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muzansfangs · 3 months

Text

Bloodstain.

Starring: Aizen Sosuke x f!reader; Urahara Kisuke x f!reader; Urahara Kisuke x original female character (Ran, the mod-soul taking over the reader body, when she is not in the world of the livings); Nnoitra Gilga; mention to Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Shuhei Hisagi and Ulquiorra;

Format: multi-chapters story;

Warnings for this chapter: nsfw, oral sex (Kisuke!receiving), cum swallowing, language, jealousy, slightly manipulative behavior, possessive tendencies, struggling with feelings, denial, inappropriate use of the reader body, death threat, abusive behavior and harassment (from Nnoitora), hair pulling, sexual tension;

Plot: Your cohabitation with Sosuke begins. Upon entering your flat, you two are welcomed by your companion’s worst enemy and the coquettish mod-soul supposed to be your substitute during your absence. What you were not expecting, though, was for the two of them to be involved into an intimate intercourse right over your couch and for your new housemate to make you question yourself once again.

N.B: Here we go! Our dear reader is back in the World of the livings, finally… I won’t even apologize for Urahara being a pervert as per usual, lol. The soul we have ‘adopted’ is called ‘Ran’, which should mean ‘Orchid’ in Japanese. Well, her behavior is questionable, I know, but it will be hopefully fun!

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | TO THE NEXT CHAPTER

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𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫.

The moment you stepped back into the World of the livings, you almost felt disoriented. The mastodontic skyscrapers, the cars rushing down the streets and the noise pollution almost gave you a migraine. When you had to spend weeks into the Soul Society, going back to the chaotic city life came along with some struggles. Once the portal closed behind your back, you sighed in defeat. This was literally the beginning of your personal living Hell. Your life was most likely going to be messed up by the man currently standing right next to you.

That man, right. Aizen Sosuke, the bastard who had indirectly deprived you of your social life and freedom. The same man who had deliberately pushed Shuhei to his limits and caused him to stare at you as if you were a madwoman, a traitress. He was always going to be a puppet master, playing with the feelings and life of whomever had been that unfortunate to stand on his path.

After that small argument with Shuhei, you had refused to talk to Sosuke. Saying your goodbyes to your friends, you had entered the Seinkaimon with a plan mapped out in your head: as soon as you were finally back into the World of the livings, you were going straight to Urahara, asking him for the gigai he had prepared for your new housemate. Now, though, staring at the shop sign of Kisuke’s emporium, you realized he was not there. Where was that man, when you needed him the most? Maybe he had gone to check on the rowdy mod-soul taking over your body during your absence: Ran. If that was the case, you had no other choice than going to your flat.

Without uttering a word, you turned around and began to walk in the direction of your apartment, only for Sosuke to finally remind you of his intrusive presence in your life “For how long are you going to pretend I’m not here? That’s rude and immature, don’t you think?” he asked you, his tone of voice flat.

“Immature?— you sarcastically repeated — You are one to talk, considering you purposefully ignored my request of waiting for me to come back and acted like a petulant child. Yeah, Sosuke, thanks for having disrupted any chance I had to reconnect with Shuhei” you resentfully apostrophised him, glad no one could see you two bickering like this.

Sosuke scoffed “Was it really my fault?”.

You glanced at him briefly, arching an eyebrow inquisitively, before focusing back on the street. Your silence spoke volumes and Sosuke knew you wanted to hear his theory.

“I might have become the center of his attention and provoked him, that’s true. However, why did he leave? He could have stayed, talked to you. Isn’t that what couples do? What I am asking you is: are you sure he cares about you?” he seraphically asked you, chest puffed as he watched your certainties waver. There he was, slithering in your head and controlling your emotions.

Were you really that surprised he was back at showing off his asset of mind manipulation? Obviously, not in the slightest. But the worst part of it was that he kind of had a point, even though you were aloof from admitting it out loud, in his presence, you had been hurt by Shuhei’s departure and seemingly total lack of interest in leading on a mature conversation with you. Watching you take Sosuke’s side had clearly broken his heart, but you had given him a valid reason for you to do it. You did not particularly abided the questionable decisions of the Central 46, then again you did not want any problems with them. You were simply doing your job, keeping the special threat at bay and defending Shuhei from him. The position you had been put in was not of your likings. Then why did he leave?

“Shuhei and I are not a couple. — you curtly said, eventually — Hence, keep your unrequired opinions and that slimy tongue of yours far away from me” you consolidated, before pointing to a modern building in front of you. Home. You were finally home, despite your new murderous companion.

Letting your gaze travel up to the third floor, you saw the window of your living room opened. It would have been easier and better sneaking in from there, especially since you had no keys with you.

“That’s my apartment. We can enter from the window” you stated, watching Sosuke already scrutinizing the area around the building. It was located in a optimal position, to be fair. Not too far from the main shopping streets and close to the public park, if you wanted to relax and take some hours off from the hectic city life.

“What’s wrong now? Does his lordship dislike his new residence?” you queried, but you soon realised Sosuke was actually focused on something else.

His brows furrowed, he darted his eyes from the window to you “Do you live with someone else in that apartment? I can sense an atypical reitasu reverberating through the walls”.

“Uhm… Well, you could say I do, but it’s just Ran. She’s a mod-soul. Is that a problem?” you casually asked him, but you omitted some details about her personality. That girl was surely a curious specimen. She was literally a female version of Kon and thus she had caused you quite the embarrassing problems back then.

Sosuke ignored your explanation and flash-stepped up to the window in a blink of an eye. You sighed, having no other choice than following him right away, but the spectacle waiting for you upon entering your flat was surely a sight you would have never expected to behold. Your jaw dropped, no sound coming out of your throat, as you watched in disgust and horror Ran, in your body, knelt between Kisuke’s spread legs. This was a nightmare.

For a split second, you thought Sosuke was using Kyoka Suigetsu on you, but when your eyes flicked towards him to question him, you were genuinely surprised to finally see a rather irked expression plastered over his face. You had been figuring to see his usual cold-indefference etched on his face, but you were terribly wrong.

The assiduos bob of Ran’s head came to an end, when her senses alerted her of your presence. You watched her widen her eyes, hastily pulling away from Kisuke’s length with an obscene ‘pop’, as she wiped her chin, glistening in saliva, with the back of her hand. Kisuke, however, turned his head leisurely towards Sosuke and you. Shamelessly, he let out a soft chuckle, waving the fan in his hand to greet you two. His lambent grey eyes bored into yours, as he stood up and fixed his pants.

“Ah, welcome back, Y/N-chan!” Kisuke beamed, approaching you two.

Sosuke shot him an earnest glare, refusing to even greet him back. His eyes, you noticed, had now settled upon Ran who had timidly stood back up and was trying her best to clean her face up. Her sense of shame was kicking in, finally. You honestly had no idea how to react. What probably gave you the ick was the fact that Ran had given him head while inhabiting your body. Well, this was just absurd.

You cleared your throat, finally locking eyes with Kisuke “What the fuck was that?” you questioned him.

“A blowjob” Sosuke monotonously uttered from beside you, making you roll your eyes.

Kisuke chuckled, hiding his shit-eating grin behind his fan “Oh, such language, Aizen-san! But, well, we have been contacted by Kyoraku a few hours ago. You could say we were killing the time, whilst waiting for you two to come!” he casually replied, glancing behind his back to check on the coquettish mod-soul currently watching the scene in interest.

Hopping down from the windowsill, you dropped your bag onto the floor and folded your arms against your chest. That mod-soul had crossed the line, there was no way in Hell you were allowing her to take over your body ever again. Confined in the plushie you had chosen for her forever, this was going to be her fate from now on. Judging by the way she was keeping her distance, she probably knew what was coming.

“Pardon me? Listen, I don’t really care about what you do and with you, just… — you paused, eyes downcast as you struggled to keep your composure and find the right words to express your consternation — She’s in my body, Kisuke. Do I really need to tell you why I am upset?” you stated, before glancing back up at him. You wanted to believe he felt, at least, a little guilty about it but, even with that fan hiding the lower part of his visage, you were pretty sure he was grinning in amusement.

Sosuke suddenly snatching away Kisuke’s fan from his hand caught you by surprise, his eyes darkening as he proceeded in talking “Your presence is evidently unsolicited. Give me the gigai you have projected and leave” he flatly said, jaw clenched as he did not even bother sparing you a look. His reiatsu was ominously blanketing the entire flat, coaxing you to inhale sharply and lean your back against the windowsill to find back your balance. Was he defending you?

You knew Sosuke could not really stand the sight of the shop-keeper, but there was not just unadultered annoyance for the past events in his voice. It sounded like there was something personal involved in that, in the way he shoved Kisuke’s fan back against the other man’s chest and glared down at him.

Maybe you were just seeing too much into it. Or maybe Sosuke was struggling to keep his emotions on check, as he always did. Either way, you were in no mood to talk to Kisuke any longer and your housemate’s outburst was strangely appreciated and supported by the offended part of you that shot a blank stare at the former Captain of the Gotei 13.

“I will probably regret saying it later on, but I have to agree with Sosuke. Let’s get this over with, Kisuke” you gingerly agreed with the brunette, before Ran jogged up to Kisuke and wrapped her arms around him, almost protectively, clinging onto the man for dear life.

And only then you caught a glimpse of Sosuke’s face, sternly witnessing to the scene unfolding before your eyes with a rather displeased expression on his face. Was it Ran the problem? Was he upset because Kisuke had accepted the mod-soul’s avances, while she was inhabiting your body? Oh, you could say so, the same glint of possessiviness you had spotted in his eyes yesterday night and early in the morning was back in his splendid irides. This felt awkwardly familiar. You remembered now some other occasions in which he had displayed latent intolerance at your interactions with other men. There was only one of the Espada he trusted around you and it was Ulquiorra. Grimmjow was not allowed to be around you, not after he had caught him tracking down your scent through the corridors of Las Noches, not after you had showed him empathy after he had lost his arm.

He could not let you alone for a second back then. Looking back at it, you were glad he always had your back. More than once, you asked yourself what would have happened to you, if he had not been there to stop Nnoitora from cornering you in a isolated area of the castle.

It was late at night in Las Noches. Looking for your sword, when most of the inhabitants of the palace were asleep, was easier than venturing through the corridors and rooms in the daylight. Deep down, you knew where your zanpakuto was. Still, you were too frightened by the idea of sneaking into that room, into ‘his’ room. Aizen Sosuke would have never trusted anyone to keep your blade but himself. If you wanted your blade back, you had to walk right his den. Walking into his private quarters, though, would have only meant giving him the occasion to get closer to you, to break down the fragile, crumbly wall you had tried to build between you two. You would have never admitted it out loud, not even to yourself, but there was something about him that made you feel free, completely capable of making mistakes and be yourself and not like you felt around the others, as if you were a microscopic ant under a magnifying glass for people to point out your flaws.

You liked him, oh you did, and this was a huge problem, the main reason why you were currently in denial.

You were so lost into the depths of your mind that you barely registered a slender figure approaching you with a Mephistophelian grin promising nothing but troubles and sufferings.

“Ah, what’s Aizen’s pet doing out of her cage?” Nnoitora asked you, tilting his head to the side as his eye scrutinized your body in a way that made your skin crawl. It was not the first time he did that, but the last time he had tried something Sosuke was there to stop him. His presence alone was enough to prevent any of the Hollows to display hostility and inappropriate gestures to you. How pathetic were you for wishing your captor was there to save you?

“I was just going back to my room” you flatly replied, twirling around hastily and making your way back to your bedroom.

It was pretty obvious you were not going to be safe there, not as you felt Nnoitra’s hand latch onto the column of your throat and pulling you back against him. Your eyes grew round, whilst you wriggled in his grasp, your hands attempting to create a barrier from his hand and your neck to let you breathe properly. Maybe, for the first time ever, you felt real fear. Was it not funny how you never felt such a baleful feeling around Sosuke, the worst man living in Hueco Mundo?

“Nnoitra, let me go” you hissed, scrunching your nose up in disgust when his free hand skimmed down the bare skin of your stomach, exposed for the design of your uniform.

The Espada at your back scoffed, his pointy nose gliding down your cheek, his tongue licking a stripe of your skin “Why would I do that? Hasn’t Lord Aizen taught you to be a good pet?” he mocked you, his grip on your neck tightening significantly.

Your vision became dotted, your breath cut short, as your strength began to leave your body. A victim of Nnoitora’s abuses was definitely a pitiful way to go down, or at least it would have been so, for a baritone voice piercing your ears saved your life. There, he was there to save you.

“Haven’t I taught you to keep your distance from her?” Aizen asked calmly, whilst the Espada dropped you instantly onto the floor.

You landed onto the ground on your hands and knees, panting, eyes watering in panic as you bit your tongue not to thank him. You oughted him your life, but being in debt with the very man you were supposed to kill was a stain on your moral code. Your pride was crumbling and you felt so embarrassed that you did not even realise that the Espada had left you alone with Sosuke in the desert corridor.

You did not realise it, until his hand cupped your cheek and you found him knelt in front of you, inspecting your body in search for possible injuries.

“Are you hurt?” he asked you, his thumb grazing your cheekbone, sending shivers down your spine.

Back in your room, you had to flee from there and lock yourself in your stupid room.

“No” you shortly whispered, staring deeply into his caramel brown eyes.

“What were you doing out of your room alone?”.

“I could not sleep”.

“Liar”.

You sighed, grasping his wrist to lower his hand from your face, your eyes averting from him to stare at the void at his back “It’s not your business, I just want to go back to my quarters now ”.

Sosuke did not seem to protest, not as he helped you back on your feet and silently led you to your room. His presence was not suffocating, not at all, but the words leaving his mouth before he wished you a good rest would have haunted you for days.

“I would not be pleased, if something happened to you”.

To pull you back from your small tour in the memories you had made in Las Noches was the mod-soul’s voice, ringing out in the living room as she protested to your request of making Kisuke leave.

“He’s not leaving! What is it, you go to the Soul Society and come back as a holier-than-thou bitch? It’s only fair I have my fun too!” Ran chirped out, narrowing her eyes as Kisuke tried to get free from her overly affectionate embrace.

If only she knew what you had been up to in the Soul Society, she would have definitely not said such a thing. With your eye twitching, you walked up to her and tangled your fingers in her hair, yanking her back towards you. Solving one problem at the time starting from her was the best decision ever and you were currently running out of patience.

Ran winced, hands flying up to try and set herself free from your grip, but you were faster than her “Listen up, you randy minx, if you like Kisuke that much I’ll gladly kick you out of my house as well. Bye and have fun with him!” you snarled, elbowing her on the stomach to let the small green pill pop out of your body. More than them leaving your house, you justed needed some peace.

Ran gagged, as the pill popped out of her mouth, the trajectory leading to Sosuke that quickly grasped it and stared in disdain at the small sphere in his hand. For a second, you got distracted, fearing he was going to destroy it and you let your now lifeless body onto the floor carelessly. It was true that you had gotten mad at Ran, but you did not wish for her to be eradicated from this world. Deep down, you cared about her, enough to gulp down forcefully and extending your hand towards him.

“Nice catch… Hand me Ran back, please” you stated politely.

Sosuke huffed “All it would take to get rid of this insignificant prick would be a mere snap of my fingers. — he reasoned, flicking his gaze up to look at you — Are you sure you want her back?” he inquired, making you regret having hit her all of a sudden and out of irritation.

“Hey, Ran isn’t a prick! She’s my creation and a being!” Kisuke interjected, stomping his foot as he took a step towards Sosuke, his tone actually serious after a long while.

“Is that what you do for a living now? — Sosuke sarcastically asked him, his gaze now transfixed on the shop-keeper — Creating girls for you to exploit?” he provoked him, but you were quick to stop Kisuke from sprinting towards him. Your arms were tightly wrapped around the man who had trained you, now your boss at the shop, a great friend, and your eyes were practically pleading him not to let things escalate.

Kisuke scoffed, grey eyes locking with yours “I will kill him for real this time” he asserted, only for you to shake your head and bring him back on Earth.

“You perfectly know it is impossible to do it”.

Sosuke watched you two almost disinterested in your conversation, rolling the pill between his fingers whilst exploring your flat. He had, in fact, noticed the gigai in the corridor. Albeit he was not a fan of this whole plan of him living in the World of the livings, he could at least enjoy some fresh air in a real body. Ignoring you two, he did not waste any precious time in possessing the gigai.

Catching a glimpse of what he was doing, you gawked and blinked a couple of times in curiosity “What… Oh, you found it” you noted, hearing Kisuke huff and fold his arms against his chest.

“It’s a regular gigai. You will experience all human needs: eating, sleeping, biological functions and impulses… — Kisuke explained, ambling towards the couch to grasp the tiger plushie you usually let Ran inhabiting — Hopefully, it will contain most of your reiatsu. As you can see, you have no cuffs, just the eye-patch. Wear it outside this flat, or I will literally come to stress the hell out of you” he admonished the brunette, before roughly snatching the pill from Sosuke’s hand and walking casually towards the front door. The way Kisuke had said ‘hopefully’ did not go unnoticed to you. Probably, the gigai was not ultimated. Shivers ran down your spine at the thought of Sosuke being a practical nuclear bomb.

Sosuke quirked his eyebrow up, running his fingers through his hair, getting comfortable in his new arrangement “Leave” he merely stated, making you roll your eyes, as you accompanied Kisuke to the exit.

Peace, the incoming peace was the only thing prompting you to collaborate. You were going to have a long talk with Sosuke, once alone, but nothing you could not deal with. After all, he could be reasonable, if he wanted. Well, not with everyone but with you he did. That weird way of getting along never ceased to amaze you.

Opening the door, you waved your hand at Kisuke “See you at work tomorrow, I guess” you said, only for Kisuke to shake his head and motion at the man at your back, leaning against the wall with an unreadable face. He always shut everyone out of his head. It was frustrating. You wanted to know what was going on inside his head, for once.

“Take a week to settle down with mister ‘I-am-a-god-kiss-my-ass’. You must be tired” Kisuke’s fatherly tone surprised you, but you gave up. No, you would have not passed off a chance to take some time for yourself and establish some rules for your new housemate.

“Thanks” you smiled weakly, watching Kisuke wink at you and leave your flat with his usual calm demeanor.

You did not wait for him to disappear from your sight: you walked back home, closing the door behind you and walking to the kitchen in a desperate need of a glass of water. Your back was facing the entrance, as you reached your hand up to the cupboard to grasp a glass.

You never got to reach it, though, not as you felt Sosuke’s fingers tangle in your hair and straining your neck back to face him. It was not a brutal grip, it was firm yet gentle. His breath was warm against your earlobe. Caged between the counter and his body, you did not move an inch, only curling your hands around the edge of the forniture. This could not go on. Was he going to jump on you at any given occasion?

“Sosuke—” you warned him, voice too soft for your own likings, but he hushed you.

“Go back into your body”.

“What—”.

“I don’t like to repeat myself” Sosuke demanded, before delicately nudging you towards the living room, his grip on your hair now gone completely. You had no idea of what he wanted, or why, but you just followed his instructions, slowly entering back into your real body, that was lying onto the floor at his feet. It was just for your sake, not to hear him bitching around any longer. This was what you told yourself.

Staring up at him from this position, you blinked up at Sosuke. You tried to understand what he wanted, the reason behind such a request, and you sat up, but the way he eagerly knelt next to you to grasp your jaw left you startled.

“What’s your deal now? We have tons of shit to do, we cannot waste our time like that” you protested, only for Sosuke to lean his face closer to yours and causing your breath to hitch in your throat. You expected a kiss, foolishly, a kiss that never came, but you ended up being asked a question that left you speechless.

His thumb played with your bottom lip, the pad running over it as he spoke “I need you to tell me if you taste his cum in your mouth”.

You stared at him with wide eyes, your mouth hanging open “Sosuke, what the fuck—”.

He cut you off, once again, getting on your nerves as he clamped your mouth shut forcefully “Focus on what you taste on your tongue” he insisted, making your blood boil in your veins. You did not even want to think about what Kisuke and Ran had been up to and now here he was, asking you to concentrate to detect the slightest taste of Kisuke’s release in your mouth.

You scoffed, fist clenching, while you tried to punch him straight on the nose. His large hand engulfing it, though, made you halt and you bristled in annoyance. He did not even have the rights to ask you about such a thing, let alone possibly feeling pissed about it.

“You are sick, you know that?” you bitterly fired back, only to suddenly realise you actually felt a sour taste in the back of your throat. Your brows furrowed, nose scrunching up as you inhaled sharply through your nose. Well, how ironic it was Kisuke had really come down Ran’s throat, while in your body? Awesome!

You stood up abruptly, Sosuke’s jaw clenching, obviously putting the pieces together “Wash your teeth. I don’t want to smell that stench in your mouth” he coldly asserted, only for you to turn around again and jab your finger at him.

“Hey, that’s my life, my body, my choices. I already made it painly clear that I did not appreciate what’s happened. I don’t need you to boss me around, or defend me” you blurted out, heart thrumming against your ribcage so violently you thought you were going to pass out. Genuinely frustrated, full of rage, mostly irritation for your own feelings, for the things you wished had never happened and the ones you actually would have loved to become true, you cussed under your back.

You hated how he acted like your boyfriend at times, how a friend would, and how possessive he had grown to be through the time you spent together. Your standards had been molded on him, on what he had let you see that one time you really met him before you were even dragged to the Soul Society and for the good man he had let you believe he was.

“You only ever blame everything on me, do you? Is that because it’s easier to hate me than hating your own feelings?” he dispassionately replied, not moving an inch from where he was standing.

If a blade had went clean through your heart, it would have hurt less than his words. Why did he always have to be right? Why did he read you so easily, bringing out all of your fears and thoughts you pushed in the back of your mind?

Your mouth felt like chalk. Standing a few feet away from him, you bit the insides of your cheeks not to lash out and show more vulnerability to the very man who had made mind control his job.

“I won’t stand here and listen to you give me a sermon about feelings, when you can’t even cope with yours” you mumbled, staggering towards the bathroom before tears could spill out from your eyes.

“I heard you liked reading. That’s my private collection. You can come here whenever you want” Sosuke said, standing right beside you in the middle of a large library. Glass bookcases were outlined all around you two, ladders pushed against each of them, crystal chandeliers were hanging from the ceiling above your heads.

You would have never imagined Las Noches hid such a magnificent room within its walls. You were genuinely in awe, your eyes wandering in every angle of the room to explore it. Who had told him you enjoyed reading? Probably, just like he had done with your brother, he had studied each and every move of yours.

“Do you come here often?” you asked him, hand gliding over the smooth surface of a desk, not a grain of dust coated your fingers. He probably sent his servants to clean up the place regularly. A man of power and control who loved stability would have never let his posessions decay.

“Quite often, yes” he replied promptly, keeping a comfortable distance between you two, albeit his eyes never left your frame. He had learned everything about you. Your body language, your reactions to certain provocations, your likings even.

You sighed, turning around to face him “Why would I come here, risking to bump into you then?” quirking your eyebrow up expectantly. After all, you would have rather avoided meeting him more than it was stri ctly necessary. While reading a novel could provide you a form of escapism, his presence would have not helped you relax.

Sosuke faintly smiled, a rare one, before looking straight at an undefined point ahead of him “Because humans make sacrifices for love. I believe you would be persistent enough to keep on reading, if I supposedly ruined your moment of peace with my presence”.

Smart man. He always knew exactly what to do and say.

You straightened your back, resting the small of your back against the edge of the desk “And what do you know about love? You are the last person I expect to talk about human passions. If you can’t feel it, you can’t describe it”.

“Pretty arrogant assertion, Y/N. Why would you say my knowledge of feelings doesn’t come from experience?” he asked you in return, hands behind his back as if he was having just a common conversation.

“Because you can’t feel love. You never did, you never will and surely you don’t feel it now. — you confidently replied, eyes locked with his whilst he listened to you in interest — Your data are the product of the empiric observations of people you met, or novels you have read” you bitterly punctuated.

Maybe you wished to be correct. You really did, but Sosuke never told you if you were right, nor if you were wrong. He simply smiled again, closing his eyes for a few seconds before leaving you there, alone in one of his favorite places, a place he never allowed people to explore.

In the end, you were brilliant, but not observant.

To bring you back to reality was the doorbell ringing. Who could it be now? Considering Kisuke had left and your father did not even knoq you were back yet, you found yourself sprinting out of the bathroom in a rush. You could not risk Sosuke messing up your life by interacting with whomever was requiring your presence. By the time you reached the front door, though, you felt your stomach churn. Sosuke had already opened the door and was apparently striking up a cordial conversation with your obnoxious neighbour who loved gossip. Of course she had to barge in today.

“Mrs. Watanabe, it’s good to see you” you stated, approaching Sosuke, who made space for you to stand next to him on the threshold. Now, the real question was: what the Hell did Sosuke tell her?

“There she is. — the woman piped out, displaying a fake smile that made you want to headbutt her — As I was saying to this handsome man, I did not mean to interrupt anything, but I wanted to ask you if you could be a dear and watch over my daughter tomorrow. I have important matters to take care of and I won’t be home until late in the evening” the woman said, eyeing you suspiciously.

The urge to escape into the Soul Society was quite strong as you suppressed a big ‘go fuck yourself’ threatening to leave your mouth. Instead, you smiled at her and nodded your head “Yes, of course. I’ll be glad to help a fellow woman” you stated, flinching as she bursted out laughing in her typical enervating high-pitched tone that you loathed oh so much.

“Oh, thanks, dear! You know, with the amount of boys I’ve seen come and go from your flat the past few weeks, I thought you were way too busy and tired to watch over Aoi!” the hag chortled, your eye twitching as you scoffed.

Ran. What the Hell had that mod-soul done?

It was time for Sosuke to step in, however, as he cleared his throat “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but my girlfriend and I are quite busy now. I have recently decided to move in her flat and we have to unbox my stuff” Sosuke smoothly interjected, watching the way the woman in front of you gaped at the unexpected news.

My girlfriend and I. My girlfriend and I.

It took you way too long to react and let his words sink in, his arm was already enveloping your waist, pulling you against his chest. He had really screwed up this time. You wanted to protest, you really did, but, when you opened your mouth and no words came out of it, all you could do was watching in horror the way he waved his hand at the woman and the door closed with a click. Panic. You were absolutely going to explode right on that spot as you shoved him off of you roughly, hand gripping the collar of his white shirt to make him lean down at your level.

“I had fucking told you not to interfer with my life. What the Hell did you just do?” you hissed through gritted teeth, whilst he smiled down at you in his own special way. In the way that had made you blush, the first time you met.

Sosuke hummed “She implied you were a whore. I saved your reputation” he defended himself, before grasping your wrist delicately and nudging you towards the wall.

Your back flattened against it, his hands pinning yours above your head as he let his nose brush against yours “Unless you would like to feed her fantasy and let her spread the news you are, indeed, a cheap whore. In that case, I can fuck you hard enough to make your throat burn for the screams you will let out” he whispered, before stepping back all of a sudden and leaving you slump down onto the floor with your cheeks on fire and your breath labored.

Shunsui Kyoraku was going to be responsible for your death, for Sosuke was gradually poisoning you.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Thanks to everyone who is invested in this story! Your support is greatly appreciated, really. Getting down to business, what do you think of Urahara and Ran? I know she was technically in our body, but it was necessary in order to get a certain reaction from our beloved special threat, oops! I will probably give Ran a proper body, beside the plushie form ✨ Also, seeing the reader dealing with a kid will give Sosuke ideas. Trust me.

Until next,

x o x o

TAGS: @pseudowho @seireiteihellbutterfly @onyxino @areyouflying @bakugosgirl01 @noirfan12 @velaenaa

#aizen sosuke x reader #sosuke aizen x reader #aizen x reader #bleach x reader #bleach smut #kisuke urahara x reader #urahara kisuke smut #ichigo kurosaki x reader #grimmjow x reader #kyoraku shunsui x reader

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justagalwhowrites · 3 months

Text

Yearling - Ch. 38: Reckoning

You form a connection with an unlikely companion while Joel searches for you. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-37 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and several steps beyond that. Fairly graphic torture. Attempted rape. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 17.6k

A/N: As with recent chaptesr, I want to state, real quick, that Bambi is NOT going to be sexually assaulted again. This is a highly triggering subject and, given the situation she's in, I understand if folks are bracing for it. That's not going to happen. Things are going to look really dicey this chapter but it does not happen.

We are into the final arc of Yearling and we are going to see some TLOU 2 OVERLAP again. There isn't any this chapter but there will be in this arc and here's how: a character from that game will be mentioned as will the spoiler-y incident from a few chapters ago. What happens plot wise in this arc is completely separate from the game and entirely original content BUT there is that character overlap and more specific mentions of the incident and the motives behind it. This character is in THIS CHAPTER. If you're trying to go in blind to season 2, it might be wise to step back. Feel free to send me a DM, I'm happy to answer any and all questions!

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

She was a girl. Just a girl.

You couldn’t seem to move past just how young she looked, her face twisted into a hateful snarl. There was something gaunt about her features now that you didn’t remember there being before but then, your memory of that day was twisted. You’d been so focused on saving Joel - and suffering from losing blood yourself - that things were hazy. But you were almost certain she’d been more imposing then, a golf club in her grip as she stood over your husband’s broken body.

“You’re with them?” She spat. “Fucking figures, should have known you’d be just as fucking bad as him…”

You cocked your head at her a little, trying to puzzle her out before releasing your hold on your chain and tugging your pant leg up enough that she could see it wrapped around your ankle. It was already rubbing your flesh raw, blood starting to cling to the metal.

“Does it look like I’m with them?” You asked, brows raised. You kept your injured hand cradled to your chest, the throbbing pain where your fingers used to be oddly muddled with the ghost of a feeling of the flesh and bone still there. You kept absently trying to flex them, expecting to feel the tension in the muscle when you moved. Your mind hadn’t quite processed that it wasn’t coming.

The girl - just a girl - clenched her jaw, shaking her head and looking away from you. You dropped your pant leg and pressed yourself tight against the wall at your back, holding your damaged hand with your intact one. It didn’t make it hurt any less but it was still a comfort, to shield that vulnerability.

“What are you doing here.”

The girl said it more than asked it, still not looking at you.

“Same as you, I imagine,” you said, your stomach churning at that, knowing what had probably just been done to this girl. Knowing what was waiting for you. She looked at you then, a darkness in her eyes that you knew well. You clenched your jaw and nodded slowly. “You OK?”

She scoffed.

“Don’t act like you care,” she snapped. “I’m sure you’d love exactly what they’re fucking doing to me, what they’ve been doing to me -“

“No,” you cut her off, tightening your hold on your wrist. “I don’t. I’ve been here before. I know what they do. I don’t wish that shit on anybody.”

She looked at you again, skeptical now.

“That how you met him?” She spat the word, like referring to Joel at all left a foul taste in her mouth.

“Kind of,” you said. “He found me after I got out, saved me from bleeding to death in the snow.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not,” you said, watching her, your chest tight. Joel had told you that his raider days were far behind him and you believed him but you couldn’t think of another reason why this girl would want to hate him in particular. “I owe him my life.”

“So he’s alive then?” She asked, gathering her knees into her chest.

You considered lying for a moment but you didn’t see much point in it. Chances were, neither of you were making it out of this alive, anyway.

“Yes,” you said. “He is.”

She just looked at you for a moment and you wondered, for a second, if she heard you. But then, her eyes brimmed with tears and her lip quivered, her breath quickening.

“Of course he is,” her voice shook before she slammed her fist back against the wall, hard enough that the sound made you jump. “Of fucking course he is! Do you know what I fucking did to get that far? What I fucking sacrificed!”

She screamed and brought her fist down on the sagging mattress again and again until she was sobbing, the kind of choking almost strangled sobs that made you feel like you were going to suffocate when you were in them. It took her a moment to calm down enough to speak again.

“That’s how these fucking assholes caught me,” she said, still taking deep, shaky breaths. “I was looking for some sign of him, of him or of your fucking people. I hoped I’d be able to find out that he died, that I fucking killed him, that I could actually fucking breathe again. Instead, these fuckers got me. Because I hadn’t lost enough to Joel fucking Miller.”

She knew his name. That fact made your breath hitch. It hadn’t been something random or even something from a chance encounter, she knew him in some way. You just didn’t know how.

“Why,” it was your turn to say more than ask. If you were trapped here with this girl, you needed to know if she was going to turn on you. But, more than that, you needed to understand.

You had survived a lot of terrible things since the outbreak but the days you thought you might have lost Joel were some of the worst of your life. You’d trade years of enduring everything Mitchum and his men had put you through if it meant you’d never have to see Joel like that again. You needed to understand what made this girl hate him that much and you needed to know if there was anyone else who would come for him that way. Not that there was much you could do about it here, chained to a wall and in Mitchum’s grasp, but you needed to know that he was safe. That he would continue on and take care of your daughters without this threat hanging over him. You needed that comfort.

“Why do you want him dead.”

“Why should I fucking tell you?” She didn’t seem to say anything without biting it out, like she was made up of rage. You didn’t much blame her. It didn’t take long surviving like this before every other emotion was impossible and, before too long, rage was gone, too.

“Because I’m your best hope of getting out of here,” you said. “I’ve done it before, I can do it again. And I meant what I said, I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Even you. But if it comes down to your life or my husband’s? I’ll kill you. Wouldn’t even lose sleep over it. So you need to tell me why you want him dead because I’d rather not kill you. We can get out of this together but I need to know that you’re not going to kill him when we do.”

“Husband?” She looked at you and laughed once, darkly. “Fucking… You married a monster, you know. A fucking animal.”

“Why.”

“If he hasn’t told you about the shit he’s done…”

“I know what he’s done,” you cut her off.

“And you still married him?” She shook her head, a disgusted look on her face. “Then you’re a monster, too.”

“I can be the monster who saves you or the monster who kills you,” you replied. “How much do you want this grudge to destroy your life?”

“Grudge?” She asked, brows raised. “That’s what you think this is? Like he called me names on the playground? He killed my fucking dad!”

Your chest got tight.

“People kill other people every day,” you said after a moment. “It could have been anyone, it…”

“You know a lot of other guys who slaughter an entire hospital of people in cold blood?” She spat. “People who were just trying to save the fucking world?”

Your face fell and she huffed.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

You’d thought - or maybe hoped - that her rage was a result of something that happened on patrol. That the blame could be comfortably placed somewhere else, that it was something that Joel could maybe even regret having done.

Instead, it was the one thing you knew he would never even apologize for, not in a million years. If it had kept Ellie safe, it wasn’t something he could make amends for. And you didn’t want him to.

“You don’t understand…”

“No, I understand perfectly,” she cut you off. “He murdered my father…”

“No,” you shook your head.

“…and ruined every shot the world had at a fucking cure!”

“That’s not what happened,” you said, straining to keep calm but starting to fail.

“It’s not?” She seethed. “Then tell me! Tell me what fucking happened, give me one goddamn reason why anyone would…”

“He saved our daughter!” You all but yelled it, eyes wide, begging her to understand.

She sat back, laughing darkly once.

“No,” She shook her head. “No, he decided one life was worth more than every other life on the planet…”

“So!”

“SO?” She gaped at you. “That’s… that’s psychotic, that’s…”

“Do you think your father would have done anything different if it was you?” You asked. “You think he’d have just let them kill you?”

“If it meant saving the world?” She asked.

“If it meant anything at all,” you said. “Do you really think he would have let them kill you.”

“He…”

“You’ve done how much to avenge him?” You asked. “Think that means he wasn’t a piece of shit.”

“He was amazing,” she snapped. “Whole hell of a lot better than that fucking…”

“Do you really think your amazing father would have let them kill you,” you asked. “Be honest with yourself. Would he have let them kill you or would he have done the exact same thing as Joel.”

“He wouldn’t have become a mass fucking murderer!”

“Wouldn’t he?” You asked. “You’re not a parent, you don’t know what you’d do for your kids…”

“I know there’s a fucking limit!” She cut you off.

“No, there’s not!” You yelled. “I have two daughters, I’d do anything for them…”

“Even that?” She asked, incredulous.

“I’m only here right now because of them!” You said before forcing yourself to calm down. “I’ve been here before. I barely survived. Some days, I didn’t want to survive but I did and I escaped. But they took my daughters and they wanted me to trade myself for them and I did it without a second thought. They’re my children. I’d do anything for them. And your dad would have, too.”

She just looked at you for a moment and it was like you could see her deflate.

“When it’s your kid, there is no such thing as too far,” you said. “I’m sorry your dad died for that. I am. But I’m not sorry that my kid lived and I’d have killed anyone to make sure that happened, too. I ain’t sorry for that part, either.”

“Then you’re as much of a monster as him.”

You just shook your head a little, turning your attention to your injured hand.

Curiosity got the better of you, even though you knew you should leave it alone. You carefully unwound the cloth they’d put around your wounds where your fingers once were. The burned flesh, at least, had stopped bleeding and was just weeping where blisters were forming. The skin was ragged and the bone was splintered and it was surreal, realizing that part of you had been cut away.

“Jesus,” the girl said and you looked over to her. You’d been so lost in your own pain for a moment, you’d almost forgotten she was there. “That… shit.”

You looked back at your hand and flexed your remaining fingers, staring at where the two should be.

“If you wanted to try to kill me, now would be the time,” you said. “I’m still down a lot of blood, you’d win this round.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” she snapped.

You took a last look at your injury before wrapping it back up slowly, carefully.

“If I’m a monster then…”

“Don’t give me a reason to kill you and I won’t,” she said.

You looked up at her, bandage half around your wound.

“Same to you.”

You went back to wrapping your injured hand, wincing at the pressure put on the cuts. You could feel the girl’s eyes on you as you worked and you cradled your hand to your chest again when you were done, something about holding it to yourself feeling more secure.

“I think we should work together,” the girl said eventually. You looked at her, brows raised. “We’re both stuck here. We both want the same thing. I know what you’re capable of and you apparently know these assholes. You said you got out of here before?”

You nodded slowly.

“I did.”

“Then you know where to start,” she said. “I’ve been here for… I don’t know how long. A few weeks, I think. If you help me, I’ll help you.”

You considered her for a moment.

“What’s your name?”

She considered you back, like she was trying to puzzle you out.

“Abby,” she said eventually. “Yours?”

“Bambi,” you said. She raised her eyebrows. “That’s what everyone calls me, anyway.”

“Stupid fucking name,” she said.

You snorted.

“I don’t really disagree with you,” you said. “Abby, if I help you, I need to know you’re not going to try to kill my husband the second we’re out of here.”

“Are you serious?” She gaped at you before laughing darkly. “Jesus…”

“I’d rather us both die in here than get out and lose him,” you said. “That’s the deal. You leave us alone, we leave you alone.”

“Yeah, because he’d just let me live…”

“We haven’t exactly hunted you down before now, have we?” You said. “That’s the offer on the table. We help each other and we go our separate ways.”

She looked at you, her jaw clenched tight.

“Do you think your dad would want you stuck here, in a place like this, so you could kill someone in his name?” You asked. “Because I wouldn’t want that for my kids. I wouldn’t want them to kill anyone for me at all.”

She ground her teeth, watching you closely.

“Fine,” she said eventually. “We make it out of here, I won’t go looking for him. And if I ever do run into him… He’ll leave alive.”

“Thank you,” you said, relaxing back into the wall.

“What do we do now?” She asked. “You’re the expert.”

“Watch each other’s backs,” you sighed. “I’m in no shape to get us anywhere and I don’t think you’re doing so hot right now, either. When was the last time you got a full night’s rest?”

She scoffed.

“Like these fuckers leave me alone long enough for that.”

“They will now,” you said.

“Right,” she said. “Because you’re magically going to make them back off.”

“Nothing magic about it,” you said. “I just know what I’m worth to their boss. They won’t go through me to get to you, he’d kill them if they did. You can take a breath.”

She looked skeptical but she also looked exhausted. After a moment, she lay down on the mattress, her back against the wall and her arms crossed tight over her chest.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she said before closing her eyes.

“Yeah,” you said. “You too.”

***

Joel rode with one hand resting over your fingers in his pocket.

They were a comfort to him, his heart beating more steadily when he could feel the parts of you there.

He tried not to think about why he found them so comforting. The truth of it nagged at the back of his mind but he tried to leave it tucked away. He wasn’t equipped to face that. Not now.

But the truth of it was, if he couldn’t get you back, he needed to have some part of you he could put in the ground. He wouldn’t be able to bury an empty box so he had somewhere to lie when what was left of the world became unbearable and had a place to go when his time came, too. He had something he could honor and be close to if he lost you now.

“Joel,” Tommy said. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been riding. “We need to rest the horses, we can’t keep pushin’ ‘em like this…”

“They can rest when we find her.”

“Joel,” he said again, and he actually turned to face his brother, his hand still on your fingers in his pocket. He could feel the metal ring of your wedding band beneath his palm.

I promise to protect you. Promise to never let anything hurt you.

“The horses won’t be in any shape to get her out of there if we push ‘em too far right now. We need to rest them, for her sake. We need to rest ourselves, too. Can’t fight if we’re exhausted, it’ll just get us all killed. Please, Joel.”

Joel clenched his jaw. Tommy was right. He knew he was. But it didn’t feel right. He didn’t want to sleep or eat or let another hour pass without knowing you were alive.

“Let’s get to the stream,” Joel said, nodding toward where he knew there would be some water coming up. “Then we can take a break.”

It didn’t take long, the three of them making it to the water almost too quickly for Joel’s liking. But he stopped all the same, dismounting his horse and giving him a chance to drink. Ellie and Tommy did the same, Ellie pacing for a moment before stopping, staring at the water.

“Be back in a minute,” she said. “Need to use the restroom.”

“Don’t go far,” Joel cautioned. She didn’t respond, just stalking into the brush.

Joel stared at the water, too, shifting his weight from foot to foot, adjusting his back as his body settled into a different position than it had been in on the back of a horse.

“Joel,” Tommy said, coming up alongside him. He kept his eyes on the water. “Look man, I can’t pretend to know what it is you’re goin’ through right now. Don’t know that I’d be doing any better in your shoes but… Jesus, man. Ellie’s a kid…”

“Old enough to patrol.”

“Patrol,” he repeated. “Not do the shit we used to do. There’s a difference.”

“She wants to know how to protect what she loves,” he said. “You know as well as me the kind of world we live in…”

“Don’t mean she needs to be doin’ that,” Tommy cut him off. “You really want her to live with that shit in her head the rest of her life? Knowin’ what she’s capable of doing to a person?”

Joel didn’t respond. He just crossed his arms a little tighter.

“She wouldn’t want that for her,” Tommy said after a minute. “Bambi loves that girl. She wouldn’t want her torturin’ someone in her name.”

“Well she’s not here to put a stop to it, is she?” Joel asked, finally looking his brother in the eye. Tommy didn’t say anything. “Ellie’s an adult. I’m not gonna pretend like she’s not grown enough to make her own choices. If she wants to make a man pay for takin’ someone she loves? I’m not about to stop her.”

Tommy just squared his jaw, watching Joel intently for a moment.

“So we’re clear, I’m not just out here for you,” he said. “I’m out here for Bambi, too. She’s my family and I’m going to do what she would want me to do, including saving that kid from herself.”

Joel rounded on his brother fast and firm, forcing him back into a tree.

“You really mean to tell me what my wife wants?” He was seething, in Tommy’s face. “I left her and our girls in the place you told me was safe and now she’s gone, I might never get her back and you’re gonna tell me how to handle it? That it?”

“You really gonna blame me for this?” He asked quietly. “You gonna tell me I’m in the wrong?”

“Dad?”

Ellie’s voice appeared behind him and Joel stepped back from Tommy who cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Everything OK?” She asked, looking between the two men.

“Fine,” Tommy said. “We’re just… worried.”

“No shit,” Ellie said. “Me too.”

“We’ll give the horses an hour,” Joel said, looking between the two of them. “Then we’re back on the road.”

It wasn’t a relaxing break. Ellie patched up the knife wound on his shoulder. Once that was done, Joel just tried to not pace, feeling the burn of Tommy’s gaze on his skin. But it was like he was on fire, his muscle and his marrow burning with the need to move, to do something besides just fucking stand here at the water’s edge and watch it go past, as though everything was normal and life shouldn’t have come to a grinding halt because you were gone.

It was just shy of an hour when Joel couldn’t take it anymore.

“C’mon,” he said, mounting up again. “Let’s go.”

They rode for a few hours more in brutal, damning quiet when Tommy finally spoke again.

“Should talk about a plan,” he said.

“Plan is to get my goddamn wife,” Joel spat. “What else do I need.”

“We’re gonna be outnumbered, for one,” Tommy said, his voice almost eerily calm. “For another… it sounded like Mitchum ain’t gonna be there…”

Joel was quiet for a moment, waiting for him to finish the thought. He didn’t.

“Sounds like you’re arguin’ about the fact that there’s one less person standing between me and my wife,” Joel looked at his brother, his jaw clenched tight. His hand went to cover his pocket again, feeling where your fingers were against his leg.

I promise to protect you.

“I’m not,” Tommy said. His tone reminded Joel of the way you spoke to the feral horses you’d brought to Jackson. Like Tommy knew he was an unbroken, wild thing, something that was dangerous and could lash out at any second. “But… He knows where to find her now and it doesn’t sound like he’s going to stop coming for her. We need to get her back but we need to make sure she’s safe and to do that, we need to kill him, too. We have to wait for him to come back otherwise we’re just buying time, that’s all. We have to end it.”

Joel looked straight ahead, grinding his teeth.

“He’s right,” Ellie said quietly. “We need to kill the guy at the top, too, or it won’t stop.”

He was almost embarrassed to admit, even just to himself, that he hadn’t put much thought into that. He’d been singularly focused: Get to you, save you, destroy whoever he could reach who’d hurt you.

But if he wanted to do what he’d vowed to do, he couldn’t let it be that simple. He would have to make sure he cut the snake off at the head. There was no other way.

“So what do you propose we do?” He asked gruffly, even though he knew they were right.

“Find ‘em,” Tommy said. “Take someone from the perimeter, if we can. Pull information from ‘em. If we can know when he’s coming back… if it’ll be soon, we can wait him out. If it’ll be long, we get Bambi and get a message back to Jackson, bring people out to take care of him when he does come back.”

Joel nodded slowly, considering.

The only faults he could find in the plan was that it could mean you were with these monsters longer than it took to reach you or that he wasn’t the one to take Mitchum apart. He needed to get to you as fast as he could, make sure you were still breathing and still you as fast as he could. And once he had you back, he wasn’t leaving your side. He’d have to trust someone else to handle your captor and that made his skin crawl. Mitchum needed to pay. He needed it to be long and harsh and cruel and he needed to know that, when he died, he knew why.

But holding you was more important than any of that.

“Alright,” he said. “We get there, we find someone, we take the information. We can decide from there.”

Tommy nodded but was quiet for a moment.

“It’s the right move, Joel,” he said gently. “You’re doin’ everything you can for her and we’re going to get her back. She’s…”

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me,” he snapped, his chest getting tight, so tight it was getting hard to breathe. “Don’t tell me she’s going to be alright not… not when I left her there, not when I should’ve…”

“She’s strong,” Tommy cut him off, looking quickly at Ellie who’s head was hung low. “She’s the strongest person I know. She’ll make it.”

The three of them made it to the edge of what they thought was Mitchum’s territory as night started to fall, finding a place to hole up and collect information.

“You two stay put,” Tommy said, once it was dark. He went down to the basics, leaving his pack and horse behind. “I’ll find where to go. Don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

Joel clenched his jaw but gave him a nod, watching what little he could see of his brother in the dark.

“Get some sleep,” he said to Ellie after sitting in silence for too long.

“I’m not tired,” she said, her voice harsh but quiet.

“Try,” he said. “I’ll keep watch.”

She sighed but he heard the rustle of her getting her sleeping bag from her pack all the same and watched the outline of her as she settled in nearby on the ground. Joel kept his hands on his rifle, tracing his fingers over the familiar edges of it. The weapon was a comfort, the corporeal reminder that he was not powerless, that he could do damage and take what he needed. He had what was necessary to save you, he just had to do it.

“Joel?” Ellie said softly.

“Hm.”

“Are you OK?”

His hands stilled on the gun and he looked over to her. He couldn’t make out her face in the dark but he could feel her eyes on him.

“Shoulder don’t hurt,” he said. “M’fine.”

“Yeah, but…” she paused. “What about the other stuff.”

Joel sighed, not really sure how to answer that question. How did he tell Ellie that he felt like he was on the edge of a knife? There were only two options for him: bringing you home or not going home at all. He knew that now, there would be no coming back from this without you. He didn’t want to come back from this without you.

“You can talk to me, you know,” she said. “I’m not a little kid anymore. I know you still see me like a kid but…”

“I know you’re not a kid,” he said. “But there are some things… some things just ain’t yours to carry.”

She was quiet for a moment, long enough that Joel thought the conversation might be over. But it wasn’t.

“How do you do it?” She asked.

“Do what.”

“Hurt people.” She sounded so small it reminded Joel of when they were coming to Jackson, when she was scared and uncertain and had already survived so much more than she should have.

He sighed.

“Just do.”

“How do you not lose yourself to it?” She asked. “When I saw him there, when… when I knew what he did and knew he was still breathing, I got so angry. Like all I wanted in the whole fucking world was to hurt him that way, too. I wanted to make him pay for it, pay for everything and I would have hunted him to the ends of the fucking Earth to do it but when I actually… when you gave me the knife, when I was able to… It didn’t feel better but I couldn’t stop it. I knew it wasn’t helping her and it wasn’t changing anything but someone needed to make him pay and I wanted it to be me but all it did was make me sick but I couldn’t stop it. How do you stop it?”

He adjusted his grip on the gun, fingers pressing too hard into the stock, his chest tight.

“Lot of practice,” he said eventually. “Started… it started out just for information. And… well, truth of it is, I wasn’t able to feel much when I started doin’ it. After I lost Sarah, I just didn’t feel much of anything at all. I just wanted to keep Tommy alive. Did a lot of shit I regret in the name of keeping me n’him alive. But that made it easier. And doing it when… when there’s trouble, when it’s you or her… I don’t feel much then, either. Can’t feel bad about doin’ anything to a man like that when he’s between me and… There’s nothing in me to feel bad. Only hard part is not killin’ someone who deserves it too fast. But the information’s important. Easy to remember to get it when I need to. It’s just… it’s practice, same as anything else. Practice you don’t need to have, baby girl.”

Ellie sighed.

“I get what you mean,” she said eventually. “I lost control with Cody before but… I don’t know. It’s like there’s part of me that’s missing right now and I don’t know what to do if I don’t get it back.”

Joel’s heart clenched at that.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “We… we’ll take care of each other, right Dad? No matter what?”

Joel was silent, trying to figure out how to speak without his voice catching.

“We will,” he said after a moment. He wasn’t sure if he was lying to her.

Ellie was asleep when Tommy made it back to their small camp, sitting heavily beside his brother.

“Found their perimeter,” he said quietly. “We ain’t too far, half a mile maybe? Got an idea of how they patrol, there are spots we can grab one. Looks like a decent set up, we’ll have to be smart about how we do this, Joel. If we ain’t, it could get her killed as much as it would you or me.”

Joel knew Tommy was saying that to try to keep him from charging in, hot headed and foolish, but that didn’t make it feel any better to sit here and wait.

“Think we get a few hours rest,” Tommy said. “Grab one of their men just before sunrise.”

“Alright,” Joel said, settling in to wait, trying to ignore the pull in his chest at the thought of you so close but so out of reach. “You sleep, I’ll keep watch.”

“Joel…”

“I’m not sleeping without her,” he cut him off. “I’ll be fine. Sleep.”

Tommy was silent for a moment.

“She wouldn’t want you doing this to yourself, either,” he said quietly. Before Joel could argue, Tommy got up and got his sleeping bag from his pack, settling in on the other side of Ellie as Joel looked toward Mitchum’s base, watching the place where you were in the dark.

***

Abby was right. They weren’t letting her rest.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you were watching over her as she slept when you heard the front door open. You knew it was still dark, it couldn’t have been that long. You’d been trying to do something to keep yourself calm in the time that you’d been sitting there, watching over the girl who had nearly murdered your husband.

Your entire body was tense and on high alert. You didn’t think you could hope for much else while you were here. Even before you’d never really been able to turn off the constant thrum of fear that pulsed through you. It wasn’t paranoia, it was self preservation. You had to be prepared for someone to come and hurt you at any moment. Your heart beat faster because of it, breaths came faster. You were sure you’d lost more blood because of it when they took your fingers. But you knew you couldn’t stay this tense for long and be useful. You needed to calm down enough that you could function and eventually rest. You needed to recover the blood you lost before you could do anything at all.

But the tactics you used before to keep yourself sane couldn’t happen now. You couldn’t pretend to play guitar anymore. You’d never tried to play with just three fingers on one hand and thinking about losing that hurt, more than even losing the fingers did. You weren’t in any condition to train, either.

Instead, you just stared at the wall over Abby’s shoulder, her back pressed to it. You tried to think about how to get out, what you had to leverage. If there was a time where you and Abby might be unchained at once, maybe together you could overpower them.

Maybe Joel would come for you.

Not that you thought he wouldn’t try, you knew he would. But you’d changed hands, groups had gone separate ways. Tracking you would be basically impossible. You couldn’t count on him to find you under these circumstances. You could only count on yourself and your need to get back home to him.

Still, you thought you’d have more time of staring at the wall before anyone would come for you or for Abby. You were wrong.

You tightened your grip on your chain and looked around for other options for weapons but Mitchum and his men had been thorough, the room stripped bear of everything but the bare necessities. You grabbed the bucket from the end of your bed - one that, thankfully, you hadn’t needed to use yet - before turning to the sleeping girl on the other bed.

“Abby,” you hissed quietly, stretching your unchained leg out and jostling her mattress. She jerked and scrambled, already panicky and gasping for breath. So different from the girl who’d held Joel’s life in her hands. Her darting eyes found you and she seemed to remember then, relaxing a little. “Someone’s in the house.”

“Fuck,” she swore, looking around for something to fight with but coming up as empty as you had.

“How far can your chain reach?” You asked as quietly as you could, eyes darting toward the door.

“Um,” she moved almost to the middle of the room, her chained leg stretched far to the side. “This far.”

“OK,” you nodded, not sure you believed it. But yours went about as far, and you were able to place yourself in front of her. “Just.. stay behind me.”

“You really think this will work?” She asked. You looked back over your shoulder at her. Her teeth were gritted and fierce but her eyes were wide and afraid.

“They won’t touch me,” you said. “If you stay behind me, you’ll be OK. Just stay behind me.”

The door opened and a man you didn’t recognize stalked in. Mitchum had either expanded or replaced a lot of his henchmen in the years you’d been gone. The man looked you up and down for a moment, his eyes calculating and hungry, before looking behind you.

“Come here, girl,” he said, ignoring you completely.

“Fuck off,” Abby snarled, but she stayed behind you.

He squared his jaw, his nostrils flared.

“Do as I say,” he snapped. “Or I’ll make it hurt.”

She laughed once, darkly.

“Like you wouldn’t anyway.”

“Fine,” he said, going to move around you. “I’ll drag you, then.”

You did’t let him pass. Instead, you lashed out with your unbound leg, kicking hard and landing a blow on his inner thigh - not quite where you were hoping to hit but it was enough. He hissed in pain and stumbled, looking vicious.

“Fucking…” he rounded on you, moving toward you, but you raised your still-booted foot, ready to kick again.

“Try it,” you said. “See what happens. Think your boss would just let you get away with fucking up his favorite toy before he got back? Take a guess what happened to the fuckers who took my fingers.”

He hesitated then, looking between you and Abby.

“Not getting her without going through me,” you said. “And he’ll kill you if you go through me.”

His lip curled.

“Bullshit.”

You shrugged.

“Risk it if you want,” you said. “Or ask the men who brought me in. Personally I think it’d be fun to watch you become clicker food…”

You pressed back closer to Abby, feeling her at your back, ready to move as best you could if you needed to.

The man, however, didn’t move. He just let out a short, enraged scream and turned his back to you for a second, stomping toward the door before turning back.

“Mitchum is back soon,” he said, your body tensing at his name, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. “He’ll take care of you himself.”

He stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

You relaxed then, your heart still in your throat as you moved back to your side of the small room. You didn’t want to be any closer to Abby than you had to be.

She, it seemed, had the same thought, moving to her mattress and pressing her back against the wall, taking slow but shaky breaths as she did.

“You alright?” You asked, pulling your injured hand back into yourself again. It felt so much better there for some reason. Not any less painful but at least less exposed.

“Fine,” she said, a little breathless. You nodded, closing your eyes for a second and counting your breaths, trying to force them to slow. “Why did you do that?”

You looked at her for a moment as she watched you, her eyes narrowed but in curious examination, not anger.

“I meant what I said,” you replied. “We’re stronger together. And… I might have every reason to hate you but no one deserves what they do. Not even you. I’m not about to just let them do it. I don’t have much power here but I have some and goddammit I’m not going to waste it.”

She nodded a little and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

“Thank you,” she said eventually. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m not sure how much more I can take and… Thank you.”

You just nodded, fingers absently seeking where your wedding band had rested just days earlier, a motion you’d done almost daily since Joel had put it on your hand. Instead, you found broken flesh. You took your fingers back.

“You should try and sleep,” she said after a few minutes. “I won’t be able to for a while, not after… I’ll keep watch. Wake you up if anything happens.”

You nodded slowly before stretching out on mattress, trying to calm yourself enough to actually rest.

You did manage it, for a few hours. You drifted in and out more than properly slept, but it was something. When you finally woke, you traded with Abby, her lying down to rest while you kept watch.

There wasn’t much to watch for, though. Your threat, it seemed, had been taken seriously. No one came for Abby and you knew no one was going to come for you, not while Mitchum was away. You weren’t sure what was going to happen once he did come back. You just hoped you’d have some kind of opening when they moved you to wherever they tried to take you for him to try and use, that you’d be staying close enough that you could easily come back for Abby and that the two of you could make a break for it together.

Once you were both awake again, you tried to learn what you could as quietly as possible. Abby gave you an idea of the layout of the place you were in, where the horses were kept, when people tended to congregate. She’d been here long enough to have a decent enough lay of the land, enough of one that you thought it could be helpful when trying to find your way out.

She was, as you learned, a resourceful young woman. She’d made one escape attempt already but she was caught quickly. She learned from it, though, telling you where she thought was better to avoid after watching certain areas after her attempted break out.

If it weren’t for your shared history, you’d probably like her. You could even sympathize with her, to a point. If someone had taken the only person you had left in the world, you probably wouldn’t care much about the reason they did it either. You’d just want them to pay. But all that pain had been what landed her where she was.

After leaving Joel to bleed and die in the lodge that day, she’d been content with it for a while. Satisfied that she’d ended the man who had ended her father, she felt like she could move on and she tried to, for a while. She spent time with the group of people who had helped her hunt Joel down, started looking for someplace to call home.

Then, doubt took hold. She couldn’t be sure he was gone. She’d left him with you, after all, someone who seemed as determined to save him as she had been to destroy him. How could she know, with deep and comforting certainty, that he was truly gone? How could she just live her life if there was a chance he was out there, living his?

So she set off toward Jackson. Her friends had tried to talk her out of it but she was unrelenting. She needed to see evidence of his demise before she could rest and - on the off chance he survived - she needed to finish the job. Two had come with her for a while, trying to talk her out of it the whole way, but, eventually, they gave up and she was alone.

She didn’t know what her plan was, really. It wasn’t like she had resources to take on an entire town but she figured he’d leave eventually. She’d found him almost on his own before, she could do it again.

She was closing in on where she thought Jackson was when one of Mitchum’s men - patrolling the areas around the town, looking for a foothold - found her. She fought hard and took several of them down before they took control of her, chaining her and dragging her back to Mitchum’s camp more than a month earlier.

You had the fleeting thought that you should, in some way, find this satisfying. That her lust for pain had brought her here, victim to a monster of another kind entirely, knowing that if she’d just left well enough alone, she would be with her friends.

But you couldn’t. You knew the kind of pain Mitchum wrought, how he and his men took a person apart from the inside out, separating them from their humanity with surgical precision until they were just a shell of who the were before. No one deserved that, not even her, especially not when you thought of her as somewhat like a girl you’d been once, one filled with so much hurt and anger you thought you might burn the world with it.

It was an uneasy alliance, one that you were forced to trust. She watched over you as you slept and the two of you were only disturbed by an angry delivery of jerky and water.

You wished you had some idea of when Mitchum would be back. Being left alone was almost disturbing and the feeling of looming agony was heavy and only grew heavier as time passed. You knew he would come back eventually, returning from whatever dark business he had and he’d come straight for you when he did. He always did when he came back unless he was too injured to do what he wanted with you. Any frustration that had built up in his time outside he seemingly loved to work out with your body, relieving it with your fear and pain. You could only imagine what he would do to you now, when you’d been a source of frustration and denial for him for so long and when he was apparently willing to trade so much for your return. The only solace you could find in that was the fact that he likely wouldn’t kill you too quickly. That would give you more time to get out and get back to Jackson, assuming he didn’t accidentally break you past the point of survival.

You were pretty sure it was the afternoon the next day when someone came into your room again. You and Abby moved to the middle of it, you in front as you stared down the man, watching for an opportunity. You were stronger now, still not recovered from losing your fingers - no where near it - but you felt like you had a fighting chance now. You weren’t about to miss your shot at escape if it arose. But he just smirked, collecting the buckets from the feet of the beds.

“Don’t get too excited,” he said. “Just cleaning up for the boss. Doesn’t want to deal with your stink.”

Your heart sped up and you fought to keep it from showing on your face. If they were doing this now, he had to be close. He might already be here and time was running out.

In truth, regardless of how careful Mitchum was to keep from killing you, you weren’t sure you could survive any of it again. His hands on you now would be poison, the feeling of him inside you now ruinous. There was some part of you that had started to believe that this was behind you. That no one would ever touch you without your permission again, that you had the skills and the tools to fight whoever came for you and you were safe. You could finally relax.

That sense of safety had healed parts of you that you weren’t sure you’d ever get back if you lost them again and the man who would take them was all but knocking on your door.

“Fuck,” Abby’s voice was quiet and panicked at your back.

“He doesn’t like an audience,” you said softly, watching the door. “They’re going to take you away. See if you can make a run for it…”

Before she had a chance to respond, the door opened again, the man returning the buckets. This time, they were far from the ends of the bed, tucked into the corner near the door where you couldn’t reach. You swallowed and tried to force yourself to stay calm. You couldn’t do this if you were panicked, you had to focus.

“Alright,” he said, standing and looking the two of you over before nodding to Abby. “You’re coming with me.”

“Fuck you,” she spat and you felt her tense behind you.

“That’s the idea,” he sneered. “And you I’ve got permission to fuck up, so best if you listen.”

“Still have to go through me, you fuck,” you snapped. “Don’t think you can just do what you want with me.”

“No,” said a chillingly familiar voice from the other side of the door. Mitchum came in slowly, smirking and confident, his boots falling heavy on the plywood floor. “But I can. You’re my toy, little doll, in case you forgot. And just because you went and got yourself all feral out there doesn’t mean you can just run roughshod over my men like you have been.”

You resisted the urge to scramble as far back from him as you could reach. You knew it wouldn’t help, he’d get to you anyway and then he’d have evidence of your fear when he did. You fought to breathe and hold yourself steady, even as your heart raced and your stomach churned.

Mitchum prowled forward, a limp in his right leg you didn’t remember him having before. You tried to think back to a few nights before, when Cody had handed you over, and picture his gait then but you were so afraid and so lightheaded you could hardly recall anything specific. You stared up at him as he squatted in front of you and you tried not to flinch back. Everything about him being close like this felt wrong, the threat of his presence, the stink of horses and chewing tobacco and sweat, the uncomfortable heat of his body. Everything in you screamed to run, you had to force yourself to not try to take off so fast that it would pull your chained leg out of its socket and he reached out, his hands chapped and harsh, snatching your chin into his rough grasp.

“You’ve always been a pretty thing,” he said, forcing your face to the angles he wanted as he examined you. “Glad to see you’ve still got that fire in your eyes. I’d have to fuckin’ kill Cody if he took that before I had my chance. Thought about it for your fingers - you’re no fun if you go too easy, can’t have you too damaged. Should never have sent him after you, should have known better… Was he who helped you the first time? Always thought he was goin’ soft for you. Not too soft, apparently, but…”

You jerked your chin away from him and he let you go, a satisfied smirk on his face when you did.

“Levi,” he said, glancing back to the man who’d come in with you. “Take the other one where ever you want, back bedroom should be open for you. But you’d better not damage her permanently, she’s a fun one, too.”

“C’mon,” he went to take Abby but he wasn’t paying attention to you, leaving himself exposed as he tried to move past you. You took advantage of it, lashing out with your still booted foot and slamming the heel into the crotch of his jeans. He cried out and fell to his knees, clutching at his genitals before he fell to his side, damn near writhing and he moaned in pain.

You looked at Mitchum.

“Your lackeys are fuckin’ weak,” you said through clenched teeth.

He barked a laugh, the stench of rot on his breath as he did, before he turned to look at the man who was struggling back to his knees.

“Now how am I supposed to believe you can wrangle a woman if you can’t even handle ‘em when I’m around?” He asked before whistling, high and shrill. A moment later, two more men came in, armed and large. He nodded to the girl. “Take her, do what you want as long as it’s nothing permanent. Take this idiot with you.”

They moved with more caution, unchaining Abby carefully before hauling her away. She met your gaze for a moment, her eyes sharp but afraid. They closed the door behind them.

“Before you get any bright ideas,” he said. “Got more men waiting not far away. I’m the only reason you’re still alive. Want to stay that way? You do what I say.”

“You think I want to live if I’m stuck here with you?” You asked, eyes darting over him as best you could, seeing what weapons he might have that you could reach. “Rather die than be stuck with you for…”

“Anyone else?” He cut you off. “I’d believe ‘em. But you… you were always different. Something special. You just don’t have it in you to die, not like that. You’ll just keep on going until I make you die. And that, pretty thing, is hard to find.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, instead clamping his large hand around your throat and squeezing. Your eyes went wide and your fingers scrabbled at him, trying to claw him off of you but failing miserably as he dragged you by your neck to the mattress, throwing you roughly onto it. He moved you so roughly that your skull smacked into the wall, making your head spin and knocking you off balance.

You tried to reorient yourself, vision doubled for a moment, as Mitchum unlocked the chain at your ankle, removing the metal from your bloody leg before pulling off your remaining boot and reaching up and opening your pants. You scrambled to stop him there, too, shoving at his hands while trying to kick away from him but he grabbed the ankle that had been bloodied by the chain and yanked you toward him, the shock of it jerking you to a halt.

“This would hurt less if you’d just cooperate,” he snapped before ripping your jeans down over your hips and to your knees. You ignored him, feet scrabbling for purchase on the mattress. It didn’t seem to make much difference and soon, all you had on from the waist down was your underwear.

“Now let’s see,” he said, panting a little as he moved up your body. “You still got my mark on you, little doll? Or did you find a way to get rid of it?”

Before you could do anything to stop him, he tugged your shirt - Joel’s shirt - up and the side of your underwear down, exposing the brand he’d pressed into you the night he’d lied to you about Savvy’s death.

“There she is,” he said, almost reverently, his fingers tracing the letter on your skin and you wanted, desperately, to climb outside of yourself in that moment. Or, at the very least, claw away every scrap of flesh that he’d touched to purge him from your body. “Almost surprised you left me here so long. Maybe you missed me, too…”

“Fuck you,” you hissed through clenched teeth.

Mitchum looked up your body, a sickening smile on his face.

“You may not know this,” he said before gripping your thighs and forcing them wide apart. He wedged his large body between your legs before letting them go. You could feel the thick of his penis through his jeans and it made your stomach roll. “But you need someone like me. You’re too headstrong, too wild on your own. Without someone to keep you under control, you’ll destroy yourself. You’re much better off with someone like me. Just give me what I want and you get a pretty good life, just like one of those horses you love so much. Just let me break you and this gets so much easier for you.”

His hand went around your throat again, fingers tightening to choke you until your vision grew spotty, your legs instinctively kicking as you clawed at his arm, trying to pull him away so you could breathe. You could see, just barely in your field of vision, his other hand going for his belt and you knew, if you passed out, you’d wake up with him inside you, forcing everything you’d fought for since you’d escaped him the first time out of you when he did.

You couldn’t do that. Not again.

The fear and the realization were so sharp that you had a split second of clarity. Instead of your hands instinctively pulling at the thing that was nearly killing you, you gave up on that, instead throwing them forward, your thumbs quickly finding their place in Mitchum’s eyes, pressing as hard as you could as your consciousness faded.

It didn’t take long for him to jerk back from you, releasing the hold he had on your throat and giving you the chance to take a breath. You almost choked on it, the rush of oxygen a shock to your system and you felt his weight leave your hips. You took advantage of that, too, kicking blindly, bare feet connecting with the round of his stomach and the thick of his neck.

“Fucking cunt!” He roared and dove for you but you were able to dodge him, his hands missing your body, head coming to land near your shoulder. You had just enough leverage with your body weight to throw him into the wall with a sharp thud and you scrambled away, going for the door. But then you remembered the guards that were waiting on the other side of it.

You gave a whistle like the one he had, high and shrill, standing just to the side of the door as you waited to ambush the men who came when they thought he called.

It only took a moment, the first one rushing in, a puzzled look on his face as he watched Mitchum try to catch his breath and get off the mattress. You jumped on the guard’s back, wrapping your arm around his shoulders and pulling back on him. He choked and sputtered against you, slamming you back against the wall but you tucked your head into his neck so you wouldn’t get hit there again. Instead, you sank your teeth into the tender flesh there, not like a lover but like an animal, ripping and tearing in search of his jugular. He shrieked and fumbled for his knife, grabbing it off his belt and slashing blindly back toward you.

The man didn’t need much precision, though, the blade sinking into the thick of your arm just as your teeth closed around the flesh of his neck. You ripped your head away, a gush of blood in your mouth as you pulled his skin from his body, spitting the part of him you took onto the ground. The knife was still lodged in your arm and you released your hold on his shoulders to pull it free, adjusting your grip on it as quickly as you could to stab it into his bleeding neck. He dropped to his knees and you released your hold on him, rushing into the hall covered in blood, the knife in your grip. You wiped your mouth on the back of your sleeve and were about to make for the room where you thought they’d taken Abby when another figure darkened the mouth of the hall - the other guard.

“What the…” he began. You didn’t give him a chance to finish. You launched yourself at him, his hands flying up on instinct to protect himself and he did a good enough job of it, catching your shoulders and keeping you not quite at arm’s reach. But you didn’t need to be any closer than that, sinking the knife into his throat, too.

You heard a commotion in the back bedroom then, heavy thuds and a scream as the door flew open, Abby leaning against the frame and panting for breath, blood dripping from a gash at her cheek.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” she said, a broken piece of wood tight in her grasp.

You just nodded once, making for the door, acutely aware that you didn’t have shoes or pants - so like the first time you’d fled for your life all those years ago on the ranch as the world came crashing down around you.

The two of you peered out of the window at the front of the house, the guards who had been posted just outside gone.

“Think those assholes were the ones who came in as back up,” you said, eyes darting back toward the bedrooms. You knew you hadn’t killed everyone but you couldn’t risk going back to finish the job, not now. People would notice the missing guards too fast and then you’d be outnumbered. “Which way?”

“East,” she said. “The shortest route to the woods. We can lose them there.”

It was dusk, not the best time to be on the run but at least soon you’d have darkness on your side.

“Right,” you said, looking over at her for a moment. “See you on the other side.”

She looked at you, too, like she wasn’t quite sure what to make of you.

“Yeah,” she said, giving you a firm nod.

You led the way, knife still firmly in your grip as you moved onto the porch, crouching low and sweeping the area. There were men in the distance, running toward something you couldn’t see with rifles drawn.

“Go,” you whispered, staying bent over but letting your legs extend, ignoring the pain of sharp weeds and broken concrete below your bare feet as you ran, looking frantically for anyone who might try to stop you.

You froze on instinct when there was a sharp whistle that cracked through the air, three short blasts like some kind of signal. You grabbed Abby and ducked between two houses, just in time to see a cluster of men with rifles tight in their grips running past.

“Ever seen them do shit like that?” You asked quietly.

“No,” she said. “They used whistles before for signals but never three…”

“Well, let’s hope whatever the fuck made them raise the alarm stays busy with these assholes,” you said, peeking around the corner. No one else was coming. “Let’s go.”

You darted from house to house, seeking cover in shadows where you could and you were starting to think that, maybe, you’d managed it. That you were going to get out of here and find a way back to Jackson when Abby shrieked behind you.

A guard had grabbed her, his arm around her neck as he yanked her back. She flailed and thrashed, trying to dislodge him but he withstood her, pressing a handgun against her temple.

“I’ll do it!” He snapped and your hands went up as Abby’s eyes met yours, wide and wet and afraid. “I’ll shoot her and you’re next if you don’t just calm down and come with me…”

“Please,” Abby said, but she wasn’t begging him. Her eyes were locked on yours, pleading. “Don’t let him take me again, just let them kill me, please…”

You held her gaze, tears burning as you did.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice wet as you started to lower yourself toward the ground. You looked toward the guard. “Just going to set the knife down…”

“Go slow,” he said, the gun still to Abby’s temple.

You just nodded, watching him closely, waiting for her to do something that would draw his attention. You didn’t need to wait long.

“No!” She screamed, the sound thick with tears. His eyes went to her but that was all you needed. You shot forward and thrust the knife into his calf, the blade embedding in his muscle before you twisted it. He screamed and instinctively dropped the weapon, his hands flying toward you and his leg, his hold on Abby gone. She stumbled forward and you snatched the gun from the ground, shooting him in the head at such close range it covered you in his blood.

“Thanks,” she said shakily. “I… thank you.”

“Told you,” you said, rolling the dead man over so you could get the rifle from his back. “We’re in this together.”

You handed her the smaller gun and kept the rifle for yourself and the two of you pressed on. You were able to dodge other trouble as you heard the commotion from the edge of the neighborhood get closer. There was the crack of gunshots and the boom of explosions and you just hoped whatever was coming for you wasn’t worse than you’d already been stuck with. Mitchum had pissed off a lot of people in his time. If he was gaining territory now, there was no telling who might have come to put a stop to it. And that was assuming a hoard of infected hadn’t picked up on this place, something you could only survive by outrunning.

“Do you know where the stables are?” You asked, gun still tight in your grip.

“No,” she said. “But I’m not exactly a great rider, if we don’t have time to saddle a horse…”

You almost laughed at that, the absurdity that a horse could possibly hinder you.

“Don’t worry,” you said. “All I need is a horse. I can take care of shit after that.”

She looked at you for a second before she took a deep breath and nodded.

“Right,” she said. “Still…”

“Let’s split up,” you said, grip tightening on the rifle as you said it.

“No,” she said quickly. “Fuck that, we split up…”

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” you said. “And out run whatever’s making all that noise. Our best shot is on a horse. You go right, I go left, we meet up in the tree line on the other side. If you find the stable, just grab a horse, don’t worry about any tack, I just need a horse. Got it?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Fuck I hope you’re not crazy.”

“I’m not,” you said. Taking a deep breath. “Be careful.”

She looked at you again.

“You too.”

You went your separate ways, smoke on the horizon now as you searched as best you could for some sign of horses but found nothing. You were nearly stopped once by one of Mitchum’s men but you shot him before he could flag anyone down, the sound of the gunfire blending with the sound of the chaos that grew closer.

You made it to the tree line, a wide open span of grass between the house at the back of the subdivision and the start of the forest. You looked around quickly before you ran, darting from the shelter of the house and moving as quickly as you could for where you said you’d meet Abby, hoping that she found a damn horse.

But you barely made it that far when it happened. A thick, meaty hand closing over your shoulder, ripping you around to face Mitchum’s ruddy skin as he seethed, a murderous look in his eye.

You raised the rifle and tried to shoot even though he was far too close and he knocked the gun away as you pulled the trigger, the bullet going wide and barely catching the side of the leg he limped with.

Still, he hissed in pain before he lifted his leg, planting his foot in your chest and kicking you, hard, forcing you to stumble back, your bare feet catching on a tree root and sending you to the ground.

“You fucking bitch,” he stalked over as you scrambled up onto your hands, pulling yourself backwards from him, breathlessly looking around for something - anything - that could help you. “You think you can just do whatever you want, that it?”

His foot collided with your shoulder this time, forcing you onto your back and he all but fell beside you, taking your face sharply in his hand.

“Could have just cooperated,” he said, panting, keeping his face a good distance from you now so it was just out of reach and your fingers had nothing to scratch at. “Could have made life easy for yourself. You think I’m the worst thing out here, huh? Think there aren’t other men who would have let you fuckin’ die a long time ago?”

“Fuck you,” you hissed as his fingers dug into your cheeks.

“You want me to treat you the way those other men would?” He asked, releasing your face just to punch it. The blow made your head spin and your vision go spotty. “Fine, I can do that, I can stop bein’ gentle with you. Because you better believe I was being gentle before. Won’t be gentle now, not for you.”

He grabbed your knees and wrenched your legs apart, going between them before you could snap them shut and you more heard his belt buckle than saw it.

“You want to die on my cock?” He asked. “Who am I to fuckin’ stop you…”

Time slowed, only for a moment. In that long, torturous second, you remembered everything from your time in captivity that your mind had tried to protect you from. The haze of pain the last time Mitchum had you, the way he forced your body to bend to his will in such a way that it didn’t feel like yours anymore, the burn of his brand on your flesh, the strange mix of fear and hope that maybe this time he would kill you.

But you remembered everything that had moved in to replace all that agony, too. The way you’d slowly, gently come to love Joel more than you knew it was possible to love somone. The way Ellie was the opposite, bursting her way into your life and leaving you not other choice but to love her with everything you had. The way you’d grown to love everyone in Jackson, all these people who had come to rely on you, too. The way Savvy had joined you there, finding a place in a world you thought had died years before her birth.

You couldn’t let him unmake all of that inside you. You had too much to lose, too much that made you who you were now, you didn’t have room for it all alongside the pain he was trying to force on you. You couldn’t let him take it all away. Not now.

Time righted itself again, just as his hand came to rest over the gusset of your underwear and you roared, the sound more ripping itself from you as you shot forward, slamming your forehead into Mitchum’s nose and feeling the satisfying collapse of it below your skull. He shocked back from you and you wrapped your hands around his neck, shoving yourself onto your knees and screaming as you did. He was larger than you and you had to work to knock him off balance but you were determined and he collapsed back, your hands still tight to his throat as you sat on his chest, knees on either side of his ribcage.

He kept his wits about him as you tried to choke him, though, his fist catching you sharply on the chin and knocking your hands free for a moment. He took advantage of it and grabbed your left hand, bringing the place where Cody had cut your fingers away to his mouth and biting down, making you shriek in pain. You ripped your hand back from his mouth and punched him across the face with the other as he tried to wrench you from your place on top of him, leveraging your body with his own.

Eventually, he managed it, his large hand shoving against your ribs as his torso twisted at just the right point when you moved to punch him again, sending you sprawling onto the forest floor.

He was on you again in a second, the heavy weight of him on top of you as you tried to free yourself.

“Told you, you little bitch,” he panted. You could feel his erection through his pants. “You’re mine and if I say you’re gonna die on my cock? You’re gonna die on my fucking cock.”

You screamed, trying to wrench your hands free but it was no use, the panic in you rising. This, something inside you said, was the end. There would be no return, there would be no survival and there would be nothing left of you to save.

And then something pulled his body from yours. You didn’t stop to see what, rolling onto your knees and scrambling to your feet, running into the trees before something else could destroy you.

***

“Bambi!” Joel screamed, frantic, but you didn’t seem to hear him, running headlong into the trees.

“I got him,” Tommy panted, a boot on the man he’d pulled off of you’s chest and a gun pointed at his head. “Get her!”

“Don’t kill him,” Joel said sharply to his brother. “He’s mine.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, just taking off after you as fast as his bad leg would let him move. He was so close to you now, so close to feeling you alive in his arms, so close to keeping you where no one would ever hurt you again.

But Joel’s body was heavy. He’d been awake for far too long and had put it through far too much, especially for someone his age. But he didn’t have another choice. He couldn’t rest, not when he knew what was happening to you.

He’d stayed awake all night, going with Tommy to grab someone toward the start of their morning patrol. It would be hours before anyone knew they were gone.

The man they took was young, not much older than Ellie. Joel should have felt bad about that, he thought, especially when he knew that he’d done much the same thing when he was far older than this boy, after he was raised in a time where he knew better how men should behave. But that didn’t matter. He was nothing more than an obstacle in his path to you. One made of flesh and bone and pain but an obstacle none the less. It did not take long to break him and he told Joel what he needed to know: that you were in the camp, kept in a guarded house toward the middle of it, and that Mitchum was on his way back that day. They expected him there before nightfall. Joel killed the man quickly and hid the body, then three of them moved to hide out the rest of the day, not able to get close enough to the camp to watch Mitchum come in. They’d just have to hope the guard was right and that nothing held up his return.

It was early afternoon when Ellie noticed something coming up behind their hiding spot. She damn near jumped to her feet, rifle in hand and aimed into the forest.

“Who’s there?” She snapped. “Not afraid to fucking shoot if you don’t answer.”

“Take it easy, Williams,” Gene said, emerging from the brush with his horse following behind him. “Been lookin’ for you three.”

“Normally, Miller, I’d be up your ass for being this easy to track but, this time, it was lucky,” Warren said, coming up behind Gene. “Should mean the others can keep up, too.”

“The fuck are you doin’ out here?” Tommy asked, moving to embrace the men.

“Made it back from looking for the kids to learn they’d made it back and you three headed out,” Gene said. “Soon as we could trust the horses to make the ride, we came too.”

“If you’re here to try to talk us out of this…” Joel began, tightening his grip on his rifle, but Warren cut him off.

“We’re getting her back,” he said, a sense of finality in his tone. “We can’t let aggression like this stand. It shows weakness, that we’ll just let any asshole come to our city and take our people. And besides all that… she is our people. Not going to just them have her. We’re here to help you, Joel. And there’s more coming behind us.”

He was right. By the time it was getting closer and closer to dark, damn near everyone from Jackson who had a patrol rotation had amassed where Joel, Tommy and Ellie had holed up to wait. The last to join were Maria, Julie and Savvy, Gatling perched on your daughter’s lap as she sat astride Perseus.

“What are you doing here?” Ellie asked, looking at her, eyes wide. “You’re supposed to be back in Jackson, it’s not safe…”

“I’ve spent more time out here than you,” she said defensively, looking at Ellie like she was daring her to argue. “And she’s my mother, she’s out here because of me. I’m not about to sit at home on my ass while everyone else fights for her.”

Warren focused on coordinating everyone else, planning a full blown incursion of Mitchum’s encampment. Joel didn’t care. As long as he was able to get you back safely, the rest of it didn’t matter. Warren, thankfully, seemed to understand. He left Joel, Tommy, Savvy and Ellie out of the planning. The rest was on him. The four of them were finding you.

As everyone got into position to launch the attack, Joel rode up alongside Warren. He adjusted the grip on his reins, looking for something to do with the nervous energy thrumming through him. He was close to you, so close he could almost feel the warmth of you next to him.

“Thank you,” Joel said, more glancing at Warren than really looking at him. “Know we ain’t always gotten along…”

“You think that really matters at a time like this?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “We take care of our own. You and her? You’re both part of this place now, like it or not. That means we ride for you.”

Joel nodded.

“You focus on finding your wife,” Warren continued. “We’ll make sure none of ‘em ever come back for her or for anyone else.”

“Mitchum, the leader, is mine,” Joel said, meeting his eyes this time. “After everything he’s done, he’s mine and I mean to make him pay for it.”

Warren looked at him second, the smallest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less. Good luck, Miller.”

Joel sighed and looked toward the camp.

“You too.”

The whole of the encampment was drawn to where the people of Jackson had begun their attack, giving Joel, Tommy, Ellie and Savvy plenty of space to search. They still had to be careful, ready to kill anyone who challenged them, but they didn’t need to. It was hard, letting the handful of men who ran past them go knowing that they may have been men who had hurt you but Joel swallowed that small hurt. The only comfort was knowing that they’d meet death soon, anyway. He just hoped it’d painful when they did.

Joel found the building he thought was yours, a house at the center of the encampment like the man they’d taken before had said. It was empty of everything besides signs of a fight, dead guards and bloody chains evident. Joel found your boots and jeans in a bedroom and his hands shook as he picked them up, blood around the ankle of one leg of the pants. His chest got tight as he folded the jeans, picked up the boots and put them in his pack before he left to look for you again.

He had to keep reassuring himself that you were here, that he’d find you soon, anything to keep the panic from taking over. He had repeated that comfort so many times that, when he saw you, he thought, for a second, that he’d imagined you. That his mind had broken under the exhaustion and the fear and had started showing him the only thing that keep him going. But you were in nothing but a shirt - one of his shirts - with blood on your bare legs and a rifle in your hand and he knew you were real. He wouldn’t picture you like this, hurting and afraid and, for a second, there was relief. He’d done it, he found you.

You took off before he had the chance to call your name and he grabbed Tommy, Savvy and Ellie to go after you when they were stopped by a group of men who were heading for the fighting at the edge of the encampment.

Joel had very little patience for them. They were just more obstacles, more things that needed to be destroyed so he could reach you. They made quick work of them, not even bothering to move their bodies from the street before following the small path between houses that you had.

When he didn’t see you at first, he was terrified that he was too late. That you’d run into trouble and he’d find you limp and lifeless on the ground and all of this would have been for nothing, that he’d have to find a way to stay here with you because there would be no going back otherwise.

But he heard you then, your scream harsh and angry and afraid and he ran for the sound. Your cries shifted for a moment, to one of shock and pain, and then you went quiet. He tried to push himself faster, harder, and then he found you. The sight made him sick, you fighting below a man trying to hurt you. It was a sight so like those he’d seen with other women before but now, he would do the right thing. This time, he would save you.

He roared and ripped the man from your body, tearing him back and throwing him to the ground and you scrambled away, not even looking back over your shoulder as you did. He had no choice but to follow you.

While Joel’s body was beaten down, yours was, too. He could see it as he drew closer, the bandage around your hand, the blood at your arm, the slight limp on the leg with the bloodied ankle. You were running like your life depended on it but he still caught you quickly, his hand closing around the wrist of your intact hand and pulling you back against him.

It was like he came back into his body when he did, the feeling of you in his arms the thing that tied him to the Earth, to his humanity. The pain in his shoulder from the knife he’d taken there hit him then, the soreness of his leg, too. None of it compared to the relief that was there when he touched you. You were alive. The rest of it didn’t matter.

“No!” You shrieked, colliding with his body, planting your injured hand against his chest to try and shove him back. “Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking touch me!”

“Bambi!” He said, panting for breath, clutching you tightly to his chest, his hand finding your cheek and forcing you to look at him. Your eyes were wide and wild, just like they had been the first time he’d seen you. They darted, frantic, over his face and there was a kind of desperation there he had never seen before, one that sent a chill up his spine. “It’s me, it’s me, I’ve got you, it’s OK baby. You’re safe, I’ve got you, you’re OK.”

“Joel?” You said it like you didn’t believe he was there, those wild eyes softening at the edges.

“It’s me,” he said again. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. It’s OK.”

“Joel,” your voice cracked and you pulled your wrist from his hold to put your arms around his neck, clinging to him. “You’re here, the girls, we have to find the girls, he…”

“They’re safe,” he said, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tighter than he should but he couldn’t seem to stop. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, baby, m’so sorry…”

Your legs gave out and he held you tight, lowering you both gently to the ground as you cried against him with choking, wracking sobs that shook your whole body. He just held you, rocking you gently as he did, his nose pressed into your hair as his lips kissed the crown of your head again and again.

“Is she OK?” Savvy’s voice sounded so small.

Joel looked to find the girls standing beside him, watching with concerned looks on their faces.

He wasn’t sure how to answer them.

“We’ll get her back to town,” he said, still holding and rocking you. “It’ll be alright…”

“Joel,” Tommy called. “What are we doin’? We gotta move.”

He pulled himself back from you just enough to look at you, putting a finger gently below your chin and tilting your face to his. Your eyes were glassy.

“That man,” he said softly. “The one who was on top of you. That Mitchum?”

Your chin trembled but you nodded. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, leaving his lips there until he felt you take a deep but shaky breath. He pulled back enough to see you again.

“I’m gonna go take care of him,” he said. “Our girls are here, they’re gonna stay with you, OK?”

“They’re…” you frowned and looked around until you saw them, your eyes going a little wide when you did. It was like you couldn’t fully process anything that wasn’t right in front of you. Your eyes darted back to him. “What are they doing here? They should be back in Jackson, they should…”

“They’re OK,” he said gently. “They wanted to come get you back and they did. You stay with them. I’ll take care of him and then we can all go back to Jackson together…”

“Jackson…” You frowned for a moment, like you were trying to think of something and then your eyes went wide again. “Jackson, they want to take Jackson, they’re coming for the city, that’s what Cody was trading me for, he…”

“S’OK,” Joel said, running a soothing hand over your hair. “Already killed Cody. We’re killing the rest of them here today, whole town is out here. We’re ending it. They won’t be a threat, not anymore. It’s OK, baby. You did it. You saved the girls, you survived. You can rest now.”

He looked up to Savvy and Ellie, giving them a small nod toward the ground. They knelt next to you, one on either side, looking at each other for a moment before reaching to gingerly touch you. You flinched at first and then relaxed and Joel kissed your temple.

“Gatling,” Savvy said, the dog suddenly at attention at her side. She snapped and touched your shoulder. “Guard.”

The dog turned and stood sentinel, watching with ears pricked. Joel stood, leaving you with your daughters and your dog before prowling to the man who had tried to take everything from him.

As he drew close, there was an explosion, closer than Joel was happy about hearing, and Tommy looked at him.

“Don’t think we got the kind of time you want,” he said, tightening the grip on his gun. “Better make it count.”

Joel gave him a nod, squaring his jaw before looking down to the man on his side. Tommy had bound his hands and his eyes were somewhere between rage and fear. Something told Joel he hadn’t been challenged, not this directly, in quite some time.

He reached down and took a fistful of his shirt, lifting his shoulders roughly from the dirt and dragging him back to a tree. He propped him up there, kneeling beside him and he saw a flash of defiance for a moment, like he was going to move to stop Joel.

Joel wasn’t having that. He punched him, hard and sharp, across the face, sending his head whipping around. He glanced back, finding Tommy over his shoulder as he leveled his gun at Mitchum. Joel turned his attention back to his quarry.

“I don’t know who you are or what you want,” the man said through clenched teeth, looking between Joel and Tommy. “But I’m sure we can make a deal…”

“Time for deals is long past,” Joel said, pulling his knife from his belt. He turned the blade over in the fading light between them, giving Mitchum a chance to actually see the size of it.

“What do you want?” He said, his eyes darting from the knife back to Joel’s face. “Name it, it’s yours. Territory? Fine. Support of my men? You have it. Resources? Take it.”

“You think it’s that simple?” Joel asked. “What I want, you can’t give me.”

“Try me,” Mitchum said, teeth clenched.

“What I want,” Joel said, voice flat and calm. “Is to take back everything you took from my wife.”

He took his knife and plunged it into Mitchum’s leg then, sinking the entire length of it into his thigh until he hit bone. The man screamed, writhing and thrashing below him. Joel held the knife in place, each jerking motion making the cut wider, harsher. It wasn’t long before he stilled, panting for breath. Joel kept his hand on the knife.

“You took her from her daughter,” Joel said, twisting the blade as he did. He kept his voice quiet, hopefully quiet enough that neither Ellie nor Savvy could hear. Mitchum’s feet scrambled uselessly against the dirt. “You branded her.” He pulled the knife free. “Told her you’d raped and murdered her child.” He thrust the weapon into his arm now, wanting to save his stomach until he knew he was ready for him to bleed out. “Held her captive for years.” He twisted it, cutting a new path through his flesh as he screamed and panted for breath. “Sent your men to hunt her down and take her away from me and our girls.”

He pulled the knife free of his arm, the man limp and panting on the ground and Joel had this sickening feeling settle in his stomach. He could never hurt Mitchum enough to fix it. No amount of agony he brought upon him would bring back the parts of you he broke. No amount of torment would bring Joel comfort when it was done. He would always hold you and look at you and see the ways he failed you, from decades before when he should have done better and saved women like you to days ago when he should have been there to keep you and the girls safe. You would forever be the reminder of the many ways he should have been better and forever be the bearer of the scars because he wasn’t.

“And you did all of that,” Joel said, taking the knife and cutting through the denim of Mitchum’s jeans, revealing the thin cotton of boxer shorts below. “So you could, what? Rape her?”

Mitchum shook his head, straining to get away from Joel but he had nowhere to go. Joel still took his shoulder and shoved him roughly back against the tree, anyway.

“You think she was some thing you could just take?” He asked, trailing the tip of the knife over the round of his stomach, the breadth his chest, pressing the point into his chin to force him to look Joel in the eye. “Thought if you branded her like livestock you’d own her? That it?”

“I… I tried,” he managed through clenched teeth, panting for breath.

“Tried what?” Joel asked when he didn’t continue.

“Tried to get her to come with me,” he said. “Tried to buy her horses. Could… could have used her but she decided to fight…”

“So you thought you’d treat her like an animal?” Joel asked, head cocked to the side. “See, that don’t sit right with me. Not one bit.”

Joel took the knife from his chin and went to the boxers, carefully cutting the elastic over the fly. He quickly glanced toward you and made sure the girls weren’t looking too closely before he used the blade to fold the fabric back, exposing his penis and balls to the air.

“Anything you and your people want,” he squirmed below Joel. “Anything, name it, anything at all…”

“Right now?” Joel said, looking at his face. “I want this.”

Joel lined the tip of the blade up with the base of Mitchum’s penis so the width of the knife ran down his length and pressed through it, slow and firm. Mitchum’s legs kicked uselessly as he shrieked, his body straining for an escape but Joel didn’t give him one. He just pushed the knife further and further into his flesh until the handle of it was all that was visible, the blade bloodied by his genitals.

Joel left it there and was silent until Mitchum had screamed himself to silence.

“We’re somethin’ alike, you and me,” Joel said, watching him. “Both know what we want, know how to take it. But difference is, I only take it when it’s owed and I only take it from some who deserves to lose it. You should have left her alone. Should’ve left her alone then, really should’ve left her alone now. You decided to take more than what’s yours and now you have to pay for it.”

“Fuck you,” he managed through gritted teeth, his face wet with tears and spit.

Joel nodded slowly.

“See, you have a lot to learn,” he said. There was another blast, one that sounded close, molotov cocktails flying between opposing sides in a war the man bleeding had begun. “And I don’t got much time to teach you.” Joel pulled the knife from his body and he screamed in pain, trying to double over but Joel didn’t allow him to. “So I’m just gonna take it from you in blood and in pain because when you die? Want you to know why. Want you to understand that you could have lived. If you’d just kept to yourself, not taken what wasn’t yours to take, not taken her, you could have lived. You chose otherwise.”

He put the knife into his leg, just over his knee and pushed, dislodging his kneecap as he screamed. Joel nodded, learning the different tenor of his cries. He liked hearing the change in it, the way his pain shifted and pulled from him. He moved to his shoulder, driving the knife down through it and in toward his lung, listening to the change of his pain.

Mitchum’s blood was sticky and hot and gunfire was getting louder and Joel was lost in taking him apart. He grew tired of the distance the knife afforded, deciding that he wanted to feel the collapse of your tormentor’s body with his own skin. He left the blade embedded in his arm before taking his thumb and pressing it into the wound at his shoulder, the sticky heat of his blood driving him forward as he felt the give of his body beneath his force. Once he was satisfied with that, he curled his hand into a fist and pummeled his face to the point of disfiguration. Mitchum’s nose was broken, his jaw dislodged, eye socket collapsed, a mass of bone and viscera that was clinging to life, something Joel didn’t understand but was grateful for all the same. He couldn’t keep hurting a corpse. He only had as long as Mitchum’s will to live hung out and he wanted that to be a very, very long time. Even if it didn’t heal you or him, even if it brought him no satisfaction, he wanted it. In this world, the only justice to be found was in pain and in blood and he intended to give you justice in the only way he knew how.

Tommy, he knew, was trying to pull him back from the edge, but he tuned him out. He understood why his brother was worried, why he’d pulled him back before, why he’d stepped in with Ellie the way he did. He knew, on a certain level, that the path he was done was not who he’d made himself to be in Jackson. But, with Mitchum in his grasp, he didn’t care. All that mattered was destroying the man who had tried to destroy you.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d cut and beaten and hurt Mitchum when he heard you, your voice quiet and shaky over his shoulder.

“Joel.”

He stopped what he was doing, leaving the blade embedded in Mitchum’s side and adjusting his body to block the carnage from your view before turning to see you there. In that moment, you were a contradiction. He’d never seen you look so vulnerable or so strong, your injured hand cradled to your chest but a defiant look on your face. He’d never seen you so small or so tall, so desperate or so determined. Gatling was at your side, glued to your leg as she stared at Mitchum, her ears pressed back on her head and her eyes narrowed. He got to his feet, wiping his bloodied hands on his shirt before stepping closer and taking your cheek gently in his hand.

“Sweetheart,” he said quietly, searching your tear streaked face, your eyes so wide and afraid and unyielding.

“I want to finish this,” you said, your voice thick. “I want to finish him and I want to go home. Please, take me home.”

He looked at you for a moment, your gaze pleading and stubborn, before pressing his lips tenderly to your forehead.

“Whatever you want,” he said softly, dropping his forehead to yours. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep, shaky breath before taking his hand in your uninjured one, lacing your fingers together. He touched your wedding ring in his pocket, still attached to part of you, as you led him over to Mitchum, Gatling still at your side.

The man was slumped against the tree, covered in blood, the sound of his breaths rattling and wet and Joel knew he didn’t have long left.

You stood over him, looking down at him with your hand tight in Joel’s, something cold and almost analytical passing over your features as you did.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to do it like this before,” you said eventually to the dying man at your feet. “I never liked killing before. I never wanted to kill anybody before you, never. Even… even people who hurt me or tried to take what you took, I never wanted to kill them. When I did kill, I never much liked doing it. But I want to kill you. You made me want to kill, you made me like this. I was good, once. And you took that. So I’m going to kill you and I’m going to like it and you should know that it’s because of what you made me.”

Joel gave your hand a squeeze, ready to hand you whatever weapon you asked for and you held tightly to him.

But you didn’t need it. You gave his hand a squeeze before you released it.

“Gatling,” you said, snapping your fingers and pointing to Mitchum. “Kill.”

The dog obeyed instantly, getting down low and growling, her ears pressed back to her head before she shot forward, a bullet from a gun, and locked her jaws around his throat, ripping and tearing, Mitchum screaming for only a moment before going quiet, the only sound left on the air the guttural snarl of your dog ripping him apart.

Joel was certain the man had been dead for a few minutes by the time you called her off, Gatling immediately dropping the shredded flesh when you gave the release command.

You collapsed against Joel then, burying your face in his shoulder and sobbing into him as he held you.

“You’re OK,” he said quietly, running a bloodstained hand soothingly over you. “I’ve got you. Never gonna have to do that again, you’re OK.”

He held you close for a moment, until your breaths became less shaky and he thought you might be able to stand on your own. Joel pulled back from you then, brushing your hair back from your face. Your eyes were glassy again.

“Let’s get you dressed,” he said gently. “Then we can get the fuck out of here.”

You just nodded and watched as Joel got your jeans and boots from his pack. He helped you into them, guiding your body through the necessary movements. You trembled under his touch and all he wanted to do was get you home so he could hold you close and tight and never let anyone lay a hand on you ever again.

When you were dressed, Joel got to his feet and you fell against him. His arm slipped around your waist and he held you close, Ellie and Savvy moving to be alongside Tommy. Ellie had her arm around Savvy’s shoulders, holding her back from the devastation that had once been Mitchum.

“Should see where everyone else is,” Tommy said, watching Joel carefully. “Don’t like how quiet it’s gotten.”

Joel nodded slowly, having forgotten for a while that there was anything else to worry about outside of getting you back.

Tommy led the way, Ellie and Savvy staying close to him, you still against Joel’s side as he followed his brother, on alert for anything that was a threat to you.

He didn’t need to wait long. There was a rustle in the brush and Joel turned and raised his gun, only to see a young woman emerge, a rifle tight in her grip. For the second time that day, Joel thought he might have been imagining things. Because the girl in front of him looked just like the one who had nearly killed him months earlier.

“You,” Tommy snarled, raising his gun, too, and Joel realized that he wasn’t imagining things. She was here, too. “What the fuck are you doing here?

“Don’t want to hurt anyone,” she said, lowering her weapon, nodding to you. “And I’m here for the same reason your friend is.”

Joel turned to shield you but you stopped him and he looked down to you, frowning slightly. He lowered his gun then and saw out of the corner of his eye as Tommy did, too.

“It’s alright,” you said, staying pressed tightly to his side, watching her. “You made it.”

“So did you,” she said, looking you up and down, her gaze staying on your face. “You OK?”

“I think so,” you nodded, still clinging to Joel.

She didn’t look like she believed you but she pressed on anyway, turning her cold gaze to Joel.

“I don’t want to be here talking to any of you for any longer than I have to be,” she said. “So I’ll let your wife explain the rest of it. Just know that after what she did for me, I won’t ever look for you again. And if, for some reason, we run into each other? I won’t hurt you. I’d appreciate if you did the same.”

“You really expect us to just let you…” Ellie began but Joel cut her off.

“S’OK baby girl,” he said, still watching the woman who had nearly killed him. She still seemed so young. She had a look in her eyes that reminded him of you, wounded but determined. He remembered what little he could of her after she turned on him that day, how she’d seemed so angry and in so much pain for someone so young. He’d told Mitchum that he only took what was owed and only from people who deserved it. Even after everything, he wasn’t sure this girl deserved it. “No use in killing people who don’t need to be.”

“Thank you,” she said, looking at you. “And I really hope this is the last time I ever see fucking any of you but… thank you, for what you did for me. I won’t forget it.”

She watched your group, her gun still held low, not turning her back to any of you until she was swallowed by the brush.

“You really want to just let her go?” Tommy asked, looking to Joel.

“That’s bullshit!” Ellie said, looking quickly the direction the girl had gone in. “She’s a fucking threat, she…”

“She’s not,” you cut her off, tightening your hold on Joel. Ellie deflated a little but you pressed on. “You can’t let revenge swallow you up, honey. You just can’t.”

“Good lesson,” Warren said from behind Joel. He instinctively turned, keeping you away from the newcomer even though Joel knew the man well. He looked you over briefly before turning his attention back to Joel. “See you found her. It’s done, we wiped them out. A few injuries on our side but nothing major. We’re going to see what’s here and post up a few guards, make sure anyone else who comes around and thinks they can try us knows better, but all the trouble we’ve run into on patrol lately should be done for now.”

“Good,” Tommy said. “Bout time something went our way around here.”

“Expect you’ll be heading back?” Warren asked. Joel just gave him a nod. “Good. Let the folks at home know we’re all OK when you get there. Safe travels.”

“You, too,” Joel said, tugging you closer.

He held you close as Tommy led the way back to where they’d left the horses, taking stock of you as you went. Your breaths were shaky but even, your footing unsteady but driven. Joel couldn’t be sure what was done to you here. He could only hope that you would find peace in Jackson and the life you shared with him and that, in time, you’d recover from it.

The encampment was decimated, bodies of Mitchum’s men on the ground, Jackson folks already going from house to house taking stock, piling the dead together to burn. You stared at the carnage, a half dead look in your eyes as you did. Joel just held you, feeling everything again for the first time since he’d found you gone, until the five of you reached the horses.

“Don’t have one for you,” Joel said gently. “But Ellie can ride with me or her and Savvy can ride together if…”

“I want to ride with you,” you cut him off, looking at him with those wide eyes of yours. “Please, Joel. Take me home.”

And so, he did.

A/N: And Mitchum meets his end. I hope it was worth the wait for you all!

We are very, very close to the end of this fic, just two more chapters to wrap everything up. But Bambi is back with Joel, they have their girls and Jackson is saved. It's all going to get better from here :)

Thank you all so so much for going on this journey with me. It's been wonderful to share Joel and Bambi's story with you and it wouldn't be the same without you.

Love you!

Next Chapter

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc

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astarionancuntnin · 6 months

Text

Undisclosed Desires (Chapter 2)

summary: its the day after you and astarion indulged in each other's embrace. it shouldve been a once done deal, nothing more, but that last night ended with you questioning your feelings for the pale elf. you struggle to come to terms with those and the day might prove more difficult as you get trapped alone with him in a secluded dungeon

or in short:

rating: E

word count: 4k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, sorceress tav)

cw: 18+. smut, porn with little-to-no plot, karlach gets hurt for the sake of the porn (shes doing her part o7), denial of feelings, sexual tension through the roof, dom!tav/reader, teasing, dry humping, begging, ear licking, vampire bites, kinda praise kink, sorta breeding kink, your honor- theyre both brat switches fighting to top the other.

a/n: at long last, chapter 2! i had so much fun with the dialogues, i hope you enjoy them as much as i did uwu. also, inspo song at the beginning is the same as chapter 1, but a different part of the song, and end of chapter song is a different one (that i linked at the end). let me know how you feel about the dynamic in this chapter 👀

Masterlist

previous chapter

read on ao3

next chapter

or keep reading down below ~

I shut my eyes

You call but I just cut the line

I know your style

I know that you want one more night

And I'm backsliding

Into this just one more time

You wake up this morning to the sound of your companions talking nearby. Instinctively, you reach for the spot next to you, only to find it empty. Figures. If it wasn’t for the aching pain in your muscles and the dizziness of your mind, you’d think what happened last night was just a dream.

The way Astarion had ravaged your body, how feral he was, the taste of him on your lips, how he felt between your legs…

Instinctively, you rub your thighs together, chasing the feeling from the previous night. You already feel that warmth between your legs as a result of those memories flooding back to you. You hear laughing outside your tent and it brings you back to the present moment ; your companions are probably waiting for you.

You quickly push aside any thoughts of him and reach for your clothes to get dressed up for the day. You take some time to prepare for what your companions have to say about the sounds that came from your tent last night. They had to have heard.

As you take your first step outside, Karlach is the first to greet you.

“Hey Soldier! Slept well? Doubt it was restful but it looks like you had the time of your life!” She nudges you.

“You can say that again! Those screams made me believe she was dying in there!” Shadowheart shouts, sitting near the campfire, before her and Karlach start laughing.

You feel yourself turn redder after each remark. Hells, I didn’t realize how loud I was.

“It did sound… intense. Are you sure you’re alright?” Wyll speaks up, more worried about you.

You lift your blushing face which was hiding in shame between your hands. “Oh, yeah no, I’m fine just- um,” you turn to Shadowheart, “Can I ask you to cast lesser restoration on me, please?”

She looks at you puzzled, “Can’t you cast it on yourself?”

“The only thing I wanna cast on myself at this very moment is eldritch blast, now, can you please cast the damn spell?”

“So much for the ‘great sorceress with limitless talents’,” she mocks you, reminding you of the very words you used back when you introduced yourself to her.

“SHADOW.”

“Fine, fine,” she scoots over the log, making space for you. “Come here, I’ll take care of you.”

You walk over to her and you sigh as you sit down, completely slouched over.

“Gods, he really did a number on you, huh,” she casts lesser restoration and you straighten up, instantly feeling much better.

“Yeah, you should see the other guy,” you say, smiling, proud to have gained back your wits.

“Speaking of,” Wyll interjects. “We haven’t seen him all morning. We fully expected him to come out of your tent.”

“Huh, I did wake up alone,” you confess. “I just assumed he went back to his tent.”

“Heh! Maybe he’s still in there recuperating from your night together!” Karlach shouts, before laughing some more.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go check up on him,” you roll your eyes as you get up to walk towards his tent.

You’re glad it’s placed far enough from the campfire to be out of your friend’s sights. You didn’t want to give them more ideas if they saw you with the vampire this morning. You call out his name before opening the flap of his tent, only to reveal it to be empty.

“Looking for something?”

You slightly jump, as if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t have, and quickly turn around to face him.

“Gods, you startled me.”

He walks towards you, shirtless, with his hair still damp from his morning bathing and his trousers hanging loosely around his hips.

“Terribly sorry dear, I would never do this to you intentionally.”

His little smile is unnerving. Your heartbeat quickens, and you frown at yourself; You can’t allow yourself to falter this early in the day. You take a deep breath, your way to gain back control over yourself.

“We’re almost ready to leave, so I came looking for you,” you try to look elsewhere but you’re mesmerized by his sight.

“Well, here I am now. Can I… help you with something?”

He raises his hand and strokes your cheek gently with the back of it, his face dangerously getting near yours. You feel your face burning hotter and it takes everything in you to push yourself away from him.

“We should really go, just– get dressed. I’ll uh, I’ll wait for you around the campfire with the others.”

You turn around completely flustered and walk back to your companions.

“Again?!” Karlach exclaims as she sees the state you’re in. “At this rate, you’ll turn redder than me!”

You wanna crawl into the depths of the hells and never come back up.

—

Today’s quest brings you to a secluded dungeon. Your findings from the previous days led you there in search for more information about an artifact you previously found throughout your adventure. If you’re correct, you should find here what’s missing for it to work. Now the only thing left to do is actually finding that missing piece.

With a swift flick of his wrist, Astarion opens the door to the lower grounds. As the door opens, you’re greeted by damp air and a musty smell. The place is dusty and covered in spiderwebs. Whatever you’re looking for must be here judging by the fact that no one has been down here in ages. You all walk in and notice that the place is a damned maze filled with countless rooms. You split up from the group, starting the search on your own, and the first room you walk in greets you with an absurdly obvious trap. You sigh, discouraged, as you fall back against the wall next to the entrance. Guess I won’t be able to avoid him much longer.

“Astarion? A hand?!” Your voice echoes through the hallways, followed by the sound of his footsteps.

He makes his way towards you nonchalantly, “You called, dear?”

“Can you take care of this?” You point towards the device.

He leans over you, his arms caging you between him and the wall, “I could, if you were to ask nicely.” His face hovers dangerously close to you, you can feel his cold breaths ghosting over your lips. It would be so easy to just tilt your head up and close the gap… No, you can’t let him win this. Last night was just a mutual agreement. An exchange of sorts. Nothing more, nothing less.

You cross your arms over your chest, creating some distance between the two of you, “Don’t push your luck.”

“Oh well, I assume you know how to deal with such an intricate mechanism then, if you’re so much better than I am?”, he wears his typical shit-eating grin.

You roll your eyes and step over your pride, “Fine. Can you please disarm this trap so we can carry on?”

“See? Now, was that so hard?” He gives you a playful look before getting to work.

You stand next to him as he fickles with the machinery when you hear a loud commotion from afar.

“FUCK!”

You recognize the voice from your fiery friend and waste no time running towards the source of her scream, only to find her in a terrible state with Shadowheart kneeling next to her. Her leg is barely recognizable. Whatever got her rendered her unable to fight from now on.

“What happened?!”

“Godsdamned trap got me, shit!” She keeps groaning in pain.

“Alright, Shadowheart, do you think you can take care of her wounds?”

“I can stabilize her, but she won’t be able to carry on with her injuries, we need to head back to camp as soon as possible so I can tend to her,” she explains.

“Okay, okay,” your eyes wander between your friends as you’re thinking of a solution. “Yeah, okay, you’re right, I’m not risking Karlach’s life on this,” the cleric nods in agreement, “But we can’t back track now. Who knows what else this trap triggered, it might’ve alarmed someone. We are so close to finding the answer, I can't risk letting it slip past us.”

Shadowheart raises as she’s about to argue but you cut her off, “Don’t worry, I still believe you two should head to the camp. Astarion and I will carry on.” You feel Shadowheart’s glare of disapproval. “I swear we’ll be careful and we’ll run back to you guys should we encounter a situation that's too much for us.” You try to reassure your friend.

“Oooooooo, keeping Fangs all to yourself?” Karlach never missed an opportunity to tease you, even when in insufferable pain. You could respect that.

“Oh please, if it were up to me, he would be the one in that trap.”

“Rude,” Astarion remarks from behind you. You can’t help the smirk creeping up on your face.

“Fine,” the half-elf frowns in resignation. “We’ll head back– but don’t do anything stupid.”

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Astarion adds sarcastically, as the two walk away.

With half of your party gone, you lose no time continuing your research. You didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary with half the manpower in unknown territory. You pass a few halls and rooms, each containing an absurd amount of traps for what little they were hiding, slowly getting discouraged from your lack of findings, when you hear rumble afar.

You both still, listening to the sounds, when you realize they are making their way towards you.

“Hide!”, you barely whisper.

Before he can react, you roughly drag Astarion with you in the next open room and slam the door behind you. You acted faster than you could think ; the sound of the door was loud and the footsteps are now getting faster and louder. You try to remain calm to avoid drawing any more attention than necessary when you see the expression change on your companion’s face, followed by him yelling.

“What in the sweet hells is wrong with–!”

You don’t give him time to finish his sentence as you push him against the stone wall by his waist with the force of your whole body, while your other hand covers his mouth. You stare intensely into his eyes and mouth a “shh”, as silent as you can, to convey the urgency for him to shut up as the rumble of the footsteps get even closer to your location. He blinks rapidly and nods, understanding your motion, but brings his hand up to remove yours from his mouth. You hear the footsteps stop nearby and your heart pounding in your chest as your breathing stills. Your eyes dart towards the door, anxiety building up in your chest. Anything could be outside. You cannot risk getting into a fight you couldn’t handle. Against his own good, Astarion speaks up yet again.

“Let’s just kill–”

And you shut him up, again.

This time, with a kiss.

It’s a surprise to both of you. It was sudden, instinctive. You’re not sure what took over you, but at this moment, it seemed to be the best course of action. You stay motionless for a moment before pulling away, slowly. You hear the sounds outside your room getting further away and you finally breathe out in relief. He looks at you with an annoying smile painted over his face.

You notice him observing you. “You really need to learn when to shut up,” you say, a poor excuse to try and justify your actions, as a blush takes place over your cheeks.

His lidded eyes observe your lips before making eye contact again, “And you think you know better?”

“I know I do,” you frown slightly.

He keeps smiling, that damn annoyingly confident smile. “I’m afraid you’ll have to teach me, then. I’ve been known to be awfully loud.”

You scoff. The audacity of this man.

Initially, that first kiss was never supposed to lead to anything else. It was spontaneous, a means to an end, just like your last night spent together. Anything to stop him from talking, whatever would save you from being found. But you couldn’t deny the feelings that fluttered in your stomach, the butterflies in your chest.

He continues, his words dripping with sarcasm, “I’m sure a sorceress of your expertise must have some way to silence a noisy rogue like myself.”

You realize then : all along, you didn’t hate him, you hated the fact that you were attracted to him, to that damn attitude of his. Truth is, you couldn’t have enough of that banter between the two of you. Every morning, that was the thing you were looking forward to. There was no denying yourself anymore ; you chased the feeling of arguing with this overblown, pretentious asshole. You wanted him, in more ways than one, and in any way he would offer himself to you.

“I can think of a few tricks,” you lean over him the same way he did you earlier, your faces barely an inch apart.

“Try me,” his voice is barely a whisper by now.

You let your feelings guide your next move as you pull him in by the collar of his armor, crashing your lips against his. If he saw this as a game, you intended to win. As the kiss depends, you’re taken back to that scenario you played in your head the night before, prior to Astarion’s visit.

At the next corner, you would’ve pushed him by the waist against the nearest wall and shut his pretty mouth up.

Your kiss started out rough, but it quickly became passionate, it engulfed both of you into a world of your own. His hands roamed up your back and down your waist, pulling you in closer, reaching for more contact. Your sorcerer robe allowed for you to feel how tightly he grabbed you and yet, it didn’t feel like enough. You wished for nothing more than having your skin being ravished by his touch.

You would’ve taken the chance to let one of your hands roam through his silky smooth, curly hair, pulling it enough to get a moan out of him.

Oh, and how soft it was. Freshly washed from this morning, his curls felt like silk through your fingers. You let your hands linger in his hair, combing through it, before lightly pulling it back. He groans in your mouth as a response, not parting from your lips just yet, and you smile through it.

How you would’ve parted his legs with your own, and grinded against his crotch, feeling his growing bulge.

You easily push yourself between his legs and grind against him. He pulls back from your kiss then, gasping in surprise. With the threat outside the room being long gone, you welcomed any noise you would get out of him. You feel his cock getting harder against your leg and you keep rubbing him up and down, creating more pressure over his member. He rests his head on your shoulder, breathing hard, his hold on you getting tighter.

“Hells, darling, I didn’t think you had it in you,” he pants.

“Mmh, seems like I’ve got a lot more to teach you then.”

You reach for your trousers under your robe, letting them fall down after loosening your belt, before reaching for his, pulling them down just low enough to expose his cock which is already leaking with pre-come. He hisses when you grab a hold of him, your mere touch sending shivers down his spine.

You smirk at the visible reaction he has to you, feeling powerful over him. Such a contrast compared to your last night tryst. This time, you were guiding this dance.

You guide him towards your entrance, only to grind yourself over him. He slides so easily between your wet folds and you can’t help the moan escaping your lips. The friction over your clit is nothing short of euphoric. You swing your hips back and forth, coating his length with your arousal, as he holds onto your waist for dear life. You grab his face and pull him closer so your foreheads touch, then take a moment to admire the mess you’re making of him, and by the Gods, what a pretty mess he was. His parted lips, gasping between each stroke you would allow him, his eyes fluttering open, lost in the feeling of your thighs squeezing him, his roughed up curls from the sweat building up on his forehead.

He was beautiful.

You feel him moving on his own, trying to change positions so he has more control, but it's not something you will allow this time. You take his hands from your waist and push them against the wall he was leaning against, never stopping the rhythm you had going on.

“What do you think you're doing?” Your voice is coated with desire.

“Please, let me in,” he begs.

“Do you think you deserve it?”, you say, playfully.

“Gods, I– yes, yes I do!”, he whines.

“Beg more.”

“What?! I will not–”, before he can finish his sentence, you reach for his ear with your tongue and give it a lick from the base to the tip. “Mmmgh ah, fuck–”

“What was that?” You nibble on his ear.

“I– Ah–,” his entire resolve crumbles. “Please, love, I need you please,” he begs again, his voice faltering.

You continue to lick and nibble on his ear. “See? Now, was that so hard?” you tease, using his own words against him.

“Oh, you little– ah–!”

You cut him off as you raise your leg to hook it to his hips allowing you for a better angle as you push him inside you slowly. You’re so wet from teasing him that he slides in without any resistance.

You throw your head back, taking in the feeling of him filling you, and at the vision of your exposed neck, Astarion leans in the crook of your neck, bared fangs scratching the spot he previously fed from you. You feel his cold breath along with the wetness of his tongue, lapping at your healed wound. You sense what he wants to do and although you crave it and you would let him do it, you don’t wanna give in so easily.

You stop all motion and with him buried deep inside of you, your hand lingering in his hair grabs a handful of curls to pull him back, away from your prized neck, holding him in place.

He growls insistently, his true nature coming back to him.

“Give me one good reason,” you tug harder.

Through his ragged breath, he smiles playfully, “I just wanted a snack for the road.”

“You drank last night, you don’t need it,” your tone comes out raspy and aggressive despite your enjoyment of the situation.

“But you want this,” he pauses, watching your reaction. Your answer isn’t spoken, as much as it’s seen : your chest rises higher with each panting breath you take, your eyes flutter, drunk on lust, and your core is dripping wet, your combined fluids leaking against your leg. “Don't you?” He knows both of you know it's a fight for control.

You thrust roughly, once, to reassert your position over him, making him whimper. “And just what makes you think that?”

He locks eyes with you, a grin painting over his face. “You seemed to enjoy it last time.”

“Hardly.”

“My dear, you can deny it all you want, but I can read you like an open book.”

You hated how he always managed to have the last word. One day, you tell yourself, It’ll be me. But for now…

“Shut up and bite me.”

The second you let go of your grasp in his hair, Astarion dives in the nook of your neck, plunging his fangs in your pulsating vein. You cry out at the sharp sting you feel and once the initial pain settles in, you pick back up the rhythm you had earlier, making the elf groan as he drinks you in. He was right, his bites had the effect of an aphrodisiac on you. You would never tell him though, his ego was inflated enough as is, admitting it would only make him more insufferable than he already is.

His hold on you became tighter and the more he drank, the less your strength allowed you to keep your position, but the build up down your stomach only grew. You didn't want to falter so close to the end.

“Astarion…” you warn him.

He growls against your neck and takes one last sip of your liquid gold before removing his fangs from you, licking off the new wound he created to clean you up. That's something else you could appreciate from the vampire ; no matter how selfish you found him, he did seem to respect the boundaries you established. He would absolutely push all of your buttons but when it came to sex he seemed more attentive, responsive. You never wanted to fall for him, but your heart had other plans.

You cross your arms around his neck, closing any remaining distance between your two bodies and with all the energy left in you, you thrust harder, and faster, letting yourself get lost in the overwhelming feeling he provided between your legs. Now that you had experienced him once, you craved getting filled up by him, only him, as much as possible, as much as he wanted to. You wanted to be his.

“Darling, I’m close–”

“Come, let go for me,” you breathe in his ear before licking him again. “You’re so pretty when you come inside me.”

Your last words combined with the stimulation you’ve given him trigger his collapse in your arms. He grasps your hips vigorously, pulling you flush against him, allowing him to unload himself deep inside of your womb. You fall over the edge shortly after, drinking in the feeling of his semen filling you up. You fantasized constantly about being filled to the brim by him. Used over and over again, leaking from his seed, the act merely done to defile you in his image. You clench around his length, your legs shaking as you picture yourself overflowing with his come and ride out the wave of electrifying pleasure that courses through you.

As you come down from your high and let your leg down, you reach for something to grab a hold of so as to not completely fall over. Astarion had completely slouched over the wall you fucked him over, he was not an option. The nearest thing that seemed solid enough was an empty torch holder placed right next to the door which you grab without second thoughts. The last thing you expected was for it to pull down as you grabbed it. Even less that it opened a secret trap door in the middle of the room, from which a pillar came out of. You stay in place for a moment, piecing together what just happened, with Astarion making eye contact with you, just as puzzled as you were.

Before you now stands an altar with a very clearly placed piece of dark metal, shaped strangely like the pattern you remember being described in the previous document you found. You put your trousers back on, dismissing the mess between your legs, and grab the missing piece, connecting it to the artifact you held, to see it click in place.

“No fucking way.”

Astarion smirks, as if he was responsible for your discovery, proud of himself, “Wouldn’t have found that out with Karlach now, would you?”

He will never let you live this down.

When you're around me, I'm radioactive

My blood is burning, radioactive

I'm turning radioactive

My blood is radioactive

My heart is nuclear

Love is all that I fear

#my posts #my writing #bg3 #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #astarion smut #self insert #bg3 fanfic #smut #Spotify #fic: undisclosed desires

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astarion-dekarios · 3 months

Text

I did a live transcription of the Dragon Age: the Veilguard dev Q&A session today.

UPDATE/EDIT: I made a second pass of this and cleaned it up into a full/complete transcript.

Q: If you could belong to any of the main factions, which would you choose?

Corinne: Listen Katie, you say softball but this is hard. I'm gonna cheat and I’m gonna give you two. So for fashion, the Antivan Crows all day long. their threads, you're gonna love it. For vibes though, the ones that capture my vibe, Mournwatch. Gimme those necromancers.

John: Those are good answers. I have one for fashion and for just general faction that I’d like to be a part of. Veil jumpers - who doesn't like a nice walk in the forest, you know, even if that forest is filled with horrifying monsters and terrifying anomalies, but uh, yeah.

Matt: For me it’s definitely the Lords of Fortune. I’ve had a chance to try out a bunch of them, and I think I’ve finally settled on them, and I think it’s just because pirate barbarian is just such a great combination of elements. Treasure hunting, plus beaches and palm trees and all that stuff, it’s a really good mix, so that’s kind of my default.

Q: I’ve seen a lot of talk about only having two companions in your party instead of three for this game. What is the reasoning this and will we get the same companion conversations and banter as seen in the previous Dragon Age Games??

Corinne: Such a good question. Thank you to whoever submitted this one. I'll start and then turn it over to John Epler. As you saw in the gameplay reveal, this is a much more intimate experience. We pulled the camera in. For those that aren't aware, the reason why is we want you to feel like you actually are in this world, like you’re walking these the city streets of Minrathous, you’re looking up at the buildings all around you. You're a part of this place. It's much more intimate, and we believe as the narrative unfolds that this creates a lot more immersion. Now how this relates to the companions is in doing this, we went back and forth on it a lot, but we actually found that having two companions allows them more visibility and presence. We've talked about the incredible depth and focus we’ve put on fleshing out these companions, they're very fully realized, so here you really get to see them more clearly, you get to see them shine. When you see Lace Harding jump into the air and release a volley of arrows, you can only get that because of this more intimate view. So I love the spotlight that’s been put on them. But I think in addition to the banter, one of the things people are wondering about is, ok but what about gameplay. Again, this has come about from our testing, working with the internal team and also our lovely our council of players. We just found that in the combat system, when you're planning your strategies, two felt like the right number to manage. Keep in mind, Rook has a lot of different types of actions: abilities, individual attacks that are more fleshed out than ever before. Timing and positioning matter a lot, so this really felt like the right balance. The number of inputs and actions we’re asking you as a player to take, including directing your companions, is higher than ever before. And I will also say that I engage with the companions, I actively control what they're doing more than I ever have before in any of the other three games. But John, I’ll toss it over to you for the banter.

John: So banter, honestly I don't think you could stop the writers from writing banters. I will say for myself, it's one of the more light but fun things to do. You get to write little stories, little arcs between the characters, and Veilguard is no different. Banter is still absolutely a core part of it. We've got global banter, you know the general stuff that you get in all spaces, as well as mission specific stuff. But yeah. It's definitely still a big thing, if anything it's the most we've ever done for pairings of companions. Beyond that, we’ve also made sure—and I mean, I’ve been on Dragon Age for a while, and I know there’s been an issue, you know, things like, “well, I don’t wanna miss this banter.” So we've even added stuff like interruptable and resumable banter as well, just to make sure that—because again, it’s a core part of the experience. Everyone loves hearing these companions talk to each other. Everyone loves hearing these little stories and relationships develop over the course of the game, and as mentioned before, companions are the heart of this experience. So we still have it, if anything like I said, you could not stop the writers from doing it, even if you tried.

Corinne: Well John, listening to you speak, one thing that comes to mind, maybe people are wondering, with two companions in the field, do I get less interaction? Like do I get a scene with my companions interacting with a broader group more often? And the way you'll gather them around the kitchen table, there's just so many of those moments where they're all interacting with each other. Those are some of my favorite parts.

John: Yeah, and that’s a good callout, because I think the other side of it is, we aren’t talking too much about your home, but we also wanna make sure that they feel like they have relationships and a life outside of just the times you take a certain pair of companions out on the field, so we made sure that they have interactions there as well.

Q: How customizable is the backstory of Rook? Will we get to determine their past in the character creator?

John: Absolutely. So Rook has six different backgrounds that you can choose from. Each one is tied to one of the major factions in the Veilguard, and each one sets out who Rook was before they were recruited by Varric. While that sets up the broad events, as you go through the game and have conversations either with members of your faction, other characters, you can define not just what those events were but what they meant to you – what was your motivation, what was the kind of person you are as you build up Rook, because again, we wanna make sure that roleplaying is at the heart of this experience, and taking Rook, giving them a background in the world but letting you decide what that means and what that says about you is also a big part of it. And again, there are six different factions in this game. Two which anyone who’s played Dragon Age for a while would remember, you’ve got the Gray Wardens and Antivan Crows. We also have, in addition to them, four new ones because we’re in Northern Thedas. We’ve got the Veil Jumpers, Mournwatch, Shadow Dragons, and Lords of Fortune. A lot of different options, a lot of different backgrounds, and a lot of opportunities to define who your Rook was and who they are now.

Q: Will crafting return and has it been improved since Inquisition?

Corinne: Will crafting return? You can absolutely improve and customize your gear, yes. That is a big part of RPG progression, so yes you can improve and customize it. I will say though, it's different this time around, and it does get into spoiler territory so I'm gonna be a little cagey about it, but there might be a mysterious entity that assists you with that that will be an important part of the narrative.

Q: Can we kiss or romance Manfred the skeleton?

John: I would say, not that skeleton, but we're not saying no skeletons.

Q: What were some of the development considerations that you had to take into account to ensure this game flows & functions with prior games & dragon age keep, if keep is being utilized?

Corinne: We did an interview with IGN that goes into some of the details there. To summarize, we have taken a different approach on how you import your decisions this time around. It's now fully integrated into the character creator and serves a dual purpose, to be honest. It’s not called this in game, but I playfully think of it as "last time on dragon age". When I talk about its dual purpose, it's been 10 years since the last dragon age game release, so it serves as a refresher on critical events as well as allowing you to remake those decisions that are critical to you. The thing I love about it is it's very highly visual, it uses the familiar tarot card aesthetic, so it's actually a very visual and playful experience as you go through it. It is very much important to us that it's built into the client, though. You can play this game entirely offline, no connection, you don’t have to link to your EA accounts. That's been a really big request, so the refresher plus make those decisions in client, I think we're all pretty happy about that. I don't wanna spoil anything by revealing what decisions you can import. Y'all don't want the spoilers. But it's been a really interesting creative intersection for us. Because on the one hand, this is a whole new adventure. You're in northern thedas, these locations you've literally never been to before, so that affects what will matter and what we’re not using this time around as far as decisions. But obviously there’s some very very clear connections to existing characters. It’s no secret that the Inquisitor, our dear Inky, is gonna show up, so that's a factor.

Q: Will this next game be an open world game or is it just confined to Tevinter?

John: Yeah, so you are in northern Thedas, but the game only begins in Minrathous. It doesn't stay there. I think one of the most exciting things for me, and again, I don’t wanna get into too much spoiler detail, but getting to go to and work with the art team, the narrative, the design team to build out these locations we've talked about, places that character have referred to as where they’ve come from, places that characters obviously in previous games have hailed from, has been absolutely exciting. So you do start in Tevinter, you do start in Minrathous, but again that’s not the entire game by any stretch.

Corinne: And the first half of it is, is it an open world game? We've gone back to what we believe delivers the best, most curated, intense narratives. So this is a hand crafted experience, it's mission based. Now these locations can open up, you can go back, solve mysteries, do some really great side content - not fetch quests, not grind quests, some really great side content. But I wanna be clear, it's a really curated, hand crafted experience.

John: Just to bounce off of that very quickly, the most important thing for us and what Corinne was saying about hand crafted, obviously we’ve talked about how characters, story, narrative are critical to us, and this has allowed us to build those experiences in a way that emphasized that really well while still tying it into the story threads and story beats.

Q: Will the companions have unique specializations like DA2 or the same as player?

Corinne: I think the best way for me to describe this is that yes, our companions will have abilities that are truly unique to them, but also the companions do fall into the archetypes of mage, rogue, and warrior. For instance, you might be surprised to hear, because she has a bow, but Bellara is in fact a mage, and I love that. Some of the abilities, the bulk of the abilities of the companions, are based on their own unique personalities. Neve is the only mage that is an ice mage, so you get distinct abilities for her. But because she's a mage, she does have access to abilities that all mages share, like Time Slow. We really like the balance there. It’s a good mix of representing their archetype, their class, and also their distinct specialization or personality or whatever you wanna call it.

John: Yeah actually, I would say the word personality is a great one, because all of these characters exist, have a story, have a history of how they became who they were, and part of that was finding that intersection between narrative and gameplay and making sure that again, we serve the needs of gameplay, but also allow these characters to exist as their own people, not just in conversation but out of conversations as well.

Corinne: I would also say that as part of that core mage kit, healing spells are there. So if your mages, you wanna make ‘em a healer, yeah.

Q: Will the Veilguard have tactical combat still?

Corinne: Yes. Combat gets quite tactical. Obviously this is an evolution of the combat system. I talked about immersion, wanting to put you in the world like you’re actually living and existing in it, but it is very tactical and I will say we have a robust difficulty system. The tactics are increasingly important the higher difficulty that you go. So if you’re showing up for a highly tactical experience, I would crank that difficulty in particular. But I wanna make sure I’m super clear in my answer. You saw the gameplay reveal. Our pause time tactical mode is not overhead. It stays close to Rook. It does allow you to cycle between targets in and out of combat, there’s a reason for that. As the game progresses, you didn’t see this in that opening hour of the game, but it will display strategic information on the enemies, so what are their vulnerabilities, what are their elemental weaknesses, their enhancements, what are they resistant to, so your type of abilities, leaning into elemental gameplay matters a lot.

I would also say, this is a long answer because it’s such a great question, tactical decision making also takes the form, I would say this is front and center, of coordinating your ability usage between Rook and your companions to create synergies and or really devastating, we call them detonation combos. So let me give you a couple of examples, because it can be really hard to visualize, so hopefully this helps. One of the tactics that I personally enjoy in my own builds, I just recently played as a veil ranger, I love it, it’s one of my favorites. if I'm fighting fade touched enemies in Artlathan, I like to use Bellara's galvanized tear to pull enemies together, it’s like a gravity well. You then Slow Time with Neve – Slow Time affects the world around you, but it does not affect you, so you clump them up, you slow time -- and then with Rook I come in and do a devastating AOE or damage over time spell or ability. And it’s even better if it's a lightning based ability, because the fade touched in Arlathan are vulnerable to that. So there’s so many layers of coordination and strategies and tactics. We did talk about the devastating detonation combos, that's one of my favorite features, because that’s when you’re really leaning into explicit teamwork between your companions and Rook or the companions together. When I build out my team and I'm going into a mission, I try to ensure that I have at least a couple possible synergies, detonation combo synergies, between my team. It might be between Harding and Neve, Neve and me, or both. So here, I'd go into battle, pause time, open the ability wheel, get information on the enemy – and the wheel will actually tell you that there is a synergy combo, you might have seen a screenshot that says “combo available” – it will remind you of synergies between companions, you can queue both of those abilities up at the same time, close out of the pause time menu, they’ll both execute, both abilities will happen. Then the detonation AOE happens, applies debuffs to all the enemies in a radius of it. It's so satisfying. I can’t wait for yall to see it, but the interesting thing is that too is a tactical choice. I’m choosing to use my companions to do that, and that means I’m not using them to heal me, or to give me that defense bonus, or to knock an enemy off a ledge, so it’s about the opportunity costs. I could spend the rest of the session talking about this, apologies for being long winded, but this is one of my favorite parts of the game.

Q: Can you choose rook's pronouns? If yes, is being non-binary an option? How detailed is the character creator?

Corinne: Well yeah you can select your pronouns. Absolutely. You can actually select your pronouns and your gender, because those are related concepts, but they’re not actually the exact same thing. Yeah, you can be non-binary, we have he/him, she/her, they/them. Yes. Emphatic yes. How detailed is the character creator? Oh my goodness, yall. Very. I don't wanna give away too much just yet but it's very very deep. It has been revealed, it’s out there in a couple articles about the focus on hair, the focus on skin tones that are done respectfully, full body customization, hell yeah, we love to see it. But we’re gonna come back, we’re gonna show you a lot more on character creator, but we wanna make sure we have the time and space to do that.

Q: Will there be a photo mode in game?

Corinne: That is something we’re actively looking into, we know there’s a ton of interest, so stay tuned on that one, but we are very much looking into it.

John: I can add too, that is a feature that we like, we like the idea of, and it’s not just player facing, but internally it’s a really helpful thing to have that as we’re building things out, so we’ll let you know.

Corinne: Yes, yeah, absolutely. We are as geeked on that possibility as you all are.

Q: A lot of people were asking about abilities. Are we going to be limited in how many abilities we can pick from the wheel?

Corinne: Ability wheel does have a capacity. You have to choose which three abilities you wanna bring for Rook, which three for a companion, and which three for another companion. What I like about this is there is kind of an emergent gameplay depending on who you and your companions are coming into a mission with. Now the reason for that is it actually creates a really interesting balance between strategizing, having to do that strategy about your combat kit before the mission, and then the tactical decisions once you're in the field deciding what to do. I want to clear one thing up, while there are three ability slots for Rook, there's so much more than that - other actions that you can perform directly from the wheel like you’ll have an ultimate ability associated with your class or your specialization, so there’s variants there. There’s a type of items you can get that function like abilities, they’re typically like buffs and enhancements, in the form of runes, so you’ll control that for Rook and/or the team from the wheel. You may have also seen that you can direct which targets your companions can focus on, but what you might not know is that a lot of the companion gear really synergizes with that directing with your companions. When you issue those commands, that too will proc depending on the gear they have equipped, really interesting and strategic effects. They can be more ability like, more like proc’d effects, there’s just so much from the wheel that once you get in and see everything working together, becomes more and more apparent.

Q: Will fireball and cone of cold be back as spells in Dragon Age: the Veilguard?

Corinne: All these combat questions, really good. Fireball and Cone of Cold aren't specifically back, however their successors are, frost nova and meteor. These serve the exact same combat role and function as those other abilities. I would also say it gives them quite the glow up. Meteor in particular, so satisfying nuking a group of darkspawn with a well placed meteor. It’s wonderful

Q: What accessibility features are available? Arachnophobia mode? Mod support?

Corinne: Oh my goodness, arachnophobia. I am wicked afraid of spiders too. My partner always laughs at me, I’m just terrified of them. That said, that's one we're going to save for a little bit closer to launch before we’ll go into full details about accessibility features. But I do wanna assure you we have spent a lot of time thinking about this topic, so that you can play the game in a way that really works for you. I'm excited to share that with you when the time is right.

Q: How long is the time skip from Inquisition to the Veilguard?

John: Anyone who's paid attention to Dragon Age, and I can say as somebody who’s been on Dragon Age since Origins, timelines are always a little iffy. They change and they morph over development as we see how longs things are taking, but for Veilguard we were actually pretty consistent from the start that it's been about 10 years since trespasser, as you may or may not have noticed, Varric's become a bit of a silver fox. I’ve seen a lot of comments about that on social media. Yeah, 10 years. Solas's ritual has taken time to set up and you’re kinda coming in at the end of that hunt.

Q: Is Solas still bald?

Matt: Yeah. I mean if you’ve watched the gameplay thing, we can all confirm that Solas is still bald, Solas is still Solas. I really like how Solas has turned out this time around. I will say, here’s a comment on this specific question that’s gonna sound like a non-sequitor, but once you get a chance to play a little bit more, maybe you’ll – In Thedas, ancient elves go bald when they are millenia old, so Solas wasn't always bald. So if you end up seeing what Solas looked like in the past, things might be a little different. Now that said, I’m sure some of you are wondering what happened to Solas’s wig from Tevinter Nights. I’m sure he still has it somewhere, so… It’s his most important possession.

Corinne: Some pride there, huh.

Q: Will we be able to change companions appearances and outfits or are they fixed, similar to Dragon Age 2?

Matt: Dragon Age 2 was, we loved how the followers turned out in that, but it was sad given our constraints that we had to keep them with just one basic outfit. We really tried to make some space for them this time around. They have iconic color palettes and things like that, but they do have a wider range of appearances that you can find for them, some are just cool but then there are some that are tied to directly to their narrative and just kind of what’s happening in their life.

Q: Will we be seeing or visiting Kal’Sharok?

Matt: What’s been really cool, so in previous games, we’ve kind of alluded to this before, it was a lot of fun to hint at the locations that were off the map, the mysterious places you were not going, and so you could just bring in some props, some characters, a piece of art, things like that. Even Tevinter was only vaguely hinted at and we’d just add drips and bits and pieces, so that stuff was really fun. In the Veilguard we’re actually getting to visit a whole lot of those locations that had only been hinted at for real, so you do actually run around Tevinter and a bunch of the other locations that we’ve revealed. But this also means that we're not completely filling out the map, and that there are new things we can start hinting at and we can start drip feeding. It’s kinda fun, I’d say for what we can show of Kal’Sharok and other locations, there’s more to do.

Q: Will the dialogue wheel/options be similar to Inquisition and Andromeda in the sense that it's more tone based?

John: We have a number of different types of wheels in our game. All the dialogue wheels are based off the same principle, anyone who’s played a dragon age game and remembers what they look like. In Dragon Age: the Veilguard, we have tone wheels which are roleplaying your character picking consistent tone. We also have emotion wheels where you can pick specific emotional reactions, and choice wheels which are, I don’t have a strong emotional or tone tie here, but I do want to make a choice based on what I do. Investigate’s obviously return as well. We want players to understand as much as possible what it is they are going to be picking, we want the choice to be clear even if one of the best things about consequence is making sure that’s not entirely clear.

Q: How extensive are Rook’s dialogue decision trees?

John: Huge. Again, it’s a Dragon Age game. We wanna make sure you have choices, we wanna make sure you can choose your roleplaying, but also choose outcomes of conversations, choose how events unfold. Again it’s a Dragon Age game, we wanna make sure we also react to decisions you’ve made. So for example, you may be talking to a follower who is an elf, and if you yourself are an elf, obviously you'll have a different perspective on events than someone who’s not an elf. Sometimes that means different conversation options, sometimes that’s going to be entirely new dialogue trees, as well as based off decisions you’ve made throughout the game, so again, making sure the game feels like it notices what you’re doing is a huge part of how we’ve written out the dialogue wheel and dialogue trees in this game.

Q: All companions romanceable by all player characters regardless of race and gender?

Corinne: Yeah, yeah. We have talked about this in some of the interviews, I’ve seen a few articles about it, so I'd recommend everyone check out those articles, but let me just give you a quick interview. Each of the seven companions has full romance arcs and they are romanceable by all genders. Absolutely. But something that’s really important to us on the team, and so I just wanna make sure and double down on, that doesn't mean playersexual. If anyone’s unaware of what we mean by that, it doesn’t mean they conform or twist their identities to who you the player are. They won’t suddenly have a preference for men or women based on what you’re playing. Instead they have their own fully fleshed out identities. They are true and authentic to that. So in this game they are all pansexuals, they all have histories and romances, sometimes you’ll hear about preferences and things of that nature. And what I really love is if you don’t pursue a romance with them, they’ll actually build their own romances with each other. So in one of the interviews I talked about Lace Harding and Taash getting together. I give that example because it’s one of my favorites. I’m gonna put a question back to the community though. I’ve heard we’re going with Laash for that ship name? You tell me what is that ship name?

Q: What are the markings on the faces of the elven warden and veil hopper?

John: So there’s quite a few, I think more than we’ve done before, tattoos from various cultures. We're bringing the vallaslin back of course but there's a ton of different options, especially when we’re going into these new regions. Each area has its own kind of visual language for that. We are bringing the vallaslin back and a couple characters have them, but we've customized them a bit. They’re a bit more specific to their personality.

Q: What are you as a developer most proud of and excited for players to experience?

Corinne: I suspect for most of us, myself included, it's the depths and authenticity of the companions journey along with on their arcs, learning about their hardships, what they care about, being by their side. That authenticity is just so good, they all feel like my dear friends. But I have to say, the closest runner up for me has to be the character creator. Has to be. That character creator, the makeup options, the range of sliders... I'm a Qunari fan, so even just the way you customize the horns and combine that with the really great looking hair. Character creator has to be my very close runner up.

Matt: As far as what I can say I’m most proud of on this one, I can speak for the art team, we worked incredible hard to make the story more visible than ever. Games are a visual medium, but sometimes it's easier to do things in text format or written in a codex somewhere or alluded to off screen, but we really leaned into trying to make sure that every design, prop, character, environment, that the effects we’re choosing, all these choices were putting the story on screen so you can see it unfold, and I think having worked on all the dragon age games, I'd say Veilguard represents one of the best attempts at that we’ve made yet.

John: I’m gonna cheat and kind of combine both Corinne’s and Matt’s answers. Honestly the companions for me are the absolute highlight. Just being able to work across all the disciplines, building characters who look and sound and behave in very specific and characterful ways. These are the deepest companion arcs we've ever done, not just on Dragon Age but in BioWare in general. Each companion has their own story arc you can go through, decisions you can make. They really do take center stage. As you play through them, you see the care and love that the team has put into each and every one. I mean, there’s moments in each arc that make you cry, make you angry, make you excited, and the way they integrate into the story as a whole for me is something that’s been really fun. Finding ways to bring these characters together, ways to bring this story, this narrative, of you know, you need to put together a team and stop the end of the world, has been absolutely exciting and thrilling. And again, you see the team's love in every single piece of it. As for what I’m most excited, Dragon Age has been part of my career and part of my life for literally the last decade and a half, I’ve worked on it since Origins, and there's something about the Veilguard that feels an amazing mix of novelty and familiarity, it’s like coming home in a way that I feel is going to be very exciting for people who are existing Dragon Age players, but there’s also so much here that’s just new and exciting for people, new players and old players alike. Going to parts of the world, seeing things we’ve never seen before, and just getting to take this amazing world and series and expand on it and build on it in ways that I’ve just been, honestly an absolute thrill, the best part of my career, and I’ve been in games for 17 years now and this has been the absolute highlight for me, so that’s what I’m excited about.

Corinne: I just wanna yes and that. I so completely agree with you. There’ve been times in companion arcs where even knowing what's going to happen, we work on the game, with some of these decisions, I've had to set down the controller, let out a heavy sigh, and go “oh my god, what am I gonna do here?” The depth of them is wonderful. I do wanna put this out there, when we talk about as a developer what we are most proud of, can we just give a big shout out to the dev team? I am so proud of them. This team has poured their hearts into this. Anyone from BioWare who’s listening in, thank you so much. Y’all are just the best.

Q: Why does Varric have dark hair now?

Matt: He's been adventuring for a while now. His hair is more gray, but he's been in very dark scenes so far, so we’ll see him in some more contexts.

Q: Will the Inquisitor be appearing in the flesh or are we just choosing their major DAI decisions?

Corinne: Yes they will. The Inky does appear. We've know how attached y’all are to the Inquisitor, we’ve seen the love for your OC. Yes, the Inquisitor shows up. We'd already confirmed that a few places, so let me just say you can also customize them and it includes some of our new customization options. Yeah they’re gonna show up and they’re gonna be your Inquisitor.

John: And I think beyond that, the story of Solas and the story of the Inquisitor obviously are tied together as much as any story, so it would have been strange for us not to bring them in for this one. They’re gonna be a part of this story.

Q: Will there be any planned DLCs and transmog armor?

Corinne: Right now our focus is entirely on the quality of the game, it's so important at this stage for us to be all in, all attention on finishing this game and delivering on the quality and the promise of it. So that's all I can really say on it, we're 100% focused on this being the most complete game we can make it. I wanna emphasize, there's not gonna be any microtransactions or battle passes, you don't have to connect online. Our focus is making this the most complete single player we possibly can. Now this was kind of a twofer question. Will there be transmog? Hell yeah. I’m the kind of player that believes fashion is the real endgames. Yeah there’s a transmog system, absolutely. It’s sick.

Q: Will any of the characters be asexual?

Corinne: Such a good question. So, look I'm gonna be really forthcoming with yall and a little bit vulnerable, I'm ace. I'm a gray ace, I don't mind sharing that, I’m kind of public with it. I will say though that none of our companions this time around are explicitly ace. We look at the characters, their motivations, who they are, we always assess is this the right time. This time it wasn't. What I will say for everyone on the ace spectrum on there, I would love to represent an ace relationship sometime in the future when it feels like the most authentic fit for a companion, when we can do it best. And I do see some questions, what do we mean by ace? Asexuality. We often refer to it as the ace spectrum.

Q: Can mage Rook do blood magic? Will blood magic be a skill tree separate from regular magic?

Corinne: OK, this gets a bit spoilery, so let me just say, Rook has some pretty good reasons to avoid blood magic. Rook is not gonna wanna be interested in that. But I will say, the mage skill tree is packed with all kinds of spells, traits, and perks to give you a ton of flexibility in your magic. Gonna go off script just a little bit because I’ve seen “just tell us about the specializations”. I’m not gonna tell you the deets, but there is a necromancer one. There is an elemental one, and there is one that’s actually more of like a combat mage. It’s my favorite.

Q: Can we name the griffon? We also have a griffon emoji in this Discord server.

John: Excellent. So, someone in your party, again, spoilers, may have already named the baby griffon, but don’t worry, Assan is a very good boy.

Corinne: All these griffon emojis, y’all are killing me.

Q: Will we have a camp/home/headquarters that we’ll be able to customize?

Matt: Well this time around, in Inquisition you had Skyhold. In this case you have a headquarters called the Lighthouse. More to be seen on that, but narratively it serves kind of a different purpose, but also the same purpose. As far as customization goes, there are elements of it that change over time and some things you can adjust. I don’t know how much we’re really going into that at the moment. One thing I like about it is that it definitely does start to feel very much like home over time.

Q: We need to know, does pasta and noodles exist in Thedas?

Matt: I’ll take it as a chance just to geek out about worldbuilding. Again, the Veilguard for us is a really kind of dream opportunity to go to places we've only ever heard reference to or we’ve seen in set. In going through the world building process, and trying to build these things out not just as neat things from the IP, but also as, if you’ve read about this stuff, you've got your own version in your head, you’ve imagined what it might be like and you're probably hoping for something spectacular, and our brains are always far better at creating this stuff than any game developer or any artist can really do justice to, so you really have to swing for the fences to make something very satisfying and exciting. That can be everything as big as architecture and landscape and biomes and ecosystems, but it does get into things like art and culture and costume design, and also food. This time around that was one of the many things we did look into to try to catch the character and feel of a place to make it feel believable and lived in. So that’s my really long answer for yeah, I'm sure at least one place does have pasta.

Q: Are we getting a mabari?

Matt: Ooh, that’s a good question. I will say you’re spending most of the game in the north of Thedas. Mabari are not nearly as big of a thing up there, so in this particular instance, no, you will not get a mabari, sadly.

Q: Can we pet the griffon?

John: You, I’m really sorry to have to be the one to tell you—Nah, I’m kidding, yes you can. It's not even just petting the griffon, I've actually hugged the griffon, so that feels like even there a step up.

Matt: There’s lots of opportunities to interact with the griffon.

Corinne: Can we see Assan in chat if we wanna see him in the Lighthouse hanging out? And hey, y’all, this was so important to the team, too. Like this is the team’s like, just huge support for this feature, so props to them.

Q: Will we get to see any of the character creator before the game releases?

Corinne: Yes. Yes you will. You've probably seen we are laying out a roadmap for what we're gonna show and when we’re gonna talk about it. You will see it as we get a little closer to launch.

Q: Will we be able to play as a qunari dwarf elf or human?

Corinne: hell yeah you will. All 4. And all 4 have that full body customization. I already talked a little bit about, I’ve always loved the qunari, I will say in Dragon Age: Inquisition it was hard to get a good looking qunari hairstyle. So yes you can play as them, you can customize them, the horn options are rad, the hair options are rad. And also related to this, your lineage gives you a lot of really unique dialogue options. So that’s really one aspect of choosing your lineage as well.

John: So actually just to bounce off that, earlier questions about backgrouds. Each lineage, depending on the lineage you choose and the background you choose, there are some specific callouts to, for example, if it’s a Mournwatch, Mournwatch being from Nevarra and mages, if you play as a dwarf, obviously your experiences in that faction is going to be different from, say, a human or an elf, so there are also specific callouts tailored to those combinations and, with the intention of giving each lineage a little flavor as to how they fit into that faction as a whole.

Q: Where is barkspawn and is he ok?

John: Barkspawn is safely gnawing on a bone next to a fireplace somewhere in Ferelden. Don’t worry, he’s fine. You may ask yourself, “but John, it’s been so long.” To which I say, Mabari live exactly as long as they need to.

Q: Will Rook have a set of default name?

John: Yeah, so Rook’s last name is defined based on their faction, again we wanted to tie that into your backstory, but also there's a name generator that can give you a selection of first names, obviously if you wanted to make your own first name, that’s definitely something we support as well. If you’re somebody who maybe has a little more difficulty coming up with a name, so for example you name every single character Bob because that’s the only name you can think of, we also give that opportunity for that generation.

Q: When will the voice acting cast be announced?

John: We worked with a lot of very talented actors on this one. I am super excited to talk about the voice acting cast, we’ll be talking about it more over the summer, we’re not quite ready to announce names yet.

Same answer for collectors editions and preorders, and required PC specs.

Q: Any special musical guests? Tavern songs?

Corinne: Yeah there are tavern songs and a huge credit to the audio team and performance teams, because they’re pretty great. There’s one at a little tavern in Minrathous called the Swan, and the song you hear there might just be my favorite of the tavern songs.

Q: DA2's main theme brought back motifs from DAO main theme. Can we expect DAV to recall more or less of that original thematic material than inquisition?

John: We are not quite ready to talk about music yet in specifics. But in broad strokes I can say that the process for us is always the same. Working with the composer, figuring out themes, figuring out what kinds of elements we want to keep, tying specific elements to maybe specific characters, it's very in depth process and a very collaborative process. We have some fantastic audio people on our team that have done some fantastic work, that have done an amazing job working with composers and with the team as a whole to make sure that again, we said earlier about cohesiveness, making sure that the music feels like a cohesive part of the experience.

Q: When writing the overall story of this game, what themes did you want to have as the prominent focus?

John: Again, it’s interesting. When writing these games, and this has been true on every Dragon Age I’ve been a part of, what you start with and where you end up aren't always necessarily the same. Sometimes you start writing a theme, you realize actually it’s more interesting if you attack it from this angle, or maybe it ends up twisted a little bit. I will say for Dragon Age: the Veilguard, from the beginning one of the biggest themes has been regret. How regret shapes people’s lives, how they deal with their regrets, how maybe people move past regrets. Each of the characters and the story as a whole have elements of these. We wanted to have that thematic, that cohesiveness to the game’s story and the game’s writing.

Q: Can you play a dwarf and does the world react to your race and backstory?

John: Yes, you can play as a dwarf. Yes, the world does react to your race and backstory. And again you’ll have unique dialogues or unique conversations based on that backstory as well as that race.

Corinne: And to give you a little nugget here because I saw it scrolling through real quickly, you have beards. So when I think of dwarves, I think about glorious, fantastic beards. Hell yeah we do.

John: Yeah I can say, as somebody who plays a lot of games, the character creator—I don’t know what magic they did, but the beards, they feel like a beard should feel like, it’s great, they look awesome.

Q: Will our heroes and companions leave us if we go against their wishes?

Corinne: Do y’all just love pain? Do you want us to make you cry? Um... if you go against their wishes and make decisions they don't like, I will tell you, you can piss them off, they might not agree with you, and they will take some time away. That said this is the biggest threat to Thedas we've ever seen, so they will always be willing to defend Thedas, but yeah you can piss them off and they’ll leave for a minute. As it relates to them showing up to defend Thedas, well yeah they will, UNLESS…

John: No spoilers, Corinne. No spoilers.

Corinne: Alright, alright. But they want it!

Q: Did any songs, books, movies, or anything inspire character writing?

John: Art is always a synthesis of your own experiences both in the real world but also the art you consume, the art you pay attention. I don't think that any characters have a direct reference or inspiration, but yeah, they're all inspired by the things we do both in the real world and in the media we consume. And you’re gonna see elements of characters that yeah. The things that we’ve enjoyed show up in these characters. For me it comes down to, writing can be a deeply personal experience, so even if you don't intend for it to be the case, parts of you will show up in the characters. I think that’s true for all the characters in the Veilguard. Sometimes it's exploring things about yourself that you may like or may not like, and sometimes exploring things about characters you like or don't like. So that’s my longwinded way of saying yes, it’s impossible to not have that happen when you’re creating art, but I don’t think there’s one where you can say, “oh this is this character, this is this character.”

Q: What was the thinking process behind making Harding a companion this time around?

John: When we released Inquisition, it was impossible not to see the love that people had for our murderous girl next door dwarf. She has always been a fan favorite obviously. But I think beyond that, it's something that Harding's writer wanted to explore, there was more of a story to tell there and more perspective. And beyond that Harding also has a strong connection to Solas, to Varric, and the events of the last 10 years. So I wouldn’t say it’s always been but I’d say Harding’s probably one of the first ones we settled on as like yes, this is a character we want, and the writer had a story that they wanted to tell with her, so it just made sense.

Matt: You know, actually, to piggy back on that, that’s something I hadn’t even thought about that much and it’s not a huge part of her character, but she tends to be one of the people that have the most insight into who he was.

John: Yeah that’s exactly—that’s a great way of looking at it, too, it also provides you with a little bit of perspective, for players who’ve been around for previous Dragon Age games, but also for new ones, who was Solas? What kind of character was he? Yeah it’s a great, using characters to provide windows into the world is honestly one of my favorite things.

Matt: And when I say was, I just mean in Inquisition.

John: Yes, that’s exactly, yes. Thank you for correcting that.

Q: What approach are you taking to quest and world design in the Veilguard?

John: I think for us it just comes down to relevance and narrative heft. We wanna make sure that each quest provides either a perspective on the world, a perspective on the characters, or it feels immediately and obviously relevant to what you’re doing here. You’re here to save the world. At the end of the day, one of the things that we heard loud and clear was the feedback about how relevant, or in our case not relevant, previous quests have felt, so for Veilguard, we really wanted all quests to feel like something somebody faced with the end of the world would believe was necessary and important. So again, there’s quests of all sorts and sizes, but all of them share that same feeling of, this is the kind of thing that the Veilguard would do. This is the kind of thing that my hero would do. Especially faced with the end of the world.

Corinne: That’s really good, John. That’s so right. I would just again double down on how hand crafted all the quests are. Whether you’re doing the main story or you’re journeying with your companions or you’re out exploring and you encounter a mystery, everything's hand crafted, intentional, we spend a lot of time listening to what yall said, and of course everyone has slightly different tastes, but you're not gonna be gathering shards in the Hinterlands. Everything is built with intention and they’re lovingly handcrafting the experience.

Q: Are there any locations in the game that can only be accessed by making specific story choices?

John: So I don’t wanna get too much into spoilers here, but I will say that locations can fundamentally change based on decisions you make. Some of the parts of the world that you go to, you can have, the choices you make have an impact on how these spaces exist and develop.

Q: Will we be able to control companions in combat?

Corinne: If Rook gets KO'd, the player character gets knocked out, this time around it is time to reload your save, or better yet, the companions have really interesting progression. You can spec them out to be able to revive you, but that’s if you’ve invested in their progression and what they can do. And that said, I mentioned this earlier but I personally spend more time in the nature of this combat system when everything comes together, interacting and directing the companions than I have in any of the other games. So like that’s interactivity between them. Once you play it you’ll see just how engaged the scene is.

Q: Will Solas still occasionally or dramatically speak in iambic pentameter?

John: I actually spent a little bit of time trying to figure out if I wanted to answer this question in iambic pentameter, and then I very quickly gave up. Massive kudos to Patrick who always writes Solas so well. Again, Solas is a returning character. It's the same Solas you know and love or hate depending on who you are. The same writer. So I think this is, the answer is yeah, it's Solas.

Q: Will our decision of who was left in the fade be important?

John: While that decision does not show up—not for the Veilguard, now that said, that doesn’t mean that’s not a decision that won’t ever be important in the future. Not for this one.

Matt: I’m glad to hear you say that, John, because one of my favorite stories was Bob getting stuck in the web in Reboot.

John: That’s a deep cut! The sound of my childhood.

Q: Will we have mounts again?

Matt: No, mounts were, they addressed a need in Inquisition that we don't have in Veilguard, and you’ll see why when you get to play.

Q: How is the side quest design? Will they be mostly story based or will there be a lot of radiant and quests for power like in Inquisition?

John: We talked about this a bit earlier, but they are all hand crafted and story focused. The narrative, the companions, not just the companions but the characters and the world as a whole, are so much at the core of the Veilguard that anything other than handcrafting quests just felt like it would be a disservice to the game we were building.

Corinne: And maybe we can clarify as well, because with power was such a devisive mechanic in Inquisition, there’s no mechanic like that that blocks your progression until you fill a bar. That’s just not a thing in this. You have the autonomy to engage in these quests as you like, there’s no grind out gates before you can progress.

John: That’s right. Again we want to make sure that doing this content feels as natural and part of the logical flow of the story as possible.

Q: Will there be a similar system to war table?

Corinne: We haven't talked much about the player's base, the Lighthouse, and we're gonna save that, but what I will say is that the Lighthouse, your headquarters so to speak, it has its own unique purposes and functions this time. So that's an area that we'll leave for you when we talk more about the Lighthouse and when you have a chance to hop in, you’ll be able to see what those unique purposes are.

Q: If there is dual wield for warriors, is it dex or str?

Corinne: So we did wanna bring dual wielding back. It is part of the rogue kit this time, warriors are really focused on mighty two handed weapons, I can’t wait until you see, when you swing those weapons there's a real heft to it, and then of course sword and shield. So we’re leaving the dual wielding to the rogues, but you can see, the amount of hits you can get in in rapid succession dual wielding as a rogue is really satisfying.

Q: What have been some of the challenges and advantages of working on a single game for so many years?

John: That is a fantastic question. I have often joked, and I don’t know how much of a joke it is, that when this game is out and I suddenly don't have to keep all these pieces of game and lore and story and everything straight in my head, I'm suddenly gonna be able to speak Latin or something because there’s gonna be a ton of brain power freed up. But for me it’s just, the thing that keeps me sustained is just knowing the game we're building is the right one. Knowing that the pieces are coming together, and knowing just how much people care about this franchise, care about these games, and how excited people are going to be when they get to see the fantastic work the team has been doing. I’ve been on this project since the start, and even today I see things on a daily basis that I’m like holy smokes I can't believe what the team is doing, I can’t believe how good this looks. It's a huge game and I don't see every piece every day, so I get pleasantly surprised on a daily basis. Sometimes if I’m having a particularly long day, I'll spend about an hour late at night just watching cutscenes come in, watching the work coming together, and just sitting back and being like, holy smokes, I can’t wait for someone who hasn’t seen this every day as I have, to see this and just be blown away by the work.

Corinne: It's been very real, hasn’t it? I will just say speaking on behalf of the dev team, everyone's working so hard and putting so much passion, so much of themselves into it. This is a franchise they truly love and seeing your support cheering us on has meant a lot to them. So let me just say thank you to all of you.

#dragon age #dav #dragon age: the veilguard #da4

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arceespinkgun · 2 months

Text

I'm so excited to finally share this comic I've been working on for a quite some time! Queerplatonic relationships are so interesting to explore with transformers, and Jazz needs to learn that sometimes, you just need to reach out!

Image ID below the cut, it's long:

A nine-panel comic focusing on Jazz that's about loneliness, queerplatonic relationships, and the need to reach out to others, with Jazz musing about feeling lonely after hearing about Lightbright and Lodestar being in a QPR.

PANEL ONE: Aboard Lodestar, Lightbright and Jazz are happily dancing to the song "In the Heart" by Kool & the Gang with multicolored lights shining on them. "I love this music you've shared with us, Jazz!" says Lightbright. "And you know how to boogie!" says Jazz. Windblade, who looks surprised, is walking across the dancefloor. She says, "Lightbright, you and your Titan, Lodestar, have such a close bond!" Song lyrics play in the background: "When you say you love somebody, you got to let them know about it!"

PANEL TWO: Lightbright says to Windblade, "Isn't it wonderful? She's my dancing and travelling companion for life." "Are you two Conjunx Endura?" Windblade asks. "No, we aren't Conjunx," answers Lightbright. "Amica Endura?" asks Windblade. "No, it's different…" says Lightbright.

PANEL THREE: "Could it be a queerplatonic vibe?" asks Jazz. "Oh yes, what a wonderful word! Yes, that's right," says Lightbright. Song lyrics play in the background: "You got this feeling you've been wanting to share. It makes you feel as though you're walking on air!"

PANEL FOUR: It cuts to reflections within Jazz's mind—memories he has. We see him racing on a track with Cliffjumper, Inferno, Wheeljack, and Hoist, all of them in vehicle mode. "I've got lots of friends!" Jazz is thinking in his narration.

PANEL FIVE: Now it shows Jazz in the Ark, standing alone in shadow, with couples all around him. His friends from the previous panel are now with romantic partners. Grapple has an arm around Hoist, Wheeljack excitedly points while Ratchet looks at him grumpily, Cliffjumper yells at Mirage who looks placidly affectionate, and Inferno carries Red Alert in his arms. "But as time's gone by, I've watched them pair off," thinks Jazz. "Sometimes I want to be somebody's number one priority."

PANEL SIX: It cuts to a pool somewhere on Cybertron, where Jazz watches from a distance as the Dinobots are fishing. Grimlock has a fish in his mouth. "When I see QPRs, they're not the type I'd want," thinks Jazz.

PANEL SEVEN: It cuts to a base somewhere else on Cybertron, under a starry sky, where Jazz sadly looks down from a balcony. "I've got all these specifications. Can I really find someone who'd be happy with them all too?" he wonders. "It's hard enough to think of someone I'd be okay sharing it all with."

PANEL EIGHT: We cut back to the present time, in Lodestar, on the dancefloor. The same song from before is still playing in the background. Jazz is standing, frozen, his visor dim, while he has a very slight smile on his face. "Jazz, are you okay?" Lightbright asks. Windblade adds, "You've been smiling quietly and staring off into space for… a long time now?" Song lyrics play in the background: "You know that I love you, you say you love me too…"

PANEL NINE: Jazz has fallen to his knees and is crying on the dancefloor, his visor bright with robotic "tears." Lightbright has her hands over her mouth in shock. Jazz exlaims: "Lightbright and Lodestar have the most beautiful QPR ever and what if nobody I want to share one with wants what I want?!" Windblade is kneeling beside him and has a hand on Jazz's shoulder. "…Oh, Jazz, um, have you tried asking?" she asks, a mix of saddened, confused, and questioning. The song lyrics from the previous panel continue: "…so why don't you let me know? Let's open our hearts and let the feelings show!"

#transformers #Jazz #Lightbright #Windblade #Lodestar #and so many cameos and references!#maccadam #my art #I also consider this a 300 followers celebration thank you all ^_^

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writershapeholeonthedoor · 11 months

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Into you

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader

Summary: A quiet day at home with the person that consumes your every breath.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language.

MASTERLIST

You were staring down at the slightly slimy grey goo inside the bowl when you felt a pair of slim arms curled around your waist. You felt a warm body pressing behind yours, soft curves molding against your back and a hot breath hitting the side of your neck, all of those things causing a shiver to run down your body. You hadn’t heard your companion move from where she had been sitting by the table where she was trying to put a large puzzle together, something you blamed your growing frustration for.

In normal conditions, you would be acutely aware of every move your girlfriend made - you liked to use a metaphor for it saying you were like magnets moving around each other. When you were feeling particularly romantic, you would say she was like the sun and you were one of the planets orbiting around her.

In reality, she just made too much noise when she moved, although the less romantic explanation would be kept mostly to yourself.

“What’s going on?” You heard the sulky voice just behind your ear. “I can feel your annoyance from across the room.”

You sighed heavily, allowing your body to rest back against her as the hand that wasn’t holding the wooden spoon moved to rest on top of one of the hands on your stomach. Elizabeth, always the caring girlfriend, pressed a kiss at the shell of your ear, gently swaying your bodies together. You almost wished it wasn’t winter so there would be fewer layers of clothes between you two - you loved how touchy Elizabeth could get sometimes.

“Does it look right to you?” You asked, pointedly pointing the spoon at the bowl when your scowl returned full force.

Elizabeth peeked over your shoulder even if you were sure she had already seen what was inside the metal bowl before she returned to her previous position. “What’s this?” She asked instead of answering, although the fact that she couldn’t even understand what it was already answered the question.

“What does it look like?” You decided to ask instead, making your conversation purely out of questions until now.

Elizabeth seemed to pick on the same detail because she snorted a giggle. Upon hearing another sigh coming from you, she reached out with one arm to pick up the bowl to raise it closer to her. Admittedly, it looked even worse that close, but you kept yourself from saying that out loud. There was no need to state the obvious.

“Hm,” Elizabeth hummed softly and with a hint of humor, a small grin fighting to turn the corner of her lips up, something you could see from the corner of your eyes. It almost made you smile as well, albeit the frustration stopped you from doing so. You had never been good with baking, you honestly didn’t know why you thought it would suddenly change. “Is my girlfriend grouting the walls for fun?”

Her reply was met by a quick slap to the back of her hand still resting on your stomach while you rolled your eyes. “Asshole,” you accused above the chuckle Elizabeth let out. She put the bowl back down, quickly wrapping her arm around you again as she kissed your cheek and took a deep breath of your smell, and it was enough for you to forgive her. “I was trying to make cookies,” you explained at last.

For her part, Elizabeth managed to hold a laugh that clearly tried to escape. Instead, she took a step to the side, letting one arm slip off you while the other kept you close by your waist, and grabbed the spoon from your hand to poke at the thing inside the bowl. You both watched as it clung to the wood as if it was alive and trying to leave the bowl, before Elizabeth put the spoon back inside the bowl and the entire thing just stopped moving suddenly.

You wondered if you had just created the real version of Venom or something equally terrifying.

“I think we might need to start over,” Elizabeth commented in a calm voice despite the fact that your frustration had risen again.

You turned your head to her the best you could without slipping from her embrace. You arched one eyebrow and put both hands on the counter in front of you. “If you help me, it kind of defeats the purpose of me trying to do something nice for you,” you joked lightly before your eyes fell to the bowl again. “Of course, I’m assuming you think food poisoning is something nice.”

Elizabeth laughed and kissed your cheek again. This time, she finally untangled herself from you so she would have both hands free to throw the bowl’s contents in the garbage. “I think it’s the thought that counts, love.”

“It better, because that’s all you’re getting.” You sighed, though the frustration was finally subsiding. You could hardly feel anything but happiness when your girlfriend was around.

Elizabeth had moved to wash the bowl in the sink, so she looked over her shoulder at you to throw a smile your way. “Why did you decide to do something nice for me, after all?”

You shrugged. “You don’t have a free day very often,” you explained. “I wanted you to rest, eat something nice, have fun with your things. I thought cookies were easy enough.”

Isn’t wasn’t a lie. Elizabeth didn’t have enough days off, if someone were to ask you, albeit you thought it was just the downfall of dating a Marvel actress. She overworked herself, she was always either inside a plane or inside a studio, and it worried you. Since you started dating, almost a year ago, Elizabeth has tried to spend more time at home even if you didn’t share a house yet, but that wasn’t the reason why you tried to push her to rest more. You cared for her health.

Which is why, on one of her rare days off, you were trying to do something nice for her. You had stayed the night at her place so you would be there first thing in the morning to spend the day with her - to fully take advantage of that blissful and unusual situation - and you had an entire plan inside your head to make her sit down and relax. Perhaps you should have realized that trying to cook would be a terrible idea, though.

“Where’s the recipe you were using?” Elizabeth’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, straight away making you confused.

“Recipe?” You frowned.

Elizabeth bit her bottom lip with enough force to turn it white, clearly suppressing a laugh mostly to your benefit. You appreciated it. You watched as Elizabeth carefully washed and dried the bowl, already feeling more at ease being in the kitchen when your girlfriend was there to help you out.

Although you wanted to make something for her, you couldn’t deny that spending that time with Elizabeth was much more rewarding.

“I’m surprised you didn’t blow off my kitchen,” Elizabeth teased you while playing with the bowl between her hands before putting it down on the counter.

You rolled your eyes - not without tenderness. “I don’t need your help, you know?” You stood beside her and pushed her lightly with your shoulder to show off your joke.

“Okay, I will let you do it then.” The other woman shrugged.

Throwing her a fake look of annoyance, you huffed and quickly shoved the wooden spoon into her hands. “I didn’t say that.”

Elizabeth laughed and, once again, her arm curled around your waist so she could get closer and kiss your cheek. “Let’s just look for a recipe then, okay?” She suggested and you sighed while taking your phone out of your pocket. Elizabeth didn’t walk around with her cell phone like everyone else. You wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t even know where the device was inside her own house. You unlocked your phone and handed it to Elizabeth so she could try to find a recipe for you both to follow. “Baking is a very precise science,” she commented with humor after taking her arm from around you to type.

You hummed from the back of your throat as you pressed your body against her side. You placed your hands on Elizabeth’s shoulder for support, then rested your chin there so you could look over while she looked over a website. “I was always more into literature,” came your reply addressing your long-gone days at school.

“And you’re talking with the theater kid,” Elizabeth chuckled with you and you both stayed in silence for a while until she tried to find something easy enough for you to bake. “Chocolate chips or ginger?”

You didn’t have to think twice. “Chocolate.”

“Here we go then.” Elizabeth handed you back your phone so you could take a look at the recipe she chose. It was a simple chocolate chip cookie recipe, which you had thought you could put together without any assistance.

“Oh.”

She turned her head to look at you since you had taken a step to the side to read over the words. “What?”

“That’s the right amount of eggs?” You mumbled under your breath, furrowing your brows and scowling to your phone.

There was a pause before your girlfriend spoke again and, when she did, you could hear the laugh in her voice. “I don’t think I want to know how many you used before.”

You threw her a look. “Enough to say you need to run to the market soon.” Elizabeth chuckled and shook her head at you. At least she found that amusing, you thought. You glanced down at your phone again. “And enough to think this recipe is lying.”

“Do you remember how it looked before?” Elizabeth retorted with a smirk and a playfully pointed finger at the garbage bin.

“Fine.” You sighed and rolled your eyes while putting your phone down supported by a cup so you could read it more easily. “We will follow the recipe.”

You turned around to pick up the eggs the recipe called for while Elizabeth went through her cupboards to find more chocolate chips. You grabbed the butter as well, putting it beside the bowl, and then tried to measure with your eyes if there was still enough brown sugar or if you would need to find another package of that. When Elizabeth returned to your side, you were glaring at the sugar as if it were a difficult math equation.

“You know, that’s the reason I’m not into baking,” your girlfriend declared after putting a measuring cup in front of you. When you glanced up, she was smiling down at you in that way that made your heart flutter. “There’s not much room to try things out,” she kept saying once she moved to put the ingredients inside the bowl. “I enjoy cooking because not much can go wrong if I decide to just throw something inside the pan.”

You nodded, knowing for a fact that Elizabeth’s love for the kitchen was one of the things that kept her content. Elizabeth loved cooking, she loved trying out new dishes, make some experiments, cook things from other cultures just to test it out. And you honestly loved being there for all of it. Your very second date had been planned out by Elizabeth, who cooked you a three-course meal that was easily one of the best things you ever tasted. Ever since, you were on board with anything she wanted to feed you, really. You also loved being in the kitchen while she cooked too. Elizabeth only looked more at peace when she was tending to her garden, but for that you liked to leave her be.

Elizabeth enjoyed the silence when she took care of her beloved plants and, to be fair, you didn’t find it too exciting. Instead, you would bring her some lemonade to drink when she was working in her garden and would offer to water her plants when Elizabeth was traveling - though she still had to take up on your offer since it seemed like your girlfriend didn’t entirely trust you not to kill anything by accident, which you thought was pretty fair.

You both had hobbies that the two of you could enjoy together - eating is just one thing you both loved - but baking wasn’t about to become one of them, apparently, since you didn’t seem to have the patience to follow the recipe and Elizabeth didn’t find it so thrilling.

“My mother used to make bread when I was a kid, but my dad did the cooking,” you told her while you waited to throw some flour inside the bowl. “I think you would like his food.”

Elizabeth smiled at it before glancing at you quickly. “When I’m going to meet them?”

You should’ve seen the question come, though it was made with a hint of humor to it because that had been a discussion you had before. Not a discussion per se since you never fought over it, but something you had talked about before. Your parents lived far away and you had your work to worry about, as did they. You couldn’t just take a few days off to go see them, and neither you had that amount of money lingering around.

Sure, Elizabeth had offered to pay for everything - insisted even - but you didn’t want to take her money like that. It would give reasons for the people on the internet to say you were with her only for her name and money, something you were sure she knew wasn’t true, but that didn’t make it any easy to hear those types of things. Besides, the holidays were just around the corner and you were sure you would be able to slip from your work for a week to spend time with your family. Elizabeth promised that, if you managed to do that and if you wanted her to, of course, she would do whatever it took to be able to travel with you. That showed you just how committed she was to your relationship, something you couldn’t help but find endearing.

“Soon,” you ended up saying with a gentle and hopeful voice. You would have enough money until then and you wouldn’t like anything more than to take your girlfriend with you to finally meet your family.

“Just asking,” Elizabeth explained with a shrug and a smile. “You already know all of my family.”

“Not entirely fair since the entire world knows your family,” you replied while poking her side playfully, earning a giggle from Elizabeth.

“Still.” She tried to hide her grin by looking down at the bowl, but you could still see it, which made you roll your eyes at her teasing.

“I’m not keeping you away, I’m just making sure my family can behave themselves.” The confession was made as you poured some chocolate chips inside the bowl. The recipe was asking for half of the amount you put, but chocolate could never be too much.

“Why?” Elizabeth asked, looking down at the cookie dough as she waited to mix it again. “Are you scared they might show me your childhood pics? Mine are all over the internet, it’s not fair.”

“No, I just don’t want them to scare you away.” You put the chocolate away, but not before leaning over to kiss your girlfriend’s cheek.

“If your cooking didn’t…” Elizabeth trailed off jokingly and you gasped at her.

“Jerk,” you accused, though it became clear you didn’t mean it when a laugh escaped your lips.

She joined you and decided to let go of the bowl and the spoon so she could turn around to you. Elizabeth placed both hands on your hips and got close enough so you could see every color in her iris. She smiled, showing you the wrinkles around her eyes, the curl of her lips and the white teeth that would regularly taunt your skin. Her soft hands found their way beneath the sweatshirt you had been wearing - something that you stole from her closet when you were cold months ago - and your own hands rested on her shoulders while you looked at her as if she had hung the moon on the sky and build landscapes on Earth.

You were honestly and undoubtedly the luckiest woman alive.

And then, when you thought there was no way your heart could beat any faster inside your chest, Elizabeth said: “I love you.”

You knew that. That was something Elizabeth had told you on your sixth-month anniversary, something you had waited calmly for even if you had blurted out the words way before that. Elizabeth had shown you with actions other than words, though it never stopped feeling like walking home when you heard her say it.

Even so, you narrowed your eyes at her and said: “That won’t take you off the hook.”

Elizabeth laughed again, deeper and lower than before, and her face got even closer when she used the tip of her nose to draw the line of your jaw. Your breath came in more broken and shaky, and you closed your eyes to appreciate the light touch and the warm breath hitting your skin. It wasn’t unusual for you to drown in her and forget the rest of the world, but that didn’t take the surprise away when your back hit the fridge. You hadn’t even noticed she was leading you backward.

Your breath caught at the back of your throat and you felt your cheeks burning at your own reaction. You didn’t miss the grin on Elizabeth’s lips when your girlfriend pulled away just enough to look at you, which could’ve made you roll your eyes if your entire body weren’t vibrating. You were engulfed by her smell - the damn organic deodorant, the after shower lotion, the mint in her breath and something entirely Elizabeth - and you didn’t shy away from taking a deep breath now.

Beautiful green eyes captured the moment your tongue darted out to wet your lips and you saw as they darkened, Elizabeth’s breath becoming sharper for a moment. You couldn’t help but think that you shouldn’t be that affected by her anymore. After almost a year of dating, you should’ve been immune to her charm, your body should’ve been immune to her touches, or at least used to it. But that wasn’t the case. As time passed, the more time you spent touching each other, knowing each other, being with each other, the more intensely you felt her and all the emotions she drew out of you.

That’s how you knew Elizabeth was the right person to take home with you to introduce to your family. She would be the last one, because you were sure she had been your last to a lot of things - last first date, last first kiss, last first time. At the same time, Elizabeth was also your first to so many more things that you couldn’t help but feel thrilled at what the future held for you both.

Your eyes closed when you felt Elizabeth’s nose brush against yours, her warmth surrounding you, her hands still holding your hips, her soft curves molded against yours. You had kissed many - many - times before. You had done even more than that. You had lost count of how many times you were left with your lips swollen, how many times all you could feel was her taste on your tongue. Yet, when Elizabeth kissed you, it was like the first time all over again.

Your hands found her now short hair - it was just barely reaching her shoulders and you had almost fainted when she showed you the new haircut because you didn’t think she could be more beautiful but there she was - and you sighed happily when you felt those white teeth nibbling at your bottom lip. You conceded her room to slip her tongue inside and, soon enough, you felt like your bodies were trying to become one.

It happened sometimes.

When she pulled away, you were both out of breath, although Elizabeth was more gracious over it, licking her lips and taking a deep breath while you panted like you had just run a marathon. Your brain was foggy with anything that wasn’t your girlfriend, her touch, her taste, her smell, but another part of you was completely awakened and wanting more.

That’s why it took you some precious seconds to even realize Elizabeth was talking again.

“We need to finish the cookies.”

You wanted to say ‘screw the cookies’ and pull her in for another kiss. You wanted to set the world on fire to take the flames from inside your veins.

Instead, you blinked in confusion. “What?” Was all you mastered enough breath to say.

And it made Elizabeth laugh.

She actually threw her head back and laughed before shaking her head and pressing a sweet kiss on your forehead, very differently from the heated one you just shared. “I was under the impression that you wanted to bake me some cookies.”

“I can give you something else to eat,” you replied and, with sheer satisfaction, saw as her cheeks turned red.

“I kind of want the cookies now,” Elizabeth declared with a smirk.

“Hm,” you sighed. “I’m never trying to bake ever again, so I think we can compromise with the cookies now and more kisses later.”

“They do need to bake for fifteen minutes and then cool off, you know?” She said with a suggestive tone that made you almost jump in excitement.

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s finish this!”

You slip from her embrace to skip through the kitchen to go back to the bowl, missing the way Elizabeth blinked in surprise for a few seconds with the sudden change. You were mixing the dough when you felt her arms around you again and you couldn’t hold back the smile that colored your face.

“Cookies and kisses,” she joked with her lips brushing behind your ear. “This might be the best day off ever.”

You definitely agreed.

#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #celebrity x reader #marvel #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #creative writing #my writing #drabble #fluff

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skeletinmoss · 2 months

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The curse of the dark Phoenix

Chapter 10: The nightflame’s home

First chapter | Previous | Next

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If you’d asked Roman what he imagined the fabled NightFlame’s home would look like a week ago, he’d imagine an imposing tower in a deep dark forest with massive trees of similar heights surrounding it, glowing half inviting and half ominous in the darkness.

If you’d asked him that same question only yesterday, and he’d been asking himself the question ever since they started on this journey to said location, he might have altered his answer to a little cabin in similar dark woods. Not as imposing at first glance but isolated and hidden. But once you noticed it, it would be so obviously magical that any person with any sense would stay away.

Roling fields were not where he thought he’d end up. And there was no tower, or castle, or cabin to be seen anywhere. Just fields with tall grass and wildflowers and hills that looked like children should be playing tag and racing clouds in them.

It was almost idyllic. It filled Roman with a nostalgia for his childhood.

Especially with the setting sun. Virgil was fidgeting on Roman’s shoulder. Waiting for the exact moment he’d be human again so he could let them in. The sun got lower and lower and then Virgil launched himself forward to turn back to his human self in front of the horses.

“Home sweet home,” Virgil sighed in relief as he walked ahead of them. Roman and the others quickly got off and followed right behind Virgil, looking for any sign of a house somewhere.

Virgil walked forward with certain steps though. Following a path that was obvious only to him.

It wasn’t until he turned towards a specific hill and they joined him that they saw a door and a window in the hillside, a garden built into it. The garden was in dire need of weeding but it was still obvious that Virgil put a lot of effort and love into it when planting and maintaining it.

“Oh, that’s so cute!” Patton gushed. It did look rather endearing.

“We can let the horses roam free here. No one can get in this field without my permission,” Virgil offered moving his hand unbridling the horse while taking in his home, feeling elated to be here.

“We best hurry. There is no telling when the king will request Terance to check in on us. Or when he will decide to cut out the middle man completely,” Logan pointed out, clearly a bit excited to see the inside of this private high mage residence as well. From the sound of it Virgil fully expected it to be in a better state than the arch mage’s home and that had been mind blowing enough.

“Especially since he knows where we are headed,” Logan said, side eying Roman a bit.

“It was a direct request from the king! I agree that we should keep our cards close to our chest but I’m not quite ready to commit treason!” Roman argued.

Last night, after Virgil restocked and before they started their meditation the sending stone had alerted Roman that someone was trying to contact him.

“Lord Roman. I’m terribly sorry if I disturb you,” Terence had stammered. “But the king. He wants to know exactly where you are going right now,” he said.

Roman had panicked a little, looked to his companions for advice.

Logan and Patton had been startled. Virgil had just smirked at him and nodded his permission.

He trusted him to make the right call.

“Well. We are on our way to what we think might be a second residency of the arch mage. But we are making a detour to another location first. His notes mentioned the Night Flame High Mage a lot. So we hope that maybe there is some clue in his home. We uncovered its location and are on our way there now. We’ll likely arrive tomorrow evening,” he said, as honest as he could be.

There was a long pause. “I’ll inform the king,” Terance said. Strangely serious.

“What were you thinking!?” Logan chided.

“Likely that he has no clue where you guys will be going after we find my friends and he can’t make up a location on the spot without even the most guilible apprentice catching on,” Virgil stated in Roman’s defense. “The best way to keep a lie going is to speak the truth as much as possible. So he told the apprentice what he could without openly admitting that I am with you guys,” he added. Logan didn’t look very happy, but he couldn’t argue with Virgil’s logic.

“… I don’t like that the council is missing. Or that it took the king’s order for them to give us permission to look into the arch mage’s disappearance,” he admitted.

Virgil nodded. “That is all pretty suspicious,” he agreed. “From the sound of it the apprentice is reporting directly to the king though. And him you can trust. I am willing to stake my life on that,” Virgil stated sincerely.

“Lord Roman?” Terence called once again.

“Yes, Terence,” Roman replied. “Um, I told the king… He said that he trusts your judgement but to be careful. The NightFlame was not exactly fond of uninvited guests. He likely would have put up defenses against intruders and there is no guarantee that these simply weakened over time,” The apprentice explained.

Roman nodded his understanding, feeling Virgil’s smugness and considering it a confirmation.

“Of course. We will abandon the lead if it seems to dangerous,” he promised. “Have a good night Terance,” he bid. “Yeah. Good night sir,” Terance replied.

Logan still wasn’t happy with the choice to share this information but there was nothing that could be done about it now. The only path was forward. Into the home of the High Mage.

Virgil made a gesture and Roman could feel something shift in the air.

Virgil walked forward and Roman and his friends followed.

With a hand on the door Virgil turned to them. “Okay, if you see something move, do not freak out or try to attack. Nothing in there is going to cause harm unless you act aggressive first, understood?” he warned. Whispering for some reason.

The group nodded. Virgil looked at them for a long moment and then relaxed before turning to the door. Nervous excitement building.

Putting Roman at ease. Virgil cautiously opened the door. “Star?” he said carefully.

And the next moment he was on the ground buried under a massive black wolve, laughing in delight.

“Down, boy. Down. I’m back, I know,” he chuckled while the wolf greeted its master by sniffing and licking every of his face.

Meanwhile Roman realized that the wolf wasn’t just black. There were stars in his fur. Stardust, Virgil’s pet dog, was a Stellar wolf. Very rarely seen, and yet he had domesticated one. Roman would love to hear that story sometime.

“Oh!!!! The doggie is okay!” Patton exclaimed. Allerting said ‘doggie’ that his master had brought friends. And with a firm ‘woof’ and a yelp, Patton was tackled next to be inspected.

Logan was more prepared for Stardust jumping up against him and held his ground. “Yes. I am also here. Nice to meet you,” he offered, trying not to appear too excited by the fact that he was being befriended by an elusive magical creature.

Then it was Roman’s turn and stardust bounced between him and Virgil as though unable to decide who to pay more attention to.

“Yes Star, that’s a friend,” Virgil nodded before looking to Roman. “He can tell we are bonded,” he offered before looking back at Star and whistling making the big, loving, dog sit at attention and whine pleadingly. Breaking Roman’s heart.

“I know Star. I’m sorry for being gone so long. But if you show them how good you can be, I’m sure my friends won’t mind you coming along when we leave,” he offered looking at the group questioningly. Roman and Patton wouldn’t, and Roman didn’t think Logan was that practical that he’d make the poor dog be left behind once again so soon after being reunited.

“An extra protector could be beneficial,” Logan allowed.

“See? Now let’s go to the pantry alright? I need some things,” he offered as he held his dog’s face between his hands and scratched him behind the ears.

He got up and walked back to the door, closely followed by his dog, who kept sniffing his hand.

“Poor thing doesn’t trust he won’t disappear,” Patton whispered heartbroken for the wolf.

If whoever did this somehow hadn’t been on Patton’s naughty list yet, this would put him right at the top.

It didn’t exactly endear them to Roman either. And he was already hoping for an opportunity to give them a piece of his mind.

He stepped inside behind Virgil and completely forgot what he was thinking about.

Virgil’s home was… Breath taking.

Natural moon light streamed in from several windows that had not been visible from the outside and filled the wooden and stone interior aided by softly glowing crystals all along the walls. Which were lined with cupboards and bookshelves that all seemed to be part of trees that made Roman wish they’d arrived in spring so he’d be able to see if the foliage changed with the seasons.

There were shelves built into the steps that went to a higher level that should’ve at the very least be visible from the outside. They could look into the living room that had massive windows that looked out on a clearing in a forest with a lake and a waterfall that Roman could guarantee was nowhere near the fields that he could still see when looking behind him as Logan had stopped in the door opening to gape at the interior.

Logan was probably most taken by the countless books. Roman wasn’t a connoisseur, but even he could tell that some of these were handbound.

Books were not the only things on the shelves. There were all sorts of trinkets and accessories and nicknacks that Roman felt came from vastly different eras.

The home smelled like lavender and cinnamon.

They moved on to the livingroom. They passed a kitchen and something that looked like sleeping quarters and a study. Stardust jumped on the cushioned bench and looking at the group expectantly.

Roman though had noticed something else. “Is that music?” Roman wondered.

“Yeah, I like a little atmosphere around, it usually adjusts to my mood. But… I think the house mainly wants to welcome me home,” Virgil mused after listening for a few moments. The piece was indeed slightly celebratory.

“I’m going to my pantry to gather some ingredients then I’ll show you guys where we can rest before moving on… I’ll come back later,” he said the last part more to the house than to them.

He moved to one of the bookshelves and pushed against it, making a door in the wall open… Okay. That was very cool.

“How many rooms are there?” Logan asked.

Virgil paused and thought on that. “30, little more or less depending on how you count,” he informed him before turning to the collective. “You are guests so just, ask for something and if it is within reason, she’ll help you find it… Oh, that reminds me. Dex!?” he called out. A book flew up to him. He pointed at Logan. “He’s probably going to be in the library for the remainder of his stay here. Help him out,” he instructed before turning to the group again, the flying book moved to a fascinated Logan’s side. Hearing that in this home filled with books there was a separate library must be quite the revelation to their book loving friend.

“Feel free to try and find some books or stuff you think will help you out in the coming days. Read up on a new branch of magic, or see if you can learn something new with the one you are familiar with. Whatever you think is best. You have three hours, and then an hour rest, and after that we’ll be heading to the lake where they are holding Remus. Everyone okay with that?” Virgil asked.

The trio nodded. “Can I join you? I’d like to learn about some herbs I’m less familiar with,” Roman offered. He wasn’t going to say high level out loud. But he felt that everyone knew what he meant. He also wanted an excuse to be alone with Virgil for a little bit.

“Sure,” Virgil nodded, acting casual but Roman could feel that he was happy that Roman wanted to join him.

Virgil led the way through the door, past a room that Roman assumed was his study based on the desk the potion station and a window in the ceiling that showed the night sky. They moved through it and found themselves in a room of similar size, the walls filled with bottles and boxes and drawers of all sorts. Stardust pranced around the room looking up at the many boxes. Virgil chuckled and retrieved something from one and with a whistle, Stardust turned around and caught a treat that was tossed his way.

“Okay. I’m pretty sure I still had some crystals left last time…” Virgil mused as he moved past the walls and found the box he was looking for, pulling it out and smiling as he retrieved three crystals. “Got em,” he grinned as he put the box back. Roman looked at them for a long moment and his eyes widened in realization. “Those are mooncrystals,” he said.

Virgil nodded. “Yep. I use them as some extra light around the house and just in case I’m in a hurry and need moonlight. If those creeps are keeping Remus in his guide form with a sunstone then these should help us maintain human forms during the day. Though I won’t know how well it’ll work until we actually test it out. I don’t have sunstones but I’m sure we’ll be able to pick some up at the lake. Then we’ll be able to shift at will, hopefully,” Virgil stated.

Roman nodded in understanding. “So, what did you want to hear about?” Virgil wondered as he left the pantry to put the crystals out on the table to charge them… Hmmmm.

Roman was pulled out of his train of thought by Stardust nuzzling the pocket with the sending stone in. Roman was being called.

He took out the sending stone. “Yes Terence?” he asked.

Virgil looked up from the desk. He’d found a bag of his own and was transferring the contents of the borrowed bag into the new one.

“Lord Roman! Are you at the residence yet? Are you alright?” Terence asked, sounding worried.

“Yes. It is amazing here- woah!” he exclaimed as Stardust decided that he needed attention.

“Down boy!” Roman called out with a chuckle as he started scratching the wolf’s neck. “Yes you are very handsome and very good, but I’m talking here,” he chided playfully.

“Sorry Terance. It seems that the NightFlame’s wolf is quite happy to have company,” he offered.

“Oh, a wolf… He’s in good health? After so long?” Terance asked.

“Yes. It seems he is. Just very clingy,” Roman ensured him. The house is very helpful too. If there is something of use in here, I am confident we will find it. We’ll be moving on to whatever next clue we might find in a few hours,” he promised.

“Good. But don’t forget to rest. I’m sure the NightFlame wouldn’t mind you taking advantage of the shelter of his home for a night,” Terance argued. That was sweet of him. “Judging by how he decorated… I think you might be right,” Roman said, looking fondly at Virgil who rolled his eyes.

“Good. Yes… I’ll inform the king that he doesn’t need to worry. I’ll hear from you all soon,” Terance bid.

“Goodnight Terance,” Roman offered before putting the stone away.

“Can tell I’m a gracious host by my interior huh?” Virgil mused.

“Well, one. There is this guy here,” Roman pointed out, kneeling to pet Stardust more thoroughly.

“Who clearly isn’t too surprised or upset at you having guests over. Leading me to believe that despite this being your private, secret home, there have been visitors over the years and that they were treated as welcome guests,” he deduced.

“The table in your kitchen was too big to sit just one. And then there are the keepsakes,” Roman added.

“Keepsakes?” Virgil repeated curiously.

“Yeah. There were some accessories that don’t match your style and stuff like that. Things that didn’t quite belong,” he explained.

Virgil chuckled. “Not bad,” he complemented.

“Now, enough about me. What did you want to ask about?” Virgil wondered. Heading back to the pantry to restock his bag, put away the herbs that Lucas had salvaged for him and gestured for Roman to do the same.

“Well…” Roman found it difficult to ask about things he didn’t know. He had no clue where his knowledge lacked. What ways his education differed and lacked compared to the high mage…

Education. That was it.

“You were a teacher right?” Roman asked. Virgil smiled, a warmth spreading through him that Roman couldn’t recognize but he did have a name for it. Teaching had been Virgil’s calling. Whatever else he did, he enjoyed teaching the most.

“Sometimes,” he nodded.

“Teach me. I want to know how you would teach a fledgling herbalist,” Roman mused.

Virgil smiled as he put a leather drawstring bag from Lucas’ box in his bag.

He led the way out of the pantry and then went through a different door.

It held bags of different types of fibers, a few boxes filled with spools of different types of thread, a spinning wheel and a loom. The latter two looked very old but well taken care off.

Rolls of fabric were stored along the wall.

Interesting enough there was also a mannequin on a stage to the side and a cupboard full of what Roman would guess were sewing supplies.

That was right. In the memory… The clothes he’d been wearing. He made them by hand.

“Well, I’d take you apart and ask you, what made you decide on this path as your first specialization,” he mused as he walked to the mannequin and pulled the clothes he’d been wearing when they first met from the bag and started to carefully put them on the mannequin.

“Well… I guess, when I was little, I’d visit Patton’s family farm, and I’d watch Patton’s mother at work in the herb garden, and she’d tell me about the properties of certain spices and even weeds my parents would try to get rid of in our garden… well. That seemed pretty magical to me. So when I learned that certain herbs were actual magic, I wanted to know all about that, I wanted to discover which everyday plants that I hadn’t paid a second thought secretly held great magical power,” Roman explained.

Virgil put on the last piece on the mannequin and took a long look at the complete ensemble. Roman could tell he felt proud of it. He then made a dismissive gesture with his hand, making the outfit disappear, replaced by a different one.

Another luxurious looking set. Silks and gold and jewels put together to make a piece of art that Roman just knew would look gorgeous on him.

Another gesture. A new breathtaking set. And another one…

Wait a minute.

“You are bragging,” Roman realized amused.

Virgil blushed at getting caught.

“I… No. I don’t know what you mean,” he insisted.

“You are showing me your work,” Roman stated, looking around the room at all the gathered equipment. “You spun the threads yourself. You wove them into fabrics and you sewed them together,” he said, certain of his case. “Did you make the jewelry by hand too?” he asked, it wouldn’t surprise him at this point. He took Virgil’s hand in his own and held it to his chest, looking into his eyes, as though that would make his sincerity more obvious.

“You truly are an artist. But for whatever reason you don’t wish to brag. But you showed me your work and basked in the silent praise of my awe. You enjoyed feeling me be amazed at your work. The honest admiration that left no doubt on whether I’m just being polite. If you are uncertain of your talent as a tailor, then I am even more confident that you have been underselling your talent as a mage since we met,” he rambled.

Virgil was blushing hard now and looked away bashful. “Okay, you got me… You don’t have to lay it on that thick,” he muttered.

“I have half a mind to accept immortality just so I can spend the next century singing your praises,” Roman insisted. “Though I get it, artists are their own worst critics I suppose,” he mused.

“You’re an artist?” Virgil asked, curious.

“Well, I have been known to write a song or two. When I was ten I was so desperate for my parents to bring me along on their journey I wrote song upon song trying to prove I could entertain myself and them and maybe even help. I loved exploring the farms with Patton. But I also missed them…” Roman recalled, feeling nostalgic.

“It turned out a good thing that I wore them down. Because two years later… Me, Logan and Patton were found to be blessed. And so we went to the academy and I saw them even less…”

He didn’t fight the homesickness he felt. It was actually something he wanted to know about too.

“Is it… Hard? Never seeing them again?” he wondered carefully.

Virgil looked at Roman for a long moment and then chuckled. He took Roman’s hand and led him to the stool in front of the loom. Guiding him to take place on his lap. Roman was too taken aback to fight it.

“My parents were tailors. Mother taught me to use the loom. It was my older brother who showed me around in the garden. I loved helping him. Mostly I loved finding flowers among the weeds to gift to mother,” he mused as he picked up a shuttle and laid it in Roman’s hands, laying his own over them and guiding Roman through the motions of weaving in gentle, patient moves.

“I found that loved ones tend to teach you new things to love,” Virgil mused.

“I never set out to be much of a singer or a poet, but I once loved a man who asked a very similar question and he found my answer so profound, he had me help him compose a poem that I could recite to myself whenever I missed someone,” he offered.

“You wonder about the ones I left behind,” he hummed in Roman’s ear, making a shiver go down his spine. Weren’t they supposed to take it slow? He had to know how flustered Roman was right now. He hadn’t so much as held a boy’s hand. He’d been too busy studying with Logan and Patton ever since joining the academy. Figuring there’d be time for romance after they saved the kingdom.

“You ask how I cope with so much grief,” A deep sorrow brought tears to Roman’s eyes. The longing for all the ones who were forever out of Virgil’s reach.

“Let me ease your mind,” Virgil insisted, and the crushing grief lifted from Roman’s heart.

“Though their existence may seem brief, against my eternity,” he mused gently.

“And sure, it may have gone by fast. But the time they spent with me, it is forever in my past,” he offered, letting the silence ring and finishing another row, embracing Roman and leaning in even closer. “And now that we have me. You too have become a thread. In this tapestry of me,” he promised and Roman felt Virgil’s affection to him clearer than ever before. Virgil gave Roman some more room and continued weaving with him.

“My first memory, is in my mother’s lap just like this,” he smirked brushing his nose against Roman’s temple.

“The smell of flowers everywhere. On the walls and in her hair. I can hear her singing, I feel her kiss,” his hands on Roman’s tightened for a moment as his voice wavered before coming back strong. “And even after all this time, I still feel her hands over mine and remember the first fabric I ever made,” a nostalgic pride filled Roman’s heart.

“And I feel her lips so near, I hear crystal clear, My darling you did great,” Virgil whispered in his ear.

“Now that we have met, you have become a thread, in this tapestry of me.

And so I keep them all close, it’s true In the things we used to do.

My brother in the garden, my father in a horse’s prance. My little sister, I take her to every dance. The first man who I ever kissed, is sorely missed but he’s with me when I play his lyre. So you see. They are all with me,” Virgil was wistful, mourning… But not sad, Roman realized. His grief had become a joyous thing for it was proof of the bond that had been there.

“And now that we have met, you too have become a thread.

And forevermore you will be, a part of my tapestry,” he promised once more, and Roman had to take that in for a moment. This adventure, no matter what happened after, it would become part of Virgil. He would forever be remembered by him… Wow.

“Well, I think it’s time we regroup and talk strategy before we rest up, eat and head out,” Virgil mused as he made them both stand up and walk back towards the living room.

Right… Virgil’s friend was waiting to be set free. He’d been in that temple for far too long.

Roman righted his shoulders and made himself a promise that Virgil wouldn’t have to wait a second longer to be reunited with his friend. One of two people who might still remember the people Virgil had loved other than Virgil himself.

Learning more magic, getting closer to Virgil, bonding with his guide, coming up with a spell. All of that could wait a million years.

First they had a mountain mage to rescue.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #prinxiety #the dark phoenix au

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whatswrongwithblue · 5 months

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The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 5 - Radio Killed the Video Star

Word count: 5,164. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.

Summary: Takes place during the Episode 2 of the show and follows the same events, just with Mina inserted into the storyline. Alastor starts to make an effort to not be such an ass to her. Some slight simping but no smut . . . yet (wink wink). TW: Canon typical violence and language, torture, and gun violence.

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 5 - Radio Killed the Video Star

Present Day

Charlie had wanted to meet with everyone first thing in the morning to brainstorm a plan for the hotel now that the next Extermination Day was only six months away. When Mina came down stairs with Niffty, she was surprised to see only Angel lounging on the lobby’s sofa.

When she had first come to the hotel, everyone’s relationship with her had been strained. All but Charlie had kept her at a safe distance, and Charlie was . . . a lot. The woman was growing on Mina, but the constant hyperactive state she was in drove Mina a little insane sometimes. So she had brought Niffty along with her, offering up her maid services as her first commitment to the hotel.

Mina didn’t own Niffty’s soul, that was Alastor’s position, but Niffty had still stuck by her side the last seven years, even without Alastor around. Their relationship was an odd one. She couldn’t exactly call Niffty a friend as the two had never had what Mina would call a “normal” conversation, but Niffty was a companion. Somewhere between a God daughter, a pet, and a minion.

When Alastor returned, Mina noticed that while Niffty took orders from him and attached herself to him throughout the day, the tiny woman still made an effort to hang around Mina just as much. It meant a lot, since when Alastor had first attained Niffty, Mina had really enjoyed the short woman’s presence, but Niffty had initially treated Mina as not much more than the “bonus Overlord.” They got along well enough, but the two women had never had a bond like Alastor and Niffty had, until he had disappeared. So, it especially warmed her heart whenever Niffty chose to start the day with her rather than Alastor.

Mina took a seat next to Angel while Niffty sprawled across the coffee table.

Angel was another friendship she had been surprised to find she herself in. Although he tended to be extremely obnoxious whenever the subject turned to Alastor, the two demons had sought a strange sort of shelter in each other when they both first arrived at the hotel. Angel was able to vocalize his skepticism about the hotel in a way Mina didn’t dare, but she found his opinions on the place refreshing. And, for the most part, he was actually pretty nice and funny. When he stopped acting like such a slut and would just relax with her, she found him to be the easiest to get along with.

“So, can I ask a question? In all seriousness, I ain’t trying to poke fun here,” Angel asked.

Mina regarded him and decided he looked like he was in a more serious mood than he typically started his day in.

“Alright, shoot,” she said.

“What’s really going on between you and Big Red? I mean, you talk about him like you two are still together-“

“We are,” she said firmly.

“-Right. But you two are not, you know . . . sleeping together. You ain’t even sharing a room so it’s not like it ain’t obvious there’s some trouble in paradise. He comes down here every morning making a big show of how happy he is to be back, with you specifically, and you just keep pushing him away. But you were ssooooo fucking mopey before he got back, so why are you so pissed off now that he’s here?”

Mina signed, “Angel, it’s complicated. And private. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Niffty giggled, “That’s ironic.”

“Shut it,” Mina scolded her, though there was no bite to her remark.

“Oh come on,” Angel prodded, “just between us girls, eh? What the guy do? Because as creepy and evil as he seems to be, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to screw around. So, what was he doing for seven years that’s got your legs closed up for business?”

“He wont tell her!” Niffty butted in again.

“Niffty!”

“Wait, seriously?” Angel asked.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Mina stood and stormed out of the room. The audacity of these people sometimes. They were lucky she considered them friends otherwise she’d probably rip their tongues out and eat them in front of them.

“So you’re telling me,” Angel said, leaning forward to whisper to Niffty once Mina was up the stairs and out of sight, “that not only will Alastor not tell anyone else where he’s been, but he won't even tell his own wife?”

“Nope!” Niffty said, swinging her legs back and forth in the air. “Not me, not Mina, not anyone. No one knows and it’s really upsetting Mina. But I don’t really care, I’m just glad he’s back.”

“Ooof, tough gig for Kittens though,” Angel said with a sympathetic frown.

Alastor was where he had spent the first minutes of every morning since Extermination Day; out on the balcony that overlooked the road to the hotel, drinking his coffee. It had become his own little domestic routine. In decades past, he had always taken his morning coffee in his radio tower; it had the best view in all of Pride ring after all. And though this small balcony couldn’t compare to that, it wasn’t awful, and he tried to make a point of only being in his new smaller tower when necessary. What good would the host of this hotel be if he was always locked away from the other guests?

He smiled in pleasant surprise when Mina stepped out onto the balcony.

“Good morning, my love! Come to join me?”

She neither returned his greeting nor accepted his invitation to sit.

“There’s a meeting about to start any minute downstairs,” was all she said.

He suppressed the urge to sigh, reminding himself a little bit of empathy towards her sour moods was the least he could offer her . . . though she did make it difficult most days.

“I do recall Charlie saying as much last night.”

Mina crossed her arms. “Well, love, are you planning on actually attending then or are you just going to sit up here emitting radio static?”

He didn’t bother hiding the roll of his eyes and his genuinely happy smile turned to that of an irritated smirk.

“I’m sure Charlie can stand to wait a few more minutes. Either that or she’ll clue me in on anything I missed if it’s really important. So please, darling, sit down. I do miss our mornings together.”

Mina hesitated a few seconds, before uncrossing her arms, and sitting in the chair across from him. His true smile returned as he summoned a cup for her, remembering the disturbing amount of creamer she preferred in her coffee. For a carnivore, she had quite the sweet tooth.

He watched with pride as she took a small sip, followed by a larger one as she realized that even after seven years apart, he had gotten it just right. These small moments were all she was allowing him for the moment, so he reveled in each little chip he was able to make in her armor.

He studied her, even though he was pretending not to, and picked up on the way her tail occasionally flicked about at the end, her fingers fidgeted with the handle of her coffee mug, and the way her eyebrows pinched together into the smallest of frowns as she stared unfocused off into the distance.

“Mina,” he prompted gently, “something on your mind this morning?”

Her chest rose as she took a slow, deep breath in, seeming to wage some internal battle with herself before she made the decision to speak.

“Why did you choose a separate room from mine?” she asked, her eyes pulling away from their view to finally look at him.

Oh dear, he thought.

It bothered him how uncertain and sad she looked. Her anger was one thing; difficult to deal with if only because he was so unused to it being directed at him. His ego couldn’t help but fuel the feelings of indignation her biting remarks sparked in him. But feeling guilty was always worse and Mina’s pure hurt at his actions was near unbearable for him to face.

He was not a man accustomed to admitting guilt. So, when she made eye contact with him and he could see, even for a moment, the depth of the pain he had caused her, he had to look away.

“Is that not what you wanted?” he asked. “You were so angry when I returned. I was simply offering you some space.”

“Why would you think I wanted space?”

Alastor tilted his head, very perplexed by Mina’s sudden switch of emotion from the last several days.

“You have made it perfectly clear how unhappy you are-“ he began but she cut him off.

“I am unhappy, you spanner! I’m so fucking furious and sad, all at once, all of the time, but not because you’re back. Alastor,” she said his name with a sigh and leaned across the table, taking his hand. “I want you to talk to me. Space from you is the last thing I want.”

Alastor nodded. He should have guessed this was where she was going to steer the conversation.

“You want answers,” he said, pulling her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. “I did promise I would deliver them . . . in time.”

She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms, once again looking away out at the horizon rather than at him.

“I’m afraid we are at an impasse here,” he continued, “if immediate information from me is what you are after and it’s the one thing I cannot give you.”

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes, her anger returning and clearly burning away any signs of sadness.

“You’re not giving me anything.”

Alastor was pretty sure there was an inuendo in her tone, but he chose to ignore it and made a show of looking offended.

“I offer you my undying love and devotion, isn’t that enough?”

She looked back at him, eyeing him up and down as if she were studying him.

“And what about your respect?”

He smiled wider and chuckled.

“Oh, you silly little thing, you,” he said as he dissolved into a shadow, wrapping smokey tendrils around her ankles, and pulling her into the darkness with him only to manifest their bodies a foot away. Standing chest to chest, he cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face to meet his. “I respect you far more than anyone else in this God forsaken place. You’ve forgotten that was the very reason why I gave up the pursuit for your soul and asked for your hand instead.”

There was a retort on her lips, he could practically see it, and he was going to silence it with a kiss before she got the chance to spit it out. Maybe, if the moment had gone right, he would have even taken them both back to her room and physically showed her all the respect, love, and devotion he was speaking of. Charlie’s meeting be damned.

If only that hulking chunk of metal hadn’t interrupted him, Alastor very likely would have given into many urges he had been keeping at bay lately. Urges he knew Mina would have encouraged, regardless of whether or not she was still angry.

The explosion that hit the side of the hotel blew away the last bit of tension between him and Mina and they pulled away from each other with reluctance.

That snake demon was insane to keep coming back for a fight. Like a game of cat and mouse except the mouse kept running back to get disemboweled.

It had always been a bit entertaining before but this time he had caught Alastor at a very bad time.

___

Mina expertly and aggressively shoved the clip into the tommy gun and brought it up to her shoulder, letting another round off until the demon tied to the post in front of her was just a pile of liquified, smoldering mush.

She had declined both Alastor’s invitation to join him on his errand to the tailor’s and Charlie’s request for help recruiting Sinners to the hotel. Mina knew it was only proving Alastor right that she was causing there to be more space between them, but for the moment, she didn’t care. She physically needed a breather from him after their conversation that morning. And although Charlie’s pleading eyes had admittedly had a tiny effect on her, Mina knew she had to get away.

And Angel had been right there, offering to help her blow off some steam by mentioning he had a robust collection of guns and ammunition.

Instead of going to the gun range he liked to frequent, she showed her appreciation at his offer by taking him to her old stomping grounds.

Abaddon’s Pit.

Her employer and adoptive family member here in Hell didn’t often allow outsiders in but Mina had been part of the family long enough that her personal voucher was never questioned. And although she was no longer a Torturer, she still had free reign to come and go as she pleased.

So she talked to a couple of her old coworkers that she was still close with and got her and Angel an hour with a dozen souls that were there to accept their punishments. She was careful to select ones that she hadn’t sent there herself, avoiding any potential of them recognizing her and giving her secret away. Best that the only thing they verbalize in front of Angel were begs for mercy and screams.

Angel, bless him, didn’t seem the least bit fazed at partaking in some torture. It was too bad he had sold his soul to Valentino before he had caught Abaddon’s attention because he would have been good at this.

“So, this is what happens to Sinners and Hellborn’s when they try to get to Earth, huh?” he asked, as he finished shooting at a rather large bull demon and went to reload. “Gotta say, I don’t see why anyone would take the risk. It’s like, literally the only rule we gotta follow. And what’s so great up there anyway?”

Mina shrugged, “Mostly drugs. There’s a black market for selling Hellish products on Earth, and that, predictably, mostly consists of drugs. But a few of them, like this fucker,” she pointed with her gun as a fresh body materialized on Angel’s board, a cottonmouth demon he had already blown apart a couple times. “Are so racist or homophobic or some other flavor of bigot they think Hell is too progressive and they try to claw their way back up to the surface.”

“Reeaaally?” Angel asked. “And this is what you did for like . . . decades? You actually got paid to torture Hell’s Greatest Dickheads?”

“And the more creative, the better,” Mina said, and held down her trigger until the gun was empty again.

“That . . . is so fucking awesome,” he said, before he raised his own gun and hesitated. “You know, I think I’ll go a bit slower with this one.”

His tommy gun vanished and out came a rather large pistol that must have already had a round in the chamber because Angel simply aimed and fired. The hissing demon in front of him screamed out in fresh agony as his crotch darkened with crimson.

Mina smiled with pride at Angel. He really would have fit right in with her here.

___

Their walk back to the hotel was a lot more subdued; Mina was lost in her own thoughts of the past and Angel had a set of his arms wrapped around himself as if against some cold draft. That was the problem with torture. It was the best way to blow off steam but it could also leave one feeling incredibly burnt out if they weren’t careful.

She noticed after a while that her new friend tended to look awfully unhappy when he thought no one was looking. It was a feeling she could relate to, at least this last week, and she suddenly felt awful about how a couple of their last conversations had gone, and that wouldn’t do. She hated feeling like she was in the wrong.

“Angel, I think I owe you an apology.” He looked at her in confusion, but his cloudy demeanor had vanished as soon as she had his attention. “I got a bit touchy this morning over nothing and the other day . . . well. I suppose it was a bit overboard to threaten to ‘cauterize your holes’.” She mumbled the last bit, feeling awkward in her shame.

“Aww, shucks toots, it’s no big deal,” Angel said, laughing. “I could learn to back off a bit myself. You’re just so cute and little most of the time, it’s easy to forget how spicy you can be. But that’s probably what Smiles sees in ya’, ain’t it?”

He was trying to be playful and lighten the mood, but Mina felt her face heating up, his words having a very unintended effect on her.

“Shit,” Angel said, immediately noticing the change in her, “I’m sorry, I’ll stop bringing him up.”

They walked in silence for a few more paces, just getting into view of the hotel, before Angel spoke again.

“Okay, actually, I got one more thing to say and then I promise, it’s nadda from me until you say otherwise.”

Mina huffed and stopped walking but said, “Alright fooiinne,” in her heaviest accent, “get on wit’ it.”

“Look, maybe I’m way off here. And whatever I’m about to say, I’m not saying you shouldn’t be upset about the fact that he’s not being upfront about everything. But the only thing that’s obvious about Alastor, to everyone else in that hotel but you, is that he loves you. He may be a scheming, secretive bastard, and super fucking creepy half the time, but what he feels for you . . . that’s the good shit that doesn’t come around often. Your relationship may not be perfect right now but this is Hell, Doll face, and most of us? We’d kill to have someone who looks at us the way he looks at you when you walk into a room.”

Mina felt her chin begin to quiver as she fought back tears, refusing to let them spill. She had cried so many times in the last seven years she wasn’t sure how she had any left. So she took a deep breath and forced them to stay put.

“Why do you think I’m still at that shit hole of a hotel?” she said, forcing herself to crack a smile.

Angel chuckled softy, obviously relieved she hadn’t broken down.

“Whaddya mean? I thought it was for my charming personality and good looks?”

She laughed out loud and Angel pulled her in for a side hug and they were just about to continue walking when suddenly they found themselves on a darkened street that had succumbed to a sudden power outage.

“What the fuck?” Angel said, looking around them as their eyes adjusted to the dull red light from the sky.

“I think I have an idea,” Mina said and pointed to the brightly lit up hotel on the hill above.

Angel raised an eyebrow. “What, you think your man caused a city-wide power failure?”

Mina just shrugged and continued walking. “It tends to happen whenever he and Vox get into it. I was beginning to wonder how long it would take the V’s to figure out Alastor was back. Like oil and water, those two.”

“No way,” Angel said in disbelief, “I’ve worked for Valentino for forever now and I never hear him talking about it.”

“The other V’s stay out of it. Hell, I stay out of it. Alastor really did try at one time . . . it’s . . . Well, it’s complicated. And a bit sad, to be honest. But yeah, whenever they bump into each other nowadays, this is usually the result.” Mina gestured to the darkness around them. “Used to happen all the time.”

“Seriously? That means that all those rolling black outs that happened, what? Like a decade ago . . . oh my God!” Angel doubled over laughing. “Your weird ass husband got me so many days off work, Val was pissed! Ha, that’s fucking great! Hey, you think he could do it again next Tuesday? There’s this thing called a donkey show and-“

Once inside, Mina couldn’t stop her feet from taking her right up to the top of the hotel and up into Alastor’s Radio tower. His shadow met her near the entrance and practically danced along the wall next to her. Clearly, it was very pleased with itself, and she reached her hand out to touch it, trailing her fingers along the wall as the two of them moved down the hallway together.

She found Alastor lounging in his seat, his feet crossed and resting on the control panel in front of him.

“Up to trouble?” she asked, earning a small laugh from him.

“Only the best kind, my love.”

Mina leaned against the wall across from his and crossed her arms. Though her expression was relaxed, she made a point of not responding to him just to see if he would offer up any more information unprompted for once.

Alastor took his feet off the panel before him and spun around in his chair to face her. His smile was a knowing one, showing that he was aware of the intent behind her silence but it didn’t bother him.

“It wasn’t much, really,” he began. “Just Vox trying and failing as usual for a power grab. I simply used the opportunity to broadcast the fact that The Radio Demon,” he opened his arms wide for show, the static effect on his voice growing heavier “is back in business.” After a beat, his eyes narrowed, and he continued. “And where did you run off to?”

“To The Pit,” Mina said easily, and her own smile widened as his eyebrows shot up in surprise. She knew that he knew that she was keeping her own secrets and that he suspected they involved Abaddon, so she let him sit with her admission for a second longer before she added, “I took Angel shooting there, just for fun. The targets there are far more lifelike, as you know.”

“And how is our old friend?” Alastor asked pointedly, speaking of Abaddon.

“Getting along as usual, I suppose, though I didn’t see them today.”

“Today,” he repeated, “well, they should be getting along great if their best employees are now working for them for free.”

Mina tossed her hands up in the air.

“Why do you insist on being such a stubborn tosser every time their name comes up? Honestly, love, I thought you would be in a good mood now, that’s why I came up here.”

“I’m in a wonderful mood,” he said defensively, “and I was in a good mood this morning, too.”

Her shoulders dropped as she felt something in her soften. She was just so tired. It was exhausting always being angry with him and constantly trying to outwit him in arguments. For over a week now, she had been swinging back and forth between wanting to fight him and wanting to fuck him and suddenly she wanted neither. She just wanted the man she loved to hold her.

Alastor, astutely clued into her moods as of late, noticed the change and, never one to waste an opportunity when presented, stood up.

“And what kind of radio show host am I? Not playing any music, how shameful.”

A snap of his finger and sounds of soft jazz filled the room. Mina recognized it as a favorite ballad of his to slow dance to. It didn’t have lyrics, which as a singer and poet, Mina usually found distasteful, but she had to admit, as Alastor took her hand and led her to the middle of the room, she appreciated the absence of words now as it gave her mind more space to focus on the body pressed against hers.

Alastor and Mina did not share the same love languages. Hers was physical touch; she needed to be held, kissed, touched, fucked; to reinforce a connection and though Alastor was certainly capable of providing that, he more often showed his affections through more subtle forms. An act of service, a show of vulnerability, private quality time; they all meant just as much to him as a passionate evening in bed.

He was choosing to slow dance with her alone in his tower rather than pick a petty fight over her old boss – who he really loved to hate – and for him, that was a massive display of devotion.

Mina rested her cheek against him as they swayed, savoring the moment. She knew this peace wouldn’t last long; eventually the secrets between them would drive them apart again. But as the song ended and transitioned to another and their dancing didn’t cease, Mina felt a glimmer of hope that this rift between them wasn’t permanent.

Angel’s words from earlier were still fresh in her mind, and she held onto Alastor just a little tighter as she mulled them over.

She could be an awful person. Had done truly horrific things to people whenever she felt justified in doing so. Her ability to cut ties with all empathy for a person could disturb even herself. But she loved this man. And although he was capable of even more heinous acts than herself, she knew in her bones he felt the same about her. They had always been each other’s exception to all their worst traits; the one thing in their lives they always chose to treat with tender care.

Not even the last seven years could undo that kind bond.

___

They had walked hand in hand through the hotel. Their private moment had to eventually come to an end, and they wordlessly decided to leave the radio tower together. The dance had been exactly what Alastor needed after such an invigorating day and he felt rather calm and sated.

Until they had come face to face with Sir Pentious, their new co-resident in redemption.

The demon was an absolute buffoon and Alastor did enjoy making a show of degrading him, but he did find it a bit insulting that Charlie seemed far more trusting of Pentious than she ever had of himself.

“Oh, love, it’s probably just because he’s the furthest thing from threatening,” Mina said when they had a moment alone on the sofa before Charlie’s next activity began. “Even when you’re not trying, you give off very threatening vibes.”

“Hmmm,” Alastor nodded, taking her words as a compliment, and leaning into the gentle one-handed back rub she was giving him. “I suppose I can’t help myself.”

She pulled away and Alastor immediately missed the contact.

“It’s a bit funny though, don’t you think? He shows up so soon after you’re fight with Vox.”

“It was hardly a fight,” Alastor corrected. “I wouldn’t even respect that interaction enough to call it an argument. But, yes, I was thinking much the same thing. That idiot is up to something, though I doubt he’s competent enough to pull anything off.”

Mina leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

“You could always use it to your advantage. Expose him for what he is and look the hero for it.”

“I do love the way your mind works,” he said, pressing a kiss between her ears, “but this time, I think I’m more in the mood to follow Charlie’s lead and then watch it blow up in her face. It’ll be entertaining and like I said,” Alastor sighed, sounding almost regretful, “it’s not like he’s going to cause any real damage around here.”

When the others joined them, Alastor sat upright through the whole ridiculous performance. Sir Pentious was as over the top and believable as a monkey dressed up in woman’s clothing, but it was still wildly entertaining to watch.

His poor, poor Charlie. She believed every word of it, too. The Hellborn clapped and cheered, so blindly desperate to believe in redemption that she was more convinced in the V’s puppet show than she was in the hotel’s only real resident.

She had all but abandoned hope in Angel, discarding him and even put his faults on display for everyone with the little skit she had written up. It was hilarious. Charlie was so easily manipulated into believing lies and giving up on her friends.

How . . . beneficial.

Mina had seemed genuinely upset when Angel had announced he was turning in early and she had wanted to scold Charlie for her negligence. Alastor held her back, telling her to let things simmer a little longer and assuring her that the spider could handle himself.

When everyone else had retired for the night, Mina had asked if he would join her, but he declined. He had told her he simply was still too wound up from the day and was planning on a few more hours in his tower to catch up on some work, but that was a lie on a couple of fronts.

Alastor was exhausted, not having truly slept since his return, and the surge of power he had sent out into the city hours before had nearly drained him of what was left. He also did not plan on getting any work on his station done, not with Pentious wandering about. So, he lingered in the shadows, utilizing the dimmed lights of the hotel to hide, and watched the drama unfold.

He saw it all; Pentious hiding the camera and Angel’s drunken confrontation with him. Vox’s outburst and Charlie’s act of forgiveness. It was all so delightful and once it was all over for the evening, Alastor joined with his shadow and headed straight for Mina’s room.

This was something he could tell her about and after how well things had gone between them that day, Alastor was sure it would seal the deal and help him gain her trust back completely. Once he had informed her of everything that had transpired, he would join her in bed and finally succumb to his body’s need for sleep. In the morning, he would make a point of moving the rest of his stuff into her room, and all would be right between them again.

He slipped beneath the frame of her bedroom door and solidified at the foot of her bed. What he saw made his smile strain unnaturally across his features and his ears pin back.

The bed was made up and empty.

Mina had fucking left . . . again.

Next Chapter ->

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor x oc #alastor hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #the fire in the sin

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cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme · 8 months

Note

Nobunaga her Archer and Avenger versions from FGO with an S/O who was her master in a previous grail war who she meets again at Chaldea and he's become a rare modern day heroic spirit and a strong one at that.

I had a blast writing this, not to mention it helped to scratch the itch I had for the best war criminal.

NOW THEN! YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND!

“Heh, looks like you still have a bad habit of not expecting things to get in close to you. Then again… you are an archer, so I guess it can’t be helped.” a familiar voice muttered behind Nobu.

“It couldn’t be…” Nobu thought to herself in shock.

Then, the cuts ignited, engulfing the corrupted servant in a pillar of blood red flames.

“So… you became a heroic spirit didn’t you?” Nobu asked without even turning to face you, her fists clenched tight.

“Of course, after all, we both left quite a few things left unsaid to one another the last time we were together didn’t we?” You responded quietly, the same sword at Nobu’s side in your own hand.

“You know that's not what I meant.” Nobu muttered through gritted teeth.

“I know, but the how can be saved for later.” You told the archer servant quietly as you returned your blade to its sheath.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The atmosphere was tense as the group returned to Chaldea with Nobu glaring daggers at the newly summoned saber servant who held the same sword as her in their hands.

In an effort to break the ice, Guda decided to ask a question.

“Soooo… Saber, mind introducing yourself to the class?”

“Apologies Master, but only one person will ever get to know my true name, and she is rather greedy with it.” You responded as you walked beside the woman glaring daggers at you.

“Really? Mind if I ask who?” Mash innocently requested.

“I don’t think that's my place to say, but you probably know her, she has a wonderful larger than life personality that can get her into quite a bit of trouble which she’ll easily brush off, not to mention, she is quite attractive, and looks quite fetching in her uniform.” You responded cheerily, leaving a certain archer flabbergasted and, if one looked closely, blushing ever so slightly.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After that, You and Nobu were inseparable and yet… no one knew why.

Nobu sitting directly next to you during lunch, as she drank tea, or addressed her retainers.

You sat directly next to her… any time she was sitting down.

It got to the point that, in lieu of your true name, you had been designated as “The Saber Of The Demon King”.

And it was a name Nobu had taken quite a liking to.

She was a rather possessive person after all.

And you being known by that name? It made her all giddy inside.

Now, if only they knew just who you were to her, that would make your name even better for her.

Still, she was going to wait to drop that bombshell, after all, she doubted that it would be good to give so many people a heart attack from shock.

Not to mention, she still had to figure out just what you were to her as well.

Master, comrade, partner, companion, and even… lover.

These were all words she could use to describe you and yet… none of them truly fit what the two of you were, falling short by the distance of entire planets.

Oh well, the both of you had plenty of time to figure out just what the two of you were to one another.

After all, she was Oda Nobunaga, Demon King Of The Sixth Heaven, it can’t be helped that things tended to get a bit complicated when she was involved!

The flames of Honnoji engulfed her enemies in pillars of flames, burning them to less than ash in an instant.

Yet, she was not the one who burned them.

That honor belonged to her counterpart, a recently summoned Ruler who could always be found standing at the Demon King's side like a loyal blade.

No one knew exactly where this servant came from, there was no record of them in the stores of Chaldea and the Ruler refused to share their name, saying that a rather fiery conqueror had already taken sole ownership of it with a look of affection on their face that had caused a certain Avenger to chuckle with a similar look on her own.

There were theories of course, most of them centering around the two of you.

Some were reasonable like you being an existence similar to that of Nobukatsu except you were the flames of her noble phantasm made manifest.

Others were… not as reasonable, like the one that claimed you and her were Master and Servant from a grail war or something else that would require a summoning or that would allow an Avenger to properly incarnate in the real world even if only through sheer luck.

Alas… neither of you would ever give a straight answer, merely deflecting every question asked.

Nonetheless, if anyone was ever looking for one of you, they simply had to find the other part of the duo and low and behold that is where the person they were looking for would be.

Simply put, the two of you were inseparable.

And something told everyone in Chaldea both of you would have it no other way.

#oda nobunaga arhcer #oda nobunaga avenger #avenger nobu #archer nobu #nobu #nobu x reader #oda nobunaga x reader #fate x reader #fate #fate grand order x reader #Archer nobu x reader #Avenger nobu x reader #fate go

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xanaduclover · 6 months

Text

⋆ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 ⋆ | 𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒓

eren x female reader

tw: angst

~ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ~

“Why are you out here?” Eren called out from behind you, watching as you looked up at the moonlight. “Everything okay?” You sighed, and he walked up next to you, staring at your face, trying to read your expression. “I’m fine.” He didn’t believe that at all but decided not to pry. “You’ve been off these past few weeks…” He says softly, “What do you mean, Eren?” The tone of your voice sounded a bit hostile to Eren, it rubbed him the wrong way but he didn’t comment on it.

“I don’t know..it just seems like…you’re less interested than usual..now you spend most of your time alone..Even Armin is—” You sighed, shaking your head a little. “You worry too much, tell Armin that I’m fine… and that I just want some alone time.” Eren looked at the ground for a moment, evidently not liking this big change in your personality. “What…what about you and me?” He asks, staring deeply into your eyes. He wasn’t too specific on what he meant but you already knew.

“What about us?” You questioned reluctantly. This was a subject t that you didn’t want to elaborate too much on. “Well…I…I’m trying to find the right words to say…” he says, quietly. There was a small moment of silence between you two. You really hoped that he would go on about another topic but he didn’t. “I feel..we have...a strong connection…”

He was trying to sound confident, but his pauses showed he was nervous. You weren't sure how to reply so you simply said, "We’ve always have, ever since we were kids.”

"No.. not like that," He replies quickly, almost annoyed by your response.

"Then how?"

Eren looked at you again and stepped forward. You weren't sure how close to stand but he took the choice from you. “You know, Y/n.” You looked down. You had no idea how to respond to this. You loved Eren, that much was obvious, but you weren't sure how to express your love, not even to yourself.

"Eren..." you began slowly, not wanting to hurt his feelings, "What am I to you?” He asks quickly, not giving you any time to finish your previous sentence. “What?” You asked in a whisper, trying to make out his features in the moonlight. “What am I to you?" Eren says again, his voice becoming more stern.

"You're…you’re one of my best friends…my..companion..someone who I can depend on and trust..."

"That's not what I meant, Y/n."

You stared at him, confused. What was he trying to get at? You tried to think back to your conversations together and see if anything in them might've been able to hint to his question, but you came up blank. "What do you mean then, Eren?"

"i..I..” He took a step back, his cheeks turning a dark shade of red.

"I want to be closer to you, Y/n."

You stood there, still in shock. You were surprised by his confession. You didn't expect it, especially not from him. "Eren..." You said softly, unable to finish your thought.

"Sorry..I know you weren’t expecting that..." he said, sounding slightly embarrassed. “But I’ve been feeling like this for a long time, and I never knew how to tell you, and I wasn’t sure if you would ever feel the same, but I had to say something...I just..I wanted to let you know that you mean a lot to me..and I would like to..spend the rest of my life with you.”

You blinked a couple times, processing his words. Your mind was spinning. You didn't know what to say, but you needed to say something. "Eren..I-i..”

“I love you, Y/n.”

You felt your heart begin to beat faster. You weren't sure how to answer him. It felt like a dream, but you knew that this was real. “I don’t expect you to feel the same..I just needed to get it off my chest..I couldn't keep it in anymore..I'm sorry...I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.." He says, his eyes full of guilt and regret. You looked up, meeting his gaze. “I..I..I think we should go inside..it’s getting late…." you say quietly, avoiding eye contact with him.

Eren didn't respond, and just nodded, looking at the ground. You began to walk away, your mind racing, still in disbelief. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay?

"Goodnight, Y/n.." Eren says quietly.

~ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ♤♢☾ ~

au: this was extremely lazy of me, i apologize❤️

#aot #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #attack on titan #eren aot #eren yeager #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren jaeger #eren x y/n #eren x reader #attack on titan eren #eren jaeger x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager x you

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dummie-writes · 5 months

Text

the party walkers

self insert ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* school bus graveyard

words: 4.08k

previous part: a demon inside of my skin

next part: over the horizon, somewhere

note: woah hey I'm back so soon whattt, anyway. sorry that chapter was kinda more scene setting, we only got to interact with the group at the very end 😭 also, I'd like to say this is gonna be pretty self indulgent for the time being bc idk where I want the story to go 🧍‍♀️keep in mind that while I'm trying to keep it gender neutral, at times y/n may lean more feminine,and this is because I am more feminine. please enjoy :3

ii. a rescue mission

again, there's a tension. there has been for the past minute you've been sitting here. after telling them your name and settling down cross legged on the classroom floor, you kinda expected some questions or something. that blonde kid and ashlyn are still having that weird little staring contest. it's as if everyone wants to start, but no one knows how. like you've passed a test, but they aren't sure if you'll actually pass their little assignment or whatever. you were having nightmares, and eerily, the blonde knew to ask you about them even when you hadn't said you'd been having them. so, they were also having nightmares. at least, from what you could infer.

“um, okay,” a sandy brunette boy with glasses begins. he's not looking directly at you, but instead at your bag beside you in a spaced out manner, his thumbs tapping the wooden pencil in his hand. “nightmares, monsters, right? what kind of monsters?”

“like, gray ones? they're kinda big? sharp hands?” you say, still somewhat confused. a robotic voice comes from next to you, and as you turn your head, the tallest of the group has his phone held up, the screen facing you. on it, in black lettering, it asks “humanish?”. you blink, and then nod at it. not much of a talker, apparently. the girl who originally spoke to you, sitting next to Tyler and who you've quickly remembered is his twin sister, though you don't remember her name from the beginning of the year, opens her mouth to speak, but then ashlyn cuts her off.

“well, that's weird. what notes do you have on savannah?”

a second of slight whiplash from the subject change, everyone (except for tyler) gives the freckled girl a weird look. they hadn't expected it either, but they aren't going to interfere. she has a colder tone - not entirely mean, but like she knows how to stick to decisions that she makes. actually, you'd seen her before - this town wasn't where you grew up, but you'd been here since middle school. ashlyn always kept to herself, for what rare times you did see her. the only words that you'd really ever heard from her were “excuse me” “thanks” or just glowering. you didn't know when she got all these friends.

you also had friends - unfortunately, they weren't really happy with you at the moment. with the whole “several hours or so in hell” situation, you hadn't really been the greatest companion. one too many times had you had to stay home from a group putting, or just slept straight through. they had a right to be upset with you, especially when you wouldn't communicate and were crabby.

“again, not really my fault! what am I supposed to tell them? that I'm bleeding out in the bathroom all night?” but, you know, whatever.

you pulled out your notebook, reading through the few notes you had written down since the start of the group project. you wouldn't argue right now. maybe they were just weird, maybe they were all in the same boiling pot you were. either way, the six of them didn't seem open to talking about it, which means another lonely night in the bathroom for you.

not for them, though. as you tried to be as quiet as possible on the cold, tiled floor, and then moving to the shower so the blood from your back would trickle down the drain instead, they would have a rather rambunctious evening.

“tyler, seriously. if they're here too, we need to get them!”

“that isn't a risk we should be taking!”

ash cringed just slightly at the volume of tyler's voice, and picked at the peeling fabric of the bus seat she was in. this argument had been going on for about an hour, stopping them from any sort of progress in terms of supplies, information, or anything, really. aiden was seated in the seat across from herself, foot dangling as he rhythmically tapped the seat, smiling as he usually did. his red eyes swung back and forth between the aggressors, not saying much except for the offhand comment or joke.

“guys, what if it was one of us? what if it was taylor?”

“fields, don't even think about using that kind of an argument. it's cheap, and that's my sister. not a random classmate - who, by the way, might not actually even be here! they could just be having bad dreams! but, no, i’m the crazy one, right?”

ben shifted uncomfortably, tensing and releasing his fists. tyler was defensive, that much was for sure. truth be told, he in fact did not actually like the idea of possibility leaving you stranded somewhere. it wasn't moral. but he was right, he knew he was right. they didn't have the actual information needed, the possibile required resources, and he wouldn't put taylor in any sort of unnecessary danger like that. not when you lived almost four blocks away from where they already were. despite not saying so, ashlyn agreed almost entirely. she wouldn't lose her entire team saving one person. at the very least, not until they were positive you were actually I'm this other dimension.

“remind me again why we didn't just ask them if they were here?” aiden questions, his cheeks rising a little as he stared at tyler in an almost dare to reply.

“we won't even tell our parents what's going on. if they're just having nightmares, they'll think we're crazy or on drugs. and in that case, who knows what they'll tell the school, or the police,” ash replies in an even tone, raising an eyebrow as her eyes meet aiden's, and then to taylor as she speaks again.

“but it isn't right. you know it's not right. and there was that unexplained scream you heard at the hotel, ash,” taylor points out, throwing her arms out as she paces back and forth. her hair was starting to tangle from all the moment, and a stern look in her eyes told everyone this isn't something she would let go of. at least not thus far.

ashlyn sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and looking down. a quiet pooled in the bus as the ginger thought through the possibilities and risks. taylor was right. they couldn't just leave you wherever you were to rot, possibly die. even if she wasn't a people person, she wasn't a monster. she couldn't let any phantoms hurt you or anyone else in good spirits, that would just be horrible and wrong. she knew tyler wouldn't mind getting you either, if it wasn't such a huge risk, and a major liability if you actually weren't there.

a small glow emitted from a couple feet away from her, looking up to Ben's phone screen as her hand slid to hold up her head. “we need more info”.

logan tapped his foot tentatively, his face soft but unagreeable. he had been making a more logical argument, but was emotion driven nonetheless in his words. having another person would be an advantage. it would come with its own challenges, yes - explaining why they had another person hanging out with them to ashlyn's already suspicious parents, keeping track of an entire other human being, the extra general supplies - but having another person who wasn't a phantom on their side was also a benefit. another pair of eyes, hands, ears. more supplies could be carried.

not to mention, you are not just a video game character. you're an actual human being, with a life, with sentience. in the end, that's the defining factor. they can't abandon you. but they won't come looking for you without being sure you'll be there when they search.

“this is a stupid argument because we aren't actually arguing about saving them, but about when.”

taylor looks up to ash, lightening from how upset she was previously, and her shoulders beginning to drop. an unspoken understanding passes through them as everyone else mumbles something of agreement.

“and how the hell are we supposed to pull that off? do any of you even have their phone number? we didn't add them to any group chats because we were still in our own world when class ended,” tyler huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair, a sour expression in the creases of his face and eyebrows.

“I could run over there,”

everyone stared at Aiden for a second as he smiles in excitement before tyler thwacks him in the back of the head. not hard, but audibly. aiden’s mouth opens slightly, his smile unwavering but now wider as he scoffs in hubris.. “that's not happening, you moron.”

that next morning is a hard one for you. for one, trying to clean that horrible slash with isopropyl alcohol isn't working. it's making things worse, in fact; the flesh around it is red and dry, it throbs when you move too much, and every so often, it'll crack further down your back because you moved too quickly. not to mention, it hurts like a bitch when you do so. not cleaning it runs the risk of infection, but honestly, you're too exhausted to care anymore. your mind is messed up, clearly. talking to a psychologist isn't an option, you'd get put in an asylum before you could finish your sentence. this was just your life now. and you would properly clean it later.

walking into class, you felt the jab of a finger at your back. jumping, you turn around to give a dirty look at whoever was giving you a difficult time, before realizing that it was aiden, from your group project. you take a breath and smile. “hey, how are you?”

despite it being a very normal question that usually results in a “im fine”, aiden clark is not a normal person (to be fair, you aren't at this point either), and answers with a much more winded explanation.

“oh! I'm doing pretty great, haha. last night's homework wasn't all too difficult or anything, and since you're having trouble with your work, you can copy off mine if you'd like. speaking of last night, how'd you sleep? you know, with sleeping issues and everything? sorry about my friends yesterday, they can be a bit argumentative. it think it's funny lol.”

at this point, ben, who you remember now as being introduced as aiden's cousin and is walking behind, looks at you, nodding and giving a small wave. you, in return, smile widely at him.

“well, aren't you just a ray of fucking sunshine or something,” you hear an irritated, grumpy voice from next to you, and then a yelp, followed by “ow! don't pinch me!” and a “then be nice!”

turning to taylor and tyler, the long haired of the two smiles in a nervous apology. “sorry, he's always kinda cranky in the morning. he didn't mean that, I swear.” as taylor tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and chuckles softly, you notice she has a soft sparkle in her eye. that, and the fact that she has been nothing but kind to you in the entirety of the while you've interacted with th pushes her to be your favorite for the time being.

“it's okay, i'm not all too great for the first couple hours too. coffee helps, would you like some? do you have a cup or something?” you're being a little over-nice on purpose, mainly to make him feel bad for being a bit of an ass- but it's a genuine offer. he wasn't downright cruel, just a little mean. and the eye bags on top of his cheeks tell you that taylor wasn't lying about him not being a morning person.

tyler scowls, wrinkling his nose and glancing at the thermos you have on your desk. it's your favorite color, and the metal is warm with the creamy, light brown coffee inside. for a second, his face drops a little, and he looks like he's genuinely considering your offer, before rolling his eyes scoffing. “I'm good.”

rough start for a group that hasn't entirely accepted you as part of their project, but he didn't cuss you out a throw a shoe at you, so you'll count it as a win! you don't have much time to process, because you turn your head again and jump at the bright write paper, half an inch from your face. holding it is a pale hand, and connected to that hand is aiden, wide eyed. actually, that might just be his face. you're starting to think he looks like that more than he doesn't. oh, yeah, actually, that's the homework he was talking about. you had only gotten a couple questions done last night before giving up, and trying to comfort yourself with hot chocolate before midnight arrived.

aiden was still looking at you expectantly, so you gingerly pinched the paper, smiling at him again as you took out your own unfinished work, and compared them side by side so you could at least not down most of them before mr. thomas got to class. as you did so, a bright yellow post-it note caught your attention, and in messy handwriting, it reads:

“what are your nightmares about????”

your eyebrows knit themselves, and glancing up at aiden, he's already looking at you. he turned away to talk to ben about something almost immediately, but it makes you wonder if he knows something you don't. you peel it off, filling out a few of the questions before glancing at the note again, and flipping it over to scrawl down your response of “why do you want to know so badly”. instead of a blank back, you find a phone number, which you can only theorize belongs to aiden. snatching up your phone, you pat the number in, and then hurry to finish what of the homework you can. after filling out what you think will get you a passing grade, you roll up the work and tap the blond on the shoulder with it.

he stops mid sentence to turn toward you, smile widely, take his homework back, and then continues talking to ben. all just as mr. thomas walks through the classroom door.

actually, the fact that he gave you that post it note makes you giggle a little. it looks like an ad for a psychic. you nonchalantly doodle and scribble on your paper during the lecture, nearly falling asleep a couple times before you're all dismissed to sit in groups. you pause for a moment, glancing to your old group. brandy looks in your direction, smiling and standing up to walk over. oh wait what no don't -

“hey! listen, so, about yesterday,” she whispered speedily, a note book in her right hand, tapping her pen on the cover with her left. you purse your mouth, nodding. awkward. “I'm sorry if I was being mean. I failed this class last year, and I can't repeat it again. I know that's harsh, but I'm not taking any chances.”

a silent, uncomfortable nod and pause later, she continues. “I copied down a bunch of my notes for you, because I hope you can still pass. I'm sorry if I made you mad. I'll just, go, um, yeah.”

a second later, you're holding a few pieces of lined paper to your chest and watching her run off and back to her group. a sinkhole opens in your chest, and you bite the inside of your cheek. would ashlyn's group be expecting you? would they talk to the teacher about getting you removed too, since they might not have wanted to fail as terribly as they already were? your eyes find their circle, where three pairs of eyes are looking to yourself, and there's a large enough gap by taylor's seat for your own.

a soft grin presses onto your cheeks, relief emanating from you when you sigh, grabbing your chair to haul it over. at least you had a solid group for your project now, even if it was going to fall apart. and, even if your group members were a tad, let's say, bold in how long they stared at you for. not in an entirely creepy way, but in a puzzled way, like you were something to be figured out.

“um, he gave you his phone number, right?” logan confirmed, pushing his glasses up his nose with his index finger while he spoke. after the glint from the ceiling light left his glasses, you realized his eyes weren't entirely blue, but had a twinge of turquoise to them. or aqua. something like that, either way, they weren't a strict blue. you acknowledge his question by pulling your phone from out of your jean pocket, shaking it a little. “yep, it's all right here.”

“good! be-”

“we have something we should really talk about with you. a few questions.”

“oh my fucking - you're making it sound like we're a cult.”

“aren't we kinda?? at this point lmao??”

“aiden, you're not helping.”

“excuse me?” your features are slightly scrunched in both confusion and amusement - you're assuming this has something to do with the whole weird “what's in your nightmares” note, and on its own this exchange might actually kinda freak you out. but the way tyler looks like he's about to pop a vein has you beaming and nearly laughing. not to mention, aiden is just kinda, weird. a bit creepy too, but mostly weird.

“hey idiots, shut up! it was your guys’ decision to do it this way, and now you won't even talk with them about it properly!” tyler gives everyone a dirty look, noticeably glancing at ben and then not glaring at him. ben has a flat expression, and just glances at aiden, who is already chuckling to himself and looking back at him.

“ahem,” ashlyn clears her throat, pointing her eyes at you. as you turn to face her back, tyler huffs, crossing his arms and sitting back in his seat, glaring daggers at you even though you. haven't actually done anything. “so, these nightmares.”

it's interesting that she's the one to bring this all to a head, after specifically dodging the subject yesterday in class.

“tell me about them.”

when she puts it like that, it feels a lot more individual. you haven't really talked a whole bunch to ashlyn banner, even when you guys have been paired together. she was sorta… floaty.

“well, uh, what do you want to know?” you feel stupid for asking, but they were the ones who put you on the spot. and who are also glaring down at you, mostly in a friendly way. you think, at least. it's starting to get a bit stuffy.

“what color are the skies?”

“kinda, red. typically. but I feel like that's sort of normal. for nightmares.”

this was weird. this was so entirely strange, actually. maybe you were too sleep deprived to actually notice, but the fact that they're dissecting you like a bug isn't normal. especially when they keep sharing glances like that!

“okay, hold on. what's going on? I think I should get to know why you guys are trying to scoop my soul apart with your eyes or something,” you stab a dirty look at tyler, who rolls his eyes and looks away. the rest kinda lose their gaze, sights now wandering the classroom- of course, this is excepting aiden, who's still staring at you. oh well. you kinda expected that at this point.

ashlyn gives a low sigh, clenching her teeth together and crossing her arms. her fingers tap on her jacket, and aiden leans over to smoosh himself into her shoulder- which she seems irritated by, but doesn't do anything to push him off because he starts speaking.

“I don't think we're getting anywhere with guessing games guys.” his eyelids are low, and he puts his hands behind his head, crossing his legs to put them on ben's lap like he's relaxing. that's when ash gives him a hard shove with her other arm, and he lands swiftly on the floor, drawing a giggle out of taylor. “hey! I'm right! don't push me :(.”

“I hate to say it, but we might need to be just straightforward here,” tyler interjected, glancing at ash. “that's not a good idea, wh-”

“hello! hi! I'm still here!” you interrupt, your palms facing upward out you wave your arms around. disbelief crosses your face, and you're about to laugh because, what the fuck? what do they know, and what are they not telling you - and why are they being so rude about it! “I would appreciate someone being straightforward with me! actually! if my opinion matters at all here!”

“of course it matters!” taylor responds almost immediately, her shoulders dropping and her eyes becoming soft. ben stops for a second, signing “yes” in consensus. for the first time, logan speaks up, his words muddled together too quickly for you to understand for a second.

“yeah okay so theresthislike alternative dimensions thingandwedontactuallyknow what'sgoingonbutwould youhappentoknowhatwe're talkingabou-”

“dude, breathe, what the fuck,” you answer, eyebrows tilted in more concern than anything else. while logan wasn't the type to talk so quickly he didn't enunciate his sentences, he didn't want to be stopped by any of the group - specifically tyler, who, surprise, you'll never guess, was glaring at him.

“... did you say alternate dimension?”

“yeah lol.”

“and what exactly does he mean by that?”

“exactly what i, um, said. there's a shift, it starts at midnight, and we're there for seven hours. only seven minutes actually pass, but, uh, no one actually gets any sleep at that point.”

that is… exactly what your little nightmare issue sounds like.

“the red skies, the phantoms-” who you're assuming are those demon things. “-they all match with our little, uh, nightly problem. the only thing that doesn't match up is how on earth you're there too. we know what caused us falling through - but why are you there?” logan asks, and the more he talks, especially about something he knows, the more he seems less shy. tentative, sure, but more confident in his words. it makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach.

if he's serious about this, maybe they aren't playing some joke on you- which was already unlikely, but you've gotta cope somehow. if there are who knows how many other people in that little hell hole of an evening, then it isn't only you that you need to worry about, and you can't just hole up in the bathroom if there are others too.

“when did you start going?” aiden asks, poking you in the back again so you turn to him.

“that night at the hotel after the field trip.”

“hmmm. anything weird happen?”

“i mean, I went with my group. and I was kinda lagging behind and got tossed up with another group who was touring some haunted house because the lady thought I was with them.”

“... what house?”

“ummmm, seed house? something weird like that? ‘s’ somethi-”

“the sorrel weed house. “

that time, ashlyn didn't ask, but stated. it was a ghost of her usual, stronger tone.

“you must have gotten tossed up with our group.”

the cold bathroom tile that you sat on was uncomfortable when you awoke that night, but the air was chilled with excitement. you were getting busted out. you'd have to do the more difficult part of maneuvering out of the house with what ashlyn and her group called “phantoms”, as well as trying to grab some stuff on your way out. blankets, first aid supplies, food, bags- anything you could really get your hands on. but escape was everyone's first priority. which is why your ear is pressed so hard to the cheap wooden door, and your breathing is as quiet as you can force it to be. you're listening for footsteps. or tapping. or whatever other noises might hint to otherworldly existence.

you hadn't been out of this bathroom in your entire time here. had you been hungry? yeah. but… what else were you supposed to do? you didn't exactly have a group to watch your back while you grabbed a lunchable from the kitchen.

nothing. nothing for the past ten minutes. the others should be here in about twenty. that's how long you have. so, with that in mind, you focus on your first location: your bedroom, where your phone, backpack, and blankets were.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

that's right, get part 1'd. hope you enjoyed

next part: over the horizon, somewhere

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pursuitseternal · 7 months

Text

“Torturing” update to “Our Blood is Thicker”

Astarion x Named Tav (Cordehlia) | E | 2.8K

Summary: When a ransom message from his siblings, Astarion and the rest prepare for their quest with renewed zeal and more questions. Cordehlia awakes in her cell, taunted and tortured (not physically) as her captor comes to call.

CW: aggressive Astarion, total alpha male energy (poor Petras, not really), more tragic backstory revelations, Cordehlia wants blood and payback… and freedom.

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 17: Torturing…

🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️

“Get out of my way!” Astarion bellowed, hands balled into fists, fangs snapping and glinting at the wall of his companions blocking the door.

“You don’t know where she is… you can’t go barreling into a trap,” Halsin replied far too calmly for his tastes. “Cordehlia wouldn’t want that.”

“You won’t do her any good if you’re caught too… if she even has been taken by Cazador,” Shadowheart tried to reason, her own hands almost glowing, itching to cast a spell to hold him steady if necessary.

“We need to at least look for her, ask around. It’s broad daylight, you idiots! He shouldn’t have been able to look out a window let alone steal my…” his lips trembled. His stomach sank before he could even spit out one more word.

Lost, she was lost. Stolen. Taken. And he was powerless to save her. At least until he knew more.

“Daylight must not be a deterrent any longer, if he took her after dawn,” Halsin added, attempting a single step forward, hands in the air before him just in case the Vampire rushed. “We don’t know why or how, we don’t know where he took her or why…”

“I’m the why, you pack of idiots,” his voice was but a hollow growl. “I know the bastard, I’ve never been allowed anything of my own, no power, no freedom, no love, nothing for almost two-hundred years. And now…” he choked, fists shaking at his side. A sob, enraged and feral, catching in his throat. “Now… somehow he knows, knows that the fastest way to me, to having power over me again is to have power over…”

A sob shattered his words. He fell to his knees, bare chest shaking, wracked with ragged breath after breath. He couldn’t even mention her… not even remotely.

He was that same devastated slave. Lost. Broken. Shattered.

Alone.

Something shimmered beside them, the stink of sulfur, the heat of infernal magic. Two bodies appeared, two sets of glowing red eyes in the midst of that black and red heat.

Astarion bolted to his feet, hands clawed and fangs ready for whatever manifested. And he could feel his companions readying to do the same.

Black mist parted, familiar faces formed around those glowing eyes. “Brother… sister…” Astarion hissed, only animalistic rage pounding through his nerves. The need to protect, to save, nearly blinding his reason and obliterating any wisdom.

“Astarion,” a mimicking, mocking voice broke through the amorphous cloud. “The Master has a message for you.” Stocky and swaggering, another male Vampire stepped forward, arms waving dramatically as he bowed.

Rolling his eyes, Astarion hissed in reply. “Ah, Petras, of course you get sent as the errand boy,” his voice dripped with hate, all that charisma and arrogance turned to shards of ice, pointed right at his enemies. His fellow Spawn. “And you brought Dal with you, a little moral support needed, hmm?” His eyes scathed over the female, her face was softer, always softer. But it didn’t matter, Astarion sneered. “What does the old bastard want, not that I couldn’t guess…”

Petras tossed something into the space between him and his brother, keeping a safe distance away, or so the puny weakling thought. Astarion gloated that he didn’t dare approach. Something long and metal clattered on the wooden floor and scattered to a halt at his feet. A long dagger, bright and sharp, a stain of blood dried on its curve, darkening that outline of a diving crow just above the tang.

Hers.

At least she got the bastard…. Except…. As he picked it up from the ground, he instantly recognized that scent. Blood. Her blood. On her weapon.

“Where is she…” the question lanced from his sneering lips as he stood slowly. He could almost feel the imprint of her hand in the hilt. Eyes locking on that other vampire, he roared, guttural and toneless, flinging the blade to plant itself in the wall just over the female’s shoulder. Making her dart away.

In that second of chaos he launched forward. Fingers gripped into the pudgy circumference of Petras’ neck. “There’s nowhere safe for any of you, you know. Cazador can’t compel me, the sun can’t harm me, and you’ve backed a monster into the corner. You know how dangerous I can be, and you will know exactly all I’m capable of, brother, if you don’t start telling me what I want to know…” the wide red and glowing eyes scanned Astarion in terror. But the Pale Elf swung the brute to the side, thrusting him into the beams of morning light that streamed through the shadows where they had been hiding.

Torturing his brother wouldn’t be enough to sate his need to get to her. But it was a fun start.

Flesh melted, hissing and burning and stinking. Astarion could faintly hear his sister begging him to stop. He only laughed it off; when did she or anyone give a shit?

His voice was deep in his throat, laden with hate. “Now, you tell me what I ask, and I’ll throw you back into the shadows where you can skulk….” Petras’ head nodded even as his skin blistered. “Where… is… she?” the most feral of words he ever spoke.

“Th-th-the dungeons, under the palace. Secret defiled chapel. The Master wants you to t-trade your life for hers, let her go so he can complete our Ritual….”

A snarl through his fangs, and Astarion flung the Spawn across the floor, letting him stagger next to his sister. And all the while, he made certain his body remained in the sun. Taking his time, he strode forward, unhurried. Confident. Powerful.

Feeling the sun radiate from behind him and warm his back.

He looked down at where his former brother bent over in pain, smiling all the while as he enjoyed the show.

Petras muttered, “What are you?”

“I am the one that saves Cordehlia, stops your sham of a rite, and sends Cazador to his doom. You can tell the master that.” He spat the last two words. “Now you better scatter off and tell him before I regret my restraint,” hissing, he reached for her weapon embedded in the wall beside him.

Yet by the time he pulled it free, they had vanished as they had appeared. A flurry of sulfur and stink as they were lost into black mist.

He turned, his companions’ faces stared back, a mix of enraged and terrified, of concerned and determined.

“Astarion,” Karlach’s warm voice broke the tense silence first. “We will get her out.”

“Today,” he sniffed, still clinging to her dagger in his palm. As if he could feel her in the metal. “We get her today.”

“We need to know just what we are rushing into,” Halsin added, always so steady, so calm. Fuck, how did he do it. “We will need into the Palace.”

“Done, I know every way in and out,” Astarion’s face like flint, ready to parry every concern or question. There was no budging, no negotiation. She would be freed tonight.

“We need to know how to get to his dungeons, how to stop the Rite…” Halsin continued so steady and level headed.

“And we need to know… you’re not planning to give yourself up, are you?” Gale inserted, a deep breath as if he prepared another long diatribe. “And you should know, Astarion… have you ever seen the other spawn using infernal magic?”

At that, Astarion’s brows arched painfully high.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Gale rubbed at his chin, deepening his thought. “You see, between your vision of Cazador braving the thin light of dawn, and that display of teleportation magic, the infernal kind, mind you if you didn’t happen to notice the smell… it would seem Cazador has gained a little sliver of the power he has been promised once he completes the Rite of Profane Ascension. Daylight, mist-travel, who knows… we know he has previously called those werewolves into his service, he may even have other powers at his fingertips we can’t quite prepare for ....”

“I’m all pointy ears then, Wizard,” Astarion huffed begrudgingly. “What would you have us do… have me do?”

“Prepare for the worst, hope for the best,” he slipped his hand from its thoughtful placement.

“But we are getting her out of there, Astarion,” Halsin added, closing the distance to place a reassuringly large hand on the Vampire’s shoulder. “And you will not be a sacrifice for that Rite either.”

“You’re both owed your ‘happily ever after,’” Karlach grinned softly, “and you’re owed the freedom we all long for.”

Every head nodded, every face giving him a solemn smile.

“First, you’re going to have to put on more than pants, however…” a snide, sarcastic voice peeled from the bunch of them as Shadowheart finally gave her insight.

Astarion rolled his eyes and turned back to his things. That dagger in his fist calmed him and yet agitated. He could smell her blood stuck to it with each breath, and he could only hope that whatever wound she took in the fight wasn’t serious.

He smiled, a bit darkly if nervous, sliding on his undershirt and turning to his armor. Knowing her, whatever one wound she took, she gave at least ten in reply. He slipped the dagger into his belt, giving its hilt a little kiss first, whispering against its sacred steel, “I’ll be there soon, my little Raven.”

Dank, moldering air filled her nose. Cordehlia’s head throbbed, her arm stung where her blade had scraped her flesh when she was disarmed. Whatever magic it was that had disabled her at last, it was foul, in her nose and on her tongue. She shouldn’t have left… shouldn’t have gone without armor, or her sword or…

“Astarion!” she bellowed into the dungeon’s darkness as her eyes snapped open. But her voice only echoed against the slick walls of dark stone. She flung herself from the hard slab… a bed of sorts. Her muscles trembled, weakened from whatever spell had thrown her into darkness on his grave.

It had been quick, an ambush by the book. She should have known, she was too smart for such a simple attack. That voice, shrill and haunting, she recalled it from the pain inside her head. “Of course you would come here… and now little elf, you’re going to be the perfect bait.”

Her blade had flashed for a moment, nearly driving home in the tall elf’s chest, those glowing red eyes… it had to have been him.

“If the bait isn’t awake at last…” that shrill voice sounded once more too close to her ears for her own comfort. That same looming presence approached the diagonal bars of her cell. An arrogant smile on his thin lips and a shine on his pallid skin. “It’s been a while since this cell has held a Star Elf of such renown as the Bone Picker. Not since…”

He… Cazador… drew to a stop and tapped that massive and fearsome staff on the black tile floor. He scratched at his chin as he watched her glaring, that little She-elf with hair like fire and eyes like stars, and a soul blackened by the blood of thousands.

Yes, fitting bait for what he had in mind.

“Well, you’ve grown close with that upstart boy, Astarion, you know his kind… spoiled, arrogant, unteachable if there isn’t a cane or lashing involved.”

“He’s going to kill you, you know,” she hissed, a feral edge to her as well. “But only if I don’t kill you first.”

“Oh, you two certainly were made for each other, the kind of insolent response I would expect from his whimpering lips.” Cazador began to pace, to draw her attention and assess just what sort of reflexes the mighty warrior might hold. “I do so love the sight of such a rare and wise being in my power. You probably even know the last two to occupy such a cell, little Star Elfling… your High Lord and Lady….”

Cordehlia froze, trying to keep her face from reacting, but she was sure even the little tick of her flaring nostrils gave away her shock. Her dismay. She needed to know more, unable to keep herself from whispering their names and recalling their sweet if haughty faces. “What did they ever do to you?” she hissed again.

“I suppose there is no harm in telling you, you’re as good as dead or broken anyway…” Those eyes narrowed in the dark, assessing her, taking her measure. And clearly finding her wanting. “They existed. They double crossed one deal too many against my interests in order to get that welp into the City, all for some schooling for the boy.” The Vampire Lord sneered. “It was easy to betray them all, to make their precious son my spawn. It was almost easier to capture them as they grieved their son, to make them see the soulless slave he was before I killed them.”

Too much. It was too much. Her chest shook with rapid breath, her vision darkening to that bright red glare. Blood. She wanted his blood. Needed it to pay for the pain, the grief, the souls she had taken in the wake of her darkness. “On their glittering souls, I’ll kill you,” she seethed. “And once Astarion comes for me, he, too, will make you pay for everything… we will make you pay for everything you took from us for all these years.”

“Us?” Those ruby eyes narrowed, head craning unnaturally to the side. “No… it can’t be…” His cackle shivered down her back. “You’re also his beloved, aren’t you? Cordehlia?” He spat her name in disgust as if he heard it a thousand times before. “He used to scream for you, you know, when he first was turned. Those first nights were such druggery, beating him near to death only to have him try to run back to you again by daybreak. Must have taken a whole tenday of him screaming your name until I finally carved his flesh with his fateful scar and commanded your existence from his memory at last.”

A roar in her throat, Cordehlia launched into the cell door, leaping higher into the bars to clench her hand around his cold neck. It would be so sweet to squeeze the air from him, to relish his body going limp in her clutch as she had with so many of her foes.

But she only felt a cackle reverberating in her palm.

“Delightful, I can’t believe I get to see the rage of the Lady Corvus…” he mocked in those shrill tones, fingers easily peeling her hand from his undead throat one at a time. “And in exchange for such a great demonstration, you will witness the rise of the first and only Vampire Ascendant. Seven-thousand souls await their sacrifice too. in the rest of these cells. All is prepared and readied except for your long... lost love.”

His sickening smile made her stomach turn, her feet resting back on the ground if only so she could plan her next attack.

“The perfect bait… the perfect trap, the perfect way to torture your boy one last time. Once he comes to trade his life in the Rite for your freedom, then all will be forgiven, Lady Corvus, and you’ll go free.”

“Never,” she spat at his feet, eyeing that staff of his that he only gripped harder as he darted away.

“It’s what he was made for, little She-elf, to seduce thousands for the rite, to use that body of his for my will, to bring me the fodder and ensure my power, and then…” he cackled one more time, “to be consumed forever.”

Cordehlia could say nothing, could do nothing. She had to watch that monster, that tormentor, that thief that robbed her of their future… their love… her family… walk away back into the dank darkness.

Only once she was sure he was truly gone did she allow herself the comfort of tears. Swallowing her sobs, hiding her face as she sank back on that stone bed, knees pulled into her chest.

“Astarion…” she whimpered, longing with all her love to feel him or see him one more time. Trying to reach him with the tadpole, with her heart, or with her soul.

That velvet voice almost seemed to caress her mind, the slightest warming comfort in her heart, as if she could hear him: “I’ll be there soon, my little Raven,” he purred in her ear.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Another 3 days and you’ll quit hanging from that cliff 💞

Hold on tight, dear readers

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karotka · 25 days

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I've been rewatching IWTV and what's clicked for me were Armand's motivations for betraying Louis. On first watch I thought it was such a confusing and irrational thing to do. Now, obviously it was capital B Bad etc., but we all know that, boring question. But was it a logical (≠justified) decision to pick the coven? I'm starting to think it kind of was 🤔

The café scene is so heartbreaking, makes me kick and scream at the screen, Armand on his way to end it all and Madeleine asks why Louis doesn't want him to know how much he loves him, and Louis confidently replies, “he knows.” Reader, did he know? I feel like part of the tragedy is that it didn't really matter at that point.

Press pause on the betrayal of it all and look at the facts from Armand's perspective:

Louis is suicidal. He has an expiry date, the coven vampires don't. Louis is suicidal, the coven is forever 😂😂 To quote Lestat, “There is one thing about being a vampire that I most fear above all else... And that is loneliness. You can't imagine the emptiness, a void stretching out for decades at a time.” Armand asks Madeleine, “What will you do, in a few decades, when she throws herself into the fire?” and then finds Louis in a pool of blood, his wrist slashed. He voices this to Louis much later – when he has no right to demand anything from him, but the sentiment stays true – “You left me for death. Will I be on suicide watch for the next 1,000 years?”

Louis straight up murdered his previous lover. Now, we know it wasn't all that, but Armand didn't. Major red flag, anyone? “I killed him and he fucking had it coming.” And he DID, but that's beside the point, isn't it? Especially since we know Armand is just as capable of domestic abuse :') He knew that Louis wasn't the kind of person who would just take his shit forever. If you want somebody to trust you, don't let them know you took part in the murder of your ex, heartfelt advice from both of them.

Speaking of exes, Louis is SO not over Lestat. I mean, neither is Armand, they're such a train wreck of a relationship :D But yeah, Louis is not fully committed to Armand, denying publicly that they're companions, hallucinating his ex in the bedroom or while Armand is sharing his traumatic past and, most damning of all, refusing to join the coven.

From Armand's perspective, he's risking it all for Louis and Louis a) doesn't appreciate it at all, and b) refuses to do the bare minimum of getting along with his family. (If someone treated my daughter-sister the way Armand treated Claudia, I'd kill them with my bare hands, but Louis acts like he doesn't mind. Can you imagine me without the burden of her? :/) (and yeah, he could just leave his shitty cult, the same way they could have left each other during those 70 years. Shitty stability > loneliness, I guess.)

A minor point maybe, but the moment you know that Lestat is out there and wants revenge, that only adds to the expiry date part. Especially once Lestat is cooperating with the coven, because I imagine that while Armand is OP enough to fight the coven, all of them + Lestat might be a bit too much. Maybe Armand even hoped once Louis is out of the picture they could get back together? We don't really know what exactly was going on behind the scenes but Lestat's sheer existence is bad for loumand... It is what it is.

And Louis just... repeatedly ignores Armand's warnings. I mean, they both knew Armand was going to execute him that one time. They tried to make it work but Louis was living on borrowed time from that point. Add Armand's apparent MO of “everything I love must eventually burn down so I will take control of the situation by orchestrating the downfall myself” et voilà. He was given a choice and he chose.

And THEN he betrayed the coven for Louis at his most unwell. Iconic!

#knees deep in the betrayal script is it casual now #loumand my beloved <3 #nobody does it like them and nobody should #iwtv #iwtv meta #u #I've been informed that the coven vampired used to have an expiry date before Lestat told them that rule was stupid. oh well #I want to clarify that I don't think any of it was Louis' fault #(except for keeping secrets from Claudia. that was extra stupid of him)#I just want to understand why A would do him that way.#and I say 'him' bc obviously he didn't give a single fuck about the claudeleines he just wanted them gone #loumand

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clarepreed · 8 months

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Neighborly

Story Content and Summary - 8,171 words. Larissa and Mitchell try to save a choking neighbor. Choking, on-site resuscitation, explicit sex.

Previous installment: Micro-Story: Larissa's Decision

Mitchell

Mitchell ruffled his hands through his hair and dropped them to his sides, his eyes on the boardwalk path ahead. They’d been home a few days, and the sunny weather tempted them out for a walk.

Larissa reached for his hand and he let her take it, curling his fingers around hers. The gesture felt right, despite everything that had gone on between them lately. Larissa, he thought, looked lovely dressed in blue, with her hair loose and her face freshly washed and free of makeup.

“I’m glad we’re home,” she murmured. “It was nice to see Momma and Daddy and Poppy, but I enjoy being home with you. Especially here.”

“I feel the same way, baby.”

They walked for a while until they approached the gate that closed off their boardwalk trail from the gated community behind their property.

“Keep walking?” he asked, smiling over at her. “I’d like to continue if you’re up for it.”

Larissa nodded, unlocking the gate and holding it open for them both. She had to release his hand for them to walk through, but she recaptured it once the gate closed behind them. “How’s your head?” she asked, referring to his recent accident at her grandfather’s home.

“My headache from this morning is gone,” he told her. He reached up and brushed the sore scar near the top of his head. “And it feels like there’s hair growing back.”

“It’s white,” she said matter-of-factly. “The new hair is silver. I peeked.”

“Oh.”

Larissa squeezed his hand. “I didn’t mean it in a negative way, honey. Just an observation.”

“I’m lucky it didn’t kill the hair follicles.”

“They make very fancy hairpieces now.” Larissa grinned and squeezed his hand again. “Which would be entirely about your vanity, as I would not be put off by a measly bald spot.”

“You have enough hair to spare some for a custom piece, I’m sure,” Mitchell said, rolling his eyes.

“I have enough hair in the shower in a single week to make you a hairpiece.”

Mitchell laughed. “Really?”

“I do clean up after myself, Mitchell.” She leaned toward him and kissed his shoulder, softening her retort.

They fell into companionable silence. The air was just north of cool, bathing his skin and keeping the humidity at bay. Mitchell reached out and let his fingers graze a leafy plant growing against the boardwalk handrail.

“We need hobbies.” Larissa spoke without preamble, her bluntness born from what sounded like nervous energy. He heard it in the slight pitchiness when she spoke. “Or part-time jobs.”

“Oh?” Mitchell bent his arm, pulling her hand up with his. He studied their interlocked fingers, then used his other hand to trace the hills and valleys of her knuckles.

“Don’t you miss having a task you can get lost in? Really set your mind to?”

She sounded so tentative that he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “What do you want, Larissa? Is there something you’d like to do?”

“Drawing classes,” she blurted. Mitchell watched as the cheek closest to him flushed pink.

“I’m certain we can find art classes for you on the island, baby. Or a private tutor. Whatever you’d like.” His brows dipped. “Surely you know that you are free to do whatever you’d want, Larissa.”

“So are you, Mitchell.”

Mitchell slowed to a stop and reached for her other hand. He pulled them both up and kissed the back of each hand, his brow furrowing as Larissa’s expression mirrored the tentative tone of her voice. “Of course, I would prefer if you sometimes showed me your drawings, if you wanted. And whatever we do, I’m always going to be happy to be with you at the end of the day.”

Her eyes took on a glassy appearance, as though she might cry. Instead, Larissa leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. When she rocked back on her heals, she asked him: “And what would you like to do, honey?”

Mitchell raised his eyebrows. He had an answer to her question, and the answer was that he did not know. Oh, he’d thought about it, surely, but—

“HELP!”

Mitchell whipped his head around. The shout was unmistakable, and not too far off.

“What is it?” Larissa asked. “Mitchell?”

“OH MY GOD! HELP!”

“Someone is shouting for help…” Mitchell released one of her hands and took a step toward the sound. He stopped, looking indecisively at Larissa.

“We should try to find them, then.” She tugged on his hand. “Mitchell?”

“We don’t know why they are calling out. If it’s safe.” His mind served up an image of Larissa sprawled by a fountain, dying from blood loss.

“PLEASE! STELLA! HELLLLP!”

Mitchell gritted his teeth. Larissa tugged on his hand. “Are they still yelling? We’re at home. Someone might be hurt! It’s safe enough, Mitchell.” When she tugged his hand again, he joined her, and they jogged down the boardwalk.

It didn’t take them long to find the source of the voice. A man half dragging, half-carrying a semi-conscious woman. He heard Mitchell and Larissa’s footsteps on the boards and turned, struggling to hold up the woman as her knees went out. Mitchell took in her half-open eyes and her darkened face.

“Oh, God! Stella, don’t—” The man caught the woman around the chest with one arm, her head sagging forward as he pounded her between the shoulder blades.

“Is she choking?!” Larissa exclaimed, her voice rising as Mitchell released her hand and they both ran to the couple.

“May I help?” Mitchell asked in a rush, a cold sensation dousing him from head to toe as he reached for the man’s weakly struggling burden.

The unnamed man all but shoved her at Mitchell, who caught her sideways and spun her in his arms. Larissa came around the front, her hands gripping the woman’s arms and helping to hold her upright. “My husband is going to help you! You’ll be all right!”

Mitchell drew his arms around the woman’s waist and searched out her navel with his right hand. He curled the left into a fist and pressed his knuckle just above his right hand, then moved that hand up to cover his left. He jerked in and up.

“Again, Mitchell!” Larissa almost shouted. “What’s her name?”

“Stella—”

Mitchell thrust his hands into the stranger’s abdomen again, grunting as he nearly lifted her off the boardwalk. Stella didn’t make any noises; he heard Larissa encouraging him to continue, and the male stranger babbling away in a panic. But he didn’t hear any air moving. No gasping or coughing. Not even gagging or choking. Another abdominal thrust, and the weak scratching at his arms stopped.

“Have you called 9-1-1?” Larissa asked, her fear evident in her rasping speech. He met her eyes inadvertently, saw his own remembered trauma reflected at him. He heaved hard up toward Stella’s diaphragm, his stomach hollowing out as he felt her knees give. Larissa reached out and grasped the woman’s face. “Stay with us, Stella. Keep your eyes open!”

Larissa

“Have you called 9-1-1?” Larissa managed, her eyes darting to the distraught man standing next to her. She looked back at the woman as Mitchell tried again to dislodge whatever was killing her. Stella’s face turned a dark reddish purple as she watched, her eyes and nose streaming and saliva dripping from her open mouth. As Larissa watched, the woman’s eyes rolled, and she saw Mitchell trying to keep her on her feet. Her heart pounding and her own eyes watering, Larissa reached out and cupped Stella’s face in her hands. Dark curls draped over the woman’s face, incongruously soft considering the circumstances. “Stay with us, Stella. Keep your eyes open!”

As she brought her face close to Stella’s, a hot and sweet scent tickled her nostrils and hit her with a wave of nausea that nearly made her lurch away from the other woman. Cinnamon candy.

“No, I… I’ll do it now! I’ll do it now. Stella, you have to cough it up!” To his credit, the trembling, panicked man immediately dragged a cell phone out of his pocket and pressed it to his ear.

Larissa shook her head and swallowed hard.

Mitchell performed a fifth abdominal thrust, the woman’s head pulling free of Larissa’s gentle grasp and tipping back against his chest. He shifted her, his leg slipping between Stella’s as he cradled her in one arm and pounded her between the shoulder blades with the other. Her arms swung limp and her head lolled, mouth gaping. Larissa caught her head in her hands again, gasping: “Mitchell, she’s losing consciousness!”

The man, standing on her deaf side, was barely audible as he spoke to the 9-1-1 dispatcher. Mitchell wrapped his arms around the woman again, his eyes huge as he desperately jerked his fist into her abdomen. Her lightweight sweater rode up, bunching beneath her breasts and leaving her abdomen exposed. Larissa looked down, watching as he pulled his fist hard into the reddened skin of her stomach.

Suddenly, the woman went completely limp, her head falling toward Larissa as Mitchell yelped and held her unconscious form against his chest. “Help me lay her down!” Together, they eased her flaccid body to the boardwalk, Larissa guiding the woman’s head as Mitchell laid her flat on her back. She was vaguely aware of the man kneeling beside her as she used a hand on the woman’s forehead and another at her chin to tip Stella’s head back.

“STELLA!” Larissa shouted at the woman before thumbing open her mouth. She used her finger to sweep between her teeth, hoping the position change had dislodged the unknown item. Stella’s brown eyes were half open, bloodshot, and staring up at the tree canopy. Larissa felt nothing but the woman’s tongue and teeth. Removing her finger, she leaned her good ear by Stella’s mouth. Mitchell reached out and pressed his fingers to the pulse point in the woman’s neck.

Rather than announcing that the woman wasn’t breathing, Larissa hastily swiped her hand over the woman’s wet mouth and then pinched her nose. She covered Stella’s bluing lips with her own and attempted to give her a breath. Stella’s cheeks rounded, followed by Larissa’s own. Then the seal broke, making her lips tingle as they buzzed against the other woman’s skin. She adjusted the tilt of Stella’s head and tried again, blowing harder. The air escaped between them and out of her own nose with a Pthhhbbt! sound. The other woman’s mouth was sticky from the candy that choked her.

Mitchell bent over the woman as Larissa leaned back, his hands tracing the woman’s ribcage and then stacking over the bottom of her sternum. He rolled his shoulders forward and then forced her sternum downward. The woman’s head wobbled in Larissa’s hands, and she saw her abdomen distend as Mitchell thrust his hands into her chest. “One, two, three, four, five…”

“Oh GOD! YES… yes, they are d-doing CPR. Oh, Stella…” Larissa looked at the man out of the corner of her eye. He had the phone in one hand, and a death grip on Stella’s hand with the other. She spotted a wedding ring on his finger.

“…fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…”

Larissa reached up and scrubbed the back of her hand across her mouth. Her face and hands felt tacky. A combination of panic, disgust, and shame rolled through her as she returned her hand to the woman’s chin. Leaning closer, she used her thumb to open the woman’s mouth further. The woman’s tongue was in her line of sight, keeping her from seeing into the back of her throat despite the bright sunlight.

“… nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…”

Before she could talk herself out of it, she used her thumb to pin the woman’s tongue against the floor of her mouth. The moist muscles tried to slide free as she peered down toward her uvula.

“… twenty-six, twenty-seven…”

As Mitchell hit thirty compressions, Larissa slipped her thumb out of the woman’s mouth and took a deep breath. Closing her nostrils, she tried to give her two breaths. Neither were successful.

“One…” Mitchell thrust the heel of his bottom hand hard into the woman’s chest, repeatedly, at nearly two times per second. The woman’s neck looked tense, the vessels and tendons standing out. Her shoulders moved with each compression, lifting slightly from the boardwalk. Further down, her sweater still exposing her stomach, Larissa saw the force of the compressions seesawing the woman’s abdomen. “… nine, ten, eleven…”

“Oh my God! Stella?! Graham, what happened?!” A woman’s voice, loud enough for Larissa to hear, made her lift her head and look up the boardwalk. A pair of women a little younger than Larissa and dressed for running came to a stop at Stella’s swaying feet.

“She choked!” The man, evidently named Graham sobbed “She’s… oh, God!”

“… twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…”

“How can we help?” The second woman asked.

Larissa was already peering into the woman’s mouth again, ready to give her another two attempts at breath. As she bent to do so, she heard Mitchell respond. “Is there an AED in the clubhouse here? We may need it.”

“Yes!” the second woman exclaimed. “Amy, you’re faster—”

“Come with me. You can wait at the trailhead and direct EMS!” her partner exclaimed, taking her arm.

Mitchell resumed chest compressions as the two women quickly turned and sprinted down the boardwalk.

Graham

“W-We have someone going for an… an AED.” His voice was hoarse, barely making it past the clenched muscles in his throat. “And someone else who will wait at the end of the path.”

The dispatcher said something that sounded like a confirmation of that being the right course of action, though it was hard to concentrate as he watched a couple of strangers try to save his wife’s life. The man, maybe a decade older than himself, with silver-blonde hair and a determined expression, pounded his wife’s chest with a speed and depth that looked like he knew what he was doing. The procedure was ugly, harsh enough that he heard what sounded like cartilage or ribs popping in Stella’s chest. With each compression, her sternum sank and her stomach popped. Her green flats, her favorite shoes, swayed side to side almost comically as she lay there dead or dying.

Everything had happened so fast.

Moments before, they walked hand in hand, Graham yammering away as Stella unwrapped a hard candy and slipped it between her lips. She’d been about to respond to him when her inhalation stopped with a gurgle, an abortive cough, and then nothing.

She’d jerked her hand from his and come to a stop, fanning the air with one hand as she hit her fist against her chest. He’d figured out what was wrong but didn’t know how to help her, reaching around hesitantly to pound her on the back. At first, he expected her to spit out the candy and start coughing, but she didn’t. He pounded harder, and then she turned away from him and threw herself against the boardwalk handrail, slamming her abdomen against it and nearly tipping herself over the side. He’d come up behind her and helped her apply force, thrusting his body against hers, panicked enough now that he pushed past his fear of hurting her. But the candy hadn’t come up.

As the seconds flew by, Graham screamed for help. He pulled her into his arms and tried the Heimlich maneuver, though he couldn’t recall exactly where to place his hands or how hard to pull. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed sharply three, four times.

Then, against her silent, struggling protests, Graham lifted his wife and laid her down on the wooden boards, quickly throwing his leg over her body. Her wide, panicked eyes stared up at him as she clawed at her throat. Straddling her, Graham pushed his hands into her abdomen, right above her belly button, and shoved hard. Stella’s body bowed and jerked, but still she didn’t breathe. Her heels drummed on the wood and one hand darted out to grab his forearm. The other scrabbled uselessly at the planks of the walkway.

Graham continued his improvised abdominal thrusts, pumping her stomach hard and shouting at her to throw it up. Stella’s face went splotchy, then red. Her lips began to turn purple.

That’s when he truly panicked, heaving her upright again and dragging her back toward the trailhead, hoping someone who knew what they were doing would come along.

Now someone had, but he was afraid they were too late. The couple worked as a team, more competent than Graham himself had proven to be, though he could see from their strained eyes and frantic movements that even this couple felt scared. The minutes ticked by, coloring Stella’s face with frightening shades of blue and purple.

Graham watched as the strange woman pushed her long hair over her shoulder and pressed a life-saving kiss to his wife’s mouth, both women’s cheeks bulging with the effort. She performed the kiss again, and then exclaimed: “I still can’t get any air in her!”

“One, two, three…” The other man resumed chest compressions, sinking his hands deep into Stella’s chest. Stella, for her part, did nothing, her open eyes staring as the color faded from her cheeks.

“We will have an ambulance on-location in fifteen minutes,” the dispatcher said.

Mitchell

“Fifteen minutes!” the man, Graham, gasped. “Is there no one closer?! It’s already been…”

Mitchell closed his eyes briefly, though he didn’t stop the chest compressions. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Larissa staring back at him, stricken. Mitchell kept pushing into the woman’s chest, trying not to think of the fact that they weren’t getting any air into her. In another twenty or more minutes, the woman would be long dead, assuming she wasn’t already.

“… nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…”

“Please, Stella… God, please…”

“… twenty-four, twenty-five…”

“Mitchell! I see it! Don’t stop!” Larissa jammed her fingers into the woman’s mouth again, two of them sweeping deep. She grunted and changed position, her body leaning far over the woman’s face as she twisted her wrist. “Don’t stop!”

“One, two, three…” Mitchell kept up his rhythm, forcing his hands deep into Stella’s chest and making sure he released the pressure completely each time. Graham suddenly dropped her hand and reached out to steady her head as Larissa tried to grasp the obstruction. The woman’s body jerked under his hands, though Graham’s grip on her chin kept the force from moving her head around. To Mitchell’s surprise and dismay, her legs drew up slightly, then stretched out again. The action repeated a few times before her arms joined in, her hands curling under. “… sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…”

“She’s moving!” Graham exclaimed. “Stella?”

“…twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…”

“Roll her on her side, Mitchell!” Larissa cried out. “I’ve almost got it!”

Mitchell stopped compressions and seized Stella by her arm and her hip, rolling her onto her side, facing away from him. Larissa swept her fingers between Stella’s teeth again and dragged out a red, sugary disc. His heart lurched as she flung it to the side, but there wasn’t time, so he rolled the unconscious woman onto her back again. Her face was unchanged; pale in spots, lavender in others. Saliva glistening on her bottom lip. Dark eyes stared at Mitchell’s knees until Larissa righted her head.

He watched his wife quickly open Stella’s airway, pinch her nose, and seal her mouth with her own. This time, the dying woman’s chest rose. Her breasts fell when Larissa let the air escape, then rose again when she gave her another deep breath.

“Stella? Stella!” Graham cried out, as Mitchell pressed his fingertips hard into her neck, sliding them over until he found the spot where her pulse should beat. He waited. Counted out the seconds.

Shaking his head, Mitchell quickly restarted chest compressions, pumping Stella’s chest hard and fast. Now, he heard air huffing rhythmically from the woman’s mouth, held open by Larissa as she bent in wait for the next opportunity to give her needed oxygen. “…ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen…”

His own breath came fast as he worked on her, his attention zeroing back in on the way her chest gave underneath his hands. Periodically, the woman moved, limbs spasming or her face grimacing. She let out a long snore.

“Stella?!” her husband gasped, subsiding each time when he realized Mitchell and Larissa weren’t stopping their efforts.

Mitchell hit thirty again, and he watched Larissa perform mouth-to-mouth. A soft sound escaped the women each time that her lips parted from Stella’s. Then came the soft puffing of air as he mercilessly beat her heart by pinning the organ between her spine and her sternum. The woman’s eyes rolled back, the discolored whites showing. “Huh… huh… hungh… hrrggggh…”

“…ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…” Mitchell wondered how far away the clubhouse was from the trail. Granted, he didn’t even know if an AED would do any good. He just knew they needed to try. This stranger spasming beneath his hands deserved no less. “… eighteen, nineteen, twenty…”

“Mitchell, I’ll switch with you after the breaths,” Larissa broke into his thoughts. She was correct; he needed to switch out with her. But he eyed her weak left arm, knowing she still struggled with pain and numbness.

“I’ll do it,” the woman’s husband blurted, setting his phone down on the boardwalk. “I put the phone on speaker and I will do it! I don’t know how, though.”

“Thirty! Come around beside me!” Mitchell barked, as Larissa gave the unconscious woman a full breath. She kept the woman’s nostrils pinched as she let her exhale through her mouth, then gave her another respiration. Mitchell resumed chest compressions as the woman’s pale, teary husband laid her hand down on the boardwalk and scuttled around to come in beside him. “…five, six… Hold your hands like this. Yes. Bring them right beside me. You’re pushing down at least two inches, twice a second. You have to come all the way up each time. This is what circulates her blood. Do you understand?” Mitchell’s voice shook from adrenaline and his exhaustive efforts. He paused again so Larissa could breathe for the woman, watching as Stella’s breasts rose. He lifted his hands and scooted to the side. “Get in place now!”

Graham slid in, his eyes wide as he pressed the heel of his clasped hands into the spot Mitchell had just abandoned. Mitchell guided his shoulders over his hands as Stella’s chest fell a second time.

“Go! Count out loud!”

“One, t-two…”

Mitchell watched carefully, nodding as the man pushed deep enough. “A little faster. Like this.” He clapped his hands to the disco song playing in the back of his mind.

“Come on, hon. Please… please!”

“You have to count, Graham. Just count and think about everything you need to do. What you’re doing is helping her.” Mitchell leaned back on his heels and tried to recover his breath, though the terrible excitement of it all kept his heart racing.

“… t-twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…”

Footsteps pounded down the boardwalk, the steps growing louder as the seconds passed. Then Mitchell heard a woman breathing hard and fast. The runner from before, Amy, came into view, arms and legs pumping furiously as she sprinted.

As Larissa curled over Stella and blew into her open mouth, Amy slipped the AED bag off her shoulder, dropped it onto the boards next to Mitchell, and then staggered past. Her momentum carried her into the handrail, where she caught herself.

Mitchell snatched up the case. “Keep going!” he barked sharply at Graham, jolting the man back into action. His hands made a dull thumping sound as he resumed pumping her chest. Unzipping the AED, Mitchell laid the device on the wood and turned it on.

“… seven, eight, nine, ten…”

“Apply the pads and plug in the connector!” the device barked.

“… fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…”

Mitchell tore open a packet of adult pads and dumped them out into his hand. He shook out the leads and connector, then laid them beside Stella.

“… twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five…”

“Apply the pads and plug in the connector!”

“… twenty-nine, thirty!”

He found the trauma shears and cut through the bottom hem of Stella’s lightweight sweater. Amy dropped beside him and held the fabric taught as he cut up the center of the garment. The woman’s chest rose and fell with Larissa’s breaths as he clipped the center of Stella’s purple, lacy bra. Mitchell dropped the shears to the side and quickly parted the fabric of her sweater, moving the cups of her bra out of the way and fully exposing her chest. A bruise was forming over her sternum, with reddened spots spreading down beneath her left breast. More splotches marred her abdomen.

Graham resumed chest compressions without having to be asked. “One, two, three…”

“Apply the pads and plug in the connector!”

As the woman’s pink-tipped breasts wobbled violently and her soft stomach oscillated, Mitchell and Amy stripped the backing off the AED pads. Mitchell applied one pad beneath and slightly to the side of the woman’s left breast, while Amy applied one above the right. Mitchell rubbed them both several times for good measure as Amy found the connector and plugged it in.

“Analyzing rhythm!” the device interrupted. “Do not touch the patient!”

“Everyone, back off of her!” Mitchell called out, scooting back and raising his hands. “Don’t touch her!”

Graham lurched back and Larissa released Stella’s head.

“Shock advised.” Mitchell’s eyes closed briefly as the tiniest bit of relief washed over him. “Charging. Do not touch the patient. Charging. Do not touch the patient. Device charged. Do not touch the patient. Press the shock button.”

Mitchell’s hand hovered over the flashing orange button. “Don’t touch her!” He depressed the button with his index finger and heard a quiet whine. Stella’s torso tensed and released within the span of a split second, and her head tipped to the side. Larissa quickly righted it and reopened her airway.

“Shock delivered. Perform two minutes of CPR.”

Graham hesitated. “Did it not wo—”

“Chest compressions!” Mitchell urged, cutting the man off.

Graham made a sobbing noise, but he complied, his hands finding the bruise and his shoulders rolling forward. As he thrust his hands into the bottom third of Stella’s sternum, he resumed counting. “One, two, three, four…” Despite his upset, Graham performed compressions properly, shoving her sternum deep. Stella’s breasts jerked toward his hands with each compression, jiggling and wobbling with the force. Her abdomen, too, moved with the deep thrusts, bulging and then deflating, popping and heaving at a rapid rate. Her shoulders jerked and shrugged, pulling up toward her neck. Larissa kept the motion from moving her head, gripping the woman’s jaw firmly and keeping her mouth open with a thumb on her chin. Stella’s face was no longer a dark reddish purple, but he was concerned by her white cheeks and blue lips.

The motion of the chest compressions made her legs rock, feet swaying side to side. He could even see her thighs shaking through her leggings.

Gurgling, growling, and huffing noises occasionally escaped the woman’s open mouth. When Larissa gave Stella breaths, Mitchell heard Larissa’s exhalation, followed by the slight smacking sound of their lips parting. Then chest compressions resumed, Graham’s shaky counting accompanied by quiet thumps, huffs of air, and the occasional pop or crackle. “... f-four, five, s-six…”

Stella’s legs drew up further, splaying her thighs wide and making her hips jerk. Mitchell, uncertain what exactly to do, leaned over and held her legs down, trying to keep her left knee from bumping into Graham. He felt her muscles spasms beneath his hands. The pressure he applied kept her upper legs in place, though her lower legs shifted and her hips continued to jerk grotesquely.

“… twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

He watched his wife bend over the spasming body, left hand sealing the woman’s nose and her own mouth opening wide before she covered the other woman’s lips. Her exhale made the woman’s chest heave. Larissa drew back slightly, and he saw a string of glistening saliva stretch between them. Another breath, and this time, when Larissa broke the seal, she swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. Then she quickly resumed holding Stella’s head in place as Graham pumped his wife’s lifeless chest.

Stella’s arms drew up toward her armpits, hands curling at the wrists and her fingers twisting. When he looked at her face, her eyes were closed.

“… twelve, thirteen, fourteen…”

“They are?” Mitchell heard Amy ask. “Okay. Um… The ambulance is in the neighborhood. They should be at the trailhead soon.”

“… twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven…” Graham’s voice cracked. “Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! Will they be able to help her?”

“The ambulance crew can do a lot of things we can’t,” Mitchell said, meeting the man’s tortured gaze. “And they can take her to the hospital, where even more can be done.”

“But…” Graham’s voice trailed off as the sound of Larissa’s second breath tapered off. He squared his shoulders and resumed his work over his wife’s body. “One, two, three…”

Mitchell looked at Larissa and found her staring at him. Her eyes were wet.

Larissa

Stella gurgled and growled and huffed as her husband forced blood to move through her heart. Larissa held her mouth and airway open, crouched low so she could quickly provide breaths after each set of thirty compressions. Her neck ached from the position, but it wasn’t the pain that made her look at Mitchell with tears in her eyes. As they gazed at each other, his lips thinned and he swallowed hard.

“…nine, ten, eleven, twelve…”

Larissa looked away first. Her eyes dropped to the woman’s gray face. Occasionally, her facial muscles spasmed, threatening to pull her chin from her grasp. She also felt the force of Graham’s chest compressions rocking up through her neck. His hands collapsed her chest harshly, his breath ragged. The other woman’s breasts swayed, her nipples erect. Below his hands, her belly popped up and down, bulging as his thrusts displaced organs and air. Further down, Mitchell gripped the woman’s legs in a gesture that was probably more about how upsetting it was to watch her gently seize than it was for any medical purpose.

“I can take over after the next shock,” Amy the runner said. “And then soon after that, the paramedics will be here.”

“I did not realize it would take EMS this amount of time to come out here,” Mitchell said, his voice so flat she wondered if he knew he spoke aloud. As it was, his voice was quiet enough that she barely heard him, her bad ear pointed in his direction.

“… twenty-nine, thirty!”

Larissa inhaled and pressed her mouth yet again to Stella’s, exhaling to make her chest rise and then lifting her mouth to feel the air rush back up into her face. She covered the cool, slack lips again, her eyes darting to the side to watch the woman’s breasts swell.

The bruise on her sternum disappeared under Graham’s hands. “One, two…”

“Do you know how to do chest compressions?” Mitchell asked Amy.

“I’ve taken CPR a few times,” she said, handing the phone over to Mitchell. “But you’ll have to let me know if I’m doing something wrong.”

Mitchell nodded.

“… seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty—”

“Analyzing rhythm,” the AED broke in. “Do not touch the patient!”

All four of them released Stella and shifted backward. She lay mostly still, her skin ashen, though her eyelids lifted enough to show the whites of rolled-back eyes.

“No shock advised. Continue CPR for two minutes.”

Damn, she thought, her hands automatically reaching out to reopen Stella’s airway. Simultaneously, Amy got into position and started chest compressions. Graham sagged back on his heels, breathing hard.

“One, two, three…” Amy’s compressions looked deep and fast, and Mitchell nodded in encouragement when she glanced at him. Short but powerfully built, Larissa could see the muscles cording in Amy’s forearms as she efficiently drove her hands into Stella’s sternum. “… four, five, six, seven…”

Distant sirens sounded in the distance.

“That’s more than one vehicle,” Mitchell speculated.

“… fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…”

The group fell silent aside from Amy’s terse counting and the soft huff of air escaping Stella with each compression.

“… twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…”

Graham muttered something that Larissa didn’t catch.

“You got her help,” Mitchell responded.

“… twenty-nine, thirty.”

Another breath, pressing her mouth against the cool, damp skin that still smelled like sugar and artificial cinnamon. Larissa followed up quickly with a second breath, feeling just slightly lightheaded as the scented air wafted back into her face.

“One, two, three…” Amy rocked her body hard into Stella’s chest, her fingers pressing into the unconscious woman’s left breast and inadvertently brushing her taut nipple. Larissa kept finding that her eyes were drawn to the exposed flesh in front of her. Like driving past the scene of an accident, she needed to know what was happening, what the effects looked like. Her mind, stressed from what had happened now and in the past, superimposed her own naked body over Stella’s.

She saw her own long torso rippling as Amy pumped, her large, freckled breasts bobbing, nipples drawing circles in the air. Her chest sinking and her stomach seesawing up and down. The face below her was her face, her eyes staring and her mouth agape, a cinnamon candy lodged deep in her throat.

“… thirty!”

Larissa dragged in a deep breath, coughed as some of her own saliva went down the wrong pipe, and sucked in another. Then, cursing the seconds she lost, she forced another pair of breaths into Stella. Then compressions resumed.

“One, two, three…”

“Larissa?” Mitchell asked.

“I’m fine,” she protested, coughing again.

“… six, seven, eight…”

Mitchell shifted, obviously intending to spell her, when they both heard heavy footfalls on the boardwalk.

“… twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…”

A pair of medics came into view, wearing gloves and carrying bags, led by Amy’s partner. Shortly behind them walked another pair, wheeling a gurney laden with more equipment.

“… twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

As Amy sat back on her heels, Larissa gave Stella another two breaths, trying not to inhale directly as the cinnamon-scented exhalations wafted up toward her face.

“Keep going until they tell you to stop,” she heard Mitchell say, and Amy resumed her position.

“One, two, three, four, five, six…”

The medics moved with purpose, but without running or rushing about. They did not immediately take over, instead setting down their bags as one of them stepped closer. “Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.

“She choked on a piece of candy,” Mitchell responded, hanging up Graham’s phone. “We tried back blows and abdominal thrusts until she lost consciousness. Then we started CPR. We eventually got the candy out. She’s had one shock from the AED, but the last time it did not advise a shock.”

“…thirty!” Amy called out. Despite the presence of the medics, Larissa leaned over once more. Their cheeks rounded as she exhaled once, then again.

“Thank you, ma’am,” a woman behind her said. “I can take over now.”

“Who is her next of kin?” The lead medic asked.

Graham

Everything sped up. The medics spoke with his neighbor, who, he learned, was named Mitchell. The women were relieved by paramedics, who checked Stella’s pulse and then continued CPR. Graham was asked to move back, and he complied, feeling numb as he walked over to stand next to Mitchell and his wife, who directed him to sit on a nearby bench.

From this angle, he couldn’t see her face, but he could still see her abdomen popping up in rhythmic waves as the gloved hands plunged into her chest over and over again. One of her shoes had fallen off. She’d neglected to wear socks, and he could see the flat brown mole in the center of her left arch.

The youngest-looking medic of the four peeled away the AED pads and turned the device off, setting it to the side. Graham opened his mouth to ask if they’d given up, when Mitchell leaned over and murmured: “They have their own pads that connect to their defibrillator.”

Sure enough, the young medic applied a set of larger pads, smoothing them quickly to her skin. The medic performing chest compressions resumed her efforts, thrusting the down into Stella’s breastbone. Shortly after, the monitor alarmed and he saw a series of lines crawl across the screen.

“Pause compressions for analysis. Asystole.” The lead intoned. He said several other things, most of which Graham couldn’t make out or interpret. He just knew they hadn’t stopped yet. They were still trying.

“They won’t be shocking her right now, so they will continue CPR and give her IV medication. They are going to suction her airway and put a tube in to make sure she’s getting plenty of oxygen.” Mitchell spoke quietly and slowly, his eyes on Stella.

“Is she going to live?” Graham asked.

Mitchell hesitated long enough that Graham knew he had his answer. But the other man spoke anyway, his eyes on his own wife as she spoke with Amy and her partner. “I don’t know. They don’t know, either. But I’ve seen… people beat the odds before. And I hope to see that happen again.”

Graham returned his gaze to the scene surrounding Stella. A couple of firefighters had joined the four medics, creating a busy ring around his wife. Still, he could see enough of what was going on. One medic crouched by her arm, holding it in his lap as they cleaned the inside of her elbow. The medic who acted in charge lay stretched out on his stomach, with some sort of metal device opened up in Stella’s mouth. As he watched, a firefighter opened a long package and used gloved fingers to extract a tube, which he handed over to the lead. Another medic unbuttoned Stella’s jeans and slipped two fingers just inside.

“There’s a pulse there,” Mitchell told him, leaning forward with his knees on his elbows. “They check pulse points during CPR to make sure the blood is circulating.”

“You know a lot about this. Are you some kind of doctor?” His hands were shaking again, and he thought he might have to get up and pace soon. Wishing he had something to do, he instead talked with this unfamiliar but very helpful neighbor.

“No,” Mitchell murmured. “Sometimes I wish I was.”

“Pause for analysis.” Compressions paused, and he watched as one firefighter traded places with the medic who’d been performing them. “Asystole. I want sodium bicarb now and another epi right after. Oxygen is up to ninety-three. Jim, come swap with me. I’m going to suction her.”

The firefighter started chest compressions as soon as the word “asystole” was out of the lead’s mouth. Graham realized that since they’d intubated Stella, the compressions didn’t stop at thirty. The firefighter pushed hard and fast at the same rate as before, Stella’s belly moving in sync with his hands. Instead of a mask pressed to her face, they’d attached a bag to the end of her breathing tube and squeezed it regularly, at a much slower rate than the chest compressions.

Graham ran over the moment she choked. Was it his fault? Had he made her laugh, knowing she’d just put a piece of candy in her mouth? Was it his expectation that she keep up her end of the conversation that made her draw breath at the wrong moment? He saw her face staring up at him after he laid her on her back and started pumping her abdomen. Terrified, eyes bulging, tears and snot and saliva running down her face. Her body jerking each time he plunged his hands into her stomach, nails clawing at her throat and his arms and the boards beneath her.

She’d held on so long. Long enough for help to arrive. People who seemed to know what to do. And yet it hadn’t been enough, and Graham watched her slip away, her body slowly changing as it reacted to the lack of breath and heartbeat. He’d felt a momentary flash of relief when Mitchell’s wife swept the disc of candy from Stella’s mouth, only to have the relief die a quick and bitter death. Everything had gone downhill from there.

Graham stood abruptly and walked a few paces down the boardwalk so he could see her face. The medic named Jim had her head in one hand, holding her head back at an angle. His other hand squeezed the giant bulb attached to the end of the tube. The tube itself jutted up from between her teeth. They’d secured it in place with medical tape wrapped around the tube and stuck to her face. Stella’s eyes were closed now, her lashes resting on her discolored skin. Her dark hair fanned out beneath her head, the curls tangled. At this angle, he could see the firefighter’s gloved hands pumping hard and fast, sinking her chest in the requisite inches before allowing it to recoil. Each time he thrust downward, her stomach bulged and her feet rocked. They had a blood pressure cuff wrapped around her left arm, and defibrillator pads stuck to her chest. The leads wound over to a display that Graham couldn’t interpret. Beeps and whooshes and thumping sounds filled the air. The medics surprised him by how little they spoke to each other.

“Pause for analysis,” the lead said, eyeing the monitor. The firefighter lifted his hands from Stella’s bruised chest. “V-fib. Charging to three-sixty, continue compressions until we are ready to shock.”

The firefighter snapped out a series of deep thrusts into Stella’s chest.

“Alright, everybody off. Disconnect oxygen.” The firefighter lifted his hands, Jim disconnected the bag, and everyone backed away. The lead made a quick check around the group. “Clear. Administering shock.”

He pressed a button, and Stella’s torso flinched. Her head lolled to the side, toward Graham’s feet. Jim quickly righted her head and reconnected the bag as the lead leaned in and started chest compressions. Graham’s eyes rested on the man’s gloved, interlocked hands. They sank down and snapped back up over and over. Pump and pump and pump and pump, with her breasts exposed for everyone to see, wobbling endlessly. He couldn’t stop staring. Her chest crushed down, re-inflating again and again. The man’s shoulders bobbing as he pushed his weight down through his arms. Her abdomen rippling down into the open waistband of her pants.

“Marked increase in tidal volume… pausing compressions,” the lead said abruptly, his eyes on the monitor. “Pulse check! Sinus rhythm on the monitor.”

To Graham’s surprise, multiple gloved hands plunged into Stella’s neck, wrists, and the crease of her thigh. Mitchell got up and joined him, gripping him by the shoulder. “‘Sinus’ means they got her pulse back, Graham.”

“Sinus confirmed,” the lead said. “Any attempts at breathing on her own?”

“She’s alive?” Graham asked, his voice gravelly. He looked from the monitor with its bouncing heart rhythm that he did actually recognize down to his wife’s face. She didn’t look any better, not yet. The only difference was that they weren’t having to beat her heart for her.

“Get her prepped to go while I update her next-of-kin,” he heard the lead say. Graham let out a shuddering breath.

“Do you need us to drive you to the hospital?” Mitchell asked.

“Millie and I will take you, Graham.” That made sense. They were his next-door neighbors.

“I’ve given Amy my number,” he heard Mitchell’s wife say.

Graham watched the lead medic approach. “You got her back,” he said, his face contorting with tears he was trying not to shed.

“Yes, sir.”

Graham doubled over, his hands grabbing his knees. He felt Mitchell grip his shoulder hard. His legs shook. “Hang on, Stella. I’m here…”

Mitchell

Fifteen minutes later, Mitchell and Larissa walked in silence back the way they’d come, her hand gripping his as tightly as he gripped hers. He let them in to their gated path, their steps growing faster and faster as though to carry them away from the previous scene.

When they finally spilled onto the grassy path that wove between flower beds, Larissa stopped and turned toward him, nearly crashing into his shoulder. Mitchell released her hand and wrapped his arms tight around her. He felt her chest heaving against him, her hands clutching at his shirt.

“Larissa…” he murmured, though he didn’t know what to say.

She tipped her head back, eyes wild and lips parted. Mitchell met her in a kiss that immediately deepened, her mouth opening for his tongue. Mitchell gathered the back of her dress in his hands, pulling up the skirt until he cupped her ass in his hands and pulled her tight against him. Her hands scrabbled for the hem of his shirt, slipping beneath and running up and down his back. One of her hands came around to the front to unfasten his belt and unbutton the fly. Larissa made quick work of the task, her dexterity making him grin. She ran her hands around his hips and then down the back of his pants and into his underwear, her nails digging lightly into his bare skin.

Mitchell found the tie of her wrap dress and pulled it loose, letting the dress part in the front. He dipped his head and nibbled his way down her neck and along the tops of her breasts. Slipping his hands inside the dress, he reached around to unfasten her bra. Then he lifted her breasts free from the loosened cups and gathered the soft globes together so he could move quickly back and forth between her nipples, licking and sucking and biting. Larissa moaned and reached into his boxer briefs, pushing the fabric down and pulling his hardening cock free. She worked him with her hand, moving up and down and running her thumb over the head until he was rock hard and throbbing.

He pushed her dress off her shoulders and let it puddle in the grass, followed quickly by her bra. She reached for his shirt, pulling it over his head. Their mouths met again in a needy kiss. Mitchell slipped his hand down into her underwear and found her wet, dragging some of that moisture up to her clit and massaging.

“Mitchell!” she cried out, and then she pulled him down to the grass with her, her hair fanning out around her head. He stripped off her underwear, and she laid back, coaxing him to lie between her thighs. His belt jingled as he thrust against her, running the head of his cock up and down her slit. Her hips jerked up against him, seeking. Then he thrust home, sinking all the way to the hilt and groaning as she cried out.

Mitchell began a forceful, punishing rhythm. Their bodies smacked together, Larissa’s breasts jerking and bobbing as his body met hers. She clawed at his back, letting out guttural moans and squeezing her eyes shut. He kissed her, their tongues thrusting against each other as she writhed beneath him. He grasped her hips for leverage, fingers curling into the soft flare of her body.

Larissa gripped his shoulders, mewling, rising to meet him. Mitchell scooped one hand beneath her ass, shifting the angle and squeezing his own eyes shut when she threw back her head and cried out his name. She was close, she had to be close, she’d better be close—

He tore his eyes open, watching her as she came, her mouth falling open and a wail of pleasure tearing out of her. Larissa shook and spasmed beneath him and around him, and he followed, burying his face in her neck as he whited out with the force of his release.

As their mutual spasms subsided, Mitchell held himself up on his elbows, surprised to feel himself trembling. Larissa, breathless from exertion, reached up and stroked her fingers through his hair. He knew he should get up, help her to her feet, and go inside. They could clean up and cuddle on their soft bed. Instead, he found himself unable to move, resting in the cradle of her pelvis. He dipped his head and kissed her beauty mark.

Larissa cupped his cheek and pressed her lips softly to his. Then she laid her head back in the grass and closed her eyes, the tension of the last forty-five minutes draining out of her. Mitchell gathered his fleeting energy and slipped his softening erection free. Then he bent and kissed the scars above her heart and down her arm.

Rolling to his side, he collapsed onto the grass. Mitchell gathered her close, slipping his arm over her stomach and nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.

Larissa took a deep, slow breath and whispered: “I love you, too, Mitchell.”

#resus writing #female resus

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