Tumgik
#my fragile heart cannot survive this
Text
My overwhelming joy at seeing Estinien rejoin the MSQ was immediately CRUSHED by the extreme secondhand embarrassment I feel realizing, with dawning horror, that he's mistaking Alisaie for Alphinaud
Estinien, did your drachen helm make you fucking blind for the entirety of Heavensward? Do you really think Alphinaud would ever forgo pants as Alisaie does, or his penchant for wearing blue attire, for that matter? Please. You are KILLING ME, Estinien! You fool. You absolute bloody paper clip, why must you make me suffer so? 😩😩😩😩
1 note · View note
knightfeared · 8 months
Text
Mutuals Tag Dump 2.
shhhh some I’m moving over from other blogs >>;;
4 notes · View notes
manachiichan · 18 days
Text
Tumblr media
To see the world that you are so proud of...
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Synopsis: Growing up obediently following your empress' shadow, your horizon broaden the moment you met a pirate doning a strawhat who somehow ended up on your island.
Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x Kuja!Reader, Platonic!Boa Hancock X Fem!Reader
Spoilers from the Amazon Lily and Marineford arcs. Reader is a pure sunshine who is both kind and naive. This is mostly focused on yours and Hancock's relationship.
|| One Piece Masterlist ||
|| Part 1 || Part 2 ||
Tumblr media
"Rejoice.. From this day and so on, you will directly serve me alone...."
Growing up, all you ever did was listen and obey those who ranks stronger than you. And that person was no other than Boa Hancock, the Empress of your island.
When your mother died unexpectedly, she took you under her watchful eyes. Being only a child at the time, you were unaware of how dangerous your surroundings were. Surrounded by the jungle and waters filled with sea kings, you will never survive.
The women were all like walking on eggshells around you. Your mother was a fearsome warrior that boarded the Kuja Pirates' ship. She was well respected by her peers and because of that, the rest treated you like a delicated flower that deserved to be sheltered.
You were a child without a maternal protection and guidance.
But after being graced by her benelovence, you grew to adore the snake princess and bow to serve her with everything you have. Hancock treated you like how she would treat anyone below her, yet in your child like mind, she was the only one who didn't see you as fragile as glass.
And to repay that, you went and learned the ways of the women in the island.
"Snake Princess, please allow me to serve your every needs! I won't hesistate to do all of them!"
"Snake Princess, I brought you your tea. Just like how you like it..."
"Please leave quietly. The Snake Princess is currently occupied and cannot see an audience."
"My empress, you seems to be slightly fatigued, should I draw a herb bath to soothe your mind and cleanse your body?"
"I'll be on guard by the door if you ever request anything, Snake Princess. I'll be happy to aid you with all of my capabilities...."
You learned and mastered observation haki at a young age as you often went and learned everything that should and shouldn't do around the Pirate Empress. After all, you felt like you owe your life to her.
But that's also when you finally saw through the mask she often wore. She has a deep fear somewhere in her heart that she tried so hard to hide, the same fear that her sisters share with her.
You kept silent about it as you thought it wasn't your place to ask. But after that, you began to see her in a different light.
Boa Hancock is much more valiantly elegant than what you previously thought. And you admire her strong demeanor in hopes that one day, you'll be like her too..
As a Kuja warrior, you strived and hone your skills in hopes of pleasing your Empress even more. You worked harder to be a better version of yourself. You became the best hunter of your tribe while fully adapting to your own snake weapon.
Hancock rarely talk to you, however, she kept you often at her side, doing her bidding.
"What is with that smile on your face?"
"I'm happy, Snake Princess. To be able to prove my worth by serving you, it's the greatest honor..."
Most women would cower under her cold gaze, but you on the other hand, was brave enough to stare back with much admiration, carrying and obeying with a gentle smile on your face. Pure genuine, you didn't fawn over her like how the rest did, nor threw yourself under her feet as she walk pass by.
Everything you do was all voluntary that she didn't even have to use her charms to force you to obey.
Eventually, your obedience lead to Hancock trusting you completely. Becoming her right hand woman, whom she could trust Amazon Lily with. She know that you will never betray her with how much dedicated you are on serving her.
You were too kind. Whenever she looks out on the window of the castle, she would often see you helping out your fellow women with a huge smile on your face. Every requests thrown at your direction, you immediately agreed on, as if rejection is not on your vocabulary.
She knew by then, that she chosen the right person to trust on.
The first time you actually met a man, was when Hancock commanded you to stay back on the island as she sails away with her sisters and the elite warriors of the tribe.
"Snake Princess, why do I have stay here? I am confident in my abilities that I won't be considered as a hinder.."
You pleaded, carefully observing her reactions if ever you annoyed her with your words. To be near Hancock, means that you have to be careful not to anger her to avoid loosing her favor on you.
"You are not ready to sail on the Perfume Yuda yet. So use that strength on keeping this island safe until I return..."
Being often near the snake princess, gave you privilage to lead your fellow warriors whenever she and her sisters are not around. They listen to your instructions carefully and proceed to do their respective chores dedicatedly.
As you were given the task of protecting the island by Hancock herself, you took the initiative of scouting the jungle along side three other woman named Marguerite, Sweet Pea and Aphelandra.
"While we're here, should we perhaps hunt a beast for today's lunch?"
You asked the trio, hoping to bring a good feast for the warriors who scouted the other areas of the island, but before anyone could respond, you all notice smoke coming from the far side of the jungle. Wordlessly, you gave the women a commanding look before running off to the source with them following behind.
And that's how you met the strange man now called Luffy.
You found him beatened and unconcious with mushroom growing on his body. Not knowing his identity before hand, your pity for the injured had allowed him to enter the village.
Allowing Belladona and the rest of the women to tend his wounds, you and Marguerite provided on sewing new clothes identical to his previous tattered ones.
Marguerite embroidered floral patterns on the vest and you sewed a new pair of clean shorts.
Until the elder, Nyon revealed his identity of being a man.
"So this is what a man look like....?"
Unlike the rest of the women who all got defensive on his sudden outburst, you on the other hand could only continue to stare with curiosity.
Because you could clearly see his intentions. He was annoyed with how the rest wanted to pull his balls of gold, how feminine his clothes were and how tense he was when weapons pointed at his direction.
Yet you can see the desperation on his eyes. His desperation to leave the island, and return to his friends, atleast from what you heard him shout.
"Wait, stop...!"
You told the women to cease all actions but it was then, their arrows rained towards his cell, forcing himself to break out.
"He is not a threat!"
"(Name) all men who enters this island must be eliminated. That is the rules given by our ancestors that is upholded for centuries!"
Kikyo scolded you. Reminding you of where your loyalty lies. If your Empress ever finds out that a man entered the island under your supervision, you knew that you'll be the one paying for the consequences.
You feared to see the disappointment, Hancock would send you once she finds out. Hate to have suddenly betrayed her trust of getting fooled by a man whom you allowed to enter in the island. And you hate to disappoint her.
But the women are willing to help you out by pretending that this had never happened. Once you capture the man and kill him, this will all be a forgotten event. Boa Hancock will never know that a man soiled her land with his filt....right?
So with a conflicted thought, you went with the rest to pursue the strawhat wearing man.
Tumblr media
Somehow, you found yourself being held hostaged by the same man. At first, you and the other Kuja warriors were all chasing after him through out the village, when all of sudden, he turned around to face you.
Looking through the crowd of women, his eyes landed on to your guarded ones, stretching his arm, he immediately wrapped them around you before running off.
He kidnapped you, atleast that what you thought as he made his way out to the village with you in his arms.
"I need that paper back..."
He was after the paper you found on his tattered clothes. You stared at him warily as your snake slithered from your shoulders to your arm, forming into your weapon. You hoped that you wouldn't be using it against him but you can't avoid taking that risk.
You stared at his impatient form, silently observing his every move. You can tell that he has no intentions of fighting you either.
"You mean this....? What does it do...?"
Curiosity over took your judgement as you pulled out the paper to his field of vision. Seeing the absolute relief on his face made you lower your guard a little. What was the importance of a small piece of paper with a name written on it?
"My friends and I got separated, I need this paper to see them again."
"Who...are you anyways...?"
"I'm Monkey D. Luffy. I'm a pirate..!"
He spoke with a boyish grin on his face that you couldn't help but reprocate. He kept his distance seeing how you weren't comfortable being near a man....yet. He spoke fondly of his crew.
Like how you often spoke about the Snake Princess.
"The Snake Princess rules this island, she's wary of outsiders like you, but once you see through the mask she often wore, you can see how caring she's really is...!"
"I see! You really like the boss of this place, huh..? She must be really nice then."
You didn't realized that you were talking rather eagerly like you knew him for years already until you hear his laughter. Feeling slightly embarrased that you lost your composure, you immediately went to defend yourself.
"D-don't get ahead of yourself, man! Just because I'm talking to you, doesn't mean I'll let you do what you want here... No men are allowed on this island!"
You were already getting attached to him, he doesn't seem to be a threat at all. You thought as you saved him from drowning after his attempt to make a raft.
And before you could even think about helping him escape, the defense warrior group finally found the two of you in which he decided to flee.
By the time, you caught up to him, you knew it was already too late. Hancock was already aware of his presence and had ordered for his capture after he crashed on her chambers when she was bathing.
"Where were you, (Name)?"
You couldn't face her, you could only stand behind her with her sister Marigold on your front.
"Forgive me, Snake Princess... I was out there trying to capture that man..."
Boa Hancock is a rather observative woman. She observes people who falls under her rules. She knows her worth and what she is capable of and use it for her advantage.
Imagine to her slight surprise, you weren't there to greet her return at the end of the red carpet. That was her first suspicion, you never failed to show up first whenever she returns to the Island after weeks on sea.
She got even more suspicious when every woman she came across to lied when she asked of your wherebouts. Their only replied was, you had to hunt down a troublesome monkey that involves the rest of the island's defense troupe.
So when this man appeared, she knew she has to demonstrate a taste of her power to all of the women on the island. You included. She is the Empress, and it is her duty to protect the women under her care. She ought to show an example of how truly vile men are.
You who were oblivious of how truly cruel the world is. Too kind and obedient for her liking yet she couldn't find the heart to tell you off. She wasn't blind to see the adoration on your face whenever she is nearby. Nor she was oblivious to how genuine your actions were. She can see the unwavering loyalty you shown for her.
However she wasn't expecting you to grow attached to Luffy.
She noticed how your behavior shifted to tense and discomfort seeing him fight in that arena.
"What is it, (Name)?"
"Nothing, my empress..."
She could applaud you keeping your emotions in check. However, she found herself staring at you in disbelief when your cool finally broke when Marguerite, Sweet Pea and Aphelandra step in, attempt to save Luffy.
"My apologies, but I was the one who brought him to the village. If anyone deserves to be punished, it should be me. Those three merely followed my orders."
"You know what happens to those who defy me, (Name). Why are you defending the guilty?"
Taking up the courage, you managed to look her directly in the eyes. Those cold and dull hues that holds deeper emotions within. With a deep breath, you gave her your usual smiles.
Your compassionate smile of purity.
"I was the one who allowed permission for him to enter the village, my empress. So I should be the one held accountable. Marguerite, Sweet Pea and Aphelandra did nothing wrong, so please allow me to take their punishment alone.
You pleaded them to be spared. Seeing how you are willing to take the risks of saving the girls including Luffy slightly wavered her resolved.
"....You disappointed me, (Name).."
But she is still the Empress, and she has to show her authority over the island. Knowing full well that her powers could not affect you in any way, she asked a few warriors to take you away. You who looked back at her with a dejected face.
The man wearing a strawhat look angry on your behalf. He fought bravely against her sisters, demanding to set you free as you were innocent from all of this.
"She did nothing wrong! She was only trying to save me!"
Hancock kept her composure as she watched the battle raged on. What was so special about this man that you were willingly to defend him.
You were just too kind that it slightly annoyed her. You should only reserve it to her and her people alone. Your kindness shouldn't be shown to filthy men who will only take advantage of you.
This was the first defiance you've ever done. Hancock gritted her teeth as memories flashed between her eyes, ransacking every single one, yet she didn't remember you showing any disobedience like this before.
Just when she was starting to treasure you.
Only when the battle was over, she finally understood. Luffy was kind in his own way. Is that why you defended him? Because you were aware that he was not like those men who once trespassed the island?
Luffy seems to know the secret she was so desperate of hiding, so does that means that you already know? What do you see in her now?
Only when she was finally alone in her room, was she began breaking down, silent tears fell down as she didn't want her sisters to hear. Having you by her side for years as her closest aide made her conflicted. She only kept you nearby was because of pity.
You loosing your mother at such a young age. Your mother who was apart of her crew, died at sea because of her warrior pride to protect the rest. It was by guilt, your mother's death at her ship is what made her take you under her wing.
She watched you grow up into a formidable warrior serving her with nothing but pure genuine adoration. It was nothing like the lust thrown to her way by both genders whenever she was present.
It was a gaze of a child with innocent admiration. You look up to her as a person and not just someone with otherworldy beauty.
Which is why she didn't let you join her crew. Giving excuses that you weren't strong enough to travel the seas on her ship. She didn't want you to see how vicious and filthy this world truly is. Nor for people to take advantage of your kindness.
What will happen if you knew the truth? It was her selfishness that killed your mother. Her selfish orders is what caused your mother to loose her life. Will you still have the same look on your face if you ever find out her slave mark? Or are you already aware of it?
Knowing you for years, no. You would never look at her differently even after she told you her secret. But the truth? It was because of her that you grew up without your mother's tender love and care.
But even so, she gave in with her fears. Through out the years, even she tried hard to push you away with her cold atittude, you still managed to find a place in her heart.
You were patient with her. Serving her with a bright smile that herself couldn't help but grew fond of. You tolerate her bratty attitude and beauty even when she knew that didn't have any affect on you. Only you were the one who can see through her lies and stayed.
But Hancock is a selfish woman, she was drawn to your warmth that she decided to keep you close, Because she was selfish, she only wants to keep your kindness to herself.
Because being around you, she can be a regular person that people never fawn on. Not like a luxurious item that people wanted to have, but a person who has her own feelings and wants.
All she hope is that you would forgive her like how you always do.
Tumblr media
© manachii 2024 ~ all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, etc. any of the works I made.
275 notes · View notes
pennyellee · 10 months
Text
preview
LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU
Tumblr media
pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au
summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.
Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.
warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, smut, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, yandere, threatening, kidnapping, partial religious behaviour, graphic violence, graphic depictions of torture, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, implied non-con, minor character death, spanking, blood, gaslighting (more to be added)
word count: 655
author’s note: yaaaaaay!! can't believe I actually made it to post a fanfic I desperately wanted to write for two whole years now. I am very much excited to share this preview from one of the chapters ♥ I'm rising from the dead when it comes to writing fics, so excuse any ridiculous mistake I make, I'll always try to look into it backwards. Lastly a big thank you goes to Bex @chaoticpuff17 who not only inspired me to write but constantly showed me love and support, therefore I would love to express my unending gratitude and admiration, love you baby ♥ lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊
m.list CHAPTER I
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“You crave the throne don’t you?” she asked cocking her head and chin defiantly, her narrowed eyes fixed on him. “I want you too.” She chuckled at his response. “I'm merely a convenient excuse, am I not?” Y/N smiled too sweetly. “You’ll kill m—” he rose from his chair, not even letting her finish. Grabbing her by her shoulders in steel grip with a penetrating gaze.
The fragile cup slipped from her trembling hands and shattered on the floor, a nearby maid prepared to clean up the shattered shards. “Leave us!” he barked at the startled girl, his voice filled with anger. Y/N's eyes widened. He was even more aggressive and intimidating than before.
“I could—” his voice seething with fury, “— I could gather man and slaughter your entire clan keeping you as a trophy, a symbol of my power.” The threat hung in the air, and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Fear was coursing through her, yet she resisted letting it control her.
“Matter of fact—” he continued, his grip tightening on her shoulders, eliciting a whimper of pain from her, “—you will be a symbol of the magnitude my power has, no matter if your father and family remain alive. So it’s on you. The fate of your kin rests in your hands. Their survival hinges on your decisions and how well you’ll cooperate.” He tightened his grip again, eliciting another whimper of pain from her.
“But I will never dispose of you.” he growled through gritted teeth, his tone a mixture of possessiveness and frustration. Gathering her courage, she managed to speak again, her voice trembling but filled with resolve.
“You cannot manipulate me like this. You think I’ll fall for this fucked up scheme? I have spent my entire life under the orders of others, forbidden from making choices for myself! And you have the audacity to use my innocence thinking I will willingly crawl into your bed and love you like a devoted lover.” Venom in her voice and the desperate tone made fall for her even more.
“I've only recently met you, so spare me your attempts to deceive me that you’re being my saviour.” Y/N has enough fire to still conquer and fight him back. “I refuse to be a passive participant in this game.” She shall not take it lying down.
“I'm giving you a choice—” he asserted, his voice laced with a dangerous undertone “—either you’ll walk down the aisle to me or there will be a bloodshed. I won’t send you back to your father nor will I relinquish you easily.” His eyes locked onto hers, and she could see the darkness consuming his pupils when anger consumed him.
“Call it love, obsession, or whatever you please, but no matter what imbecile attempts you make to fight or flee, we will inevitably end up together nonetheless," he declared with conviction. Was this the fate God had laid out for her? Her faith wavered, and if he didn't provide assistance soon she shall forbid him altogether.
“You just want to fuck m—” he cut her off abruptly, his voice low and seductive.
“I can either fuck you hard or I can make love to you,” said he, whilst setting her left arm free and sliding his to her thigh, caressing it sweetly.
Breathing started to become harder for Y/N. Unfamiliar sensations welled up in her lower belly whilst his touch was sending shivers through her body. Was this attraction? Excitement? Mother told her this is how love is supposed to feel like. Butterflies in her stomach. But she certainly wasn't in love with her captor.
He sensed her confusion and distress. Leaving her fall back to the chair. Finally letting her breathe freely. Yoongi sat back to his chair, collecting himself and his three peace suit he wears today.
“Loss of words, innit?” He chuckled.
.
.
.
.
coming soon CHAPTER I
Tumblr media
©pennyellee. please do not repost
disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.
taglist: @chaoticpuff17 @honsoolgloss
583 notes · View notes
elvensorceress · 1 month
Text
wip wednesday
tagged by @hoodie-buck @exhuastedpigeon @eddiebabygirldiaz @wikiangela @disasterbuckdiaz @diazsdimples @tizniz @heartshapedvows @theotherbuckley be sure to read their lovely snippets! 💕 tagging @spotsandsocks @shortsighted-owl @hippolotamus @messyhairdiaz @rogerzsteven @monsterrae1 @loveyouanyway @bekkachaos @daffi-990 @wh0re-behavi0r @eddiediazisascorpio @evanbegins @confetti-cupcake if you want to share anything 💕 More Unless because I WILL finish this monster. I WILL.
Eddie leans down, but only a little because his son is already ridiculously tall, and kisses Chris’ forehead. “You know you’re my favorite, right?” 
Chris rolls his eyes but grins. “Buck can be your favorite, too. I know he is.”
“It’s different. You both are. But you are always first. He thinks so, too. You’re our son. We love you more than anything.”
The smile fades a little and then disappears as quickly as it appeared. “He’s going to stay with us, right? He’s not going to leave?” 
Why is it always Chris who can so effectively drive a knife through Eddie’s chest with the way he’s suffered and lost and been in pain? Chris never should have had to experience so much pain. “Yes, Chris. He’s going to stay with us.” 
Chris gives him that pointed, very Shannon look that twists the knife so well. He sounds fragile and so much closer to being the heartbroken six year old who missed his mom than he is to being the teenage survivor that he is. “Promise?” 
He can’t promise that. Eddie can’t even say he believes it himself all the way. Why wouldn’t he fuck up and lose the best thing that’s ever happened to them? Why wouldn’t Buck get tired or fed up and leave Eddie? 
Eddie’s not enough for him. 
“I promise Buck is never going to leave you, okay?” Eddie tells him and it has to be enough. “You’ll always have him. He’s not going to stop being your dad for any reason.” 
Chris just looks at him with unending sorrow and eyes full of tears. “What about you? You need Buck, too. I know you do. He’s also your favorite and your ‘more than anything’ and he’s both of ours and I don’t want him to leave you either. I know how sad you were, Dad. I know you were. You’re not the same without him. You need him. We both need him. I don’t want you to be sad like that ever. I don’t want to— I don’t want to lose Buck like we lost Mom. He’s my dad and you love him and I don’t want to do that again. We can’t do that again.”
Jesus Christ. Can he have a chance to not be stabbed through the heart, thanks? 
“Chris—” What the fuck does Eddie even say? “Buck will always be my friend. Even if we don’t— even if—” 
He can’t breathe. He can’t. There’s no air. 
He has to swallow and get it together. It’s fine. He’s fine. The mere thought of having to break up is not going to make him panic. The thought of Chris losing another parent cannot make him panic either. 
It’s just— it’s not great. The whole idea of losing Buck is awful and he hates it and doesn’t want to even think such a thing let alone talk about it. 
But he has to say something. He has to reassure Chris. He blinks back his own tears and he can do this. They’ll figure it out. It’ll be okay. It has to. “If dating him doesn’t work out, Buck and I will still be friends.” 
They will be. Their relationship is so much more than dating and kissing and being in love. It’s strong enough to survive anything. It would be awful and Eddie honestly doesn’t know if he’d ever stop being in love with him even if they had to face the horrible reality of a divorce. How could his heart ever stop wanting Buck? But they would find a way to be friends. 
They might not be able to have a marriage, but they have to be in each other’s lives. That is nonnegotiable. They’d figure it out. 
“And he’d still be your dad,” Eddie adds. “None of that would change.”
Chris sniffs and still frowns. But he tries to at least look like he buys it. “He wouldn’t live here with us though.”
“No, probably not. But in a few years, you won’t want to live here either. You’ll want to go to college or get some fancy job or maybe you’ll travel, but you’ll have your own life to live wherever you want and do whatever you want. You won’t be here either.” 
It was supposed to be comforting, but it only makes Chris’ tears overflow. He goes back to hugging Eddie as tightly as possible and trying to stifle the way he cries.
Eddie simply hugs him in return and wishes he could banish away all his pain and anguish. But he doesn’t know how they would make it through losing Buck either. They would. They would have to. They have each other. 
But Buck is missing pieces and filled in needs and worlds of love and support for both of them. Eddie doesn’t know how they’d keep going if all of that is ripped away. They would, but. How? 
One step forward, one more breath. That’s all you can ever do. That’s what Bobby and Athena told him before. That’s all anyone can do. 
Eddie closes his eyes tightly and has to shut it off and he just needs to comfort his son. He can do that. He just needs to protect and love his son. 
After a tiny second of quiet, there’s movement at the doorway to the kitchen. And then Buck is wrapping around them both. Until they’re holding Chris between them while also gripping each other. 
They’ve all been through so much loss, so much trauma, why wouldn’t the scariest, most horrible nightmare imaginable be the thought of losing each other and their little family? 
Buck kisses them both, Chris on the side of his head and Eddie on his cheek, and he whispers promises of infallible, irrevocable love. Because he’s nothing if not his unfailing heart. 
104 notes · View notes
Text
ñuhus prūmȳs (my heart) │ Chapter 11 PREVIEW
terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!
Hey, all! I'm around 3000 words into the latest chapter - I know it's a little early for a preview, as I've still got PLENTY left to write for this one, but because it's been so long I figured I'd give you guys a little look at the first part of my draft. I'm honestly unsure when this one will be ready, so no idea re: expected post time/date. Remember, I have a progress bar on my desktop blog that I update regularly! Stay tuned, and thank you so much for the patience!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
You are startled awake by the sound of crying.
Jolting up before your mind truly registers the sound, it takes you a moment to remember why it is that you have roused. You rub your eyes and yawn, peering to the side as the wailing multiplies, two thready, discordant pitches begging for someone, anyone to notice.
Daemon groans beside you.
“Fucking hells.” His voice is muffled by the pillow, timbre lacking the heat his words imply. “We were just up, weren’t we?”
You reach out to whack him for the profanity, arm striking across the span of his back. He grunts with the impact.
“I will take your daughter,” you mutter, already untangling yourself from the sheets, “but your son also begs for attention.”
“Fussy thing,” he mumbles, rolling from the bed behind you.
You smile. It is true that Aelys is the more demanding of the pair, and you are certain it is her tinny squalling that dragged you from unconsciousness in the first place. You ache with every step, your body still experiencing the shock of forcing your babes out, but it is difficult to resent the pain when your eyes alight on the pair of pale-haired miracles fussing in the cradle.
Your thought had been correct, indeed. While Rhaenar’s cries quieten at the brush of your fingers across his cheek, your daughter only sobs harder at the contact. In the weak light of early dawn, her flushed face and stubborn frown are easy to see, wrinkled features contorting in as furious an expression as an infant less than a sennight old can possibly muster. Her knees jerk against her wrappings, the only part of her that can gain any traction within the firm swaddle you have placed her in.
“Rhovus riñus,” you coo, lifting her up and carefully manoeuvring her into your arms. Loud girl, you call her, gently settling her fragile head in the crook of your elbow. Mind her neck, mind her neck,you think, a whisper repeating itself over and over again. It is overly cautious of you, perhaps, but you do not wish to inadvertently harm your babe. “Skorio syt ñāqī hīghā?” Why are you screaming at sunrise?
Her lashes flutter and she cranes toward the sound of your speech, lip quivering. Though you know she cannot see yet, you swear her gaze is trained on you, muzzy and unfocused as it must be. She kicks again at the feel of your thumb brushing over her pout, angry soft breaths puffing from tiny lungs. That raw, wrenching feeling of violent love wells up as it does each time you behold these lives you have made, bringing with it the urge to bar the entrances and dash the eyes from the skulls of all those who dare to look upon your little ones.
“Kesrio syt kepo ēdrunon iotāpteks daor,” Daemon grumbles, the warmth of his body spreading into yours as his hands fall to the cradle on either side of you, bracketing you in. Because she has no respect for her kepa’s rest. He punctuates the statement with a drowsed, aimless press of lips to your temple, sliding down to your cheekbone as he sets his chin to your shoulder and peers down at the troublemaker in your arms. “Vȳs zȳhom kiragon jaelza, hm?” She wants the world to wake when she does, hm?
You are sure this is a quality inherited from your uncle. From all accounts, you had been naught but a quiet, pleasant infant, scarcely to be heard unless in great need of the necessities for survival. It entertains you greatly to muse upon Daemon’s penchant for commotion being passed to his daughter, your daughter. Already she shows the signs of such a fate.
“She hungry?” His palm spans the circumference of her scalp and then some, a gentle ruffling of snow-fuzzed skin – your colouring, his colouring – that coaxes a vexed scrunch and whine from your girl.
“No,” you respond, passing your thumb back over her mouth. She does not attempt to suckle at them. “Just wanting her mama and papa, I think.”
There must be something soporific about the hum of mother and father conversing, for by now Aelys’s haranguing has petered off to a manageable grizzle. She is clearly unhappy with her present state, though you are glad she has chosen not to be quite so combative about it.
Rhaenar’s whimpers begin anew below you.
“Oh, kepus…” you begin, but you did not need to. Daemon readily slides around you and plucks the babe from the cradle with a deftness borne of familiarity. You do not know if it unnerves or reassures you that you yourself had helped shape this skill, once a newborn niece to the budding Rogue Prince.
“Kesīr māz��s, ñuhus trēsys,” he sighs, cupping the back of your son’s head to his shoulder with a hand propping him up under the rear. Come here, my son.
He sways slowly, and you can only watch spellbound as the motion silences the little boy entirely. Your husband’s lips curve in that gentle, aching countenance reserved for only the quietest, most unguarded moments, his nose brushing along the slope of Rhaenar’s skull.
“Jeva idañe pelrar issa,” he continues, glancing at you impishly. “Vali hēnkirī mazumbiti.” Your sister is a menace. Us men have to stick together.
“Lies. Lies and slander, my darling,” you declare to your daughter, spinning on your heel to convey her imperiously to the bed.
Your jesting march reaches a quick and abrupt halt as the cramping of your belly reminds you why it is that you are confined to your chambers for the time being. You stop, waiting for the discomfort to pass, clutching the heft of your babe to you tightly enough that she squawks with the indignity of it.
“Give her to me,” Daemon says firmly, hand rubbing soothingly at your waist. “Get back under the covers.”
“But you have–”
“I can bloody well hold two babes, you know,” he insists, levying an expression of utmost stubbornness your way. “You, however, shouldn’t even be up. You’ve scarcely begun to heal after shoving them both from your cu–”
“Language,” you hiss, passing Aelys into the care of your uncle so that you may hobble back to your safe haven. It is still warm beneath the blankets, and you gratefully press your chilled feet into the temperate spaces so as to regain some measure of sensation in your toes. “I wish you would not use foul words in front of them,” you chide half-heartedly, rearranging the pillows on either side of you with unhurried pace. If you move too fast, a fresh bout of soreness will plague you. “If the first thing they say is something horrid they have learned from you…”
“… then they’ll prove themselves adept pupils, won’t they?” Daemon finishes with a smirk, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
You stretch forth to take your daughter back, propping her on your lap and unbinding the cloth that keeps her so unhappily restrained. Her little arms lift as though in jubilation the very instant she is free, the knot of frustration between her translucent brows smoothing and her legs curling up in a manner much like the pose she had decided was most comfortable while still in your womb.
“Besides, we’ve a while until that becomes a problem,” your husband adds, though you are only partly listening, utterly engrossed in the clench and unclench of her small fists as you shift her, swaddling cloths and all, to one arm. “Not as though they’re performing dramatic orations any time soon.”
You do not get the chance to scold him yet again for the profanity, for your other arm is promptly occupied by your son. The movement startles him but briefly; he squeaks with the jolt of sudden movement and promptly curls into the heat of your skin emanating through your shift, smacking sleepy lips and wiggling his feet against your belly before dropping into slumber.
Rhaenar is a different sort of creature to his sister, you have found. Whether it be that he allows her to make complaints vociferously enough for them both or that he simply does not have any, he is a solemn thing, content enough to while away the hours slumbering or blinking new eyes up at the world, aimless, as though deep in thought. He looks a little like an old man, you think to yourself, charmed by the frowning pucker that forms on his dreaming face. The peace in his darling visage is such that you feel your own lids droop, the comforting weight of happy babes lulling you quicker than any draught or brew could.
Aelys is fire and blood and retribution, the very image of her father. But Rhaenar… he is you, calm and introspective, the cool that acts as balm to the stinging burn of tempestuousness. Nothing pleases you more than to have given new life in equal measure, to have given Daemon both a child he may love for those traits he admires in you and another in whom he may see his own reflection – in whom he may learn to love the parts of himself that he has so long despised.
Of course – being her father’s daughter – Aelys is not one to stay still and silent for too long. Rhaenar begins to stir when she whines, twisting uncoordinated limbs and kicking her heels into his.
“Go back to sleep with our boy, hm?” Daemon leans down first to brush a kiss on Rhaenar’s velvety crown, then up to your lips, his smokeleatherspice scent filling your nostrils and his calloused palm etching tender along your jaw. “I’ll take this one for a time,” he says against your mouth, drawing back to lift Aelys from you with feigned resignation. He tuts down at her with an aching sort of softness as she complains further, striking out at his proffered finger. “Perhaps her fit will abate with some fresh air.”
“Do not go far,” you mumble with eyes already closing, turning to your side to face your son, your firstborn. The babe does not even notice as you make yourself comfortable, drawing him ever closer so that you can feel the line of him against you, small head to tiny toes.
Daemon grunts an affirmative. He would not risk Rhaenar toppling from the bed or being smothered. The last thing you register before sleep claims you entirely is the sound of his low hum, fading with each step he takes toward the balcony.
“Brand new to the world, young madam, and already tormenting your brother? A little dragon, that’s what you are…”
366 notes · View notes
pascalslvt · 7 months
Text
Tangled Alliances
Summary: When faced with sickness in your community in an already post-apocalyptic world, it is up to the strained professional partnership of you and Joel Miller to embark in a perilous and difficult journey in order to retrieve life-saving medicine. With your destinies intertwined, shrouded in tension, you confront the unforgiving challenges of your environment together, gradually forming an unexpected bond. Will that be enough?
Tumblr media
Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader, f/m
rating: 18+, minors dni
series warnings:, pre!ellie, during outbreak, set in TLOU 2022, age gap (28 & 52), swearing, mentions of violence, also actual violence, mentions of sickness, heavy angst...., fluff, trial & tribulations, severe weather, a lot of fucking animosity and hostility, enemies to lovers ???, infected people, tension...TENSION!!!, bickering, copious amounts of alcohol, inebriation, y'all don't get along...but y'all also have to, smut!!!!...a semi-slow burn, anxiety, exhaustion, NO USE OF Y/N.
chapter warnings: Mentions of backstory (involving the death of readers parents), bickering, bad langauge, tess is mother, mentions of sickness and death, aclohol, sharing a tent (wink wink), cheeky morning wood, just a sprinkle of smut if you squint its not really smutty but not completley clean, bad luck ??, tension. lots of it, intrusive improper thoughts.
word count ≈ 8,3k Estimated reading time: 37 minutes, 4 seconds (225 wpm)
a/n: This is the first part of a series i am writing!! I haven't actually written fanfiction since i was like...15, so be very very kind and gentle and patient with me because i am literally just a girl.....i have dusted off the cobwebs & busted my writing out of its retirement to create a story to quench my current joel miller obession. This storyline is actually inspired by a dream i recently had and i am very excited to reeeeally get into the series as i have a lot of plans that i cannot share with you right now.... also sorry if the tags are wierd i gennuinely have no idea what the fuck to write. Part two will come pretty shortly (don't get used to it) because after i awoke from the dream i literally wrote almost 20k words in one sitting so im splitting it up and giving this one some time to see if people are even interested in reading more...please enjoy!!!!!!
Part One: Hostile Beginnings
You were nearly seven years old when the outbreak started. To you, the world crumbled before your feet in what seemed like an instant - shattering the very ground on which you stood. One day after school, you saw your own mother's jugular be ripped straight out of her neck from the mouth of your neighbor, an old and fragile woman who used to babysit you from time to time. Before running away in fear, you saw your mother bleed out, right there on the lawn you used to play in. You never saw your father that day, and neither did you ever again. You always accepted that your father's fate was that he most likely died in that little cubicle he worked in. Or that he now spends the rest of his life infected. Whichever the case, it doesn’t really matter to you, you don’t think about him anymore. 
You got away with your life by the skin of your teeth that day. That little girl ran until her tiny legs could carry her no more. Your English teacher, Theresa, had found you in a ditch, sobbing. You had been wearing the same outfit you did that day in class, a purple shirt with a flower on it, along with some blue pants. Theresa didn't have the heart to leave the little girl behind, so she took you under her wing.
Throughout the years, Therese - or ‘Tess’ as you liked to call her - taught you how to survive this very unfortunate world disaster. While you were still young, she taught you to crawl into small holes to retrieve food or water, and to hide whenever you felt something was wrong. She taught you to trust your instincts. She taught you to be resilient. Resourceful. In later years, you were taught to use a gun, to mend knifes, to defend yourself - how to navigate this apocalypse safely. 
When you got older, Tess made use of you in her line of work. Smuggling. And you were good  
This is how you got to know the man named Joel Miller. A cynical, gruff man of very few words. But, he always got the job done. You and Joel didn’t interact much. Now that you think about it, you hadn’t met him more than.. what? 5 times before today? even less so had you spoken with him. Tess didn’t want you to work alongside Joel as she believed his methods could sometimes be…taking unnecessary risks. He could sometimes be reckless. And you were not a risk she was willing to take. Not yet.
Ever since finding that shattered little girl all those years ago, Tess always felt an unwavering, deep sense of responsibility to keep you safe. She owed it to you, and she owed it to your parents. You were now a full-grown woman, 28 years old - and Tess knew you had a strong head on her shoulders. With the years, the fierce overprotective nature gradually softened. She gradually unfolded her wings of trust, and sent you out on more and more jobs. But, it wasn’t until recently that she felt comfortable enough to let you work with Joel. Nothing big, none spanning more than a day or three. To her dismay (but yet also relief), the two of you ended up ultimately proving to be an incredibly efficient team. However, the two of you could not get along even if your very life depended on it. 
It was a silent alliance. It had to be. Otherwise, you’d end up getting on each other's nerves and damn near kill one another. Joel always made it incredibly clear that you weren’t friends - he wasn’t there for pleasantries, he was there to finish a job. Not that you objected. The less condescending shit you had to hear him say, the better. You didn’t care much, either way. You were a professional - after all, you had done this since you were a child. This was your reality. You never had much choice.
Lately, a lot of people in your community have fallen very, very sick. It is some sort of pulmonary bacterial infection that starts off with a fever, and will leave you coughing up blood a couple of months later. A slow killer, but a killer nonetheless. Some of the older folk have already started dying.
“No, absolutely not, Valerie” you heard Tess’s voice come from downstairs. You just happened to walk past to hear it. “It’s way too risky”. These words piqued your interest. “She is our best option, and you damn well know that” Valerie, a woman you live and work with says, a stern undertone in her voice. You slowly walks towards them, walking down the stairs without making a creak, eavesdropping.
“This would take months to complete..” Tess sighs, adding in, “We don’t even know if we have that kind of time, folk’ are already dyin’. We don't even have no idea how heavily surveilled it is”
“Do we have a choice? We’ll run out of our own supply within a month if we’re lucky. They will all die” 
Tess is quiet, you could almost hear her thinking if you listened hard enough. You enter the room, “What’s going on?” you ask 
Tess stands still and shares a look with Valerie before looking at you, sighing and crossing her arms. “We have received intel that there is a massive supply of vital medical equipment as well as medication, medication that we need. It’s In a settlement controlled by some sort of… faction. They call themselves the ‘reclaimers’. Nasty bunch. We need the medication, and well.. If our sources are correct, which they haven't failed us before, it’d be enough to not only cure the folk round here; but we could also sell for an enormous profit. We could make a lot of money. Maybe buy a new truck. Supplies. Guns….”
“I’m in.” you say, without hesitation, cutting her off. Tess shakes her head, she opens her mouth to speak, but you interrupt her before she can “I can manage myself, you made sure of that.”
Valerie looks at Tess with a ‘I told you so’ look. “You’d have to walk for, probably, months on end just to get there and back. They’re west, somewhere in Montana, located deep into the forest. You have never been on a mission that lengthy, and it's fucking cold as shit - and it's only going to get worse” 
“What’s our other option here? Let people die?” you ask, and pause. They stay silent. “I wouldn’t accept if I didn’t know I was capable of handling something like this, Tess….”
You look at each other for a long time. She knits her eyebrows together, somberly, and shakes her head. She doesn't know if she can let you do anything like this. Not because she doubts your ability - rather, she cannot get herself to put you in that type of danger.
“You heard the woman…” Valerie says smugly. 
“Fine”. Tess says, slightly annoyed and probably feeling very protective. “I need to stay here and take care of some things, keep track of the radio and such.. Valerie needs to tend to the people here. It…It would be you and Joel.” 
This takes you slightly aback. On one hand, even though Tess might think his methods are unconventional - she trusts him, and you trust her. Besides, you have worked professionally very well before and always get the job done. But on the other hand…it’s Joel fucking Miller. 
“Months on a job with Joel Miller? Fuck me…” You scoff. Tess’s lips curl into a slight smile evidently trying to hold back her laughter. She knows the kind of disdain you feel for him. 
“There’s no one else I’d trust to send you away with on a mission like this. Except for me, of course” Tess says, leaning against a wall. “Are you still in, even if it’s him?” “Well.. i don’t really have a choice now, do i?” you say, and they chuckle. “When would we leave?”
Tess pauses. “You’d have to leave tomorrow” she studies your demeanor, waiting for you to opt out. Hoping in a sick, twisted way that you would - since that would mean that you’d be safe. You don’t hesitate. “He doesn’t know…yet. But, I know him. He would not turn this job down. Besides, he owes us too much, he can’t” 
You nod. “Well…he’ll probably be as pleased with working with me as I am with him” you say, rolling your eyes. 
“It’s about time the two of you get over that little feud of yours” Valerie interjects, you send her a warning look 
“Ain’t my fault he’s fucking unbearable” You point at her, gesticulating your annoyance already brewing by the mere thought of him. She shrugs. 
“I’ll call him on the radio - let him know.” Tess says. 
--
“With her?!” You hear Joel’s voice boom down from the hallway, annoyance evident on his voice. ‘yup. i was right’ You think to yourself, chuckling as you’re eavesdropping from the other room. They start start walking towards the kitchen, where you are stood. When he sees you, he nearly rolls his eyes, stopping in his tracks. “Well. Looks like we’ll be partners.”
You smile tight-lipped, nodding and holding back an eye roll of your own - trying your best to be civil. “Seems that way”
“We leave at 8. ‘Expect you to be ready by 7 forty-five” He commands. You nod at his instructions. ‘One minute of a partnership, and he has already taken the leading role. Fucking jackass.’ you think to yourself. “Better get some rest”
“Yeah, no kidding…” You mumble to yourself, sneering. He gives you a warning look. One that says ‘don’t start’.
Knowing there’s no point in furthering this conversation as tensions are already high, and you have months to argue with him, you turn to walk “I’ll go pack then” You announce, turning around.
“And try not to piss me off” Joel says loudly as you walk away. You just hold up your middle finger and leave the room. “Real mature!” He scoffs as he looks at Tess with a look that says ‘can you believe her?’, she just shrugs. 
That night you packed all that you would need - supplies, food, weapons, a tent…the everyday outing must haves in the midst of an active apocalypse, also…for the cold. Of course, you are not a total stranger to it, living here in Boston, but you also know that the cold here won't compare to the temperatures you are about to face - as you know walking through the north of the US in late autumn, early winter will not be an easy feat - and in a little tent, at that. It was estimated you would be gone for about a couple of months, at least - which is by far the longest job you’d ever been on. But, it was essential. 
That morning you wake up particularly early, to make it a point not to be late. Wouldn’t want to give Joel the satisfaction of berating you. You can already feel yourself wanting to spite him. Tess helped you carry your things down, not that you needed help, rather she felt bad for sending you to do something like this. Capable or not, she had a …. Somewhat motherly instinct for you. She also gave you the map with the places you’re headed, where you’re meeting the informants, where the safehouses are located and so on - and gave you the same rundown as she did for Joel, keeping the both of you informed. You are now stood in the kitchen, with your things in your arms. She paused and looked at you, having trouble finding the words, feeling herself getting choked up by the reality of the situation. Before you can diffuse the fears you see swirling in her head, she holds you tight. “You be real careful of yourself, got it?” 
“Yes m’am.” You say, voice slightly strained by the suffocating tight hold she has around you. She lets go of you, and cups one side of your face with her hand, and smiles with glassy eyes. She shakes her head as she takes a step back, as if to snap out of the sentimentality. 
“Now go and get that medicine.” she nods, trying to sound emotionless and strong. You nod and turn to walk out the building. “Oh, and… give him a tough time. Joel, I mean” She laughs
“You know I will” You wink, as you finally leave the house. Tess stands there with an awful feeling inside the deepest parts of her. She was meant to be the one to protect you, and here she is; sending you off to a mission where she doesn’t even know the magnitude of the threat it poses to your life. But, it’s too late now. Way too many people are depending on you. 
You continue walking out, as you lean against the truck parked outside. You’re not going to drive far with it, only 10-12 hours or so. They wanted to transport it somewhere else to sell (since the ongoing surge of illness has eaten away at your community fund), and since it was on the way Tess figured it would not hurt to cut down the length of the trip just a little bit. You stand there for a while, until you check your clock: ‘7:46am’. You snigger by yourself. Without noticing, Joel was walking towards you, gear in hand
“Right in time, for once” He mumbles. 
“You’re the one who is late, Joel” You correctly point out. 
“It’s one minute, stop yappin’” He says, walking over to the truck, throwing his stuff into it and getting into the driver's seat, slamming the door. What a cheerful man. 
You throw your bag into the car “I don’t understand why you’re the one driving” you mutter, getting into the passenger seat
“You know exactly why. Now shut it before I rip off ‘ya jaw and shove it up ‘ya ass.” He says, matter-of-factly, putting the keys in the ignition, turning it and starting the engine, looking forward. 
“Ooh, very kinky, Joel” You say sarcastically, taunting him.
He puts his foot on the clutch, as he shifts the gear. “Keep talkin', and I'll leave ya here.” he says and starts driving. 
“If only I’d be so lucky…” You mutter silently, watching out of the window as he pulls out on the narrow road through the tall buildings, keeping away from the major roads as they are heavily used by FEDRA.
“I heard that” He said, pointing at his ear, eyes on the road. 
“I’m glad your hearing is working, old man. Gives us a bigger chance of survival” you chuckle
“Old man?” He asks, insulted by what you said. “I'll show ya old man if you don't shut the hell up.” 
You roll your eyes, and decide to sit this one out. You know it’s not worth bickering, as you have a long, long road ahead of the two of you. “That’s better” He said after a little while of silence. You roll your eyes once again, deciding with all your will and might not to respond with a snippy comment, as you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of giving him the reaction he so obviously is searching for.
You two drive for hours and hours without saying a word, sitting in the thick tension that is between the two of you. It wasn’t necessarily a comfortable silence, rather a silence that comfortably didn’t mean you had to talk to him. After 7 hours, you can start seeing the shift in the sky, the colors indicating the impending sunset that's occurring. 
“Maybe we should find somewhere to find shelter? Suns going down. “ You point out.
“I could work that out myself, thanks” He mutters. “We've still got a few hours left of daylight. Push on.”
“So I’m guessing your plan is that we sleep in the car?” You question, looking at him. He doesn’t leave his eyes from the road. 
“Yup.” he says. Well, you couldn’t think of any better plan, to be fair. A truck is not a bad place to sleep given the alternative. 
After about an hour or so, the car starts suddenly sputtering. “What the fuck?” Joel mumbles, as he quickly checks around the dashboard to see if there’s any indication as to what’s going on. You look over at him, quizzically. “Fuck!!” He shouts, hitting the steering wheel so hard that it honks, as the car comes to a halt. “That’s just…that’s just fucking great” He says, trying to restart the engine - to no avail. 
“So much for your plan on ‘pushing on’” you said, looking out at the quickly darkening sky, mocking him. He looks annoyed at you, as he gets out of the car, to check the hood. When he does, a light amount of smoke seeps out. 
Well, that sucks. But, you try to remind yourself that this truck was always going to be a temporary luxury, and you got 8 hours into the 12-hour trip. Oh well, more time with… Joel.. Sigh..
“Engines out” He grumbles, waving the smoke away from his face as he closes the hood again, standing and watching hopelessly at the car with one hand on his hip. “We’re not too far from the trucks drop off spot, guess we’ll have to walk the rest of the way.”
“So we just leave it here?” You ask
“Got a better idea? We’re in the middle of nowhere, nobody gonna steal it.” He answers. 
“It’s your head, miller…” You mutter. He chooses not to answer to your snark.   
“I say we still sleep in the car. It’s better than a tent.” 
You nod in agreement “In the middle of the road?” You ask, looking at an already annoyed Joel. He grimaces, whilst he mocks what you just said
“No, you idiot, we’ll have to push it” he stated, looking around the road to see a good spot, and ended up pointing at a spot by some trees a couple meters from the road. “And it ain't an easy feat. Let’s see if you got the strength to push a two tonne vehicle, little miss” 
You shrug. How bad can it be? Joel gets in the car and makes sure its gear is in neutral, as the both of you stand at the back of the car, starting to push. It takes some time, and Joel was right that it was, indeed, not an easy task. By the time you got the car by the trees you’re both catching your breath, Joel sweating profusely
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You say between breaths, holding your hands on your hips. He’s bent over in exhaustion. 
“Oh bite me” He hisses. You try not to laugh. “We’ll have to leave it here, try to radio Tess somewhere along the way, so they can pick it up - at least before someone steals it” 
You nod. It’s gotten dark, it’s time to sleep. So, you climb into the truck and start leaning back your seat to get as comfortable as you can. Joel does the same.
“So…” You say, breaking out the map. “We’ll have to recalibrate… it’ll be…what I'm guessing… 2 to 3 weeks to walk to our first meetup spot with the informants.” I sigh, already tired. 
Joel nods. “I'll carry ya if ya get tired” He teases, looking over at you as he lays back in his seat.
“Right back at you princess” You answer without a beat, changing the pins in the map, folding it back and lying on your side, away from Joel. He smirks at your answer. 
“Y’sure got a mouth on you” He says.
You roll your eyes as you close your eyes “night”, you mumble, ready to sleep. 
“G'night” he lies back on the seat and put his hat over his face before falling asleep.
--
The morning after, you wake up in a stir. The car was very cold, and the sun was just rising. You look around, and find that Joel is not in the car. You blink the sleep out of your eyes, and realize he’s popped the hood to check if there's any way to salvage this car. He sees you move around your head and peaks on the side of the hood
“g’morning, darlin’” he smirks. Is he more annoying than usual or is it because you just woke up? You can't decide. You furrow your eyebrows. He chuckles to himself at how displeased you seem to be awake. You were, after all, never a morning person. “We gotta get movin’”
“Yeah, yeah..” You mumble, getting out of the car to stretch and go to the backseat to collect all your things. Sleep still in your system, the two of you start walking along the road. After a while, you opt to walking through some hills, as Joel got more and more paranoid of meeting someone on the road. You walked for what must have been…14 hours, only taking a small break to eat something small that Tess had packed, sitting on two different places and not exchanging any words. The sun started setting, the sky turning an orange tinge.
“We better find shelter..come on” He said, looking around and seemingly found a spot not too far away - yet secluded enough to sleep for tonight. He increased his walking pace in a determined manner. You follow along not too far behind. Suddenly he stops dead in his steps. 
“Jesus fucking Christ” He whispered to himself, anger and frustration very, very evident in his voice
“What?” You ask, eyeing him a bit worried about his reaction.
“God fucking damn it” He whispers to himself “Dammit - I forgot my tent. We'll have ta sleep in the open. Hope you ain't afraid of the dark…” 
“Speak for yourself. I brought mine. I ain’t sharing.” You say, resuming your steps. 
“You're a real treat to travel with you know that.” He says, looking at you stood still, frozen by his own frustration as he is kicking himself for forgetting that damn bag.  
“I bet I am!” you yell, as you have managed to walk a bit further along than he has. He sulks as he continues walking. 
You both decide on a safe spot to make a shelter. Joel and you start instinctively preparing to make a fire and collecting anything that will burn. To his dismay, a light downpour of snowflakes suddenly fall from the sky. You look up and laugh at the sheer irony of the situation, the frustration of the day just piling onto Joel. And it’s only the first day at that. “Ain’t that a bitch, huh, Miller?” 
“Gotta be fucking kidding me” He groans. “That’s just great” 
The two of you start a fire, and put two cans of soup on it for dinner. He is sitting against a rock, drinking whiskey, looking as happy as you could in his situation (spoiler alert, he is sulking). You are putting up your tent, which you dutifully brought (unlike Joel) and you pause as you catch a glimpse of the sad man who seems to be very stressed with the current predicament he has found himself in. He is visibly freezing his ass off. You feel strangely bad. He can't sleep in this cold…
“Look, miller” you pause, he looks at you. “You’re going to die in this cold. Let’s just share tents. Ain’t nun weird.”
He scoffs, and looks back at the fire, taking a sip of the whiskey “I'm good”  
You sigh. “Stop being such a fucking Stoic and get over yourself. If you share your whiskey, I’ll share my tent” you say. Maybe by making a deal out of it, it’ll be easier for him to accept your help, you thought. 
He thinks for a while. He weighs out his options, as if there is not only one he can realistically go with - which is to accept your help. “Fine. Half-and-half?”
You nod, somewhat happy that he accepted, yet less happy of the reality - which was that you have to share a tent tonight. “Half and half” You repeat, nodding. You walk towards him and sit next to him. 
He gets another cup from his bag and fills it with his cheap, illegally brewed scotch, and passes it to you. “That’ll warm us up nicely” He said. It tastes like piss and firewood.
“Aye” You say. “How did you manage to remember bringing your whiskey, and not your tent?” You ask, with a slight hint of laughter to your voice. 
He huffed. “Priorities” He smirked, turning to you. 
“Well. I hope you have brought enough to maintain your end of the deal” you say, taking a sip. He silently lifts his bag, emitting a number of clinking noises, entailing he has probably got enough to last him weeks. Maybe a week now that you are involved. 
“Seems like an unnecessarily heavy weight to carry” you remark, taking a sip of the strong liquid. 
He stays silent for a while. “You’ll understand it soon enough” is all he says. Not knowing what he meant, neither caring all too much, you shrug and kept drinking aside each other in the dark silence. You eat the soup when it’s done, too. You pulled your legs to your chest to maintain more warmth, as it feels as though its getting colder by the minute, a few stray snowflakes falling onto the ground and quickly melting away. 
“Didn’t think you were so damn sensitive to the cold” he suddenly said.
“M’not, it’s fucking freezing” you say, breathing out. 
“Don't think I don’t see you shivering, princess” he says, with a sly smirk on his mouth
“Right back at you, princess” You say, mocking the way he said it to you. “Don’t fucking call me that ever fucking again, by the way”
“Someone’s a tad touchy, ain’t they?” He laughs, taking a swig from his whiskey
“Shut up, Miller” 
“Why? M’igetting on your nerves?” he asks, sarcasm swelling in his voice.
“Always have been” You quickly retort. 
“I’d say it’s mutual” 
You nod, as you kept drinking. The whiskey has become a lubrication for the regular anguish you’ve felt in the presence of Joel. Now you felt no more than subtly irritated. The drunker you got, the happier you were of the deal you did with him. You kept drinking in silence, until you’ve drained about a quarter of the bottle - which might seem like a little, unless you calculate the amount of food you’ve ingested compared to the whiskey you’ve drank. Your cup is, once again, empty - and you guide the cup towards Joel, who dutifully fills it with more. 
“Here ya go, princess” he says sheepishly, and you turn to give him a warning look
“I’m serious Joel, I’ll knock the teeth right out of your mouth if you keep calling me that.” You say, rather aggressively. 
“I’d like to see you try” He snorts out. 
You decide not to answer, as he is clearly getting a rise out of antagonizing you. You roll your eyes and chug the rest of your cup. So did, Joel.
He, again, filled your cup. “You seem happy I brought the whiskey. Like you could use some of it” He comments
“No shit. I’ve got two to three months on a mission with you. And it’s only the second night” you  shrug. “Not to mention that we have to share tents…”
“I ain't that bad” He chuckles. 
“You’re drunk” you add. 
“So are you” he quickly responds.
You nod, and sit in silence for a while - both, quite drunk. “I’m fucking tired. You tired?” 
You feel a bit loopy from all the alcohol, but stand up and agree, walking over to your tent. The closer you get to the tent, the more you realize just how small it really is. I mean, it’s small for just one person, imagine how cramped it is for two? Surely, the both of you cannot fit in there - what the hell have you gotten yourself into? You think to yourself. 
Joel walks slowly towards the tent as he watches you look into the tent, worriedly. He looks himself, and the same thought passing your mind right now has suddenly dawned upon his, “Oh, boy….” he mumbled
“Yeah, I know.”. You are both stood there, looking, for a while - until you initiate and climb into the tent, and lie down on the right side - making as much space for Joel’s body as you can. 
“This ain't gonna be comfortable, not one bit...” he says, as he lies down next to you in the tent, in a clumsy and stale motion. 
Your bodies are uncomfortably pressing together, without there being enough room to move away, nor was there to shuffle to a more spacious yet also non compromising position. You tried lying back to back, as it seemed the natural and least intimate way to lie next to one another, thus facing away from one another. Still then, there wasn’t enough space to spare personal space - not in this tent. 
“God this sucks.” you mutter from one side. 
“You got that right.” He answers from the other. 
You groan, as you try to get comfortable, nudging your elbow into his back in the process. He huffs out of pain. “You're making it worse.”
“Shut up. I’m just trying to get comfortable” You say, feeling an unrest in your body - one that the whiskey was not strong enough to numb. 
“So am I” He gets more irritated as you keep nudging into him. 
Finally, you settled to lie on your side, facing away from Joel. He takes the newly found empty space and lies with his arms against your back. You groan. “Your arms are hurting my back”  he does not seem to care, and stays silent. You finally give into defeat, as the mixture of the sleepiness and alcohol slowly seems to overtake your body and you both fall asleep.
Somewhere at night, you had rolled over. Joel was very warm, so naturally, subconsciously, you drifted closer to the source. With your face against his chest, he was softly awoken by the warm breaths coming out of your mouth, in small snores. He looked down, and saw you sleeping peacefully, right against him. He lied completely still, not sure if he should wake you up. The snores were not loud enough to keep him up, so he presumed that is the price he’ll have to pay to sleep somewhere warm tonight, so he tried closing his eyes and fall back asleep, repeating in his head not to look anymore at you - and just go to sleep. 
Suddenly you wake up, the morning after, head plastered against Joel’s chest, with his arm slung around your body, and your arm slung over his shoulder. It felt comfortable and warm….strangely.. Good lying like that, but you didn’t know how to react. It was utterly intimate and had crossed the border to cuddling very long ago.  And oh god…is that your saliva on his shirt? Did you drool on his chest?! You were so close to him that you could smell the stench of whiskey on his breath, no less your own bouncing from his chest and back to your nostrils. You were basically on second base with the man, without ever remembering if you fell asleep that way or if you had done it in your sleep. I mean hell, you barely remember getting into the damned tent…’we must’ve gotten very drunk’ you thought to yourself. You must’ve rolled over and not thought about it.
You lie frozen, unsure what to do in this situation. If you jerk too much, you’ll wake him - but if you don’t move… he’ll see what you are seeing as of right now - which is you two in an extremely compromising situation. Maybe you could turn around? But then it would border spooning…curse this god-damn tent! 
As if awoken by your thoughts, Joel’s body moves as if he’s waking up - and in a hasty and rushed move, he jerks his arm away from you - as if he just went through the same train of thoughts you did when you woke up. “What the fuck” He groaned, looking at you in an.. Almost disturbed manner. 
“Fuck.. Uh, mornin’..” You peep out, embarrassed. Kicking yourself for not acting faster before he woke.
“Morning” he says in a rushed voice as he looks around, slightly panicked. None of you know what to say, an awkward silence hanging over you. He is quick to peel away from you to climb out of the tent. “We gotta get going” he announced.
“Y-yeah” You say, sitting still in the tent, processing the situation. When you have mustered enough strength, you crawl out of the tent too - stretching as you stand up. You pack up and walk alongside each other in silence, might as well have been miles apart. The weight of your unspoken closeness from the previous night's ‘cuddling’ lingers in the air, you were both a bit thrown off, sharing the occasional glances at each other, unsure of how to address what had happened, or whether it was better left unspoken. There wasn’t much to say, to be honest. I mean, what was there to say? 
You got quite accustomed to the silence, to hearing nothing but the sound of your footsteps, wet against the humid grass. You’d think that walking for hours on end without the distraction of conversation would be something that would bother you, it proved to do the opposite. Without it, It was as if the world around you had muted its colors and sounds, leaving only the barest minimum of sensory input - which made time somewhat fly by. The aching in your feet and legs slipped to the back of your mind. You wondered if Joel was quiet because he was doing the same. 
You also wondered what his thoughts were regarding this morning, and how you woke up. You didn’t talk about it, that’s obvious enough…but, what was he thinking about? Maybe he didn’t think about it at all - it was, after all, innocent, you rationalized. Was he also trying to decipher the mixed emotions you were feeling without giving them too much weight - since that might make them real, after all? You can’t deny just how safe and comfortable you felt, regardless of who it was. 
Joel spotted you glancing at him here and there, he was equally aware of the tension. He, too, couldn't shake off the memory; He couldn’t help but to replay the events of last night in his mind, wondering if it was merely a product of shared body heat or something deeper. I mean, he could have just pushed you away…yet the unexpected warmth of your body against his, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you slept, your breath hot against his chest.. It had been an intimate moment, and he couldn’t help but…enjoy it. However, he was as stubborn as ever, unwilling to broach the topic nor delve into the act itself. Instead, he focused on the mission at hand, pushing the awkwardness aside, shaking his head, not wanting to think too much of it either.  
As you continued on the journey, the trees began to thin out, and you found yourself standing at the edge of a clearing, the sun going down behind a mountain up ahead. You looked at Joel, who seemingly had the same thought you did - it was time to find shelter. He took the map out of his bag and looked around. “We aren’t too far away from a safe house” he grumbled.
You nodded, taking out a map of your own, trying to help him in the search of said safe house. As you slowly approach the road leading to the building the weather began to change. Dark clouds gather in the sky, and the first few raindrops fall, pelting against your clothes. The urgency of getting under a roof became more apparent, so you quickened your pace. 
Your breaths are visible in the cold, damp air, and the water has seemingly seeped into your clothes - leaving you feel colder and heavier. The cold made your thoughts kept circling back to the tent. The unexpected warmth of Joel's body against yours.. ‘God damn it. Get a grip. it's not even day four, and you're losing your mind.’ You thought to yourself. 
Finally, you reached the safe house, which wasn’t what either of you had hoped for. It was an abandoned decrepit building, a relic of the world before the outbreak, with a roof that had seen better days. It was a stone building, partially hidden away by the tall unkept grass surrounding it, as well as tall trees huddling around it, vines growing on the walls. It was probably old 20 years ago, let alone now… The building was leaking from the roof and had gaping holes in the walls - making the shelter far from ideal. It offered some protection from the rain, but not much else. It was, however, better than getting drenched in the pouring rain and being exposed to the elements. You closed the door behind you and took a moment to catch your breath, looking around. 
“Well.. This is the best we've got for now” He finally muttered as the wind howled through the gaping holes in the walls. 
You look around and find it was pretty empty. There wasn’t any furniture, just a chair. Floor filled with scattered garbage and miscellaneous, dusty items from people who have been here before. The water is dripping from your clothes onto the stone floor beneath you, creating a puddle. "We need to get out of these wet clothes," he finally stated, his voice practical and no-nonsense. 
You knew he was right, but the timing of it made it slightly uncomfortable. He knew he was straining on the already strange atmosphere that has been looming over the two of you since you found each other in the brace of one other. However, you also knew the reality of the situation. Your pride was warring with the necessity of the situation. The chill in the air and the knowledge of the dangers of hypothermia prevailed, and rational thought found its way back to you. You have months left to travel with Joel - and undressing in front of him to ward off sickness should not be an embarrassing thing, it ensures your survival and should be nothing more - is nothing more.
He could see the hesitation in your eyes, as you shivered, teeth chattering. He looked around for any dry fabric he could find within the safehouse—tattered old blankets and worn-out jackets. It wasn't the most comfortable solution, but it would have to do for now. He picked up a jacket. “Here.” 
You nodded in agreement and began peeling off your drenched attire. Joel did the same, his back turned to maintain some semblance of privacy. Finally free from the soaked garments, you are quick to put on the jacket, zipping it, covering your body enough to feel more comfortable. You start wringing out the excess water from the clothes you wore, leaving a puddle of water there. You avoided even looking in the direction of Joel, who you know is (most likely) currently butt naked. Instead, you find a moth-eaten blanket in a corner of the room that the rain hadn’t reached. Shivering uncontrollably, you wrap it around your waist, covering your exposed legs. You could see a not so naked Joel who had found some pieces of clothing to cover himself, thankfully. He was now hanging his wet clothes against the singular chair that he moved to one of the few dry spots in the house, so you opt to do the same. The room was still far from warm, and the leaky roof didn't help matters, but, at least you were in dry clothes, if you can call them that.
You spot the ever so tiny wood burning stove in the corner of an empty adjoining room. You check if there’s any wood in there, and to your surprise there is - however, not much of it. Enough for tonight, and that’s all that mattered. You started a small fire and quickly huddled up against it for warmth. Joel walked into the room, as he’d seen the light from the fire from the corner of his eye. He nodded in approval as he silently walked towards you, sitting down next to you to also keep warm. You both sit there in silence, waiting for the clothes to dry. 
Joel broke the silence, his voice softer this time "We'll have to wait out the storm here, and then we can continue our journey." You nod, agreeing.
As the night wore on, the humidity in the room strangled the feeble fire you had managed to kindle earlier, ultimately snuffing it out. The temperature inside the safehouse plummeted, and it became apparent that you couldn't rely on the fire for warmth any longer “Damn it” You mutter, shivering once again, trying to revive the fire - to no avail. 
What was also apparent was that the two of you were so obviously treading around the one thing you knew would help warm you up, very much proven by last night. Unsure, feeling awkward, you didn’t know if you should bring it up. Proudly, you both sat there in silence. The memory of the previous night and the warmth that entailed lingered in the back of both of your minds. It had been an unspoken but undeniable source of comfort in the midst of the harsh world you inhabited, and now, with the cold seeping into your bones, and the urgency to get warm overtaking the awkward tension looming over you, the thought of that shared warmth became impossible to ignore.
Without saying a word, you shifted closer to Joel, seeking his body heat. Joel, initially surprised, looking over at you, understood the unspoken request and shifted to accommodate you. It was an unspoken agreement, a silent acknowledgment that you needed each other's warmth to survive the harsh, cold night. 
With a shared understanding of practicality and mutual vulnerability, you created a makeshift sleeping area consisting of zipped up sleeping bags, dry blankets and whatever else fabric you could spare that would dampen the solidity of the cold, damp floor. This was where you settled as you finally lay side by side. You tried to find a comfortable position, mirroring the way you had slept in the tent the night before, with him against your back. Your bodies pressed together, and your breaths synchronized in the cold darkness, neither of you speaking about it, rather you let your bodies instinctively gravitate closer, seeking the heat that the other provided. 
In the quiet of the night, as you shared body heat to stave off the biting cold, the tension that had lingered between the two of you began to seemingly fade. Despite the uncomfortable surroundings and your strained relationship, you both found a strange comfort in your shared warmth and the familiarity of each other's presence. There was no need for snark, nor sly remarks; pissing each other off. Neither did you have to discuss the somewhat uncomfortable, albeit innocent yet necessary, situation you’ve found yourself in. The cold was unforgiving, and your priority was to avoid hypothermia. You were, after all, nothing but two survivors making the best of the harsh and unforgiving circumstances given to you, finding solace and comfort in each other's company, even if it was unconventional.
He hesitantly kept his arms to his side. Joel broke the silence, clearing his throat, his voice barely a whisper, "I never thought I'd miss that damn tent." trying to diffuse more of the tension. 
You slightly laugh, feeling a slight cramp in your body from the duress of the situation. The laugh eased up some internal tension you didn’t even know you were holding onto. “It was for sure warmer than this” You chuckle. 
He smiled. And that was that. You were both admittedly exhausted, and drifted off into a very well-earned sleep, lulled by the heat radiating between the two of you. Secretly, you couldn’t help but to wish for the extra warmth that came from his arms around you, as it did yesterday, holding you impossibly close, keeping you safe in his big strong arms. Little did you know that he was thinking the same, but it was simply a line that Joel couldn't bring himself to cross. You had already navigated enough awkwardness and unspoken emotions that night. That didn’t stop him, however, from subconsciously doing so in his sleep - just as he did the night before. 
Morning came, and you were awakened by the sun shining through the window, and onto your face. To your surprise, you felt your body be wrapped in the warmth of Joel's embrace. He must have instinctively put his arm around you whilst he slept. At first, you felt a sense of contentment. It was strange, but also undeniable. It was a reassuring feeling, knowing that he was there, holding you tightly - just as you had secretly hoped. But, as your senses fully woke up, you became acutely aware of something else - a firm pressure against your back that couldn't be ignored. You froze, your eyes widening in shock, and your heart raced as you registered the presence of Joel's erection pressed against your back. Joel was still asleep, as far as you were concerned. His breath heavy and warm on your shoulder, light snores leaving his mouth. Your mind raced as you tried to process the situation. You two had already crossed so many boundaries during the night to stay warm, but this felt like an entirely different kind of boundary altogether. Was this intentional? Or just a physiological response to their proximity? 
Was there a sick, twisted part of you that engulfed your mind with fantasies of alleviating the pressure burning in the pit of your stomach with the (from what your back could feel was a very appropriately sized) dick prodding at your back? Yes. You were only human, after all. Were you going to do anything about it? No. You knew this was not intentional, not realistically. You’re a grown woman and know that he couldn’t control it just as much as you couldn’t control your deep guttural reaction to such an… event.
You debated over your next moves, unsure of how to navigate this uncharted territory. If you move away, he will wake up, realize he has a boner and think it scared you off. But if you lie there, hoping it goes away, and he wakes up with a raging boner still in full swing rubbing against you - he’d be mortified. Him, being a proud man would never live that down, and would probably not talk to you again, or at least not know what to say, in the midst of his own embarrassment. After yesterday, and the progress you made in your ‘partnership’, you couldn’t help but to dread the deafening silence that came with the impending awkwardness. You’ve been through so much already, and have yet to even get close to finishing this mission. So much left yet to go through. You have crossed so many bridges, this is just one of them. This was just a fleeting moment and not as significant as it might feel in the heat of the moment. It’s not a big deal, not really, just bodies doing body stuff. Or at least that is what you are telling yourself.
Carefully, you adjusted your position ever so slightly, shifting your body away from his rock solid member to relieve the pressure between your bodies, all the while ensuring that you didn't wake him from his peaceful slumber. It was a delicate maneuver to maintain the pretense of sleep, but you hoped it would be enough for you to potentially feign ignorance, just in case he was awake. You, flustered by the situation and the thoughts lingering in your (albeit perverse) mind, could not fall back asleep. Rather, you lied there letting your thoughts run wild. Couldn't hurt to indulge into harmless fantasy?
A couple of moments later, you could feel shifting next to you. Joel slowly woke up, feeling the oh so familiar throbbing that welcomes him in the mornings from time to time. Joel comes to his senses as he gently wakes up, quickly remembering the way he fell asleep against you and how much of a compromising position that would be for him right now. He quickly snapped his eyes open to see, to his relief, that you had moved away in your sleep, or at least so he thought. ‘Phew’ he thought to himself. He quickly sprung to his feet, leaving the room - hoping it goes away before you wake. He was not entertaining the idea of taking care of it, it could be too risky. 
Him waking up reminded you of his existence, which filled your lust driven mind with an enormous guilt and shame regarding your thoughts. He didn’t have control over that, and your insatiable mind went and ran with it. You quickly shook the thoughts off and tried to think of something else as you laid there, unsure how to proceed.. 
You laid still until you heard Joel packing his bag. You took it as an indication that you were out of the woods, and had dodged a bullet - even though the both of you are flustered by it, without the knowing that the other one knew. You get up, and start folding the cloth and blankets that made up your ‘bed’, and walked out to the room with the bags and packed. Joel didn’t say anything. 
“G’mornin’” You announce your presence. He, already hyper aware of it, hums as a response. You don't look much into it, relieved he isn’t treating you differently considering last night's sleeping arrangements. When you packed up, you put your backpack around your shoulders, your rifle around your neck and the rest of your gear clinging to the bag. You look at Joel, who is watching you as you pull the straps of the bag. You look up and nod. “Let’s go?” 
He nods. You’re off.
62 notes · View notes
even-disco-baby · 1 year
Text
(No caps version below asterisks)
YOU — Are you still afraid?
SHIVERS — YES. BUT I AM ALSO HOPEFUL.
IN TWENTY TWO YEARS, I MAY BE NOTHING BUT A HOLE FOR ALL THE WORLD TO FALL INTO. OR I MAY BE GREATER THAN I HAVE EVER BEEN. OR PERHAPS… PERHAPS I WILL BE SOMETHING I HAVE NEVER BEEN BEFORE.
Is there really anything new to be? It feels like history can only ever repeat itself.
Twenty two years isn’t much time to become anything.
I hope that we’ll be a new animal.
I hope that it will all be over.
Uncertainty is frightening…
SHIVERS — YES… BUT IT IS ALSO SALVATION.
I AM HERE. YOU ARE HERE. THE FUTURE HAS YET TO ARRIVE. THERE IS ONLY US.
I HAVE SEEN IN YOUR HEART A THOUSAND WAYS TO MEET OUR END. BUT I HAVE SEEN JUST AS MANY WAYS TO CARRY ON.
YOU — Why do you care to see what’s in my heart? Why me?
SHIVERS — I AM YOUR HEART. AND YOU ARE MINE.
I HAVE LOVED YOU SINCE THE DAY YOU WERE BORN. YOU DREW YOUR FIRST BREATH IN A WAR HOSPITAL AS SO MANY AROUND YOU DREW THEIR LAST. YOU AND I WERE BOTH SO FRAGILE. WE WERE SICK AND DYING. I HELD YOU IN MY LUMINOUS ARMS AND WAITED FOR THE END. AND THEN…
YOU — And then?
SHIVERS — WE BOTH SURVIVED. IRREPRESSIBLE, MIRACULOUS.
YOU HEAR ME. I SEE YOU. WE ARE KEEPING ONE ANOTHER ON THIS EARTH. THAT IS WHAT MAKES US WHAT WE ARE. THAT IS ALL THERE IS TO THIS, TO ANYTHING. WE CANNOT LOOK AWAY FROM ONE ANOTHER. WE MUST NOT. WE MUST SEE. WE MUST LISTEN.
I’m listening. I will stay vigilant. I will keep you here with me.
No. You are the reason I don’t want to be on this earth any longer.
SHIVERS — OH… PLEASE, DO NOT SAY THAT. I COULD NOT BEAR TO LOSE YOU.
YOU — That’s not what your people say. They think I should just hurry up and die.
SHIVERS — THEY ARE WRONG. YOU ARE MY HEART. I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT YOU.
YOU — Don’t lie. Every day, you beat me within an inch of my life.
SHIVERS — …
…I KNOW. I AM SORRY. NOT ALL OF MY ARMS ARE GENTLE. MANY OF THEM THRASH WILDLY. AND SOME… SOME TEAR ME OPEN. THEY GRASP AT MY HEART, SEEKING TO REND IT APART. I CANNOT HELP BUT HURT MYSELF, OVER AND OVER AND OVER. I DESPISE WHAT I AM.
BUT I WANT TO CHANGE. I WANT TO BE CHANGED. PLEASE, IF EVER YOU HAVE LOVED ME, DO NOT ABANDON ME TO DIE. GIVE ME A NEW NAME. AN UNDISCOVERED PHYLUM. MAKE ME INTO A SOFTER ANIMAL.
Don’t worry. We will change together.
I don’t know that any of us can ever truly change.
SHIVERS — BUT… WE MUST TRY, ALL THE SAME…
OR WE WILL DIE. SWALLOWED BY A REFLEX, NEITHER MALICIOUS NOR JUST. THERE IS NO MEANING IN IT. NO WORLD AFTER THE PALE. SURRENDER WILL NOT SAVE US.
YOU — But it would end our suffering.
SHIVERS — …
HAVE I… TRULY BEATEN ALL OF THE LOVE OUT OF YOU? IS THERE NOTHING GOOD IN ME LEFT?
REACTION SPEED — An answer rises to your tongue before you even have a chance to think.
PAIN THRESHOLD — *No.* I’m not down yet.
LOGIC — There is still something keeping you here, or else you would not *be* here. It is as simple as that.
VOLITION — You have loved her and hated her just as you hate and love yourself. And even in your lowest moments, you could not bring yourself to abandon this world. At the last moment, you always found a way back— clawed your way to shore, wiped the slate clean. You wrapped your arms around yourself and cried, and the city cried with you.
You cannot bring yourself to abandon her. She is too much like you.
*****
YOU — Are you still afraid?
SHIVERS — Yes. But I am also hopeful.
In twenty two years, I may be nothing but a hole for all the world to fall into. Or I may be greater than I have ever been. Or perhaps… perhaps I will be something I have never been before.
Is there really anything new to be? It feels like history can only ever repeat itself.
Twenty two years isn’t much time to become anything.
I hope that we’ll be a new animal.
I hope that it will all be over.
Uncertainty is frightening…
SHIVERS — Yes… But it is also salvation.
I am here. You are here. The future has yet to arrive. There is only us.
I have seen in your heart a thousand ways to meet our end. But I have seen just as many ways to carry on.
YOU — Why do you care to see what’s in my heart? Why me?
SHIVERS — I am your heart. And you are mine.
I have loved you since the day you were born. You drew your first breath in a way hospital as so many around you drew their last. You and I were both so fragile. We were sick and dying. I held you in my luminous arms and waited for the end. And then…
YOU — And then?
SHIVERS — We both survived. Irrepressible, miraculous.
You hear me. I see you. We are keeping one another on this earth. That is what makes us what we are. That is all there is to this, to anything. We cannot look away from one another. We must not. We must see. We must listen.
I’m listening. I will stay vigilant. I will keep you here with me.
No. You are the reason I don’t want to be on this earth any longer.
SHIVERS — Oh… please, do not say that. I could not bear to lose you.
YOU — That’s not what your people say. They think I should just hurry up and die.
SHIVERS — They are wrong. You are my heart. I cannot live without you.
YOU — Don’t lie. Every day, you beat me within an inch of my life.
SHIVERS — …
…I know. I am sorry. Not all of my arms are gentle. Many of them thrash wildly. And some… some tear me open. They grasp at my heart, seeking to rend it apart. I cannot help but hurt myself, over and over and over. I despise what I am.
But I want to change. I want to be changed. Please, if ever you have loved me, do not abandon me to die. Give me a new name. An undiscovered phylum. Make me into a softer animal.
Don’t worry. We will change together.
I don’t know that any of us can ever truly change.
SHIVERS — But… we must try, all the same…
Or we will die. Swallowed by a reflex, neither malicious nor just. There is no meaning in it. No world after the Pale. Surrender will not save us.
YOU — But it would end our suffering.
SHIVERS — …
Have I… truly beaten all of the love out of you? Is there nothing good in me left?
REACTION SPEED — An answer rises to your tongue before you even have a chance to think.
PAIN THRESHOLD — *No.* I’m not down yet.
LOGIC — There is still something keeping you here, or else you would not *be* here. It is as simple as that.
VOLITION — You have loved her and hated her just as you hate and love yourself. And even in your lowest moments, you could not bring yourself to abandon this world. At the last moment, you always found a way back— clawed your way to shore, wiped the slate clean. You wrapped your arms around yourself and cried, and the city cried with you.
You cannot bring yourself to abandon her. She is too much like you.
225 notes · View notes
ilylovelyz · 10 months
Text
dawn in the adan.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
pair : levi x genneu!reader
warning(s) : just angst, a lot of angst, death, resulted from me listening to dawn in the adan by ichiko aoba at 4am
Tumblr media
people die everyday. with death being a constant presence in your life, you'd thought you would feel numb and desensitized to it by now. oh, you wished you were. such a blessing, yet a curse it is; to feel everything so deeply. you've been told so many times that you care too much, expect too much, for a world that has little to give back in return.
such a big world it is, yet it has little to offer here. you used to lose sleep over it. you used to be unable to understand the fact that no matter what you do, no matter how much "good deeds" you do, the world may not return it in favor. but you still cannot help but feel out of place; you still cannot help but feel like you're out of place, it doesn't feel right. it leaves you empty and unfulfilled.
how are you not supposed to care? it was a question that lured in the back of your mind whenever you saw the death of your dearest comrades in front of you. how are you supposed to not care when you feel even the death of a flower in the deepest part of your heart? what if you died, would they not care for your death either?
ah, that stung. the strong scent the bittersweet whispers of citrus and green floral filled your senses, but only for a second. only for a second, you cared. there was a metallic note amongst the dandelions. blood, the remains of dried and crisp blood of your slaughtered comrades. you are left on your knees in the midst of the aftermath of a bloodbath against the world's biggest enemy.
it's the murmur of dawn. no one is here. well, nobody is damn alive. a bloody fight it was. the distant retreating stars twinkle with pity, almost laughing at the scene before you. you can't take in the sights around you, drowning you. you can't take in this painful, unforgiving scene. you're still alive, somehow. the crisp, cold air fills your dry lungs. as another sunrise rises, the rays once again kiss your scarred skin. a comforting hug from the only warmth you've known.
tomorrow perhaps, maybe in a few years perhaps, there will be nothing to see here here. the charred remains of the people you laughed with will reduce to nothing but stardust returning home to that vast sky. you hear leaves softly crunch behind you, you do nothing to investigate. you're lifeless. maybe you've finally given up. you assume it's that one "special" titan that survived this battle, like you. your dull and overused knees have finally given out from beneath you; you've accepted your spot on the earth beneath you, head laying in a pile of red dyed dandelions.
you can't even react when you feel someone's firm hands meet your head, fingers intertwining with your damp distressed hair. you hope they are here to maybe snap your neck, put you out of your misery. you know they won't, though. even in the end, you know who's burly palms are cradling your head with bittersweet empathy. he'll cradle you his arms, just like all other times you were stricken with grief.
i hear the distinct ancient ocean's song, the small boats of the afterlife are saying something to me, but i can't hear it all.
"y/n," the man says sternly. his tone is stern, yet forgiving. he waits a few seconds for your response, hands tumbling for a better hold on your fragile head. he leans over your body, attempting for a better look of any signs of life. you're still here, eyes twinkling with an unfocused daze, pupils blown wide. like the dandelions, they are red and crushed with defeat. "y/n." he says, you hear the frantic sound of his voice, his other hand coming to shake at your shoulder.
you let out a small umph at the disturbance. you're so sore, you cannot even fathom to touched by the soft breeze. your face feels like it's already been ripped at the seams, eyes heavy and dry. cheeks scarred and dried of tears. my heart flutters then, high in the sky. you cannot move, even with both arms stretched out. are you finally dying?
he seems to have ran out of patience, and despite your sounds of discomfort, he abruptly forces your sensitive body to sit up straight. "you're not dying, y/n," he says to you, but in reality its more like he's trying to tell himself that. his hands paw at your impaled abdomen, trying to fill what is lost. even after this bloody fight, he still has the strength to lift you up into his arms, hanging onto the remains of life in you.
you no longer feel pain, you no longer wail. you don't even feel the once satisfying lull of sleep calling you. the branches and puddles of wet mud crinkle and mush underneath his weak footing. he stumbles a few times before he slip's completely, unable to compete with this unfamiliar terrain. he's still cradling you like all the other times, protecting you from this world. he cups the soft of your cheek with one of his blood soaked hands. you can't even tell if it's your blood.
his nostrils flared with distress, "y/n," he calls out. this place as always been open, but nobody comes. you're still in his arms, head lulled against his chest. his heavy heart singing to you. you remember the many times he swore his heart to you. you find the strength to look up at him, what was a easy task somehow almost a few long seconds to do.
you take in the sight of his sharp cheekbones, his eyes looking down at you. they look scared. what is he scared of? the battle is over. a long time you wait patiently, you wait patiently for the end of your suffering. his eyes are glued to you, not wanting to miss a single second of what could be the last of something so precious.
this is strange to him, to finally have something worth losing. he thought maybe you'd stick around unlike the rest of them. two broken souls, finding comfort and safety in each other's presence. the dull world fades around them, one willingly, one forcibly. his grip on you hides you from the world, having a sense urge to protect what is left.
his body jumps when you take in a sudden surge of air. even with the small intake of air, your chest muscles seem to give up on trying to take in anymore. god, it finally hits you. you're dying. "y/n, please don't die." he whispers, bringing himself to place a shaky kiss on your forehead. you've never heard him beg like that before.
ah, you let out what perhaps might be the last sound you make. your heart pumps weakly, you might not see levi again. is this the way you want to die? you try to move any of your limbs, you try as best you can to escape this unwanted spell. to levi, it just appears you're twitching in pain.
no, you're afraid to die. his hand comes to the small of your back, rubbing quick comforting circles to encourage you. the children across the ocean, awaken with flowers. you're also afraid to live. whose to say you'll live happily, even after this. "y/n, i love you." he chanted. he's just foolishly realized you can't come back from this.
its skin is torn. you'd hoped your last breath was a sigh of relief, intaking the sweet scent of the flowers levi had bought you for the many years you'd been together. what is this? you've ceased movement. you can't even process the droplets of salty tears from above. seawater pouring from it's body.
you last register the devastated sobs of someone. you don't even remember who it was anymore. a beautiful creature. you don't realize it, you're gone. crawling outside.
96 notes · View notes
Note
Could you please make a part 2 on the ‘in his arms’ fic from Mathias?
I want to know if reader survives or not
What I'm hearing is we don't appreciate cliffhangers around here, which is good with me because it gives me excuses to write more parts to my existing content which is always fun for me:)
In His Arms (Part 2) - Matthias Helvar
Content Warnings: Mentions Of Threat, Violence, Injury, Near Death, Death. Concepts Of Mortality. Not Beta/Proof Read.
Part 1
Tumblr media
You were dead. You were sure of that. There was Matthias and the cold and then... Nothing.
You felt like you were waiting for a flicker of candlelight in the pitch darkness and right before someone struck a match you were feeling your nerves again.
Your eyes opened briefly to a healer whose name you had never known leaning over you muttering curses in more languages than you know.
Yet it was Matthias's voice guiding you, pulling you back from whatever place had intended to keep you. You heard him when you pulled in that first exhausting breath since your heart had given out, and then darkness again.
Waking in soft cotton sheets was not what you had pictured happening, considering you were sure you were destined for the grave and most of the way into one, you weren't expecting much, but you wake on a soft fur throw with far too many pillows surrounding you. You've got no idea where you are, but the whole room smells like chamomile and something you cannot place, something smokey, something that would make you keep your eyes forward if you were passing by on the road.
Matthias is asleep beside the bed, taking up all the space of a far too small chair. You see a pair of eyes you recognise in the darkness of the doorway, and you're met with the most delicate of smiles. "You're awake," Inej whispers, "that's good, honestly I thought you were lost to us for a moment there. I was expecting to try and keep Matthias from studying the Bright Lands to bring you back."
"Djel," you manage to croak out despite the weight of your tongue in your mouth, "he would've had argument with the wellspring."
She laughs at the way you're correcting her religious references but her concern is still palpable. "Don't talk," she advises, "you're a long away from recovered yet."
She fusses you a moment, and in that time you glimpse that softer side to her, that side that in all her years she didn't let the horrors of The Barrel completely grind out. "If you can, please drink, I'm going to find something to eat, and maybe... Nina, maybe Nina," Inej is talking more to herself than to you and you know it. But she gives you a disapproving glance as you attempt to sit up, but she allows it.
You reach for your drink and that movement, so small but close enough to Matthias brings him back, and in the seconds before his eyes truly take in the waking world, you can see all the fear he keeps for you, for your safety, for your survival in those eyes of his.
"Hey there wolfy," you say, trying to break a smile.
All his instincts make him want to grab you, to hold you, but you still look so fragile he fears as much as a touch might shatter you. "You're alive," is all he manages to say.
"Seems that way," you admit. "You really couldn't just let me go, could you?" It's a joke, or its an attempt at one, you're not sure how else to talk about the way in which you very nearly died.
"I... I have already lost everything that I kept close to my heart," Matthias says, "everything except for you, so I will not lose you too."
"Matthias..."
"So no," his confession is quiet but he never takes his eyes off you, "I could not let you go."
64 notes · View notes
noelle666 · 13 days
Text
Ship/Kiss challenge - Heinrix van Calox/Noelle von Valancius (Commoragh events)
Original post with all options
20. ...on a scar (in my case - scars)
Inspired by one of my Heinrix headcanons.
They needed a little island of warmth only for two of them, a place which could be as safe and away from the annoying gaze as possible.
When Heinrix was brought to the Pit after being freed from haemunculus' device, he found the farest located plate which was probably used as an improvised storehouse with all the crates and old mattresses being there, so for a psyker who needed some time in peace this place was the best. No one could've interrupt his healing process except the only soul, but he wasn't against it, on a contrary - deep inside his heart he wished Noelle to come to him. In a dim lights Heinrix got a chance to look at her closely while she was telling him about her misadventure: the ecclesiarchy dress was turned into a tunic or cardigan since it was cut from the front and only the belt did not allow it to flutter during walk or run; its long skirt, shortened up to a mid thigh, now opened a view on simple dark grey skinny pants, and under this tunic psyker saw simple white shirt which was also not in the best state due to bloodstains, durt and holes covering this poor piece of clothes.
The conversation of Lord Captain and the interrogator smoothly turned into a more intimate interaction. The place, of course, was not the best for two people who desired each other, and their state was far from the best, but they both realised they needed it, even if it will last not long. Heinrix chose the clearest and the less damaged mattress and placed in of the floor behind the crates, which placement, for his luck, did not allow anyone who could be on the other plates to see them, yet they still had to act carefully and fast. Psyker looked at the woman lying infront of him: her cheeks were pure red, her breath was trembling; she did not look at him and covered her breasts with her arms and crossed her legs for she, even understanding she trusts the man next to her, was embarrassed - after all it was their first "contact", being nervous was a natural reaction.
Heinrix leaned to his lover, gently took Noelle's hand and kissed each of her fingers, his other hand gently slipped from her shoulder down to waist and continued its way down to her thigh; biomancer then invited Noelle into a deep kiss, helping her to feel more relaxed. Lord Captain at last looked into the interrogator's eyes, she still was blushing, but now the tone of her breath changed - now she wanted him. She stopped covering herself with arms and was waiting for the next step of her lover; Heinrix now could observe her all: so fragile, small and beautiful, locks of her burgundy hair lying on a flat pillow reminded of halo, but the eye of biomancer caught another sight, a gruesom one. Noelle's chest and belly were covered in bruises and scars made, for sure, by a surgeon or a butcher, a scar on her shoulder was a sign of a fight, tiny dots were probably left by staples. How could this little human being survive all of this? The view was heart-breaking, so Heinrix did what he had to: his kissed his lover's jaw, his lips went down to her neck and continued their way down.
Noelle closed her eyes giving in to a feeling of pleasure: warm lips of Heinrix studying her body made her forget about worries, about the very fact they are in the one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy, but then she felt cold breath. She opened her eyes and looked at the interrogator: his lips were touching places on her body covered with wounds, and with each touch a wound dissapeared.
"Heinrix, please, stop!"
Psyker raised his gaze and looked at Noelle.
"Please, don't waste your powers on me. I can handle it, I can wait until we are back home".
"I cannot just look at you and do nothing," - Heinrix shaked his head. - "I know we do not have much time now, but please, allow me to heal your wounds. I promissed to help you and be here for you and this is a part of it".
Lord Captain saw sadness and and sincere desire to help in her lover's eyes, she could not resist it. Heinrix needed several more minutes to complete his goal and then, when the work was done, he had bathed Noelle with all his love and gentleness.
Tumblr media
17 notes · View notes
moiyume · 1 year
Text
death is the only end for us — chapter ii. imaginary
pairing: yandere!satoru gojo x fem!reader
sumary: Discussions about the past bring out an important revelation, [Y/N] will not surrender, she is willing to destroy everyone in her path to prove her innocence, even Satoru.
warnings: angst, threats, mentions of death, humiliation, yandere thoughts, spoilers from the main story.
word count: 2265.
more information about the history: here.
⠀⠀⠀⠀───◌┈┈───♡⃝───┈┈◌───
AND BY PLANTING MISTRUST, LOVE WILL COOL DOWN, GIVE WAY TO HATRED AND RESENTMENT. There is no way to mend a broken glass, when you put the pieces together, the cracks and scars of the breakage will be there forever, the glass will break again if you fill it with water. There is no way to mend the heart of someone who has already been betrayed or abandoned.
After ten years forced to live in ostracism you have learned that curses are not as bad as the wizards say they are. Curses are predictable, they obey the primitive instinct to kill humans and devour each other for more power, they have no filters, they are direct in what they set out to do. But people are not, people are cunning, people deceive, people betray, people change, people are not what they appear or say they are, and above all, no person can be trusted. Father, mother, brother, friend or stranger, it is the nature of human beings not to be trusted.
You have learned the hard way that you cannot trust anyone. No matter how well you think you know someone, you really don't know how much someone can change in a day, maybe even in ten years. It was a long ten years living a miserable life, hunted like an animal for slaughter across three continents, you saw and experienced many things, but nothing surprised you more than the falseness of the human being.
However, there is a proverb that says that the prey will kill the predator. In the game Gō the winner is the one who has the most pieces on the board, however it is not as simple as it seems, you need to knock down the opponent's houses if you want to ensure victory, because as in the animal kingdom there is no draw, only the strongest will prevail, the one who is able to continue living. It is a game of survival, but it is also a mental game, you beat the enemy destroying what he worked hard to build, you take his place and eliminate him. Satoru and you are adversaries in this battle. He vehemently believes that victory is his, but the foundation of the houses he plays with are as fragile as a house made on the sand of the beach, and like Gō's board, you will knock down all the pieces that hold him up.
He approaches you with a smug smile, there is no escape, it is only you on this empty hill, there are no trees you can use to hide, yet there is no way and no reason to hide when the Six Eyes search for you. You stop walking away and accept that there is no other option but to stand still, he seems pleased with your decision, the smile on his face widens. However, you will never surrender.
"I don't..." Disappointment tries to swallow your words, but you swallow your tears and face Satoru with clenched fists. "I'm not willing to give up my freedom just yet."
He takes a wrong turn with your words, to his ears they are just childish statements, but you are a human being and it is your nature to insist even when things seem impossible. The man in front of you falls into laughter and wipes away a tear that has run down the corner of his eye, it is annoying to see him mocking you, but to Satoru Gojo all people were such idiots that they were worthy of pity, and you were no exception.
"You act like you're a heroine from a light novel, that's hilarious." Satoru teases you with a smug smile on his face, you struggle to keep your cool, but a vein pops out on your forehead. "Seriously! Look at that pose! A great actress." He measures you from top to bottom. "Of our old group, you're the only one who keeps acting like a pre-teen, always wanting to prove to others that you're a martyr, it's ridiculous, don't you see?" He shoves one of his hands into his pocket and takes out a black blindfold and puts it over his eyes. "You have become such a pathetic person that it is hard to believe that you were considered a threat. Man, you killed civilians for nothing, I never understood the motives behind it, but honestly? I don't understand how we came to have anything, for a moment I even thought of you as an equal, but even Suguru did better in the villain role than you."
You are startled by those hostile words, he had never been so mean to you before, you even thought he would have some mercy for your bestie dying, but as usual you are expecting too much from Satoru Gojo. You never wanted to be a martyr, but there is some truth behind such hostility, the way you have behaved all this time as if you were being wrongly accused. Your hands have been dripping blood since the moment you were accused and the lives you took will haunt you until the day you die, but the people who died that night were not innocent and they were not civilians either, and the person who killed them was not you. You have put up with it all quietly, but this time you are determined to make a mess of it, as in gō, you will surround your enemies and let them fall alone.
"You're not entirely wrong." You admit waving your index finger towards him, mimicking his smug smile, I straighten my posture and take a step forward. "But I'm not the same girl you knew."
"Really? You still look like an idiot to me."
"Eh." You mutter amidst his debauched laughter. "The difference between the 18-year-old [Y/N] and the 28-year-old [Y/N] is: she doesn't mind crushing every ant that crosses her path."
You raise your hand towards his face and abruptly close it, making him take a step back, you laugh dryly and dullly, it's comforting to know that you're still able to mess with his head.
"Get out of my way, Gojo, before I crush you too." You threaten him, your will like a sharp sword about to slash his throat, he frowns and you step forward. "Don't tell me you don't know why no one had the courage to come to me." You watch his hesitation to give you an answer, but before he can say anything, you hold up your index finger to get him to shut up and listen, "Looks like you're the idiot here."
You place your hands together behind your body and lean forward, he is very close at this point, so you stand face to face, you feel the hesitation in his posture, his right foot goes back a step and a half before he steadies himself. You make no point of hiding your evil intentions beneath an innocent smile, the intent to kill is obvious, but it only comes from one side. Satoru may be many things, but you doubt he would kill you before he could experience the torture of the court again, he likes to play with his fangs and that would be his downfall. The moment he realises something is wrong, his hand comes towards your neck like lightning, however she is unable to touch you. The sky blue eyes shine in fury and you can't contain your laughter, it's not a genuine laughter, you just couldn't miss the moment to debauch his innocence.
"What have you done?!"
The scenery around you begins to change. The once bright and colourful landscape of the hill turns into a hostile, cold and gloomy environment, the welcoming atmosphere has become inhospitable, the peace you provided was false, as you had said earlier it is just an imaginary space. Satoru knows it is too late, however you give him the chance to move, and he approaches to attack me, but to his despair the distance between you is still the same, as if he cannot reach you, he is stuck in your trap, and you are waiting for him to place the piece on the board that will make him fall into ruins.
"What kind of cheap trick is that?!" He shouts in exaltation, unable to touch you, his steady footsteps crunch the frozen grass making an annoying creaking noise, he seems in a hurry. "What have you done to me?"
"That's not the right question, darling, try again." You reply in a playful voice and make the distance between you disappear, you grab his cheeks and lower his head so you can pull the blindfold off. "That looks really ugly on you, it makes you look like you have no forehead." You throw the piece of cloth on the ground, it's hard to believe that someone as vain as him chose to wear an accessory that would devalue his beauty so much, is that kind of thing fashionable in Japan? You would like to know.
"DAMN. [Y/N]!"
"Hm?!"
"What the hell is that?" He insists.
"You must be wondering why the Six Eyes don't recognise what's happening now, right?" He nods for you to continue explaining. "It's because you're not seeing anything, really. You taught me that for the Six Eyes to work, you need to see things around you, and okay, I know you can perceive the world on an atomic level, but I'm inside your head and not in front of you, got it? Or do you want me to draw?"
You tap your index finger on his temple and watch his eyes grow larger, it is satisfying to see him like this, for years you have kept a vow to Master Tengen not to use his true cursed technique for your own benefit, but you no longer have any connection to him, let alone the school. You cannot allow yourself to be the person who is passed over. You feel sweat drip down your hand, but it's not yours, rambling made you forget that you were still holding Satoru pinned in your hands.
"My cursed technique is called ████, by the way." You whisper, it's the first time you hesitate to tell Satoru something, you slowly back away until your hands can no longer touch him. "You must know what it means."
Satoru's skin turns as pale as paper, nostrils dilated and hairs standing on end, like an animal on alert, you would like to laugh and mock him as unassumingly as he did you, but you would not be satisfied with scaring him even more, you are not like that. You gather up a snowflake and the landscape has started to change again, this time it has started to crack, as if you were inside an old television full of static, living through a film locked in a stormy day.
Melancholy suddenly takes over you, you let out the air trapped in your lungs and watch the smoke of hot air, he's right when he says you're still a dumb teenager with childish aspirations. You turn your back and walk towards the "exit door" of the illusion you created to trap him, but before you go, you look at him over your shoulder, Satoru is staring at you with a weird look, clenched fists are at the side of his body, one leg is in front of the other as if he wants to come to you, but there is something holding him, only this time it's not you who holds him.
"When I disappear you will regain consciousness, I recommend you look around and be careful." You give him a weak smile and nod. "We will see each other again."
Satoru watches you enter a doorway of light that disappeared as soon as you stepped through it. His hands are sweaty and burning, nails are digging into his palm, blood drips down the spans of his fingers, it wasn't the first time an opponent had played a trick on him, but it's been so many since it happened he's forgotten how bad it feels to be tricked. A vein popped on his forehead and he began to laugh nervously as the word 'tricked' came to his mind, not much can be expected of you, you are clever and slippery as jelly, if he is not careful you will slip like sand or blood between his fingers.
"Bitch!" He roars exhausted and slaps his own forehead.
The space in which Satoru was trapped crumbled in a magical pass as he surged, soon the sound of horns and car tyres singing on the tarmac pierced his ears, regaining consciousness he hurriedly climbed onto the pavement. You dumped him in the middle of a busy avenue, it's your nature to play tricks on people, no matter how serious, you're the kind of childish person who would put a bucket full of water on the door to wet the first inattentive person who walked by. Drivers drove past him cursing and grumbling, but he didn't give a shit, his thoughts focused elsewhere, someone else.
- "We will see each other again" Satoru repeated and looked up at the sky, it was daylight a few minutes ago, no? He wondered if you could mess with time too and laughed bitterly, then brought his hand up to his face and covered his eyes, maybe nothing was impossible for you and Satoru resented that. "I hope so, but..." He paused before admitting to himself. "You have to pay for leaving me."
⠀⠀⠀⠀───◌┈┈───♡⃝───┈┈◌───
━ to be continued; ﹢ ⌑ ﹒
109 notes · View notes
vibratingskull · 4 months
Note
I was so excited to see requests are open!! I'm kinda obsessed with your fics where Thrawn has a child on Peridea (or children in that one fic), and I love them because yes Thrawn deserves to be a dad, but also because you include Enoch, my beloved. I was wondering if you could please expand on how Enoch interacts with Thrawn's child and/or Thrawn? Like did Enoch see the newborn and go 'it's a free niece' or was he roped into it when the kid asked him to pretend to be a patient while she pretended to be a doctor?
Thrawn do deserves to be a daddy ! He deserves a large family to hug and love him ❤️❤️❤️
Tumblr media
Part 1 - Part 2
Thrawn x F!reader
Tag : Fluff, domestic bliss, death of a character
Let’s be honest, Enoch was not too keen on the idea at first.
First you’re a jedi and then you’re pregnant… Are you trying to take Thrawn’s focus away from his true mission or something? What’s your deal?
And then Thrawn gave him Thiroy to hold. It’s not even something supposed to be meaningful, his comlink just started ringing so he gave Enoch his 3 months old daughter to hold for a second and his world just… crumbles.
Thiroy is so, so tiny, so fragile, she cannot survive without help and he is so, so much bigger, so much stronger and powerful. It reminds him why he enlisted in the navy in the first place : to die so others weaker can live. And here he is, holding a little baby in his full armor, legs and arms feeling like jelly suddenly, fearing he could drop her if he isn’t careful.
Clearly a stressful situation.
Thrawn would have him beheaded for that, no doubt about him, no matter his years of loyalty and competency under his lead. So he is extra careful, holding her little head firmly, his large hand supporting her small body.
He is completely speechless, out of words.
She looks at his helmet, absolutely entranced by the features drawn by the metal, he’s not her mother or father, who is he?
And then she explodes laughing, trying to grab the helmet with her tiny hands and he feels something melts in his heart. He is a soldier, a trooper! A trained killing machine, born to obey his Grand Admiral and lead troops in battle.
But she is sooooo…
Tiny
And fragile.
“She likes you.” Thrawn suddenly says, snapping him out of his hypnotized trance.
He realizes he was completely focused on the little baby, not uttering a word, not even realizing Thrawn finished talking to his comlink and was observing him holding his precious daughter.
“Really? A pity.” Enoch shakes his head with a harsh tone.
“Why?” Thrawn tilts his head.
“I am no good with kids, they give me headaches.”
“They take a lot of work. Like troops.” Thrawn concedes.
“Troops are organized and obedient, children are unruly and headstrong. They are nothing alike!”
“Both need training and a strong figure to rely on and guide them.”
 “The comparison stops here. Soldiers can be reasoned with, children are utter chaos entity and I cannot deal with them.”
“Then why did you not give me back my baby yet?” Thrawn asks, with a little grin at the corner of his mouth.
Enoch realizes that he held on to the baby like a buoy in an open sea without giving her back to his father.
“I am sorry, Grand Admiral.” And he gives her back to Thrawn, escaping her little grabby hands.
And Thiroy immediately starts crying, being denied a toy.
“See? She appreciates you.” 
Enoch purses his lips under his helmet.
A baby sees him as her personal toy, what good is that?
But deep down, he feels a pinch of pride that the baby demands him.
He silently observes Thrawn calming down his baby with soothing words and cradling her.
It is…
Adorable?
Enoch only knew Thrawn through the leadership lens. He came under his commands as a simple trooper years ago and obediently followed his orders, slowly climbing the in hierarchy under the Chiss watch, leading his troops to battle, sharing his victories and defeats.
And in all those long years, this is the first time he catches a glimpse of the real man Thrawn is, a man of desires and wants, a man of tenderness and peaceful strength. A father. A loving being.
Just like him.
It remembers that one woman he used to date and left behind. What would he have done if she had announced a pregnancy to him? Would he have retired, keep his mission? Would he be a father too today?
Thrawn doesn’t have those questions.
He has the best of both worlds, a family and a noble goal.
And for the first time in decades Enoch feels terribly alone…
---------------------------------
At first he watched the baby grow from far away, looking at the little family growing, full of love and determination. But one day, Thrawn asked for him to come into his office.
You’re here too.
Enoch tenses up immediately, he still didn’t accept you. He respects you as a warrior and as the wife of his esteemed Grand Admiral, but it stops here. 
You’re holding little Thiroy in your arms, he doesn’t really knows where she should be in her development but she should have started walking now, right?
He focuses back on Thrawn, giving him orders for a mission on the dry land of Peridea, but he sees you having difficulties keeping the baby in your arms, she seems to agitates yourself in your arms quite a lot so you lower yourself and put her down.
And to his surprise and horror, she starts waking towards him!
What is he supposed to do?! He’s not trained for this? What is the correct behavior when your Grand Admiral’s baby is walking towards you with clear determination?
He takes a step back by reflex but she follows with her clumsy little legs, tongue sticking out as she focuses on her target trying to escape her. She finally manages to catch his leg and he remains unmoving, a bit terrified.
What now?
What Thrawn will say?
She tries to climb him now!
What’s the correct etiquette in this situation?
He raises his head when he hears you giggling. Are you mocking him?
“What is happening, Enoch?” You ask with a broad smile, “You sprint towards the enemy's armies but collapse in front of a baby?”
Thrawn observes the scene silently, but with a gentle smile on his face.
“Why don’t you try to take her in your arms?” You ask.
“I… I would never! She is too tiny, I would hurt her!” He tries to escape the situation.
Thrawn then slowly rise from his seat and walks towards them both.
Thank the maker, he is going to take her back!
But instead, he lifts her and puts her in his arms. She’s way more heavy than last time! She grew too.
And Enoch feels his heart clenches and melts once again.
This time she can grab his helmet and she holds both of his cheeks in her tiny hands with a giggle.
He feels the air getting knocked out of his lungs.
“We discussed with (Y/n).” Thrawn speaks softly, caressing his daughter cheek “We need to find someone in case something happens to the both of us. Would you accept to become her godfather?”
Enochs feels struck down by lightning. Her what?!
He’s not cut down for that job! He’s a soldier! Not a nanny!
He…
His words dies down at the sight of both of you. Thrawn is looking at him seriously, like he is planning a campaign and you look at him with tenderness in the gaze.
“She already adores you.” You had, coming closer to put a hand on Thran shoulder, “You are an honorable man Enoch, you would raise her well.”
“I am not sure I can do that…”
“Why not?” you insist.
But he has no argument.
How could he when his Grand Admiral and his wife both looks at him with such clear eyes full of trust and determination.
“I… I accept.” He lets out, almost against his own will.
You smile broadly and Thrawn nods, visibly satisfied.
“We knew we could count on you, Enoch.” Thrawn takes his shoulder and squeezes it firmly.
Enoch gazes lowers back on the little girl face.
She looks like the both of you. A perfect 50/50 of you both.
“Eeeeee… nock” She tries to say.
And his heart is suddenly filled with warmth.
This is the good decision…
He can feel it.
-------------------------------------
“What are you two doing?” You ask, entering the room.
Enoch jumps out of his skin and stands up immediately.
“Nothing, my lady! I was just…”
“Enoch…” You look at him with a smile hidden behind a hand “Where you playing tea parties with Thiroy?”
“No! I was simply…” He starts, but he sees your gaze.
There is no getting out of it.
“Please do not spread the word that I do that.” He asks.
You clear your throat, trying to contain your amused smile and put your hand on your heart and raise the second.
“You have my word, I will not reveal you like playing tea parties with my daughter?
“Thank you.”
He sighs, by necessity he became one of Thiroy nanny… 
And he does like to play tea with her.
But he would kill himself if his troops ever heard ot it.
“Thank you for looking after her.” You continue, taking her in your arms.
“My pleasure, my lady.”
This is not a real doll’s tea of course, just stealed tea cups and dessert plates that they displayed on the ground with her plushies.
“He married my unicorn!” Thiroy exclaims full of joy.
“Oh my! My congratulations to the young couple.” You give him a lopsided grin.
He’s going to die of shame.
It was their little secret! And now you know too. Great!
You lift the plates and tidy the room with your jedi sorcery that always made him uneasy. But today it doesn’t feel like it.
“Time for your nap, young lady!” You annonce.
“Noooooooo!” She cries, “I want to keep playing with uncle Enoch!”
“If you take your nap, I’ll come back to play tomorrow.” He negotiates.
The little Chiss girl looks at him with eyes full of tears.
“You promise?”
“Deal!” 
And they lock their pinky.
“Hop your pop! To bed you go!” You decide.
He awaits outside the room for you to finish tucking her to bed.
“Thank you again.” you murmur to not wake her up.
“You’re welcome. Could you give her this when she wakes up?” He hands you two little wooden figurines.
“Did you sculpt them yourself?” You can’t help but ask.
“Yes.” He admits, “For her starday.”
“They’re beautiful. She will love them, thank you.” You take them with a gentle smile.
He stands to attention and returns to his post, overseeing the Chimaera.
------------------------------------------
Enoch is fully focused on his datapad but he still notices you walking towards him, holding your back with both hands, your pregnant belly in front of you.
“Good day, milady.” He salutes politely.
“Oh it will be good, Captain.” You say with a smile in your voice.
He turns to you, raising an eyebrow under his helmet. Did you ever see his face once, he suddenly wonders.
“Why?” He asks, curious.
“My waters just broke.” You release the bomb.
He completely blue screen for a second, freezed mid-movement.
You what?
“Are you alright?” He immediately asks worried, tossing his datapad aside carelessly.
You chuckle at his worries, amused by his distressed tone.
“I am very well, thank you.”
He boldly circle your shoulders with his arm and take you hand to give your support, Thrawn would kill him if you ever collapsed alone in the corridor of the Chimaera in such a critical time.
You are as joyful as ever, not stressed for a second while he is sweating bullets under his armor.
You, finally, reach the med bay and Enoch helps you lay down the med bed and starts ordering the droids around. Where are those stupid machines when you need them?!
He takes his comlink and calls his subordinates immediately while the droids plug their monitors and take you in charge.
“Call the Grand Admiral to the med bay.” he orders.
“But sir, he expressed the order to not be disturbed under any circumstance!” The bridge officer argues back.
Enoch sighs silently, back when Karyn Faro was here those comments would have never flown off, but now those officers have real problems submitting to a Captain trooper.
Despite Thrawn making him his right hand.
He gathers his calm and speaks, really calmly, really coldly.
“I don’t care if you have orders, find him and tell him his wife is giving birth! Now!”
He cuts the communication, turning back to you, peacefully laying on the bed with your feet in the stirrups, morphine getting transfused. 
You suddenly wince with a groan. He immediately approaches to take your hand, ready to jump into action.
“Is everything alright?” he asks.
“It’s okay, Enoch. Just a kick.” you smile blissfully.
He slowly relaxes, but can’t help some of the stress to pour in his veins.
He is so out of his element. He’s used to wounds and death, not birth. 
He never delivered a baby, this is the complete opposite of his job! 
“Mom!” Thiroy burst into the med bay, running towards you.
Enoch smoothly intercept her before she hits the bed and hurts herself.
“Sweetheart, did you find your father?” You gently ask.
“I am here, Cha’cah.” Thrawn appears behind her. “Is everything alright, my love?”
He immediately comes to your side, seizing your hand in his.
“I am well, do not worry.” You smile at him “You want to feel them?” 
You place his hand on your tummy to feel the kicks.His shoulders seem to relax instantly.
“They are so energetic.” He sighs.
“Yes. Soon you will meet them.” 
He looks at you with love and adoration in his eyes while your daughter just looks worried.
“You are shining, cha’cah.”
“It’s because I am happy. Our family is growing, love. I have a present for you.”
“You giving birth is enough of a present for me.” He purrs.
“You’ll see.” You wink.
He leans in to kiss your forehead and you wince, in pain again.
“Oof…”
“Enoch, take Thiroy outside.” Thrawn orders.
Enoch takes your daughter's hand and escorts her outside the med bay. Thiroy follows him reluctantly, looking back to you.
“Why couldn’t I stayed?” She asks worriedly.
“It is for the best, miss.” He simply says, “Your father is here to support your mother in this moment.”
“Is everything gonna be okay?” She wonders, full of worry and doubt, “I never saw mum like that.”
“Everything is going to be alright.” He kneels in front of her, “Your mother is a warrior, she will can do it easily.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” 
And they hold their pinkies.
But not everything went well.
Quite the opposite.
Thrawn didn’t need to say a thing, Enoch saw it immediately, something went horrifyingly wrong.
“Dad!” Thiroy jumped on her feet and run to him.
Enoch holds her back by reflex, like her touching her father would have made him implode. Thrawn slowly walk up to his daughter and kneels in front of her with a tired sigh.
“How’s mum?” She asks immediately “When can I see my little brother?”
“Thiroy.” Thrawn starts.
He sounds absolutely exhausted and his features are drawn. Enoch saw Thrawn staying awake for more than a week without sleeping more than one hour per night and remaining energetic and focused, this behavior is highly out of the ordinary for the Chiss. 
By instinct, Enoch squeezes Thiroy's shoulder.
“Your mother is…” Thrawn says before stopping, closing his mouth in a very thin line “She did not make it.”
He did not sugarcoat it, he told her straight, like an adult, looking right into her eyes. She remains silent, looking at her father with round eyes. His hand comes caressing her cheek tenderly.
“Do you understand?” He gently asks.
“Yes…” She very sternly says.
“Your two brothers are well and healthy. They are taken care of.” Thrawn continue.
She simply nods, but Enoch can feel her stiff body in his hand. The wonderful news of two brothers cannot outweigh the horror of your death, and Enoch supports the little body of Thiroy just in case she would lose consciousness.
You are dead.
You abandoned your husband and three children.
“I want you to go to your room. I have some affairs to settle and I will come back to you rapidly to speak with you.” Thrawn tells her.
“What is there to say?” She asks with a cold but unmistakably devastated tone.
“There is a lot to say, actually.” Thrawn argues back, “Especially for someone your age.” He leans forward and kisses her forehead with trembling lips “Follow Enoch to your room, I will come back to your side as quickly as I can.”
Enoch guides Thiroy in the corridors of the Chimaera in dead silence. She doesn’t cry, doesn’t shout, doesn’t throw a tantrum, she remains calm and still but her little hand trembles in his large own.
Enoch remains mute. 
What could he ever say to alleviate the pain of an 8 years old who just lost her mom?
“Do you want me to stay with you?” He finally asks in front of her door.
“No…” She barely responds, unsteady “I want… I want to be alone… A bit.” 
“Alright.” He squeezes her hand one last time before seeing her close her door on him.
He comes back to the bridge with a cramped mind. She didn’t say a thing but he clearly felt her pain and her hatred towards him.
He did promised her you would be alright…
And you died.
Enoch straightens his back and walks with assured steps. With your sudden death his workload suddenly got heavier and Thrawn will need as much help as possible.
And Enoch is not about to fail his Grand Admiral.
Tumblr media
@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay
35 notes · View notes
outofangband · 6 months
Text
(Just some more free form Maedhros post Angband thoughts as I work on revising my more detailed trauma posts! As always more can be found in the post Angband tag
Note: I now have a specific tag for the status and conditions of former prisoners in Beleriand in addition to my post Angband tag. It’s “but ever the Noldor feared”. There’s obviously overlap between this and my post Angband tags because the ways trauma manifests and how it’s understood or misunderstood contributes to the dynamics but I wanted to have a specific tag for it!
Semi related post
Written in part for @nelyoslegalteam for always being so kind about my Maedhros content
but the shadow of his pain was on his heart
This is one of the only lines we receive with regards to Maedhros’s ordeal in Angband. Despite how brief it is I find it so poignant and evocative.
Beleriand lies in the shadow of Angband and that shadow lives in the hearts of those who know intimately that place of horror
A shadow darkens, it envelops, it obscures, and it does everything. Maedhros’s pain, the fear and grief and anger and shame that now live within him, can at times seem to eclipse all that he does and is.
Maedhros’s memories are glass and he cannot hold them without bringing blood, sharp and fragile as though contained something that would shatter around his thoughts and feelings when they came close to the surface. Often pieces would dig in so one word spoken, one finger upon his neck, one whiff of the suffocating smell of blood and heat and iron would embed itself in him until he wanted nothing more than oblivion. The throne room floor, the chains around his limbs and his neck. The voice of the Moringotto.
It could take him as suddenly as the sun obscured, the weight of his body as the ghost of his chains choked him.
And to others. The shadow of his pain is in his heart and upon his bearing; even years after there is pain in his steps on certain days, if you know how to see it.
(just a side note: the description of Tulkas's feelings seeing Melkor in Morgoth's Ring, how it "clouded his mirth" is genuinely such a good description of trauma even if it was intended that way)
The scrutiny that former thralls are subjected to becomes another shadow over him, one that he is perpetually aware of. Even when he has done nothing to cause any to doubt his loyalty, even when he pushes himself to the brink of collapse to fight and plan against the enemy, there are those who will never trust one who has returned from the pits of hell, who hold that he still lives against him or believe he simply wears the face of one of the Eldar
And for all that he is still fundamentally Maedhros, there are those who will see only the ways he has changed from the memories or stories of him that came before
The ways that one survives in Angband do not fade once one is no longer physically confined there. Angband seeks to strip away everything that one is and the fight to reclaim it is vicious, agonizing, and unsightly. The shame that weighs upon survivors is melded with the mistrust and hostility with which they are viewed with by others.
Survivors are known to steal (because nothing can be theirs and they do not trust that they will be given anything without a terrible price), to lie (because they have been forced to choke down the truth when it might lead to further pain, and so much leads to pain), they are known to attack even their own kin (because they are so very afraid).
Maedhros is not like this. He does not lie (not that might be detected) or steal and if he does not any longer attack others out of the fear they might not see
And his status, both before and after his imprisonment absolutely ease this particular burden. He might be among kinslaying nobles but they are nobles nonetheless and the mistrust and even hostility that is felt towards him, specifically regarding his captivity, is certainly mitigated by this. But it still reaches him.
His kinship to others who have been in the Hells of iron is a precarious thing. He can use it to his advantage at times and it can be used against him.
And as another shadow, post Angband there is always the ever present fear of imprisonment again. It ranges from a creeping dread to a visceral, desperate panic that can override all strategy and reason. Especially after some years of recovering and of recovering himself, there is the profound resolve that he cannot return to what he was there and that any violence or death, including and at times perhaps especially his own, is preferable to imprisonment and powerlessness to the extent that he suffered in Angband.
He will not go back to that again even if it means becoming unrecognizable in new ways.
44 notes · View notes
wormbraind · 1 month
Text
very long oc + worldbuilding talk bc im bored
noam: mentioned him in the 'give me your jewish ocs' post. he can use the senses of anyone who perceives him à la mama mathers but can't hijack them the same way. he also can't block them out, which is a nightmare for an autistic kid. he's not super friendly because of this.
ronnie: obsessed with all things 80s. it is her raisin detre. massive people pleaser to the point where she has a very fragile sense of identity. her power is being able to alter her own biology (think amy dallon <3) which she mostly uses to change her own appearance, and for a while she literally cannot control it--she will spontaneously alter herself to look like what she thinks someone wants her to look like
bee: adopted by doomsday preppers at a young age. she's good at survival stuff but not so much with people and has spent her whole life in a constant state of stress. she could use a comfy blanket and some hot chocolate methinks. i don't have a good power for her yet sadly
the idea is like. entity gets bored and starts fucking with people, giving them small glimpses of its cosmic knowledge. in trying to find the perfect balance between 'alerting people to its existence' and 'driving them to instantly have a heart attack from the stress' it creates a hierarchy of 'messengers'. think, like, angels in christianity (sorry jews idk what we have going on with angels). the more insane enlightened ones have more direct communication with it because their brains have been rewired to such an extent that they can understand each other better. they also have more powers and are less involved with earthly affairs, while the more normal messengers send information up the ladder while dealing with humans. a cult forms around them and society everywhere just Shifts to be based around them because of the amount of power they have but it also starts falling apart.
my beautiful main characters who i love dearly get involved with the cult and become part of a program where the entity experiments with giving people new powers. it can do some that are in the basic messenger package (limited flight, glowing, telepathy) but it wants to figure out more. my darling mcs are relative successes and shenanigans ensue
the powers are basically designed to make them dependent on the cult, where higher ups can limit/disable their powers and guide them on how to use them. they are purposefully meant to be awful to have.
14 notes · View notes
dancingupontheclouds · 2 months
Text
the goddess and the fly
or: a woman that is jealous of the liveliness of a fly.
a/n: please do not steal my work, republish and/or claim as yours. thank you. <3
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Darkness surrounds me. It is silent as I breathe it in; let it consume me. My room is messy but it doesn't smell. There is only one thing rotting in my room. I can't bear to look at it. I've broken all the mirrors. There's nothing, yet everything is too much. That is when I notice her. She announces herself with a faint buzz in the background. My neck cracks and hurts as I peel my staring eyes from the ceiling.
Right at the bright gap below the blinds, she crashes stupidly into window again, again, and again. I see her trying. I watch her failing. I witness her sense for survival; the instinct to live and it makes me wonder if an unconscious, dumb, fought-for life is as valuable as my conscious, aching, unwanted one. My jaw tightens. She annoys me. How did she get in her in the first place? It's her fault. She doesn't need to bother me with her struggle.
But she tries again just to bump into glass once more. I could open the window, let her out, set her free, spare her life but she wouldn't know. She wouldn't make me her God. She wouldn't pray for-- to me. So I don't.
My gaze is stuck on her, rapid eyes following her movements and I'm livid. Why won't she just give up, fall to the floor, curl up and die? At what point does an instinct become a will? She becomes slower, her buzzing suddenly a low, soothing sound. My angry heart feels heavy as she lands on the window to rest, the buzzing gone. Good.
One of my fingers reaches out to touch her, slowly. I don't know why. Startled, she takes off with a panicked buzz, crashes into every wall, every corner, every crevice of my room in seconds and I cover my ears and squeeze my eyes shut because I cannot take it; cannot stand to hear her fighting for her life when it's so insignificant. I roll on my side to face the wall and when I open my eyes again, she is right there. We're eye to eye and the longer I look at her, the more I think I can see her breathing, gasping for life. My eyes shift a little to the left, her right, and the window is there, still closed. As we look at each other, I soften at the sight of the little creature depending on the mercy of the woman in front of her. “I'm sorry”, I whisper. It must have been hell for her. This time, she crawls down the wall, closer to me and I ponder whether it is trust or coincidental. How similar can we be? Maybe we are alike. The little fly stops and tiredly rubs her front legs together to get the dirt off her, free herself from my room, wash me off her. Even in her rough state she gets ready to taste life again, to expand her palette like the greedy, stupid animal she is. We are not the same.
She is a fly and I am a woman. She cannot think which is all I do. She wants to live and I hate her for it.
So naturally, she doesn't expect it when my flat palm hits her fragile body. A loud slap hisses through the room, echoes in my ears, when she bursts beneath my skin.
When I take my hand away, I expect her to fall, except she doesn't. She sticks to the wall in a bloody mush.
Her blood graces my palm, a reminder of life just millimetres above my own veins. Even in death she is more alive than me. The thought of lapping it up to indulge her spirit – make it mine – crosses my mind before my face pulls together in disgust and I wipe the rest of her next to her crushed, bleeding body. Now there's two things rotting in my room and for a second I think of getting up and wiping her away, to cease her existence forever, to flush her down the drain for she is the reminder of my ungodly, jealous soul and I think that maybe breathing it in, consuming all that darkness, I've sucked it out of this room completely and have become it as I turn away to face the ceiling again.
11 notes · View notes