#i think in part 1 there are some moments like in the forest of death that make them closer and i think sasuke does care about her and

[motherlvr]

3+1 times Prowler! Miles Morales x Spider-woman! reader

SPOILERS FOR ATSV

read part 2 here!

3 times Miles tried to confess, + 1 time he did.

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: Instead of the radioactive spider biting Miles, it bit you. You turned into Brooklyn's one and only Spider-woman, while Miles turned into the prowler. Miles also helps you with Spanish.

Warnings: friends to lovers, lots of cursing, most definitely not canon, kind of slow-burn?, jealousy, morally gray reader, he's lowkey toxic, no smut, heated make-out session, im feasting on crumbs (his 2 minutes of screen time), this is not ATSV plot heavy, the whole prowler x spidey thing isn't really until the end (enemies to lovers)

A/N: for the sake of the plot, the reader doesn't fluently speak spanish, but can speak some. this has been rotting in my drafts ever since ATSV came out

1.

Miles glares at you two from across the room, predominantly at the guy you're laughing with. Surely he's not that fucking funny. Miles thinks as jealousy spreads within the pit of his stomach like a forest fire. However, you don't seem to notice his stare burning holes through the guy you're speaking to. The same cannot be said for him, however. Miles makes eye contact with him and sends him one glare that immediately makes the poor guy cower with fear away from you.

"I uh...gotta go." The guy squeaks out to you, his voice cracking with terror as he runs away. You raise an eyebrow as you watch him run away. What the hell was that? You think.

Miles appears next to you within the next moment and says, "Hey, ma." he gives you a slight smirk and wraps his arm around your shoulders. That smirk made you weak in your knees, you almost kissed him right then and there. You should be given an award for your amount of self-restraint.

"Hey Miles, qué pasa?" You greet him with a smile that reaches your eyes. Miles' smirk drops and he furrows his eyebrows at you as he inquires. "Who was that guy?" "He's just a friend, why?" You raise an eyebrow and question back. "Don't worry about it, you like him?" His words catch you off guard. You pause for a moment and turn your head to him with a judgmental stare as you shake his arm off you and say, "Miles. What is this? 20 questions?" You deadpan and continue, "He's not important, alright?" Seemingly satisfied with your response, he drops the subject.

After school, Miles and you head to his house. You've been struggling in Spanish class. Spanish grammar might actually be the death of me, you think. Since Miles excels in Spanish due to primarily being raised by his mother, you asked him to tutor you, which he surprisingly agreed to.

It doesn't hurt that you get to spend more time with Miles, either. Something about him never fails to send butterflies straight to your stomach, maybe it's his intense stare that makes you weak in your knees, his accent that somehow makes him ten times more attractive, or- You cut your thoughts off. You felt guilty for feeling this way about Miles. You know you shouldn't. These feelings you harbor would only cause more harm than good. After all, the people you love always seem to be in danger.

After a couple of hours of pure torture, (Spanish grammar) Miles started to speak, "Escúchame, mami. I-"

Loud, blaring police sirens cut off his sentence. Thanks, Brooklyn. Pretending to get a message from your mother, you glance at your phone's screen and look at Miles with an apologetic expression, "Shit, sorry Miles but I gotta go. My mother wants me home. She said it was urgent. But we're still on for tomorrow right?" Miles raises a skeptical eyebrow but ultimately says, "Yea. It's 'Ight, princesa. See you tomorrow" his accent lacing his words. You get up to kiss his cheek and wave him goodbye. As normal friends do, you tell yourself. Shit. You shake the thoughts away before your overthinking completely undoes your brain.

You wait until you're at least a couple blocks away from his house before you reveal the spider suit underneath your clothing and pull your mask down your face. You thwip your webs and swing away to investigate what crime was scheming tonight in Brooklyn. Leaving Miles alone in his room to regret not telling you.

2.

Honestly, you weren't paying attention to whatever Miles was saying. Instead, you were just focusing on how attractive you found his accent. You'd suffer through two more years of Spanish just to hear his voice. In fact, during most of these tutoring lessons with Miles, you weren't paying attention to the actual lesson. It doesn't help that he keeps staring at you with those eyes of his. But behind that cold exterior, you knew he had a soft spot for you. Even if he didn't outright admit it.

Miles' voice brought your attention back to the actual lesson, "Lo entiendes, princesa?" Miles asked you with a knowing smirk. You nodded your head immediately, trying to play it off. "Uhh, si." You said with a thumbs up, immediately regretting it. That was so nerdy. You shame yourself in your mind. You pretended to take notes, shamefully lowering your head down to your notebook.

While you were pretending to take notes, Miles broke the silence.

"So what's up with you and that guy from earlier?" "I told you, he's just a friend. Nothing is going on between us." Miles puts his hands up in his defense, "Alright, mami. It just didn't look like that with the way you were laughing at whatever he said. He's not Kevin Hart."

Way to completely ruin the mood. You dropped the pencil you were holding and stopped taking notes. Looking directly into his eyes, you said "Miles, I really don't know what your deal is." "You really wanna know what 'my deal is'? 'Ight. It's 'cause-"

Miles' phone beeps, interrupting him. He cursed in his mind, not being able to tell you how he felt yet again. He glances down at his screen. "Ay princesa," Miles spoke up, his words never failing to make your face go warm. His nicknames for you weren't new by any means, but they still made your heart flutter. He continued, "Uncle Aaron needs me, I gotta roll. He said it's an emergency. Don't think I'm trying to cut this short. You're still my girl, alright?" He started to leave when he turned around suddenly. He walked over to you and turned your head to him with his hand, kissing your forehead. "Hasta luego, mami." He left the room, leaving you alone in his room with only your thoughts swirling around your mind. You were sure you were about to have a heart attack. His girl? The kiss? Miles was acting oddly affectionate. And what's with him practically using the same excuse I used? It's not like he's the crime-fighting vigilante here. You rolled your eyes.

You didn't know what Miles and his uncle were so busy doing, but you had a feeling that it wasn't very morally right. That would explain how ambiguous he's been lately. More often than not, he's had to leave in the middle of tutoring to tend to whatever his Uncle needed him for. But you can't entirely blame him, you have secrets you've been hiding from him too.

You packed up your things and left his room. "Chao, Mrs. Morales. Thank you for letting me into your home!" You said to Miles' mother while leaving. "Of course, you're always welcome here." She replied to you with a warm smile. That woman was a true saint.

3.

If you had to spend any more time confined in a room alone with Miles and just your emotions, you were sure you'd fucking lose it. By losing it, I mean grabbing him by the collar of his hoodie and kissing him senseless. But you were afraid. Afraid that he would take your heart right out of your chest to shatter it and then leave you alone to pick up the pieces. So, you came up with a little white lie to get out of tutoring today.

"Is it alright with you if I skip tutoring today? My mother is sick and I have to take care of her." The lie slipped off your tongue like butter.

"Nah that's cool." He shrugs. Huh. He let me off that easy? You were two seconds away from having the dreaded 'What are we?' conversation with him after last night, until someone's arms wrap around you from behind.

"Hey, beautiful." Your friend from the other day was back. And he clearly didn't see Miles right next to you. You cringe and awkwardly take his arms off of you and turn around, "Hey, Josh." "Are you free tonight?" Miles was watching this interaction with jealousy coursing through his veins. Did this douche seriously not see him right next to you? Right before you could even open your mouth to respond, Miles responds for you. "Hell no she isn't. Get the fuck out of here, man." Miles snaps at him. Your friend's head whipped to Miles so fast you were sure he'd get whiplash. "Oh shit." He stuttered, "Sorry, man. I didn't see you...I'll leave now." He ran away as fast as his feet could take him. Poor Josh.

You glared at Miles. "What the actual fuck was that, Miles? He was just asking me a question." "He was asking you out, idiot." Miles said right back to you. "So what if he was? Honestly. What's it to you? You've been acting so possessive. May I remind you that we are not together?" You snapped at him. "Maybe I want-" He started, but this time, he was the one cutting his sentence off. He couldn't find the words to tell you just yet.

The bell rings. You look at Miles, awaiting his response. When a few silent moments pass by, you finally say, "What? What is it you want?" For once in your friendship with Miles, he didn't have a response. You, he thought. "Y'know what Miles? Until you've come to your senses, just leave me be for now." He had no right to start acting like you were bound to him. You walked to your class without him. He cursed himself in his head.

You'd been ignoring him the whole day. Yet ever the petty, he hadn't messaged you at all.

Your phone pings. "You busy with Jake?" You read. It was from Miles. That petty fucker. Your face immediately drops. That's not even his name. You left him on read and turn off your phone. For someone who thinks he's heartless and nonchalant, he sure was acting possessive.

+1

Dusk approaches Brooklyn and you're out patrolling instead of thinking about Miles. That's all you've been doing lately, and you needed a distraction.

Unfortunately, Miles had the same idea. He was out taking missions Kingpin gave him.

As you were searching the streets of Brooklyn for crime, you sensed a presence. Ahead of you was a silhouette in a dimly lit alley, their back facing you. You hid behind the wall. Finally something interesting tonight! As you climb on the walls and get closer, you recognize the figure.

Oh, great. It's the Prowler.

This wasn't your first time meeting the Prowler. No, you've fought with him in the past. He's ruthless and a cold-blooded killer. He's efficient and excruciatingly fast. That's what makes him an imminent risk to be allowed to roam the streets freely.

As Spider-woman, it's your responsibility to keep the streets of Brooklyn crime-free. So, you follow him. As you're trailing behind him, crawling on the walls, you notice the people he's meeting with. It's an arms deal, you realize. As you crawl closer, you notice that they weren't regular arms. They were abnormally high-tech for these seemingly harmless criminals.

I'll just web up the couple of amateurs and then deal with the big guy Prowler, easy. Oh how wrong you were.

"Hey, boys! Nice toy you've got there." You said as you dropped your voice down an octave, disguising your voice. You jump down from your place on the wall and thwip your webs at the unsuspecting arms dealers, binding them to the wall. They were knocked unconscious.

You thwip'd your webs at the weapon and effectively took it away from them. You'd have to drop it by the police station later with a friendly note.

The Prowler lunged at you, his steel claws missing your face by an inch.

"Hey, man! That felt a little personal." You shouted, thankful to still have your face attached to your head. You used your webs to grab onto the Prowler and strike him directly on his mask. You started to run, with the Prowler tailing right behind you.

He had you cornered, but you weren't surrendering that easily. You positioned into a defensive stance, ready to defend yourself.

His mask was cracked a bit, causing his voice modulator to reveal his unfiltered voice. "Nowhere to run, spider."

Your heart dropped as your eyes widened through your mask. Not in fear, but in recognition. You could recognize that voice anywhere. That was the voice that sent shivers down your whole body, yet made you want to strangle him the next.

"...Miles?" The words came out more of a whisper. Your voice sputtered as you dropped your fake voice. You webbed the weapon to the wall, disregarding it. Turns out, he didn't need to reject you to shatter your heart into a million pieces.

His stance immediately faltered. He could recognize your voice out of a thousand others.

Prowler, or rather Miles, stood silent.

“Miles, take off that damn mask. I know it's you.” You took off your mask, and he opened his. His eyes were unreadable. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into Miles?" You sighed. You didn't recognize him anymore. You didn't know who he was. There was no way the Miles you knew had become this.

"Fuck, princesa. I didn't want you to get involved in this shit. You're the fucking spider?" You feel as if he was seeing you for the first time again. "I'm fucking Spider-woman, you dick. And I've been involved with this 'shit' ever since I got bit by a spider. Now explain this, whatever you've turned into!" You spurted out, pointing at his suit. "I got roped into business with Kingpin after my father died. Shit, I never meant for this to happen." He exclaimed.

"What, you think you're protecting me by not telling me? Bullshit." You say, throwing your hands up in the air. "I was protecting you. I was protecting you from Kingpin. Because I fucking love you. I meant it when I said you were my girl." He proclaimed.

When you thought this night couldn't get any wilder, it just did.

Alarms blared in the back of your mind, telling you to leave. Your brain is screaming at you to think about your moral obligation to stop the Prowler, no matter who he is. But your heart is telling you otherwise. You choose the latter.

"Fuck, Miles. Shut the hell up." You threw a web at his abdomen and pulled him towards you, efficiently shutting him up by connecting your lips to his. Sliding your hands onto his braids, you pulled him in closer. He immediately reciprocated and grinned into the kiss, setting his arms on your hips.

Turning into a heated make-out session, he backed you against the wall of the alley. You felt your legs giving out on you. Miles put his knee in between your legs, supporting you. He kissed you with passion. He's pinned for you for the longest time, and he finally has you. He wasn't going to give it up for anything. Unfortunately, you needed oxygen to live, so you pulled back. A string of saliva connected your lips as you parted.

He took away all the oxygen in your body, and apparently your moral compass as well, with only one kiss. Unable to open your eyes until a few moments after, you fluttered your eyes open. "I fucking love you too, Miles" You whispered against his lips. "Oh, really? Couldn't tell." He teased with a smirk, his lips seconds away from yours as he looked down at you. He held your gaze with longing in his eyes.

Muffled screams ruined the moment. Miles and you react immediately, putting your masks back on. You got your webs ready while Miles had his steel daggers out. Lowering your guards, you realize it was the couple of guys you webbed up and forgot. "Sorry, I'll go take care of them." You said as you rubbed the back of your head awkwardly. Miles stifled a laugh as he said, "That's alright, ma. You can make it up to me later." You heard the smugness in his voice as you swung away to the police station. You made sure to fulfill his request later that night.

---------

part 2!

[bonefall]

.. opinions on wind runner? i feel like im one of the only ones that genuinely hates her sometimes

If you feel like the only one who genuinely hates her, I think you need to look around more. Wind Runner is a very widely disliked character, because she's often used within the story as a small antagonist who "threatens" the authority of Tall Shadow. Gray Wing dislikes her. Thunder is openly cat-racist to her. She spends several books trying to break through the moor cats' xenophobia to join a group that came to HER LAND.

Then, when Moth Flight is old enough to be a relevant character in Forest Divided, Wind Runner is turned into Yet Another mean mom the very moment Moth displays ADHD. She's contrasted to her mate Gorse Fur, who is a Soft And Good Dad, and ultimately MASSIVELY punished with the harrowing events of Moth Flight's Vision (even though, for most of that book, she's completely right.)

Ask yourself why they're especially harsh on WIND RUNNER for being mean to her child, in the arc with Tom the Fucking Wifebeater and his redemption death, plus Thunder being forced to stop being mad at his abuser Clear Sky, please.

To me, Wind Runner is an intense, ambitious woman who's demonized for it in a way that men just aren't. She's subject to several misogynistic trends within WC, plus a huge helping of xenophobia that goes absolutely unexamined. If DOTC cared at all about women, it would have treated her with the nuance she deserves.

Wind Runner is treated with nearly endless suspicion by Gray Wing through books 1 - 3, while he's bending over backwards to suck Clear Sky's toes.

Her wanting to join the group that came TO HER HOME and being a bit pushy about it earns a stronger reaction from Gray Wing than Clear Sky murdering people.

She's pressured into changing her name "to fit in," and it's still not enough. She wanted to join the group so bad she changed her name, at the request of the Mountain Cats, for a chance of being better accepted

This came after she'd already saved Jagged Peak's life when a burrow collapsed on him. She's plenty trustworthy.

She keeps doing shit to try and prove herself to this group of assholes. Remember Bumble being dragged back to her domestic abuser? Gray Wing interprets this as a power struggle, when WIND RUNNER WAS NOT EVEN PART OF THE GROUP AT THE TIME.

From Wind Runner's POV, she did something that the Moor cats wanted done. It was fucking evil. It was committing violence against another member of the out-group the cats see her as.

But who actually has the power here? Tall Shadow does.

Gray Wing said it himself that she could have come up with some excuse for Bumble to stay, and she didn't. In fact, any cat could have spoken up. No one did.

and still. STILL. Wind Runner gets nothing. Her reward is Gray Wing surmising that actually, her doing their sick dirtywork was a political move.

It's more consistent as a motivation with how Wind Runner wants to join their group. The thing she's been doing.

She only actually gets to join the group after Thunder starts publicly hurling slurs at her for suggesting they need to be ready for Clear Sky to attack them. "What do you know about peace? Last time I was here you were NOTHING BUT A ROGUE WITH A ROGUE'S NAME"

Gray Wing even starts purring when she gives birth, because her ambition goes away briefly and she "stops bossing everyone around." this is treated like a sweet thing. god forbid women retain their personalities when they have kids

She loses her first premature child to a seizure and Gray Wing starts proselytizing his religion to her. "Maybe it's a good thing your weakest child died because Jesus has them now" I want to beat him with a hammer

When her second child gets sick, Clear Sky has a bright idea that involves killing it. I refer to this as his "reverse leper colony" suggestion. He only develops a sense of humanity towards the sick when his brother's pregnant wife is in danger. Wind Runner and her kitten barely seem to clock as people to him.

It's only after her SECOND baby succumbs to a horrible, painful death that she decides the moor cats are assholes, and she goes to start her own group. It's LONG overdue. I was extremely excited to see it.

Now. Listen.

I've been treated just like Moth Flight before. I've practically heard the scolding in Book 6 Chapter 3 verbatim. I'm not downplaying anything about Wind Runner being harsh to her; being yelled at like that never fixed the problem.

What I'm saying is that this is the SAME arc that summons the hollowed-out ghost of Storm to coo that Clear Sky "never drove anyone away" with his abusive behavior and gives Tom the Wifebeater a heroic redemption death.

So why is the scolding from Wind Runner treated as unambiguously harsh? What's the difference between her and them?

Why is it that outside of this little bubble of the community, you can get buried in a flood of people crying about how "Clear Sky made Summisteaks Butt he thought it was the right thing :((( He feels bad about shoving Thunder's face in a weeping, pus-filled wound and trying to kill him :((((" but Wind Runner is mean about Moth Flight not catching a rabbit and she should be skinned alive

Why is WIND RUNNER held responsible for the death of Clear Sky's child in Moth Flight's Vision, WHEN IT WAS COMPLETELY HIS OWN FAULT??

So, why should I hate her? Because she's mean to the idiot protagonists? Because she's Yet Another Bad Mom whose actions ARE treated as Bad in the story, in the arc famous for openly weeping whenever someone's mad at their abusive dad?? When she has this whole horrific, unexamined story about how incredibly bigoted The Settlers are towards her and the extremes she goes to in order to please them?

I'm glad she's mean, actually. She should have been even meaner. I think she should have a gun

[m1d-45]

any chance of a part 2 of opportunities arisen? perhaps tighnari finds out who we are? or someone else comes after us? 👉👈 i love him sm and ur characterization of him is perfect, that fic is 100% canon in my mind for every imposter au now

prime fortune

a/n: hope this one didn’t absolutely destroy your expectations anon. it took a hard left turn halfway through and i couldn’t bring it back—

word count: 3.1k oh wow-

-> warnings: minor spoilers for sumeru archon quest (3.0-3.2), dubious medical facts that you should not follow, likely ooc cyno, excessive use of the word ‘something’ with little reasoning to show for it, cyno’s excellent humor

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie

<< part 1 || < masterlist >

adapting to life in the forest was easier said than done.

you’re often paired with collei, who’s in the middle of a bad eleazar flare that keeps her confined to the village, and though she teaches you the different salves and plants, a lot of it goes over your head.

you’re interested, you are! the liveliness with which she speaks, and the animated gestures from tighnari as he explains proper safety when preparing medicine easily capture your attention, but when she hands you two mushrooms and asks her to tell you which one is morchella….

by some strange luck, you often guess correctly, your intuition knowing more than you do, but when she nods with a smile and asks you to repeat the differences…

your mind falls blank.

something about the density of the fibers inside the mushroom floats through your mind, but you can’t remember whether the true or false mushroom is heavier.

collei’s smile falters, and yours turns sheepish. when she takes you out on walks, slowly walking up the paths so you don’t strain your ankle, you can point at the differences between portobello and death caps, you can pick out holly and honeysuckle and marigold, but here…

you pass the field practice with flying colors, but your basic by-the-books forest ranger tests always end in failure.

tighnari picks out two plants from a small case, holding them up in front of you.

“you come across amir sitting just off the side of a path, clutching his stomach. after some questioning, you determine he has a stomach cramp from dehydration, and spot these two plants nearby. you’re about a 15 minute walk from the village; what do you do?”

one of the plants has many flat white flowers blooming from the top, with yellow centers, while the other has orange petals that form a ball shape on top. you know one of them is yarrow, but not which one…

you pick the latter on a whim, spinning it between two fingers as you think. “pick the petals and crush them into a paste, taking care not to overwork them. give him about a spoonful, which should be most of it, then help him up. report to shirin once we return.”

the blank mask on his face falls into confusion. “how do you even mix up marigold and yarrow?” he asks, picking the flower—marigold, you now recognize—from your hand. “you got the procedure correct, at least, but marigold is bitter and will only worsen his aches. oh, and additionally, the leaves of yarrow—however small they-“

the door to the cottage slams open, jars rattling on their shelves, and tighnari whips around to face whoever it is, one hand steadying a stack of reports.

“and just what do you think you’re- w- collei? is everything alright?”

collei’s violet eyes were wide, her shoulders heaving with breath, when she spoke, exhaustion was evident. “m-master tighnari! the matra are here on behalf of the akademiya! i tried to tell them to wait so i could get you but they just-..”

emotions flashed over tighnari’s face faster than you could catch, eventually setting on a sharp determination. “alright collei, calm down. go find amir and do your best to delay them, but don’t seem too suspiscious, okay? just remember what we planned, i’ll take care of things here.”

her eyes flicked to you, worry evident, but she quickly turned away.

the moment the door closed, you and tighnari sprung into action. he collected the plants from your test and tucked them into their proper places, you standing to help return a mint plant back to its place.

he caught your wrist, taking the pot. “don’t. take your bag and go, don’t worry about this.”

you hesitate for longer than you should, then nod. he lets you go and returns to his case, and you move to crouch by the bed. feeling under it, your hand eventually brushes against a cloth handle, which you grab. you take a step to unlatch the window with one hand and sling the pack over your shoulder with the other, leaving with your good leg first. as you carefully close the window behind you, you can see tighnari moving to hide all the notes you’d taken, the only sign of his worry being his tail lashing behind him and the slightest flick of his ears.

with a soft smile, you turn away.

tighnari checked over his room once more, ensuring that every trace of your presence was scrubbed clean. your laundry was out and mixed with the rest of the rangers’, but your notes and records were carefully hidden under patrol logs and his own personal binders. he knew everything was tucked away, he had explanations lined up and answers to every conceivable question the akademiya could have, but his heart still beat frantically against his ribs. even as he pulled apart and neatened up a stack of patrol logs, repeating the action to look like he was doing something whenever the matra came to his hut, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he missed something crucial.

he had to fight to keep his tail from betraying his emotions, the energy not going into mussing up and then fixing the papers spent on hiding the symptoms of his distress. he knew he didn’t miss anything. the moment you told them the sages were on active lookout for you and he knew you weren’t a threat, he had memorized the plan. he was foolish to worry.

he hasn’t known you for long, barely over half a year, yet his mind is clouded with the same worry as when collei collapses out on patrol. the same numbing sort of adrenaline, the icy feeling in his bones even as his skin starts to burn up, the apprehension in every movement, as if at any moment-

somebody knocks on the door.

tighnari takes a steadying breath and fusses with the papers a final time. “come in!”

the door creaks open and he taps the papers on the table, turning slightly to speak over his shoulder. “sorry, you caught me in the middle of something.”

“no matter,” a familiar voice says, and he can’t stop the way his body freezes at the speaker.

he carefully tucked the papers into a folder, finally turning around. “general mahamatra. to what do i owe the honor?”

cyno crossed his arms, red eyes surveying the room. “oh, nothing at all. just somebody from vimara village reporting somebody that looked suspiciously like the primo fortuna walking around with collei when they’re supposed to be in liyue.”

tighnari stares. the primo fortuna…? he thought they were after you, but you couldn’t be…

“are… are you suggesting somebody is attempting to imitate the creator?”

sure, he wouldn’t deny you shared some features—you had the same shape of nose, you were around the same height and build—but for you to be the creator? no, it wasn’t possible. your eyes were much kinder, you stopped and helped nasrin when she couldn’t find the proper forms, you directed shirin to the area of the forest where you and collei found nilotpala lotuses, you were nothing like the creator he saw at pardis dhyai. you didn’t stare with glazed eyes as padisarahs and sumeru roses were brought forth, you listened in earnest when he spoke about the differences between the various kinds of ferns.

if anybody were to meet you, they’d know in an instant you were not the creator.

his heart itched within his chest. he ignored it as worry.

“that’s exactly what i’m implying. as i’m certain you know, their identity is hallowed, and anybody attempting to infringe upon it needs to meet justice.” the golden eye on his headpiece flashed, the sides beginning to narrow into eyes before he shook his head and it passed. “but in truth, that is not why i am here.”

tighnari stared. despite having a fondness for jokes, cyno was never one to laugh about his duties. “what do you mean? collei told me you were here on behalf of the akademiya.”

“the matra are here on behalf of the sages,” he clarified. “i… i am here for other reasons. personal ones.”

his eyes flicked around the room again, and tighnari’s narrowed. “well, don’t hide behind double meanings, then. what is it?”

cyno’s jaw flexed as he chewed at nothing, his arms uncrossing. his eyes focused somewhere around the bed, and he seemed lost in thought. whatever it was, it had to be a big deal, but for him to hijack the matra’s arrival instead of coming on his own time…

“the one on the throne is not our god.”

he said it with such conviction that tighnari found himself agreeing, waiting for whatever had gotten him worked up, and it was only when cyno’s eyes closed as he braced himself that it registered what he said.

“what?”

“i have gathered evidence across many sources, both academic and religious, common and exclusive, and i can’t bring myself to kneel at their feet any longer. i have been ignoring my own mind for too long for the sake of my conscience, and i am confiding in you now what has been brewing in my mind for months.”

in the silence that stretched, tighnari almost wished he hadn’t spoken.

the way he spoke, from his words to his tone, reminded tighnari of when he reported to the sages, like he wasn’t tighnari to him and was instead an authority.

“cyno, i don’t.. is this why you didn’t go when they were at pardis dhyai or sumeru city?”

he nodded. “i can’t be in a place where they’re being worshipped when i’m so conflicted. i thought about pulling you aside in the city, but…”

tighnari didn’t think he’d ever seen cyno so meek in his words, none of his normal power behind it. he’s… tired, a quality he knows he’s felt but has never seen on him, the almost nervous way he keeps glancing around the room edging on alarming.

“alright.. uh, moving past that for a moment, what does that have to do with why you’re in gandharva ville? wouldn’t you want to not be involved?”

cyno’s eyes dragged from where they were locked behind him with uncharacteristic slowness. “the person you’re hiding may be the real creator.”

the simplicity to his words had tighnari believing it, even as it didn’t fully register in his mind. he knew cyno attached a religious aspect to his work, to the point the people in sumeru city sometimes calling him an extension of their judgement—even as it was more like the akademiya’s, most time—so he knew that whatever he said on the topic was both well thought out and reliable.

which is why he was silent even after it clicked.

“what are you saying, cyno?”

“they’ve been staying here, haven’t they? in this room?”

“this is my and collei’s-“

“don’t tell me you haven’t been able to feel the difference in the air? the way it seems to flow slowly, lingering, like it has something to wait for? there’s no heavy blankets on the bed, and yet everybody else is talking of how cold the weather’s been lately.”

“that’s because this is an insulated room, and we’re right up against a cliff.”

the quick pace to his heart was back, this time less of worry and more of confusion. you couldn’t be the creator, not when you bore so little resemblance to the one on the throne. you were good at what you did, plants thriving under your care even if you forget to water them. call him selfish, but tighnari almost wished the creator could go back to wherever they’d been, since they’d been much kinder there, both to their vessels and the world.

you weren’t them. they weren’t even close to being you.

“you’re considering it.”

he crossed his arms, forcing himself to still. “i’ll admit—not that you didn’t already know it—that we have taken a refugee into the village, one the sages might call a criminal-“

“that’s not what i mean, tighnari, and you know it.”

“can you give me a minute? you can’t just drop a massive load of information on me like that and expect me to continue like it didn’t happen!”

“you’re reacting oddly.”

“well of course i am, you’re telling me the same person i took in and sheltered from your bosses is somebody you want to take away back to them, and that’s not even covering their injuries- they’ve barely been able to walk outside of the village, and you want to take them to the city?”

“when did i say anything about the sages?”

tighnari stopped, his chest heaving. his hands froze mid-air, his tail still flicking in a mix of irritation and stress, thoughts moving quicker than he could understand them.

“what?”

“i never said anything about the sages. i never said i would take them.”

“w- well it’s implied, if not in your words then-“

“i don’t deal in implications. you know this.”

he did.

he knew cyno. he knew how he spoke and acted, he knew that the small emotion in his eyes was indicative of empathy and not ruthless justice. he knew he held reasoning in high standards, he knew that if he stopped and thought about the words coming from his mouth then he would agree.

but he couldn’t think.

all of his usual composure had faltered and faded, leaving him grasping for a hold as his thoughts swam like a raging river around him, even standing a struggle amidst the tide. all he could do was watch, his head racing and hands shaking, as cyno stood on the bank of rationality, with his crossed arms and cool eyes that dared him to step forward and sink beneath the waves.

he had no real reason to fear so much for you. by now you were gone, by now you were safe and far past the statue of the seven by the chasm, hidden in a place where even cyno would struggle to find you. you were crafty, clever, and you had more than enough supplies to last until he could go to find you.

he had no reason to be afraid.

yet his heart still raced a rhythm he couldn’t follow, his mind tripping and skipping with worry.

why?

his tail wrapped around his side and he picked out a cluster of petals from it, mostly just to give his hands something to do.

as he did, he noticed it was a full flower, likely knocked off one of the samples on the desk. it was small, blue, with smooth petals, and he recognized it after a moment’s pause.

“this is a hydrangea. what is it used for?”

the flower quivered in your shaking hands. “root and stem are for… for medicine. petals are tea.”

collei nodded, smiling brightly. “exactly! you’re a quick learner, aren’t you?”

you smiled sheepishly, trying to hand her back the flower, but collei held up a hand, closing her pack with her other hand.

“no, you keep it. take it as a congratulations for all your progress!”

you were hesitant to accept it, that much was clear, and tighnari tied off the small parcel in his hands before speaking.

“you really have done well. you’ve only been here for a few weeks, but you’ve learned a lot.” he set down the packed herbs beside where he was leaning on the table, directing all of his attention to you. “i know it’s mostly for safety, and you’re not going to be a ranger-“ too much paperwork was required, he couldn’t risk it “-but still. i’m proud of you.”

you smiled.

it likely wasn’t the same flower—that ‘class’ was months ago, now—but it dragged a realization to the surface of his mind.

in the short, fleeting time he’d known you, he had come to care for you as he did collei.

even then, only after a week or two of you being there, a certain fondness had taken root in his chest. something bright, something that bloomed like a rose yet without any of the thorns. something that he watered every time you winced when you walked, something you fostered when you helped treat collei’s eleazar when he was out clearing a withering zone.

something that grew as he realized the poultice you had made had helped clear the pain faster than anything he’d made, even as you both used the same recipe, something that lashed out when kamran questioned your place in the village. something that spurred him to action when he thought you were in trouble, even if it was only cyno.

something that burned bright, something hot that blurred his reasoning even when he knew it was wrong, something that made him want to bare his teeth and keep you safe by his side.

something that should be impossible for him to feel towards you, as it was a golden and warm feeling that did not exist in teyvat, only ever glimpsed at altars.

tighnari looked up from the flower and into cyno’s knowing eyes.

“alright.”

relief washed onto his face, a small nod the only other sign that he’d heard.

“i’ll report nothing to the team—i trust you’ve gone over this, given your reaction?”

he let the comment slide. “yes, everybody here knows what to do in the case of the akademiya or the millelith coming here. it was collei’s idea, actually, and she took care to make sure that everybody had it memorized.”

cyno nodded, taking a step towards the door. “good. and if you ever need to collei matra, just get me instead.”

“…”

“do you get-?”

“i got it, cyno.”

[angelfandomfan]

note: I think i will start writting maybe a little thing Warnings: Bad english (because i'm french and it's my first time writting a story IN ENGLISH), blood, maybe death, kidnapping mention yay, weak ALSO, IF SOMEONE WANT ME TO WRITE SOMETHING ELSE- ASK MEH

Yandere!hunter X monster reader -----------------------------------------------

It is a story about a big scary monster that lived in the woods, a monster that had three eyes and wings that looked like demon's wings, the monster eats children! Says the old woman, some peoples belived for this story; and you did. Before being turned into one.. Before, you were a beautiful lady, with a lot of ease in your life, you had enough money to live easily, you were kind to everyone.. helped everyone.. before knowing that they were just using you- Just because THEY were lazy, the day you turned into a monster is when you helped an old lady and you suspected her to be a witch because of course she was showing some clues and when you hold here hand to help her, you got an huge pain and you just turned into a monster, so you just ran into a forest. And now that peoples saw YOU in your monster form, they were scared, so scared that now they engaged a hunter to kill you! TO KILL YOU! SERIOUSLY!! The so called hunter, you heard from eavesdropping was called Lucian, and he was now tracking you in the woods, you had before a lot of hunters that tried to kill you but they all died because of their own traps or because you pushed them on a trap because you were doing self defence, and people just won't understand! You had to suffer because of THEM, OF. SIMPLE. VILLAGERS.

You really were angry at them, but you couldn't do anything because YOU are the so called monster, but why, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO SUFFER?, YOU DID NOTHING WRONG. So, to calm yourself you decided to go toward a lake and to drink in it, but why? Because now that you turned into a "monster" you could now drink water directly from the lake, and also because you were a part deer, that crazy right? you had antlers. FUCKING. ANTLERS.

At first you were scared, to find out that you had antlers, but now.. not really like you got used to it. So now let talk about Lucian Lucian, is a tall, muscular guy and he's also a serious person, you also tried to stalk him a little but you don't know how but he always manage to find you, but you always run away before he could do anything. Lucian, him was dumbfounded (or dump, idk) the first moment he saw you, oh gosh you were so beautiful, a beautiful skin and eyes, oh gosh he just want you.. to possess you.. just for him. He doesn't care that the villagers will be mad at him, he just want you.

The first time he met you, he was walking through the woods to hunt you with his crossbow and when he saw a sort of deer on two legs he aimed it and then shot, but then the moment he shot he saw your visage, your beautiful face. Oh gosh he was so sorry that he hurted you with an arrow of his crossbow, if he knew and saw your face before shooting, you wouldn't been hurt.

YOU WOULDN'T BEEN HURT.

YOU WOULDN'T BEEN HURT.

YOU WOULDN'T BEEN HURT.

YOU WOULDN'T BEEN HURT.

YOU WOULDN'T BEEN HURT.

YOU WOULDN'T BEEN HURT.

And he kept saying this to his mind until he finally stops, you were bleeding because of him.

And so Lucian kept stalking you, over and over just to know more about you. He was scared to scare you if he tried to talk to you, so he was just stalking you, and he liked when YOU were stalking him, oh gosh it was so cute. And he decided to give you food everydays, again and again, until you finally start eating the food he was giving you, on a plate, and little by little he was getting closer to you, before he was 15 metters from you, then 10, then 5 then 2, then 1. Oh gosh, he really liked to be SO close from you, and that you didn't run away, little did you know that he was feeding you something that was making you weaker every days you were eating the food, you were feeling weak, and Lucian just told you that you were maybe not digesting at all because you didn't eating this food long time ago. But that in reality, Lucian was making you weak only to be able to kidnap you with you that won't be able to escape. So he did this, the day where you were finally extremelly weak, he picked you up and started walking away with you, oh gosh you were going to be with him forever. "You will never be able to escape me, my little deer~"

[thetravelingtyper]

One and the Same pt 1(Wolf!Simon X Gn! Sgt! Reader)

After a mission goes haywire and Simon is killed you and Riley escape into the woods...

Warnings! Angst, mentions of wounds, general violence, and hint of a character death...

AN! Just a little multi-part story to have some fun! Might be 2-3 parts!

Masterlist!

You had been running for hours, sweat and blood mingling sweetly down your face as you perked up at every sound in the forest—evergreens and oak, with warred and scared bark rough against you. To say you were in trouble was an understatement, but you made it out. Your tactical vest was long gone and the one weapon you had made you want to cry, the last of Simon's knives. Tears burn your eyes before a bark calls out like a signal of the end. Before you can climb a shape bursts through the darkening leaves and you are about to scream when the form barrels into you. 

You thought it was the end as your eyes closed, but a warm lick to your face has you crying out in joy.

“Riley! Thank Christ!”

The German Shepard, having torn free of her restraints cries into your side in excitement.

“Good fucking girl.”

You huddle into the dog a moment more before there is a far-off shout. 

Shit! 

It was starting to get dark but you needed to move. You check your right leg, the cuts weren't deep as you had struggled out of the man's grasp but he had gotten you good with his knife. You suck in a strangled breath as you get up and wrap your overshirt tighter around the wound. Riley jumps to attention. 

“You gotta lead me somewhere girl.’

She barks lowly, tips her head in the air, and looks back at you with sudden attentiveness. As she looks at you her ears perk up where there is a lone low howl somewhere behind you. You freeze as you suddenly hear the sound of yelling and gunfire. 

“We need to move, now.”

Riley takes off in the brush and helpless to the sounds of terror coming from the compound you take off after her.

-----

The sounds of terror go silent after about 10 minutes. You gulp as Riley barks to alert you and you blink when see a growing light.

It was a cabin! You ready the knife and whistle lowly for Riley, she returns to your side as you circle to the back of the building. You see a water hose that cheers you up, a bath sounds fantastic. But as you edge to the only door you find the cabin just opened and in a state of rushed abandonment, there is still a meal on the table.

After a quick scan and round of the parameter, you usher Riley inside quietly before shutting and barring the door.

All you can help yourself to do is find a quick meal and pass out on the thick rug.

---

You are woken a few hours later by a low growl circling the cabin. Riley is awake and alert, a low rumble in her chest as you jump up, grasping for the knife before deciding you need to investigate.

You slowly make it out the front of the cabin at the edge of the light when you see it.

You yelp, It has found you. Before you was a beast of another age, a large timberwolf, drenched in shadows. It looks to you with burned ember eyes, face pulled into a snarl when Riley comes bounding from behind you. She makes no move other than to approach almost submissively, putting herself between you and the wolf. This flips a switch and a low growl reverberates from the beast, its enormous form ruffled and…slick? You gasp, you could see now there was blood soaking its course fur.

“It was you.”

The wolf goes silent when it hears your voice and you think you see something…change in the beast. Riley whimpers before barking at the wolf and its head tilts a fraction. There is a glint of steel and then you see the wire, through the light at the edge of the cabin, and the full moon, prickly wire has tangled itself in the wolf’s fun.

“Well fuck me buddy.”

You groan to yourself still tense, the wolf turning to you as you make up your mind.

“I better get some good karma for this shit 'cause God knows I need it. Alright, buddy-” you gesture the knife to the wolf and its eyes focus on the silver metal of the blade, glinting in the moonlight. A glint of recognition and the wolf does something that scares you shitless, it pounces.

One moment it's there then the next its lunging at you and you scream, dropping the knife in shock as a canine larger than an Irish hound comes at you. You scramble back as you hear Riley yelp, but? The next second you refocus you are on the ground with a heavy weight blanketing your form as a furry head burrows into your neck, a deep sniffing sound before there is a low whine.

You hear Riley scamper over in the dirt before you can turn your head to the side, she's fucking play-bowing! A puppylike enthusiasm that Simon always scoffed at, 

“She spends too much bloody time with Johnny.”

But now you about cry in relieved laughter. You test your sanity a little more by reaching a searching hand and brushing the wolf, at your touch the beast only whines more, digging further into your prone form. The whines almost sound like cries and it's eerie hearing and seeing such a reaction from a wild animal. But you weren't one to look a gift wolf in the mouth.

“Hey, can I get up big guy?”

You turn your face up and are met with a scarred canine face with brightened umber eyes that dilate when they make contact with yours. You open your mouth again to speak but are met with a warm tongue dragging across your face frantically as the woll lifts itself off you and about licks you half to death. 

You gasp out before wiggling under the beast. 

“What is wrong with you mutt? Jesus stop!” 

And it does with an alarmingly amused-sounding huff. The wolf steps backward, letting you up before it sits on his haunches. In the low light, you make note of something else, a strange white and grey tinted marking over the wolf's face, you pull yourself up and find that the wolf comes up to your stomach. Riley pads over to it and sits beside it as the wolf's head dips to hers and nudges it with a low growl. She just whines, pressing licks to the wolf's face as you finally approach.

A shaking hand reaches for the wolf's head and there is a tear of fabric as something comes loose in your hand, you gasp.

Simon’s faceplate!

You look down at it in shock, tears filling your eyes at the remembered sight of his lifeless body tossed into the cell next to you, whatever they injected him with taking him quickly. As you clench the faceplate tears run down your tipped-down face, gathering blood and dirt before hitting the ground. SImons knife glimmers at your feet kicked to the side during your confusion, and as you silently reach for it a large paw covers the handle. There is a low whine before a snout comes into your vision as the wolf dips its head in your way. You try to reach for the knife but your hand is bumped by its head. You reach again only for the same thing to happen and you can’t help the frustration welling up in you.

On the third attempt you snap,

“WHAT!?”

The wolf freezes and you hear Riley whine, leaving her place to nuzzle at your side as you drop the faceplate to ball up your fists as untethered grieving rage barrels through you. You give a clenched scream before kicking the face plate and swinging around as you give a pained wail, finally able to safely cry. You drop to just sit in the dirt, putting your head in your hands as you cry. There are a few minutes of you just sobbing, getting the trauma and pain out before a large form approaches and the face plate is dropped in your lap. You look up.

The wolf stands staring at you, umber eyes dark in the moonlight. It just stares at you and you gape at it.

“I never got to tell him I loved him.” You just mutter a blank stare past the wolf, through it more as you disassociate, hands grasping for the skull like a lifeline. The words are barely a whisper but the wolf’s eyes widen as there is another shock of recognition, the wolf stumbles backward and you look up as it just sits and stares at you, its eyes dilated and wide.

You just numbly acknowledge the sight as Riley pads over and nuzzles into you. You just clutch the mask tighter before spotting the knife. You had one thing you could do. You push the feelings down into the back of your mind before scooping up the knife and mask. 

The wolf just watches you as you approach it and run a hand through its fur, not even flinching as you cut and untangle the wire. It is only when you move back, finished with the bloody task does it move. As you wrestle with the wire you curse when you cut your hand before tossing it at a bush, the branches effectively trapping the wire. You move to leave for the cabin when there is a gruff bark. You look to the wolf as it stands shaking itself off before looking into your eyes, some strange resolution set in its eyes. 

“You can go free bud. Come on Riley.” 

The shepherd hops up at your call and looks to the wolf before racing towards the cabin. You turn to follow but there is a padding of feet and the wolf comes to stand alongside you. You move forward into the light flittering through the trees, but the wolf only follows.

“Why are you following, you need to go you are free now.” You think of Simon and swallow down your tears, the emotion bleeding into your voice but the wolf only pads forward and knocks into your hand, the plate bumping up its snout so the mask rests over its eyes. 

The eye holes are not wide enough but in the growing warm light, one umber eye of the wolf shines through the wide empty sockets and your heart freezes.

You know those eyes.

You drop the mask and it tumbles to the ground as your hands shake, knife clenched between tense fingers. The wolf looks back up at you before digging its head into your chest as your heart pounds and realization lights up like a starburst.

“No, I saw you die, they locked you up, then they-” There is a low growl, deep from the wolf's chest as it, no he curls around you, haunches raising. 

Don't you dare say that. 

You could hear the warning as clear as day in the growl, what they had done to you. Your cuts were clear through the shirt you wore and the drenched overshirt around your leg. 

“Simon?” You breathe it out and the wolf rumbles, head turning into your chest as you drop the knife and latch onto him.

“What have they done to you? But you're alive!” You sob into the neck of the wolf as you feel him rumble. You think then, the strange realization before you freeze pulling back almost ashamedly, looking away from Simon, whose eyes focus on you.

“So about that confession, can we just for-”

Wolf Simon growls lowly and you feel a blush run up your face, he tucks his snout into your palm before butting both against your frantically beating heart. The action speaks wonders and steals your breath as you gape at him. Your head dips as fresh tears run, but there is a bark from the cabin and a sound of thunder above.

“We better get inside and clean up.”

Simon looks up to you before dipping his head in a nod and moving back, but he remains close enough to brush along your side as you both make it to the safety of the cabin before the storm unleashes a torrent below.

[s-awturn]

Moon Spell || CS55

summary: They were fated to love someone they hated. There was no spell, no grudge, no curse that could break the bond that united them, doomed to die in the feelings they fiercely nurtured. The Moon had determined it and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

“These violent pleasures have violent ends, and die in their triumph, like fire and gunpowder, which, when they kiss, consume each other. The sweetest honey is disgusting in its own sweetness, and its taste confuses the palate.”

cw: Violence, conflict, soulmates, blood, magic, alternate universe, obscenity, pure filth, chaos, fighting, swearing, intense hatred, love, mention of death, blood.

a/n: I'm excited about this story because I love werewolves and witches so I can't stop reading it. This will be the last one posted until I update Underworld Sun, because I've been owing this update for a few days.

starring: werewolf!Carlos x witch!Fem reader

1. we were born to die;

Part Two: Monsters

One misstep, you're mine And you better stay clever if you wanna survive

Her breath caught in her chest as she saw the massive beast emerging from the bushes, its fangs as big as the blade of her dagger, its eyes gleaming like molten gold and stared at him with nothing but murderous fury. Being the first night of the full moon, Y/N could feel the deep magic of lycanthropy within him, vibrating the beast's solid muscles and teasing his senses, making it tastier prey than any animal in the forest.

It was a bad day to be with your magic so weak.

The werewolf began to surround her and Y/N did the same, she couldn't give him a chance to attack from behind, dying wasn't in her plans. Whether from angry villagers or from that hungry werewolf. Her eyes remained glued to the massive creature in front of her, she couldn't take her eyes off the wolf's dangerous fangs; her fingers pressed the dagger and she took a deep breath, asking for wisdom and strength to get out of that situation.

“I’m not going to die tonight, beast, so I hope you don’t mind when I use your fur as a blanket,” she said. Y/N knew how to poke a mindless beast with twice her strength and huge teeth were dangerous, but she had never been a sensible witch, and now was not the time to start being one.

The moon shone even brighter in the sky and an ancient shiver ran down her spine. At that moment, the wind carried whispers in an ancient voice to her. Whispers that she didn't like to hear and Before she could think, her magic core was gone and her body lost its strength. She fainted, dropping her dagger, dropping her bag; the black kitten purred, ignoring the werewolf standing there, much more concerned about his owner. Spix pressed his feline snout to the witch's face, waiting for her to wake up.

Trapped in her subconscious, Y/N looked around, recognizing the tiny kitchen of the cottage she shared with her parents, the smell of her mother's familiar herbal tea made the girl whimper. She missed her mother so much, her advice and love, and that smell made things less unbearable to deal with.

She heard light, rhythmic footsteps and saw her mother enter the room, wearing the raw cotton dress and white stone necklace, so characteristic that they made her eyes burn.

“Would you like some tea, dear? You look hungry,” she heard her mother say. “The rye bread is fresh, have a piece, will you?”

"Mommy?” She spoke softly, approaching fearfully and touching the woman's face, and when she felt the soft texture of the older woman's cheek, Y/N finally gave in to tears. “I missed you, mommy!”

The older one hugged her before Y/N fell to her knees on the floor, the younger witch felt herself being dragged to a chair.

“I missed you too my little sunshine, don't cry anymore, your dad and I are fine, glad you're safe”

“This is so unfair, you didn't deserve to die like this, I w-wanted to help...” she sobbed, her face hidden in her mother's shoulder.

“Shhhh it's okay, there's nothing you could do dear, and I honestly don't regret saving your life, I didn't give birth to you to watch you die, dear, stop crying over things that are beyond your reach,” she said, making the girl look at her and wiped her tears. “Let's not waste this precious time we have with complaints and tears, I need to tell you something... Something important that will change your future”

The young witch's still tearful face contorted in confusion and she saw her mother smile, stroking her damp cheeks.

“W-what do you mean?”

Y/N saw her mother sigh loudly “After tonight, nothing will be the same, my love, it's time to stop the killing between our people and the lycanthropes”

“M-Me?” she laughed in disbelief “I can barely keep my magic core stable, how can I stop something that has been going on for centuries?!”

“You young people are so impatient, let me explain, we don’t have much time, so be quiet,” her mother scolded. “There are few things in the world that are truly unbreakable, the bond of partnership between a werewolf and his destined one is one of those things and you are on the other end of the cord, my dear.”

S/N stood up, her mother couldn't be serious, it could only be a joke in bad taste.

“I can’t mate with a werewolf! I’m a witch.”

“But you are, and that will change the history of our people, S/N,” the older witch said seriously. “We are being persecuted and killed by madmen who use the name of God to justify their sins” She paused for a few seconds, reinforcing her speech “We cannot protect ourselves on both fronts, my little sun, we need to choose our battles and it is time to stop fighting with the wolves”

“But why me?! I’m not the best option to negotiate peace in a thousand-year-old war!”

“But you will, I can't give you any more details, I know you will do the right thing, just follow your heart, it always knows the right direction” the woman said, getting up to get some tea.

“Then I will have to kill him, because that is where my heart is going.”

Y/N grumbled in disbelief. As if her life wasn't already busy enough.

“Don’t be petulant, girl, and accept the goddess’s designs, she knows what she’s doing and I know you’ll be happy.”

Y/N sighed, feeling like she was waking up, so her time with her mother was close to ending.

“I don’t want to say goodbye, take me with you”

“I would never do that to you, my love... You have a beautiful life ahead of you and I know you will be happy, trust me, okay?”

The little witch sniffed and nodded.

“You are never alone, and live your life the best way you can, your father and I love you, dear.” Y/N felt a kiss on her forehead and saw everything fade before her eyes.

— ☽ —

The werewolf watched the witch fall to the ground unconscious. It was a strange thing, because he hadn't even intended to attack her—yet. In other times he would have taken advantage and satisfied his hunger, but his instincts told him otherwise. The werewolf approached slowly, but stopped when he saw the cat bristle and growl in his direction. That cat was a totem linked to the unconscious witch, and if he tried to attack her, he would probably have to deal with that stupid cat.

The wolf licked his teeth, he couldn't kill the witch, but he couldn't retreat either, his paws kept moving forward even though the cat was ready to scratch his snout. The moon grew brighter and a bit of rationality came to the werewolf's mind, the creature poked the witch's cheek, receiving no response.

As delicately as he could, he gathered the belongings that had fallen out of the bag with his nose and teeth and thought of a way to put it on his back. The cat watched the whole process and He gave a meow that, to the werewolf's ears, sounded like mockery, and before he could grab the kitten, the werewolf saw the cat digging in the ground near the witch and understood what the little animal wanted. Within minutes a large hole next to the witch's unconscious body was opened, the werewolf entered the hole and pulled the witch by the cape with his teeth, making her fall onto her back. With the girl unconscious, the wolf jumped until he was out of the hole, being careful not to knock her over and shouted carefully, being closely followed by the black cat, the moonlight flickered slightly before hiding behind a cloud.

The werewolf kept his pace short until he reached his small village, only children, some pregnant women and elderly people were present, all the rest spread out into the forest to hunt and give in to instincts. He entered the furthest cabin from the village, and laid the witch on the bed, she remained unconscious and he left, leaving the cat at the door. He wasn't happy about having a witch so close to his people, but his instincts screamed to catch her and keep her close.

He left the unconscious witch there and ran back into the woods, he needed to eat and he needed to stay away from her, or he would end up killing the girl and something in his bones told him to keep her alive.

— ☽ —

The sun was rising when she finally woke up. She knew that experiences like this were possible, but she never expected to experience one in person. Y/N she felt the fluffy weight on her abdomen and ran her fingers through Spix's silky fur, the kitten purred, rubbing his little face against her hand, clearly relieved that she had woken up; Y/N blinked slowly, catching glimpses of a wooden and straw roof above her, only to snap up, she was no longer in the forest, she was in an unfamiliar cabin. Alone with her cat.

She looked around, finding her things thrown in a corner, stained with diluted blood.

“By the grace of the Goddess, what happened last night?” she muttered to herself, looking at her things, the candles were broken, but the rest seemed intact thankfully. None of her grimoires had been lost. Little by little, memories of last night came back to her mind, the escape from her home, the search for shelter in the woods, the werewolf in her path and the strange conversation with her mother... Y/N rubbed the back of her neck, feeling strangely tired, even though she slept through the night. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was, but nothing gave away who the cabin belonged to or who had brought her there. but if Spix was cool with it, it must be a good sign.

She avoided thinking as much as she could about the conversation with her mother as she rummaged through her belongings in the cabin, she could never be a werewolf's mate. They had been enemy races for so many years that she didn't even know the reason for the enmity, and she didn't even mention that her insides were turning over at the idea, no, her mother was delirious. She was sure of it.

She found some still-good bread and a canteen of beer, it wasn't the best breakfast, but she was starving and couldn't afford to refuse food; S/N devoured the bread in three bites and She downed her beer in one gulp. Maybe now she could leave, pretending her mother hadn't said anything as absurd as that. It would never work, she was a witch, that bond was unnatural, it couldn't happen.

Quickly, she gathered her things and picked up Spix, but the cat jumped off her lap and remained on the bed.

“Let’s go, Spix, we don’t know whose house this is, we’re not going to stay to find out” she said as she reached out her hands to grab the feline, but Spix jumped away, making Y/N frown in confusion. “Now, don’t be like that, Spix! I know this bed is comfortable, but we’re not staying here! It’s dangerous!”

The kitten meowed in protest and Y/N asked the heavens for patience, or she would take the cat by the tail. “Come on Spix, I'm in charge!”

She couldn't be ignored any more than that, the black cat raised his own magic and became invisible, making Y/N curse. Y/N felt around on the bed, finding the cat among the woolen blankets and before it could get loose, she put it in the leather bag and ran out of the cabin, she couldn't stay there, he didn't know who might arrive and he wouldn't risk himself like that and it wouldn't be a cat that would dictate her actions.

As morning arrived, Carlos breathed a sigh of relief when the beast allowed him to control his body again, he had few memories of last night, but he knew there was a girl lying in his bed, a girl who was probably his companion.

A witch.

He could feel her scent impregnated on his body, it was a cruel joke of fate, the Moon could not unite him with a witch. It was absurd that he wanted to laugh, as if his life wasn't troubled enough, he still had to deal with a damn witch in his house, a witch who was his predestined. He was on his way home when the scent of lavender and lemon reached his nose and it wasn't long before he heard quick footsteps breaking branches on the ground. Before he could understand, Carlos ran in the direction of the scent, his body transforming mid-run, he could see the witch's thick cloak fluttering in the air as she walked away; It wasn't as if the little witch could run faster than him and in a short time, Carlos was just a few meters away from her. His muscles tensed and he leapt at her, knocking her to the muddy ground until they ended up rolling down a local ravine. She screamed in fright, trying to pull away from him, but she was trapped between him and the ground.

Carlos growled, holding the witch under his body, was she leaving? How dare she?!

She began to punch and kick the wolf above her, but he growled, leaving his teeth exposed, making the smaller girl retreat as far as she could on the ground.

“Get off me, help! Help, someone help me!” she screamed, but all she heard was the birds squawking and the trees crashing against each other. The werewolf got off her and grabbed the witch's ankle, dragging her back to the cabin. "Let go of me!" she tried to kick the creature, but it sank its teeth into her skin, making her scream.

Behind them, Spix trotted along leisurely, dragging his leather bag carefully as he followed.

Carlos wondered if it was really the right thing to drag that witch back to his house, she was a witch, she could kill his entire family, he gave up.He didn't understand why the Moon had chosen a witch to be her companion, this couldn't be serious, it had to be a joke.

She kept struggling and kicking, trying to get free, which made Carlos grunt with laughter, her efforts were laughable and it was clear she didn't have enough magic to break free, otherwise he would have already been thrown against a tree.

It wasn't enough to be a witch, she was also useless.

As soon as they arrived at the cabin, Carlos let go of her ankle and walked around the house, the girl didn't need to see him naked, he transformed and picked up a pair of pants hanging on the clothesline next door, listening to her whine about the bruises on her ankle. When he came back inside, the witch was rubbing her ankle, muttering a strange chant that he didn't understand.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you had stayed here until I got back,” he said, surprising the girl, the witch screamed in fright, throwing a broken candle at him, which he dodged without any further problems.

“I have no reason to stay here!” she scolded, trying to stand, ignoring her sore ankle.

“You have nowhere to go, girl, or you wouldn’t be running through the woods in the middle of the night.” He landed a wound on the witch, who took a deep breath, trying not to think about what she had lost in such a short time.

“That’s none of your business, mutt,” she retorted rudely and Carlos clenched his jaw, irritated by the insult.

“That became my business from the moment you became my companion!”

“I AM NOT YOUR MATE!” she screamed and the rafters of the hut shook, her magic gradually returning.

Carlos looked at her even more stressed, this really shouldn't be happening, he should be connected to a wolf from his pack, following the natural course of things. But no, he was there, destined for a witch.

"You can scream all you want, little witch, you are my companion, whether you like it or not, and you will stay here.”

“Never! I’d rather die!” She marched towards him so determinedly that she didn't even groan in pain and stared at him without fear. “You'll have to tie me up!”

He tilted his head back, laughing deeply at the girl in front of him. “That’s not a problem, little witch, I’m very good with ropes.”

She screamed in anger and backed away from him, feeling her body tremble, abruptly her magical core had completely restored itself and she refused to believe that this was due to the bond with the werewolf.

“Even though I haven’t marked you yet, we’re united, little witch,” he said mockingly, “there’s no way you can leave here, because listen carefully...” he approached her, feeling the angry vibration that the witch emanated so strongly. “I don't care if our races have hated each other for centuries, I don't care if you want to disembowel me now, the Moon has decided that you would be mine, and that's what you are from now on, so don't even think about running away from me, witch, because I'll hunt you down to the end of the world”

Neither of them even realized that they were inches away from each other, Carlos only noticed when the scent of lavender and lemon disoriented his senses.

“There’s no point in running away, you’re mine now and you’re going to stay here”

“I don’t belong to anyone! Much less to a mutt like you!”

In one quick movement, Carlos wrapped his arms around the witch's throat and they both fell onto the bed.

“Don’t call me a mutt, you filthy little witch.”

He felt her swallow hard and take a deep breath, struggling to get away from him, but Carlos pressed harder on the girl's throat, seeing her choke a little, but that didn't last long, because he was thrown against the wall, knocking over some shelves.

“I’ll kill you!” they shouted together.

#taglist: @barcelonaloverf1life

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

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[dovithedarklord]

Stucked - Part 7

You're trapped in a game and a new threat is lurking.

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Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader, Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader, König x reader

Tags: Mentions of death, Mentions of blood and gore, Blood and Violence, Sexual Scenes, Alternate Universe, No use of Y/N, Not Beta Read, AFAB Reader

Trigger Warning: Contains blood and gore, violence, injury, some body horror, and drugging. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

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Author's Note

The climax of the story is getting closer and closer, and now you meet someone who knows what kind of place you're stuck in.

Hello!

Sorry for the long delay, but I was finally able to get back to writing! The story is slowly coming to an end and the last important character enters.

Have fun! :D

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

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The eerie silence of the forest penetrates every unprotected pore of your cold body like a latent sickness, as if the ominous uneventfulness would be a precursor to a deadly disease that can push you into a sick bed festering with ulcers at any moment. And you know that this calmness is only a fleeting mirage, because in every dark corner, in every hidden hole, something terrible can be lurking, which can ruin the unsettling ease with which you fled from your pursuers. Even though you're surrounded by the soft breeze of the night, the sighs of the branches dancing in the wind passing through the trees, the frightened shuffling noises of the feet of animals coming to life under the dead leaves, and even though the owls try to lull your suspicions with their melancholic songs, you already know this horrible prison all too well. And thanks to the last few hours, you won't make the mistake of trusting in its mercy again. Because in this fever dream, there is no benevolence, no compassion, only survival. And you do everything to win, because there is no other way out.

The time you spent wandering in the woods in the pitch-black night seems endless, and even though you know you're far away from the lake and the deformed creatures that turned the water into a putrid graveyard, the dull stabbing pain in your lungs reminds you of with what hurry you managed to disappear from the watchful eyes. You were just a hair's breadth away from being caught in the violent embrace of a beast, and if you hadn't found the pearls, you wouldn't have had a chance to make that daring escape with which you threw yourself into the thick of the forest before. 

If you had any hopeful foolishness left in you, you'd think the game had given up on its cruel pursuit of fun and finally presented you with a generous gift. But you know that this goddamn purgatory feeds on the sweet nectar of suffering and will do everything to squeeze every last drop of luscious misery out of your flesh and bones. And as it flashes before your mind's eye, how the red and purple stains of the damaged blood vessels drawn into the tissues disappeared from your leg following the cool caress of the beads, you become more and more certain that it was all just a morbid coincidence. Maybe even this nightmare-like torture chamber can make a mistake, because you doubt that it offered you this miracle voluntarily. Like when a bug appears in a video game, causing the world embedded in pixels to slip for a moment, and through the distorted chaos, the system reveals secrets that you should have never seen. And maybe it did. Maybe this diabolical place is finally starting to crumble under the weight of its own evil. 

But you know that now is not the time to ponder how the well-known hell will turn into a completely new kind of horror, because you only need to take a look at the map resting in your hand to know what your task is. On the yellowed page, the unknown gray building stands out with such definite outlines, as if someone had painted it there with liquid metal, and for a minute the sharp lines of the rough sketch seem to dance in front of your tired eyes. While trekking through the wild vegetation, you had time to decide where your path should lead you next, and although the knife-like anxiety in the depths of your stomach relentlessly pumps the warning acid of uneasiness into your limbs, you're aware that this new location didn’t appear without purpose. There's something there that makes this place important enough to have a prominent spot on the map, and that's enough reason for you to risk another disastrous adventure. After all, you have nothing to lose, right? A new killer, a new death, another damn mark on your skin, but a chance to find an exit. And at this point, you're ready to seize anything to get out of here.

It's almost cartoonishly comical, the way a small blood-red line on the stained page traces your journey so far, like a path sketched up with a crayon in the middle of the splotch-like woods, and this small detail only makes you even more certain that you're stuck in a grotesque game. The system keeps track of your progress, and although the knowledge that you cannot hide from the invisible gaze only increases the uncomfortable tightness in your chest, for once this atrocity has at least some benefits. For the dull edge of the gray building emerges with an uncanny glow from behind the dense curtain of foliage and branches, like a glimmering fragment of the imagination that may fade away at any moment. Even though the game follows your every move, it helped you to reach this point, and you're terribly grateful for it.

You keep your eyes fixed on the slowly approaching house with an unbroken focus as you carefully thread through the thicket of dry bushes, and it’s only due to random luck that you catch on your periphery those tiny, uncertain little blobs that rest serenely on one of the nearby trees. And when your brain finally registers the stimuli, you suddenly halt in your march, as if an unknown force had severed the nerve fibers wiring your muscles. There is something sickeningly familiar in the way the small human-like figures sway between the withered branchlets, and it dawns on you a few seconds later why your mind thought it was important to stop here. Because you saw the same dolls made of sticks at the shrine, where the map was waiting for you, and no matter how much this is a sure sign that you're moving in the right direction, you're unable to banish the instinctive sinister feeling stirring in your brain cells. At first, you thought that maybe they had erected that hideous monument in honor of the tentacled creature that lived in the lake, but now you know that they wanted to pay homage to something completely different. And whatever that unknown entity is, it doesn't bode well for you if teeth pulled from jaws, brown with blood, and clumps of hair lead to its grace.

But a completely new kind of confusion comes over you when you shift your attention from the sprawling tangle of dead twigs and finally spot the boot lying on the ground, almost hidden under the dry crown of curled leaves surrounding it. Perhaps you could chalk it up to a morbid coincidence, a background element without meaning, which fades into oblivion eventually, but the game has engraved in your mind with blood and pain that nothing here is just an insignificant detail. And as you step closer and examine the forgotten footwear, you discover those tiny, white shards on the faded leather covered in muddy dirt, which shine under the filtering moonlight like glitter. However, there is something quite unsettlingly velvety in the way the crushed pieces stand out from the grimy material, and as your vision finally sharpens enough to recognize the tiny red specks between the zig-zagged edges, you know what sits so innocently on the surface of the boot. Small pieces of grounded bones, which cover the abandoned object as if someone sprinkled it with granulated sugar. And this makes your stomach turn with such an elemental force that you stagger back from the horrible surprise, as if the very sight of it could breathe death into your cells. Because however that bone dust ended up on that unfortunate shoe, you don't want to suffer the same fate as its owner.

However, you’re jolted out of your stupor by an unexpected crack, which deafeningly pierces into the motionless quite between the tree trunks, and you crumple the map deep into your pocket with reflexive panic and turn in the direction of the noise, as if someone was pulling you on a string. And a completely impossible relief ripples through you, loosening the tennis ball size knot your stomach has shrunk into, as you find yourself face to face with an old woman, who freezes with her wicker basket full of chopped-up wood clutched to her chest, her face pale with a look of horrified shock like yours. You see the fright reflected in her eyes, as she looks you over slowly, and the thought arises in you that maybe you yourself might not present a more inviting sight than the boots. Because although the mementos of your wounds, colored with bruises, have disappeared, your dirty, wet clothes clung to your battered, paralyzed body, and at this moment you're quite sure that with your eyes widened with fear, you must remind her of a trapped wild animal.

A torturous, tense moment of stillness passes, and when you see the frail, worn-out old figure relax, anxiety releases its grip on your insides as well, and you let out the breath that has been trapped in the supple prison of your lungs with painful tension until now.

"Oh my… are you all right, sweetheart?" Comes the sincere question in a strangely accented voice, and the tenderness in her words hits you completely unprepared. And although an intimate, motherly concern moves between her features, as her thinning eyebrows meet under her gray hair with worry, you still can't suppress the flicker of doubt that whispers from the back of your skull to be careful. You don't dare to trust anything anymore, and a stranger rarely means good in this damn world. Yet, your tortured soul yearns for the tiniest spark of humanity with such pitiful force, that you involuntary let your spine loosen the painful stiffness that resides in it.

"I'm lost." You answer, carefully rolling the syllables on your tongue, savoring the caution that instinctively settles in your mouth and restrains your sociability. Although the woman seems defenseless, you already know how unnoticed a beast can hide behind the mask of sweet kindness. At best, she’s an insignificant NPC, an additional character who merely fills the void, who, like Pam and Rebecca, is condemned to eternal death, and waits unsuspectingly for the killer to appear to strip her of her aged flesh. And you want to hope that she's just a helpless puppet of the storyline and not another threat, because you want more than anything to have someone else suffer instead of you finally. Because you lost the compassion that would be appalled at this thought long ago.

"How about you come to my house?" She makes the timid offer, and as her gaze catches the thick layer of mud embedded in your T-shirt, you can see how her mouth curls into a line full of doubts. As if she would understand without asking any questions, that you've been through an endless hell that has soaked itself into your pores through the soft cotton, and can't be expressed with words. "I'll find you something warm to put on." She adds, and you feel the awareness with which she tries to dispel the restless rigidity radiating from her to not frighten you. As if she were talking to a trapped fawn, which would be able to take flight at the slightest thoughtless move, even if its shackles would flay its legs, trapped between the razor-sharp metal, alive in the process. And it makes you realize how pitiful it is, that the events of the never-ending night transformed you into a raw, pulsating nerve so easily. But you suspect that this is what has kept you alive until now.

Although the suspicion of the stranger has already settled into the depths of your consciousness, you still make yourself nod, because even if you don't know the woman and have no idea what might be hiding behind the defenseless exterior, you're aware that you're serving yourself as easy prey for the monsters in the forest.  And you know it's only a matter of time before they catch a scent and appear breathing down on your neck.

"Alright... Come on, I don't live far from here!" She motions towards the building resting in the distance with her head, and you immediately know where her home could be. And if you had doubts, now you're quite sure, you've become involved in a new storyline, no matter how accidental this unexpected meeting seems. The game can always surprise you with new horrors, but as merciless as this world is, it's also as predictable. Because it's addicted to its habits, and you have learned to interpret its hidden signs. There are no coincidences, only tools that lead to your doom. And if you were already on your way to another trouble, then you let yourself be lead into its open mouth.

She hesitates for a few seconds, waiting to see if you change your mind and retreat into the desolate depths of the forest, but when you continue to stare at her like statue frozen in place, she turns around with the ghost of a small smile on her face, and beckoning you with her knobby fingers, she aks you to follow her. And you join her a moment later, keeping that respectful distance that speaks more to the mistrust swirling in your belly than to the thoughtfulness you feel for her. Perhaps an onlooker would think that you're just a scared little girl tagging along with her in the maze of tree trunks, but you feel the energy slithering through your legs, ready to run off at the very first odd move. You may be a slow learner, but you could repeat this lesson even after waking up from a dream. Don't let yourself be fooled. Because you've outlined the ideal possibility, but even the whirlwind of your imagination cannot authentically paint the worst-case scenario for you.

After a few meters spent in wordless peace, as the last remnants of the wild vegetation, frozen from the autumn cold, disappears, the concrete building, for which you decided to drag yourself through the goddamn forest, emerges almost abnormally in the small clearing. It stands out from the dark foliage as strikingly as an old silver ring forgotten in a black velvet box, and there is something quite unsettling about the way the tiny windows stare down at you from the monotonous walls. Like hungry mouths, waiting for a victim that they can grind up with their glimmering glass teeth. And you notice, what grotesque similes your brain is making, but you're unable to suppress the voice in your head that tells you, that there is no one in this artificial world who would call this their home with peace of mind. Because the structure looks more like a slaughterhouse with its inhospitable, barren frame, on which the holes from the crumbling plaster and the dry carpet of faded lichens bordering them gape like scars left behind by smallpox. The building may have been standing here since the game's universe was created, and in light of this, it’s even more baffling to you why it appeared only now.

But you can't ponder on that now, because you reach the house, and the old woman hurries to the shabby entrance with an agility that belies her age, pushing in the thick wooden panel covered with flaking red paint with a light movement, and opens the door of her home to you with the same helpfulness with which she led you here until now. Even though she doesn't say a word, you still understand the gentle plea with which she invites you in, because you see the worried light dancing in her eyes, with which she examines the uncertainty glued onto your features. And you want to believe in this softness more than anything, but what helps your leaden legs move the most is the knowledge that you know you can't turn back. Because Johnny and Simon are out there looking for you, and even if you were to avoid them, you'd already delved into a new thread of events. And you fear how the game would punish you if you were to deny its generous gift. Therefore, gathering all your remaining composure, you force the faint curve of a weak smile into the corner of your mouth and head towards the interior of the house, fighting the instinctive feeling that makes it seem like you're walking straight through the entrance to the scene of your execution.

As you cross the threshold made of rickety boards, the characteristic smell of old houses snakes into your nose, the fusty stench of moisture that has soaked into the walls over the decades and the stale essence of powdery, old perfumes, which awakens nostalgia in you with an almost visceral force. And there is something extremely homely about the old chest of drawers, forgotten in the small hall, and about the lace tablecloth spread on the top of it, chewed by time, on which a bouquet of worn plastic flowers sits in a glass vase, like the last witnesses of a couple of long gone, sentimental memories. The old nick-nacks accumulated over the years rests in neat order, and even on the walls, the frames, covered with pale gold, hang with measured precision, with black and white photos of unknown people in them, testifying that perhaps, according to the story, the woman might not have lived here alone once. They looking into the camera with blank expressions on their grim faces, and you swear that they're staring into your soul with their dull, dot-like eyes.

And when the woman rushes past you towards the inside of the house, disrupts the thin layer of dust that settles on the worn surface of the furniture, and as the musty smell traveling with the tiny particles settles into your nose, it occurs to you that, despite the homely atmosphere, it's as if no more than a few stray ghosts would actually live here. And your subconscious warns you about this small intuition, which makes you sneak after your host with careful cat-like steps, like a curious child who knows she's straying into an area that adults have told her a thousand times not to venture near to.

The lamp hanging from the ceiling is the only source of light as you enter the kitchen after the the old woman, and the light bulb casts filmy, yellow rays from under the milk-like porcelain onto the battered furnishings of the little room. She’s already busying herself, and shoves chopped pieces of wood into the dilapidated stove, scaly with peeling white paint, glancing over her shoulder as she hears the shuffling of your shoes on the worn linoleum.

"Sit down, I'll make you some tea to warm you up!" She speaks up, and by now all uncertainty has disappeared from her voice, giving the impression that it was not a torn stranger, but an old friend who appeared in front of her humble abode in the middle of the night. And, as she digs out an ancient teapot from one of the cupboards, and the faucet turns on with a loud creak, as she steps to the sink and fills it with water, you wonder what will come next. Now you can't rely on your routine, with which you were able to tell exactly which breath followed the other in the cabin, and this creates an uncomfortable, gaping hole in your insides. And that sends a robotic rigidity into your limbs as you walk over to the table in the middle of the kitchen and settle down in one of the thick oak armchairs, because fear begins to twist in the bottomless pit that anxiety has opened in you, as your eyes scan the room for danger. You should feel bad that you're so persistently looking for a trap in the woman's hospitality, but you have experienced firsthand how big a mistake it is when you let yourself to be overconfident.

"A few minutes and it's done." She comments on her haste, and turning towards you, she leans against the shabby kitchen counter, finding you with her searching gaze again. Now that you have entered the scene of another dangerous mission, your consciousness automatically accepts the stimuli that your brain may have tried to push away until now. And you see the sparks of interest swimming through the pools of her eyes, but despite the soft expression still sitting on the worn face, the stress is too strong for you to let your guard down. You'd like to think that only your paranoia brings out this visceral suspicion, but you're smarter than that. "How did you get lost?" She formulates the completely legitimate question, and your ear once again discovers the accent that, despite the light tone, gives her words harshness. As if tiny little pebbles would be gurgling in her mouth, making every consonant flow out a little harder from her paper-thin lips. Maybe Russian?

"We just went for a walk with my friends. I lost them." You finally break your silence with a half-truth, which is just honest enough so that your tone is not colored by the sound of lies. You have no reason to tell her what happened during the endless torture of the past hours, and you have a gut feeling that it wouldn't help you if you mentioned to her what kind of monsters this demonic place has entwined your fate with.

And when the telltale shadows of doubt creep across the old face, you become quite sure that you have made the right decision. You can tell from the little quiver that makes the corner of her mouth twitch that she doesn't believe you, but there's just enough goodwill in her not to try to inquire further. You see how suddenly her throat jumps as she swallows the demanding questions, and you're quite sure that she knows exactly what happened to you. She must have resided in the middle of the forest long enough to know its every evil nook and cranny, and you doubt that her innocent facade is what has kept her alive. Whatever the purpose of this storyline, it is not a coincidence that she lives here in the middle of nowhere, and there is even less chance that it was thanks to some harmless tricks that helped her home to stay so undisturbed. This also raises a series of dangerous assumptions in you, and you can almost feel how the buzzing of suspicion in your head sharpens as a result.

A sudden whistle interrupts the thread of your thoughts sinking into ever darker pits, and the woman, breaking your silent examination, settles back into her caring role, turning to the teapot angrily steaming on the stove amid soft curses. And you take advantage of this to explore the hidden corners of the room, searching for small signs that can reveal what you're dealing with. It’s quite obvious that another important clue will be hidden here, and you have to do everything you can to find it, because you don't know how much time you have until the two men or another killer find you, one who has been lying dormant waiting for the opportunity to play with you until now.

And now that you take a closer look at the room, you discover more and more little details you missed when you wandered in here. You can see the touch of old hands in the order that resides in the small hole of the kitchen, but you can spot the silky blanket of spider webs that weave the plates decorated with flowers on the shelves, as if no one has used them for decades. There are rich bouquets of dried plants hung on nails on the wall, but below them, you can clearly make out the yellowed newspaper articles written in a language unknown to you, on which the same black and white people you saw in the hall look back at you. And when you squint and try to observe the figure emerging from under the withered flowers of one of the herbs, you see how a little boy, dressed in old-fashioned clothes, is cut through by the unknown mark, which almost decapitates him with the edges engraved with graphite. At first, the drawing may seem like a simple scribble, but you recognize the needle-sharp points of a star in it, as if someone had carved a grotesque crosshair there…

The knocking of the mug's porcelain jolts you out of your investigation, and you wince with the surprise of a small child caught in mischief, turning your gaze back to the woman, who takes her seat across from you with a much tighter smile than before. And the tenderness on her face turns into something completely cold, as if only habit would keep the friendly curl in the corners of her mouth in place, and the softness that used to be able to inspire sympathy in your soul has disappeared from them. Now her expression transforms into sharp lines, which are deepened into gloomy furrows by the yellow light filtering down from the lamp, as if would the woman transform into someone completely different in an instant. Someone you shouldn't be around.

"Drink up. It will help." She pushes the cup towards you, and you know it's not just your ears when you feel the impatient tone in her voice, from which the offer sounds more like an instruction than a well-meaning nagging. And you don't react for a tense moment, and despite the anxiety churning in your stomach, you try to keep your cool, because now you recognize the fleeting shadow that hides under the gentle warmth. Like a hawk waiting to strike, she follows your movements as you wrap your fingers around the handle of the mug, but she can no longer deceive you, because you've seen the same expression before. Although it's not Johnny's handsome face and the sparks of his sky-blue eyes that want to divert the suspicion that is scratching your insides, the disguise of an old woman feigning cordial concern would just as effectively put anyone's doubts to sleep. But she can put on any mask, you're already able to distinguish the vileness under the sickly sweet surface. And this woman wants to hurt you, you're sure of that.

Still, you pull the steaming beverage in front of you with almost automatic movements, trying with every cell not to let her figure out that you suspect something. You need her to reveal herself, because that's how you can get her to lead you to the clues that can get you out of here. There is something hidden in this damned house, and you feel it in your bones that it’s important to find out what it is. All your fake innocence seeps into the way you touch your mouth to the porcelain, and the luscious scent of herbs and fruits snakes into your nose. And although you don't feel the sting of poison in the steamy clouds rising from the tea, it fills you with a bad foreboding when the woman leans forward with artificial benevolence frozen on her face, watching with almost intrusive interest how you start sipping the hot liquid. And you feel more and more tense with each passing second, like an ant stuck under a magnifying glass, which has just begun to feel how the rays of the sun breaking through the lens burn its legs into charcoal stubs. And you see the dissatisfaction when you hesitantly lower the cup.

"Drink it all. You need it." She encourages you, almost cooing, and her accent is more reminiscent of an impatient mother who tries to dictate medicine to her protesting child with a barely controlled temper. Gentle, but just as much as boiling water forgotten under the lid. And you feel how the little hairs rise on the nape of your neck, as her glassy eyes fixate on you with unblinking persistence.

Uncertain silence settles in the tiny kitchen, which makes the saliva in your mouth thicken into molasses as you return the woman's stare. Under the flickering light of the old bulb, everything seems to change, and out of the corner of your eye, it looks as if the flowers painted on the wall would turn into wax, dripping off the plaster dirty from grease. But you’re unable to turn your gaze away from her, as she studies you with the immobility of a predator, and you have to forcefully suppress the trembling that awakes in your hands as you raise the mug to your lips and take another small sip. And the excited light that passes over her features does’t escape your attention for a minute, as she follows the almost painfully sweet liquid traveling down your throat. And now you're sure that no matter how harmless this elderly woman seems, evil is hidden under her frail frame. Because the pearls hidden in your pockets come to life with an almost warning glow, as the strange, bitter aftertaste sits on your taste buds, which the sugar has been able to suppress until now.

Under the pulsation of the little red spheres, the light buzz, that the brew wants to envelop your brain in, has no chance of spreading, but you know you have to pretend that she was successful, whatever she smuggled into your drink. Because there's a reason why she's trying to knock you out, and maybe if you make her believe that you let her trick you like an unsuspecting fool, then she'll reveal what she's up to. That's why you let the fatigue throbbing in your limbs creep onto the fibers of your muscles, numb with lactic acid, and you let the exhausted yawn loose that, now that you're finally resting, falls through your mouth sincerely. And you hear that satisfied little hum with which the woman finally leans back, when she assesses the unexpected force of the sleepiness washing over you.

"Perhaps it would be best if you stayed here for the night." She offers, and there is nothing to unsure about the way she presents her proposal to you. A selflessly offered opportunity, behind which lies a statement to which no opposition is expected. And it’s exactly this determination that dispels the previous softness, and fills her old joints with an almost youthful energy, when she springs up and starts towards the kitchen door, giving you one last, almost painfully fond look. "You just stay here and rest." She adds, and you feel nauseous from the kindness under which the poison of cruelty ripples, and which creeps into your ear canals with snide unsolicitedness.

When, after an uncertain nod, you lay your head down on the table with languid weakness, she hurries away towards the maze of the corridor giggling, with such immense glee, as if an unexpected present had fallen into her lap. And you, closing your eyes, order every part of your body to remain motionless in anticipation, slowing your breathing to a trembling evenness, listening through your own shivering for the woman's footsteps. You have to remain unnoticed because you're sure that if she realizes that her tea has failed to relax you enough, she'll come up with something much more painful to get the desired effect. You're not sure what her goal is, but you don't have time to create unnecessary excitement for yourself.

For minutes, only the soft puffs of the air flowing through your nose fill the room shrouded in an almost disturbing quietness, but despite your pulse pounding in your ears with an almost deafening noise, you wait until all the sounds die down between the old walls. And when you decide that you have wasted enough time, you carefully push yourself away from the worn furniture and stand up with your eyes fixed on the shadows beyond the door, watching for an unexpected visitor with every move you make. But, when nothing happens, and only the low buzzing of the light bulb and the hooting of the owls filtering in from outside travel through the empty house, then you sneak towards the hallway.

As you step out onto the corridor, it takes a few uncertain seconds for your eyes to get used to the dense darkness, and when you're finally able to make out the pitch-black outlines of the furniture, you set off into the unknown. The age-old parquet floor creaks under your shoes, reminiscent of the soft squealing of a mouse, and with each step you take, the presentiment tightens its grip on your insides. Because you have no idea where the old woman could have gone, and the fact that she can appear from behind any of the doors lined up next to each other is just enough to awaken the needle-like prickling of stress in your muscles. As if a thousand tiny ants would be crawling under your skin, and clenching your teeth, you fight the tempting compulsion to escape. You know you're wading into the swampy abyss of certain danger, but you also know you have no other choice. And not finding a clue is not an option. You have to move on or you'll be stuck here forever.

You wouldn't be able to tell how deep you ventured into the uninhabited house, but everything turns into an unsettling uniformity as a dull entrance follows another insignificant door, and the pictures hanging on the walls serve as your only companions in your wanderings.The lifeless eyes following you send shivers down your spine involuntarily, because although they're nothing more than the imprints of strangers lingering in the past, yet there is something bleak in the faces of the people on them. But when you discover something familiar, you stop dead in your tracks to take a closer look at the many of photos hidden in the frames, and you don't have to think long to recognize the boy from the kitchen. Although he may be much older here, and the childish roundness of his face has already been banished by the hormones of adolescence, but the light eyes stare at you with the same stern expressionlessness as they did from the shadows of the herbs. There is something hard in them, something angry, lurking beneath the frozen stillness, waiting to strike. And the longer you stare, the more the unpleasant feeling intensifies in you, which plants the impossible idea in your mind that the next moment he will come to life and, reaching through the scratched glass, wraps his pale, thin fingers around your neck.

A thunder-like bang tears into the empty quiet of the building, and you, shaking in terror, break out of your paranoia-woven imagination to spin around and start searching for the noise with the alarm of a frightened animal. And when the sounds don't die down, but are enriched by the clanking of a chain and the murmur of a muffled conversation, then you come upon the worn door, ajar, on the tattered surface of which a star-like scribble greets you, roughly sketched up with blood-red paint, the same that someone drew on the boy in the newspaper article. And you become aware with an uncomfortable certainty that the game has finally revealed your next destination to you, no matter how much every cell of yours protests against venturing towards the source of the increasingly loud clamor.

Every single nerve of yours tenses as one, as you move closer, keeping your eyes fixed on the cracked varnish clinging to the wooden surface, considering each step before the next, and the closer you stray, the sharper the violently snapping words become, and even though you don't understand them, you can feel the simmering ire in them. You open the door with your trembling fingers wrapped around the doorknob, and the saliva crawls down your dry throat almost like shards of glass, when you try to dispel the lump that has grown there. But nothing welcomes you, only a set of stairs covered in faint light, which leads you down into the uncertain darkness, and you feel the force of fear twisting your guts, as you muster up your courage and set off to the rickety steps.

The lower you go, the wider the hidden world of the basement opens up in front of you, and the more painful the horrible smell, mixture of the sweet stench of rot and the sting of sweat, pierces your nose. With each breath, the stagnant, moldy air penetrates deeper into your lungs, and if your brain weren't occupied by terror, you would wonder what kind of disease you're filling your chest with so voluntarily. Although to your own ears, every noise your shoes mak on the old stairs is ear-splitting, you know, even through the uncontrollably roaring fear inside you, that the sounds of your arrival will be drowned out by the wild discussion unfolding on the other side of the wall bordering the stairs. You recognize the woman's voice in the furious foreign expressions, but that's not what makes you halt hesitantly on the last step. It's that unexpected, raspy male baritone that stops the momentum of your curiosity from taking you any further, because even though you can't see the face associated with it, you feel the deadly threat traveling in the growl-like rumble.

"ублюдок!" The woman erupts, and even you cringe instinctively from the caustic rage that sits in her tone. "You ungrateful wretch!" She spits in a way that you finally can understand, and you hear the crunch of the dirt and dust sliding under her shoes as she take a step forward, as if she were moving closer to someone, but further away from your impromptu hiding place. "I should have let them take you!" The end of the heated cursing snaps, and with this the stormy exchange of words turns into painful silence, as if the shadows hiding on the dirty floor had absorbed not only the rays of the faintly flickering light, but also the sounds. And from this, even you know that something came out of the woman's mouth that shouldn't have.

The basement falls into an icy stillness, and the tiny hairs on your skin rise as you lean against the wall and listen, wondering if you made a mistake by coming down here. However, as your frightened eyes wander around the dimly lit room, you discover something in one corner that catches your eye with its golden glow. And you lean forward like someone who has been mesmerized, trying to decipher through the dying light of the old bulb hanging on the ceiling, what might be hiding in one of the shelves under the piled-up, dusty mountain of junk. And the relieved joy that washes over you when you notice the lost key that leads to Johnny's attic, is almost ridiculous, and for a fleeting moment, you're sure that it's just your eyes playing games with you. But the tiny little object winks back at you with an unmoving serenity a few long seconds later, and you already know what your task is.

"Oh, my little boy... don't be angry! Mommy loves you, you know that, right?" You hear the apologetic shush, and you're filled with an ominous feeling as you lean forward from behind the wall, clinging to the crumbling bricks, to see how safe it is to get the key. And your eyebrows knot together in confusion when you're greeted by nothing more than the old woman, who, stepping towards one of the dark corners, spreads her arms as if waiting for someone to fall into her arms. Although at first, you're sure that age and loneliness have warped her mind so much that she imagines one of her loved ones in the shadows, but as your gaze falls on the mattress, brown with dirt, lying by the wall, and the plates soiled from the rotting leftover food, you dismiss your naive assumption. Someone is here, and based on the dried, yellowish stains on the torn bedsheet, they weren't forced to retreat here now. But you don't care about that. Whoever is imprisoned here, you're not here to help them.

"I found a new friend for you... She is much prettier than the previous ones! You want to see her, don't you? If you're a good boy, I'll bring her down for you... You do as mommy says, yes?" The woman continues, mumbling the kind words with an almost atoning tenderness, and it becomes painfully clear that whatever lives down here, this old bitch tried to drug you because of it. And when you remember the boot sprinkled with bone dust found in the forest, you banish the idea of thinking about what could have happened to those who were dragged down here before you. You have more important things to do than brood over the deaths of imaginary strangers… as cruel as that may sound.

But just as you finally take the first brave step and leave your hideout with careful stealth, the chain rattle comes to life again, and you freeze, forgetting about the key, when a dull crack silences the old hag. Like when a ripe, juicy melon cracks and splits into two when a knife sinks into it, but deep down you know that it's not fruit juice you hear splashing on the floor in fat drops. And you're unable to resist the pull of fear, which draws you in the direction of the noise against your will, but as soon as you see the woman slowly staggering back from the dark corner, you immediately regret giving in to the impulse. Because when your eyes find the handle of the large knife protruding from her head, you clamp your hands to your mouth, trying to force back the horrified scream that rises in your throat. 

The woman clumsily stumbles backward, and you see the uncertain surprise in the trembling hands with which she reaches for her hair, slowly covered into a crimson veil from the blood, touching the wooden handle almost in disbelief. And there is something quite pitiful in the way she turns around in confusion, amidst frightened whimpers, brushing away the strands stuck to her eyes by the red streams running down her forehead. And you, swallowing the bitter taste on your tongue, take a terrified step back, as you suddenly see how impossibly tight the skin clings to the edges of the bones emerging from the sunken face, as if a parasite were about to break through a thin membrane. The pale tissues look unsettlingly papery, and you have a lingering fear that the dull, matte white of her jaw might penetrate them at any moment, as the woman's mouth opens in a silent scream. Unfocused eyes find you, and you're horrified to realize that maybe she wants to ask for help when she wobbles towards you with shaky legs, but you're frozen in terror, as you stare at her motionless, like a deer stuck in the headlights of a car. And you watch in shock, when after what seems like eternity, she, with a gurgling rattle, finally sprawls out on the dusty ground, like a sack full of rotten potatoes.

"You're finally here." You hear the hoarse voice from before, and as you look for its owner in terror, you see how a strong figure emerges from the darkness of the shadows, dragging the heavy shackle of the chain hanging from his thick neck behind him with a metallic clang. But what worries you even more than the muscles hidden under the torn clothes, is the pair of impossibly blue eyes that emerge from under the mask covering the unknown man's face, which look at you with cheerful interest, as if he had found a small bird with a broken wing. And from the cruelty glimmering in them, it immediately becomes painfully clear that he is the kind of person who would rip your wings out by the stem to free you from suffering. "I was waiting for you, Bunny."

(ублюдок (ublyudok) - bastard).

[itsgrimeytime]

The Nurse (Part Two) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part 1, Part 2

Taglist: @strnqer, @1985bitch, @curlycarley, @imaginemyfavoritefics,

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You'd always wondered where he'd ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: Blood, gore, hospital mention, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged! And this time is loosely based on S3, E5, where Daryl and Maggie go to get baby supplies for Judith. I will not be following the story to a T though, and will kinda carve out my own path, it's been ages since I've seen it so, any weird story omits or things I don't mention are just not happening here lol. And I know this is kinda fast, I'm just writing as I feel like it, so don't expect super quick updates all the time, but here's a treat. Thanks for reading!]]

You stopped, hand resting on a tree, just for a moment. Taking some deep breaths, you scanned the area, looking for anything familiar or anything that you could, at least, stay the night in. You were practically running on less than an hour of sleep, the pure adrenaline of surviving being the only thing forcing your eyes open.

Currently, your plan was to use some old lipstick you'd found in a purse - somewhere along the road - to mark trees. Leaving a trail, so you knew where you'd been and where you were going. It was simple, and would probably wash away in the rain, but it was enough for now.

With an exhale, you kept moving deeper into the forest - a hope for a cabin, deep in your heart. An unoccupied cabin.

It's not that you didn't want to help people. You truly did. And if you found anyone who needed it, you would - other straggling groups with limps and cuts and bruises. You'd give them advice on how to clean wounds properly, some regular items they could use. If an injury was more serious, you'd stay with them just for a while to watch the person, keep an eye on whatever you had to.

It never stuck, though. You found it easier to be alone, to be on the move. You could help more people that way.

Plus, there were... others. Driven to madness by the tragedy, brutally ready to kill at first sight for whatever fucked up reason they came up with. Some of them had used you for a while, providing you food and shelter, just to ship off wounded soldiers to you - ones they wounded themselves. It was eerily familiar to your previous job, and you almost fell into a rhythm - even thinking about it now, it snuck a knot of guilt in your stomach. One too many threats, and you found yourself back to traveling.

The scrubs you still wore stuck to your skin, hair matted and blood soaked - you imagined this wasn't one of your best days. But it honestly probably wasn't your worst either.

And then, you heard it. The snap of a twig.

"Fuck," you whispered barely even a breath, pulling your duffel over your side and readying your fire axe. (You'd grabbed it back at the hospital, all that time ago.)

There was something to be said about a single snap of a twig because the dead were noisy.

They were unaware - would continue down the path, crunching leaves and snapping more twigs, dragging their feet through the dirt. In different circumstances, they could sneak up on you. With the soft grass under their feet and the hum of the animals in the forest mixing in with their own tones, sometimes you had to rely on the quietest of noises.

But this forest? No.

Without thinking a second more, you spun behind the nearest tree, the red of the lipstick - grazing along your fingers.

"What, so-" a voice spoke, "-we just give up?"

"No," a gruff tone responded, hair a little overgrown, and what seemed to be a crossbow on his back, "-Just means we got some extra work to do."

The woman, who had short brunette hair and a pistol in her hands, said, "Yeah, and we're gonna do it. We... have to. She deserves a chance."

"Of course," the man responded, a little bit upset she even insinuated he wouldn't care.

You watched carefully, eyes following the pair as they roamed through the woods - before stopping in front of one of your trees, your marked trees.

"Fuck," you muttered, so soft, the wind could’ve whisked it away, exhaling carefully and turning around to face the other way.

"What's that?" the woman asked, a tone of mixed concern and curiousity.

There was a scrape, and you could only assume the man touched the lipstick mark, as he hummed, "Not blood."

"I think..." the woman muttered, the slight slur of her accent becoming stronger, "-I think it's lipstick."

The man huffed, his accent strong, "What for?"

There was more leave crunching, and the woman replied, "Maybe a path? I don't..."

"Hello?" the man spoke, and you heard the click of metal, like he'd moved his gun up, "Is anyone there?"

The woman seemed to keep moving, leaves crunching getting closer and closer to your ears, you knew they'd notice an end of the path.

You needed to do something quick.

"I'll give ya 'til a count of 3," the man spoke, the metal clicking once more, "-one."

Your breaths shook, as you debated your options, based on what you'd seen the gun the man had was long range. So, running was out of the question.

"Two," his accent lilted.

Your feet were almost rooted in fear, what if it happened again? What if all you were surrounded by was death? What if they used you and then killed you next? God, you couldn't die, not now. Not after everything you'd done.

"Three," he added, tone more aggressive, and the click of the metal once more sending fear down your spine.

You couldn't wait any longer, squeezing your eyes shut, you spun around, "Wait!"

Expecting the blossoming pain, you flinched. Yet, after a moment, nothing happened.

You cracked open your eyes, and saw two guns trained at you, the woman and man now in clear sight. Noticing now, the bags full placed at their feet, you wondered if they thought you were here for their supplies.

Without hesitation, the man straightened his gun and asked, "Are ya bit?"

"No," you answered quickly, flourishing your arms forward as if to show the lack of teeth marks, "-no, I'm clean, you can check."

"What's your name?" the woman spoke, tone solid and unmoving.

"Y-Y/N." you stuttered out, looking down the barrel of two guns wasn't exactly calming.

The man, a bit distant, replied, "What are you doing out here?"

"I..." you exhaled, trying to calm your shaking hands which were still caked in blood (as the rest of you were), "-I'm just looking for shelter for the night. Look, I don't mean you two any harm, just leave me be and I'll-"

The woman faltered, her green eyes flickering with emotion -just for a second, "You need shelter?"

"Uh, yes," you spoke, a bit bewildered that they were listening but too tired to question it, "-I haven't slept in 3 days, I just need some rest and I'll be-"

"Maggie," the man spoke stern and low, and you weren't sure you were supposed to hear it.

The sun was setting now, and if they had some shelter, this was your last chance for the night and you were just so tired. What else could you do?

Maybe you could bring something to the table.

Interrupting their hushed conversations, you began, "I... I heard you say a 'she' earlier, is there something wrong with her?"

The two stopped talking, the man's icy glare set on you, "Why you askin'?"

"I-If she's sick, I can help," you beckoned, "-I come from a hospital, I have all kinds of medical supplies. I-I can show you if you want. And-"

The man interrupted again, as the woman, Maggie you now knew, carefully watched you, "You a doctor of some kind?"

You paused, waiting for a moment before responding, "Y-yes. I'm a nurse, er well, I used to be. I... I worked at Harrison Memorial Hospital when it all went down."

The woman started this time, "And you're willing to help us?"

"Yes," you asserted, "-as long as I have a place to stay for the night. That's... that's all I ask."

"But you'll stay as long as we need ya?"

You furiously nodded, "Of course. I won't... I won't leave someone I know I can help behind."

The two turned to each other, before slowly pointing their guns to the ground. You exhaled a big breath of relief as your heartbeat slowed, muttering out, "Thank god."

The woman, held out her hand, "Maggie."

You hesitated for a moment, at the current state of your hands, before accepting it with a quick shake.

"Daryl," the man added, hand extended as well. You shook his, and began to follow in their footsteps -leading about west of where you were headed just earlier.

"Are you with a group?" Maggie asked, strolling along the woodlands.

"No," you replied, "-I... I come and go. Sometime people need a doctor so I help, but-"

The two looked at you, still watching you to say something wrong. They were still heavily armed afterall. The thought made your hands shake.

"I ended up in some shady places," you continued, "-because I stayed. So, I don't really stay anymore."

Daryl hummed in response, and Maggie simply looked at you with eyes of hesitant trust. Like she wanted desperately to trust you, but it seemed hard. You didn't blame her. Not really.

The last time you trusted someone, it hadn't gone well then either. This world is not one of trust, you knew that.

"We have a group," Maggie continued, walking in step with you as Daryl scouted ahead, "-it's small but we don't trust too well."

"Right," you murmured, expecting as much.

Daryl hummed, "We have a leader too. You'll have to meet him. You gonna be alright with that?"

Before you could even respond, Maggie interjected -an unsettled look in her eyes, "Daryl, is he even... in the space to do this?"

"Don't have to be," he responded, a little coldly, but you figured that was just kind of his tone at this point, "-he's gotta. I'll talk to 'em."

You furrowed your eyebrows, a question on your tongue, but found the following silence was not one to be interrupted. Without thought, you simply adjusted your bag and continued along. Their path was set as if this happened often, and the knowledge that you were going to a very settled camp irked you just a little.

A dynamic that felt substantial in this post-apocalyptical world usually wasn't the kindest. Oftentimes, it was 'kill or be killed'.

You knew that well, staring down at your hands (which had definitely dried by now) -you wished you had a way to wash them off. But the water was too precious to risk anyone's supplies, frankly. It reminded you of before, when veins would rupture, when hearts wouldn't beat, and everything felt like it was on the line.

An exhale, and you scrubbed your hands on your pants.

It felt immoral, as you held a fire axe in your hands. Weren't you supposed to save people? Wasn't that in the oath?

Shaking your head, you glanced ahead at the pair wondering how exactly this group operated -where they had a protocol for finding people. That wasn't... You hadn't seen much of it.

"This group," you questioned, "-how long have you guys been together?"

"Long enough," Daryl answered, curtly, "-prove yourself and you might just have a spot with us." Maggie hummed in agreement, pulling her pistol close to her chest, as a large barbed wire fence came into your view. And... were those... watchtowers?

"Is this...?" You trailed off, eyes taking in the surrounding concrete and the few stragglers either slowly trudging to the group you found yourself in, or mindlessly clawing at the tall fences as if it would do anything.

"Our base," Maggie finished, pulling her pistol to attention and shooting one of the dead just ahead of you -right in front of what you assumed was the opening gate.

"And it's a..."

"Prison, yeah," Daryl finished, pulling out his bow and killing the other one without a flinch.

"Right," you responded, a bit astonished, "-have you guys cleared the place?"

"Almost," Maggie answered, as the three of you stood directly in front of the gate. There was a watchtower to your left, and you could see the familiar glint of a scope shining down from the top.

"Glenn!" Daryl shouted, you watched as the dead stirred toward the noise, "-Let us in!"

There was a moment of hesitation, a breath of air catching in your lungs as the corpses made their way to you -slowly but surely. You knew a few weren't a threat, not with a group the size you currently were in, but you still felt this buzz of fear under your skin. Normally, you would be gone by now, vanished into the dust -not wanting to waste durability on a fight that would only bring more opponents.

Without warning, the door swung open and you assumed they had silenced the mechanism because no sound other than the screech of metal moving across the concrete filled your ears.

Which was not pleasant. At all.

The crowd there wasn't particularly large, but still seemed odd. Maybe you had been alone for too long.

A man quickly approached the group with a warm smile, rushing up to Maggie and scooping her into a hug. This figure hardly even noticed you or Daryl, now that you thought about it, but you doubted you would have either.

Daryl spoke, with a taste of disgust (you couldn't tell if it was playful or not) "That's Glenn, Maggie's boyfriend, you'll get used to it."

You nodded, pointing to a few stragglers around what looked like crops, "Okay, and... who are they?"

Without answering you, Daryl called out, "Rick out here?"

The older man who was tending to the crops looked up, eyeing you for a second, before answering, "I think he's inside, clearing out block F."

Maggie responded, "Daddy, can you see if you can get him out here?"

You blinked, absorbing the new information, Maggie's dad, right. The old man sighed, standing and brushing off his hands on his knees.

"I'll try."

Daryl nodded, not leaving your side, and it would've been comforting had you not known it was because you weren't fully trusted yet. Maggie guided you to a table, assumedly brought out from the cafeteria, and sat you down with a calm gesture to a chair. Glenn followed close behind, and Daryl merely observed.

You doubted he'd even blink while you waited for the mysterious Rick. He seemed the type to take his duty seriously.

"I'm Glenn," he held out his hand across the table, sitting just beside Maggie with curious but cautious eyes. It seemed he trusted Maggie's hesitant judgment of you.

"Y/N," you replied, accepting his hand, "-this is a lot, huh?"

"Oh yeah," Glenn continued, looking around the courtyard, "-finding the prison has been life-changing for us."

"I imagine," you laughed, a little in disbelief at the mere size, and looking over the two's shoulders to see the dead staring in through the fence. There weren't that many at all, but it still trickled in some of your solo senses.

Which were mostly bashing their head in before they get too close.

Maggie caught your eye, inquisitive almost like you were in an interview, "How familiar are you with the walkers?"

"You mean the dead?" you clarified, fingers trailing along the blood in the creases of your palms, "More familiar than I ever wanted to be, that's for sure."

Glenn opened his mouth to say something, but something bumped into your ankle and you were immediately on your feet. Prepared for the worst.

Instead of what you expected, there was a ball... An old deflated basketball probably from the court somewhere around here, you stared at it a bit incredulously. Like you'd almost forgotten it was a thing. You picked it up, brushing your finger along the bumpy texture.

"Sorry," a voice spoke. Squeaky and... familiar.

Your eyes snapped up and were met with those eyes 'You have to save him, please.' Breath caught in your lungs, your mouth moved but nothing came out. He was a little older now, with hair a touch longer and a sheriff's hat on the top of his head. But that was-

Daryl grunted, "Play somewhere else-"

"Carl?" you interrupted, tilting your head and dropping the ball to the floor; what were the chances?

Maggie stuttered out, a tone of protectiveness in her voice you'd have yet to experience, "You know him? Carl, do you know them?"

He paused, tilting his head in the same way you had just seconds before like he was trying to get a good look at you, "I..."

He looked into your eyes, eyeing your scrubs for a second -probably the same he'd seen you in so long ago. And the blue eyes that were so achingly familiar seemed to light up in recognition, he questioned, "Nurse Y/N?"

It was like a pin could drop, as the boy's gaze settled on you curiously, and every adult in the vicinity watched you like you were the most dangerous criminal in the world. A tension settling within the air that gave you uncomfortable goosebumps, and desperately made you want out of the spotlight.

Slowly, a grin slid across his features, his tiny finger pointing at you, elated, "You saved my Dad!" And before you could even react, the little boy had scurried up to you and wrapped his arms tightly around your middle - almost knocking off his hat at the force.

You blinked, a little stunned at the current predicament, but shook yourself awake. Completing the hug, you exhaled a sort of relief you hadn't known you needed. Seeing this little boy surviving such a terrible world gave you a spark of something. Like you'd been waiting to hear this.

"I promised I would, didn't I?" you hummed with a very soft smile.

Just as he let go, you crouched down and fixed his hat on his head, suddenly much more comfortable in a known presence, "Cool hat, kiddo."

He grinned even wider, but before he could even say another word, another voice echoed through the courtyard. Tone hardened and deep, this one could not be missed.

"Carl?" a breathy southern drawl -that you knew- interrupted, and your stomach flipped.

The tone was accusatory, dangerous even, so you stood quickly. A distance now established, you looked up into the figure. That couldn't be-

The blue eyes had burned into your head, so clear, so decisive.

"Rick Grimes?"

[deansapplepie]

Till THE DEAD do us part | Chapter 1

A/N: This story will take place in all the seasons, but it’s not exactly a rewriting cause I’d have to re-watch everything to use the exactly lines of the characters, also I think it’s better if I tell a side story without changing the main facts of the story. I’m not good with synopses, so sorry about that.

This story has a Female Reader, but I don’t describe her appearance, so anyone can identify with her.

Summary: Y/N Grimes is Rick’s younger sister, when the world ended she had Lori, Carl and Shane. But did she really have them? Her brother was dead, her sister-in-law was sleeping with her brother’s best friend and her nephew was just a small kid. She had him, Daryl Dixon was no knight in a shining armor and she was no damsel in distress, but maybe they were exactly what each other needed.

*gif is not mine, credits on the gif.

Chapter 1: Vulnerable

Summary: Y/N sees something she wasn’t supposed to see, she need to vent about it but she can’t do it with Lori or Shane, because they are the main reason about it. So she goes to the woods hoping to find some peace.

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, kinda angsty, a little bit of fluffy, comfort, mentions of death, mentions of violence

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader

Word Count: 2,072

Extra notes: I proofread the text, but English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistakes, of course with a lot of love.

Chapter 2

It was again one more boiling hot day in the Quarry near Atlanta, you thought the temperature would for sure kill you, but there was another thing threatening to take your life and it wasn’t a Zombie.

Before everything, before the world ended, life wasn’t easy. You wanted it to be, but you were living one of the worst moments of your life. You had just lost your job as a vet because you couldn’t save a rich man’s cat and he demanded that you were fired. You felt bad for the poor cat, for your lost job, for your name as a professional that was now forever marked and also for your dog a female German Shepherd called Luna that had to see you not acting like your usual self.

On top of that your older brother, Rick, got shot working… he was a Sheriff’s Deputy. That’s what made you stop feeling sorry for yourself, because you couldn’t. You needed to see your brother laying on a hospital bed in comma, you had to hold things together and take care of Carl and Lori.

Lori and Carl had you, but you had no one, Carl was just a kid and Lori couldn’t even take care of herself at the moment. There was Shane, he was like a brother to you, but even with him there… it was as if you were alone. You just had Luna.

You went to their house and stayed there, you were going to stay until Rick got better, yes, he was going to get better and you would stay just a little bit more to help during his recovery, and everything was going to be fine again. But it never was. The world ended. The dead were walking as if they were alive and Rick died.

Now you lived in a Quarry with Lori, Carl, Shane and a bunch of other survivors. Most of people were pleasant and easy to live with, the exception was Ed, Carol’s husband and Merle Dixon, Daryl’s brother, but this was the apocalypse and you don’t have much choice on the people that are going to be around you.

It had been almost two months since everything happened and the camp was created, almost two months your brother had died… and today, while you were picking some wood, you saw something that felt as if someone was pulling your guts out of your stomach and squeezing your heart.

Lori and Shane. Not Lori and Shane friendly doing what they usually do, they were in the middle of the forest, fucking, and there was no other word you’d use to describe it other than fucking. There wasn’t even two months Rick died, and his best friend and wife were fucking.

You felt nauseated, you went back the same direction you came and knew you had to do something to calm down. You couldn’t afford causing an scene or any uncomfortable situation, you could not hurt Carl.

“Hey! Aunt Y/N, did you already pick all the woods?” Carl shouted to you from the spot he was, playing with Sophia and Luna, Carol watching them.

“Er… wood wasn’t good that side, I’m going to the other side see if I find anything better.” You gave a lame excuse, you just wanted to be alone, cry all this shit out, in silence cause you didn’t want anyone to know and you didn’t want to attract any walkers near the camp.

“Can you look after them a little more, Carol?” You asked the woman, you were sure she was not going to say no, she loved being with the kids and even with Luna.

“Sure, don’t worry.” She said, you nodded and then walked to the opposite side from where you came the fastest as possible, looking down so others wouldn’t see you had started to cry.

You walked until you found a place far enough so no one would find you, but not so far that you would have any trouble. You had a gun and knife, you knew how to defend yourself, but you couldn’t make it easy to the dead to kill you, you were not that dumb.

You sat behind a tree, brought your knees to your chest and hid your face crying. Your thoughts were racing and all you could think was about what you saw, your brother and how you missed him. You listened to some light leaves hustle, but You didn’t give it importance, thinking it was probably the wind, it was so light that it couldn’t be a walker. So you continued minding your own business crying what you had to cry so you could look at your sister-in-law’s face without letting her know how upset you were.

“Ya shouldn’t be out here vulnerable like that” you jumped startled by the redneck’s voice. ‘So that was him,’ you thought, ‘of course, only he could walk with light steps, he was a hunter after all.’ You wiped your tears, not that it would help they were still falling and there wasn’t anything you could do to stop them.

“I’m not vulnerable, I just needed some time alone.” You answered, he was really trying to not be too rough on you given to your situation, but his lack of tact was something he had much difficulty to overcome.

“Ya could cry in your tent, it’s safer”

“I don’t wanna Carl and Lori to see me cry. I don’t wanna have to explain myself, things would get bad if I had to. I don’t wanna upset Carl.” You sniffed, that was one of the worst parts of crying, getting a damn runny nose.

“Shane can’t help?” He asked, you didn’t know but he probably already had some idea of the reason you were crying.

“He’s part of the problem Dixon, if I could I’d punch him and kick his balls” you answered, tears still running down but a little bit calmer.

“Did ya see him and…” he didn’t finish the question, because you completed it for him.

“Lori? Yeah”

Talking about them made you remember everything you saw and how it hurt you. You were still mourning Rick, and Shane and Lori apparently were already moving on. What hurt the most is that even mad at both of them, you still loved them. Lori was like a big sister, a sister that you wish you had while growing up, and Shane? He was your brother he taught you how to defend yourself, he gave you shooting classes, he brought you home the first time you got drunk and even took care of you while you were hangover. When Rick wasn’t there, he was. At this moment you hated him as much as you loved him.

“Do you know if anyone else know about them?” You asked after a long time, you were so lost that you didn’t even noticed that Daryl walked a bit ahead and stoped with his back turned to you. He wanted to give you privacy to cry, but he also couldn’t leave you behind, it was dangerous to you staying so vulnerable at the forest. He knew you could defend yourself, but you didn’t even listened him approaching, you sure were not going to listen to a walker too.

“I don’t know. Probably not. I’m much into the woods, so I caught them a few times.” He answered at distance, not turning to look back at you. “Do ya like him?” Daryl asked and right after he just regretted having opened his mouth, why would he ask such an intimate thing to you? He should just stay there and make sure you’d go back alive to the camp.

“Ew! No! He’s like a brother to me. We grew up together.” You answered disgusted to the idea of liking Shane any other way. “It’s not that. My brother, he died. Well, you probably know. And I know Lori needs to continue living and they are adults, but there’s not even 2 months and she moved on that fast and Shane… he was his best friend. I’m still mourning him, the world still doesn’t make any sense without him here and they are already fucking. I know I’m being selfish and emotional but…” you spoke so much that you had already lost your line of thought. Daryl was probably tired of you, he wasn’t one to talk much, but here you were opening all your thoughts to him.

“It’s about yer brother. Ya have the right to feel.” He understood, he had never lost his brother and he hoped he’d not lose him anytime soon. Merle was a dick, and he made him mad most of the time, but he was his brother, so he understood you.

You wiped your tears, calmer and ready to continue. You were still mad and sad about everything, but now you didn’t feel like you were going to die anymore, you were not suffocated. You got up, shook the dirt from your pants and approached the archer.

“I was going to take some wood for fire. I don’t want to go back empty handed. Can you help me?” Now you gave a look at him, and noticed he had some rabbits and squirrels hanging from a rope. He was being essential to maintain everyone fed, he was not one to be socializing around the camp, but he was good and you could see it.

He just nodded and started walking by your side collecting the good woods he found along the way. “Thank you.” You said collecting a branch that you saw.

“For what? I didn’t even take the woods to the camp.” Did he not understand or was he faking?

“Not about the woods. Well, that too… but thank you for staying with me and talk to me, you didn’t have to” ‘but you did’, you completed in your thoughts. “Also, thank you for always bringing us food. I don’t know if I ever told you that.” He grunted, sometimes you wish you could know what he was thinking, you never knew if his grunts mean something good or bad.

“No need to thank me” he never knew how to react at moments like that. Should he say thanks back? Should he give another compliment?

Soon you returned to the camp, he helped you put the woods near the makeshift kitchen and was going to clean the rabbits and squirrels so they could be cooked.

“Luna likes you” you said, you saw how your dog acted around him. He was a little surprised with the comment. “You can take her with you when you want, I see that you like her too.” You smiled, a beautiful one just as if you were not broken or had cried your soul an hour ago.

“She likes my food too” he joked, it was not intentional but after what he said he even got a little smile at the corner of his mouth for some seconds. You giggled before answering.

“I know, she makes the cutest puppy eyes. It’s not her fault if you can’t resist her charms.” He snorted and for some seconds, just few seconds, he thought that maybe she wasn’t the only one he couldn’t resist. As he went to clean the hunt, you went to Carol to say you got the wood and offer to take care of the kids while she started to prepare the food.

You couldn’t take that smile from your face and you didn’t were sure why, you ruffled Luna’s fur while you sat close to the kids and released the dog so she could run around a little. You hated having to let her tied, but you were too afraid of what could happen if she went too far. She ran around the camp and soon approached the archer he pet her and she made her happy tail dance to him, he looked in your direction and you smiled watching their interaction. Your day wasn’t lost, there was still good things to be grateful for, even in a world like this.

Final notes: Please tell me your thoughts. There is a long time I don’t write and publish fanfiction in English so I’d be glad to hear from you.

[albertasunrise]

Look for the Light - 2

Masterlist

Summary: Four years ago, Joel saved you from certain death. In return, you followed him faithfully. Always ready to do and give him whatever he asked, despite the hurt it inflicted on you, body and soul. Agreeing to go with him to deliver Ellie to the Fireflies… this would be the last time you’d follow him… After this, your debt would be paid.

Relationships: Reader x Joel Miller, Joel Miller & Ellie, Reader & Ellie

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose to give none. Read at your own risk. 18+ (So excited to share this with you. So much to come folks! 🙊😍)

Series Masterlist - Part 1

"He hates me!" Ellie grumbled to you under her breath as she ate the last of the sandwich from her pack.

"He hates everyone." You snorted as you nibbled on your ration of jerky.

"He doesn't hate you."

"Doesn't like me." You grumbled in reply, a little louder than you'd intended but Joel made no sign of hearing you.

"So what's the deal with you two anyway?" She asked as she pulled Joel's coat closer.

"Nothing." You replied with a shrug.

"Bullshit."

"What do you-"

"I catch you looking at him all googly-eyed when he's not looking and I've seen him do the same when you ain't." She stated and you scoffed at that "It's true." She defended "He clearly cares about you and you clearly care about him so what's the issue?"

"I owe him my life." You stated plainly "He saved me and I have followed him ever since." Ellie gave you a bemused look as she waited for you to continue "He keeps me around because he saved me... All this is."

"You mean more to him than that." Ellie argued but you simply shook your head.

"No... I don't." You grumbled before eating the last of your jerky "Get some sleep. Got a long walk ahead of us tomorrow."

Ellie didn't argue. She ate the last bite of her food before laying down on the hard forest floor and pulling Joel's coat over her small shoulders. You watched her a moment before your eyes drifted to Joel again. The man was standing in the same spot he'd been a few minutes ago, eyes scanning the forest for any sign of movement.

You knew telling him to get some rest was futile. The man was as stubborn as they came so instead you let your head fall back against the tree you were leaning against and closed your eyes. The sound of the forest lulling you to sleep.

Joel meanwhile was replaying what he'd heard, over and over in his brain.

He keeps me around because he saved me... All this is

Did you really think that's all you meant to him?

Had he really given you no other indications of how important you were to him? He knew he wasn't good at showing any sort of real emotion. He'd shut that side away the day his daughter had died. He hadn't cried since that day either but he had hoped that the small things he did had given you the smallest indication that you were more than just a sidekick to him.

Then he remembered what you'd said to him back at the hotel.

So you're not fucking us both?

Truth was... He and Tess had broken things off the moment she realised that you meant more to him than just a casual fuck. She'd been okay with him sleeping with you occasionally. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been sleeping with other men occasionally but when it had come to light that his feelings for you ran a little deeper. That was it.

Her words to him just before they'd left her there to die amongst those monsters still echoed in his head.

I never ask, you for anything! Not to feel the way I felt.

Joel had known, deep down, that Tess' feelings for him were a little more than just friends. But she had never pushed him for more than he was willing to give and he had always appreciated that. So it hadn't come as any surprise that when she'd figured out that he had feelings for you, she hadn't wanted any part of it. He was sure that it had hurt her more than she let on but you can't help who you love. And he didn't love her.

Save who you can save... And tell her the truth... Before it's too late.

He was sure though, as he turned to look at you and Ellie, that if he told you what you meant to him. You'd laugh in his face"

I owe him my life

That's the only reason you'd stuck around. The only reason you'd let him lose himself in you when he needed a distraction. You felt that you owed it to him. The truth of it stung more than he'd expected but he couldn't let it distract him from what he needed to do. Get Ellie to Bill and Franks.

That was his mission now.

It was a five-hour hike to Bill and Franks. Five hours and then you could have a shower and eat some of Bill's amazing food. But for now, Jerky would have to do. You were sat nibbling on your measly ration, and Ellie sat silently beside you.

"Where's Joel?" She asked having woken up to just you.

"Gone to freshen up down by the river." You stated and she gave you a slight nod before returning to her own meal.

A few bites in, you were overcome with the sudden urge to hurl and you managed to throw yourself sideways in time before you were emptying the contents of your stomach onto the forest floor.

"Whoa, you okay?" Asked Ellie as she looked at you in shock.

"Yeah." You replied as you shook your head weakly and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

'What's going on?" Joel asked as he appeared.

Wonderful You thought to yourself as you looked up at the man.

"Nothing." You replied meekly as you shook your head.

"She just hurled!" Ellie exclaimed and you cursed the teenager's honesty.

"Really?" Joel asked as he stepped closer to you, his brows drawing together in what appeared to be genuine concern.

"It's nothing." You waved off as you got to your feet "Probably about to start my..." You didn't finish your sentence. Didn't get a chance before a wave of dizziness washed over you and your knees gave out.

Ellie and Joel were quick to catch you but you didn't thank them. You shrugged them off before tossing the last of your jerky to Ellie and stalking away.

"Just got up to fast." You growled before making your way out of view so you could relieve yourself.

"She okay?" Ellie asked as she watched you disappear behind some trees.

"How should I know?" Joel grumbled and the teenagers scoffed.

"You can pretend that you don't give a shit but I can see that you do." She snapped, eyes boring into the side of Joel's head.

When she realised she wasn't going to get the reaction she wanted out of the man she dropped it. No point in fighting a losing battle.

"You want your jacket back?"

Nothing.

"I've never been in the woods." She said then, changing the subject completely "More bugs than I thought."

Still, the man said nothing. She knew he was probably upset about Tess but it wasn't your fault or hers. Yet he'd been nothing but cold towards you both since it happened.

"Look, I've been thinking about..."

"I don't want your sorries." He growled, still not looking at the teenager.

"I wasn't gonna say I'm sorry." She snapped back and this grabbed his attention "I was gonna say that I've been thinking about what happened.

Nobody made you, her or Tess take me." She said as she motioned in the direction you'd walked in "Nobody made you go along with this plan. You needed a truck battery or whatever and you made a choice." She paused a moment, staring him down "So don't blame me for something that isn't my fault." Joel nodded, his eyes dropping to the forest floor "And don't blame her either!"

"I don't blame her!" Joel defended and Ellie scoffed.

"Well, you've been a dick to her since we left the city."

"It's complicated." Joel grumbled and Ellie just rolled her eyes at his reply.

"Whatever."

An awkward silence fell over them both for a moment. Neither party knew what to say never so your return brought them both to sigh in relief.

"How much longer?" Ellie asked as she watched the man finish packing his supplies.

"Five-hour hike." He replied plainly and the teenager nodded.

"We can manage that." She replied before looking at you and smiling. "You've gone this way a lot?"

"Yeah." You replied, as you grabbed your own pack and slung it onto your back.

"No Infected?"

"Not often, no." You replied before looking over at Joel. "Let's get going."

You didn't wait to see if they were following. You silently trekked in the direction of Bill and Frank's. You didn't want to talk to either of them about the fact that you'd thrown up again. You didn't need to add to their burdens. Once you were at Bill and Frank's, you'd be able to rest, freshen up and lay all this to rest.

So you walked. You walked as fast as you knew Joel could handle with his bad knees. You tried to tune out Ellie's chatter but the girl was a chatterbox.

"How'd you get that scar on your head?" She asked Joel but he didn't answer, his eyes fixed on you as you walked ahead.

"What? Is it something lame?" The girl pushed "Like you fell down the stairs or something?"

"I didn't fall down any stairs." He grumbled finally and you smirked.

"Okay, so what then?"

"Someone shot at me and missed."

"See, that's cool." The teenager gushed as she glanced up at Joel "You shoot back?"

"Yeah."

"You get him?"

"No, I missed, too." He grumbled in reply and you almost turned your head to look back at him "It happens more often than you think."

"Cause you suck at shooting or, like, in general?"

"In general."

"You know, seeing as it's just the three of us, I was thinking I should pro-"

"No."

It amused you how persistent the child was when it came to having a gun of her own. You knew it wasn't unusual for kids to be curious about firearms but she was bordering on trigger-happy. You wondered if she had ever fired one outside of the FEDRA school shooting range. You hoped she'd never have to.

When the rest stop came into view you slowed your pace a little. Knowing that Joel would want to stop and restock his munitions.

"Hang back a minute." He said as he made his way over to the entrance of the derelict store "I gotta grab some stuff I stashed."

You stopped by the door, waiting for Joel and the teenager to catch up. You couldn't help the quirk of your lip at Joel's obvious misery at the child's constant chatter. He wasn't one for talking much. Only when he had a few drinks in him would he loosen up and hold a conversation with anyone. But even then, they were short.

"Stashed?" Ellie questioned as she looked up at the run-down building "Why do you have stuff stashed here?"

"You ask a lot of goddamn questions." He griped as he stepped past you and inside.

"Yes, I do." Ellie replied, smirking as she looked up at you "So, are you gonna answer me or what?"

"We hide supplies on routes." You piped up as your eyes scanned the room "In case we find ourselves short on gear..."

"Which I currently am 'cause-"

"No way!" Ellie squealed out as she ran across the store "You ever play this one?" She asked as she turned her head to look at you and you shoot your head "I had a friend who knew everything about this game. There's this one character named Mileena who takes off her mask and she has monster teeth and then she swallows you whole and barfs out your bones." You grinned at her excitement.

Your eyes scanned the pilfered shelves as Ellie played around with the long-dead game. The frames, dirty and bare.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna take a look around, see if there's anything good." Ellie stated as she looked over at Joel and then at you.

"Trust me, it's all been picked over already." Joel grumbled as he kicked at the floor.

"Maybe, maybe not." Ellie shrugged as she made her way over to the back of the shop "Is there anything bad in here?" She called out as she looked through the dark doorway.

"Just you." Joel replied and you smirked as Ellie rolled her eyes at the man's reply.

"Getting funnier." She grumbled before stepping into the back.

"Where are you going?" He asked when he noticed you step away.

"Keep an eye on her." You replied with a shrug before slipping into the back.

Joel was right about the store being pillaged but there was still the odd item here or there. You shone your torch over the bare frames, hoping that you might find something of use.

"Check this out1" Ellie exclaimed and you turned to see her dropping down through a trap door on the floor.

"Ellie I don't think-" She disappeared before you got a chance to finish.

You turned your head and shone your torch down the remainder of the shelves, stopping in your tracks when it hit a familiar-looking box. You couldn't believe your eyes when you picked the item up to look at it better and without thinking you stuffed it in your pack.

"You all right back there?" Called out Joel and you turned to look back at the room you'd seen Ellie in a few minutes before, squinting when you noticed some movement at the trap door.

"Yep!" Ellie called and you smiled as you made your way towards the trap door, stopping when you saw that Joel had finally found what he was looking for.

"All there?" You asked as you stepped towards him and he nodded.

"Looks like." He replied "She being awful quiet all of a sudden." He said as he looked up at you and then at the door "Ellie?"

"She's fine." You said but he didn't listen to you, his brow pulling together the longer the girl didn't respond.

"Ellie!" He called out again but still, the girl didn't respond and suddenly you started to worry also.

Getting to his feet, Joel took a few ginger steps towards the doorway, ready for anything that could potentially come through it.

"Ellie?" He called out one more time and that's when the girl appeared.

"Picked over, my ass." She announced as she waved a box of tampons in his face and you smirked at her before looking back at him again.

"Told you she was okay."

Joel then finished swapping out the gun he had for the one he'd stashed and then, hid it all away again. A short while later you were walking again, dust kicking up behind you as you followed the dirt road to your destination.

"Holy shit." Expelled Ellie as she spotted a wrecked plain on the hillside "You fly in one of those?"

"Few times, sure." Replied Joel as he came to a stop at the girl's side.

"So lucky."

"Didn't feel like it at the time." Joel grumbled and you smirked, remembering your own experience of flying.

"Get shoved into a middle seat, pay 12 bucks for a sandwich."

"Don't forget the cramped ass toilets that always seemed to be occupied."

"Dudes, you got to go up in the sky." Ellie groaned.

"Yeah, well, so did they." Replied Joel grimly and your face fell.

Your walking on prompted the other two to follow. You zoned out the conversation when Ellie asked about how it all started, not wanting to be reminded of how one minute you were sleeping soundly in your bed and the next, you were being carried to the car so your family could flee the town you'd grown up in. The walk passed by more or less wordlessly on your part. Stopped only to look at the mass grave that sat at the side of the road, a sobering reminder of how the army had dealt with people they hadn't had space for.

You were an hour out when your stomach rolled again and you silently dashed for the treeline before emptying what was left of the contents of your stomach. Joel and Ellie watched wordlessly as you stumbled back out onto the road a few moments later but neither of them said a word and for that, you were glad. You didn't even want to think about what could possibly be wrong with you right now.

When the fence line came into view, you instantly knew something was up. The flowers outside of the house were dead. Frank would never have let them get to that state. The house looked desolate. It had always looked so lived in before and you shared a look with Joel, a silent conversation passing between the two of you as he stepped towards the gate.

Something was wrong.

"Stay there." He ordered as he inputted the code and entered the town, gun in hand.

You followed Joel with Ellie at your side. Heart in your throat as you studied the house closely. It all just felt wrong. The door squeaked open and you felt your heart leap into your throat as the empty house came into view.

"What the fuck?"

"Bill?" Called out Joel but he was met with silence "Frank?"

Still nothing.

"You stay there." He said to Ellie, before looking up at you "Ya hear anything, you see anything, yell."

"What if they're gone?"

You knew in your heart of hearts that the lack of presence from these two men was a bad omen. There was no way either of them had left this place.

You stepped studied the table and noted the rotten food that still sat there. Frank would die before leaving a mess. You stepped into the kitchen but you were greeted by nothing but the smell of rotten food. The smell was so strong that you ran for the sink, throwing up nothing but bile now.

"Ellie?" Called out Joel and you stepped back into the dining room to see the girl sitting there with a letter in hand.

Joel stood opposite her, a grim expression on his face.

"It's from Bill." She said as she picked up the envelope "To whomever, but probably Joel." She read before putting it back down again "I figured I fell under 'whomever'... Came with this." She said lifting up a car key.

"So they're dead?" He asked, his eyes darting up to you when you gasped at his question.

"You wanna?"

"Go ahead. You do it."

You stood there and listened as the girl read Bill's letter. Silent tears slipped down your cheeks as you started at the paper in her hands.

"I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep..." She trailed off, looking at Joel who then took the letter from her.

His shoulders tensed and you knew exactly what it said. You didn't need to read it to know.

"Stay here." Joel grumbled before stepping out.

"Should we go after him?" She asked you but you shook your head.

"No."

An hour later you were showering and washing the grime of the past two days from your skin. Joel managed to find some clothes for you all. Some jeans, a t-shirt and a flannel for you that now sat on the unit just outside. When you were done, your eyes fell on your pack, mind wandering to the item inside. You were sure you were just sick with stress but you wondered if perhaps it was something more sinister. Perhaps it was best to check.

You could hear Joel and Ellie as they pilfered the house for essentials. So you knew they wouldn't miss you for a little while longer.

You were sitting with Ellie when Joel emerged from upstairs, hair still wet from showering. His eyes raked over you a moment. Your knee bounced as you stared at your pack that lay on the table. You felt sick. Your stomach twisted in painful knots as you unconsciously picked at the skin around your thumbnail.

"Well, don't you look pretty." Ellie teased, pulling a smirk from you as you glanced up at him.

"Shut up." He grumbled, "Come on... time to go."

Ellie got up and skipped outside but you were slower to follow. Grabbing your pack, you threw it over your shoulder and started to make your way out, Joel stopping you when you reached him.

"You okay?" He asked and you nodded.

"Golden." You replied, giving him a smile that you knew was convincing no one.

Because the truth was you weren't okay... Far from it!

And you didn't know what you were going to do.

Next

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[teamsasukes]

ok in my opinion, many things are wrong with the idea that sakura viewed sasuke only as a prize to be won to boost her self-worth; that when it comes to sasuke, she's forever frozen in time as a 12-year-old girl who can't see beyond his good hair and great grades. this post is my attempt at thoroughly unpacking and refuting that notion

when we meet sakura in part 1, she is obsessed with societal standards and her admiration for sasuke is almost entirely rooted in that. he's the ideal future husband -- from an ancient clan, stoic, intelligent, skilled, and by sakura's own description, "cool" -- these are things that she has been conditioned to want! so this is the sasuke that she envisions, until...

until they get put on a team together, and sakura gradually comes to realize that perhaps sasuke is not what she's made him out to be in her mind. he talks about crying, about being afraid. he's paralyzed with fear in their first mission. naruto may very well be stronger and more capable than him! oh, and sasuke gets into silly fights with naruto all the time. none of that is "cool." suddenly he seems less like the ideal future husband and more like a real person with flaws and baggage of his own.

that sakura's view of sasuke changes is so apparent through how radically her behaviour around him shifts between the early formation of team 7 and the chunin exams (and any point after). sakura goes from being unable to listen to a bad word about sasuke (maybe even the ones that are deserved) to defying him when she deems fit. she even praises naruto at his expense, because societal views are not at the forefront of her mind when it comes to the two boys anymore -- they're just naruto and sasuke. they're her friends! she goes from calling kakashi out for bad-mouthing the uchiha clan because she's doesn't want to risk sasuke getting mad at her, to calling naruto out for a similar statement, not due to personal involvement in the equation, but simply because it's not right.

and people typically agree with me up to here. it's when we get to sakura cutting her hair in the forest of death that opinions diverge, and some people tend to think that sakura should have "gotten over" sasuke to propel her character development forward. i don't necessarily find this reading invalid -- it's certainly a more straightforward direction for her character to take. sakura's goal was sasuke, now sakura's goal is to be strong. the problem is that there was always more nuance to her goal of winning sasuke's heart than people afford it in fandom discussion, and similarly, i don't think that the progression needed to be as clear-cut as "sakura gets over sasuke" to still be meaningful. in this case, i feel like people's expectations about what should have happened following this scene might preclude them from seeing the growth that this moment did produce.

sakura cutting her hair in the forest of death is the critical point her arc built up to for all of part 1. sakura is insulted by the sound nin for pouring so much time into her appearance when her training is clearly not up to par, and she cuts her shiny and perfect hair in a declaration that she will no longer derive her self-worth from the validation that would come from romantic attachment (to sasuke, or anyone else). instead, it will be from standing shoulder-to-shoulder with (or even ahead of) her teammates in battle -- so that she can protect them rather than the other way around. then the flashbacks during her fight with ino make it explicit that sakura has wanted to become a skilled shinobi -- one who could match up to ino -- all along, but since that is not a socially acceptable goal from a girl, she instead declares them rivals over sasuke's heart. the boy is not important here (haha, it always sticks out to me that when she asks him out before the chunin exams, sakura is more bummed about sasuke's assessment of her skills than his rejection). she doesn't even think of sasuke while fighting ino, lol -- she grandstands about how only she can "get him," but that's for the purpose of riling up ino, so that there's no chance she'll go easy on sakura. sakura wants to know, definitively, that she can match up to ino. and she does.

in light of all of this, people often say sakura had "no reason" to like sasuke -- after all, i did spend the entire last paragraph establishing that sakura's pre-series crush on sasuke was an immature infatuation that had nothing to do with sasuke and everything to do with ino. but, again, team 7 spent months together on a team and sasuke and sakura became actual friends! he was a good teammate to both naruto and sakura, if a little rough around the edges. i don't think it's implausible for sakura to develop real feelings for sasuke during this time. and if that is not enough, if you need deeper, thematically fulfilling reasons -- well, i sort of object to that on principle. i think friendship, having fun with one another, being at ease around each other -- these are all perfectly good reasons to fall in love with someone. and you may say that naruto also fulfills this criteria, but if sakura was physically attracted to sasuke and not naruto -- well, i think that's fine too, and it certainly doesn't warrant any moral judgment. people say often that sakura should have ended up with lee or naruto -- the first of whom stated outright that he loved her because she was beautiful, and the latter who introduced her as a "pretty girl" -- but whether their feelings are shallow is not endlessly dissected. (it's not narusaku or leesaku i protest to here, just the double standard)

but for the record, i think kishimoto did write in enough for us to understand why sakura would fall for sasuke in particular. i discussed this in another post, but alongside ino, sasuke sparked the most significant character growth for sakura. he was the first to make her reevaluate her treatment of naruto (and by extension, her rose-tinted view of the world), he was the first (and only) of their teammates to express disappointment that she wasn't investing in her own skills, he figured out when she felt insecure and reminded her of the areas in which she was more proficient than the rest of the team. sakura's initial idealized view of sasuke does not endure for a number of reasons, one of which is that the real sasuke actually expects her to hold her own and sees potential in her. for sakura, whose main motivation as a character is to become stronger for her teammates, this must mean a great deal! we mostly lose track of this element of sasuke and sakura's dynamic in part 2, which is a shame, but when she cracks open the earth with only her fist, naruto and kakashi are utterly astonished, while sasuke just smiles -- like it is no surprise, like she's been capable of it all along -- so there is that, i guess.

(and for more on thematically fulfilling, see this post on what i think could have played out if sakura were not relegated to a side character in all but panel presence in part 2. but really, i find it so interesting that sasuke and sakura both repeatedly have a lot of trouble suppressing their compassion to do what is expected of them as shinobi. apart from sasuke, i think sakura is also the only character to express that human life has inherent value -- at least, she says something along those lines when she fights sasori.)

anyway, post-forest of death, sasuke version 1 has pretty much dissipated in sakura's mind -- the only place he ever existed -- and sakura's treatment of sasuke changes further. she stops intruding on his physical boundaries, stops flirting, stops asking him out -- she's there for him, but as a friend first. she hugs him in the hospital, but that's not necessarily a romantic gesture (she's physically affectionate by nature, which is why she ambushes naruto with a hug in the same manner at the end of the pain arc) and sasuke finds it comforting (signalled by many things, chief among which is that naruto leaves the room after observing sasuke's face). and yes, she confesses to being in love with him twice afterwards, years apart, but that is only because she is extremely stressed and panicked and wants him to stay for his own (and the second time around, add in naruto's) safety. her first confession is too centered on her own feelings, while the second is just woefully oblivious (through little fault of sakura's -- she doesn't know why sasuke is so intent on destroying the shinobi world), but neither of them come with the condition of sakura wanting sasuke to stay only so he can be with her. sakura wants sasuke to be safe! she wants him to be mentally sound! she lets him know that she cares about him!

i absolutely need to reiterate: at no point in part 2 does sakura display any sense of entitlement to sasuke. she always pleads with him to stay, rather than demanding anything of him. and even in the privacy of her own thoughts, sakura ponders bringing sasuke back in a few contexts: she wants sasuke to be okay, she is so sorry for burdening naruto, she needs to help naruto, and if sasuke comes back, they can all be a team again. romance does not even enter her mind. it is such a willfully egregious misread of the text to say that she only wanted sasuke back so they could be together.

moreover, it is honestly just nonsensical to me when people say sakura wanted sasuke as a prize, because it laughs in the face of her entire character arc and completely ignores why her pre-series crush existed at all. back then, sakura wanted sasuke as a status symbol. as of part 2, though, he is decidedly not what konoha's society would see as the ideal man. in the eyes of the state, he is a wanted criminal. sakura, meanwhile, is a student of the hokage, one of the most skilled medics in konoha at the ripe age of 16, and one of the most powerful shinobi of her generation (a feat achieved entirely through her own labour). she has stood next to her teammates in battle and helped take down a literal god. she does not need sasuke to feel fulfilled. nevertheless, she chooses, every day, to care about him, even though it would be infinitely easier not to. and if sakura wanted to haul around a status symbol in the form of a boyfriend, if only to bolster her already impressive profile (which she would not. that's the point!) -- naruto, konoha's new favourite traumatized teenager, is like. right there. but sakura loved naruto before he was proclaimed a hero by konoha, just like she continues to love sasuke even though he is very far from the coolest boy in their class.

my feelings on chapter 699 are... mixed, because the way things resolve for sasuke is just so sad, but what we see play out between him and sakura is: 1. sakura asks to come with him 2. sasuke is 100% comfortable saying no (how do the "sakura forced sasuke to be with her" truthers reconcile with that one, lol) 3. sakura appears mildly disappointed but like. she'll survive. that's it. then he thanks her, taps her on the forehead (but promises he'll see her soon, in an inversion of what that gesture meant from itachi), and we leave them in a pretty hopeful place, all things considered. there's room for reconciliation, for growth, for love. (and i don't want to hear about post-699 because i don't care. i don't consider it canon, and pretty much no one on tumblr does either, except to occasionally shit on ships they don't like)

this ended up being way too long, but i want to say: if you don't like sasusaku, that's your prerogative. i'm not here to change your mind. i certainly think they should have been written better in part 2 (but i'd argue that, like, 99% of those issues are just a natural consequence of sakura being continually sidelined by the narrative, rather than problems inherent to the relationship itself). regardless, i think too often people let their opinion of a ship impede character analysis. to claim that sakura relentlessly propositioned sasuke and that she saw him as a prize does such a huge disservice to how much she has grown and what she has accomplished over the course of the series.

[acerathia]

pink camellias || Chapter 1: hyacinth

Chapter Summary:

purple hyacinth: sorrow

Wordcount: 3.2k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

Tags/CW:

royalty au, inspired by Mulan, war and its consequences, violence, childhood friends to strangers to companions to lovers (i am sorry), Angst, Acts of Service, Character Death (Major, and Minor), swordfights, misogyny, f!reader, kidnapping, implied torture, let me know if I missed anything lol

Note:

I got too impatient, so, I'm posting the first chapter today lol, still, i hope you enjoy reading it!

You opened the windows as soon as you woke up. As the soft sunlight warmed your skin, you watched the breeze rustle the flowers of the garden. Beyond that garden was a beautifully constructed posh house, barely blocking your view to the adjacent village. The rows of different houses gave the scenery a special kind of feel. The view was breathtaking, the bustling of all these people making you feel alive under your skin. 

You stood by the window, trying to discern the lives of the common people below you in the valley. There was a small stripe of forest bordering the village and the mansion, which stood atop a hill. 

“I wonder how life is down there”, you mumbled before looking back to your bed.

The softest of fabric was spread over the king-sized bed and you slowly stepped closer, your hand enjoying the feel of silk between your fingers. Then with a tiny jump you threw yourself onto the mattress, sinking deeply in its comfort and warmth.

With a sigh, you tried to imagine living in such a village. Maybe you would operate a bakery, making tasty bread and confects. You would wake up early, which you usually would never even think about, but this was only imaginary. If you were lucky, you could watch the sunrise for some time, while waiting for the dough to rise. Your hands would be kneading and caressing the dough into different, but nonetheless tasty goodies for the day, the lit oven warming your back with a gentle sigh. It would hug the soft dough and prepare it for the day.

After the bread and sweets would be ready, you would open up the shop, awaiting the first jingle of the door. You would, as usual, greet the oncoming customers, the ones you saw regularly with some deep questions, and the newer ones with some welcoming small talk. Your heart would beat in happiness every time something of yours would find its home somewhere else. And if everything got sold, you would close the shop and head to the market to replenish some of your necessities. If not, you would go around and give the bread to someone who would need it at the moment, not wanting to let anyone go hungry. 

You imagined such a routine to be relaxing and enjoyable, especially connecting with so many people. The wish to go out and change something for yourself lit a spark, even if the possibility of leaving this place without guard would never happen. 

Some day you would wake up with the hope of appearing in another place, like the characters in your stories. Landing inside a novel with the knowledge of every scenario, being actively a part of some grand scheme or an adventure. But no matter how long you kept your eyes closed, you stayed in your little bland life. 

Sometimes you would dare to write down some ideas, with your scrawly font. And while doing so you blamed yourself for not listening to your teacher when learning how to write. But you wrote. You wrote every little idea that emerged in your little head. Huffing and puffing when the intricate dreams vanished after waking up. 

With a low grumble, you stared at your ceiling. You grew weary of only imagining things and felt the urge, the desire to actually live your own adventure. 

“My Lady, I’ve brought water to wash up”, the voice of your maid Hana sounded before she entered the room. 

You furrowed your brows, wondering how long you had been lying there, and if you would succeed in sneaking out, if your maid wouldn’t be so punctual. But you only greeted her and rolled from the bed to walk towards a stool.

While you were washing your face, Hana brushed your hair gently and got rid of all the knots taking residence on top of your head. You looked into the mirror, feeling the soft towel on your skin. 

This was your face, even if you wished you were another person. No matter what you think, the baby fat on your face would not dwindle until much later. For a moment you wondered how soon your birthday was. 

“You should go to the dining room to eat some breakfast, my Lady.”, Hana told you, after helping you into a simple baby blue wrapper. Something simple for your indoor endeavors, as you did not plan on leaving this mansion any time soon. 

With a nod you made your way to the dining room, greeting your father, who was leaning over some papers spread over the table. 

“Good morning sweetie, did you sleep well?”, he asked while stretching his arms for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“Yes, thank you for asking, Father.”, you smiled with a slight crook, before turning to greet your mother the same way. 

After the greetings, you took a seat and started eating your breakfast. 

Despite the current silence at the table you were quite attached to your parents, as they were to you. They both were loving and warm and so doting on their only daughter. And who were you to resist getting spoiled like that? You would do anything for your parents, and even if you longed to go outside and experience new things, you were aware how your disappearance would break their hearts, and yours. 

“Ah, we’re supposed to return to the palace today, did you prepare your luggage, or did you forget again?”, your mother started speaking with an amused smile after finishing the meal.

“Mother! Of course, I prepared everything! But, I’m still going to ensure that everything has its place.”, you hurriedly responded and jumped from your seat. Soft chuckle followed you out of the room. 

How could you forget the return to the palace? Your father was the marquess and your mother attended to the queen herself. And despite your current young age, you wanted to make a good impression on the people living there, even if they may have already formed one around your person. But nothing speaks against working to better those impressions. 

With the help of your maid, you threw everything you may need in that visit into a tiny case, fitting for your tiny stuff. And when Hana suggested you take your stuffed cat with you, you vehemently refused. Because what if someone saw it and thought of you as inferior? Especially little kids your age, they were usually the most vicious and you refused to be the victim of their bullying. 

After making sure everything was in order, you let your maid help you into some outdoor gown with the same blue color as the other one. With a fitting pair of gloves and a bonnet, you were ready to leave your home for your stay at the palace. 

Clutching Hana’s hand you made your way outside to the awaiting carriage. The coachman already heaving their luggage into its respective space. But you didn’t need his help to get into the carriage, not even Hana’s help. You grabbed some of the fabric of your dress and took the large step with one stride. The next step let you tumble into the insides of the carriage, where you immediately acted like everything went as planned. 

Hana took the seat in front of you and the car slowly left the property. You knew that your parents were in the carriage in front of yours, so you did not fret and simply enjoyed the passing sights of the marquisate.

After a couple of minutes, someone slightly shook you and you blearily opened your eyes. You didn’t remember closing them in the first place. Did you already arrive at your destination? That was weird, you thought the way would take some hours. But beggars shouldn’t be choosers and you didn’t mind that very convenient time skip of sleep. Even if you now felt tired and grumpy. 

With half-closed lids you let Hana lead you to the inside of the palace, where you already occupy a room. This wasn’t the first time your character visited the palace, but every time felt like it was. And no matter how much you wanted to look around, you felt drained and wanted nothing more than to continue your nap in peace. 

The moment you stepped into the room, you threw yourself onto the bed, without care of your bonnet falling off your head. But for some reason you could not fall asleep again, making you whine into the soft pillows, before sitting up. 

And before you could even plan anything for the afternoon, someone started knocking on your door. 

“Hello! We were wondering if you wanted to play knights with us?”, a boy your age with bright green eyes, Izuchan,  asked you with a smile, the moment you opened the door. Another was lingering with crossed arms and a slight scowl. 

You turned to look at Hana, who just nodded with a sigh before you also nodded to the boys in front of you. “Yes! I’d love to participate in a game!”

With that, you followed them outside, where the sun shone upon your heads and warmed you slightly. 

They immediately started clashing their wooden swords and began screaming something about ‘villains’ and ‘crime’. You wondered when it would be your turn, but you didn’t hold a wooden sword in your hands. 

For some reason you felt the need to fix it, so you started wandering to the training camp of the real knights, looking for some kind of sword you might be able to use. 

The only thing you discovered were of course actual knights in training. Their movements and the swing of the sword in their hands were mesmerizing and you could not help yourself but stare. Their flow seemed like a hidden dance, its steps only obtained by the truly worthy. 

You felt trapped in watching the blades clash, eliciting bursts of tiny stars. A desire to wield this magic grew in you and a grin formed itself across your face. Now you fully understood the reason everyone admired knights. And you desired to be one. 

You barely managed to rip your gaze from their dangerous dance only to see the object you were seeking only minutes ago. Without a second thought, you grabbed the wooden sword to return to the fighting boys. Only to see them running towards the training grounds, their gaze focused on something behind you. 

And what were you supposed to do but follow them? So you ran with them towards a group of people converging around a massive person. 

“Allmight!”, Izuchan gasped and started talking about the best knight in this whole kingdom and you couldn’t do anything but listen with rapt attention and interest. 

Kacchan tried to get to the overrun knight, but before he had the possibility of reaching him, Allmight found the right timing to detach himself from the crowd and thus was missed when the boy finally broke through. 

The blond started raging, concealing his disappointment in a fit of anger and screams. The other boy tried to calm him down, yelling ‘Kacchan’ to get his attention.

Undeterred by his outburst you gripped the wooden sword tighter in your hand and declared something to him, maybe you hoped to calm him down or to distract him from his missing hero. 

“I am going to be a knight! One better than you!”, you declared war on these two young boys, who were supposed to be your friends, but your ambitions seemed to destroy any semblance of kinship. 

“Hah? A girl can’t be a knight, are you stupid?”, Kacchan immediately replied, his anger only simmering, but directed at you nonetheless. 

“You’re stupid!”

While you could have replied with a better comeback, annoyance made your brain empty, only the desire to show him filling you to the brim. 

Without waiting for the next words of this brash boy, you turned and ran towards the toy dummy, which has been abandoned offside the actual training grounds. You didn’t care if your dress stained, the seams filling with mud, as you hit the dummy repeatedly, acting as if you were already a seasoned knight. 

The two boys joined you soon after. And while the blond and you could not do anything but push each other into anger, you still played with your wooden swords, even if any of you would have dared to say that it has been a fight for life and death. 

And if your maid clicked her tongue and reprimanded you for ruining your dress, you only responded with your dreams and hopes of becoming a knight. Out of necessity, your maid had, soon after that conversation full of sighs and aspirations, sewn you some proper clothing resembling the ones of a knight. 

With your pants and shirt, you continued to fight your friends at every possibility, even if it meant getting stained in blue blood underneath your skin and ripped hair between your fingernails. 

***

The seasons have passed and you still lived at the palace with your mother. You spent your daily life studying everything this place had to offer and everything your duty obliged you. But the moment you managed to free yourself some time, the people found you in a pair of pants, swinging that old wooden sword with your friends. 

Finally, you had finished your reading for the day, getting some free time for your extracurricular activities. But before the teacher could properly dismiss you, your maid knocked and entered the room, a grave expression marring her face. 

“Miss, I’m afraid, your mother is at death's door…”, she started speaking, but you jumped from your chair, grabbing the fabric of your dress to allow you to run as fast as you managed. 

Your mother, your dear, loving mother, laid there, unmoving in her too-big bed. Her pale frame almost sunk into the soft fabric of the bedding and you were afraid. You were so afraid to step too close and to hurt her. 

Still, you carefully sat at the end of the bed, taking her hand in yours, as soft as your rough hands cared to achieve. You only had eyes for her, everyone around you nothing but a blur. Nonetheless, you caught some pieces of information from the people hurrying around you in a senseless frenzy. The white plague. Your mother has been suffering under the act of consumption for longer than any of the people around her anticipated. Her paleness mistaken for lack of sun and worry. Her feverishly red cheeks and lips simply for a mistake in the chosen shade. 

You wondered how long she had been plagued by this illness. How long had she been suffering without anyone taking notice? Had she already known prior to this? 

Suddenly her lack of presence in your life in the last couple of months started to make sense. She knew you would have noticed her lack of energy immediately. How could you not? Your mother used to be the sun in any dark room. Her presence soothing and warm, even if bright. This woman in front of you was nothing but a pale, sick shadow of her old self. And it hurt you.

It hurt to see the most important person in your life suffer and on the brink of death. Oh, how you would do anything to soothe her aches and take her pains away. 

Something cold dripped onto your hands, but you were not able to find the source of those tiny drops. Not until you took a shuddering gasp and a sob broke free, your lungs yearning to scream and cry. 

Even if you grew weary and bored of your life, you cared for this woman, it drove you crazy. How were you supposed to move on after this? 

People grabbed your sobbing shoulders, but you refused to let go of her frail hand. Someone was whispering empty words into you and you didn’t react with anything but a heartbreaking wail, lowering your head against her hand, pressing her cold skin against your cheeks. 

Despite your vehement protest, someone managed to loosen your grip around your dead mother, leading you into your room. After getting pushed onto your own bed, everything became a blur. 

You barely noticed getting moved around or getting into a carriage. The only thing you numbly remember was the regret of not telling your friends about your hasty departure. Even if you yourself had not known about it until you arrived back at the mansion you used to live at. You supposed this was your actual home, even if the palace felt more like it. 

After your arrival at the mansion, you refused to eat and did not leave your room under any circumstance. At some point, your father's worry grew and he started trying to lure you with different things. Most of them got no reaction from you at all. 

“Hello dear. How have you been?”, he asked with a soft voice, taking a seat at the end of the bed. You gave him a tired smile as an answer, your voice itching and scratching. 

“Good, good.”, he nodded, taking your hand in his. “I know I have said it multiple times already, but you need to get out a bit… I know, I know. But she would not want you to suffer in such a dark room.” He tried to persuade you, already knowing your answer, even just with your nonverbal facial expressions. 

“How about this: You still want to be a knight, don’t you? Well, then we shall get you some proper sword master to teach you. Can’t have you swing a wooden sword without instructions forever.”, and his suggestion made you perk up. 

You still wanted to master swordsmanship, but your father had never supported that particular endeavor of yours. Until to this day, it appeared. Even if the circumstances should have been better, your mother should have been there to celebrate that milestone with you. Still, you knew she would have wanted you to run towards your dreams, even if she wasn’t there. You decided to dedicate this work of life to her before you agreed to your father's suggestion with a slight nod and a hesitant smile. 

And your agreement seemed to spark some happiness in the eyes of your old man, as his smile gained that special depth. Without further words, because you simply didn’t need to, he pecked your forehead, before standing up. And if he pulled the curtains open and let you bask in the warmth of the estranged sun before he left your room, then so be it. Because this time, the sun didn’t symbolize another day without her, but a new opportunity dedicated to her, in remembrance of her. Starting with that day, you promised yourself to think of her every time you held a sword. Your dear beloved memories with her would lend you whatever strength you would have needed in any possible situation. 

Your gaze wanders out of your window, into the beautiful garden. And you were mesmerized by the whipping flowers, almost like it was your first time seeing them. With this breathtaking, familiar view you held your promise close to your heart and planned on never letting go.

[seashelldom]

— TARDY ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Volume One !

pairing: ao'nung x na'vi omaticaya fem!reader

genre: mentions of death, blood, guns, etc. (not as extreme as sounds.) minor spoilers.

synopsis: Y/N, you are the firstborn of the Sully family a mere one year older than Neteyam. After the fiasco with the sky people, the decision was made. You and your family were set to reach the Metkayina clan in hopes of saving your people. But, in a twist of events, your own arrival was affected by an attack. Sky people. What happens to you? Or your family?

wc: 818

a/n: first fic ! hope i do it right 😭 ao'nung isn't introduced in part 1 but he will be later on!! nevertheless, enjoy!

Crouched down I was listening to my parents quarrel in their non-stop argument and a serious one at that. Whether or not we had left our home would determine the safety of the people. Our people. ("No! This is our home!", yelled Neytiri.) I got taken aback by my mother and father arguing so I stepped back into the hands of Neteyam. His eyes were hopeful with desperation.

"When will they stop?", muttered Tuk in a drained voice. Her eyelids felt like the weight of the world was on them. ("This will protect the people! ...... Quaritch has Spi.... that kid knows everything!") Tired yourself, you picked up your little sister and entered the tent.

Both your mother and father glared at you with rage. Not for you but for each other. "Tuktirey is tired. I am tired. Everyone is tired. Save this for another night." Neytiri looked at Tuk feeling a strong wave of motherhood over her. With her instincts, she paced to you and lifted her youngest and watched shortly as she snoozed in her arms.

"There's no need to continue this another night. We're leaving for the Metkayina clan islands first thing next week.", said your Father with his roaring voice. Looking over, Neteyam, Lo'ak, and Kiri fixated on their own opinions but it all came down to it. We were headed to the islands next week.

Kiri was sitting next to me, packing all her trinkets and whatnot for the journey ahead of us. "We don't need those things if we're on banshees for days.", you said in a playfully smug tone. "We need food." Kiri just rolled her eyes to not contribute to my attempt at amusement.

Brushing off my own remark I reminded myself I was supposed to go hunt. "... That reminds me, I'm off to the forest for some meat.", you swiftly spoke before Kiri reminded you that your father said to return before eclipse.

I nodded in understanding, grabbed my bow, and walked out of the tent.

While hunting I took in the beauty of Eywa the trees and roots, some flowers blooming and some not. Breathing the fresh air of the forest before having to breathe a salty one. I just couldn't keep my mind off having to leave the forests, our home. A swift motion snapped me out of my constant sadistic thoughts. I quickly leaped on the branches of the trees surrounding me to get a better aim at the hexapod I had seen. This beast was a good catch, if I hit it, it would suffice the entire family for a good 3 days. Just when I was about to shoot it with my bow I heard something and the creature dashed away. Gun. Bullet. Shot. Blood. Dead. Loud. These thoughts were racing through my head until my moment of realization. Sky people. I sprinted with urgent panic thinking about my family. Were they still alive even? I heard many crashes and screaming. I heard my mother. Oh my god. Was she scared? Or looking for me? How is Tuk? And my siblings? When I got to the scene I was quiet and alert because I was so frightened. "They're gone, rode off on their dinosaur pets.", said one voice. I glanced for a second and saw soldier sky people, the ones my father had fought with. The ones that killed many of my people and the Hometree. Before I knew it they had left in their massive metal creature. When I ran to the tents there was no one. At least no one was alive to tell me was had happened. I dashed as fast as I could to my family's tent and there was no one in sight. Tears left my eyes as I dropped to the floor at the sight of so many of my people dead. I remembered what the sky people had said earlier. "They're gone, rode off.." My family might've been alive and well. They must've rode off at the sight of the sky people. If they weren't in the tent or forest then there was one location they would be at. The Metkayina.

© seashelldom 2023 ; all rights reserved ; do not translate, copy, claim my work as your own, or repost on another site.

[udretlnea]

An Idealized Image

Prompt: You die after getting hit by a truck and inspect your suddenly ideal appearance in the new world. Inspired by this post by @mists-reading-nook

A/N: Man, starting a story with disconnected parts is fun and difficult. First time using this literary device so be patient with me.

Words: 755

You hadn’t expected getting hit by a truck to hurt so damn much. But you’d gladly do it again if it meant you’d protect a child from getting run over.

Although you were dying, you still could feel the barest sensations around you; vaguely there was muffled shouting and crying. Good, the kid was safe and the driver was getting yelled at. Not that that mattered to you anymore.

Oh well, at least it’s over now. 

The first world has been chosen. Initiating upload link.

You thought you heard someone, but that’s crazy. You were dead. The dead don’t hear voices. Maybe this was one of those post-death auditory hallucinations. Do…do the dead even have those? Actually, I guess nobody would know…except the dying. Ugh. What a morbid thought. I expected myself to have prettier final thoughts.

Link established. Uploading soul to the Samsara system now. Beginning samsara cycle #1…godspeed.

There it was again. You started thinking that maybe you weren’t dead, when suddenly you felt your soul being pulled down…down…down into the darkness. Rather than become panicked you felt a sense of peace. You allowed yourself to be carried until you felt a shift in the pressure around you.

Before you could realize what was happening, you blacked out.

////

He’s not waking up…should I do it manually?

Hang on, what are those kitsunes doing?

You feel something tap-tap-tapping against your side. Your eyes flutter open, barely registering the fact that there’s green all around you. Turning your head, you see several orange foxes nudging your body. The sleep leaves you immediately. You surge to your feet and back away from them

They didn’t make any moves toward you. The littlest one stared at you with its big eyes; after a moment it seemed to be satisfied. It turned to the others and made a sound. It wasn’t long before they ran away, leaving you by yourself. Come to think of it, where were you? 

Everywhere around, you can see plants, trees, and just general things you’d find in a forest-wait, forest!?

Oh no, where the hell did I end up? Is this some kind of spiritual afterlife? You run, not really going anywhere, just someplace to get your bearings. You find a small stream. Thinking quickly, you examine your reflection, fearful that you looked like a ghost. However, what greets you instead is your pristine face without any blemishes.

Huh? Is that…me? No, no it can’t be. I’m not that…I’m not this immaculate! This is a dream, this has to be a dream! You do anything you can to wake up; you smack, slap, and pinch yourself all in that order, but it’s no use. It seems you weren’t dreaming. 

Defeated, you decide to examine yourself. Amazingly, your skin was smooth, but you don’t recall it being like that. Furthermore, your eyes were completely different. Since when were your pupils a yellow pinprick, or your irises a brilliant shade of silver? Most concerning of all was your hair. It was white as snow. You pull at it, looking closely at the roots to check if it wasn’t dyed. You looked rather beautiful. Additionally, you finally noticed that your clothes were different. 

When you died, you were wearing a hoodie and regular pants and shoes. Now, you were wearing a simple white kimono; a closer inspection revealed that it looked like genuine silk. Confused yet satisfied with your examination, you looked at your surroundings. Everything was slightly dark as if it were nighttime.

Weird, but ultimately it doesn’t matter. What DOES matter is figuring out where the heck I am. You push yourself off the ground, shaking the dirt off of your clothes. You look around you, wondering which direction to walk towards when something catches your eye. Squinting, you could make out the silhouette of a city in the distance. It almost looked like Japan, but at the same time, it wasn’t. Well, there’s the path to civilization right there. Now all I need to do is get over there without trouble.

You notice a well-worn path. You take it, pleased that you took the first step in your journey. Hopefully, you’d find what you needed to know.

////

Elsewhere, a solitary figure was meditating alone in a different plane of existence. Here in this space, she would achieve eternity and resist erosion.

And then she felt it. A sudden wave of divine energy sent tingles throughout her incorporeal body. This was unprecedented…what could have caused it? She needed to know. She had to know.

[boilbluedenim]

Over the liminal mindscape

I love and hate how this show's ending is completely left up to interpretation, mainly because of Wirt and Greg's potential deaths and how that makes me feel about the show as a whole. It attaches a sort of bittersweet feeling to it which I'm not too sure about. more on that soon though.

Anyway, when paying even just an inkling of attention to this show, you can almost immediately connect the dots and come to the conclusion that none of the adventures (for the most part) actually happened. This conclusion is heavily drawn from the frames we see at the very beginning, of Wirt, Greg, and Jason Funderburker (the frog) drowning. (ep 1)

and from the frames where Wirt wakes up in the water after having said goodbye to Beatrice, saving his brother and the frog by carrying them both out of the water. (ep 10)

Taking into account that Wirt, Greg, and Funderburker all fell into the water moments before almost getting hit by a train, which we discover in episode 9; Into The Unknown, I think it's pretty safe to assume that this is, in fact, the case and that OTGW takes place in either a mental space or a physical limbo, occurring while they are all in the process of drowning.

Another thing I'd like to mention is that OTGW is heavily based off of Dante's Inferno, which, in the simplest of summaries, is a poem about a journey that begins in a forest, leads through hell, and eventually into heaven, hence the theorized death I mentioned earlier. It's actually pretty easy to spot where these references and homages lie, for example, the formula of the story is somewhat similar, and the characters take on similar roles. (for example, Virgil: Beatrice/Woodsman(?)or even Greg in some cases, Beatrice: Sara, Dante: Wirt.) (please read Inferno or a summary of it to fully understand this if you haven't already because it's actually really interesting).

Rewatching OTGW with this in mind led me to realize a lot of things that I originally passed off as unique writing choices with no actual meaning behind them. Then again that could be the case but what's the fun in assuming that?

Upon entering the unknown, we're launched into a universe with a seemingly ever-changing time period. Characters talk funny and fancy, dress and act as if they're from the 1600s-1700s, and none of our protagonists seem particularly fazed by this (except for Beatrice, occasionally) with Greg using a phrase such as "brother o'mine" and Wirt's dramatic poetic rambles. Everything feels very inspired while also being all over the place, almost as if it's been composed from memories, lying in the pits of somebody's mind...

Wirt is a Huge Nerd.

If I am to believe that this show takes place in one of our protagonists' minds, which I do in fact believe, then I would say that that protagonist has to be Wirt. Wirt has a tendency to go on poetic spiels, even dropping two of them in the very first episode. Accompanied by his teenage boy dread (being a nerd at 14 is tough) and his overextending knowledge about curious things, which he showcases in his exclaim at Beatrice's ability to talk and his comment about one of the rooms in Endicott's mansion (below), It becomes a glaring possibility that OTGW is primarily from Wirt's point of view, with the Unknown existing solely in his head.

I've actually seen this point argued before, with some people mentioning the black turtles on the poster in Wirt's room or just his entire room in general. However, if true, that doesn't really answer the question of whether the unknown exists as a physical space or a mental one, having no supernatural effects on the real world.

2. The Implications of the Bell

Okay, so, listen.

I hate to be the kind of person who goes "Well it's probably just a fun and silly bit that doesn't actually mean anything." but I'm gonna be that person anyway, or at least I'm not going to assume character death because I don't want to and free will is a thing blablablabla. I will however be serious for a second and try to provide a tangible reason for why I think this scene doesn't have any real-world implications.

For one, this scene immediately jumpcuts to a voiceover, followed by scenes that serve as conclusions for the stories of the characters we've met along the way, all of them being positive. I think this serves the purpose of letting us know the story did in fact have a good ending, with Wirt learning how to treat his brother with respect. I also think that ties into the theory above.

Not only does the unknown serve as a mental limbo but it also serves as a lesson for Wirt in particular. This journey is riddled with self-critique, characterized as Beatrice, all the while Wirt is drowning and realizing he's not only failed himself but his brother as well.

3. The Beast

Surprisingly I haven't mentioned the beast yet even though he's very important to the story. The beast represents a couple of things, one being death and two being the overarching, real-world problem. Those may sound like the same thing, and honestly, they are depending on what you think the problem is. To me, it's Wirt's relationship with, and treatment of Greg in the real world that bleeds into the universe of the unknown.

The exchange that Wirt has with the beast at the end of episode 10 fully encapsulates his character growth. The characters his mind has created have actually taught him something, that being; wallowing in sorrow and accepting your fate is just going to lead you further down this winding path, or in this case, to the bottom of this lake. You will never get home.

Unlike I've seen others suggest, this is not a story of a boy failing and dying while so wrapped up in his own fantasy, eventually residing in a false heaven. Instead, everything is put back where it needs to be.

From the forest, through the unknown, and finally, back home.

[scandalouslamb]

I think when I started reading tbosas I knew very little and it and I was like. It’s a book for children how bad could it be. And then Sejanus and Lucy Gray die (?) in the space of fifty pages. and Lucy Gray is so young. She’s so young. And I keep thinking about her dying alone and afraid in that forest. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. Also the fact that u have thoughts on the Grandma’am is so funny to me. I think she constantly berates Tigris for not being married and for wearing wacky clothes. When she sees someone in a mini skirt for the first time she almost has an aneurysm.

I unfortunately had those death(s?) spoiled for me, but I remember learning about the characters and being like "wait no, maybe i read wrong or misunderstood. their lives are already so bad! and they're making the most of it!".

My real "oh shit moment" while reading was I remember when the tributes got dropped into the zoo I was like "oh? so we're doing this, huh? no glitz or glamor. we're going all on the horror stripped bare and then seeing it covered up with glamor? kinda like roses to hide the scent of blood"

Thanks for the ask! The rest of this post will now be taken over by the....

Grandma'am Thoughts No One Asked For (under the cut)

Grandma'am, What Is Going On in Your Head?

In my mind, the Capitol works primarily on absolute primogeniture and not male primogeniture. I also think that men would take their wives' surname if their wife was from a more influential family, so it's entirely possible to me that Grandma'am is a Snow by birth and her husband is not.

In this case, it's kind of strange that she puts all the pressure on Coriolanus and not Tigris given that Tigris is older . (it's possible that Crassus is older than Tigris' parent so inheritance/responsibility would follow Crassus' line, but you'd think being a Snow woman herself, she'd have as high of expectations for Tigris as Coriolanus and make them clear on the page)

A part of me thinks enforcing a kind of patriarchal view might be a really traditional Capitol view, and reinforcing it is a way to deal with the Snow's loss of fortune. If they can't have wealth or influence, at least they have tradition as an old family that would mean something... (Grandma'am Snow pulling up the ladder behind herself at the expense of her own granddaugher...). I mean her singing Gem of Panem seems to be her clinging to the Capitol to cope too.

Alternatively, if Grandma'am is not a Snow by birth, it seems that she's completely adopted the Snow identity. Her roses are seen as the Snow's roses and she never talks about other family. She's gone all in on Snow. This too can be interesting to explore. It indicates a complete belief in the Capitol's hierarchy of influential families. She married into one of the best families and that makes her one of the best.

Grandma'am potentially not being a Snow by birth and "rattling on about the Snows’ legendary grandeur." (Ch. 1) is wild behavior. What's going on in her head?

Alternatively, there is a third option, and that is she's from a distant Snow branch family marrying into the main line... This would be in line with old nobility... It also raises some uncomfortable questions that I will not be going into, lest I make other people uncomfortable. People are free to ask, I just will save that for a more warned post.

...

In a throwaway line in a Max fic, I named her Gloriam, and that's where the first section got developed in my head and forgotten... curse the tier list for giving me thoughts....