#all my hatred could sink the sun

[bleaksqueak]

lol due to the pose of this tarot card i'm being forced to draw the front facing panel of the reaper uniform completely by hand for the first time in (probably two years now...hahahaha) oh, assets, you are great and wonderful and save me so much time Until not even Warp and Transform can lift you high enough. Then I must replicate these complicated designs Wholly Anew. like some sort of "art" "doer" (I hate that I have to add this disclaimer but this is the hell world we live in: the assets in question are ones I painted by hand at flat angles with the intent to be used over and over again. like a shoujo transformation sequence. it's not Aye-Eye BS or anything of the sort) with that disclaimer out of the way.... at the very least it means I can save the flats for this specific pose and thus it can then be re-used later when the comic will inevitably call for it. WORK SMART! WORK ART SMRT

[lady-ashfade]

Fighting The Storm

—£ Twin!Lucerys Velaryon x Fem!Reader.

—£ Ask“Lucerys twin sister who went with him to storm end and you can decide what happened next.”

—£ Warning: Dragon fighting, Your dragon is called Nightshade, Short story, this is mostly seen as platonic but idk! You choose!

Luke was anxious about leaving. He had many fears of something happening along the way or from storms ends. His only since of relief was to find his way to you and share his feelings and doubts.

As always you brushed your hands into his hair and gave him a pat on the shoulder, “It is our duty.” You pulled him closer and kisses his forehead.

“But if anything happens don’t wait for me, me and nightshade will handle everything. You and arrex can not handle much, promise me this.” You grabbed his hands and made him swear on your mother.

Your whole life you had done what your mother wished for herself and trained to be a knight. You could handle yourself well and it helps that your dragon was a adult, having to claim one as your own.

The way to storms ends put a distasteful taste in your mouth and made your stomach sink but you put on a brave face for him. All your life you had been doing so, keeping him safe and calm.

When the two of your saw Vhagar you grabbed onto him and ask him if he remembers his problem. Making him swear again to keep it.

When you both arrived in the castle you both saw your uncle who sent a shiver down your spine. He looks evil and sadistic when he looked at you, a cocky grin at his lips. You hated him for years but this wasn’t the time to get into family hatred.

 Of course this was never going to be a civil night with him here so one thing lead to another and you took Luke’s hand and ran out. He was to be protected at all cost.

You both sattled your dragons and took off into the storm that now whistles and cries over the sea.

You kept yourself close to your brother and since your dragon was bigger then his, making sure to keep a eye out for aemond.

When vhagar started to appear you hopped in front of your brother and tried to keep the focus on yourself. The whole situation you were protecting your brother, yelling at aemond to stop and let you both go. War had no beginning yet. He only laughed and continued to scare Luke.

You got separated from your brother and you called out for him and listen for any sign. The rain and clouds covered most of your view that you began to panic. “Brother!” You called out for him.

You couldn’t lose him. From the moment you came into the world he was there, your twin. And best friend.

The larger dragon came into view and you couldn’t take it anymore of the torturing and games. “Dracarys.” You screamed and flew closer. Fire was blown onto the dragon as you quickly turned away to kept yourself from harm.

You hoped that Luke had gotten away and that you could buy him time to rush back home.

Seeing aemond tug his ropes back and screaming at vhagar you knew it was a mistake but one you had to own. It would have ending up badly anyway so as long as you saved Luke. That was all that matters.

Luke rushed into castle and searched for his mother while soaked in water but he didn’t feel on his skin. He was on fire, his blood pumping and heart racing. ‘I left her there, my own sister. I left her there to die.’ Those words repeated in his head since he left the storm. At this moment while he breathed in the air you could be drawings your last breath or already be died.

All he sees is your braided hair laying on his shoulder as the sun beamed down on you in kingsland. The both of you sitting by your mother as her bell swelled with a new babe on the way. He sees your smile when you kiss him goodnight on the forehead each night as you jokingly check under his bed for monsters. And, his body wants nothing more then to feel your arms wrapped around him.

“Lucerys.” His mothers voice was finally heard and his head snapped towards her. She clinched her dress and rushed over to her son and checked his body for injuries. He looked more pale then should be possible, and his lips were blue and floor trailed with rain water. “Where is your sister?” She glanced behind him for you since you were never far away from your twin but she saw nothing.

Whimpering, his eyes filled with tears. “I lost her.” His breaths started to pick up and he was losing his breath. “Aemond separated us. They both were no were insight. She made me promise to leave, and I shouldn’t have- I-” he broke down as his mother pulled his head into her shoulder and shh’d him while her own mind raced. Her brother was there, and chasing them no doubt.

“I will ride at once.” Daemon spoke from behind as he grabbed his helmet and sword. Rhaenrya watched him get up, “It is a storm- Daemon.” Rhaenrya did not know what to do at the point. Vhagar was out there and in a storm it would be hard to fight but her little girl was out there somewhere. In the cold, in the rain and probably fighting for her life while praying to get away.

Daemon went to say something but a large dragon call was heard from outside and it was a familiar call. Nightshade. They rushed through the halls to make it outside to see you return, they were anxious.

There stood the tall black scaled dragon with a few cuts on its skin with blood dripping down but it seemed to pay it no mind. The dragon watched a few guards heavily while they focused on something on the ground away from their view. “Y/n!” Rhaenrya knew what it had to be with the dragons intense gaze. She ran across the ground and over to where the scene had taken place and she saw you.

Her little girl laying there with eyes shut and blood staining your clothes. Your mouth stained the same tint as your brothers and skin almost un life like, you looked…Dead. She dropped to her knees and placed up your head into her lap and the men works on the wounds on your body and checked to see if you were still alive. You still had a faint pulse and breath but you could lose that at any moment.

The night was long as the maester did their best to keep you alive. Your mother pacing outside the door wondering if she was to lose another daughter. Daemon sharping his sword and planning a way to make aemond pay. And lucerys, who sat with tear stain cheeks knowing that if you died tonight it would be his fault. It was him who left, it was him who took aemonds eye many years ago to make him do this, it was him he was after. And all you wanted to do was keep him safe.

[ariseur]

how about... a lazy, married morning w/ Nanami? i love your writing btw :3

kento nanami was beautiful, you thought — as you admired him for the umpteenth time this morning ( which technically, hadn’t been a lot of time considering it was only about six in the morning ).

squinting at the brightness of the large window beside your bed, you blinked wearily, rubbing the slight crust from your inner cornea and massaging your temple to adjust to the sight better. enduring the sun’s hatred was instead considered a blessing as you looked down at kento — with what once was creased brows only holds serenity in place of it.

his hair, typically slicked back as you’d recall all the times you’d giggle as he’d frustratedly try to stick down that one cowlick, now bed headed and messy. your lips pulled themselves into a soft smile as you tilted your head at his stirring, his fingers twitching along in sync with his slow breaths.

your hand traversed from underneath the warmth of the comforter and into the foreign coolness of the new air, finding its home in kento’s golden strands. a small sigh left his throat as your nails lightly scratched at his scalp, the scent of tea tree seeping into the air. his hand reached up to grab yours, locking around your wrist as he heard your soft giggles through his slumber.

“ken? kento, baby,” you muttered — almost cautious so as to not interrupt the silence so abruptly.

he turned his head at the call of his name, one eye peeking open quickly once he recognized it as your voice; ever so sweet with a dulcet lilt. nanami gave a sleepy, “hm?” before letting his eyes close once more, sinking back into the comfort of your shared mattress.

“don’t leave t’day, please.”

again, his eye peeked open at you before turning back over towards the window — brown iris morphing into a honey gold. “i promised gojo i’d arrive at the school earlier to talk about some things.”

your elbow flattened from under you, allowing you to lean down and curl around his side.

you pressed a kiss to the tendon of his bare bicep, “please?”

“if i could, i—“

“at least, stay in bed with me a little longer?” another kiss.

“my love,” he began with a soft huff before you pressed yet another kiss; this time trailing up his arm to string along the cords protruding from his throat. you felt the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, the way his mouth opened and closed in thought of a response, and you cherished all of it.

moments like these were rare with nanami, the pressure of your jobs always getting in between you two — not to mention the fact that somehow, as much as you loved those kids to death, ino and itadori would always somehow manage to cockblock you was frustrating. kento was grateful for whatever moments you had with each other, whether if they were spent in silence or filled with whispers of sweet nothings; anything was good when it came to you, he always told you.

“indulge in me for today, please? you’re just so wonderful,” a kiss.

“. . and sweet,” another kiss.

“. . and sexy—“

“i think i get the idea, sweetheart,” he laughed. you turned fully on your side to face him, your kisses coming to a half as he propped himself up on his elbows. your eyes couldn’t help but roam around his figure, lips subconsciously curling into a grin at the sight of your beloved merely existing.

“i’ll stay for a little while longer, but don’t be so sad when i leave, okay?” now both of his eyes fluttered open blearily to look at you, crinkling with the gentle, meager smile that flashed upon his face.

you nodded as you laid belly-up, sprawling your limbs out as the soft bedsheets rustle from your stretching.

kento nanami was beautiful, you thought — as you watched in awe at how the sun managed to perfectly reflect off of him. he was an angel to you, even with bed head and indents on his arms from how well he had slept. little did you know, that he felt the same way, and he spent the whole morning admiring you two, simply with his eyes half lidded enough for you to believe he was asleep. sometimes, witnessing something beautiful must come from being a little sneaky, he must admit.

𐙚 taglist ; @sad-darksoul @kasumitenbaz @ch3rryfiles

𐙚 requests are closed — july first, 2024 ( 2:02am )

[ariiadnes]

╭ ㅤ⿻ ･ HOLY IS THE LOVE THAT SAVED ME ( part iii. )

HOW DELICATE LOVE IS , THIS EBB & FLOW OF SERENITY.

-ˋ ♡ ◞ ayato ･ lumine ･ dainsleif. genshin impact. title cr : juniper vale. repost. ଓ.°・・・part i. part ii.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ ayato

peaceful are the days you spend with ayato, the breeze gentle in its nature as you sit in the garden. the flowers bloom with an everlasting, petals dancing in the wind in celebration of the new season. the sun is gentle on your figures, its warmth welcomed in the way it lulls you both to sleep.

his head rests in your lap, eyes closed as he indulges in the comfort of your presence. the day has yet to begin and soon enough, time will pass all too quickly and he will be buried in an infinite amount of tasks, and how terrible the thought is: to be apart from the person he loves so dearly.

inhale. exhale. how kind solace is to find its way in brevity, and how wonderful it is, the love that bloomed when you believed there was none to be found. the origins of your marriage were solely for convenience; you remember the hatred that burned in your veins when you learned of it. you think about it often, back then and now-- how gentle and patient ayato was. always kind, always waiting. always wanting to make it work, always wishing to fall in love with the person he knew he would spend the rest of his life with.

"do you remember?"

he hums in quiet thought, an all too knowing smile gracing the curve of his lips at your question. ayato's heart knows no bounds, cherishing each and every moment spent with you as if it could be the last. of course he remembers. he always will, whether near or far, even when you are both old and gray.

a petal lands gently on his cheek, forces his eyes open. your gazes meet when you look down at him, visage made of love and utmost gentleness. ayato almost thinks he falls for you all over again when your fingertips brush against his skin, picking the cherry blossoms away.

"of course. today marks our fifth year of marriage." his smile grows. "thoma remembered for me, naturally."

"he did not, you liar." ayato's laughter rings out in the garden you deem your home away from home. "i'm going to shove that flower in your mouth."

"i will gladly accept any gift from my beloved."

you sigh in exasperation, but the way your fingers run through blue locks is filled with tenderness. ayato's expression softens, and the amusement fades into ardor. he is fortunate, truly, to have found you, to learn about you, and to love you, and not one day goes by where he doesn't show you how significant you are.

"happy anniversary." he tells you; he reaches up, fingers cupping your cheek, and the words grace themselves with reverence. "i hope to spend a lifetime more with you."

you grin, lean down to press your lips against his in promise.

"happy anniversary, ayato."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ lumine

in days gone by there is a paradise lost ; a foggy mist that fails to clear in the depths of a mind. eternal slumber clings to a destined one, carves itself into her being, consumes memories unfound & wanted. desperation gnaws at her soul, sinks its teeth into the heart of it and tears and tears and tears until it is almost empty with an unbelonging.

in lumine's nightmares, there is catastrophe and loss. she knows them to be real, knows the hurt that weaves itself into horridness is something she has felt before. but everything eventually turns into nothing, and the memories remain fragmented : jagged with sharp edges, difficult to restore.

in her dreams, there is you. there has always been you, she realizes : you are her comfort, her love, and it is a beautiful thing to know there is such adoration & hope that exists in a world she should not be in.

"what did you dream of tonight?"

your voice pierces the night air ; lumine reaches for you instinctively in haste of your wake, fingers delicately tracing circles into your skin. there's reluctance in your tone, and she smiles faintly at your consideration. you know of the dreamscapes she encounters -- whether heaven or hell, neither of you know which she will seek in slumber until the sun rises or until her terror is heard in the midst of the darkness.

"you." she answers like it's second nature, her tone light and playful as she pokes your forehead before pressing a kiss against it. "i dreamt of you. i miss you even when i'm asleep."

your eyes meet golden hues: brilliant and radiant like the sun, but even then, the light fades slightly, slowly, and you know it. you know it.

( and she does this, you know. lies and acts like her suffering doesn't exist. in her dreams, she sees aether. she runs and runs until her lungs burn, until she can taste blood on her tongue, until she can almost reach him, and she's so close -- until she's not, and then he's gone, forgotten. )

"you should dream of something else." you grin when she kisses your nose. "i'm always going to be here when you wake."

she smiles again, but this time, there's a defeat that lingers on the curves of her lips.

oh, and how she wishes she could say the same, tell you that she'll stay by your side until the days are long over. but she doesn't belong, not here. but right now, she'll stay at your side. right now, she'll take all her love and give it to you wholeheartedly and hope you will carry it. she'll stay at your side, she tells you, her lips against yours, and silently hope that it will be long before it's time to move on.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ dainsleif

in fate there is a madness in the knowing ; the prophet's mind is riddled with events of the past, present, and future, and such memories of a lifetime blur into a haze of distorted pictures. heavy is such a burden on the body and soul, and too often is it that dainsleif's mind wanders too far, unable to seek reprieve.

few are the people that dainsleif keeps in his life, but many are those he cherishes and misses dearly. it is a painful thing, experiencing loss time after time and knowing that there is nothing that can be done about it. knowing that time is the passage of all, the end of all, and that it flows no matter what happens. the pain does not stop, does not fade, and sometimes he wishes it did. but it doesn't and it shouldn't, not ever, because it will always be worth it.

but he tires of it. he despises it. fate has always been a cruel being, and he succumbs to it too easily, admits defeat too easily.

he wants things to be different with you. the pain will be greater if he loses you too, he thinks, and that frightens him : to love someone to such a degree and know that eventually, it will all turn into a memory / to know and acknowledge that there will be no forever in sight for you both.

"you know something i don't." you whisper, your body against his as he holds you in his arms.

you wonder if the words fall upon deaf ears; part of you hopes it does. because you know there is something more to dainsleif-- something you can't comprehend, something you shouldn't comprehend, but you love him all the same, even if you know that this road may lead to something other than a happy ending.

his hold on you tightens and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. you imagine his expression would be unreadable, protected in its delicate facade, but instead, when he pulls away, there is a lingering dread that lies beneath the surface. his hand reaches for yours, his lips grazing against your knuckles.

perhaps he can change this, take fate and twist it into a different being. he knows he shouldn't have fallen in love. he shouldn't have, but he did, he did, and even when he tried to distance himself, he couldn't. he will suffer at his own hands -- but you should not suffer because of him.

a battle against fate unchanged will be the most difficult he has encountered-- this, he knows. but for you, it will be worth it, he reminds himself, falling deeply into a reverie when you kiss him with yearning.

"in time, love." he murmurs against your touch, "it will be worth it."

[karvroom]

10 Things I Hate About Katsuki Bakugo

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⇦ 001. English Literature is a Pain in the Ass

002. Your Overgrown Hatred for Assholes

It was high afternoon when school was released at U.A High. Which meant the sun was beating down on everyone, but it wasn't as hot as the past few months, which you were grateful for.

You were walking out of the courtyard and into the parking lot with your best (and only) friend, Jiro. She twiddled her thumbs as you two strut across empty parking spaces. She always had an earbud in her ear; the only way you would catch her without one was if she were dead. You two shared a lot of female music artists in common, which is what initially brought you two together. That and her incredible sense in style that you ogle over.

You were content with the silence you both had while walking until a bright red car pulled up next to you, almost blocking your way to the driver's side of your car. Kaminari stopped you dead in your tracks.

"Hey. Your little Rambo look is out, (Y/N)." Kaminari looked as dumb as ever in his position. His hair falling in his face as had one hand on the steering wheel of the car. "Didn't you read last month's Cosmo?"

"Run along." You rolled your eyes, flicking your wrist at him to move forward. He shook his head, rolling away in his loud, obnoxious car in defeat.

As you and Jiro got in the car you couldn't help but think how much of a prude you had to be to get Kaminari to leave you alone. The boy has been dick riding you ever since the ninth grade. You were seniors now. It was starting to get embarrassing on his part.

After you buckled your seatbelt, you looked forward, only to see Kaminari talking to your sister. If only you could listen in on what they were saying—you doubt it was any good, but you wanted to protect Mina from any scum at all costs.

"Oh, boy." You sighed seeing Mina and her friend, Ochako, step into the back seat of Kaminari's car. They sped off. Your grip on the steering wheel tightened at the sight.

"That's a charming new development." Jiro sneered. She shared your hatred for Kaminari; just another reason why she's your friend.

"It's disgusting." You seethed. You turned the key in the ignition, starting your car. You started to drive forward from the parking space, but was stopped by some idiot on a bike. You stuck your head out the window, shouting at the boy, "Remove head from sphincter, then drive!"

He shakily nodded, moving out of your line of sight. The engine roared as you pressed on the gas pedal. You couldn't wait to get home, excited to start a new book you'd recently picked up.

"Do you actually think your sister is going to start going out with that guy?" Jiro asked, watching you drive into her neighborhood, which was close to the school. She never asked for a ride to school, but it was an afterschool ritual for you and her to drive home together.

A snort escaped from your perfectly plump and soft lips, "Yeah, right. Over my dad's dead body."

"Your old man is so strict."

"He's an idealist." You allowed your arm to fall out the window, resting it against the car door as you drove down Jiro's street. The houses in her neighborhood all looked the same, lacking any sense of character. You stopped the car, waving to your friend as she shut the door.

Jiro waved back, slinging her book bag over her left shoulder. She shot you a dampened smile, "Same time tomorrow?"

"As always." You put the car in drive, doing a U turn in the court. You retraced your steps and turned right, venturing closer toward your own house.

────୨ৎ────

You sat in the living room, on a chair which faced the beautiful blue sky in your backyard. The birds occasional chirp was your background noise. You found yourself at peace after a long day at school; only sinking further into the comfortable cushioned chair after each word your eyes scanned. You were on page 54 of 'A Room of One's Own' by Virginia Woolf.

"Hello, (Y/N). Make anyone cry today?" Your father asked, flipping through envelopes and letters of mail after entering through the front door.

"Sadly, no. But it's only 4:30." You looked up from your book to your dear, old dad, smiling to remind him what a pain he raised. You went back to reading before he could respond, trying to wrap up the chapter you were on before calling it a day. With the amount you read, you were surprised you weren't cross-eyed.

"Hi, Dad!" Mina popped, clinging onto your dad's arm. Her fluffy hair bouncing with each step she took. Your sister's style was one of a kind, ahead of its time if you will. Her pink, girly outfits paired with her ditzy attitude had any guy on their knees for her.

"Hello, precious." Your father replied, still gawking at the mail in front of him. Mina kissed your dad on the cheek as a greeting.

"And where have you been?" You paused on the page you were currently reading, closing your book. You wanted to catch your sister off guard—get her to admit to her wrong doings.

"Nowhere." She raised her brows at you.

"Hey, what's this? It says Sarah Lawrence." Your dad was too wrapped up in reading the mail that he ignored you and Mina.

He was surprised when he heard you gasp. As soon as you heard that name, you snatched the letter from your father's clutches. Your excitement was too much to contain, you had to stand up as you ripped open the envelope. A black booklet fell into your hands.

"I got in!" You giggled excitedly, pacing the room until you landed on your stomach on the sofa.

"Uh, honey, that's great, but isn't Sarah Lawrence in a whole other continent?" Your dad followed you, watching from behind as you read the booklet. Mina curiously watched from the sidelines.

"Thus the basis of its appeal." You loved your family, but you hated staying in one place. You wanted to go out and explore the world for yourself and be the one to decide what's best for you.

"I thought we decided you were going to stay here and go to school at Kyushu like me." Your brows furrowed, closing the booklet as you sat in an upright position.

You maintained eye contact with your father as you sternly spoke. "No, you decided."

"Oh, okay, so what, you just pick up and leave, is that it?" He shook his head with disappointment, his duchenne smile dropping to a monotonous line.

"Let's hope so." Mina chimed, swaying her body aside to side with her hands intertwined together behind her back. Her flowy dress following wherever she went.

You took a deep breath, maintaining your composure, "Ask Mina who drove her home."

"(Y/N), don't change the—" Your dad pointed his index finger toward you, until it clicked in his mind what you said. His brows raised as the words spewing from your mouth, as he turned to your sister who looked guilty as ever, "Drove? Who drove you home?"

"Now, don't get upset, Dad, but there's this boy..." Mina did the classic wide eyes and pouting lip as your father stared her down, hands on his hips as he did so.

"Who's a flaming imbecile. Just thought that should be brought up." You added, sarcastically smiling as you popped the 'p' at the end.

Your dad's view changed to you, "Please—"

Mina interrupted your father, making direct eye contact with you as she spoke. She was more concerned with getting under your skin than seeking your father's approval of the boy—which he shouldn't appease to at all. "And I think he might ask me—"

"Please. I think I know what he's going to ask you." His hands shot for Mina's arms, trying to get her to look at him. She awkwardly stood, instantly regretting her say in the conversation. Your dad raised his voice, wagging his finger in Mina's face, "And I think I know the answer...No. It's always no."

He spun Mina around for her to take a seat next to you on the couch. She let out a heavy sigh in defeat as she crossed her arms and legs. Mina looked in every direction except your own.

"What are the two house rules? Number one, no dating till you graduate. Number two, no dating till you graduate. That's it!"

"Dad, that's so unfair." Mina shook her head side to side, refusing to accept the truth that she wouldn't the able to go out with the dunce face.

"All right, you want to know what's unfair? This goes for you too." He pointed his finger at you, who leaned into the cushions of the couch, soaking in the comfort they had to offer. He knelt to your eye level. Your father inhaled before going on about a life lesson, "This morning I delivered a set of twins to a 15-year-old girl. Do you know what she said to me?"

"I'm a crack whore who should have made my skeezy boyfriend wear a condom?"

Your dad let out a satisfied smile at your sister's guess, shaking biscuits head in disapproval, "Close, but no. She said "I should have listened to my father.""

"She did not!" Mina slammed her fist into the couch cushions, finding it hard to believe the "nonsense" your father spat.

"Well, that's what she would have said if she wasn't so doped up." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Can we focus on me for a second, please? I am the only girl in school who's not dating." A frustrated Mina asked, using her hands to emphasize her point of view. You could understand where she was coming from, but you also thought the idea of teenage social life was overrated.

Your father's face contorted to one of near laughter, until he pointed at your figure lounging lazily on the couch. "Oh, no you're not. Your sister doesn't date."

Your head turned to your sister next to you, proudly stating, "And I don't intend to."

"And why is that again?" Your dad asked, trying really hard to nail his point into Mina's brain. She was starting to get pouty and you knew that usually meant she was ready to burst into tears out of frustration.

"Have you seen the unwashed miscreants that go to that school?" You couldn't stress enough how many boys at your school wouldn't stand a chance in society outside of high school because that's where they thrive. The boys lived off of dirt, uncleanliness and beer.

"Where did you come from? Planet Loser?" Mina cranked her head to look at you, finding it hard to believe that you two were actually related. You couldn't bring yourself to believe it either. You wanted to get a DNA test as soon as possible. Her scrunched nose and furrowed brows said it all. She was pissed and puzzled about how you've managed to survive this long as apart of the public without going into cardiac arrest.

"As opposed to Planet Look At Me, Look At Me." You mocked, sneering as you did so. Your dad's voice filled the room after your comeback, you both shot him a look.

"Okay, here's how we solve this one. Old rule out. New rule, Mina can date—" He paused, giving Mina the hope to fulfill her teenage dreams. The your father's finger pointed at you, "when she does."

He turned away from you both on the couch, giving Mina the opportunity to stand up and run after him, "But she's a mutant! What if she never dates?"

"Then you'll never date. Oh, I like that." Your dad's head whipped back to see your sister standing while you remained comfy in the couch's cushions. "And I'll get to sleep at night. The deep slumber of a father whose daughters aren't out being impregnated."

The conversation was interrupted when your father's cell phone begun ringing. A tone that was all too familiar to you—he was being called into work. He took out his phone, glancing at the caller ID before his eyes wandered back over to you.

"We'll talk about Sarah Lawrence later."

Your eyes circled to the back of your head, "Fine."

You passed by your sister, paying no mind to her pleads to modify the new rule. She knew you would never date, which angered her even more.

She wandered after your father, "Wait! Dad!"

He picked up his suitcase with one foot already out the door. He quickly stated before shutting the door, "Gotta go."

You kept reading the booklet Sarah Lawrence sent you as you walked up the stairs. You were barely half way when Mina decided to shout at you, "Can't you just find some blind, deaf loser to take you to the movies so I can have one date?"

You turned on your heel, facing Mina who was standing on the first step with her arms crossed and a scowl across her features. You weren't sure if your dad made the best move to leave you alone with Mina—even if someone's life depended on it. He may get a call from a neighbor saying how two young women got into a cat fight in the front lawn.

"I'm sorry. Looks like you'll just have to miss out on the witty repartee of Denki "Eat Me" Kaminari." You used your fingers to make air quotes, allowing your hands to fall back to your sides as you stared at your sister in disgust. You couldn't believe she wanted to go out with that jackass when she had much better options.

She scoffed, turning around to walk away, "You suck."

You rolled your eyes, mimicking Mina's voice as you repeated her hateful words, "You suck."

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⇨ 003. French is the Language of Love

taglist🫐 @katsukota @wheezdostuff @honeydwitch @chuugarettes

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

hello! i hope you’re doing well! i would like to request something for alex keller! could you write something about sunshine!alex being absolutely smitten by his girlfriend who’s a grumpy!reader? sorry if this request doesn’t give a lot of ideas. love ur fics btw!!!! <3

Sun and Stars

Pairing: Alex Keller x F!Reader

Synopsis: Bloodied, the two of you find yourselves alone in a mountainous forest, surrounded by the termite-eaten walls of a lone shack. But Alex always finds a way to make the world brighter.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Canon typical gore & themes, blood, a teeny tiny bit of angst, lots of fluff, banter, sunshine and grump dynamic

A/N: This is a bit shorter just because I wanna understand Alex's character more - take this as a test fic lmao. Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He was peeling back your skin like layers of paint on a canvas, gripping at the dried bits and ripping them to the side. Growling as your teeth sink deeper into your boyfriend's leather belt, your eyes swirl with hatred that you direct to the man kneeling beside your propped-up form; digging the bullet out of your left arm with all the delicateness of a rhino. 

“Stop,” Alex grunts under his breath, “squirmin’ for me.” The tweezers go deeper, trying to find the sweet spot where the metal pellet had dived into your flesh at high velocity. Of course, it had been where the thick kevlar of your vest hadn’t been able to stop it – flew right to the place where the skin was uncovered. 

Alex’s breaths are steady as you stare daggers, minutes away from yanking him off of you and doing it yourself. He was so damn slow, sending concerned glances every other moment with a furrowed brow and concentrated eyes. From under your makeshift gag, there so you won't bite off your tongue, you grumble with pain lacing your barely understandable words.

“Hurry up and get the fuckin’ thing out of me, Alex!” It didn’t sound like that, obviously, but the general heat to your words made – hurrey uh ahn geh tha fuhking thing ou of meh, Ahlex! – clear enough. 

The light-haired man clears his throat, gripping your arm just a little tighter with his blood-stained gloves as his mustache rotates, scrunching his nose. His eyes are locked onto the entry wound, lids scrunched in a way you would have found comedic if you didn’t want to smack him upside the skull. Lord, could he just hurry up?

“I’m gettin’ there, Hon…just quit trying to make my head explode with your mind over there, yeah?” Alex dares to smirk when you take your free hand and slap his heavily tattooed forearm. You’re shaking your head to the side with displeasure that would transcend any barrier known to man.

A velvety chuckle leaves your lover’s lips before he leans close to your shoulder, placing a kiss on the fabric of your shirt in apology as your narrowed eyes don’t let up an inch. He pulls back and continues his exploration of your gaping puncture with focused eyes.

Prick. You chuff through your nose like a cat, fingers twitching in your lap as you fight the pull to bring it into a fist.

Sweat travels down your nose only to plop on your bunched abdomen, and in the back of your throat, you force your esophagus to hold back a whimper of restrained pain. Everything burned like your flesh was being placed on a hot spit – like you were a sheep carcass slowly rolled around and around and around–

“Here we go.” The pressure dissipates at the heavy whisper, and without even realizing it had happened, your head had tilted back into the wall and your eyes had ground themselves shut. Opening them quickly and blinking away the black dots, the soft face of your boyfriend pops into view; beaming as you deadpan up at him. The man holds up the tweezers in one hand, showing off the red-dripping metal almost lazily with a tilt of his head and a raised brow, speaking slowly. “Told ya’ I could do it faster than you.” 

Letting the belt drop from your mouth with a metallic clink, you rotate your jaw at the ache your clenching had caused. You settle with a simple, “I said I could do it better not faster. What the hell were you looking for in there anyways – gold? My whole damn arm’s numb.” 

Alex chuckles, rolling his eyes with an easy smile. To anyone else, the two of you would look like the strangest couple in the world. Covered in blood but you still have the time to bicker back and forth like a married pair. The Agent’s eyelids crinkle.

“Yeah, alright, Miss World-Class,” he motions with two fingers and a smug look, “scoot upwards so I can pack that wound before blood gets stuck in your gear. Can’t have my girl bleeding out in the middle of nowhere, now can I?” He huffs, placing the tweezers and bullet on the floor of the safe house before taking off the ruined gloves with his teeth as his neck muscles peek out from his scarf. 

His gear was all covered in fluids – blood, mud, you name it the two of you were drowned in it. The Op could have gone better, to say the very least, but, hell, when does an Op go well? It had been too long since you and the man had a break and it was starting to weigh on you. Long nights and little sleep, it was like SAD was trying to go get you both killed with all the orders being given. Do this, do that…and what happened today? You feel a weight in your chest. 

But the bullet wound wasn’t what was bothering you. 

Sighing, you take a deep breath before grunting, forcing your back farther up the wall with shaking legs and a weak stomach to comply with Alex’s request. Your arm still blazes something awful, but the numbing agent your boyfriend had been insistent on you having was finally starting to work.

“Blood loss sucks ass…” You growl under your breath, lips twisting into a frown as you force away the haze in front of your eyes with fluttering eyelashes and sheer spite. The man spares you a pitying glance as he grabs fresh gauze from the medical punch on the floor. 

Inside your chest, your heart warms despite the outward hatred you feel for getting put in a situation like this. Blinking at him, Alex tilts his head to the side as he sits up, one knee on the floor as the other behaves as an elbow rest.

“I know, Sweetheart, I’m sorry. Just bare with me, alright? I’ll take such good care of you, ya’ won't even feel a thing.” You roll your eyes with an infectious smile, head tilting back to rest on the dilapidated wall once more, and say nothing.

“Hey, now,” your boyfriend teases with tell-tale amusement in his voice, and you mumble a half-assed ‘quit it’ under your breath that goes unheeded. “I saw that smile there – you can’t get past me that easily.” 

“Keller, shut up and patch me before I bleed out.”

An amused pause makes your cheeks hurt from holding back laughter.

“...Yes, Ma’am.” He says it so smugly you can’t help the exasperated chuckle that leaves your lips. The man’s hands caress your stained skin like you were formed of glass, rubbing soothing circles as he pushes back your shirt sleeve just the tiniest bit more to see what he’s working with. 

Alex was quite good at keeping his emotions in check, knowing how to act when he needed to, and even how to change his personality to get the job done with minimal hiccups. But there were small tells – the way his hands held your skin slightly tighter, the flickering of his eyes over the crimson-coated skin. He was used to blood, but he didn’t think he could ever get used to yours. Swallowing saliva in this mouth, the man focuses on the thrumming pulse of your heart; your skin. 

She’s right here. Alex tells himself. I’m gonna fix her up, and she’ll be just fine. 

If he had the chance to shoot the man that did this to you again, he would do it in a heartbeat.

The story of how you two met was one mentioned often by friends and coworkers back in the CIA-SAD headquarters. It never got old, apparently, and as Alex gets to stuffing and wrapping your wound until the extraction team comes with proper supplies, he hums a song under his breath softly. The song.

When Alex’s presence presses nearer, you tilt your head to the side, watching the wrinkle in the large man’s brow as his careful hands fix your marred skin with the patience of a saint. Unlike him, you were more than content to bask in the silence of each other's company, gazing with hidden love at the twitch of his large nose or at the way his hair stuck every which way. 

“You remember how I asked you to dance at that ball while Frank Sinatra was playing? The one in Washington back in ‘02.” Alex asks, looking up at you with a small smile under his mustache, skin peeling back to show perfect teeth. You nod, transfixed, as the light from outside gets dimmer, watching the dying rays play in his eyes that shine like shades of blue sea-glass, “God, I thought you were going to laugh straight in my face. I swear you nearly did.” 

“The stupid corporate thing that Laswell made us go to? Yeah, I remember it,” you frown at the accusation, annoyed, “and I would never laugh at someone asking me to dance.”

He raises a light brow, and after a brief staring contest, you concede with a scoff. 

“Okay, I’d never laugh at you asking me to dance…Better, Sunshine?” Alex laughs and you swear you nearly melt into the floor, cheeks feeling hot. 

Oh, when he laughs.

“Maybe, I don’t know yet. We’ll have to go dancin’ to make sure.” 

“I hate dancing,” you tease, only biting your lip when the knot he ties in the gauze makes your blood pump faster. “Thought I told you that the first time you asked?”

“You did – but I like when you’re swayin’ in my arms. Plus,” running his hands over the bandage, pulling at the fabric to make sure it’s secure, his blue orbs sparkle with his unique mischief you’ve come to tolerate. If only for the fact that it was his. Your face softens. “I did get you to join me eventually, if my memory’s correct.” 

Smirking, you bring your hand up to his chin, tilting it towards you without hesitation. Alex complies easily, setting some of his weight onto the limb as a particularly smitten glimmer sparks over his face; he stares down at you with his mustache twitching. 

“As I recall,” your blank words echo out over the small shack, “I only said ‘yes’ so you would stop following me around like a lost dog in search of its owner.” 

“Is that it?” He jibes, a smile so wide on his face you feared he would rip his lips open.

“Hm,” leaning closer, you watch Alex’s breath stutter not a second later with satisfaction singing in your blood like a hymn, “you had that same look on your face too…Absolutely whipped.” 

“And is that such a bad thing, Sweetheart?” He whispers, not missing a beat, breath fanning your cheeks as the scruff of his beard hairs scratches your flesh. “I don’t see you complaining when I make you dinner every night.” 

Scoffing, you squeeze his chin, “how could I? Your mother blessed you with her culinary skills. I’d be a fool to pass it up.” 

Alex’s chest rumbles in a purr.

“So you’re usin’ me?” He asks, his smooth voice tilted in a tone of bold cheekiness. Like a steady wave rocking a boat.

“Would it be unethical if I was?” You counter, staring dead on into his eyes without blinking. His lips nearly brush yours when he speaks.

“Incredibly.” 

“Hm…Pity.” You release his chin and lean back into the wall, murmuring complaints under your breath about the weakness of your arm and the sweat that makes your clothes stick to you. The regular grumpy frown on your lips re-takes its place where the easy smile had once been, unknown to you.

Alex’s heart beats loudly in his chest, but he refrains from showing his disappointment at the lack of lips pressed to his, only happy that you were still acting like your normal self. It would take more than one bullet to keep you down, he knew, and his admiration only continued to grow. 

His girlfriend was a badass. 

“Here – let me.” You allow the Agent to loop his strong arm under your shoulder, taking your weight like it was nothing and helping you to your feet. The comfortable conversation slips to the back of your mind when your feet are connecting to the ground. 

Alex keeps a hand on the small of your back to make sure you don’t fall, whispering a small, “steady,” as your feet momentarily stumble.

“How far out is Evac?” You force through gritted teeth, the back of your neck heating in wounded pride. 

You loved Alex - you really did - but if anything made you feel powerless it was not being in control of your own body. In the corners of your vision, black dots swirled like paper mache puppets, their phantom bodies leaving long streaks of mist behind as they danced from one position to another. The man at your side watches closely, face going tense; ready to catch you if your legs give out. 

After a moment’s hesitation, you once more gain control over yourself and clear your throat, shaking your head from side to side. The light brunette takes a step forward so his body brushes yours, leading you to blink and look up at him with curious eyes. 

“I’d say about three hours, give or take.” You can’t help the utter annoyance that enters your expression, eyes going half-lidded as you turn to stare at the barricaded door. 

No one would be coming after you from the city – and the safe house was so far off into the mountains, no one would want to try. If your thoughts hadn’t been running so fast, you would have reveled at the situation; Alex and you alone with no one coming for hours. Now that was a blessing in disguise. 

But there was something wrong. 

She’s not acting right. Those sea-glass eyes narrow, optics flickering to try and find what exactly you were staring at, but lands on nothing but an old door with moldy wood before he gravitates back.

Concerned confusion builds in Alex’s chest. 

Now that he thought about it, you had been more snappy on this mission than the others; less open to letting his jokes and quick quips curl your lips or soften your constant scowl. He’d refrained from mentioning anything due to the fact that he knew some days were worse than others – in this line of work sometimes it was best to take a breather than to blow up. But this was different. When those days came around, you always told him about it first thing – there hadn’t been anything this time.

“Sweetheart?” Alex asks, tilting his head forward to stare at you. “...Something going on?”

“No.” Straight-faced, your hands go to work the straps of your vest, peeling at the velcro at your sides. The man’s eyes widen, taken aback, and his soft smile freezes as his eyebrows pull in. You go back to shoving away pouches and hucking off your weapon, setting it to the floor before righting yourself.

Continuing, Alex feels his worry grow tenfold. 

“Would you–” he laughs heavily in his chest to try and dispel tension as you try harder to force the vest over your head, scowling. Your arm was ripe with needles, static living under the skin as your gauze turns more red. “Would you just let me take care of you?”

“...You shouldn’t have to.” 

A moment of brain-shattering silence. 

Fuck, you curse with a burning face, did I say that out loud? He wasn’t supposed to hear that–

“And what if I want to?” Alex utters, feet carrying him in front of you and sighing. You slow your still unexplained actions, avoiding his eyes and feeling your chest tighten. He continues, bringing his hand up to your cheek to tilt your head up to him. Losing some of that tension instantaneously, you glare at his collarbone instead. “Accidents happen, Hon. We can’t always come out of this at one hundred percent. I’m not disappoint–”

“We don’t get second chances, Alex,” you interrupt loudly, motioning around you at nothing, eyes flashing as they lock with his. The man just runs his thumb over your cheek – leaving molten heat behind. “Not us. Not when every mission could be it.”

Alex halts, body suddenly going stiff and muscles bunching. His forearms seize, the vibrant tattoos that you love to trace with your fingers jerking as if being lifted from the sun-kissed skin. His thumb ceases.

What?

“...Where’s this comin’ from?” You turn away quickly, moving back a step with your hands at your side bunching into fists, “hey,” Alex follows after, hesitant, but when you don’t move away he lays both of his hands on your shoulders. “Hey. Talk to me, Sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You shouldn't, but Alex just makes everything so much easier. It was like the words just fell out of you; whispered like a prayer. 

“...If someone would have snuck up on you while I was down…I…Y-you would have…” Your tongue bunches, catching on syllables and finding walls embedded in the vowels. God, you couldn’t even say it. 

Alex had become so important to you – the thought of something happening to him while you were unable to help…It broke you. 

What would have happened if even one more hostile was there; if he was outnumbered? And all I could do was watch. Your jaw clenches tight, throat holding back a growl.

No one had ever mattered this much to you, and that made you incredibly nervous. 

The hands at your shoulders tighten, a gentle squeeze before you’re being brought into a warm embrace without another word. Immediately, you reciprocate, the one wounded arm remaining at your side as the other digs past pouches and spare ammo to curl over Alex’s back, where you latch onto his shirt like a child. This was unlike you.

But it wasn’t like that mattered to Alex.

His body kept you close, security leaking from the locked position of his hand on the back of your head and the even swelling of his lungs. Home could mean many things to many different people, but for you, it would always be here. Colorful tattoos and a well-groomed mustache. Kind eyes. 

Sunshine smiles and sea-glass blue. 

Your lips thinned, keeping the glossiness in the corners of your vision away as you bury your head into Alex’s neck and suck down a deep breath. You both stay like that until the last light of dusk stops making shadows of the termite-eaten furniture, content to listen to each other's heartbeats and in the warmth of living skin. 

He speaks in whispers.

“How about we take a vacation? Just the two of us – take a breather from all of…this.” His words move your hair, spreading over the skin of your scalp as he presses his lips to it, murmuring into your skull with utter devotion. “You said something about Iceland to Laswell once, yeah?” 

Alex knew just as well as you did how draining this job was; how it was bad most days and horrible the next – never having choices, doing things that made an identity crisis seem like a holiday in comparison. There were some things the Agent would never tolerate, and that was you going off the deep end and him not being there to fish you out as you do with him. Being together meant fighting for one another when the battles were physical yet more so when they were unseen. 

All you had was each other. 

He feels your fingers grip his shirt slightly tighter, and a mocking laugh.

“You remembered that?” Your voice is garbled by his gear, but the vibrations spread over his skin as he fights the closing of his eyes; weaving his fingers just a little more through your locks. When you press kisses to his neck, Alex swears he’ll bend to one knee without hesitation.

“‘Course,” he smirks softly, lightly beginning to sway the two of you back and forth despite your half-hearted protests. “I remember everything my girl says. But if we’re goin’,” the Agent leans back, prompting you to look up at him with fatigued but bright eyes, “you owe me a dance first.”

“Alex,” you roll your eyes, chest lighter and mild panic gone. Funny, how the man could make everything disappear so simply. “We don’t even have any music.”

“You’re insinuating that we need music, Sweetheart.” 

“...You’re exhausting, Keller.” 

“Shush – you’re getting me off beat.”

“There is no beat–!” He presses his lips to yours, and the melody of your heart becomes song enough. Your eyes flutter shut as the scratch of Alex’s mustache leaves you grinning, his own lips peeling back in a smile in answer. 

A great bout of chuckles spills over the room, separating your supple flesh but never making you move far apart.

“...Just be careful. I’m still sore.” You hum your admittance, and he connects your foreheads together more gracefully than butterflies wings. 

Sea-glass blue. 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The stars might have been out, shining through the dusty window of that old shack in the middle of nowhere, but you didn’t need the illumination from them to guide your unhurried steps. You had a sun of your own to light the path, and he was keeping his arms around you; squeezing as if you’d leave. 

As if. 

Gentle laughter spills out from under the doorway, seemingly making the rocky forest outside come alive. Birds sang songs to their adoring mates, deer grazed in lush green meadows in contentful calm. Wood Nymphs frolicked to and fro on fast feet, but would pause near the ancient forgotten building with termites living in the frame; taking quick peaks inside through murky glass and pressing moss-coated fingers to lips. 

They watched the two lovers dance with awe-filled expressions. For they had seen many lifetimes but had never once glimpsed such a sight as this – proof of every principle that Eros had preached as he and Psyche became inseparable. A love so pure and giving, some would call it divine.

The immortal beings watched just a little longer, lichen-lips parted into smiles.

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[suavemania]

― ROSE FIELDS.

pairing: leon kennedy x partner!reader summary: leon kissed you during a mission. you confront him, but leon struggles to tell you the truth. that he loves you. words: 861 words, short and sweet. warnings: pretty angsty! leon deals with his trauma & self hate badly. light suicidal ideations. notes: i originally wrote this with my resident evil oc in mind. but i re-wrote this to fit into a reader perspective for tumblr to hopefully enjoy. written from leon's pov in mind. ummm, not super proofread BUT yeah. idk. it just spilled! i have pt. 2 and 3 already written but not sure if theres much interest tisstiss

"Leon, the kiss-"

"Don't."

He knew that the kiss was going to haunt him, that he would never be able to take it back. He placed his lips on yours, feather-like; as if he kissed you too hard you’d crumble under him. That’s all it was, he defended. A moment of weakness. But it was gone all too soon.

He sat on the bed, defeated. His shoulders stiff as he leaned forward, resting his weight on the elbows that were resting on his heavy legs. He felt your eyes burn into him. You were upset, confused, your emotions swirled in your throat, and Leon just sat there, silent. He refused to look at you, he couldn't. 

"Please." you plead.

And the guilt piles in his stomach once more. The canine teeth of his shame sinking in on his shoulders like pure poison, pumping his veins. He felt like he always made you feel like this, always selfishly hinging his feelings like bait, giving you bits of evidence to his true feelings whenever he felt like he would suffocate; whenever his heart burst at the seams. All he could do to defend himself was that this was for your own good, that it's nothing. You shouldn't know, you can't know, it would- it would­- what would it...

Coward.

That's what he thought about himself.

The truth was that Leon was scared of allowing himself to live in rose fields, let alone walk in them. After Raccoon City, he was so used to spending time in the dim and dark. The bright worlds felt foreign, forbidden; like something his mind and body had long forgotten. the light: it felt like a fantasy, you were like a fantasy. But Leon would rather let his heart waste away inside him than chase after a dream. His dream for safety, security, and knowing that his heart would be protected, shielded from his nightmares and guilt.

"Please, just talk to me."

But Leon kept his mouth shut, his head lowered to avoid seeing your silhouette. Had he given in, had he let his mouth confess his true feelings for his partner; he would have simply had to build another cage for his heart to live in: the inevitable fate of heartbreak, disappointing the one he loved the most. Leon had allowed himself to melt into his self-hatred long ago, feeding the insects at his feet and meeting the soil like honey. He would never admit that loudly, though. That would be thoughts he would sink with until the sticky soil met his broken body, his dampened soul melting into the stars. Or so he hoped.

Moments of silence pass, and as you stand in front of him, he notices your hands picking at each other (a bad habit, he knew that about you). For a brief moment, Leon allowed himself to marvel at you, to selfishly gaze at the only thing that mattered in his life. 

You.

The sun, he thought. He bit his tongue even harder, feeling his jaw clench tightly. Don't do this. Don't be so selfish, don't. What makes him think that he could ever pay off his mistakes, his sins that came back to haunt him every night; clawing at his back. The morbid pictures of Raccoon City were carved inside him, deeply imprinted into his body and mind. He couldn’t allow himself to lose another, especially if the person in question was you. 

He had imagined it if you were there that night, if he had lost you to the memory of Raccoon City. In his scenario, he would clammer his hands tightly onto yours. You’ve been infected, sick and weeping as you rot in front of him, your body actively decaying as he tries to fix you, trying to squeeze his power into you. You cried, blaming him for your slow, painful death. But that wasn’t a reality, and it was something he avoided by not telling you the truth, by not admitting that he loved you. Desperately. 

Maybe he was destined to be married to his work and not the person who stood in front of him. Had he thought about it? Absolutely, more than he would like to admit. Whenever he had trouble sleeping at night, his mind would wander into his better fantasies. He had played a ridiculous amount of scenarios in his head, all that would never come true. they would range from holding his partner's hand while they slept, to him taking photos of them as they explored the world together and the beauty that remained. 

“Leon, please-”

You felt your heart in your throat as you begged Leon with desperate eyes to speak, to answer your questions and feelings. You were filled with warmth, and your warmth was all Leon wanted to indulge himself in, to dive into. He wanted to feel you, to allow you to sand down his bones and brain until all he could be was the remains of his love, your love.

And he could just taste it, the sweet taste in his mouth. It was unbearable. He felt himself shred his hearts walls, the sting burning its remains in his chest, and all he could spit out was,

"I love you."

[mikimakiboo]

Wheels of misfortune (a Nightmare angst fic)

Based on these two posts by @unknownchoatic :)

I don't know ANYTHING about disability as I am not disabled myself, so please excuse the inaccuracies and misinterpretations :')

Also English isn't my first language so there might be grammatical errors :')

I'll proof read later

Tw: paralysis (???), mention of bullying, self hatred

It was late, the moon was high in the sky and everyone in the castle was sleeping. Everyone but Nightmare. He was wide awake, laying on his bed looking at the ceiling. He had been feeling quite unwell these past few days, he wasn't sick, but he could feel his body being heavy, especially his legs. There had been a fight with his brother recently, but he didn't recall being hurt, he came back tired because of the positivity, sure, but he wasn't hurt, so why was he feeling that way ?

He sat on the edge of his bed, sighing, and pushed on his arms to get up, feeling his legs shake under his weight. He looked at his private bathroom door at the back of his room, for a moment it seemed to be so far away from him that he thought of getting back on the bed. He shook his head, what was he thinking ? It was barely a few meters away.

He made a step forward, grabbed the wall for support when he tripped on the rug, it was the first time he ever tripped on this rug, and slowly made his way to the bathroom. He was exhausted, his back hurt, it had always hurt since he acquired his tentacles, but recently the pain had became a lot more overwhelming, and even when he didn't summon them, like now, it still hurt, even if the tentacles weren't there. He never summoned them when he was at home, he didn't want to bump into things. He knelt in front of the bathtub and opened the faucet, watching the warm water run for a while before starting to get undressed, sitting on the floor. He looked at himself in the mirror, inspecting his bones in search for any cracks, maybe he had been hurt after all, maybe he just didn't notice, but everything was fine, there was no injuries.

When the tub was full he closed the faucet, grabbed some essential oils bottle to put some drops in the bath, and finally got in, sighing in relief as he felt the warm water sooth the pain away. He closed his eye, relaxing a bit, he focused on the different emotions in the castle and only felt peace and contentment. Good. That meant his boys weren't having any bad dreams, they were sleeping peacefully. He would always make sure they were okay, they were all that he had, they were his family, he would always protect them, no matter what.

He relaxed in the tub for a good hour before getting up, the water was cold now. He grabbed a towel to wrap himself in and got out of the tub, letting the water drain in the pipes. After only two steps he grabbed the sink for support, his legs were shaking badly. He muttered a curse under his breath, bending over to grab a short and a t-shirt for the night which he struggled to put on before getting out of the bathroom.

He flopped on his bed and crawled under the covers, maybe tomorrow he will feel better, he just needed to sleep a little...

When the sun shone through the curtains Nightmare let out an annoyed growl, he was still feeling so heavy, his back still hurt and his legs... weren't hurting... he didn't feel anything in his legs... His eye shot open as he sat up straight, throwing the covers aside. His legs were still there. Of course his legs were still there, how stupid could he be, thinking they would have disappeared ? He tried to sit on the edge of his bed, but nothing happened, he didn't move...

- What the f#ck... ?

He muttered, stress starting to settle in his soul as he tried in vain to move his legs. His breath fastened slightly, he brushed his hand against his tibia, he could barely feel it, he tried again on the other leg, rubbed his feet, his femur, his knees, but he didn't feel the touch, he was just... numb.

He grabbed the nightstand in a hurry pulling himself out of bed by force, his soul was beating too fast for him to remain calm. He fell, taking a lamp with him in his fall, it shattered on impact, he tried to get up again, to hold onto the nightstand and push on his arms to get up, to stand on his legs, but they didn't move and he fell again, his breath was erratic. What was happening ? What was happening to him ? Why couldn't he move his legs ? Why couldn't he get up ? Was that a nightmare ? Was he gonna wake up soon ? His arms hurt, it wasn't a nightmare.

- HORROR !!!

He yelled on the top of his magic lungs without thinking about it, feeling tears forming in his eye. Was he going to die ?

His door shot open, a very panicked Horror hasted in his room, for his boss to scream like that, something bad surely happened. His red eye quickly scanned the room before he spot Nightmare on the ground next to a broken lamp.

- I can't move them.. ! I can't.. !

Nightmare struggled to say, shocking on his tears, he couldn't form any coherent sentence, clearly having a panic attack. Horror rushed to him, he had never seen Nightmare in such a state...

- It's okay boss, I'll carry you to your bed.. ! Don't move.. !

He tried to reassure him as he gently but rapidly took him in his arms to lift him off the ground, sitting him on the bed and sitting next to him. Nightmare clung onto his henchman's jacket, burying his face against his chest, praying that it was in fact a bad dream. Horror held him in his arms, not understanding what was going on, all he knew was that his boss needed comfort so he would give him that. He gently rubbed his back, letting Nightmare cry against him.

- It's okay boss.. I'm here..

He gently soothed, feeling the little body of the black skeleton shaking like a leaf against him. When Nightmare finally managed to catch his breath and cease his crying, which took a few minutes, he looked up, still shaking slightly, only to see that his two remaining henchmen were in his room too, worried by all the noise, Dust looked like he just woke up, still in his pajamas. He didn't like that. He didn't like worrying his teammates, he was supposed to protect them, not make them worry. Killer was the first to speak.

- What happened ?

Nightmare took a few seconds to answer, he still didn't want to believe it himself, but the proof was that he was still trying to make his legs move without success.

- I can't feel my legs...

He answered with a weak voice, a voice he hated more than anything, a voice that reminded him of just how pathetic he could be, just like when he was a kid.

- What do you mean you can't feel your legs ?

Dust asked, a little confused.

- I can't feel them.. ! I can't feel any touch, I can't move them, I can't stand up, I.. !

- Shhht, calm down, take a deep breath..

Horror cut him, feeling him tense again. Nightmare pressed himself against the bigger skeleton, as much as he hated showing such vulnerability, he really needed comfort right now...

Killer frowned, looking at him almost accusingly.

- I told you to get a check up, you were hurting too much for it to be normal.

- You're not helping.

Dust scolded him. Nightmare was already in a bad state, no need to point at what he should have done, he already knew it.

- Horror, go make him something to eat, I'll help him get dressed, Killer try to see if you can find something in an AU to help him walk.

Dust commanded, he was the most responsible out of the three, he was kinda the second in command when Nightmare couldn't assume his leader role, like now. Killer scowled, he didn't like receiving orders from someone other than Nightmare, but for now he clearly couldn't think straight and they needed to help him, so he obliged and teleported in an AU to steal something.

Nightmare first tightened his grip on Horror's jacket when he felt him move but quickly let him go when Dust took his place. He watched as the big skeleton left his room.

- You feel like going to the bathroom or you want me to bring you your clothes here ?

Nightmare looked at Dust, he almost expected mockery, but Dust was genuine, he sincerely wanted to help. The goopy skeleton shook his head.

- Bring it please..

Dust nodded and went to the bathroom looking for his boss's clothes. Nightmare looked at him go, confused, he trusted them of course, but deep inside he was always so scared that they might leave him if he became too weak, that they might laugh at him for showing vulnerability like they laughed at him. The villagers. They would always mock him, make him feel weak and pathetic, he hated that, he hated that feeling, he wanted to be strong, to fight back, but he just couldn't, they were stronger than him, always.

Dust came back, clothes in hand.

- You need help ?

Nightmare was cut in his sad memories. He looked up at him.

- No, thank you..

- I'll turn around while you change, if you need help just ask.

Nightmare nodded, grabbing the clothes. He waited for Dust to turn his back before taking off his t-shirt, putting on a sweater and his jacket, then he stopped, looking at his legs. He tried to move them. Nothing happened. How was he going to take off his short and put on his sweatpants ? He looked up at Dust again, maybe he could ask him... ? No. No he wouldn't ask him. Dust wasn't a nurse, he was his henchman, it wasn't his job to get him dressed. He could do it himself, no need to bother him. He crawled on the middle of his bed and tried to push on his arms just enough to lift his pelvis off the mattress and slide off his short.

- You sure you don't need help ?

Dust asked, hearing the noise of the bedsheets.

- Yes.

Nightmare blushed, he was in his underwear, Dust couldn't turn around now ! He sat up again, tried to move his legs, failed, and manually lifted his knees in front of his ribcage to slide his feet in the leg holes of the sweatpants. He didn't even feel the cotton of the pants against his legs, it was like he was dressing the air and not himself, it didn't feel right. He then did the same thing he did to take off his short: lifted his pelvis as much as he could to pull the pants up. All that just for a pair of pants... what a waste of time. If only he had listened to Killer when he told him that it wasn't normal for his back to hurt this much, but he was just too stubborn to admit that the pain was barely bearable. To admit being weak.

- I'm done...

- Yeah ?

Dust turned around again, pleased to see that the goopy skeleton managed to dress himself alone, not that he wouldn't have helped, but it would have been awkward for both of them. He got closer to him and knelt in front of the bed, turning his back again.

- Put your arms around my shoulders, I'll carry you to the kitchen.

Nightmare looked at him, hesitantly getting closer to the edge of the bed.

- You're sure... ?

- You still can't move your legs, can you ?

No, he couldn't. He tried again and he still couldn't.

- Come one, you know Horror doesn't like it when we make the food wait.

Horror had strict rules with food, such as: no waste, two meals a day minimum, everyone eats together, and when the food is ready no one should be late or else it would be cold. Nightmare didn't want to upset the bigger skeleton so he reluctantly wrapped his arms around Dust's shoulders and watched him grab his legs to wrap them around his waist. Good thing he didn't have his tentacles summoned, he was much lighter and easy to carry without them.

It felt wrong. It felt so wrong to be carried like that, like a baby who couldn't move by himself. It was pathetic. He was pathetic. He just wanted to dissappear right now, to go to sleep and not wake up until all of his problems were gone.

Dust sat him on a chair, in front of the kitchen table. Horror had already put a plate in front of him: pancakes, he also had a cup of hot cocoa.

- Thanks...

Sometimes he felt like he didn't deserve them, he didn't deserve their love, their kindness, he deserved nothing... but he was so damn glad he had them because he loved them oh so dearly...

Killer teleported back in the kitchen, a wheelchair next to him. Nightmare looked at it. He didn't like it. He didn't want to sit in a wheelchair. He didn't want that, it was too... too much, too drastic, he didn't want that, he didn't want to just give up on his legs just yet. He felt his eye tingle. He didn't want to cry either, not again. He blinked to chase the tingling sensation away.

- I don't want that thing.

- It's the most suitable for you right now.

Killer countered. Nightmare frowned, blinking again.

- Why didn't you bring a cane ? Or at least crutches ?

- Because you need to at least be able to stand up to use those and you obviously can't.

Killer didn't have any filters when he talked, that was one of the side effects of not being able to feel fully, he was brutally honest because he didn't care if he hurt someone with the truth, it was always better than lying.

Nightmare blinked. One time. Two times. When he spoke his voice was shaking.

- I don't want a wheelchair.

- You don't really have another option right now.

- Killer.

Horror stopped him, seeing how Nightmare's hands had begun to shake.

- It will be temporary, just the time we find another solution.

He tried to reassure him. Nightmare looked at him, he doubted there would be another solution.

- You won't have to go outside with it, no one has to see you.

Nightmare didn't want anyone else to see him like that anyway.

- I'm gonna put you on it, okay ?

Horror said as he got closer to him. His breath fastened when the bigger skeleton lifted him from the chair to help him settle on the wheelchair. He felt his soul clench, his ribcage burn and his cheeks tingle again. He tried to move his legs, to show he didn't need this wheelchair, that he could still walk... nothing happened.

Dust left the kitchen to get dressed.

Horror took the empty plate and cup to wash them.

Killer went to the living room, feeling he wouldn't be of any help in the kitchen.

Nightmare didn't move.

He tried to move his legs.

Nothing happened.

He looked down.

A tear fell on his hand.

Was this going to be his life now ? Was he gonna spend the rest of eternity on a f#cking wheelchair ? It was ridiculous. He was the king of nightmares, the guardian of negativity ! And he just couldn't walk ? He could alter the balance of the whole multiverse but he couldn't move his legs ? The villagers would have loved to hear that. He felt so useless right now.

He stayed in the kitchen all morning, unable to bring himself to push on the wheels.

The week passed slowly, it was like he was in a fog all day, trying to move his legs, failing, trying again, failing again. His boys helped him as much as they could, grabbing things that were to high for him to reach, helping him with the stairs... he felt numb. All over. He couldn't bring himself to face the mirror, he didn't want to see his reflection, he didn't want to see these wheels.

He was in the library, he wanted to clear his thoughts, think of something else. He looked at the books, the one he wanted was on a shelf, a little high, he couldn't reach it when sitting down. He didn't want to call. He wanted to grab his book himself. He didn't want to be dependant.

He sat on the edge of the wheelchair, grabbing the shelf in front of him and pulling on his arms to lift his body, using the shelves as a sort of climbing hold. He stretched his free arm to the maximum and managed to grab the book. The wheelchair rolled back. He lost his grip on the shelf.

Horror heard a loud noise coming from the library, and he knew that the only ones to go to that room were Dust and Nightmare, and Dust was currently in the living room. He rushed, worried. What had Nightmare done ? Did he hurt himself ? When he entered it didn't take long for him to spot Nightmare on the ground, a book in hand and the wheelchair two meters away. The pieces assembled quickly. He sighed, coming to his side to help him sit on the chair again.

- Why didn't you call us ?

- I can do it myself.

- Was falling part of the plan ?

Nightmare's grip tightened on his book, he was looking at the ground. He felt so dumb. He felt like such a burden everyday, he wanted to do something himself, but of course he failed to do that too.

- Nightmare...

He looked up, Horror rarely called him by his name.

- Don't be scared to ask for help, we're here for you...

He knew he was being genuine when he said that.

- I don't want to bother you...

His voice was barely a whisper. He didn't like always calling for help, always monopolizing them, being so dependent on them, it just didn't feel right to him...

- You don't bother us. You never bothered us and you will never bother us. Okay ? We care about you, we're happy to help. You're not a burden to us. Don't forget that.

Nightmare felt his eye tingle again, but this time, he only felt warmth in his soul, hearing these words felt good... really good...

- You want me to make a pie for tonight ?

Horror changed the subject. Nightmare looked at him a little longer before nodding, making Horror smile.

- Okay, and if you need help, call us, will you ?

He nodded again. Horror gently pat his skull before leaving the library.

Nightmare was lucky to have them, he knew that, and as much as he hated his condition, at least, he wasn't alone...

- end -

[persephone11110]

Hot and Cold

J.S x Reader

Warnings:quiet reader/happy/confident, protective j.s, mention of past oc death, soft jake seresin, fake date->real dating at the end, bad date, medical inaccuracy, naval inaccuracy, ooc j.s a bit, curse words

Summary: two times jake seresin was secretly in love with y/n l/n and the one time he made sure you knew too.

ofc: Y/n“Mouse”L/n

AN: This is so random, this is me taking a break from Fallen Angel. I’ve read 5+1 b4 from different fandoms but make mine 2+1 bcus i don’t have the brain cells to do that. I don’t know if I like this ENJOY ❤️

—

1. the hard deck

“Kiss me baby”

“Ooh, that feels good”

You leaned against the bar alone sipping on your sparkling water quietly. As much as you loved Rooster’s singing— it was loud and made everyone around you in bar loud. You flinched at the shouts that echoed throughout the bar— you knew everyone was just having fun—something you didn’t quite understand yet.

“You hate Bradshaw’s voice too?” a southern drawl calls out to you. You look back to a man with set of gorgeous green eyes. Holy shit he’s fine.

“H..Hi Seresin” your voice suddenly stuttering—nervousness was rising at the sight of the man.

You instantly recognized the man Hangman, the man that leaves everyone in his dust cloud. He gently puts his hand on your back guiding you to a pair of seats outside.

After pulling out your chair Jake gently smiles at you—“Sorry about that Y/n I couldn’t hear over that chicken shit”. He full on smirking, back at home Jake has a little brother Riley who has the exact same tendencies as you. Shy and Quiet-pratically acts like a ghost.

“Jake” you shot him a disapproving look. “Be kind to Rooster”.

“Why should I Mouse?”, he glances at you, your not dumb you could feel and see the deep hatred the two men have for each other. He sips at his beer before putting it back down on the table.

You sighed,“Because whether you like it or not Rooster might be the one up there with you”. You say easily, you know what it feels like to lose someone up in the air. The feeling of someone’s death weighing on conscious day and night— the infamous What If’s.

He shrinks back—“Who, if you don’t mind me asking ya sweetheart?”. He reaches over and grabs your hand lightly—there’s no heat behind his words, his face is soft and gentle— you could see the real him and not his facade Hangman.

Icarus flew too close to the sun. a teardrop fell from your face.

Painful memories crashed your mind, the day Y/n died, having to listen to banshee like cries of his mother and wife combined. Watching his casket get carefully laid into the ground.

“Me and my wso were shot down in enemy territory”.— it’s classified can’t give to much away. “I know I don't why you and Rooster have differences but all i’m saying is that the last thing you both need is death weighing you down”.

“Thank you Y/n”, Jake cards his fingers over your knuckles.“But I need to get back to terrorizing everyone around me”.

Jake wishes he could stay longer, leaving you is the last thing he wants. But if he stayed longer Jake might confess his feelings for you. Cant have that before a big mission, can we?

“Bye Hangman”, you waved him away.

He stood up and gently dropped a kiss onto your head.

“Bye Mouse”

I think I’m in love with her.

—

2. record store

Leave it to loudmouth Phoenix to tell the daggers you had a date tonight. And if you remember correctly Jake had look like he taken a bite into a lemon, sour and confused of why you had a date. When you could be dating him.

“Come on Y/n, your going ditch takeout with me for a random date tonight?”, His eyes fan over to you, as you stood at his kitchen sink.

“Well excuse me Seresin some of us weren’t grace with beauty like others”, you snapped, throwing your lipstick in your purse hastily.

“Goodbye Jake”, you turned on your heel not daring to look back to see if Jake even cared enough to come after you.

You lonely walked the aisles of the record store alone, it was too good to be true, why would a man like Jordan waste him time on you. Maybe you weren’t destined for love—maybe your life would end with you being old cat lady who’s suffered from a broken heart decades early.

You found yourself standing infront of various records Ready to Die, At Last, Enter The Wutang—36 Chambers. All of your favorites album.

“Well at least I know music taste”, God damn it you recognized the arrogant accent from anywhere.

You counted to five before turning around to see Jake. “H-Hello”, you stutter out, Jake was in a three piece suit, with a bouquet of lily’s in his hand. Your favorite flowers, the suit you helped him pick out weeks ago.

“Hey there darlin”, he leans over you—dropping a kiss onto your hair. “I’m sorry for being a bastard”, Jake softly apologizes to you. Your taken back at the softness of his voice.

“How did you—”, you cut yourself off unsure if really wanted the answer.

“Easy, Bradshaw told me that jackass was at the hard deck with a girl hanging off his arm”. , Your shoulders deflated with sadness, you were right- no man is going to spend time with a woman like you. Tears trickled down your face—“Hey, Hey sweetheart whats with the tears?”. His voice more softer.

Your shoulders bounce with sadness at your face found it’s self into the crook of Jake’s neck. “I just wished someone loved me”, you mumbled, to him yet he could hear how much emotion filled your words.

“Come on sweetheart, what do you think i’m doing down here”, he pulls you from him—“You don’t need that jackass to have fun, you have me?”, he whispered into your ear.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah” he promised, “I booked us a reservation at Gio’s, and besides Bradshaw and Trace tossed Jordan on his ass after they caught him”. A bit of laughter came out your mouth as you smiled. “Two black eyes and a suit don’t mix well together”, he lightly poked at you.

“Fine Seresin”, you interlocked arms with him, “Lead the way”.

He could feel his heart throb with excitement.

“Alrighty Y/n you win”. you and Jake walked arm and arm to his car before he opens the car door for you, ushering you into his car. You flashed a smile at him.

I think I’m in love with her.

—

3. uss?(day of the mission)

“I came to see Lieutenant Jake Seresin”, your tone wavering with fear, logically you knew he was fine—you saw him and Bradley shake hands and smile at each other. But that didn’t mean anything to you, not after you lost Hunter in the air.

“Lieutenant L/n” the doctor tone drenched with stress, “Seresin is busy—”, she was cut off by a southern accent filled with arrogance.

“I’m very good. In fact, I am too good to be true.”, the doctor scoffs-sidestepping, granting you access to Jake.

The cocky son of bitch was laid out on the cot with a grin on his face. “Haven’t see you in a bit sweetheart”. He was laying there as if he hadn’t almost lost his life.

You must’ve allowed some type of emotion to cross your face because the next thing you knew a brusied Jake was pulling down with towards him. Your head tucked under his chin, as you both laid in silence.“Feeling that Y/n?”, he drawled out.

“Yeah I do”, your voice is gentle. “J..Jake I thought I lost you”, your voice wavered.

“I know sweetheart I thought I did too”, he sits up with you in his lap.“I had to save Pops and Rooster you know that right?”.

“Without a doubt”, you managed to run your fingers through his hair. “And you did amazing job of that too, whilst also scaring the shit outta of me”.

“I’m surprised Cyclone isn’t here yet, tearing me a new one”, Jake tells you—adding a kiss to your hand.

“He’s coming soon for a debrief, and the last thing he needs is two of his top lieutenants laid up in bed together Jake”. you tried moving from his embrace.

Jake easily held you back“Y/n I really don’t give a damn right now”.

“Jake”, you said.

“What sweetheart?”.

“Kiss me”, you playfully puckered your lips out.

“God damn darlin took you look enough”, his hand cupped the back of your head.

“I’m in love with her”

[ravenssilver]

Phantom/Aeon waking up from a nightmare while rolling with someone and craves comfort but is too scared to ask for it?

mmm aeon angst.. my favorite👹

1k words of aeon having a reoccurring nightmare and being too nervous to outright ask for comfort.

cw: nightmare of the Pit, detailed summoning process from aeon’s pov, aeon continues to be traumatized, more of my aeon lore and a bit of how i see the pit :)

under the cut if you please<3

Darkness.

Deep, deep darkness.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

It was all he remembered before he felt it.

Cold. He felt extremely cold. His feet planted on something every time he stepped forward. The ground was almost soft, but it made him sick every time his felt his feet sink into it.

He tripped after a few minutes of wandering, looking behind him and down at the ground, only to see a bone.

A sickly feeling bubbled in his throat as he looked a few feet to the right, squinting through the darkness just to seeing bits and pieces of the skeleton that the bone was a part of.

He quickly turned around again and began running, trying to ignore the dizziness in his skull as he felt a sharp, painful tug in his soul.

He ran and ran and ran, eventually falling to his knees and sobbing when the pain in his chest was too much to bear.

Then, he was choking, like all the little oxygen in the Pit had been sucked away. He clawed at his throat, coughing and heaving in the dust of the wasteland around him into his lungs.

He felt the ice cold wind suddenly be evaporated into steam as his skin burned with the heat of a thousand suns, Aeon choking out a cry of agony as he planted a hand on the flesh-like material under him. Sweat escaped his pores, dripping off of his nose as he trembled and tried to heave in the oxygen that was absent from his surroundings.

His eyes rolled back after an excruciating minute and a half, his body going limp and collapsing onto the sickly soft ground.

His consciousness faded. Though, not before he felt a sudden grab of his ankle as he was yanked-

Aeon gasped as he jolted awake, a choked sound of surprise leaving him as he fell off the edge of his bed. He grunted as he hit the cold floor of his room, still tied up in his blankets.

His lilac eyes darted around the room for a moment before he slowly sat up, feeling the fear and adrenaline coursing through his system as he thought about the nightmare he had just woken up from.

Then the tears started.

Aeon didn’t want to go back to the Pit. He didn’t even want to think about it. He had a life with his new pack. He was happy.

So why couldn’t he shake that damn dream?

Aeon slowly rose to his feet after fighting to get free from the blankets. His legs shook as he tried to get his wits about him, holding back his whimpers and cries so only his shadow casted by the moon would hear.

He laid back down in his cold bed, curling up into himself with a shaky sigh as he closed his eyes, only to snap them open again as he was met with the vision of the Pit.

Aeon swallowed harshly and rolled onto his back, staring up at his ceiling.

He wanted someone from his pack. Dewdrop, Mountain, Aurora would’ve been just fine. But no.. he wanted Swiss.

Of course, wanting was what got him to that damn wasteland in the first place. Constantly searching, finding, and taking things that he simply wanted in his human life was what got him under Mammon’s control.

That is until Copia saved him.

With that damned summoning ritual.

Aeon shivered as he thought about the air that had been stolen from his lungs, which he learned was courtesy of Cirrus and Cumulus providing their element to Copia’s ritual.

He remembered how he got a preview of Dew’s anger and initial hatred for him when he felt heat that only fire could bring spreading over him. Heat that was prosperous on earth. Fire that Aeon once longed for in the barren wasteland. The sweat that only Rain’s element of water could provide in Limbo. The way his body went stiff like the bark of a tree, Mountain’s element tied with Rain and Dewdrop’s.

Aeon wanted Swiss. Badly.

The multi was the only one who hadn’t participated in Aeon’s trauma. He didn’t help with the ritual that quite literally killed him again before dragging him kicking and screaming Topside.

Swiss was his safety when he could finally open his half-blinded eyes again.

But he didn’t want to be seen as weak.

All the other ghouls got over their summoning. Aurora was over it to the best of Aeon’s knowledge, so why wasn’t Aeon over his own?

Aeon shook his head and got out of bed, walking on wobbly legs out of his room and to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Though, as he walked into the kitchen, he saw Swiss standing there on his phone as the microwave hummed. Aeon froze dead in his tracks, his bloodshot eyes widening as he saw a slightly blurry outline of Swiss.

“Hey, honeybat,” Swiss smiled as he glanced at Aeon, only to do a quick double take. “Woah… are you okay?” Swiss asked, setting his phone down on the island counter and walking over to Aeon. Aeon sighed shakily, knowing he couldn’t lie to Swiss no matter how badly he wanted to.

The smaller ghoul shook his head, keeping his eyes set on Swiss’ chest as to avoid eye contact.

“Nightmare?” Swiss asked, gently cupping Aeon’s jaw and lifting his head so he could look into Aeon’s lilac eyes. Aeon sniffled and nodded. “The same one.” He muttered.

Swiss frowned and pulled Aeon into a hug.

“You floaty?” Swiss asked softly, knowing Aeon sometimes got in his own head and went back to the Pit mentally. “I was for a minute. I’m okay now.” Aeon mumbled, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Swiss’ neck.

Swiss nodded, slipping his clawed fingers into Aeon’s shaggy hair and gently massaging. Swiss began breathing deeply, silently instructing Aeon to follow his actions and breathe with him.

Aeon subconsciously followed his actions, lulling himself into an almost half-asleep state. Swiss kissed at the base of Aeon’s horn.

“You’re here with me, honeybat. You’re warm, you’re breathing just fine. You’re here.” Swiss whispered, squeezing Aeon just the slightest bit more to help ground him in the moment.

Aeon sighed in relief and relaxed even more in Swiss’ hold, finding his eyes slipping shut as Swiss held him in a way that was nothing but loving and protective.

He was there. Aeon was standing there, in the kitchen with Swiss.

He’s okay.

[dreadsuitsamus]

Ichigo Kurosaki x Reader Blurb 1

author's note: not entirely in line with the canon as far as timelines go, ichigo is around 22, reader is a soul reaper, angst, not entirely orihime friendly

"So what will it be, Ichigo?" Like ice frosting over grass, your voice is calm. Too calm, too quiet, too unlike what he's used to.

And he doesn't need this right now.

"What do you mean?" Ichigo feigns ignorance as bad as ever now, not even meeting your gaze, missing the way your infuriated eyes stare him down but he surely feels the hatred you're spewing.

"It's very simple." Jaw tightened so much it might just crack, your words only barely slip past your lips. "Orihime? Or me?"

His heart is doused in flames by the question. It's not a fair one, to start off, and his mind says one thing while his selfish heart yearns for your own selfishness. But his integrity as a man with morals, integrity as a friend is stronger, beating against his skull like a caged animal and roaring at the troublesome road ahead. Orihime is in immediate danger.

You, not so immediate.

"Why would I choose?" Anger begins flaring in Ichigo himself; are you really so crass? Is life not sacred to you?

He knows it is.

Your fist curls at your side, fingers itching to reach for your zanpakutō and force some sense into him, should it come to blows. Time is of the essence, Soul Society has required everyone to come back and prepare for battle! The Arrancar threat, Aizen is looming and the girl that's never defended herself once isn't at the top of your list of priorities. And on a bad day, you'd feel she's not on that list at all.

"Your life may turn out quite differently depending on this choice."

"Will it?" Ichigo's brown eyes cut sharply to finally look at you, staring you down with the heat of a thousand suns behind it.

"It will certainly depend on if I remain in it." Your heart leaps at the look in his eye. Would he really choose her? "Do you trust me?"

"I want to." Ichigo shoots back.

"We will save her when we can. You can lead the charge, if you want. But she's not-"

"If you say she's not important, then you can just go." The blood in his veins burn at how nonchalant you are, at how uncaring Soul Society is for Orihime. She's been on this journey too, right by everyone's side!

"Your choice."

"I won't let you make me choose, like this is about what I want for dinner! Orihime is our friend! She needs us! What don't you understand about that?! You'd let her suffer? Over what? For what?!"

Ichigo steps toward you, leering over you and taking your shoulder in a strong grip. "You are the one I love. But Orihime is my friend, and she needs me. And if you won't choose me, then tell me how to get to Hueco Mundo before you go."

The answer dances on your tongue, an internal ticking racing in your mind. Go against your direct orders and personal beliefs, or follow Ichigo's heart and save a girl in need of it? Keep your status in Seireitei but lose Ichigo? You don't even know if the girl is alive!

Ichigo's chocolate eyes silently plead with you, his grip like an iron vise. This wouldn't be the first time you've stuck your neck out for him, no. He's fully aware what it could cost you— but it isn't like he wouldn't come for you too. If there's anyone in this world or any other he'd protect, it's you.

"Come on." He whispers, ignoring the way his vision starts to blur. You won't look at him, and his heart sinks. "Do what's right!"

Do what's right in whose point of view, Ichigo?!

The light of a Senkaimon gate lights up behind you and panic floods Ichigo down to his very bones as the door slides open. Just as you were starting to waver! Byakuya, stern and cold as ever, though he speaks quietly, his voice cuts through the room like a bullet.

"Leave him."

The hand on your shoulder means nothing, as Ichigo feels like he's free falling now. You turn away from him, breaking free of the grip easily and walking towards your captain's order without even a second glance behind you. So easily, you'll follow this command?! He means nothing to you?

He's not so sure anymore.

The room goes dark as the door closes and vanishes, leaving Ichigo to fall to his knees. How could you do this to him?

As you walk alongside your captain, your face is stony and unbreaking even against the torment of your breaking heart.

How could he do this to me?

[mstarcreates]

At the request of @novabombbastic I have another snippet of the other Destiny AU I’m working on called Past Lives. As a refresher, this is an AU where Sundance does not die and Uldren takes Cayde prisoner instead.

This is the opening scene:

Those eyes. He’ll never forget those eyes. They burned and smoldered like the heart of a dying star, and Cayde was certain they’d be etched somewhere in the deepest recesses of his memory drives. Oh, how they blazed like with the fire of a thousand suns as they bore down on him with white-hot hatred from the other end of his own gun.

So, so much hatred.

“Any last words?” Uldren asked from the other side of the barrel, face half hidden in the shadow of his hood.

And still, Cayde blurted out the dumbest thing he’d probably ever said in his long life as a Guardian. He’d said a lot of shit too.

He figured he was dead anyway, might as well seal the deal. “How’s your sister?”

Then there was nothing inside those eyes. They were cold…disinterested even, as a shot rang out from the Ace of Spades.

****

“How’s your sister?” The words echoed in his mind as he started to come to, vision wavering for a moment until his orbital processors began to make sense of the blurry shapes around him. It was mostly dark, wherever he was at.

It didn’t take him long to surmise that he was in a cell of some kind, the walls made of old brick stones. The bed, if it could even be called that, was a bare mattress about as thick as a few pieces of flat wooden planks stacked together. It appeared to be filthy too, likely having been dragged out from some abandoned part of the EDZ.

There was a sink on one wall that was mostly rusted, water leaking in a steady dripdripdrip from what was left of the faucet. A cracked mirror hung above it along with one lonely fluorescent light that was bolted haphazardly to the wall. The poor thing was flickering and buzzing with what little power it still had remaining. It was barely even managing to stay on, let alone providing any actual light source to speak of.

Sundance appeared before him from her hiding place in subspace, scanning him for any other injuries. She must’ve just rezzed him. He hated the feeling of being freshly revived, it made his wiring all fuzzy and his mouth feel like it was full of old mothballs. But right now, he mostly hated it because his metal skull still felt like it was splitting in two.

Cayde groaned as he sat up, putting his head in his hands as he spoke. “Sundance…where are we?”

“Unclear,” She answered hesitantly, “Sort of.”

“What kind of answer is ‘sort of’?” He looked up at her, the Ghost’s shell dropping a little as if she didn’t want to tell him.

“Prince Uldren has taken us prisoner…but I’m not entirely sure where we’re at.”

“So call for help! The Vanguard, Petra—hell call everyone!”

“I can’t…” Sundance turned away from him, her shell spinning around as she contemplated the best way to break the bad news to him. “I tried, Cayde, I’m unable to reach anyone. I even attempted to transmat us out of here. I don’t know what Uldren did to us—to me…But I can’t do anything except heal you. Even my connection to the Light feels…weaker here.”

“Outstanding,” Cayde grumbled, he knew it wasn’t her fault. Hell, he was lucky to still have her. She had barely blinked away before that sniper…no he couldn’t go there. Couldn’t bring himself to think about how things would have ended without his Sundance, without his Light.

He would be six feet under. That’s all there was to it. He held his hand out and Sundance placed herself into his palm, her warmth settling deep into his circuitry somewhere. Cayde let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He wasn’t sure what was next or how to move forward from here. But he knew one thing for certain:

He wasn’t going to let that Awoken Bastard Prince get the best of him.

Cayde was patient. He could wait it out.

He would find an opportunity to escape, and then bring the full fury of the Vanguard down on Uldren Sov once and for all.

[deanlikeshisangel]

he knew the greatness wouldn't last, after all it is the destiny of the stars to collapse

nikolai lantsov's prayer

warnings : none

for more : masterlist

a/n : I haven't gotten the chance to read the books yet so this is based on my interpretation of what could happen in the show's storyline. the line ' it's the destiny of the stars to collapse' isn't mine, I read it somewhere long ago and i can't remember where

a silent prayer falls from his lips as he kneels in front of the golden altar of the saints, moonlight seeps in through the rose coloured glass on the windows, casting a haunting glow across his face.

he laughs to himself, he knew the greatness wouldn't last, after all it is the destiny of the stars to collapse. he wonders if his whole life he was just making up for who he was going to be, if all his good deeds were to make up for all the misery he is going to cause. he wonders if his name is still worth remembering.

he used to have stardust in his soul but now he can feel the monster sinking its jaws into his rotting flesh, charring his bones, grinding them to dust. he can feel his soul fading, it's being replaced by dark edged desire. his heart thumps against his ribcage, it's trying to leave too. his brain is turning to sap and his blood burns with unforgiving rage and hatred. 

this isn't him, he knows that. 

he prays to the saints to just give him just one more day to live, to let him serve his nation, be the king ravka deserves before the sun sets forever. but as always, his whispered prayers are met with deaf ears 

so he screams, have I not given everything? 

[eyra]

winning arguments without crying

Three years ago I liked you and now I think you’re hideous That’s really all it is. Crumbling stone above your sink in a houseshare bathroom that feels like an aeroplane toilet. A corona of snakes that couldn’t be saved by a beautiful tragedy. You have to train them, you see To bite beautifully and in a tragic sort of way A literary way You can’t just wash your red hair and let it dry like that. I would know. Mine are revered and I think people are afraid of them but in a beautiful sort of way.

That’s another story that I’m trying to write and I wish I could block you from the pages like I’ll block you on Instagram.

I think you’re hideous A gradual  and then very sudden descent into a cramping hatred like the way you think hot weather is just fantastic and I think the sun is fucking obnoxious Like you A loudly epic microcosm  A study in how to learn to hate a stranger measured by unprecedented times and a handful of afternoons eating  blue cheese and crackers on London grass waiting for the time to pass If nobody likes you and everybody likes me then does that make me awful too? or does it just mean I’m right

You glittered like a mirror for a morning our sisterly reflections in mourning A summer snapshot from the lens I’m still in charge of Now you’re a black hole or something worse probably an empty shell pretending to be a whole person. Boring boring boring Everything about you is boring I’m bored with how boring I find you This poem is boring. It’s boring to talk about you but I can’t stop none of us can stop we’re all awful. You were a mirror and isn’t that funny considering how much you fucking love looking at yourself now Is this fucking play about us? as long as it’s all focused on you Tell us to knock the f-stop back as far as we can until it’s just The You Show again but you’ll say you hate the lens I’m standing behind. Apparently it’s all so condescending of me but I think you just don’t understand what that word means and what you actually mean is I’m older than you and know how to win arguments? What you actually mean is I can fight without shaking and my face doesn’t turn red when I’m angry? and I’ve always thought that a very lucky trait to have I think I probably got that from my dad although he doesn’t really get angry. I think you should write a poem about what you got from your dad But you’ll never do that even if  it’s the easy pick to the door you say someone else bolted you behind screaming. I unpicked mine when I was twenty and I’ll always shoot if someone slags off my closet And you think you’re the gunmaster here

But that’s a totally separate conversation and I can’t be bothered having it with you so can we just move on because you’re too narrow to get that.

The most caring person in the world until empathy starts unearthing your enemies As if you don’t already have a thousand. And none of it feels important anymore so I’m embarrassed that I even care but it’s not a caring sort of caring. If you’re compelled by right and wrong I’m compelled by love and hate I think that’s my coin and one day soon I’ll stop spending it on you But for now I’m solvent Even if I’m letting you steal from me and your steel city state is richer than my ancient woodland but your vaults are beneath iron girders of fantastic and thanks so much and so it becomes a girlish and quietly-biting sort of coin that burns lips and makes everything taste like copper mine is just a mist and then you accuse me of being non-confrontational when actually I’ve always quite liked confrontation.

It’s something I’m good at

and yet you keep trying and honestly I find that mortifying But you’re a child so I don’t even care. Maybe I should swaddle you but you said you're wise beyond your years so I guess let’s go with that? And if everyone hates you and nobody hates me then maybe you should go back to your mirror and look there instead of at your front-facing camera because that’s mortifying too  and you should’ve gone to university because you would’ve met other mirrors there And at least I know I’m a bitch

I met my mirrors ages ago.

But you run from reflection and choose your front-facing camera instead because it does that thing where it flips the image and you get to pretend that you’re the opposite thing to the thing you actually are and you get to tell yourself that you’re so tiny and the world is the Big Bad pecking at your nest. But you’re the awful thing And everything is backwards And everything is mirrored to you And if I saw myself in you then send me the invoice and finish your email with  thanks so much  for teaching me how to be something else because honestly if I became what you already are I think I’d just die  I can see you rolling your eyes on the playground because someone else was enjoying the swings but in a stupid way and the tarmac was hotter in Germany but that doesn’t make you more interesting. God I wish I could tell you that.

I told you once that sometimes I pretend I’m on Graham Norton when I’m in the car I thought everyone did that but apparently they don’t But that’s fine I think and you didn’t need to laugh about it with your fiancée But she's left you too and I found that funny So let’s call it even.

I dive headfirst into the oil when it comes to you because it feels so hotly delicious  To nestle in the anonymous ranks of whatever armies you think you did nothing to provoke You’ve got spears for crutches but your armour is accountancy note paper With lecture notes too boring to comprehend I don’t think you’re actually interested in investment risk and taxation or fraud analytics Is anyone? It’s just something else to put on your brown sash and on your HER profile. Tell them about how you’re on every battlefield and I’m just softly at home writing a stupid poem about you And if you’re reading this now because you keep tabs on everyone and everything and if you were waiting for me Don’t flatter yourself. This isn’t about you. Because I already don’t remember how old you are but I think you get a notification when I post an Instagram story of myself as a child.

I have a pitchy black well of everything that you don’t have and I throw myself into it and you screw your face up lime-sour when actually I think you’d love to build one for yourself  but you can’t stop looking at your Instagram followers for long enough to work out  How to cast bricks or divine water or whatever else you need to build a well

You don’t even have the land for it yet.

I’d rather write a stupid poem than be your blank piece of paper I’d rather write myself as a villain than play your antagonist  Write me out of your boring story I’m begging you. It’s been a year and you’re still looking up how to spell my name  Between notes about investment management and derivatives And I don’t even know what that means Thank God. God it’s so boring But I’m laughing at the idea of one day forgetting your name.

I can be rotten but I think the thing that saves you from Hell is the welcoming of the rot and if I can be this but also sleep with my friends and love my American cereal and the little squares of sun my mirrorballs cast to my blue walls Then what does it matter I don’t think it matters. But you can’t be told about any of that Because you’re too busy romancing your front-facing camera and  one-hundred-and-thirty-three people in fluorescent ceiling panels who won’t ever clap at a volume that fills you So I’ll leave you waiting for your lean applause And I’ll just be lighter.

I watched a video today of my niece on a ride-on lawnmower Grinning with my dad in the field behind our house and that was me twenty-two years ago. God I love that I can love.

[p1nkcomet]

you are the sun and each morning i wait for you. like a starving man i yearn for your glance in my direction, praying for you to come and save me. when night falls, the bright stars almost recreate the lovely twinkle im your eye, yet you still outshine them. the moon is jealous i pay no attention to her; instead i count down the seconds until you rise again. in the midst of darkness, i reach for you, for even a blind man could see your beauty. as i wait for your beams to break the surface of the sky, i hear the birds flying in the distance, the sound of their flapping wings matching that of my heartbeat. you are the sun, a ball of fire and energy, you radiate warmth, and in the cold winter days people pray for you to come out for a chance to be purely grazed by your flames. i beg that you nourish me, feed me, save me. the universe orbits you, i spin around you, i trace your every move, i go where you go, like an obedient dog, i follow you. without you, the moon itself ceases to exist, a sliver of your reflection guides us even through the still hours of solitude; if you don’t see something, is its existence denied? you are the sun, and each time i hear the clock’s rhythmic tiks and taks i feel my pulse syncing with them. why do you stay away for so long? why do you make me wait? your presence lingers in the air, making it thick, unbearable, depriving me of oxygen, and ultimately suffocating me until your next appearance. why do you drag out each beat of a second, making us monumentally separate? when you rise, its a cue to the end of my heart’s famine, the very same heart that strains and tenses and twists into a feeling of hatred when you leave me to fend for myself. but even god himself knows i could never hate you, as he watches over me, he sends the wind to kiss my cheeks when you can’t. but i won’t be deceived, for you are the sun, the eternal smoldering, the everlasting blaze cast upon my soul. you are the sun, and when my wait is finally over, i ascent like i do each morning, ready to obey your trajectory. aristotle’s view states that all the heavenly bodies move in circular orbits in which each circumgyration is an exact repetition of every one that has preceded it, and even though my destiny of your trails serves a tragic end to it, and i know another will come to take the celestial place in which i stand, i will live out and devote my abiding loyalty to you, and only you, until it can burn into your skin the way your rays sink into mine.  

[dearsnow]

SALT FARE, NORTH SEA

- when a dragon falls from the sky, decimating your ship and bringing a strange boy along for the ride, you begin to question if the some of the targaryens are really as bad as they seem. (aged up!lucerys velaryon x fem!reader, angst to fluff, ur burning hatred is quenched by time spent on the sea 🤞) MAJOR SPOILERS FOR HOUSE OF THE DRAGON! au where vhagar doesn’t kill luke, arrax just gets absolutely mauled and falls out of the sky. aged up luke because I didn’t realize he was that young when i started writing 💀. ⚠️ TW for death, suicidal thoughts, and trauma.

word count: 4,211 (jesus christ)

a/n - ohhhh my god guys i’m back!!!! this was certainly a labor of love. i don’t know if I’ll start writing consistently again, but i really hope i do. i love you guys so much and thank you for the continued support even when i’m on hiatus! also i’m sorry if luke is ooc because i choose to believe he’s quietly funny and a little bit of a menace 😭

As the waves batter the sides of your ship, you don’t feel seasick. You feel the spray, see the occasional silvery fish zip by under the water. The sun beats down on your exposed neck and the motion swirls your mind, but you are sick for an entirely different reason.

Betrothal. God, you hate how that word sits on your tongue like a hot piece of meat. You are to be sent off to their family, married into their lineage and forced to bear their children until your womb shrivels like a sun-dried date. Of  all of your options, the Targaryens are certainly the worst. 

Aemond, in particular. You’ve heard stories of his cold demeanor, how he could kill you with a look. With his hands, too. He is quite the skilled swordsman, not that you would ever wish to witness it. He is the one you are set to marry.

Oh, the misery. The horror. You can feel bile rising in your throat whenever someone mentions him or his mother, great Queen Alicent.

You figure, though, at least it isn’t his brother.

You come from a noble family. It was bound to happen anyways. Trade your Martell name for some haughty lord’s and become his sow for the rest of your life. Your short, miserable life. In some ways, you are a bit grateful. You will never want for food and you know you’ll bring great honor to your family by marrying into the Targaryens. 

You just wish you could marry for another reason, not just forging alliances and heating up old, cold ones. You could have a happy life with the person of your choosing. You could sell fish on the shores of the sea and pick flowers in a field.

You play with this notion in your head before you hear a mighty crash and the sound of splintering wood.

The screams come mere seconds later. They pierce the air as snapping bones and rending flesh ring out. You stumble back, nearly falling off the edge of the ship. Large chunks of meat have started raining from the sky, crushing everything in their path.

You feel your heart beat so fast it nearly leaps out of your chest as you scramble for friction. Fuck, what the hell?

With the meat there comes blood, great amounts of it. It trips the sailors up, sending them careening over the wooden edges and into the sea. 

You narrowly miss the giant dragon wing that splits the boat in two. The entire thing has started sinking, and your blood runs cold. 

The ship is tilted from the massive gash in the center. Water is mixing with blood, and your dress is soaked to the bone. You can’t help but think that the finest silks Dorne can offer will drag you to the bottom of the depths.

As you clamber to the top of the ship’s bow as another fast-moving figure falls into the water. You don’t notice it in the moment. 

A shove comes from behind, pushing you to the side. Your back aches where you were struck.

“M’lady, m'lady! The lifeboat, you must take the boat. Go, go! Right now, m'lady.”

It’s Finhard, the deck swabber. He has two missing fingers, a lame knee, and a million stories. He swabbed the deck of The Sandstorm from port to port, collecting any and all information he could along the way. You loved talking to him so much it made the trip almost worth it. He always helped you sneak food to the cat stowing away on board. The cat you’re sure is now dead.

“What about you?” You question, voice loud but shaky. You can’t just leave him here.

“I’m a dead man, m’lady. I don’t matter.”

“But you do!” You insist, tugging on his arm. The screams are still ringing like alarms, and your limbs feel locked and like jelly at the same time.

“No, no. I might sink it. Girl’s damaged already. Please go, girlie. Jus’ remember me when you eat your next fish, alright?”

A pit pools in your stomach as you whip around to look at the small lifeboat. He’s right. The boat wouldn’t be able to hold you and a grown man, at least not one of Finhard’s size.

“Get on. I’ll push ya off, and you better have a damn good time with that prince of yours.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you watch your trusted confidant steel his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Finhard. I’m so so sorry,” You sob, clutching his rough palms. “I promise I’ll think of you always.”

“Thas’ all I ask for.” His voice is rough and uncut, hardened yet soft, like a feather made of chainmail. He picks you up like a sack of potatoes and places you in the rickety boat with the gentleness of a father setting down his newborn. He gives you one final kiss on the forehead before untying the boat and shoving it into the roiling water. 

Small hairs cling to your forehead as the ship lights up in a blaze sure to be seen from the shore. Your face is so wet with tears you feel as though the ocean is the product of them.

You sob into your hands as the people who took care of you on your journey sink, their bawls leaving a scar in your memory.

It’s not even ten minutes after the foremast begins to sink that you see a dark shape bobbing along in the water next to you. You stifle a gasp, thinking it must surely be a shark or a dead man. The water around it was red and heavy. 

When it floats closer to you, you see for the first time that it’s a boy. A boy who must be around your age, maybe sixteen or seventeen. His wrist gives a little twitch, and you resolve that you must rescue him. 

He wasn’t on your ship unless he was stowing away in the barrels, as teenagers often do. No matter his situation, you grab his soaked shirt and give a hard tug. 

The effort almost tips your boat, nearly sending you spiraling into the water. You give a little huff. The waterlogged boy is definitely heavier than you expected.

You try again, managing to get his arm hooked around the side of the boat. From there, it’s just a game of strength- you pull him up, using his clothing as a sort of lever to shimmy him out of the water. You roll him over, the water streaming off of him re-splattering your already wet clothes with water and fresh blood. The boat dips a little with his weight, but it does not sink. You praise the Seven under your breath. He has a cut on the side of his head, one that requires medical care far past the simple fixes you’ve learned.

You try to dress it anyways. Ripping a long strip of cloth from the bottom of your underskirt, you wrap it up and pray he doesn’t lose much more blood. 

You can still hear the creaking of The Sandstorm, though any humans were sucked under long ago. It makes a melancholy sound, blending with the waves and the seabirds and the rain that has started pattering down. A lump forms in your throat as you gaze at the wreckage. Hot water slides down your face as you sit in your little lifeboat, waiting for death that will most certainly come for your throat. 

It’s about two hours of lonely drifting before the boy wakes up. He opens his eyes slowly, then they widen as he gives a gurgling shout.

“Augh!” You stifle a giggle, though your voice is still wobbly from sobs.

He notices you and sits up, bewildered. As he takes in his surroundings, you sit and watch.

“Who are you? Where am I? Where is Arrax?” 

“I am nobody now, and we are in the middle of the ocean,” You gesture to the water surrounding every inch of your sight. “And I don’t know who Arrax is.” He sure has a lot of questions, though you can’t fault him for it.

“Arrax, my dragon. I… I think he’s…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

You stare at him in shock.

“Your dragon? The dragon that fell out of the sky in twenty pieces?” You question, voice heated. “The one that just killed a crew of fifty-two men?”

He’s silent for a moment. “So he’s dead?”

“Of course he’s dead, you imbecile! Did you not hear what I just said? He killed them. All of them. I’m the only survivor.”

“I’m sorry.” He mutters. He brings his knees to his chest and hugs them. “It was never my fault. It was him that killed Arrax, so it is him that killed your crew.”

“Who is him?”

“That bastard of a prince, Aemond. He and his dragon, Vhagar, chased us across the skies and attacked us in the air.”

Your hands tighten into fists as your throat constricts like you swallowed a spiny rock. You regret ever saving the boy, and you regret not slitting your throat when you heard of your betrothal to the murderer. Everything you’ve heard about Aemond is true. Your rage boils into hatred, and you swear that if you ever see him you will die and take him with you.

“So that must mean you’re a Targaryen too?” You say, trying to keep your voice level. It’s a skill you had to learn as a noble lady, but the hate building in your chest is almost too violent to quiet.

“Lucerys Velaryon, my lady.” He eyes you, taking note of your expensive yet ruined dress. He must know you’re not a commoner either.

You know the Targaryens are the only ones with proper access to a dragon, but you should have known that only someone descended from one could cause such absolute and utter destruction. It’s not Lucerys’s fault, you tell yourself. Don’t put the blame on him. Put on a smile and become your best even-tempered and kind self. But gods, the way you want to wring his neck for an event he seemingly had no control over.

“Why did he do it?” You ask. The tears from earlier start creating a pressure behind your eyes again. 

“Because I took his eye.” Lucerys’s voice is weak, but it has the strum of nobility that you know like a well-oiled harp. “He wanted revenge, an eye for an eye. So I ran. He found me in the sky and bit my dragon in half. I never meant to kill anybody.” So they’re all the same, the princes. Hardened and cruel and psychopaths. “Did you save me?”

“I suppose I did.” You want so badly to say ‘but I shouldn’t have’, but you hold your tongue.

“That is a debt I can never repay. Thank you. I’m truly sorry.” You shake your head. It’s not his fault, you repeat. You still cannot find it in yourself to forgive him. “What’s your name?”

You think for a brief moment. It wouldn’t hurt, you think, to tell him your name. That way when you both die, at least the man you’re stuck with will know the name of the woman that hated his family the most out of anyone in the world.

You speak your name, including your Martell family name, and he looks at you, eyes widened so much you think they will pop out of his skull.

“Aemond’s betrothed?” You are marrying into the greens, and Lucerys feels as though he should hate you for it. Unluckily for his honor, he cannot despise the girl who pulled him from the sea.

“Yes, what sorry luck.” You spit. “I would rather drown than go through with it.” You think of the promise you made to Finhard. “No, I would put poison in his chalice and watch him drink it.”

He laughs a bit, his voice ringing out against the repetitive sound of waves. “And I will buy the poison.” You allow yourself to smile. You hate it, but you smile.

You’ve always been the weirder daughter, yet the one that tries to talk with the lords and ladies and puts on a shining performance. That’s where the smile comes from, from all the times you’ve had to put your pearly whites on display. The morals have gone to shit, but the reflex is still burned into your person.

“You needn’t call me ‘my lord’. We’re even here, out on the sea.” He says. You can feel that’s not the only reason. A spark of guilt shimmers in the corners of his eyes. “Just call me Luke.”

“And you may call me by my name, Luke.” He’s right. There are no titles, only salt water and spray.

You watch the moon in the sky as it shines its beams down on your face. It sees everything. Every deal in secret, every promise you’ve ever made. It’s a gentle reminder that every person sees the same thing every night. You and Luke sit in silence, staring up at it. You wonder if your mother sees it too, from her ship. Can Finhard and the other sailors see it, from their watery graves? Can they forgive you for not saving them? For saving the life of a boy, whose mass is just under the weight limit of the boat? You glance over at him.

He’s staring at you, at how the soft rays of the moon highlight the curves and edges of your face. He feels a pit in his stomach, one that is not from hunger. It’s a gnawing feeling, guilt. He hates that he had to trade his life for fifty sailors. He thinks he would rather be at the bottom of the sea than see more tear tracks on your face. Another feeling eats at him, though he’s not sure what it is. It makes his insides churn and scrambles his mind.

He averts his eyes and looks at the stars once more.

You spend another two days floating in the water. You’re both sunburned and salt dried, and his skin is red and peeling. The conversation between the both of you had been dry up until today.

“May I have the flask?” He asks. You hand it over. For two whole days, all you have had to eat and drink is two flasks of water, a packet of dried fish, and some bread that has gone mushy from the water slowly seeping into your boat. You have to bail it out every hour or so.

“Do you think we’ll ever get out of here?” Luke questions, his voice rough. “Is anyone coming for us?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I would like to think there are boats out searching, but truly, they must expect us to be dead. Besides that, we have drifted so far away from the shipwreck that we might not be found even if they were searching.” He shakes his head, hair stiff from the salty spray.

“I would like to keep hope alive.”

“You are the only one.” You hear a small laugh from next to you. 

“You know, I could not ask for a better person to be stranded with.” He screws the cap back onto his flask carefully.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you certainly know how to ration supplies. And your optimism is inspiring.” A giggle bubbles up from beneath your buried feelings. 

“Is that sarcasm, my dear lord?”

He smiles. You can’t help but notice that his smile is contagious, the kind that reaches his eyes. The kind you found yourself dreaming about, and the kind you are certain your betrothed never wears. 

“Only if you make it out to be.” He pauses. “So, what was your life like in Dorne?”

Your eyes narrow. Small talk? It brings you back to your past. Talking to potential suitors and bearing their questions as they try to judge if you’re worth their money. It’s almost nice, the reminder. Before the wreck, you had been happy. Cheerful, even. You were nothing like you are now, hardened and weak and so close to putting sand in your pockets and drowning you can taste the seawater. 

“Why do you ask?”

“I figured it would be nice to know you. To really know you.” His words bring an odd sense of comfort to you.

“It was much nicer than this. I had friends and family, that was the best part. I never wanted for much of anything. I suppose I felt out of place sometimes, and I felt lonely like nothing else, but it helped to know that I could always have a home with the people I loved.” He nods, and the waves push against the boat. The sun is setting, condemning you to another sleepless night. “What about you?”

“I love my home, my people, and my family. I never felt up to the task of being lord of Driftmark, though,” He confesses, “and sometimes I still feel like a fraud. Gods, I don’t know why I told you that.” He knows. There’s something about your eyes, something that makes him want to spill every secret he has ever had. He wants to tell you about the time he stole Aemond’s knife, causing Aemond to pick a fight with Aegon. Or when he heard an argument between his mother and stepfather, or when his older brother snuck a frog into the pocket of a handmaiden. Your eyes burn with stifled anger and buried hopes and love.

You look at him with an odd expression. “It’s alright. Might as well get everything out while you can.” You know the feeling of not being enough well. “I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully when we get out of here.” You find yourself comforting him for god knows what reason. You should be angry, full of hatred and buzzing bees, but you can only feel sympathy for the boy across from you.

“When we get out of here? Where was that optimism earlier?” He teases, making you smile.

“It was killed and brought back to life. I have decided that I’m not going to die.” His laugh rings out, showering you in a feeling that makes you shiver.

“That’s a good thing to decide. I swear it too, we are not going to die. Aemond will never kill our spirit nor our bodies.” He takes your hands, palms rough and calloused. It makes your heart pound in a way you never expected. “We will be alright.”

You nod, hope blooming in your heart. Suddenly, the world seems just a little bit brighter. That’s when you see it; the seagull flying overhead.

You gasp, pointing up to the sky. It lets out a sharp cry as it circles around, and soon Luke is looking at it too. You’re so relieved that tears well up in your eyes.

Land must be near. It has to be. 

“Praise the gods.” He grins, dropping your hands to shield his eyes from the sun. “We will surely reach the shores soon.”

“I can only hope.” You whisper.

You spend another day on the water, your hopeful eyes searching for mountains or fields. All you can see is blue water, blue skies, and Lucerys Velaryon. You found that you’ve grown to like him, as fucked as your past self might have considered it. He actually treats you like a person. 

He squints into the distance. “I still don’t see anything. Maybe… maybe the bird was a fluke. A gull straying too far from the shore.”

You hit his shoulder lightly. “Don’t think like that.”

“It seems we’ve switched roles,” He smiles, “you’re the positive one now.”

“We certainly have rubbed off on each other.” The corners of your mouth lift into a little grin. Truth be told, your own hope is starting to fade, but you will never let him know. 

You’ve begun to notice things about the sea that you have never seen before. Schools of small fish darting below the surface, the pattern of the waves, even how chilly the water is. As the sun shines down, the water is peaceful. Maybe it’s a side effect of the trauma, or maybe it’s just you growing more comfortable with the idea of salt water. In any case, you suppose you need to look at its beauty to fan the dying flame of light burning inside you. It’s far easier to love than to keep hating. 

“The day is quite beautiful, isn’t it?” You whisper. 

“I suppose it is.” He says, but he’s not looking at the sky.

You are infatuating. The way the sun glints off your eyes enraptures him and keeps him in a state of lovely drunkenness. “Do you wish to marry my uncle?” There’s a hint of something more behind his voice. It’s almost desperate, and the thought makes you shiver.

You hesitate. “Not particularly. It would bring honor to my family, that I am sure of. So I will do it, but I will likely not enjoy it.”

“I understand that. I myself am betrothed to someone I can’t see myself loving.”

“The lady Rhaena Targaryen?” You know of her. The idea of him marrying the girl painted by the gods twists your heart in a way you can’t even comprehend.

He sighs. “Yes. It is my duty, but I cannot see her as anything but a sister. That’s all she’s been to me my entire life.”

“Duty is a wicked thing,” You muse, “pulling us away from opportunities to enrich our own lives.”

He nods. “If you could choose, is there anyone you would want to be married to?”

You think for a bit but eventually shake your head. “Do you have a special someone?”

“I am beginning to discover one.” He says. What does he mean by that?

When you look at him, staring far into the distance, you start to realize.

When the days grow dim, you huddle into each other for warmth. That’s why you fall asleep tonight, softened by his touch. Finally, you sleep for more than half an hour at a time. Luke’s arms are wrapped around you, as the lifeboat leaves little room for comfort, and the rock of the ship lulls you into a dream.

You wake to a jolt. You have no idea how long you’ve been asleep, but the moon is out and there is sand underneath your hull. Sand. Ground. You scramble to sit up, pulling Luke along with you. “Sand! Luke, it’s sand. We’ve made it! Gods be good, we have made it to land.” You grab at the wet grains, letting them clump and filter through your fingers. He lets out a loud cheer and pulls you in.

Out of nowhere, as you still have earth in your hands, he kisses you. His lips are rough and dry, but so are yours. He tastes like salt water and love.

When he finally pulls away, he is grinning like a lunatic. “We’ve made it, my lady. We survived.”

“What happened to our no titles agreement?” You tease, still flustered. Your cheeks are as hot as the surface of the sun.

“We’re on land now. The rules of society apply again, I’m afraid.” His whisper ghosts against your ear like he’s almost afraid to lose the closeness he gathered over the course of the last few days.

“Of course,” You say, pressing your lips to his cheek, “I would expect nothing different from such a high-ranking and strong man such as yourself.” 

He places a hand where you kissed him. Your skin may be chapped, but that damned kiss was sweeter and softer than spun sugar.

“I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding, my lady.” A glint of humor dances in his eye.

He steps out of the boat and offers a hand to you. The ground wobbles under your feet and you almost fall, but he is there to steady you. “Wait, I know this beach!” He realizes as he gazes upon the scenery. “It’s the beach off Dragonstone. I’m… I’m home.”

“Really?” You feel hope bubbling through your body. “You know where we are?”

“I do. Dragonstone is there, above those cliffs. Come on, let’s go!” He tugs your arm just a bit too hard, sending you sprawling into the sand. You grab onto his sleeve and pull him down too, leaving you both in a fit of giggles. 

You’re both weak and tired and sore, but your flames grow brighter every second you’re on solid land. “Race me!” He yells, taking off from the ground on shaky feet. You dart after him, all your earlier burdens seemingly gone.

You probably won’t catch him, but it’s okay. Right now, your future is ahead of you, your rage is behind, the land pounds beneath your feet, and the boy with brown hair is calling for you to join him.

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