shelf underneath the cash register before putting them on and bringing the phone by his face again. You expect for him to come up with some bullshit excuse as to why he gave you a fake number but instead he starts… laughing?!

“And you’re laughing because??” you say, folding your arms. 

“Because I have a landline, sugar. I really meant it when I said you had to call me,” he says, handing your phone back and putting his glasses away. 

Boy do you feel stupid right now. Joel’s gotta be in fifties and you really thought he would be an avid texter. You don’t say anything, feeling too embarrassed to say another word. But Joel reads the expression on your face and says, “Don’t worry about it, sugar. You’re cute when you’re fired up anyway.”

“Oh really?” you ask, hoping to turn this around. 

“Mhm. And I saw what your text said. You wanted to take me up on my offer?” he says, paired with a shit-eating grin. 

“I did,” you say slyly, resting your elbows on the counter. 

“Did?” he asks, leaning forward and bending down a little.  

His face is only inches away from yours. You look into his eyes before scanning the rest of his face. His brown eyes gaze into yours and his glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose. His facial hair, slightly graying, peppers his face in patches. His warm breath tickles your face and before you know it you’re inching forward even more, really depending on that liquid courage right now. His hand moves to the back of your neck and he closes the gap for you, pulling your lips into his. The kiss is sort of awkward at first, with both of you leaning over the counter and your slight height differences. He tastes like cigarettes and fireball; exactly what you thought he'd taste like. 

You pull back and ask, “Fireball?”

“That would be cinnamon for those of us who aren’t alcoholics.”

“Hey! I’m not an alcoholic!!”

“You have come into my store completely shitfaced two times in one week now,” he deadpans. 

“Hey come on, shitfaced is a bit of an exaggeration. What about tipsy?”

“Now you’re being too generous with yourself there, sugar,” he chuckles before pulling you in for another kiss. 

The kiss grows more passionate and now you wish this stupid counter wasn’t in between you two. You need his body against yours as soon as possible. You pull away again and ask, “Shouldn’t we stop? I mean, what if someone comes in…”

“Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart,” he says,

He moves out from behind the counter and walks past you, flipping the “We’re Open!” sign on the door to say “Sorry, We’re Closed.”

“Are we going somewhere?” you ask, watching him move from the door to the windows. He doesn’t say anything and starts closing the blinds.

“Uhh what are you-”

“You said you didn’t want anyone to come in,” he says, pulling a key out of his pocket and locking the door. 

“And you do?”

He turns around, walks back to you and says, “I wouldn’t mind people watching,” with a smirk.

“Watching what?” you ask as he grabs your hand and leads you behind the counter. 

“Watching me fuck you over the counter,” he replies grabbing your waist. 

“On the same counter you make sandwiches on?”

“Mhm, I’ll give ya one with extra meat,” moving one hand to the hem of your dress, slowly sliding it up. 

You snort a little bit prompting him to say, “You can laugh all you want but I know that did something for ya,” while sliding his hand fully under the skirt of your dress. You shudder at his touch as his fingers tug at the seam of your underwear. He’s right, though. You’re already wet, leaving a small patch of the fabric damp. You lean back against the counter and spread your legs slightly, silently asking for more. You lean back against the edge of the counter and he follows you, planting kisses along your neck and collarbone. His warm breath tickles your neck as he nips at your soft skin, inhaling your enticing scent and driving him crazy. You rest your elbows on the counter behind you and throw your head back in pleasure, exposing more of your neck for him. He trails his tongue from the shell of your ear down your neck and to your collarbone, stopping at top of the bodice of your dress. He pulls the strap of your dress down shoulder, keeping his other hand in between your thighs and teasing your entrance. He tugs at the top of your dress exposing one of your breasts, replacing his lips on your skin and running his tongue over your nipple. He takes it in his mouth and sucks it lightly, finishing by taking it in between his teeth and biting it softly. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan as he releases your nipple with a pop. 

“You want more, sugar?” he says against the curve of your breast. 

“P-please,” you whimper. 

“Begging for me? Good girl,” he chuckles. You whine at the praise and arch your back, pushing your breast into his face more. 

“Up,” he murmurs into your skin. He moves his hands to your waist and supports you as you hop up onto the counter. He hooks his fingers around your underwear and slides them off before dropping to his knees and spreading your thighs apart. He pauses for a moment and marvels at how wet you are already. 

“Oh shit you’re fucking soaked; soaked by the thought of taking this old man’s cock, huh?”

“Yes, Joel, please. Fuck,” you moan, desperate for his cock, his mouth, his fingers– anything. He brings his face closer to your cunt and exhales, sending a shiver through you. He flicks his tongue around your clit in short motions, not giving you the full thing. 

“Please, I can’t take it anymore,” you practically cry out, suddenly feeling self conscious that someone on the street can hear you. 

“Aw, don’t cry, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss on your inner thigh before sucking your clit. You reach between your legs and run your fingers through his hair, tugging on it when he suck’s your clit extra hard. He brings a hand up to your belly, pushing you lightly and prompting you to lay down completely. You oblige and rest your back on the counter as he hooks his arms around your thighs, pulling your cunt taught against his face. He brings his face a tad lower so you can grind your clit against his nose as he tongue-fucks your cunt, lapping up every last drop of wetness you produced thanks to him. You grind harder against him, almost suffocating him but in return he hums happily against you. He pulls away for a second to bring his fingers to lips, licking them and pushing two inside you with no warning. His mouth moves back to his clit, sucking hard as he fingers you. You’re teetering on the edge of orgasm, the muscles in your core tensing up in anticipation of a big release. With one last come here motion of his fingers you’re coming against his hand and face, your cunt clenching and relaxing around him sporadically as you ride out your high. You feel the wetness pooling around you so you sit up quickly, anxious to see the mess you just made. 

“Well look at that. You soaked my counter, pretty girl,” Joel says, face slick with your wetness just like your thighs and the counter beneath you. 

“S-sorry,” you whisper, catching your breath. 

“Don’t be sorry, sugar. Tastes real fuckin’ good,” he says before licking one more stripe up your cunt. You gasp at the sudden contact again and moan, ready to take his cock already. He rises and says, “Be a good girl and bend over for me.”

You stumble to your feet and he grabs your hips, spinning you around so you bend over the counter. You stand on your tiptoes and arch your back, sticking your ass up for him. He grinds against you, keeping his hands on your waist. You feel his rock hard bulge rub against you so you push yourself back into him, shaking your ass against his cock.

“You feel that, sugar? Look what you do to me.”

“I need it inside me. Now,” you beg. 

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna take real good care of ya,” he says, unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock out. He pulls up your skirt above your waist and brings a hand to your cunt. You feel his fingers gather some of your wetness, spreading it from the tip of his cock to the base. He grabs your hips and pushes into you slowly, allowing you time to adjust to his size. You wish you got to see it before he fucked you because you know it’s huge judging by the way it’s expanding your walls. He pulls you into him, burying his cock deep into your cunt with each thrust. One hand moves to your breast, pinching your nipple into a stiff peak between his fingertips. The other hand moves to your throat and forces you upright against him. 

“You take my cock so good, you little slut,” he purrs into your ear. 

You’re too cock drunk to form a coherent response, just whining back to him. 

“You think you can come into my store in a skimpy little dress and act up without me fucking the shit out of you after,” he chuckles, pinching your nipple his finger on the last word. 

“It’s so good, Joel. So deep,” you cry out, feeling tears spring in the corners of your eyes. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Be a good girl and take. my. fucking. cock,” he slays, drawing back and slamming his hips into you after every word. 

You feel yourself at the brink of orgasm in no time. Stars form in your vision as he fucks the shit out of you, keeping his grip on your neck and nipple tight as he plows you. Your cunt pulsates around him as you arrive at your final orgasm for the night, your knees buckling underneath you due to the sheer force of you coming. Joel pulls out when he feels your orgasm come to an end and paints your lower back and ass in his cum. 

“Good fucking girl,” he says, planting a kiss on the top of your head. Your cheeks go hot at his praise. 

You both stay there for a moment before he slaps your ass and says, “Hang on. Don’t move.”

You hear him tear off a sheet from a roll of paper towels and feel it wipe up the cum on your back and ass. You stand up straight and smooth your skirt back down, also fixing the top of your dress. You turn and get a look at him in his post sex haze. To your chagrin his cock is already put away but you notice that his shirt has more sweat stains than usual and his forehead is shiny. That old man fucked you good. 

Before either of you can say anything, you hear Ellie come scurrying in from the back. 

“Ellie!” you say, bending down to pet her, “I was wondering where you were.”

“You wanna take her home tonight?” he says, looking down at you. 

“Really?!” you ask in shock. 

“Mhm. Let me get her carrier,” he says, walking to the back. 

“Carrier?! And you said she wasn’t your cat…” you tease. 

“Whatever,” he says, returning back with the carrier, “Just bring her back in the morning.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else I’ll have to punish you again.”

“Oh, okay. So it looks like I’m keeping her forever I guess.”

“You’re funny,” he says, bending down and scoops Ellie into the carrier, “But I’m sure you’ll come in here and do something stupid and I’ll have to punish you again.”

You scoff in response. 

“Come on, you know it’s true.”

“Yeah whatever,” you say, grabbing a pad and pen on the counter. You write down your name and phone number since you just realized he did all this with you without even knowing your name. You trade the piece of paper with him as he hands you Ellie. 

“That’s my phone number and my name, ya know since… you ate me out and fucked me all without knowing my name… Do you do this with all of your customers?” you tease. 

“Just on Friday nights,” he shrugs, “But are you okay getting home?” he asks, opening the cash register to count out the drawer for the night. 

“I’ll be fine.”

“Alright well have fun at your little sleepover, sugar,” he says. 

You walk to the door with Ellie in hand and before you leave he says, “Oh and by the way, I told ya you’d get extra meat.”

“You know you’re just so funny,” you say sarcastically, waving goodbye and leaving through the door. 

You walk home and think about how you really won tonight. Between getting dicked down at the deli and a sleepover with the cat, how could it get any better than this?

Banners + dividers by cafekitsune

End note: Don’t worry he disinfected the counter after 🫣

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[nspired1fanfiction]

Commission for Ichor & Pomegranate

Art by MadBedlam , Fanfic Art

Chapter 3:

"Fortunately, with Marcia's case still being an active investigation, we've been able to keep the church closed. Only the forensic investigator has been in and out of the building since the initial crews came in." He answered as he handed her the crime scene investigation kit. "If we find the pinecone, I'll let you bag it. I want you to make your assessments like you have been."

"Yes, sir," Jill murmured while she studied the contents of the kit before closing it back up.

The double doors to the church were locked and she watched Wesker pull out a set of keys from his pocket before he paused and glanced down at her.

"Did you bring your tension wrenches?" he asked with another cock of his head.

With her mouth dropping open slightly, "Sir, that's a crime." When his eyebrows went up, she quirked her lips, patted a pouch on her belt, and continued, "Of course I did. May I?"

"You may not, Valentine," his tone was colored with amusement when he put the key in the door and pushed it open. "I just wanted to be certain that my little B&E Specialist was adequately prepared."

She smiled at his back from his usage of her previous taunt back in the car and followed him through the threshold.

The tall chandelier hung a good ten feet from the vaulted ceiling and was bright enough to light the rich textures of the following room.

"Beautiful," Jill breathed into the muted atmosphere of the Nave.

Her captain shifted beside her, but he made no comment on the scenery and was instead looking toward a taped off area to the right.

She followed behind him again as he led her down the row of dark walnut pews. Their steps were muffled on the royal red runner carpet. The surrounding floor was made of tile; the polished surface reflected the many angles of the church as they moved.

"The nave, the main room in churches, were always my favorite," she spoke aloud while she followed. "The design was adapted by the early Christian builders from the Roman hall of justice, the basilica. The nave of the early Christian basilica is generally lighted by a row of windows near the ceiling, the clerestory." She pointed even though he wasn't looking back at her.

"You seem to have a continuous religious theme about you. A passion you follow through on Sundays perhaps?" her captain responded after a moment.

They both came to a stop where the crime scene tape marked the beginning of the tracking site.

"No." she winced when her response came out somewhat harshly. "Frankly, I find the levels of fanaticism... worrying; the spoken word of gospel calls for a lot of unnecessary violence. I've seen groups of people cling to some atrocious things in the name of God. Whether I believe or not is my secret, but I do not attend church."

"Yet, you find yourself clinging to the written word of a polytheistic religion." He lifted the tape and motioned for her to step through.

"And what of you, captain? Do you prefer the stories of the gods, one god, or none at all?" She held the tape for him while he stepped through next.

"I believe in knowing them all."

Jill tilted her head up at him and was somewhat pleased for a little more detail, even if it was rather vague.

"For what purpose?" she asked curiously.

"Stories have always been man's easiest weapon." He removed his glasses and set them carefully into his breast pouch on his vest before jutting his chin toward the stained-glass window on their right. "That was the original purpose for windows like these. To teach the gospel to those who couldn't read. What better power than to teach belief, Valentine?"

Grabbing the CSI kit from his hand, Jill pondered the thought while she cracked open the box and handed him gloves before she carefully donned her own.

The silence rang out and Jill wasn't sure he expected an answer from her. He turned from her then and began to move to where they had noted the pinecone in the picture that hung over to their right.

Stooping low, she watched his tall form lower to a crouch as he glanced beneath the pew in the front portion of the corner space.

"You'll need to grab it from your side; it's still here. Are you capable of bagging this on your own?"

Jill glanced over to see him holding out the tweezers to her. Once more, she met his challenging stare before her gloved fingers wrapped around the tweezers and pulled the instrument from him.

"I haven't let you down yet," she murmured and turned for the task.

"Indeed," he said quietly, now behind her when she carefully knelt on her side of the pew and gazed under the wood.

[squintyeyedjoel]

Through Your Eyes | Part 3 - In the Blink of an Eye (Joel x Reader)

A/N: So this is the rest of what was chapter 2, but I broke it up to keep chapter 2 shorter, and good thing, too, because I ended up adding a lot more. 🤣 Also, I know in canon the garage is a separate building, and I have a plan for that, so bear with me, please.

I do not own The Last of Us or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Oooo, this one’s a doozy as well, but in a different way than the last one. So many things. (Let me know if I miss anything.) 😮‍💨 Some more original characters, lots of canon violence and swearing, (this one is a big one. Like a lot. There’s a hefty amount of swearing.) mention of attempted sexual assault without detail, Reader is a badass. We round it all out with obscene amounts of fluff and humor between it all, sweet moments, and just soft things. It’s me. I can’t not. No use of Y/N.

Word count: 13,464

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex for reading over this however many times it’s been now and fangirling over it when I was having my down moments. You’re the reason this still exists.

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Xxx

The next morning, your little band of six was up with the sun and making sure the horses were ready. Starting out with over fifteen, this smaller party felt like a speck of dust in the wind compared to the massive herd you were before.

Joel had introduced you to the remaining members, people he personally trusted, which from your brief time with him, you knew meant a lot. 

First was an older man named Jack, closer to Joel’s age with graying hair and a laugh that was infectious. He was a whisperer when it came to the horses. Well, any animal, really. You could have sworn you saw a butterfly land on his fingertip when no one was looking earlier this morning. 

He looked over both shoulders so slightly you almost missed it, but he did a double take when he caught your eye, a small smile spreading up one side of his face as you both watched the small winged creature take flight once again. Jack held his index finger it had been perched on up to his lips in a bid for your silence, to which you only pressed your lips firmly together and gave a single stilted nod to try not to draw attention toward either of you.

It didn’t work. 

“What’re you doing?” Joel asked from your right, drawing out the words skeptically to match the raise of his eyebrows in question. 

“Nothing,” you offered quickly, fastening your backpack closed and gathering the last of your gear before heading over toward your horse. Once your back was to him, you grimaced. That was much too fast to be convincing.

“Uh-huh. Sure,” he drawled sarcastically, mumbling something under his breath when you didn’t acknowledge him. Something along the lines of, “She ‘nd Ellie’ll be the death’f me.”

It was Jack’s whiskey that had helped Jane’s wound yesterday. He hadn’t hesitated offering his little hip flask out of a secret pocket on the inside of his jacket as soon as he saw the state she was in.

A man pulled you gently off to the side before you could make it over to Jane, Joel following quickly after you less than a step behind. 

You didn’t know his name, just that he seemed trustworthy, and slightly tortured. His eyes held a closed off level of pain you’d seen all too often since outbreak day, once or twice in your own reflection, and you knew not to judge how a man chose to fight his demons. 

So it was no surprise to you when he offered the stainless steel little demon chaser he obviously kept with him at all times, primed and ready. The liquid sloshed a little inside as he quickly tugged it from his hidden pocket. It was dented in a few places, worn and obviously loved. It had seen better days, but that was kind of the point…. It saw “better” days in order to help you see some better days yourself. 

Or to help you sleep through them. 

Whichever helped most.

It was the apocalypse. 

Who were you to judge?

“Take it,” the man said, holding it out, his hand shaking slightly as he gripped the lifeline with just the tips of his fingers in a hesitant extension. “She needs it more’n I do.”

“Y’sure?” Joel asked, as you eyed the tremble of the man’s fingers. “Withdrawal is no joke, Jack.”

The man who you now knew as Jack’s features curled up in some sort of shame, then determination. He bounced the flask slightly in a renewed offer toward the two of you, his extended hand more firm as he worked hard to calm the tremors. “Neither is being stabbed. What she’s going through is worse than a few uncomfortable nights for me. I’ll survive.” Try as he might, the flask started to vibrate slightly, and he looked down at it like it had betrayed him.

And in a way, you guessed it had.

Reaching out to gently cradle his hand in both of yours, the tremors seemed to still for a moment. Holding his gaze, you took the flask from his grasp, not missing the way his grip tightened just a little before releasing it. 

Withdrawing his hand back to his side after a delayed moment as if he had been shocked by some electric current, curling it into a tight fist and quickly stuffing it deep into his jacket pocket, Jack smiled brightly as he looked between the two of you. “Jus’ don’t shoot me when something crawls up my ass in a few days, Joel.”

“No promises,” the elder Miller grunted with a small grin, turning and ushering you toward Jane to make sure no one else interrupted you along the way.

Next was a younger man named Liam, who looked to be around Will’s age. Despite being new to patrols or going on runs and all they would entail, he was eager to learn and an excellent shot. 

Turns out he’d also come from Texas, though was much younger when everything had happened, probably only twelve or fourteen years old on outbreak day, so you assumed he and Joel hadn’t crossed paths until later, somewhere closer to Jackson. 

And you couldn’t help but feel like maybe Joel was playing a little bit of a favoritism card for his home state, allowing the much younger newbie to tag along with all the other more experienced travelers when he still had so much yet to learn. (You couldn’t blame him if he was. It was yours, too, after all.) 

It wasn’t until you heard Liam mention how his family had worked for Joel’s contracting company ‘once upon a time’ - to which Joel had walked past grumbling something resembling, ‘I ain’t that old’ - that things started making a little more sense.

Less of the home field advantage, and more of the home grown kind. 

It was becoming clear that Joel was a family man, although to be honest, that was obvious from the start. What you were coming to see was that family wasn’t all just blood. 

And that was a decision he made long before the apocalypse. 

That was just Joel Miller. 

That was his DNA. 

If you found yourself in his fold, you’d be okay. 

Taken care of. 

Even when the world went to shit and he ran into your kid thousands of miles away across the country when everyone was fighting against infected…. 

That boy would have a home.

You watched with a smile as Joel helped Liam adjust something on his rifle, then braced it on his shoulder and looked through the sights down the barrel with one eye squinted shut, before lowering the weapon and handing it back to the younger man. 

Liam copied Joel before pulling away only a step to meet the elder’s gaze, and they shared some quiet words. Some muttered joke drifted to you about old eyes before Joel lightly cuffed him along the back of the head with a smirk and a smartass as he turned to leave, Liam grinning with a chuckle as he turned and secured his rifle to the side of his mount.

With your own grin pulling up your features, you turned slowly and surveyed the rest of the group as you stroked your horse's mane. “I think we may just make it, old girl,” you mused quietly, turning a skeptical eye on your mare when she chuffed at you. Rolling your eyes, you looked back to the group, and mumbled under your breath, “If Joel were a horse…. You’d be it, darlin’.”

The last newcomer to you was a woman named Kate, about your age, and a walking encyclopedia of every living thing in the forest. What you could eat, what you couldn’t, what was medicinal, what was flammable…. Before the outbreak she had been a nurse, and her skills were invaluable to have around on an excursion like this. 

She had offered to help with Jane, but Will only let her supervise. No one could pull him away from the wounded seamstress. Under any other circumstance you would find it endearing, but at that particular moment, you found it anything but.

You tried to speak calmly, but the man was trying your last nerve. “Will, she knows what she’s doing. Let her help.”

He lifted his eyes to look at you from where he knelt on one knee on the other side of Jane, and you swore you saw tears brimming in them. If he blinked, you were pretty sure they would fall. But he hadn’t blinked as long as you’d been looking at him, which struck you like a bolt of lightning when you realized how long that had been. It was almost as if he was afraid to close his eyes. Like if he did, she would be gone when he opened them again…. Even if only for a second. 

“I’m not moving.” He pulled his gaze higher to meet the sympathetic face of Kate. “But she can supervise.”

You began to argue again, but Kate put a hand on your shoulder. “That’s fine. I can do that.” Her voice was soft and soothing. “Let me go grab my kit, and I’ll walk you through it, Will.”

He swallowed roughly and nodded once, not looking directly at her, his eyes falling back down to look at Jane who hadn’t woken up since she’d passed out at the raider camp.

“You’re lucky she’s unconscious, or else she’d be giving you an earful right now,” you sighed, letting your weight slump back onto your seat. Resting your forearms on your bent knees, you studied Will cautiously as your head lolled to the right with a tired huff.

“I’d gladly take that over this silence right now,” Will said so quietly, you almost missed it. He held one of her hands in his own, so fiercely and yet cradling it so delicately, you couldn’t even begin to hope to describe it should you have to. 

He maneuvered so her head was in his lap, and he peered down at her with a look you thought had died off on outbreak day. Something so tender, so soft, contented…. 

Come to think of it, you’d seen it on Joel a few times, usually when he was looking at Ellie, or Tommy, though the last was short lived. 

Occasionally when he would look down at his watch, though that fluctuated between pain and this sense of peace and contentment. 

Almost always when he was in his shop, tool in hand and project on the table.

And sometimes, when he thought you weren’t looking…. Like right now…. He had this look when he’d steal a glance at you.

Stealing your eyes over Will’s shoulder, you met the eyes of your current housemate, and instead of darting away like they usually did, he held your stare as he absently tended to his horse’s tack. 

“It’s weird to see her so quiet….”

Will’s soft words pulled you back to the matter at hand. And you could have sworn you saw Joel grin in your peripherals.

“You’re gonna wish you never said that,” Jane mumbled, groaning as she rolled her head to the side, her face screwed up in pain. “Once I start going, I don’t stop.”

You grinned. “It’s true. She doesn’t have an off button.”

Jane reached out and whacked your arm. “Be nice to me. I’m dying.”

“No, you’re not,” Will said around his broad grin, maneuvering her head off of him so he could get beside her for a better view. The smile he gave her then was nothing short of brilliant. “Not if I can help it.”

Speaking of….

“Joel? Where’s Will?”

He smirked with a gentle shake of his head. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.” Gripping the reins of his horse, he clicked the side of his mouth quietly as he got near the creature's head, stroking it softly with one hand as the horse nickered at him. 

You led your horse over toward him, reins pulled tight as the giant, powerful, dapple gray wonder named Delilah balked, digging into the earth and tossing her head side to side with a discontented snort. 

She’s as stubborn as he is. Fact, I’m pretty sure they planned this. Conspired and everything. 

“I plotted nothing with your horse,” Joel mused quietly, amusement heavy in his tone as you realized you said the last part out loud. “Only thing Delilah and I conspire ‘bout are sugar cubes n’apples.” He shrugged. “There’s the odd carrot talk here n’there, but….”

Joel sighed before you even really got moving, as if he were anticipating the whole thing. His head tossed back as he peered up at the sky as if to ask why.

Dropping the reins you closed the last few feet between you and Joel, arms coming to cross over your chest once you landed behind him. “Well, I’m gonna.”

Joel sighed again, resting his head against his horse’s, who let out a soft contented bray, before pulling back to look at you. “Will’s okay,” he said softly. “Now, leave it alone.”

“How do you know?” You swiveled to follow him as he walked over to gather your horse’s reins, shushing the large mare until she, too, was nickering at him, then he led her back over to you. 

Joel shrugged, pulling his face tight in amusement as he placed the horse’s tack back in your hands. “Jus’ do.”

“If you don’t tell me….”

He mounted his horse with a groan. “I patrol with the man. I just know his little quirks, okay?” Looking down at you from atop his mount, Joel’s expression was unreadable as his horse stepped back and forth, eager to get going. He reached out to pat the back of the large chestnut’s head, muttering calming words. “Shhhh…. Calm down, Old Beardy….”

“Your horse's name is-” 

“He’s not in trouble…. Yet,” Joel cut you off, sitting up abruptly, slightly wide eyed on the back of Old Beardy. “But if he keeps pesterin’ Jane like I think he’s wantin’ to,” his eyes narrowed in on you ever so slightly as he leaned back over his horses head to offer soothing circles of comfort on the side of his neck, “that could all change very quickly….” 

You scoffed, arms across your chest cinching tighter. “Really?” They rearranged to your hips as you leaned toward him with each word, most likely for emphasis, but you weren’t entirely sure. “Was that a not so subtle dig at me to stop pesterin’ you?” 

Joel shrugged, one shoulder going slightly higher than the other, as he sat back upright astride his horse and an amused grin started to pull up one cheek. “You said it. I didn’t.” With that, he nudged his horse forward, moving past you at a slow walk, and you could tell he was trying hard not to smile.

Xxx

Without Will here, the group traveled in relative silence. After a while, it became unbearable for you, and you steered your horse to sidle alongside Joel and his steed.

“Ellie told me Tommy was your patrol partner.”

Joel nodded. “Mmm-hmm. Usually is.”

You watched a butterfly fly in front of you, smirking as you glanced at Jack and found him already grinning in your direction. “So what changed?” You focused back on Joel and the road ahead.

Joel sighed, adjusting in his saddle. “He’s gonna be a daddy soon.” Your eyes bugged out of your head, making him chuckle. “Yeah, that’s ‘bout the same reaction I had.”

“Same reaction we all had,” Jack chimed in, making everyone laugh softly. 

“I dunno. Seems like he’d be a good dad,” Liam posed.

“What makes you say that?” Kate had turned in her saddle to face the youngest of the group, her eyebrows nearly in her hairline.

“It’s just a gut feeling.”

“A gut feeling,” Jack agreed distantly, staring straight ahead. “And by that you mean the thought of it makes your stomach turn.”

As Jack passed by on your right, you reached out and shoved his shoulder lightly.

“What?” The man protested, looking at you wide eyed. “It’s true! Ain’t no way the words Tommy Miller and Daddy ever came up together naturally….” Jack grimaced as he turned back to face forward again. “‘Least not in any way I care to think about.”

“Watch it,” Joel warned teasingly. “That’s my baby brother you’re talking about, asshole. He may be a stick in the mud and about as sharp as two spoons trying to pick up pudding-”

Your face twisted in confusion as Joel took a breath. “Um, spoons could easily pick up pudding. That’s not an insult. You must be tired.” Joel turned his glare on you, and you simply grinned around it, continuing on. “I think you were going more for something like spoons trying to cut through stone?”

The group all snickered behind you as the two of you simply stared at one another, amusement hiding deep in your expression while annoyance clearly painted his.

“I concur with Liam,” you agreed instead after a moment. Joel huffed and turned his gaze on the young man who only shrugged in response before he was looking back at you. 

“A Miller man an actual daddy,” you mused quietly, smiling softly as you stared straight ahead. “I don’t think the world could handle the awesomeness.” Looking back over at Joel, you expected to see him grinning at the playful banter, but instead he looked somewhat sad.

The same expression he had when he looked at his watch sometimes.

In fact, he glanced down to it now. It was brief, but you caught it.

It wasn’t the look Will had had with Jane. This was that sad, forlorn expression, like he was missing something. Like a piece of his soul was gone.

But as quickly as it came, it went. 

Without a glance your direction, he pulled his eyes up to the path ahead and squinted as the horses pulled into another clearing and sunlight shone directly on his face. 

“Yeah,” he finally gruffed, clearing his throat as he purposefully looked at the forest around him. “He’s gonna be great. Anyway….” He nudged his horse faster, seeming to head for the next pocket of tree cover a few yards away. But you weren’t that dense and could tell he was just trying to get away from the conversation, so you followed suit, falling into step beside him once again. 

Joel sighed almost imperceptibly when he heard your horse's footfalls lining up with his own once again. You could have sworn his eyes rolled slightly, too, now that they were not squinted in the shade of the tall trees. But he went on regardless. “Maria’s been sick a lot more the further the pregnancy’s gone, so…. Told him t’stay home.”

Nodding, you kept your gaze forward, allowing Joel a respite from prying eyes. This was all a tender subject, and you still didn’t know why, but you could respect that.  “Well, it looks like Will is a good one to take his place,” you mused quietly.

Glancing over, you saw how Joel’s expression brightened again, his eyes casting down to the ground like a bashful kid. “He’s alright.”

The group made it a decent ways, a handful of miles between all of you and the former bandit camp now that there were fewer of you, plus you didn’t have the cart to slow you down.

Even so, you still missed Jane and Will. They both added a quiet energy to the group even if they never said a word.

But they both always said plenty.

Joel had the group stop at an abandoned cabin on the very edge of the forest, letting the horses rest and grabbing a bite to eat from what was packed. Everyone was settled in and halfway through some sandwiches,  when suddenly you could hear muffled galloping through the cabin walls. It was approaching rapidly in the distance, back in the direction you had come from. 

The whole party sat up abruptly, food long forgotten as they reached for their firearms and listened closely.

“Everyone stay inside,” Joel mumbled quickly, striding over to the small fire in the cabin's hearth and setting his cup of water on the mantle, swapping it for his rifle already resting there, always within arms reach. 

Jack and Kate cocked their rifles, clicking them over to safety and resting them across their laps while they remained in their seats by the fire, watching Joel head out the door. Once the elder Miller had passed the threshold, the door softly latching shut behind him, Jack clicked his safety off. Kate arched a brow at him, and he shrugged.

“Better safe than sorry.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “And if it’s nothing? And you get jumpy? What then?”

Jack huffed quietly at her whispered admonishment. “I don’t get jumpy.”

Casting her eyes down to his still trembling hands pointedly, she pulled her eyes back up to meet his and arched a brow. “Maybe you don’t, but that leftover whiskey in your system sure does.”

Flipping his hand under the barrel over to grip the armrest of the chair in an attempt to stabilize himself, Jack glared at Kate, but quickly turned the glare down to his hand when the tremor instead began to rattle the loose wooden pegs holding the seat together.

“Point taken,” he grumbled, flicking the safety back on before sitting on his practically vibrating palms, his rifle braced across his thighs. After a moment he hurriedly grabbed the rifle and rested it against the stone fireplace in front of him, sitting back on his hands and adding a bouncing knee to the routine. He looked at Kate and shrugged. “It’s gotta work its way out somehow.”

Turning away from the two by the fire, you spotted Liam still asleep in one of the long abandoned bunks in the cabin corner, and you couldn’t blame him. An actual mattress that hadn't gone to hell was hard to come by. You smiled faintly after remembering how he had plopped in it within five seconds of entering the structure.

“Anyone wakes me sooner than morning, clickers are gonna be the least of your worries,” he said, flat on his back and eyes already closed, followed by a contented sigh as he melted into the slightly redeemable box spring.

The dust particles that had filled the air in a violent swirl when his back hit the mattress had finally begun to settle. They floated through the lazy sunbeams that danced through the remaining cabin windows, dirty as they were, reminding you of lazy weekend afternoons back before the outbreak.

A lawnmower going down the street.

Kids laughing in the cul de sac.

The smell of barbecue from somewhere nearby, or just a fire as people stood round to watch it for fun in their back yard with a drink in hand and relax.

Not to rely on it for warmth like now.

For food.

Usually outside and in silence for fear of what lurked just out of sight.

You hadn’t thought about these things in so long…. 

Since before moving to Jackson. 

Before Joel and Ellie….

Shaking your head, you shut your eyes to quit staring at the dust particles long enough to focus back on the matter at hand.

Liam. Hoofbeats. Focus.

Looking back at the peacefully sleeping young man, you grinned slightly. Shifting your weight side to side once, you sighed heavily through your nose.

Sorry, kid.

After absently adjusting the strap slung across your shoulders of the rifle you’d stolen from the raiders, tugging where it pulled tightly at the center of your chest, the weapon a heavy reminder at your back, you walked quietly over to him. 

Gently nudging his shoulder with your left hand, you then held the index finger of your right up to your mouth to indicate silence as he stirred and began to ask what was happening in a bleary voice.

Liam turned his head toward you, his face screwed up like you had a flashlight trained on his face in the darkest of nights. “Who dares to distur-” The hand rubbing one eye froze mid swipe, and he stared at you with the other eye that was still exposed.

Suddenly fully awake, his palm trailed up to rest on his forehead as he blinked a few times then looked wide eyed around the cabin and saw everyone with their weapon either in hand or at the ready. 

He sat up abruptly, his hand falling to his lap soundlessly as he continued to scooch closer to the edge of the mattress, miraculously avoiding every traitorous squeaky spring in the thing. 

Once at the edge, feet still propped up on the tiny cot, he reached down seamlessly into his open backpack resting on the floor against the foot of the cot closest to his head, and pulled out a machete, bringing it up to rest on the bed beside him as he gave you a single nod. 

It was a very Joel thing to do.

A snort of amusement pulled your attention back over your shoulder where you saw Jack looking on with a grin, nodding in approval. “Kid’s got the right idea,” he said just above a whisper.

“I learned from the best,” Liam mused around a grin.

“Yeah, Joel’s really been passing on some gems,” Kate said, looking slyly at Jack, and snorting in amusement when he turned a disapproving glare her way.

“The kid wasn’t talking about Joel,” he groused. “He’s my patrol partner, Kate. He meant me.”

“I actually meant Tommy.”

All three sets of eyes turned to Liam, before quiet snickers of laughter went around, the younger man beaming at the attention.

“Nah, I’m just joking.”

“We know,” Jack coughed softly, eyeing the door of the cabin when Joel still hadn’t returned, clearing his throat.

“I meant Ellie.”

This time the laughter was a bit louder and unrestrained, but still quiet. A thump on the cabin door was heard, then it swung open and Joel popped his head in. 

“Hush!” He hissed to the four of you, the continuous growing sound of approaching hooves filling the following silence of his deathly stare. “You four are louder than a horde!”

The cabin door shut silently, but it might as well have been slammed with the finality it gave. The four of you exchanged looks.

“‘Least we smell better than a horde, though.”

Jack’s off handed comment made the rest of you snicker quietly as you tried to follow Joel’s request.

“Speak for yourself,” Kate grumbled. “Most of us do, ‘nyway.”

Jack and Kate shared another little stare off as the tension of the impending approaching hoofbeats grew closer.

Meanwhile, Joel had slinked around the side of the cabin outside for a better vantage point before the newcomer on horseback could get any closer. You were able to track him through two of the cabin’s windows before you lost sight of him. If he stayed on the path you’d last seen him on, then he would have made it just behind a pile of firewood and out of sight when the rapidly approaching horse crested over the tiny hill and came into view. 

His footsteps were virtually silent, only the foliage crunching underfoot could give him away, and he was careful to not let it. Aside from one or two traitorous twigs that helped you all in the cabin follow his movements once he was past the windows, he was like a ghost. 

Suddenly his footsteps shuffled carelessly, every leaf and twig breaking under his weight and being kicked to the side with little to no effort to mask his steps as he slid to a stop at the same time you heard a second male voice.

It was familiar as it yelled, “Woah, woah,” overlapping the sound of a horse breathing heavily as the galloping came to a stop. Then a thud as someone hopped onto the ground from a height, you guessed from the back of the horse, the foliage underfoot crunching from the impact. 

You were so concentrated trying to place the familiar voice that had called out to the horse, you missed the pair of returning relaxed footsteps back toward the cabin. The low, muffled voices exchanged a murmured conversation you couldn’t quite make out even if you were paying attention. 

The cabin door suddenly swung open, and there stood Joel, a grumpy look on his features, followed by an amused looking Will. 

“Told ya he was fine,” Joel grumbled, holding your wide eyed gaze.

The other three members of the group let out a collective sigh, of what you assumed was relief, all of them stowing their weapons once again and settling back into the comfort and warmth that had been interrupted.

Will stayed outside to tend to his horse while Joel came back into the cabin, grumbling something about not signing up for this the whole way back to the fireplace. 

As Joel passed behind Jack, he pulled the chair the older man was seated in back, making his friend reach out to stabilize himself before looking up at Joel skeptically. “And you do smell like a horde. Go use the rain barrel out back and clean up, ya ass.”

“It’s the shakes,” Jack mumbled, staring at the floor in embarrassment as he got to his feet before heading for the door. “They make me sweat somethin’ fierce.”

“Then use this as ammunition to never let the whiskey get you this bad again, Jack.”

Pausing halfway to the door, the older man looked up to meet Joel’s piercing expression, the embarrassment on his own melting away into determination. The two men held each other's gaze for a moment before Jack nodded once and headed out the cabin door. 

“I’ll go with him. Make sure he’s okay.” Kate stood up, slinging her rifle across her shoulders and grabbing Jack’s from its spot still against the fireplace. “After everything, I’d prefer someone watch my back, too. Only fair I watch someone’sin return.”

Joel nodded and watched her follow after Jack. When the front door opened, you could see Will tending to his horse out front before it closed again and cut off the outside world. He, Jack and Kate traded muffled words before Will came inside, swiping his sweaty brow in the crook of his elbow with the sleeve of his outer flannel layer.

Once he got settled into the cabin, hogging a space by the fire despite a look from Joel as he adjusted to make room, and several pieces of beef jerky from the main stash despite you and Liam staring him down pointedly, an overly excited Will explained everything. 

Hold your horses I’m getting to it! How he rode all morning …. Can someone pass me some water? I think I swallowed a bug on the way here …. after sneaking out of Jackson …. Jerky has never tasted this good …. to try and catch up with the group once again after …. Man, whoever built this fire did a good job. It is hot! …. after Jane ‘threatened to maim him’ if he didn’t get ahold of her sewing machine. Shouldn’t be too difficult.

He had a starstruck look in his eyes the whole time, and you were pretty sure it was because he was living out his secret agent dreams by sneaking out of town and back to the group, but it was especially evident when he talked about Jane, making you smile. 

Does he realize he would have done it if she hadn’t even asked? 

He was wrapped around her finger already.

Kate and Jack had come back in by now and were in their seats by the fire once again, watching Will with bemused expressions. 

“We had to get out before dawn so the council wouldn’t put a stop to it. Things are crazy since we got back and those raiders wouldn’t say a word. Became freaking mimes.” Joel snorted in amusement. 

“Security was doubled instantly after we told them about the threats, so I had to pay off the south gate watchmen. By the way, Joel,” he turned toward the older man, “they get to choose their next three patrols.” He shrugged at the exasperated look from the elder Miller. “Was all they wanted. I told them they had to be done within the next three months or no deal, and they said fine.” Joel arched a brow.

Will took a deep breath, wincing slightly like he didn’t particularly want to relay this next part.

“Spit it out,” Joel growled, adjusting in his seat in front of the fire to face it, holding his hands out toward the flames.

“The council aren’t too happy that you didn’t come back with everyone.” He looked around the room. “Any of you.” Then back at Joel. “But especially you, since you’re partially in charge of security, n’all.”

“Well, ain’t that nice,” Joel mused quietly, the side of his mouth ticking up as he continued to stare at the fire. 

“They mentioned a disciplinary hearing once this is all sorted out.”

Everyone in the cabin groaned at the mention of more politics.

Everyone but Joel. He just grinned, rubbing his hands together in front of the flames. “Well, I think Ellie said it best….” He looked at you, then Will. “They can bite me.”

“Speaking of Ellie,” Will grabbed his backpack where it rested at his feet, pulled it into his lap and unzipped it, digging into its contents with purpose. “She was real worried ‘bout both of you when she heard what happened.” 

He looked up, his hand withdrawing from the bag and gesturing between you and Joel with his index finger, then went right back to rifling through the bag, making one side of your mouth pull up slightly at his antics. “So she sent these with me.” Pausing in his search, he shut his eyes in exasperation and tilted his head back toward the ceiling. “Don’t ask me how she knew I’d be leavin’, before you start yellin’, Joel,” Will disclaimed preemptively, his voice tired already as he focused back on the bag, returning it to the floor and withdrawing two items. “Girl’s got a mind of her own.” 

Will extended a hand to each of you, the one for Joel holding an old revolver that the man looked at fondly, his eyes softening as he took it from Will’s hand, and tucked it into the back of his pants. The younger man reached back into the bag and pulled out a bandolier lined with bullets for the gun that you’d seen Joel using his reloading press to make out in the garage a few times. 

Ammo could be hard to come by, depending on the caliber, so when Joel happened on some reloading equipment on a patrol, he’d been ecstatic. It didn’t matter that he’d thrown his back out trying to get the heavy gear home. Stubborn as he was, he made it work, he and his horse somehow tag teaming the equipment all the way back to Jackson from who knows where. He had not allowed Will to touch it the entire way back, some stupid childlike claim waging between them like finders keepers or something along those lines - you’d stopped listening with a roll of your eyes as they’d bickered the whole way into the garage with the equipment.

“Come on, Joel. I helped you get it here!” Will’s voice carried from the garage, his breathing heavy as he tugged the makeshift sled the equipment was on the last few feet over the threshold. 

“I said no! Now drop it,” Joel groused, the following silence after a loud clatter almost deafening.

“You said ‘drop it’,” Will said nonchalantly.

Joel’s hiss could be heard clearly all the way in the kitchen where you were doing dishes. “I meant the topic, not the tools….”

“Well, maybe I could think more clearly if I hadn’t just trekked thirty five miles with all that weight-”

“It wasn’t thirty-”

“Felt like it-”

“You’re acting like a child-”

“And you’re acting like a grouch-”

“Don’t test me, Will.”

“But grouch is nothing new for you, Joel.”

“Oh, just fuck off.”

“Make me.”

“Oh, I will….”

“Boys!” When you walked into the garage, the two of them were nose to nose, chests puffed up and about to bump into one another in a ridiculous display of strength. “Stop it. You’re both idiots.”

They both turned their heads to look at you.

“He thinks-” Joel started, overlapping Will’s “I didn’t-”

“What did I just say?” Your hands went to your hips in admonishment, brows knit together in an unimpressed glare.

Joel turned back to Will, a heavy puff of air passing through his nose before he smiled. “Fine. Finders keepers.”

Will scoffed in protest as Joel peeled off to start unloading the equipment.

“That’s not fair!”

“I said what I said. Now don’t touch my stuff, idiot.”

With a shake of your head, you left them to sort out their nonsense, letting the garage door close behind you and muffle their bickering as you headed back to the kitchen.

The night before you left, you’d seen Joel and Ellie out there together, working with the press as he taught her the basics of reloading. You wondered how many of those she’d made herself as you watched him take the bandolier delicately, holding it in both hands out in front of him like you would a newborn child. Practically cradling it.

The look in his eyes as he ran them up and down the lines of bullets, surveying each shiny casing, was much the same as that of a parent looking at their brand new precious offspring just after they’d entered this world. It was a look once adopted that never really left. Something a little precious, awestruck, filled with wonder and love, and a hell of a lot of pride.

You were ninety percent sure he was thinking about Ellie, and not the ammo, though.

Well, more like eighty percent.

Will cleared his throat to pull your attention back to him, jostling his hand still held out to you. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, looking down at the offering. 

You saw your yellow fanny pack being extended to you, partly deflated and sagging as Ellie had obviously removed all your tools you wouldn’t need on the trip. 

When you took it from Will’s hand, an unexpected weight inside caught you off guard. Unzipping the main compartment once you’d clipped the belt around your waist, you pulled out a pocket knife you had seen Ellie flipping open and closed almost daily. 

She was never without it.

….Except now….

….Because she’d sent it with you. 

The room began to swim behind your unshed tears as they threatened to fall, but you blinked them away rapidly. This wasn’t the time for that. Nor was it the time for that thing catching in your chest as you traced the tip of your index finger over the worn housing of the blade. 

After a moment, you looked up at Joel, and saw the surprise on his face before his eyes pulled up from the familiar pocket knife to meet yours, something like fondness taking over his features as they softened. “That’s her most prized possession.”

“Besides the garage,” you shot back, trying to speak around the emotions building up in your throat, clearing it in an attempt to rid yourself of them. A wet chuckle took their place as you held his gaze, your grip tightening around the pocket knife protectively.

Joel snorted, shaking his head gently as he looked back down to the bandolier. “Don’t start.” He slipped the ammo belt over his shoulders and across his chest, adjusting it minutely like a man would a tie on Easter morning. 

It struck you for a moment how much life had changed since outbreak day. Men used to adjust their ties and now they adjusted their weapons.

These were thoughts for another day.

Setting the knife back in the main compartment of your pack, you dug out the rock Joel had given you to rest against your black eye from your jacket pocket, and really looked at it for the first time since he had given it to you. 

It was smooth, almost perfectly round, yet flat enough to hold in the palm of your hand easily. A rich dark gray, almost black with white streaks running through one part of it that made it look slightly off kilter. As it caught the firelight, the white streaks glimmered slightly. They were some sort of crystal, barely the width of a sharpened pencil, yet still they decided to shine. 

You wanted to be like that rock. Solid and steadfast, it knew what it was, until sometime when it was forming, something else came along to meld with it and left a mark, a scar, a blemish, and yet…. It was still beautiful.

Glancing up, you saw Joel already watching you curiously, his brow raised in amusement. Unable to hold his gaze, you shook your head slightly before looking back down to the bag, and tucked the rock in the main compartment right beside the pocket knife like you’d meant to do before you’d gotten distracted. 

The sound of the teeth stitching closed as you zipped the bag shut once again acted as an anchor to your wayward mind. 

“I’ll protect it with my life.” Looking back up, you caught Joel’s eye, and something unreadable passed across his face, his gaze fluttering down to the bag, then back up to meet your own, before turning to Will as they started in on another topic.

Holding out a hand to halt the conversation, eyes shut tight in confusion, you stopped them. “Wait, wait, wait.” 

Ignoring Will’s exasperated sigh, you forged on. Opening your eyes, you peered at him with furrowed brows as you lifted only your index finger, gesturing to your left a few times. “Back up.” 

He lifted his eyebrows at you in question. Bobbing your finger slightly as you continued for emphasis, you arched your own brows curiously. “‘We’?”

Faintly, in the distance the same direction Will had come from, you heard a wagon wheel squeak as it rolled closer toward the cabin. 

After only a moment of exchanged looks in hesitation, Will refusing to give away anything, you all piled outside to see who the newcomer was. Just cresting over the little hill before the cabin came a horse with a rider moving at a casual pace, the cart from before that had taken Jane and the raiders back to Jackson being pulled along behind them. 

Everyone smiled while Joel groaned and cradled his head in his hand when it was clear it was pulled by none other than Tommy.

“You guys have all the fun without me,” the younger Miller yelled good-naturedly.

Joel groaned a bit louder, starting toward the cart with determination. “Raiders n’infected’ll hear us comin’ a mile away with that wheel. What’d you do?”

Tommy scoffed. “First your hinges, now this? Why d’you always assume it’s me?”

Once Jack, Liam, and Kate saw who was atop the cart, and that he and Joel were quickly slipping into their usual ways, the three of them wandered back into the cabin, shaking their heads and rolling their eyes as the two men continued to bicker.

Will, however, stuck around for the show. He was a firm supporter of Miller Entertainment. So long as there was something to see, he’d be there.

Oblivious to the reactions of the others, Joel continued towards his brother, taking the reins of the horse he was atop as Tommy hopped off. “Because it is always you.” He handed the reins back to Tommy as he went to inspect the wheel quickly before they both returned to the now dwindling group. 

“Well, you’re fucking welcome, y’old fucker,” Tommy grumbled teasingly. “This wasn’t my idea, anyway.”

You smirked. “Jane got to you, too, huh?”

He looked at you with wide eyes. “That woman is frightening.”

You and Will laughed, as Tommy looked between you with the same, wide eyed look of fear.

After a quiet moment filled with your dying laughter and Joel’s grumbling as he glared at the wheel, Tommy turned back to his brother. “I just want you t’be happy, Joel.”

Knelt beside the wagon wheel, inspecting it up close now that they were beside the cabin, Joel didn’t even spare his brother a glance. “Then leave me alone, you ass.”

Tommy unhooked the horse, and you led it over beside Will’s where the two men started taking the gear off of them to rest for the evening.

After a long moment of messing with the wheel, Joel turned his head up to Tommy from his perch on the ground, wide eyed. “Who’s watchin’ Ellie?!”

Tommy looked down at his older brother, hands on his hips, unphased.  “Herself.”

With a shake of his head, Joel got to his feet and paced in a small circle with his hands on his hips. The two Miller’s looked like carbon copies of each other, and it made you grin. “They’re all doomed. All‘f Jackson….” He rounded on his brother, both of them squaring off with hands on their hips and a stern, stony expression. “What were y’thinkin’?”

You laughed. “You may not have your garage to yourself when we get back, Joel. She may take matters into her own hands.”

After turning his hard glare on you, he turned back to the wheel, wrestling with it for a moment and finally yanking out a small twig caught up in the mechanism, before standing back up and dusting off his hands with a dry, tight grin. “For everyone’s sake, she better fuckin’ not.” He nodded to Tommy. “‘specially him.”

“Why me?” Tommy scoffed.

“You’re th’idiot that left a teenager unattended in my house,” he groused.

“There’s not much she can-”

Joel just leveled a glare on him. “‘member when y’threw that party when mom ‘n dad were out of town, and I was watchin’ you?”

Tommy huffed. “That was so long ago, Joel, and she’s way different ‘n I was. She ain’t the social butterfly like me,” Joel snorted, “anyway, it’s Jackson in th’middle’f a goddamn apocalypse. What the hell is she gonna do that’d be so awful?”

They shared a look, something unsaid that had Tommy’s expression shifting to some sort of understanding. He softly amended, “I’m sure she’s fine, Joel.” He clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “She’s stayin’ with Maria, anyway.” Tommy grinned at Joel’s groan. “I’m not entirely useless, big brother. I thought’f all that. Maria’ll make sure she gets t’school n’eats n’bathes….” That understanding passed over his face again, turning it to something soft, along with his tone. “She’ll be a normal kid, it’ll be fine.”

Tommy’s tone took on a teasing nature. “Besides,” he smirked. “That girl offered t’take my patrol shift for a week if I told you she was on her own.”

Joel’s eyes went wide as he stared at his brother, the shit eating grin on Tommy’s face only growing wider.

“My guess is for that very reaction.” He pointed at Joel, wagging his finger gently. “But of course I said like hell. She ain’t goin’ on patrol. No fuckin’ way.”

Joel visibly relaxed, his eyes closing in relief before they flew open and back on his brother with a skeptical brow raised. Waiting. 

“So instead,” Tommy went on, smile only broadening, “she offered t’take my shift muckin’ out the stalls in the stable for a week. Somethin’ ‘bout ‘it’s all shits and giggles, but now instead it’s shits for giggles’…. I don’t know. Half the time when she speaks it’s like another language.” He was grinning like a fool by now. “Reminds me of….” That same look of understanding passed between him and Joel again, only this time something heavier seemed to carry underneath. His voice softened. “She’s a good kid, Joel.”

As they sat in their shared moment, you decided after a minute to break the silence. “Too bad you didn’t tell him, then,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Tommy turned to you. “What d’you mean?”

You couldn’t help the smirk. “I didn’t hear anything ‘bout her bein’ on her own.” You turned to Joel. “Did you?”

He was grinning softly. “I didn’t hear nothin’. What ‘bout you, Will?”

Looking over at Will, you saw him grin like a cat with a canary. “Not a peep.”

Tommy sighed. “You bastards.”

“Takes one t’know one, ya idiot,” Joel hummed under his breath, turning toward the tack for the horses that had been set on the wagon to move it under the makeshift barn that had been set up for the evening.

“You’re so mean,” Tommy groused half heartedly as Joel passed by, pouting his lip out in an attempt to garner sympathy from his big brother who just turned to him and wrinkled his nose up at him in disgust. The younger Miller mimicked the face and lightly shoved the shoulder of his older brother, causing him to stumble sideways.

“Boys!” You called out, grinning when they snapped their heads your way in unison. “You’re how old again?” Turning toward the cabin, you called over your shoulder toward the men, “I’m just sayin’…. But just for shits and giggles….”

“Ah, shaddup,” Tommy called over the laughter of the other two.

The rest of the party had just stepped out of the cabin to see what all the fuss was about, when suddenly there was a very high pitched yet muffled sneeze from behind you.

Knitting your brows, you turned to Kate who had just walked past. “Bless you?”

She looked just as confused. “That…. Wasn’t me.”

You turned to Joel. Only making it as far as to open your mouth and take in a breath before he cut you off.

“Ha ha, very funny, darlin’. Wasn’t me.”

Another attempted assasination of a sneeze sounded from the back of the cart under a tarp, and all eyes went to it, staring in disbelief. 

Liam was the first to break the silence after a long moment. “Did that tarp just sneeze?”

A very quiet and muffled, “Ow,” came next, and you’d know that voice anywhere, no matter how squeaky it currently was. 

Your feet were moving before your brain was fully processing what you were doing, carrying you toward the cart. 

Jack was quick to chime in behind you, with an entirely necessary, “Did that tarp just talk?!”

A second female voice, this one much younger and sarcastic came from under the tarp, dry and droll, “Nice going, blondie.”

Joel’s eyes went wide. They pulled up to meet yours where you now stood on the opposite side of the cart.

He moved so fast, you could have sworn he had super speed. He was on top of the wagon wheel and ripping the tarp back to reveal your stowaways before you could even blink. 

To be fair, you were only half a second behind him, ripping the tarp off the rest of the way from the other side.

In the dying light of the day, Jane and Ellie blinked up at the two pairs of eyes peering down at them from around the edge of the cart, looking justifiably sheepish at the attention. Five more sets of eyes appeared slowly, trickling in as they realized what was going on, only adding to the squirming of the two stowaways.

You were the first to break the silent little stare off. Holding the gaze of your friend, you hissed quietly, “What are you doing here?! You just got stabbed! Are you crazy?!”

Jane wasted no time in coming to her own defense. “I told you!” She tried to sit up quickly, and hissed when her wound protested at the movement. Before you could even reach out to offer help, Ellie was quick to help her sit up fully, putting Jane’s arm over her shoulder to ease her into the right position slowly. She spoke through a grimace, “I want that sewing machine, and I’m gonna get it!” Her eyes opened fully, her voice strong. “Come hell or high water.”

After you let out a strangled puff of air through your nose in aggravation, hand still held out to help coming back to land on the edge of the cart with a smack, all eyes turned to the teenager beside her.

Ellie merely shrugged, Jane’s arm still over her shoulder rising and falling with the movement. “I’m just here for the show.”

Xxx

Your small party sat outside around a campfire, milling about as the evening wore on, tending to the horses and other menial things before everyone was set to take off in the morning.

Will would not leave Jane’s side. He was her human crutch. Literally. He helped her hobble around, and from the look on her face, she was about to shove him to the ground and run, damn whatever happened to her wound.

He was a sweet boy, but a girl needed to pee in peace, stab wound or not.

“Are you going to chew my food for me, too?” She snapped as he broke a piece of beef jerky down into smaller pieces for her to eat. 

He just stared at her for a moment, frozen.

“I’m injured, not broken.”

Will nodded after a long pause, looking down to the jerky in his hands as they rested in his lap. “You’re right. I’m sorry. This is just really tough stuff and I didn’t want you to hurt yourself trying to rip it apart.”

Jane sighed. “No, I’m sorry.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate all the help, I really do. I’m just a really independent person, and this…. All this needing help…. is driving me nuts.” Her hand fell down to rest on his. “Maybe we can compromise?”

He looked up and met her eyes with his own, smiling broadly. “I’d like that.”

Jane nodded once. “First things first,” she popped a bite sized piece of jerky in her mouth from the pile in his hand. “I get to pee without an escort.”

“But what if-”

“Will, I swear to God, don’t make me-”

“Fine! Fine, fine,” he held his hands up by his head in surrender, jerky flying every which way as he forgot he was holding it. He peered at it on the floor in disgust. “Oops?”

Jane had a sour expression on her face, her nose wrinkled up. “That’s yours now. Mmmm…. Floor jerky. Yum.”

You’d tried to return the pocket knife to Ellie now that she was back, but she wasn’t having it.

“Since you’re here, go ahead and take this….” Unzipping the main compartment of the fanny pack, you extended the pocket knife she’d gifted to you toward her. 

Ellie lifted a hand, shaking it as she took a step back. “No. I don’t need it.”

Cocking your head to the side in question, you bent your elbow but kept your hand out, letting the pocket knife rest in your palm between the two of you. “You need something to protec-”

The teen pulled out a machete from a belt along her hips you hadn’t noticed before. Holding it sideways, she tilted the blade side to side, letting it catch the dying light of the day and the errant twinkle of firelight. “Liam already hooked me up. I’m good.”

You snorted. “But this is yours-”

“And now it’s yours,” she countered. “….for now.” Her cheeks flamed pink. “I want that back.” A look of determination came over her features as she jut out her chin to look down her nose at you. “So you better not die, Miss Fanny.”

Grinning, you tucked the knife back into your pack. “I’ll do my best, Sparky. I’ll do my best.”

Ellie grimaced. “Sparky?”

Zipping up your fanny pack, you looked up at her through your lashes. “It’s what you remind me of.” Once the knife was secure again, you lifted your head to look at her fully. “A spitfire.”

Her grimace deepened. “But Sparky? That’s like what you name a dog or something…. Or elderly men like Joel.”

Joel, who was only a few feet away tending to the fire sighed heavily, obviously listening in, before he chuckled lowly.

“Then what do you suggest?” Your arms came up to cross over your chest, weight shifting to rest on one leg as your hip popped out to the side.

“I dunno….” She looked at Joel. “He’s The Contractor,” she said it in a ridiculous voice, making you giggle, “so can’t I be something cool like that? Like, I don’t know…. The Lumberjack…. The Carpenter….”

“You have to do all those things to get those names, smartass,” Joel chimed in, not even bothering to turn around and face the conversation.

Ellie stuck her tongue out at him.

“The Artist….” You offered, smiling when you saw the lightbulb go off behind her eyes. Nodding once, your grin grew when her own started up her face. “The Artist it is…. Sparky.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sour look her face instantly took on.

Tommy leaned back in his spot beside Joel with a loud groan, a mischievous grin starting up his face. “I just call it like it is. She’s Trouble.”

Ellie gasped, whipping her head over to look at him as her arms came to cross over her chest defensively. “And after I didn’t lump you into old man Joel territory over there.” She gestured to the elder Miller with a bob of her head before setting her sights squarely on the younger sibling once again.

Tommy shrugged demurely.

She glared at him, the ferocity of her expression causing you to chuckle softly as Joel let out a low whistle. “You’re dead to me, old man.”

It had dwindled down to just the two Miller’s, Ellie, and yourself. Everyone else was inside the cabin, tucked in and tightened down for the night.

“Come first light, we need to get out of here,” Joel mumbled as he leaned over at the waist, poking the fire with a long stick to rearrange the logs that had turned to coals before adding a few new fresh ones. He turned his head to peer over at you, then set his gaze squarely on the redheaded teen who sat across from the two of you, palms extended toward the fiery heat and her eyes studiously on the flames. 

“The council isn’t gonna take long to put two ‘n two together, and I want as much distance ‘tween us when they actually do so we can just get this damn thing over with.” 

Rising to his full height with a quiet groan, he didn’t even seem to register Ellie slapping her palm to her forehead and rocking her head back and forth in disbelief as he glanced down at you where you sat against a log to his left, his face twisted slightly in trepidation. “…. I didn’t mean-”

“No, I agree,” you nodded once, pulling your eyes from staring at the fire to look at Ellie in amusement before lifting them all the way up to meet his with a small smile. “Bleeding heart Miller over here probably got the town on red alert.” Bobbing your head to gesture across the flames where Tommy leaned against another fallen log beside Ellie, you grinned at Joel’s haggard sigh as he took his brother in. 

Ellie turned to look at the older man with a disapproving scowl, one side of her upper lip curling back as her eyes swept him from head to toe. You could see every Joel mannerism she had picked up on as she surveyed the younger Miller, and it took everything in you not to comment on it.

Turning back to the subject at hand, you tilted your head to the side as you took in the sleeping giant. 

Tommy’s legs were outstretched with one crossed over the other easily at the ankle, hands clasped loosely in his lap, and head tilted back as snores that grew with each attempt tumbled out of his lips.

“Not to mention they’ll raise the alarm when they notice Ellie and Jane’re missin’, too,” you added, watching Tommy begin to mutter softly in his sleep. You tried not to let Ellie’s wide eyes that snapped to you affect you from going on, not able to bring yourself to meet them. “Not to mention Will.” You looked up at Joel as you spoke softly, his own gaze meeting yours. “Tommy’s one thing. All four of ‘em?” You shook your head as your gaze fell back to land on Tommy. “All four of ‘em’s gonna set off all kinds of bells.”

“Not to mention a missin’ cart,” Joel grumbled, turning toward Tommy with a scowl that made the corner of your mouth tug up just slightly. You noticed in your peripherals it had Ellie grinning, too. “Which requires a horse….” He tugged off his gloves from tending the fire and tucked them into his back pocket with unneeded aggression, shaking his head. “Stealin’ all kinds ‘f’things, aren’t we, little brother?”

Joel sighed yet again, this one quieter and more to himself than anything, before taking a step over towards his sibling and kicking the bottom of his shoe with the toe of his boot. As Tommy sat up abruptly with a snort, making Ellie choke back a laugh, Joel eased to the ground beside you with a groan he tried to hide behind tightly closed lips. “Get up, mighty warrior. Get inside with the others. I’ll take first watch.”

“Wasn’t asleep,” Tommy mumbled dejectedly, rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand.

Ellie scoffed. “Dude, you sounded like a buzzsaw ate a bear. You were totally one hundred percent snoring.” She got to her feet, brushing off the front of her pants, then the seat. 

“You were sawing logs, cart thief. Now get.” Joel jerked his head backwards toward the cabin. “‘nd keep an eye on Trouble here.”

Ellie glared at Joel, but quickly turned her attention onto Tommy, helping him to his feet. “Come on, Uncle Tommy.”

“Told you not t’call me that, weirdo,” Tommy grumbled, blinking too many times against the firelight as his eyes still adjusted to being awake.

The teen threaded her arm through his and helped to stabilize him, starting toward the cabin. “That goes both ways, asshat.”

“Y’know what? You’re rude,” Tommy mused, pulling away just enough to look down his nose at Ellie.

“And you’re old. Now come on, cart thief.” She started to pull him back toward the cabin, looking over her shoulder and winking at you. She looked at Joel and offered a small salute before facing back forward and giving the man a tug that sent him stumbling forward slightly. “Beddy bye is just a mere few steps away.”

Tommy mumbled something nearly unintelligible, but you thought you caught the name Sarah, not missing the way Joel stiffened at the word, staring into the fire in front of him, and Ellie looking back at the two of you over her shoulder with a somewhat panicked expression.

The teen focused on Joel for a long moment, her features pulling into something sad, then determined as she looked at Tommy and finally yanked him toward the cabin, pulling him along by his ear until they were safely inside.

As Tommy slowly got to his feet and ambled toward the cabin with Ellie, you smiled, always enjoying their banter. They obviously loved each other despite how they bickered. 

And whatever this Sarah talk was, clearly it was something important, but it didn’t feel like the right time to ask about it yet. Maybe someday.

Joel glanced down at his watch briefly and cleared his throat before tugging the sleeve of his jacket down to cover it. Once the material was over the broken dial, he placed his palm over the shattered face through the fabric and rubbed it gently back and forth for a moment, staring at the flames before softly shaking his head as if coming out of a fog. He lifted his hand off the watch and set it on his thigh, his fingers gripping his flesh a little too tight and dimpling the denim under his touch.

It was then you made the connection that Sarah had to do with the watch. Somehow. And you knew that had to do with home. Texas. Back on outbreak day. The thing he missed the most.

You didn’t like where this was going.

Catching Joel’s eye, you leaned back into the log once again. “Mind if I join you?”

He just blinked for a long moment, making you grin and settle back into the log even further, letting your head loll back slightly. “Let me clarify. Mind if I stay?”

Simply shaking his head after a minute, Joel turned back to the fire after staring at you for a beat too long. “Don’t mind.” He was mumbling. “You’ll probably be bored silly, but so’ll I, so, I guess that makes me selfish.”

You snorted a laugh. “No, no. It makes you human.” Turning to the flames, you felt a different heat on the side of your face as you noticed his eyes on you again out of the corner of your field of view. He stared for a moment too long to be deemed just a friendly curiosity before Joel cleared his throat, looking down at his boots before his gaze quickly pulled right back up to you, painting your skin in varying shades of heat as you felt his eyes trace over your features once again. 

Something about that heat was much preferable to the little pile of coals inches from the tips of your shoes. Much more comforting, too, considering where your mind kept wandering to. “Can’t quite get to a place my mind’ll let me sleep, anyway. Not after everything….”

He nodded in understanding, and you saw his face turn back towards the embers after a last lingering moment of taking you in. The trail he had traced on your skin with just a look still felt warm and pleasant, but now began to cool under the loss of his attention. You found yourself angling slightly to lean just a bit closer to him to try and make up for it, catch just a wave of body heat. It wasn’t working.

“How’d y’learn all that?” When you arched a brow at him in question, Joel pointed back toward where everything had happened with the raider scumbag, and the general direction of Jackson.

Turning your eyes from him to the fire, you stared at the flames as they crackled. “I don’t want t’talk about it.”

“That’s fine,” he drawled softly, lowering his hand. A moment passed before an even quieter, “But that don’t come from nothin’.” He jerked his head toward the direction this time. “We’ve all got our demons. Hell, I’ve got too many t’count.” He turned back to the fire as you turned to look at him again. “N’most’ve us’ve killed our fair share. That’s just life now-”

“No,” you interrupted him, focusing back on the heat of the flames and away from the fire in his eyes as they landed on you once again. “That I’ve never done.” You waited a moment before adding a quiet, “Least not yet.”

A memory, sparkly and worn, something you’d viewed time and time again as it haunted your every quiet moment, awake or in the dead of night began to tiptoe behind your eyes. 

A voice you’d rather forget drifted to the front of your mind, clearer than anything else, as if it were right in front of you yet again.

“This is just how things work now.” 

Night seemed to be its favorite, though; when your defenses were at their lowest. It’d come slinking in like a thief, ready to steal your sleep, your sanity, your time…. 

The rest of a phantom conversation began to play in the theater of your mind, unbidden and loud, consuming anything else in front of you in favor of its wicked games once again on repeat.

“I said no.” Your voice was weaker than you ever wanted it to be as you struggled against hands that had always been helpful, but now they only sought to keep you still. Angry tears threatened to crack your resolve with every word.

The next thing you knew his gun was out of its holster and in your hand aimed at his stomach. How it got there, you still didn’t know. It must have jumped. 

Telekinesis. 

Something. 

It’s the only thing that makes sense. Because the alternative is that you grabbed it voluntarily, and that was a road you were not willing to travel down.

A sneer of disbelief colored his face as he held his hands up in surrender, looked down to the gun, then to you, eyes narrowing as he chuckled softly in amusement. 

“You wouldn’t.” 

He moved toward you, whether to move the gun or move you, you didn’t know. 

You’ve analyzed it over and over again for years, and this is the point where it always goes black, blissfully giving you a respite from the rest of the gory details. 

The echo of the hammer on the revolver cocking back in prime to shoot echoed in your mind then just as much as it did now. You remembered how the sound filled you with a grim satisfaction, a smirk crawling up your face now that was too terrified to even try then.

Blissful darkness continued to fill the next moments as you were lost in the memory, absently staring at the fire in silence, until a resounding phantom gunshot echoed around the walls inside your head when Joel said your name, making you jump.

When he said it again, the concern swelling in his voice made your breath stutter. 

Blinking the darkness away, you saw the fire once again come into focus in front of you, and out of your peripherals, Joel leaning forward beside you, tilting his head to the side in question as he tried to catch your eye. His features were drawn cautiously.

Pulling your knees up closer to your chest as a chill ran down your spine that was from anything but being cold, you gave him a sideways look before turning back to the flames. “I’m fine.” You wrapped your arms around your legs to hold them tightly to yourself.

“Y’look it,” he teased.

Cutting your eyes his way, you found Joel smirking slightly at you, but his eyes still held concern as they studied your face, then made a run up and down the length of you, pausing on your hands briefly.

That’s when you realize you’d clenched them into fists so tight, you had indentations from your nails on your palm when you released them. With a sigh, you turned your stare back to the fire. “I’m fine, Joel.” Repeating the words didn’t help for some reason, so you continued on. “I…. I’ve never killed anyone, but….” Tilting your head back and pulling your knees tighter to your chest, you looked up at the stars. “I’ve come damn close once‘r’twice. Too close.”

“You don’t have t’talk abou-”

“The first person I lived next to in a QZ,” you started, smiling gently at his attempt to give you space on the topic. “He didn’t like the…. What did y’call it? Smelly noise?”

Joel scoffed in amusement, meeting your gaze as you lowered your eyes back onto him before staring toward the fire again absently.

“Came over after about a week t’tell me so, and I guess somethin’ in the way I said hello sounded like an invitation-”

The man stiffened beside you. “Y’know that’s not-”

Reaching out, you rested your hand on his forearm. “I’m kidding, Joel. I know I didn’t do anything, the man was just a pig.” You looked at him. “But thank you, though.” Turning back to the fire to find the words again, you took a deep breath. “Long story short, he tried somethin’, told me it was just the times we live in now, so I grabbed the gun he was wearin’ and threatened to teach him how no means no.”

A snort of laughter left Joel along with a gentle shake of his head as he too stared at the flames, giving you the space to finish your story.

“He didn’t think I would do it.” You went silent. The next time you spoke, even you could barely hear your own voice. “I probably should’ve. He went on t’do it to many others after me. Joined FEDRA. Should’ve seen that one comin’.” Clearing your throat, you shook your head and went on, voice a little stronger. “I shot him in the foot. Well, first I fired a warning shot to the side. He made some stupid comment about how he likes them crazy and lunged so I….” You made a finger gun with your left hand, pointed at Joel’s foot to your right, and imitated a shooting sound. “He gave me so many nicknames after that. So colorful. You crazy bitch, and-”

“I think I can paint a pretty clear picture, no need t’go on,” Joel said softly. His voice was gruff, not towards you, but the situation you’d found yourself in and the man with no name. 

You nodded. “He’s why I left. After he joined FEDRA, he made my life hell. Made sure I got less ration cards, blacklisted me, caused all sorts’f problems. So I used what I had left t’pay someone to smuggle me out’f the QZ.”

“Nothing’s happened out here?”

“You mean outside the QZ?” He nodded. “No. I mean besides some infected, but I don’t count them. They’re technically already dead; it's just the fungus at that point. If we’re splittin’ hairs.” Looking out at the tree line, you sighed forlornly. “I used t’love mushrooms.”

After a second of silence, Joel burst out laughing, a low gravelly sound rumbling from deep in his chest. It vibrated you from your spot next to him, your very bones seeming to resonate with him. He was under your skin, and that made you smile. 

“Y’know,” he started after a minute. “I just heard ‘bout the most Texan come out’f your mouth in the last five minutes than the whole time I’ve known you.”

“The most….?”

“‘I’ve come damn close once‘r’twice,’” he mimicked your words from earlier, emphasizing you’re lackadaisical grammar. 

“Pfffft,” you blew out a huff at him. “Did not,” you countered, pushing his shoulder slightly.

“You’re slippin’” he teased with a grin, watching the flames.

His smile was contagious. “I’m just comfortable, is all. Comfortable and tired.”

“Oh good gracious, there it is again.” He looked at you mischievously. “Tired.” He drawled the word ridiculously now.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I do know how to shoot a gun, Joel.”

He nodded once in understanding. “Yes, ma’am.” Quickly turning his eyes back to the fire, he glanced back up at you only once briefly, the side of his mouth twitching up before his eyes fell back down to the wall of heat.

As you sat around the campfire, it had dwindled down to just the two of you. You watched him as the firelight reflected in his eyes, a small smile continuing to pull up his face as he stared into the flames.

“What?” He asked after a minute, pulling only his eyes up toward you, his head still angled down. “I got somethin’ on my face?”

You snorted. “Besides your age, which you wear brilliantly, by the way? No.”

“Ouch,” he chuckled. “Thank you? ….I think?”

Grinning, you leaned your shoulder into his before sitting back upright. “You’re welcome.” Despite having sat back how you had been, the sides of your arms now brushed one another’s, and neither of you made an effort to move. 

“So.”

He finally turned his head to fully look at you. “Yeah?”

“Why are you so opposed to Ellie moving into the garage?”

He sighed, glancing over his shoulder toward the cabin before looking out across the small camp toward the tree line. “Ugh, not you, too.”

“Is there something you’re worried about, or is it just…. Puttin’ your foot down?”

Joel heaved another sigh, eyes darting back and forth along the trees as he stared at them absently. “It’s…. I don’t know.” He paused, letting out a breath before taking another deep one as he started again. “We…. We went on a really, uh, tough trip together to get here. To Jackson, I mean. All the way from Boston. It’s been a rough road for her.”

“For the both of you, it seems,” you offered quietly. He looked at you and you shrugged. “You traveled together. If it was hard for her, it was for you, too. That’s just how it goes.”

“Yeah, I….” He looked at the flames. “I guess so.” He smiled softly before it faded. “I guess I just don’t want her that far from me.” He looked down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers, the tips of them dancing along the band of his watch before he closed his hand around the worn fabric. “Not yet.”

“It’s five extra steps, Joel.”

“I can keep an eye on her better down the hall.”

“You walked across the country together, a few more steps won’t break you.”

“You don’t know that,” he objected quickly, somewhat defensively, meeting your eyes again with his own as a dry chuckle painted the last of his words.

Smiling softly, you leaned further into his side slowly as you looked into the dwindling flames. “No, you’re right. I don’t.” He began to relax, his shoulders rolling forward as his weight slightly melted into you, staring at the flames once again himself. “But I’d like to think I’ve come to know you.” 

Joel froze, his body tense once again as he listened to you go on.

Looking up at him through your lashes, you saw the firelight dancing across his face, sending him into all kinds of shadows. It could have been a trick of the light, but he looked almost nervous? His eyes were definitely apprehensive, and once you noticed that, you lowered your gaze down to his lap where his hand was once again digging into the fabric of his jeans.

“I don’t know what or who happened to you, and I’m not asking for details, that’s up to you. What I am saying is….” reaching up and across, you rested your left hand on his left forearm where it continued to press into yours with each deeper breath either of you dared to take. A small smile worked its way up your features as you saw his hand relax and unclench against the denim, his palm coming to rest on your knee instead. “You’re on a supply run for a teenaged girl to get paint. And to me?” 

You turned just enough to catch his eye, finding his gaze already on you. When you realized that, you had to really think to remember what you wanted to say, swallowing roughly to remember how words worked as your eyes flicked between his own, your voice now something incredibly soft. “To me that paints a beautiful picture.”

Joel scoffed, his eyes studying your face for a long moment before he turned back to the fire that was now mostly coals, and started laughing. The sound started quiet but grew with each new round until it was a truly ruckus thing. “That…. was truly awful. And you say my puns are bad.”

You grinned as you sat back upright, pulling your knees tighter to your chest so you could rest your chin on them. He kept his palm on your leg, letting it ride just a bit above your knee and squeezed. “I have a bad influence. My roommates? Awful. All the time. Horrible, horrible puns.”

“Oh, really?” He arched a brow at you, giving your leg still in his grip a small teasing shake.

With a sigh, you tilted your head to the side to rest on the backs of your hands on your knees, studying him and trying to keep the damn smile off your face. “Yeah, they think they are so funny, but it’s really sad.”

He tilted his head back, looking down his nose at you in amusement. “Well, maybe you should teach them a thing or two.”

You grinned. It was inevitable. “Yeah. Maybe I will.”

Xxx

Tags to come!

[blueraineshadows]

Part Two

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

We go back in time to see Sebastian with his MC before returning to their present day. Sebastian is playing a dangerous game, whilst Leander does his research for the case before paying another visit to Azkaban.

11.9k words. Triggers: violence / angst / blood / blood magic / emotional distress / wand combat / manipulation

Mutual tag list at the end ✨️ 💗

Chapter Master Link and Ao3

Two: Light in the Dark

MC

Summer 1891 - End of 5th year

There was a muted peacefulness that encompassed one in the Slytherin common room. She wasn’t sure if it was the sensation of feeling like you were underwater, the ebb of the Black Lake making the weed dance a delicate weave outside the huge windows, the shoals of fish gliding past without a care in the world. The movement of the water shimmered with the light, giving the huge underground chamber an illusion of constant movement, the soft sounds of music adding to the calmness no matter the hour. 

All she knew was that she found a moment of peace seated near those windows, especially in the quiet hours of night when most of the other students were in their dormitories. It was her favourite time of the day to take stock and shift through her thoughts, the soft snap and fizz of the fire behind her, and a book in her lap. Even if she hadn’t picked the book up to read, the feel of the leather bound cover beneath her fingers was enough sometimes, quite content to sit and hold it with the promise of those inked pages hidden within.

Tonight, she wasn’t alone. Sleep wasn’t just eluding her this balmy night. With only a few days left before they left Hogwarts for the summer break, there had been much to reflect on. The physical wounds from the battle under the school may have healed, but the darkness that lingered in her mind was harder to hide from. Chased from her bed by the memories, she had crept out to the common room and found Ominis there, his wand held over the pages of his own book. They had sat in companionable silence for a while, content with the other to take the edge off the loneliness.

She heard his book close with a thump, a soft sigh leaving his lips that made her turn to look at him, the muted light reflecting off his blonde hair. His sightless eyes were staring towards the great windows, shifting slightly without focus, the swirling pale blue of his irises almost otherworldly. He was a classically beautiful boy, his skin flawless apart from the scatter of beauty marks that adorned his cheekbone like a constellation of stars. He had no inkling of the striking appearance he offered to the world, born blind and oblivious to the effect he had on a person when he strolled the halls with his wand held aloft to guide his way.

A Gaunt by name, most gave him a wide berth, but MC had come to value his company despite the bickering that went on between them at times. Never being daunted by his fits of temper or his cutting tongue, perhaps he appreciated her hardy spine and thicker skin, although he readily voiced his displeasure at the amount of trouble she always seemed to find herself in. While he scolded both her and Sebastian, he still remained at their sides, if sometimes a little snippy when he was. 

“Does your bed finally call to you, Ominis?”

He pressed his lips together in thought, a slight crease between his brows. “Perhaps, but when I put my head on the pillow, I doubt that sleep will come.”

Knowing the feeling, she sighed, twirling a lock of hair about her fingers as she considered trying to go back to bed. Her lips twitched upwards into a smirk. “Does Sebastian keep you awake with his snoring?”

“He would ordinarily, however he has not come to his bed tonight,” Ominis said, his frown deepening. “He rarely comes to bed now.”

The sickening twist of her stomach made her place a hand to it, a lingering guilt and horror still swimming inside after the awful events that had taken place in the catacombs. The tension between the three of them had been so thick that the bickering had been becoming almost unbearable of late. It didn’t seem to matter how many times they assured Sebastian that they would not hand him over to the Aurors, he still felt the need to bring the matter up, the dark desperation in his brown eyes too painful to meet sometimes. MC was struggling with her own reactions to the sight of Solomon’s body laying in the dust. She could only imagine the horror that Sebastian was feeling.

Closing her eyes and trying to steady her sour insides, she had a fairly good idea of where Sebastian would be at this time of night. Rather than seeking comfort in the company of others like she had, Sebastian had taken to sequestering himself inside the Undercroft, alone. 

“Are you two still not talking properly?” She ventured the question with a hint of hesitancy in her voice lest she poke at the boy’s short temper. “I thought perhaps things were a bit better between you now.”

“You know how he is,” Ominis said, his head turning in her direction, his eyes eerily landing on her with accuracy. “He is a stubborn fool, and despite his promises, he still insists on chasing a cure for Anne.”

“You cannot blame him for that, Ominis. She is his sister, and he loves her. Of course, he wants to find a way to rid her of that curse,” MC said, sitting up straighter and tucking her dressing robe more tightly around herself. 

“Yes, yes, but how long will it be before he finds himself back on that path of Dark Magic, hmm? I find it very hard to trust him after everything that’s happened. Believe me, I wish that Anne could be well. I feel just as powerless when it comes to her, but I can not take any more of Sebastian’s foolishness, and you should not encourage him.”

A flicker of sadness shadowed her face as she gazed out at the waters of the lake. “I just want to help, Ominis, that’s all. I honestly thought that ridding the world of Rookwood would have solved the problem. Whatever he did to her, the knowledge died with him. I should have tried harder to find out before I took him down.”

He sat up straight, his face one of stern reproach, his voice almost a hiss. “You should not be running around getting blood on your hands for him, MC. You have had quite the eventful year already. Whilst ridding the world of a man such as Rookwood wasn’t exactly the worst thing, you should not have to become a murderer in order to satisfy Sebastian’s wants. Neither of you should have blood on your hands at our age. Mark my words, MC. This does not bode well. I have seen it with my relatives. The dark path is one to regret, and the lure of the power is too great for some to get off it once they start. Do not lose yourself to it, MC. I beg you.”

“I won’t, Ominis. We’ll be alright,” she said, reaching out to put a gentle touch of her fingers to the back of his hand. He almost flinched but kept his hand steady as she lightly stroked the smooth skin there. “As long as we stick together, everything will be just fine. You’ll see.”

….*....

The sliding groan of the metal gate to the Undercroft made silent entry into the underground chamber impossible, the flickering of candles the only light as MC stepped through, her slippered feet quiet as she crossed the stone floor towards where Sebastian was waiting for her near one of the tall, decorated columns. She had not thought to dress, coming to him in her long nightgown, her dressing robe tied at her waist and her hair loose about her shoulders. Once, not so long ago, the thought of presenting herself to a boy in her night clothes would have had her cheeks turning pink, but not with him.

After the first time he had kissed her, a shock to them both after a rather emotional breakdown of grief had led to being tangled up in each other’s embrace, their lips had discovered a passion for kisses. This, in turn, had led to hands seeking comfort against skin. Whilst he had not taken her, her maidenhood still intact, she had found that their new found intimacy was one she enjoyed. Craved, even.

Meeting his intense brown eyes, MC hurried forward, her arms reaching for him as he stretched out his hands towards her. Not a word passed their lips as he drew her against him, cradling her with a fierceness that stole her breath. Her nose nuzzled against the skin of his throat, breathing in his now familiar scent, and some of the tension in her shoulders seemed to fade. The darkness receded just enough for her to feel the warmth that came from the reassuring press of his solid frame against hers. She shivered at the feel of his hands sliding through her hair and squeezed him tighter.

“What are you doing here this late?” He murmured, his lips grazing against her head.

“It just made sense,” she whispered, her fingers caressing the expanse of his back, the cotton of his shirt worn soft with use. “I hate the thought of you being alone down here in the dark.”

The touch of his fingers was achingly gentle as he caught her chin, tilting her head back so that he could look at her, his eyes dark and searching. She could see her own shadows in them, twisted and painful torments that had no release, winding so tightly into a vortex that was pulling them downwards. Would there ever be an escape from it? 

“I can’t lose anybody else,” he said, his voice almost breaking, his eyes squeezing shut as his lips pressed together in an attempt to hold back whatever tide was pulling him under. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said fiercely, her fingers now gripping his shirt. Her eyes conveyed the truth of it, burning into his. “I won’t leave you, Sebastian. I promise.”

“What if I have to leave you?” He said, the words pulled painfully from his lips. She could see the fear in his eyes. “What if they find out? What if I’m taken away, caught out, and sent to…to Azkaban.”

The same fear, over and over, the horror and the guilt far too heavy a burden for a 16 year old to carry. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. MC felt the burn of tears as she clung to him, shaking her head in denial. “Nobody will ever find out, Sebastian. I swear to you, I will never, ever tell a soul. Ominis won’t either, and Anne has punished you enough already by abandoning you. I doubt she will do anything more.”

“You are all I have left, MC,” he said, taking hold of her face, his forehead pressed to hers as tears leaked from his eyes. “Don’t leave me. Promise me. Promise you’ll stay with me. I…I can’t do this on my own.”

“I promise,” she whispered, shifting to press her lips to his cheeks, kissing away the tears with urgency. “I promise.”

His mouth was hungry, claiming her in a kiss that stole her breath, his tongue immediately probing for entrance. Parting her lips, she gave him the access he craved, meeting his demand with a fire that was growing slowly through her veins. Her body seemed to instinctively know what he wanted, her very skin tingling with anticipation as he pulled her closer, the kiss deepening and drawing a low moan from his throat. 

There was something different about this kiss. His intensity, the way his hands gripped her, she could feel a power building between them that sent a shiver down her spine. It was new, thrilling, and even a little frightening. Pulling back a little and breathing hard, she looked up at him, their foreheads pressed together. His eyes were so dark, his gaze penetrating.

“Would you swear your life on it?”

She blinked, heart pounding. “What?”

“Your promise,” he said, his eyes serious as his thumbs caressed her cheeks. “Would you swear on your life that you will never leave me? I’d do it for you. I’ll do it right now.”

“What are you talking about?” She lifted her hand to his wrists, the look in his eyes making her stomach flip.

“A blood pact. We can make a promise to each other and perform a spell, a charm that will seal the promise with our blood. I’ve read about these spells. It is the ultimate commitment, a promise between two people who would lay their lives down for each other.”

His face seemed to come alive with the thought, the fire in his gaze making him smile with a frantic energy that made her pause. He pressed a firm kiss on her mouth, letting her go so he could pace before her, his enthusiasm building as he clenched his fists.

“It’s perfect! We could make a pact to never turn against each other, to keep each other’s secrets forever,” he said, his eyes meeting her’s expectantly. “It would be a promise we would keep until our deaths, bonded forever in a way that no other could touch. Imagine that! Linked forever. We would never be alone again.”

“Where did you even find a spell such as this?” She gaped, her mind in a spin as she tried to process what he was implying. “It sounds rather dark to me.”

A frown flickered on his brow. “You’re not going to give me a lecture, are you? It’s not my intention for it to be dark, MC. This is a pact made between two people who care about each other. But, if you really must know, I found it in a book from the Restricted Section.”

“I’m not going to lecture you,” she sighed. “It does sound rather serious, though. Aren’t we a little young to be making a pact like that? It sounds even more serious than marriage.”

A smirk curved his lips. “I’d marry you if that’s what you want,” he said cheekily. Her cheeks flamed with colour, her eyes widening even more at that suggestion, but he continued to speak, caught up with his idea. 

“However, we aren’t of age to do that legally yet. Technically, we're not old enough to perform a blood pact either as we are under seventeen, but you don’t need an officiant to oversee it. We could do it right here, right now. Just us. Nobody could take it away from us. It would be ours.”

She stared at him, shaking her head a little at his audacity. “What happens if one of us breaks this blood pact?”

“The betrayer would die,” he said calmly, his voice so matter of fact.

Her eyes bulged. “What? Sebastian…”

“But that won’t happen, MC. Not to us,” he insisted, taking hold of her elbows and urging her close again, his eyes fixed on hers. “We are different, you and me. We already hold each other’s secrets. This would just make it official. Don’t you think it would be a comfort to know that we would always have each other’s backs? We will always have each other to turn to, the pact an unbreakable bond of trust and safety. No more being alone.”

MC stared up at him, his words spoken with such conviction were luring her towards the possibility, and yet she could hear a part of her head whispering about the risks. To tie yourself to someone like that. Forever. It was scary. 

“You and me. Always, MC,” he said softly, stroking her hair with gentle fingers. “Tell me you want that, too.”

All her life, she had been alone. There had never been a choice. She'd had to learn to find her own way or end up another lost soul somewhere. Stepping into this world of magic had given her power, friendship, and him. 

Looking into those eyes, she wondered if she would ever be able to deny him anything. In the short time she had known him, she had followed him, learnt from him, and allowed him past the walls she had built around herself. Trying to picture her life without him felt bleak and empty, void of the warmth and safety she had become accustomed to whenever he was within reach. 

The darkness didn't feel so daunting when she had his hand to hold, and a pact sworn until death to keep that, to know that if she ever needed him, he would be there. Her darkest secrets would always be safe with him and his with her. 

He was right. Nobody else could touch them. Their very lives would depend on it, and both of them would fight to protect the other, or they would die. It was reckless and romantic. It was utter madness. It sounded like them. 

“Let's do it,” she said, nodding. 

His eyes flared. “Do you mean it?” 

“You and me. Always,” she nodded. 

The excitement in his eyes was infectious as he pulled out his wand, urging her to do the same. She watched as he held the tip to the palm of his left hand and cut a neat line through his flesh. Scarlet blood beaded at the wound, and he held his hand out towards her. 

“Now, your turn,” he said, his voice low and firm. "On your left hand."  

He watched as she copied his action, the sting of the cut making her wince as she watched the blood well up on her left palm. Sebastian placed his bloodied palm over hers and held his wand over their hands. She met his gaze, and he smiled reassuringly. 

“Hold your wand like this and repeat after me,” he instructed. She joined her wand with his, her heart thudding hard behind her ribs. 

“I swear by my own blood that I will never turn my back on you,” he said clearly, his eyes locking with hers. She repeated the words at his nod, and a swirl of magic came from their wands, a shimmering wisp of pink and white that encircled their hands as they spoke. 

“I will keep your secrets, protect you, and put you before all others until death parts us. This I swear, with my own blood, and may death take me should I fail.” 

The slice on her palm began to burn, the sensation spreading up through her arm, the shimmer of the magic making the veins at her wrist glow with warm light. She gasped and flinched, but Sebastian kept a grip on her hand, both of them breathing harder and faster as two droplets of blood floated up above their hands.

“Sebastian,” she whispered, her eyes wide as she followed the droplets, watching them join together as one. 

He squeezed her hand, a smile on his lips and a look of awe in his eyes as their combined blood shimmered and morphed to form a blood-red gemstone. Around the stone formed a silver setting, delicate and beautiful, the swirls of magic from their charm creating a solid symbol of their promise. 

A tear slid from her eye as her blood seared with the strength of the charm, both of them trembling as the amulet floated downwards towards their joined hands. Sebastian let go of her and caught it, holding it up with his fingers with a look of satisfaction. The stone shimmered as though made of liquid, and yet it glittered like a precious jewel in the candlelight.

Their blood, their promise, and their lives joined as one. 

It was too late for regrets, despite the warning Ominis had given her less than an hour ago about walking a darker path and bloodying her hands for Sebastian. She had literally cut herself open for him, bled for him, and she realised she would do it again. For Sebastian, she would do anything, for her heart seemed to beat for him. Her young heart, foolish or otherwise, loved him. 

The burn in her blood began to fade, and when she looked at her palm, the cut had sealed into a red scar. It didn't even hurt anymore. 

They had done it. They were now sworn to stand by each other, to keep their secrets and protect one another forever. To stand against him would mean death, to betray his trust would end her. 

“I love you,” he said, unshed tears making his eyes glisten as she met his gaze. 

“I love you, too,” she said softly. 

She stepped into his embrace, buried her head against the safety of his chest, his heart beating just as hard as her own. This was her forever. From now until her death, she belonged to Sebastian Sallow, and he belonged to her. 

They would never be alone again. 

Sebastian 

1895 - present day

The blushing young couple on the river bank had been holding hands and smiling shyly at each other for a while now, both of them edging closer and closer, soft gazes lingering in the hopes of a kiss. They could have been no more than fourteen or fifteen, and Sebastian smirked as he remembered that awkward moment of a first kiss, the desperate anticipation and the crippling nerves about getting it all wrong. 

Shifting on his feet, his back pressed up against the brick wall of a ship building yard beside the River Clyde in Glasgow, Sebastian rolled his shoulders that were stiff from waiting. He had been told to wait here for one of Rookwood’s men from the city, a partner for today's little raid. To pass the boredom, Sebastian had been people-watching, and the young couple had caught his eye. 

At that age, you loved with abandon, and every shy glance stole your breath with the hammering of your heart, like a new discovery that promised so much more. 

The reality was rather different. Love brought with it the vulnerability of pain and loss, that heavy feeling of failure when things took a downward turn. Love hurt. 

Turning the palm of his left hand over, Sebastian looked down at the red scar that had never faded, vivid against the flesh of his hand. The memory of that night in the Undercroft was seared into his memory, the glow of candlelight in MC’s eyes, the elation in his soul when she had agreed to bind herself to him forever. If he closed his eyes, he could remember the warmth of her skin under his fingertips, the scent of her filling his awareness until he ached. 

The loss of her hollowed his stomach, and he had to suppress it before it could swallow him whole. The bond had meant to stop him from ever being lonely, and yet here he was, alone. The ones that really mattered were out of his reach.

Another glance towards the young couple showed them to be walking away, still hand in hand, heading off into their unexplored future. Sebastian wondered if there was heartache waiting for them there or if they would get their happily ever after. He doubted it. That kind of ending didn’t exist in real life. It was a plot tool used in stories to plant a hope inside a person, a hope that was doomed to die. His happily ever after had been torn from him, and the bitterness was still hard to swallow.

Or had it?

Rookwood's tantalising suggestion of being able to get MC out of Azkaban had been dangled in front of him yesterday, an idea that had kept him awake last night, his mind going over everything again as he wondered what it would be like to see her again. 

Did she think of him as he thought of her? Did she miss him? Or, had that prison stolen her mind and left a shadow in her place? The very thought of it made him shiver, a coldness that he didn’t think he would be able to shift until he saw her with his own eyes. 

The subtle sound of someone Apparating in made him straighten, swiftly tucking his memories to one side and looking alert as the tap of booted feet sounded around the corner of the yard. They were light and swift, and his brow furrowed until the blonde haired witch appeared before him, soft, spiralling curls framing her face. Eyes like a summer sky smiled at him, the curve of her mouth almost sinful as she paused in her step, one hand on the curve of her waist as she appraised him.

“Sallow,” she greeted, her eyes saying so much more. 

His eyes had a will of their own, sweeping over her, taking in the length of her legs encased in trousers so tight it left nothing to the imagination. A low under-bust corset was cinched about her waist, the softness of her breasts pushed up under the fabric of a billowy blouse, her long, floor length coat cut to utter perfection, the collar jauntily up. There was no denying that Luella was a beautiful woman, the light in her eyes, and the delicate shape of her bone structure cutting a devastating profile that turned heads.

“Lulu,” he said affectionately, smirking slightly. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Those eyes of hers saw everything. She was quick and smart, cunning and smooth tongued. You would be a fool to underestimate her, to let her beauty distract you from the perfectly competent witch that she was. Sebastian had looked into those eyes often enough over the last year, her skill with a wand and sheer audacity in a fight had caught his interest, but then she had opened her mouth and he had felt himself curiously drawn. The soft huskiness of her voice was laced with a trace of French accent, her words articulate and educated.

“Perhaps if you had been expecting me, you would have worn a smarter jacket,” she said, lifting an eyebrow as she caught the edge of his collar and tugged gently. “Isn’t it about time you lost this old thing?”

“It’s comfortable,” he said, shrugging slightly as he pulled his jacket from her grip and shifted. He met her gaze, his face guarded. “So, what’s the game plan? I didn’t think Daddy would send you down here for such a trivial raid.”

Her smile was slow and playful. “I volunteered. Besides, you seem to be the current favourite. Once we’re done here, he wants me to bring you back. He wants to talk to you. As for the plan, we get in, find the shipping papers, and then get out. Same as always, Sebastian.”

The sound of his name leaving her mouth was always a delight, her accent giving it a little something else. Learning her name had made him pause when he had heard it, wondering if it was a mistake to get too close to her, but then her position in the gang was very advantageous to him. He would be an idiot to ignore it. 

Firmly within the inner circle and the perfect way to gather intel, Luella Rookwood had swiftly caught Sebastian’s attention. Her usefulness in his endeavours was too good an opportunity to pass up. And so it was that he lured her into his bed, right under the cold eyes of her father, a comfort under the blanket in the loneliness of the night whenever she happened to be at camp. By day, she was an ally, a foothold into Rookwood’s inner circle. Their dalliance was their little secret, with only Rosier knowing for certain that anything more took place, making himself scarce when need be. 

Resisting the urge to show his dark delight at being called the new favourite, Sebastian maintained an air of cool indifference as they began to walk towards the street, the clatter of horses and carts combined with the din of many voices highlighting the busy nature of the city’s riverway. With summer fading into autumn, the air still clung to warmth under the sun by day, but in a few hours, the sun would sink and plunge the city into the chilling promise of colder weather.

Scanning the street with a practised eye, Sebastian politely gestured for Luella to step out before him, both of them walking with purpose towards the warehouse buildings at the far end of the street, set back from the bustling quay side.

“Did Rookwood say what it was he wished to speak to me about?”

“You know Father,” she replied with a smirk. “He likes to keep people guessing, but I’m going to assume it's about the little witch rotting in Azkaban with the ancient power. I understand you used to know her?”

Luella turned curious blue eyes his way, and Sebastian could feel her gaze burning his profile as he made a show of scanning the street again while he gathered his thoughts and fought to keep his face neutral. His stomach had tightened at the mention of MC, the amulet sitting heavy in his pocket.

“Ah, yes. He spoke to me about her the other day, actually,” he said, carefully indifferent. “She was in my year at school, a fellow Slytherin, in fact. She is a rather brilliant witch.”

“I’ve heard all about her exceptional gifts. Father goes on about them enough,” Luella said, a slight edge to her voice as they arrived at a gated yard. They paused near the gate post whilst casually checking the area. “So, you must have known her quite well being a fellow Slytherin. You were friends with this girl?”

Sebastian finally looked at her wondering just how much she knew about MC. Rookwood knew enough, and perhaps even more that he was holding back. How much detail would he have placed in the hands of his daughter? Either way, Sebastian knew he had to be careful.

“It was a long time ago,” he deflected. “She is powerful, make no mistake, and I can understand why your father would covet such a thing. But, she is locked up in Azkaban. Nobody gets out of there easily. Seeing her out before her time is something I will believe when I see it.”

“Yes, well, don’t underestimate my father,” she said, slipping her wand out, glancing around one more time before giving him the nod. “He tends to always get what he wants.”

They hurried across the yard towards a door in the side of the huge warehouse, swift as shadows until they were inside the dim interior, dust motes dancing in the shaft of light that pierced the gloom before they closed the door behind them. The silence echoed around their still forms, the soft draw of their breaths stealing the air as they waited for their eyes to adjust. At this hour in the day, pushing past tea time, the staff were gone and perhaps only a warden or two to worry about.

“The office is at the far end, second floor,” Sebastian whispered, his scouting out yesterday giving him a clear idea of the layout. “The door is likely to be locked.”

Luella twirled her wand in elegant fingers, her smile evident now that his eyes had grown used to the gloom clinging to the huge room filled with storage crates. “Luckily, locked doors aren’t a problem for us,” she whispered.

She turned to look at him, and he felt a subtle brush of fingers against his arm before she was gone, blending into the shadows as she slipped past him and along past the crates. Stiffening under her touch, he waited a moment before following her, the intimate gesture just another indicator that she was getting too close. As good as Luella was at sneaking around, perhaps anyone but her would have been a preferable partner today for this job, especially considering her sudden curiosity about his connection to MC.

Treading carefully, Sebastian followed her, heading for the wrought iron stairs that led up to the office. Inside would be the ledgers detailing the shipments that were due in and on what vessel. Rookwood was particularly interested in the ones that were due in from across the Atlantic, crates being sent from MACUSA containing artefacts found on the American frontier for the perusal of the Ministry. There were restrictions and rules around the shipping of such things, but somehow, a leak had led them to the harbour here in Glasgow.

Luella paused at the bottom of the steps, and he came to a stop beside her, wand out. “Are you going up, or shall I?” He murmured.

“You go,” she said, her mouth close to his ear. “I’ll keep watch.”

Ignoring the feel of her breath against his ear, he nodded and crept up the stairs, looking out across the expanse of storage crates for any sign of movement before he aimed a swift Alohomora at the office door. It clicked open, and he silently slipped inside. 

Glancing around the office, Sebastian noted the filing cabinets and shipping maps on the wall. The cluttered desk before him was his worst nightmare. Books were left open and not neatly stacked, papers in loosely shuffled piles abandoned haphazardly everywhere. How did anyone manage to focus on this chaos? He shook his head with a sigh and began to ruffle through the papers, checking the dates in the logbooks to find what he was looking for. 

A sound from the warehouse made him pause and look up, his ears straining to hear more but was met with silence. He bit his lip and flicked the pages faster, reading as quickly as he could by the light of his wand.  

Finally, he found the correct page in the book and pulled out a blank piece of parchment from his jacket pocket and cast a copying charm over the data, transferring it across to the blank sheet within seconds. As he was folding the parchment, the flare of a spell lit up the small glass window in the office door and the sound of something falling onto the metal stairway made him shove the parchment deep into his pocket and grip his wand.

Hurrying for the door he paused behind it, opening it just a crack to peer out into the warehouse and then jumped back as a spell blasted against the door frame.

“Shit,” he cursed, stumbling backwards, his heart rate picking up. 

The door banged open, swinging on its hinges as a figure appeared in the doorway, a woman with dark hair and long, dark blue robe. She had the look of an Auror about her and she didn’t even hesitate, her pouty mouth widening into a smile as she shot a stunning spell right towards him. Sebastian blocked it with ease, launching himself sideways and knocking a stack of papers from the desk.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Sebastian Sallow,” she purred, her movements almost feline as she moved into the office. Parchment papers were scattering across the floor, floating in lazy swoops, while his pulse raced with adrenaline. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Definitely an Auror. Sebastian blocked another spell and followed it with a quick curse that she immediately ducked from, the blast of it hitting the map on the wall behind her and obliterating it into ash. She was quick. He’d give her that.

Making a dive for the door, he bombarded her with a flurry of spells, working up a sweat as she valiantly fought back. As he grabbed the door frame with one hand, he sent a filing cabinet to flip forward, the drawers opening and spilling its contents, paperwork flying everywhere as it crashed down near her feet. She screamed in surprise and frustration as he flashed her a cheeky grin and disappeared out onto the stairway.

His boots thundered down the iron steps, hitting the stone floor at a run, dashing past the stacked crates towards the exit. He risked a glance over his shoulder as a spell hit a crate near his head, ducking with a scowl as he saw the Auror heading down the stairs after him.

“You won’t get far, Sallow,” she yelled. “The net is closing in on you and your little gang friends.”

His heart thudded erratically against his ribs as he hurtled towards the door, hoping that Luella had done the sensible thing and got the fuck out of here as well. He rounded a huge crate, feet thudding at a fair pace, almost sliding sideways with the momentum as he laid eyes on the door. He hit it with a Depulso to open it, the force of the spell blowing the door clean off its hinges and into the yard outside. All sense of being discreet long gone as he hurried out into the early evening sunset.

“Seb! Over here!”

Luella was to the left of him, gesturing madly to hurry, blood on her face and her hair in disarray. He immediately leapt towards her waiting arms, grabbing hold of her tightly, her arm encircling his waist before she Disapparated with a sharp crack.

They hit the ground with a roll, both of them grunting from the impact as a bed of dry leaves crunched beneath them. Sebastian found himself on his back staring up at a canopy of trees, the light muted and the evensong of birds filling the air. They were no longer in the city, the scent of damp earth and trees an assault on the senses after the heated stench of Glasgow by the river.

Luella was beside him, her arm trapped beneath him, her soft curls tickling at his face as she twisted herself up to look at him. He turned his head to meet her gaze, the amused glint in them making his lips twitch. 

“It’s not funny,” he said, starting to shake his head.

Her smile widened and then she chuckled, the sound infectious, and soon he was joining her. He put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes, the close call and adrenaline tipping him over into relieved laughter.  

“Please tell me that you at least got what we were looking for,” she said, shuffling even closer.

He nodded and patted his jacket pocket, the scent of her perfume dominating his every breath. “Of course,” he grinned. “You forget who you’re talking to here. Since when do I not get the job done?”

She cupped his cheek and pressed her lips to his, her velvety, soft mouth claiming a kiss that was both celebratory and demanding. He stilled, surprised, his eyes widening as he looked at the soft sweep of her dark lashes against her cheeks. Without returning the kiss, he gently urged her backwards, her eyes opening to meet him with a questioning look.

“We should get moving,” he said, softening his words with a smile. He shifted out from under her and sat up, freeing her arm. He avoided her gaze as he got to his feet, glancing around them at an endless forest as he fluffed his hair with his hand. “Where are we?”

“If my aim was accurate then we are not far from your camp,” she said, brushing leaves from her coat, watching him carefully. “That was a close one back there. That Auror knew your name.”

He glanced at her and nodded. “I did notice. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or miffed.”

“Your reputation is growing, Seb. You are beginning to get noticed,” she said, stepping closer, her boots crunching in the leaves. She tilted her head, her teeth catching her lower lip as she regarded him. “My father wants you in on the prison break job, doesn't he? Why? Is it because you know her?” 

Sebastian shrugged, his face carefully blank as he straightened his jacket. “I guess so. He wants me to prove my loyalty, and this job would be a good way to do it.” 

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I suppose it would given she went down for murdering a Sallow. Your uncle wasn't it?” 

He met her gaze and swallowed. Her smile was slow, knowing, as she nodded. “I can read, too. I did some digging on this witch after hearing father constantly fixating on this ancient power of hers. She took out a goblin rebellion, killed father’s best duelist thinking it was him, and murdered your uncle. I've got to say, she sounds fucking crazy. Just the kind of witch father respects. Is she really that powerful?”

Sebastian nodded, reluctantly. “Yes, she is. I saw her take down a troll with my own eyes when she was 15 without hardly breaking a sweat.” 

“Fucking hell,” Luella breathed, shaking her head. She fixed her gaze on his, her jaw tensing. “And you want to help break her out of Azkaban after what she did to your family?”

“It's what your father wants, isn't it?” Sebastian shifted, his wand hand flexing. “What was I supposed to do? Say no?” 

She hesitated, a shadow flickering in her eyes before she slowly shook her head. “Don't cross him, Sebastian. Father has already sent word to his contact to find out more about this witch's Azkaban situation. My father doesn't trust you as it is. Don't even think about crossing him over this girl. If you help break her out and then exact some kind of revenge on her, it's not you my father will hurt.” 

It was Sebastian’s turn to narrow his eyes, a flicker of panic fluttering in his chest. He would never wish any harm on MC. Ever. But it had never been the plan to get revenge on her. That was all saved for Rookwood. But, of course, Luella had no clue about any of the truth. 

If Rookwood even got a sniff of his real thoughts, then there would be trouble, but surely that trouble could only come to him.

“What are you saying, Lulu? Who will he hurt?” 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her voice lowering despite them being utterly alone here in the forest. When she opened her eyes again they were softer, pleading almost.

“If you cross my father, it's not you he will come after. You have a sister, don't you? I know you have never spoken of her to me, and it's alright, I get it. But, my father knows. She is called Anne, right? She is married to one of the Gaunt sons, and she is your twin.” 

Heart dropping with a sickening lurch, Sebastian clenched his fists as he stared at Luella. “Don't you dare threaten Anne,” he warned. “I mean it, Luella. Don't you dare.” 

Luella’s eyes widened subtly, a flash of fear appearing at the dark look in his eyes before she smothered it. He had called her by her given name, something he hadn’t done since they had shared a bed, but mentioning Anne had crossed a line. 

No matter that him and Anne were not speaking, she was still his twin, and nobody threatened her. Nobody. He would still protect her at all costs. He had killed before, the first one being the hardest, but as the years had gone on, eyes that he had closed forever became easier to come to terms with. What was one more?

She held up her hand. “I'm not threatening her, Sebastian. I'm merely warning you what my father knows.” 

“And why would you warn me?” He asked, tilting his head. His tone was soft like silk, his blood raging with his temper, but his mind spinning with cunning clarity. “He must have told you all this for a reason. Rookwood rarely does his own dirty work. Does that mean if I misbehave, he will send you after my twin? Is that it?” 

Luella shook her head, taking a step back as he stepped forward. “No, that's not it. He hasn't asked that of me,” she said. Again, a softness glimmered in her eyes. “I wanted to warn you, Seb. Please, don't do anything foolish. Don't make him hurt you.” 

He had allowed her to warm his bed for too long. He had feared she was growing too fond of him. Her little touches, the long looks. Now she was telling him secrets that would likely get her into trouble with her own father. 

Isn't that what he had wanted? Didn't he charm her into his bed because she would prove useful? Apparently, it had worked like a dream. He had her right in the palm of his hand. 

Or at least, it appeared that way. He would be a fool indeed to trust a word that came out of her pretty mouth. She was a Rookwood after all. 

If she really had gone soft for him, then she was going to be disappointed. As a bed mate she was feisty and fun, but she would never get past the walls around his heart. There was only room for one girl in there, and if things went to plan, then she would be getting out of Azkaban soon. 

Watching Luella, seeing the fleeting emotions in her eyes as she stared back at him, he knew that the game wasn't over yet. The flyers were all still in play, the golden snitch was yet to be caught, and at the moment, Rookwood held all the points. 

Despite his anger at the threat made towards Anne, he allowed his lips to curve into a slight smile as he relaxed his hands and stepped forwards. He could see the subtle relief in Luella’s eyes as he lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing his thumb lightly over the exquisite curve of her cheekbone. 

“I appreciate how risky it is for you to speak of this. Thank you for telling me,” he said softly. 

He may have been smiling at her, but if she touched one hair on Anne’s head, he would end her. No matter how pretty her moans were for him in bed, he would kill her without a moment's thought. Some bonds went blood deep, and she barely scratched the surface.

“Don't worry, I'm not going to fuck this up, sweetheart. Trust me.” 

Leander

The bustle of the busy Auror office was nothing but a faint hum in the background as Leander sat at his desk poring over the case files for Rookwood’s gang. Now that Harrington had put him on the case, Leander wanted to make sure that he had absorbed as much information as possible. Gang members, known locations, everything that Rookwood’s gang had been up to and reported, Leander had devoured it all. There was a stack of folders next to him on his otherwise neatly kept desk, and he closed the last one with a sigh before rubbing his face with his hands. 

There was one file left and he had put this one off until last. Peeking through his fingers, he eyed the blue file with MC’s name on it, her prisoner photograph on the front in black and white. She looked so lovely in the photo, just how he remembered her from school. The only thing that made the picture painful to look at was her eyes. Sad and resigned. Sighing, he took his hands from his face and slid the file closer towards him, flipping open the cover to reveal the notes inside.

“You look like you could do with a coffee, Prewett.” 

The pleasant voice came from the desk in the next cubicle over, his head turning to glance that way at the witch who sat there, a little smile playing on her full, pouty lips. Odessa McKinnon was one of those incredibly beautiful women who had the capability of making Leander blush with just a look. He felt his cheeks heat up now as he noticed the way her long legs were crossed, a graceful arm leaning on the edge of her desk as she considered him. Soft, dark hair framed her lovely face, her brown eyes watching him with interest as he bit his lip and looked back down at the file before him.

“I’m alright,” he said, the blush spreading further down his neck, his fingers fiddling with the corner of the parchment. “Just trying to catch up on the Rookwood case.”

“Ah, yes, Harrington said he had brought you on board,” Odessa said, standing up and moving closer towards his desk.

Leander tried not to stare as she perched herself on the edge of it, he forced his eyes to look up at her rather than linger on her tempting curves, the delicate scent of her perfume teasing at his nose. Her smirk was far too sinful for an office setting, and he cleared his throat, shifting on his chair as she continued.

“How are you finding it? If you have any questions, I would be happy to help you out. I have been on this case for a while.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” he said, offering her a tentative smile. “It was an honour to be asked to join.”

“You’re a good Auror, Prewett. I’m glad Harrington has noticed. It is no more than you deserve.”

Her eyes drifted down to the file before him, and her eyebrows lifted as she leant down for a closer look. “Oh, I see you have MC’s file. She is a rather interesting case, that one. There is an air of mystery about her, isn’t there? I’ve not seen her myself, but I hear you have been assigned to question her. What is she like?”

Leander sat back in his chair, feeling rather pleased at her praise, his shoulders straightening as he smiled up at her. “I shared classes with MC at school, which is why Harrington thought she might open up to me. However, I haven’t managed to get anything new out of her yet. She doesn’t trust me enough, and after four years in Azkaban, she isn’t exactly the girl I remember anymore.”

“Hmm, yes, that place does things to a person’s mind,” Odessa said, touching her finger to her lower lip as she thought for a moment. “Have you tried baiting her with Sallow? She went down for murdering his uncle, there has to be more to that story, and Sebastian is definitely in thick with Rookwood. I saw him not two days ago, in fact.”

“You saw Sallow?” Leander asked, leaning forward with a frown. “Where?”

“Up to no good in Glasgow, stealing shipment papers with none other than Miss Rookwood,” Odessa said, her face one of wry speculation. “He must be high in favour indeed if he is running about with her. It might be worth dropping that little tidbit to MC. Weren’t she and Sallow childhood sweethearts, or some such thing? It might rile her up a bit and get her talking if she thinks he has found himself another woman and the enemy’s baby girl no less.”

A crease of concern appeared on Leander’s brow as he looked down at the photograph of MC in the file, her image moving as though she was really inside the little white frame. Digging at her about Sallow and another woman would probably upset her, and hadn’t she been through enough? That soft part of him wasn’t sure if that was the best way to go about getting her to open up to him, but it had been three visits now, and she still wasn’t talking. He had a job to do, and he needed to do something. His first shot at a big case, and he hadn’t managed to achieve anything yet. 

“I’ll give it some thought,” he said, straightening his already impeccably knotted tie. 

“Yes, do,” Odessa said, standing. She reached out to place a well manicured hand onto his shoulder. “I shall leave you to your reading, but remember, if you need any help, I’m only a desk away.”

He smiled his thanks and watched Odessa return to her desk to retrieve her coffee cup, his eyes following her as she made her way towards the staff room. He realised that he wasn’t the only one watching her go, a few of his colleagues had been unable to resist the soft sway of her hips, or the graceful movement of her long legs. There was something almost feline about the way that woman moved, and he remembered how agile and quick she had been during their Auror training. He wondered if he would ever be given the opportunity to do some field work with her, the prospect an enticing one. 

Turning his attention back to his desk, he took a moment to stare at the framed photograph of himself with his family the day he graduated from the Auror training program, a proud day captured with smiling faces in the sunshine. He smoothed his hand down the front of his waistcoat, long fingers subconsciously checking every button as he watched his family smile at him over and over in the moving image. 

If he could make a difference in this case, it would be a career changing moment. Not only would he be a graduate with an impeccable record, he would have a noted case under his belt which could lead him onto other opportunities to put his skills to the test. His fingers touched the Auror badge that sat snug in his pocket, polished to a shine, a symbol of the job he took pride in.

He could do this. He could find a way to get the information they needed, and maybe even help MC in the process, because despite everything he was about to surely read about in this file, he still couldn’t help but feel like she wasn’t quite the cold blooded killer they made her out to be. He just couldn’t help but seek out the good in people, and he had been so certain that there was some good in MC. 

With a determined sigh, he settled into his chair and began to read MC’s file, losing himself in the content so deeply that he didn’t notice Odessa returning with her fresh cup of coffee, or the curious gaze that she sent his way.

….*.... 

It didn’t matter how many times he came to Azkaban, the chilling cold and the oppressive atmosphere would always creep into Leander’s soul. The dampness seeped through your clothes. The dark halls were substantial in size, but the heaviness of the shadows seemed to press against you, the flickering flames of the magical firelight doing little to brighten the prison. And then, there were the prisoners themselves.

Walking down the corridor of MC’s wing, there was a screamer that always hung against her bars, her skeletal arms reaching out towards him, her eyes pits of despair that were sunken in her haggard face. Leander tried not to look, refused to imagine that MC would end up like that one day, but the evidence was beginning to show on her and he hated it. Maybe she wouldn’t scream, maybe she would be like the man a few cell doors down, withered and drawn, his mouth a flat line of misery and he never uttered a sound. His dark eyes would watch Leander, following his movement like a creepy old Muggle painting, his arms hanging by his sides in a desolate stance that made Leander quicken his steps. 

Unlocking MC’s cell door and entering, she was curled up with her back to him on the stone ledge that ran the length of one wall, the soles of her feet filthy black, her thin arms wrapped around herself. At the sound of the door, she moved, turning as she sat up, her lank hair falling over her pale face. Her large eyes stared at him, sunken, the shadows beneath them like bruises. It always made his chest tighten when he saw her. This was his fourth visit, and he wondered if he would ever get used to it.

“Hello,” she said, her voice croaky, her legs swinging around and over the side of the ledge as she sat up.

He hesitated at the greeting, surprised she had spoken first before he closed and relocked her door. Was that an expectant look in her eyes as she shuffled to the edge of the ledge, her boney fingers gripping at the stone as she watched him. 

“Hello, MC,” he said, moving closer towards her, his eyes moving towards the old wound on her temple. “How is your head today?”

The tiniest twitch in her lips almost became a smile as she nodded. “Much better,” she said.

He gestured towards the stone ledge beside her. “May I?”

She looked down at the bare, hard stone beside her and gave it a gentle pat with her hand. Leander couldn’t keep the slight smile from his lips as he moved to sit beside her, their eyes meeting as he did so. There was the briefest flicker of something warm in the haunted depths of her gaze before she looked away, drawing up her knees and wrapping her arms about her legs.

“I like your hair that way,” she said, surprising him.

He nervously touched his fingertips to the hair behind his ear. The back and sides had been shaved rather close, the top a little longer than usual but still neatly swept back with a side parting. He felt warmth flood his cheeks and he looked down at his lap, smoothing his fingers along the neat press line of his trousers. “Thank you,” he said softly. 

“You are always dressed so neatly, always smart,” she said, still not looking at him. “You don’t belong in a place like this.”

“I’m just here doing my job, MC,” he said, linking his fingers in his lap. “There’s no harm in being presentable when doing one’s job. It makes for a good impression.”

“I suppose you had better start asking your questions, then, Auror Prewett,” she said, her voice dropping into a colder tone, her shoulders rounding as she hunched over her knees.

Old insecurities plagued him, that uncertain feeling that always seemed to settle at the back of his neck and slide slowly down his spine. All his life he seemed to say the wrong thing, putting his foot in his mouth and making social interactions so much harder than they needed to be. The tiny glimmer of warmth that she had shown was gone already, and he bit his lip, his gaze moving around the desolate coldness of her cell.

Sifting through his thoughts, he recalled the training he had received, tried to summon the courage to fire hard questions at her in an attempt to prise the truth from her lips. It felt so wrong, and he closed his eyes, slowly shaking his head as he scolded himself for letting her get under his skin. He couldn’t care about her so much. It was dangerous.

He just couldn’t help it, though.

“A question for a question,” he said softly, glancing at her. “We can take turns. You first. Ask me anything you like and I will answer it as best as I can.”

The silence in her cell stretched, the distant sound of prisoners unimportant, the damp coldness seeping deeper into his bones as he waited. She didn’t even move for what felt like the longest time and he was beginning to think that this was going to be yet another wasted trip, but then she turned her head, those haunted eyes seeking him out, glittering with something that touched him deep inside his chest.

“What day is it?”

Such a simple question. The simplicity of it stole his breath, the realisation of just how cut off from reality she was slicing right through him.

“It’s Wednesday, the 18th, September,” he said, trying but failing to hide the pity on his face.

She stared, blinking slowly before turning her eyes up towards the faint glimmer of light that shone through the slit in the stone wall of her cell. Her lips curved with the softest expression. “All the leaves on the trees will be turning soon.”

“Summer is stubbornly clinging on in the city. London is still hot during the day, but at least the nights are cooler,” he said.

She met his gaze again. “I know it’s your turn, but can I cheat and ask one more?” she asked wistfully. “What year is it? How long have I been here?”

“It’s 1895,” he replied. “You have been here four years, MC.”

Her lips trembled slightly, and she turned away, her whole body shuddering as she took a deep breath. Leander lifted a hand as if to touch her, pausing just before his fingers could reach the filthy fabric of her prison shirt. Desperate to offer her some form of comfort, but torn by his duty to the badge and his office, he let his hand drop back to his lap. It didn’t do to become too familiar with a prisoner or let your emotions take over. He was failing miserably at this. 

“It’s your turn,” she said, her voice hoarse, her fingers gripping at her clothing. She hadn’t turned around, hiding her face from him still.

Her file had been full of information, details collected by the Ministry over the years. Everything from her birth to the orphanage she had been placed in, the poor thing had been shifted from one children’s home to another before receiving her Hogwarts letter so much later than other children. The Ministry had been watching her for a long time, the notes about her ancient magic making it clear that they were expecting her to produce it at some point. The information was classified all the way up until she stopped the goblin rebellion with her battle under the school in 1891, and her powers became known to the rest of the wizarding world. 

There were a multitude of questions he could ask her, so much he wanted to know, not just for the case, but because he was curious. She was fascinating, a truly one of a kind witch, and she was stuck in here rotting away into a wisp of her former self.

“Do you remember the day Garreth had you try his Fizzing Whizzbeer?” He asked, the memory popping into his head. A smile lit his face as he thought about that day. “He was really anxious about asking you. He thought you were going to say no, but he wanted you to be the first to try it after you pilfered the vital ingredient for him.”

Her head turned slowly, her eyes lifting to his, peering at him over her arm still wrapped about her knees, her hair falling over her face. She didn’t say anything, just stared, and he continued to speak.

“I was convinced we were going to get caught by Professor Weasley, and Garreth was running out of warnings about messing around with his potions. When you knocked the drink back, I thought you were really brave, and then your feet lifted up off the floor.”

Leander chuckled, shaking his head at the memory of MC floating upwards and not stopping, realisation dawning on Garreth’s face before he lunged forward to grab the hem of her robe in an attempt to pull her back down.

“The funniest part was the look on your face when Sebsatian barged in,” she said, that soft look entering her eyes again. “You went so pale I thought you were going to pass out, and then you flushed redder than a tomato.”

“I thought it was a professor walking in!” Leander laughed again, putting his hand to his forehead. “I swear Sallow did that on purpose.”

A soft, breathless laugh slipped past her lips. “He did! He hated that I was keeping a secret from him. He couldn’t stand it, not knowing what I was up to with you two, and two Gryffindors no less. It took all three of you to get me down in the end.”

There was something almost ethereal about the look on her face. With her skin so pale and drawn, the harshness of her bones showing and the shadows under her eyes, to see her smile was quite transforming. The ghost of the girl she was could be seen in her eyes, and it warmed him. For that moment, he could almost forget where they were. When she met his gaze, that softness remained, the memory suspended between them like a ray of summer sun cutting through the gloom and despair of the fortress around them.

A shiver slid down his spine, and he frowned, glancing about the cell as he realised the temperature was plummeting fast. MC whimpered and pressed her hands to her ears, shaking her head as her terrified eyes swung towards the door of her cell.

“No, no, they are coming,” she gasped. “They could feel it.”

Leander got to his feet, ice spreading thick and fast across the walls and floor. The oppressive doom felt like a ton weight was dragging him downwards, and he feared he might freeze in place. His hand instinctively went for his wand, but of course, it wasn’t there, and his heart plummeted into his stomach as he saw the shifting shadows of the Dementors gathering in the corridor. Horrified, he stood there, transfixed as a gnarled, withered hand appeared to caress the lock of the cell door. With a click, it opened, the iron squealing as it swung back.

The death rattle breaths of the Dementor filled the cell, the world seeming to drain of all colour and light as it floated into the room. Leander tried to focus, but it felt like he was being drained of every happy feeling he had ever known, and it was hard to gather the strength to summon his magic.

Whilst the training had been provided as part of the Auror program, wandless magic was very difficult to master, and he had only just about scraped through to a pass in his exam. Now, he was in dire need of a miracle as the Dementor advanced towards him. Not only did he need to protect himself, but he also needed to shield MC as well, who was cowering on the stone ledge with her eyes wide in terror.

There were more Dementors in the corridor, not content with sending one down to them, a whole gathering had appeared. Each faceless wraith of death hungry and eager to feed. Leander held out his hands, brow furrowed in concentration, a cold sweat breaking out at his temples as he willed his magic to come. He could feel the rush of it in his veins, but he was struggling to manifest it, his own fear mingling with the dread that sapped any minute speck of warmth from the room. 

Not now, not here, not today. Not her.

A blast of white shot from his hands, lighting up the space and halting the Dementor in its tracks, but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t stop it for long, and the others were now hovering outside the door waiting.

He faltered, swallowing hard as the Dementor drew closer, a horrid sucking sensation sweeping over him as its maw of a mouth opened wide.

This was it. He was done for. He would never succeed in this case. He would never see his family again, and he would fail MC. 

A hoarse scream filled the room. Leander jolted in shock at the blur of blue and white that shot across to block the Dementor from him, his eyes squinting against the brightness as the Dementor reeled backwards with a reedy scream.

Leander stumbled back, his hand to his chest as the light increased, a frail figure glowing in front of him as the Dementors began to back off. The magic was like nothing he had ever seen before, stronger than any Patronus he had ever witnessed, the heat and brilliance of it stinging his eyes. 

The Dementors faded into the gloom of the corridor, the blue and white light bursting outwards and raising a cacophony of screams and shouts from the other prisoners. Leander blinked against it, holding up a hand to shield his face as gradually the magic began to recede.

MC was standing in front of him, her frail frame shaking uncontrollably with her hands held out towards the open cell door. She turned in a stiff, jerky movement, and Leander could only gape at her in stunned silence.

Her eyes were glowing with the blue and white magic, glittering and sparkling like lightning bolts as she staggered towards him before falling to her knees. He glanced at the open doorway, the training that had been drilled into him telling him he needed to get it closed and locked immediately, but instead, he dropped to his knees in front of MC.

She was shaking so badly her teeth rattled, the magic slowly fading from her eyes as she looked at him.

Should he touch her? Would it hurt him?

The intense crackle of the magic could still be felt in the air around them, strands of her hair lifting upwards as though drawn by magnets. He held out a tentative hand towards her, and she grabbed it. Her hands were freezing, her fingers like bone as she clung to him.

“L…Lee,” she stuttered, her hands now clutching at his sleeve, groping upwards until her trembling fingers touched the ashen flesh of his cheeks. “Are y..you…alright?”

Her touch sent flurries of shivers through him, her fingers pressing against his cheeks and jaw, fumbling up to trace along his hair and brush against his ears. As she grazed them against his neck, he gasped, his own hands reaching for hers, wrapping his large hands around her small ones like he was protecting tiny birds.

“I’m okay,” he assured her, despite the way his heart was still hammering against his ribs. “What was that, MC? What did you just do?”

Her eyes shone with tears now, all traces of the magic gone, but she looked utterly exhausted as the tears began to fall and track through the grime on her cheeks.

“Not you,” she said, her voice breaking. She shook her head and leant forward, pressing her forehead to their joined hands. “They come for happy memories, anything that’s wholesome and wonderful. I couldn’t…I just couldn’t…”

Emotion twisted Leander’s face as she began to sob, and before he could even think about what he was doing, he was pulling her against him, cradling her head against his chest as she sobbed and trembled. The reality of her frailness was shocking now that he had her in his arms, it wrenched at his insides, and a tear escaped his own eye. A resolve coursed through him to help her. Fuck the rules.

How could she be such a murderous monster? She had just thrown herself between him and a hoard of Dementors. She had literally saved him, draining herself in the process.

“Was that your ancient magic?” 

It was a question. His second one in a row. He had allowed her two, so he figured she wouldn’t mind. She nodded against his chest, her fingers gripping the fabric of his waistcoat.

“Please don’t tell them,” she whispered. “I didn’t even know I could do that without a wand. I couldn’t bear the thought of them taking you. I had to stop them, and it just burst out of me.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

A soft huff of laughter sounded through her tears. “I told you. You don’t belong in a place like this. You are too good, Lee. They can feel it.”

He stroked the back of his hand against her cheek, his knuckles damp with her tears. “It won’t stop me coming back tomorrow, though,” he said firmly. “I shall be here to see you.”

“Because you have a job to do,” she said, her lips twitching with a smile.

“Because I have a job to do,” he nodded. 

To be continued...

Taglist:

Big love and thanks to @eternalremorse and @slytherin-paramour 💗✨️💕

Huge thanks to @ellivenollivander for the use of her OC, Odessa McKinnon. Brilliant!

Reader tags: @evaslytherpuff @eternalremorse

[sixgunluvr]

A Love To Protect

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Mature Age 18+ Readers ONLY.

Pairing Arthur with a female reader.

There may be errors. I read through these a couple times but I still may miss things.

The next morning you are awakened by the voice of men discussing plans to rob the bank in Valentine.

You stretch your limbs as you awaken, the events from last night still fresh in your mind. You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, savoring the remaining scent of Arthur clinging to your hair and pillow. You can't help but smile, feeling content and happy.

Arthur had already risen long before you and was joined in on the discussion outside.

The crisp morning air filled with boisterous laughter and animated gestures floated in as you sit up in bed.  

Arthur had already brought you fresh water to wash your face. You smiled to yourself when you saw it.

He is always thinking of you.

You feel a sense of warmth in your heart knowing that he hasn't forgotten about you, even in the midst of his gang's planning and strategizing. 

You splash your face with the crisp cool water and it awakens your senses.

After checking your reflection in the mirror you decide that you are ready to leave the tent.

You step outside and take a few moments to admire Arthur from afar, taking in the way his muscles ripple beneath his shirt as he moves-and oh, those eyes. They light up wherever they go, and it's no different now as he talks animatedly with his comrades. It's impossible not to get lost in them.

But even as you stare, the weight of last night's fears creep back in. You glance around the camp, and your stomach drops. Where is he?

Micah.

His presence lingers like a dark cloud over the group, and without him physically present, you can't shake off the feeling that he's watching you. Waiting for his moment to strike.

Arthur notices your unease, and he immediately comes over to you. "What's wrong, darlin'?" he asks, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You can see the concern in his eyes, and you feel guilty for burdening him with your worries.

"Nothing, I'm just a little on edge," you admit, forcing a smile.

Arthur frowns and squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. "I won't let anything happen to you," he says with quiet intensity. "I promise."

His words make you feel safe and loved, and you lean into his embrace, breathing in his comforting scent.

"The guys and I were discussing our plan to rob the bank in Valentine," Arthur explains, breaking the silence. "I know it's dangerous, but I couldn't say no to the offer. It's a huge job, and it could set us up for a while."

You nod, understanding his predicament. Despite the risks, you couldn't deny Arthur the chance to secure a better future for himself and his gang.

"Just promise me you'll be careful," you say, looking up at him with worried eyes.

"Always, sweetheart," he replies, kissing you softly on the lips.

"That job won't happen for a few days though. Today, Charles, Lenny and I have another quick job to do. I'll be gone for most of the day but I should be back by suppertime," he adds, his hand trailing down to yours, entwining your fingers together.

As he speaks, the group of men around you both nod in agreement. They're all excited about the job, their voices hushed but filled with anticipation. You can sense the tension in the air but you push it aside, focusing on Arthur and his words.

"I don't like leaving you here alone, without me," he continues, a frown creasing his brow. "You'll have to stay with the others while we're gone."

At that moment, Micah approaches you.

You can feel Arthur's hand tightening around yours, readying himself for whatever Micah has planned next. The tension between the two of them is palpable, and you start to worry about what this day holds for all of you.

"Morning, Micah," Arthur says, his voice strained but polite.

"Arthur," Micah replies with a smarmy smile.

"I see you're leaving today. Try to make it back in one piece. You wouldn't want to leave this lovely lady alone, would you?"

His words are laced with sarcasm, and Arthur's hand tightens around yours even more. You can feel the waves of anger and disgust rolling off of him in waves, and you're grateful for his possessiveness over you.

As Micah saunters away, Arthur turns to you with a warm smile. "Don't worry about him, sweetheart.

He's just trying to get under my skin," Arthur says, brushing off Micah's earlier remark with a wave of his hand.

"I can take care of myself while you're gone," you assure him, not wanting him to worry about you.

"I know you can, but I still don't like leaving you here."

His concern for you is sweet, and you lean in to give him a reassuring kiss.

"I'll be fine, I promise. Besides, Dutch and the other guys are here.  Just come back to me in one piece," you whispered against Arthur's lips, your fingers tracing the outline of his strong jawline.

He nodded solemnly, his green eyes filled with determination and passion.

"I'll always come back to you, sweetheart," he said, before capturing your lips once more in a deep and passionate kiss.

As the day wore on, you kept busy around the camp, helping with tasks and chatting with the other women.

But your thoughts were never far from Arthur and the danger of his mission.

"Hey there, beautiful," a deep voice says behind you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You turn around to see Dutch, one of Arthur's closest friends and the leader of gang. "What's got you so lost in thought over there?"

You smile at him and shrug. "Just thinking about Arthur and the job he's on today."

Dutch nods, his expression serious. "He's a smart guy, and he'll be careful.

Besides, I'm sure it's just a quick snatch-and-grab job. He won't be gone for long," Dutch reassures you, his voice smooth and steady.

You want to believe him, but you can't shake off the feeling of unease that's been plaguing you since this morning. You nod hesitantly and turn your attention back to the task at hand, trying to busy yourself with work.

To take your mind off of things you decide to go pick some fresh raspberries so the gang has a nice dessert for supper tonight. Pearson brought some fresh cream back to the camp this morning and that will be perfect with the raspberries.

You grab a basket and tell Dutch what you're off to do.

"Don't wander too far," he warns, "Arthur would never forgive me if anything happened to you."

"I won't!" you shout over your shoulder as you saunter off into the woods.

The wind catches your hair as you disappear among the trees, creating a trail of rippling leaves in your wake.

Your heart races as you move further and further away from the camp, making sure to keep an eye out for any juicy raspberries. You breathe in the smell of wildflowers and damp earth, letting it cleanse your mind. The sun warms your skin as it seeps through the thick canopy of leaves above, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

You breathe deeply, savoring the fresh air that fills your lungs with every inhale and exhale. You've always loved the wilderness, and this was just what you needed to calm your nerves.

As you wander deeper into the woods, you begin to lose yourself in its serenity. The only sounds audible are those of nature: the rustling leaves beneath your feet, the sound of chirping birds, and the gentle babble of a nearby brook. Your mind is clear, and you feel at peace with the world around you.

The only thing that's been weighing heavily on your mind is Arthur's safety. But you push those thoughts aside, determined to enjoy this breather from the chaotic camp life.

You continue to gather raspberries in your basket, the juicy fruit staining your fingers a deep red. As you lean down to pick some more, you feel a sudden presence behind you. Your heart skips a beat, and your senses go on high alert. You slowly turn around, and your eyes meet Micah's.

He stands there, a sly smile playing on his lips. Your heart races as you realize that you are alone with him, far away from the safety of the camp. You try to keep your voice steady as you greet him, but you can't shake off the feeling of unease that's now taken over your body.

"Hello, Micah," you say, trying to keep your composure and sound casual. "What brings you here?"

He shrugs, still smiling. "Just thought I'd see if I could find some wild raspberries too.

I have to admit, you're a pro at finding the ripest ones."

Micah steps closer to you, and your heart starts racing. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he speaks, and you take a step back. But there's nowhere for you to go; you're trapped between Micah and a tree.

He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers trailing against your cheek. You shiver involuntarily, and you curse yourself for it. Don't let him see that he's affecting you.

You swallow hard, pulling your face away from his grasp. "I-I think I've gathered enough raspberries," you stammer, holding up your basket as evidence. "I should get back to camp. Dutch is gonna wonder where I am."

But Micah doesn't budge. Instead, he steps even closer to you, invading your personal space and making you feel cornered. You can feel the heat radiating off of him in waves, and your heart races as you try to come up with a way to escape.

The wind rustles through the trees, causing his scent to envelop you. It's a mix of sweat, whiskey, and musk, and it's making your stomach churn.

Micah's hand slides down your arm, and he grabs onto your wrist. "Don't be like that," he purrs. "We both know you want this."

Panic rises in your throat as you try to wriggle out of his grip, but he's too strong. "Let go of me," you stammer, your voice trembling.

But Micah just laughs and pulls you closer, his other hand sneaking around to cup your ass. "Come on, sweetheart. You know you want it just as much as I do."

The revulsion fills every inch of your body as he grinds himself against you, his erection obvious through his pants.

"Get off me!" You hiss through gritted teeth, trying to push him away, but he's like a damn animal, wild and untamed.

With a sneer, Micah tightens his grip on your wrists, forcing you to drop your basket of raspberries. They scatter on the ground, staining the earth with their juices as the wind howls through the trees.

"Come on, baby. You know you want it," he says huskily, pressing his lips against your ear as he nibbles on your lobe.

"I can make you feel so good."

His hot breath sends shivers down your spine, and you feel a lump form in your throat. "Please," you whimper, hating how pathetic you sound but unable to help the desperation in your voice. "Just let me go."

But instead of releasing you, Micah's grip on you tightens, and he pushes you harder against the tree. His erection digs into your hip, making bile rise in your throat. You can't believe this is happening. Not here, not with him. 

The thought of his hands on you, his mouth, made you nauseous. You struggled in his grip but he was too strong.

Micah slammed you against the tree, pressing his body against yours so you couldn't escape. His other hand grabbed your breast and squeezed it hard, making you cry out in pain.

"Shut up, you little whore," he snarled, grinding his hips against you. "I knew you wanted this. You've always wanted it."

His words were like a slap in the face. No, no, no. You didn't want this.

You tried to push him away with every fiber of your being, but he was too strong.

Micah's lips pressed hard against yours, his tongue forcing its way past your lips and teeth, invading your mouth in the most disgusting and invasive way possible.

You felt his hand roughly shoving its way up your skirt, fingernails scratching down your thighs as he forced your legs apart. 

You could hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your legs were weak with fear.

You did the only thing you could think of, and bit his tongue hard.

He snapped back, "You bitch," he shouted cupping his mouth, spitting out blood.

Before you even had time to brace yourself his backhand connected with your cheek sending you to the ground where the side of your head connects with a rock.

You immediately feel a pounding in your head and your surroundings are spinning. 

Trying to shake it off you look up and see an out of focus Micah stalking towards you. You try to scramble to your feet, but he grabs onto your hair and yanks you back down. The pain is sharp and immediate, causing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes.

"You stupid little bitch," he hisses, his spittle hitting your face. "You think you can reject me like that?"

Fear coils in your stomach as he leans down, his breath hot on your face.

His fist connects with the side of your head.

The force of the punch sends another wave of pain crashing through your skull, and you feel yourself start to see stars. You cry out in pain but that just seems to give him fuel for his assault.

Micah tightens his grip on your hair, pulling your head back so that you're forced to look up at him. His face is twisted in rage, and his eyes are wild.

You can feel the anger rolling off of him in waves, and you know that you are in grave danger.

But even in the midst of your terror, a newfound strength rises up within you. You refuse to let yourself be a victim, and so with all of your might, you sink your teeth deep into his forearm. Releasing your hair, Micah yells in pain and recoils, giving you just enough time to scramble to your feet.  You take off running, your heart pounding in your chest as you dart through the trees. Your lungs burn, and your legs tremble, but you don't dare slow down.

Behind you, you can hear Micah cursing and crashing through the underbrush. He sounds closer than you'd like, and panic surges through you once more. But then, ahead of you, you see a glimmer of hope: the edge of the woods is just up ahead. If you can make it to the clearing where the camp is set up, maybe you'll be safe.

It's a long shot, but it's all you've got. You push yourself harder, your legs screaming in protest as you race toward the open field. You can hear Micah closing in behind you, his angry roars spurring you on.

Suddenly, you burst out of the tree line and onto the open grassy area near the camp. Your chest heaving with exertion, you scan frantically for help.

In the distance, you can see Dutch and Javier sitting by the fire, unaware of your predicament. Desperation courses through you as you attempt to gain their attention.

Micah finally emerges from the trees, pausing to catch his breath before a sinister smile spreads across his face. He slowly starts to walk towards you, relishing in your fear.

"Boss!" Micah shouts approaching me. "We need help here!"

Dutch and Javier jump to their feet and look in our direction. 

Micah grabs your shoulders as if to help you stay upright and shield you from danger. You're heaving to catch your breath as adrenaline courses through you. You could taste the blood in your mouth and your vision was blurry, your head feels like its about to explode.

Micah starts to say something, but Dutch cuts him off mid-sentence. "What the hell is going on here?" He demands, running towards you, eyes narrowed at Micah who still has hold of you. You're trembling with fear, but the sight of Dutch and Javier gives you hope that you'll be alright.

"She was attacked," Micah starts to explain, but his words barely register in your ears as everything around you becomes muffled. You can't believe what just happened, and your mind reels from the trauma.

Dutch and Javier rush over to you, taking in your disheveled appearance, the blood running from your cheek, and the fear etched onto your face.

"What the hell happened?" Dutch demands, his eyes blazing with anger as they dart between you and Micah.

Micah lets go of you as if suddenly realizing the weight of the situation.

Your legs give way, and you collapse onto the grass, your body shaking uncontrollably. Dutch reaches you first and gathers you in his arms, holding you close as he whispers soothing words into your ear. Javier stands guard, eyeing Micah warily as he tries to explain himself.

"She was out to picking raspberries," Micah begins, but Dutch cuts him off with a growl. "Shut up, Micah. Don't say another word until we get this sorted out." Dutch turns his attention back to you, his eyes filled with concern.

You couldn't make out anything else being said, everything was muffled, your head was pounding. Slowly everything went black.

The world around you faded away, and the last thing you remembered before losing consciousness was the warmth of Dutch's embrace.

[vagabondfandoms]

Falls on Me

Day Four: Morning

Rating: Teen

Previous Chapters: Chapter One , Chapter Two , Chapter Three , Chapter Four

Characters: Gale Dekarios, Shadowheart, Karlach, and F!Tav: Copper

Warning: Gale POV, Mentions of Chronic Pain, Gale x Female Tav

Gale is hanging out around the campfire waiting for the scouting team to come back when he has a flare up of pain.

—

Day 4- Morning

Gale was out by the campfire, enjoying his small talk with Shadowheart. He found it fascinating to hear the cleric’s devotion to her goddess, even if it was an evil one. But Gale finds himself more captivated by the shadows reflected in her deep green eyes.

The other half of the team was out scouting the goblin camp so they could figure out their next plan of action. 

Only himself, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Copper were currently at the camp. The four of them are being paired up more and more to allow the sneakier team members to scout for danger, which is perfectly fine with Gale. He despises crouching. It hurts his knees and he feels it's an unfitting position for a former archmage.

Shadowheart chuckles softly and it draws Gale's attention to the direction of Copper, Karlach, and their furry camp companions. A dog named Scratch and a newly orphaned owlbear cub they rescued from a goblin raiding party.

“I was worried that the smelly little beast was going to eat us, or at least the dog,” Shadowheart says fondly. “But it looks like everybody’s getting along over there.”

Gale and Shadowheart watch the women throw a red ball for Scratch while the owlbear follows close behind, joy emanating from the wild little creature. 

Karlach also had a big smile on her face that made her appear more lovely than usual, Gale thought.

After a few moments of silence, as the two spell casters watch the game of fetch unfold, Shadowheart excuses herself to her tent. But before she could get that far, Karlach enthusiastically waves the cleric over to see the owlbear cub and the Sharran seemed happy to oblige.

Karlach starts talking excitedly to Shadowheart, asking her what she thought a good name for the cub would be. While the two other women debate between Owlbert or Dark Feather as names. Copper drifts away from the girls allowing them to have their fun. 

Gale watches the strong graceful form of the young monk, her auburn braid swaying behind her as she walks towards him. Realizing he was staring too long, Gale quickly busied himself, gathering up his book and pretending to read to cover up his gawking.

“Gods, I’ve been away from society too long.” Gale scolds himself, staring extra hard at his pages just as Copper stands next to him. “I’ve been acting like a besotted schoolboy to every attractive person I see.”

Copper doesn’t start a conversation with him, taking his nose in the book at face value and leaving him alone to read. Instead, she starts slicing apples and places them in the cooking pan to warm. 

As the young monk cooks, Gale actually finds himself relaxing and ends up flipping to the exact page he was reading earlier. Sinking further into the comfort of an old hobby, Gale only rouses when the scent of spiced fruit is right under his nose. Looking up, Copper is smiling down at him.

“I was just about to give up,” Copper jokes, setting the cooked apples next to Gale, as she settles down next to him. “It seems feeding your mind is more important to you than feeding your stomach.” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time I skipped a meal for academic pursuits,” Gale says good-naturedly, reaching for a slice. Both pleased and vexed that the young woman decided to feed him. “Tara often had to put herself between me and the pages to remind me to head down to dinner.”

“So what’s so engrossing about that book?” Copper asks, taking a slice for herself.

“Well, it’s a primer on Mythical Beasts.” Gale describes. “I was reading the chapter about miniature giant space hamsters.”

“Sounds like a contradiction.” Copper scowls, biting into another piece of fruit. 

“They sound like fascinating little creatures. Apparently, they choose well-muscled human males as their steeds when visiting our realm.” Laughing slightly at the absurdity of such a creature existing, Gale playfully flexes his bicep and adds. “Sadly, I don’t think I’ll ever meet one.”

“You need to train a little more in strength to achieve that goal.” Copper gives him a shy smirk that she tries to cover with her hand. 

“Alas, I think my considerable talents are best… Aughhh!” A sharp pain shoots down Gale’s arm, cutting off his sentence as his orb acts up again. He quickly clutches his hand to his chest. His fingers tingle and stiffen within seconds of the pain starting. 

“Here, give me your hand,” Copper says quickly and with authority that it startles Gale and he complies with the command with only a little hesitation. The monk already was activating her Ki and the soft glow engulfs both their hands. 

Copper starts applying pressure to the palm of his hand in a circular motion and the stiffness lessens while another pulse of pain hits Gale. He grits his teeth, as the woman works. Pulling and rubbing at his fingers while applying her Ki to combat the degradation Gale’s orb was causing him.

After a few minutes, the attack ebbs away and Gale finds himself just watching Copper’s tan hands in his, as she massages his hands. “Warm, Strong hands,” he admires the contrast between her lightly scarred hands and his delicate long-fingered ones. 

“She’s definitely seen battles before, unlike me where battle spells were for show.” Gale thinks, frowning at how much his life has changed since he got inflicted with the orb and how he got kidnapped by the illithid while in search of magical items for said infliction. 

But if Gale was being honest with himself, his adventuring out of his tower in Waterdeep was more of a sacrificial journey than one of hope. He didn’t want to drag Tara, his mother, or even Waterdeep itself into his destruction. 

If he were to die it was to be alone…but now he dragged his (somewhat) innocent travel companions into his trouble since he was too weak and too scared of the tadpole lodged in his brain to venture off on his own. 

“Gale, are you ok? Does it still hurt?” Copper asks, concern in her grey eyes. “You look upset.”

“No, I’m fine,” Gale says coldly, before realizing his tone and smiles at the monk to make up for his attitude. “I’m better now, thank you,” he says pleasantly. “But I think I want my hand back even if it was lovely of you to hold it.” 

“Ok...” Copper says hesitantly before giving Gale’s wrist one last squeeze before letting go. Gale almost regrets the loss of the strong gentle pressure anchoring him down but he mustn’t get dependent. 

He needs to be strong. He needs to be useful. Above all, he needs to be Gale of Waterdeep, Chosen of Mystra. 

Not Gale Dekarios the fool that lost it all. 

[filmofhybe]

The perfect blend - YJW

part 3 of “IN EVERY MULTIVERSE”

In which..

━━ can you ever imagine in this multiverse, you having the biggest fattest crush on your best friend - Yang jungwon, however knowing he already has a “girlfriend” hurts more than just a sting from a bee.

💌 PAIRING : yjw x reader

GENRE : friends to lovers , fluff

WARNING : angst , fluff , kissing , CHAPTER 2 NOT PROOF-READ!!

🗯️ FEATURING : huh yunjin - LE SSERAFIM

word count : unknown for now

MASTERLIST to “IN EVERY MULTIVERSE”.

; AUTHORS NOTES : I’m so sorry for not updating recently :( I promise I’ll post more often!

Y/n couldn't believe her eyes as she witnessed Jungwon canceling plans with her and, to add insult to injury, bringing another girl to their cherished secret spot. A mix of emotions flooded through her, even though they weren't officially a couple. The connection she felt with Jungwon ran deep, and it stung to see him sharing intimate moments with someone else.

Days after the incident, Jungwon's relentless calls and messages bombarded my phone. Constantly hearing dings and songs as a sniffed my snort into a tissue. Staring at my 10th empty box of tissue, I hesitated but eventually agreed to meet him again at the same spot.

The walk there felt gloomy. It didn’t felt like the first time when he waited me outside as I walked beside him. It doesn’t feel the same as those numerous times we walked shoulder to shoulder towards OUR cafe. The air was thick with a bittersweet tension as I arrived. I placed my bag down as I pulled my hair out, Jungwon's head hung low, and when he finally spoke, his words cut through me.

"Y/n..i know I shouldn’t invite you out, i know your struggling. But I really need to clear myself here because y/n as much as your upset, we weren't a thing. It shouldn't offend you this much. Yes, this is our secret spot, but it's a public place. I can show people I love. You shouldn't be acting this way. I’m trying to be nice to you as hard as possible so please understand me..” he sighed before looking him. Seeing me scoffed as he looked away.

I was fury ignited, i couldn’t believe what I heard. Anger took over as I stood up, “you really are a dickhead..” “what are you-” "Are you kidding me, Yang Jungwon? All those hangouts and eye contacts mean nothing to you? Taking another girl to our secret spot might be cool for you, but it was OUR secret spot. I have every right to be mad at you right now. Saying I should understand you when you don’t even understand me? What makes you think I should huh?” Tears was clearly all over my face once again. Over a dann boy who I though it was the one and only. I sighed as I grabbed my bag to leave, I ignored his yells. Passing through the walls that we made so much memories together, ready to step out of this bittersweet place.

However, i was blocked by the owner's son, Jake, stepped in. He hugged me tightly as i sobbed into his shirt. the stuff a guy can do a girl.. “shush your fine you have me..” softly and carefully brushing my hair as he wipes my tears.. if only you understand see how much I wish it was jungwon that’s comforting me like this, and realizing his mistakes all along.

Jungwon, desperate to salvage the situation, chased after her. However, he halted in his tracks as he met Jake's intense gaze. It was as if his world was crashing down, feeling weak under the weight of Jake's stare. He knew he had lost her, he finally realized how much he loves her. And he messed up their perfect blend.

Just because Jungwon had made one girl weak didn't mean another couldn't make him weaker. The realization hit him hard as he watched y/n finding solace in Jake's embrace that was once his embrace. It was a stark reminder that actions had consequences, and he couldn't take someone for granted, especially someone who genuinely cared about him when no one else did.

The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by Y/n's muffled sobs. Jungwon's pride crumbled as he reflected on the choices he'd made. The secret spot that once held cherished memories now echoed with the pain he had inflicted on y/n.

Months passed. Jungwon would constantly go back to the cafe, hoping you would be back. Ordering your drink everytime. Everything Jake was the one making it. No wonder why she likes this drink. Jake has now certainly remember your drink on top of his head because of jungwon uncontrollable addiction to the drink, as well as you.. "Jungwon, actions have consequences. You can't expect someone to be unaffected when you treat them like this. Maybe it's time to reflect on your actions and consider the impact they have on others." With those words coming out of Jake’s mouth as he continue to wipe the mug in his hands. Leaving Jungwon sitting alone in the shadow of the secret spot that had witnessed the unraveling of something once special. The weight of regret settled on his shoulders as he faced the consequences of his thoughtless actions.

Jumping out of jungwon’s strong and warm embrace. Patting beside you praying that the dream was just a joke and your finally back in reality. Shit that felt too damn real.. you began to calm yourself down as you take deep breaths trying to not wake jungwon up. But it was too late, the sensitive boy had felt something giving wrong, and sat up. Rubbing his eyes to adjust the darkness.

“Hey baby you alright? Had a bad dream?” He whispered quietly, voice rough and deep as he carefully pulls you back into his embrace. You only nodded not wanting to tell him what happened. He combed your hair softly as he comforted you. Feeling bad that his sweetheart is getting horrible nightmares.

“You left me for someone else in the dream. It felt real. I could move in the dream and control everything.” He was caught off guard by your sudden outburst of a confession, he didn’t know what to say because he knows that this would become reality in the next universe they are in. And he wish he wasn’t such a loser to be destroying girls hearts. However, I guess this is what the universe had set them.

“Baby, I Hope you know that it’s not true and is just a dream. In this reality your with me. Protecting and loving you forever. Even if this happened in our next universe, we will eventually find each other again. No matter where we are, we are always together connected. We are the perfect blend my love..” he mumbled as he placed kisses all over your cheeks. Smiling at you even though you couldn’t see it in the dark, his smile seems to be brighter than ever. You treasure him everyday. It doesn’t matter what happens next because in this universe.You are each others perfect blend. And that’s what really matters.

series taglist : @enhaz1 @dubuii @in-somnias-world @ultimatestayandminoronce @yenqa @euncsace @hoondiors @yannew @mrchweeee @ariadores @oldjws @frukkoneeeeg @dimplewonie @seobstarr @asteria-wood (white = i cant tag)

[hanilessa]

before reading please pay attention to the series masterlist, to make sure you have read the previous chapters!

your likes, reblogs and replies are greatly appreciated! i hope you like it, enjoy reading!

HALF AN HOUR FOR LOVE — Childe x F!Reader Chapter 15. First love

You lay on your soft bed and thought about the day. The softness of the blanket on which you lay relaxed your tired muscles after a hard day. The color on the little garlands kept changing, lighting up your room with different colors. You watched the different patterns change in measured order on the wall, which was hung with many posters.

Xiao successfully passed his exams, found a new good friend, and visited a new city. Before boarded the train, your brother even mentioned that he and Ayaka exchanged email and phone numbers. You giggled. The boy seemed to be really happy, and your brother's happiness made you happy too.

The light of the garlands changed to red, and this momentarily brought you back to the moment when you and Childe were standing in front of each other. Your cheeks also turned red in the blink of an eye, and you thought that now in the red light with red cheeks you looked like a ripe tomato. You squealed in embarrassment, remembering Tartaglia's blue eyes and how tenderly he looked at you at that moment, and squeezed a plush toy in your hands.

You needed to take a break! Otherwise, you won't be able to resist the urge to keep thinking about the ginger man, who gradually becomes everything you can think about and everything you can see. You promised yourself that you would return to this monologue with yourself, but now you're too embarrassed to think rationally. So you had to do something to distract you.

And suddenly a really worthwhile idea came to your mind. You sat up in bed and glanced at the nightstand, where a golden business card lay peacefully. You reached for a small card and took it in your hand. Its glossy surface reflected the flashing garlands. You ran your eyes over the text on the business card, remembering the man who gave it to you.

A mysterious blond who you first met at Scaramouche's party and later at the bar you went to with Yoimiya. You had to admit to yourself that you're very interested in him. You were sure that he was a powerful man when you saw him in Scaramouche's mansion, so you were a little surprised when you saw him again in a bar in which he clearly didn't fit into the atmosphere.

You couldn't overcome your curiosity and decided to find out a little more about the mysterious man. Moreover, this interest in him distracted you from thoughts about the ginger man and your reflection about your feelings for him. You added a phone number to your phone contacts and pressed the button. There were low beeps, and you, holding your breath, froze in anticipation.

And, when he finally picked up the phone, a rather cold and serious voice was heard from the other side, because of which you were somewhat taken aback, "Aether is listening."

"O-oh, um, h-hi!" You awkwardly said hello, feeling as embarrassed as possible by this situation. But you pulled yourself together and tried to speak more confidently. "This is Y/n. Do you remember me? We met at Scaramouche's party and at a bar on the outskirts of city."

"Oh, it's you, Y/n! Of course I remember you." The man's voice instantly changed, and this change made you very surprised. From harsh and cold, his voice turned into friendly and perky as soon as you introduced yourself. "Forgive me my rudeness. This is my work number. Glad to be able to talk to you again."

You smiled and leaned back against the soft pillow, fixing your eyes on the ceiling, "It's mutual! Tell me, Aether, is our tour of the museum still stands?"

For a few seconds there was silence on the other side of the phone, but after a moment you again heard the friendly Aether's voice.

"Certainly! If you don't mind, I would be honored to show you the best museums in Snezhnaya."

You smiled happily and pulled the soft toy closer to you, "When would it be convenient for you to meet?"

"What do you think about next week?" Strange sounds were heard on the other side of the phone, it seemed to you that someone called the man by name.

"It would be nice." You answered. The strange sound and noise continued to come on the other side of the phone.

"Then I will call you back next week to confirm the exact date. I'm sorry, Y/n, I have some urgent business to attend to, so I have to say goodbye to you."

"Ah, okay. I will be looking forward to meeting you!"

"Goodbye, Y/n."

"Goodbye, Aether."

After your words, the connection quickly ended, but before that you heard a few more incomprehensible words, in which the phrase "The Abyss Order" also continued to sound. You could only guess what might be happening on the other side of the phone. You lay down on the bed again and looked at the flashing garlands, being in anticipation of your future meeting with a mysterious man named Aether.

You clutched documents and important papers to your chest, and slowly walked along the long corridor. When you had business in the main building of the company, you really liked walking here, because it was really very beautiful here. Everything looked presentable and rich. Of course, the building you worked in was also very beautiful, and it could even be considered a cultural heritage after restoration, but it still couldn't compare with the main building of the company.

You were instructed to look into the accounting department to give invoices and some documents, but now there was some kind of meeting in the accounting office, so you were asked to wait a bit. As such, you had no choice, so you once again decided to enjoy inspecting the interior of the building.

Dim light filtered through large panoramic windows. The sky was densely covered with gray clouds, small snowflakes were quietly flying in the air. Gradually it became cold, the first snow went a couple of days ago. It's begun to cover the ground in a white blanket, preparing the world for a cold winter. The leaves on the trees have fallen off, leaving them completely bare.

You glanced at the potted plants in the hallway. They continued to grow and bloom, and that made you happy. There was something dull about late autumn and you never liked that time period. Everything lost its colors, becoming gray and faded. And it seemed to you that nothing could bring the colors back into your life.

"Hm, who do we have here?" Your ears catch a familiar sly voice, and your skin gets goosebumps. You startle in fear, irritated by the sudden appearance of a man. "It's not every day that you see a little rabbit willingly coming into a gray wolf's lair."

But no, you were wrong. The colors in your life were returned by this chaotic and ginger young man. Your cheeks turn red as you hear his last words. You turn to Childe with an annoyed gaze and meet his sly eyes.

"What do we have here?" The ginger man smiles contentedly, noticing your blushing cheeks and angry expression on your face. You looked absolutely charming, making the man's heart beat faster in his chest. Tartaglia leaned a little closer to you, noticing the documents in your hands. "Is my princess lost?"

Your heart was ready to jump out of your chest when you were called "my princess", but you tried not to betray your embarrassed state and tried to confidently answer, "I-it’s not like that! I was asked to wait."

Childe made a thoughtful face, and in that seemingly endless moment, you could see every detail on his beautiful face. His ginger hair, deep bottomless eyes, a scattering of cute freckles and alluring lips. It would seem that your cheeks couldn't be even more red. You were ready to fall underground from shame for your thoughts. But for some reason, these thoughts were so sweet and desirable, so you couldn't resist it in any way.

And finally, after a short silence, the ginger man said, "Then wait with me in my office."

"Don't you have your own job?" You hoped that the displeasure in your voice would distract him from your red cheeks. You followed his puppy eyes and you didn't have to put two and two together to figure out what was going on. "Are you shirking work again?"

"Come on, baby!" The ginger man said frustratedly, looked pleadingly into your eyes. "These endless meetings are so annoying. I need a rest. And you should do the same."

"You behave childish." You grunted in response, ignoring Childe's sad look. "When you're done with your work, I'll think about keeping you company."

"Don't be so cruel to me!" The ginger man was in despair, and it amused you a little. For some reason, his childish behavior seemed completely cute to you.

For several months of friendship with him, you have long understood that he usually behaves in this way in order to get and achieve what he wants. It was super cute! But… you were a person who was difficult to influence in this way.

You didn't know about it, but it was this quality that attracted him to be closer to you, to want to be with you. To want to become someone who can overcome your high wall that you have erected in front of you and the rest of the world. After all, Childe never turned down a good fight. And you seemed like a great opponent to him.

"I'm so unhappy!" Tartaglia theatrically put his hand to his forehead, and looked at you out of the corner of his eye to see your reaction. Unfortunately for him, you just raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "My princess refused me. Wouldn't you even agree to have dinner with me tonight?"

"Nah!" You shook your head and smiled conspiratorially, putting on a mysterious look. "I have a meeting today."

Childe stopped grimacing and, frozen in place, stared at you in surprise, "A meeting?"

"Yes." Your answer was short.

"With whom?" You were a little surprised by his interest, because suddenly the ginger man stopped grimacing and made a serious face. This change in mood always brought you into a slight state of excitement and embarrassment, when the man instantly became serious towards you, and when all his attention was focused exclusively on you. "Tell me."

For some strange reason, you were madly tempted to tease him, so you frowned and shook your head from side to side.

And you said, "What happens if I don't tell you?"

Unexpectedly for you, your voice trembled treacherously when you finished your sentence and looked at the ginger man with your doe eyes. Your heart seemed to have completely stopped beating and fell into your heels when Tartaglia unexpectedly pressed you against the wall, leaning closer to your face. His blue eyes scanned your excited face, and it seemed to you the most cruel torture.

Being so close to him, but not being able to touch him the way you really wanted to when you returned to your thoughts about him every time. Your thoughts brought you into a state of denial and excitement, but you could no longer resist them when Childe was so close to you.

The smell of his cologne hits your nostrils, which spreads at the speed of light in your lungs and eats into them without the possibility of ever disappearing from there. As if one day you were on the other side of the Universe, you still would never be able to forget his smell, settled in your lungs like ashes.

It seemed to you that you couldn't run away from him anywhere. In all senses.

The ginger man remains silent, listening to your ragged breathing as his blood boils in his veins with the desire to constantly hold you in his arms. You were within his reach right now, very close, yet so far away at the same time. Despite his burning desire to kiss you — to do what he didn't have time to do that day at the amusement park — he keeps his composure and only leans closer to your ear.

You held your breath, feeling his ginger hair tickle your cheek, completely unsure of what would happen next. You could only tremble slightly and listen to your wildly beating heart, the sound of which, as it seemed to you, carried throughout the empty corridor. Meanwhile, Tartaglia's left hand rested against the wall next to your head, and his breath scorched the skin of your ear. The warm breeze sent goosebumps on your skin.

"If I don’t know with whom and where my princess is, I will be very worried." He whispered into your ear, and you literally suffocated from the feelings and emotions that overwhelmed you. You felt like you were dizzy, chilled and feverish at the same time.

His lips barely touched the skin of your ear, and after that endless moment, the man pulled back to look into your eyes. He felt an overwhelming urge to do it right now. When his eyes met yours, his heart beat faster because it seemed to him as if he saw the whole Universe in your eyes. Your slightly excited look, bright red cheeks. You were perfection for him.

Both of you continued to look into each other's eyes, maintaining a silence that was broken only by the synchronous beating of your hearts. Every one of you was waiting for some action from the other, and when Childe really was ready to give a damn about everything and kiss you, someone's voice called out to you.

"Y/n!" The accounting girl's voice grabs your and Childe's attention, and you both seem to wake up from a deep sleep. The girl looks confused, obviously realizing that she appeared at the wrong time.

"Ah, I'm sorry I kept you waiting!" You move away from the wall against which Tartaglia pressed you a few minutes ago, and before you come closer to the girl, you look into the ginger man's eyes.

Your gaze meets his. And at this moment, it seems to both of you that the most powerful storm is raging in the oceans, an avalanche descends from Everest, the most powerful volcano erupts, and the earth cracks and breaks underfoot, opening the way to the center of the Earth.

And all of this is only happening because you and Childe have been separated again and left with no way to be near each other. It felt like the world itself was crumbling to the ground when both of you couldn't be near each other.

Your and his eyes reflect each other's eyes and the feelings that splash in them. It would seem that the endlessly lasting second ends, and you're the first to take your eyes away from his eyes and leave after the girl, leaving him alone again.

You looked around awkwardly as you moved closer to the spot next to the large marble fountain where you and Aether had arranged your meeting. Despite the fact that you confidently talked with him on the phone, you were still a little embarrassed by a personal meeting. Some excitement built up in your chest and you wondered how this walk would go.

You lifted your eyes and noticed a blond standing near the fountain. His long blond hair was braided, the man was wearing a white coat and gray trousers. Your cheeks blushed a little when Aether finally noticed you and waved his hand at you in a friendly manner. You smiled warmly and walked closer to him.

"Today is a great day to enjoy art to its fullest. Don't you think so, Y/n?" The man smiled, giving you his beautiful smile. "You look beautiful."

You smiled sheepishly as you awkwardly straightened your coat. The unexpected compliment warmed your soul, because if Childe were in Aether's place now, he would have teased you with absolute probability, enjoying your embarrassment. Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you scolded yourself for thinking about the ginger man. You shouldn't be thinking about him right now!

You immediately reminded yourself that you decided to go to this meeting to get thoughts of Tartaglia out of your head, so all you had to think about right now was art and Aether. You drove away the thoughts of the ginger man flickering on the edge of your consciousness and made a laid-back look.

"Thank you. You look beautiful too." You smiled, trying to keep up the dialogue. Aether nodded in gratitude, but his golden eyes continued to tirelessly scan you and notice every detail at the request of his dear sister.

First you two decided to visit the art museum. You listened to the blond-haired man tirelessly telling you about this or that painting, and you were amazed at the fact that he knew so much, and the fact that he was interested in art warmed your soul to some extent. You were pleased that someone shared your interest, and therefore you tried to maintain a dialogue.

Aether stopped in front of another painting, and you did the same, waiting for the blond to speak.

"What do you see in this painting?" You looked at the work of art with interest, noticing only abstract figures of different colors on it.

"I think that the author wanted to depict his feelings and emotions at a certain period of his life." You thoughtfully looked at the painting, looking at it with your big eyes, trying not to miss a single thought of yours. "The way one color transitions abruptly into another may mean that his life had spontaneous moments."

"I completely agree with you!" To your surprise — as well as to his own — Aether brightened up enough when he heard your answer. He had never heard from someone thoughts that so exactly and to the smallest detail coincided with his own. The blond smiled excitedly, looking forward to a good dialogue.

You smiled back, but for some reason you still had the feeling that now you wanted to be in a completely different place. And with another man. You looked again at the painting painted with oil paints, and you could literally hear in reality how his voice sounded in your head.

These are ordinary figures. I don't see any hidden meaning here. You're so funny, Y/n!

Somehow you were sure that Childe would have said that and then laughed as he continued to tease you. This thought accompanied you as you and Aether continued your journey through the museum. And for some reason, you no longer tried to get rid of thoughts about a ginger man.

Those thoughts were sweet and gooey, like the candy and cotton candy you and he ate at the amusement park. You went crazy with how he made you feel and with the fact that Tartaglia simply didn't have the opportunity to leave your mind. As if you and he were one, as if he were your soul mate, without whom you couldn't live a single second of your life.

The cold rays of the setting sun accompanied the two of you as you both left the museum with the intention of taking a little walk. Aether gave you his hand, helping you down the stairs, and you would say that your heart was beating excitedly, but it didn’t feel as exciting as if Tartaglia was holding your hand now...

The ginger man would smile at you so tenderly, tease you a little, but in his eyes you would definitely catch the admiration that was dissolved in two beautiful blue oceans. His bright smile would have made you embarrassed, and your legs would have trembled slightly, and the man would have caught you in his arms, in which you felt so good and comfortable.

You held your breath for a moment. It couldn't happen... It was completely spontaneous, like a realization hit you on the head with a huge dusty pillow, leaving you confused and agitated.

"What do you think of modern literature, Y/n?" Aether asked you, bringing you back to reality, and you noticed how his cheeks turned a little red. You could only wonder why his cheeks turned red blush. Perhaps this was due to the cold. You have decided to go with this option.

"I think both classics and modern literature have a lot of their merits." You said, wrapping your coat a little tighter because of the strong wind. "But I still prefer classical literature. Unlike modern literature, classical literature evokes a lot of vivid feelings and emotions in me."

Just like Childe.

The desire to see the ginger man intensified. Your heart was torn from your chest to the other end of the city to be in his hands, and you were ready to fall on your knees in front of him and beg him to keep your heart in his hands and carefully protect it, never allowing anyone to touch it. You wanted to be with him right now, to see his smile, to listen to his every word and listen to his languid voice.

"I completely agree with you!" It seemed that the man was really inspired, and you were really ashamed that you couldn't share his enthusiasm, because your thoughts had long been focused on another man. "I didn’t even think we had so much in common!"

Aether was indeed a good person, and your heart also rejoiced that you could talk to a person who shared your interests, but something really wasn't right. It seemed to you that some big important part had been torn out of your heart, without which you simply couldn't imagine your life. And your heart desperately needed to find this part and reunite with it again, giving you life-saving oxygen.

Meanwhile, you both came to a small lawn in a city park, where it wasn't crowded and calm. This couldn't be said about your soul, in which a huge hurricane of feelings and emotions raged, seeking to break out and flood the open sky. The sky was painted in a dark veil of night, scattering a lot of stars over the starry veil, which greeted you from the endless night sky.

The wind was blowing through your hair and your heart was racing in your chest, trying to find someone your heart really wanted to have next to you right now. Feel, cherish and love with the strongest love of all.

His desire to help you, his help to your brother, his love and care for his family — all this made your heart beat faster in your chest, and you to be in love with him.

You looked at Aether in the glow of the moon and stars and imagined Childe in his place. You imagined his beautiful, gentle smile, his languid, sweet voice calling you "my princess". You imagined him telling you about his family and saying that he would like you to be part of his family.

You imagined Childe kissing you on the lips, gently holding you in his strong arms.

All the thoughts and feelings that overwhelmed you every time you were next to him, it couldn't be anything other than love. Awareness of your feelings for a ginger man, like a tsunami, covered you headlong, plunging you into the depths of the Mariana Trench.

Right now, being next to another man, you realized that you don't want anyone but Childe. You only want him. You want only Childe Tartaglia to be with you all your life, so that only he will be the one who will make you truly happy. After all, you were sure that only he could really make you feel like the happiest woman in the whole world.

It turns out that giving your heart to another person was the most beautiful thing you could ever feel. And today you carefully gave your heart into the hands of a person who became the center of the Universe for you. Your planet was in orbit around his star.

It was becoming more and more difficult to breathe, the pounding of the heart echoed in your temples, and right now you needed to breathe saving oxygen into you. You needed Tartaglia to do it.

Today, among the bright stars and the pale moon that serenaded you about love, you realized once and for all that Childe was your first love.

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