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thefanficmonster · 2 years

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Never Satisfied [Chapter 10]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A Collaboration between Vy & Ashens

“i can see the sunrise in your eyes“

It must have been around 2 or 3 AM when they had finally fallen asleep. Corpse, much to his own surprise, didn’t find himself repeatedly checking the time on his phone like he usually does. Instead, he spent every moment talking with Cora in hushed whispers, little giggles passing between them and exchanging soft ghosts of a kiss every once in a while. He wasn’t sure who fell asleep first - they both felt their eyes go heavy and their mumbles faded into silence, the exact moment blurring in his mind. He, however, was the one to wake up first, his usual sleeping pattern taking form as per usual, not allowing him long slumber if any at all. When his eyes fluttered open, he felt a weight on his chest and was briefly concerned he had woken up into a bad day of anxiety. Instead, he found himself cradling a smaller figure to his chest, arm looped around her lower back as she slept peacefully. His delicate touch combed her hair out of her face, not wanting to wake her up before she was ready to face the day on her own accord. It was one thing to see the peace in her face while she slept on his lap. But here? With her cradled in the crook of his arm, asleep on his chest?

He could have sworn his heart ached with joy.

This can’t be real.

But it is, even if it wasn’t, he would be prepared to accept this reality as his real one. Because here, in this new reality they’ve created together, he feels something he hasn’t felt in a long time. He feels happy. Truly and utterly happy.

He brushes his thumb across her cheek, eyes half lidded as he watches her content smile become more prominent with each passing second. As gentle and calm as he tried to be, it isn’t long before Cora’s voice startles him from his trance, still not quite yet aware of his affectionate gaze.

“You’re staring…” She murmurs so faintly he almost misses it.

“Sorry…” He replies with a mumble, drawing his hand away as a blush creeps to his cheeks. Before it could get far, she reaches out and takes hold of it, tucking it back in its previous spot as she snuggles closer into his chest.

“Mm...time is it?” She whispers, smiling softly as she rubs her nose against his knuckles.

He sighs softly, looking up to the ceiling. It takes him a moment but he soon realizes they;ve found themselves in a deja vu similar position.

“...I can’t tell, you’ve taken me hostage again.” He whispers into her hair, smirking against the bird’s nest it had turned into as she slept.

She shifts a little, winding her ankle around his. “Guess it doesn’t matter then. Time is just a social construct anyway, right?” She replies, sighing happily, evidently ready to doze off once more.

Corpse, whether he likes it or not, comes to terms with the fact that he isn’t going to be moving anytime soon yet again and lets his own eyes flutter closed, keeping Cora closely cuddled up against his side. She’s warm, the blanket draped over them leaving him in a cocoon of comfortable coziness.

“Guess not…” He whispers, kissing the top of her head before sinking back into sleep along with her.

A couple hours pass. In that time Corpse has gone from having Cora tucked up against his chest to having her tightly wrapped up in his arms, face pressed into his shoulder. She has looped one arm over his waist and the other under his neck, legs tangled together as he murmurs into her hair.

He has to admit, as he feels the grogginess of having just woken up start to leave him, this is one of the best nights of sleep he’s gotten in a long while. Maybe it’s because of the warm body next to him, or maybe it’s because he finally feels safe enough with someone beside him. He doesn’t think that he could really explain it to anyone, but having another person there was more than he needed.

Black curls shuffle against the pillows as he tucks her in closer which initially would seem impossible considering their bodies are already flush against one another. Cora shifts and stretches in his hold before squeaking. It was one of those good stretches, the ones that made your body shiver with delight. She rolls away from him, briefly leaving him with a twinge of emptiness in his chest but it’s quickly extinguished when she rubs her face and reaches out to pat his chest.

“You slept well, Hades?” She sounds groggy, the slumber as hard as a rock having rasped her voice a tiny bit. She tilts her head to look at him, eyes lidded with a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. It’s a beautiful sight he finds himself so entranced by, that his own lips quirk a little before he leans forward to touch his forehead to hers for a moment. That’s good enough for him, the feeling it provokes in his chest much alike the one that blossoms when their lips touch.

She runs her hand through his dark curls and forces herself to sit up, his shirt hanging off one of her shoulders as she blinks sleepily. Corpse is in no rush himself, choosing to lay there and continue observing her, taking in the elements that compile her beauty: hair messily tousled following the long night’s slumber; how his shirt looks on her, like it always belonged there to begin with, like he’d done it injustice by wearing it himself. He could keep going but when she looks over her shoulder and catches him staring he looks away, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

She grins and ruffles her hair to help undo the knots that have formed before scrunching her face at him. “You gonna lie in bed all day? Or are we going to get breakfast?”

He smiles and shifts so he too can sit up, legs hanging off the bed as his palms roughly rub his face. Once he’s sure he got the crud out of his eyes, he stretches his arms high above his head and arches his back before sighing. “It’s too early for you to be this awake.” He grumbles, rolling his shoulder to reawaken it after having been used as a pillow for so long.

She snorts and looks at her phone before lifting her brow and showing the screen to him, “Dude, it’s almost 11 AM.”

“Yeah. Too early.” He grins, his smile softening and he moves to stand up, wincing a little at the sudden discomfort in his neck and shoulders. Must’ve slept funny, he thinks to himself, fucking nerves. Subtly rubbing his joints so Cora doesn’t notice, he glances down at his carpet and nudged the pair of socks he’d been trying to force on her feet out of his way. “What do you think about grabbing brunch since it’s too late for breakfast now?”

“Brunch, huh? Are we fancy now, or what?” She teases, grabbing her clothes from where she’d tossed them on the floor. She wanders out of the room and makes her way to his bathroom and this time, she shuts the door.

While she’s inside, Corpse changes into his usual attire: black jeans and a simple black shirt, accessorizing with his go-to chains before stuffing a mask into his pocket and yanking on his favorite hoodie. Cora returns from the bathroom a moment later, her hair looking like it had been combed through with her fingers before getting pulled back up into a messy bun. Watching her carry his clothes with care made his heart flutter in a way he has never experienced before. She has folded them neatly and is now offering them back to him as though they were a holy item.

“Thanks for letting me borrow these. Maybe next time I come over I’ll bring my own pajamas.” She says with a beaming smile, one he returns without missing a beat.

Taking the clothes, he looks around as if he isn’t sure where to put them. A moment later, he decides the foot of his bed would be good enough at the moment.

His gaze travels down to the floor and he stutters a little as he says: “I-..um…I’m gonna….go piss.” He motions at the bathroom timidly as if he’s expecting her to be taken aback by the fact that he has bodily functions he needs to get taken care of..

Accordingly and casually, she shrugs and laughs before jokingly patting him on the head, pushing up on her tiptoes to do so, “Go for it Cujo, unless you plan on going into the back yard, then I’ll have to hook a leash on ya.”

His face flushes a deep red and he shuffles away and into the solace and privacy of his bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. She was just joking. She was just joking. Fuck me she was JOKING, he swears and scolds himself, a hand threaded deep into his mop of curls as he exhales deeply. Turning back to face the door, he locks it and begins his usual morning routine.

With that said and done, he steps back out in the hallway in a matter of fifteen minutes. Glancing to the right, he sees that Cora hadn’t gone back to his room. Moving further down the hall he catches a glimpse of her sprawled out on the couch with her legs over the armrest, tapping away on her phone while lazily kicking her feet.

When he emerges from the hall, entering her view point, she lets the phone drop to her chest and smiles. “Ready to get some grub?” She hooks her knees over the edge of the sofa like it was a set of monkey bars and reaches down to grab the edge with her fingertips and heaves herself up into a sitting position, looking up at him.

Damn that was some impressive core strength

Corpse hesitates, but before he could say or do anything, she reaches up and loops his chain around her fingers, pulling him down for a soft tender little kiss. His hands flex, gripping at nothing, hanging awkwardly at his side for a second before moving up as if he’s going to place them on her shoulders or cup her face but immediately drops them instead. What the FUCK am I supposed to do with my hands!? Before he could figure that out, she breaks away and hops up onto her feet, fingers still curled in his chain, the entanglement allowing her to pull him along behind her as she walks out of the room. “How does Waffle House sound?” She asks, sparing him a brief glance over the shoulder without letting her walking pace falter.

He follows like a lovesick puppy, lips still tingling from her kiss, creating a sensation he’s far too focused on to coherently reply so he finds himself nodding in response as he mutters a small, uncertain: “Y-yeah.”

Equipping his shoes, wallet and eyepatch, he throws on the hood of his hoodie and gives the curls that stick out from underneath it only a brief thought before he looks over at Cora who’s already pulled her shoes on. He catches himself as his gaze travels up the length of her legs, stopping at the short black shorts clinging to her upper thighs. She has omitted the fishnets she’d worn the night before, choosing to shove them in her hoodie pocket, but has left the suspenders to still hang around her thighs.

“Ready?” She asks with a bounce to her stance, smiling widely like an overly-excited child.

He nods, opening the door for her and following her out.

@vixenl @annshit @wineandionysus @wiseflamingoqueen

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lyre-akuma · 2 years

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[Corpse Husband x OC]Time will finally heal -Chapter 2-

Jaccob: Babe?

Jaccob: Where r u?

Jaccob: Your parents and I are looking for you... Where did you go?

Jaccob: R u in bad moods again? Come back home and we can go through together ok? :)

Jaccob: Let's just paint ok? You are my Muse you know? Don't go away :)

Jaccob: I will find you :)

read

Penelope closed the door, and took a deep breath.

Just as just as she was talking to Corpse, her phone kept buzzing in her pocket. She didn't have to think about it to know that it was a message from the guy - the nightmare that had haunted her since she was twenty.

Penelope is a talented artitst. In the art world, her private life has always been a mystery, with all her works being released and auctioned on behalf of her family and boyfriend. Many people have wondered what kind of person Penelope really is, and her profile on the internet is as short as "22 year old female oil painting artist".

She is young, beautiful and wealthy. And that's also why she is a treasure for her family.

Penelope's childhood was tragic. After escaping from her family home, where her over-the-hill painter father had a drinking problem, she met Jaccob, who was at the height of his career when she first met him. He despises Penelope, he just wants her reputation and her huge fan base.

Fortunately, she managed to escape his clutches. She flew to America and arrived in this strange city.

She really wants to have a new life here, with nobody know her. It's a bit lonely, but she thinks she can stand that. She bought a new little gallery down the apartment, where she can paint whenever she wants and get some money as well.

Penelope tidied up her room, then washed up and got into bed. After a whole busy day, it's already deep late night. In the small bedroom, only a small wall lamp emits a faint light.

She tossed and turned in bed, the unfamiliar mattress, the unfamiliar ceiling, everything made it difficult for her to adjust. As much as she hated to admit it, she was beyond disgusted and dreaded the silence and darkness of the late night.

She simply sat up and stared blankly at a painting in the corner.There is only a sea on that painting. Penelope hated the it, but when she left, it was also the only one taken away.

SOMETIMES I JUST WANT TO BE DROWN IN THAT SEA.

Penelope mumbled as she unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself.

That's why she hated silence. She struggled to act like a normal person, forcing herself to stay busy doing a lot of things, but when everything is done, again, she would feel her weakness and helplessness with unmistakable clarity.

And then, the silence was broken.

She heard a not-so-clear piece of music accompanied by the emotionally charged hiss of a man.

In the silence of the night, she was not the only one to vent her feelings. Wonderfully, she had a feeling of reassurance. It was as if two souls had met in their wanderings and touched each other's deepest pain.

Her mind wandered to the neighbour she had met in the evening.Despite the mask, Penelope could tell he had a clean face. What will be his story?

As the fuzzy music glowed, Penelope's thoughts drifted off to sleep.

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse fanfic #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse x oc #corpse husband x oc

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glitterp0prhaps0dy · 29 days

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so remember when i made that post about combining trolls and one of my other faveriot movies!, so iv been brainstorming on how to combine trolls and corpse bride into an au!

so i came up with the CORPSE BROPPY AU

not everything will be the same, infact there's a lot of changes, so its more or so the concept of corpse bride that I'm combining with trolls, I have two of the character designs down! so I will share parts of their story first, then show their image, ITS POPPY AND BRANCH! obviously lol

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So, the story kicks off with a bit of a family crisis. Poppy's older sister, Viva, has mysteriously disappeared(i can explain more on that later you you want), throwing a wrench into their family plans. With Viva gone, Poppy finds herself in the hot seat, forced into an arranged marriage with a troll named Creek(YOU KNOW THE ONE AND ONLY TRAITOR) from another family. This arrangement is all about sealing deals and uniting families, but there's a catch: Poppy and Creek have to get their wedding act together in just a month. And let's just say, rehearsals are a disaster. Poppy's heart just isn't in it because, well, she doesn't love Creek. It’s like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.

as you can see, poppy takes a place of victor, sorta

i really loved looking at diffrent dresses from the 1800's to design her outfit, the before is her for most of the story, her casual outfit, i kept it blue since most of poppys canon outfits are, her after outfit is more towards the end of the story.

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Imagine being insanely talented, like a piano prodigy level of talented, but instead of your gift bringing you joy, it becomes this heavy chain your family drags you around with. That's Branch's life in a nutshell. His gift at the piano wasn't celebrated in the way it should have been; it was exploited. Instead of applause filled with warmth, every clap was just a reminder of how his family saw dollar signs in his melodies. Talk about a tough crowd.

But wait, it gets more complicated. Branch's family, not satisfied with just exploiting his talent, decided to marry him off in a deal that reeked of greed. Love? Compatibility? Nope, those words weren't in their vocabulary. It was all about the money. And the person he was supposed to marry? Let's just say she took 'till death do us part' way too literally and left Branch for dead—literally. The twist? She never got caught. So there's Branch, a victim of greed and betrayal, stuck in the afterlife with a heart heavier than any piano he ever played.

This is where Branch's story gets really interesting. As the Corpse Groom, he's not just dealing with being, well, dead. He's tangled up in all the dreams and desires he never got to live out. We're talking about a guy who was robbed of the chance to find real love, to maybe play his music because it brought him joy, not because it paid the bills. His unfinished business? It's not just about finding out who killed him; it's about seeking the life and love he was denied.

as you can see, branch is in the place of emily, I decided to make his outfit more green like his vest in the movie( I imagine that the shirt is a hand me down from floyd)

corpse branch was so fun to draw to be honest, he also has a lot more story developed but that's because I'm a bit biased,woops.

FEEL FREE TO ASK ANY QUESTIONS BECAUSE I WILL BE GLAD TO ANSWER THEM.

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unhonest-iago · 10 months

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Sup Darth Vader

Gn Reader

'Ready to wake up dad?' y/n asked their daughter Riley. 'Okay, push open the door for me.' Holding it so the duo wouldn't have to worry about the juice spilling or the loud clatter of silverware that'd sure wake Corpse up. 'Thank you.'

'Good morn' tulip.' Slowly turning over, waking up to Riley dive bombing onto his back, additional turbulence. 'Aw thanks guys.' His voice even more gravelly from sleep. Y/n hoped today wasn't a bad day in terms of Corpse's chronic illnesses. Knowing that raising a kid wasn't an easy task on top of that. Sitting down next to him, both listened as Riley rambled about her favorite show. The only other sound in the room being Corpse's cutlery.

'Is there any other surprises for today?'

'I didn't really have anything planned. Just breakfast so we could at least say we celebrated father's day. What do you want to do?' Corpse gulping down the last of his orange juice, purposely caught Riley's eye. An amused smile stretched across y/n's face, knowing where this was heading. It'd be a day in with a bunch of junk food and doing nothing but a dog pile cuddle. 'Blanket fort?'

'Blanket fort!' The two parents laughing as Riley ran out into the living room. Kissing y/n's cheek, 'Thanks for all this.' It was definitely a bad day for him, exhaustion rolling off him in waves despite being awake for at least half an hour at this point. 'Should we go see what the little gremlin's up to?'

'Yea, I'll be there in a second.' He'd have to brace himself before getting out of bed.

'Okay, don't take too long.' Tone lighthearted, y/n and Riley would get the fort set up in the mean time. All comfy for when he finally did join them.

#iago writes #x reader #corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #x gn reader #corpse husband x gn reader #holidays w/ corpse #father’s day #offline tv #fem oc #oc; riley #oc's

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inumimispirit · 7 days

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Working on some very exciting stuff hopefully I can post some comments soon but sadly, I have to make a whole Nother entire among us map for that. so it’s gonna be a good while.

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thecarcassofapegasus · 8 months

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It was around July 2020, I was looking through Instagram and the first time I got a gander at Corpse was from an old friend’s story. They had “White Tee” playing and had Corpse tagged in the story. My first thought was that the username was hella cool as I thought it was a reference to the Corpse Bride, but then I never really got into him right away

“White Tee” was technically the first I listened to, but it was only a little snippet. (I did really like the cover photo he used)

October 2020 is when I heard my first full song “Cat Girls Are Ruining My Life!”; and I thought hearing a rapper’s voice that deep was so fascinating. I started following him on Instagram because I was genuinely invested in what he was like

Around Halloween and November 2020 is when I first subscribed to his channel, discovered his horror narrations and his music. I started to not do too well mentally at the time, mainly struggling with my identity and other reasons I may or may not get into for another story. Let’s say it has all caused me excessive anxiety and negative thoughts at night making it difficult for me to sleep. Listening to his horror narrations and the evolution of his voice had helped me ease my nerves, mind, and inner peace

I love him with all of my heart and he was the only person who had kept me sane during those testing times of my life, and has still helped me during the most difficult time especially considering my situation at hand at the moment

I know it’s very unlikely, but if I ever meet him in the flesh in the future I would hug and squeeze him like I never hugged anyone before and I want him to know that he is a beautiful person no matter what he looks like, and if he chooses to not reveal his identity I will always respect that

Cheers💛✨

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse fanart #corpse husband fanart #fanart #corpseday #happy corpse day #digital art #digital drawing #alicorn #alicorn oc #pony #dragon #hugs for corpse #gloomy bear #corpse x gloomy bear #happy birthday corpse

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

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A collection of all my writing. ♡

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x OC

Series Masterlist (ONGOING) (18+)

Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, Lady of Runestone, was not born of love. Nor passion. Nor even a sense of duty. She was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge. But even a child born of such darkness can find her way to the light. With her mother dead, and father flown across the Narrow Sea with a new wife, the girl is taken in by her Aunt, the Queen Alicent Hightower, to be raised among the little family she has left. There, she finds her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. The two spend long nights in the palace library together, studying the histories of both Old Valyria and the First Men, seeking to understand who they are and where they fit in the world. But finding that place proves more difficult than in the fairy tales they read. The seeds of disaster were laid long before they were born, and as tensions in the family rise, it seems as though their places may begin to diverge. Will they let themselves be pulled apart as the dragons dance?

Warnings: Mentions of rape, m/f smut, violence

Studious (ONGOING) (18+) Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Moodboard by @sapphirehearteyes

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI

Your marriage to the One-Eyed Prince is not as romantic as you hoped. The wedding night is beyond awkward and confusing, and afterward, your husband seems more than content to ignore you. But you keep finding yourself drawn to him, and the strange way he makes you feel. And though you don't know it, he is drawn to you as well.

Warnings: SMUT, p in v sex, masturbation (m and f) bad sex (these kids have no idea what they're doing), Aegon saying Aegon things, all the awkwardness in the world

What is Broken (WIP) Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Sister-wife!Reader

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity, maybe smut in the future

My Fair Lady's Maid (WIP) (18+) Prince Aemond Targaryen x Lady's Maid!Reader

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

Frustrated with his grandsire's tedious and thorough process of choosing him a "suitable" bride, Aemond makes a declaration that a lady's maid could be indistinguishable from a true noblewoman so long as she was sufficiently dressed and educated in embroidery, conversation, and the like. Otto takes this as a challenge, and gives Aemond four months to turn one of Helaena's lady's maids into a noblewoman.

Warnings: Smut

The Girl at the Table (WIP) (18+) Michael Gavey x Reader

Michael has a plan for Oxford: complete his degree at the top of the class, avoid the wealthy, spoiled pricks that make up the majority of the student body, and stay focused. The plan begins well, until a girl begins sitting at his study table.

Warnings: Smut, math

Monsters in the Garden (ONGOING) (DDDNE) (18+) Ettore x Reader

Part I - Part II - Part III

No one comes to your garden but you, not even Dr. Dibs. So what is the most dangerous man on the ship doing leaning against your doorway and watching you work?

Warnings: SMUT; hand job; kissing; blood; mentions of rape, murder, and violence; female genital mutilation; vague mentions of corpse mutilation

Storge, Philia, Eros, and Agape (WIP) Osferth x Reader

Series Masterlist

When he arrives in Coccham to join with Lord Uhtred Ragnarsson's band of righteous warrior, Osferth does not get the greeting he expected. Uhtred himself is very clear that he has only accepted the young monk to irritate his father, and the few warriors he is introduced to delight in picking fun at him. Still, it is better than the monastery, the Lady of the estate is kind to him, and the servant girl who leads him to his new chambers is... something entirely new to Osferth. Something that, perhaps, will help him understand what the Bible means when it speaks of love.

Note: This is a series of inter-connected oneshots that can be read together or on their own.

That Pointy-Eared Blond Bastard (WIP) (18+) Half-Vulcan!Aemond x Human(?)Reader

Graduation - Away Team - Red Alert - Holodeck - Pon Farr

You are Aemond's greatest rival at Starfleet Academy. Or you would be, if he cared enough to have rivals. Vulcans don't care that much. But Aemond is only half Vulcan. And you... you bring out something decidedly non-Vulcan in him.

A Companion (WIP) Otto Hightower x Young Widow!Reader

Series Masterlist

At the suggestion of Princess Rhaenyra, King Viserys Targaryen had commanded that his Hand, Otto Hightower, find a new bride. Preferably at the King's own wedding to Otto's daughter Alicent. While the Princess intended the suggestion as a form of revenge for Otto's machinations which led to the royal engagement, he intends to make the best of it. While he has always known that his late wife, Madelyn, is the great love of his life, he welcomes the idea of finding a tolerable companion. What he doesn't expect is you, a lady widowed far too young, who begins to spark feelings within him he thought long extinguished.

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chuluoyi · 6 months

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UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 05

✩°｡ ⋆ sinner's punishment

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, heavy angst, minor character death, description of panic attack, mentions of blood, hurt/comfort

notes: if i may be so bold, this is my favorite chapter so far. but please pay attention to the warnings and read with discretion

✩°｡ ⋆ unholy matrimony (masterlist) | chapter four : going downhill <- previous ✩ next -> chapter six : a longer dream

In hindsight, the first person you could’ve called shouldn't be your husband. You could’ve called the police, or informed the jujutsu headquarters that traces of a curse user were found in your mother’s humble cottage.

But you were on the verge of having a panic attack, and the first person you could hold onto was Megumi. He promised to come to you as soon as he finished his mission. And for the next agonizing four days, he was there with you.

And on the fifth day, when Itadori Yuji, who was in charge of this investigation, came to your doorstep to deliver the grim news, you felt yourself shaking, overwhelmed with the beginnings of hysteria.

"N-no..." Your breathing was getting harder and out of control. "T-there must be... a m-mistake..."

"I'm sorry, Sena-san," Yuji drooped his head apologetically and gritted his teeth, seemingly pained that he must be the one to tell you this. "We found the corpse at the west area of the river bank. And we've identified her as your mother."

It started with choked sobs, and then an almost inhuman scream erupted from your throat and you started weeping so intensely that you nearly crumpled, saved only by Megumi's strong grip that kept you from collapsing entirely.

You grabbed a hold of his shirt so tightly that your knuckles turned pale, almost ripping it, looking at him through your torrents of tears. "I-it's not true... r-right? I-it's just a nightmare! Please w-wake me u-up..."

"Sena." Megumi's deep voice resonated, reflecting his own struggle in processing this devastating news. He looked at Yuji, who was close to tears himself, and then at you, before pulling you into his arms tightly.

"N-no!" you wailed, thrashing against his hold. "Megumi! No! My mom―my mother! S-she can't b-be―"

Your mother, who used to brush your hair and pat your back to get you to sleep when you were little. Your mother, who stood against your father because he would marry you off to some bastard who could make your life hell and got shut away. And your mother―who cried in relief on your wedding day, realizing that you would be in good hands with Megumi.

The reality of her death suddenly hit your conscience, sinking in with profound gravity. You began to wheeze, your screams and sobs merging into a cacophony of anguish. You nearly passed out in Megumi's arms as your ability to stand forsaking you entirely, but he still refused to let you go. He continued to hold you, pressing you tightly against his chest, even as you sank to the floor and pounded his chest in agonizing despair.

"Cry it out," he whispered. "Don't hold back. Just cry. It’s alright."

How did it come to this? Who in the world would murder your kind, loving mother? Why did it have to be her? What had she done so wrong that she deserved this?

Or was this karma? A divine punishment? For trapping the unaware Megumi into this marriage?

You couldn't think straight, the sheer pain of it all numbed your very being and you wanted to die too along with her. Even when you knew you were using him, you couldn't help but hang on Megumi's strong grip as you cried your heart out.

The first days after the news broke were excruciating for Megumi as well.

He felt his chest ache whenever he saw you sobbing and crying in pain nonstop. It was a new form of torment, seeing you like that. He wanted to somehow alleviate your pain, albeit a bit. Or do anything to help you at all.

The preparations for the funeral mostly fell to him as you barely functioned. You were even more inconsolable after you saw the sight of blood on the white blanket that covered your mother in the autopsy room―you insisted on seeing her one last time, but you completely broke down afterwards and didn't dare to lift that piece of blanket. You feared the sight to remain in your nightmares.

And Megumi understood that. If he were in your position, it would destroy him too. Even though he had forgotten how his mother was like, he figured that should he lose Tsumiki this way, he could very well go feral altogether.

There weren't many that attended the funeral, and by the last day, your crying had subsided, replaced by this eerie silence and blank stare. You were dressed in all black and barely said a thing or two to the mourners. The only time your eyes glinted with something other than voidness was when your father had the audacity to come and pay his respect before the altar.

Cold fury. Megumi never saw you like that. You surged with so much hatred that when your father asked if you were okay you just turned your head away and refused to give him an answer.

"Please... look after my daughter," your father, the Hara clan head, said to Megumi outside the funeral house as the last of the mourners of the final day. He had looked so concerned and Megumi didn't have the heart to turn him away. He just nodded and bid his farewell curtly.

He would. Of course he would. What sort of husband would he be if he didn't?

When he got back, he found you staring at the altar in total stillness.

"My mother..." You croaked out, strained and barely audible. It was the first time he heard you saying something today other than many hollow “thank you” you muttered to each attendee. "She said... she'd rather take her own life rather than seeing me be married to Naoya."

Megumi's jaw tightened. Your voice radiated so much pain that it made his chest constrict and his desire to embrace you intensify. He approached you cautiously, aware of the anguish you were going through.

He turned to face you. "She was a great woman."

"She―was," you were quick to force the word out. You still looked so utterly heartbroken, but it seemed like you no longer had tears to spare. "I'm... going to find whoever did this," you muttered next, voice lacing with steel. "I won't let them free. I can't―this is the least I could do for her."

He nodded. Of course, he would extend his help too. All evidence pointed to this being the work of a curse user, which meant it wouldn't be long before you could find them.

It was easier said than done. Coming to terms didn't mean you would be able to go back to the way things were. A part of you was permanently shredded, and it would never be the same anymore. Megumi realized it firsthand when one night, a little over a week after the funeral, he heard quiet whimpers from your bedroom.

Truthfully, he also felt a sense of emptiness as well. Even though he didn’t know his mother-in-law that well, he remembered seeing her soft smile for him during the wedding, and of course the fact that she had sent many boxes of oranges just for you. He knew for a fact that she loved and cherished you so much.

And so, he tapped lightly on your door. Because the urge just got too much, and seeing you in grief made something in him want to rush to your side just to make sure that you were okay.

“Can I come in?”

Meanwhile inside, you had dampened your pillows with tears due to the dream of your happy childhood that just woke you up. Megumi's voice startled you as you tried to compose yourself.

You had noticed it. He had become even more considerate for you as of late, perhaps driven by sheer pity or sympathy. You didn’t care which—the fact that he did at all warmed your heart in a way you wouldn’t find the correct word to describe with, and you were grateful for his unflappable presence.

You wiped away your tears, and replied. “Yes.”

Megumi entered your room then, in his black sweater and visibly weary eyes. Despite his exhaustion, his concern for you was evident as his gaze met yours. “Are you alright?”

“…I’m fine. Sorry if I woke you.”

“No, I was getting the water,” he explained. “Do you have trouble sleeping?”

“Oh no... Not really.”

He hummed. “Want some company?”

You blinked. You would have never expected that Megumi would willingly offer you his presence just because he heard you sniffle to yourself at the dead of the night.

It was tempting—to continuously take advantage of his kindness. You knew it wasn’t right. You swore you knew.

But tonight…

Fushiguro Megumi is still your husband. By name and law it might be, but he did all his husbandly duties perfectly regardless. He was there to defend you, and hold you when you lost the only thing that mattered in your life.

And so as any wife would, you took up the offer of being in his presence. “Yeah.”

Megumi closed the door to your bedroom and studied you intently, his dark eyes narrowing. "Have you eaten tonight? I'm sorry I missed dinner. My mission ran late."

You found comfort in that simple question. "I didn't have the appetite. Anyway, it's okay."

His brow furrowed at your answer. "You can't go without eating anything. You'll get hungry and miserable."

To your surprise, Megumi left your room and then returned promptly, holding a box of cheesecake from a popular bakery in his hand.

"When did you get that?"

"On the way after finishing my job," he replied curtly, offering the treat. "Here. Eat now."

You were slightly taken aback as the pretty cheesecake was now in your hands. "It's midnight. I'm going to build up calories," you whined but clamped your mouth shut when he threw you a withering look. With a sigh, you pierced the fork through the fluffy cake and took a bite.

It was tasty, and you shyly indulged in another bite as Megumi smirked, as if silently conveying an "I told you so."

"No longer feeling as miserable, are we?" he asked with a hint of laughter.

You just hummed in response, avoiding eye contact. He chuckled. "Good then. I'm glad you like it."

It occurred to you that Megumi actually didn't like sweet things. He always took his coffee black, and he rarely ate the pastries you'd bring back. So he must have bought this with you in mind.

A warm feeling enveloped you, realizing that someone still cared about you enough to consider your feelings and bring you comfort.

"Thank you, Megumi," you mumbled, looking down at the half-eaten cake. The loss of your mother still stung you and in the darkest corner of your heart, you barely managed to find the will to continue living. But Megumi's presence made it better, a hundred times over. And most of all, you feel safe with him.

"Don't mention it." He breathed a sigh of relief.

It wouldn’t have been easy, and he knew it was going to take time. Healing was a process, and he was willing to be there every step of the way.

“Your eyes are red,” he pointed out. “Do you want me to get you a cool compress?”

You responded while still chewing the cheesecake. “Mmm, no. That’s okay.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Last time you didn’t listen to me, you almost tripped if I didn’t catch you.”

“That’s purely by accident! And hey, did you remember when we—”

That night, you and Megumi sat together on your bed, reminiscing about various things before eventually basking in comfortable silence. You didn't know when you started getting sleepy, but you did and the next thing you knew, in the morning, the first sight that greeted you was Megumi's sleeping face.

He was here the entire night. And you realized that with him here, you were no longer overcome with the urge to weep as much.

What is this feeling? Why couldn't you take your eyes off him?

Megumi is fairly attractive. He looked grumpy and unfriendly by default, but even then he was still handsome. And now that he was defenseless like this, he looked soft. It was the sight only you, his wife, got to see. No one else could come close to see him like this as you did.

Because you are his wife, and he is your husband.

In this very marriage that you instigated.

Your chest twinged as a wave of guilt washed over you. How could you forget that? You were a sinner. All of this pain and suffering—you had brought it upon yourself, and your mother had paid the price.

A fresh wave of tears welled up in your eyes. Your sweet mother. She was the reason of this whole sham marriage. Now that the reason no longer existed, there was truly no need for either you or Megumi to continue on this path.

It felt even worse because you were falling for your husband. You might have deceived yourself until now, but this was an undeniable moment of truth. You weren't exactly sure when it had started, but you had willingly let Megumi capture your heart and have it. He was blunt but reliable and treated you well. Truth be told, you were genuinely enjoying this new life too.

But this has to stop. You couldn't fool over him forever. For his sake, you had to let him go.

Today was Sunday, so neither of you had to work. You had gone to the kitchen to ponder how you should bring the topic up when he stumbled in, still looking half-asleep.

"Ah, I fell asleep in your room," he remarked, yawning. The sight tugged your heartstrings because he looked so unguarded. You wanted to smother him, hug him, kiss him even―

No. This fantasy ends here.

"Megumi," you began, your tone carrying an edge that instantly put him on alert. "We need to talk."

He visibly frowned. "Yes?"

And nothing would've prepared him for the words coming out of you next.

"I think we should get a divorce."

✩°｡ ⋆ next -> chapter six : a longer dream

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stuckybarton · 1 year

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Bathala and the Forsaken Queen

Summary: He was called by the Spanish as the child without love, but to you, his wife, he was the man that has saved you and your child from the impending death at the hands of the colonials dead-set on killing your entire bloodline. Character: K'uk'ulkan/Namor x Filipino!Queen!Female Reader. OC Daughter (Adlaw) Word Count: 6,388 Warnings: Philippine History Inaccuracy, changed some dates to suit the story. Mention of War and the Atrocities during the Spanish Colonization in the Philippines. Death and mentions of corpses. Angst. Happy Ever After. BPWF spoilers and slight deviation to the plot. Mention of consuming dangerous plants. A/N: A request from @kpopgirlbtssvt, Another banger of a request from you thank you so much for this. Again I did tweak a few things here and there and i hope that's fine with you.

Masterlist || Join the Library ( i no longer do taglist you can just turn on notif here)

Bathala and the Forsaken Queen

TALOKAN | PRESENT DAY

Shuri walked into the room where Namor had been spending most of his time painting the murals on the walls. The vibrant colors and intricate details caught her attention as soon as she stepped in.

“Princess.”

Shuri continued to observe the paintings, noticing the different scenes depicting the history of Namor's people. She pointed to one in particular, showing a woman and child, protected by a God-like being from attackers.

“Who is this?” Shuri had inquired. Among the numerous of artworks, there was a certain veneration, a certain care into painting this woman among the rest of the artworks in the murals on the wall.

“She is my wife, my Queen, the mother of Talokan.”

MACTAN, CEBU, PHILIPPINES | 1592

You hold your daughter close to you as you run along the sandy beaches. The wind is whipping at your hair and dress, and you can hear the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the screams of death of your people, and the sound of the fire enveloping your homes. Your heart was pounding in fear as you glance over your shoulder to see the Spanish Conquistador chasing after you with a sword in hand—blood that you were certain was of your husband, the King’s after the brutal fight. Now you and your child run to avoid becoming the spoils of their victory.

“Keep running,” You urged yourself, holding your infant close to your chest, trying to sound calm despite the terror and anguish in your heart. “We will not let them take us.”

Your daughter coos as if sensing your own dread, her eyes filled with tears as she was looking up at you. You can see the fear in her eyes and it breaks your heart to know that she is experiencing such terror at such a young age. You are the Queen of your people, but in this moment, you feel powerless against the force of the Spanish invasion.

As you run, you see a large rock formation in the distance. It's your only chance to take cover and make a stand against the Conquistador. You pull your daughter towards your chest even more, hoping that it will provide some protection.

As you reach the rocks, you turn to face the Conquistador, your heart heavy with the knowledge that this could be your final stand. The Conquistador approaches, his sword gleaming in the sunlight.

You stand tall, ready to fight for your life and the life of your daughter. You know that the odds are against you, but you will not go down without a fight. You hold your daughter close, feeling her small body tremble with fear. You whisper words of love and comfort to her, trying to give her strength in this dark moment.

The Conquistador approaches, his sword raised high. You close your eyes, ready to face your fate. But before he can strike, the sound of a neck being snapped and the Conquistador falls dead to the sandy ground below you was what now comes to you.

You feel the surge of gratitude and relief wash over you as you turned to face a possible soldier from your people that helped, but the smile that was slowly growing on your face faded just as quick as it had appeared. The man in front of you was no soldier of your people—but a man that exuded power greater than any Gods in your lifetime.

Was this Bathala? Has he finally answered your prayers? You could not think straight out of fear of everything that has transpired, you had pulled your daughter closer to your chest. Protecting her from whatever wrath the God might come for you and your fallen people.

The man speaks, a language that you know nothing about. Fear grew more and the possibility of him being just like the Conquistador but instead of savagery, you were given a small bracelet which he gently slipped onto your shaking wrist.

You approached the man cautiously, your mewling daughter close to your chest and ready to move if the need arises. With his hands held up, you took a look at the man and realizing he was truly no human you had ever seen in your life before.

Pointed ears, same skin as you, his ears, nose, and neck adorned in jewelry but the most shocking part of the man in front of you were the pair of wings on either side of his feet. How only now did you realize that he was not standing on the sand, but was hovering and the sight of the fluttering wings both interested you as much as it did scare you.

With your own shaky hand you slipped off your own gold armband, handing it to the man in a quiet exchange hoping he would understand you were no threat, just simply a mother trying to protect your daughter. You watch him take hold of it, how he had slip the band around his wrist and the smile of reassurance resting on his face.

The fear slowly fading away from your system at a friendly company, but your mind was now washed with the anguish of what was left of your home. Everything that close to ashes at this point. No longer did you hear the sound of cries nor the sound of swords in the distance. It was quite painful to hear the empty silence of what was left of your people because of the Conquistador.

As you turned to finally thank the man that has saved you and your daughter, the man was gone, leaving you and your daughter to tend to yourself from now on.

TALOKAN | PRESENT DAY

“She was just like me, but from another country far from our own. Her people and her first husband were killed in the aftermath of the Spanish Conquistador.”

Shuri could only nod, watching as Namor gestured to images of you, who moved and settled to a cave-like home, far from what you were once so accustomed to in your life.

“She had a daughter?” Shuri wondered, looking more into the child that once had the same color of skin in the first image before her skin was now painted blue just like your own now.

“My blessing. She might not have been my blood, but I have treated her just like my own.”

MACTAN, CEBU, PHILIPPINES | 1592

It was hard to start from scratch.

The fear of possibly another Conquistador coming for you and your daughter had you on edge and instead of returning to your home, you have decided that it was best to live in a cavern close to your home, but discreet enough to hide you and your daughter from anyone that would place the both of you in harm’s way.

It’s been days since the attack in your home, days since you have ever caught a wink of sleep. In the damp floor with your daughter resting on what was once your lavish robe laid besides you sleeping, you found yourself sobbing. You begin to mourn the death of your husband, who fought valiantly against them in hopes of buying enough time for the both of you to escape. You could remember the way your husband was outnumbered, how in his dying breath he had screamed for you to and your daughter to run for your lives, how he had told you his love and devotion to you, his Queen and his wife. The memory was a burning reminder of everything you have lost because of the invaders.

Your hands had covered your mouth, fearing that you might wake your daughter up because of your despair. You watch your daughter’s chest gently rise and fall and in the image of her, you grew numb for what you knew you needed to do to live, to strive, and to ensure that she would grow up happy and away from whatever danger that was in this world.

In the stillness of what you now call your temporary home, you heard footsteps. The alertness waking you from your sleepless state. You crouch in the dimly-lit cave, your heart racing as you listen for any sound of approaching danger. In your arms you had lifted your daughter up, your six-month-old daughter sleeps peacefully still, oblivious to the turmoil that surrounds her.

You stroke your daughter's soft cheek, marveling at her innocence and her trust. She is your hope and your future, the embodiment of all that you hold dear. You vow to keep her safe, to teach her the ways of your people, and to instill in her the strength and resilience needed to survive in this harsh new world.

As you wait in the darkness, your mind drifts back to happier times, before the arrival of the Spanish. You remember the lush forests and sparkling beaches, the vibrant festivals and colorful ceremonies. You remember the warmth and generosity of your people, the sense of community and belonging that permeated every aspect of your life.

But those memories are tinged with sadness and anger now, as you realize how much has been lost. Your people have been forced to flee their homes, to abandon their farms and fishing boats, to abandon their traditions and beliefs. The invaders have brought disease and death, destruction and despair. They have shattered the very fabric of your society, leaving nothing but chaos and uncertainty in their wake.

Suddenly, you hear a commotion outside the cave grow louder. You can hear the Spanish shouting and cursing, and the sound of horses whinnying in distress. You dare not hope, but perhaps there is a chance that they will not find you. But your hope is short-lived. You hear footsteps approaching the cave, the sound echoing in the darkness. You hold your breath, trying to remain as still as possible. You do not want to give yourself away.

The footsteps stop just outside the cave. You can hear the Spanish muttering to each other in their foreign tongue. You understood what they are saying having insisted to your husband that it was a good thing to learn their language to know their true intentions.

Suddenly, a hand reaches into the cave, groping blindly in the darkness. You shrink back, trying to make yourself as small as possible. But the hand finds you, gripping your arm tightly. You try to pull away, but the hand is too strong. You feel tears stinging your eyes as you realize that this is the end. You and your daughter are going to be captured, enslaved, or worse.

Turning to the owner of the hand gripping onto you, you saw the same man that had saved you a few days prior. He held up a finger against his lips, requesting for you to keep quiet. He had guided you towards the darker corners of the cave, wrapping a blanket around you before he walks towards the sound of the Conquistadors that you were certain were still after you and your daughter.

You hear the sound of violence, the sound of your savior killing the remaining Spanish soldiers who came to look for you in the cave. You do not want to listen, but you cannot help it. You can hear the brutality of the way he kills each and every single one of them without mercy. You can hear the sound of bones breaking, of swords clashing, and of flesh being torn.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it is over. You hear the man's footsteps approaching, and you brace yourself for his arrival. You do not know what to expect, but you know that it cannot be good. But when he appears, he is different than you expected. He is covered in blood and dirt, his face twisted in rage. But there is also something else there, something that you cannot quite name.

He looks at you and your daughter, and you see the rage in his eyes soften. He approaches you, his hand outstretched. You catch sight of the golden band you had given him wrapped around his wrist. You do not know what to do, but you realize that you must trust him. You take his hand, and he helps you and your daughter to your feet.

He spoke a language you did not understand. You blinked uncertain what you could say or do to understand the man.

“Mi nombre es K'uk'ulkan, aquí no estás a salvo. Hay muchos que todavía te buscarán. (My name is K'uk'ulkan, you are not safe here. There are many that will still look for you).”

You pulled your hand away as he spoke the same language as the Conquistadors. You held your daughter closer to your chest, fearing of what the man might do now or of his intentions with you in this moment.

“No quiero hacer daño. Mi gente es víctima de los conquistadores como la tuya. (I mean no harm. My people are victims of the Conquistadors just like your own).”

You find yourself sadden by his words. You had believed that you and your people were the only victims, only to turn out there were more people like that had suffered so much at the hands of the colonizers. Walking a little closer to the man now, but still the precaution was ever so evident for you.

Standing in a damp and dark cave with your six-month-old daughter in your arms, you can feel her little body trembling as she snuggles closer to you, seeking warmth and comfort. This was not the healthiest environment to have her live. You can have no one else to blame, for you were just as afraid about this circumstance. You know for certain that the Conquistadors would continue to hunt you and your daughter still. As you look around the cave, you see nothing but darkness and silence. You wonder if this is where you will spend the rest of your days, hiding away from the world.

The man, K’uk’ulkan, was a tall and imposing figure, with a regal bearing that genuinely reminds you of the nobles of your own people. He is dressed in a long white cloak with a headdress adorned with shimmering feathers. He looked far too different from the first time you had met him and it didn’t truly give you the benefit of trusting him in this moment. Especially with the blood that still painted his skin and some of on his cloak from his actions against the Conquistadors.

“He venido a ofrecerte santuario en mi propio reino. Es el lugar más seguro para usted y su hija mientras los conquistadores aún los buscan. (I have come to offer you sanctuary in my own kingdom. It is the safest place for you and your daughter to be while the Conquistadors still search for you).”

You stare at the man, uncertain whether you could truly trust him. But the two instances of him saving your life should have been enough for you to at least try. Aside from his abilities to kill the Conquistador with his bare hands, the sight of him with wings and the pointed ears had you cautious of what more he was capable of doing. It was as if you were not truly in the presence of a mere mortal—but something far greater or worse depending on what you decide to do.

"Mi reino está lejos de aquí, pero me aseguraré de que tú y tu hija lleguen a salvo. Puedo ofrecerte protección y un hogar, donde estarás a salvo de cualquier daño. Y prometo que haré todo lo que esté a mi alcance para garantizar que nunca más serás perseguido por los conquistadores. (My kingdom is far from here, but I will ensure that you and your daughter arrive safely. I can offer you protection and a home, where you will be safe from harm. And I promise that I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are never hunted by the Conquistadors again)." The man continues, his voice spoke softly.

You consider his words carefully, weighing the risks and the benefits of accepting his offer. You know that the journey to his kingdom will be long and dangerous, but you also know that you have no other choice. The Conquistadors are still searching for you, and they will stop at nothing to capture you.

Finally, you nod your head, accepting K'uk'ulkan's offer of sanctuary. You feel a sense of relief wash over you, knowing that you and your daughter will be safe from harm. As you follow K'uk'ulkan out of the cave, you can't help but feel a sense of trepidation. You know that the road ahead will be long and hard, but you also know that you have made the right decision.

The walk out of the cave was filled with death, you did your best to ignore the bodies laid around and brutalized by the man that walked in front of you. But it filled you with a great sense of fear and reassurance, fear for what he was capable of doing and the reassurance that he will be there to protect you should the need ever arise against the Conquistadors.

As the sunlight begins to beam against your eyes, you tried your best to adjust as the first brush of the wind has brushed against your cheeks and your baby slowly but surely waking from her slumber.

“¿Cuales son tus nombres? (What are your names?)” He asked you waiting by the end of the cave.

You told him your name, of your daughter, Adlaw, a daughter-born under the scorching sun that had ended the long-standing drought in your land. He smiled as you explained your daughter’s name to him. How invested he seemed to be of what was once your people.

“Tu hija le ha dado a tu pueblo la lluvia tan necesaria como yo le he dado a mi propio pueblo el sol. (Your daughter has given your people the much needed rain as I have given my own people the sun).”

You gasped, realizing that the man was truly a God after all.

You continued to walk through the now deserted beaches. The putrid scent of death and burned down husk wafted and it took a lot out of you not to gag from where you stood. As your eyes to one last glance around what you once called your home, you noticed something strange. Warriors that were now closing in on K’uk’ulkan who have blue skin.

You rub your eyes, thinking that perhaps you were seeing things from lack of sleep, but when you open them again, the blue-skinned warriors were still there and meant no harm as they kneeled in front of your savior. Hands helped up in a gesture that was similar to an open flower.

You glance over at K’uk’ulkan, who notice your confusion and apprehension.

"Esta es mi gente, (These are my people)," he explains. "Son los soldados más valientes y leales que he conocido (They are the bravest and most loyal soldiers I have ever known)."

You can't help but stare at them in wonder. You have never seen anything like them before. Their blue skin seems to shimmer in the sunlight, and their eyes are a reassuring shade of black just like your own. Aside from armor that were somewhat similar from that of your own people’s, aside from their skin color, it was the mouthpiece covering their mouths and nose that took you by surprise, made you wonder how they could breathe at such a constrictions. As you walk alongside them, you feel a sense of safety and security that you haven't felt in a long time. These warriors are here to protect you and your daughter, and you can tell that they take their duty very seriously.

But as you continued to walk, you felt uneasy as you walked closer towards the water instead of what you would have expected to be in the forest up above the mountains. You had watched half of the warriors make their way towards the waters, diving in without an ounce of hesitation. Turning towards K’uk’ulkan, he provided a reassuring smile, holding onto your hand.

“¿Confías en mí? (Do you trust me?)” He asked you.

“No. Pero prometiste mantenernos a salvo a mí y a mi hija y cumpliré tu promesa. (I don't. But you promised to keep me and my daughter safe and I'll hold you onto your promise).” You responded right back honestly.

“Y mantendré la promesa mientras viva. (And I will keep the promise for as long as I live).”

Eventually, two of the warriors have come to stand in front of you, the mouthpiece they wore was now handed to you and your daughter and with a small prayer of guidance and remaining bravery after everything that has happened in your lives, you accepted the mouthpiece and with K’uk’ulkan holding you and your daughter made your way further and further towards the water to a life that was not your own anymore, but for the sake of your daughter will be the best thing to happen.

TALOKAN | PRESENT DAY

“Yuum!”

The sound of giggling children sounded catching Shuri’s attention. Turning to where the sound began, she had watched the sight of three small children making their way towards the both of them, walking slower after them was two women, spitting image of each other.

“In Reina. In sáasil k'iin.” Namor spoke so tenderly towards the two women. His attention turned towards the three children, peppering each and every single one of them with kisses and endearing words that reminded Shuri so much of her father long before he had passed.

Shuri turning her attention back towards the women, she had come to realize who exactly they were. The similarities and the much more evident jewelry that adorned their necks and ears.

“You are the mother and daughter in the murals.” Shuri spoke.

TALOKAN | 1593

“Mama.”

You smiled the slow but sure progress of your one-year-old daughter in a place that you now call as your own. Your daughter was slowly but surely learning the ways of Talokan, of their people without sacrificing the ways of your own people too. You have mourn the death and end of your people for months, being allowed the courtesy by K’uk’ulkan to do a ceremony for your fallen people and of your husband.

But like your daughter, you began to learn about the ways of the people of Talokan, even if you remained in the comforts of K’uk’ulkan’s cavern above the water. Every single day, a teacher would come to visit you and your daughter, teaching you the language of their people and slowly but surely you have stopped using Spanish to converse with the people and began to use their own, in your own end had thought them about the history of your own, of your Gods and of your culture that were somewhat like their own before they had escaped to the waters.

“In chan k'iino'. (My Little Sunshine).”

Turning, you realize you and your daughter were not alone. K’uk’ulkan has returned from his duties. You gave him a smile, it been a year now since you have arrived in Talokan after he had saved you from the Conquistador—twice. He had kept his promise to keep you and your daughter safe away from the Conquistadors and from whatever danger may come lurking in the corner. Upon your arrival to his home, you have learned of his identity—a King and God to the people of Talokan, the first-born of the people of Talokan and a man that gave his people the hope that never truly settled because of the attack of the Spanish.

You watched your daughter make her way towards K’uk’ulkan. It warms your heart how it had been easy for your daughter to trust the man, the people of Talokan, and of the new life that was not of your own. Just as much as it had been hard for you to do the same. The never ending apprehension even with all the kindness his people have given you and your daughter.

“My King.” You spoke greeting the man.

“I thought we have agreed to call each other by our names, In Reina.” He playfully scolded, arms were quick to hold onto your daughter and to lift her up.

You had watch how K’uk’ulkan had a soft spot for her, how he grinned and played along with your daughter and her dangerous curiosity. How he had allowed for your daughter to hold onto the jewelry nestled on his nose even as hard as your daughter would tug at the jade.

“I am no Queen in Talokan.” You spoke, finding yourself now sitting onto the chair, your eyes lingering on the murals that painted the walls—K’uk’ulkan’s creations.

“But you are the Queen of your people, as much as your daughter is still the Princess. It does not change here as long as I would allow it.”

You nodded, knowing it was no use trying to argue with the man, he would always find a way to ensure that he gets his way.

TALOKAN | 1598

A year turned into two, then into three, then you have realized that it had now been five years since the fateful day that the man had saved you from the clutches of the Conquistador. Five years of living your life and your daughter’s own under the confinements of the cavern of K’uk’ulkan’s home. You were beyond grateful for everything the man has done for you, for keeping his promise of keeping you and your daughter safe, for stepping into the role of your daughter’s father but always spoke kindly of your late husband and his valiant effort to keep the both of you safe all those years ago, for allowing you to believe that there were still people you could trust and love even after all that you have been through.

It wasn’t sudden, nor did you plan for it to happen but it did. How you found yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with the man that loathed the surface world and its people, but had opened his home to you and your daughter. He had promised you a life safe from the terrors in the surface and he gave you the home that was nothing you had ever dreamed possible.

But the most important thing he had ever given you was the choice. A choice to remain as the human you still were or be just like his people, to live in the waters like every single one of the people of Talokan. You know your daughter craves the water, from the instances of her playing with K’uk’ulkan in the shallower parts of the waters, how she had longed to be able to play with the other children of Talokan deep in the waters instead of the confinements of the cavern.

He promised you that he would respect whatever decision you might decide, but he provided the option should you want to finally make a change.

“You want to go back to the surface?” The panic was all so evident in his face when you had made the request one morning. It’s been five years since you took the risk of coming with them and you have yet to truly regret your action. But you needed to have the much needed closure before you open the new chapter in your life.

“I—I want to see my home one last time.” You explained hoping it was enough of an explanation for him. And the nod he had given seemed like it was. He requested for two breathers to be brought for you and your daughter.

It took no time at all when you made the request. No hesitation and no apprehension from the man at your request. How it was easy for him to explain to your daughter about the trip that you were to make up to the surface. How the excitement bubbled in every question that escaped her lips, her eyes twinkling as she continued to ask K’uk’ulkan about the surface world, of the life that you once had before Talokan.

You did not truly have the heart to tell her that this was the closure that you would finally have for the both of you. Your late husband would have wanted just as much, after everything that has happened, it was time to finally move on with your life and with everything it encased.

It took less than an hour for you, your daughter, K’uk’ulkan and a handful of his most trusted warriors to arrive to your home. The shore of what was once your home was a part of the home you missed, of the laughter and fun you had growing up with your siblings, running through the sands and talking about the life you would have hope to have growing up. It was bitter to know that as you stood looking at your feet, that you stood as the last remaining member of your family and of your family’s line and worst part was those dreams of the life you hoped to have no longer viable for you or for your daughter.

“Are you alright, In Reina?” K’uk’ulkan had inquired, he kept his voice low, hoping that your daughter would be unaware of the mental chaos in your mind.

As you approached closer towards the land of your once-beautiful home, you felt your heart racing in anticipation, of the hope that your home was restored and there was still a glimpse of hope of your people even in the years of your disappearance. It has been years since you had last laid eyes on your home, remembering the gore and death that you had run away from and of the smell of fire and blood.

The hope has died further into the pits of your stomach, you were struck by the emptiness and desolation that surrounded you. Your heart sinks, the tears have fallen at the sight that have come before you. Corpses from all those years ago still remained, like trash discarded for the wilderness to take. Homes that was once gave you comfort burn, golds and jewelry robbed and the number of weapons that were discarded, both guns and swords littered the ground.

You look around in disbelief, struggling to make sense of the scene before you. Your beloved home, once filled with your people, now lies abandoned. The trees were stained with blood and ashes. As you move through the land, you heart grows heavier with each step. All around you, evidence of a brutal invasion was evident, after the initial one that you had escaped from. Your once-beautiful gardens have now been trampled and burned.

As you move to where you knew was your hut, your heart grows heavier at the sight that befell you. You were certain of who it was. The putrid smell of death could not waver you as you kneels toward the skeletal remains of your husband. How he still wore the garments from which he had died in. The anger for the Conquistadors for removing his gold jewelry after, of the array of brutality you were certain they had placed on his body after his death, it brought a sob out of your lips.

You whispered a prayer, hoping to the Gods that your husband has finally laid to rest peacefully. Kissing your hand before resting it on his skull, you stood back up and made your way further into your hut, to see that every single jewelry and possession you once had now gone with some of the clothes you had woven for your infant now torn and painted in blood.

You sobbed as you were now facing the truth of the aftermath of the Conquistadors. Everything you had left behind was taken from you. You felt the deep sense of loss. You walked out of your hut to the sight of K’uk’ulkan that was carrying your scared daughter and the number of his people keeping guard while to took one last look at your former home.

The sound of a far too familiar language had you turning to the owner of the voices.

“Kill them.” You ordered the Talokanil warriors.

“In Reina—”

“Kill them and burn everything to the ground.” You ordered to which the warriors bowed towards you before doing such thing.

You stepped towards your daughter that was now shaking in fear at the sight of you tear stricken and the sound of death of the remaining Conquistadors being killed by the Talokanil soldier.

“Hush, little girl. Once we come back home, you’re gonna be able to play with the kids in the water.” You whispered reassuringly towards your daughter, sensing how K’uk’ulkan had tensed at your words.

“Are you sure?” He asked you, cupping your cheek with his free hand, his thumb rubbing away the tears.

“We have nothing else here in the surface to live for, the Conquistador had succeeded in destroying my people. It is only right for us to return back to Talokan as part of your people. Not as a guest, but part of your community.”

“I want you to be my Queen.” He pleaded, pulling you closer to him, his warmth radiating giving you as much as it did your daughter, the reassurance that you did not truly have in the moment of weakness. “Be the mother of my people as much as you are the mother of our daughter.”

Your heart raced, he had always showed his love and affection for your daughter, but this was the first time he had actually acknowledged her as his own. Not by blood, but by circumstance that he made the most out of it. Nicknames might had constantly escaped his lips when it comes to your daughter and your daughter had always called him ‘Yuum’ and your late husband as his Baba but this was the first time that there was a clear indicator of it all from him.

“I have kept my promise of protection and all I want in return in your love for me and for my people.”

Looking, you had realized one of the healers has arrived from the waters, you had realized that he had the idea of you finally making your much needed decision for your sake and for the sake of your daughter. In his grasp was a glowing blue plant and you know that once you’ve made the life altering decision, you will finally live the life that you have never expected but realize was all you needed.

“You always had my love and of my daughter’s.” You whispered smiling as his forehead rested against your own. You held onto your daughter’s hand and as the pain of your past slowly washes away, you could only hope what the present and future would be like for you three as a family.

As you three had walked towards the shore, the sound of the crackling fire echoed the skies, you had accepted the bowl given to you by the healer, you had watched K’uk’ulkan sit on the sand besides your daughter, reassuring her that things will be alright and when she wakes up they could play in the deeper part of the waters from now on.

You watched as K’uk’ulkan had hand fed your daughter the plant, seeing how your daughter was wincing at the bitter taste of the crushed plant but continued on as her eagerness to be in the waters overcame everything else. You took a deep breath as you finally consumed the plant in one go, your teary eyes closed as you tried your best to eat everything that was in the bowl.

You felt your skin grow jelly and with one of the warriors holding you up, you were assisted onto the sand and as you opened your eyes you saw your daughter now unconscious in the arms K’uk’ulkan. The panic never sets in, as the trust on the man had grown a hundreds of folds since the first time he had asked you to trust him to return to his home. You trusted him more than you would have ever believed you could.

“Thank you for giving me this new life, K’uk’ulkan.” You whispered.

“Ch'ah Toh Almehen.” He spoke, moving your head until they rested on his shoulder.

“What?”

“My real name. My people call me K’uk’ulkan, my enemies call me Namor, but I want you to call me by my birth name.”

You nod, your eyes grow heavy as your last words before darkness consumed you was his name, the name that he had entrusted for you to use from now on as you lived a life away from what you once lived for. No longer were you the Queen Mother of the Raja in Mactan, but now as the last ounce of life in the surface world fades away, you now became the Queen of Talokan, the mother they had always hoped to have in their life and in their community.

You awoke hours later, but instead of the beach from where you had finally made the decision to change, you were in he middle of the water and the first person you had seen was the man that had saved you. A smile on his face as he pointed towards the side and your eyes had caught sight of your daughter, freely playing with the children in the middle of the waters—breathing through the waters just as much as you and K’uk’ulkan did.

You smiled, holding onto the man’s hands and before you know it you pulled him into a kiss—sealing your fate as the Queen of Talokan and eventually the wife of the great King and God of Talokan.

#k'uk'ulkan x reader #K'uk'ulkan oneshot #K'uk'ulkan oneshots #K'uk'ulkan fluff #K'uk'ulkan imagines #K'uk'ulkan imagine #namor x reader #namor oneshot #namor oneshots #namor imagines #namor angst #K'uk'ulkan angst

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lyre-akuma · 2 years

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[Corpse Husband x OC]Time will finally heal -Chapter 1-

This is a fanfiction of Corpse Husband :) Thanks for your watching!

It all starts with that raining afternoon.

Corpse stretched and took off his eye patch, it is 4pm and he thinks it is time to get something to eat before doing some music stuff. However, the empty refrigerator shows that he must go to the grocery store later. He dress up, take his mask on and leaves his apartment.

It is a little bit cold outside. The wind is so strong that he can barely hold his umbrella. It didn't rain a lot, but the wet feeling of his clothes sticking to his body irritated him. Luckily, because of the rain, almost nobody is walking on the street, and the umbrella block the sights from nowhere.

When he come back, its already around 7pm. The night has fallen from the sky. He put away his umbrella and walk inside the building. Then, he saw a young lady holding a huge cardboard box, waiting for the elevator.

She may have recently moved in. Corpse thought.

Not waiting for long, the elevator comes. They walked in together, but only one of the lift buttons was pressed. Corpse is a little bit surprised, for such a long time, his floor have no new renters. It is obvious that the girl has the same feeling as well. but because of some tacit agreement, neither of them spoke.

The silence spreading among the tiny space, making Corpse feeling a little awkward. But for him, it is so hard to start a conversation. For now all in his mind is just totally blank. He pretended to glance at her carelessly, luckily, because of the cardboard box Corpse could not see the girl's face clearly, but he still sure that she is a petite lady, and all he could see was a head of beautiful bright brown hair. A hint, if any, of sandalwood aroma surrounded them, causing him to rub his nose.

Finally, the door opened. He saw her walking straightly to the door next to his. The girl also noticed that. She put down the box she was holding, and turn to him.

There he saw, a young lady with her pretty face. She looked a little haggard, but still maintained a polite smile.

"Nice to meet you...I just moved here yesterday, you can call me Penelope, Penelope Thompson." Although there was no physical contact, the face-to-face conversation made Corpse feel a great deal of pressure - especially in the face of a young lady with such decent manners - and he was worried about whether he would be able to do a good job.

"Uh...Hi, you can call me corpse... My friends like to call me that." He added, "I make music sometimes, hope I won't disturb you."

Penelope laughed softly: "Of course, I love music, maybe I've already hear your work somewhere, it feels great to find that my new neighbor is a musician."

Corpse seemed to be infected by her laughter, and he couldn't help but smile a little too: "Thank you for your understanding... Also, welcome, new neighbors."

She politely nodded her head, sayed goodbye, and went into her room. After she close the door, Corpse took a deep breath. It seems like he has to pay attention to his loud voice for a long time.

BUT HE CANT.

When the late night came, he could not control his confused emotions. He could not even control himself; pain and numbness filled his whole body, preventing him from moving. The only thing he could do was to hiss out his resentment and anger, washing his tattered body and soul with tears and roars.

And there's no brightness. He thought.

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse fanfic #corpse husband fanfic #corpse x oc #corpse husband x oc

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beautifulloverwitch · 10 months

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By Fire, Sea and Blood

the untold tale of an approaching collapse

Act I: Chapter twelve: Depravity

Previous ///// Next

Summary: the realm gathers to mourn the death of a child they had long forsaken. As the commit her to ash and quickly send their condolence to the distraught heir, one question lingers in the air, what had happened to princess Daenerys?

A/n: Filler chapter, a lil something before the end of Act I!

_________________

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Daenerys Velaryon (Strong! Oc)

WC: 3.9k

Warnings: Rated +16, Death, Denial, implied rape, religious punishment.

Masterlist

The silent sisters, the strangers' wives.

Stood clad in grey around the charred body of the young princess. Hands carefully adjusting the position she was burnt into, folding her curled hands over her chest, pushing her spine gently down so that it would straighten, adjusting the remaining bent leg to lay down against the cold stone, seeming terribly indifferent to what they were doing, for they had seen every horror left behind by their cruel husband for them to clean.

They began their work, to their fortune it would not be long, for all that was left was bone and shrunken flesh. No organs to pull, nothing to stuff full of fragrant herbs and salts to hide the smell of rot. They placed a roll of hay where her right leg should have been, to make the wrapping part ever so slightly easier.

The tired Rhaenyra stood back as she watched the silent sisters set to work. Her wavy hair cascading down her back and hanging around her gaunt face, donning a mask of defeat with her black robes and velvet headpiece etched with embroideries of red.

They grabbed a long strip of cloth and began at her foot, tightly wrapping it, ensuring it would not slip from its place and making their way up.

Rhaenyras eyes stared at the head, it had been days before she had allowed for the Silent Sisters to begin their work. She did not even move to console her children in the short time since her daughters return. She had spent those days raking the blackened corpse for some inkling of her daughter.

There was not a thread of her chocolate brown curly hair adorning her scalp, no flesh covering her once full cheeks, and no lips to curl up into a smile nor a frown that Rhaenyra would have given anything to see again.

Her gaze moved up to her eyes, or atleast where they should have been. The two inky wells making doubts curl around every nerve that controlled reason, where were her eyes? She would ask herself, as she remembered their glow and their ethereal nature. The flecks of blue and yellow that would shine within the pools of purple in the right light.

This was not her daughter.

It could not have been.

While her daughter glowed, this body absorbed all light around it, a void. A void that called itself her daughter.

This was not her daughter.

While her daughter approached the world with open arms, this body greeted its home with curled ones.

This was not her daughter.

While her daughter's eyes gleamed with wonder, those two hollows radiated a terrible omen.

This was not her daughter.

“Rhaenyra.”

Her eyes fluttered as she drew her attention away from the body, instead landing on the face of the man she chose.

Daemon bowed his head, not meeting her gaze, not ever meeting her gaze since her daughter was returned to her. He was ashamed, for he had failed to fulfil his first promise to her as her husband, the husband she had chosen to protect her to strengthen her.

A certain anger at herself licked at her heart, this is who she had chosen, this is the man she had long longed for, and it only cost her only daughter's life.

She glanced back towards the table back at the body, but now it was wrapped in a beige fraying cloth, tied together by brown leather. There was truly nothing left for her to recognise only a body she was supposed to assume to be her daughter.

This is not your daughter.

“It’s time.”

A tired breath left her lips before she moved away towards the door, without Daemon. He sniffled as she walked past him, paying him no mind, driving the poisoned dagger he impaled into his own chest further.

Her handmaidens patiently awaited her outside, gentle as they fixed her up, brushing away the wrinkles in her gown, tucking stray hairs behind her ears, she had not let them do anything else to her mane.

Elinda, her youngest and newest handmaiden stepped forth as the others all stepped back, her face a mask of sorrow as she pulled the black veil over Rhaenyras face.

They parted a path for Rhaenyra to tread, towards the field where everyone had waited, all the guests she did not recall sending letters to, excusing her from bothering to greet them.

Her children waited at the door with big glassy eyes beyond it. The poor boys received no comfort from their distraught mother and barely any consoling from their now step father.

Their grandmother had offered them and their cousins her shoulder, doing all she could to soothe this terrible grief.

But besides that they had no one other than each other.

They were not told how she had died, a decision of the kindest intention, but it had left them to imagine what horror must have taken the life of their sweet sister.

The sombre and sniffling Jacaerys held his brother close to his side, a sombreness he found difficult to maintain. He knew he needed to be strong for Luke and for Joff, but who was to be strong for him, his sister was gone, his mother was beside herself, he was alone.

Footsteps came from behind him prompting him to look away from the outside and towards the hallway. His breath hitched in his throat as he saw the shadowy silent sisters breeze past, in their arms, the shrouded body of his elder sister.

She was so small, so still, so quiet.

Lucerys sobbed as he saw her, his voice so broken as her name fell from his quivering lips, calling out to her as though she would arise. He moved towards her but his brother's tightening grasp kept him in his place.

Rhaenyra walked behind the three sisters, her red eyes staring blankly ahead of herself, refusing to meet the figure in the arms of the strangers' wives.

“Dany?”

A quiet voice came from her right, she turned to look towards the source, her eyes landed on the curly head of hair that belonged to her son, Luke, how red his thin cheeks were, how deep the lines of his anguished frown had embedded themselves into his young flesh.

Her eyes then landed on the arms around him, trailing up and meeting the startled face of her now eldest child, a truth that tasted bitter on her tongue.

She searched around them looking for the third head of brown hair but it was not there. A space marked where she once stood between her two brothers, a space that seemed so noticeable.

Lucerys sobbed, a fresh wave of tears flooding his still wet cheeks as his sister moved past.

“Luke,” his mother called.

His vision was too obscured to realise the figure to be his mother, she was shrouded in so much black cloth that he had mistaken her for a fourth member of the silent sisters.

He tore himself away from Jace and ran to his mother. His arms tightly wrapped around her waist as he nuzzled his face into her stomach, wetting her dress with his unending tears.

Her hand moved from her side and rested on his head, brushing through his curly locks while she continued to emptily stare at the empty space between her sons. The faint sound of her dragon’s roars outside, ringing in her ears.

Daemon joined her side, hands tightly wrapped around Dark Sister “īlon līs ōregon kostōba gō zirȳ,” We must hold strong before them he muttered beneath his breath to Rhaenyra who snapped her head towards him.

She refused to look at him as he did her, instead nodding in acknowledgement and placing her hands on Luke's shoulders, gently prying him away and lifting his chin up to look up at her. Holding a stiff lip as she saw his face aged by grief “it’s time,” she grabbed his hand in hers, to which he rested his other hand upon as well pushing himself into her side, Frowning and squirming in discomfort at her coldness “Jacaerys?”

Jace looked away from the body as it was set up upon the yet to be lit pyre, his eyes remained agape with horror as he looked back towards his mother who offered him her open hand.

He slowly made his way to her side, staring at the ground as he felt her brush his head before grabbing his limp hand in hers.

A shuddered breath left her lips and she moved forward with her sons in hand, to bid an unwanted farewell.

The sisters descended into a field of stone that overlooked the angry seas. The sky was as solemn as those who had attended, there was no joy in attending the committal of a child. An itching guilt gnashing at their skin.

As they passed the king a shudder of terror past his lips, for he had yet to accept the truth of this nightmare. Tears began to swell within his eyes again for his eldest granddaughter tightly wrapped in fine cloth, lifted to rest upon a bed of wood and wilted flowers.

Alicent refused to look, her wide eyed gaze plastered to the ground as she clenched the star that sat heavy on her chest. Whispers of safe travel for this poor child's soul falling endlessly from her chapped lips.

Her whispers were challenged by the whispers of her disturbed daughter, who muttered beneath her breath a riddle over and over as she swayed around on her feet, knees daring to give way. Seemingly in disbelief of its falseness as she stared at the corpse ahead of her.

“The darkness has called and the seas have roared, to the tides she succumbs and from the tides she will rise, thrice more.”

She searched those words for comfort but they offered her none as the proof of their falseness was laid before her, so she decided to shut her eyes to the truth and trust that it would soon be proven a lie.

Aegon was quiet, uncommonly quiet, he stared at that corpse with trepidation in his eyes.

Beside him was his younger brother. Who stood tall by his brothers side, lips twisting and turning as he battled with his feelings for her.

A twisting hurricane of hate and anguish swirled within him. He was anguished for having lost her, an anguish that denied him having ever come to hate her, but his hate for her kin, her craven brothers and her sorry excuse of a mother. It was their fault she had died, they had not kept her safe, he would even assume they had not treated her kindly. For why else would she have ever left?

He wished that she had come to King's Landing, he wished that she had taken whichever ship headed that way. He would have kept her safe, and if she so wished it, he would have hid her away from her mother if she had come for her.

He had no sympathy for them for what right had they to grieve. ‘Twas their fault, may they suffer for it.

Many bowed their heads respectfully as Rhaenyra and her children passed by cutting through the field of umbrellas as they made their way to the front.

Syrax’s cries grew ever louder at the sight, crying out to the child that lay still and unmoving. Her song planted fear and sorrow within those who were around to hear it, some winced at how familiar it sounded.

Lances neck ached as they passed by, his chin touching his chest as he bowed his head, standing beside his father and brother. He discarded his armour for a change of noble black robes, lined with yellow.

Rhaenyra stood ahead of her father, paying him no mind for she was too focused upon the unlit pyre. Preparing the word to fall from her tongue, but it seemed as though her mouth went dry the closer she had gotten.

The king frowned with worry as his daughter walked past. Glancing down to the two boys at her side “Jacaerys, Lucerys, here my boys, come here.”

The two sniffled as they looked his way before glancing up to their mother who squeezed their hands assuringly before letting them go, to huddle around their downhearted Grandsire.

Two more steps and all behind her had disappeared from her sight, leaving her feeling alone as she stood before that body. This felt all too familiar to her as she squirmed in her place, only now she had not her father to blame, only herself for this.

She swore she could still here her yells, her shouts, her anger but it was all in her head.

What she would give for that corpse to rise and yell at her with her daughter's voice, prove to her that this was her daughter.

But no such confirmation would arise from it and hence, it made her next action so much easier.

“Dracarys,” she commanded her grieving dragon.

Syrax was reluctant to obey, turning to look towards her rider, croaking at her, as though she were advising her not to, to not turn what was left of her forever to ash.

A furious look crossed Rhaenyras tired face, tearing back her dark veil as she faced her dragon commanding once more “DRACARYS SYRAX!”

Syrax flinched at her command but complied nevertheless, stalking down from the stone hill she had stood on whining as she grew closer to the pyre. A final roar passed her lips before she bathed the pyre in flames, making quick work of turning this already charred corpse to ash.

The stiffness of Rhaenyras face quickly fell as she saw the pyre disappear into the flames. Taking steps towards it, reaching to grasp the ashes flowing about before being smited by the drops of rain pushing them to the ground.

A hand wrapped gently around her arm, pulling her back.

She shook her head as she saw the flames clear, revealing nothing left but a broken and charred pyre.

There was nothing, nothing left, all was gone, she was gone.

Her body began to shake with sobs as she began to curl into herself, her mouth hung open as silent cries fell from her wet lips.

Daemon wrapped his arms tightly around her, keeping her upright, keeping her strong, trying to be the pillar she could lean on when her knees gave way. But nothing could stop the wails that poured from her lips as she cried out her daughter's name, clutching at her rounding belly, that had begun to feel so terribly hollow.

A green little dragon looked curiously about the field as it watched from afar, croaking as a familiar scent reached its snout.

Many had returned back inside, away from the rain as the downpour grew heavy.

Rhaenyra sat beside the hall's hearth, staring blankly into its flames, her face still red with grief and her fingers bruising each other as they tugged at her rings.

Daemon had left to wallow in his failures, finding no strength to stand by Rhaenyra after his terrible shortcoming.

Her sons had long departed her side, instead embraced in the arms of their grandmother, who had taken to comforting both them and their cousins.

Baela and Rhaena were beside themselves, exhausted by all this loss, only months ago they lost their mother and uncle, and now whatever hope they had for their cousin not meeting the same fate was so quickly smited.

In hushed whisper some have into their curiosity and began to speculate what terrible fate the young princess had succumbed to. Some said she was found beaten beyond recognition, the only thing that proved it was her were the shine of purple within her clouded eyes.

Some said she was found discarded in an abandoned house, her face untouched but her body defiled, and her eyes plucked out.

Some were daring and said she was burnt alive, spurned in her attempts to claim a dragon, Aegon would deny having entertained such speculation.

Lance kicked his feet against the ground as he stood beside his father and brother. Still a nagging shame gnawed at him every time he heard a sob fall from one of the Velaryon childrens lips.

His younger brother, Alan, eyed him worriedly from the corner of his eye. He held himself tall besides his much taller elder brother. So that his elder brother would not be mistaken for being the heir to honeyholt.

He bowed his head towards his father “Might I fetch you some wine father?”

Lyman’s eyes fluttered before his face softened “that would be appreciated my boy.”

He gave him a tight lipped smile before grasping his brother's arm and pulling him along to the wine table.

Lance was surprised by the action, trying to pull his arm back from his brother. He may have had height but his younger brother had great strength.

Alan let go once they stood before the assortment of wines, opting for honeyed wine, a favourite of his fathers.

“I know the occasion is solemn, but never would I have expected you to be in such low spirits brother,” Alan remarked as he poured three cups, offering one to his brother before taking one for himself “It has been a terribly red and wet spring this year.”

“A child has died Alan, tis not something to be pleased with,” Lance chided.

Alan raised his hands in the air “am I jumping and hollering?” He sardonically asked his brother “I am empathetic, I understand the weight of such a loss, but you, you’re acting as if you knew the princess.”

Lance squirmed, looking down at his cup as he recalled that night, feeling sick as he recalled the sound of her leg crumbling beneath his foot.

“I was one of the many that were appointed the duty of finding her,” he quickly excused, twas no lie “I am only dismayed that we had not found her sooner.”

Alan pursed his lips at his brother, resting a hand on his shoulder “You’ve been appointed an impossible task brother, for in no way does a girl survive a world like this alone,” he explained, trying to meet his brothers avoidant gaze “as bad as this may sound, I am thankful for your failure in your search, gods know I am not ready to mourn you and father yet brother.”

Lance felt a cold roll through him as he recalled hearing what had become of Mychael, felled by the hands of the Rogue and cruel Prince. Face caved in by his own helm. Lance swore he could still smell the coppery blood that had seeped and dried into the floor's surface.

“Why father and I?” he frowned as he asked, trying to forget the terrible fate of his superior.

Alan did well to hide his chuckle “Gods know his old heart would not be able to take it.”

A weak smile cracked the sombre expression on Lance's face, bowing his head as he shook it.

Alan smiled at his brother, happy to see him smiling. He then hesitantly offered “I will be returning to Honeyholt after this, I had hoped you would join me, there is a place for you at my side, as my guard if you so wish to keep your sword and armour.”

Lance pondered his brother's offer, before recalling a task he had yet to fulfil “as thankful I am for the kind offer, I’ve still much to do here.”

Alan frowned, dismayed by his brother's answer “what else do you have to do?”

“Tis a difficult task to explain,” Lance said.

Alan breathed out a heavy breath through his nose, worry etched upon his brow as he whispered “tis not safe for you here, the dragons thirst for a toy to play with, and knights seem to be their favourite.”

Lance frowned, he would not deny the inkling of fear that had existed within him, but it was not enough for him to forget his mission. One appointed to him by the very man, who he owed his life to. He took his fathers cup and left his brother to continue his protests behind him.

Alicent moved through the ground, the desire to leave this suffocating room growing so great. She felt the room's judging eyes bore into her as she lifted her seventh cup of wine to her lips. Her composure fraying at its seems as she shrunk beneath their stares.

Do they know? She would ask herself, do they know of my prayers, do they know of the vengeance I had pleaded from the father?

A sudden breeze came from beside her and she froze, feeling the discomforting presence of a looming Larys.

“Such tragedy…” he spoke, a note of pity in his often unnerving indifferent voice “such potential… wasted,” he went on, pursing his lips as he reminisced “she was a favourite of my late brother’s.”

Alicent tensed shuddering as she felt her hands go cold, downing another gulp of her wine to feel some warmth.

“I can only imagine what must have happened…” He nonchalantly trailed off playing with the handle of his staff.

Her eyes snapped to look towards him, a shuddered breath leaving her parted lips as she recalled their ominous exchange on the ship returning from Driftmark “you didn’t…”

He frowned, as though offended. “I would do no such thing my queen, your wishes have not lowered themselves to such depravity.”

Depravity, that word had nauseated her.

He watched her face pale, tilting his head credulously as he asked, curiously “have they?”

Her head began to vigorously shake in denial, before quickly making her way back to the kings chair “I shall retire to my chambers for the evening, my king.”

He frowned as he looked up at her, disappointed that she had yet to approach Rhaenyra to express her condolence, he waved her off.

She was quick to leave that room, tears flooding her eyes as she felt Larys’s slimy gaze follow her out of the room.

She felt disgusted.

She ignored the worried look from Ser Criston as he tried to keep up with her as she rushed to her rooms.

Entering she saw her ladies in waiting and roared for all of them to get out, tears already beginning to streak down her face.

She slammed the door behind them and fell against it. Sinking to the ground as she began to sob and cry. She was not depraved, she was a woman of faith, she would wish no such harm to befall a child.

Her palms began to bleed as they gripped the star on her chest tightly, the point of the father, the mother, the maiden and the stranger all piercing her palm. A punishment she would happily take if it would allow her to atone.

Taglist: @takemetotheweirdness @grungegrrrl @paininmyasgard @deadunicorn159

#House of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #aegon targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond x oc #alicent hightower #dragons #helaena targaryen #hotd #Rhaenyra Targaryen #daemon targaryen #viserys targaryen #otto hightower #aemond targaryen x reader

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janksfatass · 7 months

Text

Pt. 1

Warnings: Tumultuous marriage, nothing spicy… yet.

Word Count: 1700

F!Reader x OC, F!Reader x Jake

Plot: Reader is in a loveless marriage and attends a charity event at a mansion for her husband’s new job. She decides to explore and ends up meeting the owner of the home. He then takes her on his own tour. Was she getting in over her head?

“Y/n what the fuck are you doing? We were supposed to leave 10 minutes ago!”

You sit up from fastening your heel and take a deep breath before responding, “I’m coming down now!” You grab your clutch off the bed and take one last look in the mirror to preen and check for any imperfections.

Tonight was some sort of charity ball that your husband was invited to by his coworkers at a new consulting firm. You had met Steven in college and from the beginning your relationship was never built on passion or love but rather logic. He was smart, getting a degree in something admirable and not to mention easy on the eyes. After graduation you had the picture perfect wedding and bought a house with the proverbial white picket fence. That was a year ago. Now your days mostly consist of going running your boutique and coming home to make dinner (which you more often than not eat alone). Then winding down with a glass or two of wine and your trusty rose. Sex wasn’t really a component of your marriage anymore. With Steven’s long hours you hardly spent any time together at all and when you did it was mostly spent screaming at each other. This isn’t the life you had pictured for yourself at 25 but it is what it is.

You make your way down the steps and there is Steven waiting for you in his all black suit with a silver mask covering half of his face.

“Let’s go, we're already late.” He grabs your arm and practically drags you out to the car that’s been waiting on you. You wince at his touch, “Why is it so important that we’re exactly on time anyways? Isn’t it just a party?”

“It’s not just a party, it's THE party. Everyone important will be there and it’s a prime opportunity to network, you couldn’t possibly understand.”

“Ok then…” you climb into the car and place your clutch in your lap.

The ride there was uncomfortably silent but not unusual. Steven pulls onto a side road that leads up a mountain. The road begins as gravel and then becomes paved about halfway up. At the very top sits a large white brick mansion with black trim. The mass of a driveway is lined with Bentleys, McLarens and the like, meanwhile you’re sitting in a 5 year old Mercedes C class.

“Who’s house is this?” You ask.

“Don’t worry about it, come on.” He grabs your hand and leads you out of the car up to the double doors which are being guarded by a large bald man.

“Password?”

“Luna.” Steven replies in a semi hushed tone.

The man opens the doors and you both walk inside. You’re greeted by a massive foyer with a double staircase that looks like it belongs in a vampiric film. The interior of the home almost takes your breath away. Charcoal walls, black marble floors, silver accents adorning the room and crystal chandeliers half the size of your car hanging over your head.

Soft jazz is coming from a room nearby. You follow Steven to the ballroom where you see about 200 people. Some standing in groups talking and some gliding with one another across the floors.

You turn to Steven,“Can we get a drink?”

“You go ahead I’ll be over here.”

You roll your eyes and make your way to the bar. You greet the bartender, “Hi, can I get a glass of champagne please?” He acknowledges your order and you turn around to scope the room. Middle aged men and their too young wives. Decrepit Vanderbilt types that resemble walking corpses. The amount of money in this room could probably end poverty for the whole country. Doctors, lawyers, philanthropists, businessmen, and a few that you wouldn’t be shocked if they were involved with organized crime, all mingling amongst each other.

You finish your drink and spot your husband across the room and walk over to him. He continues his conversation as though you weren’t even there, not even taking a moment to introduce you. After 20 minutes of conversations about new businesses and architecture, you grow increasingly bored.

“If you’ll excuse me.” You give the group a polite smile and nod then go back into the foyer to ask the doorman where the bathroom is.

“Up the stairs, to the left and then it’s the first door on your right.”

You walk up the staircase and enter the bathroom. You’re immediately drawn to the giant mirror encased in an ornate frame of delicately carved flowers and foliage. Jesus this guy is ridiculous. As you sit, you look around and your mind starts to drift thinking about what kind of man would have a home this extravagant. ‘He probably has a trophy wife with big fake tits and a bbl. Maids and chefs to do all the work while she sits and looks pretty. What a fucking dream.’ You finish up and wash your hands. When you re enter the hallway you decide to explore a little. Steve won’t even notice you’re gone honestly.

You begin to peek into the rooms down the hall, noting the spacious bedrooms and also a theater room. What really grabs your attention is the study. You step into the room and the walls are top to bottom shelves filled with books. You notice a few familiar names, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, The Alchemist, etc. You walk around the desk and see out on the balcony there’s a small seating area and a large telescope pointed at the sky. You step outside and begin looking through it, searching for constellations.

“Lovely night isn’t it?” You jump at the raspy voice coming from behind you and quickly spin around.

“Y-yea it is. It’s very clear tonight. Not a cloud in the sky.” Your throat is dry as you eye up the man.

He’s small in stature but appears fairly sturdy nonetheless. The top half of his face is covered with a black mask but you can see a neatly trimmed mustache sitting above his heart shaped lips. His long hair pulled back into a bun. Very well dressed. Donning a gray suit. He has on black button down with what appears to be only the bottom two buttons secured, revealing a smooth chest that he’s decorated with a few necklaces that hold coin pendants. He has an Italian leather belt around his waist that matches the loafers on his feet.

“This is my second favorite room in my home. Especially on nights like tonight.”

“This house is YOURS?!” You choke out.

“You seem surprised. Why?”

“I guess I expected an old crusty bastard to live in something like this. Something so… over the top.”

“Well that’s one thing about me. I tend to have a habit of enjoying the more lavish things this life has to offer.” He takes a sip of what appears to be whiskey in his glass.

“I can see that… You said this is your second favorite room. What is your favorite?”

“I could tell you.. but I think I’d rather show you. Would you like a tour?” He asks and you notice he’s now returning the favor of eyeing you up and down. Seemingly taking a few extra moments on your curves and specifically the neckline of your dress that cuts just below your sternum.

He extends an arm towards you. You look down at his hand as you reach for it. The voice in your head is screaming at you. Telling you that you shouldn’t go with this stranger but there’s something about him. Something Alluring... Dangerous... Sinful even. ‘Fuck it.’ You place your hand in his and instantly electricity shoots through you. It feels as though you’ve just sealed a deal with the devil himself.

He walks you through the maze that is his home, showing you a billiard room with a bar, an indoor pool, his office space, numerous guest rooms and finally, the master bedroom. Each space was decorated in a way that you’ve come to realize is very on par with his personality. Dark and luxurious. His bedroom was no exception.

He lets go of your hand and snakes his arm around you with his hand resting on your lower back. His thumb gently strokes your exposed skin. He guides you through the doorway and flicks the light switch. The room illuminates in a red glow. In the center of the room sits a four post bed with an extravagant wrought iron headboard. You notice above the bed, there’s a circular mirror on the ceiling. ‘Strange.’

“Why is there a mirror up there?” You question innocently.

“Why do you think there’s a mirror up there?” He gives you a look that immediately connects the dots in your brain and you feel your cheeks begin to flush.

“Oh right... Naturally. Okay.” You feel your throat becoming dry once again.

“Well go on, take a look around.”

You follow his instructions and begin to explore the huge room. Another bookcase that reaches the ceiling. His closet could be another bedroom in itself, filled with designer suits and Italian shoes, silk ties and rows of shirts. The bathroom contains a freestanding tub that could probably hold 4 people and the shower about 8.

“Wow. This is absolutely…” You stop yourself as your eye catches an… elevator? You walk over to it and look at him. “Where does this go?”

“The basement.” He replies matter of factly.

“What’s down there?”

“Would you like to see?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Tell me what it is first. Is it like a dungeon or something?” You laugh.

“Well…”

Your laugh instantly ceases.

He smirks at you, watching the wheels begin to spin in your head. He can tell he’s piqued your curiosity.

“Well? Well what? Is it a dungeon or not?”

“Why don’t I show you and you can be the judge of that.”

You stop for a moment to think of what awaits you. “As long as you promise not to murder me.”

“Cross my heart, hope to die.”

‘If I die, I die.’

He takes your hand again as the elevator dings and opens. The inside is wall to wall mirrors. You notice there’s only two buttons. One for his bedroom and one for wherever he’s taking you.

#greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka x reader

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oskea93 · 16 days

Text

✦ It Had to be You: Two ✦

John “Bucky” Egan x OC Gale “Buck Cleven x OC

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and not associated with the real people mentioned from the show. This is simply based on the portrayals of the actors playing these characters. Warning for this chapter: Cursing, mention of death, suicidal ideations.

● If you would like to be tagged, just comment below ●

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“You need to eat something, Carolina – “ My mother’s voice straining. “You’re withering away to that of a corpse.”

The thought of eating anything at this point, especially the pickled beetroot, was enough to make me want to vomit. I moved the spoon around in the liquid, playing with it as if I were still a child. You really don’t feel like eating after watching the love of your life be lowered into the hard, cold ground.

I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m not hungry.” Mother darting her gaze in my direction. “Thank you anyway, Mother.”

I knew her patience with me was starting to wane, her emotions taking a direct hit as well. I didn’t want to do anything – eat, bathe, talk – I just wanted to be left alone and that was killing her to see. My father on the other hand just pushed everything to the side, whispering to mother that this too shall pass. He had fought in the Great War – seeing many of his fellow colleagues and friends shot down right in front of him. He knew the tolls of war and what they could do to someone’s psyche, especially the wives of the soldiers that never made it home. To him, this was a natural part of life. To my father, Gale was taken for a reason that we didn’t have any business knowing. It was his time to go and there was nothing that any of us could do about it.

She took a seat at the table across from me, pushing her greying hair from her face. The air was silent between us, neither her nor I making direct eye contact. She finally broke the ice, clearing her throat before speaking,

“Carolina –“She took a short pause as she gathered her words. “I won’t tell you that I know how you’re feeling right now because I’ve never had to deal with such tragedy, but I can’t stand seeing you act this way, darling.” Tears brimming her lined eyes. “You're love for Gale is something that I admire greatly and I know he was your everything if not more –“I narrow my eyes as she speaks. “But you can’t keep pushing yourself down this rabbit hole of self-neglect and mourning.”

I was appalled – dumbfounded that she would even say such a thing.

“He was you're first love – and while that is important – you are still young, and I don’t want to see your beauty go to waste.”

“I just buried my husband less than four hours ago and you’re telling me that I need to suck it up and go find another man?” My voice low. “Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now?”

She was taken back by my question – her eyes squinting at my argument. “I just want what’s best for you, Ca-“

“No-“ I cut her off. “I’m not gonna sit here and be lectured by someone who’s never been through what I’m going through at this moment.” My voice quivering with anger. “Gale was the love of my life – and I’m sorry if you’ve never felt that way towards Daddy, but there’s no man on this planet that could ever fill Gale’s shoes and there never will be.”

My chair scrapped against the hardwood floor as I jump up to leave. I could hear her calls as I marched back to the bedroom, slamming the door with all my might. The sobs that I had held back escaped as I slid to the floor – my knees curling into my chest as the tears streamed down my face.

I didn’t even cry when they lowered his casket into the ground.

The shock of that being the last image of Gale that I would ever see again sending my body into a hypnotic state. My mother’s words finally breaking the damn open – my anger allowing the floodgates to open…

“You see that soldier over there – “Her painted finger pointing in the man’s direction. “I bet you I can get him to ask me to dance during the next song.”

I rolled my eyes as I sipped on my coke, watching as Brenda and the other girls at the table laughed and flirted with the man in question. He was tall and dark headed – not really that handsome – but that was for her to worry about. Brenda Cogsworth was a girl that my mother forced me to be around. Her mother and my mother had grown up together, becoming friends while our fathers were fighting in the First World War. The Cogsworth family had money, but class was missed with their precious Brenda. She was wild as a stallion, kissing ever boy that looked in her direction. I wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up knocked up or infected by a disease that Penicillin couldn’t cure.

“Why aren’t you putting yourself out there, Carolina?”

Brenda smirked to her friends as she waited for my reply. It was obvious they were teasing - knowing that I hadn’t spoken to a single fella since I arrived. My mother had forced me to come to the dance – telling me that I needed to be cordial – silently demanding that I find a future husband. Initially, I was a very shy person, but I opened like a flower in the Spring once I got to know someone. By coming to dances such as these, I didn’t think I was up to par with the other ladies, such as Brenda and her gaggle of friends. They had bright blonde hair and smooth skin – I had dirty blonde hair and chastity pustules that would pop up during my flow. My mother always made sure I was well dressed but you must have a pretty face, not just a nice dress to get a soldier to notice you these days.

I kept quiet as I watched the man in question smile to his friends before sauntering towards our table. He removed his cap, tucking it under his arm, as he slicked back his already oiled hair. He introduced himself, taking Brenda’s hand in his, pressing a kiss against her skin. The table swooned as they watched the events they had just discussed unfold, quietly celebrating as the solider lifted Brenda was from the table and onto the dance floor. I guess you would call them good friends for being happy for her, but these girls were calculative. They would be happy for you to your front, but their bodies were raging with envy. They all wished they could be Brenda at that moment – dancing away with a soldier that you’d be lucky to see again once the war was over.

“Now he’s a looker.”

I followed the glances of the girls as they watched the man walk towards the bar. He was dressed in slacks and a collared shirt – his blonde hair positioned in a tousled fashion.

They were right – he was very attractive – too attractive to be from around here. I watched as he spoke with another male – his smile big and bright – as he laughed at their words. The girls continued to whisper about him, telling each other to make the first move before someone else decides too.

“If you ladies will excuse me.” I took one last sip before standing up, smoothing down my dress before turning towards the gentleman. I don’t know what had gotten into me – the fact that I was tired of being the butt of their jokes – or the gumption of just trying to find out if I could confront someone of the opposite sex. My mother always told me it was the man’s place to approach for the first time. Make him do the work as you sit back and bask in the attention.

Mother’s rule went flying out the window that night.

I let out a deep breath, my hand reaching out to tap his shoulder. His friends were the first to notice me, grinning at me as the man I had sought out slowly turned around. He was about a foot taller than me – his blue eyes connected with mine.

“Hello –“My cheeks blushing. “I’m Carolina Davies.”

His eyes trailed down my body – his friends snickering as they nursed their drinks. “Carolina?” His voice deep. “Like North Carolina?”

The tone of his voice having a hint of tease, “Yeah.” My confidence starting to slowly deflate as he looked at his friends, knocking into each other as they laughed.

“Not to be a drag or anything, Carolina-“He paused as he stood a little straighter. “But your looks aren’t doing it for me, sweetheart.” He spoke matter of fact. “Sorry if me looking over at the table you were sitting at made you think that I was interested in you –“Another pause. “But I was looking at the girl you were sitting next to – the pretty one.”

I could feel tears welling in my eyes as the shame and embarrassment draped over me. I had just made a complete fool of myself – knowing damn well that I should’ve just kept my butt in that chair.

I didn’t bother saying anything else to him – there was nothing to say to be honest. I just gave him a small smile before excusing myself. The girls I had been sitting with watching the interaction, hiding their smiles as I walked by.

My stride grew faster as I pushed past the dancing couples, needing the immediate feel of fresh air on my skin. I felt like an utter fool – a reject – ugly.

The cool autumn air provided me a sense of relief as my body pressed against the brick wall of the hall. I ignored the glances of those that were entering, wiping away the stale tear that would occasionally drop from my lashes.

“Carolina?”

My eyes darting over to the man standing to the right of me. “Carolina, right?” His smile growing as I looked at him confused.

I nodded, “Yeah?” My voice weary.

He took a step closer – his facial features coming to light as he stood under the singular bulb. His smile started to fall slightly as he ran a hand through his blonde hair. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He shuffled his feet. “Saw what those guys did back there – should’ve never happened.”

Silence struck me – my brain trying to wrap around the words he was saying.

“I’m Gale Cleven.” A twinkle showing in his blue eyes.

“Carolina Davies.” My voice cracking.

His charming smile reappeared causing the theoretical butterflies to migrate around my stomach. He was very handsome – much more attractive than the guy at the bar. “Beautiful name for a gorgeous girl.”

I watched as the birds hopped around the yard – pulling the early worm from the soggy ground. The weather mimicked my mood – dark and grey – the sun disappearing the morning of Gale’s funeral. It had been over a week – a long week – full of sympathetic gestures and “I’m so sorry for your loss” sentiments. I had sent my parents away two days ago – no longer able to take their constant supervision – hiding sharp objects and medications so I wouldn’t harm myself in anyway.

I constantly thought about it though.

Just a flick of the blade one right way or a handful of the right pills – Gale and I would be reunited, and the worries of the world would dissipate. I could never get the gumption to do it. I was positive that Gale was looking down on me – just the way the wind would blow a certain way – or a red cardinal sitting on the fence that sat in front of the kitchen window. He wouldn’t want me to reach that level of despair. He would want me to go one and be happy, but it’s hard to do so when your heart is breaking into a million pieces. It’s hard to remain happy when lying in bed, reaching across to the spot where he once slept – the sheets cold – the empty void of waking up alone every morning.

The distant sound of a truck pulled me away from my thoughts – the familiar black Ford kicking up dust as it came closer. I let out a sigh, pulling Gale’s shirt tighter around my body, hiding the thin lace of my nightgown from John’s view.

“Morning, Carolina.” His gruff voice sounding as he removed himself from the driver’s side.

I stayed silent – rolling my eyes at the sight of him. I had gotten rid of everyone except him – John was like a piece of lint that just kept popping up – no matter how many times you swept – he still lingered long after.

My eyes glanced over as he walked to the back of the truck, pulling two suitcases from the bed. Worn leather and seeing better days, he placed them on the wooden steps. “Good to see you getting some fresh air.”

Pushing out of the rocker, I retreated into the house, the screen door slamming against the frame. Muttered words slipped past his lips; his boots heavy as he followed my direction. I had made myself a pot of coffee earlier, forgetting about it until reaching the kitchen. Pouring the dark liquid into my cup and the rest down the drain, not up to sharing with the likes of John Egan. I took a seat at the table – our eyes connecting over the coffee cup as he entered the room. Silence blanketed the room as he leaned against the counter, his gaze focused on the backyard.

“Why are you still coming around?”

His neck turning – our eyes meeting once again. “Pardon?”

Sitting up a little straighter, Gale’s shirt opening slightly as I moved. “I said –“My tone low. “Why are you still coming around? He’s dead and gone – your services around here are no longer warranted.”

“And what services might those be?” His jaw clenching.

A loud sigh blew through my nose, “Those of the mighty hero – the devoted friend – the courageous major who led his team out of the trenches. Only thing –“ I paused. “You weren’t brave enough to take the bullet yourself, letting your dear friend, Buck, take the lead instead. That’s a real heroic act if you ask me, Mr. Egan.”

The words dripped with venom – John’s eyes burning with utter rage as the room acquired a deafening silence. His diaphragm moving at a rapid rate as the anger coursed through his body – his fist balled together as he resisted the temptation to start swinging.

I struck a nerve – Gale’s death was the nail that was hammered into John’s figurative coffin on the daily. The thoughts of seeing his friend being shot down – only following his commands to go over the wall to a hopeful escape. Seeing Gale’s lifeless body lying on the snow-covered ground as blood seeped from the open wounds – John deserved to see that every time he closed his eyes.

“I never claimed to be a fucking hero, Lina.” His voice thick with emotion.

I rolled my eyes at the mention of the nickname he had given me. Crossing my arms in a defensive motion as he stepped close to where I sat.

His knees cracking as he crouched down, his blues level with mine.

“You think hiding behind this hateful wall is gonna make you feel better? Sayin hateful things to the people who are just trying to help you?”

My eyes narrowed.

“Get off your high horse, little girl. Your husband was my best friend – the only person that kept me going during those God-awful days at that fucking camp. You think you’re the only one hurting – honey, you don’t even know the half of it.”

Our faces were centimeters away – his eyes searching mine for a reaction.

Kicking my leg out as I stood, I bumped purposely into his body as I retreated to the front entrance. His bags still sitting by the door – no reason at all why they should even be in the house to begin with.

Taking each case in my hands, kicking open the screen door, I haphazardly tossed them into the muddy yard – a smile forming as they landed with a splash in the dirty water.

The thunderous sound of his footsteps met my ears, his jaw slacked at the sight of his things lying in the yard.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I couldn’t help but laugh, watching as he raced down the steps, pulling the leather out of the puddle, water dripping as he held it away from himself.

It was the first time I had laughed since the news of Gale’s death – coming at the misery and expense of John Egan.

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techs-goggles9902 · 2 months

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Two Souls Entwined

Part 2 Captain Rex x oc

A/N: Im back! Told you I would be posting this week. Open to criticism!! This isn’t my best work, so FEEL. FREE. TO. CRITICIZE!!!

Word count: 1133 (I know, I went overboard)

Niva watched as her buir fought for his life; kicking, biting, punching, anything to defeat the enemy Mando. Both Mandos fought without their helmets, since they were kicked away by their opponent.

The pair tousle around the mud, in between the bodies of the fallen. Niva’s friends, comrades, and her family. All gone within a matter of minutes, all 50 have died to the hands of this white and red armored Mando and his lackeys.

I can’t watch him die… Niva gasps and remembers her buir gave her a small modified handheld Verpine Shatter Rifle for her birthday last year. Her newest birthday present, the little silver necklace, slaps against her collarbones as she scrambles to find her duffel bag.

Her birthday was last week, but was she really going to tell him that? She rummages through it, tossing her clothes aside, and finds the blaster tucked between her book and her helmet, wrapped in a shirt.

Her armor was too big for her, and they haven’t gotten a chance to reforge it, so the armor is neatly stacked in her duffel bag. Niva checks the charge on the blaster.

Thank the Maker, it’s full.

Sliping the barrel of the blaster ever so slightly through the tent flaps, Niva closes an eye to aim better. Through the scope, alining her crosshair to hit the Mando, she tries not to hit her buir, but it’s so hard to find an opening when they’re both thrashing around in the mud.

Three… two… dead.

She pulls the trigger, the blast is nearly silent as the blaster bolt leaves the barrel and into the Mando’s neck.

That’s the good thing about Niva’s clan of Mandalorians. They don’t miss. The Mando falls to the ground with a muffled thud, the sludge making a squelching sound as he lands face first in it.

Niva gasps, holstering the Verpine and dashing out of the tent, her curls flying in the wind behind her. Her boots are covered in mud as she runs down the hill, sliding the last few yards on her knees towards her buir.

The adrenaline ebbs away, the urge to fight is slowly drowned out by the pain of his injuries. He’s beaten to a pulp and can barely lift his head. Blood runs down his nose and into his mouth, there's an arch on the bridge of his nose that shouldn’t be there.

“Ad’ika…” his words are slurred as he tries to bring his bloodied hand to Niva’s cheek.

“Buir…” Niva takes his hand and gently holds it in her lap. Bodies are everywhere, not just her allies but her enemies, the red and white armored Mandos. She doesn’t have to check his pulse, scan him, or even look at his injuries. He’s dying.

“Nami… She called for… The distress beacon…” He rasps, coughing up blood onto his chest plate. Nami was one of Buir’s closest friends; Niva searches the land for her and finds Nami’s corpse lying face down in a small pond, the water now stained a muddy crimson.

Niva’s lip quivers and she bites her cheeks to keep from crying. She’s aware of the extent of her father’s wounds and she knows that when his deadly grip on her slowly ceases, her buir is dead. Her shoulders shake as she drops her father’s hand gently. Sobs rack through her small form.

He’s gone. He’s dead…

Like many children who went into battle with their buirs, Niva always prepared for the worst. But no matter how many times she rehearsed this moment in her head, nothing could prepare her for it to really happen. Cabur Veen, one of the most well known war heroes of Mandalore’s recent history, is dead.

But he was more than a hero. He was a father of three, a husband, a friend, and a son.

Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Not gone, merely marching far away… Right, Buir? You always told me so…

A small rustle from behind her causes Niva to turn around. Letting out a small gasp, her fingers tighten around the Verpine but it’s too late. The red and white armored Mando, who should be dead, is pointing his blaster at Niva.

No… No, he shouldn’t be-

Bang.

Thin tendrils of smoke travel from the barrel of the blaster and up towards the sky.

The blaster bolt hits Niva right in between her collarbones, knocking the air out of her lungs. As her body falls limp onto the mud, the Mando’s does as well, and he’s actually dead this time.

Her vision blurs as her chest heaves for air, tendrils of smoke curl upwards out of her chest. A burning pain sears into the delicate skin and fragile bones, the smell of charred flesh and carbon find their way into her nostrils.

I’m dying… Aren’t I, Buir? She coughs, crimson droplets of blood flying past her lips. One more deep, shaky breath, and Niva’s vision fades completely.

Kal Skirata never expected to be sent to this camp. The Chaabar aren’t a clan to mess with, so there wasn’t a good reason for a distress call to find its way on the comm channels.

Running a hand over his close cropped hair before sliding his buy’ce on, Kal lets out a nervous breath. The hum of the ship’s engines was the only sound apart from the breathing of the 25 Mandos seated around Kal.

“You think they’re all right?” A Mando from his right asks, nudging his elbow gently.

Kal shrugs, “Doesn’t matter what I think. Cabur’s in danger and he has his kid out there…”

“Well… He’s Cabur Veen. He’ll be fine!” The Mando smiles from beneath his buy’ce, thrusting his fist in the air.

Oh, how wrong could he be? Within moments, the ship lands on the muddy terrain of the Chaabar campgrounds.

“Oh, wow… There was a massacre…” One Mando says.

“Aw, Nami… I knew her.” Another says.

Osik, this is terrible. How could another clan do this? Regardless of being enemies, these people had families… Kal weaves between corpses, scanning each of them with his HUD, just to double check they’re dead.

A small lifeform comes up on his scanner, making Kal’s heart rate spike up. It’s… It’s a little girl…

“Hey, I got a live one!” He yells to the others, rushing over to the little girl. A fresh, charred, smoking blaster hole is just between her collarbones. Kal touches his fingers to her carotid artery. It’s pumping, but just barely.

“Hey, ad’ika, can you hear me?” He asks, gently tapping her cheek as one of the medics comes running over. The girl’s eyelids flutter. She coughs, blood splattering all over Kal’s sand colored chest plate.

“Buir…” She whispers.

“No, I’m Kal. What’s your name, ad’ika?”

“N-Niva…”

Glossary & Pronunciation

Chaabar - fear [cha-BAR]

Ad’ika - little one, son, daughter, of any age [ah-DEE-kah]

Buir - dad/mom [BOO-ear] (no gender)

Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum - I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal [Nee soo-COO-yee, gar keer-AH-deesh, nee par-TIE-lee, gar dah-rah-SOOM]

Osik - shit [oh-sick]

Buy’ce - helmet [BOO-shay]

Taglist: @fionajames @sevdidntdie @will-is-silly @hellhound5925 @skellymom

Dividers by @saradika ❤️

#Niva Veen oc by Sha #Sha speaks #star wars #clone troopers #tcw #mandalorian oc #captain rex #captain Rex x oc #Kal skirata #star wars fan fiction #republic commando #two souls entwined

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downtherabbithole-tumbleedition · 5 months

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Momento Mori, Momento Vivere

A Tom Riddle x OC Fanfiction

Remember you must die, so remember to live.

'Til death do we part'. For how long should such a vow be honoured? Through thick and thin, sickness and in health... but what about when her husband turns into the most sinister Dark Lord wizarding Britain has ever seen? What about when death is no longer an option for her?

What if she has to choose between the boy she raised and the man she swore to always love?

(Cross posted on A03)

It didn't take Sabrina long to decide immortality was a twisted, haunting thing. Perhaps the idea of it was appealing; living forever in the prime of your life, an untouched form of art immune to time itself... to be the very thing men waged wars over. But it should have remained an idea, a hypothetical, an untouchable wish. Would she curse such a reality on her worst enemy?

There were perks to it, of course, it wasn't so sought after for nothing. Sabrina remained perfect, pristine, barely a wrinkle in sight, her hair as shining as it always had been rather than painted white by the cruel truth of time. Those around her spent galleons upon galleons on spells, charms or potions to undo what time had done to them, to reclaim their youth, to appear even a fraction as young as she did.

A fickle and vain thing, perhaps, but she had wondered many times if she would shatter on the inside if her beauty was stolen from her. It wasn't something she had always had, certainly not gifted to her from birth... People who have been beautiful their whole lives do not know what it's like to be unwanted, so they have no fear of being ugly. But when good looks are gained through age, one grips onto them to the point of claw marks.

But no mortal set the world on fire for youth, no, they wanted to evade death himself.

That was the point, wasn't it? The only reason Sabrina was immortal was because someone decided they couldn't bear to see her die; a selfless act, one would believe, but Sabrina knew she was only alive out of pure selfishness, the refusal to grieve her.

Death wasn't evil, he was a gift. Mortals have a lifespan for a reason, after all. There is only so much loss and grief a heart can take before it breaks, perhaps it still pumped blood into her veins and kept her body functioning, but the pitiful organ had died many years before... one too many corpses, few too many smiles. Sabrina had certainly thought she was immune to death, that the news of a friend going cold could no longer pull on her severed heart strings.

But they were so young.

Lily and James Potter had been some of her favourite students - Lily with her brilliance, James with his mischief. Sabrina really did not believe herself to have a maternal bone in her body, but even she couldn't deny the tender spot the two had carved for themselves in her heart. Green eyes, wild black hair... She loved the two like her children.

And they were gone, their souls cast away from their bodies with only a simple green spell, all because of a crazed man and a stupid prophecy. Something she could have prevented perhaps, had she tried hard enough.

So, no, Sabrina did not consider immortality to be a blessing or something worth destroying worlds for, not when she had witnessed every person she had ever loved die or fall to ruin. It was a terrible, inevitable thing - better to not love at all than have your heart beaten and abused.

“Sirius Black has been found guilty of conspiring with the Dark Lord.”

That was just salt in the wound, the blood leaving Sabrina’s face quickly enough to rival a ghost. She’d thought she was going mad when Albus first told her or that he was playing some twisted joke on her, but there was not a trace of humour on the old man’s face.

“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” Sabrina questioned him, tone drowning in disbelief, grip almost tight enough to break the delicate tea cup.

Albus was silent, no longer even sparing her glance - the old man had always been impossible to read but she figured it was either grief or guilt, granted the two often went hand and hand for the puppeteer that was Albus Dumbledore.

Sabrina fought tooth and nail to prove Sirius’ innocence, revealing every card she had available, pulling every trick she ever knew, anything to save him from such a fate. But without Albus vouching for him, it was basically useless.

There was still that horrible feeling in her stomach, that sickening sludge of guilt and mourning - a sensation she didn’t know was possible until Sirius looked at her with those grey eyes, usually so dauntless, laced with tears and fear. He’d wrapped himself around her like a child running to their mother after hearing a scary story, as if he believed she could protect him. She had failed him and lost a third child.

Sabrina didn’t want to see Albus, not after what he’d done (or failed to do), but there was still a question lingering on her tongue. Truth be told, she didn’t want to ask it; knowing would only lead her to complications and remorse, until the guilt inside of her became too much and overflowed to impulsive actions of sympathy.

Still, it had to be asked.

“What of the boy?”

Harry James Potter, only a year old and somehow the catalyst for so much tragedy. But oftentimes a catalyst is never willing to be part of destructive schemes.

Surprisingly, Albus told her the truth about Harry (perhaps that should have been her first sign that something was amiss because the man was hardly ever truthful), but she almost wished she hadn’t known. His honesty had done nothing to ease the growing rage inside of her, only adding fuel to flame.

He didn’t put up a fight when she said she wouldn’t allow Harry to grow up in such an environment, not before she ensured it was safe with her own eyes.

It wasn’t.

On the surface, the Dursley’s seemed like a lovely family. White picket fence, loving marriage, healthy son they spoiled rotten - muggles often examined things at a surface level, leaving well enough alone lest they pry into something ugly. But Vernon and Petunia Dursley held a sinister secret, and it was the screaming baby they left in the upstairs bedroom.

Sabrina wasn’t certain how such a noise didn’t alert the entire neighborhood, but she supposed the eighties weren’t so different from the forties; people swept things under the rug, ignored them unless they were right in their face. Maybe the Dursley’s neighbors willingly ignored the neglected baby boy, or perhaps they did not care enough to hear in the first place.

She lost her breath when she saw him; forest green eyes, hair as black as night… An unforgettable scar that was sure to cause him a lot of harm as he grew older.

Sabrina had promised herself she would finally harden her heart to the world, but how could she when the boy in front of her was innocent to the world, when his only crime was being born? Would she be any better than Albus Dumbledore if she simply allowed him to suffer his entire life?

Having already made up her mind, Sabrina gently cradled the boy, silently promising to never let any harm befall him.

She didn’t know how difficult it would be to keep such a promise.

#harry potter #yandere #tom riddle #hogwarts oc #hogwarts #voldemort #yandere Voldemort #yandere tom riddle #female oc #ravenclaw oc

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biggerbetterbat · 7 months

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WITH YOU [11] WERE YOU AN ADULT FILMS ACTRESS BEFORE?

Daryl Dixon x OC!Charlie Reed

Summary: The group finds a shelter in the CDC. Charlie makes Daryl to play drunk game with her.

Warnings: language, rotten bodies, fluff

Song: Ever Since New York Harry Styles

A/N: Hi :) New chapter, I like it. I feel that maybe Daryl opened up to Charlie too fast...but still it's a good chapter. I can't wait when you will finally see my chapters for season 9!!!!!!! But for now...Please leave a comment and like if you like my work. ENJOY!

WITH YOU ON WATTPAD

It was bad. If she thought that bad was what happened in the camp, then she didn't know how she could name that.

The smell of rotting corpses was almost impossible to bear. With every breath, she was closer to vomiting whatever she had- and she couldn't let little KitKats leave her body that quickly. It was clear that the city tried to fight back as there were barricades and military cars here and there, but it wasn't the scariest part. There were bodies everywhere. Some of them didn't have body parts, and some were covered in blood. And blood was everywhere.

As the flies. Their buzzing was the only thing piercing through the silence.

"All right, everybody. Keep moving. Go on." Shane rushed everyone in a whisper and demanded them to be quiet.

When they reached the door, Rick and Shane tried to open them, but it wasn't working. All they did was make the metal echo through the silence. T-Dog looked around and then looked straight at Rick. "There's nobody here."

"Then why are the shutters down?" Rick asked.

"Walkers!"

"Baby, come on." Lori pulled Carl to her body in a caring gesture.

"You led us into a graveyard!" Daryl insulted Rick and stepped forward ready to fight. Charlie caught his arm quickly as she stood closest to him.

Shane held up his arms trying to calm hunter. "He made a call."

"It was the wrong damn call!" Daryl tried to get to Rick. "You hear me?"

"Just shut up," yelled Shane and stepped between his best friend and Dixon. "Shut up. Shut up!"

"Rick, this is the dead end," Lori said.

"Where are we gonna go?" asked panicked Carol, pulling her daughter closer.

"Do you hear me?" Shane turned to Rick. "No blame."

"She's right." interrupted Lori. "We can't be here, this close to the city after dark."

"Fort Benning, Rick, still an option." a cop said.

"On what?!" Charlie snapped. "No food, no fuel. That's a hundred miles."

"One hundred twenty-five. I checked the map." Glenn corrected her friend.

"Forget Fort Benning," she said again to Shane. "Rick. We need answers tonight, now."

"We'll think of something." he looked at her.

"Come on, let's go," said Daryl and pushed Charlie a little to make her walk towards the cars. "Let's get out of here."

"Let's go please," Lori said to Rick.

"Alright, everybody back to the cars! Let's move!" Shane commanded, ushering everyone to move.

"The camera!" Rick suddenly screamed. "It moved!"

Dale looked at Rick and then at the camera. "You imagined it."

"It moved. It moved." Rick argued, trying to convince everyone.

"Rick, it's dead, man." Shane came back to Rick and tried to pull him to the car. "It's an automated device, man. It's gears, okay? They're just winding down. Now come on. Man, just listen to me. Look around this place. It's dead, okay? It's dead. You need to let it go, Rick!"

When Rick pushed Shane away and hit the shutters again, Lori jogged to him and made him look at her. "Rick, there's nobody here!"

"I know you're in there!" Grimes yelled. "I know you can hear me!"

"Everybody get back to the cars now! Go!" Shane yelled at everyone again as he saw that they were still standing and waiting.

"Please, we're desperate. Please help us. We have women, children, no food, hardly any gas left." Rick begged the camera.

It was chaos. Walkers were snarling, Rick was yelling, Shane was trying to get them to move, and Lori was begging her husband to go. And Charlie was just clenching to Daryl's shirt.

"If you don't let us in, you're killing us!" Rick yelled.

"Come on, buddy, let's go!" Shane tried to help Lori and move his friend.

But Rick was standing still as a rock, looking into the camera. "Please! You're killing us."

Shutters opened suddenly and bright light shone from behind the glass doors.

Rick was right.

Dr.Jenner invited him to his safe zone on the condition that they all go through blood tests, so obviously they all agreed- even though Charlie was sure she would faint because she hated blood tests. The group was careful around Dr.Jenner, who was leading them somewhere and soon they found each other in a big room with machines and huge screens, which they could see in a dim light from the corridor.

"Vi, bring up the lights in the big room," he said and the big room got lit up. "Welcome to Zone 5."

Rick followed him. "Where is everybody? The other doctors, the staff?"

"I'm it," Jenner answered. "It's just me here."

Lori looked around the room, her eyes opened wider than ever before. "What about the person you were speaking with? Vi?"

"Vi, say hello to our guests. Tell them...Welcome."

Hello, guests. Welcome. They heard the computer's voice from heaven.

"I'm all that's left. I'm sorry." Jenner said.

After the blood test that she did everything to avoid, she was rather content with what happened next. When Jenner found out that they hadn't eaten in days, he prepared the biggest dinner she had seen in weeks.

The atmosphere was the same as the night Amy and the others died. They were laughing, and talking and they were old friends again, not strangers who just had to survive again.

"You know in Italy, children have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France." Dale said while pouring wine into the glasses.

"Well, when Carl is in Italy or France, he can have some then," Lori said.

Since the last argument with Lori at the camp, Charlie came up with her own method. Before expressing her opinion about anything at this point, she was asking herself a question: would it be better if I bit my tongue. If the answer was yes, then she was just fisting her hands so her nails were digging into her skin.

It was like that this time. Because Carl probably would never be in Italy or France. He will probably never even live up to the legal drinking age.

But once again. She remained silent.

"What's it gonna hurt?" Rick looked at his wife. "Come on."

He nodded to Lori and she moved away her hand that was covering her son's cup. Dale poured Carl some wine and smiled. "There you are, young lad."

"Ugh." Carl stuck his tongue out, which made everyone laugh.

"That's my boy." Lori nodded. "Good boy," she added while pouring Carl's wine into her glass.

"That tastes nasty."

"Well, just stick to soda pop there, bud." Shane smiled at the kid.

"Not you, Glenn." Daryl pointed at the Asian boy next to her.

Glenn looked at Charlie and then towards Daryl with a dumbfounded expression."What?"

"Keep drinking, little man," Daryl said. "I want to see how red your face can get."

Sophia sat quietly, her small frame barely filling the chair next to Charlie, who was watching Glenn's interaction with Daryl with an amused smile. "They're being silly."

"They are," Charlie nodded.

"It's probably the first time I see Daryl talking so much," the girl said. The woman looked at her with a smile. "Do you ever miss being a kid?"

Charlie considered the question for a moment before responding. "Being an adult has its challenges, that's for sure. So, I guess yes."

"What do you miss the most?"

"My brothers," Charlie answered immediately without giving it much of a thought. "We were very close, when we were young."

"I always wanted a brother," Sophia confessed. "I wish your brothers would be here with us."

"Me, too."

"And I hope they're safe somewhere," she said.

Charlie tried to smile at her reassuring smile and words, but it was hard as emotions cumulated in her. Her face probably looked as if she ate a lemon, but in a warm gesture, Charlie caressed hair of the little girl. Sophia looked up at Charlie with a grateful smile, her eyes shining with emotion. Without a word, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Charlie in a tight hug. Charlie was taken aback for a moment before returning the embrace, her own arms encircling Sophia protectively.

Rick hit his glass a couple times to make everyone quiet. Then he stood up and looked at Dr.Jenner."It seems to me we haven't thanked our host properly.

"He's more than just our host!" called T-Dog.

"Here's to you, Doc. Booyah!" Daryl yelled lifting the bottle up.

And then everyone called after him: "Booyah!"

"So when are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, Doc?" Shane asked, looking at the doctor. " All the...the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?"

"We're celebrating, Shane." Rick looked at his best friend. "Don't need to do this now."

"Woah, wait a second. This is why we're here, right? This was your move." Shane snapped at him, clearly annoyed. "Supposed to, you know, find all the answers. Instead we...we found him. Found one man. Why?"

Jenner looked down at first as if thinking about the answer- how to tell them a traumatizing story in the most approachable way.

"Well, when things got bad, a lot of people just...left." he shrugged. "Went off to be with their families. And when things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted."

"Every last one?" Shane asked.

"No." he shook his head. "Many couldn't face walking out the door. They...opted out. There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time."

Walsh looked at Jenner and narrowed his eyes. That must be his face when he was interrogating people in the past. "You didn't leave. Why?"

"I just kept working, hoping to do some good."

"I'm gonna throw up," said Glenn. Her eyes widened and she was up on her legs, helping him stand up. "Dude, you are such a buzzkill, man." said an Asian boy, facing Shane.

With that, the dinner was over and Jenner offered to show them where they could crash. Charlie took her bag with one hand and with the other, she held Glenn as he was swaying a little. They were following him down yet another hallway.

"Most facilities power down, including housing," said Jenner. "So you'll have to make do here. Couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage if you'd like. There's a rec room down the hall that your kids might enjoy. Just don't plug in any video games, okay?" he leaned in to look at the kids. "Or anything that draws power. Same applies," he turned to face the group. "If you shower, go easy on the hot water."

"Hot water?" Glenn gasped.

She smiled at him as he shook her body slightly.

Charlie frowned as she wanted to step into a room after Glenn. He blocked her entrance explaining that he was sharing it with T-Dog, as Daryl didn't want to let him in.

"Come on, dude." she stomped her foot.

"Next time, Charls," Glenn said and patted her shoulder. "Know it's hard, but you can make it through the night." he teased her.

"Hey, Charlie!" Shane called her name. "You want to share a room?"

"Say, since we're both staying here tonight, how about we share a room? It'll be more fun than going solo."

Charlie's expression shifted from amusement to mild surprise. "Uh, thanks for the offer, but I think I'll pass. I prefer my own space."

Shane shrugged nonchalantly. "Can't blame a guy for trying, right? The offer's always open if you change your mind."

As he sauntered away, Charlie shook her head with a smile, amused by Shane's persistence and relieved that it went so smoothly.

Daryl knew he made a mistake as soon as she entered the room and left her bag, so she could shower. Charlie knocked on his door, asking if she could share a room with him because the only one left was with Shane. He didn't really get the issue, so he just agreed.

And now he was realizing it even more, as she was sitting in her extremely short pajama bottoms and drinking whiskey from her glass. While he was drinking from his glass.

"Let's play questions," she said.

"It seems to me that we've playing that game since you entered that damn car with me."

Charlie rolled her eyes and finished her drink, just to pour herself some more.

"Come on, Daryl."

"But why?"

"Why not?" she chuckled.

He sighed and also bottomed his drink, pouring even more than before, because he knew that he wouldn't get through the night completely sober.

"So you didn't have a wife. So girlfriend?"

"No."

"Boyfriend?" she asked, but when she saw his death stare she didn't need an answer. "Okay, sorry. Just asking. So...how many people have you kissed?"

"Does it matter?"

"No. Like any of those questions." she shrugged.

"So how many have you kissed?" he asked.

"I don't know. Two?" she looked at him. "What? I'm not that easy. I was working, I was busy."

Daryl really didn't want to answer that question and was even more scared of what else she wanted to ask.

"One."

"Was it like the love of your life?" she asked.

Daryl bit his lip, embarrassment going up on his cheeks. "Nah."

"Okay." she shrugged as if nothing happened. "On a scale from one to ten, how good kisser are you?"

"I'm not gonna answer that question."

"Why?" she gasped. "It's a normal question. I think I'm like...eight," she said and looked at him. "No. I'm a nine."

Dixon scoffed. "You are vain."

"I prefer the term confident." she corrected. "So?"

He really didn't want to answer the question, because he felt ashamed. How could he tell her that his first, last, and only kiss was with a girl that Merle paid to kiss him? It was humiliating. Also, it was impossible to rate himself like that.

"Were you an adult films actress before?"

"Why?"

"Because of your questions. You have no shame. Those are private things." he answered. "'Sides your face seem familiar."

Before Daryl realized his words his face already turned bright red. He watched her cheeks puff with the air as she held her breath in. But soon the liquid came through the nose as she started laughing out loud. Avoiding one humiliation he pushed himself in even bigger humiliation.

"Oh, God." she inhaled, whipping tears away. "Daryl, you're the man one of a kind. I was a TV presenter before, that's why my face...seems familiar." she chuckled. "What you were doing before?"

"Hangin' around with Merle and his friends. Doing stupid shit," he answered.

"You were close," she stated more than asked, but Daryl just shrugged. "I was pretty close with my brothers...once."

"Once?"

"My older brother Luke," she said. "He's four years older than me, but we used to tell people who didn't know us that we're twins, because of how inseparable we were," she said, looking in the distance with a smile. "Once we wrote a Valentine to a girl and we signed it with the name of our other brother, Will. The girl was older than him, extremely popular, she was classmates with Luke. She laughed at in front of the whole school, everyone was teasing him for that and he knew it was us. He didn't speak to us for six months and when we all went to the summer camp, he put mud in our clothes so it was extra messy." she smiled. "It was the first time we went on this camp alone, without our oldest brother Finn. Our dad was furious. He grounded us all and the biggest victim was little Pete, who didn't know about anything, but was punished anyway."

She chuckled.

"I miss them," Charlie whispered.

"Your dad seems a tough guy," he said.

"He was. We were never too young for something. He treated us all equally." she said. "What was your biggest dream when you were...seven?"

"Bike," he answered without thinking.

"Mine was a pony. Or at least lessons on how to ride a pony. I asked for it every Christmas and birthday, but all I got was a plastic gun." she said. "When I was older he replaced it with shooting classes."

"Now you can thank him," Daryl answered. "My dad was an asshole, too."

Daryl didn't like to think about it and even more he hated talking about it. Merle didn't give a flying damn about what was happening at home, so he just kept quiet. His childhood wasn't so sweet and his relationship with his brother wasn't so perfect, but he felt the urge to share with her the smallest piece of his nightmare.

"I was running away from home. From my father," he said. "I spent days away in the woods, that's how I learned what to do. If not my asshole father I would be dead already."

She nodded her head. "Did you and Merle have any traditions?"

"Yeah," he said. "First we were getting wasted and then stoned, never the other way," he answered, but she knew he was teasing her, so she kicked him. "Did you?"

"Not really." she shrugged. "I just remember that Billy was singing this one song all the time since he was little. When he was stressed or scared or when he needed to focus, it was this one song over and over again. When we were all living together I was sick from hearing it." she shook her body in disgust. "But we all picked it up and we were all singing it. See now? I can't even remember the song."

He looked at her and nodded. Daryl for the first time saw a human in her, a real person with real feelings. It was also the first time she was sharing her personal stories or memories from before. Daryl was even more curious about her now, he wanted to know more about her.

"Have you ever skinny-dipped?" she asked after a moment.

"Go to sleep," he said as he placed his glass on a nightstand. "You're too drunk."

She rolled her eyes and mumbled something that sounded like you're no fun but did as she was told. Then she looked at him from her place on the bed and looked him in the eye because he actually asked her a serious question."Why you didn't want to share a room with Shane?"

"Have you seen the guy?" she asked. "I don't trust him after the amount of alcohol he drank tonight. And I don't trust him when he's trying to find comfort after losing Lori."

"And you trust me?"

"You're a good man, Daryl," she whispered.

He knew that he was everything, but good. However, he wasn't in a state to argue with that.

"Go to sleep."

"Mmm. Night night, Mr. FunKiller," she said, and in a second she was out.

In his dreams, all he saw that night, was her smiling face, and all he could hear was her laugh. That was a really good damn night.

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#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl the walking dead #daryl dixon series

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