#also just occured to me that i read this when i was like maybe 10 at the oldest

[umbrellahat07]

Oh yeah, except the ending, this is the original story from the book. All kinds of other fucked up stuff happened too iirc. Most people are more familiar with the lighthearted newer versions of the story, but the original was pretty disturbing.

If the "correct" movie is not listed, please add in tags

[explorevenus]

something permanent pt 14 ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors. i stg. do not interact or i will call the cops

reminder that this is a dark fic, if any of the following bothers/triggers you, do not read: yandere!leon kennedy, kidnapping, forced daddy kink, forced breeding, pregnancy, non/dubcon

in other words, dead dove: do not eat !!! u have been warned and u are responsible for ur own media consumption.

chapter index: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10, pt. 11, pt. 12, pt. 13

'something permanent’: the spotify playlist

word count: 6.8k

description: leon and darling become parents at last.

tags/warnings: yandere!leon kennedy, fem/afab!reader, no use of (y/n), some gory descriptions cus darling goes into labor obvi, girl dad leon, corny dad leon, horny dad leon (no smut tho i'm sorry. she just gave birth idk what u want from me), medical setting, breastfeeding, manipulation, stockholm syndrome-ish implications, some angst but also fluff

a/n: !!! i hope this was worth the wait <33 big big big big BIG sexy thanks to @dollfacefantasy and @gigabyte-flare for beta reading <3 i don't really have anything else to say other than that i appreciate everyone's patience while i've been dealing with some pretty major life things and i just hope you like it. gentle reminder that the taglist has been moved to the bottom of the chapter to reduce clutter

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy !!

-venus ♡

It went without saying that Leon had seen a lot of gore in his life.

A whole lot of gore.

He'd witnessed gushing bullet wounds, gaping slices of undead flesh, pulverized bodies, genetically modified monstrosities exploding into even more horrific versions of themselves, only to be slain by his hand, often spraying back to douse him in the kind of fetid rot that couldn't be washed out, only burned, the kind that clung deep in his skin for days after... and yet nothing could have possibly prepared him for what it would be like to witness you going into premature childbirth.

Nothing.

You were in so much pain, you were hollering and crying so hard you could barely get a breath in, and apart from holding your hand, he was powerless to help you. It was gutting.

"Shh, shh... you're doing so good, baby, just breathe with me, just breathe," He said to you, trying to manage his tone to be as reassuring as possible, but the stress had long since become him.

How could it not? He was watching his own lover split apart while conscious, pleading with the universe to ease the pain, even with an 18-gauge needle in the spine. You were miserable, and you were terrified, and Leon was terrified too. Perhaps even more than he'd ever been, because this wasn't supposed to be happening yet. He was supposed to have at least another month and a half to pamper you and watch you grow, at least another month and a half to prepare for this. 

Not to mention he wasn't entirely fond of the swarm of nurses in your face and between your legs, the rotating door of doctors and specialists working on your exposed body with absolutely no capability of understanding how important you were to him, how special and sweet you were, how little you deserved this.

It did occur to him, in the midst of all the noise, that perhaps this was the wrong idea. That he shouldn't have forced the one person he loves the most in the world to suffer like this on his behalf. That maybe he'd made a grave mistake that he could never atone for, a mistake that would surpass anything he's ever experienced in its devastation.

But all of those fears crumbled to ash when he saw her for the first time.

Monday, December 21, 2015. Winter solstice. 3:36 a.m.

She was so pink. She was so, so small, so pink, and so angry to be alive, but she was alive and crying. She was alive.

In that moment, Leon experienced whatever the opposite of blacking out was, a shot of pure adrenaline down his spine that made everything shine a little brighter. He didn't even realize he was crying with relief until he turned and saw that you were, too. You were barely cognizant, what with the delightful cocktail of shock and panic and pain medication coursing through you, but you were conscious and aware— at least for now— limp with exhaustion aside from clutching Leon's hand for dear life while the professionals got to work sewing you up, and he couldn't help but swipe your slick hair away from your forehead to shower you in tearful kisses.

"My good girl... I'm so fucking proud of you," He spoke into your hair, pressing a heavy kiss to the crown of your head as his free hand cradled your cheek, holding you as close to him as he could physically manage. "I love you so much... I love you..."

You weren't really registering much other than the pure relief of it all, but Leon couldn't blame you. In his eyes, he just witnessed you creating his entire universe, and you deserved all the rest you could get. You'd certainly need it in the coming months.

And even just the coming weeks, as many as it might take for her to incubate and grow a bit.

She was alive, and she was as healthy as she could be, considering the circumstances, but Christ, she wasn't even done cooking yet. She was so little, weighing in at just three pounds, seven ounces, and she looked more like a gummy bear than a baby. She was hooked up to so many machines in the NICU that he could barely stand to even watch after a while, for his own peace of mind.

But he couldn't relax, either, so Leon just stayed at your bedside for most of the night, watching you sleep. Killing time. Occasionally he would wander off for a walk up and down the halls, or to the cafeteria for a bitter black coffee to jump his brain, or he would linger by the window into the NICU for a while to watch her sleep, to see her pink and yellow baby blanket just barely rise and fall with every tiny breath so he could know for sure she was really here. And then he'd repeat his rounds all over again.

The nurses promised him over and over again that she was healthy, that there was no cause for concern at this point, but that didn't really stop him from concerning himself quite severely. He wasn't even sure he understood his own metric for what it would take to get him to relax at this point, so he just stopped asking questions after a while.

Walk the halls. Bitter black coffee. Check on baby. Walk back. Check on you. Wash, rinse, repeat. Eventually the nurses were looking at him like they were debating offering him an Ambien under the table just to calm him down, and perhaps because he'd grown so used to avoiding drawing attention to himself, that was when he finally decided to just sit his ass down at your bedside and stay there.

In his boredom he found that the TV was perpetually stuck on the Hallmark channel, streaming from an endless well of corny, poorly written holiday movies that left more than enough to be desired, but it was better than nothing. Leon couldn’t stand the silence, and at least it kept his mind somewhat occupied while he thumbed through that heavy book of baby names.

He’d already found one he liked— Abigail— but that still left room for one more. He couldn’t even decide if he thought that should be her first name or her middle name. All he knew was what the book told him, flowery words describing the meaning of the name as that of my father’s joy, and that was quite true, wasn’t it? She was his firstborn, and more than that, her mommy was you. Nothing in the entire universe could possibly stand to make him happier or more joyous, and thus Abigail was fitting. But how was he supposed to find another name to describe her when he hadn’t even had the opportunity to get to know her yet?

Or was this secondary name his opportunity to start a thread of her destiny for her?

It’s not like he never asked you for your opinion, you had just chosen time and time again not to give it to him. You were almost completely impartial when it came to talking about the baby, so regardless of how badly he ached for your participation in planning for the life you’d created together, he had long since become bitterly used to making decisions like this on his own.

With a deep sigh Leon let the book rest in his lap, fingertips drumming on the wooden armrests of his chair in thought of the kind of life he wanted for his baby girl. All he could think was that he wanted her to run, play, and be happy. He wanted her to be good to the world and he wanted the world to treat her even better in return. He wanted to ensure she’d never have to worry about a thing, that she would grow up kind and quick and a much better woman than he ever was a man.

He wanted her to be gentle and sweet and protected, like a princess, his jubilant little baby princess.

Lifting the book once more, Leon opened it back up to its table of contents and skimmed over the lines for the millionth time, only now he actually had a vague idea of what he might be looking for. The book was structured in sections, the first being cultural and regional names, the second being historical and literary names, and the last section was an alphabetized glossary of them all in one. It was exhaustingly organized and comprehensive to the last detail, but hey, so was he.

Tracing the page with two fingertips, he found the historical section of the table and went down the line, skimmed over architects, artists, explorers, war heroes, religious figures… all the way down to royalty.

Leon’s hope wavered a little bit when he found most of the names under that section to be underwhelming or flat-out bad when paired with ‘Abigail,’ but his mind had been set on that for so long that he’d already decided he wasn’t budging on it. He was toying with the idea of taking a break from his search for the night, until an entry on the list of princess names caught his eye. In his exhaustion, he must have previously overlooked it.

Charlotte.

“Charlotte Abigail,” Leon mumbled aloud, testing the name on his tongue. “Charlotte Abigail Kennedy…”

It flowed from his lips like a beautiful waltz.

The enticing scent of Leon's umpteenth black coffee was the first thing you noticed when you woke up, followed by the dull, full body ache that weighed you down to the hospital bed. Your head was throbbing, your eyes and throat were stinging and dry from overexertion, but more than that, you felt something like relief.

Yes, it was definitely relief, because any amount of pain in that moment felt like reprieve in comparison to active labor. And maybe you were still a bit fuzzy from the meds, but you weren't complaining.

Slowly, you blinked awake and took in your surroundings, the room quiet aside from the occasional beep of electronic medical equipment, and the subtle, rhythmic rumble of... Leon snoring?

Tilting your head, you saw Leon right there at your bedside, coffee untouched and still steaming on the little tray next to him. His legs were outstretched, arms crossed at his chest, and he had his head tilted back with that comically large book of baby names split open to rest over his face, blocking the fluorescent lights and rising sun from his tired eyes. You just watched him for a moment, knowing he'd likely spent all night fretting over you until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

For as much as you would have loved to just lay there and enjoy the quiet for a moment, though, you knew it was probably wiser to let him know you were awake. At least that way you could talk him into forfeiting his coffee.

"Hey," you spoke up gently, your voice hushed with sleep and a bit hoarse, "I'm pretty sure the shop in the lobby sells bookmarks."

He jolted a little and then stirred, gravity pulling the heavy book down until his arm shot up to catch it and lift it from his face with an exhausted look of surprise. "Y-You're awake—”

"Gimme that," you interrupted, arm outstretched in a dramatic show of grabby-hands at the paper cup of coffee placed just outside your reach. You could barely even remember the last time you were allowed a sip of coffee, and having to lay here smelling it but not tasting it when you so sorely needed it was torture.

Leon blinked once or twice in confusion, clearing away the haze that clouded his frayed neurons, and as his eyes followed the path between your fingertips and the shitty cup of black coffee he'd fallen asleep before having the chance to drink, he couldn't help but puff out a little laugh, handing it off to you without hesitation. For fuck's sake, you'd earned it, hadn't you?

The cup had been sitting there idle for just long enough that its contents weren't blistering hot, but perfectly drinkable. You took a quick sip, and then another, nose scrunching up for a moment because it tasted more like a dirty ashtray than it did coffee, but somehow it still went down like liquid gold. At least the taste was enough to keep you from drinking it too fast.

"How do you feel, pup?" Leon asked, tracing the curve of your cheekbone with a delicate thumb. As joyful as it was to see you awake and in decent spirits, he had to ask, because it's not like you were just waking up from any old nap. He watched you split apart last night. He could still smell your blood. Surely you had more to concern yourself about than caffeine.

Setting aside the cup, you searched your mind for the right way to articulate how you felt right now, but found it exceptionally difficult to encapsulate what all was going on up there after giving birth for the first time. So, you decided to start with how your body felt and work your way through it from there.

"Sore, like a bowling ball went through me... but it's not unbearable. I think the pain meds are still working," you began, tilting your head to let your cheek squish into the palm of his hand. "I feel a little numb and groggy."

With a sympathetic hum, he nodded, leaning over you to smooth your messy hair back and press a kiss to your forehead. "I'm not surprised, baby, you do seem a bit silly. They drugged you up pretty good," he said, speaking from experience, "but at least you're not in too much pain."

A beat of surprisingly comfortable silence passed between you two as you finished waking up and Leon just stared at you, as he often did. While the air between the two of you felt thankfully free of tension, it wasn’t without anticipation, nor was it without the presence of that massive elephant.

You knew she was okay because if she wasn’t, Leon would be having a nuclear meltdown, but you barely even got to see her before you passed out, so you didn’t know how okay she was. 

“Where is she?” You asked gently, hands fidgeting in your lap.

“She’s in the little incubator, but they said they could bring her in here when you woke up, if you were feeling well enough,” he answered, looking up at you through his lashes like a pleading puppy as he asked, “are you?”

You felt a rush deep in your chest that you couldn’t explain, emotion, and you found that your head was bobbing up and down in a nod before you even thought about it. You didn’t need to think about it. Of course your feelings about your situation and this baby were… complicated, to put it kindly, but you spent seven-ish months cooking the damn thing, so you might as well take the chance to hold her and get to meet her, right?

Leon didn’t waste any time scrambling off to get a nurse, and as you sat there waiting, you couldn’t help but wonder what she was going to be like. You weren’t ignorant of the fact that newborn babies didn’t have strong features yet, but you wondered if she would have any hair on her head, or what she would feel like in your arms, or what little sounds she might make. The few short minutes it took for Leon to return with your baby and a couple of nurses felt like a million years.

The door opened, and your heart stopped beating for a second. Your mouth dried and your eyes burned with tears.

She was so little.

Even swaddled up in a blanket, her tiny body was barely the width of Leon's forearm, her little head rested in the crook of his elbow while her socked and blanketed feet were tucked in the palm of his hand. Everything you felt in this moment was truly overwhelming— fright, nerves, and perhaps even a bit of pride, because come on. You made that thing. Willingly or not, you made your own little human, and in a removed context, that was crazy.

She was so little that you were almost afraid to touch her, trembling as Leon lowered her into your arms, but right away there was something about having her near that felt familiar to you.

Like an old friend.

For a long few minutes, you just cried. Deep, ugly, open-mouth cries that made your entire body feel weak. You couldn’t possibly get ahold of yourself, or even begin to understand how you were meant to.

Stooping down to kiss the crown of your head, Leon spoke gently into your hair, voice thick with emotion, “I-I named her Charlotte. Charlotte Abigail.”

Oh, how pretty. Internally you had to admit that he chose well, whatever his reasoning was.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” you sniveled, thumb caressing the thin, tender skin of her cheek, your chest throbbing as she squirmed and poked the tip of her tiny tongue out. “I-Is she okay? Are there any issues?”

The nurses calmly explained to you that she seemed to be regulating her temperature well enough on her own, but that the incubator was a precaution that would allow you and Leon the opportunity to get some actual rest. Her blood tests didn’t show any concerns and her oxygen levels were okay, but other than that, it was too soon to tell if anything else might be off, and they spared you the anxiety of getting too specific about the potential complications just yet. She would likely be spending at least 30 days in the NICU for good measure.

You, on the other hand, would be well enough to be on your feet as soon as the numbness wore off. That wasn’t to say it would feel good if you did, just that it was possible and wouldn’t kill you, though Leon would probably need to help you around for a few days… as if he needed the doctor’s order to do that.

Once they were sure you were healthy and comfortable, the nurses stepped out and for the very first time, it was just you, Leon, and your child.

“I’m so proud of you,” Leon whispered, watching you reverently. The sun had risen enough now to drench you in a saintly glow, your skin radiant and dewy with motherhood, your eyes glittering with tears as you gazed down at the sleepy baby cradled in your arms. “You’ve come such a long way, puppy, and just look at what you made for me. Look at what a perfect little angel you made for daddy.”

Letting out a slow breath from your nose, you resisted the urge to react to that. He’d done a pretty decent job of acting normal since you went into labor, and you didn’t realize how badly you were hoping he would keep it up until he ruined it with a brisk return to form. Perhaps the blame was on you for getting too comfortable with your expectations that high in the first place.

What felt especially unfair about it, however, was that his phrasing got beneath your skin more than you thought it would. Telling you that you’d come such a long way, and all because you made a perfect baby for him.

For daddy.

You’d only just had the chance to allow yourself to feel some kind of a bond with her, and Leon was already claiming ownership over it without a second thought. You wanted to snap at him that not everything was about him, that it wasn’t your goal to please him even if something you did made him happy, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to say any of it.

Charlotte hadn’t even been born for 24 hours yet, you couldn’t start fighting in front of her already.

You stood in front of the window with Charlotte swaddled tightly in your arms, letting her watch the glittery, falling snow outside in an attempt to calm her. She was red in the face and hollering with all the power in her little lungs— which was a lot, you’d come to learn— quite cranky about the fact that your milk was taking its time to come in. In defense of your boobs, the girls thought they were going to have eight more weeks to prepare than they ended up getting.

But at a certain point you just had to wonder when enough might be enough. You knew it wasn’t your fault, that your difficulty producing breastmilk so soon after going into premature labor didn’t reflect negatively upon your ability to love and provide for your daughter, so why did it feel that way? You were trying to keep ahold of your emotions for the sake of your daughter while wondering somewhere in the back of your mind if you were even fit to care for her, if it was your fault that she was starving.

“It’s common for newborns to lose a little bit of their birth weight in the first few weeks, especially waiting for mama’s milk to come in,” the attending nurse calmly explained to you as she changed the sheets on the bed. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, dear. There’s no guide to being a new mother.”

“Thank you,” you replied over the shrill cries of your daughter, letting some of the tension drop from your shoulders. Leon had told you nearly the same thing practically a thousand times over the past few days, but it was hard not to convince yourself that he didn’t know what he was talking about and was just spouting nonsense to make you feel better. It felt more legitimate coming from a professional.

Once she finished up changing the bedding, the nurse offered to take Charlotte for a while if you needed a break, but for right now, you didn’t really mind. Having her close was supposed to stimulate milk production, as you’d been told, and for lack of a better way to put it, you sort of enjoyed hogging her from Leon. He’d stepped out for the morning to check in at work and grab a few things from the house, so he wasn’t here to take her anyway, but you felt it was your responsibility to seize every available opportunity to bond with her. You needed her to know that you were there for her, that you weren’t budging, and that you never would.

Being alone with her was a treat. She really was so cute, just a teeny tiny little thing, and you could have already sworn she had your nose. She was pretty.

“Oh, Lottie, Lottie, Lottie,” you sighed affectionately, cupping the back of her head to cradle her close to your shoulder, gently swaying and bouncing on your feet. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

As expected, her only response was a continuation of shrill cries. Part of you worried that your presence wasn’t comforting her at all, but every time you slowed in rocking her or made any move that she perceived as you getting ready to put her down, she hollered louder and clung to you for dear life. Clearly she knew where her bread was buttered.

You crossed the room in slow, bouncing steps, trying to keep her distracted just long enough for you to sit down with her in the rocking chair. Little as she was, your arms were getting tired from holding her up, and you just needed a bit of a break from it. Pressing your lips to her soft forehead, you breathed in through your nose and began quietly singing to her.

“I’m… a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, an onion patch, an onion patch,” you hummed, “I’m a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, and all I do is cry all day… boo-hoo, boo-hoo…”

It was an old, old song, and you weren’t even really sure where you remembered it from, but Charlotte seemed to enjoy it, and it felt fitting enough right now. Dragging in a breath, Charlotte reached up to rub her eyes with her chubby little fists, wailing cries beginning to soften down to weepy whimpers. It was victorious moments like this that almost made you forget how you got here.

“Hey, sweetheart,” came Leon’s voice from behind, reminding you exactly how you got here, “how are my girls?”

Almost immediately, Charlotte started screaming again.

Sighing out an exhausted breath, you turned over your shoulder to watch Leon approach, trying not to let it show on your expression just how annoyed you were that he’d ruined her calming mood right after you managed to get her there.

“Cranky,” you answered him simply.

Leon clicked his tongue and moved to sit at the edge of the coffee table in front of you, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face with a sympathetic gleam in his eye. “No milk yet, huh?”

You shook your head.

“Oh, puppy… I’m sorry.”

The look on your face gutted him. He could tell you were blaming yourself in some way, feeling guilty for not being able to produce quite yet, but his mind wasn’t lingering anywhere near blaming you for this. You’d already been through so much just to deliver the baby— if anything, he’d be more surprised if these next few weeks were to proceed perfectly after that. You were a superhero to Leon right now, a goddess, and not even gods or heroes were exempt from hardship, from plain bad luck.

“It’s fine,” you said with a slow sigh, “the nurses swear we’re getting somewhere. There was some of this… I don’t know, like… clear, sappy stuff that came out this morning, and they said it’s good for her, so…”

Nodding gently, Leon took your hand and squeezed it, trying to get you to actually look at him. “Well, that’s a good sign, right?”

“I think so… I don’t know. I hope so.”

“I hope so, too, baby.”

A few moments of silence fell between you— aside from the screaming newborn, of course— and Leon continued to think about how proud he was of you. When he first brought you home with him, you were adamantly against the idea of having babies, let alone being pregnant at all. But you took it like such a champion, nourished and cared for your child anyway, his child, and even after going into labor unexpectedly early, your priorities and your focus still remained on her.

He couldn’t confidently say he’d have been as brave if it were him. That alone gave him a lot of reflecting to do.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Leon asked, squeezing your hand again. “Absolutely incredible.”

“I don’t know about that,” you puffed out a dry breath, finally looking up at him. “Women have been birthing babies for thousands of years. I’m no different from any of them, unless you count panic-attacking myself into early labor, and even then I’m not the first. And I definitely won’t be the last.”

Shaking his head in affectionate disagreement, Leon said, “As far as I’m concerned, you didn’t just hang the moon, you molded it with your bare hands. Just… take the compliment, pup. You deserve it.”

A slight smile graced your lips for just a second, like you briefly allowed yourself to believe what he was saying. As much as it pained him to think about, Leon knew you hadn’t been given a whole lot of incentive to take him at his word on anything, but when it came to the praise you’d earned for making him a father, for growing his baby in you, it was so important to him that you knew he wasn’t just talking out of his ass.

So he spoke up again, following his praises with a gentle, genuine question; “Why are you being so hard on yourself?”

This gave you pause. He wasn’t wrong by any means— you absolutely were being hard on yourself here, in every way you could think of. The ways you’d been talking about and carrying yourself since he came home from San Francisco were indicative enough of that. It was like you were cowering from yourself, avoiding every part of you that made you you, like a mouse in a lab finally recognizing which buttons would shock you.

“She needs me,” you finally muttered, cradling Charlotte closer to your chest, even as she screamed your eardrum out. “She depends on me, I can’t just… fail her.”

“Fail her?” Leon whispered, encouraging you to continue.

Swallowing back nerves, you suddenly found you were having a difficult time making sense of what you’d been feeling lately, let alone putting it into articulate words. Still, you replied to the best of your frazzled, tired ability, “She was supposed to have eight more weeks… she wasn’t ready to be born yet, and I freaked myself out so much that I put her at risk. I’m so grateful that she’s okay, that it didn’t end badly, but Leon… it could have. It really could have.”

“I know,” he soothed. “I know it could have, but it didn’t. It didn’t. Look at her, she’s here and she’s alive and she’s healthy. She’s got strong lungs. She’s got your nose. She’s perfect, sweetheart, she’s absolutely perfect, and that’s not in spite of you, it’s because of you. I’ll repeat that as many times as it takes for you to internalize it.”

That framing of the situation was surprisingly insightful, coming from Leon, though you supposed he’d had some practice in forgiving himself over the years.

Sniffling, you nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “T-Thank you… daddy.”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead, and Charlotte began to settle.

You were so confused when you woke up in the middle of the night to Charlotte crying again— not because of anything she was doing differently, but because of how you felt. Sitting up in bed, you briefly glanced over at Leon to find that the commotion had roused him too, stirring him from a light sleep.

“I can get her,” he was quick to rasp out, voice clouded with grogginess, but for once, you put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“No, no, wait,” you whispered, your other hand kneading at your sore chest in an attempt to soothe the discomfort, but this wasn’t the same kind of breast pain you’d grown used to by now. They were tender and full to the touch, nipples stinging under your nightgown.

And leaking.

Eyes widening, you shot out of bed with a quiet, excited exclamation of, “oh, shit,” not even taking the time to mull over how silly it seemed to be so ecstatic that your nipples were leaking milk through your favorite nightgown. All you could think about right now was her. You could finally sate her hunger.

Leon sat up too, rubbing his eyes and leaning over to turn the bedside lamp on, trying to wake himself up enough to understand what you were acting so urgently about. Only once Charlotte’s cries were silenced and replaced with a soft, greedy suckling sound did he realize what was happening.

“Oh,” he gasped, stunned, “shit.”

You just laughed, completely unable to wipe the stupid grin off your face. Feeding for the first time felt really fucking bizarre, but with how happy you were that your daughter was finally able to eat, you couldn’t bring yourself to care even slightly. That was far from the biggest thing on your mind.

“She’s eating,” you beamed, turning over your shoulder to look at Leon, desperate to share this moment with the only person who could truly understand your relief. “She’s eating, Leon, she’s— she’s perfect. Holy shit.”

“You’re perfect,” he smiled wide, crawling out of bed to join you where you stood by the crib, his strong arms slinking gently around your waist. Pressing a kiss to the highest point of your cheekbone, Leon whispered in your ear, “I knew you could do it, puppy. I love you, I love you both so much.”

And now you were crying. You couldn’t help it.

Charlotte fed for a good long while that night, gulping down every stray drop she could find, and you and Leon just watched her in complete awe. She could barely keep her eyes open in her satisfaction, long lashes fluttering angelically upon chubby cheeks, her squishy little lips bobbing back and forth with every suckle as you both cooed at her and cheered her on.

Wiping away a drop of milk from her chin, Leon preened, “Oh, little Lottie… such a good eater, princess, my goodness…”

“Such a good eater,” you echoed, adding playfully, “must’ve gotten that from your daddy. He gets grouchy without breakfast, too.”

“Hey now, it is the most important meal of the day,” he pointed out to his own defense, very much in on the joke, though he couldn’t help but add another cheeky point that was reserved only for your ears. “Well… the second most important meal of the day, right behind dessert.”

Groaning, you rolled your eyes at him, “Cornball. You’re a horny, horny cornball.”

He only smirked, “Guilty as charged, pup,” and kissed you again.

Your mood improved a lot over the next several days, and Leon was so grateful for it. The timing couldn’t have been better for squashing your insecurities about being able to care for Charlotte. Waking up to feed her wasn’t something that stressed you out anymore, it was something that made you feel useful and needed, which you always were, but now you truly believed it. Leon joked more than once that he’d never seen you happier to whip your boobs out at any given time.

You were eating well, you were laughing, you were getting lots of good rest, and you were actually talking to him. Like, talking talking, not just nodding your head and pretending to follow along. You told him about your day, you told him how you were feeling, you commentated on TV shows together. Your unanticipated stay in the NICU was turning out to feel a lot more like a dream than a nightmare, and as such, he was almost reluctant to see it end.

But time marches on, as it always does. Part of him worried you’d go right back to being difficult once you were home and the novelty of new parenthood wore off. Part of him wanted to trust that you wouldn’t, because you truly understood everything now. Didn’t you?

The final week of Charlotte’s monitoring was dwindling down, and now that he wasn’t so preoccupied with worrying himself sick about you both, he couldn’t stop thinking about what you said to him before you went into labor.

‘Daddy, I have to tell you something.’

Whatever it was, you never told him. In the chaos of everything that happened right after, he almost forgot you even mentioned it, but it’d just been gnawing at him since the dust settled.

Leon wasn’t sure how to approach this with you. Talking about it clearly distressed you last time, even though you brought it up on your own, and he didn’t want to risk setting you off, but the intensity of emotion it brought was undoubtedly indicative of its importance. By principle, you should tell him if there’s anything he needs to know, right?

Maybe it wasn’t all that important. Maybe your reaction at the time was just a product of your condition, the hormones and anxiety, and maybe you hadn’t even thought about it since that night. Maybe it really wasn’t a big deal.

So why had it been so obviously eating you alive during the final leg of your pregnancy?

“Baby?” Leon asked quietly, tilting his head to look at you. It was three in the morning and you were laying in bed together after Charlotte finally fell back asleep for the millionth time, partly trying to get some more rest and partly preparing yourselves to have to get up again at any moment. But it was peaceful, and he hoped that would mean you were calm and comfortable enough to have this conversation.

Humming in acknowledgment, your eyes met his. He had his arm around you, thumb caressing you at the waist, your cheek against his chest. It was now or never.

“I’ve just been thinking lately… the night Lottie was born, you said you had something to tell me,” he began, pouring all his effort into coming off as non-threatening as possible, careful not to spook you. “The little lady interrupted you and I never got to hear what it was. Do you remember, sweetheart?”

At first you couldn’t move, completely paralyzed in his arms. Your initial inclination was to panic, of course, but for once in your life, the nerves weren’t manifesting like they probably should have been.

Or, rather, like they definitely should have been.

You resumed breathing, biting your lip while you tried to organize your thoughts and come to a decision. It would be a tough shot to lie right now, you knew that, and while you would have usually tried to come up with a convoluted way to worm yourself out of this, for some reason, you didn’t even really feel the need to right now. Leon had been in a great mood. You were pretty sure he hadn’t stopped smiling since Charlotte was born, and even leading up to her birth, he had been acting so gentle and loving with you.

But you still needed to cover your bases if you were going to be honest with him.

“Do you remember saying that whatever it is, we’ll handle it? That I wouldn’t be in trouble?”

Uh oh, Leon thought to himself, but didn’t dare let it show on his expression. That’s not a great start.

“I do,” he nodded encouragingly, “and that still stands.”

All you had was his word, and that was going to have to do, wasn’t it? Taking a deep breath, you tightened your arms around his middle as if preemptively pleading for mercy, and then you quietly admitted, “I-I broke the rules while you were away on that mission.”

He figured as much while speculating on what it might have been, so this didn’t really floor him too much yet. “Okay. What rules did you break?”

You hesitated for a beat, looking away to collect your thoughts and then back again, hoping he could see the guilt in your eyes, the regret.

“I went outside,” you whispered, feeling an awkward and unpleasant heat burning at your ears— shame. “I-I went on a walk, a long walk, and…”

Now it was Leon who wasn’t breathing. “And?”

“And I tried to get h-help.”

There it was. You tried to get help. Help. As if you needed any fucking help when you had Leon.

But then again, he thought, she didn’t have me. I wasn’t there.

His bottom lip quivered until he bit it back, stooping his head down to bury his face in your hair, hiding, both arms holding you tightly to him. He wasn’t sure how to feel. He thought he was prepared for anything you might have to confess, but this… this was devastating. This felt awful.

“God fucking damn it, puppy,” he wept, “what were you thinking?”

The realization that he was crying made you tear up too. He wasn’t angry, he was anguished.

“I-I’m sorry… I know, I’m sorry—”

“Did anything happen? Did anyone see you? Did anyone touch you?”

“No, no, n-nothing happened, no one touched me, I promise—”

“Don’t you ever do that shit again,” he sobbed weakly into the crown of your hair, clutching you to him like you’d fall apart if he let go, or perhaps like he would fall apart. “Do you hear me?”

You just nodded, stifling your cries with a hand over your mouth to keep from waking the baby. She was sleeping so peacefully in the crib a mere few feet away.

“I hear you, I hear you, I promise I won’t ever do it again… it was freezing and I was so scared, I… I couldn’t get home fast enough…”

Home. Was that what it was to you now?

“Good,” Leon said firmly, but not apathetically, sighing out a deep, shaky breath. “You don’t just have yourself to worry about anymore.”

You and Leon were practically tangled with one another, stuck together like glue as you desperately tried to soothe each other. Silence fell around you again.

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[twinkling-moonlillie]

Hawks Headcanons

A/N: I am currently obsessed with Hawks (if you couldn't tell) and writing for him is fun. I made these headcanons while procrastinating on my midterm paper a few days ago-

Warnings: Some NSFW content; MDNI. Some angst too

Starting things off with an angsty bang, Hawks has a bad habit of plucking his feathers when he is stressed out. It’s never too often and it’s never to a critical extent, but it does occur. Birds often do this as a form of coping with negative feelings, so perhaps he does this after a brutal mission. 

Like many other people, I firmly believe that Keigo has a thing for shiny or interesting looking objects. Again, it’s not to an obsessive extent, but he does have a good eye for pretty trinkets. Especially ones he thinks will look good on you. 

I don’t think Hawks is a good cook. There, I said it. This man barely has time for himself, do you really think he has time to devote to cooking? Do you really think that the Commission taught him to cook? Fuck no. He sticks to quick take out purely out of necessity. 

They say that the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and this is absolutely true with Keigo. He would love the little lunches and dinners you make for him while he is at work! He gobbles it up like a turkey. He swears that your food is the best thing he has ever had; he literally moans when the aroma hits his nostrils. 

I forget which fic I read this from (I will link if I find it), but I adore the headcanon of Hawk’s taking rut suppressant pills. I just think it makes so much sense since it aligns with his work-centric life and his lack of a wife (we aren’t talking about when you are married to him, obviously). They are probably similar to birth control pills where they stop the rut from happening 5% of the time. 

Even without his rut happening, Keigo still has a huge breeding kink. Can you blame him though? He just thinks that you'll look gorgeous with his cum leaking out of your pretty pussy. 

*whispers* he also has the equipment to match

He has definitely accidentally run into a window from imagining you with a cute lil baby bump. 

He can get a little whiny and needy about wanting to devour your pussy. He will straight up beg you on his hands and knees. Please say yes to him. 

The songs Angel with a Shotgun and Mr Blue Sky fit him so well. Fight me on this. 

Also the song Hey Look Ma, I made it

I just imagine happy birb listening to Mr. Blue Sky after meeting you.

Intentional or not, his wings flap and rustle during sex. 

On the topic of his wings, I don’t think they are as sensitive as we all wish they were. It’s not like he’s gonna start moaning and whimpering when random fans touch his wings (he canonical doesn’t) HOWEVER, it does feel nice when you massage and gently comb your fingertips through them. I’m thinking that it’s similar to hair?? Or maybe his wings are ticklish?? But only in the right context?? 

You are the only person he really trusts to take care of his wings

Keigo loves holding you in his arms and taking you on night flights. The stars always seem brighter when they are reflected in your eyes (at least, Keigo thinks so…). You even have your own set of aviator goggles to wear during these dates.

One of his favorite things is when he DOESN’T have morning patrol and can snuggle you until at least 10 in the morning. Although it may be longer because his sleep debt is so huge. There is just something so satisfying and peaceful with having you close enough to hear your heartbeat. 

His biggest dream is being able to have a family with you in a quaint little house. His life, your life…they aren’t constantly in danger and he can sleep in with you, make you breakfast (it’s only a little burnt), wrap his wings around you. 

Keigo is extremely possessive of, not only you, but the life you created together. He is very sensitive towards things that threaten the small slice of normalcy he has, eliciting a sense of hypervigilance and territorialism. 

His mental state isn’t the best from the culmination of trauma he experiences, leading him to commit psychic cannibalism on himself. He represses all of these negative feelings in order to perform to the best of his ability and be the good lap dog for the Hero Commission. 

Needs therapy.

It’s established that he has some form of echolocation through his feathers. So…hear me out…just to make sure you are safe 24/7, Keigo gives you one of his smaller feathers. I’m not going to rant because I might make this into a small oneshot/drabble later

[tarotofhope]

PAC: ♡ Channelled Love Songs from your Current/Future Romantic Partner ♡

(Please Read My Pinned post *IMPORTANT NOTE* before selecting a Pile)

🎶 All dividers on this blog are provided by @uzmacchiato 🎶

Masterlist | Paid Services

Pick an Image by meditating and selecting the image you feel called to. You can be attracted towards more than 1 image. If you are not able to select maybe this reading isn't for you.

(You can find all the songs mentioned in the Piles on SPOTIFY. Unfortunately Tumblr only allows 10 audio links per post🥲)

Pile 1

Songs - Aaya Jado Da by Asees Kaur

Screen Time by Epik High ft. Hoshi

Don't Forget To Breathe by Aaryan Shah

Welcome to your reading, Pile 1. First of all, lot of green ink occured in your pile. Your partner seems very caring, nurturing and protective of you. They might be a very caring and loving person themselves, very protective of their belongings and loved ones. They like to have a quick check on you(like not in a toxic or negative way). They want to know you better and your little quirks. They genuinely care about your well being. They might be very cautious, structured, organised individual, a fitness freak as well. They seem kind of very picky, they don't open up to just anybody, they might have very few close friends. They're mostly not interested in flings and one-night stands. They take relationships seriously so they'll only jump into it when they see some real value in it. This person is like a 'husband/wife material' person or atleast a long term partner. This also seems like a long distance relationship to me or getting into a relationship after a series of personal hardships when you've become very mature either age-wise or experience-wise.

So, that's all I got for you, my dear Pile 1.

Hope you're with this person or find this person soon 😉

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌸🌼🌻

Pile 2

Songs - Talk About Love by Callum Beattie

Seven- Clean Version by Jungkook

Tenu Khabar Nahi by Arijit Singh

Welcome to your reading, Pile 2. Have you guys currently been in separation or broken up with your partner? This could be a recent past energy as well. See, now this also looks like an ex's energy(I don't like to go into this topic because it creates unnecessary confusion but it appeared in the reading so I had to) and whether ex or not, if you strictly don't want this person back into your life, you must then very well know that you've ended up for good and you don't need to allow this person back or this pile totally isn't for you, you should select another pile. One thing is prominent though, one of you has done something bad to the another person..and that was the main reason for your guys' separation. I'm nobody to judge you guys, you know yourselves better. Well, whoever this person is, they want to reconcile with you or you're currently reconciling already. It could be a different case for everyone choosing this pile. It could be so that this person or both of you might still have feelings for each other. This person wants to make things better or do things right. There is a promise of not making the same mistakes again. This person is asking for another chance. Now, you need to decide for yourselves, what's good for you and what's not. It's totally up to you.

That's all I see in the cards for you, my dear Pile 2.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌸🌼🌻

Pile 3

Songs - Tera Mera Hai Pyar Amar by Ahmed Jahanzeb

I'm Gonna Love You by D.O. ft. Wonstein

Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley

Welcome to your reading, Pile 3. This person looks so in love. But more so, this person is very sure of you, there feelings are very intense, too. As they are saying, that it's so easy to fall in love with you, either it's a love at first sight situation or there is a certain clarity about choosing you/about wanting to continue further with you. Nothing can change their mind about you. They are giving me strong future spouse energy because they just want to take you away as soon as possible. So, they'll be very assertive in their approach towards you in the courtship period itself. I also think that they'll be the first one to approach you if you've not met this person already. They'll make sure that you know they are not just fooling around, that you're in for a very long ride. They'll also want to make sure that you too, feel the same way for them before going very far because they want it all or nothing. They'll definitely try to win your heart over, Pile 3.

That's all I got for you, dear Pile 3.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌼🌸🌻

Pile 4

Songs - Young And Beautiful by Lana Del Rey

Every Second by Baekhyun from EXO (Record of

Youth OST- 3)

Aadat Se Majboor by Benny Dayal

Welcome to your reading, Pile 4. This person might be a heart-throb. Popular person energy(for their work or looks). Everybody swoons over them. Their energy is quite charming and charismatic. They are bold, fun loving and outgoing, life of the party kind of person. You both might be quite the opposite of each other. They will be very confident in their approach. They might just be nervous about how to woo you because you are different from others and they don't want to make any mistake. They don't want to look like a creep. If you've already met this person or in a relationship, you know. They are someone who'll totally make a fool out of themselves to make you laugh. They love to see you smile and laugh but also, you don't laugh a lot, it seems. There seems to be a lot of people who are sexually attracted to them, but they choose you because you are special to them, you're not like the others according to them. They might've got their heart broken a couple times earlier due to which they're afraid of losing you but that's not going to be the case because they're sure of one thing that you're very firm in your decisions, rock solid and you won't run away when life gets bad. You guys are going to be like a power couple, each helping the other person where they are lacking, each completing the other.

So, that's all I got for you, my dear Pile 4.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌻🌼🌸

Pile 5

Pile 5

Songs - Lover by Taylor Swift

Spider By Hoshi

Tere Mast Mast Do Nain by Rahat Fateh Ali Khan

Welcome to your reading, Pile 5. Your person seems very Venusian(very lovey-dovey, full of charm, likes fine art) and Neptunian(very dreamy) to me, a hopeless romantic even. Some of you might also be attracted to Pile 4, because this pile has got some similar vibes. They are magnetic, could also be popular for something that they do, something that only they create. They have a good taste in music as well, could be a musician or they like to play musical instruments. Dancing and singing could be their hobby or talent. They are also someone who knows flirting like the back of their hand. It comes naturally to them, sometimes they don't even know that they're flirting. They might also like good food and fine-dining, might also love to cook. You might not like this person in the beginning because you think they're a flirt and they don't look serious, but you'll eventually start liking them because they're not what they seem from the outside. It is giving me the vibes of 'One fell in love first, but the other one fell harder.' Their heart is so pure and innocent. They'll woo you with their heart, Pile 5. You seem like a tough nut to crack to them, someone who's hard to get. I also think you've got pretty eyes and a resting b**** face. They love it. There's going to be a playful banter between you guys. Everything will be worth it in the end.

So, that's all I've got for you, my dear Pile 5.

Hope, light, love and peace to you..🌻🌼🌸

Thank you so much for being here. I post PAC readings every Tuesday and Friday. Do love and support by reblogging, liking or following.

——————————— ♡ ♡ ♡ ———————————

[neptuneiris]

Cruel Summer (02/10)

Paradise Beach

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader

summary: after a bad day at work, you head to the beach of your dreams, where an unexpected encounter occurs with a person who is too well known in the city and very rich.

words: 7.7k

previous part • next chapter • series masterlist

omg i can't believe how much you guys liked the first part! i really thought the story wouldn't get so much support (especially since i haven't finished CYPTBIL👀) but you guys again surprised me🤗 i'm very inspired with this story so i'm very happy for all the support, so enjoy this new chapter and look forward to the others!🙌🏻

thank you for reading!

warnings: none in this chapter.

You hate to see the beach dirty.

You've always had a problem with people who leave all their trash on the beach without any remorse and in full view of everyone. Many people will be embarrassed to confront them and create a fuss, but you... you defend the beach.

The first community program you see that brings people together to clean up the beach to better help the ecosystem, you're the first to sign up.

And that's the bad thing about living in Black Waves.

The beaches are not the best kept. There is dirt everywhere, the smell is horrible and really very few people make an effort to keep the beaches on this side clean.

The complete opposite on the beaches of Crown's.

This is mainly why you want to make a difference, to have clean and beautiful beaches despite the 'status' that the rich label you in the worst way.

You've seen their beaches and they are very well kept, that's true. It was clear to you when you went to that party last night and saw the white sand.

Obviously the rich people pay people for maintenance, whether they are poor people or whatever, but your people can't afford that, so they either clean it themselves or they just don't do it.

Pretty much the same goes for restaurants and venues of any kind.

Certainly the restaurant you work for is on a beachfront terrace in a luxurious and exclusive part of Crown's, the same goes for most of the restaurants in this area.

But in Black Waves the restaurants are less sophisticated, the food is fast, some are wood-framed, and there are no more than four people working there.

The places to buy clothes or basic necessities are the same, even a grocery store is inside the same house of the owners, while the rich have a huge shopping mall with brand name clothing stores, accessories, libraries, coffee shops and more refined restaurants.

They also have on their side of town large supermarkets where every fruit, vegetable or meat is triple the price of what they sell it on your side of town.

The prices are also different, clearly.

In Black Waves the dishes sold in the restaurants are affordable, while here a seafood dish costs fifty dollars.

And today especially your boss is in a bad mood, like every day, but today more so.

"Hey."

Alysanne whispers to you from the other side of the bar as you finish cleaning one of the tables and watch her almost instantly, where she takes care that your boss doesn't see you both talking.

"Daniel has texted me, he says Cregan is taking us to another one of his parties tonight," she lets you know with the clear excitement all over her contained face, "They say it's going to be great and maybe Cregan can take us up on his parents' yacht."

You let out a sigh and like her, you check to make sure Mr. Frey doesn't catch you talking in mid-shift.

"Tonight?"

"Yes," she says without removing her excitement.

"We're working double shifts today, Anne," you tell her without encouragement.

"Oh come on. We can't miss the opportunity to spend the party on a fucking yacht," she whispers excitedly to you.

"My feet are already hurting and it's not even four in the afternoon," you point out to her.

She gives you a bad look.

"Y/N," she tells you reproachfully.

"Depends on how the day goes."

"Are you serious? We must—

"You two!"

Mr. Frey's voice immediately catches your attention and Alysanne's, where you notice him already watching you both with a scowl on his face and clearly furious.

"Did I pay you to chat or to work!?"

The two of you exchange a glance and immediately turn away from each other, each returning to their respective tasks. But of course, it not only draws the attention of the two of you, but also that of some customers, and the two of you endure the humiliation of being scolded in public.

"You'd better move and I'd better not see you two chatting again or I'll pay you exactly what you deserve or send you back to your side of town."

You almost want to laugh in his face, but like any educated woman and again out of necessity, you keep quiet, as does Alysanne, but the looks you both exchange say it all.

You would like to tell him that because of the mistreatment and this kind of humiliation in public, the two of you and the other workers should be paid more, especially because you have to deal with a boss like him, but neither you nor anyone else says anything and continue working.

And precisely because you were talking to Alysanne for only a brief moment, Mr. Frey takes advantage and overloads you both with too much work for the remainder of the shift.

And that's why you definitely decide not to go to any party.

Your feet hurt, you are urged to take a bath, eat and lie in your bed, however, you are surprised to see how Alysanne has way too much energy for the hell you both had to go through and as she talk to the guys by text, the more excited she gets about going to Cregan's party.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?"

Alysanne asks you as she finishes getting ready, looking at you through the full-length mirror.

"Honestly I'd rather go to the beach to relax instead of being surrounded with music, the smell of beer, weed and teenagers getting drunk."

She gives you an amused look.

"And why don't you do that?"

"I don't have a ride and it's too late to walk."

"Cregan is coming to pick me up in his car along with the others, I'm sure he can give you a ride if you ask him."

You give her a curious and unsure look.

"Do you think he'll accept?"

"We're going to the same side of town, he'll be passing through," she nods with a nonchalant gesture.

At least you don't have to get too dressed up and you won't get tired, so you trust Alysanne and start getting ready too. Not too much like her but to look presentable.

As time goes by Cregan finally arrives with the boys making a huge fuss, excited about the party tonight. Alysanne tells them to shut up and they are lucky that your uncle and aunt haven't complained about them yet.

You give Cregan directions after asking him to please give you a ride and pretty soon everyone is inside of Crown's.

"Wait, you're not coming with us?" Sam asks you confused.

You shake your head.

"Why not?"

"I'm too tired for a party."

Chase gives you a knowing look.

"I can't believe in all this time you haven't been caught."

"It's not like I'm doing anything wrong either," you shrug.

"But the rich hate us and I bet you they'll make a huge fuss if they catch you."

"Yeah, who knows, maybe a trespass sue," Daniel agrees.

"Even knowing you don't have the money to pay for it," Chase tells you.

"Trespassing?" you repeat between amused and incredulous, "Going to sit on the edge of the beach is trespassing? Do you even know what trespassing is?"

"In any case, the rich won't like it if you get caught," Sam says making a nonchalant gesture.

You decide not to take it any further and finally arrive at your destination point, where you get out and walk over to the side of the pilot's window to see Cregan.

"Thanks for the ride."

"No problem," he smiles at you, "But the guys are right. If the owners find out about you, you can get in big trouble."

"I've been doing this for almost a year," you let him know, "I'm very sneaky."

He shakes his head with an amused smile.

"Just be careful. We'll come get you when you tell us."

"Okay," you nod, "Thanks, Cregan."

"Take care," Alysanne says to you from the passenger seat.

"Sure."

"And if the rich see you, get in the ocean and swim to the party, we'll help you there," Daniel tells you too.

You give him a look and and a not entirely convinced smile.

"Yeah, sure, very helpful."

You finally start to walk away from them as they continue to yell at you to take care of yourself, to call them in case of anything and so on, until Cregan starts up and his car begins to disappear into the distance.

And then you take action.

You look around, quickly assessing the area, making sure there are no people nearby to see you, but surprisingly this whole luxurious area of Crown's is quiet.

The only movement you notice is several cars passing by, but other than that, there are no monkeys on the shore.

There is a wall in front of you that marks the line between this private neighborhood and the houses in the same neighborhood that are even more private, since they have a huge front yard and a huge part of the beach exclusively for them.

The wall is not high, fortunately, you think it should be, but this is compensated by security guards who patrol this area and the beach from time to time.

So stealthily and in a calculated manner, once you make sure that there are no people nearby, you hide among the bushes and trees that are planted in the corner of the sidewalk to put your foot on a specific crack that you know of the wall and push yourself upward taking the edge of the wall with both hands to be able to observe the other side.

You quickly scan the entire area, making sure there are no guards patrolling nearby nor any of the people who live in the houses before jumping.

The meters of distance are considerable between the huge houses or rather mansions. There is pavement between the divisions and those divisions are exactly the way to the beach.

You put on the cap of the sweatshirt you are wearing to cover your hair and your face, since you know that all the houses must have security cameras outside, so this way you protect yourself in case of anything.

And once you make sure that there is no one outside or nearby, you gain impulse again with more strength and as fast as your feet allow you but still being careful, you place your hands on the rough edge of the wall and start to climb.

You adjust your grip more firmly on the edge and in one agile motion, you propel yourself upwards, where you feel the effort as you pull your own weight and more as you try to be fast.

Luckily you've done this many times before and when you reach the top, wasting no time and making sure no one is watching you, you quickly slide down the other side and you fall on your feet with a dry sound.

You don't take the time to rest and looking around, with adrenaline running through your veins and your heart beating too fast, you quickly advance towards the beach.

And once you are far enough away from where you managed to cross and indeed you confirm that no one saw you and everything is fine, again, you can relax.

You remove the cap from your head and let your hair free again, slowly feeling how the breeze and the wind with the salty air envelop you completely as you approach the seashore.

Easily anyone who lives here if they see you could tell that you live here too, besides the night also helps you because without so much light they can't recognize you right away.

And it is as if you are also a rich person, daughter of rich parents, being inside a private section of the beach in Crown's most exclusive area.

And as you go along, this is precisely why you take the risk of coming to this place when it is forbidden to you; the place and the view.

The sand here is perfect, clean as if no one had ever walked on it, the air is salty with no smell of anything unpleasant in specific, there are no people that could be dangerous around you and the surroundings are absolutely beautiful and clean.

Also this section has a cliff a bit secluded from all the houses, where its huge rocky wall looks absolutely beautiful and ethereal when illuminated by the night light.

You have come here many, many times and you always head to the same place, that specific pier.

The pier stretches out in front of you like a polished wooden path, leading into the deep waters of the night ocean.

Discreetly placed lights along the pier illuminate it with a soft golden glow, creating a contrast to the darkness surrounding the horizon.

The reflection of the small lamps trembles on the surface of the water, giving the place a magical and mysterious air.

The structure is impeccable, made of dark, sturdy wood, maintained with a care that only the rich can afford. There is not a single splinter out of place, not even an ill-fitting clove.

Every detail is taken care of, right down to the polished wooden benches at the end of the pier, ideal for sitting and admiring the sea in silence.

As you approach, the wooden planks creak softly under your feet, but the sound mixes with the gentle murmur of the waves, making it almost imperceptible.

And when you reach the end, you can see a large yacht moored at the side of the dock, with it's deluxe cover and it's name painted in gold and silver lettering.

You have no idea which rich family it might belong to, but you know this is just one of many they must have. It wasn't here the last time you came here and fortunately it doesn't obstruct the view.

You take a seat on the wooden bench and letting out a big breath, you watch as the full moon reflects off the ocean, it's silvery sparkles dancing on the water in hypnotic movements.

This is why you love coming here, even in this way, because the fresh, salty night air fills your lungs with every inhalation.

And just for an instant, you feel freer than ever in this space that is not supposed to belong to you.

Besides you not only enjoy seeing the moon, but also the stars, shining brightly and adorning the entire night sky. And you can rest easy, because there is no danger on this side of town.

You've been enduring a lot at work lately, taking a lot of strain on your shoulders from double shifts and stressing over the slightest thing, but coming here and being here gives you that much needed quiet time.

And only this place can offer you that; peace and tranquility.

You don't know exactly how much time passes but you find yourself in the same position, not getting bored and enjoying the view, wishing time would freeze so you could continue to enjoy this without worries.

You think that Alysanne and the guys must be having fun too, but for tonight this is all the fun you need.

Suddenly your phone vibrates next to you and the screen lights up as a new notification comes in. You casually pick it up and see a new message, and it's from Alysanne.

It's a selfie of her with the guys, all happy, laughing, smiling, beer bottles in hand and with the sea and yachts in the background completing the scene.

You let out a small laugh as you see Sam's euphoric face, Daniel and Chase's funny faces, and Cregan and Alysanne's smiling faces.

"Excuse me?"

Your whole body reacts and jumps instantly from shock and you look quickly and sharply behind you with all the panic on your face, definitely not expecting what you see.

Aemond Targaryen.

Shit.

It's the first thing that comes to your mind as you quickly jump to your feet, your heart beating too fast and your hands starting to shake.

That's when you know that the moment has finally come where you're caught and you're in big trouble.

Aemond watches you with a serious and attentive face, analyzing you completely. And you feel completely small when his eyes look at you with confusion and distrust, but challenging.

He clearly has no idea what are you doing here and maintains a defensive posture.

And you definitely feel like a thief who's just been caught in the act.

"What are you doing here?"

Oh God.

You think in terror.

How come you didn't hear him coming? The boards creak with the weight when someone walks and you couldn't hear anything?

You think that you should have been more attentive, that you shouldn't have let your guard down, because it's not possible that you really were so distracted and in your own world that you didn't hear him coming. 

But with him already here, watching you in a bad way, looking cold and suspicious, that you don't have time to scold yourself or think about it.

"I-I..." you stammer, in a shaky voice, not having the slightest idea what to say, very nervous and scared.

All you can feel is a lump in your throat, an irregular throbbing in your chest and the overwhelming weight of his gaze on you.

He doesn't look away and his serious face doesn't change, clearly waiting for an answer.

As you watch him examine you, you watch as he runs his gaze up and down you, trying to decipher who you are. And it doesn't take him long to come to an obvious conclusion, because he instantly knows that you are not like him.  

By your clothes and your old sandals, everything about you gives away that you don't belong here. Besides, he doesn't recognize you from among the other Crown's families to be able to say that you belong to one of them.

He knows you're not from around here.

"I asked you a question," he demands you in a bad way and with a harsher tone, walking towards you, "What are you doing here?"

You feel a shiver run down your back as you swallow hard, but the words just won't come out.

You're paralyzed, terrified, stuck, because you have no idea what to say and you're still processing that this is really happening. 

You know you don't have any good excuses and he's impatient, waiting for an answer that really won't be convincing to be the truth.

"I will call security for invasion of private property," he warns you firmly, clearly beginning to lose patience.

The danger in his words makes the fear hit you even harder and you finally react in panic.       

"No, no, please," you finally manage to say, worried and raising one of your hands to him in supplication, "I-I… I'm not doing anything wrong, I swear," you raise both hands in surrender, trembling.

He inspects you more closely with a piercing gaze, trying to find something, anything, to tell him what you are really doing here or what you are trying to do, watching between you and his family's yacht anchored to the dock.

His posture remains tense, ready to act if he finds anything out of place. 

He thinks that maybe you are doing something with the yacht, but he sees it in perfect condition, with nothing strange and nothing out of the ordinary, as the rope that ties it to the dock is without problems.

But he still continues to watch you seriously, defensively and suspiciously.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath, lowering your gaze, embarrassed and terrified, "This has never happened before," you say, reproaching yourself for the mess you've gotten yourself into.

But he hears you perfectly, and his frown deepens.

"Before?" he queries you.      

You close your eyes tightly, cursing yourself internally for having said that, to again look at him pleadingly and in desperation wanting to prove to him that you really aren't doing anything wrong.

"I swear I—

"Hello!?"

The unexpected voice makes you jump again from surprise and you watch with your eyes wide open behind Aemond as one of the security guards enters the dock, his flashlight illuminating the way.

Your heart beats with such force that it seems to thunder in your ears, as panic engulfs you completely. 

And without thinking too much, you move quickly, hiding behind a huge wooden box, taking advantage of the pole supporting the roof at the end of the pier and some scattered chairs. 

You crouch down, trying to make yourself as small as possible, but desperation gives you away with every move.

This definitely ends up completely confusing Aemond, not expecting that reaction and movement from you at all.      

And you watch him from your hiding place with all the pleading and forgiveness in your eyes, silently begging him not to say anything, not to give you away.

But he turns his gaze to the guard who ends up coming closer.

"Are you all right son?"

Your heart stops momentarily and you watch him in terrified silence, simply waiting for the worst. 

But even to have his whole look serious and not showing much reaction, you watch as hesitation appears for a moment and he falters in his words, as if he doesn't know exactly what to say, until he does.

"Yes," he finally says, "I'm all right."

The guard, seemingly satisfied with the answer, nods, but doesn't leave.     

"The Baratheon's reported a break-in in their backyard a few days ago," he says and you listen carefully, still waiting for the moment with fear and concern, "Nothing serious, apparently just clothes and some decorations. I'm just patrolling to make sure everything is in order."

Your breathing quickens as you listen to every word and Aemond continues to watch the guard, when suddenly he shoots you a quick glance, his eyes reflecting a mixture of seriousness and indecision. 

"Yes, so I hear," he says.

"Are you alone, son? I thought I saw someone else here."

Fuck.

Your stomach sinks and you close your eyes tightly, then watch in terror for the moment when Aemond will finally speak and give you away.

But you see the hesitation in his gaze again, you also watch intently as he opens and closes his mouth a few times, failing to say anything.    

When suddenly you see him let out a long breath and slyly give you a look with his serious face, then lick his lips and press them together in resignation.

"Yes, I'm alone."

As soon as Aemond utters those words, a wave of relief sweeps through your body. But almost instantly you stare at him in complete shock, unable to believe it. 

He really just covered you in front of the guard. He didn't really give you away even when he had every reason to do so.

Your hands are still shaking, but you slowly feel the adrenaline and anguish start to subside. 

"Well, we'll be around if you need anything. Good night, son." 

Aemond nods in his direction.

"Yes, thank you. Good night."  

You stand still for a few more moments, listening to his footsteps fade into the distance until finally there is no more noise. Just the sound of the water against the dock and the night wind on the waves.

You take a deep breath and slowly, you sit up, emerging from your hiding place with your hands still shaking. 

Your eyes meet those of Aemond, who is still standing, watching you with that penetrating gaze that seems to be able to read all your deepest thoughts. 

You don't know exactly what to say to him, you're still surprised and don't understand why he saved you, but the words come out on their own, grateful and fearful.

"Thank you," you murmur apologetically but with all the sincerity in your gaze, "Thank you for not saying anything."

He doesn't say anything to you, which confuses you even more, he just keeps standing there watching you, with his usual hard-to-read expression.     

“I-I..." you stammer, biting your lips and lowering your gaze for a moment, still feeling nervous, "I really wasn't doing anything wrong. I wasn't stealing or harming or anything like that, truly," you tell him honestly.

Again, he says nothing. He doesn't move either. He just stands there, with both hands tucked inside his front pockets of his shorts and still watching you with utmost attention that makes you feel incredibly nervous, even more so due to the circumstances.

You are also surprised that he is not kicking you out and threatening not to come back here. 

You honestly don't understand his behavior and the fact that he saved you from the guard, but for whatever reason, you thank him or you would have been in big trouble.

So cautiously, you take a step towards the entrance and exit of the pier.        

"And I'm sorry. You won't see me around here again. I really don't want to cause trouble," you add, watching him warily and wanting to make clear the promise in your words, "I'll leave now," you say quietly.

And having nothing more to say, you turn around, ready to run away if necessary, but you barely take two steps when surprisingly his voice stops you.

"What were you doing here?" he asks for the fifth time all night, his tone just as accusing but now with a curious tone. 

You stand still, not knowing exactly how to respond. 

But you know you have two choices: lie or tell the truth. And for some reason, you feel you can't lie to him; Aemond Targaryen.

Aside from belonging to the wealthiest, most prestigious and powerful family in Sunset's and the entire country, with his father being Viserys Targaryen himself and being one of the heirs to his entire fortune, he seems to be someone who seems to have the innate ability to detect falsehood.

That's why you don't understand why he saved you, a poor girl who doesn't belong to his world and probably never will, but still, you decide to be honest.       

Anyway, you're already stuck here and as crazy as it sounds, you owe Aemond Targaryen one.

"I was just... looking for some peace and quiet," you confess, turning your body to once again look at him, "I had a bad day and coming here..." you look around with a wistful look, "It helps me."

Aemond tilts his head, frowning slightly and biting the inside of his cheek, inspecting you. 

"And you can't do that on the beach on your side of town?" he asks you with a tone of disbelief.

You sigh, feeling a twinge of frustration as you think about the answer. It's a reasonable question, but the answer is not so simple. 

"Not really," you reply, lowering your gaze for a moment and biting your lips in nervousness, "Surely you know it's not the same at Black Waves."

He shakes his head slightly.

"I've never been there."

You almost look at him with an obvious look, almost, but you end up nodding, since of course he's never been to your side of town when he lives here.   

"The smell of the beach there is not so nice. They are not as clean as these, there is dirt and being there alone in the middle of the night is dangerous," you explain.

And everything you say is true, which is why you decide to come here.

And he looks at you, clearly digesting your words, saying nothing for a few moments, as is becoming usual between the two of you.

You think that maybe for him, someone who has lived surrounded by luxury all his life, it is somewhat difficult to imagine such a different reality. But it is also no secret how the people of Black Waves live.

So you don't understand his silence or even his behavior, but what you do see in him, surprisingly... is that he doesn't judge you.

You would have expected the face of disgust instantly like any spoiled child of rich parents and also that he would tell you to leave now with that posture and superficial look.

But nothing.       

Aemond Targaryen doesn't really reflect anything with his eyes. Unless he's judging you and giving you those looks of disgust in his mind.

But, strangely, he doesn't make you feel any less.

"And coming here... it's like my paradise, for the peace and quiet," you conclude in a low murmur.

Again... he doesn't say anything.

And that begins to frustrate you.

He just watches you, as if he's evaluating every word, every gesture and every detail in you. 

And you silently think to yourself that he probably doesn't say anything because he really wants you to leave, to leave him alone and never come back here.

So you try to leave again, because you've caused enough trouble and you can't risk staying.   

However, just as you prepare to say goodbye and apologize, again, he interrupts you.

"Since when do you come here?" he asks with a tone that reveals a mild interest you weren't expecting.

Inevitably your nerves run through you again and you swallow hard, having no idea whether this interrogation is good or bad, but you still decide to be honest to avoid as much trouble as you can.

"Last year," you confess apologetically.

He raises his eyebrows slightly.

"And no one had caught you until now?"

"It's just that I don't come here much, I promise," you say instantly, sincere, "Like I told you I only come when I really need to... when I want peace and quiet. And I don't do anything but sit around and watch the ocean, that's all."

He nods slowly, again processing your words. 

And you don't know it but to Aemond... there seems to be something about you, something about the way you talk or maybe that you're a Black Waves girl, that keeps him interested.

His blue eyes, cold but curious, fix on yours, as if he wants to see beyond the words, as if he's looking for some kind of hidden truth.    

The silence that follows feels interminable and finally, he with his relaxed but dominant posture, takes his hands out of his pockets and turns around, resting his arms on one of the railings of the pier. 

He stares off into the horizon with that serious look that tells you nothing and you just stand there, wondering if you should still leave or what you should do, since you don't understand anything.

"You can stay," he says suddenly, his voice low but firm.

You frown and stare at him completely confused, having no idea if you heard right or not.

"What?"

"You can stay," he repeats, not watching you.

You blink, watching him in shock, now being the one processing his words, not really understanding anything but feeling completely surprised by his offer.      

You didn't expect this. Not at all.

And at that moment comes the distrust in you, as it can't be too good to be real.

"Are you sure? I mean..." you watch him uncertainly, "Maybe you want to be alone," you shrug.

You watch as he sits up and starts pulling something out of his pockets, which ends up being a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

And without looking at you, he shakes his head.

"I'm fine," he tells you carelessly, taking a cigarette and starting to light it.

You watch him curiously, not understanding why he's being this way with you... so strangely kind. And that without knowing where it comes from, you begin to like him.

"And you're really not going to give me away? This isn't... I don't know," you shrug, "Like some kind of trap?"    

You watch as he takes a drag and blows out the smoke, putting the lighter and the pack back in his pocket.

"No," he says serious and almost annoyed, so you decide not to question him anymore, as strange as this is, "If you want to stay that's fine, if not you can leave too. Just do what you want, if I wanted to give you away, I would have done it already."

You remain silent, processing his words. You frown and watch him as he takes another drag and then the smoke rising to dissipate in the cool night air.

There is something about his posture, the casual way he holds his cigarette, that disconcerts you and catches your attention.

He doesn't seem like the kind of person who would let someone like you just hang around, much less in a place that is clearly his, or at least his family's.

So you feel unsure how to interpret all of this.

So you continue to stand, still waiting for some sign that you should leave, but he gives you none. Instead, he just looks off into the horizon, where the water meets the dark sky, lit only by the moon and stars.

And the truth is, you don't know what to do.

The prospect of staying there, with him, someone you barely really know and who could give you away at any moment, still makes you nervous.

However, you are also intrigued by this strange friendliness he is showing.

So you decide to stay, so you again take a seat on the edge of the wood with carefree movements, your feet dipping into the shimmering water beyond.

You give him a brief glance, unsure if he'll sit down too or if he'll just leave. But to your surprise, he stands beside you, silently smoking and not watching you.

It's not warm or comforting company, but somehow, the stillness you both share is more soothing than uncomfortable.

And so the minutes pass and the sound of the water, soft and rhythmic, begins to soothe you again. The cool night air makes the anxiety in your chest slowly dissipate, as does the tension in your shoulders.

And with each passing of time, you realize that nothing bad will really happen by being here with him. And you also realize that Aemond Targaryen is maybe not arrogant and shallow like the others.

He hasn't even been mean to you and hasn't judged you, so that's why you decide to start a conversation.

"Why are you here?" you decide to ask, without looking him and simply moving the waters gently with your feet, focusing on that.

The question floats in the air between you, and for a moment, you think he won't answer you, since maybe he told you that you can stay but it doesn't mean you should talk to him.

But then you hear him move, his weight making a slight creak in the wood.

"Same as you," he finally replies, though his tone is less curt this time, "Looking for peace and quiet."

You're instantly taken aback by his honesty and also by his response, definitely not expecting that, so you frown and look at him confused.

"Really?"

He watches you and his gaze instantly paralyzes you, watching as he watches you just as confused but this time defensively at your reaction.

"Why is that so incredible to believe?"

You bite your lips and avert your gaze, thinking very hard about your next words, as you shrug and watch him again.

"Well... I'm just thinking why a person who has everything and certainly lacks nothing would come here... looking for peace and quiet," you explain with genuine curiosity.

He lets out a snort, with a bitter look on his face as he brings the cigarette back to his lips.

"Neither you nor anyone else knows everything about me and my family," he says with an unexpected harshness in his tone.

You remain silent, surprised by the frankness of his response and avert your gaze to the horizon.

You feel a slight discomfort that you didn't expect and it's not because of what he said, but how he said it, so serious and distant.

But maybe he's right.

All families at Crown's are characterized by more than just money, power and status, and that's appearance.

The rich probably think they know everything among themselves, but your people see a little more reality and you know that behind that perfect facade there are secrets, tensions and burdens.

And the Targaryen's are no exception. Even Cregan has hinted at it many times, with his wry, half-joking comments about the lives of wealthy families.

The moment between the two and the conversation seems on the verge of becoming awkward again.

And just when you think the talk is over, Aemond takes another drag and, surprising you, looks sideways at you with a cool but questioning expression.

"And what happened to you?" he asks you suddenly, changing the subject.

"Hm?" you observe him attentively and confused.

"Why did you have a bad day?" he repeats just as calmly, but this time, with a casual, carefree tone.

"Oh," you murmur, turning your eyes back to the horizon.

You didn't expect him to be interested in something so personal. But since he asked, you decide to be honest.

"Well, apparently my boss hates me and made me work double shifts today," you explain, letting out a sigh. "It's stressful enough to put up with his bad treatment and workload, but I also had to deal with a lot of rude customers."

His gaze remains fixed on you, as if processing what you just said. Then he goes back to staring at the horizon with a disinterested look and takes another drag on his cigarette.

"Sounds like shit," he finally says, his tone dry but without a hint of empathy.

"Yeah, it is," you reply, letting out a bitter little laugh, "But it is what it is."

He nods slightly and suddenly, the distance you felt between the two of you seems to diminish a bit.

Aemond isn't as unapproachable as you thought, and though you still don't quite understand why he's acting this way, you begin to see that maybe, just maybe, there's more to him than meets the eye.

You stare out at the water in silence, the sound of the waves lapping gently against the pier pilings filling the air.

And you are surprised by how normal this situation is.

You mean, who would have thought? You, a poor girl from Black Waves and him, the heir to one of the most powerful families in the region, sharing a night on the dock as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

You don't understand anything but... you like him.

"I've never seen you before," he murmurs after a while, his eyes focused on the horizon, "Nor do I know your name."

You stare at him incredulously and let out a small chuckle under your breath.

"I think we both know why," you say knowingly, "It's not like our paths cross very often. And my name is Y/N, Y/N Blackwood," you introduce yourself in a soft tone.

He falls silent, seemingly memorizing your name and within a few seconds, however, he doesn't seem convinced of the other.

"I don't know. I know everyone in town, even if not directly."

You frown slightly.

"That sounds... exhausting."

"It's part of the family, knowing everyone. Knowing who's around you, even if you don't deal with them," he explains, "But I had never seen you."

"Well... I've lived at Sunset's for a year now with my aunt, uncle and my cousin," you explain, relaxing a little more as you see the conversation flowing smoothly, "And before the summer started, I started working at Mr. Frey's restaurant to save up for college in a few more months."

He turns his whole body toward you, still standing and leaning against the pole holding up the roof at the end of the pier, glancing at you from time to time but keeping more of his focus on the horizon.

"Your aunt and uncle?" he asks, "Why don't you live with your parents?"

That question takes you by surprise, and for a moment you don't know what to say. It's obviously a personal question and you weren't expecting it at all.

Then you look at him, where his eyes are serious and inquisitive towards you, although you don't perceive any bad intentions, just a curiosity.

"I guess I don't know if I should tell you that," you say with a small smile and amused tone, trying to downplay it and not make the moment awkward, "You know... trusting one of your kind."

He lets out a slight chuckle, making you smile a little wider.

"My kind?"

You shrug.

"Yeah, you know... a rich one."

"And what makes you think you can't trust me? I didn't give you away a while ago, did I?"

"And why did you?" you ask, unable to contain your curiosity seizing on the comment, "Why didn't you give me away?"

He lets out a long breath and takes another drag before answering, his voice low but steady.

"I don't know, maybe because you were honest."

"But you're not like that, no one in your class is empathetic and forgiving."

"Do you really think you know everything about me and my family?" he questions you again.

You look at him obviously and incredulously.

"Please, everyone in this place knows everything about you and your family. Even the poor people. You're like the royalty of the city, after all."

You see the slight annoyance on his face, making it clear that he's in total disagreement with you, and you make up your mind to prove your point.

"I mean..." you sigh, "You are known as your father's son who has a perfect life just like your siblings, heirs to a wealthy and powerful family. The Targaryen's are known for that, work, money, power and status... or am I wrong?"

He doesn't respond right away, just watches you with an intensity that makes you feel a little vulnerable.

And just when you think he'll finally let his true self out and he's exactly like the other rich kids, he surprisingly lets out a sigh and looks down at the water, with an almost resigned look on his face.

"Yeah, but it's not all as simple and wonderful as it seems. It's not the whole truth either."

Those words leave you thinking. And they also leave you watching... him.

At the previous party, you couldn't see much of him from afar, let alone being on the second floor of a huge yacht. But he is... captivating.

You trace the shape of his nose and the structures of his cheeks with your gaze, watching as if it were a slow-motion movie as he lifts his cigarette to his lips and raises his gaze to the sky to expel the smoke, marking the bone in his neck.

His silver hair shimmers slightly in the moonlight and makes him look like some sort of ancient Greek God, where you silently admire the handsome features of his face.

You can't see his eyes in detail because of the light, but you know they are blue, characteristic of the Targaryen along with the platinum hair.

And then you wonder, what else is behind that facade his family has so meticulously constructed for him?

Who is Aemond Targaryen truly?

The night continues as the two of you stand there, sharing the space, the air, the silence. There is no need for more words for now, it's just enjoying the little shelter in this corner with him.

And after a while, you decide that maybe it's time to leave.

"Well... I guess I should be going," you mutter, starting to get up, then looking around the perimeter one last time, etching the image in your memory, "I'm going to miss this place."

He turns with slow, nonchalant movements toward you, dropping what little is left of the cigarette to crush it with the sole of his tennis shoe.

"What do you mean?" he asks, with that calmness that always seems to surround him.

You look at him in confusion, then shrug, letting out a small, resigned laugh.

"Obviously I can't come back here now that you've caught me," you tell him with a sad little smile, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear from the wind, turning around, "Oh and..." you look back at him, "Thanks for not give me away, truly."

You give him a look and a small grateful smile, as he keeps his expression hard to read, as usual, but totally focused on you.

Neither of you say anything else and assuming this is the final goodbye, you start walking towards the dock exit. But then you hear his voice behind you.

"Wait."

And that's what you do.

Confused, you turn to watch him again, watching as he takes a step forward.

"You can come back if you want," he says to you suddenly, in a tone of voice that is soft, but also mixes indifference and something else that you don't quite manage to identify, "Just... make sure no one else catches you."

That definitely takes you by surprise, since you weren't expecting it. And you watch him silently for a moment, trying to read his expression, but he remains as enigmatic as ever.

However, there is an unexpected sincerity in his words that makes you smile, this time with more warmth.

"Really?" you ask, unable to hide the disbelief and excitement in your voice.

He nods, folding his arms, saying nothing.

"Thank you," you reply, and this time you say it more firmly and with happiness in your eyes.

You lower your gaze and resist the urge to smile big, feeling a strange sensation in your stomach, to again watch him.

"Bye, Aemond."

You take a step back and turn around, when again he stops you as he speaks.

"You're going home alone?" he asks, this time with a little more interest in his voice.

You laugh softly, surprised that he cares, not really understanding anything but liking it.

"You know? We poor people have a good thing after all... survival style."

He doesn't say anything to you, just watches you with his piercing colored eyes as he licks his lips and then simply gives you a small nod.

You don't say anything else either and finally turn to leave, beginning to leave the tranquility of the dock and him behind, under the dim lights of the night.

And as you walk away, you feel the sea breeze on your face and wonder how a night that began with tension and fear ended with something as unexpected as a truce with Aemond Targaryen.

series taglist:

@zenka69 @strangersunghoon @deliaseastar @thefireblaze @kythefangirl25 @p45510n4f4shi0n @saturnssrings @bellaisasleep @primroseluna @tinykryptonitewerewolf @barnes70stark @tssf-imagines

[wolfgirlcoven]

My Experience with P-Shifters & Mythicals, and why I'm Anti Physical IDs for Alterhumanity.

[Massive TW for Cults, Abuse(Including Digital SA, including COCSA), Delusions + Validation/Encouragement of Delusion, and probably more that I cannot for the life of me think of off the top of my head]

Hello, I'm Phoenix, but you can also call me Silverthorn. I've been in the nonhuman community since 2011-2013, and initially got my start in P-Shifter/Mythical communities, the ones of most note being ArdaErellon, GrowingWings4Life(usually just called Grow Wings.), and other adjacent webs.com forums.

I'll be documenting my experience with the community chronologically to the best of my ability, but do be aware that it may be a bit splotchy, as my memory of it all is a little janky due to the trauma and the fact this occured over 10 years ago now. It is of importance to note: I am neurodivergent, I speak from the perspective of someone who has been dealing with undiagnosed autism since childhood, which in turn, did influence my level of understanding of the world. My memory is also a little messed up due to dissociation from childhood trauma.

2011 - 2012: The Start - My start with P-Shifting began in 6th grade, when I was 11. I had met someone, who I will refer to here as Dragon. Dragon was my closest friend, however this was NOT a good thing. I had begun awakening to my inherent nonhumanity, but you know, when you're young, you'll believe in very fantastical things. Dragon was a P-Shifter, and I thought I was too. This is how our friendship really solidified. What easily could have been innocent schoolyard RP became grounds for abuse, manipulation, etc. Dragon convinced me that everyone hated us, and people would actively run away from me because where I went, she followed. Dragon was notoriously an asshole to others, but she used this to convince me that everyone hated me.

2013-2015: Aka "The Peak". 2013 is when I entered the online P-Shifter scene. Now, I had read websites and guides on p-shifting prior to this, but this is when I actually got INVOLVED so to speak. After reading some of the Maximum Ride books, I began experiencing phantom shifts of wings, which in turn lead to me joining GrowingWings4Life (colloquially known as Grow Wings), a forum on webs.com for Avians and other mythicals. I, obviously, began attempting to grow wings. This is where I met my flock. I've named two of them here before, but for the sake of this post I will be using stand in names. I also got my first scoliosis dx at age 13, during a school evaluation. This will come up again in another section of this post.

Aqua was the first one I met, she was basically a sister to me. She was honestly the first REAL friend I had, to the point where we called eachother sis. It was through her where we met the rest of our flock, albeit most of them would separate except for Red. Red was another one of the flock, unlike the other key members (Julio and Cailen. I WILL namedrop them for the bullshit they did. Julio was 18, and I don't remember Cailen's age but I do believe she was older than me, Aqua, and Red. I think maybe 18 but I'm not Positive.), he was also 13, like Aqua and I.

Julio got kicked from the flock for trying to groom Aqua and I over kik (classic 2013 experience I know), and Cailen went separate ways after a breakup with Red (she did some HORRIFIC things to him, which I will not disclose here other than it being SA) Things with the flock started out good at first, I mean why wouldn't it? Of course, we also learned about Awtok. We genuinely believed in them, and in part, were responsible for bringing knowledge of Awtok to Grow Wings out of sheer FEAR for everyone's saftey. Awtok's chokehold on our flock specifically remained.

Enter G32: Another school friend of mine, and self-professed Keyblade master. Though not an avian and p-shifter like the rest of us, he was part of our flock. I do fully blame myself and take responsibility for getting him involved with the flock + the consequences of doing so. He got involved the summer of 2014, but I had known him prior, and trusted him. G32 was someone we went to for advice and whatnot. In a way, despite Red and I being the leaders of the flock (when we started dating in 2014), I'd consider G32 to be the one pulling everyone's strings.

It was through G32, that Red became convinced he was a monster. Again, wont go into full details but this lead him to spiral into full on delusions. I remember him texting me in a state of extreme distress one night because he had "seen" his "true form" in the mirror. Looking back, this was clearly a hallucination. He ended up having MULTIPLE experiences like this. Now, he had been having some experiences akin to this prior to G32's claims about Red's true nature, but it was only after those that things got as bad as they did, such as full on berseker shifts for what his species was. (According to G32 the species was like an offshoot of the heartless from Kingdom Hearts.)

G32 also, on multiple occasions, forged messages from AWTOK, usually through 3DS swapnote, and then also forged messages from other "keyblade masters" who got involved with the flock via fake phone numbers.

Back to Red, because of the sheer amount of abuse he went through, ended up repeating the cycle of abuse with me. What he did to me was not ok. He had, through Cailen's abuse, become to believe he was possessed by a succubus who was Cailen. This began his manipulation of me, going so far as for this "possession" to lead to basically the Succubus threatening to leave me if I did not engage in sexual text-rp/sexting with Red as a way to prove my love & devotion. It eventually stopped, though i cannot remember what caused it to stop. Again, we both were 14 and severely mentally ill. I DO NOT HOLD THIS AGAINST HIM, AND I FORGIVE HIM FOR THIS. WE BOTH WERE VICTIMS.

Now, Red was VERY remorseful of what had happened, though we never actually talked about it or mentioned it after that, though I wish we did. It pretty much was him just apologizing but not specifying the incident (most because I told him not to), and me not actually letting him confess to what had happened. I wish I would have let him speak, but I was a scared child. Like I said, looking back now, and not out of a place of hurt, I can recognize he and I were both victims of abuse.

Come 2015, shit with G32 really hit the fan. From forging messages from other keyblade wielders turning against the flock, threatening to kill us for being traitors by aligning ourselves with Red, and the like, to then, when we stood up for ourselves, claiming it was all fake and a lie he spun, and then back to threatening us with the keyblade wielders after. It got to a point where it almost became a physical altercation on school grounds the following day. It was after this that things fell apart. The flock stuck together but ultimately separated, with the last I've heard from any of them being in 2016.

2016 & Onward: 2016 I still held onto some P-Shifting beliefs, but had begun to break away from them. It was really only come 2018 that I had fully recognized the nature of my beliefs were steeped in delusion, albeit the occasional relapse into p-shifter thoughts does occur to this day. I'd be lying if I'd said I haven't attempted to p-shift despite knowing and accepting it's impossible.

Now, other things not in this timeline that did happen, but I didn't feel were as interwoven with my flock experience:

ArdaErellon - when GrowWings went down, this kinda became one of the main sites people went to. It's not up anymore but I do remember the admin, Tinnuwen, asking people for their IRL locations, like addresses and whatnot, in order to open portals near them so they could travel to the realm of ArdaErellon.

Razgriz Pack & Other Cyberpacks - I got involved with a cyberpack when I was 13, when I didn't want much to do with them they threatened to send their other werewolves after me lol. I Don't remember if it was Razgriz or a different pack that I was involved in, mostly because I didn't spend much time around them.

Why I'm Making This Post:

I make this post because I've seen a resurgence in the P-Shifter & Mythical communities. Moreso, I've seen this become accepted and welcomed into the alterhuman community, which poses a SIGNIFICANT threat to the saftey and wellbeing of others. I've seen people ACTIVELY encouraging and validating delusions of Clinical Lycanthropes/Zoanthropes, claiming that it is harmless. IT IS NOT, I KNOW FROM EXPERIENCE.

My wing delusions were encouraged, and we avians took any criticism of our attempts as threats and people just wanting to be assholes. Because of the repeated validation of my "physical" wing growth, i actively avoided getting treatment for my scoliosis for over 2 years. Like i said earlier in this post, during an exam at school, they felt my spine was curved. However, because I fully believed I was growing wings, I REFUSED to let my family take me to the doctor, refused to let them get x-rays of me, for fear that they'd discover my wings, because I was a terrified CHILD. This lead to my spine becoming so severely curved that I was at risk of my lungs collapsing. I fear to see what would have happened to me had I not eventually gotten surgery in 2015. The point is, the beliefs involved with subcultures such as p-shifters, holotheres, mythicals, etc. is inherently harmful. The denial to accept ones biological humanity, and the laws of physics that come with it, is a saftey risk. When people speak out about their experiences, they get dogpiled by the physical therian community, and victim blamed. When we explain why these things are harmful, we get accused of a whole slew of things, such as trying to make humans like us, or bring ableist by saying that encouraging delusion is harmful.

Me, Red, and Aqua should NOT have had to live out our teen years in fear of AWTOK, in fear of uncontrollable shifts, in fear of hunters, etc. We should have been able to have our formative teen years be normal. My friend Sundew, also known as @aesthetikins , was there when I was going through all of this, as we met in highschool. E knows first hand the amount of damage this stuff did to me, as again, e was there when it happened.

This is also the one time I feel OK to be That Guy and put this in the tags of the harmful groups I'm talking about, because maybe, JUST MAYBE, it'll save someone else from going through shit like what I went through. Edit: this is ok to reblog, and i actually encourage it

[suckerfordylansstuff]

Not a date - Steve Harrington

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader

Summary: Dustin is certain you're dating someone. You, on the other hand, are not so sure.

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: As you can see we're changing the style with this new post. You could consider this kind of a small prequel for "A date like no other", but mostly, I just wanted to write more of Dustin and Y/n's relationship (more will follow, inspiration has hit me). Plus, it was fun playing detective. Hope you enjoy! 💕

!This piece goes along my Steve Harrington series "New Journey", but can also be read as a standalone!

Timeline: After the winter dance, but before their first date.

“I have gathered you here today on an important issue.” Dustin was pacing around Mike's basement while all the rest of his friends followed him with their eyes “It is crucial that we take upon this matter with focus and determination. Not to mention stealthiness since a bit of spy work is going to occur.”

“Dustin, why are we here?” his dramatics had Max over the whole thing very quickly.

“It has come to my attention that my sister, my own blood, has been seeing someone behind my back and simultaneously lying to me about it.”

“And?” Lucas asked, not understanding his friend’s anger.

“What do you mean and? This is it!”

“You’re mad your sister has finally found someone?” Will was trying to understand Dustin’s motives.

“I’m mad she hasn’t told me about it. I mean, why would she do that? I certainly tell her everything.” his pacing hasn’t stopped from the moment he entered the basement.

“Maybe because she wants to focus on the new relationship and not on her little brother’s obnoxious opinions?” Max told him with a smile, making Dustin stop in his tracks.

“You’re new, you don’t get a say.” he pointed in her direction and continued his pattern on the floor.

“Dustin, what do you want us to do?” Mike sighed when he saw Dustin place large papers on top of a chair, opposite to them, a pen in his hand as he settled beside them. It reminded him of their teacher, and not in a good way.

“I want you to come with me and spy on her.” he removed his first blank paper, revealing a calendar with colorful dots on certain days “It all started a month ago. I realized she began going out a lot more than usual. I mean I love my sister, but let’s be honest, she doesn’t have many friends.” he pulled out another paper, this time a pie chart with all the colors they had previously seen on the calendar “So, I began tracking her behavior. When she would go out, when she would return, and try to figure out with whom. So far, I’ve noted 14 outings in the span of 29 days… She went out with Jonathan twice, once with Nancy, once with you, Max, and you, Eleven, for girl’s night. Three times with all of us and another three with me. That all makes 10. The other 4 are a mystery to me.” with each sentence, each ‘clue’, he was pointing the pen at every chart so the rest wouldn’t get lost

“When she hangs out with friends, I have noticed Y/n coming back at a decent hour, say around 10:30, at least 11:00. However, when she’s ‘on her own’ those hours defer.” the new paper showed the said hours with a big question mark at the end “I have caught her sneaking into the house well after 1:00 am! Clearly, she’s not out there on her own. But I haven’t been able to figure out with whom. I checked with both Nancy and Jonathan telling me that they had not seen her those specific days. She’s clearly with someone doing something, but when I ask her about what she did and where she went she outright lies to me, saying she was with Jonathan and/or Nancy.” he let the last paper fall flat on the chair, the pen rhythmically hitting his other palm “It is our mission to figure out who she is meeting on these days, so I can evaluate if I need to step in and help her.”

The kids all looked at one another, trying to see if they wanted in on this. His thinking could be correct, but the thought of him being wrong and giving them the chance to mess with him is what sealed the deal.

“Alright, we’re in.” Mike announced for all of them. Dustin’s face immediately lit up.

“But how do we know when their next meet-up is?” Lucas asked him.

“Already ahead of you my friend.” he began organizing the papers he had used, stacking them into his bag before putting it on “I overheard Y/n talk with my mother, saying she’s going out. Again, wouldn’t outright tell me with whom. So that’s why I came here, to find out if Nancy had any plans. As it turns out she did. But not with my sister, with Jonathan. Right?” his eyes fell on Will.

“Yeah, they are hanging out at ours.” Will confirmed Dustin’s words.

“Okay, so that excludes them from this ‘secret meet up’.” Max thought out loud.

“Precisely.” they were now getting out of the house from the basement’s door, making their way to their bikes.

“So… Where is she?” Eleven asked, her small voice was now loud enough for all to hear, turning their heads at once to look at Dustin.

Dustin wasn’t sure at the beginning where his sister would be. She had mentioned she would leave around 8:30. Now, he had left earlier to check on her small lie at the Wheeler’s, so their first stop was at his house to check if her car was still there. It was, which meant either of two things. She either walked to their meeting place (which was unlikely of her after everything that had happened to them, walking somewhere alone was a no-no for his sister). Or the person she was meeting picked her up. It left a lot of options open so he decided to head inside with the rest and look for more clues.

His mom greeted them, chatting a bit with the kids while Dustin looked around for any indication as to where she went. He noticed that her sneakers were missing, telling Dustin that they weren’t going somewhere fancy, so maybe their destination was the theater or maybe grabbing a bite somewhere.

“Hey, mom. I was thinking of eating the leftover pizza from last night after I come back. Y/n didn’t eat it, right?” he looked over at his mom, Tews on her lap as always.

“Oh, no, Dusty, she specifically said that she didn’t want to have anything since she’ll be going out to eat with her friends.”

Bingo.

Dustin excluded from the options list the diner where you used to work. Too many people knew you there and the secrecy wouldn’t last. So, they began roaming around the town trying to get a glimpse of you. They succeeded after a couple of tries. Lucas had caught a glimpse of your figure inside the burger place. You were sitting in a corner booth in the back of the store, your face bright, not only by the lights of the place but by your present company as well.

“Holy shit. Dustin was right.” Max climbed out of her bike, staring at the older sister of her new friend.

“Of course I was. Can you see who she is with?”

“No, his back is turned.” Lucas tried to wiggle around in an attempt to see who was with you.

We’re gonna have to get inside.” Mike noted and Dustin agreed.

“Not all of us, we’ll draw attention. Will, you’re coming with me.” the said boy wasted no time and followed his friend toward the entryway.

“Why him?” Mike called out, annoyed he wasn’t getting in on the action.

“Because he’ll be quiet, unlike you.” Dustin whisper-yelled.

They get inside and make their way to the end of the front counter. When they peaked at the back, they had a clearer shot at the two figures. Dustin could clearly see your big, bright smile, but the guy you were with was sitting opposite of you, meaning they could only see his back

“We still can’t see his face.”

“Wait… I know that hair.” Dustin’s eyes squinted as he focused on the person in question. The waiter had approached them, his lips moving, probably asking them if everything was okay. It was then when the mysterious guy turned his head, making him visible to him, a relieved sigh falling from his lips  “Oh, it’s just Steve.”

He and Will went outside without alerting you, joining the others once again.

“Okay, people, crisis averted. It was only Steve, just a friendly meet-up.” he announced to his friends before he grabbed his bike, ready to return home.

“Sure.” Max smirked his way, suddenly making a frown appear on Dustin’s face.

“Uh… Dustin? I don’t think this is very friend-like.” Mike was pointing to the restaurant. Dustin turned and met the horror. Steve had now switched his seat, joining you on your side. His arm was around your shoulders, your faces way too close for his liking. And then it happened. Steve kissed you.

Dustin was waiting for you to return back home. He was in the dark, his mother fast asleep, not realizing her own son was stewing hot. He was ready. Ready to tell you he knows your secret and ready to express his anger. He liked Steve, he didn’t like showing it, but he did. He was funny and honest with him, and a guy. He had a guy friend. Someone whom he could rely on when seeking advice. He knew he could come to you about everything, but sometimes he felt too embarrassed to say certain things. He was getting older, more ‘mature’ as his mother had said, and Steve had been through those things before, therefore could give him the advice he needed.

He liked Steve, but now he was afraid he was going to lose him… and you. You always wanted to be in a relationship and now that you were in one, you were going to spend all your time with each other, forgetting all about the party and mainly him. Or you would eventually break up and he would have to choose your side, his sister’s, and forcing him to say goodbye to his friend.

It all felt unacceptable to him, so he had to tell you about it.

Finally, he heard a car stop outside. After a couple of minutes, your keys were daggling as you opened the door. He watched you come inside, a lingering smile on your face as you took off your jacket and placed it on the hook beside the door. You were in the process of taking off your shoes when he decided to intervene.

“Hello, sister.”

He startled you, a small yelp coming from your lips as you squinted your eyes to see where your brother was hiding “Dustin? What are you doing in the dark? Do you know what time it is?”

“Do you?” he countered back, catching you by surprise.

“What?”

“How was your night?”

“Oh… It was really fun actually, thanks for asking. But this still doesn’t answer my question as to what you’re still doing up.” your arms were now folded in front of your chest, thinking you had the upper hand here.

“Oh, I just had a simple question really. Who were you with?”

It took you a second to form your question, confusion rising inside you “What?”

“I was over at Mike’s today and I stumbled upon Nancy.” Dustin stood up from the armchair and walked closer to you as he explained “I asked her if she was on her way to come get you, but she told me she wasn’t meeting with you. She was actually going to meet up with Jonathan for a date at his place.”

“Oh…” was all that came from your lips.

“I know who you met tonight. I followed you and found out you are secretly dating Steve.” his finger was accusingly pointing at your figure. He didn’t know what reaction he was really expecting from you but it certainly wasn’t what you said next.

“I’m not dating him, Dustin.”

“Wait, what?”

“We’re not dating.” you shrugged your shoulders and sat down on the couch.

“But he kissed you. I saw it!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, okay? It’s all very confusing.” your head your resting on top of your palms. You looked defeated, confused, sad, a whole different side of you than the one he had seen at the restaurant. He slowly approached you, sitting next to you. You looked up and saw him looking at you, a silent invitation to explain “It all started after we dropped you off at the ball. We happened to dance a little and it ended in a kiss. After that, we’ve been hanging out as much as we could and, yes, I admit, some kissing has gone down, but I don’t know what we are.”

Dustin noted that your voice was small but your feeling big “Do you like him?”

You looked up and locked eyes with your brother. You hadn’t been able to tell no one this, and you had no idea how much it was eating at you to get it out before this conversation “Very much.”

“Then I’m certain it will all work out.”

And just like that Dustin had forgotten all about his speech. He could still remember the way you smiled at him, thanking him with a big hug. It was the same smile when you picked up the phone, a couple of days later, Steve’s name falling from your lips. It was a soft one, your focus entirely on the voice coming from the phone, from his friend. When you finally hung up, a small shriek sounded all around the room. After just a moment he found out you were excited, beyond excited because he had asked you out on a date.

“Didn’t you go on one like yesterday?” he had asked.

“This is the first time he uses the word date, Dustin. The first time!”

He secretly smiled at your antics, even if in front of you he called it gross. When you returned home after that so-called ‘first date’, bliss was written all over your face. The next day, you all were meeting with the party for a campaign, the first time you would include Steve in your game. The first time he would see you two together officially for the first time. It was funny seeing him make all the wrong decisions and getting himself killed in the first thirty minutes. It was hilarious seeing you and him bicker about what you should do next. Steve making it his business to judge you all based on your actions. And it was certainly sweet when he would cheer with you after a successful roll. It didn’t seem all that different to him; your behavior.

It was after the campaign when Steve was talking his ear off on the way to their house about what movie you should see at the next movie night with the kids, that it truly hit him. Nothing would change. You would still be his sister and Steve would still be his friend. It couldn’t be that bad. Especially, if he saw his sister so happy every day.

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[nymika-arts]

like a river runs

chapter 4 of 10, 6.9k read on ao3 | read from the beginning

It's been four days now since the plane landed, three since Buck had agreed to have dinner with Eddie and his wife, and about two minutes since he'd realized he has absolutely nothing to wear. Somehow it hadn't occurred to him until now that the only clothes he has left are the ones he carried with him on vacation—not exactly the kind of thing he'd choose for an evening like this. 

He looks dejectedly at the pile of clothing strewn around him from where he’s sitting on the floor, pulls a t-shirt out of the mix and tosses it back down. It’s a pathetic little collection, but it’s all he has. Somewhere in the mess is one of Eddie’s shirts, thrown into the suitcase in part because it’s a nice colour and it looks good on him, and in smaller, secret part because it felt like being close to Eddie even from an ocean away. Now it just feels like sadness in the shape of a cotton-blend t-shirt.  

With a heavy sigh he flops over backwards and stares up at the ceiling. Things sometimes seem more manageable from the floor—if only because you can’t get any lower—but after a few minutes he finds his life is just as fucked as it was when he was sitting upright. Maybe I’ll just lie here forever, he decides—though he figures Maddie might want her floor back someday. 

He thinks about texting Eddie to call the whole thing off, like he’s almost done a dozen times since he agreed to it, then texts Hen instead.

11:06 a.m. [Buck]: are you busy today

11:08 a.m. [Hen]: no, whats up?

[Buck]: my entire wardrobe is vacation outfits now I’m stuck in an indefinite state of ‘guy who is going to the beach’ I can't live like this

[Hen]: so you want to go shopping

[Buck]: 🙏 also can you pick me up I don't have a car :(

read the rest on ao3

[strawberrystepmom]

touch me so i know i am still here | two

cw: description of murder, age gap between dante and reader. detective dante sparda x investigative journalist f!reader. | word count: 1.9k, reading time: approx. 7 min.

notes: for the purposes of this fic, dante's last name is sparda. i know this is not his canon last name. thanks for suspending disbelief for my sake <3 uh. this series is violent and dark but it's not heavy, it's actually pretty funny and cheeky considering the subject matter so i hope you like it!

this is the second part of a series. each post will contain warnings that pertain to that particular chapter. | part: one

8,456 days or the equivalent of just a touch over 23 years. 

That’s the last time Dante Sparda saw his mother, her skin luminous with life while blood thrummed through her veins. Her smile was bright, her hair was as golden as the sun, her love warmer than the dog days of summer. 

8,455 nights of terror have forced him to witness her gray and lifeless, a red pool around her form and staining the skirt he clung to for far too many years every time he closes his eyes. 

8,456 nights if he counts the dream that just startled him awake. 

He doesn’t know what time it is and he doesn’t care, the light shining through the crack in his blackout curtains lets him know it’s daytime either way. Digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, he groans and grumbles while rolling around amongst disheveled sheets and blankets. Feeling around blindly, eyes still partially closed, he manages to find his phone and lifts it to his face.

+1 (331) 555-9952: get some sleep.

That was received at 3:31 am. It’s now 8:15 and he scrambles to unlock and look at who on earth he was talking to, furrowing his brows and slowly sitting up. His head is pounding, probably from lack of sleep and too much whiskey both, body slowly coming alive. His heart is also pounding, a little nervous to find out what the emboldened man of a few hours ago must have said through the course of this conversation.

Tired eyes fall to the first blue sent bubble in the thread. Message sent at 2:01 am. 

Me: This research is something else. Do you even have a life?

Morning Dante can’t be bothered to scoff at night Dante’s antics so he keeps swiping down, seeing your reply came at 2:05 am. Are you a night owl? Perhaps just a fellow alcoholic?

+1 (331) 555-9952: detective sparda?

Next message was sent at 2:10 am, probably while he was standing at his kitchen counter shuffling through the maps and notebooks you provided to him. 

Me: You can call me Dante

Now there’s a bit of a gap between responses. 3:18 am is the stamp on the next message.

+1 (331) 555-9952: and you can call me in the morning. It’s a little late for this.

At the very least you’re a tough egg to crack, clearly. His next message came at 3:20 am.

Me: Or early depending on who you ask

Thankfully, it appears he was spared by your gentle response, the message he saw on his lock screen, to this text from saying anything further. Or he passed out. Either could be true but now he’s left in the harsh light of day wondering - genuinely wondering - how many hours of your life you’ve devoted life to solving this case. 

Most likely as many as he has. 

You’re probably 28 or so, maybe a little older if his expert opinion yesterday was correct. It usually is so that means there’s at least a decade of time between your lives. That would’ve made you around 20 when you lost your sister and the sheer volume of notes, journals, and alleged sighting print outs you handed him scream that this has been your life since then. 

Have you ever had an opportunity to be normal? Young? Free? He was 15 when his mother died so he knows that your youth dies quickly and often unceremoniously when tragedy occurs. 

Swiping out of the messages app, he opens the browser that exposes he was apparently also looking you up when he fell asleep last night. You don’t have a social media presence that he was able to find, only locating a little bio and photo of you on the newspaper’s website. You started as a crime beat reporter and have worked your way up to being officially called an investigative journalist which is impressive in such a short time if he’s correct about your age. 

This too is closed, swiped away so he doesn’t have to think about it. Immediately his phone rings and he scrambles to answer it, making a poor attempt to clear his dry throat before speaking.

“Hello?”

Dante isn’t entirely sure how he knows it’s you by giggling alone but he knows. 

“I told you we’d talk today. Did I wake you?”

It’s definitely you. There’s amusement in your voice, clearly committing to rolling with the punches after his slightly inappropriate after hours text messages. 

“No, of course not. I just got done working out, a five mile run, you know.”

You hum flatly through the other end of the phone.

“Call me once you’re alert, alright? Sorry for bugging you so early.”

Staring at his reflection, the detective contemplates the man he sees looking back at him. He hates his job and the oppressive loneliness that comes with it though he’s realistic enough to admit that most of the loneliness is self imposed. They ask him to come out for drinks and dinner but he declines knowing he prefers his own company. He doesn’t have to explain why he’s like this to anyone if he keeps to himself. 

But you…you understand at least in an abstract way. Profound loss leaves profound scarring meaning there is no way that you don’t have some of your own, wise beyond your years due to no fault of your own. Unpacking all of this means doing it alongside you. 

Can he ever put the pain back if he lays it out for you to look at, just like you have allowed him to see yours? 

Leaning over the sink, he flips on the cool water and splashes some over his face. He looks up and groans at the dark circles, the overgrown stubble, the hair falling over his eyes. If this is what pretending like it never happened has made him maybe talking about it can make him better.

It’s not that your unexpected presence has wounded Dante, no. It’s that you’ve reminded him to look down to witness the wound he already has gape and ooze for the first time in a very long time. He can cauterize it with this.

Drying his face on his t-shirt, he picks up his phone and calls back the last number that called him.

“He–”

“Let’s get lunch today.”

You don’t like being interrupted so you huff impatiently. The ticking seconds of silence feel awkward enough that he steps into the role he plays best - daytime Dante, smiling to himself jovially.

“Sorry. It’s Dante. Let’s get lunch.”

The smile falters when your silence continues. A reassuring but clearly caught off guard laugh comes through the speaker causing that smile to pick back up.

“I do happen to have caller ID. What time?”

So he hasn’t ruined his chance to help you get closure and you’ve saved his contact information in your phone. Score.

“How’s one? I can swing by the paper and pick you up.”

Sucking your teeth, you hum through the speaker and pretend to think. 

“I guess I can make some time. Don’t be late.”

Your mind was already made up the moment he stepped foot in front of you.

—

“I was serious last night when I asked if you have a life.”

His statement seems a lot more charming on a bright afternoon than it did before the sun had even risen. Laughing despite yourself, your hand absentmindedly spears pieces of lettuce on the tines of your fork but never quite lifts the utensil up to your mouth to eat. 

You’re too busy talking to really be preoccupied with an overpriced salad. 

“If you consider a life to be texting a woman you’ve known for less than a day at two in the morning to accost her about her life choices then no, I don’t have one.”

The one thing you’ve learned about Detective Sparda in the very short time he has been in your life is that he’s funny. Impeccably sharp and quick witted, anything you lob at him is met with equal vigor and a smirk to match. It sort of pisses you off. 

Dante takes a sip from his water and shrugs at you, smiling lopsidedly.

“Listen, I was simply amazed by what I was seeing in front of me. You have almost decade old journals preserved perfectly and newspaper clippings from a time when you were probably still playing hopscotch. Can’t a guy get excited?”

Excited. It feels like a strange word to summarize this situation but frankly, you feel it too. There’s excitement, a spark of belief that the two of you can send the other on a trail to peace by working on this together. The fact he feels it as well makes you relax, posture softening while a lazy smile comes over your face. You drop the fork, instead propping your head up with your fist.

“That’s just one folder. I have boxes and boxes and boxes if you’re interested in seeing them.”

Your apartment is home to a box for each of his seven victims. Each box houses their journals, photos, and mementos their families have given you over the years. Only one of them has remained remarkably bare boned and that’s the box belonging to Eva Sparda, one of her sons totally unlocatable outside of some strange mutterings about his links with a rumored cult that is based a few cities away and the other is sitting in front of you. It feels voyeuristic and strange. 

It doesn’t stop you from smiling at her son all the same.

“Unsurprising,” he teases, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back in his chair to get a good look at you. “I’m sure you have one for every person who has ever been on your bad side too.”

Snorting, you shake your head.

“That’s where you’re wrong, I’m pretty good at living and letting live for petty things like breakups and cheating and whatever else.”

Petty is such a curious word choice, Dante thinks. Relationships and heartbreak and success and failure all seem petty when the weight of what happened really bears down on your life. He’s felt this way for years; it’s a dull and familiar ache.

“So you only stalk murderers, good to know.” He nods, crossing his long legs out in front of him. “Why aren’t you a detective? You clearly don’t mind the work…”

Laughing, you finish it off with a wistful sigh. “I’ve always wanted to be a writer. Crime came later than that dream so it’s where I landed. Besides, being a cop sounds really shitty.”

There’s no hiding the displeased look on your face and the man next to you laughs at it openly, shaking his head.

“It is. It’s really, really shitty. I only decided to do it ‘cause, well - you know why.”

And know you do, nodding sympathetically. 

The pair of you had dreams before they were ripped away from you cruelly. You’ve managed to mutually make do ever since which deserves its own applause but your lunch break is running out leaving little time to ruminate upon the circumstances you’ve found yourselves in.

“I do.” You confirm, sitting up in your seat and shifting uncomfortably. “And I’m going to assume from this point forward that you are actually agreeing to work with me on this.”

Extending his hand across the table, he nods toward it.

“I’m all yours until we figure it out and the return policy sucks.”

His mind was made up the minute he walked around the corner and saw you standing in front of Trish’s desk.

[chenlezip]

jaemin, scream ♡

⤷ summary : when y/n receives a mysterious phone call and finds that her friends are being killed, she suspects that a serial killer may be on the prowl, who is also linked to her mother's murder.

warnings : death, swearing, if you've watched scream you'll know :) idk what other warnings to put im so sorry!! not proof read either eek

annas note : sooo.. i wanted to write a lil something about jaemin and scream.. and this is the better idea i had in mind — one thing you guys NEED to know about me is that i am a horror fanatic.. and so pairing this with jaemin was super fun (maybe i’ll make a horror fic series with nct one day..)

prev | next | masterlist

you're in your bedroom, sat at your desk on your computer as you worked on an assignment. you heard glass breaking outside your window and you stood up, walking closer to check it out. maybe it was one of the cats that roamed around your street?

as you peek out your window, you feel a hand grab your shoulder and you scream, pulling back. "hey- it's just me," your boyfriend jaemin says gently.

"jaem, what the- what the hell are you doing here?" you scold him as he makes his way inside of your room from the window, "you sleep in that?" he gestures to your night dress.

you sigh, "yes i sleep in this. what are you doing here though? my dads in the other room, you can't be here!" as soon as those words left your lips, your dad opened the door but it was jammed with your wardrobe door being open.

you walk over, talking to him as jaemin hid down the side of your bed. as your dad left, he got up, holding one of your plushes as you asked again why he was here.

"well, it occured to me that.. i've never snuck through your bedroom window. i was home.. watching television.. the uh.. the exorcist was on." he continues, "it got me thinking of you."

you're a little confused, "it did?" you ask. "all the good stuff was cut out, it was edited for tv and it got me thinking of us.. how two years ago we started off hot and heavy and now things have changed.." you shake your head at his words, knowing what he's getting at.

"oh, so you thought you could climb through my window and we'd have a little raw footage?" you ask and he laughs, "no.. no, i wouldn't dare think of breaking your underwear rule."

it was the next day at school, you were sat on the edge of the fountain with your boyfriend, jeno, yeri and haechan. they were rambling on about the recent murder of someone you all knew - winter.

"hey, jen, didn't you used to date winter?" you ask as jeno looked away from his girlfriend to you, smirking, "yeah for like.. two seconds." haechan butts in, "before she left you for anton~" he teased. yeri moved away from jeno to look at him, "i thought you dumped her for me?"

"i did. he's full of shit," he glared over at haechan again. "and are the police aware you dated the victim?" haechan pushed up his glasses, pretending to act nerdy. "hey- what are you saying? that i killed her?" jeno and yeri both have an argument with him, and you groan to yourself, not again.

you end up leaving them, kissing jaemin goodbye as you left for the bus home. after doing chores, watching the news but immediately turning it off after they showed your mother who got killed, you just decided to take a nap to take your mind off of things.

you soon awoke to your phone ringing, the loud dial tone ringing through your ears. you whined, "who the hell is calling me?" you ask yourself out loud as you lean over from where you were on the couch, grabbing the phone and putting it to your ear. "hello?" you ask with a sigh as you hear your friend, yeri coming through the other line, "practice ran late. i'm on my way, okay?"

you check the time, "it's past seven.." "don't worry~ winter and her boyfriend didn't cut it until after 10, you're fine." yeri says as she continued, "i'm gonna swing by the video store for us, okay?"

"whatever. just hurry, okay?" "see ya, n/n~" yeri hung up the phone. you smile and let out another soft sigh, placing the phone back on the stand but after a couple seconds, it starts ringing again. "yeri, just get in the car-"

it's not yeri. a creepy voice rings through your ears as he says your name in a greeting. you run a hand through your hair, "uh.. hi, who is this?" you ask softly as you sit up on the couch. "you tell me," he says as you scrunch your brows in confusion, "i-i have no idea.."

"scary night, isn't it? with the murders and all it's like something out of a horror movie." you chuckle, "haechan! you gave yourself away.. are you calling from work? because yeri's on her way over." you get up from the couch.

"do you like scary movies, y/n?"

"i like that thing you're doing with your voice, hae, it's sexy," you giggle to yourself as you turn on your lamp. "what's your favourite scary movie?" 'haechan' asked you. you rub your chin, "oh come on, you know i don't like that shit."

"why not? too scared?" the voice asked as you sigh, "no. it's just.. what's the point? they're all the same. some stupid killer stalking some big-chested girl who can't act, who's always running up the stairs when she should be going out the front door. it's insulting." you explain, ranting about the movies that you've seen.

you shouldn't of said that because a tall figure wearing a cloak and a ghost face mask appears and attacks you. you try running out the front door but you're fumbling with the locks so you just run upstairs, screaming. you make it into your room and close the door, locking it and backing away from it. your heart is pumping, your thoughts are clouded and you feel petrified. what the hell just happened?

you hear someone once again at your window and it's your boyfriend, jaemin. "jaemin!" you shout for him as you run toward him, helping him in. "the doors locked. i heard screaming - is everything alright?" jaemin looks at you with a worried and concerned expression. "the killers here.. he's in the house!" you bring him closer to you as you ease into the comfort he gives you, you needed this.

"he's in the house. he's got a knife, he's gonna kill us.." you mumble as you try and cling onto his sweatshirt. "he's gone." he whispers to you, holding you tightly against him. you sob into his shoulder before feeling and hearing a phone drop beside him on the floor. you look down and gasp, pulling away from him.

"what?" jaemin asked as you glared at him, removing his arms from your waist, "n/n, what?"

you shake your head and whimper, creating enough space between the two of you before you unlock your room door and run out of it. "wait! wait wait wait wait! what's going on?" you hear jaemin chasing behind you as you continue to try and escape him. "y/n, come back!" he shouts from the stop of the staircase.

you open your front door and scream, seeing the ghost face mask being held up. jisung, who was at the door holding it up, screams too. "sorry! i found this, come on!" he shouts at the other officers, ushering them inside.

jisung finds jaemin and detains him, shoving him roughly against the hood of his car. "alright come on, keep your hands together."

after a rough couple of days and staying close with yeri ignoring your boyfriend, she takes you to a party that jeno is hosting. you thought about not going but you really needed something to take your mind off of everything that happened so you end up going. you enter the kitchen as yeri places bags down on the kitchen counter, smiling at her boyfriend.

you both end up laying on the couch in the living room, jeno following as he brings yeri to his chest and smiles. you look through the movies that haechan has, "how come jamie lee curtis is in all of these movies?" you ask. haechan smiled, leaning near you, pressing his hands together in a prayer, "she's the scream queen."

"with that set of lungs, she should be.." jeno butts in, someone adding a "yeah.." to agree with him. yeri rolled her eyes, looking at you, "tits, you see?"

after spending a couple hours at the party, the curfew ends and everyone starts leaving. "yeri, come on!" you shout upstairs. you haven't seen her since she left to get drinks for jeno. you're a little worried. you turn to jeno who is seeing the party goers out the front door, smiling.

"do you know where she is?" you ask as jeno shakes his head, "i haven't seen her." and then you hear 'agh!'. you gasp, turning around to the front door and seeing jaemin smiling sheepishly. "oh.. jaemin, hey," you give him a small greeting as he looks at you. jeno seems to act suspicious, rubbing his chin, "jaem, hmm.. i wonder what you're doing here."

"was hoping i could talk to n/n, alone."

and he.. did have the chance to and a little more than that, you both got dressed after having an intimate moment in the bedroom upstairs. "you still don't think it was me, do ya?" jaemin asked you as he glared at you from behind, sitting on the floor tying his laces. you chuckle, turning around and sitting to face him, "no. no. i was just thinking, if it were you, it'd be a very clever way to throw me off track."

as you were talking about things, jaemin leans into you and before you know it, ghostface was behind him. "oh my god- jaemin, watch out!" you scream as he gets 'stabbed' multiple times, "oh.. my god.. jaemin.." you whimper.

after an extreme chase with ghostface and escaping the house, you find yourself back there because you saw a cop car outside. you're searching jisung's knocked out body and find a gun, haechan shouts for you, "i found yeri! i think she's dead i think jeno did it-" he panics as you aim it toward him, "stop right there!" jeno runs and stops beside haechan, "don't listen to him y/n!"

you decide to run inside the house and you see jaemin, he fell down the stairs and groaned, "y/n.." you help him up and lead him to the front door, "we need help.." he shakes his head as he opens the front door and haechan pushes his way inside. "look- i think jenos gone mad!"

"we all go a little mad sometimes," jaemin smirked as he turned toward haechan, a sinister look on his face. "fuck!" haechan whispers loudly to himself before getting shout in the shoulder, shouting out in pain and falling to the floor. "hae!" you shout.

jaemin chuckled, "anthony perkins, psycho.." you run over to haechan, kneeling over him as you stare at your so called boyfriend. "no.." you whisper as you try and run but you bump into jenos chest, staring up at him as you beg for him to help you. he holds a voice changer to his mouth, smirking, "surprise y/n."

tags : @injvns @polarisjisung @mejaemin @ayukas @hyckvr @yizhrt @blondemrk @astrasng

[illusory-nomad]

03 Romeo! - The Wanderer

Criminal! Scaramouche × Aristocrat! Fem! Reader | Romeo! masterlist

Word Count : 845

TW : None (?)

"Wanderer?" Y/N furrowed her brows. The name was... Vague, to say the least.

"Yeah," Wanderer sat on a chair at the edge of her room, one leg propped up on the other. "So what about it, lady? Why are you crying?"

His way of speaking was rather rough, something she rarely heard due to living her life surrounded by manor walls, but it held a tint of concern in it. Y/N gripped her dress, her gaze focusing on the gloves her father forced her to wear with the purpose of hiding the bruises from her beatings.

"It's... Nothing," she mumbled, "just... A rough day, I suppose..."

Wanderer simply hummed in response, and the room slid into a somewhat awkward silence for a moment before he spoke up, "do you want to talk about it?"

Y/N kept her gaze on her gloved hands for a moment before shaking her head, "it's fine... It shouldn't concern you..."

Wanderer had to bite back his tongue from questioning her further, because he was more concerned than he liked to admit.

"And you, Mr. Wanderer...? Why are you here...?" she asked in return.

"Tch. It shouldn't concern you," he waved his hand dismissively.

"But... This is my room..."

"And?"

Y/N went quiet. She didn't question him further on why he was there. He was... Nice enough to show even a tint of concern towards her and ask if she were alright.

"Can I really confine in you...?" she mumbled.

"If you're going to, you better hurry up before I change my mind," Wanderer scoffed. Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Father gave me a beating again..."

"'Again'?"

Y/N nodded in response, "because I snuck out of the manor and missed my lessons... My sister is the one who convinced me to sneak out, and although I know the consequences... I do enjoy my time outside the manor... It's lively..."

Wanderer was quiet for a moment, just staring at her.

"Mr. Wanderer, do you explore the town a lot?" she asked.

"I suppose I do," Wanderer murmured, "why?"

"Which parts of town are your favorites?"

This made Wanderer press his lips into a thin line. Because he can't let her know that most of his time in town is spent stealing from markets or fighting other people.

"There's a small coffee house at the market in front of this one fruit stall," he muttered, "I think they have the best drinks in the entire town, maybe even the entire duchy. Their prices are also rather affordable... But considering you're the duke's daughter, everything should be affordable to you."

"Don't put it that way," she mumbled.

Another awkward silence occured before he spoke up, "and you? Do you have a favorite spot in town?"

"No," she shook her head, "when I escape I don't normally have any money with me, so all I do is walk around."

Wanderer nodded silently, "well... I could... take you to that coffee shop some other time..."

He mentally slapped himself. What was he saying? She doesn't even know him!

"... One day," Y/N nodded. "I'd... Really like that... Thank you..."

"But you know, you should be careful when you're in town," Wanderer warned her, "make sure you don't go into the bad parts of town. There's lots of criminals you wouldn't want to get involved with."

'Criminals like me,' he finished in his mind.

"Yeah, I know," she nodded. "Besides, the public doesn't have a good image of me... They think I'm just like father, so I try to stay hidden..."

Y/N thought back to the man she bumped into earlier that day, who recognized her, "Though... I think someone did recognize me today. He wasn't very nice about it."

Wanderer tensed slightly at that, then cleared his throat, "You did, huh? What did he look like?"

"I don't remember."

"Oh..."

Another silence enveloped the room. Wanderer glanced at a clock on a nearby shelf. It was a bit hard to read in the dark, but it looked like it was 10 PM.

"I should get going," Wanderer sighed, standing up from his chair.

"W-will I see you again?" Y/N quickly asked, her voice laced with a hint of desperation. Wanderer thought for a moment before shrugging.

"Probably just one more time. I did offer to take you to that coffee house."

"I see," Y/N sighed, gripping her bedsheets. "Take care, Mr. Wanderer."

"You too," Wanderer stood up and walked to the door before stopping in front of it. "One more thing."

Y/N stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

"I guess, for now, you're... Not as bad as I thought you were," he mumbled before leaving her room. Y/N sat there stumped before a small smile formed on her lips. To hear something like that from someone who was not her sister was touching.

That night, she went to bed happier than usual...

Unaware of the bag of stolen antiques sitting in the corner of her room.

Taglist (open): @featuredtofu @shutingstar @alatusorrow @skyvella @mellowberrie @sketcheeee @lovelypadisarah @toastedfailure @noellefan101 @scaraenthusiast1 @liuaneee @holaseniorahoe @ale-t13 @jiminscarmex @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully

(Bold : can't tag ;-;)

[xenosagaepisodeone]

been thinking about how collecting things acts as a form of play recently. obviously, certain hobbies like rock collecting involve aspects of what we would conventionally think of as 'play' (searching, digging, dusting and examining, etc), and the process of displaying something is often too, play (though we generally call it decorating). collecting anime figures or vintage action figures in particular often invokes a kind of play-pretend that isn't acknowledged due to the commercial elements of these hobbies, despite this play also underlying more conventional forms of collecting. Let's put garage kits, gunpla, figmas, and anything else that would give figure collecting overlap with productive kinds of playing out of mind of a moment. You go to amiami and buy a 1/6 scale hatsune miku figure for $120. Shipping is anywhere from $10-30 depending on where you're getting it from(pricey!). You have the intention to sit this figure on your desk and little else. No fancy photoshoots or anything(at best maybe a few photos to share), just You and Your Toy.

at the core what you're buying is just emotional proximity to the things or characters in media you like (<- deeply obvious and boring sentence, but please keep reading). a child will play with toys as a way of exploring both fantastical ideas and the world around them in a way that is safe. with collectible figurines, those ideas and fantasies are self-contained in the toy itself, the predictability and familiarity acting as another form of safety. the satisfying comfort of 'playing' occurs when you look at the figure and feel like its meaning is self-evident. the act of 'play' becomes the bond you have developed to the object. the object is real. you can define yourself in relation to it- but more importantly, the ownership over this object affords you the ability to define the object in a way that would be somewhat less warranted as a mere spectator of a book or tv series. miku isn't just a figure, she is your idol, or your daughter, or a weird pet. this bond you have dictated has made her more real, and your self-concepts by extension. but this is all playing at the end of the day because she is a toy. a rock collector takes pride in their collection in part because of their love for rocks, but also because it reflects their mastery over understanding the world of rocks. it becomes testament to the relationship with their special subject. they are transformed by the physical presence of the rock. anime figure collecting is quite similar.

hoarding is kind of interesting with re: collecting because to me it's the process of play being stilted. there is desire but not so much intimacy between the person and their object. i often get the impression that hoarders desire to play with their objects, but are inhibited from being able to engage in that kind of vulnerability, instead turning the act of acquisition into a kind of less enriching pseudo-play. after all, hoarding can be a response to periods of traumatic deprivation. the hoarder who accumulates tons of stuff receives some of the comfort and safety of play via the guarantee of a new item added to their collection. they aren't sure how to treasure their objects beyond ensure that they are not thrown away. they cannot 'play' with them, and have their relationship defined largely by the emotions created by the absence of play. by being unable to engage with play and thus failing to acquire the fulfillment or enrichment of play, they end up snagged in what usually ends up being a frustrating cycle.

[ishallgivehimupforever]

Here We go again Bellarke warriors, if you can hear me, it's been about 1680 days since I stopped caring (or so I thought)

I hadn't been to tumblr in years, before I decided to give the 100 a rewatch in June of this year, as I had given up somewhere around the start of season 5 (I remember hating the LONG ass timeskip teased at the end of S4, I guess some other media must have swallowed me during hiatus, and when I tried to give that season a chance I vividly remember 1) I couldn't see shit on my screen 2) I hated what the timeskip did to the established relationships) and so I dropped it for good, looking back I almost can't believe I could just...not finish it like that because let me tell you I did NOT fuck about Clarke and Bellamy, and Raven, and Monty, and probably some other characters back in 2015-2016. I think I maybe did not appreciate season 4 enough at the time it was airing (because I think binge-watching is very flattering for that season, watching it live I remember it was frustrating to watch the characters go on side quests in 4A) but now knowing what the character arcs are and where it was going makes it my second-favorite season. BUT, I digress, wow. This is meant to be a rambling, incohisive love letter to the compelling relationship between Bellamy and Clarke. I warn you, they truly do not fucking leave you as it turns out. I would go to the trenches for them back in my fandom days in 2015-17, and I realised, after binge-waching the show over 4 sleepless nights (seasons 1-6, which are the only seasons in existence, obviously)that I STILL just FUCKING CARE SO MUCH. I NEVER CARED ABOUT FICTIONAL CHARACTERS SO MUCH AS CARE FOR THESE TWO SEPARATELY, AND AS SOULMATES. Because let me tell you, Clarke and Bellamy, they fucking love each. Like actual, happens-only-in-romances LOVE. It is frankly INSANE how JRoth, K*m Shum and other managed to gaslight me over some of the bellarke scenes in S2-S3 as to make me think it's in my (and thousand's of fans') head WHEN IT IS SO FUCKING OBVIOUS FROM SCORE, EDITING CHOICES, LONGING LOOK SHOTS, HANDS SHOTS, LINES, AND FINALLY, ACTING AND DIRECTION THAT THESE TWO ARE LOVERS.

I have never, ever, before or since, followed two characters who were so compatible, so equal, so trusting in each other, so open with one another, so mindful of the other's emotions and needs, so so so made for each other, that it is no surprise to me that they are top 10 F/M pairing on AO3. Because Bellamy and Clarke would fall in love in every imaginable scenario, in every universe, across time. I am not usually that cheesy or cringy, but it is true. I could not put my finger on why they are my absolute favorite to read fanfic for and then it occurred to me. That as long as the hands of fate put these two in proximity of each other, it;s a done deal. That chemistry transcends the limits of a single tv show. The depth with how Clarke and Bellamy love each other honestly makes me pause for breath sometimes. It is not just the iconic, famous bellarke scenes, but also the quiet moments.

Like in 6x05 or 6x06 (cant remember) when Clarke's body was stolen by Josephine after her one-night stand with Cillian. (stay with me) Bellamy, unaware that Clarke isn't herself at that point, comes over to chat, he's clearly at least a bit jealous over her sleeping with Cillian, and yet he says "happiness looks good on you" with that wide, earnest smile. And just wow. How must he love her, to be so utterly happy for her own happiness that has in that instance nothing to do with him. so selfless. well, selfless is basically Bellamy's middle name.

Or how in season 4, after a lot of the characters and at times the narrative wanted to push this idea on Clarke that she is the sole leader of her people, gets right back on track to her co-leader dynamic with Bellamy, constantly checking with him, considering his input, and respecting choices that she herself would maybe not make (releasing the ensalved arkadians and grounders vs ensuring they get a machine necessary to generate water) but always understanding that these choices agree with his core values, and she loves him for it.

This post is way too long. I love Bellamy. I love Clarke. People often use the 'MY PARENTS" about ships on twitter, and you know what, in my case that's kinda true with bellarke. I met these characters when I was 15. I am 25 now, and with an adult perspective to my surprise I found their relationship even more profound then I remembered, and I was insanse about them already. They are truly THE power couple of all time. I miss the 100, If you wanna ramble about it together, feel welcome to send me ask, I'd love to have an excuse to share some of my (sometimes unpopular) opinions lol.

[temporarilyunspokensneezes]

"Taking a Dip" part 1/?

Another Gel//phie sickfic!! HUGE shoutout to @themiseryandcompany for sharing this braincell with me for the past week!! Going back and forth to gush over these lesbians has fueled me with the motivation to write and WOW have I missed it~ 10/10 recommend everyone go read their post about wi//cked character snz-headcanons because YES.

I'm hopeful that it won't take too long to post the next part but I can't make any promises :(

Word count: ~2.1k

Rating: general

Tags: sickfic, kink!Elphaba, pre-relationship, g/alinda is very whiny but in a precious way, falling into the water but it's not violent or traumatic, minor mess mention, handkerchiefs

They should have seen it coming. Honestly, Elphaba being involved means a commotion is certain to happen, after all. She knows it, expects it, plans for it even. But she hadn't expected it to be something so sudden as Galinda being just a bit too tipsy after their night out at the Ozdust and losing her balance in the boat. She wonders if that's why the place is considered off-limits, too many students having watery accidents on their way back. Oz knows there's enough signs around warning about the dangers of not following proper safety precautions when using the boats. Nonetheless, it thankfully occurs right as they're docking and there's not much fanfare nor effort involved in hoisting a screeching Galinda back onto dry land. The blonde, however, isn't feeling thankful in the least. Not with her hair and makeup being absolutely ruined and her dress soaked, chilling her to the bone with the frigid nighttime air. She's definitely feeling sobered up now.

"E-e-elphieeeee," she whines through chattering teeth once she's standing, hugging herself and on the verge of tears. Or maybe she already is and they’re mixed in with the water dripping from her hair. Elphaba wastes no time to remove her coat and drape it over her roommate, deciding to keep a quip regarding Galinda's earlier protests about the coat to herself. (”Elphie! Do not tell me you're wearing that out?!” “You mean I should wear practically nothing while it's freezing out?” “Yes!!”) 

"I know, I know. Let's get you back and into something dry," she tries to soothe, tentatively running hands up and down Galinda's arms. The smaller girl tucks herself against Elphaba's side with a whine, sniffling and shivering pitifully as they walk as briskly as heels allow back to their dorm room.

It's not a long walk, but even ten minutes can feel like a lifetime of misery when one is freezing and wet. At least, that's Galinda's perception of the whole ordeal. She can hardly think past the numbing chill that's seeping into her bones, her poor ruined hair is still dripping the freezing water down her torso, feet sore from the way they keep sliding around in her heels from the wetness, and the horrendible sniffle that keeps plaguing her nose. Between the constant chatter of her teeth and using all of her will power to force one leaden leg in front of the other, Galinda can't help incessant sniffles. It's not lady-like in the slightest, but neither would be wiping her nose on Elphie as they walk, and Oz knows her hands are glued to herself to try and retain as much warmth as possible.

Galinda could collapse with relief once they're inside their room, and she probably would've if Elphaba hadn't been holding her steady, leading her first to the chair at her vanity. 

"Elphie, I want to lay down," she whines, not even trying to hold back the pout forming on her face, but also not making much effort to actually move. 

"I'm fairly certain you don't want your bed cold and wet too," Elphaba points out with a raised eyebrow. She grabs a towel to quickly wrap around Galinda's freezing wet hair before going to fetch a set of dry clothes for her roommate. 

The pathetic expression on Galinda's face doesn't dissipate, but she does work to slowly remove the damp garments. Now that she's sitting, the warmth of the room is finally starting to reach her. It doesn't want to reach the chill in her bones yet, but her face is suddenly feeling all too warm, making her nose run with a renewed vigor.

She's staring at herself in the mirror, in the middle of trying to wipe away the smudged makeup around her eyes whilst sniffling when the pressure on her sinuses switches from an annoying tingle to a warning buzz, giving her barely any time to prepare. "Heh-!...Hehpt'chii!" Galinda's movements are too sluggish to move her hand in time, the damp sneeze spraying the glassy surface and table. It only serves to make the blonde whine in even more distress at her misfortune.

Elphaba had just been about to turn back towards her roommate, a change of clothes fully gathered in her hands when the snagged breath catches her attention, making her freeze. The sneeze that escapes her roommate is nothing but a high pitched squeak, much like the rest of her. "Oz bless you," she says, forcing her voice to be calm and steady as she walks up to the blonde, sniffling even more now. The liquid sounds are making Elphaba's blood rush much too fast for her liking, but she refuses to give it any attention. "Here, change into these. I'll make you some tea," she offers, struggling to decide on where to look. Galinda's nose is only getting pinker, much like the damp undergarments she's still in, the rest of her clothes a wet pile on the floor.

Galinda starts to nod but the tickle still lingers, sending her eyes fluttering shut as she builds up to another. "Heh....ihhSHii!"

"Bless-"

"Heh'tchii!"

"....bless y-"

"Ihx'shii*" 

Elphaba pauses longer this time, waiting to see if Galinda's face is going to scrunch up into her adorable pre-sneeze expression once more. When it doesn't after a few beats and the silence is only broken by more whimpering and sniffles, does Elphaba force her body to relax a bit. "Bless you," she murmurs, unable to stop herself from resting a hand on Galinda's back. The mirror is a mess now but Elphaba is making a point to pretend like she doesn't notice, for both of their sakes.

It's nothing compared to how profusely Galinda's nose is running now, leaving the poor blonde whining even more between wet sniffles. "Elphieeee," seems to be her universal phrase for the night as she looks forlorn towards her dresser a few feet away. Elphaba huffs at the vague insistence but it's fond as well and they both know it. She dutifully retrieves one of the blonde's many silky pink handkerchiefs, embroidered initials neatly in the corner, and passes it to her roommate's outstretched hand while the blonde’s other hand tries to block the view of her nose. "Thagk-...thank you," Galinda mumbles, making a face when her voice comes out significantly more congested sounding at first.

Elphaba nods, untrusting of her ability to respond normally, so instead she diverts, "Would you like some tea?" 

Galinda's eyes light up at the offer. "Oh yes, please. Black, with two sugars please," she says from behind her handkerchief, daintily tending to her nose. Elphaba doesn't point out that the technique is rather useless for how stuffy Galinda seems. 

"You're getting lemon herbal tea.  With honey, not sugar," she corrects pointedly, daring her roommate to argue and knowing that she won't. 

And it's correct. Galinda pouts ferociously but that's the extent of it before she returns her attention back to her face. Her makeup is just about fully wiped off so she switches to tending to her freezing hair still wrapped in the towel, then finally putting on the pajamas Elphaba had brought over for her. It's a sigh of relief to finally be enveloped in warm clothes again. 

Elphaba is relieved too, albeit for different reasons. She focuses on preparing the tea, adding more honey than she herself would prefer, but knows Galinda will want it as sweet as possible. The sounds of Galinda brushing through her hair is punctuated with the still ever present sniffles that Elphaba wishes she could tune out rather than hone in on. It's a relief that nothing serious like hypothermia seems to be at risk for her roommate tonight, but that doesn't mean the consequences of the accident are over yet. The slightest change in weather seems to get to the blonde, leaving her feeling unwell and determined to make sure Elphaba is acutely aware of every distressing symptom. Elphaba fears tonight will devolve into something similar. Her suspicions are only furthered when she nearly jumps a foot in the air from Galinda suddenly sneezing once more. 

"Ih'chii! Hhx'shii! Oh my, I- eh...ihpt'chiew! Goodness, they just...heh....they just won't quit! Ehk'shi! Ishh'ii! Ishh'hiew!" Galinda holds the handkerchief a few inches from her face rather than actually using it to cover her nose. The final sneeze leaves her throat feeling irritated and when she tries to clear it, the result is a series of coughs that transform the mild irritation into an awful raw burn.

Elphaba frowns at the display, setting the tea to the side in favor of rubbing a hand up and down Galinda's back until the coughing dies down. "Are you alright?" The concern doesn't really abate when the response is just a small nod. "Here, hopefully the tea helps," she says, handing Galinda the warm cup. The smile she receives in return isn't as bright as usual, but full of gratefulness all the same, and that is what allows Elphaba a small amount of relief. 

Taking a tentative sip, Galinda smiles again at the flavor. The honey offers a different kind of sweet compared to the sugar cubes she prefers, but it soothes her throat and warms the parts of her core that had stubbornly been clinging to the chill. The steam doesn't do her nose any favors, but the sniffling is more than worth it in her mind. "Thank you, Elphie."

The liquidy sound, however, snaps Elphaba back to her previous awkwardness. "Of course," she says, but it sounds more forced than she would like. Too aware of her hands, she removes them from Galinda's person, clasping them in front of herself instead. "Are you finally feeling warm again?" She asks, hoping to distract from the tension she's created.

Galinda takes another sip before setting the tea back down with a groan. "Yes, but now it's as if my face feels too warm," she huffs, pouting at her reflection. The reflection shows how pink her cheeks and nose are, compared to the pale contrast of the rest of her face. "Like a strange heavy liquid that's much too warm and making my head feel funny," she elaborates, reaching for the handkerchief again to dab at her nose. 

"Hopefully you aren't getting sick from this," the words leave Elphaba's mouth before she can think better of them. Though the nagging feeling in her gut tells her that she's right.

Galinda pouts even harder at this, not at all pleased at how tonight is turning out for her. She leans her head against her roommate's with a dramatic and self-pitying hmph, coughing lightly right after. 

Elphaba's own huff is fond, long since unable to fight feeling endeared towards Galinda's antics. "Here," she says, handing her roommate the tea once more. "Finish this and then let's get you to bed." She strokes Galinda's back to hopefully coax the younger girl into compliance and is rewarded with a defeated nod and the rest of the tea being downed. It's probably not necessary, but she helps Galinda stand and get into the bed anyways, adjusting her pillows and pulling up the covers. 

Elphaba is in the middle of impulsively checking her roommate's forehead for a fever when Galinda asks in a quiet voice, "Elphie, will you stay with me tonight?" 

It takes a lot of control to not flinch away at the request. She must have a fever. The older girl considers refusing, but Galinda's eyes are wide and imploring, and Elphaba already knows that she's incapable of denying the younger girl anything when she gives her that look. "Sure," she says in an equally soft voice, stepping away only to quickly change into her own nightgown before slipping in next to Galinda under the covers. Immediately her mind begins to race and panic, unsure of how close is appropriate or how to lie in the least obtrusive way as possible. The spiral hardly even has time to start though before Galinda is moving closer and curling up right against her, one arm across Elphaba's stomach to give purchase and press even closer to her side. 

"You're so warm, Elphie," Galinda sighs against her, her breath ghosting over Elphaba's shoulder. Her body is finally able to truly relax and she's grateful that she can already feel sleep tugging at the edges of her mind. 

Elphaba had gone rigidly still at first, but relaxes after Galinda's words. She places a hand over the blonde's, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it simply rest on top. "Sleep well," she says, smiling when it only takes a few moments for Galinda's breaths to deepen into a steady rhythm. And sooner than she thought possible, Elphaba follows.

[holysadwetcatbatman]

My Favorite Tropes I've Seen in Batman Fanfics (Ao3)

This is not in order btw:

Social Media fics

twitter, reddit, tiktok, youtube or in universe press also Reality TV fics (also also that one bachelor fic)

Independent Gotham

there's not alot of fics about this which is sad but basically gotham is its own state now, this is usually tied in with No Man's Land so yeah :)

Sentient Gotham

so gotham the city is alive and maybe cursed, and depending on the fic she can be protective and loving towards batfam, or manipulative and cruel. Either way I find and eldritch city interesting

White Collar Crossovers (X and Neal Caffrey are the Same Person)

haven't actually watched white collar lol but basically a dc character usually dick is undercover as neal caffrey a criminal informant to the FBI and shenanigans ensue or angst thats cool too

Identity Reveal (a classic)

identity reveals along with their adjacent tropes such as identity porn or identity fail is always entertaining to me. theres alot of drama and intrigue with a secret identity being revealed and its interesting to see how others react especially with many members of the batfamily having public personas. this usually occurs with other dc superheros though and very rarely with civillians or the public at large which i find unfortunate because i find the idea intriguing with all the fallout a public reveal would entail

The Malones

i like how this trope has bruce/others juggle yet another secret identity. i especially like when the rest of batfam have an identity corresponding the the Matches Malone identity. I think its interesting to see how they act as criminals. also worth a mention is the mafia/crime empire au which is related

Time Travel (another classic)

time shenanigans are always fun, but also time travel fix its are chef's kiss

Dimensional Hopping

could be very interesting comparing different characterizations of characters. the reactions of characters when facing their counterparts or another version of someone they know intrigue me

Body Swap

I like the "Walk a Mile in My Shoe" kinda situations. I also like body sharing, but that isn't as popular.

Cryptid Batfamily

i just enjoy the batfam being BAMFs and being creepy.

Isolated Batfamily

i think i enjoy these because and isolated batfamily is usually a tighter knit one and thats always cool. seeing how they develop as a family and vigilantes without the intervention of the community as a whole is cool

Platonic Soulmates

I like soulmates as a trope in general in romance but batfam for me is all about the found family dynamics and platonic soulmates hit that mark. i love a fic where bruce has like 10 different soulmates when he expects to be a loner

Omega Bruce (Gen Fic A/B/O)

as i just said batfamily for me is all about the found family dynamics and this trope is all about that. omega bruce just highlights the protectiveness and motherly instincts I enjoy seeing with his kids but most general rated omegaverse fics are interesting to me. I also like omegaverse a plot device and the social commentary that can come from it

Asexual Bruce Wayne

I think its interesting to see him written that way when his public persona is so wildly different. I also like to see it because I could kinda get to see how asexuals experience things through the lens of a character I enjoy

Slut Bruce Wayne

opposite end of the spectrum lol. its just as entertaining to see how much he plays into his role. it think it being juxtaposed with him being batman and all broody like is interesting

Brucie Wayne

i just love that dumb himbo billionaire. there are many flavors of brucie, but i think seeing him act out in outrageous way is very amusing especially at the expense of others

Tim Drake (or other :D) Joins the Batfamily Early

with tim this usually involves his parents being wildly neglectful (as opposed to absent in canon) to downright abusive and then Bruce gets custody yay :D. ive also read ones where both tim and jason come early and those are pretty nice. I think what's appealing is that tim and jason don't interact until after everything goes to shit so its nice that young tim can interact with young jason and dick and bruce. its also nice that they could save a little heart ache by coming to bruce earlier rather than later.

Outsider POV

could be unreliable narrator which is nice, but also seeing what others not in the know think of batfam's actions could be interesting. having a normal random person interact with the crazy that comes with being a vigilante is cool

Jason and his Goons

not sure if its actually considered a trope and kinda falls under outsider pov. i just think its neat

Batman and Rogues Friendship?

ive read a couple fics involving bruce & harley or bruce & harvey (would bruce & selina count? lol) and I just think exploring the relationship between bruce and his enemies is interesting. it really speaks to his character, or atleast what i think which is second chances, seeing the good and hope in the damndest of cities and its people. its one of his core philosophies and a part of what makes him batman.

Bruce Whump

everyone loves a good whump, right? right? woobified batman ftw amirite. angst is good yes :>

Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent

also Bruce Wayne Tries to be a Good Parent. kind of a given, but i just love batdad. the opposite trope of bruce being a bad parent could be interesting, especially if you like other members of the batfam, but I don't think my heart could take it. I think bruce should always be at least trying to be a good parent, and possibly failing because angst, but him just being bad just makes me sad :C. its good when done correctly and him failing despite how hard he tries but I came here for the good family feels not ASB&R

CPS involved

kinda funny with my previous one, but I like it because it tests how bruce cares for his children. its a plot device for drama but also its a very real thing that he should deal with because we want the best for the bat children. I think its also an excuse for them to be outraged on behalf of him. I think of a comic panel i saw of bruce crying while talking about jason when talking to a social worker.

Bruce Wayne Kills the Joker (DCU)

i know that not killing is his whole thing, which i agree should be a thing and is valid, but i also like the thought of him killing for his kids, sacrificing him morals, or even him mental well being for them, especially Jason because that is kind of their whole dichotomy and wouldn't that be great, for bruce to do the one thing that jason asks and them being happy again? Technicially if memory serves right bruce does kill the joker in Death in the Family but then it might of gotten retconned? maybe he stopped himself inbetween the comics, or somehow joker survived the murder attempt, but either way the intent was there. anyways I like the moral dilemma and potential fallout it may entail.

Bruce Wayne is a Troll

bruce having a sense of humor yes. bruce fucking with people even more yes. I love me those fucking with the JL fics. I love me some crack <3.

De-ageing

good for angst, good for fluff, just good overall i guess. Similar to time travel in that people have different amounts of information. 10/10

Truth Serum

another good plot device for angst, also for fixing shit. the best way to force emotional conversations when the whole family is emotional constipation™

Young Bruce Wayne

I love the exploration of his character before becoming batman. I think there should be more fics about his childhood. Fics with him and alfred are <3

[zoppa682]

I am a therian who fully identifies as non human. The ONLY part of me that is human is my physical vessel, otherwise I am not human at all. Because of this, I have kinsidered fictionkin many times in the past, and every time I have, I pushed it aside since the characters I were kinsidering were human when I don't feel human at all. That was until it occurred to me: both the characters I am kinsidering are characters I headcanon as therians. Therfore, it would still make sense for me to feel nonhuman. So now I have been kinsdering them all over again.

I could not find much info online since all the info about fictionkins I found was past life stuff. I personally do not belive in the multiverse (I find it a cool concept and respect anyone who does), and I don't feel like I had a past life as any characters at all. Because of this, I came to the fictionkins, nunhumans, and alterhumans of tumblr.

I am kinsedering two characters. I will post here my experiences with both.

Jade Harley

Well, from the time I first got into Homestuck I always said "She is literally me!" And it always felt far more serious than just a fun joke. I feel so connected to Jade in so many ways. I really sometimes feel like her. My friends even call me Jade for fun, but it feels more serious to me, and I am happy going by the name. I relate to her a ton, for example, not just my therianthropy headcanon, but also her personality (both good and bad), her mannerisms, and even down to the way she types with the emoticons. Maybe that's not enough to mean anything, though.

It gets a little more complicated with the second character.

Mayra Tikuna

Mayra is a character from The Post Traumatic Manifesto by vocaloid artist Weevildoing. My Weevildoing hyperfixation only started about a week ago (on December 20th, when the series ended), but I knew their music and was a part of their fan base for way longer.

From the first time I heard Taxidermy Girl, something felt extremely off about it, in a good way I mean. I am not joking when I say I listened to it 10-15 times in a row after hearing it, trying to determine what it was I felt. I couldn't tell if it was the oddly haunting melody, or the fact that I heavily relate to the song, but either way, it stuck with me a lot even before I began to actually hyperfixate on the series.

I am in countless fandoms, and within every fandom, I have a favorite character that I will go crazy at the mention of, and my obsession with them always seems so exaggerated to others. Out of all the fandoms I have been in, there are only ever very few where I have related to the characters this much, and only ever these two characters have i felt THIS attached to in this context.

Because of how much I, once again, relate to the character in many ways (Again with the ties to therianthropy, the character's gender identity, their negative experiences, etc.), I have kinsedered him as a kintype. Though, I am unsure if it is too soon to tell. It's only been a little over a week, but I still feel as though something is stirring up here.

What do you all think? If there is any guidance or advice you can give me, I'd greatly appreciate it. Anyone who reads this far, have a wonderful day :3

(Also, go support Weevildoing, their music is incredible and has helped me through struggling with horrible intrusive thoughts many times)

I UPDATE THIS BY SAYING AS OF JANUARY 1ST, 2025, I HAVE KINFIRMED BOTH FICTOTYPES. :3