#i have so. much. violence. in me&no where to put it lmao. i want to go home. i miss home so bad. i am so fucking homesick.

[jvzebel-x]

here's an update for all the "tOuRiSm iS fOr ThE pEoPlE" fucks. always remember that the second anyone steps foot on that land in the name of "tourism" or any other haole institution, that is colonizing&that person is a fucking explicit modern colonizer who made the conscious decision to be one and has spent a lot of fucking money on that trip to get their title. only that kine want more of their kin there-- don't pretend that shit is for anyone else.

drop dead of spontaneous combustion specifically, not even the sharks would want that pīlau fucking meat.

#video footage of haole families already in burnt wasteland is so fucking dystopic its almost funny #'funny' in the way of 'i might have rabies bc im foaming at the mouth lol'. bc fuck if i wouldnt literally #rip these ppl to fucking shreds. god bless whoever took the pics&vids bc i couldnt havd held my tongue. #you know we're all fucked when the governor is holding private back-chamber business-only meetings #to decide to open a fire wasteland two months after 1000+ ppl were killed&where ppl are still looking for remains to tourism #&it honestly seems so much less disgusting bc theres literally footage of haole families already disregarding any form of boundaries. #like this is what we've come to lmao. #i have so. much. violence. in me&no where to put it lmao. i want to go home. i miss home so bad. i am so fucking homesick. #i think the next person who responds to finding out im from hawaii w anecdotes of their trip there will probably get knocked out. #like i dont actually think i should be held responsible for that first hit. anything after is fair game tho i guess. #undescribed

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3

summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.

No answer. 

What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.    

“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.” 

They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him. 

The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.

A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.” 

“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”

He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!

“That was fast,” the captor behind you said. 

“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”

“...Quaritch?” 

Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?

“In the flesh.” 

Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”

“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”

The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant. 

This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—

“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”

Silence again. 

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”

Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”

“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”

“Fucking bastard—”

With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.” 

You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!” 

“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”

“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped. 

Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?

Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?”

“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.” 

“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”

“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”

“Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?” 

“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”

“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”

“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”

He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.” 

“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”

“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”

“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?” 

He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”  

“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight. 

“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”

“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”

“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”

“Guys, what’s going on…”

Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.

“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”

“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s.  “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”

Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”

“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated. 

“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!” 

He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”

The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”

And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”

“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”

“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”

It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning. 

“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”

“You’re asking me?—”

The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”

Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”

Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”

“Great title for your autobiography.”

Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while. 

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk. 

Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows. 

The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.  

He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”

All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”

The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.” 

The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”

“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”

“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”

Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.

She nodded. “I know dad.”

He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand. 

Just what was happening? What had you done? 

Eywa, it had to be sky people. 

Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind. 

Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.

You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline. 

(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”

Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.

And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.

“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.

What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)

You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known. 

Think, think! How could you get out of this?

Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought. 

It was mom. 

Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix. 

Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.

But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.

All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you. 

You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off. 

How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up

All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father. 

You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.

Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.

In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point. 

“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”

You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that. 

Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches. 

Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you. 

At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.  

Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”  

His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin. 

“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”

You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’

But you were tired. 

Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life. 

Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word. 

Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain. 

Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right. 

Got an ikran for nothing. 

Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?

But no words were exchanged about it. 

Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone. 

A ticking time bomb. 

Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful. 

And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction. 

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know. 

Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way. 

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”

He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.

The man just didn’t want to talk to you.    

And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety. 

“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”

Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves. 

“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily. 

Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”

You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to.  “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you. 

You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories. 

A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony. 

Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”

When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it. 

Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.” 

“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!” 

“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air?  “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”

Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.

A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry. 

“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”

“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”

But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”

The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.

“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”

Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!

Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”

The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute. 

Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.    

And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.   

It was over.

Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”

Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance. 

Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking. 

And you fulfilled his wish. 

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#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝 #📖: light

[stevie-petey]

episode six: the spy

Steve looks like a kicked puppy as you storm ahead of him and Dustin, putting enough distance between you guys so that you can’t hear their conversion that follows.  “Shit…” “You’re awful with women.” Dustin says, now continuing to walk. He doesn’t bother to follow after you, knowing that you need your space to cool down. “I wouldn’t follow her, by the way. Let her cool off.” Steve sighs, now walking as well, “Yeah, I know.” 

Summary: dustin and steve haggle a butcher, you throw some meat at steve and then have a weird conversation about love, you stop dustin from becoming an incel, and then you wrestle some demodogs like any real woman would. side note: steve is hot protecting the kids.

Rating: general, violence and swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, violence and swearing, blood mention and ptsd mention, weapons, fire, probably more

Words: 17.1k (i fear how much longer these next few chapters become)

Before you swing in: its here !!! god, this chapter was ROUGH. the conversations between bug and steve took many rewrites and editing. i wanted to get it just right, and finally i think im satisfied with where they landed. bug and steve aside, i absolutely loved writing this chapter with the kids. i sincerely hope you guys enjoy, this chapter took blood, sweat, n tears lmao

-

You’re the first to break the silence as you all stare at the hole Dart created in the wall in shock.

An obnoxiously loud yawn escapes your lips, and Dustin and Steve shoot you simultaneous weird glances. You feel your face heat up in embarrassment. “Sorry… It’s been a long day.”

Steve huffs. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Dustin clears his throat before standing up. He wipes off some dirt that got on his jeans and then offers you his hand so that he can pull you up as well. You accept it and stand, your bones a deep, weary type of heavy that only comes from pure exhaustion. 

“Okay,” Dustin begins, and you can already see a plan forming in his mind. “Steve, you’ll spend the night here so that way we can all get up bright and early to start our search for Dart.” 

Steve attempts to argue, but Dustin puts his hand up to shush him and continues with his speech. The older boy throws his hands up in the air and gives you a look of disbelief over your brother’s antics. You stifle a laugh, which he only rolls his eyes at. Steve, whether he likes it or not, will have to get used to Dustin’s… Dustin-ness.

“If he escaped through the tunnel, then we have to assume that there’s an opening somewhere above ground.” Dustin finishes. 

You nod your head slowly, still unconvinced. “Okay, but how do we find him? Better yet, what happens when we do? It took Nancy with a shotgun, my knives, Steve’s batting skills, a ton of fire, and almost dying a bunch of times to take down the Demogorgon.” 

Dustin lets out a tired sigh. “I’ll figure it all out, alright? For now, let’s just get some sleep. Maybe it’ll come to me in a dream or something.” 

“A dream? Seriously?” Steve looks at the two of you as if you guys will start laughing and tell him it’s all a giant joke. Unfortunately, it isn’t. 

Steve spent all last year and most of the summer getting to know you. He’s used to your quips and soft spoken teasing, but Dustin? He’s uncharted territory and you’re secretly relishing in seeing Steve fumble around him. You’ve never had anyone else interact with your brother before, only Jonathan, so this change is odd, but welcomed. 

Dustin pays no attention to you and Steve as he begins heading up the steps, back to your home. Once he disappears, you nudge your shoulder against Steve’s. “You know you don’t actually have to spend the night, right?”

“Ya know, I can’t quite tell if the kid will let me leave or not.”

You laugh. “He’s harmless… Mostly. I promise I won’t let him bite, but I also understand if you want to leave.”

Steve looks away, sensing the undertones of what you’re saying. You’re giving him another out, one last chance to leave and go back to pretending like everything's okay. You wouldn’t blame him, and you get a sense of deja-vu from that night at Jonathan’s. When you tried coaxing Steve to leave, to spare himself from everything he inevitably ended up suffering from. 

After a minute or so, Steve shakes his head. “I’ll stay. You need my help.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say need–”

“Shut up and let me help you, Y/N.”

You sigh. There’s no arguing with him, he’s made up his mind and your truce that you shook on ten minutes ago burns your hand. He’s staying. 

“A ‘please’ would’ve sufficed, but fine.” You link your arm around Steve’s and make your way up the cellar steps. “C’mon, Dustin is probably waiting for us with some new insane plan for where you’ll sleep.”

– 

You know that your mom is safe, off at the other side of town, searching for your dead cat, but it’s still lonely walking into your empty home. Dustin is standing in the living room waiting, but you can see that it makes him uneasy as well. 

Steve follows behind you and takes a look around. When he spots the lumpy, old, sagging couch in front of the window, he frowns. It’s barely bigger than he is, his feet would definitely hang over the edge. “This my bed for tonight?”

“It’ll have to be, unless you want to come snuggle with me in my bed.” Dustin says. 

“I wouldn’t, he kicks in his sleep,” you tell Steve, attempting to make light of the situation. 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he snorts. Then, as if he’s done this a million times before, Steve flings himself onto your couch and his feet do indeed hang over the edge. “Oh, yeah. This will definitely be cozy.”

You wince. “I’m sorry, you’re still free to go home. I completely understand and–”

“Unless…” Dustin begins to brighten up and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Pure horror washes over you; you know that look on his face. He’s scheming. 

“Dustin, whatever is about to come out of your mouth–”

“Y/N has this giant bean bag in her room. Practically takes up the whole space, and, luckily for you, my new friend, it’s Steve-sized.”

Steve whips his head to face you, a curious look on his face. “You don’t say, Little Henderson?”

Both boys look at you, a matching glint of evil in their eyes, and you realize you’re trapped. When did they manage to sync up to make you miserable?

You weigh your options against your morals. On one hand, it’s your room and you and Steve are still warming back up to each other. However, on the other hand, Jonathan has spent countless nights on that bean bag himself. 

Dustin’s right. Steve would fit perfectly. 

Damn him. 

You shuffle your feet, averting Steve’s eyes. “I mean, I guess you’d fit.” 

“You guess? Steve, she’s had Jonathan sleep on that thing like a bajillion times.” Dustin waves his arms out, gleeful that he’s won. “In fact, I think our mom specifically bought it just for him.”

He now steps closer to Steve and eyes him up and down. “I’d bet money that you two are about the same size, so as I stated earlier: it’s Steve-sized.”

“I’m actually taller than him, so…” Steve mumbles to no one in particular, but quickly clears his throat and changes the subject. “And I’d finally be able to see Y/N Henderson’s room? Count me in.”

You blush furiously. He’s getting a kick out of all of this and he’s such a little shit, honestly. You’re not sure why the thought of having Steve Harrington in your room, eager to be in your room, makes your stomach flutter and your cheeks burn painfully. 

Steve sees your blush and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “C’mon, Y/N. It’ll be like a sleepover.”

“You’re far too pleased about all of this.”

“We can pretend to be back at Bookstrordinary. I’ll even stack some books that you definitely have in your room.”

Dustin stands between you and Steve, his face alight with joy and curiosity. “Can I please know when you two became best friends?”

“No, you hid Dart from me.”

“I’m not gonna live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Steve clears his throat, clearly amused by your banter with Dustin but still unsure about everything going on. “So… What do ya say, Y/N?”

You bite your lip and look at him. He’s pathetically too large for the couch, it wouldn’t be fair to just force him to sleep there because of the weird way he makes you feel as if you’re floating yet falling all at the same time. 

Exhaling, you give in. “Fine, but do not touch any of my books in the room.”

“Yes!” Steve high fives Dustin and you roll your eyes at them both. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. It’s late, can we please just go to bed now?”

Dustin sends you a wink, which thankfully Steve doesn’t see. “Sure, sis. Have a good night.”

And with that, probably because he senses you’re about to throw a shoe at him, Dustin flees the living room and runs to his room. As soon as he’s gone, Steve bats his eyelashes at you and playfully teases, “Take me to bed, Y/N.”

You snort, despite how exhausted you are. “Never say those words to me again.”

He laughs and stands up, following behind you as you guide him towards your own room. A part of you feels like you should give him a house tour, but logistically it’d be useless. You can’t imagine that Steve would be over at your house again once the Dart situation is handled. 

You have to remind yourself that there are still roses for Nancy, currently wilting, in the backseat of Steve’s car. 

They’ll work things out eventually, or maybe they won’t, but Nancy Wheeler still has Steve Harrington’s heart. He is her’s entirely. 

Lost in thought, you almost miss the turn to your room and have to grab the back of Steve’s jacket and yank him towards your bedroom door. 

“Hey–” 

“Sorry, my room is here.” 

“You Hendersons are just a delightful bunch, ya know that?” 

“Be thankful you don’t have to meet our mother, honestly.” You fling your bedroom door open and gently push Steve inside. 

As soon as he’s in your room, you watch as he takes it all in. His eyes scan every corner of the room, and you hold your breath as you wait for them to land on the Spider-Man poster he gave you for Christmas last year. 

When Steve sees it, he smiles shyly at you. “I see you kept the gift.”

“Duh,” you walk over to your bed and sit down. “Still one of the best gifts I’ve ever been given.”

“One of?” He asks, tone light but curious. 

Unconsciously, your fingers go to your bee necklace from Jonathan. You play with the pendant and smile softly. “Sorry, Jonathan kinda beat you to it.”

“I figured,” he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable. “I noticed the necklace the day I gave you the poster. Didn’t want to, uh, assume. I guess. But the necklace was from him?”

“It was,” you clear your throat, talking about Jonathan with Steve has always been such a foreign feeling for you. 

Steve seems to be thinking the same thing and starts to wander around your room instead. You silently thank whatever god is up there for giving you the motivation to clean your room earlier that week. Normally you’re a neat person, but ever since Will started showing signs of post-traumatic stress, you’ve spent more time obsessively researching rather than tidying up.

Therefore, there’s still books strewn across your desk alongside some comics. Steve sees a Spidey one and holds it up with a laugh. “He’s everywhere.”

“He is.” You say proudly, now getting up to go into your closet to pull out the blankets and pillows usually reserved for Jonathan.

Steve wanders around some more as you dig through your closet. He lingers in front of your dresser, which holds photos of you, Dustin, and Jonathan. 

“Here,” you hand the bedding to Steve and motion to where the bean bag is. 

He looks up from a photo of you and Jonathan from last year. It’s your favorite of the two of you, he stands behind you in the picture with his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. You’re both smiling widely at the camera, the moment captured by Will because he wanted to try out the camera Jonathan had gotten that summer. 

“You guys are really close, huh?” Steve asks.

You nod, although confused by his question. He spent half the summer with you and Jonathan at your job. You had conversations about your friendship together, but you suppose it’s different seeing the excess of love you have for the boy within your room. Jonathan is everywhere, if you look hard enough, you’ll find him. 

Steve pauses for a second, as if he wants to say something else, but shakes his head and turns towards the bean bag. He arranges the pillows so that they’re flush against the wall facing your bed, which you think is an odd choice, but say nothing. Once he’s arranged the pillows and blankets, Steve turns to you and clears his throat. 

“I hate to ask this, I really do, but I also don’t want to sleep in these jeans,” he waves his hands over his pants, which have always been a bit together than you thought was necessary. “Any chance I could wear something of Jonathan’s?”

You think for a moment and dig through your dresser. “I’m not sure, but if I can’t find anything of his then I think my old camp t-shirt can fit. As for pants, won’t your boxers work fine?”

Steve’s face turns red and he clears his throat once more, speaking in a slightly squeaky voice, “Y–yeah, I guess so.”

He’s stumbling over his words, which makes you pause. There’s no possible way that he’s nervous right now. He’s usually so confident and comfortable around you. Hell, last summer he offered to be your first kiss (by kissing his fingers and pressing them against your lips, but still). 

“Are you shy right now, Steve?”

“What? No!” He scrambles to the other side of the room, putting as much distance between the two of you as he can. 

You raise your eyebrows at him, but your cheeks are flushed as well. “Okay then, whatever you say.” 

It’s painfully quiet after that as you continue looking for something for Steve to wear. You swear that Jonathan has left behind some of his things, and right before you lose hope, you spot a pair of gray sweats and an old The Clash t-shirt of his. 

“Here,” you toss the clothes to Steve without even checking if he’s looking. You hear a crash and know that he, in fact, had not been looking. 

“Gee, thanks.” He says sarcastically, but you giggle. 

“No problem,” you begin to gather your own pajamas before pointing towards your door. “There’s a bathroom to the left, down the hall. You can change there.” 

“Then our sleepover can commence?”

You wave him off, but you smile anyway at his question. You missed his boyish charms. “Sure, buddy. Go change.”

Steve salutes you and then leaves the room, softly closing the door behind him. You change while he’s gone and tie your hair up. After a few minutes, you assume Steve has had enough time to change and make your way over to the bathroom so you can brush your teeth. You’re so excited to go to bed. 

However, the door is closed when you approach, meaning Steve is still changing. You knock on the door, “Are you almost done in there?”

“I’m having… problems.” 

Your hand hovers over the door, mid knock. “Problems?”

There’s only silence for a moment, almost as if Steve is contemplating elaborating. Finally, after several seconds, he says “I’m definitely taller than Byers.” 

You roll your eyes and begin knocking again, just to annoy Steve, until he finally swings the door open. Before you can even stop it, a loud laugh escapes you. The sweats are at least five inches too short on him, while Jonathan’s shirt is a size too small. He looks absolutely ridiculous. 

“It’s not funny!” Steve whines, his face once again red. “I thought you gave me Jonathan’s clothes, Y/N!” 

More laughter escapes you, making your ribs begin to hurt. Every time you try to speak, you laugh even harder, and it’s impossible for you to get any words out. Steve watches, not amused in the slightest, and crosses his arms as if to appear more dignified. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage to gasp out, more laughs threatening to spill from you. “I guess they’re clothes from when he was fourteen.”

“I’m reconsidering our truce from earlier.” 

This gets you to stop laughing, and you gasp and smack Steve’s chest. “You wouldn’t dare!”

He sighs, hanging his head low. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly,” his admission makes you giddy. “Now, either make yourself cozy in the bean bag or watch as I brush my teeth. Your choice.”

Steve shrugs and steps to the side so that there’s room for you to enter the bathroom. It’s a tight fit, but he ends up sitting on the edge of the tub and just watches as you begin the process of brushing your teeth. “I didn’t actually think you’d stay, ya know.”

“I know, but I’m bored and you’re here.”

You spit into the sink. “Fair, I guess.”

“Plus,” he picks at his nails, trying to look disinterested while wearing Jonathan’s too small clothes. “We still need to have that talk.”

You pause, toothbrush hanging from your lips as you stare at Steve, wide eyed, in the mirror. Honestly, you were hoping he would’ve forgotten about that. It’s not that you don’t want to know whatever he has to tell you, but you’re tired and still reeling over the fact that he’s spending the entire night in your room. 

“Oh, right.” Turning the faucet off, you finish brushing your teeth and awkwardly wipe your face. Steve watches quietly, and once you’re done, you motion for him to follow you back towards your room. 

As soon as you’re back in your room, Steve immediately curls himself upon the bean bag and brings the blanket all the way up to his chin. Dustin, as always, is right: the bean bag truly is Steve-sized. “Cozy.”

You laugh at him as you crawl into your own bed. “Yeah, I’d hope so. Jonathan has slept in it for years now.”

“Well, uh. Speaking of Jonathan…” Steve sits up a bit so that he can properly look at you. “I wanted to talk. Ya know… About you and him. Nancy, too.”

He pauses, furrows his brows, and then adds. “Actually, I want to talk about what really happened this summer. Everything. I want to know everything.”

“Everything is a lot,” you dodge, turning away from the boy. 

Steve sighs. “Y/N… I missed you.”

Missed.

“I want to be friends again, be how we were before, but… I don’t know. There was a lot unsaid between us. Even from the start. I mean, I understand. I do.” His eyes never leave yours, despite how much you try not to look back at him. “You’re, well–If we’re going to be friends again, I want to start from the beginning.”

“The beginning?”

Now Steve is the one who looks away. “I don’t know, it’s stupid, I guess–”

“It’s not stupid, Steve.” You reassure him. He’s trying, he’s inviting you in after everything you did to him, and it’s all you could’ve asked for. 

But you’re fucking terrified. 

You and Steve became close before, sure, but it was something more surface level. An act between the two of you. While Steve was able to read you over time, learning and asking and paying attention to you, there was still so much you never let him in on. What you haven’t let anyone in on, besides Jonathan. 

If you start from the beginning with Steve, someone you know has come to view you as this selfless and kind person, you’re scared that it’ll change the way he sees you. 

But Steve is looking at you from the bean bag, looking ridiculously cozy with the blanket wrapped around him and his usually carefully curated hair has fallen in his eyes; his gaze is open and trusting. There isn’t a pressure behind it, he would understand if you backed down, but you promised him you’d try. 

To try is to be human.

And you really, really missed Steve. 

“I moved here when I was twelve. My family and I had moved all the way from Virginia after the divorce. I remember being really mean, back then. An angry kid with all this hurt within her that she perpetually displaced upon everyone else.” 

“Angry?” Steve asks, his voice soft. 

You shift uncomfortably in bed, but you remind yourself that you agreed to this. If you’re going to begin again with Steve, then he deserves to know the true person he’s befriending. “Angry. I didn’t take the divorce well. At all. I acted out a lot, closed myself off, and was just a fucking awful person.”

Shifting again, you take a deep breath. “My anger got to the point where Dustin, who was nine, had to practically plead with me to be nicer to him. He was a kid.”

“So were you,” Steve gently chimes in, but you roll your eyes at him. 

“Being a kid didn’t give me an excuse to abandon my loved ones like I did. Like my father did. It wasn’t until Dustin called me out on my bullshit that I realized the irony of the situation. There I was, blaming everyone else for my own problems and running away, because I was so hurt by my father doing the same to me.”

Steve clenches his jaw, and you know he wants to say more, but you watch as he exhales deeply and decides against it. “Okay, so you were mean and then you became kind again after something traumatic… So what?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean,” the boy sighs. “I was a dick for like, ten consecutive years. It took losing a fight to Jonathan, embarrassing myself in front of Nancy at least five times, losing my bullshit ‘friends’ Tommy and Carol, and some blonde guy with a fucking mullet before I was even able to become a decent person.” 

You frown. “What’s your point?” 

“My point is that you came back.” Steve shrugs. “The second someone you loved asked you to, you came back to being the selfless angel that you are. Which, by the way, is an impressive feat in itself.” 

He says this as if it’s obvious and that the months you spent hurting everyone around you can be redeemed. As if you haven’t spent every waking hour tirelessly devoting every piece of yourself to those around you to make up for them. To repent for your anger. 

Steve takes your silence as more defiance, and he runs a tired hand through his hair. He’s merely a few feet from you, at the foot of your bed on the bean bag, and yet it feels as if he’s inches yet yards away. “I know I can’t change your mind, but… I think that’s what matters the most in the end, ya know? You became kind.” 

“So did you,” you finally say, not quite ready to accept what he’s saying. 

Now it’s Steve who looks away. “Still working on the whole ‘kind’ thing.”

“Isn’t that what matters in the end?” You tease, feeling yourself warm with pride when you get him to laugh. 

“Touche.” 

Silence falls over the two of you, letting the tension lazily slip away for now. Your body hums with energy; the only other person you’ve told about your father to is Jonathan. You both have long since bonded over shitty father figures. However, even when you had whispered these truths to Jonathan back when you were thirteen, you don’t remember feeling quite so saw and vulnerable as you do right now with Steve. 

“I meant it, you know,” you catch Steve’s eye. “Back when you first drove me home last year. You’re alright. Not too shabby, honestly.”

This time a full body laugh cascades through the boy, He clutches at his stomach as he doubles over, breathless with joy. “Thanks, Y/N.” 

Steve is still laughing and this is the happiest you think you’ve seen him in months. The realization makes all the warmth you’ve felt earlier, vanish. You remember the hurt on his face earlier this week on Halloween, the tears in his eyes when he confessed that Nancy didn’t love him. 

You know how plagued Steve is about never being good enough, and for the first time since you’ve truly gotten to know him: you understand him in that very moment. 

Your eye catches on Steve’s adam’s apple as he swallows. It’s a tragedy, really, how attractive he is. You suppose it’s what caused his downfall, in the end. A pretty boy, rich and popular yet easily able to be taken down; it must be a lonely life with all that vulnerability.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You whisper, voice cutting through the darkness of your room as Steve seems to remember where he is, why and how the conversation started in the first place. 

“Always,”

“I’m scared of the compulsive need I feel to take care of everyone. It’s like… I don’t know, this debt that I feel I owe for existing, for the fear I feel because of my father leaving. I overcompensate for this fear now, terrified I’ll become mean again.”

Steve stares at your ceiling. “The whole ‘debt’ thing, I understand. Believe me. Rather than being a perfect angel, however, I just try my fucking hardest not to disappoint everyone around me and make them leave.”

Nancy, as she always seems to do, lingers between you and Steve now; you both can feel her presence without him having to say her name. He told you what she did to him, you tried to reassure him that it hadn’t been his fault, but Steve isn’t an idiot. 

Nancy never loved him. He knows this, now. 

You don’t say anything, you don’t think he’d want you to. Giving him some time, you allow Steve a few minutes to collect his thoughts, sensing he has more to say. Then, softly, he whispers back to you, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always,” you echo. 

“I just want to be loved.” 

With just one confession, a string of six words in succession, Steve Harrington crushes you. 

The words come crashing upon your chest and you wish you could tell him how easily you see yourself falling for him. How, even if you can’t admit it just yet, you’re already falling for him. You think you have been for some time now. 

Somewhere, in between him driving you home last year and the way the summer sun kissed his face months later, you began to fall in love with him. 

While you’re thinking this, Steve is laying in the bean bag, absolutely terrified of the words that have come out of his mouth. He’s always had the fear, deep down, that he was unlovable, but to admit the fear out loud… He’s never felt so weak before.

You’re silent and Steve thinks he’s finally done it. His pathetic need to be liked and loved by everyone around him has finally scared you away. How couldn’t it scare you away? You so naturally are loved by everyone while Steve compulsively demands it because he’s still that scared ten year old boy with a father who never showed him love. 

Then, because you’re an angel, you give Steve the response he hadn’t even known he needed to hear. “It’s natural to want to be loved. We all do. It’s human.”

He exhales at your words, still staring at the ceiling as if to somehow lessen the impact of what you’re telling him. There’s something there, hanging in the air after your words have disappeared, that Steve can’t quite understand. 

It almost sounded like you were trying to reassure yourself, as well.

“What’s the deal with you and Jonathan?” Though Steve’s voice is steady, you can tell that he’s trying not to sound too interested. 

The question is a simple one, but it’s the hardest question you’ve ever had to answer. Everyone asks you, sooner or later, if you and Jonathan are together. You never blame them for asking, because ultimately the two of you are  closer than the average friends, regardless of gender. 

It doesn’t make the question any less painful to answer, though. It doesn’t make hearing Jonathan’s laugh cut any less deeper.

As for Steve, he’s asked this question before, albeit with teasing and disbelief whenever you’ve told him there’s nothing there. Despite the numerous times you’ve corrected him, he’s never quite believed you.

This time, it feels different. There’s a weight behind Steve’s question, and your silence is all the answer that he needs. “You love him.”

The words aren’t a question, and they harbor no malice. He says them as if they are a fact; you suppose that it is. You don’t say anything, but you do nod your head at him. “I do… I think I’ve always loved him, honestly.”

You’ve never, ever said those words out loud. Not to anyone.

And now, you’re confessing them to Steve, who doesn’t have to ask you why your voice now holds melancholy within it. He knows, he’s always somehow known. Jonathan doesn’t love you, a fact in which Steve has never been able to wrap his head around. He’s watched the two of you for years, how easily you love one another, and yet somehow the love never blossomed into something more. 

Everything stills between you and Steve, allowing both your confessions to surround the two of you. “I’m sorry.”

Steve’s apology only causes you to shrug. “He’s still mine, at least for now. Is that so bad?”

“I mean, I guess not, but… Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

“God,” you squeeze your eyes shut, finally able to voice all you’ve been feeling to someone who can understand. “It feels like this crushing weight upon me every time I see him smile, like it’s a burden, carrying all this love within me without being able to express it freely. I just… I never thought that love could be so exhausting. ”

As the words start to come out, you find that you’re unable to stop. “I grew up with Jonathan, I learned the way he breathes and the way his hands feel pressed against my skin, but so much has changed and…” Your breath hitches. “He’s not someone I reach out to first anymore. It almost feels like I can’t. I love him, I do, but I also miss how it used to be before I realized everything.”

The pressure of tears builds behind your eyes and forces you to stop talking. If you say anything else, you’re afraid you’ll start crying. While Steve has been so lovely tonight, it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to console you so pathetically. 

Steve seems to hear the tears lacing your voice and speaks for you, having finally pieced together everything he’s been unable to articulate since November of last year. “With Nance, it feels like I’m always somehow two steps behind her and her feelings. Constantly playing catch up while the rules keep changing on me… I get the whole ‘love is exhausting’ thing.”

Though you know Steve means well, his words fucking terrify you. If he feels the same way towards Nancy, a girl who never ended up loving him despite how much he poured his heart out for her, what does that mean for you and Jonathan?

For the first time, you question if the exhaustion you feel surrounding your love for the boy is really something else. Something different, disguised as exhaustion. 

You wonder, deep down, if you’ve started to fall out of love with Jonathan.

Who are you if you have?

The boy has become so intertwined within your life, the threads and strings and lines have tied you to him indefinitely. He’s the reason behind your everything. If you no longer love Jonathan, then who are you, really?

The realization washes over you like cold rain in the middle of winter. It spills over you and pricks at your skin and you suddenly want the conversation to end. While you’re so relieved to be talking to Steve again, the conversation has left you with more realizations than resolutions. 

“It’s late,” you fake a yawn, desperate to cut the conversation short. “We should go to bed. Knowing Dustin, he’ll have us up at the crack of dawn to start looking for Dart.”

Steve sees right through you, he knows he’s somehow crossed a line and that you’re once again retreating. You’re closing yourself off from him again, but he’ll take whatever he can get from you. You’ve told him more than he ever thought you would, so for now he’ll play along. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He says, watching as you reach for your lamp and turn the light off. Then, as soon as you’ve rolled over and closed your eyes, you faintly hear his final words. “Don’t we make a pathetic pair?” 

You remember, before drifting off to sleep, feeling relief wash over you that Steve once again considers the two of you a pair.

– 

You wake up the next morning to the faint sounds of Dustin getting ready. His shower can be heard from your room, and through the years it's become your morning alarm. Yawning, you roll over and rub your eyes and take a few minutes to let your brain wake up. 

Bits of yesterday’s events come back to you. 

Dustin confessing about Dart. 

Locking the Demodog in your cellar. 

Radioing everyone in the party for help and getting no response. 

Going to the Wheelers for Mike and coming back with Steve. 

Dart going missing. 

And, most importantly, your bizarre conversation with Steve last night. 

The boy in question lets out a loud snore from the bean bag, blankets haphazardly twisted around his legs, and you stifle a laugh. Even in his sleep, Steve Harrington somehow catches all the attention in the room.  

You throw your blanket off and get out of bed, tiptoeing so as to not wake up the sleeping beauty, and head outside to your kitchen. If yesterday was any indication of how long today will be, then you need all the coffee in the world to get through it. 

The coffee has just finished brewing when you hear Steve stumble into the kitchen. His eyes are bleary and his hair is the worst it’s ever looked. “I guess even Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington can’t escape bed head, huh?”

Steve acknowledges your quip only by grunting, still stumbling around through your home. So he isn’t a morning person, you think with a smile while bringing your coffee mug to your lips and taking a careful sip. 

Eventually Steve makes it to your kitchen table and plops down, letting out a loud yawn and smacking his lips. He looks pathetically endearing, really, especially given his outfit that looks even worse after sleeping in it. The shirt has ridden further up, exposing a bit of his stomach (which you divert your gaze from, feeling yourself blush), and one of his too-short pant legs has ridden up to his knee. 

“You really are a natural beauty in the morning, Steve.” 

“Ha,” he says boredly, looking around the kitchen. “Do you guys have any food? I’m starving.” 

You toss him an apple from the fruit basket on the counter, and Steve only just manages to catch it in time to avoid it hitting his face.

“Christ!” He exclaims, glaring at you when you chuckle at his reaction. Maybe it was a little mean, but you see the small smile he tries to hide. 

“Is this all I get? An apple thrown at my face?”

You walk over to the table and set your mug down. “Were you expecting a home cooked meal?” 

“You’ll have to earn a Y/N Henderson breakfast,” Dustin says as he enters the kitchen and joins the two of you. His hair is still wet from his shower and he drips onto the counter, which makes you cringe. He’s such a boy, sometimes. 

He makes his way over to the fridge and rustles around, looking for something to eat. Truthfully, the reason you threw the apple at Steve is because there’s no food in your house at the moment. Your mom normally goes to the grocery store on Saturdays, and in her frantic rush to find Mews she hadn't left any money for you to go to the store. 

“There’s no food,” you inform your brother. 

He sighs dejectedly, grabbing a banana and then plopping himself next to Steve at the table. “All right, are you two awake enough to discuss the plan?” 

You nod immediately at Dustin’s question while Steve slumps further into his seat, groaning. You run a hand through his hair to try and settle down his theatrics. Dustin sees this and raises an eyebrow at you, but you shake your head and motion for him to keep quiet. 

“So,” he takes a bite from his banana and begins speaking with his mouth full, which you make a face at. “I was thinking we lure Dart with bait to a secure area that we can catch him in.” 

“Wait,” Steve sits up a bit in his seat, careful to not knock your hand off his head. “That’s all you got? That’s the entire plan?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he begins eating as well, his mouth also full and disgusting to look at, “Do you know how we’ll lure him? Or where? Better yet, how will we even catch him?” 

Dustin narrows his eyes. “Okay, so it’s a working idea. You got anything better?”

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He pauses for a second before seemingly drawing a blank and closing his mouth; he sinks back into his seat in defeat.

“That’s what I thought.” Dustin says smugly.

You take another sip of coffee, enjoying the mug’s warmth around your fingers. “Well, we at least know what Dart likes to eat.”

“We do?” Steve questions, looking up at you.

“Oh, just wait until you hear this,” you motion over to Dustin. “Go on, tell Steve what you’ve been feeding Dart.”

Now it’s your brother’s turn to sink into his seat, embarrassed. He mumbles something that Steve can’t quite hear.

“What?”

He mumbles again, only a tiny bit louder this time.

“Little Henderson, I can’t understand you.” Steve says, smirking when he feels you laugh against him. 

“I said he eats Musketeers Bars!” Dustin shouts, now incredibly defensive. 

In sync, you and Steve share a look. While you have an exasperated fondness on your face, Steve looks like he’s questioning every choice he’s made in his life. It’s cute that he thinks this is the weirdest things will get.

“Okay…” Steve looks over at your brother. “Unless you plan on buying out an entire candy store, we need something else for bait.”

In the corner of your eye you see Mews’ cat bed laying against the window, and an idea pops into your head. “Dustin, did Dart only eat the candy bars before he killed our cat?”

“Yeah, why?” 

As you walk over to the kitchen sink to place your mug in it, you begin explaining. “Then clearly he’s outgrown his sugar needs and would probably eat just about anything with flesh on it.”

Steve wrinkles his face with displeasure, not enjoying the thought of going after this monster that craves meat. He’s already done that, and call him crazy, but he really doesn’t want to experience anything like that ever again. 

Dustin’s eyes light up, following along with what you’re saying. “Raw meat! You’re a genius, Y/N!” 

“And then we can follow the train tracks to that old junkyard, the one that El brought you guys to last year. It’s a straight shot, Dart won’t get lost, and then we catch him.”

Dustin squeals. “That’s perfect!”

He stands up to hug you, which you gladly accept. “Yeah, yeah. We Hendersons are known for our genius,” you gently push your brother away and start exiting the kitchen. “I’m going to go shower and get ready. Steve, you’ll take Dustin to the butcher and see if you can haggle some raw meat out of him.” 

“Uh… can I change first?” He asks, running a hand through his hair with displeasure. 

Only now does Dustin notice Steve’s appearance and he lets out a loud cackle. “Oh, I think you look great!”

You shoot your brother a warning look, not wanting to upset Steve too much. He’s the only one with a car, and the party still hasn’t responded to Dustin’s calls, so he’s all you have right now. Plus, after last night’s conversation, you’re sure he’s feeling just as wound up and tense as you are. 

“We can swing by your place on our way to the train tracks. Your house is right next to it, anyways, and Dustin and I can scout the parameters while you shower and get yourself all pretty. For now, just go to the butcher's shop, please.” 

“But–” 

“Please, Steve?” You pout, daring him to argue with you again. Steve is only able to stand his ground for about five seconds before he groans and nods his head.

“Fine–” You quickly hug him before running towards the bathroom to get ready. 

Once you’re gone, Steve searches for his keys while Dustin stands in the kitchen, shocked. “I so need to know when you two became such good pals.”

“Go wait by the car, Little Henderson.” Steve waves him off, though he’s secretly pleased with how the morning is turning out so far.

–

“C’mon, man. It’s just chunks of raw meat, it doesn’t even matter what, uh, body parts they are, I guess.” Steve argues with the butcher, having no idea why you’ve sent him on this journey with Dustin. Neither of them have any idea about butchers and meat, so they’ve been arguing back and forth for a solid ten minutes with the guy. 

“And I already told you, it’ll be $15. Take it or leave it, pretty boy.” Pat, the butcher, says. 

Steve scowles at the name, “That’s insane for five pounds, you realize that? It’s just a bunch of meat chunks from god knows where, it’s not like we want prime rib you dirty sack of–” 

Dustin cuts him off, snatching the boy’s wallet from his back pocket and pulling out a twenty. “Ignore him, please! Here, thank you so much for your lovely service, good sir.”

Pat narrows his eyes at the boy, and for a split second Dustin is afraid that he’s trying to figure out the best way to skin them alive, before he simply grunts and takes the money. 

Relief washes over Dustin and he scrambles to grab the bags of meat, tugging at Steve’s sleeve in urgence until he gives in and begins to help as well. Within a few seconds, they’ve gathered all they need and head towards the car. 

“Keep the change!” Dustin calls out behind him. 

As soon as they’re in the car, he yells at Steve to step on it. It’s already been twenty minutes since they left the house, and he knows from experience to never keep you waiting. 

“Okay, okay, god.” Steve complies, pushing down on the gas and speeding away from the butcher’s shop. 

The smell of raw meat immediately infiltrates the car, so Steve rolls down the windows and sighs. This is definitely not the weekend he had in mind. He thought he’d apologize to Nancy, kiss and hopefully make up, and maybe even swing by your place to tell you the good news. 

Instead, he has buckets of raw meat in his car and his head is swimming from his conversation with you from last night. While he’s happy it happened, there’s still so much Steve feels like you aren’t telling him. To top it all off, he hadn’t been able to sleep in his own bed, but rather a bean bag that Jonathan apparently has slept in a million times before. 

As Steve is moping, he realizes that there actually wasn’t even a real need to spend the night. 

“Hey, Little Henderson,” Steve gently hits Dustin’s shoulder to get his attention. “Why did I have to spend the night at your place?” 

“Oh, you didn’t.” Dustin says as if it’s no big deal.

Steve turns his head towards him, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d actually spend the night if we’re being honest. I just thought it’d be funny to mess with you.” 

“I tried arguing with you, but you shushed me!” Steve exclaims, putting both hands back on the steering wheel aggressively. 

The younger boy shrugs, “What are you, seventeen? Eighteen? Why would you listen to a thirteen year old?” 

“Well, I–” As much as he wants to, Steve really can’t defend himself on this one. Shit. It’s not like he can tell Dustin that he mostly stayed because his sister is pretty and makes him feel safe.

Dustin smiles, happy to have won the conversation at hand, and decides to really rub it in as they pull up to the house. “I also thought it’d be hilarious to pair you up with my sister. Hope you two made smart choices last night.”

And with those words, Dustin springs out the car, leaving a speechless Steve behind. He turns the car off and sits there for a moment, completely at a loss for words. He’s only spent a total of sixteen hours with the kid, and already he knows he’s in for a world more of trouble. 

If you’re Hawkins’ sweetheart, then Dustin is the town’s horribly terrifying weasel. 

Meanwhile, you’ve just finished lacing up your shoes when Dustin walks in.

“Where are the rubber gloves that mom likes?” He asks in lieu of greeting you. 

“In the closet, second shelf, next to her cat figurines. Where’s Steve?”

Dustin rustles around the closet and pulls out three sets of gloves, “In the car, moping.” 

There’s a crash and then he tosses two buckets onto the carpet. You crouch down and grab the buckets, placing them on the table. “Why is he moping?”

“Why is who moping?” The man in question walks in, throwing himself on the couch and narrowly dodging the third bucket that Dustin throws out. “Why do you guys keep throwing shit at me, jesus!” 

“Language! There’s kids around,” You snap your fingers at Steve, who quickly cowers in shame. “And if it makes any difference, the bucket wasn’t intentional. The rest were, though.” 

Just as Dustin is finishing up in the closet, you spot a can of gasoline and an idea sparks in your head. If you learned anything at Jonathan’s house last year, it’s that these Demogorgon things really hate fire. “Hey, grab the gasoline as well.”

He does as he’s told, no questions asked, and then hands it to you. You add it to the pile on the table, along with two backpacks from your brother and your beloved switchblade. 

Steve gets up from the couch to investigate your stash, nodding approvingly. “Not bad, guys. What are we going to put in the backpacks, though?” 

Dustin goes into the kitchen and begins grabbing the few items within it. The remaining fruits in the basket, a few pieces of bread, a bag of chips, and some water bottles. “One bag will have our food, the other will have our weapons.” 

And with that, you guys are all set to head out. While Dustin is distracted with grabbing his backpack, you run towards Steve’s car and throw yourself into the passenger seat. Every man for himself. 

“What– Y/N!” He calls after you, but he’s too late. You’ve already buckled yourself up by the time he and Steve get into the car themselves. 

“She beat ya, buddy.” Steve teases, flashing you a proud smile. 

Dustin grumbles in the backseat, unamused, and for a moment you think he’ll leave it at that. However, because he’s Dustin, you see from the rearview mirror as his eyes spark with revenge. “So, Steve.”

The tone in his voice terrifies you. 

You place your head in your hands and sigh, mentally preparing for whatever your brother is about to say. 

“Yes, Dustin?”

“How long have you been friendly with my sister?”

“Dustin!” You whip your head around, lunging towards the back seat to swat at the boy, but he quickly scoots over to Steve’s side and avoids your hands. 

Steve, however, surprises you by simply shrugging and taking the question in stride. There’s no embarrassment on his face, no ounce of hesitation in his voice. “About a year now.”

“A year?” Dustin exclaims, having completely not expected such a response. “Y/N, how could you keep this from me?”

“She didn’t hide anything from you, buddy.” Steve defends you, eyes focused on the road. “I convinced her to be my friend after I saved her life–”

“You saved her life?”

“And then bought you boys snacks at the hospital afterwards. Then, because I really wanted to be her friend, I basically stalked her at work every day and annoyed my way into her life. We’ve been pretty close ever since.”

Dustin’s jaw is practically on the ground after Steve’s quick explanation, left speechless for the first time in his life. As for you, you’re admiring the way the early morning sun causes Steve to glow. You’ll never be over how often his beauty distracts you; you wonder how Nancy, or really anyone, could deny him love.

If you didn’t know Steve, if you passed by him on the street one day as complete strangers, you’re sure that a part of you would fall in love with him. 

Even with pieces of his hair standing all over the place, his shirt still being too small, he was a delicate kind of handsome that made you feel a certain warmth.

“Did I forget anything, Y/N?” Steve’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, and you quickly divert your eyes away from the way his arms look while holding the steering wheel. 

“No, uh.” You clear your throat, still recovering. Steve seems to be in good spirits for once, it’s a breath of fresh air seeing him so content, and yet it also serves as a stark reminder that you made the right choice when you first distanced yourself from him. He’s just too easy to love. “I think you pretty much covered everything. Unless Dustin has any questions?”

“Give me three to five business days to process this, please.” Your brother mumbles from the backseat, which you and Steve laugh at. 

The rest of the ride is relatively peaceful after that, and a few minutes later you arrive at Steve’s house. It’s different in the daylight, only ever having seen it late one night driving the boy home from the Halloween party. 

It’s a beautiful home, the smell of chlorine fills your nose. The pool, you remember Nancy mentioning his pool when she explained what happened to Barb. You shiver, now aware that you’re in the same place that your friend took her last breaths at, just a year ago. 

“The tracks are just over on the other side of the street, and I shouldn’t be too long, so you Hendersons can start figuring out the plan in the meantime.” Steve instructs you and Dustin, getting out of the car and entering his house. 

Dustin begins getting out as well, so you unbuckle your seatbelt and follow. Thankfully you decided to wear jeans today with a simple tank top and cardigan with your knit socks; though it was late October, it’s unusually sunny outside and the walk from Steve’s to the junkyard was easily four to five miles. 

The two of you walk over to the tracks and you survey the area. You’re not sure what exactly you’re looking for, but you figure it’s best to look focused in case Dustin yells at you. 

“We’ll need to go that way,” Dustin points in front of you, and you nod as you follow along. “We can drop the meat chunks every few sleepers so we don’t waste any of it.” 

“Sleepers?”

“These.” Dustin’s shoe scrapes against the bottom wooden planks. 

“You would know what they’re called.”

“Ha ha, any more quips or can I continue?”

You put your hands up in surrender and Dustin begins to speak again.

“Then once we get to the junkyard, we can dump whatever meat is left in a pile and put the gasoline on it. Once Dart is distracted and eating, we’ll light it on fire.” His words catch a bit at the end, and you suddenly feel bad for him. He clearly still cares about Dart, but you know your brother understands the risks of letting the Demodog live. 

Without saying anything, you reach over and pull Dustin in for a hug. He fights it at first, but after a couple seconds he gives in and hugs you back. You aren’t the most affectionate pair of siblings, but you love your younger brother fiercely. Not for the first time, you wish you could’ve done more to prevent him from discovering the Upside Down. 

You know it’s irrational to blame yourself and feel guilty, but maybe if you’d been more involved last year, then maybe he wouldn’t have so many nightmares. 

“I’m sorry about Dart,” you say softly against his hat. 

Dustin breaks away, shrugging his shoulders. “Gotta protect the party, right?”

“Right.” You flick his hat. “C’mon, let’s go back to the car and start putting the meat in the buckets.” 

True to his word, Steve is ready to go after about twenty minutes. He walks out of his house, freshly clean and put together, right as you and Dustin finish preparing the bait. He approaches from behind you, and you can smell his cologne. Memories from when he’d have his arms around you and you’d smell the familiar scent now wash over you. 

Clearing your throat, you turn to hand him gloves and a bucket, but almost drop it when you see him. 

He looks good. Like, frustratingly good. His hair is back in its usual style, but he’s wearing a dark blue polo and a gray jacket that fits him criminally well. You almost feel underdressed standing next to him with your ratty old cardigan, which you know is ridiculous to be concerned about. Plus, you’ve always known that Steve was attractive, so it’s stupid to be affected by it suddenly now. 

You guys had one emotional conversation. 

“Y/N?” 

Steve’s staring at you quizzically, and you quickly snap out of your thoughts and hand him the bucket full of bait and instruct him to put the gloves on. He listens, dutifully putting them on and placing the bucket on the ground and starts searching for one of the backpacks in the trunk. He’s seemingly in a much better mood now, which you’re thankful for. 

“Dustin! This is Lucas. Do you copy? Dustin?” 

Lucas’ voice rings out from Dustin’s walkie, and you perk your head up, relieved that he’s okay. The radio silence from the party was something that unnerved you immensely. With Dart on the loose, Will’s increasing episodes, who knows what else is happening in Hawkins at the moment? 

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” Dustin responds, placing his hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. You chuckle at him and continue helping Steve unload the trunk. 

You hear Lucas sigh into the walkie. “Sorry, man. My stupid sister turned it off.” 

“Tell Erica I say hi!” You call out, knowing Lucas will hear you. He always resented the fact that his sister is so nice to you. You’re the only living person who didn’t receive Erica’s insane insults, which is something you’re very proud of.

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Lucas!” 

Dustin shoos you away and continues to speak. “Well, when you were having sister problems, which really aren’t that hard to handle–” 

“Says you,” you butt in. 

“Dart grew again, he escaped, and I’m pretty sure he’s a baby Demogorgon.” Your brother finishes. By this point, you and Steve have pretty much unpacked everything in the car. 

“Wait, what?” You’d kill to see the look on Lucas’ face right now. 

“I’ll explain later, just meet me, Y/N, and Steve at the old junkyard.” As Dustin wraps up the conversation, Steve shoves his bat into the bag and you watch him with disappointment. He’s trying really hard to make it fit, and you almost pity the boy. Bless him. 

There’s a pause before Lucas asks, “Steve?”

Dustin doesn’t elaborate, instead instructing his friend to bring his binoculars and wrist rocket. You suppose it’s a good idea to add more weapons to your arsenal. Better safe than sorry.

“Steve Harrington?” Lucas asks again, this time even more confused. 

“He’s a friend,” you say, shoving your own weapons into the bag and slinging it over your shoulder. 

Steve closes the trunk and says, “Damn straight I am. Alright, let’s go.”

You follow after him, saying goodbye to Lucas as Dustin tells him to be at the junkyard stat. 

Dustin stashes his walkie in his own bag and then the three of you are off. Your brother and Steve walk a bit ahead of you as you all throw the meat chunks onto the ground, doing as Dustin instructed. It’s slow work, but you’re happy to have some time to yourself while the boys are distracted with each other. Their friendship wasn’t something you’d expect, but you’re incredibly happy about it.

You love the party, you’d do anything for them given all that you’ve been through together. However, as they grow older, you can’t help but notice how much they’re changing. Mike hasn’t been himself since El disappeared, Dustin is now hyper focused on science, Lucas is becoming his own person, and poor Will is just trying to recover from the trauma of last year. 

It’s been hard watching them grow apart, in a way. Nothing will ever be the same after the Upside Down, you know that, but watching the party slowly drift makes you sad for your brother. You’re glad he’s seemingly found someone like Steve to bounce jokes off of and feel appreciated by. You know that someday the kids will all come together again, it’d be impossible not to with how strong of a connection they all have, so you try not to worry too much.

You shove the thoughts down, you need to keep focused on Dart and contacting the rest of the party. So, you dutifully place the bait down and follow behind the boys and feel the time pass by. After about an hour of nonsensical conversation between Steve and Dustin, you hear the older boy finally ask the question of why your brother even hid Dart in the first place. 

“It’s complicated, okay?” Dustin defects, clearly uncomfortable with the change in conversation.

You keep your distance from them, but you keep an ear out just in case you need to intervene. 

“You claim you wanted to get famous off of it or whatever,” Steve drops meat onto the tracks and kicks his foot. “Call me crazy, but you don’t hide something that supposedly makes you famous.” 

He has a point, and Dustin scrunches his face up. He casts a glance your way and you do your best to appear distracted by the job at hand. You know Dustin’s guilty face well, so whatever he’s about to tell Steve will be good. When Dustin shuffles closer to Steve and lowers his voice, you get closer as well so you can listen.

You’re his older sister. It’s your damn job to be nosy.

“It was for this girl.” 

Simultaneously you and Steve react. He hums in approval, almost proud, while you scoff. “I knew it.”

Dustin turns around, horrified. “You knew?”

“Duh, you’re awful at hiding things from me. After Max was just conveniently outside the AV room when Dart originally escaped, I pieced it together immediately. Also, side note: you’re too young to be impressing girls. I told you to just be yourself, dummy.”

Steve lets out a snort. “Pretty ironic coming from you, Y/N.”

Suddenly you feel uncomfortable with his attention on you.

“I’m sorry?” Your voice is steady, but you can feel your hands shaking as you continue throwing the bait. 

“Ya know, your massive crush on Jonathan ever since you were twelve.” He laughs, as if it’s the funniest joke in the world. 

Dustin clears his throat aggressively, pointing to your hands. Steve sees the way that they shake, the tension you now carry in your shoulders, and he’s become familiar enough with you to know your anger cues. The teasing smile that had been on his face drops. He runs towards you so he’s now by your side, and Dustin sighs in disappointment. 

“I didn’t, like, mean anything by that, you know. I–uh, I was kidding, Y/N.” Steve tries to catch your gaze, but you pointedly stare straight ahead and clench your jaw. He’s stumbling over both his words and the tracks beneath his feet, trying desperately to appease you. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington.” 

“Y/N, please, I said I was sorry–”

You finally face him, grabbing his elbow to ensure he doesn’t move. “I told you that stuff about Jonathan in confidence. You don’t get to throw it back in my face, joking or not.” 

It doesn’t help that you’re already confused enough as it is about the boy and your feelings towards him. To have Steve tease you about it, especially because he knows how painful jabs about Nancy are… It really fucking hurts. 

Steve looks like a kicked puppy as you storm ahead of him and Dustin, putting enough distance between you guys so that you can’t hear their conversion that follows. 

“Shit…”

“You’re awful with women.” Dustin says, now continuing to walk. He doesn’t bother to follow after you, knowing that you need your space to cool down. “I wouldn’t follow her, by the way. Let her cool off.”

Steve sighs, now walking as well, “Yeah, I know.” 

They walk in silence for a little while, Steve hanging his head in shame and Dustin leading the way, frustrated by being stuck with two overly emotional teens. 

After a while the silence eats at Steve, so he decides to continue the conversation from earlier. “So, this girl… is she someone you’ve known a while?” 

Dustin shakes his head, “No, she’s new at our school. She’s super cool, though.”

“I remember back when I based my attraction to girls on their coolness.” Steve mumbles. 

“And look where basing it off their hotness has gotten you.” 

“Ouch,” Steve rubs at his chest, wounded.

Dustin laughs and flings some bait at him. “I thought that if I showed her Dart, she’d think I was cool, too, and like me.”

Steve sidesteps the thrown bait and tries to comprehend what the younger boy is saying. “So, you kept something that you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl who… you just met?”

“Alright, that’s grossly oversimplifying things. And anyways, who are you to give me girl advice? My sister is literally three hundred feet ahead of us because you pissed her off with one singular sentence.” Then, almost as if as an afterthought, Dustin adds, “congrats, by the way. I’ve never seen someone piss her off so quickly.” 

“Look, this isn’t about me, okay? Sure, I messed up with Y/N, but it isn’t like I was hitting on her to begin with,” Dustin makes a disgusted face as Steve quickly continues, panicked. “So she doesn’t count. I just feel like you’re trying way too hard, man.” 

“Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright?” Dustin grumbles. 

Steve shakes his head, slightly amused by the boy’s antics. He’s so much like you, and yet so different, and Steve is realizing it’ll take a lot to keep up with the kid. “It’s not about the hair, dude. Chicks dig more than just a good hairstyle.” 

“You’re literally known as Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

“Hey, ‘King Steve’ is also there.” 

Dustin flings even more bait at Steve, now annoyed with him. “Whatever man, it’s not like you’d be any help anyways.” 

“Oh really? Well, Little Henderson, I’m about to blow your mind: the key to girls is just acting like you don’t care.”

“Even if you do?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Steve now brightens up, happy to finally be getting through to the boy. For Steve, he’s long since learned that the best way to avoid getting hurt is to pretend that he doesn’t care. “It drives them nuts.”

“Then what?” 

“You just wait,” Steve looks ahead, watching you and feeling like a complete dick. He really hadn’t meant to hurt you, hell the two of you were finally starting to get somewhere and yet… Steve fucked it up. As always. 

He can see that your shoulders are still tensed up, you’re walking faster than you need to be. He feels a heavy weight in his stomach, one that he’s never felt before; he doesn’t like it. “You wait… until you feel it.”

Dustin furrows his brows. “Feel what?”

Steve tears his gaze away from you and turns back to Dustin, beginning to explain the electricity between someone you’re interested in. Being the geek that he is, Dustin turns it into a scientific discussion and Steve does his best to steer the conversation back. 

“No, like sexual electricity.” He explains.

As soon as the words leave Steve’s lips, you whip around and shout, “Are you seriously talking to my little brother about sexual electricity?”

Both Dustin and Steve freeze in place, dumbfounded. You let out a loud groan and continue stomping away, now even more aggressively throwing the chunks at the train tracks. 

“How did she even hear me?” Steve whispers, terrified. 

“I don’t know,” Your brother whispers back, also equally frightened. “Sometimes I think she has powers like El.”

Once you’re a safe enough distance away from them, Dustin hesitantly brings the girl conversation back up. “Hypothetically, what do girls like?”

Steve takes a second to answer, carefully rolling the question around in his mind. “It depends on the girl. Some girls want you to be aggressive, ya know? Go in for the kiss, make them feel protected. Strong, hot and heavy. Like a lion.” 

Dustin hums to indicate he’s following along, but ‘like a lion’ has him a little worried about the reliability of the conversation. He knows that Steve is a lady’s man, but he’s also never seen him with any girl besides Nancy, and the one time he saw him with you, he had immediately pissed you off. 

So for all Dustin knows, it could be lies. 

Steve continues his confusing explanation. “But others? You gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy… like a ninja!”

“Okay, what type is Nancy?” Dustin asks, hoping to get the teen to stop making stupid analogies. Lions, ninjas… maybe it was all lies. 

The question catches Steve off guard and he stumbles a bit, feeling the familiar sense of protectiveness, insecurity, over the girl as well as a new sense of loss. What type is Nancy? If he had been asked this a week ago, Steve would’ve told Dustin that she’s a nice girl, a girl he could happily bring home to his parents and proudly wrap around his arms. Now? He’s not so sure. 

Not when he can still see the anger and disgust in Nancy’s eyes that night at the party. 

“Nancy’s different,” he recalls his conversation with you from last night, how he’d confessed to always feeling two steps behind the girl and how exhausting it all is. “She’s just different. Let’s move on to the next question.” 

Dustin notices Steve’s change in demeanor but doesn’t say anything. He supposes that you and him have a lot in common, then. “Okay, what type would you say Y/N is?”

Once again Steve isn’t expecting the question Dustin asks. “What–” he trips over a twig and just barely manages to catch himself. “Why would you ask me that? She’s your sister, and I don’t even like her–”

“Relax, Romeo. She’s just similar to Nancy and the girl I like, and I figured you’d know Y/N well enough by now considering you guys slept together–”

“I slept on her bean bag–”

“And have been friends for like, a year. Plus, she’s in love with Jonathan, you’re in love with Nancy, and coincidentally they’re in love with each other. Figures that there’s some type intermingling between the four of you.”

How the hell does everyone know about Nancy and Jonathan? Steve thinks bitterly. 

He’s silent for multiple seconds, absolutely at a loss for what to say. He doesn’t know where to begin or what to even deny. Technically the boy is right, as much as it hurts Steve to admit. He’s all but lost Nancy to Jonathan, and you’ve lost Jonathan to Nancy. 

In an extremely messed up way, you and Nancy do have the same type. On top of that, both you and Nancy are close to Jonathan, so it’s safe to assume there’s similarities to the both of you that Steve doesn’t even want to touch on right now.

Even more importantly, Steve has yet to really decipher why your presence alone can make or break his entire day. Why, after months of not talking, it now feels like he’s finally come home again with you back in his life. 

He looks at you again, still angrily throwing your bait, and he supposes that you’re a lot like Nancy in certain aspects, and yet completely different from her. “Y/N is also different, I guess. She’s incredibly intelligent both emotionally and academically. Isn’t she like the top of her class?”

Dustin nods, proud of the Henderson intelligence, and Steve continues. 

“Right. I’d say she’s like Nancy, except she’s softer?” Steve cringes at his own words, suddenly uncomfortable with comparing the two of you. In his mind, you’re both your own separate entities that infatuate him in different ways. 

You both burn Steve; Nancy is like a shot of whiskey, the thrill that follows the burn. But you? You’re a fireplace after hours of being out in the cold, the burn of it warming his bones.

“Y/N is just… she’s special, but everyone knows that. Your sister is the most caring person I’ve ever met, and I know I’m a lucky son of a bitch to be someone she trusts.” 

Dustin snorts. “Yeah you are.”

Up ahead, you finally slow down and face the boys, now waiting for them to catch up and call out, “C’mon, ladies! The sun sets soon, I don’t want Lucas waiting in the cold all alone.” 

“Looks like I’ve been forgiven.” Steve says, relief evident in his voice, something that your brother doesn’t miss.

Dustin lets out another loud snort, patting him on the chest, “Oh, my sister may be forgiving, but she never forgets.” With that, he walks away to catch up with you. 

“Well, isn’t that ominous.” 

You greet the boys with a tired smile, knowing there’s no use holding resentment towards Steve. He couldn’t have known about your mixed feelings towards Jonathan, you know he had only been trying to get along with Dustin. 

Things are still weird between you two, despite the conversation from last night, but it’s hard to stay mad at Steve and honestly, you don’t really want to be mad at him. It’s been so lovely having him around again, and your own confusing feelings can wait. 

Steve leans in close to you, gently grabbing at your hand so that you don’t walk away. “Hey, we okay?”

His eyes are full of concern and his voice is sickly sweet like honey. With the honey, the remaining bits of anger vanishes. “Of course we’re okay.”

Steve exhales deeply and you giggle at him before remembering that Dustin is quite literally a few feet away from you two. Coughing, you hold up your bucket to point out how it’s almost empty. “I guess in my rage, I flung more than I intended. How are your buckets holding up?” 

The two boys hold their buckets up, giving you a mock solute to indicate that all is good. You laugh, impressed by how synched they’ve become in such a short time. 

“Alright, then. Let’s get going.” As you all begin to walk in line again, you ask, “What were you guys even talking about, anyways?” 

The boys glance at each other in a conspiring way, which causes you to roll your eyes. They’re acting like you asked for their deepest and darkest secrets. They seem to have a silent conversation for a couple seconds before Steve finally speaks up. 

“I was just giving Little Henderson some girl advice. Nothing serious.” 

You raise your eyebrows, your heart swelling a bit at the idea of Steve giving your brother advice. It’s sweet, really. “Girl advice, huh?”

“Yeah, why do you sound so skeptical?” 

“Because you’re terrible with girls.” 

Dustin now butts in, “He told me to be aggressive.” 

“I did not!”

“He also said that you’re softer than Nancy.”

You make a face. “Thank you? I think?”

Steve tugs at his hair in frustration. “You two are the worst people I’ve ever met. You know that, right?” 

In unison, you and Dustin reply, “We get that a lot.” 

Steve stares at the two of you with slight horror in his eyes. “Yeah, alright. I’m out.” 

You grab at his sleeve, gently stopping him from storming away. You give him an apologetic look and pull him close so that your chest bumps against his. “You’ve gotta get used to the Henderson humor, Steve.”

He looks surprised by your tugging at his sleeve before he lets a smile cross his face. He doesn’t do anything else, but he also doesn’t back away, either, and you find yourself blushing a bit under his gaze. 

You clear your throat and let go of his sleeve, stepping back a bit. “Anyways, why don’t you tell me what wise advice you have for my brother.” 

The smile that was just on Steve’s face vanishes as he looks away from you. “I was just telling the kid to not fall in love with his little crush. He’s too young for heartbreak and all that other shit.” 

“I’m not in love with her!” Dustin exclaims in disgust, but you’re too distracted by Steve’s words to assure your brother that you believe him. 

“Well, I believe that love is something beautiful.” You say, your words only meeting Steve’s turned back. He doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know his indifference holds no malice. He’s still hurting, still in love with Nancy Wheeler. “Dustin, you may be too young to be in love, but don’t listen to Steve. To love and be loved is the luckiest thing we can ever do, regardless of how it ends.” 

Dustin blanches at your words, grossed out now. “Okay, okay, stop! Love is gross. I get it.” 

You softly mumble sorry to him, now suddenly remembering that he’s only thirteen. When you were his age, the idea of love also grossed you out. Now, love is a concept that you’ve found a comforting warmth in, even if it's burned you a few times and has left you more exhausted than exhilarated. One day he’ll understand (in the far off future, hopefully). 

For now, you flick your brother’s hat and follow after Steve, finishing the rest of the bait journey in silence. 

– 

By the time the three of you get to the junkyard, it’s already about midday. 

It’s different from how you imagined it, filled with old cars and a giant school bus. It’s more open, too, not as “junkyard” as you assumed. 

You, Steve, and Dustin stand at the top of the hill, surveying the area. Your feet ache from the walk and the sun is hurting your eyes. Seeing you squinting, Steve wordlessly hands you his signature Raybans and motions for you to put them on. 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, this will do. It’ll do just fine,” He says, satisfied as he begins to walk down the hill. Then, as an afterthought, he says to Dustin, “Good call, dude.”

Dustin beams with pride and you fill with so much happiness, seeing the boy getting along so well with Steve, that you almost regret not having them meet sooner. However, there’s no time to wallow in what-if’s and you put Steve’s sunglasses on to follow after the boys. 

Immediately you and Steve get to work, working seamlessly together side by side, months of him joining you in Bookstrordinary finally being put to use. While you and Steve silently scatter more meat and grab supplies, Dustin surveys the area.

Just as you’ve dumped the remaining meat in the middle of the field, you hear Lucas’ voice call from a few yards away, “I said medium well!”

The boy is with Max, who looks slightly displeased, yet curious, to be here. Despite her still obvious hesitation, you still feel excited seeing the girl. You’ve been meaning to talk more to her, she seems like such a lovely girl. 

“Who’s that?” Steve asks you.

“Max! She’s great, and–” You start gushing about the girl, eager to go and say hi, before you see the crestfallen look on Dustin’s face when he realizes why she’s with Lucas. You remember, then, the weird tug-of-war between the boys over her. Shit. 

You grab at Steve’s hand and pull him aside. “Actually, Steve, why don’t we start finding some panels to cover the bus?”

Steve gives you a questioning look, but when you silently motion towards Dustin and he sees his despair as well, he catches on and just nods, following along. Without having to tell him, he understands that you want to leave Dustin alone so he can talk to Lucas. 

As always, you’re forever thankful that he can read you so well. 

After guiding Steve away, you and him begin to prep the junkyard alongside Max. While the boys are talking, you take this as an opportunity to get to know the girl better. 

“So,” you begin, helping Max carry a large piece of wood over to the bus. “I see you’re back again.”

“Looks like it,” she shrugs, not really feeling like talking. Seems like she’s still mad at you for yesterday, taking Lucas’ side over hers. 

You sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

“That’s a first.” Again she deflects, but you know she’s doing it out of hurt rather than maliciousness. 

“I know you don’t really like me right now, which I totally understand, I just wanted to let you know that while I don’t like that you’ve been dragged into this mess, I’m happy you’re here.”

Max frowns at you. “You guys act like I’m going to like, die or something.”

A scrap of metal that you’d been carrying slips from your hands. Steve hears this and comes rushing over to help, but you gently wave him away and focus on Max. “I don’t know what Lucas told you, but it’s all true. It’s dangerous, being here, and I just… If you ever get hurt, any of you kids, then it’d be on me and I’d never forgive myself.”

“Way to be a buzzkill, Y/N.” Steve nudges you, trying to get you to smile before your ever-present guilt bears down upon you. 

Max bites her lip, still disbelieving, but she recognizes the pained look of protectiveness on your face. It’s not something that someone can easily fake, and from what she’s heard about you, your kindness is one of the few genuine things in Hawkins. 

Before she can say anything else, Steve lets out a huff and grabs a chair to bang on the car that Lucas and Dustin are talking behind. “Hey! Dickheads! How come it’s only Y/N and some random girl helping me?”

“Language!” You chastise. 

Steve sends you a thumbs up, not really listening. “We lose light in forty minutes. Let’s go!”

Dustin and Lucas reluctantly start helping, both calling Steve an asshole and throwing him dirty looks, which you can’t help but laugh at. 

Lucas sees you laughing and points at you. “Are you the reason Harrington is here?”

“Mhm,” you respond, nailing another piece of wood to the bus. “He’s done more to help than you have, so either pick up some metal and help or go sit in a corner and sulk. Up to you.”

Steve high fives you. “Yeah! What she said!”

Lucas’ shoulders sag, completely at a loss as to how any of this has happened. “This is so weird.”

“Dude, I’ve spent all day with them. Imagine how I feel,” Dustin groans. “I think I died a little when I found out they’ve been friends for like, a year.”

“A year?” Lucas gasps. 

“Guys!” You throw pebbles at the two boys to break up their little gossip session. “One, I’m incredibly hurt you two didn’t think I had any friends besides Jonathan. Two, start helping before I throw more rocks.”

“Yes ma’am,” both boys grumble in unison, which Max finds pretty impressive. 

After that, the five of you get to work. You guys use every item available in the junkyard to secure the bus, hoping that with enough stacked against it, you’ll be safe from Dart once he’s lured. Barrels are rolled, more sheets of metal are placed against the bus, and within the next hour or so you’ve successfully managed to build a decent base. 

All that’s left is to pour the gasoline trail, which you help Steve with as the kids watch from inside the bus. 

“I’m getting major deja-vu right now,” you mumble as Steve pours. 

“Gasoline at Jonathan’s?” 

“Mhm. God, he wouldn’t believe what we’re doing right now.” You know he would’ve loved this bizarre interaction. You, Steve, and the kids all in a junkyard trying to lure a baby Demogorgon. 

You’ve definitely had better babysitting days, and Jonathan would have a field day with this one. 

Once you’re done with the gasoline, you and Steve return to the bus. He waits behind you, making sure you’re securely in the car, before he heaves the old bus door closed. As soon as the door is closed, you and Steve exhale together.

You share a look, both in silent agreement to keep the kids safe no matter what. It’s your guys’ job to keep them safe, to fight for and protect them. 

Deja-vu again. You’re back in Jonathan’s house, holding a switchblade while Steve wields his bat. 

“Ready?” He asks you, extending his hand out for you to grab. 

You interlock your fingers through his. “When am I ever?”

Steve laughs, dispelling away any remaining uncertainty and fear. You know, that no matter what, that he’ll be by your side to help. With this in mind, you join the kids further into the bus. 

Lucas climbs the ladder up to the top, something you’re not fully okay with, but he’s the one with the binoculars and you the switchblade, so it makes the most sense. As the boy climbs, you sit down next to Steve as he flicks his lighter on and off. You’re pressed shoulder to shoulder, his presence grounding you.

Dustin paces, and all you can do is watch him as you try to settle your own nerves. Max has seated herself at the other end of the bus, her arms crossed as usual. 

After a few moments of silence, she finally speaks. “So, you really fought one of these things before?”

Steve nods and you hum in agreement. “Unfortunately.”

“And you’re, like, totally, 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“I mean, to be fair I also had that same thought last year–”

Dustin cuts you off. “Shit, don’t be an idiot, okay? It wasn’t a bear.”

You roughly grab at your brother, yanking him towards you to shut him up. “Dustin–”

“Why are you even here if you don’t believe us?” He sneers at Max, something you’ve never, ever seen your sweet brother do. “Just go home.”

Max clenches her jaw and you send her an apologetic look, but she rolls her eyes at you. “Geesh, someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” 

“Max, wait–” She ignores you and climbs up the ladder to join Lucas. You groan once she’s gone, now more than ever wanting to strangle your brother. “Dustin, what the hell was that?”

“That was good, Y/N!” Steve says, a proud smirk on his face. “He showed her he didn’t care, just like I told him to.”

“Oh, so it’s your fault my sweet, innocent baby brother is now some woman hating misogynistic piece of–”

“I don’t hate women, Y/N.” Dustin tiredly says, before directing his next words to Steve. “And I don’t care.”

Steve winks at the boy, but immediately flinches back when you raise your hand to smack him. “Yeah, cower away, you idiotic and moronic–”

“Y/N, stop overreacting and Steve, stop winking at me.”

You raise your eyebrows at Dustin’s tone and he quickly clears his throat and steps away from you. Steve puts some distance between you two as well, scooting away a bit so that he’s out of hitting range. 

It’s quiet again, both boys now scared of your anger, and you anxiously wait for Dart to show up. 

Steve goes back to flicking the lighter, Dustin paces again, and you tap your foot nervously. The silence is killing you, it’s always been your least favorite part of the Upside Down. The waiting, hoping you’re prepared for when all hell inevitably breaks loose. 

You flick your own blades out, admiring the way the blades catch in the moonlight, when you hear a loud growl come from outside. Instinctively you raise your blades to your face while Steve and Dusin scramble to peek through the metal sheets to look out the window. 

“You guys see him?” Dustin asks as he crouches next to you. 

You shake your head. “No,”

There’s nothing outside, only a thick haze of fog that has settled over the junkyard. 

“Lucas, what’s going on?” Your brother calls up to his friend.

“Hold on!” The boy responds. 

Your heart begins to beat faster, your blades never straying away from your face, poised for a fight. Steve sees the way your knuckles whiten over your weapon and he grabs your spare hand, gently coaxing you to calm down. 

Your fingers tighten around Steve’s and you remember his words from last night, promising you that he’ll be there, and you believe him. 

From the bus’ roof, you hear Lucas call down, “I’ve got eyes! Ten o’clock–ten o’clock!”

There, in the haze of fog, you see a hunched figure stalk its way towards the bus. Seeing Dart, you’re filled with complete dread. He’s grown again, much bigger than you’ve ever seen him.

He’s practically the size of the Demogorgon from last year, the same one that almost killed you and Steve. 

“What’s he doing?” Dustin asks, as if anyone else would have any more information than he does. 

“I don’t know,” Steve sighs, his eyes never leaving Dart. 

You squeeze his hand again and hold your breath as you watch the Demodog. He slowly approaches the bait, inspects the area, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in it. You send a silent prayer to whatever god is above that your plan will work. 

It has to work. 

However, Dart starts to back away from the bait and Steve leans even closer to the window. “He’s not taking the bait. Why isn’t he taking the bait?”

“I don’t know,” you want to cry from exhaustion and fear and defeat. 

Dustin looks over at you. “Maybe he’s not hungry?”

Something seems to click, then, for Steve. His eyes light up with an idea, and before he can even get his words out, you grasp at Steve’s arm and try to talk him out of it. “No, absolutely not. You’re not going out there.”

“Maybe he’s sick of cow.” Steve tries to make you let go of him, but you quickly tighten your hold on him and fight back. “Y/N, let me go, I can run fast and–”

“You can’t just use yourself as bait!” You plead, but Steve has always been stronger than you and he drags you behind him as he makes his way towards the bus door. “Steve, listen to me!”

“Steve? Steve!” Dustin finally catches on to what’s happening and he grabs at the teen as well. “What are you doing?”

Steve ignores you both and with a quick jerk of his arm, he frees himself from you. As soon as you’ve let go, he runs towards the door and snatches his bat from the ground. You curse, knowing there’s no way in hell he’s going out there alone, so you follow after him. 

Dustin sees this and panics. “Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re going–”

“Stay put!” You command, scrambling after Steve, who has now begun to open the door. He tosses you the lighter, which you toss to your brother. “Just get ready, Dustin!”

“Y/N!”

“I love you!”

Dustin continues to shout, his pleas laced with more fear than you’ve ever heard from him, but you force yourself to leave. Just as you’ve stepped outside and re-closed the bus door, Dustin pounds against the glass that you’ve locked, tears in his eyes.

You look away, despite how fucking hard it is, and it takes everythin within you to leave. 

Steve saved your life last year. 

Now it’s your turn. 

It’s tense outside as you and Steve walk back to back, weapons out. He twirls his bat a few times, a move that you find yourself smiling at due to its familiarity. With your back against his, you whisper to Steve, “You look for Dart, I keep an eye for anything else?”

He nods, and together the two of you slowly follow the sound of Dart’s chittering. 

“C’mon buddy,” Steve taunts, beginning to whistle. 

“I know we named it a Demodog, but I don’t think whistling will help.”

“We could be about to die, and you’re seriously questioning what I’m doing?”

You shrug, eyes now on the skyline as the fog slowly thickens. “Habit.”

Steve chuckles, which brings some comfort to the fucking awful situation at hand. He whistles some more, continuing to taunt Dart. “C’mon. Dinner time.”

“Again with offering Dart meals while we’re near him,” you shake your head, not at all liking where any of this is going.

“What? At least human tastes better than cat.” Steve responds, now at the pile of raw meat.

You both stop here, Steve facing the bait and you facing the bus, still scanning for literally anything else that could possibly go wrong. Because you’re Y/N Henderson and nothing can ever, ever go right for you. 

Dart lets out another growl, now having spotted Steve, and the teen swings his bat around. You spare a quick glance behind you and see Dart, who has placed all his focus on you and Steve. 

Well, at least the live bait plan is working. 

You turn away again, and as soon as you do, you see the other Demodogs now suddenly appear. Your blood runs cold when you see the two up ahead, one directly in front of you and one on top of the cars. 

For a moment, your words seem to fail you and no sound comes out when you try to speak. All you can do is stare at them, overcome with fear. You’re back in Jonathan’s once more, the fear strangling you as the memories paralyze you. 

From the top of the bus, Lucas yells, “Steve! Y/N! Watch out!”

“We’re a little busy here!” Steve yells back, eyes still on Dart. 

The Demodog in front of you starts to approach, which finally seems to break you from your spell. Shakily, you tell Steve, “There’s more.”

“What?” He tries to turn around, but you shove at him to not lose sight of Dart. You can’t distract him now. Another Demodog has joined.

“Three o’clock! Right in front of Y/N!” Lucas screams, his voice cracking with fear. 

“Y/N?” Steve fully turns around now when he realizes that you’re also in danger, and when he sees the three other Demodogs, he lets out a curse. “Shit.”

Suddenly, you and Steve are surrounded by Demodogs, more than you ever could’ve imagined. More than the two of you can even fight on your own. 

Back at Jonathan’s, it had taken guns, fire, knives, and bats to kill a grown Demogorgon. 

You don’t think your knives and Steve’s bat will be enough for Demodogs. 

“Steve! Y/N! Abort!” Dustin has flung the bus door open, screeching for the two of you to get out of there. 

It’s too late. Dart has opened his mouth and is running towards you two, his friends joining as well. 

“I go left, you go right!” Steve has just enough time to direct you before Dart lunges. 

You dodge, going right as instructed while Steve flings himself on top of a car to avoid the monsters. As Steve hits Dart with his bat, crouched against the car, you narrowly avoid the other Demodog and drop to the ground as it jumps over your head. “Shit!”

Steve swings his bat again and tries to make his way over to you, but you’re off the ground in a heartbeat and run to him instead. Two of the Demodogs are on him now, and there’s only so much damage his bat can do. Breathless, you run over and stab at their backs, doing everything you can to give Steve an opening to run. 

Faintly, you hear the kids in the background cheering you guys on, urging you two to come home.

One of the Demodogs lets out a harsh screech as your blade pierces its skin. It crumbles to the ground, giving Steve just enough of an opening to begin running towards the bus. When he goes to run, you notice one of the Demodogs eying him, and before you can even process what’s happening, you’re throwing yourself in front of him and you feel nails tear at your ribs.

You scream, clutching at your side in agony, feeling blood quickly beginning to spill from your wound. “Fuck!”

“Y/N!” Steve starts to run toward you, pale with fear. 

“No!” You shove him back towards the bus; you can’t let him get hurt because of you. “Go, I’ll be fine!” 

He tries to argue, but you take a deep breath and grip his jacket tightly, practically flinging him inside the bus just before Dart lunges again. Together, the two of you stumble up the steps and barricade the door. 

As soon as it’s closed, Dart begins slamming against it with his entire body. 

Steve uses his legs to hold the door closed while you lay sprawled on the ground, trying to steady your breathing as more blood spills from you. The room is spinning and you’re pretty sure you can taste blood in your mouth. 

Awesome. Cool. 

The kids are screaming and Dart’s body causes the entire bus to rock as his friends now join, throwing their own bodies against the bus as well.

“Are they rabid or something?” Max screams, but everyone ignores her. 

Steve, quick as ever, finds a spare piece of metal and wedges it against the door and uses his legs again to hold it in place. He looks over at you on the ground and feels his heart jump to his throat. You’re pale, a sheen of sweat now dotted across your forehead, and there’s now a concerningly large pool of blood where you lay. “Dustin, go help your sister!”

Dustin looks up and finally notices your injury and almost faints at the sight. In a daze, he runs over to you and kneels down, terrified of how much blood there is. “Oh my god.”

“I’m fine,” you wince, trying to clench your teeth and bear through the pain. “Honestly, this is like a paper cut.”

“Y/N–” The sound of glass shattering cuts Dustin off as a Demodog breaks through the window. Everyone screams, and your brother grabs your arms and drags you further towards the back of the bus to avoid any glass getting on you. 

Wearily, you watch as Steve does whatever he can with his bat, and a part of you wants to laugh. He looks like he’s playing the hardest game of wack-a-mole ever. 

Meanwhile, Lucas and Max have joined you and Dustin. When they see you, Lucas lets out a choked scream while Max covers her eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Lucas kneels over you as well, and you find his sincerity endearing. He’s always been the sweetest in the group, the most comforting. 

“Never been better,” you wheeze out. 

Dustin instructs Lucas to stay with you while he tries to radio for help. “Is anyone there? Mike? Will? God? Anyone!”

“God would be pretty nice to have.” You remark, pain making you even more delirious than usual. 

Max looks at Lucas. “She’s losing it.”

“I think I’m doing great, all things considered.”

Dustin continues to scream into his walkie for help while Lucas tries to stop your bleeding. Max is running around, looking for anything to help, and Steve is still stuck at the front of the bus playing wack-a-mole with Demodogs. 

The situation is so fucking grim, and you’ve never wanted to laugh more. 

Then, to make matters even worse, the ceiling of the bus starts to creak. You see the faint outlines of what suspiciously looks like Demodog footprints on the roof. In slow, agonizing footsteps, Dart makes his way over to the emergency exit on top.

He leers over, and Max, who is at the bottom of the ladder, screams. 

Steve shoves the kids back and you try to get up, but Lucas pushes you down and shakes his head at you. 

“You want some? Come get this!” Steve places himself between Dart and you and the kids, screaming at the thing and waving his bat around, and you’ve never been more attracted to him.

Dart lets out a blood curdling screech, his mouth full of rows of razor sharp teeth that killed your cat just the other day, and you cling onto Lucas’ hand. Another screech, and just before Dart strikes at Steve, it jumps off the bus and runs away. 

Everyone freezes, unsure what to do, as more distant growls and howls can be heard from outside. Steve and the rest stand up, and you notice Lucas holding Max’s hand, and at least something good came out of this hellhole of a day. 

“Any help here?” You finally ask after a minute or so, still lying helplessly on the ground as you bleed.

“Shit!” Steve drops his bat. “Where did it get you, where’s the bleeding? Dustin, did we pack any bandages, or–or an EMT stretcher or–”

“Steve,” you grab his hand, urging him to calm down. “It scratched the fuck out of my ribcage, but I’m not dying. I promise.”

“You’re not?” Dustin asks, tears in his eyes. 

“I’m not. I just…” you shift, wincing at the pain. “I just really need a bandage and I’ll be good as new.”

Steve swallows, a frenzied look in his eyes, and nods. Without thinking, he tears a piece of your bloodied cardigan off and gently lifts your body up so that he can wrap the shred of cloth around you. He weaves it tight, his movements slow and delicate, his eyes never leave yours. 

You can feel his hands shaking as he tends to your wound and ties the cloth with a knot. When he’s done, even though you’re aware of the kids’ eyes on you two, you bring his hands to your lips and kiss them. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” He whispers, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Dustin coughs, which seems to make Steve remember where he is, and he clears his throat. “Right, well. Try not to lose any more blood, yeah?”

“I’ll try,” 

Steve nods and stands back up, knowing Dustin and Lucas will want a moment with you, and makes his way back outside. He knows that they’re all still in danger, even if for some reason the Demdogs seem to have left. 

Once Steve is gone, Dustin and Lucas help you stand, and as soon as you’re up, both boys try their best to give you a hug without hurting you. 

“Don’t do that ever again,” Dustin sniffs, squeezing your uninjured side tightly.

“What he said,” Lucas sniffs as well, though he tries to hide his tears from you. 

You laugh, your own tears evident as you hold the boys tight. “I promise.” 

“You saved Steve,” Max notes, though her tone is neutral, you can see she’s impressed.

“I had to even out a debt.” 

“Guys,” Steve calls from outside. “The coast is clear.”

Slowly, you and the kids make your way out of the bus. It takes some help from both Dustin and Lucas, but eventually you’re able to walk on your own, holding your side, and walk down the steps. 

“You okay?” Steve is by your side as soon as you’ve stepped down, holding you so that he’s not touching your cut. You’re thankful for his support, the pain still making you feel woozy. 

“We’ll talk later,” you motion towards the kids, not wanting to worry them any further. 

He nods, although he hates that you feel like you can’t focus on your own safety. 

“What happened?” Lucas asks the group. 

“I don’t know.” Max looks around, and you think she’s finally starting to understand what she’s gotten herself into. 

Dustin points to you and Steve. “Maybe they scared ‘em off?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head. It couldn’t have been that easy. “No way.”

“They’re going somewhere.” You finish for him, confirming your worst fears. Suddenly, more pain shoots through you and you wince again, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Steve bends his head down, guiding you a bit away from the kids so that they won’t hear. “Hey, we don’t have to follow them. We can go home, you know.”

“We can’t.” You clench your jaw as pain rings throughout your body. The goddamn Demodog got you good. “We have to follow. It’s all connected, Will and his episodes, Nancy and Jonathan with the detective, and I’ll be damned if I back down now.”

“So we follow?” Steve asks, trusting whatever call you make.

You nod, knowing you have to do this. While you guys are safe for now, you know that everyone else has to be in danger; you have to protect them. “Unfortunately.” 

-

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wtlws #m's writing #this chapter almost killed me #but bug and steve FINALLY TALKED !!!! #also ilu lucas ur my baby

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty six : crucifixion

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 12.7k

summary : judgement day.

warnings: major character death, above canon typical violence, very brief references to suicide, torture, body horror (briefly), feelings of despair, blood, wounds, general kodo grossness, vomit (reader vomits several times, it is never described in detail), language, angst, brief smut, pregnancy, death, reader is not doing well in this like she's at a breaking point, i may have missed some so feel free to let me know.

a/n: please read the warnings on this chap! it's the most serious of the bks updates, definitely a bit more intense than the rest. gonna work on getting 27 out within the next few day. i've been terrified of releasing this chapter since i started writing it so once i post this i'm going to dig a hole and sit in it and hide for a while lmao.

i changed my editing style so if there's spelling errors lmk!! apologies in advance!!

“My room is too big.” 

He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” You’re giggling along with him now, it’s the hardest you’ve ever heard him laugh. You both just laugh for a few minutes, as if each other's company is the most amusing thing in the world. 

Once your giggles fizzle out you wait another moment before breaking the silence. 

“Where did you grow up?” You can’t see him but you can sense where he sits in the darkness, you crawl forward so you’re sitting between his legs, your own legs wrap around his waist. “I’m just curious.” 

“Aq Vetina.” You can’t recall anything about the planet. You aren’t even sure you’ve heard of it. 

“Do you remember your parents well? You don’t talk about them very much.” You put your hands on his shoulders, ever so slowly moving them up to his neck until you’re cupping his face. 

“I’ll never forget them.” He whispers. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We can’t change the past.” You rub your nose against his, bumping them together as you hum and nod. “My mother loved ships. We didn’t travel, we never had a reason to, but she would take me outside and we’d watch ships fly past. I could never comprehend how she knew the name for all of them, it blew my mind.” You wrap your arms around his neck, staying silent in hopes that he’ll continue, he so rarely speaks so much. “My father worked a lot but he always made time for us, he was always home in time to say goodnight to me. He was always around when I needed him, he always provided for us. On his day off he’d spend the whole day cooking, I’d sit on the kitchen counter and tell him what my mother and I had done that week. When she’d come home we’d all eat dinner together.” 

“You sound like you were a happy child.” You can’t help but smile. 

“I never had reason to be otherwise.” He says it so matter of factly that you don’t doubt it for a second. He was loved. It only makes you smile wider.         

“What were you like, as a child?”

“Well behaved.” You immediately begin laughing once more. 

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it. My mother homeschooled me, she always made sure I had manners. I wasn’t particularly athletic or talkative so I didn’t play with other kids a lot. It was just me and mama.” He sounds far away, it makes you want to hold him close and never let him go.

“So what did you do all day?” Your tone has softened significantly. 

“I would sew.” 

“Be serious.” He’s the one who laughs now at the disbelief in your voice.

“I am! I would sit with my mother after my lessons and we’d sew.” His fingertips dance along the back of your neck as he reminisces. 

“What kinds of things?” You don’t tease. When you really think about it you suppose such a hobby is fitting for him. A task that requires precision and care. 

“I would help her make clothes and blankets that she would sell most days. On the weekends she’d let me do whatever I wanted so I would practice my embroidery.” 

“My heart is actually about to explode out of my chest, you’re so cute.” You put on a mocking tone but the thought of such a thing really does make your heart clench. “Little Din Djarin stitching his name into his clothes.”

“You’re a cruel woman.” He leans forward, knocking his forehead against yours, almost as if he were reprimanding you. 

“What sorts of things would you embroider?” Your tone goes back to genuine, you could listen to him talk about himself for days and you’d never get bored. 

“Whatever my mother wanted. I would ask her what I should do and then I’d stitch it onto her blanket or the hem of her skirt. Mostly flowers, she loved daisies.” You’re pretty sure one of your ovaries literally popped at the thought of a little boy with dark curls and big brown eyes sitting beside his mother and embroidering a daisy onto her skirt. Your heart flutters a bit as you think of the necklace he got you. The silver outline of a flower you now realize is a daisy. “If he was ever gone for more than one night for work my father would bring her daisies, one for each day he was away.”

“Do you still know how?”

“I used to fix Grogu’s clothes when he ripped them but I haven’t done much else since I was a boy. He says it with finality but you carry on, not wanting him to stop talking. 

“What were their names? Your parents?”

“Clara and Arin Djarin.”  

“Those are pretty names.”

“What was it like for you? You said you had seven siblings right?”

“Eight actually.” You think of them now. There were eight of you and your parents' love for all of you combined wasn’t even a tenth of how much Din’s parents loved him. 

“Do you like having a big family?” He lifts you off of his lap, laying you back down as he crawls on top of you, laying against your chest. 

“I love it. I miss my siblings everyday, do you think we’ll be able to visit them someday?”

“If it’s safe to, of course we will.” He tilts his head, if you weren’t in darkness he’d be looking at you. 

“I wish they had visited here. They would have loved you.”

“You think?”

“Are you kidding me? The younger ones would adore you.” You tangle your finger in his hair, scratching his scalp. “Kids just naturally like you.” 

“They just haven’t learned to fear me.” You frown when he says it like a fact.

“I think it’s more than that.”

“Yeah?” The hopeful tilt to his voice has you leaning down to press a kiss into his hair. 

“Kids are intuitive, they can sense that you’re a good person.” He tenses up as you tell him he’s a good person. You know exactly what he’s thinking about now, how he punched your husband and then refused to leave. 

Neither one of you wants to talk about that though, not today. 

“What kind of room would you want? Since your current room isn’t to your liking.” He’s quick to change the subject and you let him.

“In all honesty, I like the cabin, I wish we could just live there.” You run your fingers through his curls as you think about it, gently pulling through any tangles.

“My cabin?” His voice is full of uncertainty as he pulls back a bit.

“It’s nice.” You feel a bit defensive, you consider the cabin to be the closest thing you have to a home. “Can you imagine getting to stay on Naboo? We could spend our mornings walking the market.” You rest your hand on the back of his neck now. “We could get jobs in the city, and then at night we’d come home.” 

“To the cabin?” He still sounds rather skeptical of your hypothetical future. 

“I’d cook dinner, you’d do the chores.”

“The cabin’s a bit small for us.” 

“We’d make it a bit bigger, add a few bedrooms, we don’t need that much space.” 

“A few?” He turns his head, his lips brush against your collar briefly as he kisses you there, freezing up when you speak again. 

“At least two, one for us and then some for any little Djarin’s who might need space.” With that he sits up entirely, his legs straddle your stomach.

“Little Djarin’s?”

“And Grogu, he would come live with us as well.” 

“You’d want him to live with us?”

“Of course, he’s a little Djarin.” Your hands rest on his thighs now as he seemingly ponders above you. He hums to himself in silence for a moment and you can’t help but grin at how seriously he’s taking all of this. 

“How many?” He finally speaks again and you laugh at the bluntness of his question. 

“Kids?”

“How many would you want?”

“You go first.” You haven’t ever talked about this sort of thing so you want to gauge his answer first so you don’t scare him too much with all the kids talk. 

“Maybe five? Or six.”

“Six?” Your voice pitches up immediately and you feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs. 

“Or five.”

“How about two, counting Grogu.” Turns out you didn’t need to worry about scaring him off. 

“How about three?” Three is manageable. 

“Counting Grogu?” 

“Counting Grogu.” He seems satisfied with that. 

“I suppose we could have three, you’re the one who has to build all the extra bedrooms.” 

“I don’t mind.”

“I’d work at the library and you’d work in a shipyard, we’d take turns staying home with the kids.” You pull him back to you, taking his hands and dragging him to lay his head on your chest once more.

“I’ve got enough savings, neither one of us has to work if you’d like.” It sends a twinge of pain to your heart how real this conversation has become, knowing that this exact dream isn’t possible. 

You could always make parts of it real.

Someday. 

“I’d want to work, to get out of the house, but you could stay home if you’d like.”

“When they’re still ik’aad, at least for the first few years I’d want to be with them.” He’s going to be a wonderful father. 

“Then I’d work, not long hours, just enough to get me out of the house, when I come home I’d give you a break, you could do the shopping and I’d watch the little’s.” 

“We’d go as a family, I wouldn’t want ‘a break.’” 

“You’d want to wrangle three kids in the markets?” You scoff in disbelief but he continues to sound completely serious. 

“They’d be well behaved.” You seriously doubt that. 

“What about either one of us makes you think our children will be well behaved? Is Grogu well behaved?” 

“We’ll manage.”

“They’ll be wild.” They will, not they would. 

“And smart.” He sits up again, hovering above you to give you a quick kiss. 

“And happy.” There isn’t a doubt in your mind that your children would be happy with Din as their father. 

“You’d really want to live here? I could build us a house anywhere.”

“I like Naboo, at least everything outside of the castle. I don’t even mind the castle, I just don’t care for the people inside it.” It’s true, somewhere along the way this place grew on you immensely. You love the city and the people in it. “And they’d get to play in the garden.” 

“I would build you a cabin anywhere you wanted, and I’d plant you a new garden.” He kisses along your cheeks and forehead as he speaks. 

“You wouldn’t need to plant me a garden if we lived here.” You insist. 

“We can’t live here, mesh’la.” He rubs a small circle with his thumb against your cheek. “This is too serious now, we’re supposed to be relaxed today.”

“When did we agree on that?” You muster up a weak laugh. 

“It was a silent mutual agreement.”

“I’m plenty relaxed.” You mumble. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his stubble tickling you as you let out an airy giggle. 

“I’m actually very tense and I think we should take a break from all this talking and take care of that.” He mumbles against your shoulder.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.” He emphasizes his point by pressing his erection against your hip, you hadn’t even realized that this is where he was going with that. 

“How long have you been waiting to jump me?”

“When we started talking about the five kids I was gonna put in you.” He continues to nip at your neck and shoulders as he speaks. 

“Skipping the agreed upon three and going straight to five already? You’re not even going to attempt to negotiate for four?” 

“So you’re open to four?” He pulls back and you can hear his smile. 

“Let’s start with one and go from there.”

“Right now?” His hips stutter down a bit against yours. 

“Maker, you’re insatiable.” You both burst into another fit of laughter. 

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“I could get pregnant, and considering the lack of sex I’ve had with my husband I’m sure that might raise a few eyebrows.” 

“It would never get to that point, when we’re in the clear with this whole Kodo mess I’m getting you out of here.”

“Like… actually leaving Naboo?” 

“Exactly like that. I’m gonna take you far away from here when this is over, gonna keep you all for myself.” His hands move down, giving your hips a squeeze. 

“I’m already yours.” You laughed, rolling over to be on top of him. He’s right, if you’re going to leave anyway then what’s the worst thing that could happen? 

You never talked about that night after that. 

When everything sorted itself out you realized how crazy your fear had made you. You couldn’t just leave. At least that’s what you’d told yourself, now you feel like an idiot for not holding him to his words. It wasn’t realistic, you both knew actually leaving would take so much more preparation than a few whispered ideas during a time where neither one of you was in any position to be making such promises. 

It was just talk.

Lysa came to get you from the dining room. 

After everyone left you had no motivation to move, you just stood there, frozen in time. After a few hours she found you, she had taken your hand and walked you back to your chambers. She held your hand, she kept you upright when you threatened to crumble. And when you felt a wave of nausea ripple through you she rushed you to the fresher, a hand on your back as you threw up all over again. 

You sat breathlessly on the tile, Lysa rubbing your back.

“Gods, I’ve been nauseous since the wedding. Even before everything fell apart.” It’s the first words you’ve spoken since they took Din, your stomach is still churning. “This has never happened before.” You groan, you’ve had many moments of upset throughout your life, but none that made you physically ill. Lysa looks almost painfully worried. 

“Ma’am… is there a chance you might be…” 

Kriff.

You never talked about that night after that. 

Maybe you should have. 

You both did a lot of things during those days. You had been so angry, and he had done everything in his power to ease that anger, to keep both of you as happy as someone could be in your situation. 

You shouldn’t have used that as an excuse to be reckless. 

“I’d like to go to bed.” 

“Of course.” She helps you to your feet, walking you back to your room, you turn to her one last time before you close the door. 

“I’m sorry. Elaine never should have gotten involved in all this.” You’d trade places with her in a heartbeat if you could. 

“It’s not your fault.” She truly seems to believe that. 

Except it is. Elaine never would have found herself in this situation if she hadn’t so often been helping the two of you keep your secret. 

“Goodnight, Lysa.” 

“Goodnight, princess.” 

You lay on the bed, unable to bring yourself to sleep in the closet. 

It’s cold. Colder than Hoth, as you stare at the ceiling in your far too big bed in your far too big room. Even bigger now that it’s just you. 

You let your hand roam down your torso to rest on your stomach.

Just you, hopefully. 

☆

You’re now having nightly dinners with Kodo. 

You don’t get any respite from him, you just want to stay in bed. You’re nauseous and tired and your head hasn’t stopped spinning since that night. A million thoughts a minute. 

Where is he?

Is he okay?

What the fuck can I do about it?

Mostly that. 

The worst part is your lack of a plan. If the roles were reversed Din would have already rescued you and you’d be living happily ever after. 

But that isn’t how your story is going. Instead you are alone, with no scheme on how to get to him. It’s only been three days but it’s driving you insane, you have never known such hopelessness, it’s maddening. To sit alone in your room all day, staring at the ceiling until Lysa comes to dress you for dinner. Neither one of you ever speaks, afterall, what would you say to each other?

“I’m sorry the love of your life had been sentenced to die?”

How morbid. 

Not that you’re above being morbid. 

You think about it often. How easy it would be to drive your dinner knife into Kodo’s throat. You’re seated beside him now at dinner, both of you at the head of the table, joined by the rest of his family. 

The thought of killing him is the only thing that brings you peace these days. You’ve never once in your life been violent until now. Din is good. He’s a good man. In every way he is the opposite of your husband yet Din is the one locked away, Maker knows where, while Kodo is being rewarded. 

It doesn’t make you mad, it makes you furious. 

It makes you want to poison his wine. 

But you don’t have poison. 

And you can’t put yourself in danger. Because you feel fundamentally different, and even if you refuse to think that such a thing is possible you know you wouldn’t just be putting yourself in danger. There’s more at stake now. 

That’s what you tell yourself to stay calm, a feat that is getting harder by the minute as you’re sat beside Kodo who is currently bragging about how he defeated a Mandalorian. 

“They aren’t as strong as you think they are. Under the armor they’re weak, pathetic.” 

It took six battle droids to keep him down. You didn’t even get near him. 

“Some people just need to be taught a lesson, don’t touch what isn’t yours.” He sneers and the rest of the table erupts into laughter. “I certainly taught that horned bitch a lesson as well, you all should have seen what they brought me last night.” 

You perk up, this is the only thing they’ve said in days that truly matters to you. You’ve heard nothing about the current state of either of them until now. 

“What did they do to Elaine?” Everyone’s head turns to you, all their expressions look as if you’ve announced something treasonous but Kodo smiles as if he were explaining something to a child. 

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.” He puts his hand over yours when he says it. 

You don’t ask for any follow up. 

You don’t think you could stomach it, so you stay silent for the rest of your meal. When you’re finished you stand, the rest of the table is starting to pour more drinks but you simply lean down, mumbling something about being tired before giving Kodo a quick kiss on the cheek and dismissing yourself. 

You’re waiting for the night where he joins you in your chambers, after all his father is dead, but it has yet to happen. He had told you that once he was king he would be in need of heirs but he seems happy enough with his pleasure houses and you’re more than grateful for the women you entertain him so you don’t have to. 

So you return to your chambers alone, peeling off your gown before burying yourself under the covers. 

Sleep evades you as you toss and turn. You aren’t even tired, there’s too much going on in your mind, there’s no room for exhaustion. After about an hour you manage to drift in and out of unconsciousness, earning a brief reprieve from your anxieties until a sharp knocking has you jolting upright. 

You don your robe, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you rush to the door, you’re too tired to wonder who might even be bothering you at such an hour as you pull the door open. 

Lysa?

“We have to hurry, ma’am.” She grabs your arm, frantically tugging you into the hall. 

“Lysa? What are you doing? Are you okay?” 

“I am fine, but we don’t have much time.”

“Surely you have enough to tell me where we are going.” 

“Do you want to see him or not?” 

Din.

You nod, taking her hand as he rushes onward, stopping at each hall to peer around the corners until you make your way to a servants stairwell, skipping several steps in your descent until you run out of stairs. You’ve never been down here, you didn’t even know there were dungeons until recently. 

It makes your stomach twist in knots the moment you stare into the darkness. 

“Are there no guards?” You whisper, squeezing her hand.

“Not for the next hour, I’ve made sure of it.” She begins walking down the poorly lit corridor, pulling you along behind her. 

The stone floor is damp and it smells of mildew. Your bare feet are already freezing after just a few steps.

Every cell you pass is lit from the outside with a hanging lantern, they’re mostly empty, but you catch glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye every now and then. In all honesty you’re doing your best to take in as little as possible, you don’t want to think about Din being down here in such a place, but there’s one element you can’t ignore. 

The wailing. 

Someone is weeping, a low, sorrowful song filling the vast maze of halls and you realize quickly you’re heading in its direction, Lysa tenses beside you as you continue on. You’re about to turn one more corner when she abruptly stops, turning to face you.

“He needs to eat.” She removes a fistful of rations from her apron pocket, shoving them into your hands. 

“He hasn’t?” He’s been down here for three days. 

“He won’t… let me.” You pause, cocking your head to the side and she gives you an apologetic look when she turns. “He won’t let me uncover his face.”

Oh. 

“I’ll feed him.” You nod slowly, tucking them into your own pockets before turning the corner. The contents of the cell immediately on your right have you stumbling backwards but Lysa is not swayed, pulling a key from her pocket, unlocking the door quickly before handing it to you. 

“He’s two cells down, on your right.” She doesn’t look at you as she rushes in, pulling a roll of bandages from her dress. “Shh… it’s okay, I’m here.” Her voice goes soft as she kneels beside Elaine. You can’t help it as you step into the entryway of the cell. 

Well, you’ve found the source of the wailing. 

She’s sat on a cot, curled in on herself as Lysa carefully peels back a series of soiled bandages from her face. 

“I’ve got you, it’s just me.” She continues to make an attempt to sooth a rather hysterical Elaine as she peels back the final layer of bandages and your stomach flips. “You’re okay, love, I need to change these.” You don’t know how Lysa is so calm, even in the darkness you can see the extent of her wounds. Now you know what they brought Kodo last night.  

Both eyes. 

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.” 

Oh gods. 

You’re worried you may collapse as you watch Lysa tend to her with no hesitation, cleaning them with a careful hand before she begins to redress them. You can’t bear to watch any longer as Elaine begins sobbing once more. You try desperately to force the sight of your mutilated friend from your mind as you count down two more cells before quickly fumbling for the lock, letting it hit the floor as you take the lantern outside the door off its hook, bringing it into the dark room. 

It isn’t like Elaine’s cell. 

There’s no bed or interior light, it’s terribly dark and fetid, his cell running deeper than her’s. It takes a few steps for you to finally illuminate the room enough to see him. 

Maker. 

What have they done to your Din? 

You don’t hear Elaine anymore, there isn't a single thing that could distract you from the scene in front of you. There is nothing but the sight of your kar’ta. There’s too much for you to worry about, you don’t even know where to start, you’re frozen in place, a small part of your brain refuses to recognize the man before you as Din at all. He shouldn’t look like this. 

Armorless. 

They’ve stripped him of any clothing you recognize, the thought alone makes you nearly lose your dinner. 

They took his helmet, replacing it with a linen sack.  

Did they see his face?

You briefly have to shut your eyes, taking a deep breath as you take in the rest of him. His clothes are too thin, he must be freezing, they’ve dressed him in a cotton tunic and trousers that end just below the knee. You can see just how beaten and bruised he is. Unlike Elaine he’s in chains, kneeling on the floor with his hands shackled, taut above his head. You swallow the lump in your throat and finally crouch down in front of him, setting the lantern down beside you as you reach out to place a hand on his chest.

“Din…” Your voice cracks and the moment you come in contact with him he flinches back. Suddenly you know how Lysa held it together so well with Elaine, she just had to. You can’t fall apart, who would care for him now if you did? “It’s me, just me. Just me.” You whisper and place a hand over his heart but withdraw it quickly when he trembles under your touch. You ache at the sight of it but more than anything you’re confused, it only takes a moment for you to realize the issue. 

He doesn’t have his helmet. They’ve not only left him here blind, but deaf, of course any touch would frighten him. 

He assumes you're here to harm him. 

You lean in, careful not to come in contact with him as you speak clearly and loudly. 

“Din?” His trembling stops instantly. You find it a bit troublesome how much worse his hearing seems to have gotten in such a short time, you’re half tempted to reach under the bag to make sure he still has his ears. 

“Sarad?” Oh, Din. His voice is terribly small and it sends you forward, wrapping your arms around him as you pull him into an unreciprocated embrace. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You make sure to speak loud enough for him before pulling back, placing your hands against the fabric covering his face. 

“Are you okay?” He coughs a bit as he asks and you almost laugh at how ridiculous the question is considering the state he’s in. Are you okay? 

Technically no. 

But far better than he’s doing. 

“I’m perfectly fine, what can I do for you? Are you hurting?” You feel his face through the bag as you look down across his body. It doesn’t look like there’s been any permanent damage outside of a pretty nasty cut on one of his legs. 

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Now’s not the time to play the hero, Din.” He flinches a little and you calm your tone immediately. What the hell did they do to him? “Just let me help.”

“How’d you get down here?” 

“Lysa, she says you aren’t eating.” 

“She’d have to lift my- the bag to do it.” He sounds apologetic, as if you could ever fault him for following his creed. 

“It’s okay… may I?” You bring your hands to the hem of the bag but his head turns sharply.

“I- I don’t want you to look.” 

You have no response. He’s always wanted you to look. 

“I just, I don’t think you wanna see the condition I’m in. I don’t want your only memories of my face to be this.” He whispers when you don’t respond.

You should have looked when he asked you to. You should have done a lot of things differently. 

You shouldn’t have waited so long to look. 

You shouldn't have waited so long to tell him you loved him. 

You should have just let yourself love him. Why did you fight it for so long? It seems silly now. If you could do it all again you would have just taken his helmet off the first night you met him and you would have married him right then and there. You would have left Naboo that night.

And you would never keep any of it from him. You would tell him how important he is and how loved he is, you wouldn’t make him wait. 

Even now you can’t help it though, censoring yourself out of fear. Do you tell him about how nauseous you get every morning? About the way Lysa stares at your belly when she does your makeup? 

No. 

It wouldn’t do either of you any good, not when he’s in this situation. 

You take hold of the edges of the bag once more, gentler this time. 

“I’ll close my eyes.” You lift the fabric completely off of him, setting it in your lap as you simultaneously shut your eyes. You keep one hand on his face, using your thumb to find the corner of his mouth as your other hand fumbles to open a ration bar. You feel him part his lips as you feed him. He’s barely chewing, eating quickly and swallowing most of it whole. “Have they fed you at all?” You whisper as he finishes the first bar in a matter of seconds, his teeth lightly scraping against your fingers before you withdraw them, tearing open another bar.

“No.” His voice is still soft as you go to feed him once more, opening each package until he’s eaten them all. 

“Are you still hungry? I could see if Lysa has more.” 

“I’m okay.” You let your head fall forward, resting your forehead on his. 

“What else can I do for you?” 

“Nothing. Being here is enough.” 

If you had felt helpless before it was nothing compared to this. This is more than helplessness, it’s despair. 

“I’m sorry.” You pull yourself further into his lap, wrapping your arms around him in the process. 

“Hey… none of this is your fault.” It certainly feels like it is. Why does he keep comforting you when he’s the one shivering and alone down here? 

“Please, there has to be something I can do to help you.” 

“There is one thing.” You almost open your eyes, you're so relieved, you just want to ease his pain. 

“Anything. I’ll do anything.” 

“I need you to promise me you won’t look.”

“Won’t look?” Your eyes are already closed, you couldn’t look any less if you tried. 

“When they do it. I don’t want you to see it- it won’t be pretty.”

When they separate his head from his body. 

“I won’t.” You can’t deny him this, you’ll give him anything he wants. “Do you know how much I love you?” You whisper before leaning forward another inch to kiss him. 

The question is genuine. It terrifies you to your core to think that he may not know just how much you love him. 

“Of course sarad.” He murmurs against your lips until you let your head rest on his shoulder, fighting back tears. 

What do you say now?

What do you say to a man condemned to death? 

“I love you.” You mumble into the thin fabric of his tunic. 

“I love you too.” After a moment more with him you hear metal jingling as Lysa locks Elaine's cell once more. You quickly pull back from him, pulling the bag back over his head, once you know he can’t see you anymore the tears flow freely. Lysa steps into the cell and you remove your robe, wrapping it around him, immediately he begins to protest. 

“Mesh’la, you can’t leave this here.” His voice is strained and it makes you sick to think he started crying once he was out of sight as well. 

“Please, y-you’re gonna freeze.”

“They’ll know you were here, sarad’ika.” 

“Din…” You’re practically babbling as Lysa removes your robe from his shoulders, an apologetic look on her face as she grabs your arm. 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we need to go.” Tears sting your eyes as Lysa urges you to hurry but you don’t want to leave him, you want to stay, no matter the consequence. You pull away from her, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

“You need to go.” His voice is urgent through the fabric as you cling to him tighter. 

Would it be easier to just stay? Get caught and join him at the executioners? You’re genuinely considering it when you feel your stomach churn once more and you’re reminded of the exact reason why you can’t stay. Before you lose your nerve and shatter completely you lift the bag, just enough to give you an eyeful of his split lip and bruised jaw as you gently lean in and kiss him one more time. 

Doing everything in your power to remember exactly what it feels like.

The curve of his lips and the shape of his chin, the overgrown stubble brushing against your skin as you press your face harder against his, desperation taking over as you taste salt on his lips. You hold him as long as you can, until you hear Lysa urging you to make haste once more. 

“I love you.” You press your forehead to his through the fabric, feeling the familiar shape of his face against yours. 

“I’ll always be yours.” 

That was the last thing he was able to say before you let Lysa drag you out of the dungeons. 

☆

It’s like everythings suddenly back to the beginning. 

You wake up alone, you go to bed alone, and you wander the castle alone.

There is no plotting or scheming to free Din. 

Even if you were a trained killer or bounty hunter, it would be more than difficult to get him out of the dungeon and on a ship off Naboo. It would be even harder to do so when you’re one of the most recognizable people on the planet. 

He is buried deep beneath the ground and there is nothing you can do about it. 

After all, you're just a doll. 

You don’t know when it happened but all your clothes are blue again. Every dress Lysa fetches from the closet is a different shade of blue and all your nightgowns are the color of the sky. A personal brand put on you by Kodo. It’s clearly more than just a preference now, it’s a reminder to you and everyone else that you’re his. 

And time blends. 

You know a date was set right around the time you visited him. One week until Kodo’s coronation and two until the execution. His first public event after being crowned king will be a death sentence, how fitting. 

So you wake. 

And you sleep. 

And you walk. 

Kodo never replaces Din and you haven’t seen Leo since that night, so you’re completely alone. It’s like he’s rubbing in the fact that you’re powerless. There’s no need for you to have a guard, you can’t leave. If you tried you’d be escorted back in an instant. 

You tried to convince Lysa to let you see him again last night. 

“Please, just a few minutes-“

“I’m sorry ma’am, it’s just not possible. The only reason I was able to get you down there the first time was because the guard that usually lets me in was working nights, he won’t be working nights again until next month.”

Din won’t live to see next month. 

“Is he eating?”

“He won’t let me-“

“You need to insist. Tell him I insist, and tell him you’ll close your eyes.” 

She pins back a bit of your hair, leaving half up and half down. You both bask in the silence for a moment.

“I’ll make sure he eats.”

“Thank you.”

That had been the last conversation you had with Lysa. 

She doesn’t come to dress you in the morning. You think nothing of it and dress yourself in the gown she’d laid out last night. It’s a bit difficult, putting your coronation gown on on your own but eventually you manage, when you’re fully dressed in the obscenely decadent blue fabric you begin to worry. 

You have no reason to assume that everything is fine. It would actually make sense for this to be a worst case scenario situation, everything else in your life is right now. 

You’re about to leave in search of her but you decide against it. Sitting at the vanity and doing your makeup as quickly as possible, the last thing you need to do right now is give Kodo a reason to be upset with you, you have to be presentable. You smear the shimmering blue eyeshadow across your lids before rushing out of your room. 

The halls are full. Servants move quickly from room to room, cleaning every inch as you carefully push through the crowds, making a beeline towards the dining room. 

Kodo is seething when you push open the large doors. 

He stands at the end of the table, shoving an armored guard as the veins in his neck jut out in his rage. 

“Where could she have possibly gone? She’s blind. You’re telling me some blind bitch outsmarted my entire guard?” 

Your heart flutters at the thought.

They escaped.

Your hope is shattered the moment Kodo begins speaking again.

“At least we still have the Mandalorian… I want security tripled, guards stationed outside his cell at all times.” He continues grumbling for a moment until he realizes you’re there. “Happy coronation day dear wife! I’m afraid we’ve had a rough morning here, somehow in the night the Togruta girl escaped, do not fret, we’ll find her.” 

God's you hope not.

Even if things are worse than ever regarding Din there is one flicker of light in that darkness. Lysa got Elaine out. Knowing that almost puts you at ease.

“Happy coronation day.” You actually manage a smile when you look at your husband, it’s weak but it’s genuine. You want to be mad that they didn’t help Din escape but you just can’t be. You know they most likely tried but if the roles had been reversed and you could only get one of them out you wouldn’t hesitate. 

So there is no animosity. Just a flicker of happiness for them.

They got out.

☆

You were under the impression that a coronation was a happy event. Yet when you step out onto the castle steps it seems to be quite the opposite. 

They look miserable. 

All of their faces are sullen and dejected. How shocking, no one is excited about Kodo being crowned king. He didn’t have any of the outside of the castle decorated or made presentable in any way. No one reacts when Kodo reads from an ancient looking book until a crown is placed on his head. 

A moment afterwards you’re instructed to kneel and a tiara is placed onto your head. 

The audience is silent and you feel shame when you stare out at them.

Even if you don’t have very much power you still feel as if you’ve failed them. The feeling follows you when you’re directed to the dining hall with Kodo.

“I have a couple gifts for you, wife.” His twisted smile makes your stomach turn as you enter the dining hall, now decorated with blue and gray banners.  

“A gift? You shouldn’t have, my king, I- I didn’t get you anything.” You feign remorse as you take a sip of the wine in front of you on instinct before spitting it back up into the cup. 

“That’s more than okay, you’re my gift, sweet wife, all mine.” The thought of such a thing makes you sick, you smile despite yourself. 

“That’s very kind.” You’ll only ever be Din’s. No amount of blue fabric and faux smiles can change that. He snaps his fingers and a large box is brought to you by a servant, they set it directly in front of you on the table. You look at Kodo who nods, sitting back in his chair as you stand, the box is wrapped in checkered blue paper, a large bow adorning the top. Your hands tremble a bit as you take hold of the edges of the ribbon, tugging on them until the bow slips free, much to your surprise the entire box falls open, the sides collapsing giving you an immediate view of the contents. 

The silver, shimmering contents. 

Din’s helmet. 

Polished like new, it sits before you, and the room suddenly empties. It’s as if you are completely alone, despite all the eyes that are most definitely pinned on you right now. Your hands continue to shake as your fingers wrap around the beskar steel, like you would when you held Din’s face, lifting it to glare into the visor. 

Empty. 

You can’t help but stare at your own emptiness reflected back at you. 

You want to hold it close, press it to your forehead but you’re snapped back to reality by the grating sound of Kodo’s voice breaking you from your focus on the helm between your hands. 

“That’s only one of your presents, open the next one.” He hisses gleefully. 

You set the helmet down, realizing there was another, much smaller box underneath it. Silently you scoop it up and cradle it in your hands. It’s a larger than a ring box, it just barely fits in your palm as you ever so gently open it, swinging the top open as if it were a tiny treasure chest.              

Huh.

It takes a moment.

You aren’t exactly sure what it is you’re looking at at first but when it registers your entire body tenses up, your grip tightening on the gift box. 

Bloody and pink, a tongue. 

Of course you know better than to assume Kodo would give you any old tongue. This is a special someone’s tongue. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

You had loved his tongue before anything else.

He can’t do this, he cannot do this to you.

You had fallen for his sharp wit first, it was what drew you into him. His sweet words had won you back, his declaration of devotion.

Now you hold all of that in the palm of your hand. 

“What do we say?” His nasally voice breaks through your mental anguish. 

No.

“Come on, where are your manners?”

Please. 

“Thank you.” Your whisper is nearly silent as you struggle to keep down the scream bubbling in your throat.

“What was that?” 

You clear your throat. 

“Thank you.” 

He makes you take it with you. You don’t bother telling him you won’t be attending the coronation ball in a few minutes, it’s not like you’ll be missed. 

In one arm you’re cradling his helmet, in the other the little blue box. 

You set each one down carefully onto the bed, even if it’s a bit demented these are the only parts of him you have left. You stare at the little box. 

You have never been hateful. 

Kodo made you into this. You are full of hate, for most things at this point. You hate your husband, you hate your room, and most of all you hate the little blue box on the bed. 

And the music starts. 

It must be deafening in the hall for you to hear it from your room but it’s there, loud and demanding of your attention. 

You’re moving before you even have a chance to think about it, in a few quick strides you’re standing beside the vanity, your hands gripping the top of the mirror as you pull it down in one swift motion, the contents spill everywhere and the glass shatters in an instant, shards splattering the floor but you take no time to process it. 

You move on to the next thing.

You yank each drawer from the dresser, throwing them to the floor, clothes strewn about until it’s light enough for you to push the entire dresser over. In your frenzy you go about the room toppling every stupid fucking table over. So many fucking end tables in  one room, and you throw everyone to the floor, trinkets and vases clattering to the ground as you destroy the room. You get a rush of adrenaline as you lift one of your nightstands and throw it against the wall leaving a small dent but more importantly the force of it makes anything hanging on the wall tumble to the floor, glass frames shatter. 

Your chest heaves as you stare at the carnage.  

And it isn’t enough.

Your face is wet with tears and your hands with blood from cuts you didn’t feel upon your skin as you tear open the closet door, the pile of blankets mock you from the floor, you grab them, your vision now blurry with tears as you pull them out of the closet, throwing them onto your bedroom floor. When you return to the closet you’re in a frenzy, you tear at the fabric before you, yanking each and every dress off their hangers, ripping what you can.

There is nothing else for you to do, so you destroy everything you can get your hands on until the only thing left untouched is your bed, left in pristine condition as you let out a small sob. 

Maybe you are a hateful person now. 

You feel as though you have every right to be at this point. 

You step over the shard of glass, giving your bloody hands a glance before wiping them on your gown.

Happy coronation day. 

You sit on the bed, your trembling fingers wrap around the helmet, now that you’re alone you waste no time to hold it against you face, until your body just gives up, too tired to stay awake anymore.

☆

A guard wakes you in the morning, knocking on your door, when you answer it they tell you Kodo requires your presence in his chambers.

You dress in a blue gown that you don’t look too closely at. Stopping at the fresher on the way, rinsing the dried gore from your palms, wincing as you clean your wounds. None of which seem too deep. 

You want to cut Kodo’s tongue out, to make him feel it. But you know that sort of thing would be an impossible task. So you daydream about it as you walk. You’re more than displeased when you open the door and are greeted by Leodall. You hadn’t seen him since that night and from the looks of it he wasn’t expecting you. He swallows loudly when you step inside Kodo’s room.

Normally you’d be curious, you’d probably take a look around but your eyes refuse to focus on anything but Leo as you scowl at him. 

“Why’d you do it?” You don’t hesitate to ask, you have no idea how quickly Kodo will be joining you. 

He simply stares at you, shame apparent on his face.

“You owe me an explanation at the very least.” You cross your arms in front of your chest as he clears his throat. 

“I thought he’d reward me.”

You laugh. A harsh dry sound 

“What could he have possibly given you that you couldn’t have just asked me for?” Your gaze never softens and you’re practically seeing red as you stare at him.

“I thought he’d give me a lordship.” 

You can’t help it as another crisp and pained laugh slips past your lips. 

“You thought Kodo would raise your status? I thought you were supposed to be smart.” Is he an idiot? “He doesn’t see servants as people, if you wanted such a thing you could have asked me, maybe I could have done something.” 

A glimmer of something similar to hope flashes through his eyes. 

“Would you- would you consider doing so now?”

“You cannot be serious-” Your expression goes from fury to disbelief as you stand. 

“It seemed worth asking.” He puts his hands up defensively as you storm up to him, poking a finger into his face. 

“You slimy little weasel, it should be you on the chopping block, not him. If it were up to me I’d have them put your head on a spike.” The words pour out of you like venom. 

“I would be nicer to me if I were you.” He sneers and your incredulity only grows. You can’t help it, you scoff in his face. 

“I would rather die.” A part of you really means it. 

“You might if you aren’t careful, I saved your life by letting Elaine and your Mandalorian take the fall, I could have told the king that you were a willing participant. I saw the two of you together, I read your little rules. He never forced himself on you. I wonder what Kodo might think about that.” You aren’t a fighter, you’ve never so much as thrown a punch in your life but you grab him by the collar of his shirt and slam him into the wall, the back of his head hits the stone and you don’t feel an ounce of remorse as you do so. 

“Do it.” You tilt your head to the side, almost as if you’re taunting him. “Tell him.” Any of the confidence he briefly had is gone in an instant. “The moment you do I’ll tell him that you’re covering your tracks, and that you made a pass at me. I wonder how Kodo would reward you for trying to touch what’s his?” Leo’s head turns as you both hear Kodo’s piercing voice in the hall. You release your grip on his shirt, brushing off your gown as you turn towards the door. Kodo and three others make their way into the room as Leo coughs behind you. 

“Dear wife, I have another gift for you.” He takes a step to the side, gesturing at a line of three people you don’t give so much as a glance. He doesn’t even seem to notice the obvious tension in the room. “A new staff!”

“I don’t need a new staff, I’m fine on my own.” You abandon the pleasantries. You’re in such a state of upset right now, what's the point? 

“You’re the queen now, staff is required. These three will replace the ones you've lost in a week, until then Leodall will be training them intensively to tend to your every need. Two guards will also be assigned to you but I promise they will be much less loathsome than your Mandalorian.”

All five of them will be trained to keep an eye on you. To report back to Kodo, after everything with Din you should have known he’d keep you on a shorter leash. 

You barely look at them. 

You hate them. 

You shouldn’t, they’ve done nothing wrong, but you hate them. 

You give each one a quick up and down, naming them in your mind. 

A BD-3000 droid commands the most authority just based on how she stands so you mentally note her as Elaine's replacement. You’ll call her new Elaine. 

New Lysa is a pasty young blonde woman with rosy cheeks. You truly wonder how well informed she has been on your circumstance. She’s smiling from ear to ear and seemingly couldn’t be happier to be here. 

And new Leo is somehow even more nervous looking than actual Leo, practically shaking like a leaf at the sight of you. The bags under his eyes are worse than your own. A lanky thing with messy brown hair. 

There’s no reason for you to fight this, Kodo always gets his way so why bother. So you nod. You don’t pretend to be grateful this time, instead you shove your way past all of them, content to return to your room and never leave. 

☆

The morning of the execution comes before you’re ready for it. 

Of course you didn’t sleep last night, how could you?

You dress yourself, apparently your new staff isn’t starting until tomorrow, not that you mind another day to yourself. You manage to find something that isn’t blue, a gray dress trimmed with gold, the closest thing you’ll find to funeral attire. No one else will dress with any respect for him but they can’t stop you. Your vanity is destroyed so you don’t bother with your hair or your makeup, you simply don’t care enough. 

For the most part you feel nothing when you open the door, only emptiness until you look down. 

Someone left you a small vase of flowers. 

You pick them up, taking a closer look but your heart skips a beat when you do so.

Daisies. 

After a few short breaths you throw the vase into the wall across from your door, tiny shards of porcelain fly everywhere as two servants at the end of the hall give you a look of horror. Your shoes crunch over the remains of it as you make your way down the hall and to the entryway of the castle. 

Kodo insists that the two of you get to see him first. 

You’re sweating wildly out on the steps as you wait.

Long before you’re ready for it they bring him out. 

A shivering skeleton of a man with a linen bag over his head, immediately bile rises in your throat. Kodo is grinning ear to ear when his legs are kicked out from under him and he’s forced to kneel.

Kodo himself reaches forward and tears the bag off, too excited for any decorum or finesse. 

You gasp as you stare down at the broken man before you.

In all honesty he isn’t at all what you envisioned. 

His eyes verge on being hazel; they're such a light brown. You’d always pictured them to be nearly black. It doesn’t matter what color they are though, when you see the tears forming in his lash line you flinch, clutching the ring on your necklace to silently let him know silently just how much he means to you. 

He’s a mess. 

You don’t like looking at what those weeks in the dungeons did to him and the last thing you need to do right now is empty your stomach on the palace steps. 

He’s too thin. Far, far, too thin, it’s like his entire being has shrunk down. He’s hollow.

Your breath hitches when Kodo grabs a fistful of his dark hair, forcing him to turn and stare at the crowd. They must have cut it while he was down there it’s a mess, jagged edges and shorter than you’re used to. 

“This man has committed an act of treason against the crown.” His voice is loud and booming as the city goes quiet. “For such a crime he shall face the proper punishment.” He yanks him downawards, you watch in horror as Din’s head hits the stone, an incoherent mess of sounds pour from his bloody mouth and you have to look away. 

He didn’t want you to look.

You remind yourself to try and calm your breathing. You can hear the scuffle as they drag him to the guillotine, placing his neck into the wooden divot, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest as you turn to look. His eyes are everywhere but on you as he looks at the people around him, desperately pleading for his life. Not a single person so much as glances at him, afterall, it’s just nonsense, no one can understand him without a tongue. 

You can’t stand it, you almost cover your ears but you manage to resist as Kodo puts an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. 

“You’re welcome, sweet wife.” He whispers, his breath hot and wet against your ear. 

Fuck it. 

You don’t suppress the shudder in your spine as you shoot him a look of disgust. In a matter of moments everything you care about will be gone, why pretend any longer.

A bellowing chime plays from a nearby clock tower and you know it’s time, you straighten up as you stare at the guillotine in abject horror. 

This is it. 

Your chest rises and falls in sharp short bursts as everyone prepares themselves, a hush forming among the crowd on the street. 

And it begins, a chain reaction that you cannot stop now that the executioner has his ax raised above his head.

You had expected more. More time.

A part of you thought that time would slow, that you’d have a chance to stop it. 

But no. 

There is no epic fairy tale moment where the sun glimmers off of the blade and the executioner raises his ax, giving you this perfect moment to run to him, to shield him from the inevitable, to beg them to take you with him. 

That moment never comes. 

You barely have enough time to close your eyes like you promised him. In one unbroken motion the rope is cut, the blade falls and boom. 

Just like that, he’s gone. 

When you hear the metal slicing through the air you squeeze your eyes shut, hearing only the wet crunch as it cuts through flesh and bone. A soft, squishy thud when his head hits the stone. 

In fashion with your decision to no longer hide your disgust from Kodo you vomit. Bending down you puke onto the stones, spraying your own, and Kodo’s feet. The triumphant smile on his face vanishes as he realizes what’s happened. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, refusing to look at Din’s limp body as you give Kodo one last look of detestation before turning around and running back into the castle, not caring what anyone thinks anymore.

The moment you’re inside the reality of it all settles in as you feel tears falling wildly as you run up the steps to your room.

☆

You have been good, and kind, and in return the maker rewarded you by killing the love of your life. 

So when you stand in the center of your demolished room you do the only thing your body can do at this point. 

You scream. 

From deep within your stomach, you scream, loud and raw. 

If anything was left unbroken in your room you’d be throwing it at the wall. But there’s nothing so you scream. 

You shriek.

You howl. 

And you wail.

You scream until there is no more noise. Your voice, like the rest of you, gives up. 

You aren’t sure how late it is when you finally stop. You’re tired and it’s dark outside and your throat is raw. 

And you lay on the floor. Because the bed is too big, and too cold, and the closet is so empty. So the only place left to sleep is there. You lay on the floor with no more tears to cry and no more sounds to scream as you stare at your bed, only from this angle can you see a rectangular shape under your bed frame. 

You wipe your nose with a stray piece of fabric before slowly crawling over to it, you sit on the floor and when you retrieve the item a brand new lump forms in your throat as you stare down at the box Din had bought all those days ago at the market. 

Your failsafe. 

With quivering hands you open it, staring into the small space containing a mess of items but what catches your eye is a piece of folded paper with your name on it. You take it between your fingers, opening it, careful to not let your tears fall onto it. 

Sarad’ika,

If you’re reading this then I’m afraid things aren’t going all that well for me. There are plenty of possible reasons as to why I’m no longer with you, but what’s important is that I plan on doing everything in my power to get back to you. There is only one thing in the galaxy that could keep me from your side, and if that is my fate then this box will ensure you’re taken care of. 

The most important thing is for you to get off this planet. I have included a few possible plans for you, do what you have to to survive. Elaine will help you escape. 

You can seek out Greef Karga on Nevarro. Tell him Din Djarin sent you, tell him what’s happened and he will see to it that you are cared for. Explain our circumstances and I am certain he will provide you with safe lodging. 

Tatooine is also an option. You’ll find a Mandalorian there by the name of Boba Fett, he will not turn you away. You will be protected there, if you need to relocate for some reason after that he will help you locate the Mandalorian convert. Show the Mandalorians your ring and you will be cared for the rest of your life, the convert will protect you. 

As an absolute last resort there is a planet located in the Outer Ring called Ossus. There is a school there, taught by a man named Luke Skywalker. I doubt he would be eager to take you in but you must insist. Bring the chainmail, they’ll know who sent you. Take care of each other. 

In this box you will find enough credits to get you off planet and take care of you for several months, a year if you’re frugal, I suggest you take a few jewelry pieces to pawn off for extra credits as well. You will find a small chainmail shirt, and a necklace of mine. 

And lastly you will find your vibroblade. 

Protect yourself. You’re strong, and more than capable of doing so.

I have one request for you, please, I will only ask this one thing of you. 

Be smart. 

You are the smartest and kindest person I have ever had the honor of knowing. Be smart, take care of yourself. If the roles were reversed I know that I would go to extremes to either get you back, or find justice for you. And all I can do is ask that you do not attempt any such thing, the only thing I would ever want for you is safety and happiness. 

So seek those things out. 

Be safe. Be happy.   

I was lucky to know you, and even luckier to be yours. 

an ner kar'taylir darasuum, 

Din

All my love. 

You flip the paper over, desperate for more, more Din, but all you find is scrawled coordinates to each location. Your fingers sift through the items, everything he promised is found inside but you latch onto the blade. Laying back down on the floor you clutch it between your fingers as you think of Din.

Din, who was yours.

Din, who they took from you.

Who Kodo, took from you. 

And your grip on the knife tightens. 

☆

Two guards stand outside your door round the clock now. 

They never follow you or come into your room but they’re there, silently watching as you direct all your anger at your new staff. As promised Leo trained them to be as persistent and infuriating as he was. 

When the two new girls come to fetch you in the morning you can’t help it when you scream at them to leave you alone and to stop trying to clean the ever growing mess of things. 

It doesn’t matter that it isn’t their fault, you can’t stand the sight of anyone. 

All three of them try. New Elaine and Lysa show up three times a day, trying to dress you and squeeze their way past you into the room but after enough shrieking they always leave you be. 

New Leo usually tries once or twice a day, you don’t even look at him. You always stare at the floor, when he tries to speak you give him the same treatment as the girls, screaming at him and slamming the door. 

Why should you let them in? You know what they are. They’re here to spy on you, to be Kodo’s eyes while he’s busy being king. They’re easy to evade. When you leave to fetch yourself food or a book from the library you easily outrun them. The two girls are worse at navigating the castle than you were when you first arrived and new Leo has a bad leg, sometimes he’ll make attempts to limp after you but they’re always unsuccessful. 

You think of nothing, day after day because there is nothing to think about. 

Except for the fact that Kodo took your future away from you. He took everything from you. 

If you thought time was blending before Din’s death nothing could have prepared you for now. You don’t track the days as well, you keep your curtains drawn and only leave when you get hungry or start to think of Din. The last thing you need to do is have another screaming fit so you keep him locked away in your heart, an ache that’s always there that you don’t address. 

One day, in a fit of tears you took your knife and decided on a whim to kill Kodo. You didn’t care about the repercussions at that point you just wanted him to suffer but the moment you opened the door you nearly tripped, stumbling backwards the guards didn’t so much as glance at you. 

Another vase of flowers.

You’re tempted to just kick them down the hall but you can’t help yourself when you lean down to pick them up. 

A bouquet of blue lilies. Your nose twitches at the sight of them, out of the corner of your eye you see new Lysa and new Elaine approaching so you take the opportunity to slam the little glass vase into the stone floor. Glaring at them when you do before returning to your room. 

☆

Maybe it’s been three days since Din died. 

Maybe it’s been three months. 

You aren’t sure.

You aren’t sure when you made plans to kill Kodo either but suddenly you have them. A fool proof way to get him alone. 

And suddenly you’re dressed for the first time in, well, however long it’s been. In a baby blue nightie with a robe you march out into the hall. The guards watch in silence as you walk away, your bare feet scampering down the stairs until you find yourself watching the main entrance. Waiting for your loving husband to make his nightly trip to a pleasure house, a trip that is typically accompanied by guards. 

You grip the handle of the knife in your pocket as you wait until you finally hear footsteps approaching. 

“Kodo, honey?” You step out from behind the stone column, holding your robe closed as you bat your eyelashes at him. He stumbles around drunkenly until his eyes focus on you. 

You’ve only used your voice for screaming for so long you sound meek, exactly as you want to right now. 

“Wife?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to join me tonight…” You hold a hand out towards him, putting on a sickly sweet tone of innocence. His mouth twists into a grin. 

“I knew you’d come around eventually.”

He doesn’t question where you’re taking him, he simply follows.

What a joke. 

You pull him up the stairs, you know from hide and seek where to find an empty room so you guide him there in calculated silence until he trips a bit, laughing to himself as he stutters.

“I knew if I got rid of the Mandalorian you’d realize how much better I am than him.” The statement doesn’t sit right with you and he can see it on your face, even in his drunken state he can sense your confusion. 

You both stop, you’re above him on the stairs as you turn and stare into his eyes.

“You- you knew?”

He simply nods, that sickening smile of his is plastered on his face. His icy blue eyes shimmer with delight. 

“How long?”

“When Leo told me I remembered everything. That little altercation in the hall when your boy knocked me out came right back to me, from there it wasn’t hard to figure out.” Your eye twitches as he speaks.

He knew you loved him and he took him from you anyway.

Any hesitations you had are gone as you nod, pulling him onward until you reach the large vacant tower room. He’s so drunk you decide to just drop the voice, pointing at a spot on the floor. 

“Lay down.” You mumble, reaching into your pocket once more.

He eagerly does as he’s told, laying down on the cold stone, you take a deep breath, in one swift motion you grab your knife, holding it behind your back as you toss your robe aside. He gives you a toothy grin as you ever so slowly walk to him, standing above him before sitting, straddling his waist. 

You look him up and down, one last time. 

Your loving husband. 

One of his hands plays with the blue lace of your nightie as you collect yourself. You look up at the ceiling briefly. 

I’m sorry. 

Not for Kodo, but for Din. This is exactly what he didn’t want you to do. 

You aren’t a killer. And you aren’t hateful, but a person can only be pushed so far before something breaks. 

Be smart. 

You think of Din’s note one last time before you bring the blade out in front of you and slam the blade into Kodo’s chest. 

He makes a sickly wet sound, coughing as he stares at you in shock.

You remove the knife, the hot steel cauterizes his wounds, there isn’t so much as a drop of blood as your face twists with fury and you bring it down again into his stomach now. 

How dare he look surprised by any of this. 

After what he took from you? He deserves galaxies worse. 

So you remove the knife. 

And you stab him again.

And again,

and again,

and again,

and again,

and again.

Until there is no more shocked look on his face. You don’t have a snarky remark or a statement to commemorate your revenge, you’re all used up at this point, all you have is this, this stabbing motion. 

He didn’t even have a chance to fight back.

You crawl off of his body, sitting on the stones as you toss the knife to the side, waiting for a rush of euphoria. 

But it never comes. 

It doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would. 

Staring down at Kodo’s lifeless body. You let yourself crumble. Collapsing down onto the floor, gasping for air as you sob. 

This was never going to bring him back. 

You lay there on your hands and knees for quite some time, just wailing, because what else are you supposed to do right now? You realize far too late that this was never an act of malice, some demented and shattered part of you thought that this would somehow bring him back, that it would give you peace. 

They won’t execute you. 

You planned this exactly so they wouldn’t.

Kodo didn’t tell anyone about your relationship with Din in much detail, not enough for them to assume that you could be with child. Everyone will assume that it’s Kodo’s. They won’t kill you, they can’t. 

Not if they think you’re carrying Kodo’s child. Now that Kodo’s dead, there’s no one to tell the royal family that you never consummated your marriage, your child is the most well protected person on the planet. The future monarch. It’s almost funny, you haven’t permitted yourself to think about the stirring within you as a child until just now, in this moment of weakness. A child, your child. 

Who will most likely grow up without a mother because of the decisions you've made today.

You bite your fist, swallowing a scream as you sit back on your heels. 

Your child will never know how loved they were. Your little one will never get to sit beside their mother while their father teaches them to sew. You put your head in your hands as you wail, no longer caring who hears. Your fate is sealed, what does it matter? 

You don’t turn when you hear someone coming up the stairs. When they pull you into their arms you try uselessly to shove them away. Your vision is blurry and filled with tears as you stare up at the unfamiliar figure now holding you. They rub your back, drawing swirls and stars against your spine as they pull you closer. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” They mumble into your hair. You dry your eyes hastily on your sleeve, confused by the voice you’re hearing, it’s painfully familiar, on instinct you wrap your arms around their torso, pulling yourself into their lap as you both sit on the floor beside Kodo’s body. “You’re okay, I’m here.”

“I’m- I’m sorry.” You whisper against the stranger's shirt. You knew you weren’t hateful. You’re certain of it now because even though he took quite literally everything from you, you still feel bad when you look at Kodo. 

A large hand cups your face, pulling you back to their chest so you can’t see the corpse anymore. 

“I didn’t mean it- I- I didn’t mean to kill him. Well I did but I just-” You begin to ramble as a fresh flood of tears begin sliding down your cheeks. 

“Hey- hey it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. We gotta get you cleaned up, okay? I’ll take care of this, I’ll fix it.” Their arms tighten around you, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You finally find the courage to look at your companion and it takes a moment for you to even realize who you’re looking at. 

New Leo. 

Why would he help you? You treat him like shit. When you look at him he looks like he’s about to cry and for the first time since Din was taken from you drop the walls you’ve put up and you let yourself feel bad for him. You show an ounce of kindness to him because in all honesty he’s the first person to make you feel safe since the night Din was taken from you. 

A lighthouse while you sail through a storm.

So you hug him. 

You pull yourself closer to him and you offer him a comfort you haven’t known for days.

“I’m sorry… for all of it, but especially the flowers, I should have told you, I just- you wouldn’t let me and the guards wouldn’t let me in without your permission and you just wouldn’t look at me.” He begins to mumble his own apologies, sending a surge of confusion through you. 

You furrow your brows, pulling back once more giving him a perplexed look as you search his nearly black eyes for some kind of answer. 

And it clicks. 

All at once it snaps into place and you want to say his name, so desperately, but you’re terribly afraid of being wrong. 

And then he smiles. A soft smile that makes you feel okay and you don’t even care if you’re wrong and you don’t care if it doesn’t make sense you just have to ask.

“Din?”

☆

a/n : yeah so uhhhhh yeah uhhhh this is the first chapter i've ever written where im actually very fond of the writing and nervous about the plot stuff so im gonna go hide?? and just vanish for a while lol

//

I don't have a tag list anymore !! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates!!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you

[dead-dove-yandere]

Drunk chase around their darling just spilling every single truth or something

“CHASE WHAT THE ACTUAL FLYING FUCK DUDE I SWEAR I HOPE YOU ARE JOKING”

“Hic I admit it i hic Killed people f-for fun”

Yeah that seems like the kind of dumbass thing Chase would do lmao. He’s very blasé about everything

TW: Stalking, Obsession, mention of murder and manipulation, implied violence/kidnapping

He pours himself another drink and you force a polite smile to hide your annoyance. When Chase barged into your dressing room with a bottle of bourbon, you’d hope you’d both have one drink and maybe then he’d leave you alone to actually get out of costume and unwind after a long day of filming, but it seemed that Chase had other plans. He didn’t offer to pour you a drink, instead just leaving it on the table. Your finger traced the rim of your empty cup, trying to find a way to hint that he’d overstayed his welcome, but he hadn’t picked up on any of the previous hints.

“And then she says, I thought you loved me! Can you believe it?” Chase laughs cruelly as he recounts how he broke some poor actress’s heart. You shift in your seat uncomfortably, and give a half hearted chuckle. Internally, you’re screaming with disgust at how proud he seems to be of how he’s treated his past partners and costars. This is about the third or fourth time he’s told you about how he’s played with some unfortunate man’s or woman’s heart just for the sake of it, and you’re getting sick of it.

“After all, there’s only one person I’ve ever really loved. Like actually, not just for sex.”

“Oh?” You say, disinterested, assuming he’s going to say some other celebrity’s name before going on about how he definitely loves them and won’t just use them up like everyone else he’s supposedly loved.

“It’s you, of course,” he says, so casually and effortlessly that it takes a moment for you to realise you hadn’t misheard. You tense, looking up at him with bewilderment. There it was - the very thing you’d hoped wouldn’t happen.

“Yeah. I mean, I actually did soooo much stuff for you,” he continues as he giggles and slurs his words. “Usually I just sweet talk someone until they’re obsessed with me, but I actually went out and did things for you. Like the role you have now? I put in a good word about your audition.”

You shrink into your seat as you listen to him. You only wanted to be an extra in this film as a bit of fun - just so you could say you were technically in a film. And you’d only auditioned for the major role after the original actor disappeared because they insisted on using the pool of extras to find a replacement. You didn’t want this role at all, even less so now you knew it was by way of nepotism.

“Of course, I had to get rid of the person that originally played your character too. So that’s two things I did for you, I guess,” he adds. Your eyes widen in alarm.

“What do you mean get rid?” You ask, your voice trembling.

“I killed them - I killed them for you,” Chase admitted, his eyes alight as he said it, not an ounce of shame in his demeanour. “‘Cause then I knew I could make sure you’d get the part instead. It’s easy, especially when you’ve had practice like I have.” Chase let out another cruel laugh, seemingly oblivious to the alarm that was wracking you. You hoped that it was a bad joke, yet something in your gut told you otherwise. You shot up from your chair and dashed to the door, hoping you could find someone to help, but Chase was quicker, and he grabbed a fist full of your hair and yanked you back, pinning you against the table. Suddenly, there was rage in his eyes as his face was mere inches from yours.

“And just where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post

#yancore #yandere #yandere blog #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere x darling #yandere drabble #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #male yandere oc x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere male #male yandere #yanblr #obsessive yandere #yandere boy #yandere boyfriend #tw stalker #tw stalking #stalking #stalker #gender neutral reader #Chase #Story

[grippingbeskar]

duality

: ̗̀➛ joel miller x fem!reader

warnings: explicit content 18+ (mxf, f receiving, dirty talk, joel being a king as per usual) swearing, mentions of death, mentions of canon typical violence!

a/n: hii! this was based on this request right here - oh my god. i am obsessed with this, i really hope i did this justice! i kind of just started writing and went where it took me lmao. its all just smut at this point so like don't look to hard. also thank you to @everybirdfellsilent for the title name and answering my question "how do i write this?" with a simple "why not write both?!" you are a queen.

✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩

“Joel… what time is it?” You keep your eyes screwed shut when you begin to fight the muddiness of deep sleep away, but the early morning sunlight in Jackson always sneaks it’s way through. You stretch out, reaching for him in a natural reflex, and instead of answering you he just presses closer. You keep your eyes shut, letting your other senses guide your hands to his shoulders, enjoying the feeling of him under your palms.

You could hardly open your eyes right now, but you could do this. Lay here with him— you could do that easily. You and Joel had a string of long days recently, and you’d hoped, or at the very least expected that he’d be so tired he’d sleep up until the last possible second.

Apparently you were wrong, as you feel him shift under your hands to the point you lose your hold on him. He kisses you once on the lips, light and feather soft, and you smile sleepily, toes curling at the gentle touch.

“Mornin’.” His voice rumbles through you, low and brassy, waking your bones before your brain could catch up. As his hair tickles the skin of your neck, you can feel him moving lower, the warmth of his body leaving your chest and hovering over your stomach.

You reach for him blindly, and he guides you back even when you sit up on your elbows and peak one eye at him. You watch him move, his own eyes still half lidded, but his hands more awake than ever. They slowly slide over your hips, drawing faint patterns with his fingertips. The warmth of his rough palms move further up over your tummy, pawing at you to lay down on your back. ‘Relax’, he whispers, and your chest tightens. He moves you languidly, using your half conscious state to mould you where he wants to put you, and you let him, no resistance in your muscles.

With a hand still sliding up and down your bare skin, he leans down close enough you can feel the touch of his nose on your cheek. Before you can move to take control, he dips his head. First down to your jaw, the heat of his mouth making you shiver when he kisses along all the sensitive spots. He’s light and quick, your delayed reactions making it easy for him to move without interruption. You wonder how long he’d been awake. Waiting for you to stir, just so he could see you squirm.

His tongue licks indulgent lines further down your body, teasing your skin with his lips following suit. He starts at your collarbone, then tucks the fabric of your shirt higher so he can see you bare below him. The blanket covers over his head, but the light is strong enough that you can see his eyes watching your reaction as he plants soft kisses down your chest. You swear he smirks when you arch your back, nearly groaning at the light but not nearly enough pressure.

Your hands finally wake themselves when he mouths at the skin of your lower stomach, brushing through the soft curls on the top of his head. He hums against you, eyes flicking up with warmth lining them, and smiles slightly. The sight tugs at a string of your racing heart, and you keep your voice low when you manage to speak.

“Joel, let me…” You fade off, eyes fluttering as you attempt to bring him back up to you. You want him to feel good too— so as much as you love where this is going, you know the two of you can’t have very long this morning, and you want to make the most of it. “C’mere.”

He shakes his head, mouth too busy to reply as it dives into the newly exposed skin of your thighs. At some point he’d taken your underwear off— or maybe he’d done it in your sleep, making sure you were ready for him in the morning.

You’d both been exhausted last night, so as badly as you’d wanted him, you knew neither of you could keep your eyes open for more than twenty seconds. Joel had grumbled a few curse words at how he couldn’t even hold himself up, and as soon as your heads hit the pillow, and you curled in on his chest light a weighted blanket, you were both out like a light.

Joel was clearly making up for lost time. Slowly, he spreads your legs, his hot breath fanning against your core. The feeling makes you unconsciously try to close yourself from him— the feeling and the way his eyes were staring so intensely at the most intimate part of you.

“Joel, come here—“ You try again, and his hair brushes the inside of your thighs when his head shakes again. His eyes look to you, and they almost look… pleading.

“Please, baby. I need this. Let me.” He sounds half broken— his voice cracking and hands gripping your hips. His hold wasn’t harsh, still keeping those gentle, sweet touches he’d started with, but it was enough to hold you down and keep you right where he had you. “I’ll make you feel so good, I swear. So… so fuckin’ good. Don’t I always?”

His shoulders press you open wider, leaving no room for insecurity. You just nod your head as he stares up at you, wide eyed, waiting for permission. The lines of concern in his forehead disappear when he sees you agree, chest deflating like he was relieved.

He drags the tip of his nose lightly along your inner thigh, and you can feel your legs already shaking in anticipation. It was one thing Joel did so well; he almost didn’t know he did it. Making you wait. All day, he would work you up so subtly— soft touches, intense stares across the field. Words whispered only to you, so any reaction you had would seem out of line. And then here… indulging his every want and need while you sat patiently, waiting for him to decide when, and where, and how.

You’d do it over and over again, because you knew what came of it. What came when you did exactly what he wanted. Sometimes it was fun to fight him back, be a bit of a brat about it, but right here, when he was working you up so nice and asking so desperately— there wasn’t a damn thing in the world worth that.

“Fuck, baby you’re so pretty.” His teeth replace his nose, tracing the same line along the opposite thigh. His fingers massage circles into your hips as he feels you fidget and shake, the world still spinning slowly above you. “You’re gonna take it so well for me this mornin’, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah. A-anything you want. I just—“ Your breath hitches when he kisses closer to where you’re all but aching for him, right in the join between your leg and pussy. “I need—“

He groans into you, never giving you a chance to finish your sentence as he buries his tongue between your legs. You cry out louder than you mean to, the hand not buried in Joel’s messy hair slapping over your open mouth. Joel smiles against you, tongue swirling around your clit in the way he knows makes you dizzy with pleasure.

Everything was too hot. It was winter in Jackson, snow falling gently onto the windowsill, but the blanket over you mixed with the heat Joel was spreading up your stomach was too much. Your back arched and he took the change in direction with eagerness. Groaning your name, he flattened his tongue and caught your eyes before they rolled back into your head, his eyebrows furrowed and concentrated.

“Oh, god… Joel. Joel, Joel—“ It was all you could think of to say, the pleasure shooting white hot sparks up your spine and sliding you further down the bed into Joel’s onslaught.

He was messy. Joel ate you out with an enthusiasm you never found anywhere else. Maybe it was the fact that there was nothing good outside the four walls you’d both found yourself in, the rest of the world cold compared to the warmth of your bed— or maybe he just fucking loved it as much as he always said.

Whether he did this for you or for himself, Joel knew exactly how to build you up; it was so quick you couldn’t prepare for it. His hands held your hips tight as you squirmed— grinding your hips forward to match his pace as he let you use him to chase your release. The sounds he was making were only spurring you closer— slurred words of praise hardly audible, his voice horse and breaking like he could hardly manage them.

“Good— fuck, you taste good.” Each word is muffled underneath you, but it hits you hard in the chest. Being praised by anyone made your heart flutter, but when it was Joel? Capable, stoic, hard-as-nails Joel? It was entirely different. A whole other ball game. And he fucking knew it. “You close, baby. Fuck, I know you gotta be. So tight…”

“Oh fuck. Fuck, I’m so close…” You whimper and he hums in response, the vibrations pushing you over the edge. Your fingers gripped his hair harshly, his mouth only working harder to keep its lock on you. He wrapped his lips around your clit, eyes fluttering open halfway to watch you, and the sight is what undid you.

“That’s it. Fuck, there’s those eyes…” You hear Joel mutter but you can’t form words to reply. Everything was on fire, your stomach locking tight as the waves of pleasure wrapped you into a ball and burst over every inch of skin. It was cliche, but it felt like fucking fireworks went off in your chest, Joel’s hands an anchor keeping you from taking off with them.

He was halfway up your body when you came back to it, kissing and touching you so gently you could have cried if you had the energy. It was moments like these that he was the most vulnerable— where he couldn’t get enough of you, indulged himself in you, but did it with such sweetness and… well, love, that you knew the man he didn’t think he was anymore was still in there.

“So pretty. Sound so damn pretty when you cum for me.” He whispers against your mouth before kissing you hungrily. It’s teeth and tongue, a mix of you and him on your lips as he pulls away to look at you, catching your bottom lip between his teeth.

Your hands reach down to tug lightly at his boxers, and he huffs, shaking his head against your mouth.

“M’not done, baby.” His voice makes you shiver all over again, pleasure still stirring low and hot in your tummy. “S’fuckin’ good.”

“I can’t, Joel…” You whimper, his hand ever so slightly brushing between your legs. You jolt upwards, your body betraying your words.

“Yeah, you can. You can f’me, yeah?” He was already moving down, ignoring your whines as he made his way back to his favourite spot in this house. He was quicker this time, knowing you’d still be sensitive.

It was addicting. He couldn’t get enough of the sounds you made, the way you tasted— it was like the best game he’d ever played. Joel was an adrenaline junkie— he knew it. He was smart about it, but he longed for that rush of endorphins when he was winning a fight or putting bullets into bodies. Out of all the shit he’d done, though, nothing compared to this. The best adrenaline rush he’d ever felt was right here, hearing you scream his name as he tasted every fucking inch you of he could manage.

He was messier this time. Wrapping his mouth around you and swirling his tongue in quick, mind-numbing movements that had your fingers burying deeper into his hair. He nearly came at the feeling of it— you, trying your hardest not to hurt him but still yanking him into you, hardly giving him an inch to pull away. Not that he’d every fuckin’ dream of being dragged away from you now.

“Joel… too much. Fuck— I’m…I—“ He bucked his hips against the mattress, the way you whine his name is like a stab at his chest every time. His nose brushes against your clit again as he tastes you deeper, your voice broken and tapering off into barely there words.

He knows you’d stop him if it was really too much. He knows if he pulled away right now you’d drag him right back where he wants to be, where he knows he’s fucking good at being. Joel wants you closer— all day, he can’t fucking find it in himself to drag you under his arm or kiss you like he wants in front of all those people.

He was too possessive.

None of them get to see you like this, how your eyes get all soft when he kisses you, and how you sigh his name when your body moulds to his. No one else gets to see this. He’s the only one that can break you like this. So when he has you? He doesn’t stop until you make him.

“Just a little more f’me.” Joel’s low, cracking tone sends a violent wave of pleasure skittering across your stomach, butterflies erupting at the sound of him.

His movements weren’t timed anymore, still just as indulgent, but he was losing his control. His hands were tighter now, fighting against the surges of your body off the mattress. You hoped it would leave marks behind— proof of how badly he’d needed you this morning. How much he wanted you to Stay. Put.

“Baby, I can’t—“ You choke out, a hold on his hair so hard you swear you might rip it out.

“Mmhmm.” Is all he rumbles against you, and you think he speeds up, or does something different, or maybe he just looks at you again— because you drown in the onslaught of whatever it was as you feel the familiar rush of pleasure all over again.

This was something different. Everything tightened and released, and you could feel how wet you were— a damp mess underneath you only present when you could feel your heart begin to slow again. Joel doesn’t move from his spot, arms still wrapped around your thighs, fingers drawing slow circles into the shaking muscles.

“God, baby. Fuckin’… never get tired of seein’ that.” He wasn’t looking at you, at anything really. His eyes were shut, forehead pressed to your inner thigh as he tried and failed to catch his breath. “You feel good? You there?”

“Mm.” You push out, feeling the warmth of his laugh between your legs. “Can’t… can’t feel my legs.”

“S’okay. You’re not goin’ anywhere.” His eyes open again, half lidded, and he begins a slow descent, mouthing the bruises he’s left behind as he sinks down. Your back bends off the bed, but he presses you down with a gentle hand. “Lie back.”

“Joel… wait, I can’t. I—“ You can’t talk between small, shuddering breaths, and he just shakes his head, looking at the mess you’ve left behind.

“Keep sayin’ that, but here you are.” He stops, hovering over your stomach; waiting. Waiting for you to tell him to stop for real.

“Lemme keep goin’, darlin’. Just a little…” He groans at the way your hips shift lower, closer to his mouth despite your words. “Fuck. Little more. Need this.”

His nose brushes against your clit as he looks up, holding your eyes as he spits slowly down your centre.

“You like it, don’t you?” He says, a smile on his face even when his voice wavers. You whine, maybe in protest or impatience, but he coos at you either way. “I know. Shh. I know, baby. Just stay right…here.”

You think you black out when his mouth wraps around you again, sounds and colours all blending together in your mind in a way that nothing makes sense except for the way his tongue feels on you. Minutes or hours could go by— every responsibility you might have drifting to the back burner when he was here. Right here.

“M’right here. Never lettin’ you go.” He groans, his hips grinding into the soft covers, and you give in, knowing he’s got you.

✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩

It might of been a good morning, but it was another shitty day.

Winter in Jackson was good and bad. Good, because clickers and runners couldn’t make their way through the thick snow, and froze before they ever got close to the gates. It meant less patrols, less waste of resources, less need for supply runs; it was the closest to normal you got.

Bad, because while clickers weren’t made for the heavy fall of winter, neither were the fucking fences.

Everything broke down, cracked and froze during winter. There wasn’t a single area that didn’t need repairs, so while you weren’t needed on patrols, it meant you’d be out in the field, dragging plywood or banging nails into something. Even with all the hours you'd spent on your area, it felt like there was still miles to go, your hands aching by the time you found a minute to rest.

You could see Joel the entire day, too, which only made it worse for your wandering mind.

You could see him getting pissed off, ordering the young guys he’d been posted with around and up ladders. You know he’d want to relieve all that built up tension when he got home. Sometimes it was a matter of talking it out, listening in a way Joel wasn’t really used to before you. Other times you sat in silence, pressed up behind him in a steaming bath until you could hear his breath start to slow.

Today, you had a feeling it would be something a little different.

You hadn’t gotten to continue things at all this morning. By the time Joel dragged himself away from between your legs, he was already 45 minutes late to his post. Still, he walked you into the shower, holding you up on wobbly legs, trying his best not to get too distracted with how you kept kissing his jaw and looking up at him all innocent. He managed to get you dressed, too, and with no time to spare he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and all too suddenly you were standing out in the snow, alone.

So that, and the fact you could see, and sometimes even hear his low voice grumbling orders all day was doing nothing to help your focus.

When you finally saw the sun begin to go down, you didn’t spare a second before you all but sprinted off, bursting through the door of your shared home. You quickly shook off your clothes, the warmth of your house making you strip down to just one of Joel’s old t-shirts. Now, you waited.

When the door burst open a few hours later, you were like a dog hearing a lead. You jumped out of the bed, watching Joel from the top of the stairs as he carefully stepped through the threshold. He’d found the carpets laying on your floor for you a few months ago, and he knows how much you love them, so he balances on one leg as best he can to take his muddy, snow covered shoes off before he called out to you.

“You home, darlin’?” He kept his voice soft in case you were sleeping, but smiled when he caught you basically hanging over the stairs. “There she is.”

“You’re late.” You say, squinting down at him with a smile and your arms crossed.

“Didn’t realise I had a curfew.” He smirked, shaking off his jacket and abandoning it over the couch. Playful Joel was one of your favourites. It made you as warm as the crackling fire behind you.

“Well, you do. And you’re late, so better get moving.” He raises his eyebrows, a bigger smile playing on his face as he walks to the bottom of the stairs.

“You know, I was gonna cook you dinner and everythin'. Do a real nice thing here. How longs it been since we did that?” He walks slow, every step groaning under the weight of him. Your heart swells at the idea, and if you weren’t so hell bent on jumping on him, you’d take him up on it.

"That sounds n-nice." You take a step back as he gets closer, something about him still intimidating you- even when you knew the man underneath. “Plenty of time to eat tomorrow, though."

When he finally clears the stairs, you don’t have time to blink before he’s surging in front of you. His hands find their home on your hips, staying light when they pull you toward him and make up the rest of the small distance between you. He must remember how hard he held you down this morning.

“Is that my shirt?” He mumbles into your hair, already knowing the answer. He nudges your face to his own, smirking confidently. "You miss me that bad?"

“Nope. It’s Mark’s from today. I just got sooo hot lifting all those planks of wood I had to take all my clothes off, so he—“ You’re cut off by your own squeal when he lifts you up, hands gripping your ass tightly.

“Very fuckin’ funny.” Joel growls low in your ear, but you can feel him smiling against your skin as he walks you to your bedroom, kissing you dizzy.

It’s a little embarrassing how easily he drives you to the brink. All he has to do is say your name a few times, whisper it against your skin, and kiss you like this, and you’re gone again. His. You’re his to mould and bend, your arms lifting as he drags the fabric of his old shirt up your stomach and chest.

He watches with an intense stare, goosebumps rising where the fabric brushes lightly over your sensitive skin. When he finally slips the shirt over your head his control snaps and he’s on top of you, and he’s everywhere.

His hands slide up your sides, spanning the entire space of your waist and ribs, coming over your chest and cupping your breasts in his hands. You arch your back, chasing his mouth as it presses hungry, quick kisses between movements, his fingers catching over your nipples making you moan his name.

“Thought about you all day.” You confess, nipping the skin of his jaw. He huffs a breath, your hands tangling once again in his hair. It’s still slightly wet from the cold, curling around your fingers in something like ringlets. “Needed you so bad, Joel.”

“Greedy little thing. Didn’t get enough this morning?” He laughs, and it's almost mean- teasing. You roll your hips into him slowly. It wipes the smirk off his face, turning it into an almost painful scrunch of his brow. “Fuck.”

“You didn’t let me touch you.” You whine, rolling into him again. He drops to hold himself up on his forearms, hands touching you where they can reach. “Always want to touch you, Joel.”

“Shit, you gotta stop talking like that or…” You repeat the slow movement of your hips, and he runs out of words, practically whining into your mouth.

“It’s true.” You bite his bottom lip, a little harder than necessary. “Wanna fuck you all the time. It’s distracting. Always… always think about it.”

Joel moans your name brokenly, and you take your chance. A small push with your leg collapses him on his back next to you, only that easy because he wasn’t expecting it. He’s sitting with his back against the headboard, and before he can shuffle down you straddle him, locking him in place underneath you.

One of his hands grabs the back of your neck, hauling you to his mouth, and you let him take control. You might be sitting on top of him, fiddling with his belt and tugging his pants down, but he is still in control. You know he could flip the switch in a second, and he’s just indulging you, but you take what you can get.

It’s so rare he lets you take care of him. You could count on one hand how many times he’s really let you do the work, but when the opportunity comes, you were going to take it and run with it.

He was still searching your body, fanning out his fingers and running them down your spine, leaning you closer. He takes off his shirt so he can feel you against him, his tongue licking into your mouth like he needs to learn you inside and out. When you finally get his pants off, you don’t waste a second, both of you gasping when you feel the thick head of him against your heat.

“H-hold on, you gotta… Jesus Christ.” Joel curses, his forehead pressed to yours. “Let me get you ready for me.”

“Mm-mm. Ready. Please…need it.” You shake your head, angling your hips just right, and he slumps forward in something like defeat when your hand snakes down and presses him inside of you. “Oh, god.”

"Fuck. Slow down, baby. Nice and slow." He stutters out, his hands coming to your hips to try and hold you up. Joel was... big. Big enough to the point where you should of taken your time, worked yourself up a bit more, but you just wanted him so bad-- "Hey, look at me."

Your eyes flutter up to him, and he kisses you quickly, like its an apology. You stay there, feeling the slight sharp pain fade quickly with how desperate you want him, how fucking wet you were already. In a few seconds you try to move again, and Joel's hands tighten around you.

"You can stop, baby. It's okay, you--"

"No! Don't want to. Just... fuck me, Joel." You say a little harsher, shaking your head where its now tucked into the crook of his neck. You sink down further against the push of his hands, and he groans your name lowly as you feel him split you open, taking the last inch of him.

Your hands were still tangled in his hair, and where you were rendered speechless, he couldn't seem to shut himself up.

"Fuck. So fuckin' tight, Christ." You feel his palm on your ass, pushing you forward just slightly, creation a friction that has you whining. "Yeah, I know baby. Feels good. Fuck, you feel so good."

When you don't feel that pain anymore, you start to grow desperate for more. Joel was right. You were greedy tonight, and the friction of your hips against his just wasn't enough. You wrap your arms around his neck, shutting up his rambling with a lazy kiss, and use him to rise up just a little, before sinking down again.

He says something into your mouth, but the words are lost when you begin to repeat the same motion over and over again. Heat builds in waves, crashing higher and higher in your stomach until it makes your toes curl, your jaw dropping open to moan a broken version of Joel's name.

Your eyes roll back, head falling to the side, leaving you open to Joel's mouth who sucks harsh marks just below your jaw. You know you'll be covered in them tomorrow, but right now you don't care. You can't seem to care about anything else, except the way Joel is buried so deep inside you, you swear you can feel him everywhere.

"Focus on me. Need to see those pretty eyes, girl." He nudges you straight, your neck no longer able to support the weight of your head as it falls forward to rest on Joel. He groans again, matching your pace with his own movements, and you get louder with the added force. "Fuck, that's it. Let 'em hear you."

Everything turns molten inside of you, liquid heat spreading from the tips of your toes to your heavy head, and if Joel wasn't fucking you back so hard you don't think you'd be upright. As soon as he was inside you, you lost all sense of direction and control, like your body knew to trust him, to give yourself over to him.

His hands wrap tightly around your waist, bodies pressed together as he takes the work out of it for you. You move together— you’re so close you don’t have a choice, and when the hot, tingling feeling ripples up your spine you can only do exactly what he’s telling you.

“Take it, baby. Take it. Good— fuck, good girl.” His head drops from where it was pressed heavy against your forehead, dipping into the crook of your neck. Your palms can feel the release in his back, the way he relaxes as he finally gives himself to you. The noise he makes, and how he almost whines your name is a calling card, hauling you over the edge with him.

He rides it out. Makes it linger, all the pleasure and relief flooding your body in burning waves, and when his hips start to slow, his mouth trails kisses from your neck, all the way up your jaw and to your mouth. He breathes in when you breathe out, both of you wiped from exhaustion, but he can’t pull himself away.

It was like this morning, how even though his back was cramped and he was late as fuck to work, he couldn’t stop. At the expense of himself, he’d starve himself of everything if it meant being here with you.

“Christ, darlin’. Fuck, you’re so good t’me.” He says it like it’s a bad thing— words laced with an anxious wave, like you’d realise it wasn’t right, and leave. Even with him still buried inside of you. “Look at me.”

Your eyes blink open, hands still tangled in the curls of his hair. You can’t tell him all the things you want to— how he deserves this. How much you want to give him, and how if anything, you were the one who didn’t deserve this. Instead, you smile at him, and it seems to say everything all at once.

“You okay?" Joel's muffled voice asks, holding you tightly against him.

"Mhmm." You hum happily, a sleepy smile on your face as his hands cup your face. You feel his thumbs trace the high points of your cheeks, and his lips press to your nose before your eyes open.

You stay right there, his eyes watching you with no real purpose, just taking in the sight of you here with him. When the two of you finally muster the energy to go down stairs, Joel follows through with his promise to cook for you, and for this first time all day, your complete attention is captured.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tlou #tlou joel #tlou joel miller #pedro pascal

[moooncats]

✿ Pick A Card : Your Toxic Traits ₍₍ (̨̡ ‾᷄ᗣ‾᷅ )̧̢ ₎₎ ✿

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✿ Pile 1 ✿

Popular Loner

Detatched as fuuuuck. 💀 Oof pile 1, I'm hearing you convey the same energy as an Aquarius/Libra. You don't have to be that particular sign, but you do display simmilar traits. With that pile 1, you are very smart and you know that in some situations your words may cut like a knife... and yet you still full send them lmfao. This pile is goofy af, on top of that you are very hard to get a hold of. Deadass I'm seeing you tend to fall off the face of the planet, then randomly reactivate your social media's and positing again to see who missed you or whats buzzing. 🐝 ✨️ I'm hearing "Whats the tea 🍵?¿" Your card Pile 1 was the Queen of Swords. Althought it may seem like a favorful card, this is actually far from the truth. You are so in touch with your logic based brain that you are failing when it comes to connecting to your own emotions. They are turned off so you can percieve things as they actually are and continue to stay on the high pedstal that you put yourself on. Pile 1, I'm seeing here that so many people want to collaborate with you, but you love them at a distance. You rarely do anything else that isn't hanging out with your family doing errands, or working and stacking up silently. This may also be my piles who work from home. You prefer to be secluded in your own energy and most don't know that much about you. You may also be very "vocal" when it comes to your social media. This can lead to "trolling" or "fights" that happen. Pile 1 lets be honest, you like to stir the pot lmfao. Messsyyyy.

✿ Advice From Spirit ✿

Your Angel guides and spirits think you'll grow out of this phase. So that's good news right there pile 1. You may be on the Younger side, or have a youthful way of thinking. Honestly, you as a person is very likable. You tend to gravitate people towards you just from vibes alone, and people love that about you. I'm hearing, "You need to rationalize better, and use honesty in your everyday life with straightfowardness". With this type of living, your encounters will become enriched with trust from your own judgment and maintain integrity in your day to day life. I'm also hearing "Be there for people more, open up your boundaries and live life day by day, be present". Once you genuinely want to spend time with more people, you will reach the point of your life where you can be of guidance to others. Just like how the Queen of Swords was. Less Arguments, and more Growth. 🌱 (:

Channeled Songs:

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✿ Pile 2 ✿

Fight Club

"THANK GOD I AIN'T HAVE TO SMACK A B**** TODAY"

Why do you feel the need to even have to fight if you'll always come out right in the end? Like whats the use... I'm seeing someone who likes to get receipts, facts, everythinggggg before they start to go psycho mode and yell at people to defend their own ideals. Pile 2, your card was 5 of Swords. I'm hearing Smack a Bitch by Rico Nasty.

Especially when she say's "Don't work at MAC, but I'll beat a bitch's face". Bwahahaha Pile 2 you are fighters let's go! It reminds me of something my gamer girl friend always says "Violence is always the answer". While it may seem true to you; ya do know that sometimes it's better to let things settle and silence is always an answer as well? Why must you add more flames into the conversation just to set everything and everyone on fire? Contemplate on that thought pile 2 lmfao. You may think that you're very defensive and you wouldn't hurt a fly but babyyyy Tarot ain't lying here Lmao. Lemme call you out (with love ofc haha ♡). Pile 2 you are seen as a hot pan. Filled with oil and if one spec of water touches you, you'll go ape shit hahah. People around you have learned to just keep you happy and fed so you don't go all aggro on them. They know you hold grudges secretly until you kinda just dgaf then full send all those emotions that were held deep inside. Honey, you have to do some shadow work before you make everyone around you run. Trust me being lonely is not a flex. As human beings, we need to be surrounded by each other to function properly.

✿ Advice From Spirit ✿

Please look within yourself and ask for help from your loved ones. I'm hearing "We just want to know that you are okay". Giiiiirl, soooo many people are trying to reach out to you- yet you give them the cold shoulder and take on all this pain as your own... it is not. You are amazing, wonderful, LOVED. You have people around you who want to help, let them pile 2. I'm seeing that they are your soul tribe, and they will help you through the grief and pain you are going through. Your Angel Guides and Spirits want you to gain Fortitude during these times, it is great to be resillient and compassionate during these times. They also want me to bring up shadow work. It will help you a lot on your jouney here on earth. Please start journaling all those past trauma's so they can heal and you can be more level headed and yourself. (: Heres a hug pile 2, you'll get through it one day. ♡

Channeled Songs:

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✿ Pile 3 ✿

Depersonalization

You are it baby. Honey, You're a star did you know that?

All eyes are on you. You may have already known that from a young age, but I'm seeing here that you tend to dim your light so others can shine more. Why do you do that? Stars are meant to be seen. You are supposed to be guiding people, but instead you're making others guide randoms and they have nothing in common? Lmfao I'm seeing you being extremely friendly to everyone and when one bad person says something wrong about you, your whole friend group is broken up cause you trusted too easily and you made someone else their star. Giiiiirl get it together. You are deadass the main character without even trying, yet you feel insecurities that aren't even there. Seriously who says one star is better than the other? They are all equally beautiful. And like a snowflake, no two are like the other. Your card was The Star pile 3. ⭐️✨️ You are constantly putting bad eggs on the pedastal while you reduce yourself down to less than that of dirt. It's so sad to hear and see pile 3. People can clearly see that you are insecure, and you like to hold feelings like jealousy because you feel a sense of incomplete. Oof that was really deep pile 3, please let me know if I hit a nerve. This is coming from love I promise. ♡♡♡

✿ Advice From Spirit ✿

Pile 3, never let your dreams die. You know that you are on the right path when you are following it with clear conscice intentions. Your spirit already knows what to do. Just tap into your intuition and follow it. Embrace your unique talents and always let them shine brightly. Have faith in the universe and you will forever shine brightly like a star in the night sky. ♡ Please start listening to empowering songs that will make you feel amazing and great. I added in two from my playlist for you pile 3. Please make sure to read the lyrics and use it as a daily affirmation. You will 100% feel the difference in 2 weeks max. ♡

Channeled Songs:

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Mahalo for reading this! If you enjoyed it please leave a like and comment down below. Comments always make my day honestly. ♡ I hope what I said did not offend people. It was advice sent from spirit with love. ♡ You are all amazing, wonderful, rad individuals! (: Remember to drink and stay hydrated baby bats! 🦇 ^-^ Moooncats out! 🚀⭐️✨️

#baby witch #intuition #intuitive #pac #pick a card #tarot #tarotreading #tarotblr #tarot blog #moooncatstarot #free tarot #witchblr #SoundCloud #Spotify

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi Hal!

Congratulations on finishing all the requests (there were so many good ones!!) and thank you for opening them up again!! I’m excited to see what you have in store for us with all your other projects, bestie!!! 😊😊

I was unsure of who to request at first because there are so many good ones but then I saw Hesh’s name and an idea hit me.

If you’re ok with it, could you possibly write one for Hesh where the reader is part of the Ghosts has been taken/captured by the Federation and after some time, they get intel on where she is so they go out to rescue her and she and Hesh are reunited? I don’t know if you want it to be a pre-established relationship or one where they both admit their feelings after they get her back, so I’m leaving it up to you. But I need a little rescue/reunion fic to fill the void in my heart that the ending of Ghosts made.

As always, feel free to change it up as you see fit and do whatever you want. I just think that Hesh deserves more love and I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing Riley again (aka: the best dog in the world)!!

Thank you and remember to take care of yourself and I appreciate you and your work!! 💕💕 Love you, bestie!!!!

Lengths Of Love

PAIRING: David 'Hesh' Walker x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You'd loved Hesh for as long as you can remember, and you'd pulled him out of trouble for even longer, but you'd never had the courage to tell him how you feel. Until you do. Until you're being dragged away from his broken body.

WORDCOUNT: 10.7k

WARNINGS: Major spoilers for CoD: Ghosts, heavy angst, blood, guts, descriptions of wounds, canon-typical violence, weapons and firearms, death, torture involving: drugs/hallucinogens, physical violence, mental stress, talks of PTSD, anxiety, paranoia, rescue fic, best friends to lovers plot, wounds that would 100% kill you that you live from (plot armor fr), etc.

A/N: Bestie, I don't know what you put into your prompts, lmao, but I always end up writing so much for you!! Thanks so much for sending something in <3<3

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The beginning of the end started with good intentions and one statement. 

“You hear this? It’s Rorke. He’s here. They’re evacuating on the train system below.” Hesh’s green eyes darted to you and Logan, his painted face a collection of rage and surety. The three of you were, in an instant, in agreement of revenge—there was no question as to what had to be done. Merrick couldn’t stop you, not on this. 

Rorke had made one of the most dangerous decisions of his life, and that was underestimating the Walker boys and their partner in sinful crime. 

“Harp,” you look away from the body of the warhead as it enters the atmosphere, locking onto Hesh’s hard eyes; the ones that had grown steadily colder since the death of his father, Elias. But it wasn’t just him—the patriarch had been close to you as well. The knowledge of his passing, witnessing it as the rope restraints seared into your flesh, had lit an all-consuming fire in your gut.

Like hounds, the scent of blood had hit the air. 

“Let’s get the bastard. Now or never,” you ease out, and Logan darts his gaze down to you from behind his balaclava. 

“Damn right,” Hesh barks, nodding firmly to you.

Anyone would have missed the way your gaze lingered on him as he darted off and began rushing down the stairs from the control room, Logan ever quick at his heels. But they wouldn’t have missed the way your breath pushed out a soft sigh as your eyes kept locked on the back of Hesh’s head as you followed after. 

You’d been childhood friends since practically infancy, a neighbor to the Walkers. It was natural that Hesh would grow to be the object of your daydreams ever since grade school; a constant and digging knife into your heart when he’d repeatedly pick other girls over you.

But such was life. 

All that mattered now was bringing down Rorke, silly love could wait.

“Merrick,” Hesh yelled down his line, the world outside this building rampant with open war. “The missile’s away and we’ve got a lead on Rorke, we’re going after him!” 

The white double doors meet the three of you as you all rush to them, and the panicked man’s voice flashes down the line immediately. 

“Negative Hesh! You three get back here and return to the rally point. We’ll track him down together.”

You call, “Isn’t an option, Merrick. We can’t let this one go.” 

You and Hesh ram your shoulders into the doors, Logan darting through first with his weapon drawn down the hallway. The brunette’s and your shoulders brush in a jostling of gear—pulling the back as your eyes lock. Cold light seeps from overhead, metal under your feet clanking in-key.

You look away before Hesh agrees and levels with the Ghost over the line to push your point. “Sorry, Merrick. Your mission is complete…ours isn’t.”

Federation heads pop up from behind makeshift barriers of barrels and other stacked items and as you all enter and clear rooms, alarms blare with the ferocity of fighting lions. Hesh keeps by your side, offering you openings that you greedily take as another soldier falls with a stiff twitch of your finger on the trigger. 

Darting behind cover, the man slams to the space beside you, calling over above the noise and the whizz of bullets.

“How long till impact?!” You shove a new clip into your FAD, brushing sweat and blood from your cheeks, smearing patches of your own paint. 

Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you hear Logan pushing the line. You dart out of cover to help—locking onto hostiles and backing up the younger brother with quick feet.

“Eight minutes, Hesh! You got a plan that doesn’t leave me with scorched hair?” He finds it in himself to laugh, clocking a soldier to your left and riddling him with bullets. 

“We need to get to that train, Harp. Don’t worry—I’ll kiss the burns away for you.” He rushes past and sends a smirk over his shoulder. You’re left stunned for a second, wishing that the teasing tilt to the older brother’s words was more than that. You blink, and the feeling is forced away.

Later.

“Keep pushing, Logan,” Hesh moves on. You all sprint down descending ramps, farther and farther underground with every step; adrenaline building to a breakneck level like weight slowly being added over and over to a chest. “We need to get to Rorke!” 

You didn’t want to tell him, but, while revenge was on your plate as well, this was a very reckless idea.

As you grab for a grenade from your belt and jerk on the pin, you chuck it down the way and call out a warning to the boys, who, like a well-oiled machine, dart and wait for it to detonate. Bodies fly, bloody splashes of torn limbs, and three Ghosts materialize from the smoke with masked and painted faces; eyes like fire and veins boiling. 

“Fire team suppressed in 3-1,” Hesh shouts through the line as you slide your knife into a man’s eye, his goggles breaking in a shattering of glass. “Advancing to loading bay!” 

There’s a large elevator ahead for transporting crates, and all of you jog inside as the gate creaks shut.

Merrick’s stiff voice replies, “Roger that.”

Silently, you click into the channel and mutter out as a moment of relative peace coats your body like a blanket, even if for a few small seconds. 

“I’ll keep ‘em safe,” a small twitch of your lips, “Commander.”

A deep and unimpressed voice wafts into your ear with a large sigh. “Know you will—just remember to keep yourself safe in the process, Kid…Don’t do anything stupid.”

You shift your gaze to Hash and find green already staring at you. Blinking, the man quickly darts his vision away and after a moment you turn your face back down to the connection and huff through a burning epidermis.

“Haven't you heard?” The elevator shows the train as it descends down, and you call to the boys, ‘six minutes’, with a firm voice. 

“Stupid seems to follow us three everywhere.”

Hesh points as the figures of more soldiers walk around below. “There’s Rorke’s train, straight ahead!” Sure enough, the worm of black and gray metal extends to your eyes across the large room

“He’ll be on there soon. Logan, take left.” You order and the brown-eyed man nods from beside you, shouldering his rifle and checking the clip. “Hesh?” 

“Taking right—you got Point, Doll.” He stares at you, licking his lips. “Clear the way?” You tilt your head at him as the elevator jumps to a stop, the barrier sliding away. It pains you to look away.

There were so many things you had to tell him. Too many things. 

“Always.” Shiting your face forward, you take a breath and take notice of points of cover, scoping the room in three seconds flat. Screeching wheels and alarms ingrain your eardrums. “On me.” 

As you head out first, fire the first bullet, the two peel off in opposite directions, Hesh only sliding up beside you and uttering into your ear.

“Be safe.” 

That comment makes you want to be anything but, if only he’d whisper into your ear like that again. 

Clearing the room, you can’t get your mind off the fact that this crush was overtaking nearly every part of your life—years of quiet agony and staying your tongue in fear of losing what great friendship you had. 

The stock set into your shoulder recoils with another burst of fire, Federation soldiers scream in pain, but you barely register over the shadows in the sides of your vision. 

“Damnit, Hesh,” you growl, bullet grazing your shoulder as you grunt and slip behind a concrete divider. 

“What’s that?” Your eyes widen comedically. Shit…had you forgotten to close the line? 

“Eh,” you clear your throat, grimacing at the small sparks of pain in your shoulder. “N-nothing.” 

There’s a bout of silence and then a panting voice, rough and growing more serious. “You alright over there, Harp?” You can’t even respond before Hesh quickly continues. “I’m comin’ to you. Stay there.”

You violently shake your head, although he can’t see it.

“Hesh, I’m fine! Keep right and clear that hallway.” 

There’s a deep grunt. “Fine, but if I see one scratch I’m makin’ Riley chase you down the Base when we get back.”

If we get back.

You roll your eyes with a growing smile, steeling yourself and slamming your weapon to the top of the divider before locking onto your targets. “Please, we both know he loves me too much for that.”

“Most I’ll have to do is put a treat in your pocket, Sweetheart.” His sly smirk is heard easily, and you swallow tense-like and breathe shakily. That low drawl in his tone left you more distracted than you could ever get used to. “Hell,” There’s a struggle over the line before the shink of a knife meeting flesh. A breathless chuckle that leaves your gut swirling. “Maybe I’ll just chase you down myself.”

Logan coughs over the line and you have to click off before you scream. Your face flares up until your ears ring and you have to duck behind your cover again before you get metal right to the forehead. 

Behind the barrier, you glare at the floor.

When did general teasing get so hard for you? Jokes and jabs carrying weight—since when? Sure you’d liked—more liked loved—Hesh since before all of this, but you’d carried on well enough. 

“Fucking hell,” you grumble, shaking your head to clear it and rushing. 

The brothers pop through the side hallways to flank the enemy, taking out the one or two hostiles that were still breathing after you level your barrel with the last standing head; firing with a burst of gunpowder.

“Train’s leaving, let's go!” Hesh screams, waving an arm quickly at you, walking backwards on quick feet. “Harp, C’mon!” 

You chuff, hopping the divider and sprinting as the metal object speeds up—there’s a moment where you fear you might miss it, Hesh and Logan both forced to hop on even in your absence.

“Harp!” Green eyes flash, one hand on the railing and the other extended out. 

“On it!” Snapping, you slam your palm into his and feel his strong fingers curl to clutch you. Logan grabs your collar and helps; the both of them easily yanking you over just as the wall of the tunnel engulfs you all in illuminated shadow.

Back meeting the train’s body, you pant and chuckle as Logan shakes his head, amused, and pats your shoulder. You wink at him jokingly. 

“Good save there, Walker Number Two.”

Hesh grabs the side of your neck, looking you over as he leans back with a breathless chuckle at the title for his brother. He blinks quickly at your shoulder, eye narrowing before he reaches out and looks at the blood on your gear.

“You mind telling me what this is, Doll?” You make a nose in the back of your throat as the smell of his musk hits your nostrils; the deadly concoction of his scent and his digging gaze.

Stuttering, you huff. “Eh…bullet graze?”

You’re leveled with thin lips, but Logan grabs his brother by the upper arm and peels him off you, motioning to his radio as the train gains even more speed. Wind whips past your face as Hesh clears his throat, quickly avoiding your eyes. 

The man’s splotchy paint shows his red skin under the darker pigment. 

“Merrick, we’re on the train,” he speaks, shifting past you without another look. “We’re going after Rorke.”

“Solid Copy.” You watch the brunette walk away and hold your breath, though you don’t know why—heart beating not just because of adrenaline. 

Embarrassment breeding in your stomach, you ignore Logan’s knowing stare and push off the wall, rubbing at your bleeding shoulder with a stiff hand. 

—

You break a man’s neck against the wall, hand on the back of his head before you slam it into the hard metal. There’s a crunch of bone and a broken rattle before the broadcasted feed from the screen on the train’s panel spits out a message in panicked Spanish to the already deceased men.

“Evacuation protocol C is in effect. All personnel secure cargo and supplies—”

Hesh interrupts ahead of you as you let the body drop, scowling at the heavy sound of its dead weight. At his angry voice, you perk and tune in.

“Tell Rorke we’re comin’ for him.” There’s a quick shove from the other end of the feed, the previous man disappearing as the individual that takes his place makes your eyes go to slits. A great growl like a wolf echoes from your heart and seeps from between your clenched teeth. 

Rorke’s scarred face appears with a smirk and a cocky voice.

“Why don’t you just tell me yourself?” You look at your boys, more concerned for them as you watch firsthand the trauma the death of their father brought them. 

Logan holds his weapon tighter, fixing his grip. Hesh is a bit more direct. He leans closer to the screen, bearing his teeth like a dog and snarling with rage and hatred.

“You’re done, Rorke.” All of a sudden he peels back a fast fist and sends it careening into the screen—making a shattering of glass and a hard thud emanate deep into your bones. 

Blinking quickly, you tense as it happens, not expecting that. But as soon as you try to make sense of it, the brunette is already banking off to the side door, calling a sharp, “Let’s finish this!”

He grabs the side of the train car and wrenches on the handle, grunting and pushing with all of his might.

“Hesh,” you try to reason, stepping in now before things get too hot. “We need to think of a plan before you rush into things. This could get us in a heap of shit that we might not be able to get out of.”

It’s like he doesn’t hear you, and you spare a glance with Logan for help. But he, too, has already joined his brother with a swish of gear on the handle. With one great push, the door opens to the outside brightness, making your face turn away for a moment. 

Along the far expanse of open sand dunes outside; mountains flanking the bridge this train flies across, you get the perfect view of a warhead meeting the ground in an explosion of fire and death. It bursts far across the valley, and you cover your eyes as the sharp ball of light burns your retinas. 

The shockwave hits moments later, and Hesh says easily as the train shakes and squeals like a metal pig, “Looks like Icarus got control of the rods!” The boys step out onto the platform along the train, and you have no option but to follow. “All that’s left is Rorke, let's go!”

“Hesh,” you try again, hissing out his name, and you’re graced with a quick glance.

“Harp,” he comments, “what is it? We can’t wait any longer—”

“What we can’t do is go in blind!” You shout above the wind, legs stanced to help you stay up. Green eyes twitch with confusion, perhaps even a little hurt. 

“Blind? What are you talking about, we push forward and take what’s owed.” You know how much this means to him—to Logan—but there was a point where pride and stubbornness outweighed sense. This was dangerous, especially for Hesh. 

You were always the one to keep him level; keep him from becoming too much like his dad. 

You’d promised that old bastard you’d look after his boys, albeit in a teasing sense, but to you, it had been a stark vow on your soul. Logan was a brother to you, and Hesh…Hesh would always be more, but that only made your love for them both grow. 

“You keep those two from getting in their heads, you hear? They mean well, but there’s no one I trust more than you to level them out, Harp. I’m proud of you. And I’m sure your folks would be too.” Elias had said that, and when he died you bottled it up and used so much force that coal had turned to diamond. 

You would keep Logan and Hesh safe. Safe, and level, and not hard-headed. 

For as much as you secretly loved your brunette, he sure was stubborn as all hell.

“If you want out, Harp,” Hesh calls to you, gritting his teeth. “Just wait back in the train car. This is something we can’t put off like everything else—this ends now; today. I’m not letting Dad’s killer survive.”

“Son of a bitch, that’s not what I’m saying!” You’re quickly losing your standing. Logan jogs ahead to scout, time ticking. “Hesh, you know that I loved Elias as much as you two did—not one is denying that this needs to happen. I'm with you. But this is too damn dangerous! We can’t rush into this without a plan of attack; of exfil! Do you even know how we’re going to get off of this thing?!” 

Hesh had been isolating the few days he had on the U.S.S Liberator, keeping to his room. The man idolized his father and put him on a pedestal of gold even when he was a teenager. He’d even pushed away from you, which all together was unheard of. Logan had nearly had an aneurism when you’d come back to the cafeteria and shook your head in disappointment after trying to get him to open his door. 

The two of you told each other everything. Always. That was just…how it was.

But the man that Hesh had donned the skin of was not the man you loved.

Hesh glares at you, eyes going alight with anger. 

“If you were with me, you wouldn’t be holding me back.” He turns and runs after Logan, leaving you behind in the open air as the train banks left and right with the sway of the bridge. 

Staring. Barely breathing. Mouth parted and eyes wide. 

When the man is at the end of the current train car, having to jump a small distance to the next, he pauses. His back is tight, and under him, his feet shuffle. 

There’s a moment you hope he’ll turn around and come back, take you into one of his hugs, and squeeze the life out of you. It wouldn’t be such a cruel way to die, you think, to be held in his arms. 

But the next moment you see the back of his head shake, and he jumps over to the next section, not even giving you a second glance.

You don’t want to admit how long you waited there, your mind jumbled and confused. 

Don’t take it personally, you try to tell yourself, sucking down a breath before slowly walking forward. He’s hurt. Grieving. He didn’t mean it.

Rationality was a tool of the level-headed, and you were anything but that nowadays.

Over the line Hesh’s voice makes you flinch as you slowly follow after, train car after train car.

“Rorke must be at the front of the train!” You step over dead bodies and lend merciful bullets to the ones still writhing, boots coated in crimson. Following a trail of wreckage with stiff lungs. 

Stay out of his way? Fine, you could do that.

You stayed back from the head-to-head fighting, laying covering fire and keeping off the comms—whenever Hesh managed to look back at you, you simply moved on to the next hostile. 

Eventually, you all ended up on the rooftops, the boys far ahead and yourself blank-faced at the rear. Logan was acting more concerned than Hesh was, glancing at you constantly in confused worry. But it was very much short-lived.

“Incoming!” The right side of the railcar bursts with fire, and you gasp before grappling for the opposite side of the train, keeping you there before the swaying beast leveled out. “Helos. Take cover and take out the gunners!”

You scoff, quickly making your way behind a connector joint to lean your back against it and catch your breath. Two helicopters fly alongside the train, Logan already firing at one, and Hesh…your eyes narrow with annoyance. Hesh was already running ahead of the pack, his low grunts and growls over the line giving way to his impatience. 

You click your jaw and try to remind yourself that this is the same man who held you close during movie nights and carried you to bed when you fell asleep. Made you waffles when your boyfriend in eighth grade broke up with you on Valentine’s Day.

Stitched your wounds before he gave them a teasing ‘kiss better’ and looked up at you through dark lashes. 

You wildly shake your head to force yourself back to the present.

The gunners are harder to hit not only based on wind and distance alone, but on the erratic movements of the pilots. It’s several clips before you down the second Helo, and Logan’s follows immediately after as they both collide and ram into the mountainside.

You both share a glance and rush after the misguided brunette. 

At the end of the train, only the engine remains. 

“Clear!” Hesh relays, jumping down from the roof of the railcar and hurriedly walking to the white door, leaning against the wall. “We’re at the last car, Logan. Rorke’s pinned, he knows we’re comin’.”

You gaze down from the top as Logan follows, silent and brooding. Your hands along your FAD tighten under your gloves. You don’t even look at the man. 

“Merrick, do you copy?”

“Copy, Hesh.”

“We’re moving in on Rorke.” You slide him a look, seeing him glaring those pretty greens into the ground. “If you hear the word “Checkmate”, you will fire on our position! Confirm?” Your eyes snap with horror, heart lurching.

Surely, you hadn’t heard that right.

Merrick’s voice echoes your frozen confusion. “Say again, repeat your last.”

You jump down and stagger for a moment, barking out a harsh, “What the fuck are you doing?” Inside of your chest, your heart rampages like it never had before. “That’s suicide!”

He was going to kill everyone to bring down Rorke, and you get no answer beyond a clenched jaw and a quick side-eye.

“You heard me, Merrick, on “Checkmate”, hit this train!” The connection is cut and Logan gets into position to shoulder the door open, you watch, stuttering. 

Hesh levels with his brother, “We can’t take any chances, Logan. Even if we fail, Rorke dies.” Panic builds, and you’re taking quick steps forward.

You keep those two from getting in their heads, you hear?

You have to stop them, you have to drag them away—but even you know that deep down the only thing that will stop these two is a bullet. 

Eyes snapping back and forth, you only get close enough to try and snatch at Hesh’s arm right as he finishes a countdown of three; at the end, Logan kicks down the engine room door with a violent connection of his boot.

Even with the drop on the three guards inside, it doesn't stop the bullet from ripping through your lower side, preoccupied and distracted yet again. You yell loudly, balking back into the door frame and hunching over as blood spurts out of you. Hesh’s head whips your way immediately, jaw going slack and a soul-deep hysteria takes over.

So now he pays attention.

“Shit, Harp!” So little time. 

Logan can’t take care of the last remaining Fed soldier by himself, and in a large act of self-sabotage, that very soldier just happened to have a missile launcher. 

The entire left engine explodes—the train jerks; everyone is sent in a back-and-forth motion, first hitting off the last train car before being sent right back through the engine room entirely. A transference of force gives you whiplash as your head bounces off the door frame. 

The world goes blurry, body hitting and slamming through layers of glass and pain before the control room is suddenly where you end up, using the body of a stunned guard as a cushion. 

There’s a second of muffled gunfire, struggling and yelling—and then it all comes back into focus like a sniper’s scope being correctly sighted. You gargle an expletive and shove the guard under you back down despite the searing heat in your side and head; struggling to unsheathe your combat knife as the world tilts. 

Hands push at your cheeks, grip at your neck futilely, but when you get the blade out and struggle the hands down once more, you hammer the point into his throat with a thump of your boot pressing for purchase on the floor. 

The man spasming, you push off of him and slam to the ground, coughing in great lung-shattering segments.

“You can’t win, Rorke!” Hesh’s voice brings you back from the swirling, and you hear your blood patter to the metal floor like rain.

“Shit,” you mutter, gasping for air. 

Gazing up you see Rorke holding Logan in a chokehold, free hand pointing a gun at Hesh. Your eyes bulged, trying to push onto your knees and reach for your weapon as you saw Hesh continually looking away from the target and worriedly watching you. His hands at his sides are loose, but when you lock eyes with him, they clench and shake. 

“It’s over—” He tries, but the loud gunshot bounces off the train’s enclosed space. You’re yelling before you can think, darting forward and leveling your gun right to Rorke’s head as Hesh’s form collapses to the ground.

Standing on unsteady feet, you pant and stumble, but the devil’s brown eyes hold you captive. Rorke smirks as you guard Hesh behind you. 

“Well, well, well, seems the girl’s just as promising as you, eh, Logan? She’s the other one who slipped her binds in Las Vegas.” He laughs. “Look at me, I’m surrounded by young talent.” 

“I don’t exactly care if you are or aren’t,” you growl, shuffling to keep Hesh even farther behind you as you instrumentally cough again. Your legs are wobbling. “Just that you put my fucking friend down.”

“You willing to die for him?” Rorke looks demented, with his scar and his intimidating build. Whatever torture he had been through to make him like this—a Ghost killer—it had worked perfectly. There was no coming back from this. He whistles lowly. “That’s some loyalty you have there.”

His mind was dead to all else.

You don’t hesitate in an answer, even as the man behind you grabs your leg, trying to move you with a wheezing breath.

“H-Harp,” his spine moves in a cough. “Don’t…please.”

“Always.” Interest alights in those dark, tiny eyes. Logan tries to give you messages with his gaze, but you ignore him. Ironic. “That’s not something I’ll break on. Unlike you.”

“Shit, Kid,” there’s a grand laugh, “now that’s heartless…but good,” Rorke glances at Hesh, raising a brow and chuckling. “I’ll love to see the look in his eyes when I—”

“Checkmate!”

“Checkmate confirmed.” You look down at Hesh and see him watching you, his gaze open and bare. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, but all you can do is watch. 

There’s no time to think.

“I love you,” you confess in a fleeting moment of bare nothingness, blurting it out. “I’ve loved you.”

Hesh’s body entirely halts, jaw slowly slackening in horror; something shifts behind his eyes but before he can open his mouth, a rageful bark bullies the smooth tone of his throat back.

“What did you do?!” Your form is bodied into the controls behind you, colliding as you snarl and are forced to recover. With a snap of your finger, you fire a shot into Rorke’s foot. 

He yells and whips his wrist back, slamming the butt of his gun into your temple. 

As the bridge ahead of the train explodes, Hesh drags himself to cover your body, muttering into your flesh words you cannot name as the darkness sets in.

“It’s over,” Hesh speaks grimly to Rorke, turning to look at him silently as he presses your head into his chest, sharing a nod and thin-lipped look with Logan still stuck in his arm. “It’s over.”

“Shit, Son…” The train gets thrown and broken in a wave of utter destruction and rebirth; and through it all, Hesh never lets go—not even when the water below comes up to meet you.

—

The beach’s sand is coarse, and it sticks to your gear with a fervent hold. To your skin, the paint, and blood, for the moment washed away as hands dragged you from the water, small puffs of breath and whimpers greeting you. 

“C’mon, Sweetheart.” Hesh. And he sounded frantic. “C’mon, open…open your eyes, dammit. Please, you just told me the best thing you possibly could. Please.” 

Water slips off your neck, and as you’re weakly lying back, propped against a rock, hands slip to your cheeks, moving the skin as a barely conscious body tries to make you wake up. 

A forehead hits against your shoulder, a deep groan of pain emanating from the man who grips at your gear.

“No, no, c’mon,” Hesh can barely keep himself sitting up, bloody and broken. Logan had to drag him from the water not seconds prior, and in turn, Hesh had grabbed what little strength was left and helped him get you. “Logan!” Green darts to brown, and the older brother pleads in a broken voice, “Help me!”

You bend your head forward and cough up blood and water, shoving Hesh away from you so you can collapse on your side and expel your stomach.

“Harp,” the man quickly mutters, dragging himself over and grabbing your shoulder to keep your face out of the sand. “Fuck, okay—it’s okay I’ve got you.”

“You,” your voice cuts out, and you shake as you gasp and sputter, “A-are a fucking idiot!” 

Hesh chuckles, and you feel his head hit off your arm, his struggling breath. “God, I know. I know, Sweetheart.” 

Logan crawls over to you, pushing you back against the rock and grappling for his medical pouch as Hesh patches into the comms. You grunt and look down at the younger brother, head swirling in colors and ears pounding with your pulse. 

“Merrick, do you copy? Merrick, come in.”

“Hesh! Hesh, is that you?” You weakly smirk at the shock and relief from the tone, letting your head tilt back as Logan hurriedly packs your gunshot wound with gauze. You wince and stare at the sky—blood infectiously tinging the sand below you. 

Hesh tries to help too, but you and the man are in far worse shape than Logan. The older brother’s shoulder leans into yours heavily, and you shift your eyes to the side as they flutter.

You haven't forgotten what you told him, what you confessed, but right now pushing back the black in the sides of your vision was more important.

And Rorke. What had happened to Rorke?

“Yeah,” Hesh watches you, face screwed with concern. “Yeah, I’m with Harp and Logan. We’re…we’re alive. Rough shape, but alive.”

“And Rorke?” You hold your breath.

“Dead.” Logan ties off a quick tourniquet and your spine tightens in agony, hissing out as your nerves spike with electricity. The brown-eyed man spares you a sorry glance but you shake your head in dismissal. “He’s dead.” 

Out in the water, the enemy warships are firing off missiles inland, some smoking and others already sinking. Merrick gives you the news as Hesh brings a hand up to your chin, tilting your head his way. You go willingly, skin on fire from the scrape of his gloves. 

Logan moves back, having done what he can, before he collapses back into the sand, panting with an arm over his stomach. His older brother’s forehead bumps into yours, eyes stuck. 

“Copy that. The Federation is in full retreat—the rest of the payload is inbound to finish the…”

Whatever else Merrick relays is lost and Hesh’s lips splay over yours, his nose letting out a long breath and body sagging, dead-weight. Cheeks hot and mind running, you let instinct take over and reciprocate, quick fingers pulling at his vest straps.

“Since when?” He asks, breathless when he moves back an inch. 

“After you introduced me to your first girlfriend, Cassie Albrook,” you smile, eyes crinkling. “Seventh grade. The one with the black hair? God, I was so jealous.” 

Hesh chuckles deeply, body jerking as he kisses you again, pulling back and holding your cheek in his hand. His eyes are wide and open.

“You mean to tell me, I could have been kissin’ you all the way back since seventh grade?” Your face moves with pure love, flesh going soft—even the pain diminishes somewhat. 

Merrick’s voice still gruffly moves down the line, and the last bits of his sentence are heard. 

“...Sit tight, Recon’s comin’ for ya.” Everything was looking up. 

Missiles slam into the Federation ships out in the water, the sudden burst of liquid and fire making Hesh briefly cover you with his side to protect you from the shockwave. When you turn to look, nothing but sinking metal remains. 

“I’m sorry,” Hesh tells you, and you don’t have the energy to pull away from his neck as you let your head rest—the thumping of your brain and the calming shadow of his form giving way to believe you had a concussion. 

“Hm,” you hum, letting him continue. His voice echoed in his breast.

“I…I’ve been an ass these past few days, weeks, I shouldn’t have said what I did—wanted to take it back as soon as I turned away from you.” You close your eyes and sigh long, sarcastic even now. 

“You owe me dinner and a movie, then I’ll see if I can forgive you.” Hesh chuckles, nose pressing down into your scalp. He kisses you there as water falls from his chin.

“Sounds like a plan, Doll.” The man lets himself rest, curled around you and waiting for the recon team as the sand and the water move. “I love you too…just so you know. Long time.”

Your failing mind lets off a scoff. But a happy one.

When you wake again, not remembering when you’d fallen asleep, it is to the sound of screaming. 

“Logan!” You jolt up and have to place a hand on your head to stop the pounding. Hesh is struggling to move, fighting to get to his younger brother who you turn as quickly as you’re able to face. “Logan!”

Your face voids of blood. 

Rorke is dragging the other man away, pushing him to the ground as Logan tries to fight like a dog on his back, with only one arm working properly. Growling, you try to stand—body falling and sliding right back down as Rorke kicks Logan’s combat blade from his hand, walking over to you and Hesh. 

He stands and pants, limping from your shot to his foot and a hand across his abdomen in obvious pain.

“Look what you did,” Rorke motions behind him to the still-falling missiles being disposed of from space into the ocean; atop the wreckage of what Rorke had been a part of. Falling to your side, you leave behind a raging Hesh who attempts to move and get to Rorke while you go to Logan. The devil wheezes and points from you to the boys, forcing a grunt of approval. “You’re good.”

Hesh is shoved back by a ruthless boot into the rock, and you snarl, coming over to Logan and his very broken arm as he weakly writhes on the ground. You place your body over his and bare your teeth as if a beast. 

“Rorke!” You bark. “It’s over! It’s done. Everything you’ve built is dead and recon is on its way for us…you’re finished.”

“Nothin’s finished, no,” Hesh tries to lunge again as Rorke’s body stumbles closer to you but falls into ragged coughs and stays on his side in utter agony. 

“Stay away from them!” The man you’d just confessed to hisses, hand grasping futilely at the sand. Green eyes run back and forth from you to Logan, desperate and breaking by the second. “Rorke! You son of a bitch!”

“Nothin’s ever finished.” Grabbing you by the scruff of your neck, you’re being tossed off Logan and thrown to the side in a cloud of sand, body screaming at you as you yell out loudly. 

Rorke bends a knee to look Logan in the eyes, shaking his head.

“You’d of been a hell of a Ghost.” Yelling, you wrench at the combat knife in your vest, set your feet, and tackle Rorke off of the Walker boy with a feral curse on your breath. 

“Get the fuck off of—” Your leg twists with a defining crack as you’re grappled and thrown off, only able to slice a nice long cut down his jaw and at the beginning of the man’s throat. 

Screaming you hear briefly Hesh’s rageful bellow, his calling of your name in high keens of helplessness. Promises of revenge and justice. 

Breath breaking as tears line the back of your eyes, Rorke comes over you and pins your dominant hand to the ground—you look up and grimace, trying to make your body function. 

Move!

Rorke laughs, great shoulders shaking with glee. He’s fucking demented as he continues his sentence from before your fruitless attack. 

“...But that’s not gonna happen, is it?” The man smiles and you struggle as Logan and Hesh rapidly try to assist. 

“Harp!”

“There ain’t gonna be any Ghosts.” Rorke’s eyes shift to Hesh, and you follow with a sense of dread and horror. The man’s mind had been made up when he turned back around, disregarding Logan entirely in favor of you and your ‘unbreakable’ loyalty. 

The joy it would bring him to destroy you and set you loose after such. Set you loose on Hesh. 

He leans in close to you, so you can feel his breath and his conviction. 

“We’re gonna destroy ‘em together.” 

“Harp!” You’re shoved back, knife grasped and ripped from your hand as your broken leg is grabbed and pressure is applied. 

You scream again, arms carding across the dunes as Rorke begins dragging you backward like a child holding onto a stuffed toy. Blown green eyes meet yours, Hesh reaching out and screaming at the top of his lungs for you. 

But he can’t move.

“Harp!” 

And you can’t feel your fingers. 

“I love you,” you whisper, perhaps for the last time and he sees your lips move. Hesh screams and slams his hand into the ground, Logan stumbling to his knees but immediately dropping back with a small cry. 

And Rorke chuckles.

—

You don’t know where he took you, but you do know the jungle floor is cold and wet, and the mud under your fingernails makes you feel gross. 

What you do know is that the earthen walls of the pit you are in are pointless to try to climb—the top is slatted with a covering of long sticks with wide square openings. You know it’s going to rain by the smell in your bloodied nostrils. 

You know that your leg is broken, your bullet wound is festering through the tourniquet, and your concussion is making you sleepy. 

In your head, you count these ‘knowns’ and sprinkle them like seeds as you stare blankly at the sky far above. Everything aches; hurts. When you breathe, it comes in and out with a wheeze. 

You know that Hesh loves you, and perhaps that’s the only fact you care about. Wherever he is, you’re glad he can’t see you like this. 

Rain patters against your head, the storm clouds finally rolling through. Leaves can be heard shuffling on their branches. You breathe in and out, rising and settling your lungs slowly. 

You can’t break—not like Rorke. 

No matter what he did to you, you can’t betray the Ghosts. Logan. Hesh.

Elias’s words echo as you curl into a tiny ball, shivering and whimpering as your wounds move and pull. 

...I’m proud of you. And I’m sure your folks would be too.

You know this game. Torture. They’ll pump you full of hallucinogens, starve you, beat you within an inch of your life; and through that you cannot give in.

But it’s easier said than done.

In the middle of the night, the top of the pit is pushed away and there are the voices of multiple people that dance above the rain storm. They jump down and in the state you are, there’s nothing you can do to stop them from hooking their arms under yours and hauling you up, limp and motionless. 

The words are in Spanish, and you still can make out some over the commotion and the way your hearing dips in and out. 

“Where do we inject….”

“...neck, I believe…arm could work too…”

“...nasty…was it? I heard…mix of drugs…Who knows?”

Your head is harshly yanked back, and the sharp pinch of a needle digs into your neck, the action making your good leg kick out in panic but there’s little you can do. 

A flood of thick fluid enters your veins and like sap seeping out of a tree some drops exit the wound and mix with the rain weighing down your clothes. They’d taken your gear, only your undershirt and cargo pants still clothing you. 

When they’re done, they let you drop back to the floor, where you flop and smash your face into the mud with a weak drag of your cheek along the sludge. With calls from above, a rope is tossed down and they all ascend. The top is clattered back over moments later. 

Laying still and groaning, teeth clenched, already you feel ten times more strange than before. 

“Ah,” you grasp at your head, which was bursting to begin with, as it gains a looseness to it—the mud below you shimmered with puddles, the chill got colder, and your clothes felt grating against your skin. “Not good. N-not good.” 

You pull at your shirt collar, coughing as your eyes bulge; your heart breaks itself as it immediately can be felt hammering into your ribcage far more sensitive than you’d ever experienced. It felt like your chest was going to rip open. 

Panicked sounds emanate from the back of your throat, fingers digging into your scalp as the drugs carry their venom through your blood. 

Your wounds blazed.

You start screaming, babbling for nothing, and pulling at your flesh, but the overhead striking of lightning leaves the desperation mute to all but the trees.

—

Hesh stares at you from the corner of the pit, but his eyes are not green. You watch, silent, barely moving, from where you curl into a tiny heap of bloodied flesh. You’d torn at your skin for days; time looped together with more injections and no food. Water you got from the sky.

They had offered soup, but you knew better even as you dug harsh lines into your neck. There were just more drugs in the broth. 

But Hesh. Hesh.

He wasn’t right—didn’t stand like him, or breathe like him; there was something off about his smirk as he watched you gaze at him in an addled stupor.

“Feelin’ good over there, Kid?” Not Hesh. Not. Hesh.

You’re panting, your body sweating profusely in the humidity and so, so hungry.

Not Hesh takes a step forward and his image tilts like the turning of a page with Rorke taking his place, but as soon as it happens it flips back on itself to your Love.

“N-not right,” you hurriedly whisper.

Not Hesh puts a hand to his ear, kneeling down in front of you. “What was that, now?” A long chuckle. His voice is…is…deeper. Your eyebrows flinch up and down. “Who do you see, Sweetheart?”

“Hesh,” you whimper out. “Hesh, what are you talking about? What’s going on? I…I feel like I’m…I’m twisted inside out.”

“Hesh, huh?” The man looks to the side, smiling. “Well, that’s better than I expected. This’ll be fun.”

“W-what—” A fist connects with your face and you get catapulted into the wall. Before anything else, your stomach is kicked, making your call of alarm get forced out as a gasp as your clotted bullet wound reopens in a great tear. A large hand grips you hard by the chin, snapping it forward to stare into those wrong eyes but the familiar face of Hesh. 

What was he doing to you?

“H…Hesh,” you can’t even stutter out his name before you break down into coughs and gagging; tears rolling down your cheeks, and blood and mud everywhere.

“Yeah, that’s right. You just keep lookin’ at me.” You dry heave and push at his hands, fingernails digging into his skin to create crescent moons. “Keep lookin’ at Hesh.”

—

It’s three months of the same, and you can’t go on anymore.

You lay in a near comatose state on the ground, flesh completely covered in mud and open wounds—maggots eat at your dead skin, wriggling deeper. Not having the heart to pick them out, or even move the few non-broken fingers you have, you lay in blank agony. Pain so deep you can’t scream or make a single noise. It would make it worse; it is making it worse. 

Breathing is becoming a chore.

“Is today going to be the day?! God, I sure hope so.” Hesh looks down from over the edge, fiddling with another syringe of drugs. “Enough blood down there to make a fuckin’ painting out of. Shit…You lasted longer than I thought, Kid.” You don’t look at him. At his dark, wrong, eyes. 

“I’m nearly impressed.” There’s a low chuckle and the crackling of branches. 

You close your eyes and try to think of a single kiss and green eyes, but the rest of the image is tainted to you. Your mind can’t call it forward without the corruption of the puppet ahead of you, this shifting specter of mist and smoke.

Memories that used to bring you comfort call to fear and spine-curling hurt. 

This couldn’t be Hesh, you told yourself for the millionth time, but…who else could it be? Your body was too broken to try and work through the hallucinations, to think or rationalize.

There’s a thump of boots and a grunt. Someone coming closer as birds speak far above. Singing. It's the first you can recall another living creature being this close to the smell of infected decay.

 “Now, now, let’s see that neck of yours.” You’re seized and pushed onto your back, head lulling and eyes fluttering. Hesh’s image shifts and bends into another, one you should be able to name but can’t quite recall. It’s hard to focus. “Just one more, and we can fix this. Together. No more Ghosts, huh? We’ll make it right.”

Birds songs. Birds and flying shadows. Rapid wing beats like an eagle or the pound of paws on the ground. 

There is an un-godly snarl and a call of rage. 

“Rorke!” The dark-eyed Hesh snaps his head away, his needle stilling in his grip only inches from your flesh. He’s grappled and ripped away, thrown up and slammed down into a full-body jerk of pure strength not a second later with a cry of shock. “Get the fuck off of her!” 

Shadows roll and wrestle, feral yowls like that of beasts bounce off your impaired hearing, mud stuck in your ears. You think your vision cuts out for a moment because the next there’s a different man gripping your shoulders, slightly shaking you back awake.

Blue eyes like the ocean. Your brow barely twitches in confusion. 

Keegan? 

“C’mon, that’s it. Right here.” A light is taken and directed right into your eye in the fading light. “You’re doin’ great, Harp. Just keep lookin’ at me.” 

The light passes over your blood-coated eyes and barely diolates. Keegan’s lips under his balaclava thin to an alarming degree. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, looking down at you before he darts his vision over to Hesh, the actual Hesh, who’s locked limbs with the former Ghost; fists to guts and primal anger. 

In his haste to get to you, Hesh had damned himself—he’d left no opening for any of the others to get a clean shot at Rorke. But no one could blame him, even if it was reckless; incredibly stupid. 

The man had been on your trail nearly every day since you’d been taken. Barely sleeping, eating little. A man possessed. 

The Ghosts had been half convinced something had taken over his image and scooped out his personality.

“Merrick,” Keegan patches into the secure line, looking back down at you. “Positive ID on HVT, three klicks West. Hesh has engaged—we found Harp.” 

There’s an instantaneous response, worried breath. “Solid copy…how’s she doing?”

“We need MedEvac immediately. She won’t last another night.” There’s a curse on the other end, a loud and quick call to the rest of his squad. 

“Copy! I’ll call it in!” Keegan tries to stabilize you as Hesh and Rorke rip each other to shreds, and Hesh, who had the upper hand in the beginning, is quickly losing it.

“Awe, look who tracked ‘er down!” Rorke snatches at Hesh’s collar and lays two jabs to his ribs—there’s a definitive crack as the younger man shouts in pain. “Young love! So fucking pointless.” 

“I’m going to rip you into pieces,” Hesh bares his teeth, eyes wild and unrestrained. For a moment Rorke looks taken aback by the utter conviction in his green gaze. “And make you choke on your own damn teeth! You hear me?!” 

Ripping away with a tear of fabric, Hesh bends low and tackles the former Ghost to the ground, splaying him out on his back before his fist is snapped back and brought down; again and again and again. 

“Hesh!” Keegan shouts, pressing deeply into your wounds and trying to give you fluids with one hand. “This fucking kid.” The Sergeant gives up, shaking his head. 

Trust had to be given, and Keegan knew that at this moment he had to trust Hesh to hold his own. He needed to keep you conscious. 

“Easy, Harp.” You can feel the cracks in your dry throat as the water seeps past them, and you cough up droplets before the blue-eyed Sergeant tilts your head and helps you. “Easy, Sweetheart.” 

Keegan doesn’t even want to look at your body as the brutal sounds of a fist on bone continue, clothes scuffling and gargled breaths—the savagery and barbarous remnants of mental and physical torture too much even for him. 

“Christ,” he hisses. 

You gulp down water slowly and let it fill your stomach like a brick. 

Hesh reduces Rorke’s face to a mess of flesh and busted bone, sweating and not even stopping as his knuckles split under his gloves or his fingers dislocated from their sockets. His eyes burn, his face goes red—he looks insane. 

He looks like a spirit of utter revenge. 

Only when Logan and Merrick drag him off the spasming body does he stop, but not after he tries like hell to fight out of that hold as well. Whipping around, he attempts to land a punch on Merrick before Logan is forced to put him in a restraint hold. 

Hesh’s cheek meets the mud, face being sunk into it as his right arm is twisted so far behind his back it nearly breaks. The older brother growls, free arm and legs moving—back sliding. 

“David!” Merrick barks at him, face pulled in a sneer, enraged at the man’s lack of sense. “Shut this shit down. Look at her, dammit!” Logan gets bucked off, but the youngest Walker boy has enough sense to wrestle him back down and grab onto his chin; forcing those green eyes to lock on you and Keegan. 

The second he sees you, he entirely freezes.

Merrick sighs out harshly, jogging over to you and already checking in with the MedEvac that Kick’s flying in. There would be no resistance—all the other hostiles were dead. 

“Jesus Christ,” the Commander breathes, kneeling by you instantly and studying your body. 

Hesh’s reaction is slower, but the spread of vile tears burns the back of his eyes. Logan lets him go at seeing this, standing and holding out a hand, but the brunette stays on the ground a moment longer; utterly still. 

Hesh’s mouth opens and closes. 

All at once he’s rushing over and limping up at your side as Merrick grabs more medical supplies from his packs to help you. 

“Oh my God,” Hesh breathes, and Keegan sends him a glance. You’d drank all of the water. “Harp, hey, you’re going to be okay—it’s gonna be alright, you hear? I’m right here, Logan and I are gonna get you home. Back to California, okay? Riley’s waitin’ for you, Doll.”

You flinch at that voice, and Merrick looks sharply at the blue-eyed Sergeant. Their eyes lock, holding for a long moment. Logan’s brows tighten in confusion. 

The brunette seems not to notice it at all, hands finding your cheek before Merrick can give him a warning. Your eyes slowly shift to him before they peel back with fear.

Hesh’s vision goes glossy, clenching his jaw. “Shit, what did he do to you—”

“Hesh!” 

You yell and yerk back, shoving the man off of you with a fear-filled sob. 

“No!” Keegan and Merrick grapple to keep you down, not wanting to aggravate your wounds as Hesh falls to his ass, hands slapping behind him before he hisses and brings them back up. He blinks quickly in confusion and panic.

Logan rushes over and hides him from your view, beginning to understand what was going on. 

“No!” You call again, Keegan having to hold your head into his chest to hide you away. Merrick yells down his comms to hurry the Helo up, and that he doesn’t care about anything else. “No,” your voice gargles off as you sob into Keegan. “Please, no more.”

“Shh,” the Sergeant mutters, looking over his shoulder at a pale and shaking Hesh. “Nothin’s going to happen to you. Not anymore.” 

“Harp,” Hesh whispers, jaw slackened. “I…I don’t…”

“Hallucinogens,” Merrick says grimly, watching you shake and wail. Logan has to look away, his fists clenching. “Who knows what she’s seen. Reckon it wasn’t anything good.”

It’s like he doesn’t hear anything besides your cries. Whenever you gasp Hesh tenses as if he wants to run to you—comfort you the best way he knows how. 

Hallucinogens? He thinks and feels tears dribble down his cheeks as he blinks, rubbing at his jaw and shakily placing a hand over the back of his neck. Logan puts a heavy grip on his shoulder, weighing them down even more.

—

Rorke’s death should have been a time of celebration—of honoring the fallen. Elias Walker, Ajax, and countless others. The Federation was nothing more than broken factions now. Dust to the wind. 

But no one can celebrate when they’re trying to fix one of their own.

You were being kept in the secure medical ward under twenty-four-hour surveillance and around-the-clock care; only Keegan was allowed in, seeing as you were the closest to him outside of Logan and Hesh and had no adverse effects to his presence. 

Merrick had said he didn’t want to risk Logan going in, as it might worsen things. Hesh was taking it hard. 

He just got you back, how was this right? How was it fair that you’d had to go through that right when it was supposed to be over and done with? The man got sick over it, thinking about what Rorke had done to…break your mind like he had. 

Two months. 

Two months of nightmares plaguing him, of your eyes when you looked at him. If Hesh had just been stronger, then that bastard would never have dragged you away on that beach. He resulted in working out more, running laps around Fort Santa Monica with Riley at three in the morning—he grew bags under his eyes. He grew quiet. 

When all of his broken ribs and fingers healed, the artificial wounds, he was offered awards for taking down Rorke; even a summon by the President. 

He’d denied all of them. 

If a medal was going to get you better faster, he’d have taken them in an instant. But he wasn’t that stupid. Hesh was withering, and everyone saw it. He loved you more than anything—more than fame or recognition. The man lay awake at night fearing that you were too cold or uncomfortable in the far-off ward, he was paranoid about your safety. 

More often than not, the nurses found him and Riley fitfully sleeping outside of your door on the hard ground, arm used as a pillow. They didn’t have the heart to move him.

In the last two weeks before the third month of your isolation and evaluations, in his nighttime routine, Hesh finds your door open. 

He stares at it now with a blank expression, fatigue once burning his eyes all gone for a deep and pounding panic. With a hand gesture, Riley halts and sits, and, sensing his handler’s mood, lets his ears go straight up in attention. 

Hesh reaches for the gun in the back of his pants, peeling it out slowly and taking a nearly silent step forward. Ready, his ears strain for a sound…but there is none. 

His free hand reaches for the door, the short sleeves of his gray sleep-shirt bunching. A moment later, he lightly taps the barrier farther out before entering the room with the gun drawn.

He said he wouldn’t get distracted, but it would be a lie to say his eyes didn’t immediately go to you. 

You were there, asleep, curled up on the far recliner chair instead of the bed. Head lulled to the side and knees kept close to your chest. But it was the scars that broke Hesh.

They were large and long—on your face and arms; legs. All moving and stretching like a child’s drawing up your sleep shorts and shirt, disappearing only to reappear somewhere else. Healed over but still fresh.

Hesh drops the gun and turns his body slightly away, staring at the side wall before he takes an unsteady breath. He re-hides his weapon and turns to leave, not seeing anyone else.

Maybe Keegan had forgotten to close the door…he’d have to chew him out for that. Already a dull point of anger was making his jaw clench at the sly older man.

“Bastard,” Hesh mutters.

Before he can exit and close the door softly behind him, he hears a broken squeak of alarm. He halts as you stare heavily into his back—awoken by the sound of nearly silent feet. In a steady motion, the man’s hands are by his sides, open and visibly holding nothing. 

“I was just leaving,” Hesh whispers, not looking at you. His heart hammers. “I’m sorry, I thought someone else was in here—the door was open, okay?” 

Your hands twitch, body still and breath held tight.

“Hesh?” He flinches, eyes closed tight. 

Don’t look at her. Don’t turn around. Leave.

“Are you really…him?” You ask silently, eyes darting nervously around the room and quickly waking up fully. 

It’s a moment before he answers you. 

“Yeah,” he forces out, voice tiny and sad. “Yeah, it’s me, Doll. Just David Walker.” 

Your throat bobs with a thin swallow. Treatment was still ongoing, but it’s not every day you wake up to find the man who you had nightmares about standing in your room. 

Breathe, you have to remind yourself. It was the drugs. Not Hesh. Never Hesh. Rorke.

But you were still scared. 

“I…I need to see your eyes,” you say. 

Hesh turns carefully, staring hard at the floor. His heart lurches, hands going clammy. 

What if she has a setback? He asks himself. What if I mess this up…Shit, Hesh, you couldn’t have minded your own business?

Oh, but he never could when it came to you. 

“Then look at me, Sweetheart.” The man breathes slowly, darting his eyes up to your face. “They only belong to you.”

But your gaze can’t slip to his sockets, only able to glare fearfully into his neck. But this Hesh felt different, more like the one you grew up with—those memories still coming back but tainted; you need to see green, but it was hurting you to think that you might not.

“I’m scared,” you admit, shakily. The man’s thighs tense, but he stops himself before he can go and take you into his arms. That wouldn’t help. “I’m…I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“I’m real. I swear to you, Harp, I’m real. I’m right here and I’ll wait for you as long as it takes. Even if it’s years, I will always be right here.” He pleads, hands still at his sides and going nowhere if you don’t tell him to. It’s like a floodgate opens, months of internal pain and heartbreak spilling out. You needed to know this, even if he never got to see you again. 

“I have loved you since I saw you get jealous over Cassie Albrook in seventh grade and tried to hide it because you thought she made me happy—she could never make me happy, Harp. That was you. That was always and will always be you. I…I can’t breathe when you’re not near me, I don’t know how to act right when you’re hurt. Seeing you hurting is…is…” Hesh’s voice breaks and he falls silent. 

“Please, if you need to look into my eyes, I’m beggin’ you, Sweetheart, please, do it. Even if it’s only one glance.” Your breath is stuck in your throat, tears welling and sliding down your cheeks. 

In your skull your brain pounds, bordering on hysteria and an urge to flee. There was so little that you trusted anymore. Keegan, yes—the nurses and doctors? You had no choice there. 

You knew that the Hesh you’d seen in the pit was Rorke, Keegan had explained it all to you after the drugs had been pumped from your system; you understood that part. But it didn’t make the sickening confusion any better.

Symptoms of severe PTSD, paranoia, anxiety—you’d seen the charts when the nurses thought you weren’t looking at them. 

You still wouldn’t let anyone with a needle anywhere close to you, had to be put under for it. 

But you’d been so lonely here. A simple kiss seared into your mind before the horror set in, a stain of a smile on your lips. A chest vibrating with a content purr. 

Hesh. You want your Hesh back. 

Taking a stuttering breath, your eyes dart upwards. You push through your misty gaze and lock on a color that can only be described as a grassy field of verdant growth. Great open plains of viridescent being—showing you a world bathed in tender belonging. 

Home. 

You sob and rush from the chair on legs that still hurt even now, meeting Hesh in the middle as he takes a step forward and wraps his arms around you. You’re covered and kept in a hold so tight it’s like he’ll never let you go, heart pounding and his face loose with shock.

But he says nothing beyond a loud shuttered exhale of relief, pressing you to his chest and burying his face into your scalp, breathing you in; taking you down like a sinner in church until all that remains is you. Your fingers digging into his shirt, your face in his neck, how you call his name as if calling a ghost back from the dead.

“Oh, my Girl.” Hesh chuckles through the tears in his eyes. “My Girl. I missed you so much, you won’t even believe it.” 

You push yourself into him tighter. 

Riley, at some point, had come to stand in the doorway, his dark beady eyes seeing only the colors in gray, brown, yellow, and blue, though that never truly mattered. Color was only half of the picture. 

And the rest of the image in front of him was seeped with the pigment of love. 

The dog’s tongue lulls from the side of his mouth, and in the air behind him, his tail moves back and forth into a soft arch.

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#cod #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #x female reader #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #hesh walker x female reader #hesh walker x reader #david hesh walker #hesh walker #cod ghosts #cod ghosts x reader #call of duty ghosts #cod x female reader #x fem!reader #call of duty: ghosts

[outlaw-apologist]

Saved By The Gang | RDR2 x Reader

In which your SO saves you from your kidnappers! This was a request from AO3 :) Characters: Arthur, Hosea, Dutch, Sean, Charles GN!Reader Warnings for each story: Arthur: Graphic depictions of violence, cannibalism, and dismemberment Hosea: Graphic depictions of violence and human trafficking Dutch: Graphic depictions of violence, Dutch being himself Sean: Depictions of violence, use of strong language Charles: Graphic depictions of violence. Implied SA Notes: I kinda ended up writing these more from the characters POVs, so I hope that’s okay. I apologize for any errors of if my writing is bad. I’ve been struggling with insomnia so I'm not thinking great rn. I looked at this so much I kinda hate it lmao so I’m just gonna raw dog my mistakes :’) AO3 Link Arthur: Arthur had been gone for awhile doing the craziest things. He didn’t mean to be away from camp for so long, it just kinda happens. He decided to stop in Van Horn to finish up some quick business when he noticed your horse. Was it really-? Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he studied the markings on the horse’s coat. That definitely was your horse but you weren’t the one in the saddle. “Hey there partner.” Arthur made quick work crossing the road with long purposeful strides. “Where’d you get that there horse?”

The rider looked a bit flustered. “Isn’t’e a beaut? I found it just due south of Roanoke Valley all alone. Rider abandoned it so I thought I outta take ‘em in and give ‘em some good old lovin’.” “Roanoke Valley you say?” He scoffed. What the hell would you be doing up there? “Well, I know the owner of this fine horse and they wouldn’t just go off and leave like that. Where exactly did you find it?” “Listen Mister, I don’t want any trouble.” Agitation arose in the rider causing Arthur to throw his hands up in surrender. “No trouble here. I couldn’t care less about the horse. I just wanna make sure my friend is okay.” After careful consideration the stranger finally shrugged. “I found it drinking at the Kamassa river Northwest of Annesburg.” “Thank ya kindly.” Arthur tipped his head graciously. He hadn’t been up in that area before but the stories he heard weren’t great. This undoubtedly meant trouble. Arthur hardly mounted his horse before a bit of gossip reached his ears. “Another wagon disappeared near the mines. This time three women went missing.” “It’s gotta be that Murfree Brood. I heard they eat anyone they capture. Incestuous cannibals the lot of ‘em. Doubt we’ll ever see those poor women again.” “Shit!” A growl ripped from Arthur’s throat. His heels dug into his horse’s sides and he slapped the reigns. What if that were you? Kidnapped with those women? He needed to find you and fast. “C’mon Y/N. You better not be dead.” His heart pounded in his chest, wind whipping past as he cut off other riders on the trail in haste. He didn’t mean to be gone for so long… Away from YOU for so long… He always thought you understood it. His need to be everywhere and anywhere. And you did… You do… Yet, somehow, regret was eating at him like a deranged wolf. Snapping at the back of his mind, replaying memories upon memories of him returning to your arms after being away for ages. Arthur took for granted that you’d always be there when he gets back. He shouldn’t have left you as much as he does. He should have asked you to come with him. If you had business up in this region he could have been there to protect you. That horse is your world, he knows that. Maybe that’s why his mind was racing with so many regrets and thoughts.  That horse is your everything, if you weren’t on that horse you were probably seriously injured… or worse. That realization put a lot into perspective. It was always ‘What if I never return to Y/N?’ and never ‘What if Y/N never returns to me?’ “C’mon Morgan. Keep it together.” He had to shake these stormy thoughts away. Was it possible that he’d find you alright? Maybe a mild injury? Absolutely. But fuck, if it didn’t give him so much anxiety. Upon reaching the approximate area Arthur slowed his horse using gentle praises. “Easy now.” He reached out to pet it appreciatively, allowing his body filled with tension to drop down. Blue green eyes squinted while searching for clues or any sign of his beloved. Luckily Arthur picked up a few things while bounty hunting and it only took him ten or so minutes to find footprints he thinks matches yours. While following them he started noting how far apart your steps were. You were running. ‘Running from what?’ “Christ.” Arthur’s nose wrinkled just as the wind carried over the scent of rotting flesh. Sure enough there was a dead fellow not far from your tracks. The bullet casings surrounding the corps were definitely from your gun. Was this one of the cannibals? Arthur moved the body, flipping it over using his foot. He looked malnourished and white as paper. Even his clothes were rags. Arthur wasn’t really sure exactly what a cannibal looked like but if he had to take a guess, a cannibal would look like this feller right here. “Fuck, Y/N. What’ave you gotten yourself into?” Those sinking thoughts were back, dragging him into a pit of despair. Would he find your half eaten corpse somewhere in the woods? Are you still alive? Were you scared? You’re a shit significant other, Morgan. That’s what he told himself over and over again, shifting trough the bramble. What kind of man doesn’t know what his lover is up to? If he wasn’t so far up the ass of being ‘Arthur Morgan the big bad Outlaw’ he would know. Regret. Regret for not holding you in his arms every night. For not returning to you more often. He should have had more time with you. Should’ve spent every waking moment with you. How could he be so dense? This life was dangerous! He always stressed that to everyone who would listen. So why didn’t he spend all of his free time with you? None of you knew when your last breath would be taken, how could he waste so much precious life away from you? That fear only grew when those scared eyes focused on the disturbing image of human arms sewn together into some kind of hanging tree ornament. A gloved hand covered his mouth to suppress a gag. Gore wasn’t something that usually affected Arthur, but the thought that this could be you made him feel ill. At least he knew he was going in the right direction. It wasn’t long before he stumbled upon a couple of the Brood. He couldn’t hear the exact words being said because his ears immediately attuned to your cries of pain. Creeping closer in the grass, hand on his holster, Arthur grit his teeth at the scene playing out before him. Never in his life had he felt so much white hot rage. One of the sick fucks held you by the hair while another tried to pin you down. “We’re just gonna cut yer leg off!” He laughed. “What’re ya cryin’ for?” “No!” You screamed, desperately trying to fight against them. For three nights you watched in horror as the others captured were slaughtered, tortured, and eaten. Carved like Thanksgiving turkeys. For three whole nights you couldn’t sleep, drink, or eat because you were so terrified of these monsters. They saw how scared you were and they loved it. Milking every second of it. Because of your exhausted state fighting against them was grueling. “You killed our brother, it’s only fair.” A scream ripped through you just as your flesh tore against the blunt blade of a rusty sickle. “Get away!” Everyone froze, heads snapping towards the all too familiar voice. “Arthur?” “Y/N.” Arthur caught your gaze, a look of relief washing over him. You’re alive! “Hey! Who do you think you are coming hea-” The Brood member pulling your hair didn’t have enough time to finish his sentence before his head was blown off with a crackling BANG! Silence rang out after the loud pop from Arthur’s gun, then the mans body dropped. “You shot my brother!” “And I’ll shoot you too if you don’t get the fuck outta here!” With a click of his cattleman revolver, the last man scrambled up to run. “Too slow.” A dirty finger squeezed the trigger and down he fell. You simply stared as everything unfolded before you, your cries not subsiding but becoming much quieter. After all your pain and torment… All those people gutted like human sacrifices… Arthur killed your captors so easily. “Y/N.” His voice was gentle as he knelt beside you. Finally you shattered. Sobbing violently as soon as his arms enveloped you securely. You wanted to say his name. To tell him everything that had happened but couldn’t manage anything past blubbering incoherently. Never had Arthur felt so much heartbreak. Not from any loss or any breakup he had experienced so far. You’re one of the strongest people he knew. Seeing you look so small and afraid was devastating. Especially because this should have never happened to begin with. “I know.” Was all he could say. “Shhh, I know. You’re okay.” While embracing you with one arm he peered over to inspect your thigh. “I know darlin’, I don’t wanna let you go but I need to stop the bleeding.” He quickly hushed the whimper that passed your lips upon feeling his body shift away. Arthur’s fingers trembled, fumbling with his bandanna. Christ, this affected him more than he ever could’ve imagine. It took a minute but finally he managed to tie it above your wound to limit your bloodflow before immediately picking you up. Arthur made sure you could hide your face in his chest so you didn’t have to look at any of the hanging dismemberments on your way out. “God Y/N.” His arms around you were tight. “It’s okay. I’ll protect you. It’s okay now.” He tried to console you. To console himself. Hell, if he were in your shoes this would be more traumatizing for him than the Colm O’Driscolle ordeal. He could only imagine how you feel. Arthur couldn’t even bring himself to sit you on his horse yet. The moment you were in fresh woods he dropped to his knees and held you. Rocking you, kissing your hair and breathing in your scent. Sweet nothings fell from his lips in soft shaky whispers. Pads of calloused thumbs wiping away every tear from your cheeks. All you could do was cry and cling to him. All he could do was hold you as if it were for the last time. And it almost was. The last time. “How’d you find me?” After what seemed like hours of you two embracing each other, Arthur finally helped you onto his horse and you were on your way back to camp. “Saw some feller in Van Horn ridin’ your horse. Complete coincidence.” Arthur could feel how tense that statement made you so he added quickly, “Don’t worry. I’ll get your horse back. I just wanted to make sure you were safe first.” “Thank you, Arthur. For everything.” “I know how much you love that horse, it’s nothin’.” “No, I mean… Thank you for always being there when I need you.” Silence washed over the both of you. Arthur didn’t know how to respond. “I’m sorry darlin’.” You could feel him arm gently tighten around you in a loose hug. “I could’ve lost you tonight. I got to thinkin’ and… I know I haven’t been the best to you. I always prioritize everyone else. It shouldn’t be like that.” “Oh Arthur-” “I’m serious. I’ve lost Mary and Eliza. Most of my friends are long cold in their graves. I don’t know nothin’ about gods or divine intervention. Don’t know if something led me to you or not this time around….. I guess I was always feelin’ sorry for you because you’re datin’ a walkin’ target. Thought some space between us might do us some good in case I die. Never did I once consider life without you.” Arthur let out a hollow laugh which lacked any mirth or warmth. “What a fool I’ve been. I ain’t never learn my lesson. Tonight showed me that, that’s for damn sure. I dunno what you were doin’ out here but for now on if I leave camp I’m not going anywhere without you.” An exhausted smile reached your lips. “Good. My handsome man, it’s always been you and me. You just had to ask.” “You and me, huh? I like the sound of that.” You fell asleep in Arthur’s arms long before you reached camp. Arthur held you when you arrived, petting your hair as Ms. Grimshaw stitched up your leg. Arthur was needy after your attack. He never let you out of his sight and would always insist on holding you. Especially during nightmares that plagued you for months after the accident. Arthur stayed up singing to you and rocking you for many many long nights. And, of course, he got your horse back! How he did it or by what means, you didn’t care to ask. Slowly life returned to normal and the incident was long behind you both. Arthur kept his promise to take you everywhere until the very end. ___ Hosea: Five minutes. He took his eyes off of you for FIVE minutes so he could speak to the owner of a fence in San Denis while you waited for him outside, and you were gone. “Y/N?” He called out in confusion, scanning the sidewalks and streets for any sign of you. At first he’s annoyed. Did you wander off without saying anything? Hosea waved over the nearest group of men lingering nearby. “Good day. You wouldn’t happen to have seen my associate hanging around out here, would you? They seemed to have disappeared.” One of the men nodded. “Oh yeah, some nasty business I tell ya.” Well shit. “Nasty?” Hosea cocked his head, resting his hand over his holstered gun. “How so?” “These crazies came and bonked them over the head, saying they owed money or somthin’. Decided to mind my own business because they’re all brandishing guns.” “Money, huh? What way did they go?” “That way.” He pointed Eastward. “Towards the docks.” Tipping his hat, Hosea made his way down the sidewalk. He looked both ways before crossing the road, grabbing onto the trolley as it passes, riding the step until he reached the docks. The sun was setting but he knew your form like the back of his hand. It wouldn’t be too hard to spot you against the fire of the sky. However, you nor the supposed men were anywhere in sight. “Excuse me.” He flagged down a sailor and asked him if he’s seen you. He had not. Neither had the other five people he asked. Hosea knew this wasn’t good. The trail ran cold, leaving him hopeless.  There was nothing he could do but return to Shady Belle with a heavy heart. As your husband he was always supposed to protect you. Never in a million years did he think you’d be snatched away right under his nose. Mounting Silver Dollar, Hosea struggled to hold his tears at bay. The city was starting to suffocate him and he needed to leave in order to breathe and think. The weight of the world was finally settling into his old bones on the ride back. The horror the gang had experienced the last few months was devastating. The Blackwater incident aside – Arthur’s escape from Colm, Sean’s death, little Jack’s kidnapping…. Dutch wasn’t listening to reason anymore. The gang was in shambles and now… He let out a defeated sob, hanging over his horse for privacy. What was he supposed to do without you? You’re all he has left. His entire world. What if he wouldn’t be able to find you? It all happened so quickly. To think only an hour ago you were fixing his shirt collar, hanging on his arm with a smile on your face and now POOF! Gone. This was the last drop in the bucket for Hosea. Suddenly he couldn’t stop his tears no matter how hard he tried. He was tired. So god damn tired. Silver Dollar slowed to a stop just off the road. If anyone who passed-by peered close enough through the darkness they could make out the silhouette of a broken man with his head in his hands. He kicked himself for stalling your rescue. Precious time finding you, wasted. By the time he made it back to camp it was late into the night. Dragging himself up the stairs of Shady Belle he knocked on the door to Dutch’s room. Candlelight could be seen flickering through the crack of the doorway leading to Hosea believe he must still be awake. Silence. He knocked again, this time Hosea could hear the bed squeak. “You better have a good reason to disturb me.” Those words flew sharply through the cold humid air. “Dutch…” Hosea would have cursed himself for sounding so… weak. Calling out his friend’s name with a wavering voice. It was noticeable enough to immediately draw Dutch’s attention. The bed squeaked under Dutch’s weight then heavy footsteps led to the door. Hosea kept his gaze down, watching Dutch’s shadow as he moved until the door creaked open and the faint candlelight illuminated Hosea in contrast against the inky hallway. “Hosea- What happened?” “Y/N… I don’t know, it all happened so fast.” Wrapping an arm around Hosea, Dutch led him inside, guiding him to sit. “What happened to Y/N?” “I was looking for a buyer for the bonds we have left, asked them to wait outside because I was just going to be a moment. I stepped out and Y/N was gone. Apparently a group of men took them towards the docks. I tried not to arouse suspicion, I-… Maybe I should’ve gotten there faster, I don’t know…” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Y/N wasn’t there. I may have been too late.” “Someone just took them? In broad daylight?” “Just like that.” Hosea snapped his fingers. “Somethin’ aint right.” Rubbing his chin quizzically, Dutch began pacing the room. “Y/N isn’t stupid, they would’ve screamed or something. You really didn’t hear anything?” He paused to watch Hosea shake his head. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Staring down at his hands, Hosea slowly uncurled his fingers, watching the light dance over his palms. “It was a setup.” “It was a setup.” His friend repeated. “But by who?” “Could be Milton.” “I don’t think so. He’s a thorn in our side. If it were Milton he would’ve showed up in our camp already. Waving Y/N around like a prize.” “That’s very true…” Hosea only looked up when he heard Dutch abruptly halt. “It can’t be….” “What?” “Perhaps… Bronte had a hand in this? I don’t think we’ve done anything to cross him but he’s the only man in the city who could kidnap anyone in broad daylight and not a soul would tell.” He could feel the relief wash through him, the possibility bringing him a weird sense of comfort. He hoped it was Bronte. That would mean you’re probably safe and sound somewhere just like Jack was. “We’ll get Y/N back, Hosea. Let me pull some strings. We’ll find them.” The strings were pulled quite quickly as Hosea found himself waiting outside yet another fabulous party for Arthur to return. “It wasn’t Bronte.” His heart sank. “It wasn’t? Are you sure?” “Pretty sure.” Arthur leaned against the residential fence while lighting a cigarette. He was gussied up to fit the mood. “Asked around ‘n’ nobody had a clue what I was sayin’. I did, however, get this.” Held out between two fingers was a business card. Interested, Hosea accepted it. “Exotic Imports and… Impurities?” “Human trafficking. They apparently have these masquerade parties where rich folk can bid on people anonymously. I think that’s where Y/N is.” God… Was Saint Denis truly such a shit hole? He knew this place was low, but a human trafficking ring? “Are you sure?” Arthur met Hosea’s gaze with the most sincere look he could muster. “Hosea-” “I know you wouldn’t lie to me dear boy.” “I heard someone mentioning there’ll be an auction there this Friday. They mentioned someone who sounds pretty darn close to Y/N’s description in the lineup. I’ll scope the place out, maybe we can rescue Y/N sooner than that. And if not…” Hosea tucked the card into his pocket. “I guess we’re attending the masquerade.” Arthur knows how much you and Hosea are sweet on each other. How hard it was for Hosea after Bessie’s passing and how you brought life back into him. Arthur would do anything for you. So when he had to scope out where the auction will take place he took the job very seriously. He wanted to get you out as soon as possible if you were really there. The place was heavily armed, much to his dismay. An open window was easy enough to sneak into but getting you out was near impossible. He couldn't even find you. However, in a back room Arthur discovered a pile of discarded clothing. A shoe caught his eye, one he knew you wore often. Before he was able to grab it Arthur had to leave as the area filled with guards. “Y/N is in there alright. Too busy for me to get ‘em.” He reported back upon his return to camp. That’s how Hosea, Dutch, Arthur, Bill, Micah, and Charles found themselves attending one of the most unnerving ‘parties’ in San Denis on a muggy Friday evening. They looked expensive, dressed down to the newest shoes on the market. Each donning their own masquerade mask. The building looked beautiful. Expensive. Guest flooded the entrance. “Guns aren’t allowed at this event.” A doorman held his hands out while the gang handed over their weapons. They weren’t worried. If everything was going according to plan John and Javier should already be inside posing as security. Upon entering the mansion, the gang mingled and sweet-talked everyone they could. Trying to get information, word of your safety, anything. One by one they slipped out of the room to John or Javier who gave their guns back to them before joining the guests in the auction room. The auction room was massive, theatrical even. Women in glorious gowns, men who’s suits cost more than a house, they all gathered with glasses filled with alcohol of their choosing. Chatting and laughing as if they’re about to watch a play. Hosea’s stomach churned. The curtains opened to reveal the first person to be auctioned. It was a young girl trembling and sobbing. He gripped the armrest of his seat, knuckles turning white. One by one these people were being bid on. “7,000 dollars. Do I hear 7,000 dollars? 7,500. 8,000 to the man in white!” All of this stress made him want to down glass after glass of alcohol. If he didn’t need to be clear headed he would’ve. “Next up, folks, is person number 9.” You were shoved onstage. Even though your face was covered he recognized you immediately. Almost a week ago you were idly waiting outside, gazing down at your clothing trying to fix a button when you were struck from behind. Blurry vision greeted you after, god only knows how long you were unconscious. Blinking it away you tried to move but to no avail. Hands and feet bound, you were left alone in a cold room. Little light trickled into your cell. You could hear the cries and pleas of other people who were presumably prisoners too. Every time you tried to snap at or fight against the guards they beat you. They fed you just enough food and water to keep you barely alive. It was hell. Every night you prayed someone would find you. Anyone! Hosea, Arthur- were they looking for you? It had been so long…. “Get up.” You snapped awake with a groan as you were kicked. The guard pulled you up, dragging you to get washed and dressed. Stumbling into a back room after being shoved, you blinked at all the faces staring back at you. These were the people you heard crying at night. “What’s happening?” You whispered. Only one woman was brave enough to speak up. Her low voice shook with emotion. “They’re selling us.” “What!?” “Be quiet or I’ll make you quiet!” A guard snarled at you, causing you to shy away. For hours you listened silently to the auction from backstage. Was this really happening? It felt so surreal. Fear filled you as the line moved forward until you were next. A bag was forced onto your head so you couldn’t see. Fingers dug into your arms, you could feel yourself being dragged onto the stage, causing you to stumble. “Next up, folks, is person number 9.” Your breath hitched painfully. Heart racing loudly. This is it. You were about to be sold as person number 9. Bracing yourself for the bidding a loud boom crackled beside you, so loud it made your ears ring. Your head snapped in the direction it came from. Not being able to see anything, panic arose within you as the screams and sounds of running reached you. The crowd was fleeing for their lives! Gunshots popped off in the surrounding area. You ducked down in case any bullets flew your way. “Y/N!” “H-Hosea?” The bag was lifted off your head, beaming lights above glared into your eyes causing you to squint. Hosea’s face slowly came into view. He wrapped his arms around you, throwing you over his shoulder. “I’d love to have a romantic reunion with you, my dove, but I’m afraid we’re in the midst of a shootout.” “I can see that.” You groaned, hanging onto him. For an older man he sure did carry you with ease while shooting his way out with the gang backing him up on either side. “Hosea, let’s go!” Dutch shot the guard who blocked off the door. Hosea had to pass you to Arthur, who barreled through a cloud of bullets with you safely tucked in his arms. He was able to reach the rendezvous carriage, placing you inside before anyone else could enter. Hosea slid in and gathered you in his arms. “Drive, damn it!” He called out, causing the carriage to lurch violently before moving. “Oh Y/N. Oh my little dove.” He carefully looked you over as tears filled your eyes. You were shaking, veins pumping with adrenaline. Your rescue happened so quickly it made your head dizzy. Hosea’s hands were gentle as he touched you in case anything hurt or scared you in your shaken state. He examined every inch. Face was pensive, while taking in every mark and bruise on your delicate skin. “Are you seriously hurt anywhere?” “No.” You whispered, pressing against your husband for comfort. He gladly held you, kissing your lips over and over again. “I’m sorry it took me so long my love. I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight.” Hosea rest his head atop yours and rubbed circles on your back soothingly. “Let’s get you back to camp and fed.” “Thank you.” You nuzzled him, breathing in his comforting scent. “I knew you’d come for me. I missed you.” “I missed you too.” The rest of the ride was quiet. When the carriage parked outside of Shady Belle, Hosea scooped you up immediately. You gasped as the whole gang rushed  over to greet you. “Y/N’s back!” Abigail announced. “Oh Y/N, I’m so glad you’re safe!” Mary-Beth gushed with relief. Even Pearson was there to see you. “Welcome home Y/N. Camp ain’t the same without ya.” “Thank you everyone.” You let out a watery laugh, heart filled with love. You were so appreciated amongst this group and it showed. Hosea brought you inside, cleaning you carefully. He asked if anything hurt or if anyone touched you and you responded with yes or no. He clothed you in his own clothes, hoping his scent would bring comfort. A warm bowl of stew was pushed into your hands. Hosea held you while you ate and snuggled you up until you went to bed. He played with your hair all night, unable to sleep after losing you. ___ Dutch: Dutch doesn’t notice you’re gone until the ransom note arrives. “$3,000 in exchange for your lover?” He scoffed. “Who does he think he is? We’ll light his ass up.” The page was quickly crumpled in his hand. Dutch felt a deadly fury rise in him so great his own blood ran colder than the Upper Montana river. Colm O'Driscoll won’t get away with it this time. Not after what he’s done to Dutch’s past lover and to Arthur. “Dutch, I think we should be cool about this one. He already captured me to draw you in for the Pinkertons. He’s probably not done try’nna cut his deal with ‘em. If we ride in hot-” “Not now, Arthur. A few Pinkertons we can handle. This is Y/N we’re talking about, for Christ’s sake.” He scoffed, face snarling up in anger. “Y/N would have come for you, dear boy, had we known you were taken. Y/N would have come for you.” Arthur heaved out a sigh. He still wasn’t fully well after the green gang shot him up. “I know, Dutch. I love Y/N just as much as anyone. We ain’t ever leave one of us behind. I just think… If they want to draw us in they’ll treat Y/N right. If it’s a trap it’ll make more sense for us to come in quiet and get Y/N outta there safely.” “We don’t have time!” Dutch grabbed his gun, much to Arthur and Hosea’s exasperation. “Dutch, I know you love Y/N, but I think Arthur may be right.” “Who’s side are you on, Hosea? If that were you we would already be on the road.” He waved his gun around before holstering it. The air in camp was tense. Dutch seemed… Unsettled. Unpredictable. His eyes were crazy. Love made him crazy. “Who’s with me? John, Micah, Bill?” John and Arthur exchanged looked while Bill jumped up eagerly. Micah seemed interested but didn’t bother grabbing anything extra like the others. “I’m comin’ with you.” Arthur’s shoulders fell. He followed Dutch through camp up to The Count which Dutch mounted with ease. “No, dear boy. You rest. Watch the camp with Hosea, we should be back before dawn.” “Alright, if you say so. Be careful out there Dutch. Things are getting nasty. Bring Y/N home.” “Oh, I intend to.” With the rescue party ready Dutch rode out with his boys. “If you see an O’Driscoll, shoot. If you see a Pinkerton, shoot. We leave no one alive. Not even the women. If Colm wants to play, we’ll play. By our rules.” John moved up beside Dutch, calling out over the whistling wind. “Are you sure about this Dutch? What if Y/N gets hurt?” “Y/N isn’t getting hurt.” The words were spoken as if John’s idea was ludicrous. “Now you boys know how I feel about Y/N. And I-… Well, call me foolish, but I’ll never let any man, beast, or tycoon lay a finger on the love of my life. The moment we slaughter his sons he’ll know we mean business. Colm is many things, but stupid he is not. He knows hurting Y/N would give us cause to burn his world down piece by piece and I don’t think he could take the heat.” “As is your right, Dutch.” Micah spoke up. “The O'Driscolls should know by now you’re a kind and just man. I’m sure they understand the reckoning hurting their assets would bring.” Feeding into Dutch’s anger pleased the gang leader. “That’s what I thought.” He agreed. The rest of the ride was tense with anticipation. John knew there was nothing he could say. He just hoped you’d survive all of this. Dutch was getting sloppy and with you involved… He would slaughter the whole world if he had to. “We’re here.” Dutch announced. Night had long fallen by the time they reached the O’Driscoll hideout. “Let’s make a little noise. Micah-” Riding closer to the compound, Micah lit a stick of dynamite, throwing it over the fence. Dutch watched with great pleasure as the O’Driscoll boys caught in the blast began to scream. “Let’s show them you don’t fuck with Dutch van der Linde.” The guns came out. Time slowed down, men began to rush at them. The Count reared, spooked by the sudden barrage of bullets. Dutch shot every single O’Driscoll effortlessly, one by one. You were beginning to think Dutch wasn’t coming. Why would he after Arthur outed Colm’s setup a week ago? They had kicked your face in until your mouth filled with blood and your nose cracked in three different places. Breathing was hard with your damaged ribs. The O’Driscoll’s wasted no time in beating you to a bloody pulp before tying you up. The way you were tied was ridiculous. Your hands and feet were tied separately then were tied together to ensure you wouldn’t be able to move an inch. You guessed Arthur’s escape was a sore spot. You struggled and fought until the ropes dug angry marks, rubbing the skin away. In all honestly you usually would have half a mind to spit at or curse any O’Driscoll out, however this seemed different. It was grim, very grim. You remember how scary it was watching Arthur collapse off his horse barely alive and wondered – would you make it? Surely they won’t let an escape happen again... Dutch would probably move camp, you thought. And if you could survive… I don’t know, a week longer, he’ll come and get you. These were the thoughts running through your head while you tried to plan your survival. ‘It’ll be torture, but I can last that long’, you reassured yourself. It didn’t work. Colm killed Dutch’s girl way back, what’s stopping him from doing it again? You knew the man had a nasty streak to him. And Dutch… well... killing you sure would make Dutch slip up enough to get caught. That bastard Colm just wanted to see him hang. Many many thoughts occupied your mind as you dozed off. Aches and pains were screaming at you so being unconscious was probably best. At the brink of sleep you were jolted wide awake by a loud explosion. You froze, halting your breath, straining your ears to listen. Silence. What’s going on? BANG BANG BANG! Dutch- It had to be him! Your face lit up with hope, eyes fixated on the door. Any minute now... The O’Driscoll’s screamed, cursed, and cried out. “Get ‘em!” “Don’t let them inside!” “We gotta hold this for Colm!” Despite anticipating its happening you still flinched back when the door was kicked in. “Y/N.” Dutch sighed out of relief. Kneeling down he cut you loose, brushing the hair from your face. You both were quiet. Just taking each other in. You because you had missed him, and him because he was stunned by how badly you were beaten. “Those animals. We’ll make ‘em pay.” Dutch’s words were said more to himself than to you. “I’m alright, I can walk, I think-” Helping you up, Dutch’s eyes filled with sadness when he noticed you wincing. He could hear your chest heave with pain and it was grading against his eardrums. “I’ll carry you. Just hang on, we haven’t cleared them all yet.” Scooping you into his chest, your arms were granted purchase around his neck. Dutch was stronger than he looked. He held onto you with one arm wrapped tightly to secure you while shooting any man who ran this way with the other. “Bastards! They’re everywhere! John, Micah, let’s go!” “You get Y/N?” John asked after shooting three more men. There were so many O’Driscolls they couldn’t even take their eyes off them to check on you. “Yeah. Let’s get outta here.” Micah covered Dutch’s right while John covered his left and back. They shot the best they could until finally they were free of the building. Dutch placed you on The Count, climbing behind you. The others quickly mounted seeing as there was no way they’d win this gun battle if they stayed. “Shit! Incoming!” Bill cried out, alerting everyone to the drove of Pinkerton galloping straight towards the gang’s direction. “God dammit!” Jerking the reigns, Dutch kicked his horse into action. “This way, c’mon! Let’s lose them through the trees. We gotta hope we can outrun them.” There you were, rocketing towards salvation on a white horse. Pinkertons and O’Driscolls crashing down around you like violent ocean waves. There was so much noise to the point where your ears rang in an effort to tune it all out. Breath didn’t leave your body. Time slowed. You watched in horror. Every bullet shot by John seemed to take ages before knocking down its opponent. Bill was screaming yet not a word of it reached you. You could feel Dutch’s arm wrap tighter and tighter around your waist. Suddenly you’re soaring through the air, hair flying back against the dusty breeze. This was it. The moment of truth. The Count’s feet touched down  after leaping over a fence and suddenly time returned to normal and everything sped up in your race for life. Your heart thuds erratically, clammy hands clinging to the saddle for dear life. “Duck!” Dutch ordered and you immediately lowered your head before a low hanging branch creamed you. You stayed low Dutch’s body now covering you protectively. You couldn’t see and had no idea what was going on. Your own breathing was so loud at this point it took you awhile to register – the shooting had stopped. There was no more screaming, no more calling out or angry orders being shouted. Only the sound of four horses huffing and puffing and your own shaky breaths filled the air. “My love… Are you alright?” Dutch lifted himself off of you, his horse slowing to rest. “I…. I think so.” You gazed down at your hands and arms before looking at Dutch with wide traumatized eyes. “Oh, my little bird. I’m so sorry they hurt you. I came as soon as I could. They’ll pay for this.” Something sinister swirled behind his eyes but his fingers were gentle against your skin while caressing your face. “Come now, let’s get you cleaned up and to bed. You need rest.” Dutch kissed your shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here now. So glad.” ___ Sean: Sean thought you were mad at him. Avoiding him for some awful comment he made because he, yet again, went too far. It hurt his feelings but he decided you’d probably come back when you were ready to see him again. “Sean, have you seen Y/N?” Mary-Beth asked. “I haven’t seen Y/N since yesterday morning.” Sean’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach. You weren’t the type to leave camp often or without someone accompanying you. “Christ, I haven’t. Where’d you last see them?” “Over by Kieran. I already asked him and he said Y/N helped with the horses then wandered off.” “An’ no one saw them come back?” He began power walking through camp, searching the area for you. “Has anyone seen Y/N?” Tilly and Uncle shook their heads, John just gave a shrug. “That isn’t weird to any of yous?” His voice was raised enough to get the attention of Arthur who had just rode in. “What’s goin’ on now?” “Y/N is fucking missing and no one said a damn word about it.” “Alright, alright calm down. I’m sure we can find them, where were they last?” “Oh I don’t know English, lemme just take this crystal ball out of my ass-” Sean rolled his eyes while grabbing his gun. “We’re gonna have to track them down. Think you can do that?” “Well…” Arthur wipes the sweat from his brow. “Charles taught me a few things.” He paused, gently catching Sean’s shoulder. “I know you’re upset but I need you to keep your head. I’m sure wherever Y/N is they’re okay. We’ll get them back safe.” “Speak for yourself, I always keep my wits.” “That right there is what I’m worried about.” Arthur huffed while mounting his horse. Sean was silently grateful for Arthur’s words though he’d never admit it. There was a storm churning inside of him. An ocean of guilt rocking his consciousness. If only he respected your boundaries and didn’t make that joke maybe you wouldn’t have gone missing. “We’ll bring Y/N back safe.” He repeated to himself, climbing onto his saddle. Arthur gave him an affirmative nod. They rode around the outskirts of Clemens Point looking for any sign of you. Sean felt like throwing up the whole entire time. Suspense was killing him. “Over here!” Air left his lungs in relief as soon as Arthur’s voice broke through the thick air. Walking his horse over, that relief was short lived. “Fuck.” Sean hissed. Arthur held a ripped piece of fabric clearly bloodied. The fabric was from something you wore often making it was unmistakable. “Looks like three riders were here. ‘Dunno who they could be, but…” Morgan hesitated, knowing Sean probably shouldn’t hear the next part. “There was quite the struggle.” The Irishman cursed, kicking at a nearby stone, sending it throttling into the trees. “I’ll kill every last one of ‘em! I swear it.” The Van der Linde boys followed the hoof prints best they could, using other clues to figure out what way your kidnappers may have turned when the trail disappeared. With each passing minute Sean’s knuckles turned more and more white around his reigns. “I shouldn’t have said anything. This is my fault.” His feelings were so big inside of him they spilled out of his lips like a broken dam. “I’m a right bastard.” “You two have a fight?” “Sort of… We was fuckin’ around and Y/N got sick of me and asked me to stop teasing them but they look so cute when they’re angry I just- I don’t know.” He hung his head. Arthur studied him silently as they rode. “Well… Sounds about right for you two. I’m sure Y/N wouldn’t blame you.” “Maybe not, English, but I blame myself. I just hope they’re okay.” They didn’t talk any more after that unless to comment on the path changing. A few hours away from camp they came across smoke indicating a fire, right in the general direction of your kidnappers. “Must be them.” Sean was ready to charge in, but Arthur’s hand shot out across Sean’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. “We should get to higher ground first, see what we’re dealing with.” “Are you crazy? Y/N could be there!” “That’s exactly why we can’t rush in like fools! What happened to keepin’ your wits? Do you want Y/N getting shot?” Sean’s mouth opened and closed, words getting choked up in his throat. The thought of you getting shot was about to bring tears to his eyes. Shoulders slumping forward, he sucked in a shuddering breath. “Let’s go look up that hill.” “That’s better.” Arthur snapped his kicked his feet, leading his horse higher with Sean close behind. Sean wasn’t playing around now. Knowing you might be close and that you were probably hurt- It took everything in him to quench ranging fire burning within. He whipped out his binoculars, setting eyes on the men surrounding the campfire. “Stupid Lemoyne fucks.” “Do you see Y/N?” Arthur asked. Sean moved his binoculars with his turning head. “I’ve got eyes on them. They’re tied to a wagon just outside of where they’re sitting.” He bit his lip while taking in your sorry form. You were filthy, bloodied, and your face was swollen. They clearly didn’t treat you kindly. “Let’s kill those fucks, Morgan. My baby needs me.” Without another word Sean tucked the binoculars away, charging full force down the hill, cattleman revolver in hand. He managed to shoot one guy in the throat, ducking on his horse to avoid the flying bullets. His horse galloped straight for you, stopping just shy with the intention of creating a barrier between you and the shootout. Arthur did most of the shooting while Sean nearly flung himself off his horse to cut you free. “Oh my baby! What did those bastards do to you?” He gently cleaned your face with his handkerchief, ignoring all the gory sounds echoing from behind. Sean didn’t even notice when everything became silent. You had his full undivided attention. “Sean!” You wept, wrapping your arms around his neck to bury your face into his chest. “I’m sorry baby. I should’ve never let you out of my sight. I’ve got you, my rose. I’m here now.” He kissed your hair, rubbing your back. “Did they hurt you real bad?” Tears now stung his eyes when you nodded. It was difficult seeing you this way. He loves you more than anything else in the world, seeing his partner so beaten and broken- “Shhhh. We’ll make it better.” Sean attempted to calm his tears, crying silently while burying his face in your hair. His chest was warm and welcoming after what you’ve endured. Even though every bone in your body ached all you wanted to do was hug him and you were grateful he didn’t pull away immediately and put you on a horse. “I love you. So much. I was so scared.” You whimpered. “I know, I know I’m so sorry Y/N. About everything. I should’ve never pushed your buttons. I thought you ran away.” “What?” You pulled away in confusion, studying his face. “Sean… You think I’m upset about that?” It was cute seeing Sean feel guilty over a minor playful argument, something you both have often, and you couldn’t help but to giggle. “Don’t be silly.” You reached up, wiping away his tears. Confused, Sean gently caught your hand, pressing kisses to your palm while examining the bruising on your skin. “I guess that’s who I am when I’m with you, Y/N. A silly man. C’mon now.” Carefully you were scooped up into a loving embrace. Sean placed a peck on your lips. He was afraid of hurting you further so he treated you as though you were made of glass. Once you were in his saddle he pulled himself up behind you. “Let’s get you to camp, baby. I’ll make you feel better there.” “Thank you.” You pressed your back against him in relief. Exhaustion flooded your still trembling body. You never had any doubt Sean would come for you but the experience of the Lemoyne Raiders kicking your face in was rather traumatic. “Glad to see you’re okay L/N.” Arthur shot you a little smile. “Sean here was real riled up about your disappearance. Nearly bit my head off.” A faint smile crossed your lips. You winced as your skin pulled on a bruise. “Thank you for coming too, Arthur. If you weren’t here I don’t think he would have been able to rescue me.” “Oh not this again!” Sean groaned. His arm was wrapped loosely around you and he still pressed an odd kiss to your hair here or there. “I would've done just fine!” “You shot one bullet!” Arthur pointed out with a laugh. “Then you flung yourself over your lover like some actor in one of those dramas. If I weren’t here you and Y/N would be riddled with holes by now.” “I love you Arthur Morgan, but shut up. I killed that fellow with one shot! ONE!” “What was stopping you from killing the rest of ‘em?” “Y/N needed me!” “See if I didn’t come-” “Shut up Morgan!” Listening to their familiar arguments was the best welcome home you could’ve ever wished for. Your eyes fell shut as you listened and soon the pain shooting through you and the exhaustion of being awake and afraid all night  started catching up. Slowly your body fell limp against Sean’s chest. You were only faintly aware of his arm tightening around you, keeping you safely on the horse. It was pitch black when you came to. Fear shot you awake, your eyes scanning the darkness. “Sean?” You could hear an exhausted exhale to your right, a hand reached out from the black to gently pet your hair. “I’m here baby.” There was some fumbling then a match lit, illuminating your lover who had fallen asleep sitting next to you. Sean lit a lantern and that’s when you noticed you were laying in Arthur’s cot. “We thought it best to give you some privacy until you’re in tip top shape. Said I wasn’t allowed to sleep with you in it though.” Sean leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m just glad to have you back. Get some rest, no one will hurt you now. I’m here.” Relaxing again your fingers laced with Sean’s as you settled back in to sleep. ____ Charles: Charles usually minded his own business whenever you fucked off outta camp for a few days. You had been running with the gang far longer than he has and everyone knew you to be quite capable. God only knows what you’re up to half the time. Similar to Arthur, you’d go off and do your own thing then return with money or a fresh kill and a story of your adventures. Charles likes that about you. He admires your independence and how you have so much strength. When you didn’t show up to camp for a week he didn’t think anything of it. You were probably off climbing waterfalls or helping strangers. The gang carried on as normal unless Dutch wanted to offload a job onto you, then he’d ask around. “Charles.” Dutch called him over with a waggle of his finger. He already heard him calling your name and asking the ladies if they’ve seen you so Charles had an inkling as to what this was about. “Can you go find Y/N? I don’t care what it takes, just get their ass over here. We have money to make.” Charles didn’t mind being asked. Any reason to get some peace and quiet and reunite with you was a good reason in his eyes. The problem was, you were flightly, and your tracks were old. It has rained twice since you left camp. Charles followed your prints the best he could. Up into Strawberry, then to Mt.Shann where he took a break to enjoy the view and watch the birds. Charles smiled a little when he saw you had set camp there at one point. It was a beautiful place to stay, he would have done the same. He then doubled back to Owanjila lake where you had your second camp. He wondered what you were doing in the area, having absolutely no clue. He did, however, chuckle to himself when he found one of your gloves that you must have dropped. “Oh, Y/N.” The words slipping from his lips were fond and warm. He scooped the glove up deciding to store it in Taima’s saddle bag then he carried on his way. Charles began to get confused when your trail led straight back to Valentine. So… you were close to camp and didn’t stop by to rest your horse or grab supplies? That’s very unlike you. These tracks were fresher, not more than a few days old if even. Your lover became frustrated when entering town as the hoof prints belonging to your horse became lost in the bustle of main street and Charles couldn’t pick them up again. “Excuse me. Have you seen-” He began stopping residence of Valentine, asking of your whereabouts. You had been seen at the arms store and according to the man at the front desk of the Saints Hotel you stopped by for a wash only a day before. Well… If you were here yesterday you’ll probably be back at camp soon. After thanking the clerk, Charles returned to Horseshoe Overlook to inform Dutch you’d be back soon. The next day Charles awoke early. “Mr. Smith, can you please go into town and get us some supplies? Normally L/N does it but they ain’t back yet. Ms. Grimshaw ain’t too pleased.” He was attempting to enjoy his early morning coffee when Karen approached him. “Sure.” He set his cup down, accepting the list. “Did Pearson add what he needed?” “He only asked for corn.” He raised a brow in amusement, sharing a knowing look with Karen. “I understand.” Tucking it away safely Charles finished his coffee, throwing the rest out, then made his way to Taima. Your whereabouts weighed heavily on his mind during his ride into Valentine. ‘I miss Y/N’, he thought to himself ‘I hope they return soon’. Camp just wasn’t the same without you. He liked the gang alright but he liked you more. Valentine was a breath of fresh air after Blackwater. Quite literally. Charles took deep breaths, breathing in the crisp mountain air before entering town. Taima was soon hitched outside the general store where Charles leisurely strolled in. He walked around, footsteps echoing in the empty room as he gazed at the shelves. The clerk wasn’t there. “Hello?” He called out. Soon, sound of a door being swung open and rushed footsteps up the stairs filled the silence from what he assumed must have been the store room. “I’ll be right with you.” You were bound painfully tight. Ropes dug into your skin until your wrists bled. Tied to a chair and gagged. It had all happened so fast. Days ago you were going about business as usual. You stocked your ammo; took a nice long bath; and followed a dog around you wanted to pet before returning to camp, and of course, to the arms of Charles. What can you say? You love dogs and this one was particularly funny. You had grinned to yourself, studying the animal as you followed it out back. You didn’t expect to look up and be met with the stares of men who were clearly in the middle of an illegal operation. “Shit!” Your hand flew to your holster then froze as you heard a click and felt the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of your head. Your hands slowly rose as you tried to eye whoever was behind you. “Well well well, look what we have here, fellers.” “Real unfortunate, ain’t it?” You narrowed your eyes but kept silent. O’Driscolls by the looks of ‘em. “Hey…” A tall one began circling you, looking you over as if you were bait. “I remember you. You run with the Van der Linde boys, don’tcha?” This wasn’t good. “I think you’ve mistaken, mister.” “No… No I recognize you alright.” He stopped in front of you, leaning so close you had to recoil when the stench of his foul breath hit your face. “This isn’t your lucky day-” Before you could react he drew his elbow back and punched you so hard you nearly flew to the ground. Quiet laughs rang out among the group. Pain overcame you when one grabbed you by the hair, literally dragging you into the basement of their operation where you were hastily tied up and beaten several times among other unsavory happenings. For days you starved. Your face swollen beyond recognition. Only did the grocer show you any compassion. Feeding you water while muttering little ‘I’m so sorry, I wish we could let you go’s. He was a nervous man… A sweaty man. Hell you’d be nervous too if a gaggle of insane Irishmen took over the basement of your shop. You appreciated his little kindness but the weight of the situation was never lost on you. You needed to get out and soon, or else they’ll kill you. You thought of Charles and your beloved friends Arthur, Mary-Beth, and Lenny. Were they looking for you? Did they ever realize you disappeared? Today repeated the last two. The second the O’Driscolls noticed you were conscious their abuse started again up until mid morning when they left to take care of some business. The clerk made his way into the basement, removing your gag so he could give you water. “I’m sorry but you have to understand. If I let you go they’ll kill me.” You were too tired to argue with your heavily bruised jaw, sipping at the cool liquid. Suddenly a sound met your ears. Old floorboards overhead creaked with heavy footsteps. “Oh goddammit.” Cloth was shoved into your mouth once more, immediately drying your tongue. “H-Hold on. Stray here..” You glared at the clerk. Where the hell were you gonna go all tied up like this? The sweaty man dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief, opening the door that divided you from the outside world. “Hello?” A voice called out, rushing the clerk who felt so overwhelmed and frenzied with stress that he accidentally left the door open. “I’ll be right with you.” Staying coherent is a struggle for you at this point. Listening to light footsteps run up the stairs you let your head hang limp against your shoulder. “What can I help you with?” “Just here to resupply. Do you happen to have… uh… a bushel of corn?” “Corn? Yeah, we got it.” Wait… was that? CHARLES! Energy rocketed through your veins with the hope of rescue. Charles was here! Gazing around frantically you searched for something, ANYTHING. The only thing close by was a broom. Hopping your chair over to it depleted you immediately, every bruise and broken rib screaming out. But you had to do this. You had to get Charles’ attention. It was so much work just to get close enough to tip the broom over. CLINK! Your head snapped towards the stairs with anticipation. Charles read the list over again. “Actually a bushel of apples too.” CLINK! He glanced down at the stairs then at the clerk who laughed nervously. “Haha don’t mind that. Just some junk.” Charles hummed, grabbing a few cans off the shelf. “I’ll take these as well.” “Is that all for you?” Your heart squeezed in your chest. It didn’t work. ‘Charles! Charles I’m right here!’ You so badly wanted to scream. No words left your muffled mouth beyond your hearing. There had to be a way to get his attention. Nothing else was close enough to you and you didn’t have the strength to move yourself and the chair any further. The only thing you could do was throw yourself to the ground as hard as you could and hope for the best. BANG! This time Charles froze. His eyes napped towards the basement then back at the grocer.  A terrified look flashed over the man’s face. That’s suspicious... Oh- “Just some junk, huh?” “Yes sir.” In once swift movement Charles pulled out his gun, cocking the hammer. “Then you wouldn’t mind showing me what’s down there, right?” “H-Hey listen! I don’t want any trouble.” “No trouble here. If there’s nothing down there then I’ll pay and leave.” “It’s just junk mister! Honest!” “Then it should be okay if I take a look at this ‘junk’.” The clerk folded under pressure. “They said they were gonna kill me if anyone found out!” “Then get out of here and hope they don’t find you.” Charles didn’t know who ‘they’ were but he had a pretty good idea about what was going on.  He watched as the grocer fled before cautiously making his way down the stairs, cattleman revolver still drawn. Charles was stunned. All breath left his body in disbelief the second you two made eye-contact. “Y/N!” He hurdled himself towards you, picking the chair up to sit you upright before removing the gag. “What did they do to you?” Swift work was made of your binds and soon you were pulled into the comfort of his chest. Giving a whimper of pain you couldn’t help but to cry tears of relief. “Charles!” Your voice cracked. You almost thought it wouldn’t work and he would leave without you. Charles rubbed your back, pulling away to assess your injuries. “Y/N…… I-.” He didn’t know what to say.  So many emotions hit him in waves, washing over him strongly which inevitably flashed across his face. Anger at the people who hurt his beloved. Guilt for not tracking you any further. Resentment towards himself for not considering you might be missing or in trouble. Sadness. So much sadness. He had never seen you this badly beaten and it disturbed him. Quickly he tried to hide his thoughts. You were so small and frail in his arms, crying uncontrollably now. Charles could imagine by your current state that it must have been a horrible ordeal. “I’ve got you. Can you walk?” All you could do was cling to Charles while shaking your head. You felt the weight of his coat drape around your shoulder before feeling yourself being scooped up. “You found me.” Charles winced at how weak your voice sounded. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead he shushes you. “Save your energy my love. You’ve been through a lot. Let me take care of you.” It’s the least he can do after failing you so badly. As he carried you up the stairs Charles make eye-contact with Sheriff Malloy who bowed his head slightly out of respect – serving as a silent apology. “We’ll hang whoever did this.” He promised.  Deputies flooded the store actively as he spoke. "When we find ‘em, you’ll be the first to know.” “Thank you.” Those words meant nothing to Charles. The Valentine law was useless and it showed. All he could do now was shield you from curious onlookers while mounting Taima with you securely in his arms. “Are you in any pain?” He whispered, making his horse walk so the ride wouldn’t jostle you too much. “Yeah.” Charles had to lean down to catch your quiet words. “Try to rest against me. I’ll get some morphine from the Reverend. Just hang in there. I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He was trying desperately to find the right words to say. Anything that might help you or ease your suffering. Anything that might relieve his guilt. Grasping at words floating around his mind yet none could be combined into something coherent. They rode on in silence. “Mister Strauss, Reverend. We need medicine.” Most of the gang couldn’t see what was going on, Charles had you tucked protectively against him for privacy. He knew you probably didn’t want everyone ogling at you. The air of the situation was enough for everyone to gain understanding and many sprang into action. “How bad is it?” Strauss asked. “I think their ribs are broken, maybe sprained jaw. Definitely a sprained ankle.” “Bring Y/N over here.” Arthur called, leading Charles to his cot. “Probably better than the ground. Shouldn’t be movin’ much with cracked ribs.” Your eyes fluttered open the second you were placed in the comfort of Arthur’s bed. Charles immediately helped you take medicine to ease your suffering. “Do you need anything my love?” His voice was gentle as if speaking to a spooked animal. Large calloused fingers brushed the hair from your face. “Food… Water…” Arthur gently squeezed Charles’ shoulder, earning a grateful look from his friend. “Let me.” Your love settled into a chair beside you, still playing with locks of your hair. “You’re so brave Y/N. And so incredibly smart. I’m so happy you’re safe now. I-… I’ll never let this happen to you again.” He watched you struggle to stay conscious. Maybe the food will have to wait. Slumping forward, he places a feather light kiss upon your lips. “I’m coming with you everywhere for now on.” He knew you couldn’t hear him but it eased his soul just saying those words out loud.

#rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #Arthur Morgan x Reader #Dutch van der linde x reader #Hosea Matthews x reader #sean macguire x reader #Charles Smith x reader #RDR2 Reader Insert #Arthur Morgan #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #sean macguire #Charles Smith #my writing #request

[hiskillingjar]

What kind of reactions do you think Btd characters might have to a period, crying Mc who is writhing in pain?

Today I got my period unprepared and without pills and pads I suffered indescribable pain for a long hour… (Man I don't want to go through this again 😢)

and it made me think about it. Would they be surprisingly kind and help, or would they take advantage of it for their own benefit?

urghhh i hate being unprepared for my period, i'm so sorry to hear that :( hope this cheers you up!

ren 🦊

ren would definitely panic if he found you in a lot of pain

he'd ask a lot of questions to try to understand what was up before you just told him you were on your period

"oh...OH! okay! okayokay, i'll go get you what you need! do you want pads, tampons, painkillers...um, something else?"

he'd be a good boyfriend for like ten minutes and get you everything you need and then some

any sorts of pads or tampons, chocolate, your favourite food, a heat pad, all sorts. he'd be very well stocked so you weren't caught off guard again

as soon as you were slightly more comfortable, though, he'd be hovering at your side like "so...um...i've heard some things are really good to settle period pain...heh..."

he was horny the second you told him lol

he'd be DESPERATE to fuck you and, especially, to eat you out while you were on your period

he'd bug you every single day, just full on pathetic begging

"please please please please can i eat you out please it'll make you feel better pleaseeeeeee"

and of course he'd asking to be nice. if you said no, he'd just do it anyway...and spill a little more blood if he needed to

he's a fox. what do you expect <3

(i've also written this (for fox) if you wanna see it in action lol)

lawrence 🥀

law would probably be pretty shocked too

like they come back from work and you're hunched up on their bed moaning in pain. it's not like you can get out to sort out the issue yourself after all :(

you tell them and they get sort of flustered

"um...alright, i guess i'll get something for you. what do you need?"

if you give them a list, they'll do what they can. but they need a list. they would NOT know what to get otherwise

they'd also be pretty nice about it though

maybe run you a bath and make a batch of tea to settle your stomach. it would work a little too well lol

they wouldn't be too desperate to fuck you (they never really are lol) but if you asked, they might do it in the shower or something

they rent the place and don't want to do more laundry than they need to

strade 🔨

*knowing look*

what do you expect from strade, the sole boyfriend who's exclusively horny for violence?

yeah he'd be all over you the second he figured it out lmao

your discomfort and pain is like. His Thing so he would not care at all about you bleeding

he might even like that a little more, and the opportunity to make fun of you as you bled all over his lap and stained his trousers and thighs, and see you even more uncomfortable and put off by how much he wants you

"aw look at you, you're so embarrassed! why, you're never usually this flushed when you're bleeding for me <3"

i read a fanfic once where strade ate the mc out while they were on their period and like. pulled their tampon out lmaoooo he'd totally do that too xux

lay you down in the basement, or even soak his bed sheets, and take you even when you tried to shy away or pull back

that's more in just taking advantage of you when you're in pain

barring the horny stuff, strade kind of doesn't care about getting you tampons or pads or anything. ask him and he'll do it

that doesn't mean he wouldn't tease you a little first cus he totally would

that's just cus he likes to see you squirm though :)

#ren hana #ren btd #ren x mc #ren x reader #lawrence oleander #lawrence btd #lawrence x reader #lawrence x mc #strade btd #strade x reader #strade x mc #headcanons #qs

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Spy x Family S1

"Proof that the foreign minister wears a toupée. I even have the negatives." "Well done. Now we can force him to resign." How could this possibly be enough to force a resignation? Is wearing a toupée a sign of dishonesty or shame in this cultural context??

"In an era in which the nations of the world were waging a fierce war of information just out of sight, this man survived the battlefield by being a master of disguise." Ooooh is this a historical anime? How fun!

Update from 1 minute later: The newspaper confirms this as a Cold War-era story!! Colour me intrigued

"Farewell. May you find happiness." What a polite end to such a callous breakup LMAO

Why does Donovan Desmond look so incredibly haunted LOL

"In order to achieve this [spy mission] you will get married and have a child." Ah, there we are with the premise!

Of all the spy strengths they've displayed thus far, I am most impressed with this blond man's ability to pull a newspaper apart without bending it. You must need to generate a lot of force:

"Yeah, sure. Take whichever one you want." This is about the average regard for orphans in Shonen Anime Societies

"This little girl happened to be a telepath." She's a WHAT NOW? What a casual way to introduce this fact

Honestly the random facts about what Anya likes and the bursting into tears with unclear motivation seems very much a realistic parent and child experience

"I just don't understand this irrational behaviour." I love how quickly Loid Forger aka Twilight, International Spy, has been foiled by this tiny, psychic child

Loid is approaching parenthood very casually so far. Surely a spy (pretending to be a psychologist, even) can recognize the psychological impact of abandonment on a child

Fjlkjfljflf what kind of society allows Loid to barricade his six (or maybe four) year-old child inside their apartment unsupervised all day LMAOOO

SCREAM not Anya immediately revealing their location from playing spy games. Also a very realistic problem to have

"Boss, I think we should just give up on the toupée." [Pulls out a gun and shoots him] "Transparency is essential in government. Toupées are a no-go." WHY ON EARTH ARE TOUPÉES THE ULTIMATE SPY PLOT DEVICE JFKJFJF

Love that the betrayal of the nation is SECOND to the toupée. They said: Wigs are for liars and cowards

"No one reached out their hand to save me. I felt alone, in despair, and so powerless all I could do was cry." We have unlocked Loid's parental instincts AND his tragic backstory in the span of 1 and a half minutes

"I'm a failure as a spy? No. My mistake was putting that little girl in danger to begin with. How could I forget? To create a world where children won't have to cry... That's why I became a spy." Alright Loid, colour me charmed:

Ahhhhhh I love Loid giving his enemy the chance to go back to his daughter instead of attacking him

Loid deciding to take Anya back with him despite all his misgivings bc he wants to give her a home 🥺💘 HE'S NICE

"Papa is a huge liar. But he's such a cool liar." Awww, Anya

I can see how being psychic and being able to hear every single child's confusion during a test would be distracting

"I... relaxed? What the hell is going on with me?" FATHERHOOD

"It is mandatory that the applicant attend with both parents. Absolutely no exceptions." For a society with such a cavalier approach to violence and orphans (at least where Loid goes), you'd think they'd be more accepting of single parents

Everyone's absolutely on Yor's ass for being a single 27-year-old. [Yor as Charlotte Lucas voice] I'm 27 years old. I have no money and no prospects. I'm already a burden to my brother—

"I have a client for you, Thorn Princess." Is Thorn Princess Yor's sleeper agent activation phrase? Her whole face darkened

Clearly Yor doesn't have the same violence-aversion as Loid:

Yor ready to fall in love with anyone who's nice to her. Mgkjgkg but same perhaps

"A spy...An assassin...? I'm... so excited!" [Narrator voiceover] "The little girl was straving for entertainment." The narrator's interjections are very funny

HAHAHAHA I love that they're both trying to fake date each other for very different reasons. Incredible, 10/10, love this

It's fun that Franky, spy gadget guy, is also now mission back-up

Also I take back everything I said about Loid's violence aversion

"I'll be sure to tell your brother that you came alone." Why is every woman that Yor works with (and, it seems, every woman with more than one line in this show thus far) seem to be so mean-spirited LOL

HFHLKHGLHGLGH Loid showing up to the party covered in blood and introducing himself as her husband when she needed a boyfriend. We love a spy who is terrible at his job

Loid managing to somehow make a really amazing impression on this party by being hot and defending Yor's past as a masseuse (murderer). GOOD FOR HIM

"The concussive recovery method is the latest in modern medical practices." Imagine going to your doctor for a prescription and having them kickbox you into submission LMAO

"Um, Loid-san, this may not be the best moment to ask, but why don't we get married?" SCREAMING AT YOR BEING THE ONE TO PROPOSE AND HOW KNOCKS THE WIND OUT OF LOID:

"No matter what hardships await us, let us be there for one another." [Explosions go off in the background] Colour me sold on this grenade-pin ring and spy-assassin romance

I love that they're going on a little family outing to prep for their interview

I can also understand how a political rally would be stressful for Anya

"I've completed countless missions, yet once again I find myself losing heart." Loid will eventually get used to his girls who are obssessed with nuts and knives 💞

All of them calling attention to themselves by helping an old lady deal with a purse snatcher ❣️ I love this family. I've only had the Forgers for two episodes but if anything happened to them I would [redact] everyone in this room and then myself

"I guess... receiving thanks every once in a while wouldn't hurt." "Papa is a softie." YEAH HE IS

"Papa and Mama are flirting." "No we are not!" HEE HEE

"Anya, are you going to be okay in this crowd?" Dad Mode Activated

Ohhhhhhh Anya helping the cow through her fear. Baby!!!!

OHGHGLGHLKGH setting aside how they managed to have at least three outfits in that suitcase, I really want to know how the quick change is happening in the middle of this cobblestone pathway to the school

"Why are you getting irritated, Loid? She's not even your real wife." I love that whenever someone makes an out-of-pocket insult to Yor (her coworker calling her a whore, this dorm master critiquing her lack of cooking) Loid jumps in and he's like, HEY, THAT'S MY WIFE

"My Papa and Mama are both so much fun, and I love them very much. I want to be with them forever." I also want this family to stay together forever, Anya 💗

Both Yor and Loid ready to fight this jerk for making their daughter cry!! I love them

The hope that Loid has because of his new family. This is really fulfilling a deepseated psychological need that I had to watch an anime that's just about a nice man

"He might just be the best spy in Westalis, so don't worry too much." With all due respect, that doesn't say much for the other spies, considering how suspiciously Loid acts everywhere he goes

Yor genuinely considering murdering someone to get her daughter into school 💝 Parenting!

"I appreciate the attempt at consolation, my elegant boy." This is how I will be responding to all attempts for someone to comfort me from now on

Loid just carrying a party popper around in his pocket for when Anya gets in. I LOVE HEEEM

Loid can waste government resources on a little play mission for his family. As a treat

"He's requesting agents. As many as possible," incredible how Loid immediately folds to his daughter's request to be attacked by enemies LMAOOO

HAHAHAHA Loid telling them in morse code it's an imperative part of Operation Strix, which is technically true, but not at all for any reason they would think

The way they're all like, "I will JUMP at the chance to attack Loid, been waiting my whole life for this," is also really fun

I was waiting for the spy costume. I am so glad it is a plot point

I can't decide what I enjoy more, Loid's blush over having to put on the costume mask, or the way the other spies are fangirling over him

Loid getting his butt kicked by Yor in this drunk roleplay does make me wonder if we're going to see that her assassination missions run contrary to his goals of peacekeeping

"I've come to save you, Princess Anya." "Papa!" "Wait, I'm supposed to be your dad in this?" AWWWW ANYA JUST WANTED TO HER DAD TO ACT OUT SAVING HER

In fairness to Anya's fear of kidnapping, she has been kidnapped before!

"Though, you're usually on the ball, so [discussing Operation Strix Phase 2] may not be necessary." "Well... I may actually be off my game lately." At least Loid's willing to own up to it LMAOOO

Firstly, what happened just now was definitely an attempted [redacted] crime, which is hideously uncalled for, what the fuck. But secondly: I love Yor and Anya bonding time

"I know it's really dangerous to be an Eden student now. But it won't be as scary if I train. I can do my best at school without dying!" I do love the idea of teaching this tiny child fighting techniques, but my god, what a thing to say

"Even if I can't be like a normal mother, I'm going to do everything I can for her." YOOOOOOOOOOOOR I love you

"She's already realized how amazing I am and fallen for me." Incredible confidence from Damian Desmond, Very Rich Six-Year-Old LMAO

"Mama, you liar. Smiling didn't help at all." I am very entertained by Anya's psychic child conflict management

Ffjhfkhfk I really do love the way that Anya tries her best to do things in a way that her parents would most approve of. Smiling first, trying to not get in trouble in front of the teacher when she punches Damian, claiming defence of a friend. She's a good kid!

What will Loid, who is not actually a psychologist, be doing during the day while Anya goes to school and his wife does her work. I hope it involves costumes

Update from 1 minute later: At the very least, it involves stalking elementary students from a rooftop

Update from 4 minutes later: IT DID INVOLVE COSTUMES!

Also. Also. How the hell would Loid's plan work if his daughter was NOT psychic. Like yeah yeah yeah, she knows she's supposed to be a good student. But it doesn't seem like he's explicitly told her out loud to be friends with Damian. So is he just hoping for her organic success? It's a good thing his baby knows exactly what he's thinking LMAO

I love that Becky has decided to be Anya's no. 1 supporter. She needs a friend!!

"Why do I find it so hard to speak when she's in front of me?" In a very expected turn of events, lil Damian has a crush:

"Plan B is done for." You are wrong Loid! Plan Befriend has simply turned to Plan Boy Has a Crush on Your Daughter

This at-home tutoring really resonates with my experience of being the child of Asian parents with high expectations when it comes to their children's innate talent for math

"No, Yor. You're not a stranger, nor part of someone else's family. Right now, you're the mother of the Forgers. I'm counting on you to provide whatever I'm lacking." AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I love the Forgers

I loveeee this parenting discussion around positive reinforcement

"I wonder what it'd feel like to have a real family," said Loid, tits deep in a family and fatherhood

"My sister got married?" I was waiting for this ball to drop. Can't wait!

NOT BABY BROTHER YURI BEING EMPLOYED BY THE TORTURE DEPARTMENT OF THE GOVERNMENT OMG

"[Twilight] is the villain who is trying to make this world fall into chaos. You could call him my natural enemy." NOT BABY BROTHER YURI ANNOUNCING HIS INTENTIONS TO MERC HIS BROTHER-IN-LAW WHO HE'S ABOUT TO MEET AT DINNER:

I gotta say, despite them introing with assassinations, I do feel like Yuri represents a drastic tone shift for this show

"Yuri... I mean, my younger brother is coming here today! [Loid's voice raises several octaves] "Today?" The voice crack was funny. Back to family shenanigans

As a sister. I AM SICK OF THE SISTER COMPLEX JOKES. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, BABY BROTHER YURI, ANIME AS A GENRE, AND WHATEVER JAPANESE SOCIETAL NORM THAT ALLOWS THIS TO BE A CONSTANT IN SO MANY DIFFERENT STORIES?

"What could my sister possibly like about this guy?! Just because he can cook a little, and he's handsome, and tall, and considerate, and a doctor," It sounds like Yuri is talking himself into having a crush on Loid????

Wow, Loid has made Yuri as an intelligence agent within like, mere minutes of meeting him. Maybe Loid is a great spy!

Ahhhh, so the reason Yor took up killing as a job was to put her little brother through school. How honourable!

"Kiss here and now." I can't decide if this is terrible or fun. Maybe both. My money is on Anya interrupting to see her Uncle

I do appreciate that Yor has never been kissed! It makes sense, given her murder job, and I feel like we don't often get 20somethings without prior entanglements

HDJHDKJDHDHD this is so unhinged and weird. Jesus. Yuri Briar puts the B in Behnchod

"Loid Forger. You may lay claim to my sister's lips for now." WHAT A THING TO SAY

"So, let's do everything we can to make sure Yor is happy." Loid is THE Husband. There are no other husbands, just him!

"Children are so curiously observant at times," said Loid, about his daughter who is literally telepathic

"It's a terrible idea to date a woman while deceiving her," said Loid, as if that has not been the premise of his ENTIRE romantic history thus far

I think Loid is starting to develop (romantic) feelings:

You know, I haven't really commented on the horn cap thing, but I do wonder if they are to do with Anya's powers rather than just a fun little design thing

I need you to see what I'm looking at when they tell me this is Bill Watkins, Age Six:

I do like all the montages of how all of these children (and Bill Watkins, Deeply Suspicious Age Six) were preparing for this dodgeball tournament

SCREAM THE CUT TO THE DRAGON BALL Z NAMEK BACKGROUND

Damian taking the dodgeball bullet for Anya. Love u little guy

Calling it right now, with all this lead-up, I don't think Anya's throw is going to work out the way she wants

Update from a few seconds later: Yep, that was correct!

Gnjghkgjhgkjhg Loid loves Anya too much to be strict with her so he is engaging in quite a permissive parenting style

ANYA TRYING TO SAVE THE LITTLE BOY FROM DROWNING WHEN SHE'S JUST A LITTLE GIRL HERSELF. SWEETEST BABY ALIVE

DAD'S HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ANYA EARNING HER FIRST STELLA! YEAH BABYGIRL

I like how they do a count of her Stellas (merit points which lead to the Imperial Scholar Society of Parent War Instigation) and Tonitrus Bolts (demerit points which lead to expulsion) whenever Anya gets closer to her goal

Also, bonkers that getting a Stella doesn't cancel out your Bolt? It's like, forgive, but never forget

Fhkhfkjfhfkjh Anya deciding she'll only respond to Starlight Anya. Very Six-Year-Old Behaviour

"Do you really think we go to some third-rate school that would hand out a Stella by mistake?" Damian continuing his chivalry streak

1) Extremely rude of the people to treat the dogs that way and 2) Does that big white dog's flash to the Forger family mean that we have unlocked a psychic puppy subplot?

I have been thinking since Damian was introduced that he and Anya are paralleling the Syaroan and Sakura Archetypes, but there is no greater Cardcaptor Sakura parallel than the fact this episode is called Penguin Park

"Please wait, Papa, who is a good and normal person." 10/10 spy deception Anya, no notes

Gghkhgkghkg Loid being yelled at by his Spy Juice Lady for not prioritizing this other mission. How does no one overhear this!!

"Mama, I'm being kidnapped," said Anya, as if she did not latch onto this spy herself to help out her dad's Penguin Mission

It's incredible how many of Loid's problems are solved just by him being hot:

Awwwwww I'm glad they did some actual family time after the Aquarium mission. Also I love how embarrassed Loid is every time has to do something silly, like pretending to be a Penguin Plushy for his kid, but how he'll immediately do it, even in public. Best dad!!

"Being both a Papa and an agent... must be tough balancing the two." Real and true, spy chauffeur

I love how they do parallel plots between family stuff and spy stuff. Anya looking for a puppy... Dad looking for bomb dogs!

They are in fact explaining the psychic puppy subplot

"It is far too early for Anya-san to get married!" Yor, I would like to study the way your mind works (also mom's here!!!!!!!!!!!!)

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHH EXTREMELY TRAUMATIZING FOR ANYA TO HAVE TO WATCH HER DAD'S IMMINENT DEATH BY EXPLOSION THROUGH DOG-O-VISION

That was an incredibly morose diatribe from The Handler, who is the only spy other than Loid to get a title/name

How is this baby supposed to disarm a bomb?!?!?!??

Ahhhh, by leaving a ketchup message for her dad on the door that says "NO! (Drawing of Bomb)" Of course! We love a girl who knows how to improvise

Dad has got back in the danger zone to stop the last of the Foreign Affairs Minister's terrorist threats, fair enough! I really hope they don't make him [redacted violence involving animal]

OH THANK GOD THEY HAD HIM ATTACK THE VEST AND NOT THE DOG—I WAS PRETTY CONFIDENT THEY WOULDN'T DO THAT TO LOID, BUT YOU NEVER KNOW WITH ANIME

From Yor's perspective, Loid has been in the bathroom for two full episodes

Yor kicking Keith the Radicalized Student Terrorist's car off the road after he has been discovered by Anya and foiled by Loid. We love a team effort!

"How many times must I tell you not to run off alone because it's dangerous?!" [Tearfully] "I'm sowwy." Awwww a very reasonable worry for your daughter who keeps running into every spy mission she possibly can

"I also had a daughter about her age." The Handler's tragic backstory unlocked?!

"Be prepared to take care of him until the end. I may have no right to say those words." Loid's dog care advice has accidentally turned into existential dread about adopting a child for the sake of a peacekeeping mission

Awwwwwww Yor taking cooking classes from her workplace enemy to be a better cook for her family

"Camilla-san has always been a nice person," said Yor, about the woman who called her a whore in front of a room full of people and tried to scald her with hot food on like Episode 2

"The more I savour each bite, the more I see my life flash before my eyes." Say what you will about Weird Brother Yuri, he is supportive

Admittedly this cooking lesson episode has made me like Camilla

HAHAHAHA the "They are whispering" caption so the viewer can understand why no one's reacting to the yelling about spy intel on Scruffy's potential lover

Awwwwwww Loid opting out of the family outing to comfort his little scruffy friend, who I have just re-learned is named Franky

LMAOOOOO at them just having Henderson-sensei do literally all of the classes. Top-tier writing

The Handler now has unlocked TWO new names, which are Sylvia Sherwood and Fullmetal Lady

"On the one day each month that Mister Moon goes away, Anya's power to read minds goes away too." Oooooh new psychic baby lore unlocked

Even though I don't care for Weird Brother Yuri, it is nice that Anya has someone outside of her parents to rely on for tutoring

Loid covering for Incompetent Spy Daybreak jkhfkhfkjhf

I love that Loid broke into the school, not to boost his daughter's grades, but rather to check that she didn't fail and leave it that way, and then reverse cheat (as in, undo someone's wrongdoing) to make sure two other students got their earned grades. What a man!

Ffljlfjjflkj Becky objectifying Anya's dad. I know they're six, but it's not a trope I love

"I was trying to report the cigarette I found, then he punched me." I know this is a scheme but what kind of society has SIX-YEAR-OLDS plausibly smoking???

"Second Son wouldn't do that! Anya was watching." Heck yeah Anya standing up for Damian (even though her Damian motives are decidedly ulterior LOL)

"Don't try to drag me into these adult matters in the first place!" An incredibly reasonable request from Damian

Gdljljggjglkj I love these kids telling Glooman 'Actually, the biggest problem is you have a bad personality' True and real and cutting

"Don't worry. The West is a safe place." ANYAAAA. Something something children and their ability to see people outside of the confines of politics

"There's saltwater pouring out of my eyes." The implication that George has not cried once in his six years of life LMAOOOO

Genuinely heartwarming to see all these kids singing for George and giving away their favourite school items for his sake (also I bet you $5 he doesn't actually have to quit this school)

Update from two minutes later: I was correct lol

I've been thinking about this since the hospital volunteering, but it is kind of a flaw in Loid's spy tactics to choose a public-facing job, because at any point someone could just walk into the hospital and realize he doesn't work there kjhgkjhgg like he should've just been some sort of private practice

Loid running home to "check on what Yor was doing at the school" but actually using it as an excuse to ask her on a lunch date <3

As if the show could psychically tell that I was wondering about it, they are now forcing Loid into a "Take Your Kid to Work Day" situation lmaooo

"[Loid] became an important part of our team as soon as he transferred in." How is Loid an important part of the staff if he's constantly out of hospital doing spy stuff??? How is he even capable of giving psychological care???

"To go with the rest of the facade, a number of my coworkers have also inflitrated this hospital." Ah, perhaps the fact he has a research position and other spies in the hospital is enough to cover his absences and maybe make him have fake patients

Honestly, it's a wonder Anya hasn't run into more problems in the spy realm recently other than getting stuck in a secret passage

HHGKJHGKJHGKJGH Loid taking Anya's improvised sandbox of toys as a sign of deep psychological distress

"He golfs at his workplace and creates shady channels." In every class there is one child who has the most chaotic possible interpretation of their parents' job (the kid who says their parent stabs people for money when really their parent is a tattoo artist) and Anya has decided to be that student

"But if Mrs. Forger just happened to retire, that position would have to be filled, would it not?" Why is Fiona so comically evil about getting to fake marry Loid

"But... this woman doesn't seem to have any flaws in her appearance." Even Father-snatcher Fiona Frost thinks Yor is hot

"To think the great Twilight is stuck playing house.. It's a disservice to the world." Loid said: Fuck you Fiona, I like playing house!

This silent spy standoff has certainly taken a turn:

I actually kind of love that Loid is faced with someone else who has feelings for him, because I KNOW for certain he will choose Yor, and I think that's good for Yor to see

"You're already working hard enough, Yor. That's why Anya is so fond of you. I couldn't ask you to do anything more." HE LOVES HERRRRR

I really resonate with Yor's Girls Who Are Bad At Stuff representation kjhgkgjh

"Agent Penguin suffered honourable injuries in battle." Loid sewing up his daughter's penguin stuffy and making up a backstory for their dog chewing him up ❤️ I love hiiiim

I appreciate that Fiona confirms from someone who knew him before Loid has been changed by love (for Yor and Anya)

NOT THE DOUBLE FAKE TENNIS COUPLE NAMES BEING TWAIN AND NAFALIA PHONY

Though, now that I think of it, I guess Loid's given last name is Forger, so really this is a pattern of very silly names

"We've been developing a new doping agent called OSO-R along with the government in preparation for the upcoming East-West Sports Exhibition." Every so often they dip back into the crime world, and today it's sports doping

"I wonder what her relationship with Loid is." Yor babygirl, you do not need to worry about her, Loid is fully Team Yor

I love this little look into all the different things that come up in an infiltration (having to be very good at specific things like tennis, dealing with potential poisons, compensating for traps)

"You're still young, and you're clearly talented. From now on, hone your craft properly. I'm sure you'll become an amazing player." "Twain, I'll really do my best from now on!" Aside from being an incredible professional tennis player, Loid's talents also include reforming his opponents into better people:

Fhfhfkjhfkfjhf Loid every time Fiona comes near Yor: Hey, please leave my wife alone

"Come at me with everything you've got." "Uh, don't, Fiona." Loid knows Yor has enough physical might to beat a hundred tennis players

Yor wanting Loid to praise her for winning the match 🥺❤️

Loid taking Yor on a reassurance date to let her know she's still #1

"Wait, does Yor have romantic feelings for me?!" TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH, BUT YOU GOT THERE, LOID

NOT LOID IMMEDIATELY SWITCHING TO PLAN HONEY TRAP AND YOR ACCIDENTALLY KICKING SOME SENSE TO HIM

"I can't let my guard down like that. Somehow, being with Yor throws me off." Loid, you stupid man, who can't see that him AND his wife have feelings for each other

"I would love for you to continue being Anya's mother. And to continue in the role of my wife." This is the most honest thing Loid has said in hours

Anya getting Becky a keychain because she didn't think she was allowed to get one for herself!! Sweet girl

What kind of father has ZERO time to interact with his son LMAO (Donovan Desmond, apparently)

"Anya's a little scared because she's not sure if Papa loves her or not. He always gets mad at me. But I believe in him because I love him." ANYAAAAAAAAAA

Papa Desmond and his truly haunting eyes finally make an on-screen appearance and meeting with Loid:

"Even the child that shares your blood is a stranger." Is this a general view from Donovan on his parent-child relationships or is this a shot at Loid for not being Anya's biological father?

"People will never be able to understand each other." What a thing to say about your six-year-old, who is standing right in front of you with his friends

"What's truly important is to continue walking them despite [not understanding each other]. I decided that I would accept her regardless, and I try to find every opportunity I can to talk to her." Loid laying spy ground work on top of challenging Donovan to be a better father. We love a man who can multitask

"I'm pretty sure she doesn't actually dislike you. It'd make me happy if you could be friends with her." "Well, I want to, too..." Gjhgjhgjhfjlfj Loid is also working on Operation Playdate

This has been a pretty delightful show so far. Spy x Family proving to everyone you can fight people AND be nice!!!!

#ayesha talks anime #liveblogging #ayesha liveblogs spy x family #spy x family #long post #sxf series #spy x family series #told you the next liveblog would be smth light-hearted!! #i haven't quite decided on a tag for this show yet #moqueueton #guns tw

[darylsfavoritegirl]

hey pookies

Summary: Yall remember that episode where Daryl and Beth stay in this cabin after losing the prison (season 4, ep 12 to be exact) and thet play games like i have never.... and spend such a quality time and it's one of my fav episodes EVER! so it's fem!reader and Daryl but they play truth and dare and sort of open up about their feeling towards eachother because they're again friends with benefits lmao but it gets tense somehow👀😭😭 they find themselves in the midst of an argument etc etc and it goes on

This was requested by @duffmckagansbandana but ive also been fantasizing about this idea forever!! kalp kalbe karsiymis eheheheh

Warnings: Daryl being a dick because he is drunk and kinda slutshames the reader. Daryl grips the reader's wrists and it kinda hurts (?) a little bit of suggestive content. mentions of domestic violence/abuse

You held a glass of moonshine that Daryl found when you entered the wooden cabin. You were observing him securing the cabin incase something would occur.

"Looks secured enough to me." You mumbled spiritlessly. You took a sip of your moonshine as Daryl turned to you with a weary gaze.

"Ya really think dis the best time to get hammered?" He uttered in an evident blaséd tone. You ignored his question as he went back to securing the walls, windows. You wanted him to join you, drink booze with you, speak with you. The glass in your hand got warm before you could even consider to drink one more.

You observed his biceps flexing as he was fixing a hole on the wall. He was finally done. He turned to you, took a deep breath. You could see the sweat droplets on his forehead. His sleeveles black tshirt had damp spots around the neckline.

"You went the extra mile there." You said, failing to hide the waggish smirk bearing your face. He didn't respond to your statement but you saw the curls of his lips going upward.

He sat across you on the floor. His eyes were glossy, faint. You smiled softly as you poured him some moonshine. He gaped at you, anticipating you to stop. It was moonshine after all, God knows how long it had been sitting in this junk.

"Hey slow down." He uttered thinking you were gonna gulp down it yourself.

You saw his eyes following your motions when you passed the glass of moonshine to him.

"What? It's for you."

He didn't look at the glass once, his eyes were fixated on you

"Someone's got to keep watch." He spoke

You rolled your eyes in a cheeky way.

"No harm in drinking one glass."

"Go on." you added. Your eyes were pointing the dusty glass that was infront of him.

He gave in. He put the glass near his nostrils, sniffing the drink before taking a sip.

"That's a real drink right there." You said in a jolly tone.

" 's warm." He grumbled. He enjoyed drinking with you. The way you looked so content only made him cheer inside.

"Meh tha's a drawback." You said. You were popeyed. He couldn't deduce the basis of your zeal, yet he didn't question it furtherly.

You two spent a few minutes there, studying the cabin, studying each other when you decided to come up with something.

"You up for playing truth or dare?" You said in a hush that only left Daryl with a confounded face.

"What? Like kids?" He tittered lightly.

"You got a better idea?" You said with a significance of rebelliousness in your voice. You glared at him, waiting for a response.

"I'm worried about the others too but we can't spend this time just stressing one another." You muttered, avoiding an eye contact with him as you looked down at your drink and tapped the glass with your index and middle fingers. It was the reality. You were worried about the others, maybe even too much. However the best thing you could do at the moment was to hope for their well-being until you and Daryl started looking for them. He must've read your mind, he always did.

"Fine. Yea go first." He mouthed. Your mood shifted into a cheerful one by with just 4 words coming from him. You leaned forward slightly.

"Truth or dare." You queried. He leered at you in a gloomy way. You knew he was gonna end up savoring the game, one way or another in spite of feeling childhish at that moment.

"Truth.'' His tone barely above whisper.

You both took a sip from your drinks consecutively whilst you went on a ride in your head to come up with something to ask.

"What was your first impression about me?" You asked, not being able to hide the eagerness in your voice.

His eyes watched you cautiously. His gaze shifted somewhere else, trying to reckon the first day you met. A subtle smirk appeared on his face.

"Thought yea wer' cocky. Too cocky, even." He scoffed softly. You both stayed in quietude to remember the very first day you encountered with eachother. You chuckled.

"That was my coping mechanism. Confidence."

"Cocky." He opposed you in a childish manner, his eyebrows furrowed lightly at you.

You leered at him for a minute. You knew he was also thinking the first days when they took you in. You were drawing too much attention to yourself, pretty much everyone thought you'd be dead in a fortnight, though you didn't.

You sighed. Neither of you enjoyed thinking about any day in prison, it ached you in deep down. Neither of you could envision what your next move should be, spending this time in a wooden cabin in the middle of the woods didn't make it any better. You were in the midst of a chaos and it felt as if all your efforts were in the aim of lightening your agony.

Daryl reached for the moonshine jar that was sitting near you. He started pouring himself another drink. He almost filled the glass to the brim, peeking at you clandestinely incase you'd tried to stop him. You caught his leer and softly shrugged your shoulders indicating that you didn't mind.

He leaned against the wall of the cabin as he grunted. He took a big sip from his drink. You heard his gulp, the booze going down from his gullet. You couldn't help but chuckle at the sound, maybe you chuckled a little more than necessary. Gosh, you were getting lit; you thought to yourself.

Daryl guzzled up his second drink in less than a minute and poured himself another.

"Easy." You managed to say between your slowly-fading chuckles.

"And it's your turn." You hinted.

"Truth." You uttered without him having to ask.

He clattered an "Ahh." sound between his sips to imply he was notioning for a question. His eyes were locked on the ceiling, thinking, you glimpsed at his narrow, blue eyes. His gaze met with yours.

" 'S there sumthing ya didn't tell me 'bout the person ya wer'?" You looked dumbfounded, not catching what he could've meant by that. He must've read you like an open book. He scoffed " 'Fore all dis. 'Fore the world went to shit."

You couldn't fathom his question. He knew so much about you. He knew about your family that you stopped seeing after you moved to USA. He knew about your favorite childhood cartoons. He knew about your days as a school girl. He knew how you ended up in Georgia. He knew so much about you. Although he had never been the type to corner you with your life before the apocalpyse, you acknowledged that there must've been a lot of things you didn't tell him whether it was due to your choice or you never felt the need to do so.

"Yes." You said in cynicism. He remained silent. It was rather explicit that he wanted to investigate more; that he wanted you to elaborate.

Yet, you didn't. If he wanted to know more about you, he should've asked you more bluntly. You didn't avoid his piercing gaze. You could feel your nerves and brain going number with your increasing sips from the moonshine.

"I'm pretty sure there are atleast dozens of things I haven't told you about the person I once were."

He echoed a nonchalant glare. You, once again remained silent. You knew he'd always turn into an impossible and preposterous person to read whenever drunk. You questioned yourself. You questioned if this was a good idea after all.

He sighed. His eyes were narrower than before. He is getting wasted, you thought to yourself. You shifted your position wretchedly, grabbing your drink with both hands. You tried to put a constrained smile on your face.

The silence was unbearable so you spoke up. Your voice was raucity.

"So truth or dare?" You asked.

He gazed at you with a piercing look. You played the game not more than 5 minutes and the air had already started to feel stuffy due to intensity between you two. You couldn't understand why.

"Truth." He grunted involuntarily. He was only playing the game to pass time, to investigate and even corner you. His gaze was stern. Your smile faded away lightly. You thought of asking something private, asking something that was just about you two. Before you could even debate on that idea, you uttered

"Have you ever seen me as someone more than this?" You got hot. The alcohol was hitting you. You couldn't think clear, you spoke before giving it a second thought. You could feel your cheeks blushing. Your cheeks would never blush out of embarrassment nor humiliation. They would always blush when you did something extra, futile, stupid.

You didn't need to elaborate it. He knew exactly what you meant. He knew you had been wondering if he ever thought of you more than an appealing teammate whom he'd share a warm bed now and then. He had asked similiar questions to himself, always leaving them unsettled. He didn't want to give in, ever. He had to have a demenour where he wouldn't let anyone get too close. That was Daryl. Those were the obstacles he'd build towards anybody. You lifted your head only to meet his blue eyes. Daryl spoke the second he locked his eyes on yours.

"Ain't much of a world to keep your mind busy with that kinda stuff." He grunted. You got even hotter inside of your head.

"So, no?" You gawked.

"Didn't say dat." He looked at you with blank eyes. He didn't even get defensive whilst you were going nuts and trying your hardest to not make it plain. It was the intoxication. You were never like this. It was safe to say you did care about his feelings but you weren't a fool. You knew exactly how he'd close up, how well he'd hide in his shell.

"OK. It's your turn." You huffed as you darted away your eyes. Your temper highly depended on booze at the moment. You didn't need him to think that your mind was way too preoccupied with his words, the words that came out of his mouth with such ease. You hated the power he had on you sometimes.

He grunted with vexation as he shifted his position and leaned against the wall a bit more. Daryl rested his elbows on his knees, swinging his glass that had a little drink left in it in a motion. He kept eyeing you, so did you.

It was apparent that you both were bored to death, yet no one put forward the idea to stop it.

"Ya ever think 'bout the old world?" He grunted.

You raised your head, his eyes were squinting right at you.

"Didn't say truth." You hissed.

"Ya ain't gon' say dare neither."

"Right." You mumbled. He was biting on his pinky's nail out of lack of interest.

"Don't do that." You said as you grimaced.

"Ya gon' answer?" He insisted, his brows were slightly furrowed as he, not surprisingly, kept biting on his finger nails.

This game was all about you two finding something to bicker. You sighed. You were not looking at him but you could feel his eyes roaming all over you.

"Sometimes."

"Wish I could go back to those times." You whispered looking at the floor. Daryl's face darkened. You knew his life before the fall wasn't the greatest and perhaps this new world of silence, isolation was a jackpot for him. You caught his leer. Both of you remained in serenity.

You took a sip from the moonshine and asked the first thing that came to your mind.

"OK Daryl. Have you ever stolen something? like something big?" You begged with wide eyes. Only his eyes made you question yourself and your foolish question.

He kept swinging the glass in a slow motion as he narrowed his eyes at you. He wasn't offended. He wasn't angry.

"Ya know I didn't." He remarked. You sensed a sense of sorrow in his eyes yet you didn't step back, you never could when you were drunk.

"That's what you told me." You spoke, emphasizing the word "told" as if you were making it obvious that you didn't believe him. You kept your wide-eyed gaze. An undertone of exhilaration was on the surface of your voice.

"And after all, we barely knew eachother when we talked about this, right?" Stupid you, still couldn't make out what his gaze could've meant.

"Maybe you weren't being honest." You uttered.

"Come on. You must've done something with Merle." You insisted.

His gaze never left yours. You drank too much, you lost your basic human decency. Yet he responded spiritlessly.

"Was bein' honest." You could perceive that was the moment he lost all his interest in the game.

"Ain't no reason not to be, Merle was an ass."

He sighed. Great, now you reminded him his dead brother; at a time like this, in a place like this. Your smile and exhilaration vanished. Drunk you was never stable, you sighed as you looked down at your drink.

You lifted your head only to see him getting up, throwing his glass to the floor only for it to shatter in pieces. You flinched and leered at the pieces. You couldn't dare to look to his side. He grabbed his crossbow on the broken wooden table, slunged it over his shoulder.

"Imma take the first watch. Rest." He demanded. He breathed out before he left the cabin. You stayed there, not being able to move an inch. It was like you froze. You leered at the pieces of glass on the floor once again

"Fuck me." You groaned. You exhaled audibly, looking around the cabin. That was the moment when it hit you, he was drunk; way too drunk. God knows how he was holding up outside.

You immediatly got up, going out of kilter. You had been sitting for a long time, your body was cramping and you kept hitting to the dusty tables and chairs that were sitting in the middle of the cabin. Your head was spinning. You sauntered towards the door, grabbed the door handle. It made a squeaking sound that left you scrunching your nose.

"Come inside." You quaked, not looking at him. You were exhausted, maybe from the moonshine or maybe you were just, exhausted.

" 'm fine." He grunted. His back was facing you.

"Your drunk as much as me." You huffed with withered eyes. You were leaning against the door frame, your hand still gripping the door handle lightly.

Daryl scoffed.

"Your actin' like a child." You muttered under your breath. The alcohol was getting the best of you. His back was still facing you.

You leered at his messy hair, his vest, his arms gripping the crossbow. He was swaying in a slow motion, resting his weight on his right leg now and then.

"Just hate tha' ya still think 'm sum kinda redneck asshole." He muttered. He sounded rather disappointed, fed up with this whole situation.

"I don't." You whispered. Your eyes were wide, you couldn't process his words. He remained silent, typical Daryl.

"Daryl, I don't." You hissed as you grabbed the side of his vest, forcing him to face you.

He looked at your face with blank, stern eyes. You couldn't recognize the Daryl you knew in him. He didn't change his position, gripping the crossbow firmly as ever.

You were getting sentimental at his demenour. Your eyes were getting watery, you couldn't find words to utter. Nothing changed in him, in his cold stern stare that would make you hate yourself. He could never hurt you, that's what you told yourself but even a gaze of his could make you shatter inside. He got too close to you to a point where you could smell the booze from his breath. Deliberately, he rested all of his weight on you, cornering you against the door frame. You couldn't breath. He leered at your eyes with his blue piercing eyes for a hot minute when he spoke

"Ya'd be crumblin' 'n all if I spoke to ya 'bout your past." He hissed.

His glare was fixated on you as he got inside of the cabin. You breathed out quickly and wiped a tear that was to fall down on your cheek and looked at the woods.

"What the hell does that supposed to mean Daryl?" You turned to him. He was going through his backpack.

"Think ya kno' what I mean." He mumbled under his breath.

He grabbed a canned food and sat on the edge of small ladder. He wasn't looking at you but your gaze was at his fingers trying to get the canned food open.

"What if I don't?" You said calmly but at alert, waiting for his respond.

"I dun' kno'. Sellin' yer body for attention. Ring any bell?" He snapped, lifting his head to meet with your gaze. You stood there with complete silence, trying to process his words. His voice was pretty tall, which made you flinch.

"That's really low Daryl." You scoffed. You weren't offended, you were just astonished that he'd bring up your past as a barmaiden to hurt you.

"Right." He mocked. He was still on the small ladder, trying to open the canned food. He sighed as he threw it to the floor. He got up, completely ignoring you.

"Atleast I wasn't drifting behind Merle's ass, doing whatever he'd told me to do." You barked. You had lost yourself. You didn't care what your words would mean to him.

He turned to you, his arms flexing due to his firm grip on his crossbow. He got closer to you, his face was reddening. You could see his vein on his neck throbbing, he wasn't taking his eyes off of you. He clenched his jaw, lowering his eyebrows and leering at you with narrowed eyes.

" 'S tha' what'ca think?" He fumed.

"That's what I know." You uttered as you pout your face. You ran your hands through your hair to take a deep breath.

"Ya know nothing." He barked. He wasn't blinking.

"You were nothing." You whispered. Your eyes were getting red. You could feel them sting. Your vision blurred. Yet his rage was full of spitefullness. He gritted his teeth

"Pickin' up lonely dudes to get 'em pay ya was sumthin'?"

"Sumthin' yer dam' proud." He shouted as he pointed his index finger right at you.

You swallowed slowly. You were not looking at him.

"Just leave me be." You managed to mumble between your shaky, shallow breaths.

"No, I ain't gon' do dat." He boomed. He threw his crossbow on the mattres you two incompetently tried to turn into a cozy bed. He got closer to you, immediatly grabbing your wrists with his hands.

You looked at his hands grabbing both of your wrists quakingly. You weren't sorrowful nor furious. You were affronted at his grip on your wrists that left you in discomfort and almost, pain. You raised your head to meet with his hard-nosed gaze. You shook your forearms fiercely several times, hoping he would free you but he didn't. How could he do this do to you? Out of all the things out there, he chose to grip both your wrists. That was something you'd always highlight when you'd talk about the abuse you had to go through back when you lived with your family. How your father would grip your wrists and squeeze them thightly until you'd feel like passing out. You always told him how small it made you feel, how worthless. Didn't he say "What a dick" referring to your father. Now there he was, doing the exact same thing. You wouldn't believe it.

"Can't run yer mouth now, can yea?" He spat out. His voice was growing taller and taller. You tried to get to your other wrist with one hand only he would not let you;

"Daryl, you're hurting me." You panted, quickly exhaling. Your chest was going up and down rapidly, leaving you all panicked and crumbling under his brawny, firm grip. You looked directly into his eyes, looking for mercy; hoping this night would end without either one of you dying. His hard-nosed gaze not shifting into a softer manner at all.

You were still numb from the moonshine, so many thoughts pondering your head. You wanted to kiss him, end whatever this was. You were highly influenced by booze. You didn't care. You wanted to kiss him. You didn't know what the outcome would be.

So you did, you got on your tiptoes; your bodies were already too close. You closed your eyes and kissed him harshly on the lips. His grip on your wrists loosened, you almost toppled onto him which he didn't let it happen.

His strong hands grabbed the both sides of your face, pressing his lips onto yours like he pleaded for more of you. It all happened so swiftly that he shoved you on the wall harshly. He waited for a split second, his lips brushing yours. You could smell the pungent odour of alcohol mingled with the smell of cigarattes you smoked earlier that day. You didn't care. You wanted all of him. He panted rapidly against your lips. You stayed like that for a moment, his hands flawlessly placed on the temples of your head; the only thing you could hear was eachother's shaky breaths. You pressed your lips onto him once again. A tear that you had been holding so long fell down your cheek, you didn't mind. It was a joyful tear. You were both taking eachother breaths away that left your heart ponding like crazy. He rested all of his body weight on you, which you didn't complain this time. You could feel him growing under his jeans.

Your hands reached the collar of his vest and helped him take it off. You grabbed his bare shoulders and digged your fingernails into them. His hands shifted to your waist from the sides of your face. There was that void feeling in your stomach once again. How small you were compared to him, how you were like an insect which he could've crashed with his fingertips seconds ago.

You gasped when his hands went under your t-shirt, grabbing your hips and waist and stroking your skin. It became a sloppy kiss but you both liked it. Your whole body curved into his body, small moans escaping your mouth. He started going down on your neck from your plumpy lips. Your grabbed a fistful of his hair gently with your right hand, softly pushing his head down on your neck as he kept pecking on your soft skin.

You made up.

FOOTNOTE

Why is it actually so awkward do write even a basic kissing scene. it was painful. idk much about this fanfic it was way better in my mind but idc

@duffmckagansbandana deserves some credits too!! we exchanged so many thoughts during this :))

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon one shot #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fanfiction #twd daryl #twd imagine #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon gif #daryl dixon fanfiction #fanfic

[choccy-milky]

oh boy anon, you’ve activated my trap card. GET READY FOR A SEBASTIAN CHARACTER ANALYSIS ESSAY BELOW LMAO

ok so first off I know im obvs biased, but I don’t actually think my seb is that ooc, AND PUT DOWN YOUR PITCHFORKS IMMA EXPLAIN WHY. but im also gonna explain why I don’t think the other more friendly and lighthearted renditions of seb are ooc either. bc theres so many aspects of seb we get in the game that can be interpreted in so many diff ways, and so this is how i see it/landed on MY rendition of seb:

PROTECTIVENESS/POSSESSIVENESS: this is one of the main aspects of him, imo. his entire questline is about wanting to cure anne, and how he’s not giving up, and how he believes that HE is the only one that can do it, because “she’s MY sister!” seb is super tunnel visioned and has a one-track mind when it comes to this, and I headcanon that he’s this way because of their parents deaths. he’s the brother, the boy, he’s gotta be strong for his sister, and ofc when their parents died, he tries to comfort her and be there for her/be the rock, and it happens again when she’s sick. shes his sister, his responsibility, and he’ll die before he gives up on her and her safety.

SO, I just transfer all those aspects over to a romantic relationship instead. you just replace “shes my sister” with simply, “she’s mine/my gf/my wife/etc.” and in the same way I think seb tries to be strong and reliable and protect anne because he’s the brother, I think seb would be the same way in a relationship, because he’s a boy and she’s a girl and its 1890 and he’s chivalrous and he just sees it as his responsibility. I think the death of his parents and his dynamic with anne has baked this sort of mindset into him, and its even MORE intense in a romantic aspect, because then hormones and puberty and sexual tension and attraction is involved (plus the fact that seb in my fic is 17, so he’s older and has even stronger raging hormones and testosterone LOL.

JEALOUSY: who can forget the lines “between the two of you, I’m starting to feel left out” and “ominis simply needs a moment with you and he’ll change his mind. is that it?” the first one is more playful but I feel like the second one really showcases sebs brand of jealousy, and how biting and uncharitable it can be.

AGGRESSION/VIOLENCE: yet another iconic line with: “fine. but ominis knows, I won’t step back from a fight.” LIKE... the fact that apparently ominis knows this means its come up more than once…and im not saying seb is some unruly aggressor who flies off the handle at anything, but he defs has a capacity and is willing to get violent if HE believes the situation calls for it—basically the same way he feels about the dark arts. he felt justified using imperio to protect anne, and taking the relic to save anne, and so he would have fought ominis to get out of the catacomb. and with MY seb, while he doesn’t go picking fights with any boy who looks or gets close to clora, he’ll definitely be willing to beat up or lay hands on a creep who bothers clora/who is in the process of bothering her LOL.

SO YEAH, that’s pretty much it, and I’ll be the first to admit I definitely ramp up these traits further because he’s older in my fic and i think these traits would only get more intensified with age + being in love and also bc IM A TWILIGHT GIRLIE!!! what can I say. there are so many moments in my fic where you can just replace seb with edward and it wouldn’t seem out of place tbh LMAOO so blame twilight, it was a formative experience for me BAHAHA

BUT like I ALSO said, I don’t think peoples more lighthearted interpretations of seb are ooc either. because even all my earlier above examples, you can just focus on diff aspects of them. like his tunnel vision and obsession to cure anne? instead of seeing it as over the top protective and possessive, you can just view it in a more wholesome determined selfless sort of way. like I said we got so many nice little bits and ingredients of his personality that we can turn into anything we want, really👌just pick which flavour of seb u like best and use what we got in game to create it HAHA

AW TYY QUEEN BAHAHA💖 and aw im always so honoured when ppl tell me they consider my stuff canon that’s like the best compliment I can get, tysm 😭 and im glad you like my fic and art so much (enough for your friends and family to unfortunately know💀 LMAOO)

im adding your ask to this because it kinda ties into my seb essay. LETS GET INTO WHY A SWEET BABY ANGEL WOULD LIKE SOMEONE LIKE SEB. the answer ISSS: the same reason WE’RE also all into him I guess?? BAHHA

ok but to start off im gonna defend my seb, not only cause of what you said anon (i dont want you to feel like this is targeted to you!) but also bc I got an ask recently asking me to summarize seb and clora’s relationship since all they see from my art is that “they fuck and seb is possessive” LMAO, and I feel like ppl who JUST see my art and don’t read my fic have a warped image of my seb.

this may be shocking but I don’t consider my seb a red flag LMAO. I joke about how hes more of a pink flag tbh, but even THAT i dont even really believe, and don’t even consider him overly possessive. like yes he keeps an eye on her when shes hanging around other boys, but I feel like that’s normal (esp for 1890) and all of his most possessive moments have been when theres been a threat to cloras life/coming from a place of love and protection (especially since clora is so self-sacrificial, she’d have killed herself by now if not for seb LOL) so to me id actually put Sebastian as being PROTECTIVE as his first and foremost trait, followed by the possessiveness.

and yeah he gets jealous, but unless a dude is actively trying to get with her/hitting on her/harassing her, he’ll otherwise just kinda be unhappy about it/let it play out/ watch on unhappily LOL. and even when lawley was blackmailing clora and getting in between her and sebs relationship and lying about how close he and clora were, seb demanded answers from CLORA on what was happening between the two of them, but he didn’t touch lawley or tell him to stay away. bc seb thought that was what clora wanted, so he let her drift away. if he was TRULY a red flag, in this instance he would have just beat up lawley for taking what was "his"/not allow clora to leave him/immediately go to lawley instead of clora, and tell him to stay away despite what clora might want. (and clora even WISHED seb had interfered and done this. she was like 'why is he letting me drift away and go off with lawley i WANT him to fight for me...but she couldn't actually say anything thanks to the blackmail)

clora doesn’t just 'put up' with sebs more possessive and protective behaviour though, she actually likes it HAHA. just bc shes a precious baby angel, we all like a bad boy, even back then. just look at jane eyre, and how popular the dark and brooding and assholey mr. rochester was.

she tells seb at one point that she likes those things about him, even his immature competitive side, and his darker sides, and that he shouldn’t try to hide them or change himself because she accepts them. and even putting aside all of the stuff they’ve been through together that has bonded them (like the main canon quests + annes curse and then CLORA being cursed, and then clora being kidnapped and seb saving her) clora thought seb was roguish and charming and witty and intelligent and good looking from day 1. add to the fact that he’s just so devoted to her in everything he does, that even if he CAN get a bit overbearing at times, how could you NOT fall for someone like that😩 someone whose possessive behavior just stems from wanting to protect you and love you and want to keep you safe and cherish you like DAMN…. GET ME A SEB, TOO. WHERES MINE!!!😭😭

clora also realizes in ch 32 WHY seb is so protective of her (the trauma with his parents and wanting to be there for anne) and that she accepts it, and enjoys it, and that she might even MISS it if seb were to ever get less protective of her/might get lonely LOL, and then sebs like "i’ve "spoiled you, have i?"

so YEAH I don’t think sebs protectiveness and possessiveness goes into any toxic territory or red flag territory PERSONALLY (and the time that it DID get toxic was because of the relic, and clora DID put her foot down)

but my normal seb? whose dream in life is to whisk clora away into a tower and lock her up to keep her safe and keep her all to himself, but that he’d never ACTUALLY do because he knows its insane and unreasonable but jokes about wanting to do it anyway bc he would if clora agreed? clora finds that endearing and cute and is touched by how much he loves her and wants to keep her safe.

IN CLOSING: I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOUR AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

#LONG ASS SEB ESSAY #this was so therapeutic to write i hope that people who dont read my fic now understand my seb a bit better #like i said i feel like he gets a bad wrap/people think hes super ooc from his canon just based on my art alone #sebastian sallow #i wanted to write this ever since that one ask where they were like what do they do other than bang and be jealous HAHAHA #ANON MY FIC IS 500K WORDS THEY DO A BUNCH OF OTHER STUFF TRUST ME #and even when seb is super possessive and protective im still usually on his side LMAOO #like just based on my art you defs might think seb is unreasonable but #for the ppl who actually read my fic they know clora is on like a self sacrifice speedrun LOOL #forget team edward and team jacob its team seb and team clora #and im usually a girl's girl but sorry clora im usually with seb and his logic when it comes to keeping u safe LMAOO #sebastian sallow x oc #ask

[pokeblader3]

Honestly I want any anti-Huntlow person at this point who says the couple has no appeal or thematic value and is just a generic hetero ship with the attractive male love interest to look my disabled ass squarely in the eye (looking down, with your ability to stand.) and tell me that people who look like Hunter are considered "conventionally attractive", and that I've not gone to disability and autism support groups filled with people with face/body scarring and disfigurings that severe (often tied to disabilities),

and conditions that will never get better that had literally no friends outside the support groups because y'all treated them like freaks for having a misformed lip or not having full upright-ness of their body (I have a feeling Hunter's eye bags might never go away, like I feel the 24-hour eye bags I have had in real life for several years might never go away),

and that the choice to portray a love story between a disfigured, fundamentally different person in love with a healthy plus sized Asian girl who was bullied and given severe mental issues and now finds strength in his reassurance and literal help as one of the people who helps stabilize her so she can be a badass.... is conventional and what cishet white audiences want lmao.

We have 3 bisexual female characters, the two leads are given female and nonbinary love interests with more screentime, and the m/f bisexual couple is late-series and with a gender dynamic of a strong woman who fights to protect her friends and domestic-violence survivor partner, who now is being characterized primarily by his desire to be soft and domestic (sewing? gardening? wanting to just be seen as a human?) isn't still groundbreaking? There literally is no way it could be more fair and appealing of a concept to you.

Like. I'm starting to think maybe some of y'all have bad reasons for being vocally against the ship which is full of people who just want to be positive and left to themselves (and have much of the crew on their side as fans). Maybe if a ship like this is being put in your gay show, it's just as groundbreaking for different reasons you don't see.

Some of us cripples (including us queers) have partners who Hunter and Willow remind us of (especially with the amount of transgender grimwalker Hunter interpretations I've seen or fan concepts where Willow eventually starts using her plant magic to help stabilize Hunter's body in older age from Grimwalker decay as a partial root being), mostly people just like you, just more open-minded and willing to see us (and literally hear us, if you've seen none of this, somehow, yet) as people.

And I don't just speak for myself, I have a plus sized South Asian bisexual girl friend who says Hunter and Willow's gender dynamic was one of the few times she ever saw herself in television and loves it equally as me.

#i hate ship drama #some of y'all just want an excuse to be judgemental or outright hostile to people you don't know #huntlow #hunter noceda #willow park

[messrmoonyy]

- you sunshine, you temptress

Tess Servopoulos x Female reader

Request- already in like Jackson, and so Ellie and Joel live together but Tess doesn’t. They’re new in town so they’re still not used to the whole nice civilized thing, but the reader is her nice neighbor who wears her down. She plants stuff and even like cooks for tess. But she’s not a wimp either, very skilled with guns and stuff. Just a fic where they meet and like reader takes care of Tess. Smut too if you want

A/N- I took this request and ran with it. It took me a long ass time I apologise but I do really like how this turned out. It became far more angsty than I’m sure you wanted it to be but. Here we are. I wanted to explore an idea that Tess didn’t like Jackson and took time to adjust, didn’t really like reader as well. Tess leaning to adjust and love and be loved. Also in transferring this over none of my italics saved and I could’nt be fucked to go back through this again and add them back lmao

Warnings- 18+ | tess is quite low for the majority of this, canon compliant discussions of death and violence, vague/ implied smut (wc- 13.2k )

Tess masterlist | AO3 - Tess requests are open but not currently top priority

SPRING

Tess didn’t like Jackson. Not at first. The drastic change from Boston to the nomadic lifestyle she had been living with Ellie and Joel as they crossed the country had been difficult enough. But to then transfer to something so wildly different from both of those things? Yeah. It took some getting used to.

She didn’t quite know what she had been expecting really. Maybe something like Boston but without the soldiers. Small pockets of people doing their own things to get by, together for safety but nothing much else. Not the working, thriving town she had walked into. Not the cleanliness, the stores, the diner, the hot water- that apparently was only a little temperamental in the colder months compared to year round like Boston- and clean clothes. Jobs. Families. Farming. She felt like she was in an alternate dimension.

She didn’t like the way everyone was so… cheerful. Which was a weird thing to say, but it was true. Because it threw her off.

She had developed her own bubble of happiness with Joel and Ellie over the months. They laughed together at Ellie’s shitty jokes, shared in her joy when she found a can of ravioli she liked. But would be stoney faced in an instant to protect each other. Joel and Ellie she loved like family, they were her family. She was used to warm smiles from them, a desire to be near her and talk to her. She wasn’t used to it from others.

Other people were scared of her. They moved out of her way and they did as she asked. They kept their heads down in case they upset her and they didn’t cross her path. But not in Jackson. No.

They smiled at her in the street, asked her how she was, said good morning.

And it spooked her. She didn’t like it. And she hated that she didn’t. That she had become so hardened that genuine kindness scared her. Because no one was kind anymore. No one showed care unless they wanted something else in return.

So she didn’t know how to take it. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the new found trust people had in her, their ease at having her around. To her surprise Joel didn’t seem to be struggling as much. He had Tommy back after all and that seemed to be easing his discomfort. Ellie was fitting in… kinda. Her colourful vocabulary and brashness had put some of the kids off at first. But they seemed to be warming to her now.

So it was just her. Trapped in some odd isolated headspace where she didn’t quite know what to do. She didn’t mention it to Joel, didn’t want to interfere with him and Tommy as they rebuilt their relationship again. Maria had tried to pull Tess into things more, and Tess liked her. Maria didn’t take shit, she had power and was in charge. People respected her. And she didn’t let Tess mope around for too long either.

But even Maria couldn’t quite pull her out of that disconnected state completely.

Part of her felt she was being ungrateful. She was alive and as safe as anyone could possibly hope to be in the current climate. Joel was alive. Ellie was alive. She was alive. But there was just… something.

Maybe a sick part of her missed it. Missed Boston. But then again maybe it wasn’t so sick. She hadn’t liked Boston really. But spending so long in one place would always make it hard to leave behind. Even the things she had so often complained about. She found she couldn’t even sleep on her new bed, Jackson having been looked after for so long that the mattress was actually still soft. She was too used to the lumpy one in the zone, and sleeping on the ground for months.

She’d been sleeping on the couch since she’d arrived. If she even managed to sleep at all, unable to fall asleep on the soft sheets and bed.

She missed her power too. Got tetchy when she thought about who was running operations back in the zone now. Who was living in her and Joel’s apartment, had they found their stash? Who was selling her shit and walking around like she had? She had to remind herself she shouldn’t care. That wasn’t her life anymore. It never would be again. Boston was a distant memory she needed to put to rest.

But it was difficult.

The new house felt too big. The town too clean. The people too nice. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with herself. She mildly regretted living separately from Joel. Just out of… familiarity. She wasn’t used to such an open space to herself. Even before the outbreak the house she had shared with her husband and son hadn’t been so big. And she had had two other bodies to fill the space.

In Boston that tiny apartment she had had Joel to fill the gaps.

But she knew she couldn’t impose on him any longer. Joel was handsome and mellowing. He would no doubt find someone in town… and she couldn’t be the one to stand in the way of that. Especially seeing as she herself had no desire to go there. Their relationship had always been purely platonic and she had no intention of changing that.

So when Maria had asked, she had taken her own place. Ellie had taken the garage. They all had their own space. But those two seemed far better at living in it than she was.

It had taken that stark shift though for her to realise that maybe she simply wasn’t made for being alone. She had met her husband in college. They had moved in together immediately after, and had their son young. Then she’d fallen into the group heading for Boston, met Joel… she’d never really been alone.

Though she also wasn’t particularly doing anything to change that either. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Back in Boston she’d get lonely from time to time, would go out and pick someone up with ease. Now? She didn’t know where that confidence had gone.

She felt people looking at her when she ventured out. She knew she wasn’t exactly unattractive, she knew people liked to look. But she had no desire to pursue. She didn’t even entertain them for a second. And they all grew bored of trying and moved on.

Everyone was friendly enough, but some kept their distance when they realised she wasn’t the… happiest of people. But one person didn’t let the permanent frown glued to Tess’ face deter them.

You.

You lived across the street from her, would wave hello every morning when Tess ventured out to find out what tasks Maria had to keep her busy for the day. You’d smile. You’d say hello. You even left her things on the porch.

And you liked flowers.

She gathered that pretty quickly. The window boxes were full, potted bushes and blooms littered your porch and edge of the dirt path street. It made her own place look incredibly dull. But maybe that was fitting.

She’d never been one for flowers. So expensive for them to just sit and wilt away in a vase, to be left with nothing but some crisped petals and dead stems within a week. So amongst the sandwiches and pies left at her door, the odd flowering embellishments she knew came from you.

A lot of people in town left stuff for her and Joel, to welcome them. To give them things they needed. She didn’t like accepting any of it. She didn’t like the feeling of… owing people. Feeling like they would have a hold over her, that they had given her a new jacket so now she owed them something. That you had left her a pie so now you were owed something too.

So she left the majority of it exactly where it was placed on the porch, Maria being the one to bring them inside for her.

“ You are gonna attract every damn animal in town if you keep leaving this stuff on your porch Tess “ Maria used as a greeting when Tess opened the door one morning, seeing the woman standing there with what seemed to be a loaf in her hands “ and wasting food? Really? Especially this? Now this looks delicious. Still warm too “ Tess scoffed but before she could speak she heard your voice.

“ Good morning Maria! Good morning Tess! “ she looked over Maria’s shoulder to see you jogging down your porch steps and waving, thankfully turning to walk into town rather than try and start a conversation

“ morning hun “ Maria responded with a smile, glancing over to Tess when she ignored you as she always did.

“ what? “ Maria sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in the way she so often did when she was at her wits end. Usually with Ellie and Joel’s bickering.

“ I’ve told you a million times. We all get along here. It’s a small town Tess, you can’t have grudges. Or.. at least public ones. I have a few secret ones myself “ Tess sighed and stepped back to let Maria inside, who only sighed too when she eyed the blanket on the couch “ you’re still sleeping on the couch? “

Tess brushed her off and grabbed her boots from by the door, sitting down to pull them on. She could already sense another of Maria’s lectures brewing, and the headache pulsing behind her temples made her hope she’d hold off on it.

“ I just fell asleep there I was… reading “ Maria did not seem even remotely convinced and walked through to place the bread down in the kitchen.

“ And what’s with the silent treatment with the doll across the street? “

“ she’s too… happy “ Maria laughed and shook her head

“ She's harmless. She’s kind “

“ she’s fuckin annoying “ Maria’s eyebrows flew up and she gave a small laugh again

“ Theresa “ it sounded almost scolding. Tess scoffed at that “ you sound like Ellie “ Tess scoffed again. Fucking Ellie?

“ calling me a kid now Maria? “

“ yeah. Cause you’re acting like one “ she sighed and stood with her hands on her hips, the way that told anyone nearby that she meant business. To shut the fuck up and listen to her “ you’re here now. And you need to stop isolating yourself “ she walked over to her and placed a hand to her arm, a gentle comforting squeeze “ I know it’s hard. I do. But you have to try “

She knew she did. She was just stubborn and stuck in her ways. And you really were… peppy. One of those people that seemed constantly in a good mood, seeing the world through rose tinted glasses and trying to spread your joy.

Tess’ own glasses had smashed a long long time ago. And she saw no reason for the amount of joy you seemed to hold.

“ I’m trying “

“ Try harder then “ Maria said before folding her arms and tilting her head a little as she watched her “ what’s going on with you? “ Tess stood up again and ran a hand through her hair, wishing she knew. Wishing she had the words to explain.

But how could she? How could she tell Maria that she wanted to go home? She wanted Boston back. That she felt out of place in Jackson and had never felt as lonely as she did in her entire life.

“ I’m fine. I’m just tired. Shall we go? “ Maria didn’t seem convinced but nodded, following her outside.

It was a nice day. Spring was in full swing now, in the weeks between Salt Lake City and settling into town the chill of winter had finally disappeared. She could see daffodils sprouting in the window boxes of your house. Her own were barron.

“ I’ve put you on farming rotation today. Sounds good? “ she nodded “ okay. It’s easy enough. Pot things, label things, pull things. It’s quite therapeutic “ she’d be the judge of that one.

She followed Maria around to the greenhouses, watching how people greeted her and smiled when they saw her. She didn’t know whether she was jealous or annoyed.

“ okay. Greenhouse 4, shouldn’t take more than a couple hours. When you’ve finished in there come find me if you want to help out some more. Okay? "She followed where Maria was pointing and stopped when she spotted someone already inside greenhouse 4.

“ are you fuckin kidding me Maria“

You.

Maria smiled and squeezed her shoulders, leaning close to her ear

“ Be nice “ Tess scoffed and turned to try and beg her to assign her anywhere else but there, but Maria was already walking off.

“ Maria- “

“ be. Nice! “

“ fuck “ she gave a frustrated huff and headed into the greenhouse, you turned around at the sound with that usual beaming smile on your face. She didn’t have the energy for this today. Didn’t have the energy for you.

“ Oh hi. I didn’t know I was paired with you today “ she stood not really knowing what she was supposed to do, annoyance practically steaming out of her ears “ you wanna get that side and I’ll continue with this side? Seeds are in that bag there, compost and soil is there, tools in the crate under the table. Okay? “

She gave a small nod and headed for the crate of tools, pulling out a small trowel and grabbing a pot. But she found her hands refusing to move. Simply staring down at the equipment in her hands. It felt like a weight was pushing down on her shoulders, crushing her chest, turning all of her muscles to lead.

“ I thought Maria would’ve had you trained up for patrols by now “ you said lightly, the sound of your trowel filling another pot “ from what I’ve heard your pretty handy with a gun “

What had you heard?

“ yeah “ she said, almost having to force herself to reply “ soon… they don’t like new people straight on patrol “ her hands still wouldn’t move.

“ figures. You could always ask her to put you on my regular route at first if you like. It’s one of the busier ones, you seem a little stressed. And well blowing the head off a clicker might be beneficial “ you laughed as you said it but quite frankly she felt you were right.

She didn’t like being unarmed. Adults in town were allowed to own their own weapons but weren’t to bring them out of their house unless they were heading on patrol. Her back pocket felt too empty without her gun there. Her fingers itched to hold it, if only for the familiarity of the metal on her fingers.

“ or why don’t you see if she’ll assign you on the hunting crew? Shooting rabbits isn’t exactly as fun as putting down clickers but. You know it’s something “ you seemed fully convinced that the answer to Tess’ supposed stress was killing something one way or another.

What had you heard about her? Who had been talking?

“ right “ she still hadn’t potted a single seed, some unmoving crushing sense of dread still heavy on her shoulders.

She didn’t know why the weight of her problems was weighing her down so heavily in the last few days. She didn’t know why she couldn’t just adjust to Jackson. Why was she feeling more anxious and depressed in the safest possible place she could be, than when she had been living under the looming threat of being murdered everyday?

No normal person's mind worked that way. No normal decent person craved the life she had once had. The familiarity back at least. She felt sick.

You were humming a song to yourself now. It felt irrationally loud in her ears. She could hear Maria’s voice in her head too. Telling her to try. To try be nice. Try to mingle.

“ thank you. For the bread “ she said in an attempt at conversation. She’d known it was you that had left it. Had seen the sprig of some kind of flower tucked into the cloth it was wrapped in. Obviously you “ but I don’t need charity “

“ it’s not charity “ you said, the sound of your tools stilling “ it’s a gift. I don’t know… welcome to town gesture that’s all “

“ Whatever it was. I don’t need it “ maybe this wasn’t exactly nice. But it needed to be said “ you can take it back if you want. I haven’t touched it “

“ alright “ she didn’t have to look at you to know your face would be reminiscent of a kicked puppy “ keep the lavender though. It’s calming… it’ll help you sleep” she turned around to look at you then. How did you know she wasn’t sleeping?

“ how- “

“ I came from a QZ myself, I spent years after that roaming. I know it takes time to adjust Tess. I barely slept a wink when I first got here… paranoid an infected was gonna jump me in my sleep or FEDRA was gonna come arrest me cause they suspected me of rebel activity… silly I know but. Our brains are hardwired into survival mode and it takes some time to shake it off “

It sounded genuinely sincere. Caring. She barely knew you and yet you seemed as though you actually wanted to help her. It made her skin prickle.

“ yeah. Well. I’m not you “ she turned back around as if to resume her previous activity. Though she had still not potted a single seed.

“ That's very clear “ even annoyed you sounded remotely cheerful still. Like no malice truly laced your words.

What was she doing here? The world was a hell hole, it was full of shitty people all doing shitty things. And there she was planting fucking carrots. In some odd altercation with you about her behaviour.

“ Tess? Everything okay? "Your hand falling on her shoulder shocked her into reality. She stepped away from your touch, moving so quickly it was as if you’d burnt her, heading for the door. She felt like she was suffocating she needed to get out “ Tess? “

“ I- I have to go “ you hurried out after her and she took a deep breath of the fresh air trying to calm herself. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t skittish and scared. She didn’t get anxious and erratic. She didn’t recognise herself anymore.

“ Can I do anything? I can get Maria or-“

“ look. I know you mean well. But I don’t need… any of this. I don’t need you thinking you’re helping all of the time “ her words were harsh and as much as you annoyed her, it was like looking at a kicked puppy “ just. Stop “

She turned away from you and headed straight for home. Home. Home that felt nothing like the word.

She felt ungrateful. People were sleeping out in the woods or in derelict buildings basically waiting to be attacked by infected. And she had a house. Warmth. Safety. But she couldn’t shake the feelings and she hated it.

She closed the town out behind her, closing the door and leaning against it to catch her breath. Why was this all so difficult for her? Why was she so incapable of adjusting to some kind of regular society again?

She debated talking to Joel. If anyone in town understood her it was him. Joel knew her inside out, could talk to her with just a look, knew what she was going to do before she did it. But he was settling in fine. He wasn’t struggling like she was. She didn’t want to weigh him down with that when he finally seemed so light.

She hid away for the rest of the day, almost expecting Maria to come and drag her back out again. But she didn’t to her relief. She had her peace and quiet to mope. To wallow in her own stupid sadness and isolation.

Until the evening.

She sighed when there was a knock on the door, probably Ellie ready to go charging around the room rambling off every piece of information about her day with an amused Joel in tow. Though she actually wouldn’t mind that.

But it wasn’t Ellie. Or Joel.

“ hey “

“ I thought- “

“ I know. Look. I just wanted to come and tell you I was sorry if I offended you or something. You just… you seemed like you needed a friend and I wanted to help “ she could tell you genuinely meant it. That you truly were one of those people that was just… nice. Good. Even after the past two decades that had twisted and warped so many others, herself included, you had somehow remained what she assumed was the same.

“ well I don’t… need any help “ you gave a small nod but didn’t immediately leave, shuffling a little awkwardly on the spot “ anything else? “

“ I noticed. I noticed you don’t have anything in the window boxes. I have some spare seeds… flowers can really help brighten the place up. I find that on sad days it’s always a little bit nicer to look at a flower than an empty box “ she opened her mouth to decline, to tell you she didn’t want you in her way. But you seemed to anticipate it “ you won’t even have to see me. Or talk to me. I can do it when you’re not home or if you are I can… I can just knock so you know I’m there. So you can wait for me to leave or- it’s just an idea “

She figured that in the long run giving you something to do that you might take as being helpful, might actually make you leave her alone a little more. And so, ever so slightly reluctantly, she sighed and nodded.

“ fine “ the smile on your face after that almost made her want to smile too. Almost. So kind. So genuine. So… bright.

“ yeah? Okay. Do you have any preferences? Or allergies? Colours maybe- “ she lifted a hand in a silent request for you to shut up.

Be nice.

She closed her eyes for a moment and gave a steady sigh, forcing some attempt at a smile onto her face.

“ anything. Anything is fine “ you gave a nod and turned slightly before pausing. You seemed to debate something for a moment before delving into your pocket and pulling out a small jar of something that looked like jam.

“ I know… I know you said you didn’t want- it goes real nice with the bread “ she waited a second before taking it from your hands. You said nothing else, just gave her a small nod of a goodbye and headed down the steps and across the street.

That evening she ate bread with the jam. It was annoyingly good.

———————————

You’d appeared the next morning to plant the seeds. And then you tended to them everyday. Watering them and doing god knows what to the soil. You would let her know you were there each time, a small knock on the door that you didn’t even mind if she didn’t answer. Just letting her know you were out there. Just as you’d said.

And as time passed she found herself answering it from time to time. Just poking her head around the door to see what you were doing, always there with your small watering can and a smile.

And that was okay. You were okay. Nothing else in her life felt right at that moment. But having a new constant did. And she had to admit that even when she woke up on the couch, rubbing at her sore neck, seeing the sprouts through the window almost made her crack a smile. Almost.

SUMMER

As the cold completely shifted from Jackson’s air she found that not even the warmth could truly raise her mood completely. Everyone in town seemed far more cheery, like the sun had some odd healing ability to make everyone more joyful after the bitter winter and the final week of spring which had been nothing but solid rain fall.

Though Tess, begrudgingly enough, found that her own joys still only stemmed from her family. But also from you. As much as she refused to admit it, she’d found herself looking forward to your small knocks on her door each morning, or on mornings where she left early for patrol she found herself almost hoping you’d be on the porch with your watering can and your smile.

Which she didn’t exactly understand or care to understand either. In fact she blatantly ignored the voices in her head warning that she was going soft. That she was beginning to almost look at you as some kind of friend.

She opened the door more often than not now, even made attempts to ask you about the flowers or ask about your day. You never probed her about herself which she liked. You didn’t pry. You let her be. You let her keep her walls fiercely guarded without so much as a complaint. And she kind of hated the fact that made her like you a little more.

And that morning was no different to the rest now, you had knocked and she had gone out to say hello. Had offered you tea and you had accepted as you so often did.

Her night had been filled with bad dreams. And she had feared that it would send her into another one of those days. Where she wanted to do nothing but hide and mope. But she had forced herself to go outside. At least to say hello.

Annoyingly to her, Maria had been right. And she lived there now. And that meant she had to try. She had to try adjust. Fit in. Be… nice.

She still felt wary around you. Maybe even more so because of how she was beginning to sort of like you. Or maybe tolerate was the better word. She told herself it was anyway. But she had been in Jackson a few months at this point. And after a few months your joy and happiness was bound to wear her down. Even if she was reluctant about it.

“ you know if you take good enough care of these they’ll bloom next spring too “ you said as she hovered by the door watching you “ it takes time and care though. Pretty things but strong enough to survive the winter if they’re tended too correctly “ your eyes flitted up to her for a moment as you said it and she felt the statement were a little more loaded than just being about the flowers.

“ I’ll leave that up to you “ you smiled warmly and looked back down at the plants.

“ here’s hoping “

Tess watched you carefully, still unsure exactly how to pinpoint what she was feeling. She was beginning to like having you around. But also your joy drove her insane. You were annoying. So unbelievably annoying with your bright smile and desire to care.

And yet… you had managed to be the one to coax her out of the house. Yes it was only to her porch but it was still out. You had given her something to almost look forward to each day.

She didn’t like it.

“ oh shit “ she blinked a couple of times to drag herself out of her head to see blood in her peripheral, dripping between your fingers and between the floorboards of the porch.

“ what did you- “

“ fucking sheers they slipped I. Look, it's fine it’s just a cut… You got a bandage or something? “ Tess nodded and glanced towards her door. She realised how bad it would seem to keep you out on the porch. To just leave you there whilst she went looking. But also the thought of you in her home…

“ yeah. Do you wanna… come in? Wanna wash it or something “ part of her almost wished you’d say no, but the relief on your face made her regret the thought instantly

“ thanks Tess “ she headed straight for the kitchen. Not even looking to see if you were behind her, rummaging around in a cupboard for her box of medical supplies.

“ wash it. The sink “ she murmured, watching you carefully from the corner of her eye as you headed for the sink beside her, cupping your hand in some attempt to not drip blood onto the tiles. She looked at your bloody hands, ignoring the guilt rising in her chest at the fact you had injured yourself doing something for her, and reached out for you. She held your cut hand in her palm, leading it carefully under the water. She could feel you watching her, eyes almost burning into her skin as she gently washed away the blood and the soil.

She focussed on the pink swirls twisting down the drain rather than looking at you.

She didn’t like it. Didn’t like how you put her on edge. She didn’t want to go delving into why exactly that was either. Why in the space of 6 months she had gone from despising your very existence, to having you in her home because you’d hurt yourself tending to her flowers. It was a lot to try and process all in one go.

“ Marias always laughing at me “ you said as she turned off the water “ says I’m one of the best snipers in town yet I’m clumsy as shit with anything else. Can shoot a clicker miles off but can’t handle a pair of gardening shears? Idiot “

Maria had told her all about your impressive skills out on patrols. She was yet to see them for herself though, Maria hadn’t paired you together yet. Thankfully. Though she couldn’t lie that curiosity on the matter was strong. She’d always had some morbid fascination with the nicest of people that were able to kill like it was second nature.

A silent chaos raging behind a gentle smile.

“ guns more important than sheers “

“ well that depends on the situation don’t you think? Gun won’t help clip the weeds “

She bandaged your hand silently with the care and tenderness that few saw from her, wrapping it up and admiring her work for a second.

She stood back when she was done not exactly knowing what to say anymore. And she hated it. Despised it. Tess always knew what to say. She was always one step ahead of everyone in the room, but she faltered when it came to you. And she didn’t know why. Or what power you seemed to hold over her as of late. Was it your kindness? Was it the simple fact that you had never shown her nothing but care and respect since day one and she just didn’t know how to accept it? Maybe.

She wandered if you noticed how she looked out of place in her own home. Surrounded by so many things that she had no connection to. Objects that weren’t hers, placed into a house that had once been lived in by others. Loved by others.

Like so many others she had gotten used to not getting attached to materialistic things. She could see you glancing around, how you could probably see that from the way the place looked so… bare. Unloved by her. Un- lived in by her. That you probably figured it out pretty quickly.

You were watching her intently as you wandered the kitchen and she didn’t like it, she didn’t like the way you made her feel like a prey animal ready to dart any moment. That wasn’t her. She wasn’t prey. She wasn’t the hunted. She was the hunter. She was the one with the upper hand.

But not with you. Not with you and your unyielding kindness and desire to know her.

So she turned around and started packing away the medical box slowly and carefully. Just to give her hands something to do.

“ why are you so afraid of me? “ you asked suddenly and she turned around with a confused look on her face. Afraid of you? Why would she possibly be afraid of someone like you.

“ what are you talking about? “

“ you’re afraid. You won’t let me in. You barely even let me be your friend. You keep trying to scare me away with being so… miserable. You have to let people in Tess… and I think it’s because you’re scared yourself I- “

“ I’m not afraid of you “ She said immediately. Her heckles raised at the intrusion. And at the confusion for your sudden lack of ability to not interfere “ are you afraid of me? “ she asked, her voice calm. And low and steady. Intimidating. The way she spoke to people in Boston who were pissing her off and she needed to remind them who she was. Her eyes had not left you for even a second. They were burning into you. Calculated. Smart. Intense.

Some desperate attempt and desire to keep you out. To make you back off. Even if it meant missing those morning knocks and tea on the porch. She couldn’t let you in. She wouldn’t.

But you weren’t afraid of her. You never had been. She could tell. You were stubborn. So unbearably kind but stubborn. Stubborn in the way you had kept up your daily visits even when she wouldn’t answer her door, in the way you still waved at her before she even spoke to you. So stubborn in the way you were standing your ground before her.

“ no. I know I should be. I know what you did. But I’m not “ she folded her arms across her chest, quirking a brow. Who had you been talking to? What could you possibly know. So you hadn’t been refraining from asking her questions all along, you’d been getting your information else where. She was almost impressed. It was smart. Calculated even.

At this point she wouldn’t be surprised if you’d cut yourself on purpose to get inside and make her talk.

“ oh? Oh you know what I did? “

“ someone in town… was gossiping I- everyone’s done bad things “ you said with a shrug.

“ what do you know? “ she advanced on you then. Slowly. Crossing the room to where you stood by the wall. You didn’t move. You held your ground.

“ a lot “

“ tell me “ she wanted to hear you say it. To confirm if what you knew was true. But also because maybe some sick part of her needed reminding what she had once been capable of. Of what she had been before she had become that misery of a human whose only joys came from her pseudo kid and the woman who planted flowers for her.

“ all the people you killed. Tortured “ your voice had dropped to almost a whisper as she stood in front of you. But you still didn’t look scared. And she couldn’t decide how that made her feel. Annoyed? Because she clearly didn’t hold the fear inducing powers she once had. Or… relieved? That she had finally come across someone that took what she had done and dusted it under the rug. Accepted it and moved on.

“ and it doesn’t scare you? “

“ you must’ve had your reasons “ there was a heavy tension hanging in the air, she could feel it thickly between you. Soon enough one of you would choke “ I know what you did. I don’t care. You can’t scare me away Tess “ at this point she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to.

No one had challenged her like that. No one like you anyway. No one so… sweet.

Her old self would’ve laughed. Would’ve laughed in your face and thrown you out. But then again. Her old self would’ve laughed at what she had become too.

Things had changed. And she needed to accept it.

“ stop trying to scare me off “ to her surprise you reached up, your hand gentle on her face. She recoiled at first. As if your fingers were steeped in acid and you’d blistered her skin with your touch. But you waited a moment and did it again. And she froze, unsure of what you were doing or how she was supposed to react to it “ I want to be your friend. Let me. You don’t have to scare every single person that wants to care for you away. If anything you damn well need it “

She didn’t know what to say. Stood there like she was made of stone with your gentle hand on her cheek, your face full of nothing but warmth and affection for her. She felt like a deer in headlights.

“ you don’t know what I need “ she finally spoke, taking a single step back so that your hand fell away. Though she was certain she could still feel it. A kind touch was so unfamiliar to her, so rare that it lingered in her skin “ you know nothing about me “

“ I know enough “ so stubborn. So unwilling to take no for an answer or let yourself be pushed away. She kind of liked it. Liked the challenge “ you have to let people in. Let me in. I know how you feel- “

“ how could you possibly know how I feel “ she almost spat “ you’ve lived here. Comfortable and safe “ you gave a small laugh at that

“ not always “ she didn’t know why she had assumed you had been there so long, maybe because you were so… settled. Adapted “ spent two years captured by a bunch of slavers before I even set foot in Jackson. I’m not some sheltered little girl born into comfort Tess “ she took a step back, eyes narrowing as she tried to asses the new information presented to her.

She knew about slavers. Had been taken by them herself at one point. But two years? She had been there two days, in a tiny camp as they prepared to move her to their main base before she’d managed to get away. Those two days had been hell. She couldn’t imagine two years.

Maybe she had underestimated you after all.

But before she could answer you properly there was another knock to her door.

“ only me! “ Maria’s voice sounded as she entered the house, opening her mouth to say something else but stopping when she saw you stood there. She looked violently overjoyed “ oh! I’m sorry. Didn’t know you had company “ it must have been an odd sight to walk into. Tess as stoney faced as ever and you practically gazing at her.

“ sorry I- “

“ did you need something? “ Tess asked

“ lunch, the whole family. Good haul from the hunting crew today “ family. Her family. As dysfunctional as it was she very much wanted to escape the current situation and see them “ but if you’re busy- “

“ no. I’m not. She was just leaving “ she glanced over at you as you gave a small nod and a smile, quietly excusing yourself and heading for the door.

“ just. Think about what I said Tess? I’ll see you tomorrow “

She didn’t hear the end of that for the entirety of lunch. Maria not usually one to pry. But knowing very much that Ellie and Tommy would. Casually mentioning it and… that was that.

Ellie seemed particularly delighted. Looking at her in a way that she recognised from her own childhood when she realised liking girls wasn’t just a her thing. That she wasn’t the only one. But Tess didn’t probe. Though she was happy in the knowledge Ellie would come to her if she needed.

“ y’know I think it’s real nice “ Joel said to her when she stepped outside stating she needed a little air “ she’s softenin you “ Tess scoffed and folded her arms across her chest

“ you have no idea what you’re talking about. She’s a neighbour. And she looks after the flowers. She’s a pain in my ass”

“ baby steps Tess “ she glanced over at him and he was giving her that look that said he knew something was going on inside her head “ you leave the house more now “

“ to my porch and back “ she mumbled not entirely wanting to get into that conversation. She was not in the mood to discuss her long hours trapped inside her house. And her head.

“ baby. Steps “ she sighed and ran a hand over her face. She was tired.

“ she wants to be my friend “ it sounded so unbelievably juvenile to say out loud. She almost regretted saying it

“ and… you don’t want that? “

“ no “ she said maybe a little too quickly

“ right “ she could feel him watching her, trying to read her as he so often did. The way only two people who had been together for so long could do “ I don’t think I believe that “

“ I’m not asking you to “ he sighed again, used to her stubbornness. Her bad moods.

“ you are allowed to have friends Tess. And… more than that. I don’t know what that girls intentions are, I don’t pretend to know how your mind works either. But if you really didn’t like her then why are you still lettin her around? Tess I know would’ve told her to fuck off and threatened her for good measure for even tryna talk to you if you didn’t like her “

“ you’re talking shit “ he laughed and shrugged

“ you’re proving my point. Tess. Just do something. If you want her? Go get her. Tess I know would. And if not? Tell her to leave you be. Cause this mood you’re in… it’s not nice to see “

“ ‘ the Tess you know’ “ she muttered under breath. She didn’t feel like that Tess anymore.

By the time she walked home she couldn’t tell if she was more annoyed by the entire situation or relieved by it because somehow Joel of all people had begun to put things into perspective for her.

Maybe it was both.

Though the annoyance was slightly winning out. She wasn’t soft. She didn’t like the implications that you were softening her. She was stronger than that. Stronger than you. She hadn’t pushed you away because Maria said she needed to be nice. That’s why.

It was.

Wasn’t it?

She felt a sudden desperate need to prove to herself that what she was thinking was correct. And not Joel.

She was not soft. She was in control.

She didn’t quite know what it was that compelled her feet to head up your porch steps rather than her own. Knocking on the door before she’d even fully come to a halt.

Waiting impatiently for you to answer, looking a little surprised to see her when you did appear.

She pushed past the threshold, watching you take a step back in mild confusion at her sudden intrusion, cupping your face in both her hands and kissing you. You stumbled for barely half a second, kissing her back with a muffled moan and your fingers wrapping around her wrists.

The confidence she was used to felt far more present in your space, in the four walls of your home rather than her own.

She pressed you up against the closest wall, kissing you like her life depended on it. Far more in control than she was a few hours earlier. Than she had been in a while.

And this was it. This was the familiarity she had craved wasn’t it? This was the power she had been missing, the ability to take what she wanted when she wanted it. Even when she wasn’t entirely sure it was what she wanted.

So why didn’t it feel the same. Why did it not even slightly fill the void in her chest.

You were breathing heavily as she pulled away to catch her own breath, a joyful almost dopey smile on your face. You looked so incredibly beautiful. Sweet.

She’d break you. She would. She knew she would. It was a vicious awful cycle. Anyone she got close to got hurt. Friend or… more. It would all end the same way.

“ this won’t end well “ she said quietly, not entirely meaning to say it out loud. The words escaping her as she watched you, someone so beautiful and kind didn’t belong with someone like her.

Someone who had not let the awful things that happened to them twist them into something unrecognisable. In the way that Tess had.

It would be a mess.

“ maybe not “ you answered, voice just as quiet “ but did you ever stop to think that maybe it will be okay? “

“ no “ you laughed softly, head leaning back against the wall and your eyes falling closed for a moment. She wished she could have such a carefree look. She didn’t think her face even knew how to relax into such an expression.

“ have a little faith “

AUTUMN

It had been over 20 years since her life had completely fallen apart. And a lot could happen in 20 years. A lot had happened. Tess was good at having bad shit happen and then burying it so deep down that she didn’t have to think about it. She was good at having a blank face when inside she was screaming. But in the end, one person could only hide so much stuff for so long. Eventually it would spill. And every now and again it did.

And when it did? It was suffocating.

It struck her out of no where. She never saw it coming.

Sometimes it almost scared her. Scared her that the stuff she had done wasn’t even the worst of what kept her up at night. She had no remorse for the people she had killed. Tortured. Those bodies and those sounds. They didn’t haunt her. The stuff that had come before that had damaged her beyond repair.

The first few years had been the worst. Before FEDRA had full control, before any rules were in full effect. When everyone ran rampant, when people looted and murdered because they felt like it. When groups formed and did whatever they wanted. To who they wanted. When Tess had been alone. Had left her home with nothing but the clothes on her back and ran. And ran. And by some miracle survived.

That time before Joel. Before the entirety of the group making their way up to Boston.

Tess didn’t get scared. She wasn’t afraid of things. But she had been back then. She had been so afraid.

So utterly powerless and out of control.

She tried to see the positives as ridiculous as it sounded. Tried to twist the shitty things that had happened. The shitty things that she had done. She had done them to survive. And maybe that scared her even more. That she felt justified in her actions.

That she could think back to certain people she had tortured. Killed. Ambushed. And justify it. Not feel as though she had done the wrong thing at all.

And that she would do it all again if she needed to.

She would throw herself in front of trucks feigning an injury. Just a poor, defenceless woman. Beg for help only for Joel and the others to spring from the bushes and take everything they had. She’d kill every man and woman that got in the way of her rise in the smuggling ring. She’d tortured ever last piece of information out of those fuckers who had taken Ellie. Murdered every. Last. Firefly. In that hospital.

All again. A million times over.

But her humanity was still in her somewhere. Buried deep down but there. And when it reared its head it was ugly. Filled with words to make her feel like the worst person alive. Fill her ears with the strangled cries of her son. The sickening sound of the blood that pooled in her husband’s throat.

It made her feel numb. Like she was floating. No longer in her body and desperately trying to claw her way back down to it.

“ Tess? “ she was too lost to react. Too deep inside her own head to even turn around and look at you. But she knew that voice. The voice that had become as familiar as Maria’s. Ellie’s. Joels “ Tess what are you doing it’s freezing out here “ your voice was soft compared to the voices that were screeching inside her head, soothing. Gentle. Quieter yet somehow speaking over the screaming ones.

Your hands fell onto her arm and she flinched, shifting away from your touch.

“ hey. Sorry “ you said softly, hands raised in some kind of surrender “ won’t touch you again “ the voices were still shouting at her, but a little further off now. Like she was on one side of the room and they were on the other. And wasn’t that interesting. Where in the past only Joel had been able to coax her back to reality. Ground her. Now you had. And she had known you far less “ can I sit? “ she gave a small nod and you sat down, leaving a small gap between you both.

Things between the two of you had been a little different as of late.

You hadn’t kissed since that day she’d barged through your front door and re established that she was very much the one holding the reins. But she was letting herself be lighter. Trying her hardest to open up to you. To go into town more. Smile back at people. And it was hard. And slow going. But she was getting there.

Baby steps. Like Joel had said.

“ I’m gonna go get a blanket okay? It’s so cold “ she listened as you went inside, returning a few moments later.

“ why are you here? “ she asked as you sat down beside her again, wrapping the blanket around you both.

“ I was out on late patrol. I saw the light on… was gonna come see why you were still up. Have a chat or something… you didn’t answer so I just poked my head inside and I saw the back door was open“

She gave a small nod and continued staring out at the backyard. She hadn’t really done much to it. But there was a rope swinging attached to the large tree at the bottom now. Ellie loved it.

“ do you need to talk? About anything? “ you asked quietly “ it’s what friends are for you know. Talking “

“ I’ve never been very good at friends “ you gave a small laugh and nodded

“ yeah. I figured that one out myself “ you shuffled a little closer to her, nudging her leg with yours “ you must’ve had friends at some point “

The ones that truly stuck in her mind were Bill and Frank. Frank would’ve loved you she realised very quickly. You were so alike. So happy. Made to see the positive in absolutely every single thing. Yet becoming friends with Frank had been far easier than becoming friends with you.

She’d been different back then.

“ I had. I had friends “ she started, realising in that moment that she had never actually spoken about Bill and Frank since they’d died. Her and Joel had done as they always had and refused to talk about it. Let it settle and weigh heavy until it began to dissipate on its own “ they lived a few miles out of Boston. Met them over the radio “

“ they weren’t in a zone? “

“ no. Bill… fuckin crazy been planning for doomsday his whole life. Had the whole town mapped out and wired up “ she actually cracked a small smile thinking about it “ Frank though. I think. I think he’s the closest thing to a friend I really had “

She missed him. She missed them both. And missing Bill was something she never thought she’d feel, even if he was more open to her company than Joel’s.

You listened diligently as she spoke about Lincoln. Dinners in the garden and Bills stash of supplies, the awkwardness that always lingered between Bill and Joel. The bi monthly drop offs that had started increasing in distance as Frank got sicker and Bill got older. And then finding them with Ellie. The silent moment she had taken in the garden to cry for her lost friends whilst Ellie showered and Joel fixed the car.

“ they sound like amazing people “ she shrugged and glanced over at you for a moment. And maybe it was silly of her to take so long to realise it. But maybe she had a friend in you, maybe more than that. Maybe she had done all along and had been too blinded by her own self loathing and moping around to truly notice it.

It was the early hours of the morning and there you were, sat on her porch steps in the dark. Listening to her talk. Comforting her. And she realised that you were exactly what she needed. In that moment and every other moment to follow. Your compassion and your calming force of a personality. The way you cared…. Loved even. Your stubbornness. Your loyalty.

“ thank you “ she said quietly “ for being here “ you looked up at her and smiled. That warm, sweet smile that made even the coldest of days feel mild. Tess was all sharp edges and bitter words, someone so soft should be keeping a safe distance to ensure they didn’t get cut. But you weren’t afraid. You never had been “ for everything “ she didn’t want to elaborate and you didnt make her.

She reached forward to cup your face in her hand, thumb tracing over your cheekbone. You understood her in a way it had taken Joel 20 years to. Some odd force of nature that wiggled your way through the cracks in her heavily guarded walls.

Her eyes drifted down to your lips. Remembering the hard, forceful kiss you had shared that one time before. The kind she was used to. The kind she was good at. She wasn’t very good at being tender and caring. Kissing and all that lead from it had long since been something she did out of care and love. It was a means to an end. A release. A way to remind herself she was human.

But it didn’t have to be that way anymore.

“ you gonna kiss me or not? “ you whispered. And it made her lips twitch into a smile.

Tess had kissed a lot of people in her time. And if she was perfectly honest she wasn’t entirely a fan. Kisses were not like how the movies or books portrayed them most of the time. Uncoordinated or clumsy, too much teeth or tongue. She didn’t care much for kissing.

But kissing you was different. Kissing you was like a shot of adrenaline straight into her veins. It was the closest she felt she could come to understanding why Joel had been so hooked on pills before Ellie. It was addictive.

But something had changed now. Some locked gate inside of her had finally clicked open and you had seized the opportunity to slip your way inside. And she surprised herself with the realisation that it actually didn’t seem all that terrifying now, having you there. Having those feelings and thoughts.

Of course there was still… something. But it was less so.

Holding your face in her hand, your willingness to let her lead and melt into her. With every soft and gentle movement of her lips against yours she felt herself slipping. Like when the winter storms would hit Boston and her worn down boots couldn’t find grip on the icy paths.

But this slip wouldn’t end with her falling flat on her ass and nursing a bruised leg. You were keeping her tethered. Your fingers that were looped around her wrist, your hair that was tickling her face.

It made her feel startlingly real. Alive. Present. Present in a moment in a way she hadn’t done all day, she’d spent the day drifting. Some far off place in her head where her demons scrambled over her and suffocated the air out of her lungs. But she was breathing fine now, breathing in air that was yours, breathing as if you were her air.

She kissed you until her jaw started to ache, not sure how long it had been or how many quick seconds apart to catch her breath there had been. But when she finally did let you go the fog that had been blinding her all day seemed to have disappeared. Everything felt as though she were looking through glasses that had just had the lenses cleaned.

Sharper. Clearer.

“ it’s really fuckin cold “ she murmured, causing a giggle to bubble past your lips.

“ yeah. It’s freezing “ you didn’t seem even mildly pissed that that had been her first words after practically kissing your face off. Instead you both silently seemed to agree to go inside, collapsing onto her couch and kissing some more.

Something had shifted after that. Had changed after she’d woken up the following morning on the couch with you.

She actively chose to be around you, even more so than she had been. Spent enough time with you that people began to murmur about it. But she found she no longer cared.

There was still an odd weight looming in her chest, one she was certain may never actually go away. But it was far lighter than it had been.

WINTER

Tess had always preferred winter to summer. Especially after Boston. She hated those sticky summer days. Especially in that apartment that was freezing in winter but a sauna in the summer, no comfortable in between. Days when she felt like the heat was suffocating her and every drop of water she drank sweated its way out of her within the minute.

Winter felt so much… fresher. She liked the snow and the opportunities to wrap up and be warm on her own terms.

Some people found it bleak. But she rather enjoyed it.

You seemed to like it too. Because you could use the cold weather as an excuse to be close to her. And it felt nice. To have you there, to have you wanting to be near her. Even if she was beginning to believe you were forgetting your gloves on purpose now so she would hold your hand.

The arrival of the winter months had brought along the silent confirmation that you two were… something now. Dating didn’t feel right. That word didn’t feel like it belonged in the world anymore. And there had been no real discussions of the matter, mostly due to her own refusal to mention it. And ‘girlfriend’… it felt a little juvenile. Even if was Ellie teasing her every fucking day that you were in fact her girlfriend now.

Jackson was starting to feel more like somewhere she could begin to call home. Riding back through the gates with Joel, watching them close behind her but not feeling that feeling of imprisonment anymore. Not feeling as trapped as the walls in Boston, but finally feeling safe.

She walked into the Bison, happy to find it slightly less crowded than it could be. She walked over to the bar, smiling at the guy stood drying off a glass

“ hey… she here? “ something in her still prickled with an odd sense of anxiety that she didn’t need to ask for you by name now. That they all knew who she meant. That Tess would not venture into the bison alone for anyone else, and that you would never be leaving with anyone else but her.

But she pushed it aside.

“ yeah she’s out the back. I’ll grab her “ she waited patiently as he disappeared through the door, glancing around with some still deep rooted fear that someone was watching her. She didn’t think she’d ever shake that. But she had to remind herself that no one there was after her. No one there was watching her to find her weakness and abuse it.

“ hey you “ you appeared through the door a few moments later and you greeted with that beaming smile of yours, looking at her as if she were the singular source of joy in your life. You leant over the bar and she met you half way, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. It was the kind of kiss that was… familiar. The kind two people in love shared without thought, something as simple and regular as breathing.

“ having fun? “

“ oh yeah. Making sandwiches, riveting stuff “ she watched you wipe your hands off on a towel before slipping your way out from behind the bar “ but I’d really like to go home now “ Tess nodded and offered you her arm without needing to be asked, your hands slipping into their usual place and huddling close against her.

It was getting chillier out, the sky had taken on that odd yellowy state that signalled impending snow. The kind of day that back in Boston would’ve been some forewarning of an impending low ration season. But there was no such thing in Jackson.

You spoke about your shift in the bison as you walked and Tess listened diligently, all the while silently musing over you asking to go home. And very much heading with Tess towards hers.

But. You stayed over more often than not now. Your things were starting to intermingle with her own, the space that had previously felt so barren and so disconnected from herself… now felt almost like a home.

There were some of Ellie’s drawings tacked to the fridge, her talent alone making the space seem a little more lived in. A few pictures had been framed now too and dotted about the place. Tess, Joel and Ellie over for dinner at Tommy and Maria’s. Another of Ellie pulling a stupid face with Joel looking slightly amused at her side. One of you and her, you beaming at the camera as she looked at you. Maria had taken that one much to Tess’ original dismay. But she was quite thankful for it now.

That was the first piece of you that had made its way into her home.

You had a toothbrush in her bathroom now. A spare jacket on the hooks by the door. A small box of gardening tools by the front door. A hand knitted blanket across the back of her couch.

You were in the air even. The air wafted of the flowers you adored wherever you went, you filled the place she had only ever referred to as a house into home.

And sometimes it almost made her want to laugh. Laugh at herself for what she had become. Tess didn’t take things slow like this. Tess didn’t let her space be invaded by someone else. Tess didn’t have feelings or let herself… love.

Which was exactly what she was feeling more and more these days. Which was completely and utterly terrifying but she found she was just letting it happen. Because she could. And because she was allowed to.

She wasn’t old Tess anymore. If anything she was beginning to feel as though she was slowly becoming more and more like the version of herself that had existed before an apocalypse had destroyed the world. The kind of woman that did date and did take things slow. That had girlfriends or boyfriends and wasn’t scared. Was care free and happy.

And maybe that was more scary than the fear she had felt at losing the version of herself that had developed over 20 years of hell.

She was beginning to think that nothing would ever be without fear these days. But she was working on it. And it was lessening.

And you becoming a permanent fixture in her house was part of that.

Quite often the nights ended exactly as they currently were too. With you walking home together, cuddling up together on the couch to escape the chill of winter.

And making out until she forgot how to breathe.

It had not been more than that. She hadn’t allowed herself to let it be. Had happily let you sit in her lap or let you pull her down over you and sink into the couch cushions. But she never let it progress.

She didn’t truly think about why and you had never asked it of her either. Until tonight.

“ why are you holding back? “ you whispered, pulling back from her slightly. Still close enough that she could feel your breath against her lips.

Why was she holding back?

Because you weren’t some random girl she picked up in the zone because she was bored and lonely. Because until you, sex had become something with little feeling. Something to do because she needed some human contact that wasn’t Joel stitching up a stab wound.

And it was funny, really, when she thought about why she was holding back. Why as much as she may have wanted to, as much as the old her would’ve gone and gotten what she wanted months ago… she hadn’t.

Because it hadn’t felt right. Hadn’t been the time. You deserved more than that. You deserved more than a quick, meaningless fuck off somewhere secluded because she wanted to feel like a human being again. No, you deserved more.

Maybe you still did. She couldn’t figure it out yet.

But what she did know, was if now was not the time then she would wait. She would wait a million and one lifetimes. As much as she knew the short serotonin boost would breathe some life into her for a few hours again… she would endure. Because when she really thought about it, that wasn’t what she wanted really.

She wanted you. Of course she did. Needed you. In every single sense of the phrase. You had been a shiny little light in her darkness, you had prevailed and endured her bitterness to discover something sweet hiding beneath.

And so you deserved the best. Deserved every ounce of love and compassion Tess could find deep within herself.

“ where’d you go? Hm? “ you whispered softly, fingers trailing along the side of her face and tucking an unruly strand of her greying hair behind her ear “ you seem… else where “

“ just thinkin “ your touch was gentle, fingertips somehow still smooth and soft. So different to hers, calloused from years of fighting and doing shitty jobs in the QZ. She felt too rough for you. Too sharp around the edges. Like her hold on you alone could shatter you.

She knew in reality you weren’t delicate. She had watched you shoot like a trained marksmen. Had seen you jump on clickers and stab them until you face was splattered in blood. Chop firewood for town like it was nothing. You were strong. Capable. And yet she felt like she could bruise you like a peach just by looking at you wrong. She was no stranger to your strengths, your capabilities. Yet to her? She felt she could always see you as breakable.

Fine China. Soft fruit. The petals of the flowers you cared so much about.

Soft and pure and delicate. Not made to be touched by the rough and ready hands of the likes of her

And yet…

“ thinking about me? “ you said it with a small laugh, half joking. Half hoping. She gave you a small smile, a small nod.

“ of course “ it came out so quiet she wasn’t even sure she’d really said it right away. But your warm smile told her she had. And you’d heard. And even now, even in that moment, she still took a moment to be amazed at that smile. Amazed that it was because of her. You were smiling because she was thinking of you. You were on her mind. And you liked that.

Her hands twitched slightly at their place on your waist. Almost involuntarily. Like they were trying to make her move, go ahead. Do… something.

You looked down for a second before letting go of your gentle hold of her face, sliding your hands along her arms and trailing your fingers over her wrists.

“ I’m not going to break “ you picked up her hands, moving them down to brush over your ass, your thighs “ you can touch me “ she was afraid she’d do something stupid like blush. So she kissed you again, gently tugging you close by her soft hold on your thighs.

Your hands slid back up her arms, over her shoulders, up to hold the back of her neck, your fingertips slipping under the collar of her shirt. Everything about you was soft. Precise and purposeful. She could practically feel the desire radiating out of your fingers. But also the care.

She hadnt been touched like that in… a while. Touched in a way that conveyed love. A way that was gentle. Caring. Deliberate and slow. Like you wanted to take your time, in a way akin to how you had behaved since you had met her. You wanted to know her. To understand her. To peel back the layers she kept pulling on to keep you out.

And maybe a part of her would always want to keep you out, deep down. Fear of the unknown. Fear of a vulnerability she was still learning to adjust to.

But she was adjusting. Had been. And it felt right now. Felt right having the soft weight of you on her thighs, having your gentle fingers rid her of her sweater. Felt the shame of her equally as raging desire dissipate.

It was okay. She was okay.

She watched your deft fingers carefully unbutton your plaid shirt, one that now she thought about it looked remarkably like one of hers. When had you taken that she wondered.

She let her hands slip over the bare skin of your waist, disappearing under the soft worn cotton of your- her? - shirt. There was a scar along your ribs, the kind that had been there a while. No longer angry and red but faded and soft. She ran her thumb across it.

“ chains “ you said, answering her unasked question.

“ the slavers? “ she murmured, still tracing her thumb over the long stretch of scarred skin. You hummed a reply, your eyes watching her intently

“ plenty of permanent reminders of those fuckers on me “ it still baffled her how you had endured such cruelty and appeared on the other side as gentle as you were. She wanted to track those fuckers down. Torture every single last one that had even looked at you wrong. And reserve a special place in hell for the ones who had left their permanent marks.

She leant forward, dipping her head and pressing her lips to the scar. Your chest deflated in a soft sigh as she did, ghosting her lips over the skin in some feeble attempt to replace the pain with care. Your fingers laced into her hair, silently urging her to kiss you some more. And she did. She kissed up your chest, breath stuttering embarrassingly as her cheek brushed against the cotton covered swell of your chest as she pressed kisses to your sternum.

Everything about you was soft.

She inhaled deeply, your skin smelt of that familiar scent of being outdoors. As if winter air had been bottled and sprayed across your skin like perfume. Something so usually mundane and common place, yet intoxicating on you.

She kissed up your neck, skin in flames with every single soft sigh it caused you to let out.

“ can… can I.. “ you said in between kisses, hands now fumbling with the button of her jeans.

“ not here “ she murmured, pulling away from your lips slightly reluctantly “ you deserve better than the fuckin couch “ that made you smile, head titling to the side inquisitively.

“ well aren’t you just a lady “ Tess scoffed, patting your leg gently to urge you to stand up

“ lady? You must be thinkin of someone else “ you seemed reluctant to stop kissing her, grabbing her multiple times on the way out of the lounge. Including a long pause on the stairs where she almost regretted suggesting you move. And seriously debated just letting the entire thing play out right there on the staircase.

She’d never really been one for kissing. But with you she couldn’t stop. She was obsessed. A woman possessed. And she was taking her time.

But she remained on track. Leading you into her bedroom and the bed she had barely slept in.

She sat down on the edge, watching you as you closed the door before turning to her. Leaning back against it for a moment.

You were truly something. Stood there in your jeans and your bra. Your mismatched socks and your ruffled hair. Lips kiss swollen and eyes watching her intently.

“ c’mere “ she said quietly, gesturing you over with a tilt of her head. You wandered over, coming to a stop in front of her and reaching out to cup her face gently “ you’re so fuckin beautiful you know “ she said, not entirely intending to say it out loud and rather just think it. But the blush that crept across your cheeks made her glad she had said it.

“ you think? “ she hummed a reply, her fingers trailing up and down the backs of your thighs.

She didn’t know what it was about having you there in that room. Her room. Alone. It felt so incredibly intimate. In fact the entire night had. She’d never taken such… time. Time to explore and to appreciate, to admire. And now to have you in bedroom, a room she had barely been able to step foot in alone since arriving in town. But felt almost at ease with you there.

It was a lot to attempt to process all at once. And so she decided not to. That it wasn’t the time to send herself spiralling into yet another pit of despair and dread, she focussed all her attention back to you.

“ you’re sweet “

“ I’m not sweet I’m honest “ you smiled again at that. In reality she was not an honest person. She was deceitful and not to be trusted by anyone but Joel. But you trusted her. And she was honest with you.

She was. You truly were beautiful. And she felt a fool that it had taken her as long as it had to stop and really look at you. Had spent so long despising your presence rather than admiring you from day one.

She slipped her hands further up your legs, cupping the denim clad flesh of your ass and pushing you forward slightly. You took the hint, stepping over her legs and placing yourself back in her lap. Your arms looped loosely around her neck.

She couldn’t resist diving forward, lips against your neck and teeth grazing your soft skin in a way that made the most delicious sounds leave your lips.

“ oh, Tess “ your fingers tugged lightly at her hair as she continued her gentle assault, hands wandering and desperate to touch as much of you as she could. “ I can’t take much more of this teasing “ you whispered after a few moments, tugging at her hair to make her raise her head.

Her fingers ghosted over the blooming marks on your skin. Blossoming spots of red and purple, marks of a gentle cruelty that had sent the most beautiful look of bliss to overcome your face. Yet another mark of possession on your skin, but not of chains and binds this time…. Of hatred. But of teeth. Of lips. Of desire.

Possession through the deep rooted need to keep you as her own, but simply to hold. To protect. To love.

“ Tess “ she wouldn’t make you wait any longer. She wanted to keep touching, to commit every single inch of you to memory. But she figured that she’d have plenty of opportunities to do so.

And she would give you anything you asked of her. So she would not make you wait.

Through a desire blurred haze she manoeuvred you to lay down, a blur of clothing making its way to the floor and soft moans as her hands ventured downwards.

“ no no keep looking at me “ she said, her voice as quiet as it had been since you’d lead her up those stairs, coaxing your head up from where you were hiding with her free hand “ that’s it I wanna see you “ you slipped a hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her down to press your forehead against hers with a small nod, lips parted slightly as she moved her fingers in soft circles.

She lost track of time. Of all straight forward thinking. The seconds and the minutes all blurring into a moonlit haze of body parts in her mind. She took her time, breaking you down and unwinding every single knot under your skin.

Nothing else existed outside the four walls of that room, just you and her. The soft lewd sounds of her fingers between your legs, your quiet whimpers and gasps into her mouth, the rustle of the sheets beneath you as you arched and writhed beneath her.

There was something incredible about having you there, foreheads pressed together as she hovered over you, something so… romantic. How your hands held onto her, fingertips warm like they were branding her skin. Isolated in that room in a newer way than she had been used to.

And when she finally brought you to your long awaited climax, she watched you intently. Admiring the beautiful way your face moved and contorted in pleasure, watching your lips part and your legs tremble.

You returned the favour once you’d regained your regular breathing pattern. Pushing her onto her back and leading a trail of soft kisses down her chest and her stomach, settling between her legs and sending her eyes falling into the back of her head.

Her back arching off the mattress and her hand twisting into your hair, relishing in a bliss she hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time.

And then you lay there together. A comfortable silence enveloping the room, only disturbed by the occasional kiss or soft sigh.

Tess’ fingers played gently with your hair, inevitably lulling you into sleep. And she took the time to think.

She realised that in the time she had lived there it was her first night actually sleeping in her bed. She glanced down at where you were sound asleep on her chest, the weight and warmth of you pressed against her keeping away any anxious thoughts that wanted to creep into her mind.

And she didn’t want to escape downstairs, didn’t want to run. To push you away and tell you to leave. That sleeping together was far more intimate to her than any form of sex act could be.

The thoughts didn’t come.

It had taken her meeting you to finally come to terms with what her life was now. And the things that she had done. That in the current climate there were really no good or bad people. Just human beings trying to survive. Do whatever it took to live to see another day. Doing unspeakable things to get by and trying to convince themselves afterwards that they had done the right thing. That they had had no choice.

And that was okay. She was coming to peace with that. She would never fully forget, but neither would anyone else. But that was okay. Because as long as she had you by her side, she was quite content in the knowledge that she could handle it.

That then come spring those flowers you had planted would bloom again and she would let her fears die with the frost.

Everything would be okay.

#I post this reluctantly #because you read anons have been so rude to me lately #unnecessary #tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x reader #the last of us #tlou #tess tlou #tess x reader #Joel miller #ellie williams #x you #x reader #tlou fanfiction #Anna torv #tlou hbo

[jacksprostate]

With every passing day I'm less convinced of the narrator's feelings about Marla being in any way romantic lol. Obvious disclaimer this is one of many interpretations that can be done of the book, if you like to interpret it that way good for you, I support all interpretations with textual evidence and there's obviously some that way — but anyway, like.

He has no joy about it lmao there is no happy delight.... You expect me to believe you are in love with her when your thought process is essentially "Tyler loves Marla which. I guess means I do? And well, I guess I don't want her to die in my bullshit. I like you enough to not want you to die because when Tyler abandoned both of us I stopped viewing you as as much of a threat to my rabid bond with Tyler"

Like. I do think he cares for Marla. Likes her. But I do not think he Likes her.

And to me it is interesting and depressing. Tyler is his power fantasy. This fantasy where he can access the power of being a man attracted to women — well, if his brain can manage to fuck women while deeply delusional, maybe he can manage it! It legitimately reads kind of like he thinks he's been cured of something. And there's so much reason for him to feel that way — most especially, we're treated to an in depth look at how deeply shameful he feels about things that in any way tie him to homosexuality. He has such a complex about AIDS, he covers a birthmark on his foot just in case seeing it would mean someone thinks he's gay and dying. Maybe it's my own experiences letting me read more into it but he is so deeply repressed it's sad man. Even your power fantasy can't escape it. But also, that in itself makes sense, too. Being attracted to women puts him on top of the hierarchy, frees him from subjugation and the deep literal closet he's in as a gay man. It's not exactly the same as being attracted to men as a woman, which, while resulting in avoiding homophobia, puts you at direct risk for misogynistic intrapersonal violence lol. So. Tyler is free, and he is not. Tyler does not have to worry about dying in people's eyes.

Anyway you have all that, you have the intense homoeroticism of fight club in general (elaborate rituals, etc), literally everything about how he talks about Tyler, and you have the fact that just like. Honestly!!!! Where is the joy!!! Obviously it is extenuating circumstances because of the whole deal but his narration distinctly sounds like someone who just like. Oh yeah that's my good friend... Marla... yeah I guess I like her. We hang out and she helped me shoot myself

I do think post canon they end up having some sort of weird sad sex thing but that shit is not working longterm. Plenty of people have said it before and better but both of them want Tyler instead. Which in itself is an interesting dynamic.

Depending on how much autonomy and personhood you allot Tyler, too, it's interesting. In the narrator's eyes, everything for Tyler ties back to Marla. The one thing he has that the narrator simply can't. In the narrator's eyes, he outright states Tyler formed to do what he couldn't (engage with her romantically). Of course you can interpret that as him being inhibited in some other way, but... idk man.

#fight club