#all of them leave with less clothes than they came with and end having ties and socks returned to them for weeks

[heat---lightning]

Day dreaming about being an innocent passenger in a caravan that gets ambushed by Orcs on the road. All the guards have been taken out and the Orcs have begun pillaging and taking what they want, they leave those who run, but your clothes got snagged and stuck on debris during the scuffle and you know you don't have a chance at fighting back. The only thing you can think of is offering yourself up for surrender, you know sometimes the less scrupulous Orcs will trade prisoners to slavers, there you'll make contact with your friends in the capital and be safe.

That's what you assumed, you didn't know that these Orcs had been cut off from their clan for weeks after a devastating battle. Hard, angry, pent up Orcs surffering the lose of their clan and were looking to take that out on any human they came across.

There you are cowering in fear as they finally get to you, you immediately beg for surrender. They don't immediately kill you, so that's a good sign so you think. They grunt and bark orders at you to get up, you can't because you're trapped. One particularly short and stocky Orc lifts the debris with one arm and yanks at you with the other, tearing your trouser in the process. The few Orcs that were around saw this and erupted into laughter at the sight of your exposed human backside. This drew the attention of the rest and soon enough a larger crowd was gathered.

You begin shaking as you see the lecherous look in the eyes of the gathering crowd, teeth bared and droll spilling from some, you begin to fear they might eat you instead. Until one Orc pushes through the crowd and knocks over the orc that pulled you from the rubble. This Orc was older, sharp and attentive, had a big gut with a trail of pubic hair running from well above his belly button down to the thicket that was barely covered by his patches together hide trousers.

He lifted you with one arm and proclaimed "This human is mine now! Find your own to keep! Challenge me if you want or bare me tribute if you wish to spend a moment with them! Now go! Back to work before the rangers find this wreck!"

You, there dangling by his arm, backside exposed to the horde, never felt more vulnerable but secure in knowing there won't be a fight over you. Your mind was briefly set at ease until he threw you over his shoulder, your ass near his face, when you felt a long, wet tongue, hotter and more coarse than a human tongue, licking your bare ass cheek. He never said a word to you. Just loaded you face down onto the back of his draft horse, tied you down firmly and before mounting his horse, spread your cheeks wide and slid his tongue across the entirety of you back side before letting out a terrifying growl and yell of celebration. A taste of his new prize. You shamefully couldn't help but feel arousal in the moment, something in the air, perhaps the pheromones of an Orc, something had gotten to you. You feel a small wetness begin forming from within. The revelation terrified you. As the horde begins leaving you see the sun setting on the wreckage of the caravan, you wonder where you'll end up next. You wonder what is to become of you now that you seemingly belong to this Orc.

Your adrenaline fades, exhaustion hits you and you fade off under the rhythmic hoof beats. You know when you awake, the real ordeal begins.

[please tell me if you want more to this story, I'm also very open to criticism and corrections in formatting or pacing]

[afro-hispwriter]

A Betrayal No More(final)

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen/Velaryon!reader

Summary- Aemond has been thrown into the dungeons just hours after your death, but the blacks need Aemond and Aemond needs you. 

Warnings- angst ending with fluff, mentions of torture, murder, battle of the gullet comes wayy faster than it actually does lol, dragon death

Part 3 of the Betrayal mini-series 1 2

Wc-3.3k+

-

Aemond was thrown into the dungeons along with Criston. They quickly found out that wasn't a wise idea since it ended up with Aemond almost choking the man out. 

He's not sure how long he'd been down there but he's been questioned a lot. But Criston on the other hand has been tortured, daily. He heard his screams of pain, and it made Aemond cringe. That man was the closest thing to a father he ever had but he was also the same man who killed the love of his life in front of him, however many days it's been since. 

Aemond thought they were going to starve him out but those thoughts were soon erased when Daemon Targaryen himself. His uncle, and father of his late love, came down and opened his cell door. Daemon glared harshly at his nephew, tightening his jaw and fist.

"Come boy." He demands but Aemond doesn't move, just sits there and looks at him wearily. "A hot bath and food has been prepared for you." Aemond cocks his head to the side before standing up.

"Preparing me for my execution?" 

"Every day I have the urge to come down here and cut your head off and send it to your family. But the queen says if it's true you are here to bend the knee, we need you." Daemon steps out of the way but Aemond still hesitates. "We don't have all day." 

"Hmm, lead the way." Aemond has only been to Dragon Stone maybe less than a handful of times. Daemon started his descent to the stairs with Aemond in tow. 

"Letting your daughter's killer out Daemon?" Gasps out Cristion making both men stop. 

"I guess you have gone mad Criston, you will never know freedom again." Daemon spits out and continued his way up the stairs. 

Aemond kept space between him and his uncle. There was still a chance this was all a trick and he was being led to his execution. But no. Daemon opened the door and the hot steam hit them both in the face. 

"Enjoy," Daemon says and Aemond walks through and Daemon shuts the door. A pretty servant girl appeared.

"Would you like assistance with bathing my prince?" She asks and Aemond shakes his head no. She nods and gives a bow before leaving. Once Aemond knew he was alone he started discarding the clothes he had on. He still had dried blood on his hands. Her blood. It made him sick to his stomach. 

Aemond settled into the water and sighed deeply. The warmth was very welcoming after being in a cold cell for days.

He wasn't sure how long he was in there but his fingers started to prune and the water started going cold. He scrubbed his skin quickly, dirt and mud from the cells had already turned the water dark and the blood made it worse.

His hair was a lost cause. He could wash out the gunk but it would be a frizzy mess. He stepped out of the bath cautiously and grabbed the towel. He dried himself off and the cold air made him shiver. His wet hair not helping so he tied it up in a low bun. 

The clothes given were a simple white tunic and a pair of pants, his boots from before would have to do. 

Aemond stepped out of the room refreshed. A guard in the hall came up to him.

"The Queen has asked for your presence." He says and Aemond gives a nod. They both walk to the map room where the other half of his family is. 

Baela noticed him first, she had a hard glare on her face. Rhaenys saw him but kept her face neutral, demoted of any emotion. Rhaena was absent. Luke and Rhaenyra stood together, while Jace stood off to the side fists clenched and fresh tear streaks on his face. 

Daemon's hand was tightly gripped on his sword. He also seemed to have taken a bath but his red fists were clear as day.

"We have a meal for you, brother," Rhaenyra says and Aemond says the plate of hot food with a cup of wine. He slowly walked down the steps, one by one until he was behind the chair. The smell enticed him so much, he pushed the chair back and sat in it. Digging into the food greedily. 

They watched him eat, everyone in that room had mixed emotions about him. Some found him guilty, some blamed him, others knew they needed him. 

"Vermithor was last confirmed to be seen crossing the Stepstones and there are reports they saw him carrying something." Aemond stopped eating at the mention of the dragon. 

"Any guesses as to where he is going?" 

"Valyria," Luke says and Aemond sees others in the room sigh or shake their heads. "Maybe Vermithor knows something we don't."

"He's never been to Valyria, none of our dragons have Luke," Jace says.

"But he's still a dragon, that's where his and our ancestors originated." 

"That doesn't explain why he would take Y/n there." Aemond snaps at the boy and Rhaenyra grabs Luke’s hand. "After this is done, I'm going to look for them." 

"What makes you think you're leaving?" Daemon asks and he takes a step closer Aemomd drops his spoon and sits back. 

"You have me and Vhagar now, you can have throne by lunch." Aemond took a bite of his food again.

"We kept you in the dungeons too long. Your grandfather has gotten the support of the Triacrhy and they attacked the Velaryon fleet at the Gullet. 

"You need me to sort it out?" Aemond asks and he downs the wine.

"You and Jace will fly out, using force only if necessary." Rhaenyra and Aemond cracked his knuckles and pushed the chair back.

"Let's go now." He started walking away, not knowing where he would go. But he didn't want to be there.

"Aemond stop," Rhaenyra says and he stops. "You must rest, Daemon is going to take Harrenhall." 

"I will rest when this is over." 

-

Your eyes shot open and the air rushed back into your lungs giving you a horrible spike of pain. You were rushed with cold then you were burning.

"You're okay Lady Y/n." The voice was loud but it was also so sweet and low. You looked around but you could only see the orange glow of fire and you were clearly in a rock structure. A soft pair of hands wrapped themselves around your back and they slowly helped you sit up. The cloth covering your breasts fell in your lap but you made no effort to grab it again. 

You turned your head slowly to meet with a woman. Her hazel eyes pierced through yours. Her dark hair was shining in the light. 

Your heart started racing and you felt across your body when you felt the scars. One look down and the flashes of the blade going in and out of your abdomen. You remembered the flooding of blood in your mouth and... Aemond.

"Ae-." Your voice barely came out, a tiny squeak at best.

"Rest your voice, my lady, your prince is safe." The woman says and walks away and bends down to grab something. She stands back up and she has clothes in her arms. "Your family needs you." She held her hand out to you and you shakily grab it. She helps you plant your feet on the cold floor and your legs shake, the last piece of cloth falling leaving you naked. "Hold onto the table." 

You slowly turned around and held onto the stone slab. Her hands touched your back and she rubbed her finger along the scars.

"They will heal nicely."

"H-How am I alive?" You ask lowly, she smiles behind you.

"Thank your dragon and the Lord of Light, my lady." 

-

You've heard of the Lord of Light, but you didn't believe in him. You didn't even believe in the Seven. But as you walked through the temple with Seraphine, the priestess who brought you back, this lord of light seemed to be even more real. 

Seraphine gave you a pair of pants and a black long tunic. Your hair burnt at the edges, ultimately damaging some of your hair. 

"Where is Vermithor?" You were still trying to find your voice.

"He has taken the liberty and made a home in a field feeding on cows." There were two guards standing post in front of the door. One nod from Seraphine and they opened the doors. The bright lights outside made you stumble. A servant of the temple appeared and he held a pouch of food and a canteen of water. “May I ask you something?” 

You nodded.

“What did you see when you passed?” She asks, almost desperately but keeping calm. 

“Nothing. I saw nothing.” You say and she lets out a quick sigh.

"May the Lord of Light guide you" Seraphine says. You took the pouch from the servant and nodded at them.

"Thank you." You say to both Seraphine and the servant, and maybe to R'hollor himself. 

-

Volantis, that is where you ended up. That is where Vermithor brought you, which confused you. Vermithor has no history of ever being near here, so how did he know to come here?

But the dragon wasn't a hard miss. He lay comfortably in the field. The people of Volantis had started huddling up and pointing at the beast. Some had never seen a dragon or it's been too long. You pushed past them and with one look at your hair and your approach to the dragon, they all backed off and whispered.

"Who is she?"

"Lady Y/n Targaryen? That is her dragon up there."

"But she's supposed to be dead, killed by her lover."

"That has to be Daemon Targaryens eldest."

Vermithor raised his head when he noticed you and raised it to his full height. He then lowered his neck so he could greet you. You reached up and the second you touched his warm, scaly skin you smiled. Smiled hard, you weren't sure how long you had been dead but it felt great.

"I am in debt to you." Vermithor gave a small growl of acknowledgment, the large dragon then showed you his neck so you had access to the ropes of his saddles. "Take me home."

-

Aemond stood in her bedroom. Memories of the two flooded him. The amount of times he has snuck in here and the times he almost got caught. Her bed was still made since the last time she was there.

It was hard to believe barley a week ago she was begging him to join her. Barley a week since he watched the life leave her eyes the next day.

"Daemon's taken Harrenhall." Jace's voice came from behind him. Aemond turned around to see his nephew in his riding gear and armor. Aemond walks towards him, hair swaying behind him to bump into the boy in front of him. Jace's fists clenched then he relaxed. "I know what your intentions are." Aemond stopped walking. "She wouldn't want you to do that, uncle."

"That is not of your concern, I will look for her regardless of where I am." 

-

Vhagar is the largest dragon alive. She is a hardened warrior. But that doesn't mean she isn't an easy target for ships, as her old age has made her slower and less agile. Her dragon fire is devastating but it won't do anything if she is shot out of the sky. 

Jace and Vermax focused more on the actual people on the ships rather than destroying the ships. Leaving that to Aemond and Vhagar.

Everything was going well until Aemond witnessed Vermax get caught in a grapple and yanked down. No doubt the dragon's death was immediate. Jace leapt off and crashed into the water and Aemond knew his nephew was in trouble. Vhagar dove and the men on the ships brought their crossbows out.

But before Aemond could yell the word 'Dracarys'. Another dragon swooped in under him and instantly laid waste to the ships. It forced Aemond to pull Vhagars reigns and urge her to stop.

Anyone familiar with any of the dragons can recognize the Bronze Fury. But Aemond was more than familiar with the Bronze Fury. Aemond leaned over Vhagar to catch a glimpse at the dragon flying below. 

The silver hair stood out against everything else. 

Aemond felt his heart skip multiple beats. He blocked out all the chaos, Vhagar maneuvering herself around spears. He is no longer worried about Jace. Aemond gripped the reigns and leaned forward.

"Pikagon(follow), Vhagar!" The dragon dipped down and followed behind Vermithor. Aemond was intent on getting a look at the rider. 

The combination of Vhagar and Vermithor fire destroyed the majority of the fleet. Less than 15 ships remained before white flags were waved and the retreat began. 

Aemond could barely focus, his sole attention on Vermithor. But then the dragon changed direction and flew away. Aemond, with no hesitation, followed. 

Vermithor Landed on a sandbank and Vhagar circled until she landed as well. The dragons stood opposite of each other. Aemond shakily made his way down until his boots hit the sand. The person on Vermithor made the same action. 

Aemond walked forward a few steps and he saw you. He saw you from that great distance. His legs were moving before he could register it. 

"Aemond!" He heard his name come from your voice and it spurred him faster. You had started running too, but Aemonds long legs had him reach you much quicker. You crashed into him but he held himself so he only stumbled. He grabbed your arms and looked at you. He looked you up and down. 

"H-How? I watched you die." Aemond's eye started to gloss and suddenly his eyepatch was growing irritating. You shakily brought your hands to his face and caressed his cheek with your thumb. 

"Vermithor took me to Volantis and a red priestess brought me back. The Lord of Light brought me back." 

For a moment Aemond believed he died and just hasn't realized it. But it all felt too real. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry." He pressed his forehead against yours and let the tears fall freely, the same tears falling from his other eye started to accumulate in his eyepatch. 

"It wasn't your fault."

"I should have just left with you the first time."

"There was no way we could have known, but I'm back, and hopefully for a long time." Aemond sucked in a sharp breath and stumbled backward. You grabbed his arms tightly and his knees buckled so he landed on them. You went down with him and wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders.

Aemond laid the side of his head on your chest so he could feel and listen to your heartbeat. He takes continuous deep breaths and you cradle the back of his head. Your fingers then unbuckled his eyepatch and you tossed it into the sand. 

"Aemond." He looks up, his violet eye matching yours. The sapphire shining. "I'm here, I'm okay." He swallowed harshly and looked around. 

No enemies to be seen. Just your dragons on opposite sides of the sand bank and the burning of ships in the distance.

No one was there to take you away from him again. 

Aemond kisses you like he never did before. He wrapped his arms securely around your body and pulled you onto his lap. 

He grabbed at your clothes and pinched the material tightly. He kissed you as if his life depended on it. But it was all too much for you and you pulled pack. He pushed his face into your neck, his cold nose making you shudder. His thin lips pressed against your neck, followed by multiple pecks along the skin. 

"Aemond no." He now laid sloppy wet kisses. "I smell of dragon and death." 

"Don't care."

'Cough, Cough'

Aemond pushed you to the side and scrambled to his feet. Unsheathing his sword in the process.

Jace shook his hair and hacked up more salt water. 

"Jace." You whisper and scramble up but this time running to him. "Jace!" 

He looked up from the sand to see your figure and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Y/n?" You collapsed to your knees and pulled him in. "B-But you're- am I?"

"No, you're not. I'm here Jace, I'm alive." He was trying to take in the information but exhaustion came over him and he slumped in your arms. Aemond walked up behind you to inspect his nephew.

“We need to get him back to Dragonstone.” 

-

Word reached Daemon in Harrenhall as soon as possible when the Bronze Fury was seen at the Gullet. He was back on Caraxes immediately to fly out. Velaryon and Triarchy ships were still ablaze but no sight of any dragons. The next best place would be back to Dragonstone. 

And he was right. Daemon sees Vermithor being tended to by the dragon keepers. He landed Caraxes and walked in through one of the many entrances to the castle.

He passed servants on his way to the council room, helmet clenched in his fist. They stared at him or their eyes would widen at the sight of him. Two guards at the door pushed it open for him. Everyone’s eyes turned to him and they grew silent. 

His eyes couldn’t help but trickle over to the bundle of silver hair. Baela and Rhaena stood there hugging you. Daemon’s hand went weak and the helmet clattered to the ground loudly.

You split from your sisters and smiled at Daemon.

“Father.” Daemon didn’t move from his spot when you reached him. He grabbed you and pulled you in tightly. 

“I- how? When?” He wanted to ask so many questions but you shook your head. 

“I'm here, that's all that matters.” Daemon stayed silent and held you tighter. 

-

Criston’s execution was minutes after the reunion. Death by dragon. Baby dragons, juvenile dragons. It was a horrifying watch.

-

“Do you think the red god exists?” You ask Aemond as he gently drags his finger along the healing puncture marks. 

“There are many gods.” You lean against his chest, the water in the tub sloshing. 

“Have you read about this one?” 

“There isn’t much in the library.” He kissed the side of your head and you tilted your head back. 

“And there has never been a resurrection recorded.” Aemond tensed up. 

“We don’t even know if you were actually dead, you could have passed out and I simply missed it.” 

“You watched me die,  Aemond. You saw me dead.” Aemond rolled his head and shook it side to side. “I saw nothing, the whole time there was nothing. No dream, no god to take me someplace, none of our ancestors talked to me. It was just nothing.” You started to cry and grasped the edges of the tub. Aemond wrapped his arm securely around you and cradled you. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” 

It wasn’t until you stopped crying that you could speak clearly again. You stared at the candle, the fire flickering back and forth.

“Aemond?”

“Hmm.”

“I want to give my thanks to this, god.” Aemond sighed but pressed his cheek onto the top of your head. He refused to fight about something like this. 

“Whatever you need, I am here.” The rumble coming from his chest when he spoke was comforting. 

“Avy jorrāelan(I love you).” You say and kiss his bicep. “He is the one who brought me back to you.” 

-

A/n- holy fuck, two fucking years later lol

[jeon-ify]

from @bearbread83

“3 & 6 with san pls - reader is a virgin and self conscious that she is one still at the age of 20 - san comforts her and it’s just really sweet/comforting & loving sex 🥰 thanks!!!”

3. “shh, baby. it’ll feel good, i promise.”

6. “you’re my favorite girl.”

🫶🏻

warnings: virginreader, softdomsan, comforting sex, reader is embarrassed to be a virgin, insecure reader, if i missed anything lmk!

MDNI!!!

stay here forever- choi san

san’s not a virgin. you found out last week.

you were sitting with san’s friends and a few friends of friends. there were 3 girls (other than you), as well as 8 guys. you were sure the louder one with a mole had a crush on you but you didn’t care. you had your eyes set on san all night.

there you were, sneaking out of your house at 11pm to try to make an effort to lose your virginity. san had no idea he would be part of this plan, but in your mind, he knew. he knew he was gonna be the first to fuck you, the only man who would ever see what flaws you claim you have, or how you’re so insecure about your breasts. you’re sure san wouldn’t make fun of you for them, right?

you’re sitting at the end of his bed scrolling through your phone, waiting for him to initiate a conversation. you give up after 8 minutes of uncomfortable silence. “sannie, can we talk about something? don’t make fun of me.” you worry. he won’t. of course not. it just sounds so ridiculous that you’re in your 20s and you’re still a virgin.

san sets his phone down on the nightstand, focusing his attention on you. “talk to me, baby.” he coos.

he’s been so patient when it came to sex with you. you weren’t ready, and he was okay with that. he didn’t love you any less and didn’t see you any different.

you hesitate to let the words leave your mouth because you feel so weird just saying how you feel right now. “i-i think i’m ready to… y’know” you manage.

san scoots closer to you, scanning your face and his own ears to make sure he was hearing this right. he knows what you mean, he just wants to hear you say it.

“sannie, i think i’m ready to have sex. but we have to do it with the lights off.” he looks at you, worry taking over his expression. he brings his hands to hold yours, comforting you in your insecurities. “y/n, in the dark? baby, i wanna see every inch of you. wanna kiss you and hold you. skin on skin, my love.”

san adored you. he would walk the ends of the earth for you. he hated when you had moments like these— it makes him rethink is job as a boyfriend to make you love and see yourself for what you are. you had no flaws whatsoever. san made sure you knew that— but now it’s different. it’s different because he’s seeing parts of your body that no one else has.

“let me take care of you, darling. i just wanna make you feel good, my love.” his face coming closer to yours and embracing your lips in a love lock. he deepens the kiss as his hands move up your shirt. you try to move his hands but he looks at you, signaling you to just let him take care of you. he brings his lips down to your neck, moving to your collarbone and slowly, your back is pressed against his soft mattress.

“you’re my favorite girl. love you so much, star.”

whenever san kissed you, it felt like you were being snatched from reality. he knows you, he knows your body, your heart. you believed everything he ever said to you.

“san—“ you try to press your bra down with your hands, san looking at you silently. you move your hands, and let him just take control of the moment. you decide ti no longer hide from him, and let him make you feel his love.

“stop hiding from me, my love. please, just let me do this for you, hm?” you nod. he takes his t-shirt off, tossing it on the floor. he moves down to take your pants and underwear off to toss them by his clothing. he places your legs onto his shoulders as he levels himself with your pelvis. he plants a kiss on your lower stomach, moving towards your thighs, and finally reaching your area.

you let out a gasp, though san has barely touched you. he presses a soft kiss to your clit, slowly making out with your entire heat. he sucks and slurps like you’re his last meal. “you taste phenomenal, baby. wish you could see yourself the way i see you. you’d fall in love in every lifetime.” he groans. you move your hands to his hair, massaging and tugging all at the same time. san could stay like this forever if it means he gets to please you.

“my g- san- please,” you moan. your back arches upwards and san moves his arm to place one of your nipples in between his fingers. he pulls and tugs and rubs and illicit a response out of you.

“i feel you princess, go ahead and cum. let me take it all.” he moans. he looks up at you with his drool and your juices on his chin and corners of his lips. he’s so beautiful. he’s quite literally the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

“there you go, pretty. you did it, ‘m so proud of you. are you ready to take me?” he smiles. it’s so comforting when san smiles at you. you feel like you’re in a warm cabin in mid december with a candle on, with fuzzy blankets hugging your body while drinking warm tea.

it also feels like the warmest hug. it feels like you’re walking on the rings of saturn with a path of stars following you whenever san called you pretty. he feels like an angel and you really don’t know how you ended up with san.

san stands up at the end of the bed, taking his pants and boxers off. you sit up on your elbows, watching as he undresses his last articles. he reaches to grab a condom out of his nightstand and you stop him. “i wanna feel you, i don’t wanna hold back from anything right now, sannie.” he reaches towards your face and kisses you like you were his lifeline.

he lays you down on your back as you pull him in for another kiss. “okay, are you ready baby?” he questions.

“yeah, i think, i am.” you respond, trying to stabilize your breathing. you feel like your throat is sandpaper.

“if i’m hurting you, please stop me. do you have a safeword?” you feel like bursting out into tears from how absolutely perfect this man is.

“if i yell anything random thats gonna be my safeword. for now, i don’t think i’ll need one.”

“okay. just relax, breathe, and close your eyes, ‘kay?” he plants a kiss on the bridge of your nose and you take in a deep breath. you hold onto his shoulder as you feel him putting just the tip in.

“breathe, baby, it’s okay. i got you, it’ll sting in the beginning, but once i’m in, it’ll feel good.” he focuses on your body language, being careful not to hurt you. he slowly inches himself in, and you feel like you’re being ripped in half.

“s-san, fuck it hurts,” you shut your eyes tight, san caresses your face, leaving kisses everywhere. you move your hands to your mouth, hiding your moans. it hurts so good but you feel like your legs are being amputated.

“shh, baby it’ll feel good, i promise. i’m almost in— fuck, don’t hide yourself from me.” he moans. he’s already sweating and you feel him twitch between your legs.

“wish you would love yourself the way i love you. you give me life, baby. you make me a man.” he moans, he’s already fucking you at a quicker pace. his small talk and compliments distracted you from the pain. the pain turns to pleasure as san licks your neck and kisses your soft spot.

“san— feel like im gonna- it feels like i have to pee,” you’re concerned. it feels like a cramp, but not the painful kind. san brushes his fingertips along your lower stomach, pointing to where you feel the knot.

“right here? hm?” you nod.

“let it go, baby. let your body loose. you’re gonna cum.”

how does he know so much about female anatomy?

he’s slowing down his pace, pulling out of you so you could come down from your first orgasm. he bends down to kiss you again. this time, his kiss is slow, breathy, and soft.

“san, that felt amazing. but you didn’t cum..?”

“i don’t have to, baby. this is about you, my love.”

———————

hope this was good!! thanks for requesting!! 🫶🏻

[hana-no-seiiki]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐒 + 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐱 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 (𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈)

tw/cw: this act alludes more to reader being amab (because breeder reader era wont be ending anytime soon) so beware. off-screen seggs. worldbuilding and lore stuff. yandere themes, mentions of forced prostitution. misandry.

status: unedited

[ ACT I ] • [ ACT III ]

MOTHERS HELD A HIGH SOCIAL RANK IN YOUR SOCIETY. They were the bearers of children; held with a status akin to gods. As such, those who were able to give birth were favorable.

Not a womb-less being like you.

You spent a couple decades or so in denial. Hoping that one day you’ll be accepted. That maybe society itself would change and you’d have a place in the world.

Only for reality to ruthlessly slap you in the face.

“[Y/N].”

Your mother’s voice, no matter the content of her speech, always made your heart rate soar. Cold sweat appeared on your palms and forehead, but before it could even be discerned on your form your hands make a swift movement to dry yourself. Your could feel your shakiness intensify as she drew closer.

“Yes, mother?” You greeted back. You cursed inwardly as your words came out hoarse; without its usual confidence. You could already hear her admonish you.

How could you be anything less than perfect? After all you were already born a failure. Might as well make up for it by being the best.

Throughout the decades of your parent’s unfavorable treatment, you had gain a semblance of self-esteem. At least enough to give them cheek at times. Although your subconscious always reminded you of what they were capable of if you weren’t engaged.

Your teenage self could never imagine talking back to them. With that, in spite of the unwarranted attention you were somewhat happy with the circumstances you were given.

“You went to the countryside, again.” Her arms crossed over her chest, and tar colored blouse. She always wore black clothes and a solemn look wherever she went, intimidating many that dared to gaze at her direction. Her graying hair was tied into a tight bun. Pointed, cat like eyes behind thick glasses. But she was beautiful. Annoyingly so. The very reason why so many fell at your feet.

“I am here now.”

“Her Highness was looking all over for you.”

“That’s the point. I was hiding from that witch.” You crossed your arms. You did not like that woman at all. You remembered repeatedly enforcing your boundaries and personal space to which she repeatedly broke down and disrespected.

“[Y/N]! Stop being such a brat. Act your age for once. This is a golden opportunity. For you and our whole family!”

“Selling my body wasn’t enough? Your greed really knows no bounds.”

You shut your mouth immediately. You’ve gotten too far, if her heels clacking on the ground wasn’t already an obvious indication her thin, banshee like screech should be.

You expected a slap, maybe even her pulling your hair out once again, perhaps her nails would tear into your skin once more leaving a scar that would make at least some of your clients change their mind. However before she could even get close enough to touch you, her husband pulled her away.

“Estella . . . if you hurt them, her highness might . . .” He held her back.

You used to think you loved him way back then. When he’d halt your mother’s actions and take care of you after you’d been used. But then you realized that he only saw you as an object he could benefit from as well. Once the princess asked for your hand in marriage he was ecstatic. Waxing on and on about how happy it’d make him if you went with her, even allowing her to defile you in your own bedroom at times. The only reason he didn’t actively hurt you was because your mother’s ego was so fragile that she’d take him getting physical as a sign of defiance and ill will.

Swarms of hatred encircled your heart. To think you were so blind and hungry for an ounce of their affection only a year ago.

Hours passed before your tears showed signs of stopping its flow. You hoped the streetslights that barely gave vision at least hid you from prying eyes.

“Witch, huh?”

A voice tore you away from your moment of sadness. In fear of anyone else seeing you in this state you hurry to fix yourself as you heard heeled clicks grow louder.

“I should have known.” You turned your head to face the sounds’ source. Only to see the reason why so many tears of yours were wasted this day. “So, does this mean our engagement is off? Or shall I be executed for sullying your name?”

Third Princess Kalliope Mikiavella Levantine. If her name was a nightmare then her presence in your life was evermore.

She was your highest paying client. Ever insatiable. Ever spoiled by her mother the Empress. The only saving grace of this whole situation was that she was not the Crown Princess, yet. Otherwise you might have already been made an imperial concubine or consort.

“Unfortunately not.” She smiled, a little solemn in a way to empathize with your situation, but nonetheless ruthless knowing her power. The princess was beautiful, her blazing red hair that curled immaculately lightly bounced in her steps towards you. Bright amber eyes that almost appeared like the dim streetlights.

“I am unclean. Impure. Why would you want someone like me?” You keep your eyes to your legs lest you fall for her beauty. You always looked somewhere else whenever you two slept together. Always in fear that you’ll grow to love your assaulter — captor.

“I . . . do not know. But everytime I hear you sing my heart feels at ease. I want you in my life, [Y/N]. For as long as I live.”

“Think of it this way, as my spouse you will be ruling over the entirety of this country. Every thing, every one, will be yours. Even those parents who sold you to me. And you’ll give that kid a bright future—“

“[Y/N] . . ?”

You do not think before your lips crashed upon hers.

“Athanaxious? Athanaxious! “

Vasileious searched high and low, in every corner of the ocean Athanaxious usually dwelled in. He even swam the shores, close to those wicked human hunters called fishermen to find him. But with no luck.

“Let him be, Vasilei. He’ll come back in due time.” Aurelius, the pair’s eldest brother, comforted him. Aurelius had a beautiful tail of pure gold, unlike the flecked one Vasileious and Athanaxious owned. His hair was a beautiful, long and curly brown with a lock of blond that made it all the more stunning. His tan skin glimmered akin to the surface waters at day, and almost glowed at night.

“Say that when you get scolded by Mother. I dare you.” Vasileious spat, nerves fried from stress. He would have never interacted or approached a human if it weren’t for his stupid younger brother. But now he’d seen several. Do you know how horrid that experience would be for him? It was downright terrible.

Aurelius, ever the only serene one in the family, massaged the small of his brother’s pale back, “You seem on edge. More so than usual.”

“Athanaxious was meeting with a human, Aurelius. A human!”

“Huh, so you finally found out.”

“You knew of it?!”

“All of us did.” Aurelius shrugged, slightly curling his tail as a gesture of ease. “Oh come on, we all know how much of a snitch you are. Besides, Athanei can’t be dissuaded. Telling him not to do something will only make him want to do it more.”

“He used his siren song on them.”

“No way! How did he sound?”

“. . . It sounded — “ Vasileious ashamedly could only remember your own voice that day, unable to give a proper remark he gave a simple, vague response. “alright.”

“How utterly anticlimactic. Although you saying something aside from terrible means it must be good.”

“Make of it what you will.”

“Irenaeus!”

Another merman appeared. Younger than Aurelius but his beauty unlike any of the other brothers. His tail a beautiful ivory color that slowly transitioned to grey and blacks at the tip. Long dark hair and golden eyes. Irenaeus was known to have the biggest body count of all siblings — bringing thousands of humans to their doom. If it weren’t for his carefree attitude and the god he was named after, one would think he loathed humans more than Vasileious himself. “The human Athan was meeting . . .”

“What about them?”

“Apparently they are to be married off to a human princess. Sailors across the ocean have been speaking of it so. And. . . well . . . “

“Spit it out.”

Irenaeus looked left and right, his tail flicking in an anxious manner, “I believe Athanaxious might be meeting with the Sea Witch shortly.”

“What? You didn’t stop him?!” Vasileious screeched. The ocean floor that surrounded them tremors in his cries, large waves rippling, barreling towards land. His two brothers flinched in pain.

“Less time scolding more time on looking for our brother.” Aurelius broke him out of his moment of panic. “Irenei, inform the rest of our family. Vasilei, let us depart.”

Deep within the Abyss of the ocean, Athanaxious found himself swarmed with feverish determination and anger. The pressure of the waters always felt suffocating but now? It was nothing to the looming dread that drowned his heart.

He reaches his destination before his mind could properly think. He thought long ago that the last time he’d come would be that, the last. But here he was again, far more desperate than he was afraid.

“Be welcome, Than.” The low, gravelly voice of the sea devil danced across the murky waters.

“You must know of the happenings on land.”

He comes out of his hiding, long winding tentacles slither across the walls covered with barnacles and seaweed, as He moved towards Athanaxious, “Mm, I’m afraid not. Please enlighten me.”

“Tch. My human. They’re going to marry some rich lady up north. This cannot happen.”

“You want me to help you ruin a wedding?”

“You know the drill. A price for a boon. This will be quite expensi—“

“I offer you my voice.”

The Sea Witch found themself speechless for moments on end. For a siren to sell their voice would be akin to dooming themself to a lonely, wretched existence. Unable to lure their prey or be of any ‘worth’ in their society. They were aware of Athanaxious’ infatuation over you. Just not self-sacrificing extent of it. “…And in exchange for your precious voice I offer you a new identity as a human.”

“Beware, as every step you take will feel like daggers going through your feet. You will however, be the most graceful dancer upon the land. A perfect fit for our little singer.” An apparition appears between the Devil’s fingertips as it flicked across the waters. It was you, on a platform of sorts surrounded by other humans. You were bringing joy to their faces, as you did with him. “Shall I add a wager to spice up the fun?”

It took a lot of willpower for Athanaxious to rip his eyes away from your ‘magical form’ and all he could muster was a nod.

“Should you succeed your voice shall return, and you wouldn’t have to keep giving me your scales to brew love potions. Their heart will be yours forever more, guaranteed by both their feelings in your triumph and my very own magic.” The apparition shifted; Athanaxious appears within the image — human. The two of you looked joyful as you embraced underneath what seemed to be the moon.

But then it all lasts for a second before it shifted once more. The vision of your happy ending swiftly turned bitter as this apparition’s Athanaxious slowly dissolved and disappeared, before you turn to someone else and embrace them instead.

“If you fail to win their affection before the wedding, I will keep your voice and you shall turn into sea foam.”

Athanaxious felt his stomach grow weak at the illusion’s show. Moreso the possibility of your romance with someone else than his death. He only had one choice.

“I understand. I accept both the deal and the wager.”

“Oh, how magnificent! I hope you don’t go on to regret this.” The Sea Devil lips tugged upwards.

“Now, sing for me.”

“Where will you be going?” Kalliope tugged at your sleeves.

“Out. I’ll be back before sundown.” You gently pulled your arm away from your admirer, as you buttoned your clothes and put on a pair of trousers.

“But—“

“My seed must take root for our marriage to be guaranteed, no? Keep your hips raised.”

“Can we go for another bout before you leave?”

You loop your finger around a lock of her hair, lending her a final kiss to the forehead. “No.”

Your town was not one to write about in history books. It was like any other the Empress was able to conquer under her rule. A quaint village just west of the capital city known for their great alcohol and folks to bed.

In such a small population, everyone knew you and you knew everyone. People even knew of your clients, every single one in fact. They weren’t surprised to see you in much more extravagant or expensive clothing as you passed by the street in an equally gaudy carriage.

It was moreso the armored guards that surrounded you that alerted them of something different.

“[Y/N]!”

Clearly that wasn’t enough to deter your childhood friend from running towards you.

“First you impregnate my sister and leave her all alone to take care of your mistake, now you go and get married without a word to us! Do you even care at all?!” The young man wore overalls. Soot covered his skin from what you assume was the mines he started recently working in.

Yiorgos used to be a lot kinder. Softer. Almost puppy like with his admiration towards you. But after a series of misunderstandings he grew resentful of your existence. You never bothered to correct him.

Or perhaps you were just too busy and hurt by his assumptions.

“Out of their highness’s way.” A guard put their arm between you and your former friend.

“Their . . . highness ?” Yiorgos looked at you, baffled. His hung wide open. He then leaned forward to no doubt shout at you once more before you finally put a word in.

“No, I know him.” You shook your head at the guard. Your focus left the man as soon as a familiar mop of [hair color] entered your vision.

A small girl dressed in clothing akin to your own, left Yiorgos’s side and ran up to you with no regard to the armored knight that loomed over. Excitement clear in her eyes. “Don’t listen to your uncle, you aren’t a mistake alright? Go on in, I’ll be with you.” You gently pushed her towards the siblings’ house. The girl shook her head, unwilling to let go of you. But her grip slowly loosened and she eventually shied away, leaving you and the rest.

“Your sister paid me to sleep with her and insisted not to use protection, we both know I pay for that night every single day since it happened both reputation wise and monetarily. And lastly, as you can see I had no choice.” You tilt you head to the small army of knights made to watch over you and your carriage.

Yiorgos shook his head. Brown hair swaying side to side. “You always have a choice.”

“And my choices are life and death. Don’t bother arguing about my situation!”

“Here’s my last payment and goodbye. I’ll be taking the kid with me to the castle soon.” You throw him a bag filled with gold coins and then proceeded to make your leave.

If there was anything you were proud of in your town however, it would be the opera house you worked at. Thousands of people all throughout the world often came here to watch your shows amongst the other singers and performers.

Due to its popularity it was even funded by the Empress directly. That is how you met the princess.

“[Y/N]! I’ve heard the news. Congratulations.” Your employer, Lady Anastasia — a noble woman —, runs her hand in your hair. She used to be a regular person your mother sold you off to until she eventually hired you as a singer at her Opera House. Of course, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t pay you a little extra for your services after hours.

“What’s with the fuss?” You gestured to the boy servants fussing over a young man. Who seemed a little too familiar, nostalgic maybe. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“Oh, we found a young man out on the beach you frequented. We thought it was you at first but upon closer inspection . . .”

“He’s a mute that one. Ain’t no further thing from our theater’s star.” Her Father, a rather old and gruff man, huffed. He was always so prideful of you. Despite his rough demeanor, you knew that he cared deeply. After Anastasia would bed you, he always came by to give you a cup of tea. You didn’t know how to repay the man except use your body, so he’s had a taste of you as well.

In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve bedded half of your town and then some.

“Will you keep your scathing remarks to yourself?” Anastasia lightly slapped him, “He is incredibly talented on the art of dance, light on his feet.”

“And weak on constitution. He barely finished a piece before falling to his knees and panting!”

“I’ll take care of him.” You put a hand to your chin. The man gave you a weird feeling in your stomach. Something tells you that the fates have your threads intertwined.

“Are you sure? With all these wedding preparations. . .” The old man grabbed your shoulders, making you flinch.

You unknowingly glared at him.

“Ah, sorry to be so presumptuous.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

You coughed, unsure how to or if you should even apologize. You decide on focusing at the task at hand. A final show before you’re eternally doomed to the Imperial Palace.

“Well then, why is nobody ready?”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 6

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, allusions to suicide, morning sickness.

A/N: Okay, I screwed up on some of the timeline. I made a change in chapters 1 and 2 that reader and Daryl met up every 3 days instead of every 6. Also, I adjusted the amount of time between Rick waking up and actually making it to Atlanta. So instead of it being about 9 weeks into the outbreak, we’re about 12-13 weeks in when they are at the CDC. Rick’s timeline was really the only one I could work with, so I hope to hell it makes sense now. Anyway, on with the show!

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

Morning came way too quickly. In an environment where you should have felt at ease and been able to get restful sleep, you were a wreck. After fleeing Daryl’s room, you spent a long while curled up on the bed, folded into yourself as tightly as physically possible. You cried until you were exhausted, your eyes red and sore. In the end, sleep was not merciful enough to take you. 

When the wall you were staring at began to distort and move, you finally deemed it necessary to leave the bed and force yourself to shower. You felt dirty. You had responded so vehemently to Daryl’s advances, quick to repudiate the pressing matter that would most certainly only continue to grow. You couldn’t blame the hunter for your actions. 

With the water running and steam filling the small bathroom, you shed your clothing and stepped beneath the spray. It had been months without a proper shower, the water itself feeling like heaven against your skin. You hadn’t even realized how filthy you truly were until you saw the grimy water swirling at your feet. Scrubbing your skin was something you decided to savor; the same with washing your hair. You shampooed it twice before deciding you had probably abused the hot water rule and reluctantly shut it off. 

The air in the bathroom was humid, still steamy, which made it a little less shocking to step out of the stall. After toweling yourself off, you wiped off the mirror with your hand, taking in your reflection. Circles under your eyes and a more angular look to your face; not sleeping and eating less and less as the world continued to deteriorate. 

The mirror was small so you had to step back to get a look at your body, taking stock of things you hadn’t noticed while in a state of constant stress and fear. Your breasts were tender, but Daryl hadn’t exactly been gentle with them the night before. Other than that, nothing appeared different that could be blamed on pregnancy. You had definitely lost weight as you examined your stomach. Trying to track the days in your head without your calendar, you eventually estimated that you were only about 7 weeks. You would need some sort of book or would eventually need to ask Lori or Carol about the changes you could expect. 

But that would mean telling them. 

As you dressed, you wondered how long you might be able to hide it, assuming Daryl wouldn’t want his comrades to know since even giving them your name had been privileged information as far as he was concerned. 

You left your room as quietly as possible, figuring it was really too early for anyone else to be awake. They would all probably sleep in now that they had the chance. You left your boots off, padding barefoot through the halls to the kitchen. Maybe there was some tea that would help settle your nervous stomach. It was dark, the lights off to conserve power. Pursing your lips, you looked toward the ceiling, feeling a bit ridiculous. 

“VI, could you turn on the lights?”

The response was immediate with soft lighting chasing away the shadows in the room. You raised your brows in shock that the system had operated for you. 

The kitchen was well stocked but you settled with some black tea and an apple. You probably wouldn’t be able to keep anything else down with the relentless nausea. Was this the result of stress or could it be morning sickness?

The silence and solitude helped more than you could have imagined, but all too soon, people began to shuffle in. Most of them appeared to be hung over, especially poor Glenn. To your surprise, almost everyone greeted you and asked how you slept. You dodged the question with a shrug each time. They seemed content with that and moved on to the next person. 

T-Dog came into the cooking area and began digging through the contents of each cabinet and then the refrigerator, obviously intending to make something either for himself or perhaps for everyone. Carol came around to start coffee, offering you a squeeze to the bicep and a gentle smile that you returned. 

You were nearly finished with your tea when the smell wafted through the air, sending your stomach into a revolt. You were quick to cover your mouth and nose, spinning to find T-Dog scrambling eggs. You audibly gagged before your feet moved of their own accord, carrying you quickly toward the door. To make matters worse, you had to bodily maneuver past Daryl to make your escape toward the privacy of your room.

Your meager breakfast was flushed down, the act of bringing it up leaving you more exhausted than you had already been. Maybe spending the day in bed wouldn’t be such a terrible thing. 

You crawled onto the bed, melting into the soft mattress. In pure contradiction to your earlier predicament, your mind went blissfully blank and sleep found you almost immediately. 

You jerked awake to the sound of a small knock at the door. You didn’t feel quite rested but you did feel better. Your stomach still felt uneasy but you didn’t foresee it forcing you to pray to the porcelain god anytime soon. Your body was reluctant to comply with your brain’s order to leave the bed but you soon found yourself in front of the door, pulling it open to meet the concerned face of Carol. 

“Honey, how are you feeling?” She asked softly. 

“I’m okay.” You answered tiredly, leaning against the door. The urge to go back to sleep for the foreseeable future was quite difficult to ignore. 

“I know it’s none of my business but,” the woman dropped her gaze to her wringing hands, “it’s just that I couldn’t stand the smell of eggs when I was expecting Sophia. And I wasn’t just sick in the mornings. It was all the time, which made Ed—well, that doesn’t matter.”

You were already feeling the familiar tightness return to your chest, the uncomfortable fluttering inside your gut. “I—” You couldn’t possibly tell Carol. You hadn’t even told Daryl yet and he was the baby’s father. Still, the way she was looking at you. It was as if she was as desperate to have a friend as you were. “Please don’t tell anyone.” You relented, slumping even further against the door. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t. I just figured having someone that understands couldn’t be such a bad thing.” She shrugged with that sweet smile of hers. 

You have no idea. You returned the smile. “Thank you.”

“Here.” She extended a hand, opening her palm to reveal several red and white candies. “Peppermint will sometimes help with morning sickness.” You stared for a moment before accepting, stuffing all but one into your pocket. You quickly unwrapped it and popped it into your mouth, yearning for some relief from the constant waves of nausea. 

“Thanks. Really. You could tell me to sacrifice a chicken while standing on my head and I’d do it at this point.”

Carol covered her mouth and chuckled, the moment hanging briefly before her expression turned suddenly grim. “That isn’t the only reason I came by. I wanted to fill you in on some things Dr. Jenner told us this morning.”

That did not bode well. “Yeah, okay. Come in.” You stepped back and allowed her to enter, closing the door behind her.

Carol had finished retelling Jenner’s explanation and the two of you were sitting in solemn silence when the lights shut off. You figured the other woman was looking as puzzled as you were before the two of you clumsily found the door in the darkness. You opened it to find Dale and Lori in the hallway, others with their heads peeking out of their rooms. 

Footsteps caught your attention just before Jenner passed you by, intercepted by Dale. 

“Why is the air off?”

“And the lights in our room?” Lori added. 

Another door opened, Daryl leaning out with that same bottle of liquor from the night before firmly in his grasp. “What’s goin’ on? Why’s ev’rythin’ turned off?”

Jenner seemed unbothered by the inquiries, casually swiping Daryl’s bottle in passing without missing a beat. “Energy use is being prioritized.”

Dale appeared taken aback. “Air isn’t a priority? And lights?”

Jenner tipped the bottle to his lips for a long swallow. “It’s not up to me. Zone 5 is shutting itself down.” Everyone filed out into the hall and began following the doctor, Daryl yelling at him as they walked. 

Carol touched your arm but you nodded and gave her a gentle push to encourage her to go to her daughter. “I’m gonna put on my boots and I’ll be right behind you.”

Moments later, you entered the big room and started down the stairs to join everyone just as Daryl snatched back the liquor bottle from the doctor. Jenner failed to react, his eyes on Andrea. 

“It was the French.”

The blonde stood puzzled. “What?”

“They were the last ones to hold out as far as I know. While our people were bolting out the doors and committing suicide in the hallways, they stayed in the labs till the end. They thought they were close to a solution.”

Jacqui spoke up as you came to stand next to her. “What happened?”

Jenner was utterly nonplussed. “The same thing that’s happening here. No power grid. Ran out of juice. The world runs on fossil fuel.  I mean, how stupid is that?”

Shane stepped forward, his face twisted in anger. “Let me tell you—” 

Rick was quick to interject. “To Hell with it, Shane. I don’t even care. Lori, grab our things. Everybody, get your stuff. We’re getting out of here now!”

Jacqui gently took your arm and urged you toward the door. “Oh, okay.” She said. It was obvious she was trying to maintain calm. Meanwhile, your heart was attempting to beat out from behind your ribcage. You barely made it to the middle of the stairs before a shrill alarm began blaring. 

Amidst everyone’s panicked inquiries, the AI sounded overhead. 

Thirty minutes to decontamination.

Daryl was worked up, his posture tense and expression angry. “Doc, what’s going on here?”

Jenner had weaved through the consoles to one on the end, scanning his badge and punching numbers on a keypad. 

Shane continued to rally everyone onward. “Everybody, ya’ll heard Rick!”

Rick joined in the urging. “Get your stuff and let’s go! Go now! Go!” 

Others were shouting as you climbed the remaining stairs and headed for the exit. There was a whirring clang as the door slid shut just before you could reach it. You were trembling, steps on autopilot while your brain raced through every possible outcome of the situation. None of them were pleasant. You didn’t even remember descending the stairs again but found yourself back on the lower level, watching Shane and Rick restrain Daryl. 

You were in shock, only registering key words in the intense conversation happening around you. 

“…locked down…”

“…28 minutes…”

“…catastrophic power failure…”

“…it sets the air on fire…”

Daryl ran past you with an axe, threatening the man that had just condemned you all to die.

And then, as Daryl was being held back and everyone shouted and cried, the doctor was speaking directly to you. 

“You. You don’t want to bring that innocent baby into this nightmare. This is a mercy.”

Your eyes widened and immediately sought out Daryl, who had gone still and silent. T-Dog was able to pull the axe away from him, the redneck being too busy staring back at you, his expression equal parts anger and shock. 

“You’re pregnant?” Dale exclaimed, releasing his hold on Daryl. 

“You do want this! All of you!” Jenner secured everyone’s attention with the exception of you and Daryl. 

While the pandemonium dragged on, the two of you were frozen. Your eyes pleaded with him to understand. He had no way of knowing how long you had known; whether or not you had lied about taking a test. He was only aware that you knew and you didn’t tell him. He was breathing fast through his nose, nostrils flaring. 

When he finally looked away, it felt as if your bones turned to jelly. You slid down in front of one of the stations and pulled your knees to your chest, fighting off yet another episode of panicked emotion. 

Distantly, you were aware of things happening around you. A shot was fired. The axe was hitting the door again. Everyone was yelling, pleading. 

Jenner hadn’t been offering you a medical alternative. He was telling you that this was going to happen. You could have warned everyone. You could have done something!

Now, everyone was going to die. You were going to die. Your baby was going to die. Your choice was made for you and the only thing you could think was that it was not the choice you would have made. You wanted this baby, Daryl or no Daryl. You wanted the chance to be a mother. You wanted your baby to have a chance. 

Feet began to pass by in front of you, but you were slow to respond, only looking up when someone grabbed your upper arm. 

Blue eyes. Angry, concerned, panicked blue eyes. 

“Get up.” Daryl ordered, hauling you to your feet. His hand slid down your arm to your wrist, and he pulled you along behind him. When you reached the hallway of rooms, he let go. “Get your bag.” You watched him start to walk away but found yourself still unable to make your feet move. Daryl snarled and ran back to you, grabbing your shoulder to give you a none-too-gentle shake. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, eyes blazing but voice calmer. “Y/N. Get your bag.”

It only took a heartbeat, but finally, you nodded and pulled away from him. You only had the clothes from the day before to grab and shove inside the bag. You had to shuffle around in the dark but somehow, you successfully gathered your things and stepped out into the hall just as Daryl was approaching. He still had the axe in one hand, his crossbow hanging from one shoulder and his pack from the other. 

“Go. Go, go!” He threw out his hand to urge you forward. This time, you didn’t hesitate. You met up with the group,  gathering at the front doors. They were still sealed. While the men were trying to break the glass of a large window, you noticed missing faces. Hoping you weren’t overstepping your boundaries, you laid a hand on Lori’s shoulder. 

“Not everyone’s here.” You felt stupid once the words were out. Of course she knew people were missing. They were her people. Surprisingly, she just gave you a mournful look and shook her head. What did that mean? Your expression shifted to disbelief. Unless Jenner had killed them or sealed the doors with them still inside with him, they had a chance. You had to go get them. You had to help. You had to—

“Get down!” You heard Daryl yell just before he dragged you to the floor, shielding you with his body. The surface beneath you vibrated, glass shards scattering across the lot of you. “C’mon!” He pulled you along again, this time by your hand.  

“Wait!” You yelled, your sudden stop causing him to lurch backward. The hunter growled in annoyance as you stopped to pick up his crossbow and bag. He didn’t take your hand again but you were right behind him, careful of the swinging axe when he took a walker’s head clean off.

Everyone sought shelter in the separate vehicles, Daryl leading you straight to his truck and opening the driver’s side door while snatching the weapons and bags to toss them carelessly in the back. “In! Get in!” He was almost shoving you while you scrambled inside and tried to cross into the passenger seat to give him room. However, his fingers snagged the back of your shirt and pulled you back toward him while, at the same time, he closed the door. You were pushed down toward the floorboards with Daryl’s body covering you once again. 

The explosion was massive. The truck rocked violently; the blast so loud that it left your ears ringing. You felt Daryl’s weight shift before it was gone completely, his hands on your arms to help you up into the seat even as he stared out the window. You followed his line of sight and gasped. The building had all but disintegrated. Cars, trucks, tanks: just gone. You felt only a slight relief at seeing Glenn wave Andrea and Dale into the RV. Maybe Jacqui was in there too. You weren’t a part of their group, but they were living breathing people. And that meant they mattered. 

“Hey.” You slowly turned your head toward Daryl, his hands patting down your arms, your face, your stomach. The concern he was showing was odd but not unwelcome. “Y’alright? Hurt anywhere?”

You shook your head. “No. No, I’m okay.” And right before your eyes, his expression morphed and twisted into bitter anger. 

“Good. Best sit there an’ just be quiet.” His voice was low, bordering on threatening. He started up the engine, cracking his neck while his eyes burned into the vehicle in front of the truck. 

“Daryl, I was gonna—”

“Did I stutter or ya just hard’a hearin’?” He roared, not even looking your way. 

You took in a deep breath, fighting back the tears with everything you had. You had fucked up, that was true. Maybe you deserved his wrath but you’d accept it with grace. Well, you would at least try. If there was any hope at all of fixing this—of getting through it at least civilly—you would need to let him cool down. 

As Daryl turned the truck around, pulling up the rear of the caravan, you watched the column of black smoke from what once was the CDC spiral up to layer across the Atlanta sky. 

[butwhyduh]

Another Year’s End

Summary: New Year’s Eve was never boring. This is told through multiple perspectives. Cuts between each individual. The only warning is fire.

Jason x reader

It was honestly hard to believe that you were currently living in a penthouse overlooking the glittering side of Gotham. You had moved out of a lace that should have probably been condemned with a broken heater and leaky windows and non-existent air conditioner in summer.

It had been an interesting year, as you were learning all of them were being connected to the bat family. Jason was currently asleep on the couch nursing a broken arm in a new sling Alfred had fashioned only a few days previous. You had practically forced him to take pain medication this morning because he was almost in tears while trying to cook.

Now you could get ready in peace. You could never get used to turning on the bathroom heater while walking comfortably on heated marble floors before stepping into a massive shower bigger than your old bathroom. You had a row of soaps and could turn without knocking a single one over. It was an everything shower so upon leaving the bathroom hours later, you felt like a new person.

Jason was up and moving in the bedroom. He was pulling clothing out of the fancy side of his closet. You also now had a fancy side of the closet. Jason had no less than 5 different ties laying in front of him and 2 different jackets.

“Which one for tonight. These are the pants and shoes,” Jason said without turning. You could never be silent enough to trick him.

“This jacket and one of these two ties,” you said after a minute. You held both ties up to his chest. Jason had a silly little half smile on his face as you looked at them both. “This one. Brings out your eyes.”

“Were you just using that as an excuse to stare into my eyes?” He teased.

“Of course.”

“We’ve got about an hour before we go. I’ve still got to shave and probably shower-“

“Definitely shower,” you corrected. “Do you need help covering your cast?”

“How about joining me and helping me wash my back,” he said with a glimmer in his eyes.

“Not even close. I just dried my hair,” you replied. “After the party,” you added with a wink.

“Hmm,” he replied before going to the bathroom.

You moved to the fancy side of your closet and looked at the clothing Jason had bought you over the past year. He didn’t tell you how he got paid so much more and you didn’t ask. You paused for a second. Were you basically a mob wife just enjoying the money brought in from nefarious activities without a thought?

Jason singing from the bathroom broke your thoughts and you continued on getting dressed. No, he wasn’t working as a crime lord anymore. (Your parents would probably love to hear that one.) not to mention you had a thought that Bruce was giving Jason anything he wanted to have a better relationship.

“The red one,” Jason said and you jumped. He stuck his head around the corner of the bathroom. “Please?”

“Sure. Finish your shower and don’t get the floor all wet,” you chuffed. He grinned before going back in the bathroom. It was only a few minutes later that he came out dressed in only a towel. You tried to ignore how ridiculously fit he was, it really didn’t matter how many times you saw it, he was distracting.

“Zip me up?” You asked. He nodded and kissed the back of your neck before slowly pulling the zipper up your spine. You could feel goosebumps forming. That was before he comically grabbed your ass. “Jay!”

He shrugged before tossing you your jacket. “Couldn’t resist.”

———————————

Dick x reader (different character)

Dick was running late. His fiancé was all dressed and he was running out the doors of the precinct to the Porsche.

“No, no, no,” he gasped as he saw the yellow boot on a tire. Yeah, he double parked but he was just dropping something off. Dick looked around and saw no one. It wasn’t his proudest moment but he pulled out a set of lock picks and took the boot off. That took him 5 more minutes behind.

He drove like he stole it while haphazardly throwing off his normal jacket to put on his fancy evening jacket. Trying to put a tie on one handed while speeding on the highway was not easy. You called him as he passed a cop car.

“Fuck!” He said.

“Excuse me?” You answered.

“No, I’m getting pulled over,” he said as the familiar red and blue lights shines behind him.

“Wow. We were supposed to leave 15 minutes ago,” you reminded him. He cringed.

“Yeah, give me like 10 minutes and I’ll be there,” he promised. You hummed a reply before hanging up.

A cop came up to the window and Dick answered with his badge out. “Sorry officer. GCPD business.”

The cop stared at his badge uncomfortably long before nodding. “Be safe.”

Dick showed up to the apartment a little frazzled but otherwise okay. You met him at the car. You took one look at his tie before reaching over to fix it. It was atrocious. You also fussed with his hair a bit.

The drive over wasn’t bad. It was dry and the roads had been cleared of snow recently. And Wayne manor was as glittery and fancy as always. Other people had long since arrived and you both avoided the crowds by coming in the serving entrance.

“Oh hi,” you said to Jason and his girlfriend who were coming in at the same time. “I’m glad we’re not the only ones a little late.”

“Fashionably late,” Jason replied. “Jesus, Dick. What did you do to your collar?” Jason reached over and straightened it.

“I came straight from work. Alright now?”

“Yeah you’re fine. Have you seen Tim?”

“Didn’t see his car,” Dick replied. The ballroom was packed as usual with Gotham’s richest and most influential. The colors this year were rose gold and bright diamond. In fact, there was a display of some of Gotham Museum’s finest diamonds to one side. They were donated for the night after Bruce’s ridiculously high yearly donation. On the opposite side sat a huge Christmas tree decorated with what looked like more glittering gold and diamonds.

Security was posted all around but to Dick, there was far too many people for the few guards. Bruce was to the side of the display with Selina. They were quite the pair with her long black dress with an impossibly high slit and his perfectly tailored suit. He seemed happy and relaxed but Dick knew that could be an act.

“I found Damian,” you called. Damian was sitting with his date at a table towards a back corner. He was wearing a turtleneck with a blazer and his date wore a nice sweater over her dress. They looked cute and more importantly warm, you thought. You wished that you had thought to wear a jacket. You weaved your way to the pair.

“Hey!” Dick said to Damian before forcing the boy into a hug. “How are you?” He hugged Damian’s girlfriend as well.

“There isn’t enough security. I told Father,” Damian replied. Secretly Dick agreed.

“You worry too much. Have you seen Tim?”

“Not yet,” Damian replied. “I don’t know why we insist on having balls here.”

“Preaching to the choir, kid. Let’s go get some drinks,” Jason said to his date.

“You can’t have alcohol with pain meds,” she reminded him and he grumbled while pulling on his cast.

Dick grinned at you while mouthing ‘good luck.’ Telling Jason no was like it’s own extreme sport. You sat next to Dick and grabbed a pair of champagne glasses from the waiter carrying a tray. Dick looked at his watch with a frown.

“You haven’t heard anything from Tim? He’s usually timely,” Dick asked Damian.

“He mentioned something about checking out a case before the gala. I’m not my brother’s keeper,” he replied.

“That’s what Cain said about Abel after he killed him,” Dick replied dryly. You smacked his arm at the snark.

“I didn’t kill him if that’s what you mean,” Damian replied.

“I wasn’t-“

“I would have done it long ago if I wanted to. He probably forgot about the gala with how wrapped up in the case he was,” Damian replied. Dick sighed.

“I’m sure you’re right. Want to dance?” he asked you. You took his arm and let him lead you to the dance floor. Dick was a fantastic dancer. The song was slow and he pulled you close to sway with the music.

———————————

Tim x reader (different reader)

“Timothy Drake please answer the damn phone,” you grumbled as it once again went to voicemail. You had called him 5 times and texted him many more than that. You had gone from mad that he was running late to concerned something happened. Dick’s girlfriend had texted you asking where you both were. You hadn’t responded.

You heard a clattering in the bathroom and you ran to see Tim dressed in his Red Robin suit slide into the window on fall to the floor.

“Tim!” You gasped and tan over to him. He yanked his hood off. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah just late,” he said before standing up too quickly and swaying. You grabbed him to steady him. He started walking to the bedroom. He grabbed a suit and started stripping off his costume. He had a fresh red bruise forming on his side.

“Were you really fighting right before a gala?��

“There’s a case. I’ve almost got it. Met some thugs. Nothing to worry about,” he said while moving to jump in the shower. Normally Tim was much more private than this. It was weird.

“Are you hurt? That bruise looks painful.”

“I’ll be fine. You want to drive?” He asked. He quickly showered and brushed his hair and threw on the suit in record time with practiced ease.

“I guess I can drive,” you said after a minute.

Ten minutes later you parked by the side entrance to a party in full swing. There’s something very intimidating about going to a fancy party in Gotham. You’ve always gotten the vibe that anything could happen at anytime and danger was one step off. Tonight the thought was even greater.

Tim just wasn’t himself as he pulled you into the building. He was a little less refined and a little clumsier.

“Tim, what is going on?” You asked.

“Nothing. We’re just late,” he said.

“Well maybe don’t drag me around when I’m in heels. I almost fell down,” you chided. He sighed.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s go inside, okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied softer.

The glittering gold and diamonds were blinding and the building was incredibly full of people. You weaved through the crowd. You held Tim’s hand tightly in fear of losing him.

“Let’s dance,” he said and that’s when you knew something was wrong. He usually needed at least a full glass of champagne before dancing. You let him guide you to the dance floor. He was sloppy and you had to pull him back a few times as he almost hit people with his wild movements. He looked drunk and seemed to be less coordinated by the minute.

You saw Dick and his fiancé dancing and steered Tim towards them. They were dancing beautifully and you regretted interrupting them.

“Dick!” You called out. He turned to see you and Tim dancing. He smiled.

“Already a glass deep, I see,” he teased Tim.

“No, he’s not,” you said, worried. Dick’s brow furrowed.

“I’m fine,” Tim replied but Dick had already seen the sloppy movement and slower reaction timing.

“Why don’t we get a seat,” Dick replied. He mouth a ‘sorry’ to his date. The four of you moved to a table. “Buddy have you had anything to drink tonight?”

“No and I don’t like the accusation that I have,” Tim replied.

“Okay I believe you,” Dick said. He asked you a bunch of questions and tried to ask Tim who was becoming less coherent by the minute.

—————————

Damian x reader

“Sorry, I am in a poor mood. I just haven’t slept in 31 hours,” Damian admitted after you grew angry at his attitude.

“Why not?” You asked.

“There’s a case that I have been helping Drake with. We’ve been taking turns with surveillance. I didn’t have time to take a nap. I’ll be fine. A few hours shouldn’t be a problem,” he said confidently.

“We don’t have to stay at this party,” you replied. “Seriously if you need to sleep.”

“No Father needs me here. He needs someone watching after him,” Damian replied while looking around the room.

“Don’t you ever get tired of it, caring for everyone?” You asked gently. “Are you going to watch after your father forever?”

Damian suddenly stopped his surveillance and looked over at you. “I’m sorry. This case is getting to me. There’s… a lot on the line.”

“Like what?”

“Drake thinks there’s trafficking involved. A new drug to low inhibition,” he practically whispered. “I can’t really talk about it.”

“Take the night off. It’ll be there tomorrow,” you retorted with a smile. Damian nodded. “Do you want to get some snacks?”

“Sure,” he replied before grabbing your hand and pulling you through the crowd. As Damian walked towards the drink station, his relatively new height afforded him the ability to see over many guests. He spotted Dick fussing over Tim. Damian immediately pulled you towards them.

Just as Damian was arriving at the table, down from them around the Christmas tree, a group of older men lit cigars as they talked business. Jason and his girlfriend happened to be nearby. Jason wanted to quit smoking, he really did. But the fact that they were lighting up as he was quite stressed about the event was hard to ignore. He pulled his cigarettes from his jacket pocket despite his partners protest.

“Can I get a light?” He asked.

At the tables Tim was becoming angry at the concern the others had for him. He suddenly stood up and stormed off towards the tree. His arms swinging wildly as his balance was compromised. And fate for Bruce Wayne had never been kind. Because just as Jason was lighting a match to light up his cigarette, Tim Drake crashed straight into him and directly into the Christmas tree.

Jason jumped back with a yell in pain as his injured arm was jostled but the damage had been done. The tree that Alfred had bought a month previous and had painstakingly decorated with glittering bobbles and dried flowers went up in flames. The tree was incredible flammable.

Tim froze as he looked at the sudden bonfire. Jason dragged him away as the heat seared the air. Screaming could be heard all around and the mass of bodies scrambled for the exits. You froze in fear as the flames tickled the streamers hung from the ceiling.

“We need to leave,” Dick said. “Go to that exit,” he pointed. “I’m going to help them.”

“I’ll come too,” Damian said.

“No, get them out,” Dick commanded. Dimly they could hear Bruce announce something over the loud speakers. Chaos ensued especially around the diamond display. Damian grabbed your hand and you grabbed Dick’s fiancés hand who grabbed Tim’s girlfriend’s hand and the four of you made towards the exit. Bodies pressed all around as people panicked. Your ears rang from the screaming your lungs began to burn from the smoke.

Across the room Dick had just barely made it to Tim and Jason and Jason’s girlfriend. The pair were trying to drag Tim towards an exit with no luck. Jason was furious that he couldn’t use one arm. Dick simply scooped Tim up fireman style before marching towards an exit.

The sprinkler system finally kicked in. The fire remained on the tree but any spread was quickly stopped.

You shivered in the cold Gotham air outside the ballroom. People ran to their cars or stood watching as the tree continued to burn. Damian pulled off his jacket to wrap around your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you replied and he pulled you into a hug.

Tim’s girlfriend paced and stared at the exits hoping they would come out soon. “I don’t understand what is going on with him. Tim was not himself.”

“They’ll be out soon,” Dick’s fiancé replied. She looked terrified. Jason was injured and Tim was altered and there were so many civilians. Dick would try to get everyone out.

Fire trucks sounded in the distance as they raced towards the manor. Black smoke billowed out the doors and obscured any view. Inside was chaos as the sprinklers flooded the room. Dick finally made it to an exit and all but tossed Tim on the lawn before running back in to help others.

“I see Tim!” You cried and his girlfriend ran over to him. Visibly uninjured but very altered Tim sat on the grass in a daze.

“Are you okay?” His girlfriend asked and before he could respond, he vomited on the grass. It was electric green and Tim seemed to sag in relief.

“That’s something,” you replied.

“Yes, I think it’s our mysterious substance from the case,” Damian replied.

The last of the people had filtered out of the building and the fire had dimmed down. The firefighters quickly put it out. Dick and Jason and his girlfriend came out finally. Alfred found the group and sighed in relief.

“Thank heavens,” he said. “Let’s get you lot inside.”

They walked to the opposite side of the manor that wasn’t damaged by the smoke and moved into an informal den. Bruce and Selina soon joined them.

“There’s a problem,” Bruce started.

“Other than the fire,” Dick asked.

“And Tim?” Jason added.

“Yes, someone stole about 100 million dollars in diamonds tonight and the drug you were tracing made it’s way into the party tonight. This is now an open investigation,” Bruce said.

“Happy New Years,” Tim said from the couch as the clock struck midnight.

Part 1

[moltengoldveins]

my DnD character, an ace firbolg woman in her (firbolg equivalent) fifties, is so painfully autistic she has thus far accidentally flirted with nearly every major villain and NPC in our campaign. This has not been deliberate on my part. Nobody has told her, so she doesn’t even know. But it’s…. It’s pretty bad. it started with a knight accompanying the party for a quest: he was so obnoxiously intolerable my character honestly considered just taping his mouth shut. But he did help them out, so at the end of the session as he was leaving she made an effort and offered him a cloth to clean his armor (covered in troll blood: gross) the entire table dissolved into laughter as he awkwardly took the cloth (it was a handkerchief) thanked her (uncomfortably) and tied the handkerchief to his arm (like a medieval knight would the token of a maiden.) She didn’t notice. Everyone Else Did. it’s only gotten worse over time, I have about six other instances of this, all somehow worse than the last. This has included:

Her teleporting behind a flirty redhead NPC, grabbing her by the neck, and leaning down to growl in her ear and demand an explanation for why she was stealing one of the party’s horses. (long story) I didn’t see anything wrong with this behavior. The NPC proceeded to make a filthy innuendo about my character’s size (8’9” or so). I sat there for a minute, grieved, not because it f the comment but because I knew my character wouldn’t pick up on the joke and I’d have to play this straight. What followed was a Deeply Unpleasant Scene (everyone including me was Dying of laughter)

Her going back for an assumed dead player character even though chances of his survival were less than zero, and accidentally making it sound to another party member like they were carrying on some secret star-crossed fling. Worst bit was that player character WAS dead; nobody to corroborate her when she denied any romance. That other party member still thinks they were dating.

A villain they were negotiating with (and that she absolutely Loathed bc he threatened her son) flicked his tail in her face to goad her. She didn’t rise to the bait but she did smack her tail against his. Unfortunately the way I phrased it made it sound Bad. I noticed pretty much the moment it came outta my mouth.

I love my dumb little cow woman and her incurable adoption tendencies so much but Wow does she need to get a gaydar installed onboard and Fast. And by her I mean me. I need help.

[1495-gauge]

You're a medicinal apprentice of the Pearl clan, and today, your clan found a ghost-touched elder out in the snow.

It's your job to help him, even if this too tall man, covered in strange clothing, is babbling in tongues. His hair is a dull grey, his eyes shine vacant, and his extremities are in desperate need for treatment of frostbite.

He's got a head wound. The other healers, you hear them discuss how that must be making it all worse. He looks deceptively young — but he can't be, eyes glowing like a man with a claim on his soul.

None of you know where he could have come from. You're surprised the patrol didn't think he was a zoroark. They probably did. But as you pump his fingers, encouraging sluggish blood back into them, you can feel he is very, very real.

It's a duty, to serve those older than you, even when they're marked like this. The ghost-touched end up like children, tantrums and illogical and lost. Until the ghost that caused it finds the light of the fire it left behind their eyes again, until it can steal them away forever.

You are spending a lot of medicinal resources on a man who will certainly not last the winter.

You believe it's compassion. The clan takes him in, and when he finally remembers a few real words, they welcome in Ingo, to make his stay, however short, kind.

But it's not as short as you expect — as anyone expects.

Each passing day, his twisted words resolve slowly into real language once more. Strange utterances still pepper his speech, but he's becoming knowable. He communicates, his memories have been robbed from him. And everyone believes him, because what else could leave a man so old unable to fend for himself?

You're worried for him. He doesn't remember to be cautious. You patch up his cuts and scrapes he develops from exploring the outskirts of camp, it's spring and he's still here. It would be something to rejoice if his eyes didn't still glow. If his fate wasn't still so very clear.

It's cruel, to draw it out. None of you want him to leave, this kind old man who has forgotten everything, volume control especially, but who plays with the children and does his best to relearn tasks and is that sort of gentle that can only be a product of experience, however lost. None of you want him gone, but it's cruel that the ghost coming for him is taking its time. Letting him regrow a life for himself. Letting others become attached.

You can see how everyone is thinking it, when they look at him more with pity, when they keep a bit of distance. You have no choice, his designated healer now, and he certainly comes to your tent regularly. Not just for healing, but with berries as gifts, little wood carvings that look like they were made by a child as apology for all the work he makes you do. You cannot reject any of it, and the ties anchoring you to this lost soul grow stronger.

You'd feel resentful, but you can't.

Time passes, and come summer, his penchant for being unafraid of the wildlife becomes a problem. He ends up bringing home a gligar, getting poisoned so often he becomes the sole user and contributor to your pecha stores. They may as well be housed with him, but he seems to enjoy checking in on you while halfway to his deathbed due to his companion's stinger. Over time, he comes in less, less due to his companion gaining better control, more due to his own developing immunity.

The day Lady Sneasler chooses him as her warden, many wonder if there was a claim on his soul at all.

But you can't forget how he came here, eyes flashing in the light, bereft of language and life and skills. Even now, he is often nonsensical, well meaning but lost. Meant for the next world.

He takes to it well, and survives to the next winter, and the next, growing his impossible team of companions. You've never seen anyone guide pokemon in the way he does, and you wonder how much of it is that insane lack of fear that could only be caused by having his soul unmoored and his former life stripped away.

When the sky breaks open, the nobles frenzy. You have little time to worry about your favorite patient, because instead you're treating wounds from pokemon that should have never hurt anyone.

He starts to guide people, showing up in the morning, taking them where they need to go — especially through the highlands. From what you've heard, the rift has made the pokemon there untameable. You worry for him, but all you get are reports of how he must be remembering his past as a fierce warrior, because how else could he so confidently command pokemon and people alike? How else could he face off and win against alpha pokemon that attack his caravans, make them his companions as well?

He uses the capture devices that the foreigners in the fieldlands do, and one night, he shows you how the pokemon can escape them on their own — they're more for ease, he says. It's much easier to carry his team like this. You imagine the towering pokemon he's showed you being led through camp, and you agree the balls are a good idea.

The sky turns red, and you don't hear from him.

The sky turns blue, and you don't hear from him.

But he returns, and says he's remembering, now. He'll be staying down with Jubilife, for a while. Battling, helping the foreigner who fell from the sky and calmed Almighty Sinnoh. He says, he may be able to go home.

You don't let him see how those words could bring you to tears. His clock has always been near running out, you knew this. But he had never seemed to.

Eventually, he does his rounds. Says his goodbyes. He's standing up straighter, seeming younger, a last burst of energy, you think. He thanks you, for everything you've done.

He goes to the mountain, and he doesn't come back.

You erect a little memorial in your home, for the man with eyes that glowed far longer than anyone's ever had before. For the man who loved the world, pokemon, battling. You hope, wherever he is beyond this world, he is happy, and safe. That the man he was and the man he became can reconcile. You thank his spirit, for the time it spent in your life, and the next time one of the clan's elders loses their mind to the ghosts of the land, it's him you think of as you care for them.

[thenightfolknetwork]

Hello, I wrote in a while ago about my son, and I think you should be made aware of everything that has happened since our letters aired, as you aided him in opening up about his true troubles at the time.

I did give him the privacy of not listening to his letter as it came on that night, which he probably would have quizzed me about if he’d still been awake when I got home. He’s still my son and several of my more, let’s say family oriented former colleagues, did heavily impress on me that I should respect whatever boundaries he draws, no matter how silly. That did partially lend me to think his sullenness was a new boundary that I didn’t dare directly cross.

I did also say former colleagues, as I took your advice and left my old line of work, completely severing any ties to it and giving up any nemesis statuses I might’ve racked up over the years,and opened up a small Etsy shop where I sell custom hand sewn clothing items. The patterns I remember from my youth are actually quite popular amongst longer lived genuses who are nostalgic about late 18th and early 19th century fashion, and sapio historical reenactors and fashion history enthusiasts. And who knew that the sleight of hand I developed during my old job would lend itself so well to hand sewing!

My son is also doing well. His bully issues have been solved with minor feather loss on her end (mostly due the stress from her actions making its way back to her convocation), and the school councillor has regular meet ups with her last I heard. I’ve also met my son’s boyfriend! A lovely young merman, who’s so very sweet. I’m glad he found someone nice and only begrudgingly understand why he kept them a secret from me. I do agree that I have the potential to be very intimidating to new people, especially those who have a real way of hurting my son.

I still listen to your broadcasts, especially the agonies section, but nowadays it’ll be when I’m up late felling the edges of my projects rather than hunting down whoever was on my list for the night.

May you have a wonderful week. Good night.

I'm so glad to hear you and your son are seeing eye to eye once more! I remember both your initial letter and his own, and recall how evident it was that both of you cared very much for one another, even as you struggled to find a way to communicate.

Well done on leaving your old job. I know it couldn't have been easy for you, but I admire your willingness to make difficult choices for the safety and happiness of your family.

As I said in my response, I never wished to shame or blame you for your son's forcible turning. That responsibilty lies firmly with the individual who attacked him.

But that individual was acting in response to your chosen career, and I am very glad you took my advice and have taken up a less dangerous profession - for yourself, and your loved ones.

You've demonstrated real care and consideration for him during this difficult period, and it's good to see that paying off in his newfound trust in you. I wish you all the best in your historical costuming endeavours.

It is always difficult as a parent to discern the line between respecting your child's privacy, and keeping them safe. But just as it was inappropriate for you to expect your son to defend himself against an attacked, it would have been inappropriate to disrespect his autonomy and independence.

I can't pretend I don't feel some small satisfaction at hearing his school bully has been suffering from the consequences of her behaviour. May her suffering be short-lived - but educational.

It sounds as if you've done a very good job of walking that line, making sure your son feels supported while also demonstrating that you can be trusted not to cross his boundaries – even those you may consider “silly”. You have more than risen to the challenge, and I wish you and your son all the best in the future.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[sillyxaly]

Since im skipping class have a TGCF AU idea ramble.

Premise is smt like: strong spiritual weapons can develope and switch into a human form (see. Rain Masters Mount. The Boy had it going)

Aka. Im turning our babies into people but only part time.

Cut because much spoiler for all Plot

Let us begin

Ruoye:

Ruoye turns human about a medium percentage of the time and is suprisingly rather talkactive with Xie Lian. They cant be curled up and cozy in Xie Lians sleeve when they do, which is about the biggest downside. I imagen when they were a younger spirit they were much more curios, exploring and testing their limits in silk form, learning a lot about their own limits and how not to get tangled up into knots. It was semi-acidential when they first turned human and jumping up all proud they promptly fell back down face first. Gravitiy baby. They figured all that out relativly quickly tho.

Ruoye has unbeliavbly long white hair and it gets tangled everywhere and on everything much to Xie Lians dismay. He tried putting it in a big braid but that just ended up getting Ruoye stuck on some branches and didnt help the knots in their hair so he resigned himself to the task of combing it on a regular basis. Ruoye mostly turns to wander of and explore a bit (and happily tell Xie Lian of their findings) because even now that they have grown they still remain curious in nature or to help out with the chores sometimes. Although they do hate getting dirty in general. When younger I also imagen Ruoye often asked about how they came to be, after all a spiritual silk band like themselves must have some origin. Xie Lian has managed to avoid the topic each and every time, leaving Ruoye clueless about its own involvement in past events. A very good decision because I dont think thats something anyone would want to know.

Some more general appearance (which I hopefully will actually draw one day) Ruoye is pale and wears white which isnt really that original but theres only so much my mind can do with white slik. Aside from the long hair which is usually open unless Xie Lian ties into into something for them their sleeves are also long. They grew into it to the extent they dont trip over their own clothes anymore but its still enough to blow in the wind and turn them into a giant silk again visually speaking. After the final showdown and being stitched back together they also have a rather big scar on their stomach which bothers themselves a little to look at, but they dont have to very often so they sometimes forget its there.

Eming:

Ruoye was not happy when showing off by turning human resultet in Eming doing the same. Starting with general appearance here. One red eye as per usual. Id imagen Eming never bothered much covering the other or the lack of one and neither did Hua Cheng. Eming is Pale and almost silvery to the extent Xie Lian thought he might be sick upon first seeing him (Eming didnt mind it got him attention). While technically also a good 800 years old by now Eming remains the form of a teenager which actually makes him smaller than Ruoye, much to their pleasure and his dismay.

Anyhow, Eming Propably does know how it was formed. Hua Cheng just told him very early on to have it out of the way and not be troubled with it later. Eming didnt really use to be in human form much if at all until Xie Lian came around and he started doing it more and more to help him with as many things as he possibly could (butting heads with Ruoye about the praised it earned him many times). There was just not much of a reason prior and he had to always be on call on vigilant for Hua Cheng so thats that. Sometimes now he just turns human because Xie Lian thinks hes rather cute and he loves getting that pointed out. Makes him all giddy. Eming likely talks less than Ruoye in general which is subconcious because Hua Cheng only allows so much and he is already not so happy about Eming taking on human form just to steal away geges attention. Eming did open up to Ruoye a little post-canon. Since Xie Lian spends a lot of time just being lovey dovey with Hua Cheng the two weapons also have a lot more downtime so Ruoye dragged Eming along to explore Ghost City one of those days. And well, even for Eming you can only listen to so much chatter and happy comments about the structure of the buildings or whatever else caught Ruoyes eye before you slowly start to join the conversation. Turns out Eming can actually talk quiet a lot! They probably bond over that and now Ruoye drags him along all the time. This does in no way mean they dont still fight for Xie Lians attention. It does however mean they get to complain to one another about how they both lost that fight to Hua Cheng.

Fangxin

Xie Lian actually didnt know Fangxin had a human form for the longest time and was rather startled when he first turned out of nowhere. It was likely at someones doorstep when Xie Lian was doing the usual scrap business that a tall and posed man just suddenly stood there pointing at a book asking something along the lines of "can we get this one?"

Fangxin did tragically not convince the owner to give them the book for free which was likely only because he was told to keep at least a semi-low profile and hes not one to disappoint Jun Wu.

Fengxin I feel has intricatly braided hair with a few little pieces of silver jewlery in it. Generally clothes in black and the tallest of our three with some little silver and white adornment. Xie Lian assumed it took the sword a lot of energy to turn because after not getting what he asked for he turned right back and didnt turn again for a long time. In truth Fengxin just doesnt care a whole lot. He turns mostly to pass the time with a scroll when he can and talks only as much as necessary during his time with Xie Lian. This is partially because the less he turns and talks the less likely he is to spill any secrets and while he isnt that talkactive to begin with he also isnt much in need of new friends to risk it. A very loyal soul. It also gives Fangxin some more old man vibes which just reiterates Xie Lians believe that, while a good weapon, Fangxin seems to be pretty old. Therefore he doesnt question it much and politly accepts the fact that Fangxin does not wish to converse with him when he turns and they just kind of co-exsist in the same space until Fangxin decides to turn back. Hes barely noticable really.

Ruoye doesnt like him a whole lot. Odd feeling about the guy. It might just be because they are very unalike in nature (if you ask Xie Lian at least) and Fangxin never quiet humored and of Ruoyes exploring or little rambles quietly refusing to engage.

Xie Lian has, much to his shock, has to find out that Fangxin isnt actually old or too weak to hold a human form for long after Jun Wu takes the sword back. Back where he truly belongs Fangxin has more the aura of a confident youth. In fact Fangxin actually quiet enjoys a good fight and is rather thrilled to finally be allowed to work at full power again. He isnt much less of a menace than his master. If I were to indulge greatly id imagen Fangxin actually rapidly switching between human and sword form in the fight for some cool moves but yall can decide that as you will. One way or the other with Jun Wu Fanxin is somewhat a reflection of who that man used to be. Confident, proud, strong and always excited to spar. Because i think thats neat and Fangxin is at heart still Jun Wus weapon. He is meant as such and I intend to fight anyone on that. This is also the reason Fangxin kept his secrets and played a low profile. Very loyal soul.

Suprise! More because nobody can stop me now!

The wind and water master fan:

I dont quiet remember if they were made as a pair in canon but they will be here, making them essentially twins! Very close twins to be precise. Whenever they get together you can be sure a little chaos ensues and they have much to talk about. I dont really have much of a mental image on them except that id think its cool if their outfits are complimentary? Like they do very clearly match but they dont wear the same thing. They did that fully on purpose by the way.

For the wind master fan I imagen its a lively fellow. While dutiful enough to know when to not turn and remain a weapon for safetys sake and that it should always stay close to Shi Qingxuan in case it it needed, it does turn pretty often. To an extent where most heavenly officials actually know the Fan about as well as the Master. They probably have regular chats too. I just kind of imagen whenever Shi Qingxuan is strolling through the heavens without anything to do the wind master fan is strolling right next to her matching her step. And you better be sure they find something to talk about until a task arises and they need to actually work.

The water master fan is a bit less lively but that is mostly due to Shi Wudu just not being as conversing (although maybe they do gossip together sometimes. Feels like Shi Wudu might gossip to his weapon because his weapon wont snitch) and its not like Shi Wudu has that many friends it could talk to instead. So when it turns its mostly to serve as a lowkey junior official or when it meets its twin and they can chat!

Funnily enough both of them actually picked up the habit of changing between female and male form (much to Shi Wudus building headache and Shi Qingxuans delight). Shi Wudu 100% thinks his brother set them up to do that, but thats only half true. While the Wind Master fan definetly picked up the habit from its master and passed it on to its twin, shi Qingxuan never actually went out of her way to tell them to do it. Nontheless the added strength to her ultimate goal of getting everyone in heaven to try it at least once has gained forces! She is very pleased.

After a certain Arc the wind master fan is having some emotional troubles with grief and death and also some scars. While theirs are more faint than Ruoyes because my brain registers this as a more "brought back from the dead" type of Situation than Ruoye for some reason they have more of them.

The earth master shovel:

The wind master fan has tried to convince them to show their human form many many times and failed many many times. No matter how much he would huff, puff or beg they never complied. Shi Qinxuan put that on the list of: "Why Ming-xiong should train using his spiritual weapons more often" because surely the poor thing just doesnt know how. They both find it unlikely it lacks the power to do so, this shovel can burry through anything! Surely it should have enough spiritual power to form a human appearance.

The truth is that, while technically able, He Xuan actually put some type of seal on it to prevent this. While he did get rid of the earth master he couldn't exactly dump his weapon altogether, but he had to make sure that his cover isnt blown instantly so he just had to prevent the thing from speaking. Easy as that.

Later, when with Yin Yu, the Earth Master Shovel had the seal lifted, but turning into a human form was still difficult. Even if it could it didnt use these legs in a long time and likely had to relearn a lot of things like walking and maybe even speaking because of the whole incident. Yin Yu likely helped with that when he could. They bonded a bit over that.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Handfuls of Laurel

Sigh Not So | Secrets Hid Away | Shed Tears Aplenty | Fire Down Below | Rolling Down | Won’t You Go My Way? | The Seas No More | The Nightingale’s Song | Bones in the Ocean | For She Was Afraid | Time for Us to Leave Her | To Unchain Me | A Good Time Coming | I Long to Hear You | The Low Road | Handfuls of Laurel |

For @whumptober no. 31, emptiness

CW: Implied noncon, creepy whumper, nonhuman whumpee, captivity

-

The sun shone warm through the foggy glass windows of Areyto’s beautiful prison, but with his captor’s hand between his shoulder blades, heavy as stone, he couldn’t look up to see it.

Instead, he felt the cool, solid tile against his forehead and the palms of his hands where they were pressed flat by his shoulders, elbows bent. His knees were pushing into the tile hard enough that he knew he’d have bruises later, but bruised knees were more or less a constant in his life, and he barely noticed them by now.

Instead of thinking about his captor’s damp touch and the way he whispered vile praise, Areyto thought about the sweet-green smell of the ferns, flowers, and fruit trees around him, and the way the water in his pool lapped gently against the sides, just a few inches from his fingers.

An ache throbbed within him and he thought distantly of the rotten fruit that fell from the little trees kept in pots in here, how he was also marked and smudged with the browns, yellows, and purples - but no one ever came to whisk him into a basket and toss him out to feed the pigs.

Would that feel like freedom, being tossed in the trough?

Would it feel like anything at all?

The magic that trapped him so completely within his own skin was fading, becoming less powerful day by day as no one reinforced it, but it wasn’t weak enough yet for him to disobey his captor’s demands and direct orders.

Soon, but… not yet.

Not ever, now that the new magician was here.

He’d gotten lucky with what happened to the last one.

He shifted, just barely, moving his painted-over hand to one side, inch by inch, in time with his captor’s hip. He shivered with repulsion when he felt sweat drop from his captor’s forehead onto his back. When his fingertips just barely touched the saltwater that his captor was merciful enough to allow him, he exhaled. A gift, his captor said, that could be revoked any time he wished.

So Areyto stayed still, and told himself to be grateful that his captor had been too hurried this morning to care if his prisoner enjoyed his attentions or not, that Areyto was at least allowed to feel nothing this time.

He was allowed to feel disgusted, and for once not with himself.

There was a groan, pressure beyond any other inside him, and then his captor raked fingernails over his ribs on either side, pulling little more than a distant hiss from between the siren’s gritted teeth. Then he was gone, and where Areyto had been too full, he now felt horribly empty, scraped out and with nothing left of him.

His captor ran a slow hand down from his neck to the small of his back, humming happily at the sight, and then stood and tied the sash of his robe. He was humming a little tune to himself, jaunty and carefree.

“Playing dead fish today, are we?” He asked, good humored and satisfied.

Areyto would have torn him limb from limb if he could, but even his fury was subdued, now, banked embers instead of blazing fire. He kept his eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the water at the ends of his fingers, until he heard the rustling as his captor walked away.

“Well,” His captor continued, voice getting quieter as he moved away, “It hardly matters. You will clean yourself and then dress in the clothes I left by the door. Wait for my return.”

Areyto didn’t even bother to look up. He just turned his head to the side and lowered his hips. The tile felt so good. Very little did, any longer. His eyes traveled idly and he watched his captor run fingers down the scratches he’d carved into the inside of the doors, the way the man’s mouth twisted with irritation.

Some nights, as long as his captor was asleep, he found himself able to try - briefly - to escape. Some nights the magic that wrapped him so tightly loosened enough to allow him the first halting steps towards a freedom that he could barely remember ever having had.

Then the net would snap tight again.

“Yes, master,” Areyto murmured. He blinked, slowly. His mind felt like it was mired in mud. “Why?”

“You have no need to know why I give you commands,” His captor snapped. “You only need to obey them. You have half an hour. Then Babbage will come in here and fix your ridiculous hair, you will make him forget you as soon as he is done, and you will come to breakfast with myself and the new magician.” He left before Areyto was forced to whisper his obedience, which was a sort of relief.

If he only had a little more time alone...

But the new magician was here, and Areyto had ruined any chance of bringing her over to his side, getting her to free him.

He’d gotten too scared and too desperate and felt some semblance of hope. He'd been impulsive. He’d tried to sing her into helping him, but the spell had been broken before it had fully wrapped around her, and now... He’d lost what had felt like his last chance. She was someone new who he hadn’t been commanded yet to turn into another enemy, someone who had - however briefly - looked at him like a person and not a thing to be used.

She had touched him so gently, and he could still feel her fingertips along his jaw.

He had made a terrible mistake.

The last magician had been a cruel man who hadn’t sedated him. He’d taken the chance when the pain from the magic had risen to a higher crescendo than what came from disobeying commands. Even that had been a mistake, he'd been half-conscious and mad with the agony the spell wrought as it resettled. The magician had been torn limb from limb before he knew what he had done. This mistake was worse, because he should have known better. Now she’d think of him what all humans thought of him, some sort of evil mindless animal, and she would do as his captor asked. With her would vanish his small slim hope that something - anything - might get better, that he even might dream one day to be free, to go home.

When she had told him not to sing to her, he hadn’t listened.

Stop trying to force me, and I will help you.

She couldn’t have meant it, he had been sure it had been a trick, nothing more. He’d kept pushing, knowing that he couldn’t trust a human to mean a word they said, but… if she had been honest… well he’d ruined that, hadn’t he?

One hundred and fifty years, and he couldn't wait a few days more to grasp at what help he might have found.

And this morning, his voice once again refused to craft a single note without permission. His captor had whispered silence into his very bones while he took him. He felt the slime of his captor’s touch, too. At least he could fix that problem-

Areyto simply rolled into the water.

Saltwater stung along his ribs and in the torn places, but he ignored it, drifting down until he hit the bottom, laying there on his back and seeing nothing above him but a foggy hint of light broken by water.

He felt like a canyon deep beneath the ocean, a place so dark not even the anglerfish lights could show, inhabited only by the absence of life. He had died a long time ago, but his body had never been allowed to follow his mind.

He would have to dress, in a moment, and wear the hated human clothes that itched and felt strange on skin meant to stay bare. He would have to sit while the idiot butler cut off all his hair, and say yes, master over and over again, stare down at the plate while his captor ate and drank and was merry and bright.

He would have to hope his performance of empty humanity was enough to earn him a few fish tossed into the water once his captor was done.

He would have to do all of that, over and over again, in a monotonous emptiness that would never end until he was finally allowed to die.

But not yet.

For now, he could stay here in the water, and who could tell the difference between saltwater and tears?

-

Taglist: @grizzlie70 @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings @there-will-always-be-blood @latenightcupsofcoffee

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Beauty and the Freak part 1

Warnings: human captivity/used as party entertainment, emaciated & starvation, infection/festering injuries

A young trillionaire girl's parents promise to let her buy one thing for her 12th birthday no matter the cost as they attend a high-end party full of expensive jewelry and potential gifts. But the girl is more interested in the 'entertainment', which turns out to be a small collection of monsters and mutated freaks. But one in particular catches her eye. Will she buy it as her gift to herself?

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

Annabelle was turning 12 today. It was one of her favorite days of the year, and her parents had promised her a spectacular surprise this year. They were attending a fancy party full of rich guests with stunning jewelry and expensive clothes for sale, and her parents had agreed to let her purchase one gift of her choosing, no matter the price.

Annabelle was wise for her age, and often surprised people with the polished way she spoke, like she was older than she looked. It made it easy for her to earn the respect of her elders, when she proved herself to be highly mature and far from naive. Unfortunately her serious demeanor and professional materials made her unpopular among others her age, which made it so she didn't have many friends. But it didn't bother her much.

She was so excited when the time came for the party, and eagerly followed her parents into the hosting mansion with her chin held high, dressed in a lovely and expensive blue dress with genuine ruby beads sewn to the collar, and with her long blonde hair tied up in braids. The place belonged to a friend of her parents.

Her mother gave her a small word of warning to be careful before leaving her on her own to go mingle with some others. She knew Annabelle was trustworthy and careful.

Annabelle hummed chipperly to herself as she weaved through the decent-sized crowd, surveying all her options for potential gifts to herself. There were a few tables set up around the grand room with rare merchandise she paused to examine, but none were quite what she was looking for.

That's when an animalistic snarl caught her attention, and she worked her way through the crowd to find the source. What she found was terrifying. A good portion of the crowd was gathered around several small metal cages holding living creatures inside. They looked like monsters, really, mutated creatures like wolves with five legs and a horse with horns like a goat. Along with several others.

Guests jeered and mocked them, some throwing food and random objects at the panicked creatures to provoke an aggressive reaction and laughing cruelly when the animals threw themselves against the bars of their cage, terrified and desperate to escape. It made Annabelle sick inside. She never would have come here if she'd known this event would be taking place.

But the cage at the end of the row caught her attention, and she made her way over to it. There weren't nearly as many partygoers surrounding this one. And she realized why. Because this creature was boring.

It was less monstrous than the others, and just looked like a hulking beast of a man, all muscle riddled with vicious scars. Honestly, it looked like there was more scar tissue than actual skin. He had raven-black hair and sunken green eyes that reminded her of a lush forest.

The man was shirtless, and Annabelle could could every rib on his thin body. He was slumped against the back bars with his head bowed against his chest, ignoring the taunts and jeers of the crowd, even when food was occasionally thrown at him. It made him less interesting, and so the partygoers gravitated toward the other victims instead. The more entertaining animals.

But Annabelle found herself secretly admiring him for it. She could see that he was no dumb beast like the others. He was smart, intentionally playing weak to earn a brief reprieve from the constant abuse, no matter how fleeting. By enduring in silence, he made himself boring and unappealing to torment. He was a miserable sight too, covered in dirt and caked blood and nasty bruises, some fresher injuries still highly visible on his torso. The suffering he must have been through was unimaginable.

(I like playing with titles which is why this is called "Beauty and the Freak" instead of the more well-known story "beauty and the beast.")

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@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

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@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @whump-queen

[graylinesspam]

Come to find out, artillery rounds do considerable damage to your body when you're hit by them directly.

Ahsoka yelps as the swirling spinning surgical pod whirls around her again, the high pitched sound searing through her montrals. But even that pain is secondary to the way her back it opened up, the muscles being carefully tended to. charred flesh sliced away and raw muscles stitched backtogether.

There are no less than three medics hovering outside of the pod. each scurrying around completing an endless series of tasks to support her recovery.

When she walked back onto the Resolute after Steela's funeral she'd just been grateful that she'd started wearing backless dresses, which had prevented fabric from melting into her burns.

But for artillery rounds, it turned out that the healing process was worse than the wounds themselves.

Being sliced apart and stitched back together was a lengthy process. She'd been stuck in the medbay, face down, for well over two weeks. The skin of her back was kept alive by bacta treatments and steroids but ultimately kept detached from her flesh as the medics needed continued access to the muscle beneath.

She was also on a constant flow of painkillers to make her condition tolerable. It did nothing for the pain of the operations but it made her idle hours easier to bear.

she also wasn't allowed to dress in any reasonable clothing. only her leggings and disposable paper gowns that tied around the neck and waist. they were dry and itchy and they crinkled whenever see moved. she'd grown to hate that sound.

Maybe she was being bitter and unreasonable. but she'd also lost all the strength in her arms when they started taking apart her back muscles. turns out the shoulders are very necessary for arm strength. and Ahsoka was staring down a very long recovery period.

when the whirring came to an end and the cot retracted from the surgical pod Cadaver was already there looking over the open flesh of her back, noting what flesh was growing back. When he had taken his notes Kix stepped in to reapply her creams and bandage over the wound.

Thankfully they still allowed her to walk herself around even if she needed some support on the very bottom of her back in order to get to a standing position.

Rex was waiting with her lunch and she was allowed to have it on the bench just outside the medbay. The hanger loud around them. He frequently came to chat with her. other men from torrent came and went as well but Cadaver never let them into the bay. convinced they'd get her into some kind of trouble.

Maybe it wasn't just her back that was numbed out all the time. Because this was the first long stint in the medbay where Ahsoka wasn't itching to leave. She wasn't happy to be there either. It wasn't accurate to say that she was content either.

Steela's death had done something to her. Obi-wan assured her that some time would ease the strain of that expirience. Maybe it would. it seemed that for the moment at least time and pain where all she could feel.

---

Meanwhile, news of Ahsoka's injury had made it far outside of Torrent company. Taking an artillery round to the back was no easy feat even for a jedi. To not just survive it but to be up and walking immediately after. That was the kind of unbelievable war story that spread like fire.

The pilots of the 501st had already painted a mural of her across the side of a fighter. with her Sabers held in a defensive hold and the bright blast of an explosion behind her.

Ahsoka was already known for her preference of the sword and saber maneuver. She preferred to fight in tandem with her troops and as their guard rather than Skywalker's Style of sprinting right into the heat and taking the enemy's attention entirely.

But this level of durability? Her ability to take a hit and keep going was quickly becoming gossip amongst the GAR. The mythical glee that had surrounded their idea of the jedi as cadets rarely surfaces now that they work with them but this story was bringing it back.

Some Jedi were just jedi and some of them were built from stronger stock. Skywalker surely was, and by all acounts, Tano was as well.

And she was becoming a legend for it.

[karmas-chameleon]

A lil short from Manfred's perspective of him preparing for his first date with my S/I

Manfred left the office on Friday at 5 p.m. - an ordinary time for most prosecutors, but not for him. Normally he'd leave in the evening, often after working well into it, and be proud of that fact. Normally, he didn't have anything more important than his career to think of.

This Friday, however, he had dinner scheduled. A table for two at one of the most highly regarded restaurants in Los Angeles, the reservation for which would've required an ordinary citizen to wait months in advance. But Manfred, wielding an extraordinary level of influence, managed to grab one without even a week's notice. The couple who originally had the reservation found themselves suddenly tied up in the legal system over a little misunderstanding. Nothing too damaging, of course, but enough to keep them from going out for the night. 

Manfred doubted they needed the table quite as much as him. They were an older married couple - neither as old as him, but not nearly as young as the woman he invited - and he felt certain they'd been on their fair share of dates before. It wouldn't crush them to lose out on one (and it wasn't as though he was robbing them of the experience, merely postponing it). They could reserve another table for another day. But he was meant to plan a first date, and it had to be perfect. The one he asked to join him deserved nothing less.

First an infuriating insect, then an unusually helpful subject of torture, to an assistant. Manfred didn't know what exactly she'd become after dinner. His girlfriend? He could hardly entertain the word in his own mind - something about it made his stomach feel ill at ease, like he'd already eaten dinner and it disagreed with him. Was it nervousness? He'd thought himself above such things.

And it wasn't as though he had reason to be nervous. She'd already agreed to go on a date, after all. A date with him. A woman in her mid-twenties wouldn't agree to dinner with a man over sixty on a whim - she had to be as sure about this as Manfred was. All he had to do was prepare himself for the evening and utilize the same charisma he'd put to work in the courtroom. Of course, he couldn't use threats and a raised voice in a date, but he still had some of his toolkit without those.

A fresh set of clothes wouldn't hurt either. He'd just finished putting on his finest: an outfit that would satisfy even the most stringent dress code, with a cravat in place of his usual jabot. Admiring himself in the mirror, Manfred was confident he wouldn't see a better dressed man for the rest of the night.

Snapping him away from his staring contest with his reflection, he heard his phone ring, and reluctantly picked it up off of his bed. Hardly anyone would risk interrupting him with a call, and even fewer could avoid the consequences of it. 

Manfred scowled at the name on his phone. Damon Gant. There would be no salaries cut that day.

“I presume you're bothering me at this hour for a good reason?” he said.

“Ah, Manny!” came an irritatingly amiable voice from the other end. “I thought you'd still be at work.”

“You thought wrong. Now make your business quick, I have important matters to attend to.”

“Oh, it was just a curiosity question, really. But now you've gotten me even more curious, I'm afraid.”

Manfred sighed. He had plenty of time to spare, and was already prepared for dinner - that was the sole reason he didn't hang up at that moment. And it gave him a convenient distraction from his unexplainably unsettled stomach.

“Go on.”

“Well, I was going to ask why you wanted to use my computer the other day, and why a certain Mr. and Mrs. Patsy are now being investigated for plotting an attack against the local government - entirely unrelated inquiries, of course. But now I'm quite interested in what the great Prosecutor von Karma considers more important than work.”

“Damon, I believe I've helped you out of enough tight spots that you have no place questioning my discretion, hmm?”

“I suppose so.”

“As for the second question-” Manfred hesitated, swallowing a lump in his throat. How was it that this was harder to explain to his coworker than committing a serious crime? “...I have a dinner reservation. For two.”

He heard nothing in response, and wasn't sure who was more surprised for it - Damon, or himself. Manfred had never heard the chatty Chief of Police struck dumb before. But he knew the man wouldn't stay that way for long, and the consequences would be awful to behold. 

“...A date, you mean?” Damon finally said, still somewhat quieter than normal. “Well, Manny, of all the things I thought you'd say, I don't think I'd have bet on that in a thousand years.”

“You don't have to act so shocked,” Manfred grumbled.

“Oh, but I do! You've never been on a date before, have you? Not even with-”

“Don't remind me of her.”

“Right, right. Sorry about that. But this is wonderful news, isn't it? A date! And you never even told me about it. Honestly, Manny, this is what the public is talking about when they complain about flaws in the justice system.”

“It absolutely is not.”

“Maybe. But I still want to hear more about this mystery woman. Or- are they a woman?”

“Yes!” Manfred snapped. “And I'm not telling you every little detail like some gossipy teenager. I have a date to get to.”

“When, exactly?”

Manfred opened his mouth, his mind hurriedly coming up with a time that was too soon for a chat. He didn't manage to make a sound before Damon, highly experienced with both interrogations and his long-time coworker, realized Manfred was about to lie before he even could.

“Enough time to talk, eh? So? Is she pretty?”

“You sound even less like a grown adult than before.” He sighed. “...She is. Very much so.”

As he rolled his eyes at the excited noise the increasingly immature Chief of Police made, Manfred found himself picturing his assistant in his mind. She was certainly pretty, enough to make him wonder what she'd look like dressed for a date, but she was more than just that.

“I didn't invite her to dinner for her looks alone, Damon.”

“Oh, I assumed not. If you wanted a new trophy wife, you've had the time to get one.” Ignoring Manfred's growled complaints, he went on, “What did she do to steal your heart, then?”

“I don't- I wouldn't say she ‘stole my heart',” he replied, and cursed the slight stammer that gave him away in an instant, earning him another embarrassing noise from Damon. “She's been quite kind to me. She…gave me some chocolates not long after we met. I'm not terribly interested in chocolate, but I appreciate the thought.”

“Mm-hm. Is that what it takes? Quite a feat.”

The Chief of Police sounded less than impressed, but Manfred was too busy looking toward his nightstand to retort. His assistant’s bag of candy sat there, as full as it was when she gave it to him. It was less a sweet treat and more a piece of evidence - not the sort of evidence he usually dealt with, but a reminder of the one who offered it, and the kindness she showed when he expected it least. Something he could look at and remember the times he saw her smile and heard her laugh, on the rare occasion that he earned it.

“...I should let you get ready for your date, eh?” Damon said. “Have fun! And make sure to tell me all about how it went. You know I'm not going to let something this interesting drop.”

“I'm well aware. Goodbye, Damon.”

Manfred ended the call and set his phone back down. There was little left to do but travel to the restaurant and wait. His assistant would be there, of course. He wasn't concerned she wouldn't show - there was something else that was nagging at him, surely. 

He looked in the mirror, straightened his clothing one last time, and headed out on his first real date.

[peskellence]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Masterlist

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: A lot has changed since the revolution. Crimes against androids are now punished in the same way as crimes against humans. A reluctant Gavin Reed and his new partner RK900 have been assigned to investigate a string of disturbing murders. Despite the shift in Detroit's social climate, Gavin still holds reservations about whether or not androids are truly alive. Will his developing feelings for 'Nines' be the thing to change this?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 5K

"Are you sure you want to do this? It's not too late to back out." 

Gavin was only vaguely tuned in to what Tina was saying as he rummaged through his closet in search of a ‘nice’ shirt. Nice was less of the primary concern, with the more pressing issue being that the majority of clothes were either horribly creased or visibly snug—a testament to all the morning jogs and laundry he’d been skipping out on. 

With all his usual favourites piled in a hamper, he settled for a long-neglected button-down pushed to the back of the hangers. He couldn’t remember where he’d gotten it, but he suspected it had been from a misguided Secret Santa a couple of years back. 

Maybe it’ll look better on, he thought to himself. With his phone on speaker, he slipped his arms into the shirt and fastened the buttons. "Ti, you were the one that said I have two options: Either I screw Nines or I screw a stranger. I'm opting for the latter; it's less complicated." 

Upon surveying himself in the mirror, any optimism he had dissipated. The shirt fit, but that was about all it achieved—with the wide cut creating a box-like shape and the red, satin material clashing widely with his usual style. 

"But is that what you want?" Tina pressed. "Gav, I'm worried. You haven't been this torn up over someone since Jake."

"This is nothing like Jake", he grumbled defensively. "We dated for five fucking years, and then he cheated on me. I've known Nines for five fucking minutes. He's my...."

Gavin honestly didn’t know. Maybe they had been friends—or something resembling that—before everything had gone to Hell. As things stood now, he would be hard-pressed to call them friendly acquaintances. 'Distant’ or ‘begrudging’ seemed more accurate. 

Leaning towards the mirror, he continued to scrutinise his underwhelming appearance. He noted the coarse bristles that had lengthened significantly around his jaw as he attempted to smooth down his hair. A dormant self-loathing churned his stomach, wreaking havoc on his already tenuous confidence—as he picked up the keys that he had set on his nightstand and readied himself to leave the apartment. "I've got to go." 

There was silence from the other end of the receiver. It was clear that Tina regretted the advice she had given to her increasingly volatile friend—but did not want to allow this to manifest as coercion or nagging. 

"Have fun", she said with an exhale, as if straining to keep her tone light. "And try to be nice. I know that can be challenging." 

"I won't bite his dick off unless he's into it." 

"Gross." She made an exaggerated gagging noise before chuckling. "Call me tomorrow, okay?"  

"Sure. If it's a fucking disaster, which it probably will be, you'll wanna hear all about it." 

By the time Gavin arrived at the restaurant, he was twenty minutes late. Waving off a doorman who had come to greet him, he quietly surveyed the illuminated bar opposite the entrance, looking for anyone resembling his date. While his search came up empty, the plethora of bottles that adorned the shelves quietly teased him. Unable to resist the growing temptation, he decided he'd order a drink. Or two. However many it took to quell his nerves.

As time ticked by, he grew increasingly suspicious that his date had given up waiting. While the loss of a prospective hook-up was disappointing, it was no major blow. All it meant was an evening free to enjoy more familiar comforts—like a fridge full of beer and a room full of cats. Downing his glass in record time, he sent a quick update to Tina:

You:

Wanna see a pic of my date? 

He followed this up with a blurry snap of his right hand, to which Tina replied with a series of hearts. 

Actually Decent

[8:31 pm] Omg he's cute you must be so nervous.

[8:32 pm] Guessing you got stood up?

You: 

I mean I was pretty late. So I guess I stood him up

Just paid $10 for a whiskey. i'm going home. 

He was about to make his exit when he felt a light tap on his shoulder: "Gavin?"

As he turned to face the stranger, his interest subtly reignited. His date was more handsome in person. Tantalisingly tall and lean, styled impeccably in a fitted black shirt that hinted at well-sculpted muscles. After a respectable pause to savour the view, Gavin cleared his throat. "Last I checked. Alex, right?"

As it soon transpired, Alex was a talker—which made matters easier for Gavin, who was far from having the mental exuberance to exert into conversation. His voice was pleasant enough to listen to, rich in tones and inflexions that the detective was struggling to place the origin of. 

"—I’d been friends with the captain for a couple of years, but I was still surprised to be invited to play with them. They had always been pretty exclusive."

"Uh, yeah. Football." He made a strained attempt to reply, hoping to sound at least somewhat engaged. "I played for a bit in Middle School." 

His efforts backfired horribly as Alex put a premature end to his story, eyebrows pinched in confusion. "It was basketball…are you okay? You seem distracted." 

"Oh, yeah, I'm alright, just—" He stumbled with his words, trying to think of something to say. While the wine his date had purchased for them was providing a pleasant buzz, it was doing little to bolster his social skills. Any semblance of a filter swiftly abandoned him as he stumbled headfirst into a verbal swan dive. "You said your name was Alex, right? You don’t sound like an Alex." 

In what could only be considered an act of divine intervention, his date didn't take offence. If anything, he seemed charmed by the remark, chuckling around the rim of his glass before lowering it to reply. "It’s short for Alexei. I was born in Moscow, my family and I moved to America when I was nine. I have never been able to shift the accent, as much as I've tried." 

"Huh. Russian." Gavin cursed the vacancy of his reply, treating himself to a particularly large swig of wine. 

"Where did you grow up?"

"Down the street. I didn't get far, I'm not that interesting." 

"I wouldn't say that." Alex chuckled, his eyes focused on the glass that seemed perpetually drawn to the other man's lips. "You shouldn't be nervous. I'm enjoying your company." 

If their current locale was anything to go by, Gavin found that hard to believe. The tables surrounding them were extravagantly adorned with floral centrepieces and expensive silverware. Well-dressed couples stole sultry glances under the glow of candlelight. It was a far cry from the low-rent bars, and back alley fumbles that he was used to.

"This isn't really my scene." He motioned himself up and down, drawing attention to his less-than-polished appearance. "If I’d known you'd be slumming it going out with me, I probably wouldn't have messaged first." 

Alex tilted his head to one side as though taking some time to process the words. Gavin waited in anticipation for him to realise his error—to fold up his satin napkin and stand up, politely calling it an evening. Surprisingly, however, he stayed put, a soft smile creeping onto his lips. "I don't mean to undermine you, but I was the one who messaged first. Several weeks ago." 

More than a little dubious at the smoothly delivered claim, Gavin picked up his phone and opened USwipe. Scrolling back through the previous chat logs, he scrutinised them in greater detail. He soon discovered that the man was being genuine. 

"Huh. Guess you did." His voice was low and deadpanned in hopes of disguising his embarrassment. It seemed almost comedic for him to have missed such an obvious detail, especially given his profession. "I've been off the app for a while. Must have missed the notifications." 

"We're here now, so I’m willing to forgive you." Alex leant forward in his chair as he shot him a candid wink. "I'm sure there are ways you can make it up to me." 

Gavin only half-acknowledged the flirting, his attention divided as he methodically scrolled through the backlog of messages. Considering how blatantly out of his league Alex seemed to be, it was astonishing how persistently he'd been trying to flag his attention. 

"Damn, you were keen." He had not meant for the comment to sound as condescending as it did. 

Fortunately, the other man appeared to take it in stride, laughing exuberantly as he threw up his hands. "Guilty. Aside from the obvious physical attraction, you seemed like an interesting person, and I wanted to get to know you better." 

"Like I said, I'm not that interesting—

Which is why my profile is full of bullshit." 

"Oh?" Alex looked down at his plate, using his knife and fork to cut a piece of neglected steak. "You mean to tell me you aren’t really 6 foot?" 

"5'9 on a good day."

"Devastating. I’m unsure how I’ll ever recover." 

This managed to draw out a laugh from Gavin. "Seriously though, it's not all bullshit. I do have a cat, and I am a Detective." 

"Sounds to me like you were honest enough. About the things that matter." Alex forked a piece of meat into his mouth, chewing appreciatively. "Do you enjoy your work?"

Any temporary uplift in mood seemed to dampen almost immediately as Gavin stared into his glass, scowling. "For the most part, I do." 

"Why only most?"

"The case I'm on is taking a lot out of me and my partner." The words only exacerbated his rising anger. He gripped the stem of his glass tightly, trying his best not to let the unpleasant emotion get the best of him. "We don't see eye to eye."  

"I can understand difficult co-workers", Alex said attentively. "Is it a case of conflicting work styles, or is it more personal?"

"A bit of both, it's complicated."

Lips forming into a silent ‘ah’, Alex returned his attention to his plate. "Some differences can be hard to overlook." It sounded genuinely sympathetic as he spoke through another soft smile. "What department do you work in?"

"Homicide." 

He waited in trepidation for his date's response. There had been more than a couple of times in his life when prospective encounters had run a mile upon hearing what he did for a living. Perhaps it was the intrinsic involvement with corpses. 

His current company didn’t seem to mind, responding with an intrigued hum. "I know very little about the work, but I’ve always had an interest in True Crime. Have you worked on any cases I may be familiar with?" 

Gavin frowned, acknowledging this as the other response he'd grown accustomed to. People fascinated with the macabre, keen to know all the gruesome details. He was hardly in a position to judge, given his contentious taste in movies, but he'd always found it a little tone-deaf when applied to real-life suffering. 

His personal sentiments made little difference, however, as it was a line of inquiry he was obliged to shut down. "Can't really say. Confidentiality and shit."

Alex's expression fell. He promptly abandoned his cutlery, staring up at Gavin intently. "Of course not. I'm sorry for asking."

"It's fine, you're just curious." Reaching for the cooler in the centre of the table, Gavin retrieved the bottle and generously refilled his glass. Taking note of his date's dwindling supplies, he reached for the other glass when a hand shot out to stop him.

"I’m a bit of a lightweight", Alex informed, chuckling sheepishly. "Unless you want to carry me later, I think I ought to slow down."

Gavin scoffed, struggling to believe that the man was light on anything. Even seated, his imposing stature could not be concealed, with large hands and limbs that seemed to dwarf the perfectly average-sized table. "Couldn't carry you out if I tried. You're like 8 feet tall." 

It clearly wasn’t the first time Alex had heard this sort of remark, as he rolled his eyes with well-rehearsed dismissal. "Maybe I should put that on my profile. I've only lived here for a couple of months; is there much of a market for giants in Detroit?" 

"You'd be surprised how many people are into it—" Gavin smirked, taking a sip of his newly poured drink. "like to be thrown around."

"Are you one of them?" 

This uplift in confidence proved poorly timed, as Gavin nearly painted the table with a splattering of wine. If they were going to start talking about kinks over dinner, he would need something a lot stronger. 

"It's not a great time to be living in Detroit", he continued, trying to stay at least somewhat on topic. "For dating, or anything else, really." 

"It does feel like things have become a little…unstable." There was a looming severity to Alex’s tone as his gaze bore forward, intense and unwavering. "Rapidly degrading infrastructure and an increase in violent crime. Why do you think that is?" 

Gavin struggled not to laugh at the verbose question. It was glaringly obvious the sort of lifestyle his date was accustomed to, with 'sheltered rich kid' was all but tattooed across his forehead. "I feel like a lot of it has to do with the Revolution." 

Alex hummed in understanding, "I never had an android myself, but it must have been difficult for those who did. A bit like receiving a government mandate that your smartphone be granted equal rights." 

The same joke he would have laughed at a few weeks prior now left Gavin with a painful churn in his stomach. "A lot of people don't wanna believe it," he fired back, with a little more firmness than intended. "That the 'machines' they've been using and abusing for years think and feel just like us." 

"I imagine many can't believe it."

"This is getting depressing as fuck." The detective looked down at his bowl, absentmindedly twirling the noodles he had lost all appetite for. "Let's change the subject. What do you do for work?" 

"I'm a Senior Urban Planner." 

Gavin raised his eyebrows, humming in bemusement. "That would explain the sexy architect talk." It was undoubtedly an attempt at flirting, although perhaps not one of his best. "It's funny, you were starting to sound just like a—" 

Fuck. 

Fucking shit. 

His fork fell into his food with a thud. It was hard to ignore that Alex conformed to a certain 'type'. One that he was developing a burgeoning taste for. 

"Any projects I'd be interested in?" he asked, trying his best not to dwell on the similarities between his estranged partner and the handsome stranger sitting across from him.

"The primary focus of my team is Historic and Cultural Preservation," Alex began, a glint of excitement in his eyes, "Tell me: If you had to choose between prioritising the restoration of more traditional establishments or focusing on ongoing modernisation, which would you pick?" 

Gavin shrugged, unsure how to answer. "Well, I'm not really a History guy, so I'd probably go with modernisation." 

The vibrant light was promptly extinguished. Alex moved back, lips turned downwards in distaste. "Not an uncommon answer, but still…a shame. Your city has a rich history, the appreciation for which is rapidly dwindling." 

With hindsight, the detective realised that he should have dialled back the honesty—or, at the very least, delivered it with a little more tact. "Okay, no more talk about work", he insisted. "You're up next on the 'small talk' draw, let's hope you pick a decent topic."

Alex laughed, returning to his previously relaxed state with remarkable ease. Either the man boasted a tremendous capacity for positivity, or he had a thing for 'projects'. In any case, he seemed completely undeterred by Gavin's persistent lack of charm. 

"Tell me more about your cat. What’s their name?" 

"Tiffany—and there’s not much to tell, really. She’s a furry little hellspawn with a diva complex." His lips pressed together in thought, and his gaze drifted to his phone. "...Wanna see some pictures?" 

"Yes, please."

Gavin smoothly adjusted his chair until they were seated side by side. As he scrolled through his camera reel, Alex appeared genuinely captivated. 

"This one is very cute," he commented, pointing to a snapshot of Tiffany snuggled rear-first on Gavin's chest, tail coiled around his face. "You should add it to your USwipe profile. I guarantee it would net a few more matches."

"Bit a cheap move, though, isn't it? Using my pet as date bait." In his absent scrolling, Gavin didn’t realise how far he was travelling back. This was until he landed on a picture of a much younger Tiffany being held in the arms of a smiling brunette. 

"Who's that?" his date asked casually, "A friend of yours?"

"My ex, actually." The admission flowed with remarkable ease as it struck Gavin just how little it hurt to say. "That was the day we brought Tiff home; she was a gift for our one-year anniversary. Lost the guy but kept the cat. Shit happens, I guess."

Alex cast him a look of sympathy. "Was the guy worth keeping?"

Lips pursed, Gavin examined the photo with greater scrutiny. Tina had been right after all. With small, beady eyes and large ears that protruded a little too much, Jake really did look like a rat. "Hell no."

"Then I'd say it was a fair trade-off." The man beamed with infectious enthusiasm, revealing a row of straight white teeth. "What breed is she?"

"The kind you find rooting around in the garbage." 

Gavin laughed a little too enthusiastically at the joke. Considering he'd been the one to make it, and that it wasn't all that funny. With self-awareness creeping back in, he went to re-retrieve the wine bottle, only to discover that it was empty. 

"I'm guessing you're a cat person." He pronounced each word carefully in an attempt to downplay his intoxication. 

"A hundred per cent—

Unfortunately, mine passed away recently."

"Shit." Gavin blurted out thoughtlessly. He silently lamented that he could not think of anything more comforting to say as Alex stared into space, trapped in forlorn introspection. 

"Her name was Coco, a Ragdoll-Birman cross", he wistfully recalled. "She was an old girl, had a good life."

"Don't suppose you're in the market for another cat? Mine just had babies, and I'm gonna go bankrupt if I decide to keep them all." 

"That's very kind, but I'll have to decline. I had Coco for fourteen years. I was very attached." He paused, watching the other man closely as he took a slow, measured sip of wine. "I would, however, love to meet yours." 

Despite his thickening haze of inebriation, the implications of this were not lost on Gavin. He tried his best to maintain his composure despite the small flutter of excitement blooming in his stomach. "Are you inviting yourself over?"

"That depends. Are you interested?" 

The question seemed absurd. The man was stunning, comparable to a model. Of course, he ought to be interested. Despite this, Gavin hesitated, with no clear reason as to why. 

This had been what he'd wanted, after all. A chance to release all his burdensome tensions. The opportunity was presenting itself on a silver platter, and he'd be an idiot to pass it up. "I mean, kittens are great therapy. Who am I to say no?" 

Upon leaving the restaurant, the AutoTaxi rank outside was frustratingly empty. With some persistence, they were eventually able to hail a ride in a driver-manned car. It wasn't long after its departure that Alex took advantage of the darkened surroundings, indulging in some stolen touches. 

A wandering hand settled down to stroke the contours of Gavin's thigh, travelling upwards until fingers were brushing the line of his zipper. The teasing did not progress much further, however, as a long, disparaging cough from the driver put an abrupt end to the advances. Alex moved away, showing a willingness to restrain himself for a little while longer.

This restraint extended to the length of time it took to enter the apartment—as not moments after Gavin had shut the door, hands were on hin again. A gentle grip encompassed his midsection, tracing the line between his navel and hips. The touches were light, almost tender until fingers dug their way in, firmly pulling back. The subsequent friction came with a host of silent promises as the shorter man was unable to suppress a gasp. 

"You know, I'm startin' to think that you don't really want to see the cats." Gavin leant into the touch, struggling to keep his bearings.

"I can want more than one thing." Alex mused, allowing his breath to teasingly ghost the nape of his neck. "How about we say a quick hello, and then you can show me to your bedroom?" 

As requested, the detective clumsily guided his guest to the bathroom, almost stumbling headfirst on a cat toy as he did. "Just keep your distance from mom", he advised. "She isn't great with strangers." 

The warning had been well-deserved, as throughout their time in the room, Tiffany's eyes remained trained fixedly on Alex. Her apprehension quickly morphed into hostility as she shifted to an upright stance, poised to strike. When the man made the error of leaning in to steal a look at the kittens, the cat swatted a paw toward him, hissing aggressively. 

"Hey, fuckin' stop it", Gavin chided, subduing his agitated pet with a gentle stroke of her back. "Sorry. Like I said, she's a little feisty." 

Alex seemed almost completely unfazed, chuckling gently as he drew back to a safe distance. "Protective, I'd say—of you and her babies. I think that's sweet." 

"Just don't take it personally, she's like it with everyone. The only person she hasn't immediately gone for is—"    

Dammit. 

Gavin felt lips on his neck, forming a tight seal as they sought to leave marks. "She's lucky to have you caring for her." The low tones rumbled against his flesh as a scrape of teeth wreaked havoc with his clouded senses. "Tell me: When was the last time someone took care of you?" 

Swallowing a shaky breath, Gavin's reply was low and strained. "It's been a while." 

"Let me change that." 

Then he was pressed to the wall, a pair of strong hands securing his wrists as a tongue gently prised at his lips. Any anticipation that had been building promptly fizzled out, as the experience was immediately tainted by an unfortunate sense of deja vu. 

Gavin tried his best to indulge in the man's fumbled touches but found himself drifting subconsciously. The hands that bound him were a little too coarse, and the tongue too rough as it poked its way through. It left him feeling unfulfilled, wishing for something else.

Feigning enthusiasm, he moaned weakly into the kiss, sliding a hand up Alex's chest. Gavin waited for something to ignite, anything that might tell him he still wanted this—but found nothing but persistent numbness. 

His lack of excitement had not gone unnoticed by the other man, who seemed confused at the lack of activity when he ground their hips together. 

"Are you okay?" Alex asked slowly. "We can slow down a bit if you want." 

Gavin could have easily made an excuse about being too drunk—or pushed himself forward despite his reservations—but found himself unable to do so. It felt wrong to allow things to continue, knowing full-well that any intimacy shared would be plagued by thoughts of someone else. 

"Look, it’s not you", he sighed, eyes shut tight in frustration. "Obviously, it's not you. I’m just in a bit of a shit place right now." 

"I wouldn't want to force you into anything. We can cuddle—or even just talk—if you think that might help?" 

"I don't think so." He placed a hand on Alex's shoulder, encouraging him to move away. "I just can't do this right now'. 

The other man did not resist the touch, although he did persist in his questioning. "Have I done something to make you uncomfortable?" 

"No, you haven't, I just—" There was a nausea that was becoming increasingly harder for Gavin to ignore. He was unsure if the source was psychological or if there was a real danger he might be sick. "It’s really fucking complicated." 

A thoughtful pause hung in the air as Alex digested the information. Then he hummed as if arriving at a quiet revelation. "...Your partner. I see. That is unfortunate." 

"It's probably best if you leave", he replied, coming to his own sobering conclusion. "I'm sorry for messing you around." 

"I understand." The other man stood up, masking any disappointment as respectfully as possible. He seemed to take a moment to gather himself before finally speaking again. "Maybe it's not my place to say, but I can see that you're hurting. I hope that you'll act in your best interests and make the right choice." 

"Thanks." Gavin leant his head backwards, finding it increasingly hard to hold upright. He stared at the whirring extractor fan, trying to focus his vision. "And sorry—again." 

"It's okay. You have my number; if you ever need to talk to someone, I'll be happy to listen." 

After Alex had left, Gavin sat alone in the bathroom for quite some time. The mewls of the kittens and the noise of the fan were the only things to ground him as he sank to a new emotional low. With fumbling hands, he grabbed his phone, opening an unread message from Tina:

Actually Decent (2)

[10:59 pm] did you jerk off yet

[11:00 pm] how would you rate the experience on a scale of 1-10

You: 

ti im fucked up 

its nibes

nines* 

hes got my head messed up. i dont know what to do 

It wasn't until after he sent the message that he realised the time. There was a very good chance his friend was asleep and wouldn't see his text until morning, long after his crisis had ended. Spurred on by drunken reasoning, Gavin concluded that if he wanted to find any semblance of closure, he would need to confront the source.

It only took three rings for his partner to answer: 

"Detective Reed…?" His voice was slow and cautious like he was questioning the plausibility of the call. 

"Nines, this is fucked," Gavin groaned down the receiver, any sense of shame having deserted him with his sobriety. "It's all fucked up. Can we please just talk about it?"

The silence that followed was stifling. It was unclear if the android was working to decipher the man's disordered words or if he had simply hung up on him. Gavin lifted his phone to check when a voice called out, beckoning his attention:

"It is very late," Nines informed, in a way that nestled uncannily between reprimand and concern. "It would be best to defer this discussion until morning. After you’ve rested." 

"If I don't say this now, I never will." The man kicked out his legs, trying to find a more comfortable position, only to lodge himself awkwardly between the wall and the bathtub. "I don't want to ‘wash my hands’ of you. I like being partners, I like havin' you around, and I wanna believe that you do as well."

"You're slurring your words. I'm struggling to understand what you're saying." 

"If it means forgetting about the…thing that happened, I'm happy to do it." In an attempt to wriggle from his unfavourable position, he allowed his head to slip further back, inadvertently knocking the sink. 

The dull thud that ensued was clearly audible through the receiver as Nines was quick to address it. "Gavin, have you fallen?"

"Nah, I just hit m' head."

"Are you alone?" The concern in his tone had become much more apparent, "Do I need to come over?"

"I'm fine, seriously. I just want us to be fine as well. I know that sounds stupid; we've only been partners for a couple of weeks, but I really was startin' to feel…" He trailed off, rubbing his head as a sharp ache set in. "Fuck, that really hurt." 

"You're drunk", his partner concluded with a low exhale. "I suggest you go to bed before you cause yourself any further injury." 

Gavin grappled with another wave of nausea, sending him on a sloppy recline towards the toilet. "Can't. Think I might puke", he complained, retching as he did. "Look, just listen for a minute. There was somethin’ else I wanted to say. I need to think." 

"If I listen, will you promise to heed my suggestion? After you've emptied your stomach, of course." 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." 

As his head slipped into the bowl, Gavin realised he had no clear plan for what he wanted to say, having hoped that the words would find him in a moment of drunken enlightenment. Unsure how else to proceed, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "You're not a toaster. I don't know why I said that. I was just mad." 

"I believe you implied that I wasn't a toaster—as a toaster would be incapable of being such a 'cruel, vindictive asshole'." 

"Fuuuuck", the strain in his voice, combined with the echo of his current surroundings, lent a strange theatrics to the expletive. "That's worse, isn't it? I’m really sorry." 

Nines dismissed his concerns, albeit with an amused huff. "Don't be. My behaviour over the last few days has been deplorable. I was upset over a personal issue, and I took this out on you. That was wrong and deeply unfair. I hope you can forgive me." 

'Personal issue' invited more questions than Gavin would have cared for. While he considered pressing for more information, he ultimately decided against it. 

If it meant salvaging the budding connection they had established, he would delay speculation about what it meant—or what it might become. "If you're sorry too, does that mean we're okay?" 

"I sincerely hope so."

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Rainbow Tag

I was ghost-tagged in @little-peril-stories tag, which you can find here. I feel inclined to do this one, because... when I started with Lies, I attempted to write 6 chapters, each with a title for one of the colors of the rainbow.

Unfortunately, overwriting struck again, and I ended up with 8 chapters instead, so I added teal and pink, which is why I am now using them for this tag. All of those are from their respective chapters as well!

Red

One last quick look at the street outside, and Laurent turned around. Out of the doorway stepped a woman clad in a short black dress. The skirt barely reached her knees, the sleeves wrapped around her upper arms in thin straps, and a soft dark red corset accentuated what didn’t need accentuating. Her long black hair was braided in four braids and pulled into a knot, leaving her neck and collar bones on display. Laurent swallowed.  “Erm. Hello! I’m looking for candy.”

Orange

“I marked the sections. I know everything I put here is red, and there orange. Of course, once I start moving them around and putting them together, I need to pay attention to what I am doing.” “Isn’t it impractical then to invite someone to look over your shoulder and distract you?” Aurelia took care not to turn into his direction. “I’m not that easily distracted,” she said.

Yellow

Her fingers slid over rolls of ribbons, looking for the marks that told her which color they were. She cut pieces of orange and yellow off and tied them around the bottle in a pretty bow. “That’s for you,” she said, holding it in his direction. Laurent’s footsteps approached, his fingertips brushing hers as he reached for the bottle. He took his time taking it, and she took her time letting go.

Green

“That first day you came in here,” she started while placing green apple candies into a small bag made of thin paper. “You said you were quite preoccupied. Have your worries eased a little?” “They’re… yeah. I think it’ll work out all right. I talked to a friend much wiser than me, and he told me not to worry so much.”  “I need to get myself one of those,” Aurelia muttered. 

Teal

“And what is that?” he asked. Aurelia counted to three in her mind. “You’ll need to be more specific, sir.” “Glass bottles filled with some green slug. Looks nasty.” Nasty. How rude. “That’s tealberry syrup,” she explained. “Tealberry, huh?” He snorted. “Shouldn’t that be purple?” That was not what teal… Aurelia took a measured breath. “I wouldn’t know. Sir.”

Blue

Exhausted as she was, Aurelia fell asleep quickly and didn’t wake up until the sun had already risen. Feeling refreshed and much less annoyed, she hummed as she changed her bedsheets and got dressed. Wearing her favorite black dress, she went into the kitchen to boil some water and was greeted by the smell of blueberry muffins.  Shit.

Purple

Finally, Cedric grinned again. “You can have the ladies all to yourself. Speaking of.” He reached under the counter and pulled a bundle wrapped in purple cloth out. On the counter, he unwrapped it, revealing two cylinders made of solid bronze. “You said the machine had the name Mills engraved, right?”

Pink

A new song began, slower than the last one. Laurent’s hands moved to her back again, and hers onto his shoulders. All the other people had long faded into the background. There was only the music and him, her heart floating on a cloud of pink cotton candy. “You know.” His forehead touched hers. “There’s one thing I still haven’t tasted.”