#I'd believe it if he lost Some of that weight. but not all of it.

[heartbeetz]

Devs trying to say that Anton got super jacked between the first game and blαst I don't believe youuuuuu. He's really strong but he's a muscle bear In My Heart. Leave the fat on that man!!!

[muchosbesitos]

DOUBLE OR NOTHING— featuring toji fushiguro x wife! reader

after countless empty promises spilled from his lips, you wanted to believe that he’d show up to your anniversary of all things.

contents: 18+ content, minors dni. marriage problems, talks of divorce, (some) angst, smut, porn w minimal plot, cunnilingus w fingering, toji being a panty sniffer briefly mentioned, unprotected p in v, spanking (twice), backshots, missionary against a wall, toji kinda being an ass (what did you expect), pet names (ma, doll, etc.)

word count: 5k

author’s note: back from the dead sry

"I'll make it home to you by six, mama. Take you out on a nice date, get you some flowers, all that stuff you like. Promise."

The clock was nearing eight o'clock with no signs of Toji coming through the door anytime soon, your own patience starting to run out with every tick. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound echoed through your ears since you'd sat down on the leather couch nearly two hours ago, waiting for Toji to fulfill the promise. A promise that he'd made after flaking out on the date planned prior to that one.

And prior to that one. And prior. It'd been more missed dates than actual ones that he'd taken you out by now—you weren't exactly sure why you'd hoped for tonight to be different. Well, you knew exactly why. Today marked three years of being married to one another. You knew that he didn't prioritize date nights with you as much as he should, but you had held some sort of foolish hope that your anniversary would mean something—anything to him.

The divorce papers felt like a dead weight in your hand, much like how your relationship would be the second that you brought it up. It all just seemed so final, seeing the terms laid out that would end years of marriage. Just by the flick of a pen. But the idea was almost like a reprieve, like something that was worth looking forward to. You shook your head, getting up from the couch to set the stack of papers on the kitchen table where Toji wouldn't miss them.

Another half hour of eerie silence and Toji still hadn't come through the door. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep some semblance of hope that he'd even show up at all, much less for your date. You admitted defeat, slipping off your heels and pulling up a throw blanket over yourself. Succumbing to the sleep that was weighing down on your eyelids.

You weren't even sure how much time had passed when you heard the door swing open, the door hitting the wall from the force. The thud of his shoes hitting the tile followed, a grumble leaving Toji's lips. "Fuckin' bastards rigged that race. Robbed me of fifty bucks," he muttered to himself, slipping his coat off before placing it up on the coat rack.

"You're home late," you called out, watching as Toji turned to look at the couch before flicking on one of the living room lights. "Jesus woman, you scared me," he grumbled, a large hand resting by his chest as he looked over in your direction. Toji rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion lingering on his face like a second skin. It was only then that he looked over at you, really looked at you, and what you were wearing.

Ah shit.

Almost as if he wanted to make the situation worse, he'd chosen to go with, "You got all dolled up just to fall asleep on the couch?" You could've sworn you felt your eye twitch at the question. He'd barely opened up his mouth and you were already wishing that he didn't even bother showing up for the night.

Toji knew he was in deep shit with each step he took into the living room, his mind already starting to work overdrive to figure out what he could do for what he'd missed. A date? No, you wouldn't have put on the very expensive pair of Louboutins for just any date. His mind was blanking on anything other than the numbers that he'd lost with earlier in the day. Come on, think.

"No, I got dolled up because I thought I'd be going out with my husband tonight," you retorted dryly, smudges of eyeshadow sticking to your hand when you went to rub at your eyes. You could see Toji's brows furrow, the wheels seeming to turn in his head for once, before a look of realization settled on his features.

"Look, I'm sorry. I got carried away at the casino," one of the many excuses you'd heard before coming back to bite you in the ass. The same excuse that he'd used last month when he forgot about a work party you'd mentioned to him. Which wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for all the snide comments being whispered in your direction and all the unwarranted marriage advice.

Advice that you ended up forgetting about chugging down two glasses of tequila like water. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. You can pick the place and all that shit." There went another one. He'd really topped himself using the two of them in a row. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, looking over at him in disbelief. "Do you even know what today was? Why I'm so pissed off?"

"It's your birthday?" Toji spoke after a couple seconds, the answer clearly wrong just by the look on his face. You rubbed a hand over your face, standing up from your spot on the couch. "It's our wedding anniversary, Toji," you spoke up before he made another guess that would just piss you off even further, "And I have something I need to talk to you about. It's on the kitchen table."

Underneath the vase filled with wilted flowers—a collection more than anything that you kept around as a reminder that Toji used to care, was a stack of papers. He placed the vase down on the table with more force than necessary upon realizing what the documents were. "A divorce?" The words slipped out of him with such venom, such distaste, like the idea was unfathomable.

Toji slammed the papers down on the table, the salt and pepper shakers trembling before falling over. "Is that really what you want?" He stepped closer to you when you approached the table, his hands instinctively moving to hold your hips. Holding you close to his body. "No, I didn't get married with the intention of getting a divorce. But you've been neglecting this marriage for a couple months now."

"I'll make it up to you now," Toji spoke quickly, like he was afraid of losing you at any moment. Like you'd disappear if he didn't. And as much as you wanted to avoid looking over at him, the task had just become all that much difficult when you had nowhere else to look at. It only took one glance at his face to realize just what he meant by 'making it up to you.'

"You think you're gonna fix months of pushing me aside with just sex?"

"Nah, I know it's gonna take more. But you've been so tired, isn't that right? So tired of tryin' to keep this marriage from falling apart and nobody taking care of you?" His words were like a siren's song when he whispered them in your ear, your traitorous body leaning back to meet the drag of your fingertips. It was almost laughable at how easily your resolve had melted. "Lemme take care of you mama. Promise I'll make you feel good."

"You wanna call me a dick, never wanna see me again? That's fine, just don't deny me one last taste. Please," And while Toji wasn't a man to beg for anything in his life, he found himself saying the words anyways. "Thought this was you making it up to me," and as much as you were willing yourself not to fold, you felt yourself spreading your legs almost instinctively when his finger dragged up your inner thigh.

"Can't it be both?" Toji's teeth nipped at your neck, licking a stripe up the junction of your neck. Practically salivating at the taste of you, of the expensive perfume you'd put on just a mere hours beforehand. "One could say that you're just being selfish," your words quickly died out when Toji started sucking on your pulse point, your own heartbeat betraying you. You'd expected Toji to sass you back, say something about how your body was just so needy against his touch.

But instead, he dropped down to his knees in front of you. The wooden floor underneath his knees almost made him feel bad for all the times he had you in a similar position. Almost. Toji looked up at you, "Selfish only when it comes to you."

Every slow drag of his fingertips across your smooth skin seemed almost reverent— like you were something to worship. You were, he just failed to realize that until now. Until you were almost out the door. "I'm sorry," the first real apology of the night slipped out of his mouth, his lips pressed against your shin. "I'm sorry," he moved up to your knee, repeating the action. Hushed whispers of I'm sorry's and featherlight kisses moving up your legs, stopping only when he gets to your clothed cunt.

"I'm sorry," Toji uttered his last apology against your cunt, his eyes locking onto yours as he applied an open mouthed kiss on your clothed clit. Barely darting his tongue out, swirling it against the nerves that were just begging for one ounce of stimulation. And he was practically reveling in how needy he made you in the span of seconds. Your back arched to rest against the seat behind you, one of your hands going to rest on his head.

Toji's fingers dragged slowly in between your folds, feeling the wet patch already starting to form through the thin lace material. You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did, he'd be able to see just how desperate you were in just a manner of seconds. Even if the bastard probably had a clue already. "You sure your pussy agrees with the divorce?" His voice came out to something akin to a purr, the drag of his fingers slowing down.

Getting you even more worked up than you were already. "Fucking hate you, can't even apologize right," you let out a hiss, your hand going down to his hair. Pulling his head even closer to you despite your previous claim. "Fine, I'll apologize correctly," Toji sounded like you were the one inconveniencing him—to which you were. He wanted to take his time with his meal, have you begging for him to touch you. And normally, he would've.

If he weren't desperate to have your cunt on his face again after weeks, months? of just having his fist to work with. His fist and a used pair of your panties up to his nose like a pervert, hips humping the air in desperation. Imagining that it was your tongue flicking across his leaking tip instead of his thumb, that it was your soft hands in exchange of his rough ones. And as easy as it was for him to get laid—he didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you.

Toji hadn't tasted someone as sweet as you, heard someone so angelic before, but now he supposed that maybe he'd have to put that theory to the test if you left him after all. Just the idea was maddening. That someone else would be doing the same thing that he's doing to you now, that they'd give you the affection that he should've given.

"Especially sorry to you. Been neglecting you for too long," he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties, pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your slick folds to him. Toji swiped the tip of his finger along your entrance, your slick glistening against the harsh kitchen lighting before he stuck in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, licking away at it like the slut he was.

And like the deprived man that he'd been, Toji's hands went to the lace of your underwear and stretched it out until a loud rip echoed throughout the kitchen. "You always this wet for people you hate? Or is that just for me?" Toji taunted, pushing your tattered panties down to your ankles. Finally leaning in closer to where you were aching for him to touch you. To do something other than just tease you relentlessly.

Toji settled on his knees behind you, spreading your legs open like you were his favorite meal. His tongue swiped up on your dripping cunt, licking up your essence with sheer greed. "Mmph fuck, so good," his words came out muffled, his tongue swiping across your folds before darting inside of your cunt. Your grip on the table tightened, your hips working on their own accord to push back onto his face. Practically suffocating him in your pussy. Not that he minded. By any means.

Toji practically welcomed it, his hands pushing you down onto his face. Getting absorbed in your cunt completely. "A-Ah fuck, Toji!" You could already see the noise complaint hanging on your front door first thing in the morning. But how could you be expected to keep your voice down? Toji spread your folds apart with two fingers as if he were preparing for a feast, his tongue feverishly licking in between.

"Fuckin' soaked already, knew you loved me," The vibration of the low chuckle that followed his words shot currents up your spine, your ass jiggling all that much more in his face. With such a decadent taste coating his taste buds, dying by your pussy would be nothing short of a blissful way to go out. One of the fingers that he'd been using to spread your folds had been pushed inside of your cunt, your walls clenching around him.

Toji's tongue flicked against your clit, swirling the tip around the bud while his finger slowly pushed further inside of you. The loud squelch of your cunt was the only thing that filled the apartment, everything else completely silent. Your fingers dug deeper into his scalp, a low groan leaving his lips. "F-Fuck, Toji Toji," he pushed another thick finger inside, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

"You think y're gonna find someone who can do this?" Toji looked up at you, his fingers curling up to hit that spongy spot inside of you almost perfectly. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that he looked vulnerable while he made the question. Toji's lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it as his fingers worked you closer and closer to your orgasm. You couldn't bring yourself to answer—didn't trust yourself to speak.

"Toji, Toji, gonna cum," you gave him a warning, your jaw falling slack and your lips parting in a o-shape. Soundless moans leaving your lips, feeling that coil in your lower tummy start to tighten up all the much more. With one final pump of his fingers, you were covering his lips with your release. His tongue swiped across his lips, across the scar that he hated, collecting every drop. Savoring what he imagined would be the last taste of you.

"Turn around," It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd turned around per your soon-to-be ex husband's request.

Toji didn't take more than a couple seconds in unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. Precum dribbled from his annoyingly almost pretty pink tip, dripping onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. His cock slid through your folds like a slip n slide, your previous orgasm coating his tip with every lazy drag. "Toji," your voice bordered on a whine, pushing your hips to try to meet his movements.

"Tell me what you want," Toji clicked his tongue, one of his hands moving to hold your waist. Keeping you completely still until he got what he wanted. You figured there wasn't any harm in whining—you were already fucking the man after you brought up a divorce. There truly wasn't that much more to lose. "Why do I have to ask for it when you're the one apologizing?"

"Because you're the one pushing your hips back against me. All needy 'n shit. So.. beg."

"Want you inside me, Toji. Please."

"Want?"

You let out a huff before correcting yourself, "Need."

"Come on, doll. You can say it nicer than that, right?" Toji's pointer trailed up your torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

So goddamn annoying. You swallowed whatever pride you had left before looking back over at him, "Please, Toji. Need your cock in me. Please."

Toji clicked his tongue, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving himself a couple tentative pumps. "Think you can beg better than that. But since I'm feeling nice, I guess I'll let it slide." So much for feeling apologetic. Toji pushed his cock inside of you in one swift motion, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. Even with the fingers that'd been inside of you, nothing could've really prepared you.

"You okay?" Toji dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whispering the words in your ear. Staying still while your walls tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. "You try taking your cock," you muttered dryly, giving him a nod to start moving. "Why would I do that when you take it so well?" Toji pushed the rest of his cock inside, his hands resting on your hips.

Toji wasn't particularly known for being gentle—the one hospital visit after he'd injured your cervix more than enough proof of that, but he started off slow. Slow, shallow thrusts. Fucking you in a way that he hasn't since your honeymoon. "Toji, you can speed up," you assured him, your words getting cut off with a smack to your ass. "What I'd say about tellin' me what to do?" Ah, there was the mean Toji that you recognized.

"Wouldn't need to tell you what to do if my vibrator wasn't looking more appealing right now."

Famous last words.

The change was almost immediate. Mascara dribbled down your cheeks, the sight of your once composed makeup all ruined making Toji's cock twitch inside of you. "Fucking pretty like this, y'know?" His teeth sunk down on the junction of your shoulder, his teeth grazing across the sensitive flesh. His hips snapped roughly into yours, your breathing growing erratic. "Fuck, Fuck, Toji!"

The coldness of his gold wedding band hit your skin as soon as he went to grip your hips, holding you against him like he needed to be close to you. The two of you had been distant for some time and he hadn't bothered to take off his wedding band once, not even on the rare occasion that he actually did happen to take a job. Toji would never admit it, of course—but he was starved for the feeling of your skin against his own.

To confirm that you were still here after all.

Your hands reached out to grab to whatever you could grab—anything, and of course, it just happened to be the divorce papers sitting on the middle of the table. Practically taunting you as your own signature glared back at you. "This good enough for you, princess?" Toji taunted in your ear, his blunt fingernails digging into your sides. "Mhm, j-just like that," your voice came out in a mewl, all bits of defiance completely out of your system.

"There you go. Nasty fucking girl," Toji all but purred in your ear the moment you started to jerk your hips back to meet his own, your ass bouncing with each one of his thrusts. "Just needed Toji to take care of ya," all you could was nod your head fervently, your grip on the divorce papers tightening. And Toji, of course, took notice. He took the papers from you with one hand, giving them a once-over before passing them back over.

"Come on, since ya wanted it so bad, read me those divorce papers," Toji handed you the stack of papers, pointing to where you'd signed your initials just a couple hours prior. Your hands shook as you held the papers, your vision blurry as you tried to make out the legal jargon in front of you. Even the simplest of words seemed all too complicated to try to make out.

"T-Toji, I can't," your voice cracked, your grip on the papers tightening when his cock reached all that much deeper inside of you. Toji clicked his tongue, peering over your shoulder to read the first sentence from the document. "That's not what it says ma, try again."

"Without all the stuttering too."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the words in front of you instead of Toji's cock sinking further and further into you. "S-Says that the divorce agreement was made today between us," you clutched the sheets tighter, your eyes almost rolling back when Toji bottomed out inside of you. The tip of his cock dripping precum, your walls fluttering as you tried to get adjusted.

"Mm, yeah, keep goin'," Toji really couldn't care—his focus solely on the way that your cunt stretched out to fit his cock. Leaking around his shaft, loud squelches when he pulled out overplaying whatever shitty soap opera was playing. "And what'd I say about the s-stuttering?" Toji mocked your words, his own hips stuttering mere seconds later while he tried not to get absorbed in your cunt. Not that it was an easy task by any means.

It was hard, especially with the way that you claimed to be over this marriage despite your pussy claiming otherwise. When you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that left you was a moan. "F-Fuck Toji, right there," your eyes shut tightly at the touch of his calloused hand making itself in between your legs, his thumb rubbing at your clit in a speed that felt like it combated his own running abilities.

"That's not what it says, c'mon," Toji grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, turning your head to face the overwhelmingly long divorce papers. You wouldn't finish tonight if he intended for you to read the whole thing, you knew that much. A harsh slap against your swollen clit made the pleasure coursing through your veins mix with pain, a shaky gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, the black ink smearing with each drop that fell from your parted lips. Your walls enveloped every inch of his cock perfectly, your cunt holding his cock in a vice-like grip. "That I won't try to t-take your things," you managed to get out, hoping that it would be good enough. You knew the two of you wouldn't finish today if he made you read the never ending stack of papers. 

"Good enough," Toji sounded like he would've kept it going if he could, but you set them down as quickly as he spoke. It was almost like Toji was trying to remind you of why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place—the man reverent to your cunt and your cunt only. Every grip of your hips kept you closer and closer to his body, almost as a way for Toji to make sure you weren't slipping away.

"Wh—" Before you had the chance to complain about the loss of contact, Toji had already carried you without a smidge of struggle. His hands hooked underneath your plush thighs, hoisting you up against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slutty waist, practically clinging onto him like a koala. "There we go, there's that pretty lil face," Toji placed his pointer underneath your chin, taking in the view in front of him.

The glazed over look in your eyes, the sweat beading up on your forehead, the makeup that he'd successfully ruined—everything about you was just so beautiful. How you tried to avoid looking in his direction for too long. "Don't leave me ma, need you in my life," the words were whispered into your ear, his cock pushing back inside of you in one swift motion. Toji's fingers went back to your throbbing clit, his pointer and middle rubbing against it at the perfect speed.

Not too fast, not too slow, and not too rough.

"Don't ask me to do that," you almost sounded pained as you spoke—not from him filling you up, but for the implication of his words. You'd practically babble anything right now, anything for him to keep going. To forget about the reality that awaits the two of you. Toji's lips found yours in an instant, the exchange between the two of you almost depraved. His mouth was feverish in the way that it moved against yours, like he'd never get the chance again.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pushing him closer against you. Letting yourself forget for just a little while longer. A string of saliva connected your lips to his when you pulled away—only to catch air. "I’m close, Toji, so close," you whined against his lips, your release coating his shaft a mere moments later. Toji only used that as lubricant, his movements quicker against your cunt to chase his own release.

"There's no one else for me, I'll stop goin' to t-the casino, stop gettin' into trouble," Toji had been reduced to a babbling the first thing he pulled out of his ass, if only to get you to stay. His head rested against the junction of your neck, basking in the remnants of proximity that he could get. Shaky breaths left his lips with each thrust of his hips, feeling himself getting closer and closer. "You've been saying that since we've been married."

"I mean it this time, I promise," you'd never heard a lie sound so pretty slipping from someone's lips before until now.

He bit down on the side of your neck, hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to where you'd probably have to use a tube of concealer to even attempt to cover up the bruising mark. Causing you problems even now. But you'd be lying if the sudden act of possessiveness had your walls clenching against him even tighter, if that was even possible anymore.

His cock was barely moving against the tight grip you held around his shaft, his pace stuttering. "Fuck, fuck, so tight," Toji let out a loud groan, completely at the will of your pussy. He threw his head back, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks in this lighting. Ropes and ropes of cum decorated your cunt, his softening length snug inside of you. Toji ended up pulling out a couple moments later, scooping the drops of cum that leaked down your thighs with his finger.

Toji was shameless in the way that he stuck the finger in his mouth, a low moan leaving his lips at the combined taste of him and you. Before your rationality came back, before you got the chance to even think about regretting this, you leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. Tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss lingered between the two of you more than it needed to, it was less rushed than the prior ones you'd shared.

Like a last taste.

"So, you still want to get that divorce?" Toji knew you would've just babbled whatever for him to keep going, saving the question until now. His movements were almost reluctant as he pulled his pants over his legs once again, making little attempt to fix up his hair. If anything, his fingers only ended up messing the strands even more. Despite knowing the answer deep down, Toji still held out hope. That maybe you'd had some eye-opening moment while he was balls-deep.

You stood up properly, looking over at the ruined sheets on the table before looking back over at him. "I do," you spoke after a couple seconds, grabbing your tattered panties from the floor and smoothing over your dress. Trying to maintain whatever semblance of dignity you had left. Even if it was probably just as tattered up as your underwear at this point.

"Why? You know I love you. You know that you love me. So why should we get separated?" You did know that. But you also weren't sure that he'd ever loved you enough to consider changing. To consider the fact that you needed some sort of affection outside of sex.

"Because you think that somehow every problem between us can be resolved with sex. You say that you want to do better and yet, you never do. It doesn't even feel like you're my husband half of the time," all the bottled up feelings from the past couple months spilled out of you in a manner of seconds. All the bottled up thoughts that maybe you should've told your husband about earlier. Though, you weren't even sure if Toji would've paid it any mind.

And almost as if he'd read your train of thought, "Why didn't you tell me about all this before just hittin' me with divorce papers?"

"Because the few times that I did, you told me to stop bitching. That I shouldn't have anything to complain about with a roof over my head and a fridge full of food," you started off, almost waiting for him to deny what you were saying, "And while I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for those things, I also don't want to feel ungrateful for saying that I miss my husband."

Silence lingered between the two of you, each second that passed by only confirming what the two of you already knew by now. That a divorce wasn't such a far-fetched idea. Toji knew there wasn't left to even attempt fighting for, so he simply just told you, "I'll sign 'em when you get the new ones."

[astrxq]

The Prince Among Spirits

jacaerys velaryon x ghost!reader

words: 16k

notes: Jacaerys encounters the ethereal ghost of a girl who embodies beauty and longing. Bound by an unbreakable connection, they navigate the depths of love and loss, exploring the bittersweet reality of their intertwined fates as they seek solace in a world beyond death. - i thought i'd like this a lot better but yeah… a bit of a spooky season fic. @earth4angels proofread this,, lomlism <33

The air in Dragonstone always felt heavier than the other places Jacaerys had traveled. It wasn’t the salt or the wind, nor the way the clouds pressed low against the horizon, but rather something deeper – something he could never quite shake. Maybe it was the ancient history of the island, soaked into every stone, or the looming presence of the dragons that had made their home there for generations. The weight of legacy.

He grew up with it, after all. The weight of expectation.

As the eldest son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, Jace had always understood what was asked of him, even before he fully understood why. He was to be a prince, a protector, and eventually, a king. The gravity of it all had followed him through his years like a shadow, growing darker as his boyish days slipped away. But, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t always carry it well. 

The streets of Dragonstone were thick with more than just history; they thrummed with whispers, the kind that lived in the cracks between stone walls and echoed through the corridors of old castles. Jacaerys had heard them all his life – quiet, unsettling tales of figures that walked in the dark, too pale, too still, to be truly alive. 

Ghosts, they said. The dead who still lingered in the places they once loved, haunting the alleys and gardens of the ancient fortress.

They were spoken of in hushed tones, as if giving the rumors voice would summon the spirits themselves. Dragonstone was old, older than most could remember, built in the heart of volcanic rock and guarded by dragons for centuries. Some said the spirits were the restless dead of Old Valyria, others believed they were simply the shades of those who had perished in Dragonstone's violent history, lost souls unable to find peace. The smallfolk loved these stories, passing them on like secret treasures.

The most persistent rumor, however, was that these ghosts were not like others. They were so close to human form that they could be mistaken for the living, dressed in the garb of commoners or even high lords. People claimed to have seen them at twilight, their faces blurred in the fading light, their movements slow and deliberate. They said these figures could walk past you on the street and disappear around a corner, only for you to find that no one had been there at all. Some swore they could hear faint whispers in the dead of night, words that made no sense but chilled the blood all the same.

Baela and Rhaena, his cousins, adored the stories. They would sit together at night, recounting every tale they’d ever heard with wide eyes and eager voices, pressing Jace to join in their excitement. To them, the whispers were a mystery waiting to be solved, a chance for adventure. They dared each other to explore the darker parts of Dragonstone, to look for signs of the ghostly visitors.

Jace had always dismissed the rumors, shaking his head at their enthusiasm. He was pragmatic, after all. Ghosts didn’t exist – not really. The world was full of real dangers, real threats, and he had no time for fantasies spun by smallfolk in taverns or idle kitchen maids. His life was one of duty, of preparation for the crown that would one day be his, and the weight of that responsibility left little room for idle thoughts about the dead.

But the stories had a way of creeping into his mind, especially at night when the castle felt too large, too quiet. Sometimes, walking the shadowed halls, he would feel a prickle at the back of his neck, as if he were being watched by unseen eyes. And when Baela and Rhaena would laugh, teasing him for being too serious, a small part of him would wonder if they were right to believe – if the whispers held any truth at all.

Dragonstone was full of secrets. Jace had grown up with that knowledge, had learned to navigate the unspoken currents that ran beneath the surface of the island. The weight of expectation was one thing – the inheritance of power, of responsibility – but there was also the weight of all that had come before. The ghosts of history, both literal and metaphorical, pressed down on him, whether he acknowledged them or not. 

* * *

The air in Dragonstone carried more than just salt and wind that day. It carried the echoes of Jacaerys’ twentieth nameday, a milestone that should have felt like triumph – like a step closer to the throne. Yet it weighed on him like another layer of the legacy he could never quite shake. The feast had been grand, as expected. Lords and ladies from across the realm gathered, offering gifts and well-wishes, their smiles polite, their voices careful. Rhaenyra had watched him with a mother’s pride, but even she could not hide the small flicker of expectation behind her eyes. He saw it in everyone, really. 

But as the night wore on and the torches burned low, Jace had slipped away from the celebration, craving a quiet that the great hall refused to offer. The weight of all those eyes, all those expectations, had grown too heavy, pressing against his chest like the very stone of the fortress.

Out in the gardens, the air was cooler, the breeze carrying the scent of the sea and damp earth. He walked among the towering statues and overgrown paths, the familiar surroundings offering a strange sense of detachment. The moon hung low over the water, casting the gardens in a silvery light, softening the edges of the world around him. Out here, in the stillness, it was easier to breathe, to think.

“Jace,” Baela had laughed just the night before, tossing her long braid over her shoulder, “if you don’t believe in them, why do you always look over your shoulder when we speak of them?” Her tone was teasing, but there was a gleam in her eye, as if she enjoyed toying with the idea that perhaps, just perhaps, their older cousin wasn’t as grounded as he seemed.

Jace had shrugged it off with a smile, though he couldn’t deny the strange feeling that sometimes washed over him, especially when he wandered the darker corners of the island alone.

Jace found himself wandering deeper into the heart of the gardens, where the shadows were thicker, the stone walls nearly hidden by ivy and ancient trees. It was the kind of place Baela and Rhaena would have loved – haunted, they’d say, their voices full of thrill. A place where the dead could walk alongside the living, where the ghosts of Dragonstone might choose to show themselves. 

He shook his head, the thought slipping into his mind unbidden. No, he reminded himself. No ghosts, only shadows. Yet the stillness of the night made the stories feel too close, as if they lingered just beyond the edge of his perception. 

Then, he saw you.

At first, it was nothing more than a shift in the air, a faint ripple in the moonlight that drew his eyes to a stone bench half-hidden beneath a gnarled tree. There, sitting as still as the statues that surrounded you, was a girl. 

Jace stopped, his breath catching for a moment. You weren’t moving, and yet, there was something about you that made it impossible for him to look away. The pale light of the moon seemed to cling to your skin, casting you in an almost ethereal glow. Your gown – simple but elegant – flowed around you as if it were part of the night itself, blending into the shadows, making it hard to tell where you ended and the darkness began.

His heart skipped once, twice, as he took a tentative step closer. Something in the way you sat, so still, so serene, made him hesitate. He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything that might break the strange silence, but no words came. 

You turned your head, slowly, as if you had been waiting for him all along. Your eyes met his, and in that moment, the world around him seemed to fade. There was a softness to your gaze, a quiet kindness that pulled at something deep inside him, something he hadn’t realized had been so desperately seeking to be found. 

Jace swallowed hard, forcing himself to take another step forward. His voice, when it finally came, felt too loud, too real in the stillness of the night. “Who are you?”

You smiled – a small, almost wistful smile – and though you didn’t answer right away, there was a gentleness in the way your eyes lingered on his, as if you were measuring him, deciding whether to speak at all. The silence stretched between you, long enough for Jace to feel a faint prickle of unease at the back of his neck. He’d walked these gardens a hundred times before, yet now they felt unfamiliar, as if he had stumbled into a place where time moved differently, where the rules of the world no longer applied.

“I... didn’t mean to disturb you,” he added quickly, feeling foolish. 

You tilted your head slightly, the gesture almost curious, and for a brief moment, Jace wondered if you were real at all. The moonlight flickered through the leaves above, casting fleeting shadows across your face, softening your features even more. You looked too perfect, too poised, to be someone he had simply missed in all his years on Dragonstone.

“You didn’t,” you finally said, your voice soft and light, like the rustle of leaves on the wind. There was something strange about it, something that sent a chill down his spine and yet warmed him all at once. 

Jace felt a flutter in his chest, the kind that came not from fear, but from something far more uncertain. Your voice, though gentle, carried an unfamiliar weight – like an echo from a place he couldn’t quite reach. He couldn’t remember ever hearing it before, but it resonated in the air between you, settling in his bones.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. The prince who had been trained his entire life to command rooms, to hold the attention of lords and knights, now found himself at a loss for words before a girl sitting alone in the moonlit garden. There was something in the stillness around you that quieted the noise in his mind, that stilled the thoughts of duty and expectation that always seemed to swirl just beneath the surface.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” he managed, the words feeling clumsy on his tongue.

You smiled again, that same soft, almost secret smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. It was as though you held something precious within you – something you weren’t yet ready to share.

“I’ve been here a long time,” you said, your gaze flickering briefly to the garden around you before settling back on him. “Perhaps you simply haven’t been looking.”

The response unsettled him. He’d walked these grounds all his life – knew every stone path, every gnarled tree. He couldn’t imagine missing someone like you. And yet, as you sat there, so at ease in the shadows, he wondered if that was exactly what had happened. Perhaps he had been so consumed with his duties, with the weight of what was expected of him, that he had overlooked the quiet mysteries of the place he called home.

He wanted to ask more, to understand who you were and why he had never seen you before, but something in your expression made him hesitate. There was an air of fragility about you, as if a single wrong word might break the delicate balance of this strange, unexpected encounter.

Instead, he said, “It’s a peaceful place, isn’t it? The gardens, I mean.”

Your gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the moon hung low over the sea, casting long shadows across the garden. “Yes,” you murmured. “It’s peaceful... but also lonely.”

There was a note of sadness in your voice, a quiet sorrow that stirred something inside him. Jace found himself stepping closer, the pull toward you growing stronger with each passing moment. He wanted to understand you, to know why you carried that sadness so gently, so beautifully. 

He took a breath. “Lonely? Why–”

But before he could finish, a gust of wind swept through the garden, stirring the leaves and carrying with it the distant sound of laughter from the feast inside. It reminded him, abruptly, of where he was supposed to be – the prince, the heir, the guest of honor at his own celebration. But standing here, in this forgotten corner of the world, with you sitting so quietly before him, all of that felt distant and unimportant.

“You should go,” you said softly, your eyes lingering on his. There was no urgency in your voice, only a gentle suggestion, as though you knew exactly what was waiting for him beyond the garden walls. 

Jace blinked, momentarily stunned by the abruptness of your words. He opened his mouth to protest, to tell you he wasn’t in any hurry to return, but something about the way you were watching him made him pause. There was a knowing in your gaze, a deep understanding of the weight that sat on his shoulders, even though you couldn’t possibly know the burden he carried.

Before he could speak again, you stood, the movement so graceful it seemed as if you were gliding. For the first time, Jace noticed how your feet barely disturbed the earth beneath you, how the hem of your gown seemed to float above the ground. 

His heart skipped another beat, a small thrill of something unnameable curling in his chest. You were unlike anyone he had ever met. Ethereal, otherworldly. His thoughts wandered back to the whispers, the tales of ghosts that walked the halls of Dragonstone – so real, so human, they could be mistaken for the living.

No, he shook the thought from his mind. Ghosts didn’t exist. At least, not the way the smallfolk told their stories. You were just a girl, a mysterious girl, yes, but nothing more.

“Will I see you again?” Jace said, his voice soft but resolute, an unspoken promise woven into the words.

You didn’t answer, only offering him one last fleeting smile before you turned and disappeared into the shadows of the garden, your form fading like mist into the night.

Jace stood there for a long moment after you were gone, the silence around him thick and heavy, the scent of salt and damp earth still clinging to the air. His heart was still racing, his thoughts tangled in a way they hadn’t been in years.

And as he made his way back toward the grand hall, back to the feast and the people waiting for him, a single question echoed in his mind as he crossed the threshold of the garden's edge and back into the light of the torches.

Who were you?

* * *

He stepped back into the grand hall, the lively chatter and the clinking of goblets nearly drowning out his thoughts. The laughter seemed to echo louder, sharper, in contrast to the quiet he had just left behind in the gardens. But despite the merriment that surrounded him, the image of you lingered in his mind like a haunting melody – soft, mysterious, and infinitely compelling.

As he navigated through the throng of guests, their faces blurred by the weight of his own thoughts, he searched for Rhaena. She was a breath of fresh air, a flicker of understanding amidst the oppressive expectations that seemed to hang in the air. He remembered the way she often rolled her eyes at the festivities, how she would slip away from the noise with a knowing smile, as if sharing a secret with the shadows.

Finally, he spotted her, tucked into a corner of the hall where the light was dimmer, away from the enthusiastic throng. Rhaena leaned against a stone wall, a glass of wine cradled in her hand, her gaze unfocused as if she were lost in her own thoughts. She looked up just as he approached, her expression shifting from boredom to curiosity.

“Jace,” she greeted him, her tone light but with an undertone of concern. “You’ve escaped, then? I was beginning to think you’d actually enjoy your own nameday celebration.”

“Not quite,” he replied, a small smile flickering across his lips. “I needed air.”

“Or a moment of peace,” she said knowingly, and he felt the warmth of her understanding.

Jace sank onto the stone bench beside Rhaena, the coolness of the surface grounding him in the midst of the swirling revelry. The distant laughter and the warm glow of the torches felt like a world away from the quiet intimacy he had just shared with you in the garden. Rhaena held out her goblet, a small smile teasing the corners of her lips, her hair catching the flickering light.

“Here,” she said, her voice playful. “A toast to your twentieth year. Or to your newfound appreciation for solitude, whichever suits you best.”

He accepted the goblet, its cool metal pressing against his palm, and took a sip of the rich wine. The taste washed over him, filling his senses but still unable to distract from the lingering impression of you. Rhaena raised an eyebrow, leaning in as if she could sense the weight in his heart.

“What’s on your mind, cousin?” she prompted gently, her expression shifting from playful to concerned.

He hesitated, searching for the right words, the right way to convey the inexplicable feeling that had settled deep within him. Jacaerys glanced around, ensuring that no one was within earshot before leaning closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I saw a girl in the gardens.”

Rhaena’s eyebrows raised in surprise, her interest piqued. “A girl? Here? At this hour?”

Jace nodded slowly, his eyes distant as he recalled the encounter. "She was... different." He paused, struggling to find the right words to describe you. Then, he shrugged.

Rhaena leaned in closer, her voice dropping to match his hushed tone. "Different how? Was she a guest? A servant?"

"I don't know," Jace admitted, his brow furrowing. "She didn't seem to belong to any particular station." He trailed off, remembering the way the moonlight had seemed to cling to your form, the otherworldly grace of your movements.

"Go on," Rhaena urged, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

Jace took a deep breath, knowing how his next words might sound. "She was so still, Rhaena. So quiet. And when she moved, it was like... like she was barely touching the ground." He shook his head, frustrated by his inability to capture the essence of what he had experienced. "I know it sounds mad, but for a moment, I almost thought..."

"You thought what?" Rhaena pressed, leaning even closer.

"I almost thought she might be one of them," Jace whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the feast. "One of the ghosts from the stories."

Rhaena's eyes widened, a mixture of excitement and disbelief flashing across her face. "Jace," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. But then, seeing the seriousness in her cousin's expression, she paused. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she shook her head gently.

"Oh, Jace," she said, her tone softening. "You know those stories were just for fun, right? A bit of excitement to pass the time." Rhaena reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I've never actually seen a ghost, and to be honest, I don't think I ever will."

Jace furrowed his brow, torn between the rational explanation Rhaena offered and the undeniable otherworldliness of his encounter with you. He opened his mouth to protest, but Rhaena continued before he could speak.

"Have you considered that she might have just been another guest?" Rhaena suggested, her eyes scanning the crowded hall. "Perhaps she needed some air, just like you did. It's been quite a night, after all."

Jace followed her gaze, searching the sea of faces for any sign of you. But even as he looked, he knew he wouldn't find you there. The memory of your ethereal presence in the moonlit garden seemed at odds with the warmth and noise of the feast.

"I don't think so," he said slowly, turning back to Rhaena. "If she had been here, at the celebration... I would have noticed her." Even as he said it, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. Would he have? He'd been so preoccupied with his duties, with being the perfect prince and heir, that he'd barely registered most of the guests.

"Did you get her name?" Rhaena asked gently.

"No," Jace replied, frustration coloring his tone. "She disappeared before I could ask. She told me I should go, that I was needed here, and then... she was gone."

Rhaena reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Will you look for her again?"

Jace hesitated, his heart a battlefield of emotions. He shrugged, the gesture feeling insufficient to express the turmoil he felt. How could he explain the magnetic pull you had on him, the way your laughter still echoed in his mind?

Rhaena's gaze narrowed, studying him closely. He sighed, leaning against the nearby column, its cool surface a stark contrast to the warmth pooling in his chest. "Not sure.”

Seeing the flicker of conflict in his eyes, Rhaena’s demeanor shifted, her excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. “Perhaps she is a ghost, or the young prince has gone to folly”

Jace couldn’t help but chuckle, though a part of him wondered if that might be true.

They settled into a comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts as the feast continued around them. The sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and spirited conversation filled the air, yet Jace felt detached, like a spectator in a world that felt all too distant.

He picked up the goblet, the rich red wine swirling within, and took a sip. The warmth spread through him, a comforting embrace in the midst of the chaos. Rhaena did the same, her expression contemplative as she gazed at him over the rim of her glass.

They drank in quietude, the weight of unsaid words hanging between them like a delicate thread. Jace watched the revelry from the periphery, his heart still racing with the memory of your laughter, the way your eyes sparkled under the moonlight, weaving a spell he couldn't shake off.

* * *

The days following the feast were a blur for Jace. Duties piled upon duties, conversations blending into each other, faces coming and going in a ceaseless stream. Yet, through it all, one memory remained sharp in his mind – your figure bathed in moonlight, as fleeting as a dream, but more real to him than anything else.

He couldn’t explain it. He had only spoken to you for a brief moment, had only heard your voice for mere heartbeats, but your presence lingered. You had slipped away before he could ask for your name, disappearing into the night like mist. Every time he thought of you, the memory felt like a whisper at the back of his mind, a soft tug urging him to seek you out.

His nights were restless, his dreams filled with fragments of that brief encounter. Each night, he told himself it was folly, that he was chasing a phantom. But every morning, the pull in his chest remained, stronger than before.

And so, he began taking walks.

At first, it was subtle. After finishing his duties for the day, he would wander down to the gardens where he had met you. He told himself it was simply to clear his head, to enjoy the serenity of the greenery and the quiet rustling of the leaves. But deep down, he knew he was hoping – hoping that he might see you again.

The gardens were large, a labyrinth of neatly kept hedges and winding paths. Lanterns lit the walkways at night, casting long shadows that danced with the flickering flames. Each evening, as he made his way through the familiar paths, Jace found himself listening for your voice, searching for any hint of your presence.

For the first few nights, the garden was empty. The quiet was soothing, but it wasn’t the quiet he longed for. He wanted the soft cadence of your voice to fill the space, your footsteps to match his.

Jace scolded himself for his foolishness. What was he doing, wandering aimlessly through the garden like a lovesick boy? He should be attending to his responsibilities, ensuring the safety and future of his house. He was the heir to the throne, for the gods’ sake, and here he was, chasing after someone he barely knew even existed.

But it was as if he had no control over it. His heart was leading him, guiding him back to the garden each night. It was the only place where the restless yearning inside him seemed to quiet, even if only slightly.

After a week, Rhaena began to notice his nightly walks. She teased him lightly at first, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Still searching for your ghost, cousin?” she’d ask, her tone playful yet knowing.

He would brush her off with a smile, but inside, her words stung. Maybe it was foolish. Perhaps you were just a figment of his imagination, conjured up in a moment of vulnerability. But then he’d remember the way the moonlight had caught in your hair, the sound of your soft voice, and the pull in his chest would return, stronger.

A fortnight passed. Each night, Jace made his way to the garden, wandering the paths as if on some invisible tether. He grew more frustrated with each passing evening, the weight of his uncertainty pressing heavier on him. The moon hung in the sky, pale and distant, casting its silver glow over the trees and flowers, but you were nowhere to be found.

One evening, as he sat on a stone bench tucked away in a secluded corner of the garden, Jace let out a long sigh. The night was cool, the soft breeze carrying the scent of blooming jasmine through the air. The garden was quiet save for the faint rustling of leaves. He should give up, he thought. You weren’t coming back. It had been foolish to hope otherwise.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. What was it about you that had him so captivated? He had met countless people, but none had left such an impression. 

Jace was about to rise, to leave the garden behind for the night, when he heard it – a csoft breeze, barely audible, approaching from behind him. His heart leapt into his throat, and he froze, hardly daring to breathe.

Then, he heard a familiar voice.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here again.”

He turned, his heart racing, and there you were. Standing a few paces away, your expression both surprised and amused. The moonlight bathed you in its glow, just as it had that night, casting an ethereal sheen over your figure. The sight of you, so vivid and real, made something inside him stir, as if a piece of him had finally fallen into place.

“I could say the same for you,” Jace managed to reply, his voice softer than he’d intended. He rose slowly, afraid that any sudden movement might break the spell and send you disappearing into the night again.

You smiled, that same quiet, knowing smile, and took a step closer. “What brings the prince to these gardens so late at night?”

His heart thundered in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Just needed some air. It seems I’ve found a good place for it.”

You tilted your head, studying him with those eyes that seemed to see right through him. “And here I thought you might be searching for something.”

Jace swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He couldn’t lie to you, not when the truth seemed to hang in the air between you, unspoken but palpable. “Maybe I am,” he admitted, his voice low.

The silence that followed felt heavy, charged with a tension he couldn’t quite define. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet of the garden wrapping around you both like a cloak. Then, you took another step forward, your presence filling the space between you, and Jace felt that magnetic pull again, the one that had kept him returning night after night.

“I think,” you said softly, “you’ve already found it.”

Your words sent a shiver down his spine, and for the first time in weeks, Jace felt a sense of clarity. You were here, standing before him, no longer a phantom or a distant memory. You were real, and in that moment, he knew – he would do whatever it took to keep you from slipping away again.

Jace's heart raced as he stood before you, the moonlight casting a soft glow around your form. He struggled to find the right words, his usual confidence replaced by an unfamiliar nervousness.

"I... I've been hoping to see you again," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't stop thinking about our last encounter."

You smiled, the expression both enigmatic and gentle. "Time moves differently here," you said, your voice carrying on the night breeze. "What feels like weeks to you may be but a moment to me."

Jace furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of your words. "Who are you?" he asked, taking a tentative step closer. "Where do you come from?"

Your laughter was like the tinkling of distant bells. "Those are heavy questions for such a beautiful night, don't you think?" You gestured to the garden around you. "Shall we walk instead?"

Without waiting for an answer, you began to move along the moonlit path. Jace hurried to fall into step beside you, acutely aware of how your feet seemed to barely touch the ground.

"I've never seen you at court," Jace said, his eyes drinking in your profile. "Are you visiting Dragonstone?"

You turned to him, your eyes twinkling with an otherworldly light. "I've been here longer than you might think. Dragonstone holds many secrets, young prince."

Jace's breath caught in his throat. There was something in the way you said 'young prince' that made him feel both seen and exposed. "Do you... know who I am?"

"Jacaerys Velaryon," you said, your voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Heir to the Iron Throne, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen. But that's not all you are, is it?"

Jace stumbled slightly, caught off guard by your words. "What do you mean?"

You stopped walking, turning to face him fully. The moonlight seemed to bend around you, creating an almost glowing aura. "You're more than your titles, Jacerys. More than the expectations placed upon you. I see the weight you carry, the doubts that plague you."

Jace felt his chest tighten, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through him. How could you know these things? How could you see so deeply into him?

"I don't understand," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "Who are you, really?"

You reached out, your hand hovering just above his cheek without touching. Jace felt a coolness emanate from your palm, like a ghostly caress. 

"Understanding isn't always necessary," you said softly. "Sometimes, it's enough to simply feel."

Jace closed his eyes, overwhelmed by your presence and your words. When he opened them again, you had taken a step back, your form seeming to shimmer slightly in the moonlight.

Your smile was bittersweet. "The garden holds many secrets, Jace. If you listen closely, you might hear them whisper."

As you began to fade into the shadows of the garden, Jace reached out, his hand passing through the space where you had been. "Wait!" he called out. "At least tell me your name!"

Your voice came as if from a great distance, carried on the night wind. "Names have power, young prince. Perhaps next time, you'll earn the right to know mine."

And then you were gone, leaving Jace alone in the moonlit garden, his heart pounding and his mind reeling. He stood there for a long moment, trying to process what had just happened. Despite the lingering doubts and questions, one thing was certain – he would return to this garden, night after night, until he saw you again.

Jace stood rooted to the spot long after you had vanished, his mind reeling from the encounter. The garden around him seemed different now, charged with an energy he couldn't quite explain. Every rustle of leaves, every shadow cast by the moonlight, held the possibility of your return.

Finally, he let out a long, shaky breath and sank onto a nearby stone bench. His hands trembled slightly as he ran them through his hair, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"Names have power," he whispered to himself, repeating your parting words. What did that mean? And how did you know so much about him? The way you had spoken of his doubts, his fears... it was as if you had peered directly into his soul.

A cool breeze rustled through the garden, carrying with it the faint scent of salt from the sea beyond. Jace closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to calm his racing heart. But every time he did, he saw your face behind his eyelids, your enigmatic smile, your eyes that seemed to hold secrets beyond his understanding.

He should be frightened, he realized. Or at least concerned. You were an unknown entity, someone – or something – that seemed to know far too much about him and the inner workings of Dragonstone. As the heir to the Iron Throne, he had been taught from a young age to be wary of such mysteries, to see them as potential threats.

But fear was the furthest thing from his mind. Instead, he felt... alive. More alive than he had in years. The weight of expectation, the constant pressure of his duties, seemed to have lifted, if only for a moment. In their place was a burning curiosity, a desire to unravel the mystery that surrounded you.

Jace stood up abruptly, pacing the moonlit path. He needed to approach this logically, to try and make sense of it all. But how could he apply logic to something that defied explanation?

You had spoken of time moving differently, of being here longer than he might think. Were you truly a ghost, as he had first suspected? But you had seemed so real, so tangible. He could still feel the coolness that had emanated from your almost-touch, could still hear the musical quality of your laughter.

And what of your knowledge of him? Not just his titles and lineage, but the deeper truths he kept hidden. The doubts that plagued him in the quiet hours of the night, the fears he dared not voice even to those closest to him.

Jace's mind raced with possibilities, each more fantastical than the last. Were you some kind of seer, gifted with the ability to read hearts and minds? A magical being, drawn to the ancient power that thrummed through Dragonstone? Or perhaps...

He stopped in his tracks, a new thought occurring to him. Could you be connected to the dragons somehow? The great beasts that had made Dragonstone their home for generations were said to be creatures of magic and mystery. Could their presence have drawn you here, or even created you?

The idea both thrilled and unsettled him. If there was a connection between you and the dragons, what did that mean for him, for his family's legacy?

Jace shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He was getting ahead of himself, spinning tales based on nothing but speculation and fantasy. What he needed was more information, more encounters with you to try and piece together the truth.

As he made his way back toward the castle, Jace found himself already planning his return to the garden the next night. And the night after that, and every night until he saw you again. He knew it was risky, knew that his nightly wanderings would eventually draw attention. Rhaena was already suspicious, and it wouldn't be long before others noticed his distraction.

But the risk seemed small compared to the pull he felt toward you, the desperate need to unravel your mystery. For the first time in his life, Jace felt as though he was on the cusp of something truly extraordinary, something that existed beyond the rigid confines of duty and expectation that had defined his existence for so long.

As he reached the castle doors, Jace paused, looking back at the moonlit garden one last time. The breeze picked up, carrying with it the faintest whisper, so soft he might have imagined it.

"Until next time, young prince."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Yes, there would be a next time. Of that, he was certain. And when it came, he would be ready. Ready to ask the right questions, to push for answers, to finally understand the enigma that you presented.

With renewed determination, Jace entered the castle, his mind already racing with plans for tomorrow night's visit to the garden. Whatever secrets you held, whatever truths lay hidden in the shadows of Dragonstone, he would uncover them.

After all, he was Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne. And now, he had a mystery to solve.

* * *

The following afternoon found Jace and Rhaena in one of Dragonstone's many secluded alcoves, a favorite spot of theirs since childhood. Sunlight streamed through the narrow windows, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Rhaena sat perched on a window ledge, her legs dangling, while Jace paced restlessly before her.

"So," Rhaena began, a mischievous glint in her eye, "are you going to tell me why you've been wandering the gardens every night like a lost soul?"

Jace paused mid-step, turning to face his cousin. He hesitated for a moment, weighing his words carefully. "I saw her again, Rhaena," he finally said, his voice soft with wonder.

Rhaena's eyebrows shot up. "The mysterious girl from the feast?"

Jace nodded, a dreamy look overtaking his features. "She's... she's… The way she moves, it's like she's floating on air. And her voice..." He closed his eyes, as if trying to recapture the sound. "It's like music, like the softest whisper of wind through leaves."

Rhaena leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "And what did this ethereal beauty have to say?"

"She spoke of time moving differently, of secrets hidden in Dragonstone." Jace's eyes flew open, burning with intensity. "She knew things about me, Rhaena. Things I've never told anyone."

"Things like what?" Rhaena pressed, her teasing tone giving way to genuine interest.

Jace shook his head. "My doubts, my fears... it was as if she could see right through me, right into my soul."

Rhaena's brow furrowed. "That sounds... unsettling."

"No, no, it wasn't," Jace insisted, resuming his pacing. "It was... freeing. Like for the first time, someone truly saw me. Not the heir, not the prince, just... me."

A soft chuckle escaped Rhaena's lips. "Oh, Jace," she said, her voice warm with affection. "You sound like you're in love."

Jace stopped again, his cheeks flushing. "I... I don't know. Maybe I am." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration. "Is it possible to fall in love with someone you've barely met?"

"With a ghost, you mean?" Rhaena teased, but her smile was kind.

"She's not..." Jace began, then paused. "Well, maybe she is. I don't know." He moved to the window, gazing out over the castle grounds. "When she reached out to me, I felt this... coolness. Not quite a touch, but almost. And the way she moves, Rhaena... it's so smooth, so graceful. Like she's gliding rather than walking."

Rhaena slid down from her perch, moving to stand beside her cousin. "Jace," she said gently, "are you sure this isn't just your imagination? The stress of your duties, perhaps?"

Jace shook his head vehemently. "No, she's real. I'm sure of it." He turned to face Rhaena, his eyes blazing with conviction. "Maybe she's a ghost, or... or an angel." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I wonder if the gods sent her just for me."

Rhaena's eyebrows shot up. "An angel? Jace, listen to yourself."

"I know how it sounds," he admitted. "But you haven't seen her, Rhaena. The way the moonlight seems to bend around her, the wisdom in her eyes... it's otherworldly."

Rhaena studied him for a long moment, "Jace, I don't doubt you've seen something,” she said slowly, her tone cautious yet kind. "But this… girl, spirit, whatever she is – don’t you think it's a little dangerous? You’re talking about her like she’s more than just a fleeting dream."

Jace's jaw tightened. “I know what I saw. What I felt.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t.” Rhaena folded her arms, her gaze softening. “But ever since we were children, you’ve carried so much on your shoulders. I worry this... mystery might be more of a distraction than a blessing.”

Jace turned back to the window, the garden below bathed in the golden light of late afternoon. His mind was still full of last night’s encounter, the way you seemed to understand him in ways no one else had. His thoughts drifted back to your smile, the coolness of your almost-touch.

Rhaena sighed, stepping beside him. "I don’t know what to tell you, Jace. But just – be careful, alright? Sometimes, things that seem too good to be true... well, you know how those stories go.”

Jace met her gaze, nodding, though his heart wasn’t in it. He appreciated her concern, but how could he explain what he couldn’t even fully comprehend himself? He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something important, something that reached beyond his understanding of the world.

* * *

The next night, as the moon hung high over Dragonstone, Jace returned to the garden. The path before him was illuminated by soft moonlight, the shadows deep and thick between the ancient trees. His heart raced with anticipation, every step fueled by the memory of your voice, the ghostly coolness of your near-touch, and the mystery that clung to you like mist.

He paused at the stone bench where he had waited the night before. The same jasmine fragrance filled the air, a familiar perfume to this place. His eyes scanned the garden, searching for any sign of you.

For a moment, the silence was absolute, broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves in the night breeze. And then, faint but unmistakable, the softest whisper of movement behind him.

“You’re back,” your voice floated toward him, just as it had before. It was light, like a breeze that stirred only for him.

Jace spun around, his breath catching in his throat. There you were, standing just at the edge of the moon’s glow, half-shadowed, half-illuminated. The sight of you, so familiar yet still impossibly elusive, sent a shiver through him.

“I said I would return, didn’t I?” he replied, his voice hushed as if speaking too loudly might break the fragile connection between you.

You stepped closer, your movements as graceful as ever, your eyes glinting like distant stars. “Many say such things, young prince. Few mean them.”

“I meant it,” Jace said, taking a step forward as well.

There was something in your expression – an emotion too complex for him to decipher. You tilted your head slightly, studying him, your gaze intense but soft, as if you were measuring something deeper than his words.

“And what did you hope to find this time?” you asked, the faintest hint of amusement playing at the corners of your lips. 

Jace’s gaze flickered over your face, searching for answers he wasn’t even sure he had. What did he hope to find? He knew it had something to do with you, but the reason felt just out of reach, like a whisper in the wind – intangible, fleeting. His lips parted, but no words came at first. What could he possibly say that wouldn’t sound absurd? 

You. I was hoping to find you.

But he couldn’t tell you that. Not when he barely understood it himself. His hesitation stretched the silence between you, thickening the air with something unspoken, something both alluring and unsettling.

“I–” he faltered, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to shake when you were near. His pulse quickened again, betraying the calm façade he tried to maintain. “I suppose I was hoping you might still be here.”

A soft, enigmatic smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “I am always here, Jacaerys. But not everyone can see me.”

Your words made his heart stumble, though he wasn’t sure why. He took another step forward, feeling as if he were being pulled deeper into some untouchable place, a world where you existed just outside the bounds of reality. Close enough to touch, but too far to reach.

“I see you,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You raised an eyebrow, that hint of amusement still playing in your eyes. “Do you?”

The question made him pause. Did he really? Or was he only seeing what he wanted to – what he hoped to? The thought unsettled him, a ripple of doubt threading through his mind. But as his gaze lingered on your face, he was certain of one thing: you were no illusion. There was a depth to you, a presence that stirred something deep within him, something ancient and unfamiliar.

“Yes,” he said, more certain this time. “I do.”

You watched him closely, the smile fading, replaced by something more thoughtful, something almost… sorrowful? The weight of your stare made his chest tighten, as if you could see through him, past his words and into the very heart of what he wasn’t saying.

Jace’s hand twitched at his side, instinct guiding him forward as a stray lock of your hair fell across your face. His fingers ached to reach out, to tuck it gently behind your ear, but something stopped him – something more than hesitation. It was like an invisible wall, a cold pressure pulling at his skin as he neared you, a barrier he couldn’t push through. His hand hovered inches from your cheek, and the chill seeped into his bones, sharp and unnatural.

You didn’t move, watching him with that same strange, sorrowful gaze. The touch he so desperately sought seemed impossible, slipping further out of reach even as he closed the distance. His pulse hammered in his ears, louder than the whispering breeze that stirred the garden, louder than his racing thoughts.

For a moment, the world stood still. His breath hitched, and all he could feel was the cold emptiness where your warmth should have been. It wasn’t just distance – it was as though you weren’t entirely there, not in the way he was. His fingertips brushed the air between you, but they might as well have been miles apart.

Before he could process the disappointment tightening in his chest, you lifted your hand with a fluid, almost ghostly grace, and tucked the strand of hair behind your ear yourself. The motion was so simple, yet it was accompanied by a sad, knowing smile, one that deepened the ache in his heart. You looked at him as though you understood something he didn’t.

“You can’t touch me, Jacaerys,” you murmured softly, your voice filled with a sorrow that mirrored the chill still lingering in the air between you. 

The weight of your words crushed him more than he expected. He didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to tell you that he could, that he would find a way – but the cold that still lingered on his fingertips was a painful reminder of the truth. His hand fell slowly to his side, the loss of your touch – a touch he never even had – leaving him hollow.

"Why?" he whispered, barely audible, though his voice betrayed the frustration that churned beneath his confusion. He didn’t understand why you remained just out of reach, why you were always close but untouchable, like something woven from mist and dreams.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you looked past him, your gaze distant as if your mind had wandered to another time, another place. “Some things,” you began slowly, your voice almost too quiet to hear, “are not meant to be held. Not in the way you wish.”

The words hung heavy in the cool night air, filled with a meaning he couldn’t fully grasp. Jace’s jaw clenched, his frustration simmering under the surface. He hated this feeling – the helplessness, the confusion. He hated that you seemed so sure, so accepting of something that made no sense to him.

“But, I see you,” he said again, more firmly this time, trying to reclaim some sense of control, some sense of clarity. But even as the words left his lips, he felt the doubt creeping back in, poisoning his certainty. He saw you, yes, but he didn’t understand you. He didn’t know why he couldn’t reach you, couldn’t hold onto you.

Your eyes met his, and there was a flicker of something – regret, perhaps. “I know,” you whispered, your voice heavy with an unspoken weight. “But seeing isn’t always enough.” 

The sadness in your words twisted something deep inside him, and for the first time, he wondered if you were trapped just as much as he was. If this distance, this untouchable space between you, was a prison for you too. But before he could ask, before he could say anything, you took a step back, retreating into the shadows that clung to the edges of the garden.

His heart leapt, panic flashing in his eyes as the distance between you grew once again. “Wait–” he began, reaching out, though he knew it was futile. You were slipping away, like the night itself, and all he could do was watch as the moonlight barely clung to your form. 

“Don’t go!” he called out, desperation lacing his voice. Each word felt like a plea, a thread fraying in the cool night air. He took a step forward, willing the distance to close, willing the invisible barrier to dissolve, but it only widened as you stepped back, shadows enveloping you like a shroud.

You paused, turning slightly, and in that fleeting moment, he caught a glimpse of the sorrow etched on your features, a reflection of his own tumultuous emotions. “I have to,” you replied, your voice soft but firm, resonating with a certainty that left him both bewildered and aching.

“Why?” Jace's heart raced as he fought against the rising tide of frustration and helplessness. “Why can’t you stay? Why can’t we…” The question hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, echoing the unsaid words that lingered in the spaces between you.

You looked away, gaze drawn to the heavens above, where stars shimmered like distant dreams, unattainable yet hauntingly beautiful. “You know I can’t,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “This world… it is not mine. I belong to something else.”

His breath caught in his throat, the weight of your words settling over him like a heavy cloak. “But what does that mean?” he pressed, stepping closer, defiance mingling with desperation. “You’re here now. I see you, I can feel you. You can stay.”

A pained smile flitted across your lips, one that only deepened his unease. “You feel me, yes,” you said gently, the softness of your voice contrasting sharply with the coldness that still enveloped him. “But I am not meant to linger. I am but a whisper in the night, a fleeting moment. You have your life, your duties… your path to follow.”

“I don’t care about my path!” he retorted, the words bursting from him, fierce and unguarded.

You hesitated, and he could see the internal struggle etched across your face. You uttered your name in almost a whisper, like a song that resonated in the quiet night. “I will come to you again. I promise.”

He repeated your name, savoring the way it rolled off his tongue. It felt like a gift, a treasure he could hold onto. “Can’t you stay?”

A sad smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your expression a mix of hope and sorrow. “I will always find my way back to you, Jacaerys,” you said, a gentle certainty in your voice. “But know this: our paths, as intertwined as they may feel, are different. I may linger in your dreams, but my reality is… not your own.”

His heart sank at your words, a heavy ache settling in his chest. The thought of you slipping away again, of returning to the shadows from which you emerged, filled him with a deep sense of loss. “Then don’t go,” he urged, desperation bleeding into his voice.

“I wish it were that simple,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “But some boundaries cannot be crossed. Not without consequence.”

The chill of your words wrapped around him, but beneath it lay a promise – a flicker of hope that ignited within him. “Then I’ll wait,” he declared, his voice firm and resolute.

You gave him one last, lingering look, your sad smile etched in the moon’s glow. “I will see you soon, Jacaerys. Hold onto that promise, for it is all I can give you.” you whispered, though your voice felt as far away as the stars. 

And with that, you were gone, leaving nothing but the jasmine-scented air and the fading memory of your presence. Jace stood there, his chest rising and falling with the weight of everything left unsaid, his hand still tingling from the cold where you should have been.

* * *

The days passed, each one marked by the silent promise of your return. Each night, as the moon rose over Dragonstone, you appeared in the garden, weaving through the shadows like a wisp of smoke. With every encounter, Jacaerys felt a pull, an undeniable connection that deepened with each passing moment. 

He learned more about you, your laughter that echoed like a melody in the night, the way your eyes sparkled with untold stories and sadness, each visit drawing him deeper into the tapestry of your existence.

Yet, as the nights turned into weeks, Jace’s heart grew heavy with the knowledge of your intangible nature. The realization that he could never truly reach you, never feel the warmth of your skin or the comfort of your presence, began to weigh on him like a leaden cloak. The thrill of your appearances faded, replaced by an ache that nestled in the very core of his being. It gnawed at him during the day, haunting his thoughts and overshadowing his duties as prince. 

Desperate to bridge the chasm that separated you, he turned to the maesters, seeking answers cloaked in scholarly words and dusty tomes. He approached them under the guise of curiosity, his inquiries carefully crafted to mask his true intent. “What do you know of spirits?” he would ask, feigning casual interest, hoping they would unwittingly share the secrets of the otherworld. 

Yet the answers they provided were frustratingly vague. They spoke of ancient tales and long-lost rituals, but none offered the solution he so fervently sought. He was left with nothing but more questions and a gnawing sense of helplessness.

In secret, he sought out witches, drawn to their whispers and charms, clinging to the belief that perhaps they held the key to your return. He ventured into shadowed corners of Dragonstone, where the air crackled with magic and danger. Each encounter with a witch felt like a gamble, a dance with fate, but he was willing to risk it all if it meant bringing you back to him. Each time he faced a new practitioner, he wore a mask of casual interest, his mind racing with possibilities, a pulse of urgency thrumming through him. 

Yet the more he searched, the more consumed he became, his obsession slowly pulling him away from his duties and family. His conversations with his mother and siblings grew strained, their worried glances punctuating the silence that lingered around him. He felt their concern, the weight of their expectations pressing down like a stone, but he could hardly pay them any mind. All he could think of was you – the laughter that lingered in the air, the sadness in your gaze, the warmth of your presence that remained just out of reach.

And still, night after night, you returned to the garden. You would stand before him, half-shadowed, half-illuminated by moonlight, your presence a bittersweet balm to his aching heart. Each reunion was a comfort and a torment, a reminder of everything he longed for and could never possess. You would talk, your voice weaving tales of places beyond his imagination, stories of a life that felt just beyond his grasp. But as the conversation deepened, so did the distance, the invisible barrier that kept you just out of reach.

One night, as you shared a particularly vivid tale about the stars and their secrets, he interrupted, his frustration spilling over. “Why can’t you stay? Why do you keep slipping away?” His voice cracked, the pain evident in every word.

You paused, your gaze softening with understanding. “I have told you, Jacaerys. Some things are not meant to be held,” you replied gently. But this time, there was an edge to your voice, a deeper sadness that echoed in your words.

“Then tell me how to break this,” he urged, his desperation clawing at him. “I would give anything to bring you back.” 

Your eyes flickered, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of hope, a light in the depths of your sorrow. “There are costs, Jacaerys,” you warned, your voice low and serious. “Some boundaries cannot be crossed without consequence.” 

“I don’t care about the cost,” he insisted, his heart racing. “Just tell me what to do.”

But you shook your head, sadness etched in your features. “You cannot rush fate. I am not a prize to be won or a ghost to be summoned.” 

The words struck him like a physical blow. He felt the ache in his chest grow, squeezing the breath from his lungs. The weight of your absence settled in the silence between you, and he struggled to find the words that would convince you to stay.

Jacaerys clenched his fists, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. The moonlight cast long shadows across the garden, the cool night air thick with the unsaid words hanging between you. He could feel it, the ache building in his chest, the unbearable weight of seeing you standing there, so close, yet unreachable. Your eyes held his, a flicker of sadness mirroring his own, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

“Do you have any idea what this is like for me?” His voice trembled, anger and desperation entwined in each word. “To look at you and not be able to touch you? To speak with you every night and wonder if it’s the last time? You vanish with the morning, and I’m left alone, not knowing if you’ll return. It’s a torment.” 

You flinched at the sharpness of his words, but your gaze never left his. The silence between you grew heavy, thick with all the unspoken longing and heartbreak. His breath came faster, his frustration spilling out in waves. “I can’t see you, except like this,” he gestured toward you, his voice cracking, “only when the night comes. It’s not enough. You’re not here. Not really.”

You took a step closer, though still, there was that distance, an invisible chasm separating you. Your eyes, filled with a depth of sorrow that only mirrored his own, softened. “Do you think it’s any different for me?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “Do you think I don’t feel the same?”

He blinked, taken aback by the rawness of your words.

“I look at you,” you continued, your voice growing steadier, though your expression betrayed the weight of your own pain. “And I feel the same longing, the same ache. I listen to you speak, and I wonder if the night will be kind enough to let me see you again. It is the same for me, Jacaerys.” Your voice wavered, the sadness you carried settling into the space between you.

His anger faltered, giving way to the hollowness that had taken root within him. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms, to feel the warmth of your body and chase away the cold emptiness that had haunted him for weeks. But you were a breath away, and that might as well have been a world apart.

“I don’t want it to be this way,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, laced with the same vulnerability that twisted deep in his gut. 

The words hung in the air, fragile and trembling between you. Jacaerys felt his heart pounding, as if it was fighting against the truth that lay before him. You stood there, not quite a ghost, not quite real, and he couldn’t bear the space between you any longer. He could see the sadness in your eyes, the unspoken grief of knowing your worlds were separated by a veil neither of you could pierce. His fingers twitched at his sides, the need to reach out to you overwhelming, but the fear of his hand passing through nothing but cold air held him back.

“I don’t want it to be this way either,” you said softly, the edges of your voice thick with emotion. “But I don’t have control over it. This… this place I come from, it’s not my choice.” 

Jace’s brows knit together as he listened, his mind swirling with a thousand questions. There had to be a way, something he hadn’t thought of yet. The witches, the maesters, even the old stories of dragons and magic – none of them had given him a path to you. But surely, something was out there. He couldn’t accept that this was all fate had to offer him: a lifetime of nights filled with conversations that would fade with the dawn, and a heart that would never stop breaking when he woke up alone.

“Is there no way?” he asked, his voice a plea, raw and jagged. “No spell, no ritual, nothing that could change this?” His eyes searched yours, desperate for even a glimmer of hope.

You shook your head, and he saw the pain in your expression, as if his suffering mirrored your own. “Jacaerys, you don’t understand what you’re asking. The world of the living and the dead… they’re not meant to cross. Not without great cost. If we try to break that balance, something will break with it.”

His jaw tightened. “Then let it break,” he spat. “I can’t keep living like this, with you slipping through my fingers every time the sun rises. I need you here, with me.” His voice cracked, and the vulnerability in it made your heart ache.

“I want that too,” you whispered, stepping closer, your ethereal form catching the moonlight in a way that made you seem almost solid. Almost real. “But it’s not about what we want, Jacaerys. It’s about what is.”

He shook his head, stepping forward to meet you. His hand hovered in the air between you, trembling, unsure whether to reach out or hold back. His voice was softer now, a whisper as his eyes searched your face. “What if I’m willing to pay the cost? What if it doesn’t matter to me, so long as I have you?”

Your breath caught, and for a long moment, the two of you stood in the garden, bathed in silver light, the night eerily still around you. His words hung in the air, and you felt the weight of his desperation settling into your chest like a stone. Jace had always been fierce, determined – qualities that made him a leader, a dragonrider. But this… this was a path that even he couldn’t understand.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “The cost isn’t just yours to pay. It affects everything around you – your family, your kingdom, your dragons. Some boundaries are there to protect you, not to hurt you.”

Jacaerys’s eyes flickered with defiance, but beneath it was a deep sadness. He was a prince of the realm, and yet here, in this moment, he felt powerless. The idea that you were beyond his reach, no matter how hard he tried to grasp you, was unbearable. And still, he knew you were right. There was something dangerous about tampering with fate, something even he couldn’t predict. But how could he simply let you go?

“I just…” His voice faltered, and he lowered his gaze, unable to meet your eyes. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

A soft, broken smile played across your lips, and you reached out, though you didn’t touch him. “You haven’t lost me. I’m still here. Every night, I’ll be here, as long as I can. But you have to live your life, Jacaerys. You have a future – a future that doesn’t end with me.”

His heart clenched painfully at your words. The future without you felt like a hollow promise, a cold, empty thing. He didn’t want that life, didn’t want to face the possibility of moving on from you. The thought of it felt like a betrayal, as though by accepting the life waiting for him, he’d be abandoning you.

“I can’t,” he whispered, his voice shaking with the weight of everything left unsaid. “I can’t just move on like it doesn’t matter. Like you don’t matter.”

“This isn’t about forgetting me. It’s about living, Jace. You still have so much ahead of you.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening. The fire of his anger had dulled into a quiet despair, leaving him feeling raw and exposed. The reality of the situation was settling in, and with it came the crushing weight of inevitability. He couldn’t change this. He couldn’t fix it. All he could do was hold on to the nights you shared and the fleeting moments that came with them.

“I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Your heart ached for him, and though you couldn’t touch him, you leaned in as if your presence alone could offer some comfort. “You will,” you murmured. “In time. But for now… we have the night.”

Jacaerys nodded, but the hollow feeling inside him didn’t ease. He didn’t know how he could ever accept a world where you weren’t truly a part of it. But for now, he would cling to these nights, even if it was all he had. For now, he would hold on to the promise of your return, no matter how fleeting.

You stood there, a ghostly presence wrapped in moonlight, and Jacaerys, with all the fervor and fire that he carried in his blood, could not stop his thoughts from spiraling into what could have been – what should have been.

“If you were alive,” he began, his voice cracking in the stillness of the garden. He could feel the words clawing at his throat, desperate to escape, even though he knew they were futile. You tilted your head, curiosity flickering across your ethereal face, but there was sadness in your eyes as if you already knew where his words were heading.

“If you were alive,” he repeated, voice softening, as if saying it would somehow will it into existence. “I would make you mine. In front of all the realm, I’d declare it. Betroth you to me, like the old ways, in the halls of Dragonstone. The banners would fly, and no one would dare stand in our way.”

A wistful smile tugged at your lips, but the sadness never left your gaze. You watched him with the kind of tenderness that only came from knowing a truth the other could not accept. His words hung in the air, thick with longing, the very fabric of what could never be.

“We would spend our days together,” he continued, his eyes glazing over as he began to weave a tapestry of a life that, deep down, he knew was just a dream. “I would show you everything – the islands, the seas, the hidden coves of Dragonstone. You would meet my brothers. I can see it now… Lucerys would love you; you’d laugh together at the table, and Joffrey… well, he’d try to impress you with some half-baked stories. They’d look up to you.”

He swallowed, his throat tight, his voice growing rough with the weight of his words. “And I’d take you to the town.” His face lit up, momentarily lost in the fantasy. “I’d show you every corner of the market, every stone in the streets. You’ve probably already seen it all… in your past life.” He faltered, reality creeping back in, but he pushed through, holding tight to the dream. “But I would make it new for you, show you the best places, the hidden ones only I know. We’d laugh, walk together until the sun set behind us.”

His hand lifted as if to reach for yours, but it hovered, trembling in the space between you. “I would touch you,” he whispered, barely able to keep the ache from his voice. “I would hold your hand, run my fingers through your hair, feel the warmth of your skin under mine. You wouldn’t be cold, like the air between us now.”

You blinked, a single tear tracing a path down your cheek, catching the moonlight as it fell. But you said nothing, letting him continue, letting him live out the dream in the only way he could – through words.

“And the kisses…” Jace’s voice grew even quieter, more fragile. “I would kiss you every morning, every night. I’d kiss you under the stars, when the world went quiet, and it was just us. I would steal your breath away, like you steal mine now.”

His chest heaved, and he took a shaky breath. “If you were like me, like us, I would never let you go. I would fight every god, every ghost, every shadow for the chance to keep you. We would have a life together. A real one.”

The silence that followed his words was deafening. He stood there, the weight of all his unsaid desires crashing over him, the impossibility of it all hitting like a blade through the heart.

And then you stepped closer, so close that, for a heartbeat, he swore he could feel your warmth, even though he knew you were nothing but air, a wisp of what you once were. Your gaze softened, and your lips parted, but no words came at first. Instead, you watched him with that endless sadness, the one that said you wanted all of this too but knew it could never be.

“I know,” you whispered finally, your voice trembling with the weight of your own grief. “I know, Jacaerys. And if I could… if I could be like you, I would want those things too.”

His heart twisted painfully in his chest, the air thick with the shared ache of two souls that could never truly meet.

“I would give anything,” he whispered, his voice broken, “anything to make it real.” 

But you only shook your head, stepping back ever so slightly, the distance between you growing once more. “Some things are not ours to change,” you said softly, your gaze filled with love and sorrow in equal measure. “But I will hold on to this dream with you, for as long as the night allows.”

Jacaerys clenched his fists, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over. The reality of your words felt like a noose tightening around his heart. He couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear the thought of a world where you were only a memory, a fleeting shadow in the night. But as you began to fade into the silver light, he knew, deep down, that this was all he had – the nights, the dreams, the fragile hope of what could have been. 

And so, as you vanished into the air once more, he whispered into the darkness, “I will never stop trying.”

But the night, as always, gave no answer.

* * *

The air in Dragonstone had always felt heavy with the weight of its history, but tonight, it pressed down on Jace with a different kind of burden. He sat in the dim glow of flickering candles, surrounded by old, forgotten texts scattered across the stone table. The parchment crinkled under his fingers as he turned another brittle page, his eyes scanning the faded script for something – anything – that might give him a chance to bring you back. His heart ached in the silence, the hollow emptiness of your absence gnawing at him, consuming his every thought.

He had been here for hours, locked away from the world, desperate for answers. His brothers had noticed his absence at dinner, but he hadn’t cared. Nothing mattered anymore except the promise of seeing you again, of having you by his side in a way that didn’t leave him clutching at shadows when the dawn came.

His fingers paused on a passage written in a language so ancient it looked more like a series of symbols than letters. His pulse quickened as he squinted at the script, the words slowly taking shape in his mind. A ritual. A spell. His breath hitched as he read further. It was dangerous, forbidden, the kind of magic spoken of in whispers, but it was there – a way to bridge the divide between the living and the dead. His heart pounded in his chest, a sudden surge of hope lifting the weight that had been dragging him down for weeks. He could barely believe it, yet the words were there, right in front of him. 

Jace shoved the other scrolls aside, pulling this one closer, devouring the details. His fingers trembled as he traced the lines of the incantation, each phrase searing into his mind. Could it work? Could this be the answer? It had to be. After everything he’d lost, after every night spent staring at the place where you used to be, this had to be the way.

He didn’t waste time. Grabbing the parchment, he hurried through the empty halls of Dragonstone, the walls echoing with the faintest whispers of his footsteps. His heart raced, but this time it wasn’t just from grief – it was from hope. A flicker of light in the darkness that had swallowed him whole since you were gone.

When he found you, standing in the moonlit garden as you always did, his breath caught in his throat. You looked just as you always had, your silhouette soft and haunting beneath the silver light. The sight of you, as beautiful and distant as ever, twisted something deep inside him. But this time, he carried more than his usual sorrow. He had a plan.

“Jace?” your voice was gentle, a balm to the storm raging inside him. You tilted your head, a soft frown pulling at your lips as he approached. “What is it?”

“I’ve found a way.” His words came out rushed, breathless with excitement. He could barely contain the trembling in his hands, his body thrumming with energy as if the very air around him had shifted. “A spell, a ritual. It can bring you back.”

Your eyes widened, your lips parting in shock. “What?”

Jace stepped closer, thrusting the parchment toward you as if that alone could make you believe it. “It’s here, in this ancient text. I’ve been searching for weeks – no, months – and I finally found it. A ritual that can let us be together again, not just like this.” His hand waved between the two of you, the unbridgeable gap of life and death hanging in the air. “But truly. You, here, alive.”

You stared at him, your expression softening into something achingly familiar – sorrow, deep and heavy, but also love. Always love. “Jace…” you breathed, shaking your head gently as if you already knew where this was going. “No.”

His heart lurched at your response, but he pressed on, his voice almost desperate now. “I’m serious. I can do it. I’ve learned enough, I’ve studied the texts. It’s dangerous, yes, but nothing worth having comes without risk, right? Please, just – just trust me.”

But you were already stepping back, your hands clasped in front of you as sadness clouded your gaze. “You don’t know the cost of this. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Frustration flared in his chest, a sharp burn that contrasted with the dull ache that had settled there for so long. “I’m asking for you,” he insisted, his voice rising slightly, more insistent. “I’m asking to bring you back. I don’t care about the cost, I’ll pay whatever it is–”

“No!” Your voice was firm this time, your eyes glistening with the weight of your decision. “You don’t understand, Jace. This kind of magic…it’s not meant for the living. It’s not meant to be tampered with. The consequences–” You swallowed hard, glancing down at the parchment in his hands. “They’re far worse than anything you can imagine.”

He shook his head, refusing to accept it. “I don’t care about the consequences. I care about you.”

Your gaze softened again, and you reached out as if to touch him, but your hand hesitated, hanging in the air between you. “And I care about you too much to let you do this. Don’t you see? I would never ask you to pay that price.”

His heart clenched, his hope starting to slip through his fingers like sand. “But there has to be a way…” His voice was hoarse, strained with the weight of his desperation.

Tears welled in your eyes as you shook your head. “There isn’t. Jace, please. I know you’re hurting, I know how much this hurts. But you have to let this go.”

Those words were like a dagger to his chest, sharp and cold, cutting deep. He stood there, frozen, the parchment still clutched in his trembling hands as the hope he’d carried so fiercely shattered before him. The flicker of light in the darkness was extinguished, leaving only the cold, endless void that had been with him since you’d gone.

“I don’t know how to let go,” he whispered, his voice broken.

Your eyes softened with the same unbearable sadness that had haunted him for so long. “I’ll always be with you, Jace. But not like this.”

He lowered his head, the parchment slipping from his fingers and falling to the ground, forgotten. His chest ached, the weight of his grief pressing down on him again, heavier than before. 

“I’m still here, in a way. But you can’t hold onto something that was never meant to last.”

He closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks as he struggled to breathe past the tightness in his chest. You were right. He knew it deep down, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. The love he felt for you was too strong, too overwhelming to just let go.

But he had no choice.

When he opened his eyes again, you were standing there, watching him with such tenderness it almost undid him. He wanted to reach out, to hold you, to pull you close and never let go, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Not in this world.

You lingered longer than usual in the quiet expanse of the garden, the moonlight spilling like liquid silver over the vibrant blooms and whispering leaves. The air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the petals, mingling with the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine. 

Beside you, Jace sat with his head resting against the cool stone of the low wall, his breaths slow and even, a stark contrast to the storm that churned within you.

You glanced at him, your heart tightening at the sight of his furrowed brow, the lines of worry etched deeper than before. His exhaustion was palpable, the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on his shoulders like a cloak of lead. 

This was the first peaceful night he had experienced in what felt like an eternity, the tension of his world fading away in the gentle embrace of slumber. You wanted to memorize this moment – the way the moonlight danced over his features, casting soft shadows across his face, the way his dark hair fell just slightly over his eyes, giving him an air of vulnerability that made you want to reach out and touch him.

You did, your fingers almost brushing against his arm, pulled back by the cold force that kept you apart, seeking that connection that felt so vital. You caressed his skin, feeling the chill that seemed to seep into your very being, a reminder of the void that existed between you. 

The coldness of your absent touch pricked at your heart, a reminder of the harsh reality that loomed over both of you. He needed warmth, needed the light of hope that had grown dim in the shadows of despair. At your closeness, he shivered.

But the silence hung thick in the air, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of a future that felt increasingly uncertain. You had both chosen not to speak of the bridge again – the dangerous path that laid before him. It was a bridge of dreams and desires, but also of dark sorcery and heart-wrenching consequences. 

The memories of your conversation swirled in your mind, filling you with a mixture of sadness and fear. He had been so adamant, his eyes shining with fervor as he described the ritual, a lifeline he believed would tether you together forever.

In that moment, watching him sleep, you felt a sharp pang of regret. You wished you could take away his pain, ease the burden that threatened to crush him. The thoughts of all that could be flooded your mind: the moments you had shared, the laughter, the quiet intimacy of simply being together, and the love that blossomed in the quiet spaces between you. And yet, here you were, confronted by the reality of what you could not allow him to do.

You let out a soft sigh, your heart aching with unspoken love. Jace stirred slightly, his face softening as he unconsciously leaned closer to you. You felt a flicker of warmth bloom in your chest, but it quickly dissipated, swallowed by the chill of your predicament.

The first light of dawn crept slowly over the horizon, bathing the garden in hues of gold and rose, signaling your time together was drawing to a close. You felt the familiar tug at your being, the bittersweet ache of departure settling in your chest. 

With one last glance at his peaceful face, you felt the pull deepen, the soft light of dawn fading into the background as you began to slip away. He stirred again, a frown creasing his brow as if sensing your departure. You wished you could linger just a moment longer, to bask in the warmth of his presence, but the light of day beckoned you back to your ethereal realm.

When he awoke, the garden would be empty, echoing with the silence of your absence. You hoped he would remember this moment, this fleeting night where peace settled over him like a warm embrace, even if just for a time. As you faded, the ache in your heart felt heavier than ever, knowing the truth of your parting would leave him more vulnerable than before.

In the quiet of the garden, the morning sun rose, the shadows shifting and stretching as if reluctant to let go of the night. You slipped away, leaving only a whisper of your presence behind, a lingering sense of love intertwined with sorrow. The silence enveloped the garden, and Jace, awakening alone, would find only the echo of your touch and the hollow ache of your absence, a reminder that love, while eternal, often came with a cost far too high to bear.

* * *

Whispers swirled through the halls of the city, soft yet insistent, painting Jace as a fool, a prince teetering on the edge of madness. They spoke in hushed tones of his folly, the madness of pursuing a ghostly love, feeding on their suspicions like wolves drawn to the scent of blood. 

One of the witches he had confided in curiously, emboldened by too many cups of wine, let slip secrets of his obsession, igniting the rumors that danced through the court like shadows. 

But Jace didn’t care. The laughter and scorn of those around him faded into a dull roar, drowned out by the thundering of his heart, filled with a desperate hope that this ritual might bridge the chasm between life and death. In his mind, this was not insanity; it was a daring act of love, a chance to grasp what fate had cruelly stolen from him.

Each day, he navigated the city with a singular purpose, his thoughts consumed by the idea of you, and the hope that perhaps – just perhaps – this could be a way for you to remain at his side.

Yet every time he envisioned a future with you, a stark reminder loomed in the corners of his mind: the unyielding divide that death had carved between your worlds. The weight of that truth settled heavily on his chest, a chain that grew tighter with each passing moment. 

His duties as prince, once a source of pride, now felt like shackles. He neglected council meetings, the mundane discussions of trade and alliances slipping away like sand through his fingers. His advisors, sensing his distraction, exchanged concerned glances, their voices laced with unease. “Jace, you must focus,” they urged, but he only nodded absently, his mind already wandering back to thoughts of you. 

In the evenings, as twilight draped the kingdom in soft shadows, he retreated to the solitude of the garden where you lingered. Each night, he felt the pull of that sacred space – the air heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine and moonlit petals. He sought solace there, hoping to reclaim the fragments of joy you had once shared. But the weight of his unfulfilled longing pressed down, sharper and more suffocating than ever.

The moments spent with you grew more intense, electric with a mixture of desperation and longing. He would sit on the stone bench where you had once laughed, your voice weaving tales of adventure and mischief. Now, it felt more like a requiem for a love that could never fully blossom. 

Each word was a dagger to his heart, carving out the reality of your absence with an aching precision. He could almost feel your phantom touch, the brush of your fingers against his skin, igniting a fire that burned deep within him through the cold feeling of your closeness.

As the days turned into nights, the conversations shifted from dreams to regrets, heavy with the weight of the choices that lay before him. “What would it be like if you were still alive?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Would you still laugh at my terrible jokes? Would you dance with me in the moonlight?” The questions lingered in the air, unanswered, yet their weight hung over them like a storm cloud.

But each exchange only deepened his despair. The yearning within him grew sharper, more acute, a constant ache that gnawed at his soul. The more he sought solace in these stolen moments, the more painfully aware he became of the reality separating you: a gaping maw of darkness that swallowed every hope, every dream, leaving him grasping at shadows.

One fateful night, as he clutched your hands in his, he noticed how your fingers slipped through his like mist. It was a haunting reminder that even in the moments he felt closest to you, there was still an insurmountable distance. Jace’s heart thundered in his chest as he realized how far he was willing to go to close that gap. 

As the stars blinked down upon them, Jace felt time slipping away, each moment a countdown to an unknown fate. And as he looked into your eyes, he knew he was ready to cross that line, to risk everything for the chance to hold you again, even if it meant tearing apart the very fabric of reality. The tension crackled in the air, heavy with unspoken words, as he silently resolved to pursue the only path he believed could bring you together again, unaware of the darkness that lay in wait.

* * *

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a gentle silver glow over the garden, illuminating the vibrant flowers that swayed softly in the night breeze. The air was sweet with the scent of jasmine, weaving its way around you as you stood in the sacred space where you had spent countless hours with Jace.

He approached, a shadow stepping into the light, and as he drew closer, your heart fluttered with a mix of warmth and longing. You had always felt a magnetic pull toward him, a connection that transcended the bounds of life and death, binding you in an invisible thread of love and desire.

“Jace,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, yet it echoed in the stillness of the night. His gaze locked onto yours, a mixture of hope and yearning dancing in the depths of his dark eyes. He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking until you could almost feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

“I just want to feel you,” he murmured, his voice thick with longing. The intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine, and for a moment, everything around you faded, leaving just the two of you in this suspended moment of intimacy.

He reached for you, his fingers stretching out, trembling with anticipation. Your heart raced as he attempted to touch your cheek, but the chill of the air intervened, and with it, a sudden surge of panic washed over him. In his eagerness, he knocked over a nearby candle, the flame flickering violently as hot wax splattered across his hand. A gasp escaped your lips as you watched, horror-stricken, his skin marred by the sudden pain.

“Jace!” You reached out instinctively, your hands hovering over the injured area, desperate to comfort him. His hand had reddened, a raw reminder of the recklessness born of his longing. But when he turned to you, a grin broke across his face, and it was so achingly beautiful that it momentarily took your breath away.

“It’s just a scratch,” he laughed, the sound echoing through the garden, bright and defiant against the night. “It’s nothing.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, as if he were not just a prince who had just hurt himself, but a boy caught in a moment of pure joy.

You frowned, your brow knitting together in concern as you reached out to touch his hand, careful and gentle. “You’re hurt! We should get you some water and–”

He interjected, his voice steady and full of warmth. “But I felt you.” His smile widened, a radiance that illuminated the shadows of the garden. “For a moment, I felt you.” The sincerity in his gaze made your heart ache with a fierce mix of love and worry.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly despite your concern, the sound mingling with the cool night air. “Jace, you’re reckless.” But even as you chastised him, you were drawn to the warmth that spread through you at his words. The way he looked at you, with that mixture of joy and determination, made the air crackle between you.

He held your gaze, and in that moment, all worries faded. The pain in his hand became a distant echo, overshadowed by the warmth of your connection. “I’d rather feel pain if it means I can be close to you, even for a second.”

You felt a rush of emotion swell within you, the profound weight of his words settling around your heart. You studied the way his hand trembled, and despite the coldness of his injury, he seemed so alive, so vibrant, and so utterly present.

* * *

As the days turned into months, the whispers of the young prince’s death echoed through the corridors of Dragonstone, weaving tales of sorrow and longing among the castle’s inhabitants. They spoke of the prince who had joined the ghosts, a boy who roamed the halls with an ethereal presence, forever bound to the place he loved. 

With each passing twilight, the soft glow of candlelight flickered against the ancient stone, illuminating the memories etched in the walls – moments of laughter, shared secrets, and the bittersweet ache of lost time. The air was thick with nostalgia, a fragrant reminder of the love that transcended life itself. 

In the garden where you had once nurtured your dreams and hopes with Jace, the scent of jasmine wrapped around you, weaving its way into the fabric of your being. There, you felt the weight of his hand in yours, a warm and gentle presence that defied the chill of his spectral form. Together, you wandered through the memories of your shared past, reliving the joy and heartache of your fleeting moments together.

Though the world outside continued its relentless march forward, you remained anchored in this sacred space, your heart entwined with his in a delicate dance of longing and peace. The whispers of the castle spoke of tragedy, yet you found solace in the closeness that enveloped you both – a haunting, bittersweet sense of comfort that came from knowing he would never truly leave.

In this realm of shadows and dreams, Jace had finally found the closeness he had yearned for, though it came at the ultimate price. You understood the weight of his sacrifice, the depths of love that bound you together beyond the veil of death. Each heartbeat echoed the promise of eternity, a reminder that love knows no bounds, no finality.

As the moonlight bathed the garden in its soft glow, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the peace that wrapped around you like a shroud. You could feel him beside you, his essence entwined with your own, a flickering flame against the darkness. In this quiet sanctuary, you understood that love, in all its forms, endures.

Jace had always yearned for closeness, a desire that had pulsed in the very fabric of his being. In life, it had manifested in impossible touches, stolen glances, and moments that felt both too brief and too precious to contain. Now, in death, he walked alongside you with a presence that felt transcendent. His ghostly form was not merely a shadow; it was a testament to the love that had forged its way through the veil between worlds.

And so, hand in hand, you embraced the eternity that awaited you, forever tethered to the ghost of the prince who had defied fate for the sake of love. Together, you would walk the ethereal paths of Dragonstone, your hearts united, whispering the echoes of a haunting tale that would resonate through time – a story of longing, sacrifice, and the bittersweet beauty of forever.

taglist: @smurfelle @elliaze @sillylittlepenguin181818 @lustrz-anna @lovelyteenagebeard @misshale21 @cecestea @n4tsha @inspirationquxxn @rin588 @anoravx @bbubbllejisoo

gc lovelies tags: @benjinotes @earth4angels @xxselenite @eldrith @princessbellecerise @bryscorner @v3laryons @vee-mage @softspiderling @swordgrace @hxtd @divinesolas @housetargaryenloyalist @bucksplum @cregan-starks @fyrewept

[maskedbyghost]

i had a dream about a Simon/ghost x fem!reader story based around the song Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush last night and I needed to type this out before I forgot lol

so its basically ghost having a nightmare that scared him deeply, causing him to wake up in a panic. the reader was already awake because ghost was breathing heavily before he woke up and the reader was worried for him. Once he wakes up, the reader could hold him closely (like cuddles) so that he knows he's safe with her. while the reader is comforting him, she could tell him that if she could swap places with him, she would (like in the song). And after he calms down, ghost could tell her (the reader) how much he loves her and appreciates her for making sure he's ok and he's all fluffy and genuine about it.

thank you for this idea, i hope you like it :)

it’s the quiet sounds that stir you first—the shallow, uneven breaths beside you, the way the bed shifts as simon thrashes just slightly. it’s not the first time you’ve seen him like this, but every time, it feels like a piece of your heart twists and breaks for him.

"simon," you whisper, reaching over, brushing your fingers lightly against his arm. his skin is warm under your touch, but he’s tense, locked in whatever nightmare holds him.

when he wakes, it’s sudden, his eyes snap open, wild and disoriented, like he’s not sure where he is. his breath comes fast, shoulders heaving, and for a second, he looks right through you.

"baby," you say again, voice soft, pulling him back to the present. your fingers trail up to his cheek, grounding him, until his eyes find yours and something shifts. he’s here, with you, no longer lost in the dark.

"’m sorry," he murmurs, rubbing a hand over his face, as if he can scrub the fear away. he looks almost embarrassed, like he’s ashamed to let you see him this way. but you don’t let him pull back—you scoot closer, curling your arms around him, holding him tight.

"don’t apologize," you say gently, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady, frantic beat of his heart begin to slow. "i’m here. you don’t have to be strong right now. just…let me be here for you."

he shudders against you, his breaths still shaky, but he doesn’t pull away. his head tilts down, forehead pressing into the curve of your shoulder, like he’s holding onto you for dear life. his arms wrap around you, strongly, like he’s anchoring himself to you.

you stroke his back slowly, fingers tracing calming patterns. "if i could take this pain from you, i would," you whisper, voice breaking just a little. "if i could trade places, i’d do it in a heartbeat. i'd go through every nightmare if it meant you didn’t have to."

he stills, his grip tightening, and for a moment, you feel him tremble, the words sinking deep, breaking through some guarded part of him that no one else has ever touched. "you’d do that?" he murmurs, almost like he can’t believe it.

"every single time," you say, brushing a soft kiss against his cheek. "i’d do anything to keep you safe."

there’s a long silence, and when he finally speaks, his voice is raw, barely more than a whisper. "i don’t…i don’t know what i did to deserve you," he says, the words rough with honesty. "you’re always here, always looking after me, even when i’m a mess."

you reach up, cupping his face, meeting his eyes with a gentle smile. "you don’t have to deserve it, simon. i’m here because i care about you—because i love you."

something softens in his gaze, and for a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to memorize this moment. his thumb strokes your cheek, and he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours.

"i love you, too," he breathes, the words carrying all the weight he’s never said out loud. "i don’t say it enough. i don’t know if i can…but just…thank you. for being here, for being you."

he pulls you close, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. you hold him in silence, feeling his heartbeat slow, the tension finally easing from his shoulders. for tonight, you’re his shield, his safe place, and that’s more than enough.

---------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving

[reiderwriter]

can i request a fic of pining spencer reid and bau!reader who are brushing up on some hand to hand combat and reader is really invested on winning finally pins spencer down and reader is straddling spencer and they are both like 😳😳

the rest of the bau and other fbi agents are on the side making varies bets about who wins maybe too? (eg that miss congeniality scene)

A/N: Thank you for the request and omg thank you so much for this one specifically - I loved this idea. I had to make Spencer competitive too, because 😊 I wanted to.

Word count: 1.8k words

Warnings: none! Just fluff, however if anyone wanted to send a follow up request wanting a part two where there is some smut I'd be 100% okay with that... Just if you wanted to.

Part two

When Morgan told you that, after an unfortunate shoulder injury you received on the job, you’d have to take another training course to prove that you were up to being back in the field, you almost resigned on the spot. Passing the first time hadn’t been the easiest feat for you, and while you were confident in your skills in the field, you knew that you were, to put it kindly, athletically challenged. 

“There’s no way to get out of it? No exceptions they can make to allow me into the field?” You asked, desperate to avoid Morgan putting you through the ringer. 

“I’m sorry, sweet cheeks, but they’re worried about your ability to perform under pressure, so I gotta push you today, okay? You’re not alone, at least.” 

“I’m not?” you gave the man a questioning look as you followed him to the changing rooms reluctantly. 

“Nah, they pulled up Reid and Garcia as well, you’ll all be doing the work together today.” 

“What that’s ridiculous! Penelope isn’t even in the field and Reid has never passed one of these things.” You throw your bag down on a bench, and look ahead of you into the equipment room, and sure enough, there they are, looks of equal dissatisfaction spread across their faces. 

“You’re preaching to the choir here, sweet cheeks. You’re in good hands though, I’m not going to push you too hard today.” Somehow you didn’t believe that. 

–X–

An hour later you were flat on your back, panting harder than you had in months, dripping with sweat and feeling an ache in your bones that you hadn’t felt ever. Next to you on the ground, you could hear your fellow torturee’s moaning in pain, presumably doing their best to stay conscious. 

“You know, chocolate thunder, I love you, I really do, but you make it very, very hard sometimes,” Penelope squeaked out as the other man chuckled from above you. “God I’m not even asthmatic but I think I need an inhaler.” 

You chuckled at that and pushed yourself up to a seated position. 

“I think I am asthmatic.” Reid said form his position on your other side. You stole a glance at him quickly before blushing and looking away. You didn’t have a crush on him, or at least that was what you were telling yourself, but you did have a keen appreciation for how he looked in his button down shirts and FBI vests. His hair was shorter now than when you first met, and the longer parts stuck to his face with sweat. You were lucky that the strength had been all but zapped from your body because given the chance, you’d be pushing his hair out of his face for him and get lost in his eyes. 

“Come on, guys. You finished cardio, you finished weights, all you got left is some simple self defense drills. Think you can handle that?” Morgan laughed from above you. 

“No! I haven’t been able to handle any of this, what makes you think I can do more?” Reid moaned out on the floor next to you. You stood up, reluctantly, holding out a hand out to the man and helping to pull him to his feet. 

You underestimate the help he needed to get up, though and he has to catch you in his arms as soon as he’s up, as you stumble into him, legs too weak. You blush as the two of you stay uncomfortably close for a few seconds, only pulling apart when Morgan lets out a sharp cough. You jump back from each other then, and pray to god that no one else in the room saw the puppy dog eyes you were unintentionally shooting up at him. 

“Okay, so there’s three of you, so I’ll join in for these sparring drills. Any volunteers?” 

“To tangle my limbs with yours all hot and sweaty on the floor? Sweetie, I thought you’d never ask.” You hadn’t seen Penelope move so fast all day, though you knew she was only half joking. 

“Okay, so Y/L/N, Reid, you head over to that mat over there. You’re going to start a hand-to-hand combat simulation, whoever pins the other down first wins. We’ll do best of three, okay?” 

Reluctantly, you made your way to the mat he indicated to, knowing that you weren’t going to have as much fun as Penelope any time soon. 

“You’re going to start in a common self-defense scenario. Reid, you’re going to be the assailant, you’re going to come up on Y/L/N from behind, okay?” You nodded at Morgan’s words and turned yourself away from Reid, feeling his presence at your back already. 

“Is this really necessary?” He questioned from behind you, and you could practically feel Morgan’s answering look on your back. Finally, he rested a light hand on your shoulder, and your session started. 

You grabbed the hand on your shoulder and twisted it, and yourself, behind his back, gaining the upper hand quickly. 

“Y/N, come on. Take it easy, I’m exhausted. Just let me pin you and we can call it a day.” Reid said from in front of you and your ears burnt at his suggestion. 

“Wait, why would I let you pin me? I have the upper hand right now.” He huffed out a breath and twisted his body underneath your arm, catching you off-guard as he swept your legs from underneath you. Before you could fall all the way down, though, he grabbed you around your waist and held you in what you assumed looked like a ballroom dancing dip. 

“You were saying?” You desperately wanted to wipe that arrogant smirk off of his lips. “Actually, I have a few years more experience in the field than you, and I was probably beaten up a lot more in high school, so I wouldn’t be too upset about losing to me, okay?” 

You returned his smile sarcastically for a second, before lifting and swinging the heel of your foot into his knee, forcing him to hit the mat as you scrambled out of his grip and repositioned yourself behind him, pulling him arm behind his back a second time in an attempt to subdue him. 

“If you have so much experience getting your ass kicked, Spence, why don’t you just let me do it?” You enjoyed feeding his words back to him as he moaned out a little. 

“Because something tells me you’d enjoy it a little too much.” He somehow slips from your grip again, swiping your legs out from underneath you and climbing over you. The two of you struggle for a few seconds on the floor, but he has your legs pinned with his own, and he forces your hands above your head. Your heads are even with one another, and you’re both breathing heavily now. 

You decide to take another approach to get out of his hold this time. Rolling your hips up into his slightly, you let your eyes rake over his body above you. 

“You sure you’re not enjoying this just as much, Reid?” you shoot him an innocent enough smile, but you can see the flush staining his skin, and he loosens his hold on you just enough to allow you to wrap your legs around his waist and use your bosy weight as leverage to flip your positions. 

Now he’s on his back below you and you sit up in triumph, straddling his lap. His arms fight to get yours pinned to your side but you give back just as much as he is, and you can feel the crowd forming around you. He decides to fight dirty as well. 

“Thought you’d enjoy being under me more than you’d like being on top. I was being a gentleman,” he huffs out and manages to flip you over once more, pushing up and wrapping his legs up over your knees and forcing you onto your back. Your legs are now spread wide for him, his crotch pushed against yours, his arms gripping yours and pushing them firmly into the mat. You struggle a few more times but you know this is it. He’s got you. 

“What? Not even going to let my hands go to let me tap out?” you huff out, blowing a stray piece of hair out of your eyes. He pins both of your hands with one of his and gently tucks the hair behind your ear for you as you burn up under his touch, suddenly at a loss for words. 

“What, and let you try to tackle me again? Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let you go.” 

“Y/L/N, Reid, if you’re finished over there, you can grab a drink and start over. I did say this was going to be best of three.” Both of you suddenly snap your eyes up to Morgan, who has one raised eyebrow pointed at you. You realise that you’ve also drawn the attention of the other gym-goers and scramble away from each other to the sound of chuckles and wolf whistles. 

“Shit,” you run a hand through your hair and get in position to go again, this time swapping with Reid so you take the position of the unsub. 

From a distance, you don’t realise that Penelope and Morgan have completely given up on their own drills. 

“Twenty bucks says Reid gives in and kisses her first,” she whispers to her companion. 

“The kid? No way, he’s being too cocky for that. I reckon Y/N will do it to try and distract him first.” 

“I’ll take that bet,” Garcia says, and they settle back into watching the two of you, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re both enjoying sparring a little bit more than you normally would be. 

“When do you think I should tell them that they never needed to do this training session in the first place?” 

“Derek Morgan, if you are admitting right now that you made me walk through hell and back just so you could force these two beautiful idiots whom I love to recognise their feelings for each other then I am going to murder you and then bring you back to life so I can kiss you for being so smart.” 

“So I shouldn’t tell them?” 

“Take it to the grave, baby.” 

They turned their attention back to you, suddenly way more invested in how this was going to turn out.

[decentwritings]

Chapter 4

Summary: You’re unable to grasp the luck you have. You were raised to run from danger, to go the opposite direction of bad influences. So when you somehow find yourself right in the center of it, you discover that running wasn’t exactly what you were taught. It only took GhostFace and a pretty girl to remember that.

previous part <- -> next part

Danny paces back and force, hands over his head as he waits for any sign of anyone coming out of the building. Sam watches from a distance, being checked by the paramedics for any sign of injury.

The sun is rising, a glow in the sky that should signal hope but instead it reminds all of them the start of a new day, with the same problems from the night before. It feels like hours until he spots an officer coming out, alone. His blood goes cold, his heart thumping faster against his chest with every second that ticks by without a single sight of you.

"We got one!" Another officer shouts as he makes his way out of the building. He's helping you walk, with a lot of struggle. "They're refusing help." he shouts with a grunt.

Danny rushes over to take over for the officer. When he grabs ahold of you, he feels a huge weight lifted off him. He hears your refusals to get help but ignores you, dragging you to the free paramedics.

"I'm fine," you slur, waving your uninjured hand dismissively. The paramedic puts a cuff around your arm and you look at her, fascination and recognition on your face. "Ahh, Lauren! How have you been?" you ask, fighting the force behind your eyes.

The paramedic, Lauren, glances at your cousin as she takes a listen to your heart. "Let's worry about you, Y/N, okay?" she says, then begins to take your blood pressure.

You nod silently, looking over at Danny. "Is everyone okay?" you ask, concern filling your tired eyes. You grimace when Lauren grabs your injured hand.

Danny's eyes are threatening to spill tears but he chuckles, despite himself. "Everyone's fine," he shakes his head, unable to believe how hurt you are but worrying about others. "Alive, thanks to you."

You try to wave your hand, dismissing the compliment.

Lauren begins to wrap your hand after cleaning the wound. You grimace again, clenching your jaw at the pain.

"How do you know each other?" Danny asks when silence envelopes them.

Lauren waits for you to answer but you remain silent, watching her do her work. "We cross paths at work," she answers, and you hum in agreement. "They annoy the crap out of me and other paramedics when they aren't actually working."

"She flirts with me, all the time," you add.

"I do not," Lauren deadpans, giving your cousin a knowing glance. He nods in understanding, he knows how you are.

A second later, a short figure appears beside Danny. You think you're dreaming, but no, it's Tara. She's watching Lauren clean the cut on your abdomen carefully, and sees the way you grit your teeth to prevent yourself from displaying pain.

Once Lauren is done, she covers the cut with a large bandage. She grabs a computer and starts to type away. "You lost some blood, so I'd like to take you to the hospital," she tells you, though she looks at Danny since she knows you're incapable of absorbing anything right now.

Danny nods but you intervene.

"I'm good," you respond, blinking slowly. You shake your head, hoping it rids the drowsiness. It doesn't.

"Y/N, you need to go to the hospital," Lauren urges, staring at you sympathetically.

You shake your head again, more forcefully this time. "I don't need a hospital. I just need some juice and I'll be good," your voice wavers slightly, betraying the weakness you're trying so hard to conceal. You smack your lips. "I could really go for a Long Island Sweet Tea."

Lauren exchanges a glance with Danny.

In the distance, you spot Ethan making his way towards the scene. The pain in your abdomen and hand cease as you stand and stalk over to boy.

Danny and Tara exchange glances before they follow after you.

"Hey!" You shout after him, walking with a slight stumble. Ethan's face contorts into one of confusion before his eyes widen. You manage to push him against a car, jaw tight as you glare at him intensely. "You piece of shit, you tried to kill me!"

Danny rushes over as you slam the boy again, trying to get something more of a reaction. Blood begins to seep through the bandage on your hand, but you don't care much for it. His hand hovers over your shoulder, hesitating, because he knows you have every right to suspect Ethan but you are not in the right state of mind.

"Y/N, calm down," Danny urges, voice strained with worry. He knows adrenaline has kicked in, but the consequences when it goes away is what he's worried about.

Sam joins when she sees her sister reaching for you. "Hey," your eyes glance at Tara but your hold on the boy remains firm. "This isn't the time, you're hurt."

Ethan looks between all of them, even travels over to Chad standing a few feet behind. By the look on his face, he's sure he would have pulled the same stunt had you not done it first.

For a moment, you falter. The pain that was dulled by your rage creeps back in, gnawing at your abdomen and hand. You sway slightly, your strength ebbing away with each passing second. But just before you release him, you tighten your grip on his shirt and push him against the car once again, harsher than before.

Ethan grunts, holding the back of his head. You take a step back, slow and deliberate, eyes narrowed at him. The pain lingers, but you don't let it show even as Tara tugs you over, away from Ethan.

Chad nearly shoves you aside, pushing Ethan back into the same position. "They make a good point," the boy grunts under Chad stronger, tighter grip, "where were you? You were the only one gone and then my sister nearly dies!"

Ethan winces as Chad's grip tightens on his collar, eyes darting nervously between everyone around him. "I had Econ, you know this!" His voice cracks, but there's something off about the way he says it, like he's scrambling to pull together a story that no one is buying. He glances at all the eyes watching him, he feels caught. "I was in a lecture hall with a hundred other people, ask any of them!" he throws out.

Then, a gurney passes by with a white sheet covering a body.

Ethan's eyes widen. "Oh my god, who–"

"Quinn," Chad shoves him one more time, enlarging the bump on the back of his head. He clenches his jaw, finding some self control to walk away from the boy. Instead, he returns to his sister's side, helping her girlfriend console her.

Ethan attempts to go over to them, but Mindy sends him a glare. "Back the fuck up," she shouts, startling the paramedic caring for her. "You're at the top of my list."

Anika grabs her girlfriend's hand, wanting to calm her down.

"I had Econ!" Ethan shouts again, looking around all their faces.

Your eyes connect with his and for a moment he lets his shy and dorky act drop. A dark look crosses his face and you try to stand from where Tara shoved you down to sit, but she grips your arm to keep you in place.

Bailey is by the entrance of the building, still in disbelief of his daughter's death. Sam gestures to her sister, silently telling her to join her.

"Stay here, don't move," Tara orders you, eyes hard as you stare back at her with a blank expression. She rolls her eyes then walks off to join her sister, looking at Danny to warn him.

Danny nods and hurries to join you before you can make any moves. You hold your injured hand close to your chest, frowning as you look over at your cousin.

"You're not invincible," Danny tells you, shaking his head solemnly. He sighs. "I'm sorry I brought you into this. Especially with everything you've been going through. This is last thing you needed."

Your gaze travels to Tara, unable to put into words the feeling you get when you look at her. You force yourself to look away, looking to your cousin with a head shake. "I needed this," you tell him, aware of his confusion at your words. "I ran away when my dad was dying, avoided seeing him at every cost. I think about what I could have done differently, to help him...to save him."

Danny sees the distant look in your eyes, the gears turning in your head as you go over possibilities. "You're not a miracle worker, Y/N," he says, her tone soft to be sure he doesn't mean it differently. "Your dad knew you, and he knew if you could, you would have been there."

You catch sight of Gale in the corner of your eye, and you see her join the sisters and Detective Bailey.

"Yeah, well," you start, getting to your feet with less struggle than before. Danny still has his hands up, ready in case you need his help. "I can be there now, so I will be."

"Sam..." Danny starts, almost upset by what he's going to say. "They don't trust anyone. I told her to not even trust me."

Your neck snaps to look at him, glaring, because the thought of anyone distrusting your cousin angers you. "You can be trusted, Danny," you state firmly, but he shakes his head in answer. "You've saved them. You went out to search for them, knowing there was a psycho out there willing to kill you if you get in his way–you're the only one they should trust." you insist.

Tires screech as car comes to a rough stop, interrupting your conversation with your cousin. Kirby exits the car and sends you a small smile, nodding once, before she joins the group.

"Y/N," Danny sighs, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "It's not about what I've done. It's about what they've been through. Trust is earned, but trauma makes people question everything—even the ones closest to them. You can't take it personally."

You shift, the weight of his words sinking in, though they don't fully quell your frustration. "You're her boyfriend, and you have been put through un-boyfriend like things. You could have walked away–we could have walked away way before we got anymore involved, but we stayed." Danny's lack of response makes you continue. "Practically makes us family. I mean, blood was drawn." you gesture to your injured hand.

Danny shrugs, solemn, and looks down at the ground to avoid your eyes. "Sometimes, family is the hardest to trust."

The words feel like a slap to the face. You know he didn't mean any hurt but it still hit you hard. His words ring true, your mother's harsh words at your father's funeral echoing in your mind. She was emotional, you constantly remind yourself, and she's doing everything to make up for saying those words. Constant checkins, the random texts of expression of her love for you, and the sharing of old photos of when you were younger or an old family photo.

Still, your heart falls and tears form in your eyes. The feeling to crawl into your bed and hide away surfaces, but you force yourself to push it away because that is what got you into this mess. Into the emotional mess that you are in.

"Look," Danny says, breaking the silence between you. "I know you want to jump in, help, fix everything—but you need to take care of yourself first. You've been through hell tonight."

You shake your head, gaze now locked on the group. "I've been through worse," you mutter, though even you aren't convinced by your words.

Just before you can make another move, the sisters move away from the group and walk over to you two. You share a look with Danny just before they step in front of you.

"Gale has something to show us," Sam crosses her arms, appearing upset of having to inform you both.

"We think you guys should stay," Tara says, glancing at her sister. Sam nods in agreement, but remains quiet.

You scoff, opening your mouth to argue but Danny grips your shoulder, keeping you quiet.

"Just be safe," Danny says but his eyes remain on Sam. The older Carpenter nods, then taps her sister's arm before she walks away.

Tara sends one last smile at you before she turns. You glance at Danny, and he's walking away, probably struggling to go; wanting to go with Sam.

You hurry after Tara. "Hey, wait," you grab her hand, and that's when you see it. The scar on her hand, probably similar to the one you may have once your hand heals. She feels your stare, snatching her hand out of your grip.

"Sorry," you apologize, genuinely and try to avoid showing any pity. You hate when people give you the pity look, so you assume everyone else does too. You clear your throat. "Um, I just...I know I have no place to worry, but be careful."

Tara's eyes soften at your words, though her guard remains up. She looks down at her hand, flexing it slightly before meeting your gaze. "You don't have to worry about me," she says quietly, her voice measured but not unkind. "I can handle myself."

You nod, understanding her need to assert her strength, concern still remains within you. "Trust me, I know," you say, remembering the punch she hit Gale with. "But I just wanted to say it," you shrug.

Tara looks at you, and you feel like she's staring right at your soul. For a minute, you wish this was just a normal day and you bumped into her, so you can ask her out to get to know her. But no, this isn't a normal day.

You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly nervous under her gaze. It makes sense now, what that feeling was earlier when you looked at her. Though, now you're even more upset, because you know you'll never be able to act on these feelings.

Tara bites her lip and takes small steps back, giving you a reassuring nod.

You watch her join her sister, unable to take your eyes off her as she walks away. There's a gnawing feeling and it feels terrible, but you shove it down. You force your feet to move, turning to leave with your cousin.

Danny invites you to stay at a hotel with him, but you tell him you need to check on your sister's dogs. Plus, you were in need of some puppy time after this awful event. He nods, doesn't like that you're going alone, but doesn't say it or show it.

"Besides, Remy's a pitbull and Blackie's a German Shepard," you add, shrugging as you continue your walk down the street. "Alex did a good job on training them. They're guard dogs," you mention your brother-in-law, knowing Danny knew of his determination to have those dogs well trained.

"Fine," Danny relents with a sigh, "but if anything suspicious occurs–I'm talking a trash can falls over, anything, call me. Got it?"

You salute him. With your bleeding hand. He frowns but doesn't hold you back, allowing you to walk away.

\\\\

After a long shower, you collapse on the guest bedroom's comforter. Lauren gave you extra bandages for your wounds since you denied the ride to the hospital again. She also threatened your life if you died and got her fired for it. So with that threat in mind, you did a decent job on trying to imitate the job she did earlier.

You grab a pillow and hug it tight against your chest. Soon, Remy and Blackie join you on the bed, practically shoving you off it.

"I'm regretting this decision," you mutter, patting Remy gently. He gets the hint and moves over a little. You readjust yourself, shutting your eyes and allow slumber to engulf you.

You hear Blackie's growl, awaking you from your sleep. You lift your head, looking around the room for anything. It's pitch dark and you aren't sure when you closed the blinds. Or if you even closed them.

Were they closed when you got here?

Remy stands on the bed, appearing defensive and you sit up cautiously. You look between the two dogs, noticing their defensive stance.

You stand, ordering them to stay as you do. They whine at your order and your suspicions are confirmed when they do. They want to defend you from the danger they feel coming, so you hurry out the room and close it behind you.

Any harm happens to those dogs and you're positive a wrath you're sure you have somewhere in you will be released.

You wander over to your brother-in-law's office, finding his autographed baseball bat hung on the wall. You snatch it off its display and stare at it.

You debate whether to use it as a weapon or not. You shrug dismissively.

"I'll get him another one," you mumble, resting the bat on your shoulder as you prepare your search of the house.

As you peek over each wall as you wander down the house's halls, you hear your phone ring in the kitchen. You had left it there charging, not wanting to search your sister's room for an extra charger.

Making your way to your phone, you're still vigilante, guard still up.

The ringing doesn't stop, not even after ten rings. You huff, unaware phones could ring for that long.

Taking your phone off the charger, you finally answer the phone. And wait.

"Hello, Y/N."

You roll your eyes, already tired of this conversation.

"Sup, Ethan," you greet in return and smirk at the silence. "So, what exactly goes on during these calls? Do we share secrets?"

Silence continues and you check to make sure he didn't hang up.

"Well, I got one," you continue after seeing the call remained connected. "I never really liked you. Yeah. Since the moment Anika introduced me to the group, you were just...I don't know, I just didn't like you," you shrug.

There's a pause on the other end of the phone, and you hear a shuffle then creak over the line. "This isn't a game, Y/N," he finally speaks, and you keep your eyes wandering around to avoid him surprising you. "I'll give you one chance...stay out of this and you won't get hurt; anymore."

You hear his words, you do. But all you can think about is, "I hear you, I really do..., but I also didn't hear you deny that you're Ethan." You stupidly laugh, angering the killer even more. "Yeah, I'm not staying out of this. You almost killed me!" You shout, anger resurfacing at the memory.

"Ten seconds," he says and you roll your eyes, exiting the kitchen, entering the living room. "Run, while you still can."

"What makes you think I'd run?" You scoff, tapping the end of the bat against your foot.

Pause. Another creak sounds.

"Because you run from people who need help," his words echo in your mind and you freeze in place, jaw tightening. You hear a sinister laugh, and it sends a chill down your spine. "Time's up."

Bless your sister and her need for a random mirror in her living room. You swiftly avoid the knife after catching sight of him through the mirror. You turn and swing the bat, dropping your phone on the ground.

GhostFace grabs the bat and rips it from your grip, snapping it in half.

"Hey!" You shout, irritated now.

He tilts his head, and you think you see amusement behind the mask. You take a few tentative steps back, creating some distance.

You see him begin to lunge, but you hold your hands up and shout, "Wait!"

He actually listens, freezing his arm in the air.

"Can we move this outside? My sister will kill me if I make a mess in her house," you say and he unfreezes, attempting to slash at you. You grab his wrist, holding it in place. "Fine! But I'm sending you the bill for everything you break." You snarl before shoving back.

Ghostface stumbles back, surprised at your sudden burst of strength. He tilts his head again, almost considering your words. There's a brief pause before he lets out a low, distorted chuckle. "You don't know when to quit, do you?" he hisses, his grip tightening on the knife.

The voice sounds weirder in person, you think.

You take another step back, keeping your eyes locked on his every move. "I've been told I'm stubborn," you shrug, focusing on his movements. You try to calculate his next move. "Is there usually this much talking during a fight in horror movies?"

He lunges again, ignoring your question, but this time you're ready. You sidestep him, shoving him toward the bookshelf. The shelves wobble, and a few books topple over, but you don't give him a chance to recover. You hear something shatter and you gasp.

"That was my sister's wedding portrait!"

Ghostface lets out a frustrated growl, clearly not expecting you to keep up the banter. He's quick, though, recovering faster than you'd hoped. You barely manage to duck when he swings the knife at you again.

"You talk too much," he snarls between slashes.

You dodge each slash, confusion crossing your face. "You were a lot faster last time," you comment, grabbing his wrist and knocking the knife out of his hand.

Mindy's words return to your memory. She used the term, "killers." Plural.

You're distracted and he uses it to his advantage, lunging at you, toppling you both over. You both crash into the front door, knocking it off its hinges. You manage to lift your arms to blow each of his blows, and you realize these punches are much lighter than the one you felt in Sam's apartment.

"Oh, so not Ethan," you murmur as you succumb some extra strength, kicking this GhostFace off you. You scramble back, feeling the deck under your hands. When you stand, you find the door on the floor. "Come on, man!" You exclaim, gesturing to the broken door.

GhostFace tilts their head, and slowly lifts the knife up to your eyesight. You raise your fists up, getting into an offensive stance. They dangle it in the air for a moment, as if taunting you.

You drop your fists, annoyed, your patience wearing thin. "Can we...please," you make a come here motion, and they take it as permission.

GhostFace charges at you, knife raised. You decide to take them head on, wanting to get close again. You don't why you haven't ripped the mask off yet.

You grab their arm just as the blade nears your neck, and, because you're focused on getting the mask off, you don't see their other hand raising. Your jaw aches and you get light headed for a moment. They get another hit, knocking you down, onto the grass.

It doesn't help you at all, and you take hits to the face twice before you see the glimmering blade of their knife. You stare at it and huff, this is what I get for being cocky, you think.

Then, you see a flash of blue and red. You think you're hallucinating for a second but when you tilt your head back to look, you see it. A chuckle escapes your lips.

"Ha, the cavalry has arrived!" You shout, then grunt when you feel a punch to your face again. You shake your head and lift your head to look around, but GhostFace disappeared. "How do they do that?" You let your head fall back, tired.

There's a plethora of shouts. One from the police, either saying to freeze or announcing their arrival. Then, you hear your name being shouted soon after.

From two different people. There's an outstretched hand in front of you moments later. Your cousin stands before you and you smile, chuckling at the irony that, once again, he's there to pick you up.

You grab his hand, using him as a crutch when you stumble slightly. He makes sure you're well enough before letting you go.

Tara's next to him, eyes filled with worry. You're beginning to hate yourself for making her worry so much. Sam isn't that far behind, and you offer them both a small, but reassuring, smile.

You look back at your sister's house and drop your head with a sigh. "My sister is gonna kill me," you mumble.

Danny pats your back carefully. "Let's get you checked out," he walks close to you as you make your way over to the paramedics.

The flashing reds and blues calms you a little, given that GhostFace appears scared of it. You settle on bumper of the ambulance, allowing the paramedic clean the cuts on your face.

Tara, Sam and Danny all silently watch as you get cared for, almost like they can't believe you made it out alive. It hits you then, along with the sting of your cuts being cleaned, you're alive.

You didn't run. Even when given the option to run.

"I didn't run," you say aloud, and it had a weird taste in your mouth. You notice them all give you looks of confusion. "I didn't run," you repeat to them.

Danny smiles, an actual smile that isn't one to reassure you. But a proud and happy smile.

You look between Tara and Sam, expression contorting into one of determination. "Whatever plan you guys have, I want in," you say, thanking the paramedic when she's done. You stand, more steady than before. "Once you're in, you're in, right?"

Tara and Sam share a look, small smiles on their lips. They look back at you, nodding.

"Okay," Sam says, extending her hand. "You're in then."

You see Tara's smile widen when you take Sam's hand in yours.

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 5

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 4, Part 6

Warning, I guess? Like I said last part, my AU has death and voilence. This one also has frisky(?) moment, no full NSFW

You aren't quite sure how long you have been sitting on this bench. The cats you were watching have already grown tired and were lazing around. The smoke smell was still faintly in the air and the sky was the same blue as before.

Couldn't have been more than 10 minutes then.

You should get up and leave. But to go back to the main area is to back into the fray. And you really didn't want to do that. With a heavy heart, you got up and stretched.

A loud crash and bang from around the corner startled you. You peer curiously in the direction and a pained groan is all you can hear. You walk over and see opened crates on the floor with fireworks rolling out of them.

Carefully you step around the fireworks to get to the heart of the problem. Yoimiya was on the floor with crates scattered around and a bell near her. The usually peppy blonde was clutching her head with a pained expression.

"Did you just get hit by that bell?" You say with a smile. You struggle not to laugh as you hold your hand out to her.

"Unfortunately, I did. Ugh, that really hurts." She takes your hand and slightly jolts from the electricity that your skin brings. You notice her action but don't put much thought into it, you pull her up.

"If we don't pick up all your fireworks fast, we'll probably lose some." Yoimiya smiles brightly completely forgetting her lost battle with the bell.

"You would help me? That's great to hear, I'd be looking all over Inazuma City for them without you!"

You start picking them up with her as you leisurely talked with her. Truthfully you offered more for yourself, as selfish as it sounds you just wanted a distraction.

The nearly mind-numbing or annoying task, depending on how far they rolled was easier with the chatty woman. Yoimiya knew how to talk to people, truly an extrovert with great social skills.

"That should be all of the fireworks. At least none of the boxes broke." You close the last crate and wipe the sweat from your brow.

"All thanks to you. I wasn't expecting anyone to be around since the ritual was in session. It should be finishing up though." She has an excited smile as she speaks and picks on two crates at a time.

Eager to change the subject you grab the last box and are about to pick it up. "No wonder you dropped it, carrying three crates would be too much-ugh. Damn, how much do these things weigh?"

You hurriedly position the crate in your arms to a more comfortable position as your grip tightens. You weren't weak but these things were absurdly heavy. You glance at her holding two of these monsters. She's not fazed in the slightest by the weight.

"The weight isn't too much of a problem, but the size was my oversight. I couldn't see while holding all 3 boxes and hit that bell. Thank you for carrying that one. Just follow me, we aren't too far from the drop-off location."

You inwardly sigh at now being stuck with the weight. But... You glance at the Yae Publishing House. Better than being stuck with Yae. You follow Yoimiya as you get closer and closer to the main area.

"Have you heard the rumors?"

"What rumors?"

"About there being an oracle! Really, it's only spread among the kids. They keep telling me that an oni, his name is Itto, keeps telling them about how he met the creator's oracle."

So, it's already starting. At least it's staying between the children right now, by the time Yae hears about it and connects the dots you'll be gone.

"Maybe it's true. You'll need to meet that oracle for yourself to be sure." You shrug and bump her shoulder. Playfully she bumps you back.

"I would love to meet them! Believing in fantastical things is a lot of fun. And if it turns out that they're a fake then I'll light them ablaze." You were suddenly reminded of Itto by how she spoke such vicious words with a bright smile.

"What if they prove that they are an oracle? What would you do then?"

"Ask if there is anything I can do to be awakened! I traveled to Sumeru with the traveler, and it was the closest thing to being awakened. Awakened acolytes can see all sorts of sights and stories."

The sparkle in her eyes was full of joy, no doubt imagining what it would be like for her wish to come true. The thought of your very low primogem count made you want to cry. 'Sorry Yoimiya, I don't think anyone is getting pulled at this time.'

Arriving back at the ritual area you can see the dead bodies being moved away and the blood being cleaned. You doubt they'd be able to clean up all the ashes today.

"Such a shame I missed out on it. But I would rather supply my fireworks for the finale festival than watch in a sweaty crowd."

To think that everyone here has grown numb to sight... Do people become less than cattle once they are dubbed a sacrifice? You follow Yoimiya around the slowly dispersing crowd to the back.

Ayaka is giving orders until she spots you both. Quickly she comes over with a smile.

"I'm relieved to see that you were with Yoimiya. Thank you for watching over the oracle in our absence."

"Wait-What?! They're the oracle?" Yoimiya comically looks between you and Ayaka's smiling faces.

"You just let me talk about the oracle while not telling me you're the oracle?" You finally laugh at that. Setting the crate down, you sigh in relief and speak.

"It was entertaining, I promise I was planning to tell you before we split paths."

"I'm torn between being embarrassed and happy. At least you know my wish now." She deflates as she holds the crates with a pout. It's gone as quick as it came and she's back with a sunny smile.

"Well, then Ayaka please lead the way for me to put these fireworks away. I can't wait for the final ritual to see them light up the sky."

"You just saw them last week, you're insatiable for fireworks. Y/N, I'll meet up with Ayato, Thoma, and you in a little bit."

Ayaka smiles softly and beckons Yoimiya to follow her. Yoimiya smiles cheerfully and waves enthusicastically before hauling all 3 boxes. Does archery really make your arms that strong?

"Y/N!" A shout of your name and hard armor meets your back as you're hugged from behind. It was just a quick hug before you spin around.

"Gorou, all done with that soldier?" He smiles widely showing off his fangs. He's holding your arms with his gloved hands as his tail wags.

"Yeah, sorry about having to leave so suddenly. Are you feeling better now? You don't look as bad as before."

"I'm feeling a lot better now. I didn't worry you too much right?"

"I mean, I can't deny that I was worried but you're all better now so that's all that matters. Remember if you need to talk about it, you can always come to me. I'd prefer it that way."

His whisper is low, and you strain to catch it. But he smiles with a blush and it's enough to dissuade you. He's helped you a lot, you didn't want to be too nosy. He's also one of the few that hasn't used you for information about the creator too. It doesn't bother you but it's nice feeling like he hangs out with you because he finds your company nice.

"It's been some time since I've seen General Gorou this happy. Are you a friend of his?"

Motherfucker- How in the world did you manage to run into Kokomi fucking Sangonomiya!?

You hadn't accounted for her appearance since she's usually on Watatsumi Island. She's way too good, like facing a kinder, fishier Yae. Hell, she managed to beat Yae in TCG and find the card snatcher in that event. This wasn't Ei but meeting Yae and Kokomi on the same day has got to be bullshit.

While you were internally dying Gorou took the initiative to introduce you to Kokomi with a happy grin.

"This is Y/N, they're an oracle for the creator. They even have the Kamisato Clan's approval."

"That is quite impressive, allow me to introduce myself first. My name is Sangonomiya Kokomi, I'm the divine priestess of Watatsumi Island."

"It's an honor to meet you Sangononomiya? Sanganonomiya? Sanganomiya?" Your voice gradually lowers as you butcher her name. Honestly, you were just hoping she would dislike you and leave. You did not want to have another Yae-level battle.

Purple glossy eyes watch you struggle with her name in amusement. You even managed to confuse yourself on how to pronounce her name. She can't help but laugh bringing a gloved hand to her mouth.

"You must not be a native Inazuman. You can just call me Kokomi, as an oracle and Gorou's friend I can trust that you're a good person."

Gorou beams at his superior's approval and his expectant stare on you makes you feel even more trapped. So much for getting her to dislike you.

"Thank you for your generosity, Kokomi. I've heard here and there how good of a leader you are. Both in and outside of combat. Your citizens seem to adore you a lot."

At least you don't have to pronounce Sangonomiya anymore. She takes a step closer and peers at you. She's good but not impossible.

"Thank you but I believe you aren't that different from me."

What the fuck is that supposed to mean. Gorou holds your hand with a confused face. Was he always this touchy-feely in the game? You can't remember well with Kokomi staring dead into your eyes.

"I'm the divine priestess for Orobaxi, a god that Watatsumi Island worships despite being deceased. And you are an oracle for the creator. All living beings in Teyvat worship the creator, our jobs may have more similarities than you think."

"Are you saying this because as an oracle I am a communicator between the creator and the people? While as divine priestess you carry out the will of Orobaxi to protect your people?"

She smiles knowingly making her eyes squint a bit. "Precisely. Wouldn't you benefit more from staying on Watatsumi Island? Maybe not permanently but you could learn a lot from staying with us."

Wait what? Does she think that you came here to help Narukami Island? Not a bad guess since you do have the Kamisato's approval. Is she trying to poach you?

"This isn't well known but I'm on a mission for the creator. I can't share all the details, but it involves me moving around Teyvat a lot. I already have transportation to Liyue all prepared. Thank you for the offer but I'll have to decline."

Gorou and Kokomi both have disappointed expressions with Gorou's being far more dramatic. Or maybe that was his dropping ears and tail exaggerating his look.

"I understand, the creator must come first. If the tides ever lead you back to Inazuma, please come and visit Watatsumi Island."

As adapting as water, she moves past her rejection and smiles softly holding out her hand. You grab it and shake her hand until you feel a familiar feeling. The feeling of eyes watching you and ears listening to you strikes you.

You release her hand and Gorou speaks to her about something. You can't focus on what they are saying as the feeling leaves you chills.

It must be Yae.

Now that you think about it, isn't it weird how Gorou and Kokomi are in plain sight with no Yae? Her rival, punching bag, and an easy victim are all in one group, surely, she would not hesitate to come over. Unless she's with Ei.

Jumping to conclusions, you are definitely jumping to conclusions. Forcing yourself to breathe easily, you smile casually as you can finally hear what Kokomi and Gorou are saying.

"Your Excellency, I've already moved that emergency shipment to the boat. We can wait for you to finish meeting with the Electro Archon."

"You should go on ahead without me. Whatever she has called me for doesn't sound like a minor problem."

"Even so, leaving you in enem-" Kokomi's look makes Gorou shut his mouth and backtrack.

"Right, right. Sorry, force of habit. But I would still feel more comfortable waiting till you are done, your Excellency."

"Okay, I understand your concern. Please wait in Inazuma City until I'm done." Gorou smiles at Kokomi's acceptance.

"So, you'll be staying a while longer? It's a shame you didn't come a day earlier. I'm leaving for Liyue today after all." You join in when you get a chance. The last thing you want is for Yae to notice how aware you are of her presence.

Kokomo opens her mouth to speak when yells of your name can be heard across the plaza. You all turn to see Thoma waving to grab your attention while Ayaka and Ayato calmly stand and stare at you. Or are they staring at Gorou and Kokomi?

You give a wave back to let them know you saw them. Turning back with a small and slightly sad smile you hide your joy at a perfect escape option.

"And that is my transportation calling me. It's been lovely meeting you Kokomi despite the short amount of time we spent together. And Gorou, you were the highlight of this festival, I'll be sure to seek you out next time I come."

Gorou seems to swoon at your words while Kokomi smiles at your words and holds both your hands. Her stare is unnervingly deep into your eyes. Fisheyes in the game and in real life are much different up close.

"You are quite the fascinating person. Whenever you do come back, Watatsumi Island is more than happy to greet you with open arms."

Your smile is gentle matching hers despite how you're secretly sweating bullets. She releases your hands, and you see Gorou smiling at Thoma who is clearly glaring at him.

Unlike humans, animals bare their teeth to threaten. That little tidbit of information comes to mind when you see that Gorou's grin is a little ferocious. It all goes away once he sees you looking at him.

"Y/N, whenever you come back, make sure to visit Watatsumi Island twice as much time as you spent here. I can show you even more stuff than what I showed you here."

"I will Gorou." You promise before petting his head. You weren't sure when you would get to pet someone like this again so you wanted to take advantage of it while you still can. Gorou seems to like it as much as you do. His eyes close and his tail wags a little as he angles himself deeper into your touch.

When you pull your hand off, he pouts a bit but waves to you as you walk to the Kamisato's. You carefully peek back to see Kokomi say something teasing to Gorou that makes him embarrassed.

Yae conveniently turns the corner at that exact moment and scares Gorou. Seems like you dodged a bullet at poor Gorou's expense. But it also raises a question. Did Yae intentionally wait for you to leave to join the group? If so, is it because she feels bad or because she doesn't want you hearing what she has to say?

Deciding to leave it be you turn back to the Kamisato's as you approach them. Once you're in reach Thoma sweeps you into his arms and hugs you.

"What a warm welcome. Missed me that much Thoma?" You say with a smile as Thoma sets you down.

"Well, I have to! You're leaving today, I have to make the most of it." He smiles a little embarrassed as he avoids your eyes.

"Totally not because I pet Gorou?"

"Totally."

Ayato covers his mouth with his sleeve and coughs with a not very subtle "Liar" in between. Ayaka swats his arm with her fan and Thoma playfully glares at Ayato.

You snicker at the familiar sight of them fighting and almost trip over a firework stick. Your near tumble makes them all pay instant attention to you. Ayato and Thoma are quick to put a hand on your shoulders to steady you as Ayaka picks it up.

"It's a few are still missing. I'll have to send a servant to put it with the others later."

"Damn, sorry Ayaka I thought Yoimiya and I got them all. Will you have enough for the final ritual this month?"

"Oh yes more than enough. We always order extra just in case something like this happens. It's a shame you won't be here to see the final ritual." She looks to the ground sadly as she finishes.

"Ayaka is right, it truly is a shame. The final ritual is the cumulative of everyone's efforts and the fireworks look beautiful at night. I mean you could always stay until then. The Kamisato Estate is always open to you."

Ayato speaks with a purposefully convincing tone. What is up with people trying to convince you to stay? First Kokomi and now Ayato? Without thinking too deeply you reply.

"The journey from Liyue to Inazuma is pretty long and unpredictable. And there's no way I can freeload on you guys for some fireworks. Next time I come over I'll stay longer to attend it. Besides I can use the teleport waypoints."

The second you say that is the moment you regret it. Great going, now you'll be forced back to Inazuma in less than a month!

Too busy insulting yourself for your own stupidity you don't see how Ayaka and Thoma light up. Eagerly she writes down the date and time of the final ritual before placing it in your palm.

"Oh, that's perfect Y/N! Now you can continue being an oracle the way you wished and make it in time for the festival."

Ayato seems far too calm and smug for this whole thing to just be your own mistake. There's no doubt Ayato was waiting for you to mention teleporting yourself. Probably in case there was some prerequisite. Which you definitely would have made up if he mentioned it first. No one else to blame except yourself.

"Thanks, Ayaka, I'll do my best to attend." You slip the paper into your bag and smile warmly. You can't out right reject it now but maybe later on you can make some sort of excuse to avoid attending. Either way you have time and if you do have to attend...

Then your luck and lies going your way will let you have a firm standing as an oracle that won't allow Ei to suspect you that easily.

Maybe you're better off faking your death and living with the Aranaras. As the creator you should have some sort of influence on creatures. Hopefully...

"So, since the ritual is done and the festival is coming to an end, I should be on my way to Ritou. What boat am I taking?"

"That eager to leave Y/N? I would have thought you would at least let me bring up the topic seeing as we housed you all this time." Ayato's eyes are narrowed as he looks at you. His hand is covering his face and his voice sounds annoyed.

"I would never want to overstay my welcome in your estate. How could I take advantage of your kindness anymore then I already have? Besides wouldn't kind hosts like yourself avoid making your guests unwelcome by bringing up the topic of leaving. I'm simply doing you a favor."

You speak with a mocking kind voice and bring out the fan he gave you to cover your mouth. His annoyed voice melts away as he laughs softly at your actions. You crack a smile too until he tips your fan forward to reveal your face.

"This fan will be your ticket to the boat. As promised, I selected the best boat, the Crux will treat you kindly when you board the Alcor. Captain Beidou is said to be one of the best captains and a crew member by the name Kaedehara Kazuha was once a loyal subordinate of the Kamisato's."

That was actually pretty cool. Beidou is said to have defeated a hydra in her character entry. Plus, Kazuha was a really popular character. You were fond of them both and thinking of meeting them with no worry of dying sounded amazing.

At least until you remembered how the Crux was known for 'daring' adventures meaning batshit dangerous sailing. They could all survive it because they either have a vision or training. But you? You weren't a fighter, nor did you have any powers. It's that stupid dilemma about what to do when you inventible encounter enemies again!

"Thanks Ayato, the creator seems to trust them both a lot too. To get to Ritou I'll need to pass Byakko Plain and Konda village. And that little shore area with loads of monsters."

Ayato pauses when you mention monsters. He didn't forget that you can't fight right? You look to Ayaka and she's avoiding your gaze. You turn a little more urgently to Thoma just for him to smile nervously.

"You all forgot that I don't have any guards, fighting skills and powers, didn't you?"

"It's not that we forgot when we were making preparations Y/N. Originally, I was going to accompany you but the Shogun suddenly announced a meeting this morning that will be starting in an hour. Ayato and I will be forced to attend leaving Thoma the only one to take care of the estate in our absence."

You feel a bit more frantic. Maybe if it was daylight, you'd just take the risk but nighttime? You have no intention of dying to a hilichurl or any other monsters, humans included.

"Can't a guard come with me then?"

"It seems that's our only choice. The guards are necessary for the festival due to the large number of people. And the amount only heightens at night but it's a risk we'll have to take. Your safety is priority, you'll need two guards at least"

You feel a bit guilty knowing that you'll be putting the public in danger. But the chance of someone dying without two guards is much lower than the chance of you dying without a guard. It's not a bad thing to have survival instincts, you tell yourself to ease the guilt.

"Wouldn't a better idea be for me to accompany them instead?" Someone butts into the conversation (rude) with a horrifically familiar voice.

Clips of the scene "Traveler, you're so dreamy~" echo throughout your mind as you remember his first birthday art posted on Reddit during a crisis that only caused more chaos.

Heizou walks with confidence to your group smiling innocently. Like he wasn't just eavesdropping on everything. You want to scream.

Who fucking cursed you?! You managed to run into everybody you wanted to avoid! Except Ei but you were starting to doubt that you'll be able to avoid her too.

Thoma throws Heizou a suspicious glance before standing next to you protectively. You wish Thoma was able to protect you from whatever Heizou's intuition is telling him about you. There's a large chance he heard you be referred to as an oracle.

Ayato and Ayaka keep their composure as Heizou stops in front of them who are standing in front of you. Seems like they all don't want him close to you. Is it because he's part of the Tenryou Commission?

"My, what's the caution about? I'm an upstanding member of the Tenryou Commission. With a vision too! I prefer not to fight but I am good at it." His voice was even more melodious in person. If only it wasn't hiding the absolute trap, you know he has behind his back.

"Considering that you were eavesdropping on our conversation for a while, I truly doubt your words. You always abandon or delegate your work to other people too. Can I really trust that with Y/N's safety?"

Ayato's words are as sharp as his stare. His eyes are similar to the depths of the ocean waiting to pull their victims into the freezing water. It really reminded you of when you first met him. Your relationship with him has improved in bounds and leaps.

"Now, now no need to be so hostile. I'm under Madam Kujou Sara this time. She was worried about the oracle and asked me to check up on them. I am the only other vision holder that's awakened in the Tenryou Commission. I can promise you that they'll make it to Ritou, they'll probably be boarding the Crux, correct?"

Heizou, to his credit, is good under Ayato's pressure. Probably from dealing with Sara all the time. Thoma clearly doesn't trust Heizou, Ayaka is seemingly neutral on the matter and Ayato is weirdly against Heizou.

"Were you not listening early enough to be sure what boat Y/N is going on?"

How didn't you notice Heizou listening? You were able to spot Yae right away, yet you missed him?

"The oracle is clearly an important person as they are directly connected to the creator. Only the Crux could provide a level of safety fit for them."

You saw Yae first, so you were always on guard for her. Did you unknowingly relax around the Kamisato's therefore preventing you from noticing Heizou?

"All it took was a quick deduction. I'm a detective for a reason." Heizou ends with a smile. Ayato though less tense hasn't let up his stare. The tension is killing you, but you can't afford to stay any longer.

Heizou only offered to figure out the mystery behind you and his intuition probably had a hand in it too. Going with him does mean dealing with whatever questions he throws at you, but it seems to be your only choice. You can't risk staying any longer and running into Ei.

You move away from Thoma's side and place a hand on Ayato's shoulder. You smile trying to lessen Ayato's suspicion.

"He doesn't seem to be a bad choice at all. Going with him means I'll be safe and so will everyone else. Like he said, he's an awakened acolyte with a vision. Sara wouldn't send him unless she was truly okay with it. She's very cautious concerning these things after all."

Ayato looks down at you with a vague feeling of dissatisfaction. If it was up to him, he would accompany you himself. Better yet he would keep you in Inazuma. He knows Ayaka and Thoma would be more than happy with that too.

But the longer he looks at you the more he knows that what he wants just isn't going to happen or work. The nervous smile you send him makes his heart flutter. With a sigh he nods.

"If that's what you wish Y/N then Shikanoin can escort you to the boat." And if his subordinate that is already stationed there reports back that you never boarded the boat then he knows exactly who to blame.

You smile feeling relieved that you won't have to worry about dying on the journey. Looking to Heizou you feel that relief turn to exhaustion as you imagine what the conversation during the journey will be like.

"You're Shikanoin Heizou correct? I'm Y/N, an oracle for the creator. Although I don't appreciate you eavesdropping, I am thankful that you'll be escorting me."

You walk forward and hold out your hand to shake his. Heizou looks at the two Kamisato's and honorary Kamisato behind you who are giving him varying levels of glares. Flashing a smug smile to them he shakes your hand.

"Don't mention it Y/N. You can just call me Heizou, we'll be spending a lot of time together on this trip after all."

You can tell he's saying that more to rile up the Kamisatos, but you tactfully ignore it and release his hand. Time to play damage control! Fun.

You turn around to face them with a grin. You were honestly going to miss them, a lot more than you originally thought.

"I can't thank you three enough for helping me out like this. Whenever I visit Inazuma again, the first stop will be the estate. Probably when the final ritual is occurring. If there's anything I can do for you, let me know, okay?"

They all gave you their own version of goodbye.

"I'll be eagerly awaiting your next visit." A sad but happy face hiding behind a fan.

"Come whenever, I'll make you more good food!" An excited and slightly melancholic expression.

"Don't sound so sappy, you make it sound like you'll die." A gentle look that alludes to the longing hiding behind it.

You can't help but feel a sense of dread rise up. As if the next time you see them won't be as happy as you think it'll be.

But that's the future. The future can always be changed. You shouldn't get so hung up and worried about something that is so far away.

To ease your worries and the sorrow you feel at having to leave, you wave to them with a bright smile. You follow Heizou who already began walking to Inazuma City's exit.

He isn't speaking, just quietly leading you through the city. You don't bother trying to break the quiet like you did with Ayato. You don't need Heizou's attention anymore then you probably have.

Your eyes trail over Heizou as you follow him. You try not to stare at his exposed sides but judging by the smile he gives you... He definitely noticed. Slu-

"Are all oracles supposed to be as perverted as you?"

"What do you mean by perverted? If you take my glances at you as perversion, then you're the perverted one. Aren't you cold?"

"It's not that bad. I'm sure you're at least a little warmer with that mask on." Here comes the questions.

"It's broken, any heat I could retained is lost through the cracks."

"Then why wear it? Surely the Kamisato's would gladly fund you more masks. So, what's so special about that mask? Why even wear it?"

Unlike Yae who was only interested in toying with you, Heizou is looking to solve the mystery. Plus, you had him which means he must feel the pull you give off as the creator. What's the point of being the creator if it only leads you to more problems?

Like it or not you're stuck in this situation and his intuition is like an otherworldly sense. Staying silent might lead him to arrest you, you can't risk missing the boat. So, you'll need to lead him around, a plan that just might work due to his own pride.

"Well why can't I? My mask isn't hurting anyone. Is your instinct as a detective telling you that my mask is important?"

"My intuition you mean. You're smart enough to get the Kamisato's trust and Madam Kujou Sara's trust. And I have a hunch that, that mask is connected to your oracle status."

"Doubting me huh? Well, you can't arrest me for wearing a mask or just looking shady so let's make this journey fun." You say with a smile as you both pass farms and the huge tree at the edge of the city.

"What are you proposing?"

"I guess you could call it a game. Your intuition seems sharp enough to pick up on any bullshit I spew. Ask me any questions and I'll give you cryptic answers. Maybe I'm lying, telling the truth, deflecting or a mix of them all. A test of both of our skills. If you can figure out why I'm hiding my face, then I'll tell you everything."

You actually mean it. Mostly because Heizou wouldn't believe you if you aren't being honest. If he can actually wait and listen to everything, then maybe he won't immediately attack you.

You know it's a stupid chance, but you can't risk being here any longer. You want to stop feeling scared of thunderous skies and lighting chasing your every move.

Heizou is quiet as he watches you while thinking. Should he accept this? His intuition won't stop nagging him to find the truth behind you. What does he really have to lose playing with you like this? With a smile he finally responds.

"Alright, let's see if you can keep the truth hidden as well as you think you can. Is that mask special?"

"Not really, I only took it because it was broken."

"Why would you take a broken mask?"

"The price of course, well the lack of price I mean." You only fibbed a little there. You have to test how well he can pick up on lies.

He hums in acknowledgement. It's clear he doesn't fully believe it. The game was right to dub him as a prodigy detective.

"That mask has the trademark of Mr. Sanden. He's a bit of a perfectionist, he doesn't sell any masks he isn't happy with. So how did you manage to get him to sell it to you?"

He's got home advantage too. But remembering Heizou's past made you recall his hatred for sin. You can't help but worry that he'll react violently if you admit your theft. That's what selective wording is good for!

"You got me. Sanden didn't want to sell it to me, but he eventually did let me leave with it. I'm thankful since the mask has served me well."

"Are you wearing that mask to deter certain people?" That little bait was a good deflection.

"Well, you could say so. Maybe I committed a crime that would be revealed with my mask off. Or I'm hiding an ugly scar behind it that I don't want people to see. It could be that I'm living a double life and this mask is the only difference between my lives."

You shrug and pass by the spot where you met the Arrataki Gang. Not for the first time you missed them. Sara included, at least you didn't need to think hard and fast on how to fool her.

"What do you think is the truth? Are they all true to a degree? Or are they all lies?"

Heizou hums and holds his chin looking like a true detective. You look a little closer to examine the moles beneath his eyes. It was pretty cool how he had matching ones. He snaps his fingers and points at you with mirth.

"Sounds more like two lies and a truth. Or maybe half-truth would be a better description. That double life choice seems to be on the right track."

He wasn't wrong, but the answer was much farther than a double life. You spot the teleport waypoint that you activated after defeating those treasure hoarders and nobushi. Are the materials you collected from them still bloody?

"Believe what you will. I don't necessarily need to confirm whether you got the correct answer."

"Getting a little defensive aren't you. Seems like I should ask you a little more about this topic. Where were you born?"

"I actually don't know." It's true, you had no clue what hospital or city you were born in.

"Then where did you arrive in Inazuma? Watatsumi or Ritou?"

"Neither I simply woke up on Seirai Island." You know he'll probably dig around for more information about this topic once you leave but you're okay with that. How will he tell which story on your appearance is true or false?

"I find it hard to believe that you don't remember anything beyond that."

"I don't have many memories before becoming the oracle. Realizing what I have to do ordered by the creator makes me believe that my past-"

Your rambling is cut off by the scoff he lets out.

"Man alive, no need to start preaching about the creator that I've personally experienced. I don't believe your words about the creator at all. And we got quite off topic, didn't we? Tell me, did the creator order you to wear that mask?"

What a question. Perfect time to test deflection.

"Would you stop asking me questions if I say that the creator did order me to wear it? Would you even believe me if I said that they did?"

"No."

"So, you're just asking to fuck with me?"

"Not necessarily, all these questions are just steppingstones to the truth."

"Fancy way to say that you'll ask me anything and everything."

"Glad to hear that you've already accepted your fate." This little shit.

You slow down your pace while passing by the temple. You feel a bit tempted to enter it to admire the murals. Heizou stops to watch you stare up at it in amazement. For an 'oracle' you seem mesmerized by the temple.

You jump a little as Heizou slings a arm around your shoulder and pulls you along the path again. Konda village is in sight and his breath is fanning over your ear.

"So, tell me Y/N, do you at least remember what region you were born in? Or at least lived in before becoming an oracle? Y/N isn't a very common name, in fact you're the first person I've met with that name."

"Well, I'm quite sure I wasn't born in Inazuma. I wouldn't call Seirai Island a home either." You nearly whisper as you stare straight into his eyes. You refused to be psyched out, not after all the other authorities you tricked on Earth.

He lets go of you and walks a little ahead of you. Frowning in confusion you speed up to match his pace. You barely catch the way his smile wavers a little and his hand toys with the baton on his hip. Was the previous proximity affecting Heizou too?

"What's wrong Heizou? For someone who I pegged as the teasing type you sure can't handle your own consequences."

Heizou smiles a littler wider contradicting how his eyebrows furrow. There's a large chance you're a criminal, something like that shouldn't have affected him so strongly. So why did you? Why did the heat of your body and smell of something sweet on you make him fumble like that?

"Speak for yourself, your heart was beating out of your chest."

"Even noticed my heartbeat huh? Sounds like you've got some sort of crush."

"You wish now stop trying to distract me. In fact, what about those writings on the temple walls made you so distracted."

"They were writing?" You questioned instinctively and immediately regretted it. The smile Heizou wears is victorious.

"Yes, it was. Do you know how to read?"

"No. Or at least not that well."

"Heh so that's a yes, just not in this language."

"Basically."

"Interesting and very believable. That writing was very old, but it was written in the universal language with Inazuma dialect. Meaning you should be able to at least recognize it as writing, but you didn't."

You're nervous but you calmly cross the stone bridge into Konda village. Heizou seems to want to ask something but the yells from parents interrupt him.

"Takeru! Takeru, you little rascal it's bedtime! Where are you?! Oh, where is he?" An older woman is calling out for Takeru who seems to be a child judging by the bedtime.

"Futaba! It's nighttime, it's not safe to be out this late! Futaba!" A much older woman with white hair is calling out too. You and Heizou pass by them a little concerned.

The sky is darkening but it's not pitch black just yet. Those children should probably still be out playing or something. Heizou hums and sweeps his eyes across the village.

"After I drop you off, I'll come back to make sure those kids came back fine."

"Is it normal for children to play without supervision?" The thought of kids playing outside when there are literal monsters around sounds unbelievable.

"It's quite common especially around villages like this where only elderly and children live. This is a farming village too so they're likely playing on the farm."

You nod and follow Heizou to leave the village by going under the flimsy looking gate. The sickle you picked up and put in your bag on whim still makes you uneasy. Your gut feeling made you pick it up and you aren't quite sure what to do with it now.

"I haven't forgotten about your slip up. So, either you lied about knowing how to read or you know how to read in a different language that has no roots in the universal language."

This guys just does not miss a beat. As you get closer to the beach area that leads to Ritou, you see a teleport waypoint. You couldn't activate the one in Inazuma City due to the crowd and Yae but this one could be used to your advantage.

You stop at the waypoint making Heizou look at you in confusion. You place a hand on the waypoint and relish in the new gold color it turns. Smugly you look to see Heizou staring at the waypoint with a shocked expression.

"Man alive, how did you-?"

He's cut off by a scream. It sounds like a young boy and you both look at each other in alert. Immediately Heizou turns and runs down the steps onto the shore with you following him.

The scream is joined by another scream sounding like a girl. You and Heizou follow it to the right and run past the waterfall and follow the dirt path. Blindly passing by a hilichurl camp you see a Fatui Hydrogunner and an Electrohammer.

You freeze up in fear as you watch a boy be slung over the Hydrogunner's shoulder and a girl try to crawl away from the Electrohammer. Heizou wastes no time to deliver an anemo infused punch to the Electrohammer giving the girl a chance to stand up.

You take a deep breath and move closer to hold the girl. She clings onto you in fear as she weeps loudly. You watch in a daze as Heizou continues dealing blows to the Electrohammer. At least until the Hydrogunner makes his move.

"Freeze or the boy drowns."

All three of you freeze as the Hydrogunner points to his gun to the boy's head. The Electrohammer hits Heizou straight in the chest with the war hammer knocking him back.

"Heizou!" You yell as you watch him hit the ground harshly. You yelp in pain when you're suddenly lifted up harshly by your neck. Struggling in his grasp uselessly until he squeezes your neck and throws you over his shoulder. The girl cowers and cries as she's yanked onto the other side.

Heizou stands up but stays in place as the Hydrogunner keeps the gun to the boy's head. You're about to wrap your hands around the Electrohammer's neck when he speaks.

"I wouldn't do that unless you want the boy to get blown to pieces."

You freeze before hanging limply over his shoulder. Everything is quiet save for the children's sobs. The Electrohammer starts walking farther from the city and the Hydrogunner does the same but slower.

You can only watch as Heizou's furious face gets smaller and smaller. They bring you and the kids to a camp close to Araumi. You land roughly on the floor with rope tied around you. A Anemoboxer who was waiting at their camp ties up the kids and drops them next to you. You give one last scathing glare before they close the tent flap.

Tense, you wait a few moments until you hear the muffled sounds of them talking. You turn back to look at the scared kids next to you.

"Hey, hey it's okay. We're going to get out of this, okay? Did you see that guy with me? He's a friend and he's really strong too. He's gonna get us out of here."

Their sobs slow down at your words and they look up at you. They have little scratches and scraps from trying to escape the Fatui.

"I want to go home, I wanna see Granny." "Are they going to take us?"

You shush them quietly to stop them from working themselves up into a crying fit.

"Me and my friend are going to make sure you get home safe. Why don't you both tell me your names? Mine is Y/N and my friend is called Heizou."

"I'm Takeru and she's Futaba." Takeru speaks with a waver as Futaba nods tearfully. They're still scared and the conversation between the Fatui is slowly turning into an argument.

"It's nice to meet you both, now I need you both to be brave and stay quiet for me." They both nod and you smile trying to offer some comfort. You couldn't let them take you and the kids' hostage again.

The ropes are tight around your torso and wrists, but they underestimated you. There is a pole in the middle of the tent with a wheel but it's the gear behind it that matters.

Carefully you move your legs until they are bent underneath you. You stand up and stumble a little to the gear. You can feel the sharp edges around the gear and smile.

At first you try to cut the large rope around your torso, but the rope is too thick and strong. You move your back higher against the pole so that the rope around your wrists is the one being cut.

Takeru and Futaba watch you in a mixture of fear and hope. You smile when you feel the rope give away and fall to the ground. With your hands free, you struggle a little to shimmy your bound arms to your front.

It's like wearing a really tight shirt with your arms still in it. Uncomfortable but not super painful. Once it's done you move to your bag that was thrown on the ground. Carefully you kneel and open it.

The game screen is deeper in the bag, and you shove your hand in to select the sickle you took from Konda village. When you pull your hand out it's weakly holding the sickle.

The kids smile as hope becomes clearer. The argument outside is getting louder. Yells of "this wasn't the plan!" and "we have to do it!" are making you increasingly worried.

Carefully you maneuver the sickle to cut the ropes without cutting your own shirt. The ropes break and you stretch your arms to get the blood flowing.

"Alright, I'm gonna get you both free but you have to stay quiet and listen to me or we'll get caught again."

They nod eagerly and you move behind them. You cut off the ropes and they stand up in a flash. But the loud sound of a punch cuts your victory short. Takeru and Futaba huddle closer to you in fear.

You smile kindly and hold out your free hand to them.

"Hold onto me, be prepared to make a run." They nod and grasp your arm as the sound of fighting gets louder. You walk closer to the tent flap and lift it to see the outside.

Heizou is fighting them all with a few wounds. The hit he took earlier must still be affecting him. This was not a good match up. Although the elemental shields aren't up yet, it wasn't an easy fight.

The Anemoboxer and the Hydrogunner are both healing and the Electrohammer is giving heavy electro blows. Not even mentioning the swirl that's happening. Once those shields come up, Heizou will have even more work to do.

The minute they have one of you hostage is when the fight is over. You can't let that happen. You can dodge but the kids can't. You eye the path and turn back to the kids.

"Listen carefully, you saw that dirt path they took us on? You need to follow it back to where me and Heizou found you. Just stay there and wait, okay? If anyone that you don't recognize starts coming. just hide."

You would rather them go straight back to Konda village, but you didn't want them at the mercy of the hilichurls either. They tremble but nod at your words.

You look out the flap sneakily and suck in a breath as the Anemoboxer starts heading towards the tent you all are at. Quickly you throw it open and drag the kids out with you.

The fighting freezes for a moment as the flap hits the Anemoboxer in the face and you push the kids in front of you. The Electrohammer and Hydrogunner look at you in surprise.

"Run!"

This springs the kids into action and Heizou delivers a charged up anemo punch to the Hydrogunner. Rain starts to fall, and the elemental shields were thrown up. The Anemoboxer has just doubled in your dangerous rating. The Anemoboxer reaches out for you making you jump back.

You just need to keep the Anemoboxer away from Heizou who's dealing with the other two Fatui Skirmishers. You keep dodging and running circles around him. You were mostly afraid of him using anemo to pull you in.

The fights weren't like watching it in the game. These guys bleed even while encased in the war machines. You hear the groan of the Hydrogunner passing out and smile crookedly. Was this fight finally going to be over soon?

The Anemoboxer leaves you to fight Heizou and you finally take a breather. Heizou doesn't stick to the Genshin game rules either. His catalyst follows him as he mixes up his normal attack pattern. Horrible timing but it's really cool watching him use anemo in creative ways that the game never showed.

The enemies seem to be in a rougher state. There's a three way stand off as they all stop to catch their breath. You see movement behind Heizou and feel your blood run cold.

"Heizou behind you!"

Heizou follows your words and just barely dodges the water blast from the Hydrogunner that was slowly getting back up. With one last fully charged kick to the head, the Hydrogunner falls down. The loud crack lets you know that he may never get up again.

The other two Fatui don't let the opportunity slip. With the Anemoboxer dragging Heizou closer, the Electrohammer slams the hammer down onto Heizou. You clench the sickle in your hand tighter as you can only watch in horror.

You stayed out of the fight for a reason, you couldn't fight you would only be in the way. But that's not an option anymore. Hearing his pained groans as he's punched by the Anemoboxer swirling the electro and rain spurs you into action.

While the Anemoboxer's back is turned you sneak up and raise the sickle. The spot in his back with no armor covering it seems to call to you. You slam the tip of the blade straight into it making him cry out.

You pull it out in a hurry and jump back as the wound bleeds more. The Electrohammer looks at you in surprise giving Heizou a long enough breather to get back up.

The Electrohammer and Heizou go straight back to combat as the Anemoboxer faces you. His huge gauntlets swing around trying to hit you as he coughs up blood. The ground is slippery, and it makes your dodging a little harder.

You jump closer to the boxer making him throw up his shield in reflex. Using the rain, you slide around him and slash his thigh to limit his speed.

The sickle's weight was clumsy at first but the more you traded blows using it, the more you came to master it. Gritting your teeth, you quickly stand back up after slipping from the wet ground.

Silently you urge Heizou to hurry up, you weren't sure how much more you could take. Your mask was starting to crumble but you pushed it to the back of your mind.

The boxer runs up to you in a flash not letting you back away fast enough. Reflexes are what save you from a punch to the face as you crouch and roll away. He's still bringing his fist back to defend himself giving you an opening.

You can tell something is different as you swing your sickle. Something about you is different that makes you wonder if you'll be able to finish the boxer once and for all.

Electro crackles around the sickle as you puncture his chest. The electro-charged reaction and wound seem to do the trick. The boxer stumbles and gasps for air.

You watch in horror and relief as the boxer falls onto the floor. You really killed again, and you used elemental to do so. You don't have a moment to stew on that though as you hurriedly dodge the now furious Electrohammer. The war hammer slams onto the ground and Heizou is quick to kick a projectile anemo shot to his face.

It knocks him to the ground, and you watch with unknown feelings as the mask he wears breaks. The fight is over, you and Heizou won. There's no time to wallow in self-pity, not as Heizou stumbles with a dazed expression.

You're quick to support him and he lays his bleeding head on you. You gently move his arm to wrap around you and do the same for him. His wounds aren't life threatening or serious, but he's been bleeding for a while. You need to stop the bleeding first.

Helping him gently you move him to lean against a small boulder. In a rush you go back to the tent and open your bag. You take out some of the leftover medical supplies you kept (stole) from the Kamisato Estate.

Slinging the bag back on you hurry to Heizou. The rain seems to be letting up as you examine him. His head is bleeding from a cut, so you bandage it first. His shirt is dyed red, and you lift it up and wince at the sight.

Multiple bruises and cuts cover his stomach and chest. That's gonna be a bitch to bandage, especially considering how much damage his back too.

"Sorry Heizou, this'll hurt." Heizou only weakly groans with his eyes screwed shut in pain.

Pushing the shirt as high as you can, you start wrapping it around him. Not the best solution but it's your only one with so little supplies. Heizou's consciousness seems to come and go as you finish and fix his shirt.

The thought of Heizou closing his eyes and falling asleep in such a state worries you. What if he passes out from blood loss and dies? Thoughts like that rise up and you grasp for anything to keep him awake.

"Hey Heizou, if you can respond to me in words. I'll tell you a big hint to my secret."

His eyes focus on you a little more. That's a good sign, nothing like baiting a detective like him with leads.

"Well, *cough* what hint are you *cough* going to give me?" His raspy voice and coughs worry you, but they seem to make him more awake.

"You were really close on me having a second life."

"That's it? That's a *cough* crappy hint."

You laugh at his remark trying to hide your relief. The fear of holding another cold body of someone you cared about still plagues you.

"If you want a better hint then you better drag it out of me as I drag you back to Konda village."

You support him as he chuckles at your words. He does his best to not lay too much weight on you but that's hard when his head is fuzzy.

The walk is quiet and with him so close you relish in the sound of his harsh breathing. It lets you know that he's still breathing, that you didn't fail.

You don't want to think about the person you just killed. So, your mind analyzes about the electro you wielded through the sickle instead. It makes a lot of sense that you can use the elements through a weapon as a medium. How could you have not realized that possibility?

If you continued training with it, could you eventually use electro without a weapon? Probably not but the idea of shooting electro is cool, nonetheless.

Takeru and Futaba are waiting nervously in the spot you instructed. You smile at the sight and wait till you are closer to call out.

"Futaba, Takeru! Over here!"

They smile at the sight of you both and run to meet you. Futaba frowns in worry at the sight of Heizou and you injured. Takeru tries to help by supporting his other side.

Heizou buries his head in the crook of your neck to hide the grimace of pain as Takeru touches the wounded area.

"Takeru, Futaba can you guys guide us to Konda village? It's an important job since we don't want to get ambushed by enemies."

Eyes wide they nod and walk a little ahead. They survey the surroundings seriously and nod at you firmly to show that it's safe.

Heizou keeps his head on your shoulder and mumbles. "Thanks, guess you're as perceptive as I thought."

You huff in amusement and continue supporting him until you all get to Konda village. The two women that were looking for the kids earlier spot you all and rush over.

They both hug their respective family members with tears in their eyes. It's clear that the kids aren't over the dangerous encounter.

"Thank you so much for saving Takeru and Futaba. You both seem very injured, please come to my house. I have some supplies that can help you both."

The village chief approaches you and Heizou with concern. You nod gratefully and help Heizou into the house. There's a small cot on the floor and Heizou lays down on it slowly.

Konda Densuke, the village chief comes back with a fully stocked medical kit. It's more primitive than the ones you are used to in Earth, but it'll work well enough.

"I'll leave you to it, once you're done, please come outside. I'll have something that can help that young man."

Quietly you thank the old man and turn back to Heizou as the door closes.

"I'm about to get pretty personal with your body, that's not a problem, right?"

"Why are you asking as if you weren't doing that earlier? Of course, it's fine, just don't be so obvious with your staring."

"If you weren't injured, I would hit you myself."

He chuckles and removes his cracked arm guards. You focus on taking out the bandages and ointment out of the kit. You leave briefly to wet a rag with water and come back to see Heizou shirtless sitting on the cot.

He smiles up at you seemingly more aware and alert. His bandages around his torso are stained red. Smaller cuts and scrapes cover his arms and legs. The bandage on his forehead is bleeding a lot less than before.

You kneel beside him and carefully remove the bandage on his head. Heizou bears the pain of you wiping away the dirt and applying the ointment well. The new patch is put on his head and your hands move lower to the bandages around his torso.

After unraveling it, you feel relieved that nothing has become inflamed or infected yet. The bruises on his back and front are tended to before you clean the cuts. You firmly wrap the new bandage around his torso. He only tenses up as you finish.

"This is only a temporary solution. Once we get to Ritou you should see a doctor."

"I will, I promise but I must say. This is some pretty good work, like you have experience doing this kind of thing. Care to tell me who you've helped before?"

He really is a nuisance. He was almost killed in a bad match up with three Fatui Skirmishers and his first instinct after properly waking up is to question you?

"Seriously? Not even a thank you? And my expertise comes from taking care of myself if you must know." Scowling with no real annoyance you put away the remaining supplies back into the med kit.

Heizou laughs at your reaction before placing a hand on your shoulder. He rests his head on the opposite shoulder and speaks softly. What is with this guy and leaning on you?

"You're right, thank you Y/N. Even with my suspicions, I'm still thankful that you helped me and those kids. I'm hoping that whatever secret you're hiding isn't one I'll ever have to arrest you for."

HIs bare bandaged chest against your back makes you embarrassed.

"Aren't you a bit too up close and personal with someone you're suspecting?" You say stiffly as he proceeds to melt even further into you.

"Getting shy?" He whispers teasingly. His face is dangerously close to your neck making you tense up further. You already knew that he was a flirt but isn't he moving too fast?!

Your face gets redder as his breath grazes your neck. People have tried to trick you in numerous ways before. That includes pretending to have fallen in love with you for information. Seduction never worked on you due to how untrusting you are.

But in Teyvat? Where the characters you found comfort in and loved? It was hard not to be affected or overthink things like this. While you were avoiding looking at him, Heizou took his time admiring you.

The flustered look on your face, your fingers drumming on your thigh. It was adorable how nervous you were. For a split second he remembered how comfortable you were around the Kamisato, how brightly you smiled. Did you get all flustered around them like this too?

A flash of jealousy engulfs him, and his body seems out of his control. His teeth lightly nip your neck making you stand up in a flash. Your voice is steady, but your heart is beating out of control.

"I'm going to see what the village chief had for you. Just stay here."

Watching you leave in a hurry makes him realize what he just did. Man alive, what the hell made him act like that? Despite the slight guilt from overstepping a boundary, he honestly didn't regret it. If he had a chance, he'd probably do it again.

When you come back in with two plates and a cup. Your face was back to normal, and your posture was relaxed.

"They were nice enough to make us some food and a drink to help with your blood loss. It's some citrus juice so make sure to drink it all."

Sitting down next to him, you pass him the cup and a plate. You eat the food and Heizou follows your lead. It's fine if you don't want to touch on what happened. Frankly he's still unsure why he's become so enamored by you as well. But at least he has a better grasp on you and your secret.

After eating everything you both return the dishes and thank the chief. The elderly women, Takeru, and Futaba all come out despite the dark sky. They thank you and Heizou asking if you need anything.

"Don't worry, I'm just glad no one got seriously hurt." Heizou tries to elbow you with playful intent, but you move out the way with a smile.

"Why don't you both stay the night? Those injuries must still be bothering you. We have extra room."

You only had some minor bruising compared to Heizou. The cuts and scrapes were no more than an itch to you. These kinds of injuries were normal to you on Earth. And you really couldn't afford to waste any more time.

"Thanks for the offer but we have to get to Ritou before the stars come out. Please stay safe."

You wave to them one last time before arriving back at the shore area.

"Seems like there's no more children being kidnapped, let's get across this area fast."

Heizou on the other hand seems content to just stroll along. Well, that wouldn't work for you, you could not miss the Crux. You stop letting Heizou walk a little ahead of you. He notices your absence and stops to look back at you in confusion.

You run past him and grab something from his side. You slow your sprint a little to face him as you raise your prize.

"If you want your jitte back then you'll have to catch me!" Spinning around you face Ritou's direction and continue running. You can hear Heizou kick sand as he chases after you.

He honestly could care less about his jitte. It's the sight of you smiling brightly as he tries to grab you that makes him continue chasing you. The wounds and injuries from the fight still ache but it's worth the pain. You're worth the pain.

You'll be leaving soon. You might be a fraud. Logic says that being so fixated on you so soon is dangerous and stupid. Yet his smile never leaves his face as he finally snatches his jitte out of your hand.

His intuition screams at him that you're so much more. That whatever you're hiding will bring him happiness of a lifetime. That you will bring him that happiness.

You stumble onto the stone pavement in Ritou as Heizou keeps his hand on your shoulder. You're both calming down from laughing at him nearly falling face first into the sand.

"How didn't you see that pile of crabs? Too distracted by me to focus?"

"What if I was? You can't tell since you nearly passed out from laughing at me."

"You can't blame me for that! I would pay good money to have seen you actually fall face first."

You walk past Ritou's town square as the docks and inspection tent get into view.

"Money huh? Is that the currency in your old world?"

You continue walking casually but there's no denying how you almost froze up.

"Is that the conclusion you've come to after all the questions?"

"My intuition tells me that I've barely scrapped the surface but I'm all out of leads. For now, my suspicion is that you come from another world similar to the traveler. Although I'm not sure if the creator ordered you to keep your identity secret. You do seem to be an oracle for them."

Psychology really was amazing. By getting Heizou so worked up about your mask, you managed to have him believe you to be an oracle. The minor fact of you not being from this world makes him feel accomplished in a sense. You let him figure out one secret to hide a bigger one.

"You really are a great detective. No one else has realized I'm not from this world but you. But that didn't answer my original question in the game. It seems like you lost Heizou, no secrets for you."

Stopping at the end of the stairs Heizou looks at you seriously.

"I really hate leaving mysteries unsolved."

"Then you'll just have to handle me being the mystery left unsolved."

"What if I just took your mask off right now? We both know I'd catch you even if you tried to run. Or better yet I could arrest you for any stupid reason just to take it off."

You can't stop the laughter that bubbles up inside you. You wipe the moisture from your eyes as your laughter turns to giggles. The main reason you were okay with traveling with Heizou despite his intense need to solve mysteries is because...

"That would utterly destroy your pride. I know that you dislike fighting, that the moment you're forced into combat while solving a mystery is when you feel like you lost. You take so much pride in becoming a detective that having to resort to force would be a low you'd never stoop down to reach."

He turns away with a relaxed stance. His head angled to the ground with a nostalgic smile.

"Guess you must have found out some of my private information through the creator. But you're right, I would never do that."

It's quiet as you two resume walking to the inspection tent. Ah crap, does the fan work as an ID for you too?

There's no line due to how late it is but there is a familiar person.

"Sara?"

She turns away from the inspector and looks at you with some confusion. The sight of Heizou next to you, so close to you, makes her frown.

"Y/N, a pleasure to see you again. I can only assume that you are leaving under the creator's orders but what are you doing with Shikanoin?"

"But didn't you ask him to check up on me?"

...That little shit.

Sara glares at Heizou as you mentally put the pieces together. Sara sees Heizou as someone irresponsible. There's a very low chance of her entrusting someone connected to the 'creator' like you to him. She would rather do it herself.

Ayato was right when he said that Heizou tends to skip or delegate regular Doushin duties to others. And that's because he has no interest in those jobs. Sara probably knows that full well and would rather avoid that outcome. Plus, Heizou even asked where you arrived on Inazuma even though you already told Sara that you woke up on Ritou.

"Shikanoin, that is not acceptable behavior for a Doushin. What explanation do you have for yourself?"

Sara's stern voice bounces off Heizou who is far too used to it. You didn't bother stepping in. Not only were you curious how he got to know all your previous information, but the sneaky bastard deserved it.

"Madam you really can't blame me for investigating on my own accord. Not only have there been some subtle rumors about a mysterious oracle, but you kept glancing at Y/N during the festival. As Y/N already knows, I listened in on their conversation with the Kamisato Clan for a bit before introducing myself."

"Even still, you know the proper procedures to investigate something. Now that you've already interrogated them, you should leave them be- What are those wounds?"

Sara's exasperated voice turns cold when she looks closer at you and notices the minor cuts on you.

"Were you attacked on the way here? Not only did the oracle get injured but you also investigated them in this state?"

Maybe you should step in now, Sara seems on the verge of throwing him in jail.

"It's fine Sara, some Fatui were trying to kidnap two children from Konda village, so we stepped in. Honestly Heizou did most of the fighting and is the real wounded one."

You smile and finish with an almost proud laugh. "It was impressive how Heizou had me fooled this entire time. I'm not mad at all so don't worry Sara. But thank you for being so worried."

You softly hold Sara's hands and give a grateful squeeze before pulling away. You step past her to talk to the inspector. This was gonna be a nightmare. You don't see the competitive glare Heizou and Sara give each other.

As you are denied exit permission due to your lack of identification, Sara and Heizou step in to help you at the same time. After a few minutes of Sara and Heizou vouching for you as third-party authorizers, you hand over the fan.

That seemed to be enough proof for them to hand you a stack of papers to fill out. You moved the monstrous number of papers to a crate. Paperwork that you had to touch to read before filling out, what a joy.

"I'll be leaving first. The Shogun requires my presence for an important meeting. Shikanoin, I expect you to be at headquarters to finish all the new paperwork you earned after pulling the stunt you did. And Y/N please stay safe on your journey, may the creator guide you."

"Thank you, Sara, good luck at the meeting! Oh, and please tell the Arrataki Gang goodbye for me too!"

Serious as always, she nods her head before leaving. Heizou moves to stand beside you as you start tracing the words to become readable.

"Why are you touching the letters? You didn't recognize or read the words on the temple so how does touching it help?"

"To put it simply I can read the words easier after I touch them. But shouldn't you be on your way too? Don't think I've forgotten how beat up you are. Go see a professional before every medical building closes!"

"Man alive, are you trying to get rid of me so soon? Why I thought we bonded so well over our time together."

You know he's just playing and teasing but the answer you give is sincere.

"I did, I had a lot of fun. Despite how annoying you were at times, I really enjoyed playing around with all the questions and answers. But I would rather suffer through all this paperwork alone then let you stay with me as hurt as you are. So do us both a favor and see a doctor."

His eyes widen for a split second before settling into something calmer and sweeter. Have you truly bonded with him enough for him to let such a pure expression show?

"Since you were so honest with me, I'll go now."

You smile gratefully and are about to voice your goodbye before he pulls you close to him. You stand in a stupor as his chest presses against yours. His whisper is low and earnest.

"It was a pleasure to meet you Y/N. I eagerly await your next visit to Inazuma."

He releases you before walking away smoothly. Robotically you go back to the paperwork and fill it out. It's probably best to not take his words as anything deeper than friendly. Heizou has always been a flirty character, you were nothing special to him… right?

The stars are out by the time the paperwork is handed in and you have permission to leave. Not wanting to look at the identification card they gave you, you stuff it into your bag for later use.

The Alcor is huge, there is only one crew member awake on the deck and you climb the ramp to speak to him.

"Hello, my name is Y/N, this is the Alcor correct? Here is the fan I was told to show as my ticket." You give the fan to him as he stares at it tiredly.

"I never really expected someone to actually bring it at one point. You must be Lord Kamisato's guest of choice. Come in and enter the doors on the right. The voyage itself is 15 hours but taking into account other things, the trip will take a whole day. Go get some rest."

He gives you back the fan, and you nod in thanks. As you walk past him to the right side, a voice calls out to you from the docks. Curiously you go the railing and look down to see Yae there.

You frown in confusion at her appearance. She must have arrived after you put in the paperwork. Surely, she overhears what Heizou said. Even so, the sight of the sly kitsune makes you automatically stressed.

"Catch." Is your only warning before a small box is thrown towards you. Catching it swiftly, you open it to see a mask inside it. It's a gold accented fox mask specifically designed to only cover the top of your face. The shine and lack of marks make it clear how new and expensive it is.

"An apology for bringing up an uncomfortable subject to you in our conversation. The war has affected many people but it's those in your position that suffered in ways others have not. I hope that whenever you come back to Inazuma, you'll have a lighter heart."

You close the box and smile at her with gratitude. It's a perfect mask for that creeping feeling of dread. This is now the second mask you've obtained from stealing. This mask could have been something different for someone who actually suffered due to the war.

Silently you wave at Yae before she leaves without any other words. You watch her form disappear around a corner as whispers asking, "Where is Captain Beidou?" and "Did she drag Kazuha to drink with her again?" roll off you. You can deal with that later.

The walk to an empty room below the deck is a blur. Your few belongings are on the table as you lay on the bed. The Anemoboxer that you killed rises up in your mind like a tide.

They were kidnapping children, that should be enough justification for their death. You don't feel like arguing that point. You also don't feel like thinking on how you'll deal with any future Fatui members either.

Instead, you ponder about the sickle you used that was encased in electro. If you activate other Statues of the Seven, could you unlock other elements?

Those were the only thoughts you allowed yourself to think about as you gradually fell asleep.

Well this took a while. If anything I blame the fight scene and Heizou being flirty. I did use my decently built Heizou and fought that exact squad of Fatui. He defeated two before dying (it was raining) meaning the outcome of that fight isn't off. I'm experimenting with different yandere types and how the interact. I'm sure most people would write Thoma and Gorou acting nice and trying to one up each other by being kinder while keeping their rivarly secrect. But I thought it was funnier if they were outright hostile and were very bad at hiding it. In case anyone is wondering, I will not be writing full on smut. I'm not sure how far I'll take it in terms of stuff like making out but it'll probably never get past a kiss or two. Maybe I'll change my mind but never smut. I'm far too embarrassed for that.

I never realized just how many characters I had to write until I put the tags. I don't want to know how many words it is but it's 13k. Which is honestly pretty good, I was expecting like 15-16k. I'm very glad that I split the chapter. With Fontaine coming close and the trailer out, I'll probably spend more time playing to make up the primogems needed. Maybe more readers will join with the new hype or players will read less due to the new updates idk.

Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifo, @sielt

[lemonisntreal]

My thoughts on Sing: Thriller! [finally]

I just want to vomit out some of the things on my mind because ohhh my god, do I have THOUGHTS-

Also! Link here to the short, for the people who want / need it 👍

NO WAY

THE BASTARD LIVES???

THE MIKE FANS WERE ACTUALLY RIGHT????

It wasn't just copium!

Kinda off topic, but this is getting me thinking on how different sized animal's seats are priced. Because they only grabbed one ticket I think, so I think they're literally sharing a seat [WHICH IS CUTE]. But does this mean that bigger animals need to buy more than one ticket? Or are all the seats just ridiculously big? Or am I crazy?

Also thinking of that one scene in Spongebob where Plankton gets sat on by Bubble Bass ����

Tiny blurry Mike hehe looks like found footage

RAHHHHH

RAHHHHHHHH

Me when I see my fav for 2 seconds with zero speaking lines

Nana is eating also holy shit

EATING 👹

Also Eddie guiding her by the hand is sweet, I love their relationship so much aaywusjhisajhajk

He has such an obviously better relationship with her than he does his actual parents and I'm eating it upppppp

The "How hard can it be to fix a stupid tire anyway???" line was so aggressive, I'm taking this as character development !

She's an actually amazing actor in-universe and I love that

Meena Sweep

Also this set is clean as fuckkk- also a lot more realistic, but still very not LMAO

Also he's DOING A JIG AAA

The crunchy version is for my enjoyment specifically

HOLY SHIT I WAS REFERENCED /j

Also also.

Both GMO and Alice in Wonderland were really short plays from what we see, but I actually do think that this isn't how it actually goes in canon. When they're on the bus in Sing 2, the script looks pretty thick for one. And two- why would anyone pay for tickets for 4 minutes of show?

Like it just makes sense, you gotta understand my reasoning.

They couldn't put the whole 2 hours of play in the actual films, but I like to believe that's actually how it goes

That there's some story and depth to it as well [💀]

Reference. For later.

THE WAY HIS FACE SCRUNCHES DUDE DUDEUDUED

Meena Gunter and Ash are absolutely partying in the back bro

I wonder how often Meena finds herself in cars. Because like there's size, but also we know she just takes the bus everywhere. I don't think her family has a car, they all feel like they utilize public transit instead

Cars that are modified for bigger and smaller animals are probably more expensive and not mass-manufactured either

Not just height but weight limit is also something that needs to be kept in mind. Elephants are like a few thousand pounds.

I think it's just easier to have modified public transit rather than modified individual cars for that kind of load. I bet public transit has way more funding in the Sing universe because of this need too. Because there's also Rhinos, and Hippos, and Giraffes-

I'm getting lost in the sauce again.

HER NOSE SCRUNCH

She was AT that door. First one there, bouncing with excitement. Adorable. I wish Clay had speaking lines with her in this AGH

REFERENCE.

girl what the fuck are you doing here, your ass was NOT invited ‼️

The Infection AU would go CRAZY

Somebody needs to make that rightttt now, actually

I'm giving it some thought right now and how with a few tweaks this could be cool. Like I'd definitely make it so there were different phases, like the MLP AUs. And I'd keep the hivemind thing definitely, because I think that adds an extra terrifying aspect to it

Probably make the ooze stuff look more messy, eyes would be leaking the stuff, mouth.

Idk I'm just spitballing LMAO

The dog from under the table is actually terrifying

Rare sighting of angry Meena

ALSO WHY-

I have a complaint.

Why were they dancing.

For a full minute. With nothing.

No singing. Just instrumental. It dragged on for so insanely long. Like that's my one complaint about this short, is that the pacing is just absolute dogshit after they all get possessed. You can give me a Thriller reprise without making it look super awkward and boring. Why couldn't this have been a cool chase scene instead? Like actually keep up that tension you established?? Because like Crawly and Buster are just STANDING there now, and it's just like-

And then the actual chase is over so fast

Man.

HE'S SO STUPID LOOKING I'M GONNA CRY [positive]

the Borb....... [Buster orb]

I hate the "it was all a dream!" trope but I can't really be mad

I saw it coming from a mile away, and I'm honestly glad because it means that this isn't canon and we don't have to deal with random zombie shenanigans in the actual lore

Or maybe not because Crawly was literally possessed at the end but whatever. Not canon.

My final thoughts are that this was really solid! I feel well fed and very happy to get some new content of the sillies. I will most likely be drawing lots of Thriller stuff because WOW were some of those shots pretty. Overall, critically? C+ short [mostly due to that minute of almost nothing happening]. But my enjoyment level puts the grade at a B+ for me so [B is for Biased].

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

The Cardinal Who Lifts Weight

Featuring Cardinal Joseph W. Tobin

For about a year, us guys at the gym just called him Joe. He would get his reps in during his early morning workouts a few feet from me under or close to the wall clock. When I would glance at the clock, his eyes would often meet mine. I began to notice his entrancing eyes, and I would find myself admiring his stocky 6' 3”, 70-year-old figure. His graying brown hair covered by a skull-printed do-rag, which I found oddly appealing. He was friendly and would greet me by name when we walked past each other.

Meanwhile, while I suspected he might be interested, I would resolve to not convey any gay vibe to encourage him. The tension I was feeling was distracting and unwelcome.

One day when he was finishing up and getting dressed, I commented that I'd always wanted to have thicker thighs like his. He seemed flustered at first, then I elaborated its only men who ever develop nice legs like that and stared at his crotch. He smiled and we shot the shit for a bit before I swallowed all my fears and just asked him if he wanted to "fool around." lol I still can't believe I fucking said that.

“I'm a priest,” Joe quickly answered. “In fact,” He said, his voice growing quieter so no one could hear in earshot, “I’m the archbishop of Newark.”

Apparently, Joe was also known as Cardinal Joseph W. Tobin. A prelate of the Catholic Church and he has been the Archbishop of Newark since 2017. I was surprised as I never would have thought he was a priest. I mean this guy is benching two and a quarter! Still sensing interest as we talked, I moved closer to him until I could easily reach out and touch his leg, which I did. He was still wearing his gym shorts and I got a thrill out of rubbing my hand against his hairy leg.

“I could use some action, but I don’t have a place to go.” He told me.

“Me neither.” I said, not wanting to take him to my apartment.

“You want to come out to the car with me.” The old man leaned over and whispered in my ear.

“Sure.” I said.

“Let me go first. I’ll meet you on the street behind the gym.” The old man said and then got up from his sit.

I watched as he walked out of the gym. God! Did he look wonderful! I got up after I figured he had time to get to his car and quickly followed him out. I found him waiting for me just around the corner of the gym.

“Here’s my car.” He said pointing to a black Chevy Tahoe and proceeded to unlock the door, getting inside the backseat. I hurried around to the other side of the SUV and got in.

Almost immediately, he fished his slightly weathered fingers inside his shorts and pulled out first his short cut dick and then after much struggling his huge set of bull sized balls. I nearly nutted. Something about seeing someone you were lusting after for a year with his dick out tends to do that to you. Joe was surprisingly already hard, stroking his boner while waiting for me to get my cock out. As I did, Joe moved his hand over to grasp my cock and began a gentle massage. I responded in kind and held his hard dick, feeling the warm prong in my grasp. Looking back, I can laugh at the almost hysterical grabbing and fondling of this frantic first encounter.

“I’ll watch out.” He said in a stern voice charged with sexual excitement. Fortunately, the place was deserted, and we were so off the beaten path that I didn't even know where we were, and I knew the place pretty well.

Joe's dick was throbbing when I put my mouth over it and began to suck this old priest off. He hadn't received many blowjobs and seemed delighted to have me pumping up and down on his dick. Joe was so excited that he made me stop a couple of times so he wouldn't cum, even having me stop jiggling his balls as well. He apologized for being so excited, but in the end he lost control anyway as without warning he grabbed me by the hair and forced my head down on it as far as I could take it. He began spurting his musky load into my mouth while groaning loudly as he ran his hands through my hair.

I took it all as he screamed in ecstasy. It was fantastic to know I could give him so much pleasure. He gently released me, still hissing through his teeth and breathing frantically.

"Oh god that felt good." He said as I sat upright.

With that, Joe leaned over and took my 7” cock straight down his throat, right up to my balls, which were aching by this time. The sight of my cock entering his mouth still is, to this day, one of my favorite sights in the world. The sensation was indescribable as he sucked excitedly and gently on my cock. Thankfully, I’ve always taken a long time to cum, so I knew I’d be fine as he went down on me. Joe pushed his head down on my cock as far as he could without gagging. So far in fact, I felt the head rubbing the back of his throat.

After that, I couldn't last with all the pent up sexual tension and I squirmed to let him know I was about to cum and he just said, "I want to taste your cum."

Joe got what he wanted, because he was such a skilled cocksucker that my orgasm raced through my loins in a rush, and my cock spurted what seemed like an ungodly amount of cum into the throat of my gym buddy. And he took it all effortlessly. And when my cock stopped ejaculating, he did his best to empty my nuts, sucking eagerly on my deflating dick while he massaged my balls. I finally had to gently pry him off me, and even after my dick left his mouth he kept licking and flicking the tip of my cock with his tongue while my cum trickled out of the corner of his mouth.

When Joe finally finished, he pulled his head up and looked at me. I know he was wondering how it was so I told him it was fantastic before he could ask.

That's how I got to plowing a straight older guy from my gym in the back seat of my truck. Before any of that, on several occasions we'd exchanged glances. That was my first indication he might be curious.

[ddollqulaa]

maybe it was meant to be // Sam x Josh

◟✿ ⠀ ┈─★ ⠀ ೀ ⠀⦂ ⠀〈 ⠀ ━╋ ⠀ . . .ᐟᅟ ⠀ ꒰੭ ⠀ ♱

a little snippet of my w.i.p.

◟✿ ⠀ ┈─★ ⠀ ೀ ⠀⦂ ⠀〈 ⠀ ━╋ ⠀ . . .ᐟᅟ ⠀ ꒰੭ ⠀ ♱

[based on the new endings]

It's been a year since that night, and I still can’t grasp how we made it out alive. Most of us, at least, but not him. Not Josh. He didn’t make it. I thought we were close, especially after what happened to his sisters, my best friend, Hannah, and her sister Beth. When he asked us back on the anniversary of their disappearance, I thought it was a way of finding some kind of closure. But instead, he went psycho, playing a twisted joke that led us right into the worst night of our lives.

We stopped him, we stopped the terror, well at least we thought we did, but the tragedy didn’t stop there. No, we were trapped down in those mines, surrounded by these cannibalistic creatures. They tore our bodies, their nails digging deep into our skin. They hurt us, but they killed him, they took Josh, and killed him. I can still hear his voice ringing in my ear, feeling the weight of his voice. It’s a memory that haunts me, one that I will never escape.

And I’ll never stop regretting the words I left unspoken to him. Every unspoken thought, the tension between us, feels like a chain weighing down my heart, pulling me deeper and deeper into guilt. I carry that weight with me, and I always will. It’s a burden that will not be lightened, a regret that won’t fade away. Josh is gone, and the words, those things I should have said, are gone. And it will burn deep in me, till my life ends.

Now every morning starts the same, I choke down a mouthful of pills, hoping they’ll ease the pain. Hoping it will help me erase the memories. But no amount of pills can erase how much I miss him. I miss him so much, it's like an ache in my body, my soul. If only I could have saved him, held him one last time as he cried in my arms, whispered that none of it was his fault. Maybe, just maybe if I had seen the signs, he'd be here now, lying beside me, wrapped around in my arms. But he's gone.

Every day I breathe feels like a curse because, with each breath, I relive that night in the mines. The terror carved deep into my skin, Why do I still harbor these feelings for him? It's been a year, and my heart refuses to let go. I told myself I'd move on, and even went to see Dr. Hill. To try and find myself again in the therapy Josh’s parents were forced to pay for as if money could ever heal the wounds we carry. I don't speak to the others anymore, each glance at them feels like a knife twisting and pulling me back to Josh, to everything I've lost.

But this morning, when I finally dragged myself out of bed and pulled open the curtains, I saw him, I saw Josh. standing in front of my door as if the world hadn't taken him away from me, as if nothing ever happened. My breath caught in my chest, and for a moment everything stopped, the pain, the guilt, all of it. It was just him, as real as the day he left me.

I wanted to run to him, scream his name, throw my arms around him, and tell him all the things I never said. But my body wouldn't move. I was frozen, caught between reality and a memory. He stood there knocking on the door softly, like a ghost that was woven from my grief. And I stood there, shattered, unable to see if it was real or if I was lost in my despair, seeing what I so desperately wanted to believe.

This morning, my world shifted. When I dragged myself out of bed, weary and drowning in grief as usual. I pulled back to curtains and there he was, Josh. Just standing there, as if last year had been nothing but a nightmare. My heart stilled, and my breath caught in my throat, it was him, unmistakable, his jacket, his cute hair falling over his eyes, the weight of everything we had lost was written in the way he stood.

I don't understand. Josh was gone. I thought he was taken deep into the mines, the wendigos piercing his skin. I kept blinking, I was sure that I was hallucinating. Maybe, I was still asleep, tangled in the illusion that he was with us. But no matter how many times I blinked, he didn't vanish. He stood there, waiting for me.

Then I heard it, his voice, which once was confident, is now soft. It drifted up like a memory that I'd forgotten to forget.

“Sam? Are you home?”

His voice, the same voice that had once filled the empty spaces between us, rang out, and I felt my knees weaken, and my pulse quicken. I stepped back from the window, my mind in circles. This couldn't be real, Josh had been gone for a year, where did he even go? They said he was dead. Yet there he was calling out my name, like he had never been gone at all.

I threw on a jacket, my hands shaking as I flung open the door. The cold air rushed into my face, biting at my skin, but I could barely feel it. All I felt was him, Josh.

He looked down at me, with that same smile pulling on his lips. “It’s been a while, Sam..”

I stood frozen at the doorway, staring right at him, my heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else. How was this real? ”Josh..?” I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of his name. “I thought…..I thought you were dead, they said they couldn’t find your body.”

His smile faded, and the shadows in his eyes darkened. “ I know, I know, I thought I was dead too you know? Well….at least until I woke up in an asylum.” He said with his cute stupid laugh. “You know what I did to deserve that..”. He tried to laugh it off again.

An asylum. The words fell heavy between us like stones dropped into a still lake.

“For a year?..” My voice trembled, struggling to keep up with the aching in my heart. “You’ve been alive this whole damn time, and no one even thought to tell me?!” I was pissed, I went through all that heartache and guilt just for him to end up being hidden away by his parents, shamed as an embarrassment.

“They didn’t want anyone to know,” he murmured, his voice now barely above a whisper. “They told me it would be easier that way… that I could heal. I didn’t know how to come back, Sam, I didn’t think I ever could.”

I stood there, a thousand emotions crawling over me, relief, anger, confusion, guilt, all tangled into one big knot, which I couldn’t even start to untie. For a year, I thought he was gone, haunted by a memory of him, haunted by the words I never told him. And now, here he was, flesh and bone, standing right in front of me as if he had come back from the dead.

“I thought I lost you,” I whispered, tears dripping down my face. “ I thought I'd never see you again…”

He stepped forward, his hands on my cheeks rubbing the tears away, making me look up at him. His eyes were filled with something fragile, “I'm so sorry, Sam. I never wanted to hurt you, I didn't know how to come back to you… until now.”

My hands were trembling as I reached out, and when my hands touched his face, the warmth of his face made my disbelief shatter. He was real, I was touching him, he was touching me..”

Before I could pull myself back, I pulled him into a deep kiss. His arms held my waist as he reached under my shirt, touching my back. I held him as if he was the only thing holding me onto this world. His body warm against mine as our tongues clashed together in symphony. His body all pressed up against mine as he walked me into a wall. My shirt was half up, his fingers playing with the drawstring of my sweatpants.

“I missed you, I missed you so much..” I sobbed in between those sloppy kisses, my voice all breathy.

“I've missed you too,” he whispered into my mouth as he looked at me while I kissed him. His voice was raw, filled with the same ache I have carried. “Every single, fucking day, Sam.”

He groaned as he pushed me up against the wall harder feeling up my tits.

I clung up to him afraid that he'd let go, afraid that if she did he'd slip away again, back into the darkness where I lost him. He pulled back and gazed into my eyes, he had that cocky smirk I recognized.

“It's been a year since I've had the pleasure of feeling up a body, glad it's yours.” He said with a cocky laugh. He held me close as he nuzzled into my neck.

“yeah? Who else would it be?” I let out with a small laugh, my arms wrapping around his head as he kissed the nape of my neck.

[Tbc // dollqula on AO3]

[dandylovesturtles]

Have some Sidelined AU tidepod duo feels for your soul

no content warnings

---

When Mikey was eight, he wanted to climb a tree in Central Park.

Raph was too nervous to go with him - what if a branch snapped under his weight, or a human saw them, even though it was night? And Donnie had absolutely no interest, bent over his phone and scrolling away. But Leo hopped right up onto the branch next to him, grinning wide, and said, "Race you to the top!"

Mikey had been on rooftops with his brothers before, but climbing the tree was completely different. There were no flat spaces, no ladders, and everything was uneven spaces. They had to stretch their legs or swing over gaps to the next branch, hauling themselves up by the pure strength of their arms. It was fun and free and easy, and Mikey found himself laughing and whooping the whole way as he hurried to be faster than Leo.

He won the race. Looking back on it now, maybe Leo let him win. In the moment nothing like that occurred to him, though - he sat on one of the top branches at the thinnest part of the tree, one arm looped around the trunk and the other thrust high above his head in victory.

"YEEEEAAAH! I WON! THANK YOU, NEW YORK CITY!"

Leo pouted as he pulled himself up onto a branch close to Mikey. "Aww man! Can't believe I lost to a baby."

"I'm not a baby!" Mikey argued as he had many times before, swinging his legs back and forth. "Could a baby climb a whole tree?"

"Hmm..." Leo gave it some thought. "A monkey baby could."

Mikey had kicked at Leo's feet, but he was too far away to make contact, so it got boring fast. Instead, he let his eyes trail to the view around them.

"Wow... we're so high! You can see the whole city from here!"

"Totally," Leo agreed. "Dee and Raph are missing out."

Mikey snickered. "They aren't as cool as us."

"Well, we already knew that," said Leo, grinning and holding out a fist for Mikey to bump.

They sat there for several more minutes, just taking in the view. It wasn't the tallest tree in the park, and definitely wasn't tall enough to see over the skyscrapers, but at the time Mikey felt like he'd summitted Mount Everest. This was surely as high up as anyone had ever climbed.

Soon enough, Raph started to call for them to come down, and with a resigned sigh Leo swung backwards off the branch he was sitting on and flipped down to the next. "Come on, Mikey, let's go."

It was a cool move, and Mikey wanted to copy it. He fell back, watching the city flip upside down, then made it as far as dangling under the branch the way Leo had.

Only, there was nothing under his feet to step onto. He looked, but he couldn't find the branch he'd used to climb up.

"L-leo," he called nervously, kicking his feet over empty air. "There's nowhere to go."

"Hey, you're fine," said Leo, standing on a branch just in front of him. "The branch is just a few inches behind you."

Mikey tried to look over his shoulder and see it, but his shell was in the way. He windmilled his feet, not finding purchase, and his hands were starting to slip. "Leo!" he cried more urgently.

"Mikey, you're fine," said Leo, in the big brother voice he almost never used, and Mikey stopped looking for the branch to meet his eyes. "Just kick your feet back a little and you'll feel it."

Mikey kicked his feet back and found the branch. Instinctively he wrapped his toes around it, relaxing when he finally had somewhere to rest his weight.

He looked down, and the climb to the ground was suddenly a dizzying task.

"I can't do it."

"Yes you can. You got all the way up here, now you just have to do it backwards."

"I can't see the branches."

"So you go by feel. Here, watch me." Leo lowered himself over the branch he was standing on, feeling with his feet until he found the next branch. "See? Easy!"

"That's not easy!"

"Come on, Mikey, you got this!"

"What if I fall?"

"I'm right here with you," said Leo. "I'd never let you fall."

Somehow, that was all it took. Leo was right there, and he wasn't going to let Mikey fall.

Mikey lowered himself to the next branch. Leo cheered, "There you go!" and dropped down again.

It was slower going than it took to get to the top of the tree, but soon enough Mikey was dropping out of the lower branches and into Raph's waiting arms, feeling giddy with his triumph. Leo dropped down after, purposely losing his footing on the landing so he collided with Donnie, who nearly dropped his phone and began to yell.

Later, Mikey would remember the stomach-swooping fear, but he would also remember the excitement and pride as he got better at finding his way, which turned to easy joy as he swung more freely through the tree. And most of all, he remembered the trust he'd felt in Leo, right there by his side, ensuring he wouldn't fall and cheering him on every step of the way.

---

Today, there's wood under Leo's hands again; not a tree branch, but the smoothed support poles Donnie made for his physical therapy. He stands between them, gripping tight, and takes laborious steps back and forth across the training room. He's done the course twice and is turning around for his third go.

He slumps, and motions for water. He's shaking and panting, even just this short walk taking a lot out of him.

Mikey hops forward and holds up the water bottle so Leo can suck on the straw.

"I'm totally wiped," he says after he's done drinking. Mikey can believe it - from this close he can see how Leo is sweating.

"If you want me to go all the way across Manhattan for the good doughnuts, you'll do two more," says Donnie. It's an empty threat and they all know it - if Leo manages to make it even halfway, Donnie will get him any treat he wants. But the twins have always worked best when they're challenging each other, and it's no surprise to Mikey that Leo straightens back up and steels himself to step forward.

"Dee's a slavedriver," he says, tossing Mikey a tired grin, before he starts again.

"Five reps is the goal today," Raph says from where he's leaning against the wall, physically fighting his need to hover. "You've done it before, you can do it again."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..."

Mikey watches Leo keep doggedly walking forward, holding onto the support bars with both hands so he doesn't slip, and he thinks about being at the top of the tree, when he was scared he would fall.

The worst part had been that he couldn't see what came next. Couldn't work out whether he could just step to the next branch, or if he'd have to swing or drop to it. The uncertainty had been scary, had almost made him freeze up. But Leo had been there, guiding him forward.

In a way, Leo's in his own tree now, coming down blind. He's having to feel for the steps and the drops, grasping for the next branch. Sometimes he hits a wall and ends up backtracking, sometimes he drops so hard it takes him days to get back up. And this time, there's no one going ahead to guide him, no one who can see the rough steps before they come, no one to warn him about missing branches.

But he's not alone, either. Donnie with all his equipment and gadgets. Raph with his training regimens and careful monitoring. And Mikey himself, with his meal plans and creative recipes that hide all the veggies Leo hates eating.

They're right here with him, and they'd never let him fall.

Leo turns around for his last walk. Mikey trots over with his water bottle again.

"Race you to the end?" he suggests, grinning, and Leo gives him an amused look.

"You've never been faster than me," he says, and Mikey can't help but grin.

"Maybe I'll surprise you."

So they race, across the room and back. Mikey makes it to the end first, cheering and throwing his hands in the air as he goes to retrieve Leo's chair.

"Can't believe you beat me," says Leo as he flops into the seat. But he holds out his shaking hand for a fistbump that Mikey gleefully returns.

Later, he'll say Leo let him win.

[ruh--roh-raggy]

Buzzed (Punk! William x Fem! Reader)

Hello hello! I've been writing something super secret behind the scenes of Home Sweet Home. Very much inspired by my dear friend @yellowbunnydreams fic "Bunny Punk", here's my take on punk William. This one is very fun and fluffy, brought on by me still buzzing with dopamine from a concert I went to last weekend. Couple warnings on this one, nothing too crazy. Enjoy, happy holidays, and if you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know!

WARNINGS: Age gap (reader in early 20's, William in late 40's/early 50's), recreational herb smoking, shotgunning, reader gets groped at the show, very quick and nondescript, some suggestive dialogue, Will being a little bit of a perv but not really (he looks at readers boobs on occasion, but he's not weird about it), use of the term 'good girl', some suggestive flirting but nothing heavy past that, super fluffy, Will and reader are like immediately in love cause I'm soft for the big man, talk of tattoos/piercings, I think that's everything, if I missed any please let me know!

You can find my Masterlist here!

Word count: 3,385

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You stood on your toes, anxiously looking around the crowd for your friend that was supposed to meet you at the concert venue. You grimaced at the sight of the packed room, if she hasn't already made her way up here, there was no way she would be able to reach you in order to watch the show together. You turned to face the front, your eyes briefly meeting the man that stood next to you. He was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and sharp features. Your gaze snapped forward, feeling slightly embarrassed over the fact that he definitely noticed you linger on his massive form from the smirk that spread across his features. “You lost, sweetheart?” Your heart jumped into your throat as he suddenly spoke up behind you. Your attention darted back to him, finding him stooped down to your face height, a playful smile on his lips. “Awfully close to the pit for a little thing like you.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. You could tell from his tone that there was no malice behind his teasing, and you definitely weren't about to say no to any of the attention this handsome stranger wanted to give you.

“You're one to talk.” You flash him a sarcastic grin. “You're not worried about breaking a hip?”

He lets out a whistle at your remark. “Feisty, aren't we?” He laughs before sticking his hand out to you. “Will.” Your hand claps into his, giving it a firm shake as you introduce yourself. You curse as someone knocks into you, making you spill your drink down the front of your shirt, hurriedly apologizing as they push their way into the pit. “I'd offer to buy you a new one, but we’d never make it back here if we left for it.” He offers.

“I should be all set, considering my friend never showed up I probably shouldn't drink too much anyways.” You explain as you lean on the railing, the aluminum bar was cold against the exposed skin of your midriff.

“Smart girl.” He remarks with a nod, you found yourself blushing at the subtle praise. “With the amount of shitheads I've seen wandering in here you're definitely better off. I'll make sure to keep an eye out for any trying to pull a move on you, just in case.” He smiles with a wink.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” You laugh. “But, I should warn you… I might not look like much, but I'm pretty scrappy.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, taking your casual demeanor as a que that you weren't bothered by his company.

“Little thing like you?” He eyes you curiously. “Guess I'll believe it when I see it.” He teases. You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you direct your attention back to the stage. You were happy to have a friendly neighbor, especially considering you were alone. You had been to your fair share of shows, due to that you could tell from watching the crowd pile in that things were going to get pretty hectic in here once the first opener started. Your only hope for the night wasn't to break anything.

The moment you had wandered next to William you immediately piqued his interest. He wasn't one to judge a person based on their appearance, he's seen some small people absolutely annihilate others in a pit. He noticed when you were looking around for your friend that you almost seemed a bit nervous, even if you didn't want to admit it. Not to mention he could see the group of men behind you eyeing you like a piece of meat, the sight alone was enough to cause hot annoyance to settle in his chest. If anyone of them pressed their luck and tried to lay a hand on you he would ensure they knew how badly they had just fucked up. “Have you ever seen these guys before?” His eyes trailing over to you, a soft smile on your perfectly pouty lips.

“A few times, yeah.” He apologizes as he pushes into your side to let some people down into the pit. Your skin was warm against his, he couldn't help but notice how tiny your hand looked wrapped around the railing next to his. “You?”

“What?” Your voice cracks slightly as you respond, the tail end of his response muffled by the energetic crowd and your mind growing hazy over the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

“Have you ever seen them before?” He repeats with a chuckle.

“No, first time. I've been listening to them for years, but I was always too nervous to come by myself to a show.” You admit awkwardly, bumping the toe of your sneaker off of the cracked, concrete floor.

“Boyfriend not a metal fan?” He asks casually.

“It's not that he's not a metal fan…” You trail off, turning to allow your gaze to meet his. “He just doesn't exist.” You share a laugh at your response. Before you had the chance to take your conversation any further you were interrupted by the screams of the crowd as the venue was plunged into momentary darkness. You braced yourself against the railing, not wanting the surge of people pushing forward to send you flying over the railing of the slightly raised main floor and directly into the pit. Will noticed your slightly pained expression as you were crushed against the metal bar, the man behind you too caught up in the experience to even realize what he was doing. He gave one harsh shove, causing the man to stumble, before shooting him a dangerous look. In between the final opening act and the main performers there was a longer pause in order to give the stagehands time to set everything up.

“How are the ribs?” He asks, noticing you rubbing tenderly at the spot. There wasn't a doubt in your mind that you would have a pretty nasty bruise left behind.

“I think I’ll live.” You chuckle. “Thanks for knocking him out of the way.”

“Sure thing sweetheart.” He winks at you, making your cheeks grow warm. Your eyes scan over the crowd in the pit, you chew the inside of your cheek as you watch the energetic group with interest. “You know I can always move if you want to go down-”

“I'm fine.” You jump to reassure him. “It looks fun, but I don't think I can…” You trail off, shaking your head.

“It's a lot, right?” He smiles. His elbows come to rest on the railing, bringing him face to face with you. You're absolutely mesmerized by his striking silver eyes, your gaze trailing to each of his piercings; a labret, septum, and two barbells on his eyebrow. “I don't blame you, I'd be intimidated too.” He chuckles.Your eyes trailed after the two silver balls tucked neatly against his lip, making him smirk slightly. “Like something you see?” He asks smugly.

“I just didn’t expect a guy your age to have so many piercings.” You shoot back playfully.

“I also have this one.” He sticks out his long, pointed tongue, showing off a small stud. “I used to have my navel pierced in college, I had a Prince Albert too.” Your eyes snapped to his face in pure shock, expecting it to be a joke, yet he was completely serious.

“Brutal.” Your nose scrunches up slightly making him chuckle.

“You’re telling me.” He cringes slightly at the memory. As he looks out over the crowd you take a moment to really look at him. His dark brown hair, streaked with gray, was swept back and neatly trimmed down on the sides and back, his graying beard also incredibly tidy and neatly trimmed. Thin, gold wire framed glasses sat low on his nose. A black shirt stretched tightly over his broad chest and shoulders, the muscles in his back easily visible as he leaned, hunched over next to you. A pair of clean jeans hugged his strong thighs, you simply couldn’t get over just how massive everything about him was. A matching set of biomechanical tattoo sleeves meticulously flowed up his arms, on the inside of one forearm the interlocking gears and pistons were interrupted by the outline of a large kitchen knife, the other showed the head of a rabbit. The designs were so beautiful, you had to stop yourself from reaching out to run your fingers over the intricate line work, whoever drew them out really must have understood machinery for them to turn out so flawlessly. “You can get a closer look, I don’t bite… unless you want me to.” You flush at his sarcastic remark. He moves his arm closer to you, mumbling out “you’re cute.” so quietly you almost missed it over the rambunctious crowd. You traced over the smooth lining, his skin hot under your trembling fingers. The opening guitar chord rumbled in your chest as the main band took the stage, the venue erupting to life once more as they jumped into their first song. Your eyes met Will’s, a glimmer of curiosity behind them at your gentle touch.

“Hey there babe, mind if I squeeze in here.” Your moment with him was interrupted by one of the scumbags William had noticed eyeing you earlier. He went to maneuver past you, hand sliding up to push directly against your plush chest. Your mouth dropped open at him but no sound came out, too stunned by his actions. Will snarled, grabbing the guy by the back of the collar and ripping him backwards, sending him falling to the floor. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you into his side, his arm wrapping around your back so his hand landed on the railing at your side.

“No fucking manners.” He spits, glaring at the guy and his group of friends as he pathetically scrambles to his feet. The anger in his eyes was enough to make the four immediately back off, even if they did outnumber him there was no question about who would come out on top in that fight. “Are you okay?” His rage immediately flickers to concern as his eyes land on you.

“I owe you after how many times you’ve saved my ass tonight.” You laugh, your pinky hooking with his as you set it down on the railing.

“How about you let me take you out to dinner after we get out of here?” Despite how unwaveringly confident he seemed before you he still couldn’t hide the slight nervous tremor in his voice as he spit out the question. He knew it was a very bold move, christ he was old enough to be your father. But he simply couldn’t push away the thought of how pretty you were. You were so vibrant and full of life; the way you bounced around, dancing to the opening acts, how you laughed at all of his jokes, finding excuses to brush your hand over his arm leaving goosebumps in your wake. Everything about you was perfect. A smile slowly creeped over your lips as you processed his question.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” You ask in response, your voice laced with a flustered giggle.

“Maybe I am.” He smirks. You slowly slide your hand over the top of his, your fingers pushing through his to interlock your hands. Normally you wouldn’t even think about getting this physically close to someone you had just met at a show, but there was something about being around Will that just felt so right.

“I think I’ll take you up on that.” Your eyes flash down to his lips momentarily before you turn your attention back to the stage. The rest of the concert felt like a dream. Will’s strong hands on your waist as you danced along to your favorite songs, you couldn’t help but smirk as you realized his eyes were glued to the soft curve of your ass as you swayed your hips. After the show was over you both stumbled from the venue, your body glowing with a thin sheen of sweat from the heat of being packed inside. You stumble slightly, Will wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his chest to steady you. “Is there going to be anywhere to eat open this late?” You giggle as he takes your hand and spins you around, a playful smile lacing its way across his lips.

“I know a place, it’s just up the street.” He nods in a direction down the sidewalk. “Care to join me for a walk?”

“I’d love to.” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze as he tugs you in the direction you need to start walking. He hung on your every word as you talked, asking you questions to further prompt you to talk about yourself. You could see the bright neon sign of the diner in the distance, he paused, nodding a silent question to sit on the park bench you had stopped in front of. You sat next to him, folding your hands neatly in your lap. Will swallowed thickly as he watched your breasts squeeze together between your arms, your nipple piercings poking through the thin material of the cropped tank top you wore. He clears his throat as he shrugs out of his thick denim jacket, the inside lined with warm, flannel patterned fleece. Wordlessly, he drapes the coat over your shoulders, your nose fills with the scent of spicy cologne, cheap cigarettes, and expensive bourbon. You can’t help but smile softly as you run your fingers over the neat stitching around the perimeter of one of the many patches that covered the obviously well loved jacket.

“You looked cold.” He sputters out bashfully, his eyes trained on a crack in the sidewalk to avoid trying to catch a glimpse of your piercings again.

You pull the fabric tightly around you, basking in its warmth. “Thank you.” You freeze as your eyes land on him, the two of you had been sitting a lot closer than you had realized. Your nose almost brushed his as you turned to face each other, his lips tantalizingly close, the possibility of kissing him hanging so close you could taste it. You wanted him desperately. Finally meeting a man who seemed confident and sure of himself, who wasn’t trying to pick you up with every ridiculous trick in the book, but somehow managed to win you over in a single evening with nothing but pure charm.

“Could I just reach in that pocket real quick.” You turn slightly, feeling the weight of his hand fall onto your thigh as it slips inside the jacket. He retrieves a small tin, the pungent smell hitting your nose immediately. “You smoke?” He fishes around in his pants pocket for a lighter.

“Cigarettes?” You ask dumbly, trying to pretend you didn’t smell the familiar smell of pot flooding your senses.

“Flower.” He shoots you a knowing glance, you were sure your intrigue had already spread across your face.

“Occasionally.” The word rolls a little too casually off of your tongue.

“Oh, a bit of a bad girl, are we?” The phrasing sent a pang of arousal through your core.

“I wouldn’t say that, it’s not like I’m doing anything illegal.” You noticed his eyes had darkened slightly when they met yours, the look alone was enough to have you pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“My apologies,” he cocks an eyebrow at you, shooting you a playful smirk. “I should have known you’re a good girl.” A shiver runs up your spine at his provocative tone. He chuckles as he takes one of the joints in the pack between his lips, flicking the lighter and inhaling deeply. He offers the joint to you, leaning back against the bench and tilting his head back to stare up at the star speckled sky. You inhale, the dry taste of the smoke filling your mouth. You copy his motions, holding in your hit as you stare up at the sky. You feel Will’s hand bump against yours, you carefully take it, enjoying the quiet intimacy. You both release your hit at the same time, yours hitting you a lot rougher than you had anticipated, making you cough and hunch over into yourself. “You’re alright.” He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him.

“The first couple hits are always rough for me, don’t worry.” You joke, patting his chest.

“Have you ever shotgunned a hit before? It would probably make it less harsh.” You shake your head, your cheeks growing warm at the thought. “You wanna try?” He asks softly.

“Sure.” You squeak in response. He gently guides you to face him, your knees bumping against his. His fingers trail over your jaw, making you shiver. He takes a long, slow drag off of the joint. His eyes meet yours as his face dips in closer to yours, his thumb hooking over his bottom lip, keeping just enough space between your mouths so his lips didn’t end up on yours. Your mind grew fuzzy from how close he was, you felt his nose brush yours as your eyes fluttered shut. Your lips grew warm as he pushed the smoke from his mouth into your own, you felt the buzz begin to settle in your head. You took William’s hand in yours, squeezing it softly. You subconsciously trailed after him as he pulled away. You slowly blinked, your vision taking a moment to focus on him. God was he handsome. You exhaled the smoke after a moment, surprised at the lack of burn in your lungs. “Wow.” Will’s hand still rested on the side of your face, his eyes raking over your features as he drank in the sight of you. You looked so small in his arms, your petite frame swimming in his jacket. It took everything he had not to kiss you just then, your soft lips just out of reach. He wondered what it would feel like to have you pressed flush against him, your soft body molding against his.

He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, his eyes finally finding yours. “Again?” 

“Please.” You respond in a shaky breath. His eyes remain locked on yours as he takes another deep inhale of smoke, your mouth falling open before he has the chance to hook his thumb into it. He brushed some loose hair behind your ear, feeling the way your small hand trembled in anticipation as he held it in his own. He slowly released the hit into your mouth, pulling back slightly as he waited for you to exhale. He felt your thumb slowly rub over his rough, calloused hand. Your heavy lidded eyes falling to his lips, wanting to take things further but too nervous to do so on your own. You let out a small gasp as he pushed into you, his head dipping down to allow his lips to find yours. His piercing was shockingly cold against your hot skin, you let out a soft moan as you allowed yourself to melt into him. His fingers slid into your hair, your hands fisted into the soft material of his shirt, pulling him as close to you as you could manage on the narrow bench. You squeak as he nips at your bottom lip, letting out a low growl before kissing you more intensely than before. Your hands roamed his torso, feeling the way his muscles tensed and shifted under your delicate touch made you shiver with a desire to touch more of him. His large hands knead at the soft pudge of your hips, his mouth dominating yours as he completely took charge over the kiss, you became putty in his hands as your brain melted into a puddle. You both separate with a gasp, your shoulders heaving as you bump your forehead against his.

“I guess this is a good time to tell you that I think you’re really pretty.” He smiles. You giggle, your cheeks flushing from all the endorphins surging through your system.

“How about we go grab something to eat, it’ll give me an excuse to kiss you again later.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @redflowery @loudchaosking @weirdoartist21 @residentevilbeast @lokanda @emmbny @yukkkiki (If you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know, thank you for reading!)

[ramblingguy54]

The more I think on it, the more I believe Wild Robot is arguably the perfect Dreamworks' movie for myself.

Roz & Brightbill feeling like outsiders to their respective origins really sells the weight of how truly lost and lonely both are in their pursuit of understanding what to make of it all. Their dynamic being brought together through heartbreaking misfortune is immensely profound. Makes me reflect upon what own my mother went through trying to fit in with her family, but never could. Just as I have always been insecure about trying to figure out my own place, when she brought me into this world and a big family. In retrospect, we both felt "defective" for our own reasons.

Usually, I don't cry often at movies, or anything for that matter, but their internal struggle of acting like a natural mother & son drives a knife through my heart in the best manner. A surreal mirror of my own life struggling to feel okay with being myself. Further reinforcing how much I love my mother went above and beyond to give me a life of happiness, in spite of whatever bumps in the road happened.

"The accident that killed your family saved you. Funny how life works...?"

The Wild Robot's biggest feat, if not one of many, is managing to make all the denizens of this island not feel insanely mean spirited. It is more so capturing that harsh aspect of nature's morbid atmosphere. In this regard, those chances of Brightbill making it as the runt of that litter were practically nonexistent without Roz's unexpected arrival. He likely would've been either killed by nature's intense elements, a lurking predator of some kind, or end with his biological mother giving up on helping him learn to fly. It served to emphasize nature's survival instincts, in contrast to Roz's evolving compassion for Brightbill. No one else wanted to help the poor kid out because all they saw was dead meat, more or less. Even Fink, despite warming up to Brightbill, wanted to eat him right off the bat after coming across his egg.

Brightbill's weak wings weren't psychically capable in achieving normal flight, much less even a full on migration. However, Roz's determination allowed him to be able to survive from winter, just like the rest of his species. It's the beauty of showing kindness, even to those who may or not like you that can inspire emotional growth. Learning to stay optimistic in an unforgiving environment can bring out the best surprises from places you'd least expect it.

"This is my migration. And when it is time I promise I will find my way home."

The Wild Robot's heavily endearing lesson about kindness persevering makes its ending feel entirely earned. The animals don't just get along with each other right off the bat. Almost dying from that terrible winter storm was a serious wake up call they can't rely on being by themselves forever. Survival instincts or not, it's about opening yourself up to the possibility of trusting and relying upon genuine emotions. Much like Brightbill's entire character was learning to accept Roz did genuinely care for his well being as his mother. Tragedy may have created their situation, but it doesn't define whatever comes next in building a heartfelt connection.

Honestly, it's why I believe The Wild Robot is among Dreamworks' very finest stories they've animated to life. Taking basic ideas spicing them up to feel more emotionally introspective about ourselves. Hell, I'd probably place at it the very top of my number one spot in my favorite Dreamworks' content. It seriously affected me in ways I didn't expect. A bold statement to be sure, but that alone should be a damn great enough reason, as far as I'm concerned.

A simple story about parenthood can do wonders. Especially when it's executed in this caliber of writing. Chris Sanders and his team are legends in their own making.

[todorokis-girl]

Hi! Well then, I have request!

The new bnha ending hitted me hard so I wanted to request something for Touya.

I don't know I'd you are up to date with the manga ( I sure am not, so no spoilers, don't worry) but I want to have some fluff angst so XD

Could you please write about Touya meeting his childhood friend and best friend ( an old crush maybe) again after the war, please?

Thank you!

Ashes - Dabi x f!Reader

I hope you like it, please let me know on why you think!

Masterlist

he city lay in ruins, a testament to the cataclysmic battles that had torn it apart. Fires still smoldered in the wreckage, a stark reminder of the chaos that had ensued. Among the rubble and ash, survivors wandered aimlessly, their eyes reflecting the trauma and loss they had endured. Touya, better known to the world as Dabi, lurked in the shadows, his charred skin and vacant stare marking him as a relic of past horrors.

He hadn't expected to survive. After all he had done, he wasn't sure he wanted to. Yet here he was, hiding among the debris, searching for... what? Redemption? Closure? He wasn't sure anymore. The war had taken everything from him—his family, his purpose, his humanity.

Dabi crouched in the remnants of an old warehouse, the dark interior a welcome refuge from the outside world. He kept to the corners, avoiding the light that streamed through the broken windows. He knew he was being hunted. The heroes wouldn't stop until they had captured or killed him. He didn't blame them.

Suddenly, a noise outside caught his attention. Footsteps, hesitant and light, crunching over the debris. He tensed, ready to flee or fight, when a voice—a soft, familiar voice—called out, "Touya? Are you here?"

He froze. It couldn't be. He crept closer to the source of the voice, peering through a crack in the wall. There, amid the wreckage, stood Y/N. She was older, of course, her hair longer and her eyes carrying the weight of the years, but it was undeniably her.

"Y/N," he whispered to himself, his heart aching at the sight of her.

She wandered through the debris, looking lost but determined. "Touya, if you're here, please come out. I need to see you."

He wanted to run, to hide further, but something in her voice—desperation, maybe hope—compelled him to step out of the shadows. "Y/N," he said, his voice rough and unfamiliar to his own ears.

She turned sharply, her eyes widening in shock and relief. "Touya!" she cried, rushing toward him. She stopped short, inches away, her eyes scanning his scarred face, his burnt skin. "It's really you."

"It's me," he confirmed, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But I'm not the same."

She reached out, her hand hovering near his cheek, hesitant to touch the burn scars. "I know," she said softly. "But you're still here. That's what matters."

He stepped back, shaking his head. "You don't understand, Y/N. I'm not the person you knew. I've done terrible things. Hurt people. Killed people."

"And you think that means you don't deserve to be cared about? To be loved?" she asked, her voice breaking.

He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "I don't deserve anything."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Finally, Y/N spoke, her voice soft but firm. "We all make mistakes, Touya. Some bigger than others. But that doesn't mean we can't try to make things right. That doesn't mean we can't be forgiven."

He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Forgiven? By whom? My family? The people I've hurt? They'd rather see me dead."

"Maybe," she conceded, taking a step closer. "But I'm not them. I remember the boy who used to bring me flowers from his mother's garden. The boy who would defend his friends no matter the cost. That boy is still in there somewhere. And I forgive you. Believe it or not your family loves you, and they’re worried sick about you”

Her words broke something inside him, the dam he had built around his heart crumbling. He sank to his knees, the weight of his guilt and sorrow pressing down on him. Y/N knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around him, holding him as he wept.

For a long time, they stayed like that, two broken souls finding solace in each other's presence. When his tears finally subsided, he looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the flicker of hope in her eyes.

"Why?" he asked, his voice raw. "Why are you here?"

"Because you need someone," she said simply. "And because I care about you."

He closed his eyes, the simple truth of her words piercing through his defenses. "I don't know if I can ever be whole again," he admitted.

"Maybe not," she said softly. "But we can try. Together."

He nodded, a small, tentative smile tugging at his lips. For the first time in a long time, he felt a glimmer of something he thought he'd lost forever: hope. With Y/N by his side, maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to heal.

As they sat there, amidst the ruins of the past, a fragile new beginning took root. It wouldn't be easy, and the road ahead would be fraught with challenges. But for now, in this moment, Touya allowed himself to believe in the possibility of redemption, and the power of forgiveness.

[shaynawrites23]

For your 200 follower celebration!

💋: I'd like one with with Sirius black! And the number... 58!!!

Congratulations to you on hitting 200! That ought to be a big achievement! I love your work BTW! Keep going!

Show Me

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Prompt: moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall/onto the bed

Word count: 678

Warning: suggestive content, implied smut

A/N: im sorry this has been sitting in my inbox forever 😅 trying to stretch my writing muscles by doing a few blurbs before i write the longer requests, thought i'd clear out my inbox while im at it! whoever you are, anon, i thank you for the support and i hope you enjoy the drabble if you see this!

It started as a date. You haven't seen your boyfriend in some time, and the moment your schedules aligned, Sirius declared in his usual fashion that he was taking you out on a date.

In hindsight, you should have known it would end this way, and... maybe you wanted it to. You're dressed in the outfit he loves so much on you, smiled so innocently at him when he came to pick you up and ignored the way his breath hitched the moment he laid eyes on you. Or... well, Sirius believes you're only pretending not to notice.

He hasn't been able to keep his hands off of you all evening. A hand on your back, fingers tracing shapes on your thigh before he forces himself to let up on you slightly, hand reaching for yours, stealing a kiss every chance he gets... even as you leave, he has an arm around your waist, holding you close, smudging a kiss to your hairline paired with softly murmured words you don't catch.

And now...

Now, his lips are on yours before you've even entered your apartment; you're still blindly fumbling for your keys and have to push him away, just for a moment, else you're sure you'll be standing outside all night. He looks confused for a moment, and hurt, but then you're flinging the door open, tugging him inside with you by his belt loops, and the pieces click.

He kicks the door shut with his foot. You barely have time to register the dull slam of the wood before he's pulling you into him—or maybe you're dragging him closer by your hand on his collar—and he's groaning out a "fuck, so fuckin' pretty, darlin', my gorgeous girl-" before your mouths meet again, hot and greedy and wanting.

Sirius backs you up as he kisses you, strong hand gripping your hip. He knows the layout of your apartment well, too well for the way he bumps you against the corner of the dining table to be anything but carelessness. To his credit, he apologizes when you wince, hand moving to soothe the sore spot, but you've already forgotten about the incident, too lost in the way he's kissing you.

God, how you love his kisses. He has a way of kissing you so sweetly, moreso than you expected of a man like him, and that sweetness isn't lost even as his kisses turn deeper, hungry and impatient. Sirius kisses you like he wants you, like you're special, makes you feel like you're valuable, like you're worth it, and... and of course he does, you're all those things to him-

You're not given time to dwell on it, though, not with the way he's filling every corner of your mind. Sirius has quite the personality, too much for some, but you love him all the more for who he is. And right now, he's your breathtakingly handsome boyfriend who's leaning over you, pressing you onto your bed as he settles between your legs, and now your breath is catching in your throat.

"Merlin, look at you. My stunning girlfriend. Most attractive woman I've ever seen," he breathes when he pulls back to simultaneously catch his breath and admire you. You look like a work or art to him, a goddess, with tousled hair and kiss-swollen lips, panting and reaching for him like you miss him even though he's right there. He obliges, his weight pressing you further into the mattress as his teeth graze your pulse, his mouth kissing its way back up to yours. "Bet you did in on purpose, tryin' to test my restraint... darlin', don't you know what uou do to me when you dress up all pretty like that?"

Breathless and not about to admit you chose your outfit with him in mind, though you're certain he knows, you only shrug, and you feel his lips quirk into a smirk just under your jaw.

"Oh, gorgeous, I'm gonna show you just what it does to me."

That he certainly did.

[decentwritings]

Chapter 6

Summary: You’re unable to grasp the luck you have. You were raised to run from danger, to go the opposite direction of bad influences. So when you somehow find yourself right in the center of it, you discover that running wasn’t exactly what you were taught. It only took GhostFace and a pretty girl to remember that.

previous part <- -> final part

The slam of the trunk echoes through the night, reminding you of the weight of your decision. Each sound reverberates in the still air, amplifying the finality of what's been set in motion. Your pulse quickens, matching the steady thrum of your heartbeat in your ears. It's too late to turn back now.

Right?

With each passing second, the quiet seems to press down on you, the darkness around offering no comfort. You're alone with your thoughts, the reality of the situation settling in with an unsettling chill.

Your fingers trace the top of the trunk, the rust is there and you swore to yourself you would never let the paint get this bad. Maybe putting the car through a 14 hour trip was a bad idea.

Running did some damage to this car. Running will do some damage to them.

Just when you were getting the hang of it; the plan, you've resorted to your habit. A habit, you now recall, your father taught you to fight against.

The tarp is pulled off and a cloud of dust floats with it. You cough, waving your hand to blow the dust away from your face.

Your dad laughs, and it's then you finally see what the tarp was hiding. His old, beat up Toyota Chaser that he had sold last year. You only know it's the same one because of the sticker you stuck on the front bumper when you were ten. Your dad tried everything but the sticker just wouldn't peel off.

You told him it was sign not to sell it, that it belonged to the family and should stay with the family. He sold it anyway, the need for money bigger than the meaning of the car.

"Bought it back from the guy I sold it to," your dad explains, circling the car to stand in front of you. All you can do is stare at him, unable to find words to describe how you feel.

Your brother learned how to drive with this car. Your sister learned how to drive with this car. When you got the news he was selling the car, you were fourteen and your mom was adamant your father didn't teach you how to drive until you were sixteen. So it really bummed you out when he sold the car.

But here the car is. And you're eighteen and only know how to drive an automatic.

Your dad grins, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket. "I promised I'd teach you how to drive a stick, didn't I?"

You catch the keys, staring down at them in your hand. The weight of it feels heavier than it should, like a responsibility you're ready for. And there's a look in your dad's eyes–pride, determination–it pushes you to nod.

When you hop in the car, you grip the steering wheel. While it's just an average, worn out steering wheel, you feel like it's brand new. You remember watching the car drive away after it was sold, the blinking brake light in the distance flashing in your mind. It was like it was teasing you, laughing at you for never sitting in the driver's seat.

But here you are, keys in hand and foot on one of three pedals. You put the keys in the ignition and recall the trick your father taught you to turn the car on. He chuckles when you successfully turn the vehicle on. It roars to life, shaking the car before finally settling.

"I thought you sold it for good," you voice softly, still in disbelief. You are holding the steering wheel, feel it under your fingertips yet it still feels unreal.

Your dad shrugs. "I thought so too," he admits, hand palming the dash. He pats it a few times. "We were going through a rough patch financially when I sold the car. We almost lost the house," he informs you.

You whip your head, looking at him, disbelief all over your face. "We almost lost the house?"

He nods quietly. "Yeah," he shrugs. "And believe me, it would have been easy to just...leave and start somewhere new, cheaper. But this place is home, the neighbors are our friends, family."

You arch a brow. "We've never shared a word with the neighbors," you retort.

"We wave at each other when we get the mail or take the trash out," your dad counters, waving a hand dismissively. "My point is, things got hard, and running sounded great but...it also would have hurt you and your brother and sister."

You look out the windshield, giving the streets a real look. While you grew up here, you never really thought much of it, the neighborhood. The streets always seemed the same, the houses all blending together. But now, sitting in the driver's seat of your dad's old car, it feels different—like there's a story behind every corner, every mailbox.

"Things aren't always easy," your dad continues, his voice pulling you back. "But we don't just quit when they get hard. We stick it out, we fight for what matters." He pauses, looking at you. "And that's something you need to remember, especially now."

You glance over at him, the weight of his words sinking in. This isn't just about learning to drive a stick; it's about life. About not giving up when the road gets bumpy, about pushing through when everything feels like it's falling apart. You had the tendency of giving up, even at the simplest things like learning how to play guitar, or piano. Hell, you wanted to drop out of high school your sophomore year.

"I get it," you say, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "Thanks for bringing the car back."

Your dad smiles, a soft, proud expression crossing his face. "You're ready for this. More than you think."

"What if..." you hesitate, unsure to continue. But he encourages you with a nod. "What if I mess up?" you finally ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

Your dad's smile doesn't waver. He leans back, crossing his arms, and lets out a small chuckle. "You're gonna mess up. That's part of the deal. You think I didn't stall this car a hundred times when I first learned?" He raises his eyebrows, as if daring you to believe otherwise. "The important thing isn't if you mess up—it's that you keep going."

You chew the inside of your cheek, thinking it over. It's always been like that with you—one mistake or it gets tough and you'd want to quit, walk away before it got too hard. But now, sitting here, hearing your dad's words, you feel something shift. Maybe it's the car, maybe it's the moment, or maybe it's just time you start believing you can handle more than you think.

"You'll get it," your dad continues, patting your shoulder. "Just take it one step at a time."

You swallow thickly, feeling emotional suddenly. "You'll stay here...with me until I get it?" You ask, and a look of disbelief crosses his face. It's like he can't believe you would ask that. "You won't give up on me?"

"I'll be here it until you no longer need me," he answers, caressing your head gently. He brushes your hair down, soothingly and carefully.

You stare at the dashboard, a light is on signaling something is wrong with the car and you haven't learned what it meant yet. It dawns on you, "I'm always gonna need you."

Your dad's expression softens at your admission, and he pulls you in for a brief, reassuring hug. "You might think that now, but trust me, there will come a time when you'll be able to drive on your own. Just like I had to learn," he says, releasing you but keeping a warm gaze fixed on your face.

Feeling a swell of emotion, you nod, trying to push back the lump in your throat. "I just... I don't want to mess up and disappoint you."

He shakes his head firmly. "You could never disappoint me. It's okay to make mistakes; that's how we learn. I just want you to fight for what you want, even when it gets tough." Then he shrugs. "And hey, if you want to give up and run, that's fine too. But I just want you to try first; do everything you can. Don't give up just as you're starting to get the hang of it."

You take a deep breath, letting his words wash over you. For so long, you had let the fear of failure dictate your actions, but now, in this moment, with the keys in your hand and your dad beside you, you can feel a flicker of hope sparking within.

"Okay, I promise," you say, a bit of determination creeping into your voice. "Let's do this."

With that, you put the key in the ignition once more, turning it. The engine roars to life again, and you feel a rush of adrenaline. Your dad nods approvingly, a proud grin spreading across his face.

That's how you wanted to remember your dad—not as a pale, bedridden man struggling to take a breath, but as the vibrant, larger-than-life figure who taught you to fight through adversity. He once told you he didn't want to be remembered that way, not as a dying, ugly, pale old man–his words. A part of you resents yourself for honoring that wish, because deep down, you want him to know that you, your mother, your sister, and your brother will be okay.

Even though you all still need him, he has taught you enough to navigate life without him. His lessons echo in your mind—the resilience, the determination, the unwavering belief that giving up is never an option. You recall those moments shared in the old Toyota Chaser, each lesson woven into the fabric of who you are.

You throw your head back, groaning loudly. Once again, it echoes throughout the night. You lock your car before trudging back to your dorm.

As Deadpool would say, "I'm no hero. But when you find out your worst enemy is after the best girl, the time has come to be a fucking superhero."

"I'm in my Deadpool era," you chuckle, cracking your neck. The current plan right now is to find weapons. God only knows what these weird college students hide away in their dorms for protection.

"Maximum effort," you say, cracking your knuckles and grunting before kicking in the first door.

\\\\\

Danny stares at the building, hating this gnawing feeling in his gut. Each minute without a sign of life from anyone just makes the feeling grow more intense.

Sam told him to stay out here. She said since it's obvious they shouldn't have trusted you, they shouldn't trust him. It hurt, but Danny couldn't argue with her. After everything that's happened, trust is fragile, and with you gone—disappeared without a trace—he's left with no defense.

He rubs the back of his neck, eyes fixed on the building's dark windows. The silence feels suffocating, like the calm before the storm. Every second that passes without a sound, without a signal from inside, makes his heart race faster.

Then, he hears fast footsteps running. They sound like they're getting closer and closer, so he turns and prepares himself for a fight. His fists raise and he keeps his eyes wandering, ready for a surprise attack as well.

But his fists lower when you come into his view, out of breath and running right into him. You failed to estimate how fast you were.

Danny steadies you, eyes narrowed. "Where the hell have you been?" He practically shouts, his words echoing in the quiet streets.

A look of regret is written all over your face. "I'm sorry, Danny," you say first, head down, ashamed. You shake yourself out of it. "But I'm here now. They're in there?" You ask, glancing behind him.

He stops you before you can get past him. You groan at the tightness of his grip, pulling your arm out of his hold.

Danny doesn't back down. His eyes are fierce, a mixture of worry and anger swirling in them as he blocks your path. "You think you can just show up out of nowhere and everything's fine? What the hell happened to you? We thought—" He cuts himself off, jaw clenching. "They don't trust you. Hell, I'm not even sure if I trust you."

"I get it, I know, I'm sorry," you repeat, breath still coming in quick, shallow bursts. "I messed up, okay? But I'm here now. I can still help."

He shakes his head, frustration bubbling over. "You disappeared. Sam and Tara are inside right now, thinking the worst. We were supposed to trust you."

"Just Sam and Tara?" You ask, suddenly uneasy. "What happened to Chad, Mindy, Anika and Ethan?"

"Chad is with them," Danny reassures, but what he says next makes your blood go cold. "Mindy, Anika and Ethan have been MIA. They were suppose to meet us here."

Your heart skips a beat. "I need to make this right, Danny," you breathe out. "I messed up. I was in and when I was finally getting the hang of it, I ran. But I'm back now and I need to help–I want to help," you correct.

Danny stares at you, scrutinizing every word you just said. He had faith in you, that for once you were actually going to stick around. And it backfired. It made the woman he loves distrust him.

He thinks about it, long and hard, his gaze unwavering. The only thing that remains now is, you're his family. There were plenty of times you and your family could have just stopped giving him chances yet you didn't. Time and time again, your parents took him in when his parents kicked him out. He owes you at least one more chance.

"Fine," he relents, and you smile, practically beaming. "But I'm coming with you."

Your smile drops. "No." You deadpan, shaking your head firmly. "I'm not letting anyone else get hurt. You stay here. Call for backup if we need it."

Danny groans, huffing. That's exactly what Sam said. "Fine," he says again, angry but understanding. He points to the side of the building. "Kirby let them in through there. Maybe they left the door propped open for Ghostface to get in."

You start but then stop, giving him a weird look.

He raises his hands, unsure and a little exasperated. "I don't know, Y/N. Just go!" He shouts and you do.

But as you get closer, you come to a slow stop when you see a body on the ground. You recognize the head of hair instantly, so you're quick to kneel down and aid her.

Gently, you shake her, hoping to get some reaction, a sign that she's alive. She gasps for air, waking up then with a groan.

"Kirby, are you okay?" You ask, stupidly, but it's also something you learned working at the hospital. Ask them a question, see if they are capable of answering it.

Kirby sits up slowly, you help her rest against the closest wall. She has a cut on her head and blood is close to fall into her left eye. You look around for something to use to keep pressure on her wound but come up empty. You stare down at your jacket, and hold back a whine before shrugging it off.

You wipe the blood before you roll your jacket then press it against her wound.

Kirby helps keep it place, then looks at you. "It's Bailey," she manages to say, voice hoarse.

You lean forward slightly, unsure if you heard her correctly.

"It's Bailey," Kirby repeats, louder this time.

The need to say you had a suspicion is there but you hold back. It does anger you to know the guy who was helping the Carpenters and lost a daughter in the process of helping is behind this. A part of you can't understand how he just allowed whoever was helping him kill his daughter.

Kirby winces, struggling to sit up straighter against the wall, her hand still pressed to the makeshift bandage. "He's been playing us this whole time. He's Ghostface."

You shake your head, scoffing. "His daughter died. He was at the station when I was attacked at my house. He has someone helping him."

Kirby grits her teeth, her frustration evident. "He's been two steps ahead, making sure we don't see it coming. He's probably the reason why Mindy, Anika, and Ethan are missing."

You glance at the open door. "So he's in there? With Tara...and Sam?" You look back at Kirby.

She can see it all over your face. She sits up some more, taking over pressure on her wound. "Go. I'll be fine. Just... be careful."

You hesitate for a moment, torn between staying with her and going in to help. She shakes her head and you make the decision then. You stand and glance back at her. "Don't die, you're my favorite character."

Kirby laughs, a slightly tinge of pain in it. "Just don't let the bastard win."

You nod once more then rush into the theater. Upon entering, you find Chad on the floor, blood covering his entire body. You bend over, your hands going to your knees as you feel something coming up.

"Oh god," you cover your mouth, shaking your head. For a second you stare at him, then you see the rise of his chest. It's barely noticeable but you see it. "Holy shit, he's alive." You mutter, kneeling to get a closer look.

You look around and find a piece of wood close by. You reach for it and use it to poke at Chad's side.

"Dude," you whisper, poking him again. "Dude, wake up. I read the script, you don't die." You jab the stick into his side.

He reacts with a groan, and you let out a sigh of relief. For a second, you started doubting yourself.

Chad lift his head, weak and slow. He finally locks eyes with you and he appears relieved. "Oh thank god," his voice is strained, dropping his head back down.

"Where are the others?" You asks quietly, poking him again to avoid him from knocking back out. He doesn't respond verbally, but instead, lifts a weak finger in a direction.

Behind the red curtains, you assume he wants to say. You exhale a breath and look back at him.

"Stay alive, there's only thirty minutes left in the movie," you pat his leg, earning a groan from him. You grimace, then apologize before standing.

Due to the students in your dorm building lacking any kind of weapon for protection, you only had a knife you found when you snuck into the dining room's kitchen. You're positive the cameras caught your face but that's something to worry about later.

You take the knife out of your waistband, grateful for whoever bought this fancy knife with a sort of sheath. You rip the sheath off and tread carefully as you peek behind the curtains.

Your jaw drops when you see Ethan standing there, in a black robe, next to another GhostFace. He holds the mask up to show Tara and Sam.

"This was your grandmother's, Sam. Nancy Loomis," he taps the mask with the knife in his hand. "Really runs in your fucking family, doesn't it?"

Bailey keeps the gun held towards the sisters.

"Speaking of family," Ethan glances at Bailey, a wicked smile on his face. "My name's not Ethan Landry, is it, dad?"

"Dad?" You mouth just as Tara asks it out loud.

Bailey smiles at his son, proud. You roll your eyes, unable to believe how sadistic this is. Clearly this family needs therapy. Bailey got his son to kill his daughter.

Now that you think of it, was Quinn really Bailey's daughter? They don't look anything alike.

"But if you're Ethan," Sam's voice breaks you away from your thoughts. "That only leaves...Mindy?" She sounds betrayed.

The second GhostFace takes their mask off, and you cover your mouth to muffle your gasp.

"Hey, roomies," Quinn grins, laughing at their reactions. "Didn't see that one coming, did you?"

Your head spins, you had no idea horror fans were this creative. You really did not expect a plot twist...in real life. You need to sit down, you feel like your world is spinning in its axis.

"You...died," Tara's voice is unsure, staring at her roommate as tears fall freely down her cheeks.

"Yeah, but not really," Quinn scrunches her nose, shaking her head. "It was a good way to get off of Mindy's suspect list. Then we had the issue of..."

Ethan rolls his eyes. "Y/N, geez," he huffs, annoyed. "They almost ruined everything. We gave them the opportunity to leave..." he looks at his sister.

"They did put up a good fight," Quinn continues, and you can't help the scoff that escapes your lips. You clasps your hand over your mouth, not expecting it to echo throughout the theater.

There's a long moment of silence and you assume your cover is blown. But then Quinn continues...

"Luckily, they ended up being a coward," Quinn sighs, feigning sadness. "Sorry your crush is such a pussy, Tara."

A dark look crosses Tara's face, along with a head tilt. It looks like she's plotting her revenge at Quinn right there for speaking those words. You frown, both at the revelation and insult. It drives you to finally stop listening and come up with a plan. You pinch the bridge of your nose, reprimanding yourself for not thinking of a plan before actually trying to help.

Then, a thought crosses your mind. You're in your Deadpool era. He's no hero. You sure as hell aren't either.

When in doubt, annoyance was his best weapon.

"Either way, I die," you mutter to yourself, shrugging. You tuck the knife carefully back into your waistband and lift your shirt to cover it. "Let finish fucking them the fuck up." You murmur.

You glance around and come to find a lever. You decide it's better than nothing. So, you saunter over and pull it, smiling at the spotlight that appears center stage. It shines on Billy Loomis' wardrobe, and distracts all of them.

Bailey's aim falters as he looks around, along with his children.

"I had a Deadpool quote," you say as you step out from behind the curtains, walking towards the spotlight. "But I don't think Paramount has any kind of rights to his character."

You don't miss the way Bailey shifts his aim to you, the snarl on Ethan's face and the annoyed look on Quinn's.

You lift your arms and take a bow then lift a hand up to your ear. "I'm gonna need you to repeat what you said about me earlier, Quinn," you feign confusion. "You called me a...a what was it again?"

"You should've ran when you had the chance," Quinn says instead, huffing.

You glance at Tara and Sam, your eyes telling them to prepare themselves.

"And miss out on all the fun?" You shake your head. "Boy, do I have a lot to say? For starters, have you guys tried therapy? It's clear you need it."

Bailey grits his teeth. "Enough games, get down from there. You're outnumbered." He points to the spot next to Tara.

You put your foot down, dramatic and almost childishly. "No." You respond then move on. "Look, you guys have this whole plan to set up Sam as the villain and you guys are the heroes and blah blah blah...I don't know how people watch Stab movies if this is the basis of the movie." You roll your eyes, annoyed and bored.

"My son loved those movies," Bailey's hand trembles as he points his gun at you.

"Your son is Ethan," you retort, deadpan.

"He's talking about his other son, our dead brother," Quinn speaks up, snarling.

You roll your eyes. "Can't you mourn like normal people?"

Ethan narrows his eyes. "This coming from someone who lost their father not even a month ago?"

You grin, because when it comes to that, you're bulletproof. Humor is a defensive mechanism, for everyone in your family, so at the funeral, there were laughs. Crying yes, but more crying laughter than sadness crying.

You imitate a buzzer sound. "Try again. More feeling this time," you form a fake camera with your hands. "And action!" You shout.

Ethan grabs ahold of Tara and you drop your act, watching his knife get closer to her neck. Sam attempts to reach for her sister but Quinn steps in front of her, holding the knife out towards her.

You falter, dropping the annoying act for a second.

"You know," Ethan slides the knife against Tara's neck carefully, teasingly even. "I always wanted to see what you felt like..."

Tara grimaces as his mouth gets closer to her ear.

"The whole mommy issues really caught my attention," Ethan continues, and you can't control the look of disgust that crosses your face. "I mean, with ours..." he looks at Quinn, who laughs at his words.

"Ethan took care of her," Quinn says, looking between you and Sam. When realization crosses your faces, she laughs. "What kind of mother doesn't want to avenge her dead son?"

The words "A mentally stable one," is on the tip of your tongue but you control yourself.

Quinn meets Sam's eyes. "I bet you wish you could've killed yours," she taunts. Sam narrows her eyes with a glare that could kill. "There she is! There's that fucking killer!"

Tara glances at Bailey. "Great job with the parenting..."

Ethan tightens his hold on Tara, pressing the tip of the knife against her skin.

"Shut your whore mouth!" Quinn turns to Tara, almost cutting her arm.

With Tara in Ethan's hold and you and Sam unable to fight due to the need of keeping Tara safe, Bailey finally lowers his gun.

You clench your fists, doing your best to listen to Bailey as he talks about his son. You really try but you can't because you're focused on Ethan's knife being so close to Tara's neck. You never felt this amount of anger before, an anger that drives you to...kill.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside you. The anger is overwhelming, but you know that giving in to it will only make things worse. You can't let Ethan see how affected you are; you have to think strategically.

You lift your hands, giving in after the revelation of Richie being his son. "Alright," you say, making your way to the stairs. "You win. Let her go," you make your way down the steps carefully, avoiding Sam's eyes.

Ethan pushes Tara right into you and you manage to catch her before she falls over. Concern is written all over your face, your eyes traveling to her to be sure she didn't have any kind of injury. Your eyes connect with hers and she nods reassuringly, then she gives you a look that tells you that she forgives you.

All you can do is smile, relieved.

"And they say horror movies is just for the scares," Bailey wanders over, smirking between you and Tara. "You were right, Quinn. Bringing in the unwitting loner did come to work in our favor."

You gently and carefully move Tara behind you, Sam taking the advantage and grabbing her sister. “Thought it was hero?” You mutter under your breath.

Ethan laughs at the look on your face. "Hero? You think you weren't part of our plan?" He taunts, inching closer to you little by little. "God, do you know how annoying it was to hear Tara whine to Anika for you to join you guys on a game night or to a party? Jesus, she was desperate. But she would always punk out at the last second, avoiding you like a plague." His grin widens as he sees the gears turning in your head. "All those times she begged Anika to invite you, and then either never showed or she either bailed? Classic Tara. Classic you. Too scared to make a move, always running, and too scared to admit she wanted you there."

You're flattered. You had no idea someone saw you. You've been told you're so quiet, people tend to forget you're in the room. It had its advantage, you've heard a bunch of gossip.

He stops just inches away, his eyes narrowing. "But now? Now you're part of this, like it or not. And she's not the only one who's been keeping an eye on you. But then you had to actually attempt to be a hero," Ethan rolls his eyes. "You were suppose die that night, at the apartment. Who knew you had some fight in you?"

You shrug. "I watch anime, have an older brother and love superhero movies." You explain, aware he didn't ask.

Your patience was wearing thin, exactly how long do the villains monologue in horror movies? You're positive it shouldn't go on this long.

You groan, lifting your shirt slightly for the sisters to see the knife in your waistband, placing your hands on your hips. "Can we just get to you guys killing me already? Honestly, death is better than having to listen to your suppose tragedy. Boo-hoo, your brother's dead. It's the circle of life; move on."

Quinn isn't happy with your words and she steps forward, slashing her knife at you. You groan, failing to dodge it and feeling the blade slice your side.

You hold your side and step back, allowing the sisters closer access to the knife. You glance back, to make sure they're okay even though you were the target, but to also check if they got the message.

Sam nods, eyes giving you a message.

"He was pathetic," Sam speaks up while you check your wound. You grimace at the blood but don't waste time worrying about it.

Bailey raises his gun again. "That's not true–"

Sam's face changes, taunting them now. "He was man-baby who made his girlfriend do all the killings–"

"He was a strong virile young man!" Bailey shouts, gun in hand, shaking with rage.

"Ouch, guess your brother was the pussy," you're not going to get over the insult. Quinn snarls but doesn't move, knowing her father will do it for her.

"He was a weak little bitch," Sam spits, the words a slap to the face to the whole family. "Who cried before I cut his fucking throat."

Quinn lets her rage win, lunging at Sam with a scream loud enough to break glass. You feel the knife slide out of your waistband just before something connects with Quinn's face.

Throughout the chaos, Bailey drops his gun and your plan to grab it. What do you know about guns? Nothing. Do you know how to shoot or aim? Hell no, but just having the gun gives you an advantage, no?

You see Quinn stir in the corner of your eye and you turn to grab Tara, hearing Sam order her to run. You hurry her to the scaffolding and urge her to go but she shakes her head, determined.

"Sam! Come on!" Tara shouts, pausing midway up. You glance back at Sam, who, on her way over, grabs Bailey's fallen gun.

You let Sam go first, keeping your eyes trained on the happy family. Your eyes widen in realization when you see Bailey reach down, grabbing his spare gun in his ankle.

"Hurry!" You shout, ducking when you hear a shoot fire. You had pulled your hand away from the ladder to avoid being hit. "Jackass. You almost shot me!" You shout, narrowing your eyes.

"That was the point!" Bailey retorts, keeping his gun aimed at you. He looks up and you see him smirk at an open shot at Tara.

You run towards him but fail to make it in time to stop him from shooting. You hear Tara shout in pain but you keep going forward, tackling Bailey to the ground.

You don't hear the sisters struggle as you fight Bailey, or struggle to fight Bailey is better said. He is a cop after all, and all you know is defense with some cool final knockout moves from video games and anime.

Ethan's laugh roars. "I always wanted to stick something in you, Tara!" Your defense falls at his words, glancing towards him to see him waiting for Tara to fall.

It kicks in some adrenaline, helping you find some strength to kick Bailey off you. He grunts, surprised by your strength and topples over. You jump to your feet, kicking his gun away before you run over to help Tara.

But you stop in your tracks when you see she can handle herself. Ethan practically eating the knife in her hands, digging it deeper as she whispers something you can't hear to him.

His body falls limp and you hurry over to Tara, noticing her stagger a little. You hold her waist, keeping her upright.

"You okay?" You ask, searching her for any injuries. You notice the blood seeping from a wound in her abdomen then another in her arm. Bailey's shot only grazed her arm but still managed to do some damage.

"You came back," Tara states, a small smile on her lips.

"Yeah," you chuckle softly, then look around to be sure you were in the clear. "I promise to make it up to you later. Let's go before one of these psychos gets–"

You hear a gun go off, then Bailey's scream follows. You look up along with Tara, confused by Bailey's appearance up in scaffolding with Sam.

You attempt to climb the stairs to help but stop when you see Sam has it perfectly handled. Bailey falls over, eyes falling shut as he does.

Out of breath, Sam leans over to look at you and Tara. "Welcome back," the older Carpenter greets you, tired.

You send her a small smile, saluting in her direction. You look around, Ethan's body close by before you look between the sisters.

"I...I don't really know what's next," you say. "Is it over? Please say it's over." You ask, hopeful.

Tara shares a look with Sam. You understand well when they look back at you, that it isn't.

"There's one more act," Sam says, laughing gently at your frown. "Think you can handle it?"

You look at Tara, and she looks hopeful. You're reeled in again by her eyes, as always. So you look back at Sam, sighing tiredly, but with a determined look on your face.

"What part do I play?"