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[neptuneiris]

Behind the Scenes (03/05)

Behind the Negotiation

pairing: actor!aemond × fem!reader

summary: knowing that you can't run away from your past forever, you receive unexpected visitors in your home that make you fear for your son's future.

word counter: 8.9k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

warnings: angst, arguments, language,mention of abortion.

guys, I'm sorry for the delay, with this chapter a lot of unexpected things came across my way, but I've finally finished it and I'm satisfied with the result, although I'm not sure if you will like it, it might bore you but I don't know, please let me know :)

without more to say, enjoy it and thanks for all the support, really! let me know your comments too, I'll be waiting for them!

You still remember it all too well.

You remember how you accepted Aemond's terms, the terms of his agent Criston and also of his entire team.

You agreed to keep the existence of your child a secret, to hide in the shadows with him and to keep a low profile until it was "safe" for Aemond's career to publicly and legally acknowledge the baby.

But you only accepted to take that worry off everyone's mind and especially his, so you could run away. Although the reality is that you were scared.

At first, Aemond's power, influence and connections kept you paralyzed, thinking about the consequences of breaking all ties with him.

And running away from him, disappearing from his life along with your son was a decision you had to make carefully and then had to live with in fear and dread of being found someday.

And the fear of possible legal reprisals for your escape and uncertainty about the consequences were present at every turn. But you did everything to live in freedom, not to destroy Aemond's career and to protect your son from all public exposure.

You always knew that Aemond with his celebrity status possesses power, not only in the entertainment industry, but also in the media and social sphere, that was obvious, just like any other celebrity.

So finding you could be as easy as snapping his fingers.

So to prevent Aemond from tracking your movements so he could find you, you began by discarding any means of transportation that could be easily monitored or tracked.

You avoided airports and bus terminals, opting instead for small train stations and local buses, always paying with cash. You left King's Landing and the entire state, going all the way to the Iron Islands.

In Pike, with the money you had left over, you were able to rent a room to yourself in a cheap hotel, then quickly began to look around for a job in the surrounding area in search of an opportunity that could provide you with support and stability.

You knew you couldn't get a job like the one you had before, on a recording set with a big salary. So downtown, you found a job at a beauty salon.

Not only does she own a beauty salon, she also owns a few small apartments in the city and offered you one of them at a lower price, considering you were just starting out with a new job.

The owner of the place, Becca Waters, a kind and understanding woman, saw potential and also the need in you.

Knowing your condition and that you practically came to live in a place where you knew nothing and no one, she also offered you a place to live and be safe.

Mrs. Waters became a fundamental support for you, providing guidance, encouragement, flexibility and stability in your financial need and also in your pregnancy.

With her you felt completely safe and supported at a time when you needed it most. After all you had gone through to get here, leaving your life behind and pregnant, she was your reward.

But still nothing was easy after that.

Your pregnancy process was a roller coaster of emotions, challenges and moments. Facing motherhood as a single mom was an overwhelming reality.

On the one hand, even though the baby was unplanned, you were excited to know that you would soon be holding him in your arms, but on the other hand, you also felt fear and anxiety at the responsibility of raising a child alone with no knowledge of anything really.

The first few months of pregnancy were especially difficult.

You experienced pain, symptoms and discomforts that you had no idea about and had to endure, as well as a slight state of depression and anxiety about dealing with all of this on your own.

But through it all, Becca was your pillar of support at all times, who became your confidant, giving you comfort and encouragement in difficult times. And she was the one who helped you throughout your pregnancy and also the one who was by your side when you gave birth to your child.

And even though you didn't want to, being in a very vulnerable state, you couldn't help but feel lonely and miss Aemond, just as you missed everything you once used to be.

But remembering everything that happened the last time you saw him, even though the feeling disappeared, you also couldn't help but start crying.

And to protect yourself emotionally, you decided to stay away from news about Aemond.

You avoided social media and any content that could remind you of your past with him. Your determination was great to be able to raise your child alone, without relying on Aemond's presence or acknowledgement.

And the day your son finally came into the world, it was a moment of joy and wonder that could not be compared to any other moment in life, filling your heart with indescribable happiness.

However, the birth also brought with it a torrent of new worries and challenges.

Childbirth was exhausting and intense. Nothing you've ever experienced before. And in the days that followed, the constant care of the newborn, the lack of sleep and the adjustment to your new life were heavy challenges that pushed you to the limit many times.

But in spite of that, every smile, every little gesture of your son filled your world with immense love, as well as Mrs. James' help in guiding you in practical aspects of motherhood increased your unwavering determination to go forward for him, being your driving force.

Although also the arrival of your son into the world increased your fear in you.

The fear that Aemond and his team might find you and take your son away from you was a constant worry. But despite this, there were moments of uncertainty when you thought too much about it.

You wondered why Aemond would bother looking for you and your child. Clearly the baby was a risk to his career and he didn't even want to support you from the start, only accepting it later because that was your decision.

You knew he wouldn't but you were still afraid.

Would Aemond really seek you out after he initially supported the idea of abortion?

Would he really seek you out after he supported your decision even if he didn't want to but in the shadows, avoiding any public acknowledgement and hiding you and your son?

But just when you had gotten used to it, had found stability with a job and a permanent refuge in the beauty salon with Mrs. Waters, a few months after the birth of your son, Mrs. Waters was forced to close the salon due to unforeseen financial problems.

That place that had been your refuge and where you found support and friendship, suddenly disappeared, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness, uncertainty and nostalgia.

Mrs. Waters would have to leave town and although you didn't want to, you also decided to do the same, convinced that you would be safer with your son in a place you knew well, avoiding at all times the places you used to go with Aemond and where you knew you could meet him.

So after looking for a job, with your resume and previous excellent references, in the city where the entire film industry resides, you got a job as a makeup artist in a different recording studio than the one you had worked in before.

There was no way you could meet Aemond, or so you thought.

Previously the TV network was BBC, now it was HBO for whom you would be working on a new TV show, so you really had nothing to worry about, especially since the pay was very good and you could survive just fine on that for you and your child.

But right on your first day of work, life decided to surprise you.

And now you are here, in your new apartment where you were planning to live temporarily until you find a better one, but now with you running away on your first day it means definite dismissal for sure, so you have no idea how you are going to pay for a better one or how you are going to pay for this one next month so you won't get kicked to the street.

But you can't even think straight as you are still shaking, your emotions are running high, you have no idea what really happened, it was all very fast between talking and remembering the past.

And the only thing that gives you some peace in the midst of your own thoughts and everything you're feeling, are the sounds of Aenar's toys and babbling in the living room, playing on the floor and touching everything he can.

His silver hair shines from the sunlight coming through the windows and he giggles as his colorful toys bump into each other, showing a world of happiness and innocent curiosity, completely filling your heart but you still feel that sharp ache in your chest.

You move towards him with a soft sigh and take a seat next to him, keeping a small genuine smile on your lips but with some melancholy, when he starts showing you all his toys and asks you between babbling and giggles to play with him.

You move the toys back and forth, ask him questions in honeyed tones and he laughs, making you laugh too, but you continue with the tumult of your overwhelming thoughts.

You think about what you will do now, that you should probably look for a job at a new beauty salon, which is what you should have done as soon as you got back, find a subtle job instead of going back to what you were doing before so suddenly.

However the paycheck was what made you take it and you need it too much, so you'll have to look for other alternatives.

You find yourself thinking about it when you suddenly hear the sound of the door completely interrupting your thoughts and also your game with Aenar.

You look towards the entrance, confused, with a strange feeling growing in your chest, immediately giving you a bad feeling. For who would come knocking at your door?

No one knows you're back… except Aemond.

Oh Gods.

The thought makes you paralyzed, feeling your whole body tense up, your heart starts beating fast and fear invades you completely.

Could it be him?

You wonder, struggling to stay calm, even though there's no way he could have figured out so quickly where you're living.

Or has he?

The thought leaves you completely paralyzed, with a mixture of anxiety and fear flowing inside you.

The knocking on the door becomes more insistent and you carefully get up and leave Aenar still amused in his game on the floor, then walk towards the door feeling a lump in your throat and a growing uneasiness.

You reach for the doorknob and as you turn it to open, your heart skips a beat when you find Aemond's agent standing in front of you, Criston Cole.

A trace of surprise and confusion flashes across your face, feeling your body tighten further and the fear linger.

How did he know where you were?

What is he doing here?

Criston returns you a serious but understanding look, beginning to feel the tension between the two of you, while you feel the fear invade you again because of the old memories and being him one of the main reasons why you decided to run away.

His mere presence triggers a series of emotions that take you by surprise. With no trace of Aemond or anyone else around you, yet your mind races.

Nervousness invades every fiber of your being, while your heart beats faster and stronger than usual. A sense of discomfort invades you and you also feel alert, afraid, unable to control it.

"Y/N."

He pronounces your name with a slight nod. His tone tries to be reassuring, but confusion and bewilderment wash over you.

You say nothing for a few seconds, feeling unable to speak and unable to formulate any words, barely trying at that moment to process the situation. Anxiety creeps through your chest, as he gives you and respects your space, aware of your unease.

"I understand that you're surprised by my visit and I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I really don't. But we need to talk."

The confusion inside you increases and so does the fear, to watch him completely bewildered and on the verge of collapse.

"H-how—

You try to ask with your voice cracking in the midst of all your emotions, but he interrupts you in response, knowing what you're going to ask.

"My team," he lets you know, "They handled finding you."

He tells you seriously and with that touch of professionalism in his tone, but his response only surprises and puzzles you more, to which Criston notices.

You feel the questions pile up in your head, but you barely manage to articulate a word, besides all the emotions you're feeling, fear mainly.

"Aemond informed us of your return," he adds, "After he didn't find you again, he asked us to look for you," he tells you calmly, trying to make his eyes convey an attempt at empathy for you.

But you don't believe that one bit. Not after what happened the last time you saw him and his entire team.

You feel a surge of vulnerability wash over you, leaving you suddenly helpless before him. You don't have the slightest idea how you will be able to cope with that situation, how to get away from them again now that they have found you, especially him.

"What have you really come for?" you question, not hiding your distrust.

Criston keeps a serene attitude and look, seeking to soften the tension, but notices your demeanor and posture, of fear and alertness altogether.

"Just to talk," he tells you softly, "Believe me the last thing I want and Aemond too is to cause you trouble. We just want to talk and nothing more," he explains, but you are having none of it, "He was going to come himself, but he had to film some scenes. But he'll come as soon as he can."

This just adds more weight to the anxiety and nervousness you're already feeling, so it triggers an alert in you that makes you feel completely freaked out, definitely not wanting that.

"No," you try to retort with a firm tone, but your vulnerability shows in your trembling voice and nervous expression, "Please leave."

Concern flashes across Criston's face for an instant, unconsciously taking a step towards you.

"Y/N–

"Please," you plead, "Just go away and don't come back, none of you, not even him."

"Y/N, please, just let me—

"No," you interrupt him again, more desperate than before, "Please," you repeat.

The atmosphere is filled with a silence full of tension, where your words, full of desperation and longing to get away from the situation, float in the air, also asking for urgent distance and tranquility.

And Criston lets out a sigh.

"Just a few minutes," he says, struggling to find some control in the situation, "Just-let us talk to you, Aemond and me."

"If it's to talk about his career and his son, I'm not interested," you say firmly, but your trembling voice gives away your emotions, "We've talked about that before," you say with some bitterness and sadness in your tone, "You can go now. I don't plan on staying anyway."

Without having let go of the door frame, you try to close the door, ending all of this, but he instantly speaks again, stopping you.

"Please Y/N, Aemond is very worried and wishes to speak with you," he insists, "He hasn't been the same since you left, you should know that," he adds in a persuasive tone.

You let out a snort in disbelief and with some bitterness, as you look away from his gaze for a moment.

"I highly doubt that."

"Y/N—

The sound of Aenar's innocent laughter while playing with his toys catches Criston's attention, stopping his words, who unconsciously catches a glimpse inside your living room where Aenar is playing and also catches a glimpse of his small figure on the floor with his characteristic silver hair.

This immediately triggers your concern and increases your protective mode and you quickly close the door a little behind you, blocking his view, while your heart is pounding.

This is what you meant.

You don't want anything bad to happen to your son, in any way. And you will do anything to protect him, because they decided everything except to protect you and now you will not allow them to intervene in your son's life now that they know he is here.

"Y/N," he calls to you in a softer voice, watching you completely intently and desperately asking you with his gaze for a moment.

"Please don't," you plead with him, at the point of collapsing from worry and frustration.

Again you enter the apartment as you hold the door frame tightly to close it, but Criston stops you again.

"You must understand the gravity of what happened," he tells you seriously, "Your disappearance put Aemond's relationship with his son in danger. There are legal implications for you to consider, such as custody," he says and your heart flips, "I can explain all of this to you and resolve it in the best way possible," he looks at you in insistence, "But only if you let me in so we can talk."

And there they are again. Your greatest fears.

The word 'custody' repeats over and over in your mind, like a loop, causing you greater fear, worry and pressure than before, the gravity of the situation and the looming legal implications being clear.

The air weighs on you, heavy with uncertainty and intense tension, as well as you are overcome with the urge to cry because of your doubts and fear.

"Wh-what-" you try to speak in a whisper, your voice cracking and your heart in a fist, "Custody?" you repeat under your breath.

Criston watches you with some pity and understanding, then lowers his gaze, lets out a sigh and watches you with that sympathy and also a little expectant.

"May I come in?"

Try one more time and maybe it's because of his words that your mind is in a state of alarm that makes you recognize that you can't run away again or else things will get worse. And you don't want that. You are afraid for yourself and Aenar.

Feeling more of your anxiety, you finally allow him to enter and Criston at this thanks you with his gaze and moves carefully, noticing your visible discomfort and also your fear, not wanting to alter you any further with absolutely nothing.

And once the door closes, you immediately stand in front of Aenar with a weak and vulnerable posture trying to look strong, this catching his attention and feeling something warm in his chest at the presence of the little one.

But he also knows exactly why you react this way and he doesn't blame you for it, much less does it bother him because he understands you.

"I'm very honest when I tell you that we really don't want to create more trouble, Y/N," he tells you in a soft tone, "Aemond…. he really is very worried. And since he is my client, we don't want any legal implications or further conflict."

You try to keep your composure, but your thoughts are a storm of confused emotions. The very idea of dealing with legal issues, especially regarding your son, is overwhelming to you.

"Why now?" you ask in a trembling voice, your gaze searching for answers, "All this… why?"

Criston exhales slowly, trying to find the right words.

"The situation has changed, basically since you left. Aemond was wrong at the time and I admit I was too, so now he's willing to acknowledge your son, in every way possible."

You can't help but look incredulous and bitter once again.

"It's already too late for that, don't you think?" you ask him in a bitter tone.

Criston looks down for a moment, his expression one of compassion and understanding towards your perspective.

"Yes, we know," he nods to you, "And that's why we're here, trying to keep all this from becoming a bigger problem. But please Y/N, understand that Aemond doesn't want to hurt you or cause you any more trouble than he's already caused."

"And until now you say that?" you inquire sad, worried, fearful and indignant, "That's what I needed to hear before when I was scared, because I was scared too Criston, not just Aemond," you let him know, with tears in the corners of your eyes, "But you treated me like a problem you needed to get rid of, you and him."

Criston listens to your words with a gesture in his eyes that reflects the heaviness of the situation, just as you see shame and regret wash over him, suddenly seeing him as the vulnerable one and you as the strong one compared to years ago, the roles reversing for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. We didn't mean to make you feel that way," he says in a regret-laden tone.

"Sorry doesn't change anything," you say, fighting back tears.

You watch him with your hard stare and sad eyes, feeling several tears fall down your cheeks, making you remember once again.

And once again without letting it drown you, you force yourself to push those memories away, all your moments of uncertainty, fear and pain, to brush your tears away from your cheeks with a strong look of determination.

"I will accept any legal consequences if there are any," you say suddenly, trying to keep your composure, "If there are legal actions, I'm willing to face them. But for now, I just want to be left alone, please."

"Y/N," Criston calls you cautiously, "I just want you to understand that we want to do the right thing now. And what we want to do is find a solution that works for you and for Aemond regarding him," he points to Aenar with his gaze behind you, "Something that guarantees your privacy while not damaging his public image."

Then all the effect of his words completely disappear on you.

You feel a surge of frustration, annoyance and despair at the realization that still the main concern remains Aemond's career.

"Do you still think about his career?" you ask with disappointment and resentment in your tone.

"Y/N—

"The most important thing here is my son," you stand strong, "But he seems to be only one aspect of Aemond's image, doesn't he?"

"Even after all this time that has passed, Aemond's career is more successful and even promising than before, that is something that neither you, him nor I should forget, let alone ignore," he tries to explain to you, "Aemond wants to fix things but his career must also be contemplated, please understand this Y/N."

"Then why do you say you want to do things the right way now if that is not true?" you inquire.

"Yes it is true," he clarifies, "But within all of this, his career must still be contemplated."

You shake your head in disbelief, unable to believe it.

"You say a lot of things Criston, but it's clear what matters most to you," you say with no emotion in your voice, "And sure, why shouldn't his career matter most to you? After all… you don't know what it's like to get pregnant, without support and go through the whole process by yourself, and then raise a child on your own, without the support of his father."

"I don't mean to—

"Please go away," you plead once more and this again alerts him.

"Y/N—

He tries to speak but the sound of the door echoes throughout the living room, drawing your full attention and Criston's as well.

The atmosphere again becomes heavier than before, as well as all your confidence disappears, already knowing who it is and you are confirmed by the fact that the person behind the door knocks more insistently, sounding desperate.

With your fearful gaze and your whole body tense, you quickly move towards Aenar, who is still playing completely oblivious to everything that is happening on the floor and you take him in your arms with haste but also care.

You hold him tightly against your body, as a way to protect him from everything outside and also from all people especially while trying to contain all your emotions.

And Criston, who also knows who it is, rushes to the door to open it.

And there on the doorway, the figure of Aemond comes into view, with all the desperation and longing in his gaze, the worry and anguish too, as you muster the courage to be able to look him in the eye again, holding Aenar a little more firmly against your chest.

But your son's body is visible to the eye and that's what makes Aemond completely paralyzed at the sight of you with his son in your arms.

Surprise is completely reflected in his whole look, immediately followed by a bunch of emotions that start to pile up in his whole being and want to come out, as he feels his whole body tense up and a feeling in his stomach invades him.

This leaves him and you in a state of momentary restlessness, where time seems to stand still and the silence is too loud. You, with your gaze fixed on him, try to keep your composure with a mixture of fear, insecurity and some determination to protect your son at all costs.

It didn't take long for Aemond's surprise to turn into a moment of awe and a surge of overwhelming emotions. The mere sight of you with his child in your arms triggers disbelief, pent-up longing and a feeling of suppressed joy.

"Y/N," Aemond calls your name in a whisper, his tone laden with surprise and visible regret, where his gaze can't tear away from you and Aenar.

You say nothing, just watch him back without saying anything, with all your emotions reflecting in your eyes.

The moment is just the three of you, so Criston turns away completely, not interfering and saying absolutely nothing, while you continue in your protective mode and Aemond is still processing this whole moment.

With excitement clashing against the surprise in his eyes, he tries to process the reality of having his son before him for the first time.

He searches for the right words to speak, but his stuck mind won't let him, nor will the lump in his throat and stomach as he continues to watch the scene in front of him; you with his son in your arms.

He tries to say something, but his lips barely half open and the words won't come out, feeling his heart beating too fast and hard.

And you with your gaze full of expectation, fear and caution, Aemond finally looks at you again, aware of all the emotional charge you feel, just like him, as well as your fear and distrust after everything that happened.

"C-can… can I come closer?"

He finally asks cautiously, his voice with a tone of longing and nervousness barely contained.

You hesitate at that moment.

Feeling the weight of the situation and the emotions that are triggered at that moment, despite everything, you feel very vulnerable and you also feel his vulnerability, also that longing to touch Aenar and hold him.

And despite the way he acted with you almost two years ago and also the way Criston and all his team treated you, you don't feel able to be as cruel as they were with you back then.

You don't want to be like them and also aware that this day would come sooner or later, you watch Aenar for a moment, leave a soft kiss on his forehead and again watch Aemond, then nod in his direction with a barely perceptible gesture.

You allow Aemond your closeness and he with extreme care begins to approach you slowly, as if fearing that a sudden movement could fade the magical and longing moment.

Aemond's heartbeat echoes in your ears as he finally stands in front of your son.

Aenar, completely oblivious to everything, senses the nearness of someone else and raises his curious gaze to Aemond, watching him with those bright blue eyes.

And upon seeing that man with the same hair color as his own, his eyes light up with a gleam of curiosity, lightly waving his arms and also his body.

With his teary eye, he watches you for a moment, to again focus on Aenar and with a mixture of excitement and awe, he extends one of his trembling hands towards his small, delicate face.

And when the touch of his fingers against his soft skin of his cheek makes itself felt, Aemond feels an unfamiliar sensation invade him completely.

A sad but honest smile full of melancholy appears on his lips as he gently and carefully traces his face, running his hand up to his silver hair, gazing intently into those blue eyes just like his own as Aenar watches him with that playful innocence but also just as curious as his own.

You, unsure of exactly what to feel or think, watch as he carefully reaches out both arms and begins to hold his body, feeling the warmth and weight of his small body now resting in his arms.

That unfamiliar, overwhelming feeling from before comes over him even more strongly as he holds his son for the first time, when Aenar lifts one of his hands and touches his left cheek, where his scar is.

The emotion makes his breath hitch as he struggles to hold back the tears of restrained happiness that will come at any moment.

It was a moment he had imagined countless times, but had never believed possible until this instant.

Aenar, captivated by the newness and warmth in the arms of Aemond, his father, laughs innocently, his eyes dazzling a happiness as he notices the familiarity in that new face above him. And at his gesture, Aemond lets out a choked laugh, completely captivated by him.

And unable to contain himself any longer, the first sob escapes his throat and the tears fall, instantly pulling his son's face to his chest, embracing him with gentleness and that security that makes him feel so vulnerable when Aenar settles perfectly in his arms.

Guilt, sadness, joy, emotion, everything invades him in that moment.

And he lets out more tears for the comfort that Aenar gives him in his arms, that feeling of protection and even… love, that makes him feel even more vulnerable.

And you are still there, close to them but giving Aemond his space, watching everything attentively with your heart in a fist and feeling sensations you had not felt before at the scene, with tears also wanting to slide down your cheeks.

After a few more seconds, Aemond slurps his nose and looks over Aenar's small shoulder at you with all the vulnerability in his gaze.

"I-I know I don't deserve this," he says with his voice cracking, trying to control himself but he can't.

And he is about to say something else but you watching his expression, a mixture of regret and deep sadness, you step forward to speak.

"In spite of everything, he deserves to know his father," you murmur with your trembling voice and teary eyes, "Aenar deserves this," you assure him, accepting it as you watch the scene of the two of them.

Aemond nods, unable to articulate words, still feeling the lump in his throat, his face reflecting pain, regret and a sadness you have never seen in him before, as his tears continue to fall as he embraces his son.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, unable to contain the emotion, turning to him and to you. "I'm so sorry. I-I didn't know how to face it…how to be there."

Silence again settles throughout the apartment, only being filled by Aemond's soft crying, as you silently weep and continue to watch the two of them.

A few minutes have passed since Aemond and your son met for the first time.

Aenar laughs with delight as Aemond plays with him with one of his toys. They are both immersed in a little world of fun where it's just the two of them, surrounded by Legos blocks, small plastic cars and puppets.

You watch everything, or almost everything, without interfering and giving them both their space, watching your son enjoy a special moment that on another occasion, could have been a daily routine with a different life.

Criston doesn't say or do anything either, he at all times stands in the corner watching the whole interaction, letting Aemond have his moment with his son, genuinely feeling happy for him.

And even though the scene makes you feel warm in your heart, being a scene you longed for before, you still still feel insecure, afraid and overwhelmed by this whole situation.

This doesn't really change anything. You have only given Aemond the opportunity to meet his son because your son deserves it, nothing more.

Inside you are still just as scared and in expectation that at any moment this whole 'beautiful' moment will fade away. And that's exactly what happens when you hear Criston's voice all over the living room.

"I wouldn't want to ruin the moment, truly," he says seriously and honestly, "But it's important that we talk about all this so we can resolve it properly."

This immediately catches your attention and also Aemond's, with whom you exchange a quick glance, again feeling your whole body tremble and out of the same nervousness you are overcome with the impulse to take your son in your arms to feel safe.

"It is important that we talk about the child, about what you are going to do now," he turns to Aemond, "Custody is important and all that goes with it."

"I don't understand why you keep talking about custody," you look at him nervously and annoyed, "I alone have cared for and raised Aenar all this time."

"I know this is complicated and sudden, Y/N," Criston tells you, "But we need to approach this whole thing responsibly."

"Responsibility?" you repeat incredulously, "What responsibility are you exactly talking about?"

"Y/N," Aemond immediately interjects, "Listen to me, please," he gets up from the floor leaving Aenar playing alone and walks towards you, "It's not my intention to take our son away from you, truly. But we must make sure we have legal rights to be in his life," he explains to you, "You were the one who ran away, who disappeared without a word. I didn't know what happened to you."

You look at him uncomprehendingly, with your hurt and desperate gaze.

"You talk about custody and rights when in the beginning that was the last thing on your mind, Aemond," you observe him incredulously, "And you keep reproaching me for running away when you know perfectly well that I did it so I could live and so I wouldn't ruin your career, which was all you were thinking about."

Regret again invades Aemond's face, as the atmosphere becomes denser, full of mixed emotions where fear and anger resurfaces with everything else.

Any trace of calm and peace, has ceased to exist, only being perceived by Aenar, who continues oblivious and innocent to all this in his games.

"I-I…" Aemond tries to speak, "I'm sorry for everything, Y/N. But back then...

His sentence hangs in suspense, not knowing what else to say, trying to find the right words without wanting to generate more tension, but that's what he involuntarily does.

"Back then," you repeat, your emotions running high, "Back then you were too busy taking care of your public image, supporting the idea of an abortion without consulting me, then supporting the idea of hiding me and my child as if we were a problem, which in fact we were and as if it was my only option, leaving me with no alternatives," you express with frustration and pain marked in every word.

Regret remains in Aemond's facial expressions, looking visibly affected by your words, grief-stricken and with a regret throughout his body that affirms to him that you are absolutely right, each word being like a dagger straight to his heart.

"Y-you don't know how much I regret and blame myself for all of that, Y/N," he tells you with vulnerability in his tone, "And I know I don't deserve it, any of this, not even that you allowed me to meet him and that I'm now in the same place as him," he says with regret, "But I want to find a solution that works for both of us," he whispers sadly.

The room is again consumed by silence, except for the sound of Aenar's toy movements, which is what catches Aemond's attention for a moment to smile a little more melancholy.

The situation becomes increasingly complex as your emotions continue to run high between anger and sadness, with the memory of past times still latent, but also with the uncertainty of the future.

And Criston, trying to keep calm, intervenes again.

"I understand that you both have different perspectives on what happened. But now we need to think about the future, of your son," he says seriously, "It's not just about custody, it's about finding a way to strike a fair balance, but… thinking about your career too, Aemond."

You let out a disbelieving, ironic snort again, shaking your head.

"His career,'" you repeat with a bitter tone, your voice a mixture of sarcasm and disappointment.

Aemond, watching you sadly and remorsefully, speaks in a calm but regret-laden voice.

"I don't want you to look at this that way, Y/N—

"That's just the way I see it," you interrupt him, serious and sad, "This is exactly why I left. This is why when I saw you again, I decided to run away again," you say hurt, "Now that you've met him, you want to be in his life, but you still prefer to hide us. This kind of life is the one you wanted to give us at the beginning and now you still do too."

Your revelations Aemond had already heard, but at that moment, again that sharp pain in his chest becomes present, as well as guilt, remorse and regret at seeing your sad face with such honest words.

"All I want is to come to an agreement, Y/N, please—

"You're not going to hide us," you interrupt him firmly.

"Aemond," he calls him seriously.

"No, that's not my intention—

He insists desperately but Criston intervenes.

"Don't," Aemond interrupts him instantly, turning serious and with an annoyed expression towards him, "We can't hide the truth anymore, Criston. Things must change."

"Look, I understand that this is difficult for you," he begins in a serious and cautious tone, "But still, we must consider the consequences. There's a lot at stake here, your career," he reminds him, "You have numerous job offers. Your show on HBO is the most famous show on the platform and the most watched show on television so far. How do you think people are going to react when they find out about your son?"

The room sinks into another silence, as you watch him with your hard, sad face, frustration, annoyance and irritation inside you, watching as Criston continues to treat your son like he's a problem.

And it hurts you.

Because Aemond doesn't even say anything.

"We can find a way to handle all this without putting at risk everything you have achieved, Aemond. And if you get a share of the custody, your son will be under your protection without harming your image," he proposes with an insistent look, seeking his approval.

You look away again, completely incredulous and with helplessness all over you.

It's not Aemond, it's Criston.

It is he who continues to manipulate Aemond to prioritize his career over his son, so that everything revolves around public image and fame, diverting attention from the well-being of your son.

And what can you really do there?

He is his agent, the person who has positioned him where he is now, making him famous, relevant, telling him what roles to take in movies or TV shows that are going to ensure one more success to his career.

"If you listen to him…" you begin to say in his direction with a trembling but firm tone, "If you do what he tells you, I swear I won't care what I have to do, even go into debt to get a good lawyer," you warn, "I will fight for the custody of Aenar and when I get it, I assure you that you will never see him again, ever."

Your words slip from your lips with a determination that completely surprises Aemond, surprise and concern visible on his face, watching you hurt for a moment, his mind a complete mess.

But it is not he who speaks, but Criston who takes the floor once more.

"If that's what you want, Y/N… that's fine," he tells you seriously, his gaze cold and calculating. "But let me warn you, we're trying to come to an agreement—

"The two of you or you specifically?" you snap at him.

"That doesn't matter, Aemond is my client and my job is to secure and protect his career," he tells you seriously, "And if you'd rather take this to fighting for full custody of Aenar, then so be it," he nods at you, "But I assure you, you're going to end up losing."

"That's enough."

Finally, Aemond's voice rises from where he stands, aimed directly at Criston, with a serious, hard stare that reveals a newfound determination.

"We are talking about our son, an issue that concerns her and me, this has nothing to do with you," he declares, his tone firm and his posture defiant.

"Your career has to do with me," he clarifies to her also serious, "You must think about what you are going to sacrifice. Your future, your career, the opportunities that await you-

"I said that's enough," he spits back at her, serious and annoyed, watching him with a hard stare, taking Criston by surprise.

And before he can say anything else, there is another knock on the door, drawing your full attention and making you feel completely alert, especially when Criston is the one who again goes to open the door, as if he knows exactly who it is.

And as you open the door, just like that day, Aemond's publicist, an assistant and the PR people enter your apartment.

Surprise flashes all over your face, watching with your eyes wide open the unexpected arrival of that group of people, whose intentions are not good.

"Thank you for coming," Criston tells them as he closes the door behind him.

"Of course."

Their eyes flick to you for a moment and then focus on Aenar, watching them back with curiosity in their gaze, while you feel confusion and fear completely take over you.

Despair, fear, your future, Aenar, everything mixes together in a horrible way that makes you want to vomit, letting out a couple of tears to quickly turn to your son and hold him in your arm, turning your back to them and starting to cry silently.

And Aemond, seeing your reaction, equally as surprised as you, quickly turns to Criston, his gaze full of confusion and annoyance.

"What is this? Why have you called them?" he inquires with his voice full of restrained anger.

And Criston, unabashed and uncaring of his actions, responds with a calm but calculated determination.

"We are not going before a jury to settle this, Aemond, it will be a waste of time and she will cause us more trouble," he says regardless, "This is necessary for your career, to address this whole issue strategically to protect your image, whether she likes it or not."

Aemond's expression transforms to one of frustration and helplessness.

But before he can intervene, his entire team begins to act.

"We need to establish an immediate plan, now," Criston says.

"Will the strategy be to minimize the impact on the media?" asks the publicity man.

"No, I want it hidden," Criston clarifies, "The approach must be careful and calculated. The priority is Aemond's reputation and career."

"I suggest we limit the exposure of Y/N and the child in public."

"We could create an alternative narrative to deflect attention by highlighting Aemond's professional accomplishments and minimizing the focus on his personal life."

"This must be handled with discretion. We cannot allow this situation to interfere with Aemond's career opportunities," Criston says firmly.

And so your entire living room fills with the sound of all those voices, each voice contributing ideas to control the situation, the problems, Aenar and you.

The tension intensifies, as everyone meticulously plans how to run the public narrative, completely ignoring Aemond's and your personal needs and concerns.

Tears slip down your cheeks silently as you hug Aenar tightly to your chest. This instantly catches the attention of Aemond, who steps worriedly towards you, placing his hand on your shoulder, positioning himself in front of you, but you abruptly pull away from him, watching him with an expression of pain and anguish amidst your tears and suffering face.

"Y/N—

"Why are you doing this? Why are you allowing this?" you ask in your broken, desperate voice.

"No, I swear to you I had no idea that he—

"I left, Aemond," you remind him with your voice cracking, "I left to save your career. And everything was fine, with you and me, our lives," you sob, "Why did you ask Criston to find me? Why do you care and insist on saying you want to be in our lives, when your career is still the most important thing?"

Pain and confusion echo in your words, lingering in the mind of Aemond, who in his gaze reflects a mixture of guilt, bewilderment, pain and sadness.

But everything hurts him more the moment you turn away from him, with a defeated gesture, turning your back to him and your whole body trembling in fear, Aenar in your arms being what gives you strength not to fall apart at that moment.

"We can prepare official statements to control the leaking information to minimize any negative impact on his public reputation."

"Rest assured that we need to maintain full control of this situation. We cannot allow any details to slip out," Aemond hears Criston's voice.

And that's when something snaps inside him.

Every repressed feeling bursts out in a whirlwind of emotions that were fighting to get out, your worry, the anger at himself and the guilt that invades him.

Everything explodes and ignites into a fury that he can no longer contain, seeing your state, causing him anger and feeling completely guilty.

Because everything is in fact his fault.

So without waiting a second longer, he walks to the center of the living room and with a hard, serious, completely annoyed look on his face and with his jaw clenched, he acts.

"Get out of here, all of you, now!" he exclaims, instantly drawing everyone's attention and yours as well.

For an instant everyone watches him and nothing else, slightly surprised and expectant, Criston too, unmoving and doing nothing, causing you a wave of despair.

"I said everyone out!" he exclaims in a firm voice and his gaze full of determination.

And it's only then that one by one the team finally leaves your apartment, except for Criston.

"What are you doing?" he inquires with a touch of disbelief in his tone, challenging Aemond.

"You get out of here too."

He orders him annoyed and with irritation, his voice charged with a frustration that has already reached its limit.

"Aemond, this is important, you can't just—

"I need to talk to Y/N alone," he interrupts her with his tone in a mixture of anger and determination, "I'm warning you, Criston. If you ever do anything else again without consulting me and interfering with this, I'm going to seriously consider firing you, which is what I should have done long ago," he shoots back at him with his defiant stare.

The pulse of the room beats with unbearable intensity as Aemond and Criston hold a duel of intense stares. However, in the face of Aemond's firmness, Criston finally resigns himself with a serious, annoyed look, full of frustration and resignation.

And finally he heads for the door, his footsteps sounding in the room as he leaves the apartment.

Aemond watches him leave with a mixture of relief and exhaustion, no longer feeling his shoulders tense. The silence expands once more as soon as the door closes and he turns to you with a gaze filled with a quiet, worried intensity.

The silence lingers for a few moments longer, a dense atmosphere charged with unspoken emotions. When he takes a step toward you, hesitantly.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice ringing with sincerity and regret, "What happened, my insistence… none of this was my intention, much less to cause you pain and hurt you," he admits with his vulnerability again reflected.

And even though it's just you and him in your apartment, your fear lingers.

"P-please don't take my son from me," you plead between sobs, your voice filled with anguish and fear.

Aemond's heart contracts in suffering and worry at your words, his gaze instantly reflecting it.

"What? No, no, Y/N… that is not what I want to do, it is not my intention to take our son from you."

He tells you instantly insistent but in a serene and sincere voice, taking a few more steps towards you, placing himself in front of you, trying to reassure you. But tears continue to slide down your cheeks.

"This is why I left, so I wouldn't cause you any more trouble, so I could live and keep our son safe," you repeat with your voice cracking.

"I know, Y/N, I know," he tells you sympathetically and with a soft tone, "And you don't know how much I hate myself for having been the cause of you deciding to leave, for having hurt you so much to the point of having made that decision," he says sincerely, his eye beginning to tear up, "And this is not just about him, about our son," he tries to explain, "Yes, it is important, but it is also about us," he speaks with a longing, "Since you left, I never stopped thinking about you, and I-I...

He hesitates, unable to fully express his feelings, as he stands in front of you and wants to hold you, you and your son, as he faces his deepest emotions, feeling a tear run down his cheek and looks at you with all the sincerity and pain in his gaze.

"I love you," he finally says, in a completely vulnerable whisper, trembling, lowering his gaze, unable to look you in the eye, "Despite everything, despite my mistakes, despite my work, despite everything that happened…. I-I still love you," he declares in a whisper laden with longing and regret, "And our son too."

His words get stuck in your mind.

With your heart clenched by the surge of emotions, your eyes watch him back with a mixture of surprise, pain and longing. Aemond's sincerity and vulnerability... it's all too much and makes you feel completely helpless, definitely not expecting that.

You can't speak, your words get stuck in your throat, your heart fluttering with the intensity of the moment, your surprise.

And Aemond completely understands your silence.

"I understand that you don't love me anymore and that you can't love me again, I also understand that things can't go back to the way they used to be because of my job. But please… don't keep running away," he pleads quietly, "We won't fight over custody, there will be no legal repercussions, I'm not going to do any of that," he assures you, "Just…" he lets out a long breath, "Just get back to work and let's face this together."

He proposes with his voice full of fragile but hopeful determination, unexpectedly causing you to feel a relief and a warm feeling in your chest.

"I just want Aenar to be okay and let's consider his well-being as the most important thing," you say quietly, while Aemond listens attentively with his face full of longing, regret and understanding, "But we need time and patience. Also that no one else interferes."

Aemond nods, with a slightly more relieved expression, but keeping in mind that there is much to resolve, to heal and to build.

"I understand that and… I'm willing to do whatever it takes… for him and for you," he says sincerely.

You nod too, as silence takes over again, but this time it is permeated with a shared understanding and a determination to face whatever is necessary for Aenar's well-being.

And finally after so much, you feel calm and fortunately, this time with the support of Aemond, who hesitantly leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead and another on Aenar's forehead, taking him back into his arms.

taglist:

@imaegonstargaryenswife0 @bellstwd @gibbsgirl7 @toodlesxcuddles @imsoshygirl @croatianprincess @gemini-mama @a-little-roony-mara @mysteris-things @zenka69 @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @duds31 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @eternally-passionate @bellaisasleep @ttkttt @aemshaircare @mellowdreamlandpost-blog @noodle81937 @mooncalvin @queenofshinigamis @n4tforlife @vexladin @dixie-elocin @wotcherpeak @watercolorskyy @shiny-trashs-blog @strangersunghoon @elysian0612 @skzenhalove @iloveallmyboys

next part taglist:

@anehkael

[mychlapci]

Milk that policebot stupid, now Ratchet has had it with Prowl getting another crash from overworking his damn experimental cerebral hardware for the 13th time that quartex. He's decided that Prowl needs a proper break for once. Naturally, our haughty tactician refuses, citing that he'd go insane from the lack of mental stimulation, since he can't deactivate the battle computer. Hell, he can't even overload properly since having too high of a charge may cause the damn thing to fritz out and damage his brain.

Ratchet's solution? Turn the damn thing off by cutting it's power source. The battle computer here is so power hungry, it needs a whole different source of fuels or else it'll drain Prowl's main tanks dry in no time. This is why his processors are actually wired to the condensers in his chest; his fat, voluptuous milky boobies are there to provide juice to that thirsty hardware. So in theory, draining his chest pouches should starve his processor and drop it into power saving mode, allowing him to overload safely.

Unable to protest against the logic of his chief medical officer beyond a few indignant complaints, Prowl very quickly finds himself strapped onto a sybian with milkers latched to his erect nozzles. Because that's what he needs. To be milked until his mind is empty enough that he can finally cum all of that stress out from his pent up frame.

Hands cuffed behind and locked down onto the surface behind him, he can only wriggle in place when the suction is activated. Condensed, pure fuel flowing out from his perked up titties while Ratchet continues to attach buzzing stimulators throughout the rest of his body. Once the systems monitoring his pouch levels note that he's finally below 70% capacity, the dildo in his pussy flares to life, vibrating at a low frequency, forcing a gasp from its captive audience.

Prowl has never felt like this before. He was forged with the experimental hardware in place, so finally being allowed to experience pleasure without restraint like this is a completely new and foreign experience to him. Ratchet wipes up the drool leaking from his panting mouth, and stuffs it back into his intake.

"Good mech. Let it happen. Shhh."

He can feel his processor becoming more and more sluggish, background programs and simulation queues pausing and terminating one by one. Everything is becoming fuzzy, coloured by that sickeningly sweet haze of arousal building in his core. He's at 50% now. The vibrator kicks up a notch, and starts thrusting into his fluttering valve. He jolts when he feels firm, skilled fingers begins to massage his node, eyes all but locked onto the dim swaying lamp overhead. World out of focus.

It's so hard to think now. So empty. So good. The nodes attached to his doorwings and various armour gaps flare to life, making him shiver against Ratchet's broad frame, pressing against him from behind. Prowl squeals when the milking pads suddenly starts exerting pressure on his sensitive titties, squeezing them to encourage more fluid flow. His chest reserves are getting low now.

18%. His needy little frame is becoming so charged up, components rattling and trembling, so unused to such amounts of pleasure. Ratchet is whispering praise and encouragement directly into his audials, even if he no longer has the ability to parse the words. Those hands are gripping his hips now guiding them to grind against the sybian, meeting each thrust in slow, intoxicating glides. Good, obedient, little slut.

There's something building inside him. Prowl doesn't know what it is, but he knows subconsciously, whatever it becomes, it's going to wipe him completely clean. He wonders if this is what it feels like to truly overload. 5% capacity. The battle computer is so quiet for once. His body and mind are unraveling under Ratchet's hands, separating mind from matter. He's floating.

Those arms are wrapped around his uncontrollably shaking body now. So very close to cumming, he can't even conjure up a single line of thought anymore. And as that pouch gauge tips from 1.1% all the way down to a 1.0%, Prowl cums. Electricty surging through his frame snd processor, thrashing mindlessly in Ratchet's embrace. Valve spasming and squirting around the thrusting false spike, lubricants gushing out and dripping onto the device, pooling into a veritable puddle on the floor below. His spike just seems to ejaculate on and on, as if making up for lost time, releasing all of that backed up transfluid at once.

Prowl was cumming so hard, he didn't even register when he'd blacked out and rebooted, still in the same position, securely held by those strong servos. All he knew was that his relaxed frame could no longer move. He could see something in front of him. Colours, shapes moving. There were a few noises around him, but the silence in his head begged for greater attention. He was… He didn't know why he was there. Nor does he care. It doesn't matter anymore. He felt good. So good. He was being good. That's what the voice and the headpats were telling him. He's good.

Once completely out of it, the milking pads automatically throttled their flow, keeping his pouches teetering on that 0.25% theshold as to not drain him dry completely. Ratchet moves to insert a feeding tube into the blissed out tactician's slack mouth. Moving him to a private ward so that he can lie down and rest at last, letting his tits fill out again until his battle computer and higher brain functions re-engage.

And if Prowl finds himself, unknowingly of course, spending more time than agreed previously within the confines of the medbay, well, it's not like he could protest anyway. All Ratchet has to do is use a low flowrate for the feeding tube while leaving the milking pads on, keeping his silly little processor in power saving mode until he decides to let Prowl regain cognizance. Whenever that is.

Because their chief tactician just looks so pretty like this. He's so much cuter as a blank little fuckdoll, all milked stupid and demure. And if the rest of high command just happens to find him posed on his knees like a mindless toy next to his desk when they come to the CMO's office, well, feeding him a bit of transfluid here and there is definitely contributing to replenishing those boob fuel levels, for sure. Not that Prowl cares. He doesn't even have the capacity to care. Silly little slut just wants to be a good bot, be fragged through the floor and swallow all of that delicious cum right now. And perhaps, when he's good enough, that gentle voice and warm hands would give him more headpats, and maybe let him cum what little remains of his silly mind out again (he will). Might turn this into a full fic later if I can scrounge up the motivation-🔌

yesss this is so hot, i have no notes. i think it's funny that milking Prowl just straight up turns off his battle computer and makes him a little dumb.... mhmm

[colormepurplex2]

On Wings of Mist & Memories | JJK

▻ On Wings of Mist & Memories ↳ DragonRider!Jungkook x FieldScribe!f.Reader ⤜ Exiled Royalty, High Fantasy AU ⤜ Enemies to Lovers | Angst, smut, fluff ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 39,753 ⤜ Summary: You’re a Psion—disguised Field Scribe—of the Golden Kingdom of Bolas, attached to the Front Wing Infantry. After an ambush from the sky rips down the safe walls around you, you find yourself at the mercy of a brutal man, his dragon, and his shadows. ⚠️ Crass language, combat/violence, minor character deaths, talk of war, brief nudity (nonsexual, mostly), sexual references and feelings, flashback minor character death, mild sexual tension, suggestive inner thoughts, lots of sexual tension, crude banter, fingering, kissing, dirty talk, teasing, shadow penetration/sex (it's exactly what you're probably thinking it is: fun af), lots of praise, sexual pleading/begging, endearingly awkward sexual tension, shameless flirting, oral m. receiving, shadow clit play, nipple pinching/teasing, v. sex, mild cum play & eating, multiple orgasms, sad feelings/thoughts of the future, fighting, mild violence, implied minor character death, minor character terminal sickness that leads to off-page death, talk of forced bonds, heartache, pregnancy, off-page childbirth Each chapter will have specific warnings listed.

Chapter 1: Shadowsword

Chapter 2: Oath Breaker

Chapter 3: Burnished Heart

Part of the Bangtan Writers HQ August 2023 “A Love Like War” Writing Event.

A special thank you to @hisunshiine @downbad4yoongi & @peachiilovesot7 for being the best betas!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

Glossary/Map Mave - dragon rider who can wield magic, tethered to the soul of their dragon when they bond (death for both if one dies) Psion - infinite memory/recall Reaver - a dragon that can wield magic, tethered to the soul of the rider they bond (death for both if one dies) Noks - infantry soldiers, humanoids who can enter berserk/rage mode Rider - regular dragon rider, no magic, uses bows or scouts Brute - riderless dragon, usually wild and very dangerous Wielder - magic user, no dragon needed Signis - the designated/specific type of power someone wields Helnite - metal ore that can cut off magic from its user Golden Blight - incurable blood disease

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2023-08  ColorMePurplex2

[nessieart]

The Way Back. VI

WC: 3.9k

Summary: These powers were meant to help people. Help The Avengers, your family. It felt like every time you used them, something bad always happened. Maybe someone has the answers, somewhere.

Bucky x reader. (For now) Steve x reader(eventually???)

AN: next part! Thank you for reading, it means a lot to me!

Masterlist

Previously: Bucky looks to you, arms spread wide. You step up into his embrace, arms wrapping around his neck as his circle your waist.

"Thanks for that dance, Sarge," you whisper in his ear. When he pulls away, you kiss his cheek. "Be safe over there, y'hear me?" You try not to choke on the words, knowing his future and what's in store for James Buchanan Barnes, almost makes you want to tell him.

Tell him it only gets worse from here. War changes people. This war changes two best friends for the foreseeable future. Fate twists and takes them and makes these two best friends completely different people on the other side of the century.

"Anything for you, dollface," Bucky says in the space between you.

7 am felt too early, but you had to make sure you saw him before he shipped out. Who knows when the next time you'd see him would be.

You had portalled behind a warehouse, just to keep out of sight. The docks were busy, even this early in the morning. The sun is barely peaking up over the buildings in Brooklyn as you make your way down the Terminal.

You think you see the right ship. There's crates upon crates with the US. Army and Marine insignia stamped on them. A few men and boys in uniform on board and on the pier.

There's a man with red hair with his back to you, tapping his shoulder he turns to look over it at you, "Excuse me," he turns all the way around, bright blue eyes and a mustache that runs down his chin. he grins down at you. "I'm looking for Sergeant Barnes?"

The man hums, "Well, ain't he a lucky sonofagun? Hey, Sarge!" the man calls, and the next second, you see Bucky straighten up, a question on his tongue before his eyes find yours.

Bucky stares at you for a long moment until one of his men shoves him forward. He stumbles to a stop in front of you, a pink blush rushing up his face as he stares down at you. You just smile up at him.

"W-What," Bucky clears his throat, shaking his head like he can't believe you're here, "What are you doin' here, Charlotte?"

"I came to see you off, Sarge," you tell him. Bucky smiles, takes the hat off his head, and runs his fingers through his short hair.

His eyes shine as he looks from you, then over your shoulder, scanning the crowd and then around his vicinity. His eyebrows furrow, and then he looks back at you.

"Um.. Steve…?" He asks. You look away, you tried to get Steve to come with you. But he told you he didn't have the heart to say goodbye to Bucky again. Especially since he was accepted into the army, too. He didn't know how to break that bit of news to him either.

"He sends his love," you give Bucky a sad smile. "You know how he gets." Bucky nods.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, flops his hat on your head, and fixes his features to be happy again.

"Well, I'm glad you came anyway, Charlotte. It means a lot. Thanks."

"Don't get all sappy with me, Mr. Barnes." You push his shoulder, and he chuckles. Bucky grabs your hand before you have a chance to pull it away, wrapping his hand around yours to keep it on his chest.

"I mean it."

The world seems to dull around you, as you and Bucky stare at each other. His eyes seem to light up as they bounce between yours. With a deep inhale, he bends his head down a little, your fingers tightening around his, pulling your hand up to his neck to bring you closer.

You could smell his aftershave this close, something spicy and sweet. Lavender and lemons. Your toes curl as you lean up to meet him halfway, his nose running down yours lightly.

An arm drapes itself over Bucky's shoulders, jolting you both from your daze. It shakes him, and you pull your hand away from his grip and take a step back.

"Well, well, Sarge, who's the lucky lady? Are you gonna introduce her or what?"

You take Bucky's hat off your head and hand it back to him, his fingers brush over yours as you slowly release it. You fix your eyes on the redhead, giving him a sly smirk.

"Name's Charlotte, but everyone calls me Charlie," you stick your hand out for the man to shake.

His grin is wide and toothy, his hand dwarfs yours, "Tim Dugan. Everyone calls me Dum Dum."

"Well, that's certainly a name you got there. It's nice to meet you."

You share a few more pleasantries with Dugan. He finally released his arm around Bucky's shoulders, bidding you a fond farewell with a kiss to your hand. The hair on his lip tickles.

"Goodbye, Mr. Dugan, be safe over there," he gives you a nod, patting Bucky on the back as he leaves the two of you alone again.

As you smile up at Bucky, he pulls something from his pocket, "Here, gimme your hand." You place yours on top of his, and he places something in your palm.

You smile, "A photo? Aren't you handsome?" The black and white photograph is of Bucky, an official army picture. You're sure he tried to smile, but there's a smirk on his lips as he stares at the camera. You tuck the picture away, then pull out an envelope from your pocket.

You give it to Bucky, the name James scrawled neatly in your handwriting. "Here, don't open this until you're well out onto sea." When he goes to take it from you, you grip it tighter. "You hear me, Sarge?" You raise an eyebrow.

Bucky nods, "yes, ma'am," his thumb runs over yours, and you relinquish the envelope. He tucks it inside his breast pocket.

The sound of the ship's horn billows, startling you both, rattling through you all the way to your feet.

There's men - boys - around the two of you gathering the last of their things. Men saying goodbye to their families, loved ones, wives or girlfriends.

Bucky shuffles the two of you out of the way, his hand lingers on your shoulder then skim down you arm to hold your hand.

You look down at your hand in his. "I'm glad I met you, Charlotte," he says in the space between you. Bucky's other hand catches you chin, moving your face back up to look at him.

There's a hammering in your ears as your heart thuds against your ribs. Bucky's tongue peaks out of his mouth to wet his lips, then tugs his bottom lip between his teeth.

Before you can think of anything else, or back away from him, you stand on tiptoes to place a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Bucky's breath hitches, he leans into your lips, taking the hand on your chin to hold your face gently. His eyes slid closed and a slow smile pulls at his lips when you pull away.

You exhale a deep breath out of your nose, "I'm glad I met you, too, James," You're both smiling sweetly at each other for another moment. The ship horn bellows again, a few men call out for Bucky.

"You should go," you say quietly. Your noses rub together again, and Bucky hums. It's a little whiny, and he huffs. The hand on your face keeps you steady, and Bucky kisses you this time. Sweet and patient and full of things he doesn't know how to say out loud.

His lips are soft as they mold over yours. And when he straightens back up, he leans his forehead on yours. "I don't expect you to wait for me, but," he exhales a long breath. "When I get back, maybe we -" You kiss him to silence him.

"Don't make me promises, James Buchanan Barnes, unless you plan on keepin' them." A tear rolls down your cheek and over his thumb, he presses into your face and he nods.

"See ya later, Charlotte," he says as he backs away. Fixing the hat on his head, his hand covers his heart where your envelop is tucked away.

"See you later, Bucky."

**

"You know, I could just portal to you there, then you'd have a whole lot more explaining to do that, 'my sister's super qualified, SIR!" You give a fake salute and fall back onto Howard's bed. You sigh as you stare up at his ceiling. Damn, if this isn't the softest bed you've ever been on.

"Y/N," Howard warns. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with this? You practically begged me NOT to join. What do I tell 'em now? Why the sudden change?"

It's been a week of you trying to convince Howard to talk to the powers that be to recruit you into the SSR. Now that things are falling into line, with Bucky overseas and Steve a shoe-in for the serum, you need to be there. For them and for you. Your powers make a big difference. At least they used to.

But so far, Howard hasn't budged. Explaining or making excuses, that it might look suspicious now if he brought you in. Again.

"Tell them you can't do it without me. You need help with the Vita-ray machine. You can be very persuasive when you wanna be, Howie."

"The- y/n - what?" He turns to you, hands in the air, and an exasperated sigh leaves his lips. Oops.

You give him an apologetic smile, head hanging off the end of the bed as you look at him upside down, "I thought 'no' wasn't even in your vocabulary."

Howard sighs, head hanging low, but there's a subtle bob, "Fine..fine! okay. I'll try to get you in."

**

"Man, that was easy," you mumble to Howard as you both leave Colonel Phillips office. He signed a few papers to make it official and dismissed you both as fast as you entered.

"I don't think Phillips likes me much," Howard shrugs. "Probably just wanted me out of his office as fast as possible."

"You think he even knows what he just said yes to?" You wiggle your eyebrows, and Howard laughs with you.

**

"All this stuff is so outdated," you lament. Your hand sticks out from under a control panel. A second later, a socket wrench is placed in your hand.

"Sorry we all can't come from the future, kid," Howard grunts next to you. His face appears seconds later, squinting when the lamp on your head shines in his face.

"Stark!" Someone shouts, Howard bangs his head trying to straighten up, and then you follow, holding in your laugh.

"Yep?" You both respond. Colonel Phillips rolls his eyes.

He points at Howard, "You said this wouldn't take this long," then he points his finger at you, eyes narrowing, but he doesn't say anything. Phillips turns on his heel and stomps away.

Howard leans over into your space, grinning, "I think he likes you."

You chuckle, "You should tell him we're done. There isn't much else to do now, but wait."

**

It was another couple of weeks, just finalizing the equipment, making sure it all worked and wouldn't explode as soon as it was powered on. You and Howard worked well together, though that never stopped you complaining and wishing for your time's technology. Howard would always just roll his eyes in response.

"Looks like the day after tomorrow is the day, kid," Howard finds you fixing one of the generators, last-minute maintenance, you tell yourself. You nod, the reality of it all setting in. There's a twisting feeling in your gut. Its tendrils crawl up your sides and dig into your ribs. You're flying blind now. Steve never went into detail about his experience under going the serum and the days after. You know the basics, the things in the history books and at the museum.

You've seen the old reels, the musical shows he put on with a cast of backup dancers. You thought it was the best thing you've ever seen. You and Sam used to tease him about it. Forever ago.

Then Steve would talk about his friends from the Howling Commandos and Bucky. You understood Steve's loyalty to Bucky, having fought a war with someone who would do that to a person. After being around the two of them, you understood it now.

The day finally arrives, those tendrils of anxiety latching on tighter to your ribs, threatening to pull you down the longer the way for Steve to show was.

"Will you relax, kid? You're making me nervous," Howard leans his arm on your shoulder, running his other hand through his hair, then smoothing out his mustache. Howard pulls out a pair of tinted safety glasses, very stylish, you think. "Here, just in case we blow something up," he jokes.

"Howie!" You elbow him in the ribs, and he chuckles, a grin stretching across your face to mirror his. He always knows how to cheer you up.

"Stark!" An all-to-familiar voice shouts across the room, both of you turn around. Phillips gives an exasperated sigh, "Ready?"

"As we'll ever be, Colonel," you tell him.

In the next moment, the doors on the mezzanine open. Peggy steps in, followed by Steve in his a tan army uniform.

Howard leans in again, "Him?" You side-eye him, and Howard puts his hands up in surrender.

Steve takes a slow look around the room, eyes scanning every face, and you see the moment they land on Howard, then you. You meet him at the bottom of the stairs, stopping short and hugging him.

"It's good to see you, Steve," you say, pulling away. Your hands linger on his bony shoulders for a moment, committing this Steve to memory. It's the last time you'll see him like this. Small and skinny. A twinge of sadness passes over you. Remembering how no one ever truly saw him before. But they'll see him soon.

Although, maybe it's never Steve they'll see, just Captain America. You miss your Steve, you think you could tell him everything. Sure, he's standing here, talking to you and Peggy. He's still Steve Rogers, but not the one you've known. The one hardened by war, the ice, the future. Aliens, SHIELD, Hydra, Ultron. Steve, who was there for you when you needed him to be. He was your best friend in every sense of the word.

"So, you two know each other?" Peggy's voice breaks you out of your memories.

Steve clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he takes a step back from you, "Oh, uh, well - I've met Charlie before," he shrugs. There's a blush rushing up his neck to his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

You furrow your brow, "Steve -"

"Good morning," Dr. Erskine says as he approaches, and he and Steve shake hands. The flash of a camera goes off, and it momentarily blinds you with spots. Erskine motions Steve toward the center of the room. You and Peggy follow them.

Steve seems a little nervous, hands rubbing on his slacks. "Are you ready?" Steve nods, worry creasing his brow anyway, as he glaces at the machine he'll be in.

"Good, take off your shirt, your tie, and your hat." Erskine motions, then walks away to do last-minute checks.

You give Steve an encouraging smile as he takes his hat off. Your hands reach for it, then he places his tie in your hands, and he hesitantly removes his shirt. One button at a time, fingers fumbling with the buttons. When he finally untucks his shirt and peels it off, he hands it to you without meeting your eyes. A nurse takes the close from you as you help Steve get into the machine.

Steve adjusts in the machine, goosebumps rising across his exposed skin from the cold surface.

"Comfortable?" Erskine asks, an eyebrow raised.

"It's a little big," Steve replies. You place your hands on Steve's forearm, one squeezing his hand. He squeezes back. He looks at Erskine, "You save me any of that schnapps?"

Erskine makes a face, "Hm, maybe not as much as I should have." Then he nods at the attendants, and they step forward to hook Steve up to the machine.

Howard steps up next to you, arm slung over your shoulder as he gets a closer look at Steve.

"How are your levels, Mr. Stark?" The Dr asks.

"Coils are at peak, levels are 100%," Howard says.

"We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we're ready," you finish with confidence.

"As we'll ever be," Howard mumbles.

Steve's eyes bounce back and forth from you and Howard, "I was at the Expo. Did you ever get that Cadillac in the air?"

Howard smiles, "Had her flying 3 full minutes!"

"Then what happened?"

"We landed," he gives you a look, "Technically." He pats Steve on the shoulder. Steve looks like he might be sick.

Howard pulls you along, and your eyes linger on Steve for a moment more, giving an encouraging smile.

You and Howard are making the final adjustments before the machine closes, encasing Steve with a loud hiss. The last of the serum injected into him, and he grunts in discomfort.

You pull a switch and a button, Howard pulls a lever. The Vita-Ray reactors come online. Howard slowly turns the dial up. A loud whine fills the room as the needle begins to climb.

10, 20…the light in the room gets brighter. Erskine checks Steve's vitals, then nods at Howard to continue.

50, 60…You can hear the EKG beep faster as Steve's body goes under more stress.

70, 80. Howard continues turning the dial. The lights from within the machine are blinding.

90…A scream echoes around the room through the speakers. You try to rush forward, Howard catches your elbow to stop you.

"Steven?"

"Steve!"

"Shut it down!" You hear from Peggy. The lights get brighter, you shield your eyes, and the safety shades do little to stop the brightness.

"Mr. Stark! Kill the reactors!"

"No!…no. Don't! I can do this!" Steve shouts.

You give Howard a nod. He turns the dial all the way.

"100!"

You hit a button, the panels on the Vita-Ray machine hiss. Everything dies back down. The hood lifts from the machine a few moments later, releasing a cascade of steam.

You release a breath you had no idea you were holding. You feel like collapsing, sagging under the relief that Steve was fine. Howard rushes up to help Erskine as Steve is released from the machine. He all but falls on Howard and the Dr.

"You did it, Doc, you really did it," Howard says. Steve straightens, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes.

"How do you feel?" Peggy asks. She pulls her hand back before she can touch him, then hands him a shirt.

"Taller…" Steve says. He finds you easily over top the other people in the room. You give him a nod, smiling wide. He huffs and smiles back.

It's a flash of something, from the corner of your eye - a gun. Then, a deafening click. You portal without even thinking, catching a bullet in your arm, as an explosion goes off. You're falling back, besides Erskine. The first few bullets had it him before you could stop them. You grip your arm as blood oozes from around your fingers.

"Abraham!" You're up on your knees as Steve stoops down to the doctor. Your hand and Erskine's intertwine

"Doc!" Erskine reaches up and taps Steve's chest, then his grip on your hand goes limp. He's dead in the next breath.

"…no…" you wince.

"Charlie!?" Howard is on you in a moment. Steve seems to snap out of it and notices you bleeding.

"I'm fine, Steve, go!" You reassure him as Howard clamps his hands around the wound. You cover Erskine's hands with both yours, bending low to bring his hand to your forehead. "Everything's…gona be fine. Don't - you don't have to worry," you whisper.

Howard grunts, "The hell were you thinkin'?"" he applies more pressure, and you groan in pain. "Someone coulda seen you. God, y/n. What the hell are we gona do if someone saw you?!" He's yelling at you, but only loud enough for you to hear.

You're not sure how long you sat there, feet going numb a while ago with the way you are sitting. Howard was trying to access your bullet wound better, but you refused to move away from Abraham's body.

"Charlotte, darling," a gentle voice says in your ear, a hand on your shoulder. "Charlotte?" There's a little pressure and pain to your other shoulder, you hiss.

When you look up, your watery eyes meet light amber eyes. There's concern on her features, your eyebrows furrow. "Peggy?"

"Her smile is a painful reassurance, "Can we take you in the back, darling? We should get you checked on. Wrap your wound."

You nod numbly. Peggy helps you stand, and she lets you lean your weight on her as she follows Howard.

Your mind isn't in the present moment. It's stuck on repeat. Watching in slow motion. The explosion, the gunfire. Abraham is lying on the floor. As the life slowly drains from his eyes.

"I couldn't stop it," you mutter out. It's not said to anyone. Howard's face appears in front of yours. You have to blink the tears from your eyes to see him.

There's soot smeared across his cheek, blood wiped across his chin. Your blood, you assume. You reach up to get it off, but a sharp pain stops you.

"No matter what I do, I can never use these powers for the right reason."

"That's enough, y/n, don't talk like that."

"It's true," is all you say, looking away from him.

What good were the things you could do if all they were good for is being useless? Never fast enough, never strong enough. You can't even help the people around you.

There's a clacking of heels on the floor as Peggy enters the room. "I found some bandages. We should get one of the nurses to sew you up, Charlotte dear." She's talking so fast as she comes to a stop on your left. "Here, let's get this off so I can at least get you cleaned up."

You shrug off the top of the coveralls, a wet sticky sound is heard as it peels off your bloody shoulder and down your arm.

"Wait, Charlie -" Howard tries, but it's in vain as the blue glow on your chest is lighting up Peggy's features.

You could care less. Her eyes are wide as she takes in the sight, she staggers back, mouth agape but no noise leaves her.

"I think it stopped bleeding. Just bandage it up so I can get out of here," is all you say. Not caring that the top of your scar is visible. Or that Peggy can't seem to look away from it.

Howard pulls her aside, "Listen, Peg -"

"What the bloody hell is that, Howard!?"

"Now, wait, hold on -"

"I'm from the future."

Both Howard and Peggy whip their heads around to stare at you with wide eyes. You wrap a bandage around your arm, as best you could. It'll heal faster than a normal person would from a bullet wound, but you'll have a scar all the same.

You wipe the blood off your shoulder, down your arm and fingers, as best you could, and put a black shirt on that Peggy had brought in.

"Charlie…"

"It's find, Howie," you bring your bloodshot eyes up to him, there's worry creasing his brow, he has a hold of Peggy's forearms, and she grips his shoulders with a white knuckle grip.

"I trust her," you try and smile. Peggy shakes her head, eyes blinking rapidly.

"I - I don't believe it.." is all she says.

There's a pounding of footfalls getting closer to the room all of you are in. Feet slapping against tiled floor and concrete as they get closer. Then, skid to stop at the door.

You all look to the man at the opening, chest heaving and soaking wet.

"Charlie!" It's a relieved call of your name, his shoulders slumping with the knowledge of you being alright.

"Steve," you smile a greeting. It's genuine and warm. He smiles back.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Lucky

Chief/Pilot House of Reckoning rewrite Because Chief Would Not Fucking Say That.

-

The fight ends as abruptly as it starts, not with a roar but a choked gasp. Chief doesn’t take his eyes off his enemy until he’s sure he’s down for good. Escharum goes down with a gurgled wheeze. All his grandstanding silenced by his need for a warrior's death, but in the end his own body dealt the final blow before Chief could.

If John had cared to spare the old Brute a moment's thought beyond analyzing his attacks, he may have wondered why Atriox's teacher was a paradox fighting himself every step of the way. Obsessed with power and battle prowess in the Jiralhanae tradition, but committing the sin of bolstering himself with fancy tech and hiding behind a weak human shield. It didn’t make sense. Then again, nothing on this Ring made sense, but the Master Chief had to keep going.

He did not care for the Brute or his ideas. His grandstanding was worse than the usual threats that the Demon received. He was not a respected leader or an old warrior that Chief saw himself reflected in. John made his choices and kept living, kept clawing back towards his humanity. He put the old Brute down with cold efficiency, like he had hundreds of times before with other Covenant and Banished leaders. An enemy that terrorized and hunted down his fellow UNSC soldiers, who had his troops trap and eat them, did not deserve mercy or attention.

The Brute collapses, air hissing out of his mangled throat. Escharum's last testament was silenced by his own hubris. Dooming himself to be forgotten.

The Master Chief doesn't spare him a glance and hurries to the terminal. The Weapon is already deploying herself to free their pilot from the torture device pulling him apart with micro gravity wells. A torture device he had seen used on a Spartan, enough to kill him. She signals that she's about to switch the device off, but the Master Chief is already there.

He cradles their pilot down from the dying energy field, and tries not to remember the feeling of Spartan Griffin in his arms barely two days ago. The pilot falls into his gentle hold, his breathing hitching and muscles spasming as his body adjusts to the lack of force pulling him apart. John shifts his weight as carefully as he can, fingers prodding his pulsepoint with a featherlight touch so the Mjolnir can get a read on his vitals.

"I can't-" His words stick in his throat and shudder out as he shakes violently, "I can't believe you came for me." The pilot swallows thickly. Tears well in the corners of his eyes and he looks away from his reflection in Chief's visor. He tries to wipe his face but his arms are limp and take a second to remember how to work.

John watches the tears run tracks down his cheeks and he speaks quietly. "I got you. It's over."

The pilot squirms in his hold and tries to stand, but his legs don't hold his weight. Embarrassment at his weakness and need for support makes him unsteady as he tries to avoid leaning on Chief. He hisses in pain and Chief, having never let go of his hold on him, scoops him up. The hold is as gentle as he can make it as he turns and walks them out of the Banished outpost. Footsteps steady and measured as the man sags in his arms. His pilot leans his head against Chief’s chest and shuts his eyes to the harsh reds of the room.

"Chief, the Harbinger..." The Weapon starts, quietly projecting her voice through the external mics. She wants to say more, but she busies herself in sensor data looking over the pilot.

"One thing at a time." Chief nods at her, "She- Cortana damaged this ring, we have time."

"What's going on? What now?" The pilot asks, his voice barely a whisper. He's having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

"I'm getting you out of here." Chief says and the pilot slips into unconsciousness.

He comes to as he's strapped into the co-pilot seat of the pelican. He jolts awake and groans as he tenses overtaxed muscle in his panic.

"You're safe." The Master Chief tells him with a hand covering his shoulder and grounding him as he realizes where he is.

"You can fly this thing?" The words are open and unguarded and John wants to smile. The pilot spoke so openly to him when it came to things he thought Chief was doing wrong. 

"Are you surprised?" The helmet tilts towards him.

"I'm surprised you still let me pilot if you could this whole time..."

"I've been told I'm not the best driver." John jokes.

The pilot is looking at him like he's lost his mind. Maybe that's what spurs Chief to share. That, and everything else they've been through.

"You asked me if I had family. I told you no." The pilot sits back in shock, but John continues, "But I do. They're out there, somewhere. My sister, Kelly, she's the better pilot. She hates my flying."

The words are stilted and honest, so much so he can feel the AI leaning against his mind despite the firewalls in place. There is no room for dishonesty and secrets in the neural interface. He's too tired to keep any more secrets for long.

"I'm going to drop you off somewhere safe, and then I'm going to finish this."

"And you'll come back?"

It shouldn't surprise him, but it does. John always seems surprised when he's reminded of what he means to people. He'd been the pilot's first human contact in a long time. They had saved each other.

"I promise."

The Master Chief leaves the pilot with the marines at FOB November, their medic looking him over. 

The Master Chief goes to the Silent Auditorium, he fights, and She saves him again. 

John, the man under the armor and the symbol, is tired. Another goodbye tears something inside him that will never heal right, but there’s no time to dwell. There’s never any time and he’s running again as the world collapses in on them. He had never liked depending on portals or Forerunner tech. It usually didn't end well for him. He was learning to trust again, and he keeps his promises. John has someone counting on him to make it back.

They tumble through the portal and Chief grunts as he hits solid ground. He's barely upright before the radio crackles to life.

"Chief! Your beacon just appeared out of nowhere." The pilot laughs with relief. "Oh, I thought I'd lost you. Where did you go?"

The Weapon answers for him, relief audible in her voice as well. "Echo-216? Are you okay to fly?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Listen, stay put. I'm coming to you."

And he does.

Three days have passed and his pilot, Fernando Esparza, is doing better. He'd seen the signal and jumped at the chance to retrieve them. The pelican lands and Chief is barely up the ramp into the troop bay before the pilot- Esparza is there and wrapping his arms around John.

He can't feel it, but the armor lets him know with sensors and proximity alarms. John freezes, briefly scared to move before he relaxes and drops his hands to the man's shoulders. It's not a full hug, he can feel the AI judging him for that, but it's a reciprocated touch. His gauntlets squeeze Esparza’s shoulders and the man looks up at him with a smile stretching from ear to ear.

He's tired and hungry, and now they have nothing but time. There was still work to be done, but no escalating doom beyond cleaning up Banished remnants and building the UNSC back from scratch. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

They land back at the FOB and Chief reluctantly lets the medic look him over. He reluctantly lets them celebrate his return too. People did need heroes.

It’d taken John no time at all to learn life’s harsh lessons of regret and lost time, but he was slowly learning how to keep moving forward. Learning how to stick around. The future is a terrifying thing.

The one thing Chief is beyond reluctance is having to remove his helmet to eat. He pries it off and camps out against a rock with several meals worth of MREs once the crowd disperses back to their regular duties. His pilot joins him.

Esparza looks healthier, and has no problems moving, other than some wincing as he settles on the ground across from John. They heat their meals in silence and watch the distant patrols around the far side of the lake. It’s comfortable; so far from the last few days together that it feels alien. Esparza keeps grinning and the tear inside John’s chest feels a little lighter for it. He’s alive, they’re alive. Whatever came next….he could handle it.

It’s a nice moment. Nice enough for John to do what he does whenever he likes someone enough. Ruin it.

"I could tell you were a civilian from the beginning." Chief says, breaking the silence of their previously peaceful meal. He's unbothered as he swigs some coffee out of the tin cup that's obviously not made for Spartan hands.

Esparza gapes as the Master Chief digs into his MRE. "What?"

"Marines call me 'sir', not 'Big Guy'. And they usually know better than trying to hit the armor."

John smiles at him. It's a small thing, but wide enough Fernando can make out the gap between his front teeth. It startles him out of his embarrassment for a second before he remembers the Master Chief is making a joke at his expense. "Well, maybe you would get in less trouble if people were up front with how frustrating you are!"

John huffs a breath. "Maybe."

“You are infuriating, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

“Well, maybe you need to hear it more! Always going off or- or jumping out of buildings or pelicans! Without any warning!”

“I’m lucky I have you to catch me.” John says with a grin and nudges Esparza’s boot with his own.

His pilot sputters and flushes as words escape him. “You-! Oh I can’t stand when you-! Fine. You’re lucky I like you. Big Guy…” His words trail off with less fire than the start of his tirade.

John hides his smile by shoveling food into his mouth.

Esparza copies him, still fuming, but he nudges his boot against John’s in a playful push. 

[chimcess]

Nachash || jhs (teaser)

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (ft. Taehyung) Genre: Supernatural AU, Demon!Hoseok, Med Student!Reader, Incubus! Hoseok, Horror AU, Thriller, Mystery, angst, smut Rating: 18+ (don’t interact if you’re a minor) Word Count: TBD (~25-35k) Release Date: Oct. 31st Summary: After the loss of both of her parents, Y/N decided to sell their home in Florida and move back to New York City, a place that she has little memories of despite spending 10 years in medical school there. With her return comes a spark of romance with a sweet man who gives her a strange sense of Deja vu. Her world begins to shift, and she begins to lose sight of dreams and reality. At the center of it all is Hoseok, his warm smiles and gentle kisses. But she can’t help but wonder if he is who he says he is and why a strange bar keeps popping up in her nightmares. Warnings: Strong language, death mentioned, terminal illnesses, bad medical terminology (I tried), Hoseok has a demon side (like physically different), Explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, oral (f & m receiving), dirty talk, rough sex, manhandling, Inexperienced!Reader, Good girl reader, hard dom Hoseok, Hoseok is a menace, he’s also very sus, so much blood, low-key a yandere but not really, DARK ENDING, dubious consent (kind of mind control/mood control/memory wiping), main character death (graphic), graphic violence, this is not a cute demon romance, more to come...

    nachash (noun) "snake; serpent". Derived from the Hebrew root n-ch-sh.

 After graduation, the dreams stopped. I stayed with my parents for the summer, played in the Florida sun, and decided against going back to New York for my fellowship. Instead, I chose to stay in Tallahassee and start my career. It was safe there. He was gone. A few years later, I left for Jacksonville and my paranoia had started to fade.

Years had gone by, and my memories of his face began to escape me. His name was nothing more than a gentle whisper in the deepest pits of my mind. Even then, saying that would be an overstatement. My return to New York was in the wake of my mother’s death. My dad had passed away a few years prior, and our vacation home in Harlem, the same place I lived in so many years ago, had become prime real estate. I got a fellowship through Columbia upon my return. Life was looking up despite my grief, and I was ready to start a new venture in my medical career.

That was the beginning of my eventual end. I had cheated death all those years ago. Angela was my replacement, though I had no idea at the time. That thing knew she was waiting for me. It knew she would not let me out of her sight, so it took care of the problem. My fear gave it power, and it indulged itself in my torture. When I came back, it knew. 

This time I would not be lucky. Nothing and no one would get in its way. Soon, all memories of that night vanished. Angela’s name escaped me first, then her face, and finally what happened to her. Dauphine and its never-ending halls were gone. The thing that sat at the bar made sure of that before making his next move. 

It was mid-October when he came back into my life, all memories of his face wiped from my mind, and his game really started. My death would be his favorite. A death he rejoiced in for years to come only to be disappointed that nothing lived up to that night. 

Things like Hoseok lived for the chase, and I proved to be his greatest target.

To be add to the taglist please ask, comment, or go to the link in my bio!

[bloodfin]

✭・.・✫

Rain Ghoul x Dewdrop Ghoul x Phantom Ghoul (plus some background polyghouls)

Rated: E for Explicit, 18+ only

Word Count: 4.347

Summary: Dew spills some wine on Rain's pretty moonrise outfit; shenanigans ensue

Pronoun tags for this fic: She/Her Rain, He/Him Dewdrop, He/They Phantom (everyone has a dick today)

Warnings: pre-existing relationships (and therefore pre-existing kink negotiations), ma'am kink, mommy kink, alcohol consumption, blood kink/drinking, spitting, aether is always a little stressed (and gets called daddy once), handjob, blowjob, anal fingering, spit as lube, anal sex, dumbification, come play, come eating, there is so much come, praise kink, knotting, breeding kink (very mild and only if you squint but just in case), horribly unreliable narrator, no beta we die like nihil; as is typical of my writing sensitive kink (mommy in this case) has been italicized and bolded for easy skipping - i know this isn't a kink for everyone, please keep yourself safe

Author’s Note: as always please mind the tags and don't read if anything squicks you out! i fear my brainrot is now terminal and i am making that everyone else's problem (sorry). if i missed a tag in the warnings or you think i should add something please let me know - i try and be thorough! enjoy, share what you can, and be well ~

additional disclaimer: this is about literal demons straight from hell and has absolutely nothing to do with the actual band members of Ghost, unless someone dyed themselves blue or gold and we all missed it

read on ao3

Vernal equinox had passed, but the ghouls were still in celebration mode, the walls of the den overflowing with small paper flowers. The pink moon was due to rise - the first full moon of spring always cause for extra celebration. It was welcomed around the abbey by all members for ushering in growth and change, solidifying partnerships of all sorts. 

Phantom, Aurora, and Dew decorated while Sunshine and Cirrus cooked, the den slowly filling with the warm smell of freshly baked bread. Mountain and Aether were arranging the plants to best receive the moon's energy, while Swiss and Cumulus worked on setting up a large nest in the center of the den. 

The only one absent from the preparations was Rain, but her packmates were certain that she would come by when she was ready if she felt so called. Every moonrise was different, but this moon in particular had a strong effect on her. Sometimes the pull was so intense she would spend the evening at the bottom of the lake worshiping in her own way, or she would slink away with the other water ghouls of the abbey. 

Today, however, she wanted to play with her pack, painting her face with a gentle pink blush and lipstick. It stood out beautifully against her navy-freckled teal skin, making her sharp teeth seem even brighter. She hummed at her reflection once she finished smudging her eyeliner, the red she put on the waterline bleeding into faded black. Predatory. 

Rain was flicking through her closet when the smell of dinner wafted under her door, her ears flickering once they picked up on the sound of quiet laughter. She huffed, passing over dress after dress, jumpsuit after crop top, nothing feeling quite right or looking as powerful as the moon was making her feel. She was fiddling with her belly ring when her eyes landed on a small black skirt next to the laundry that she had been meaning to return. One more wear wouldn’t make her anymore late on giving the clothing back to its rightful owner, right? 

“Perfect,” she smiled to herself, wriggling into the skintight black leather miniskirt, sporting a slit that left absolutely no thigh to the imagination. It hugged every part of her perfectly, highlighting where her cock was straining against a too small pair of panties. Once satisfied with its placement she put on a black lace bandeau, followed by a sheer black crop top. 

The only thing missing was shoes, and she slipped into pink heels that matched her lipstick before heading out the door, her tail wagging slowly through the air. 

When she rounded the corner into the den’s common room the air shifted, the whole pack taking a collective breath when they saw her. 

“Wow,” Swiss whispered under his breath, his foot tapping rapidly under the table. 

“Mo- mo- mom-m-” 

Phantom was stuttering, frozen in place before Cumulus clapped her hand over his mouth, whispering in their ear. 

“She will eat you alive baby. Let her get settled, she just got here.” 

Their ears started to twitch like he was going to make a move, but when they saw how Rain's teeth seemed to glow in the light he nodded, leaning into Cumulus's side, content to watch for the moment. Dew, however, was not. He wanted Rain near him always, and especially now. 

Dew was probably a little too inebriated to be attempting anything close to chivalry, but anytime he saw Rain like this his brain deflated while his blood supply funneled south. 

“Saved you a chair, beautiful,” he hummed, standing to pull out the seat beside his own. 

He should have left his glass on the table, really, but the thought didn't cross his mind until he bumped into Rain, burgundy wine sloshing out of his glass to drip down her exposed stomach. The room was still, Mountain having sucked in a sharp breath while Aether started to stand, readying himself to intervene. The sparkle of Dew's skin began to fade as his face fell, turning to run into the kitchen for a towel. 

He didn't make it very far, Rain's hand reaching out to grab the back of his neck. She pulled him back and pushed him to his knees, leaning on the chair. 

“Clean your mess, Dewdrop.” 

Aether breathed a sigh of relief and plopped back into his chair while the color returned to Phantom's face, eager to see what was next. His tail thumped quietly on their chair. 

Dew looked at Rain for a brief moment before dropping his head, speaking quickly. 

“Yes ma'am, thank you ma'am.” 

Rain's eyes dilated and her fingers flexed, breath stuttering for just a moment when Dew’s hot tongue met the cool skin of her stomach, lapping up the wine. He made sure to clean around the band of her skirt first, knowing how much she hated stains. 

Once he felt the area was thoroughly cleaned he delicately worked his way to her belly button, wrapping his tongue around the glittery, dangling jewelry and sucking it clean. He tongued around the attached belly chains, not wanting to miss a single drop. There was a quiet moan from behind them, but Dew didn't dare lift his eyes, focusing instead on the beautiful creature before him.

Rain stuck her hand out and Cirrus placed Dew's half spilled glass of wine into it, complimenting her skirt. 

She smiled while she swirled the glass in her hand, bringing it to her nose for a quick sniff. 

“Thank you, I've been meaning to return it -” 

Cirrus's laugh sounded like little bells in the wind. 

“Please, keep it. You look better in it then I do.” 

Rain smiled and bent to the side, knocking their horns together. “You're too sweet to me Cici, I'll be sure to properly thank you later.” 

She smiled back, blowing her a soft kiss before returning her attention back to Mountain, tugging him from the table and towards the nest. Chairs scraped on the floor as everyone shuffled around, still watching Rain and Dew’s exchange.  

Rain studied the glass of wine in her hand, turning it slowly. It was her favorite one, thick and full bodied, a few citrus notes at the end. 

Expensive. 

“How many dicks did you have to suck to get this?” 

Dew shrugged while lapping at her cool skin. It didn’t matter to him so he didn't keep count, he would do anything for his mate. Anything to see her smile, even if he wasn't sure she'd attend the evening festivities. 

“Four,” Sunshine giggled from Cumulus's lap. Rain purred, licking the tips of her fangs. 

Dew had finished his task and was sitting back on his heels, looking up to watch Rain take another sip of the wine. His tongue darted out from between his lips with a quiet whimper. Rain looked down at him, one perfectly done brow raised. 

“Need more?” 

Dew nodded his head rapidly before opening his mouth wide, groaning when Rain slipped her thumb into his mouth, pulling at his cheek. She took a large sip of wine before setting the glass down, bending at the waist to bring her lips to Dew's. His sharp gag as he struggled to swallow triggered a series of muffled groans and the slick sounds of hands meeting wet skin. 

“Thank you ma'am,” he panted, struggling to speak around her thumb. He rolled his head to the side, exposing his thick veins and the silvery scars of their prior couplings. 

“Got plenty for you, too, if you need.” 

Dew often begged to be bitten where his gills once were, aching to feel something there again. But now he was offering in submission, to let Rain take what she needed under the power of the moon. 

Her tongue darted out of the corner of her mouth as she looked him up and down. 

With a quick nod of her head Dew was scrambling towards the nest, quickly divesting himself of his clothes as he went. She slowly followed him, sinking to her knees to pull his back to her chest, running her nose along his neck. 

“Please,” Dew sighed, flexing his claws against his thighs.

Rain inhaled deeply against his cinnamon-scented skin, fangs fully dropping before she sank them into the crook of his neck, blood quickly filling her mouth. He groaned low, the pitch only going higher when she took his hard cock into her hand, slowly stroking him from root to tip as she drank. 

“Rainy,” Aether warned gently from across the nest, voice cracking with the way Swiss had his mouth wrapped around his cock. 

She pulled herself from Dew's neck, licking at the corner of her mouth to gather a drop of his shimmering blood. 

“Don’t worry so much daddy, Dewdrop knows his limits. Would never hurt him more than he wants, promise.” 

“All good Aeth,” Dew agreed, raising a thumbs up which quickly dropped back to the pillows with a loud purr when Rain started to clean the wounds at his neck. Her tongue slowly worked around each puncture, her fist mimicking the movements of her mouth against the quickly darkening head of his cock. 

Aether nodded and fell back on his elbows, digging his fingers into Swiss’s hair, determined to enjoy the first night off in… a while. But a set of eyes still remained fully planted on Rain and Dew, the movement of a flickering tail catching her attention from the corner of her eye. 

“You okay bug? Not in the mood to play?” 

Dew barely opened his eyes, biting into his lower lip with a groan as Rain gently stroked him. 

“Wanted to watch, if that's okay with you both mm-ma'am.” 

Dew was nodding before he even finished their sentence, and Rain was grinning like a shark, Dew's crimson blood smeared all over her lips and chin. She didn't miss the way Phantom's eyes dropped to her mouth, watching her lick another spot clean. 

“Just want to watch?” 

Phantom blinked hard before forcing their eyes away from the mess, chewing at the corner of his lip. 

“He um… He just smells really good.” 

“Would you like a taste, sweetness?” 

Phantom nodded eagerly, eyes back on her mouth. “Please ma'am, please.” 

Rain beckoned him over with two crooked fingers, stifling a laugh at the eager way Phantom's tongue licked across her chin. Dew whined in her lap, quickly hushed by the drag of her pre soaked fingers up his chest to toy with the bar running through his nipple. 

Phantom hummed as he licked at her lips and chin, quiet thank you's between their breaths. 

“So polite,” Rain smiled, holding his chin to kiss them deep and slow. Phantom groaned when she slipped her tongue into their mouth, filling him with the taste of a beachside bonfire and hot iron. It was intoxicating, and they would let her have every ounce of air in his lungs if they could stay just like this forever. 

When they broke apart Phantom was a panting mess, claws digging into his own thighs. 

“Thank you mommy -” 

They paused, blinking his eyes and shaking their head to clear it. 

“Sorry thank you mommy -”

Another huff, trying to hide a whine that would rival Dew's. 

“I'm sorry momm- ma’am. Thank you ma’am.” 

Rain just smiled as she twisted Dew’s nipple between her fingers, his keen cutting through the heavier sounds of fucking that had filled the room. The way her head was tilted probably should've sent Phantom running, but instead his cock kicked against their thigh, a shiver running up his back. 

“So dumb you're having trouble speaking and I've only kissed you. Don't worry sweet little bug, mommy will take good care of you.” 

Phantom choked on their inhale as pre blurted on his leg, and Dew whined even louder, drawing Rain's attention back to him. His cock was weeping freely, begging for release while she kept teasing at his chest, working her other hand under his chin to turn him towards her. 

“Did you lose your words too?” 

Dew groaned when she started to slide her hand back towards his cock, lifting his hips to try and meet her. 

“You know I love your voice Dewdrop, if you need a moment you can watch Phantom and I play for a while.” 

Phantom's tail smacked against the pillows so quickly it sounded like someone running down the hall. Dew shook his head, voice just starting to splinter with need. 

“No ma'am, need you. Need you please.” 

“What do you need,” she cooed, pushing a lock of golden hair behind his half drooped ears. 

“Want - need your cock, your knot. Need you to fill me ‘til I swell with you, please, need you so bad.” 

Rain hummed, tapping her fingers along Dew's length while he squirmed. Phantom crept closer, kneeling in front of the pair, fangs poking into their lower lip. 

She paused, looking across both Phantom and Dew, finally settling on an idea. 

“Phantom, sweetness, you're being so good. Do you want a nice hot dick in your mouth?” 

“Please, mommy.” 

“Excellent,” she purred, kneeling tall behind Dew as she folded him to the floor.

“Why don't you come get this skirt off, without ripping it, while I get Dew all worked open hm?” 

They smiled so wide Rain was sure his ears would fall off, scrambling to her side to examine the zipper. With careful fingers Phantom undid the clasp, gently sliding the zipper down while watching Rain run her nails down Dew's back, making him arch. 

He leaned in close to her to work the band of the skirt down, breath hitching when they caught the gentle scent of orange blossoms on a sea breeze. Rain was always dangerous, the sharp iridescent scales that framed her face and joints were a reminder of that. But right now, she was deadly. 

A whine bubbled up from their throat when the band of her skirt caught on her cock, unable to bring it any lower. Rain glanced down to find Phantom gently pawing at her, looking up at her with big sad eyes. 

“Wanna be good and help you, but it's stuck. Don't wanna ruin your pretty skirt.” 

“Sweet little bug.” 

She smiled as she stood, gently ruffling their mop of hair before letting the skirt pool around her ankles. She stepped out of it and her shoes, returning to her spot behind Dew. Phantom's mouth watered at the sight of her cock hard and leaking into delicate pink lace, barely contained. 

She brought two fingers to his lips, tapping them as she spoke. 

“Get these nice and wet for me, then you can have a taste.” 

Dew groaned loud, wrapping his tail around Rain's free wrist. He pushed his ass further up, hips swaying slightly. 

Phantom moaned around Rain's fingers, wrapping their tongue around her long digits while sucking at the tips. When they pulled away he made sure to leave a thick line of saliva up her fingers, watching with rapt attention as she smeared it around with her thumb. 

She nodded her head towards Dew's exposed hole, telling him to spit. They were happy to oblige, sticky with want themselves, aching to make Rain happy. He trilled when she hummed with approval, bringing her wet fingers to Dew's hole, pressing the tip of her index finger inside. Dew's gasp was anything but quiet. 

“You're both being so good for me,” Rain praised, shifting on her legs to make the bulge of her cock more prominent. Phantom couldn't help the thin line of saliva that dripped from their fangs and down his chin. 

“Come have a taste, Ant.” 

Phantom eagerly licked across his lips, dipping down to settle against Rain's lap. They began to mouth at her cock through her already too wet panties, running his tongue up and down her length. She purred low, her free hand working into their hair while the other pressed into Dew. 

“Just the best bug, sweetest little thing,” she cooed. 

“Rainy,” Dew whined, wiggling back onto her fingers. “I need -” 

She curled her finger up, stroking against his prostate while shushing him gently. 

“I know baby, I know.” 

Dew adjusted his arms so he could rest his face against them, his back making a pretty arch. His golden skin always seemed to glitter most in dim light; he’d certainly be glowing once the moon fully rose.. Rain hummed as she worked a second finger into him, quickly followed by a third. She scissored them as much as she could, making sure Dew was starting to stretch. He was already leaking, a leftover trait from his time as a water ghoul, the slick sound filling the space. 

Phantom moaned at the sight, his drool further wetting Rain's cock. She rolled her hips gently against their chin, his attention quickly returning to suckling at her tip. 

“Please,” Dew whimpered, claws flexing into whatever poor cushion he latched on to, “ready for you now. Need to feel you, want it to ache.” 

Rain purred as she pulled her fingers from Dew, her other hand still nested in Phantom’s curls. 

“Don't worry baby, it's coming. Being so good for me. Showing off for Phantom, huh? Showing them how good you can be?” 

“Only for you ma'am,” Dew sighed, wiggling his little hips. 

Rain pinched at his nearly non-existent ass cheek before returning her attention back to Phantom, gently pulling him away from her cock. 

“Do you want to watch, or would you like to play with Dew?” 

Dew trilled, his answer obvious. Phantom had the sense to at least look like he was thinking about it before planting a kiss to her cheek and shuffling towards Dew's head, settling on their knees in front of him. 

Dew stretched out as much as he could, wrapping first his fist and then his tongue around Phantom's cock. Plum-flushed like Aether gets, although the purple was swirled with grey instead of gold. He hissed when Dew took them into his mouth, head dropping back at the heat of his tongue. 

Rain smirked as she watched them, taking her own cock in hand and pressing the head to Dew's hole. He leaned back into her, stretching himself between his partners, urging her to give him more. 

She wrapped her long fingers around the base of his tail and tugged, using the extra leverage to slide inside with a guttural moan. Dew responded with one of his own, muffled by Phantom pushing themself deeper down his throat. 

“Not gonna last,” Phantom grumbled, his hand locked around Dew's bun. “Feels too good.” 

“Mhm I know,” Rain smiled, rolling her hips to drive her cock straight against Dew's prostate. He popped off of Phantom with a little whine of protest, his breathing heavy when she began to pull at his puffy nipples. 

“Dewy isn't gonna last so long either, huh baby?” 

She asked with a particularly hard thrust into him, Phantom's eyes wide watching Dew's roll back into his head. They pulled from Dew’s mouth to rest for a moment, unwillingly to reach his end so soon. Dew’s mouth was legendary for a reason, after all. 

“Go ahead, get that pretty mouth on Dew's little cock, he wants it so bad.” 

Rain's words pulled them from their trance, blinking a few times with his head tilted just to the side before nodding quickly, shuffling back down to take Dew to the back of his throat. 

Rain wrapped one of her arms around Dew's waist and the other tangled back into Phantom's hair, rubbing gently at the sensitive skin behind their ear. Dew's hands were everywhere, flying from Rain's head to Phantom's, digging in his own thighs and pressing on Rain's, lifting his hips to help guide her into that perfect spot while desperately trying to not choke Phantom. 

She didn’t need the help, she knew Dew's body as well as she knew her own. Maybe better, even, with the way she had him moaning while dragging her cock over the perfect spot. Each roll of her hips was punctuated by one of his breathy sighs, adding to the cacophony of the room. 

Phantom for his part was chirping happily, licking long trails across the thick veins on the underside of Dew’s cock. When Rain pushed them forward he happily followed, swallowing around Dew's length with a pleased hum. Rain cooed at him from over Dew's shoulder, scratching behind his ear again before grabbing the back of his head. 

“Tap twice if you need to breathe, yeah?” 

Phantom brought his tail up and tapped the spade twice against her hand, rolling their hips gently into the nest of blankets below him. 

Rain smiled that far too toothy grin, thrusting into Dew and driving his cock further into Phantom's throat. Dew was all but jelly between them, held up by Rain's arm around his waist and Phantom’s hand pressed into his chest, his tail slowly tangling with Rain's in search of something more to hold onto. 

Phantom's tongue was good, great actually, Dew's thoughts on the matter filling the space as choked off babbling. When Phantom wrapped their tongue underneath Dew's head and sucked Dew was certain he'd open his eyes and be back in the pit, unholy pleasure running hot in his veins. 

Rain hooked her chin over Dew's shoulder, nuzzling at the space below his ear. 

“Don't swallow sweetness, let him dribble out of your mouth, down your face. That okay?” 

Phantom moaned in affirmation around Dew's length, nodding his head as best he could. It wouldn't be long now, Dew's balls were heavy in their hands, getting tighter with every thrust of Rain's hips driving him further into their mouth. 

She drove harder into him, and Dew's hands fisted Phantom's soft hair right next to Rain’s. 

“Rain, Rain, Rainy, fuck -” 

Dew's voice went high until it broke off, dying out as he painted inside Phantom's mouth. Phantom hummed as he took every drop, careful to not swallow. Once Dew had stopped pulsing they pulled away, sitting back with their head slightly tilted slightly forward before smiling, Dew's spend trickling out of his mouth and down their neck. 

“Fucking nasty,” Rain mumbled, pressing herself hard against Dew, grinding her hips to his ass. “Just how you like it, huh?”  

Dew nodded in agreement, his voice breaking on every whimper Rain pulled from him as she chased her own release. 

“Lay back bug, slide closer to me.” 

Phantom melted for her, nearly pressing themself into Dew's chest before dropping onto his back, tail shifting to rest on Dew’s thigh. They moaned when Rain wrapped her talented hand around his length, back lifting from the pillows. 

“Haven't even been touched yet,” she cooed, and Phantom shook their head. “Such a good, patient little thing.” 

Phantom nodded hard, like he was trying to say waiting for you. 

“Whenever you like, sweetness.” 

Their voice was trapped in his throat, muffled by every unholy sound Rain could pull from them as she worked his cock at the same tempo she nailed Dew, who was putty at this point. He was limp in her arms, begging for her release, her knot. For everything, for nothing, for all of it at once. 

Phantom wasn't sure how long they'd last, and when Rain rubbed her finger across his slit to gather a pearl of pre just to taste it they knew it wouldn't be long. 

She hummed in pleasure at the tang of him, mixed with the carbonated vanilla of their benzoin scent. Her hand quickly returned, long manicured fingers wrapping around their length, pulling in the most devastating way. 

Phantom could feel their eyes crossing as he watched, Rain's hand firm against him, the other tight around Dew. They brought their tail to where Rain and Dew’s were tangled together, joining the heap. 

Dew was crying now, his cock hard again, gold skin glistening. He begged, Rain purred, Phantom tried to keep their claws to themself but he looked so pretty, eyes screwed tight under a crown of sweat, his golden bun no longer neat and tidy. So they reached out, grabbing Dew by the base, feeling his little knot start to inflate under their hand. And if Phantom thought Dew had been crying before, well… He was really going now. 

“Little bug is being so sweet to you, aren't they,” Rain purred, licking below the shell of Dew's ear as she slowly ground her knot into his rim. 

“Yeah, yeah you both are. Need it ma'am, need your knot, need to cum -” 

The movement of Rain's hips became more frantic as she pressed more firmly into Dew, hissing when his tight body finally swallowed her knot, enveloping her in delicious heat. Dew keened, high pitched and devastated as he came into Phantom's hand, a string of thankyouthankyouthankyou falling from his wine stained lips. 

Dew was babbling, words broken and punctuated with breathy moans. Phantom wasn't much quieter, egging Dew on with their own muttering. C'mon Dewy, come for mommy. Make a mess, make me a mess. 

Rain followed quickly, the squeeze of Dew around her knot too much, biting into his neck with a groan from the depths of her throat. 

Phantom wasn't sure what brought them to the edge. Dew's hot come, the scent of his blood, the noise Rain made when she slid fully into his body. Maybe it was the way her calloused fingers rubbed against their frenulum with a talent flick of her wrist. All he knew was that they were floating, high in space, coated from the chin down in their own and Dew's release. 

He stirred when they heard Rain shuffling on her knees, laying down next to them with Dew tight in her arms. He hissed a little at the shuffle but it was good natured, her knot still buried tight inside his hole. Dew shuffled a bit closer, admiring the mess that was Phantom before turning his head to bat his lashes at Rain. 

“Go ahead Dew,” Rain smiled, blood dotting her lips. “Clean up your mess.”

[mordenheim]

You didn't do anything wrong

Ellen sat at the kitchen table, her face cupped in her hands as she tried to make sense of what had become of her life.  She had taken a few days off of work to get things settled with her new living conditions.  Suddenly having a new roommate would throw things off for anyone.  As soon as she returned to work, though, she discovered that there was a new manager above her, Maria.  Maria had decided to make an example of her.  

“Suspended.  Record of attendance problems.”  Ellen had asked for a meeting with human resources and was told that until her suspension was up if she set foot on company property she would be terminated.  She just sat there, ignoring the cup of coffee getting cold beside her elbow.

She felt a gentle brush of rough fingers on her forearm.  She didn’t want to look up.  She’d been crying and she knew she looked like a mess.

A deep, soothing voice rolled through her kitchen like honeyed thunder, “Hey.  It’ll be okay.  You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He tucked a handkerchief into her hand.  She didn’t even remember owning any handkerchiefs.  She wiped at her eyes and nose, trying to calm herself and finally lifted her head.

Thuras was sitting across the table from her.  Her chair looked comically small under his huge form and she had to stifle a laugh, shaking her head as she smiled at him.

“I know I didn’t do anything wrong.  Just…  I don’t know what to do now.”

He rested his elbows on the table, steepling his clawed fingers.  His red eyes gave off a faint flicker, which Ellen had come to learn meant that he was upset, no matter how calm he may seem outwardly.  He sat back and ran his hands up his face, and along the length of the curved horns that swept back from his forehead before curling upwards.  “Well, the sensible thing to do would be to get any evidence you have of harassment from this new manager and go to HR as soon as you’re allowed to return to work.”

She nodded and took a long, shaky breath.  “You say that like there’s a less  sensible option.”

He nodded and slumped down a bit in his seat.  He tried to make himself look smaller, so she wouldn’t feel like he was trying to intimidate her.  His goat-like hooves scraped over the floor a little, making him wince a little.  He hated the thought of messing up her floors.  “You could let me handle the situation.”

“No, no, absolutely not.  I can’t let anything happen to…”

“Nothing will happen to her, I promise.”

“So, she’s not going to just…  vanish?  Not going to disappear?”

“If she disappeared, it would be her decision and she would turn in her notice before she did.”

Ellen nibbled at her lower lip.  She had to admit it was tempting.  She would love to take her down a peg and show he she couldn’t hurt people just because she had power over them.  She was just about to nod, when a thought sparked in the back of her mind.  Was he trying to corrupt her?  He was a demon after all.

“I..  N..  No, no, I should do this the right way.”

“Of course.  Just keep one thing in mind.”

He leaned forwards across the table and stretched out his huge hand.  He placed it against her cheek.  It was rough, and so warm.  A tingle ran down her spine as her eyes drifted shut for a second.  She snuggled her cheek into his palm, letting him comfort her.

“As long as you let me remain here with you, I will do everything in my power to protect you and keep you safe.  I may not have been summoned with a purpose and I am not your familiar, but you give me a reason to keep going forward.”

He leaned in closer, his breath almost scorching hot against her skin.  She placed a finger on his bottom lip, closing them before she pressed her lips against his, sliding her fingers through his ebony hair.

[sinclarify]

yap session 1: minori kamiya the ult poet

the spinny wheel of fate told me to talk about minori so here we are!!!

minori kamiya is my darling ultimate poet and actuallly i love them so freaking soooo freaking much. let me get up their official description lalalala. tw for talk about suicide:

As the Ultimate Poet, Minori is nothing but a total hopeless romantic. They’re famous for their love poems, with every word going straight from their heart to the page. Of course, every artist needs a muse, and Minori’s is none other than their lover! Ah, young love – Minori's feelings for their beloved are the scaffold for every poem, and they’re so poignant and powerful that it’s earned Minori both national and international commendation, evident from just how many literary awards and accolades they’ve won. For Minori, however, the fame that follows their craft is utterly insignificant when placed up against the emotions that they evoke in a reader. Their poems are a beacon of hope and inspiration, a beam of light in a world so often obfuscated by darkness, and Minori is so happy that they’re able to provide that sort of comfort to readers all around the world. 

These feelings aren’t just limited to the page, either - Minori’s just as romantic and gentle in person as their words make them out to be, an air of kindness and warmth around them that’s impossible to not be drawn in by. They have nothing but compassion in their heart for their peers, and is always willing to extend a helping hand, or a shoulder to cry on, or to just talk to whoever needs it. Truly, Minori is one of those rare, pure souls – something that’s desperately needed in a situation where tensions run wild. 

Of course, that’s not to say that everything in their life is as perfect as it seems. Underneath those swathes of positivity and tenderness is a whole host of anxieties that plague their mind - but through their poetry and the thought of their lover, they manage to maintain their optimism in hopes of a brighter future. A future where they and the one they love so much can be happy and safe…together. It’s always going to be them, together. And Minori would do absolutely anything to cling onto that future. 

OKAYY THERE WE GO :3 i forgot how much i put in those descriptions ummmm lalalala anyway ya. minori's just a little silly. a silly with a whole lotta problems! before we get into those i think i should proooobably talk about their life outside of the killing game so that we shall do. next topic: their lover!

right so their lover doesn't exactly… have a name? or a face? oooh so mysterious. i had a reason for that but i cant remember what it is so just think of something cool and interesting. ANYWAY YEAH!!!! their lover.

it's important to note that my dgr fanclass IS aged up from actual canon dgr characters, i know there's like… vagueness surrounding their ages but it's like widely considered the canon dgrs are minors but mine are NOT they are all over 18+ !! minori is 21. and i'm saying that because it puts it into perspective when i say that they've been together with their lover for around 4 years up until the beginning of my canon!! so a long time. a real long time. and in that time, the two of them have built up a devotion and trust between them that's completely unshakeable. they've held each other through their highs and lows, hidden absolutely nothing, and they justf… theyre in LOVE okay!!!! for minori, their lover is the most important person in their life… and they want to stay together forever.

the only issue is, they don't have forever. minori's lover was diagnosed with a terminal illness, one that doesn't seem to have a cure in sight. minori had always looked forward to spending the rest of time by their side, but now time is gradually slipping through fingers, and there's nothing they can do to stop it. that's why every single poem that minori crafts is dedicated to them; that's why they spend so much time prescribing their every feature and every nuance onto paper, to preserve their life and keep their spirit immortal long after they inevitably pass. it's painful, having to look at the one you love every single day, knowing that soon, they won't be by your side anymore, but minori pushes down any hurt, using it to fuel their art, to capture their muse indefinitely. they're scared, of course they are. who wouldn't be scared? but they'll be fine, as long as they have each other…

…which is why being put in the killing game isn't really the best case scenario for minori! flung into an unfamiliar environment with total strangers, then being told they had to kill to escape, it's totally insane!! like, they could die here! though, minori's not thinking about their own survival. the whole time, all they can think about is their lover back home. their lover, alone, scared, and wondering why minori left. the thought of their lover being in such a vulnerable position is much more devastating to minori than the thought of losing their own life, and god, they're completely TERRIFIED.

but they've gotten used to pushing their fears down, so they swallow the lump in their throat and wipe their hands on their yellow cardigan and put on a soft, gentle smile, hoping that, while their own anxieties may not be soothed any time soon, they can at least put the others at ease. they maintain an aura of complete composure, not allowing themself to outwardly give into the heavy fear that threatens to suffocate them, because they've got to carry everyone else's fears instead! they provide comfort. they provide hugs to the ones that need it. they provide a shoulder to cry on. even the ones that brush them off at least recognise that they're there to help… and it's all completely genuine. with minori around, things don't seem too bad.. it's almost like they have nothing to worry about at all.

then the first killing happens, and everyone realises that comfort and smiles and hugs mean absolutely nothing. this is real. the killing game is real. and while kaori izumi's death may have been a suicide, that doesn't rule out the possibility of there being real killers later down the line… because the seed has already been planted. desperation hangs in the air, heavy, like a toxic gas waiting to be inhaled, waiting to corrode from the inside out… and everyone can feel it, everyone can smell the blood, everyone's on edge.

especially minori.

kaori was so, so desperate… that poor girl. so desperate to leave this rotten place, so paralysed by fear that she took her own life. minori could never forget the look on her cold face, that harrowing contortion of pain and sorrow and last-minute regret permanently inscribed on her features forever. and they wonder… could that be me? is that me?

they could never imagine killing themself. they can't. they can't die and leave their lover alone. no, no, that's completely unfathomable! that's crazy! hah, dying? in a place like this? no way. no fucking way. besides, a poet's suicide would be so cliche! so no, that's not them. it'll never be them. never, never, never, never. never never never never neverneverneverneverneverneverneverneverneverneverneverneverneverne-

and then the next motive is revealed.

minori wakes up with a video tape and a cassette player next to their bed and a piece of paper with the words 'WATCH ME' crudely scribbled onto it in red crayon. they know they shouldn't. they've seen the movies. alice eats and alice drinks because she got told to and alice is big and alice is small and alice nearly gets her head chopped off by a queen with a head far too big for her body and wonderland really isn't that wonderful and one really shouldn't go chasing rabbits but what if she was meant to? minori, you're alice. watch the tape. watch the tape and you won't almost get your head chopped off. go on, minori. go on. go on, minori.

so they do.

the video starts off fuzzy and unfocused. minori can make out nothing but the faint glow of a yellow light that flickers sporadically, and then, out of the light, comes a voice.

mino…ri? minori, where… i'm.. cold, minori. it's really cold here.

the faint glow covers the whole screen, almost blindingly, before it fades out. and into focus comes a hospital bed. minori recognises that bed. they recognise that voice.

cough i don't know where you are, minori, but, i- cough it's bad again. real bad. doctor yoshida's trying his best.. and so are the nurses, but… i don't know. it's.. i'm hurting. everything hurts. physically, but… being without you hurts. where are you, mino? i sleep and dream of you, and i find that when i wake, i end up dreaming of you still… it's- i don't like this, minori. cough. please, i… i don't know how long i can- cough without you, i… cough. minori. cough. mino.. cough. sniff. sob. please… come back to me. please. i miss you. don't leave me here. don't leave me here to die. cough. i can feel it settle in, minori. it's… coming. please come before it does. cough i… lo-

and then it cuts to black.

minori's not sure when it started, but a strange chill has overtaken their whole body, their hands shaking and their heart beating so hard against their ribcage it's sure to puncture or burst out, their head light, their mouth dry and their eyes glazed, and god, god, god, help, god save them, god save them, god do something do something god? God? God's not listening. God can't do anything.

but minori… can. minori can.

[marlonbrandto]

THE MAYNOS GAMBIT | 2

The remains of the department of records hold little of value. Aun’Shar begins to search the rubble in hopes the key may still be buried within. Pebbles nearby begin to vibrate, floating off the ground as static electricity crackles in the air. Suddenly six pillars of light beam down from the clouds, then quickly dissipate to reveal smoking armored figures standing where there once was nothing. The Imperium of Mankind has made planetfall.

1. The Terminators need no time to shake off the Teleportarium sickness, upon seeing the Tau, the heavily armored unit moves uncharacteristically fast, rushing Kas’Mis ghostkeel. Aun’Shar finds a brass cog in the rubble, seemingly innocuous except for a serial number carved into the face, it’s the key! He takes it and orders a retreat, but it’s already too late, the Terminators have crippled the ghostkeel and turn towards the shouting Ethereal.

2. D’tano orders a firing line be made to cover the Ethereals retreat. Though the hail of pulse fire manages to pierce the armor of a few Terminators, three of them seem unfazed as they plunge into the torrent.

3. The Terminators approach whats left of the defensive line, each fire warrior prepares to give all they have for the greater good.

4. As the Terminator captain shreds through the armor and flesh of a fire warrior with his chainsword, the Sha’sui of the strike team gets a transmission on his helmet comms, the ethereal and retinue has safely gotten away. He relaxes, turns towards his remaining soldier and nods. Drawing his ritual blade, he rushes the captain, dodging a slash as the revving chainsword roars over him. He thrusts the sword with all his might, hoping to find purchase between two joins of the Captain’s armor. Blood drips down the hilt of the blade, “it bleeds!” Thinks the Shas’ui as a shadow of a hand glides over him. Suddenly his vision goes black as a power fist grips his head, compacting his helmet with a *crack* as his skull shatters, letting his body limply crumple to the ground. The final soldier had charged behind his Shas’ui but now found himself lifted a foot off the ground as the Terminator captain grips his neck. Gurgling under the pressure, he fumbles at his belt, finding a smooth round disc. Pressing the button at the center of the disc, he holds it out in front of the Terminators’ expressionless helmet, gasping for a breath that can’t reach further than the fingers at his throat.

—————————————————————————

The Terminator captain throws his helmet into the rubble, blinking furiously as his vision slowly returns to him. The fire warriors’ photon grenade was an insult to the glorious slaughter he and his brothers had preformed. Brother Jeremiah lays his power fist on his captains shoulder, shards of metal mixed with blood and brain still drip off of his fingers as he shakes the captain to attention.

“Lord Balthasar, the Xenos leader left no trail, and there is not a living breath among the rabble that remains”

The features of Jeremiah’s helmet begin to form in Balthasars vision. His prey has escaped, he frowns.

“Those xenos insult us with dishonor, we will continue with our purge of the city, soon all on this planet will be brought to heel. For the emperor.”

“For the emperor!” Jeremiah replies, and the company of three march towards the next building uncaring of the corpses they desecrate underfoot.

[xerox-candybar]

🪐🍬 for your writer's questions please

Gaaah! Thank you so much for the ask. <3

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Mumen Rider frightens me.

I would be the Middle Management Bitch constantly writing up Mumen Writer for reckless behavior and safety violations. To be clear, I would also be spending much more time on Workplace Bullying. But oh my god, that guy hits too close to home.

In my Previous Life, I spent a lot of time having conversations somewhere along the lines of, "this is partly about workplace safety but more about how a back injury could jeopardize your personal well-being and career; also you're setting an expectation/example for other employees that could jeopardize their health; AND it's not safe for the people around you; AND it's indicative of your ability to follow instructions / show judgement which is critical for your role. I personally do not want to terminate your employment over this but to be clear, but I will have to, if this continues."

...I do feel bad about this, because Mumen Rider is such a dang cinnamon role. So I like to pretend that Gojo Satoru** puts on a disguise and becomes Mumen Rider whenever he wants to stop being the strongest and go touch grass. "He can use Infinity any time he wants," I whimper, crying, covering my face and watching the Sea King scene through my fingers. "Garou is actually severely out-classed in this fight, not Mumen," I insist, biting my lip over S2. "Because Garou could get Hollow Purple'd at any time......"

**they both have the same Japanese voice actor, and they are both named "Satoru." Ergo; these characters are actually the same person. I rest my case.

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

I haven't killed any houseplants in awhile.

I have yet to injure myself with my copy of the The Power Broker.

Pack of the Golden Fog <3

(link to ask game -- still open!)

[ao3feed-sladedick]

Caged Desires

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/LY0uoRU by nursal1060 The Heartless has Dick put in prison wrongfully. As the Batfamily works to free him, Dick finds himself at the mercy of Slade for protection. What will he have to do to stay safe in prison under Slade’s protection? Words: 1745, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 37 of Sladin Compilation Fandoms: DCU, Nightwing (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Dick Grayson, Slade Wilson, Tim Drake Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson Additional Tags: Sladin, sladick, Alternate Universe - Prison, Prison Sex, Dick Grayson-centric, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Slade Wilson Being an Asshole, Possessive Slade Wilson, Wrongful Imprisonment, Contracts, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, sex contract, Loss of Virginity, Loss of Control, Power Imbalance, Power Dynamics, Missionary Position, Dacryphilia, Size Difference, Anal Fingering, Lube, Barebacking, Multiple Sex Positions, multiple sex scenes, Rough Sex, Rough Body Play, Prisoner Dick Grayson, Prisoner Slade Wilson, Top Slade Wilson, Bottom Dick Grayson, Age Difference read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/LY0uoRU

[humanwithfourheads]

[ Light tw: usage of it like describing an object. ]

It had been a while since Antoine had written a report. Ever since coming to the island and being rediscovered it was like no time had passed. Work resumed as normal. It was unexpected to be present under the former titles as if the idea of him ignoring previous commitments was not fathomable. It was likely the Federation knew Antoine’s arrival was by chance, only happening because of Kameto taking them to the plane. The plane crash was purposeful, she theorized, it made sense. Whether they knew of her presence on board was to be determined. Nonetheless it was back to business and survival. Not just survival but parenthood? Apparently?

None of them really worked with the research of the eggs so being given Pomme was.. certainly strange. The eggs had been distributed in her absence seemingly perfected from their previous years. As such it became part of the new directive: blend in, as if that wasn’t always the directive, and blending in meant taking care of this child.

Had they been in the Federation offices since returning? No. The moment his form became unstable though he knew the strings were attached once more. Antoine was many things, a good soldier, a good friend, a good human. She was good at her job.

Standing in the center of the moon hearing the workings of the multicolor rings spinning outside she stared wordlessly at the screen of the communicator in his hands. Their last report had been a month ago. With all the developments surely there should be something to document and send in but there was a hesitance. He was not informed of Kameto being hired nor frozen. Considering the last time the cameras were on her was their early meetings it should have been safe to assume Antoine would have wanted to know. After all she wasn’t low-rank, considering their accumulative positions they actually commanded quite a bit of power. Not that the rank mattered when most of this was observation on his own stabilization and performance levels.

Antoine never let Pomme use his communicator for one reason. There was a specific app, a specific network that allowed communication. It was how she reported the code attacks he had been a part of to the security so quickly. It was how they would report how research was going with both the residents and itself.

A red tipped finger had been hovering over the keys for a while now. What could he type? The progression of the previous cyro residents? The previously deceased children re-integrating into the island? How about her slip up revealing their face to Kameto? Wouldn’t the higher-ups just love that, project ____ revealing itself like it couldn’t cause irreversible damage if it’s core exploded?

The box was turned to a smile but the real face Antoine wore was a frown scowling at the screen. A hundred times before have they written reports and yet there was this petty urge to not. With the break-out the Federation on the island seemed quiet, too quiet, but not nearly as present as before. So what if he didn’t send one report? If someone up top truly cared then they could easily message her scolding them for their inability to perform the task. Personally? Antoine could not give a fuck about them right now. Hiding valuable information while also expecting him to continue at top perfection was not a fair trade.

Besides, they had multiple chances to terminate her. They chose not to, “the research” and all. They can research what human defiance means next time.

His fingers went and closed the app, shutting down his communicator for good measure and stood straight. There was no time for meditation so the closest he could get was standing straight and breathing in. Feel present in this moment, somewhere Pomme is likely sleeping as she does, the other residents are bustling through their lives, and he stands in the center of the moon as one. Trying to be at ease.

Speaking of at ease, Antoine wonders where her Kameto has wandered off to. His presence tends to make things better, even if he didn’t know just how stupid his choice was when there was already a connection amongst their group to the Federation. Always the hero and always will be. Surely they forgot to show Kameto something important and can take his time, surely.

So Antoine walks to the edge of the moon, the sun peering down making the core seem like a darkened void. His eyes needed no readjustment, seeing the world breathe as it does and her dirt pillars stand tall.

The Federation wanted her to play an actor, they wanted him to be perfect at the role, well they got it. Antoine. Human. Dirt lover, hilariously funny, and a builder with his daughter. Her job? Exist. Nothing was more important than that.

And she jumps, pulling her glider out as he does and flowering to the ground. If their power weren’t limited the glider would be for show. His feet touched the ground again and they began to search for Kameto. The other probably hadn’t gone far, it was probably Antoine who secluded himself to have this mind debate, likely in the floating island home.

That’s where she went. That’s where he belonged, too. In that home they built with her eight hands. No one can change that for himself. Not even a job title.

[stankycowboy]

“ some freak with a guitar won’t leave me alone , keeps taking about not getting any satisfaction. i’ve already killed him three times. ” but he kept coming back.

Slowly, Severen’s hand lowered from lighting the cigarette between his lips. He rarely has ever asked Lira to repeat herself—the need never really arising— but he isn’t quite sure he has comprehended what she has said. “Excuse me?” In his mind two things fire at once; someone has been harassing his wife for satisfaction and that she has not been able to terminate the pest.

Earlier, while roaming the mortal lined streets outside the overgrowth of her hidden safe house, he had overheard a gaggle of early twenty somethings talk about invading some relation or other’s condo. He had come to the bar with the sole purpose of trying to convince Lira to play 80’s movie slasher with him, but she hadn't been taking the bait. Something about finding a meal less bathed in cheap cologne and cheaper booze. In his disappointment he had stepped away for what couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes; attempting to cajole the DJ to intersperse some of his personal favorites ( and a few of Lira’s own, hoping to get her to dance with him ).

Upon his return she had relayed this odd turn of events, something that sounded both vastly more interesting, and irritating. No one was going to get satisfaction from his wife, but him. "He's here?" Severen asks without waiting for verbal confirmation, looking around the few roaming patrons for the individual she has described. A figure darts from one shadow to another, a flash of red against black. There is certainly a spectral feel about the thing, it breeds further annoyance. A pest that couldn't die. He misses the irony in his despising of the concept. "How'd he get in here…" Severen mutters, mainly to himself, he doesn't really want the answers, he wants Lira to be free of harassment from all but himself. Sliding off the stool he was occupying, the cowboy makes to mosey off in the direction he last saw the apparition, when a power chord suddenly blasts into his ears. There, beside the proprietor of the establishment was a man dressed in a vaguely similar style to Severen, although somehow coming off as even more of an asshole. The blood drinker squints in disapproval, feeling less than threatened and twice as pissed. "This what's been botherin' you?" Both men lock eyes and only one smiles. "You wanna dance chump?" The guitar wielding maniac flashes a toothy grin waving the oddly drill shaped stock in Severen's direction. Confusion continues to befuddle the immortal, completely at a loss at what the motivation could even be for the spook. But there is one thing he does like about it. Finally, he joins in the joviality. "That jacket, that's real nice", Severen finally lights his cigarette, slow and deliberate, "you're gonna give it to me, an' leave my wife alone". The Driller laughs, revving his guitar and thrusting the neck at Severen. In one swift motion, The Savage One bends forward and grabs the fret board, fingers causing the overly intricate musical instrument to splinter. "Maybe you ain't hearin' right", Severen snaps off the drill bit and flips it around in his hand, "lemme help you out". The spiral metal is thrust through the would-be-killer's temple, a sickening crunching sound barely heard above the music in the bar as it squelches through is cranium. The body thuds to the ground in a messy heap behind the bar. The Savage One, flicks the end of his cigarette with his thumbnail. "I do like that jacket..." he mumbles to himself, admiring the fringe with jealousy. He's sure that this won't really keep the specter away, it will be back. At least for now he has afforded them some time alone. Showing his teeth in a broad smile to Lira he leans over the counter top. "That earn me a drink?"

[hrshlandturtles]

The first aftermath

They are so small, he thinks. They are so young and so small.

Yoshi turns to a more secluded road. He is near New York but whatever the alien threw at him, it is starting to have effects on him. It also had an effect on the turtles.

Despite them being very small at the beginning of the trip, as tall as his pinky, they are now the size of his hand. Normal turtles couldn't have grown that fast, and the sanctuary was normal. No experiments were supposed to be conducted on animals, and from what Yoshi can remember of the lab, it seemed that even the Kraang had abode to that rule.

So the only explanation he has is that whatever was thrown, is doing something to them all.

He takes another turn, finally fully recognising the road he's in.

The strange thing about the turtles, however, is that the chirps and clicks they were doing before now sound different. Yoshi would even say, human.

He takes a final turn, changing the sight from trees to a wooden house.

He stops the car and pulls out, taking the small turtles with him. The windows are dark, and so is the rest of the house. No other cars are outside, meaning that supposedly no one is in the house.

Thankfully he remembers where the key is hidden and opens the door. The inside is exactly as he remembers, comfy.

He steps in, slowly and mindful of the now very awake turtles in his arms. Closing the door behind him, he goes to the bathroom to wash them and assess the situation. And the situation is not good.

The turtles are now just a tad smaller than his forearms and look human. They're also starting to sound human, as one of them, being bitten by another, starts to cry.

Yoshi takes it in his arms and rocks it, hoping it would work. Surprisingly, not only it does but it also falls asleep. Discovering this new power, he washes them all one by one before rocking them to sleep, until the last one, an albino by the looks of it, catches his attention.

All his attention was on it, considering it is the last of the children to be awake, but something is weird about it. Not only it is an albino, somewhat rare, but not unheard of, but it also has a red mass in the centre of its chest.

Yoshi takes it delicately, too wary to touch the red mass, and makes a closer inspection.

The mass is moving. It is staying in place, clearly locked by the plastron, but it is moving. Placing a finger on the turtle's wrist, he waits and looks.

The mass moves at the same rhythm as the turtle's blood, which can only mean one thing: it's the turtle's heart.

Yoshi knows that deformations can happen. He also knows that mutations can happen. But here and now, in his arms, is laying an albino turtle with its heart out of its chest. And it is staring at him intently.

"Don't worry little one, you'll be safe," he tells it.

He puts it back down, on top of the others now sound asleep, and finally, he has the courage to look at the mirror.

Fur.

He has fur on his face.

Not only that but his face seems different from before, but he can't explain how exactly.

So, what is happening to the turtles is also happening to me, huh?

He looks at the mirror once more.

And I can't possibly come back to the EPF with an alien mutation.

He looks back at the turtles, now all asleep.

I guess I'll have to go in hiding. And learn what is happening to me so I can get back to normal. And get the Kraang who did this to me before the EPF terminates it.

Having his resolve, he looks back down at the turtles. He really couldn't abandon them, especially with the albino having such a strange condition.

He sighs, takes them carefully in his arms and goes to the couch to lay them down.

Considering the time of night and his situation, he really should eat something and grab a few hours of sleep.

While looking for food in the kitchen, he stumbles on the first-aid kit under the sink. He opens it and the sight of its content gives him an idea for the albino.

He manages to find food and comes back to the couch. During his search, the kids have moved to form a sort of turtle pile with the albino on top.

He takes it and places it on his knees, pulling out the cotton gauze to place on the heart. He wets them first, to be sure they won't stick, then cuts and applies the bandages around the child, securing the home-made heart protection.

Once he's satisfied, Yoshi puts him back with the others, covering them all with the blanket folded at the corner of the couch.

Looking at the children while eating, Yoshi thinks about his possibilities, alternatives and choices.

He never really dreamt of having children. Yes, he did thought about having some one day, but never four in one and go, and most definitely under such circumstances. But here he is, four children in need in front of him. And he couldn't say no.

Another thing he never thought about was being turned into some kind of animal. Thinking only about his physical sensation, he can tell that the sickness he felt before was gone and replaced by a headache and global pain. He has no idea which animal he will turn into, but he knows that it will definitely change him.

This means, as thought before, that coming back to the EPF was a bad idea. Yes, he is-was in charge of the study in scarlet, and yes, Bishop would not only be furious that he didn't come back but also maybe hunt him down. One thing is clear in his mind, however, he rather live hidden than as a lab experiment.

So his last alternative is to hide. And to do that he needs a place to do so.

Wilderness is not a good idea. Four kids including one who could die at any germ? They must live in a place that can be cleaned.

Clean places are few. But to keep them clean, you need to have cleaning supplies, and therefore a place to get them. So living in a remote location, if not in wilderness? Bad idea. People talk and even if he has some momey at the moment, it won't last long, especially not with four children.

Place that can be kept clean, not far from humans but still hidden, and big and isolated enough for four kids to live as normal as possible? He can only think of one place.

The sewers. And since he is heading this way, the New York sewers more specifically.

He knows that there are some places in it that have not been mapped properly through time. He also knows that he can make them secure thanks to his knowledge in "tinkering", as his colleagues call it. Being fully invisible from the EPF right now is impossible, but he could manage through time.

He hears a small chirp, cutting him from his thoughts. The yellow turtle is looking at him and letting out a few chirps from time to time, clearly wanting something.

He moves his hand towards it, only to see it getting grabbed and pulled towards the pile.

"You want me to sleep too, huh?"he asks, letting out a small laugh.

The decision in the young one makes him cave in, and after putting away the empty can and washing the spoon, he climbs on the couch with the children, careful not to crush them. He does need sleep and the couch indeed is comfortable. He can afford a few hours of sleep before having to move again.

-

The sunrise woke him, he's sure of that, and grateful for it. With him not having come back to the EPF nor updated them since the Kraang meeting, he knows that they might be starting to look for him.

Placing an arm in front of his face to hide the light a bit, the notices the fur on his arms. It got worse during his sleep.

He stands up and go to the bathroom in order to take a look at himself. He is worse. Not on a beauty level (he never been his type anyway) but on a mutation level. He has fur everywhere now, and his face looks much more animalistic.

Squinting at the mirror, he ponders. Has he already seen this animal somewhere? He feels like he did, at least once, but he can't recall properly.

There's no need to stay here, staring at a pale reflection of his self. So he leaves to get the kids, to find only two of them still on the couch: the tortoise and the albino. The yellow one and the biting one are nowhere to be found.

Yoshi tries to calm down, knowing that there was no way for them to have left the house. Not with everything locked. And especially not considering their sizes.

He looks under the couch. Under the stairs. Upstairs too, just in case. And finally, he finds them in the kitchen, trying to open a bag of peanuts.

"Hey, little ones," he tells them, "you can't eat that yet."

He gently takes the bag away from them but doing so results in tears.

"I suppose you're hungry, heh?"

He sighs and takes them in his arms. He'll have to find food on the way. Considering the fact that they're turtles, he hopes that fruits will be enough for the time being.

The rocking made by his steps to the living room calms the young ones, or at least enough for them to stop crying.

The two others aren't awake yet. He rearranges the two first in order to be able to take them. Once all secure (especially the albino) he decides to grab the blanket with him.

He steps out in the rising sun, the freshness of the night settling in his new fur. He kind of likes that. It's new, in a strange way, sure, but it is nice. He continues his walk around the house and finds a basket big enough for the four children. He places the blanket in it first, careful to cover every surface, then places the children on top.

Once sure they're settled, he takes the basket with him on the side of the wood and plucks a few low-hanging apples from the trees. He places them in the basket with the children, hoping it will be enough for the travel to New York.

He comes back to the front and goes to the car, securing the children on the front seat. As he does so, his wallet brings up his attention.

I should leave something for them, he thinks. Maybe even a hint.

The man reaches for the wallet and pulls out some of his money, before getting back inside the house and leaving it on the couch.

He steps out once more and closes the door, hiding the key where he had found it only a few hours earlier.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he says to the house.

Yoshi gets back to the car and starts it, the rumbles awaking the two last turtles. He looks at the little group and lets out a smile.

"Now, now, my children. How about we all go to New York and discover the sewers together?"

In lieu of a clear answer, the turtles chirp at him, but this answer is good enough for the man.