#alys crisp

[flowerandblood]

The Last Drop (1/?)

[ modern • vampire • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: description of blood drinking and bleeding in general, sexual tension, angst, memories of murders of both humans and animals, descriptions of violence + a lot of sadness ]

[ description: Encouraged by the information that the town he has landed in is not known for having the most vigilant police in the world, he decides to go on a little hunting trip to finally quench his burning thirst. However, not everything goes according to plan. (A lot of sexual tension, grumpy, gloomy Aemond). ]

Yes, Ewan's recent photoshoot inspired me to return to the vampire theme, this time in a modern version. I liked my idea for the character and their dynamic so much that it won't be a oneshot, but a mini-series! The general idea is that vampires in my world no longer produce their own blood, so they must drink the blood of others: however, once it enters their veins, the blood they drink takes on their own taste and smell, which attracts victims like a lure.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

The night was cool and crisp, the sharp air pleasantly filled his lungs. Even though he didn't actually need to, he breathed: it allowed him to remember that he was alive.

The centuries he had spent in perpetual, primitive thirst, starving himself, only to finally succumb again, wove together in his mind into chaos. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since his body had gone cold and no blood flowed through his veins.

Nor was it flowing through his heart, although he needed it.

That was why he had to eat.

He made frequent use of the blood that was stored in hospitals, as did others of his kind; nevertheless, to his disappointment and dismay, this was not enough for him.

No matter how many litres of blood he would drink from a plastic bag, he still felt a hunger that only passed when he sank his fangs into someone's neck.

He didn't understand why he couldn't stop himself – why, despite doing what he was supposed to do, he couldn't fool his nature.

At some point he just stopped trying.

He didn't kill, or at least he tried not to, however, his victims didn't show gratitude for his generosity – for fear that someone would recognise him, he kept changing his location, having several flats across the country.

Alys had told him about this town – she assured him that the police did not act too quickly here, and that it was easy and pleasant to eat in peace in the large, badly lit park. Indeed, when he arrived he found, walking the quiet streets at night, that the place had enough inhabitants to remain anonymous.

This was his chance.

Although he usually watched and followed his prey for long days, that night, as she passed him, he felt a hot, strange shiver and his heart, half-living, half-dead thumped harder in his chest. He turned behind her immediately and stopped, feeling a drop of cold sweat run down his back.

She was young.

Too young for his taste.

If he overreacted and lost control, she might not survive.

But she smelled so incredibly good.

He felt his fangs lengthen involuntarily, his jaw tense as he took a slow, heavy step behind her, into the depths of the park lit dimly by only a few night lanterns.

She was probably coming back from work from a night shift at some club or bar, because she had a rucksack slung over her shoulder – even though it was the beginning of winter, she was wearing only a jumper, scarf and trousers, her hair loose, their scent reaching his nostrils even though she was far ahead of him.

Fuck, I'm not going to make it, he thought, desperate, feeling his desire intensify for some reason – his senses sharpened and his hands clenched into fists as she turned into a dark side street, between the trees.

Now.

He found himself there within moments and froze, ready to attack, seeing the void in front of him – her scent was clear, but somehow she had vanished into thin air. He swallowed hard, biting his lower lip with some kind of feeling of regret and disappointment, looking around.

"Are you thirsty?" He heard a soft, calm voice behind himself and turned suddenly, feeling his heart leap to his throat with fear.

How could she be standing far behind him when she had just been in front of him?

What was that question supposed to mean?

He wanted to lunge at her, but hesitated as he saw her cock her head, pointing her hand back at her rucksack.

"I have a few bags full of blood in my backpack. I can give them to you if you need them. I have more at home." She continued, undaunted.

He felt his lips part involuntarily in disbelief when he noticed that, indeed, her face was pale, her hair unnaturally shiny and thick, her eyes sparkling with some disturbing gleam.

He was so thirsty that he did not notice that she resembled him.

She lowered her hand and blinked, seeing that he was still silent, looking at him with some kind of worry, as if he were a stray, hungry dog.

"What do you need?" She asked at last, and his gaze fled to her neck, to the blood of others that her heart had just pumped.

Blood that would have her own unique taste.

"Not here." She said, moving suddenly ahead, as if she had changed her mind. "Come with me."

He didn't know why, but he did as she said.

Usually it was the others who obeyed his orders, but now he didn't have the strength to stand up.

Perhaps he didn't even want to.

He was so terrified, intrigued and excited that he was breathing through his mouth.

It had been a long time since he had felt his own heartbeat so clearly.

He didn't know where she had got so much courage to let a stranger, much less a man like him, into her flat. To his surprise, it was cosy and colourful, full of flowers and plants, prints and posters, soft blankets and cushions in fancy patterns.

He stood in the middle of the corridor, not knowing what to do with himself, unable and unwilling now to just throw himself at her.

She pulled off her shoes and backpack, entering the living room without turning on the light, just as he seeing clearly in the dark – she sat down on the couch and held out her hand to him, a warm smile on her face that had a hint of comfort in it.

"Come here. It's okay. You've been brave." She said softly, as if praising a small child, her tone of voice filled with serenity and melacholy, as if she had known him for years.

He didn't know why he pulled off his shoes and coat, looking straight into her eyes, why, drawn by some unknown, mystical force, some strange warmth that filled his chest, he approached her.

He watched, breathing heavier and louder, as she lay on her back, still holding her hand outstretched towards him – he grasped her fingers uncertainly in his, thinking with some kind of tenderness that they were as cold as his own.

And yet, for some strange reason, though he was dead, it seemed as if life was still pulsing within her.

He was ashamed to admit to himself that he felt not only desire at the thought, but arousal as he lay down beside her, smelling her scent more and more clearly with every movement.

There was something intimate about the way she looked straight into his eyes without fear, the way her fingers combed slowly through his short hair, the way they were both silent for a moment, just breathing.

"– it's okay –" She repeated in a whisper, running her knuckles over his cheek, making him feel a squeeze in his throat for some reason.

He was moved.

When was the last time he'd been close to someone in this way?

He moved closer to her, feeling a wonderful shiver of excitement and anticipation run along his back as he leaned over her neck – his lips, swollen with desire, ran tentatively over her soft skin.

He heard her quiet sigh, her hands clenched on his body as he slid his slick tongue out, trailing the tip of it over the crook of her neck. He felt his erection pulsate, pushing against her thigh as he opened his mouth wider and his fangs slowly sank into the delicate structure of her flesh.

The fact that she was a stranger to him, unlike Alys, whom he had known for years, made him, for some reason, not dare to be aggressive – even though he could certainly hurt her if he wanted to, he decided to show his gratitude for her understanding and be polite.

There was something pleasurable about being able to focus only on the taste of her blood as it spilled over his palate – because of the way it circulated inside her body, it was warm, though not like that of a normal human being. He didn't mind, because it was a strangely refreshing taste, while at the same time providing him with a feeling of comfort – he thought the last time he felt like this was probably when he was an infant, drinking his mother's milk.

Safety.

He took one sip, then a second, and a third, one hand holding under her back, the other trailing slowly over the skin of her neck and jaw, for some reason wanting to feel her this way – her flesh grew warmer from the gentle rubbing of his fingers.

There was something in her blood that gave him the conviction of her kindness, and he was surprised by this discovery – he felt his heart begin to beat more slowly again, and his muscles, all sore a moment before, relaxed.

He wondered if she felt that he was completely hard.

When he pulled away from her, he closed his eyes and just nestled his face against her chest, tucking his head under her chin. He swallowed hard as she placed a soft, warm kiss on his hair, stroking reassuringly his cheek and back with her hand – he knew their closeness was just an imitation of what they both desired and needed, but he was too desperate to deny himself that.

He would never have asked for it out loud, but for some reason he craved what she offered him.

He wanted to hide.

He didn't need to sleep to survive, but he liked to rest that way, even more so when he was tired and relaxed. That girl, whoever she was, didn't try to escape his embrace, which gave him the feeling that she wouldn't do anything they both might regret.

When he woke up, he could see through the thick, bright curtains that the sun was already high in the sky – he murmured, snuggled with his face into her cheek, not having the strength or desire to move.

Now, in the light, he could look at her clearly.

She had been transformed when she was no more than twenty years old – of that he was certain. Her behaviour and appearance, in his mind, indicated that this sudden, frightening change in her life was recent: fifteen years ago at most, maybe less.

He swallowed quietly and stood up, deciding there was no point in prolonging it – the girl turned towards him and rubbed her eyelids, sleepily.

"Are you leaving already? Wait until sunset." She muttered.

He froze and cursed in his spirit, glancing at the window.

If it had been cloudy he would have survived somehow, but in full sun the burns was the least he could hope for.

She stood up, apparently seeing what he was thinking about, and moved lazily towards the kitchen, massaging the back of her neck.

There were no more marks from his bite, but her neck was all dirty with blood.

She reached for a plastic cup with a straw that looked like an old Coca-Cola packet and began to drink from it, slurping loudly. She raised an eyebrow when she saw that he was staring at her without saying a word.

"What? You made me thirsty." She explained, however, without a hint of resentment or regret, looking into her fridge, filled from top to bottom with plastic bags filled with blood.

"If you want, I can make blood tart or jelly. Or soup. So you won't be hungry again." She said, still continuing the activity of drinking through a straw from a plastic cup.

"What?" It popped out of his mouth, probably because he didn't understand what he had just heard.

"You know, food. I miss it sometimes. Mixing it with blood makes it nourishing, tasty and more interesting than blood itself. It's good with ice as a drink. I once put it in a soda maker to make bubbles inside, but the experiment failed." She said with a sincere sadness that made him just hide his face in his hands.

Was she serious?

"Sit down. I'll make us some jellies. Blood and raspberry. Yummy." She decided on her own, apparently completely not needing his opinion on the matter.

Indeed, he decided that he couldn't leave as long as the sun was shining so hard, so he sat down, watching in disbelief as she pulled out the gelatine, bowl, blood, raspberries and a few other things she apparently needed to create whatever she had in mind.

Looking at her with pity, he stated with a kind of melancholy that it had been a long time since he had watched a woman cook – the last time was when he had seen his mother as she was baking a cake, his favourite one: yeast with plums.

He felt a sting in his heart at the thought that he could still recreate the taste of it in his head.

"Do you live here? In this town, I mean." Her curious voice snapped him out of his reverie.

He looked at her, or rather at her back, watching as she stirred the steaming liquid in a small saucepan.

His thumb began to pick at the cuticles around his fingernails as his whole body screamed for him to do what was better for him, which was to lie.

"Yes. Since recently." He replied.

"Oh, I see – I've been living here for four years now. I'll probably have to move out soon. For now, they think my unchanging appearance is due to good genes." She said softly, pouring the contents of the saucepan into two ice cream goblets.

God, she really does make fucking blood jelly.

He blinked and looked at her, hearing the silence around them, recognising that he should answer something after all.

"Thank you. For yesterday. For your understanding." He said finally, his thumb digging into his skin too hard, creating a small, red wound along his fingernail.

Blood.

He saw her flinch and look over her shoulder – her eyes were big, as if she was surprised by something, her lips parted slightly, as if she felt arousal.

"– oh – do you want a plaster? –" She muttered, turning back – he noticed that her hands were shaking as she set the cups down in the fridge.

He lifted his finger to his lips and licked the bright red, sticky liquid from it.

"– no need –"

He saw her reach for her plastic cup, her eyes closed as she drew a few deep, greedy sips from the straw.

His manhood twitched in his trousers with delight at the thought that she craved his blood.

He swallowed hard when she came to him close enough that he could smell her clearly again – the psychological advantage he thought he had gained over her dissolved into thin air when he realised he wasn't driven by desperation then.

She smelled so good.

She tasted so good.

Maybe he could stay with her longer?

"Maybe we could be friends?" She asked.

He looked at her, feeling that his eyes were wide open in disbelief. Seeing that he had opened his mouth to answer something, she continued quickly, as if she feared she knew what he would answer.

"I have no one here. I don't trust myself enough to spend time alone with other people. I'm afraid of hurting them. But with you, I don't have to be afraid. You're new here too, so... I want you to know that you can count on me in times of need." She said quickly, stammering a few times, as if she was ashamed of her own words.

Was that why she had brought him to her home?

Because she was lonely?

"I don't know." He muttered, this time answering honestly.

"Okay. I just wanted you to know that the door to my house would be open for you."

After all, you don't know me completely, he thought.

You don't know if I didn't kill someone yesterday, if I won't hurt you, rob you, destroy your life out of boredom, for fun.

"How can you be so naive?"

He wasn't sure if he'd really said the question or if he'd only heard it in his head, but her expression told him that the words had left his mouth after all.

"You think so?" She muttered, heartbroken, as if his opinion meant something to her.

Why?

"I was thirsty and you allowed me to satisfy my hunger. You invited a strange man into your home. I could have raped you, I could have killed you. I still can." He snorted with a wide grin, looking at her in disbelief.

He saw her swallow hard, something moist shining in the corners of her big eyes.

"Maybe that's what I wanted. Maybe that's what I hoped for."

He felt a twinge in his stomach at her words, serious and filled with regret.

What were they really talking about now?

Was she hoping he would kill her?

"What do you mean?" He asked, running his fingers over the soft material that covered the armchair he was sitting on.

I can end your torment if you want me to and drink your blood to the last drop.

"I am alone. I can't talk to my parents or the friends I had before I…" She mumbled and drew in air loudly, apparently trying not to cry.

He was wrong.

It probably hadn't even been ten years since she'd been transformed.

How was it possible that she was doing so well?

Young vampires were usually feral and hungry, seeking pleasure in orgies full of blood. She, meanwhile, lived in her small flat like some kind of hermitage and worked as if nothing had happened.

That's why she cooked food, that's why she dressed the way she did, that's why she decorated her flat according to contemporary fashion.

She didn't want to let go of her old life.

"I'm sorry." He said and once again, he was honest. "In truth, I admire your self-control."

"I killed my dog. My best friend. A labrador with big, brown eyes." She mumbled out, fiddling with her fingers, whooping with the tears that began to run down her face one by one.

She had no one to tell about this, so she treated meeting him like a confession.

"I see. Then you ran away from home?" He asked calmly, for some reason feeling towards her words nothing but understanding.

His father's numb body lying on the floor beneath him, his loud panting when he finally regained his composure – he could see perfectly his lifeless eyes open in horror, his mouth spread wide, his throat ripped apart as if it had been torn by an animal.

He loved him, but he never noticed him.

He showed him no support when his eye was taken away, instead comforting his daughter from his first marriage.

Why was it always her and never him?

"Yes." She muttered wearily, her breathing deep and laboured, full of suffering.

"Do they know what happened to you? Where are you now?" He asked further, and she shook her head.

"Good. You did the right thing." He stated.

He raised his hands slightly in the air, surprised, as she sat on his lap and snuggled into him, embracing him around the waist.

She was sobbing like a little child, and in a way she probably was one – torn away from her family and what was familiar to her, she was wandering around the world alone and aimless, filled only with longing and grief.

He struggled to accept the thought that he understood her all too well.

He shuddered when he felt her warm, heavy breath on his neck – his hand ran over her back reassuringly, giving her wordless permission to take what she needed.

Comfort.

He'd only let Alys drink his blood so far, but for some reason he couldn't and didn't want to refuse her – he closed his eyes and sighed, tilting his head back as he felt her fangs slowly dig into his skin with surprising gentleness.

He heard something that sounded to him like a grunt of pleasure when she swallowed a loud gulp of his blood – his lips parted as her hips rolled forward, brushing it against his half-hard erection.

His fingers clenched on her flesh as he involuntarily reciprocated the movement, reaching out to meet her – they both began to breathe louder, as if surprised that they were taking pleasure in two forms of intimacy at the same time.

Their bodies rubbed against each other in calm, gentle harmony, his nose sunk into her soft hair, which he combed with his fingers, the sound of her swallowing arousing him more and more with each passing second.

She needed him.

He wanted to be needed.

He always had.

When she finally pulled away from his neck she pressed her cheek against his chest, exactly as he did then, and took a deep breath, as if she had accomplished some great achievement by not drinking his blood to the last drop.

"…shall we eat our jellies?"

[ripdragonbeans]

You Win II // modern!Aemond x reader

Summary: You and Aemond have fallen in love, steady in a relationship built of trust and love. All that is challenged when Aemond takes a class led by Professor Rivers.

TW: indefinitely, manipulation, p in v, afab reader, violence, Aemond is an idiot

Part I • Epilogue

Empty. Completely empty. 

Numb. You felt nothing 

Cold. There was no warmth in your life anymore.

That's all you were when you left your - his - apartment.  The towel that staunched the bleeding was drying up, becoming stiff. It's been hours since you left but you didn't have the energy to even pull it off your knuckle. That, and you wouldn't know what to do if it started bleeding again. Taking the train, you went to the one person who you knew would welcome you without a doubt. 

Jace Velaryon.

You lied when you said you were going home. You didn't have a home to go to anymore because he was your home.

When you arrived at his apartment, you immediately started pounding on the door. Tears were streaming down your face again, new tears. They were hot against your skin and flowed freely.

Jace answered the door. “I don’t know who you are but I don’t need any - oh shit!” 

You fell into Jace as soon as he opened the door and sobbed openly into his arms.

“Hey, what happened? Why isn’t Aemond with you?”

At the mention of his name you sobbed even harder. You balled your fists into Jace’s shirt, not wanting to let him go.

“Fuck, okay. Let’s get you inside. I’ll call Hel.”

As Jace led you into the apartment you tried to calm yourself but it was difficult, nearly impossible. All of the different visions Alys had planted in your head kept playing on one after the other. The more you looked into the past the more you could see the warning signs that something was up. The way he touched you, looked at you, the small things. How lately he would recoil from your touch, or look guilty when he said he loved you. It all added up and you hated that you couldn’t see it. Instead, you got hurt. You could’ve protected yourself, your heart, but instead you gave it to someone else.

You sat on the couch clutching your things. Well, all that you could carry out of his apartment. Fog was clouding your vision and your chest was heavy. All you wanted to do was fall in a deep sleep and never wake up again. You curled up around a pillow and buried your head in it. Hugging the pillow helped a bit but it wasn’t enough.

“Hel, something happened to her,” you heard Jace call Helaena from the kitchen. “She came to my apartment sobbing her eyes out and when I mentioned Aemond she cried even harder. I think… I think they broke up, Hel.” He paused so Helaena could respond. “No, I don’t know what happened but whatever it was was bad. Her hand is wrapped in a towel and there’s dried blood on it. Fuck, just come over, please? Okay, see you soon.”

Jace came out of the kitchen and sat next to you on the couch. “Hey, Hel is on her way. Want to tell me what’s going on or -”

You aggressively shook your head as you shut your eyes to keep even more tears from flowing out.

“Okay, we can wait for Hel.”

Jace wrapped you in a hug and you melted into him. You inhaled his cologne, a familiar smell, and it calmed you, even just a tiny bit. After a moment you pulled away from him.

“I punched a mirror,” you rasped. “I was feeling too much and I hated what I saw so I just. I -” you broke down in sobs again.

“As long as you’re safe and it wasn’t anyone else who physically hurt you, it’s okay.”

You nodded and let yourself sink into the couch. For a few minutes it was just you and Jace in a sad silence. He wanted to comfort you but didn’t know how to. You wanted to tell him everything that happened but you wanted to wait for Helaena so you wouldn’t have to relive it twice out loud. You’ve already re-lived it many times over in your head. Everything was so clear, so crisp and clear. In your mind’s eye Alys was giving you that evil smirk while her hand was on Aemond’s shoulder. The image wouldn’t leave your mind. She touched him like she owned him.

“No one physically hurt me but fuck, my heart hurts so much.” You leaned your head on Jace’s shoulder.

Jace nodded. You fell into a silence, a sad silence. The door unlocked.

“Hey, I'm here.” Helaena looked at you and your tear stained face. “Holy shit, what's happened to you?” She was quick to move to you and pull you into a hug.

With Helaena hugging you came a new wave of tears. While she was his sister, you were glad that she didn't remind you of him. You held on tight to her and tried to calm down your breathing.

“There we go, easy breaths,” she encouraged you.

When you finally caught your breath you glanced at both of your friends before putting your head down. “He cheated on me.”

Their eyes were wide with disbelief.

“No way,” Helaena whispered.

“I'm gonna fucking kill him,” Jace growled.

You let out a broken laugh. “Please don't kill him, Jace.”

“No, I'm serious. What was he thinking?”

“It was Professor Rivers.”

“Of course it was her.” Helaena’s eyes were hard. “I've heard so many things about her. I didn't think she'd go after Aemond.”

You scoffed. “Well she did and she was successful.” You lowered your head. “She said that he loved her,” your voice cracked on the last word.

“I don't believe that at all.”

“You should have seen him, Hel. He was fucking her! He looked so guilty that he was caught.”

“He fucked her?!”

“Yes!” You started sobbing again. “It was some kind of cruel plan the professor came up with. She requested me in her office while he was with her so I could see them.”

Jace and Helaena were silent.

“Okay, now that's messed up,” said Jace.

“I bet she gets off on breaking up couples,” Helaena said matter-of-factly.

Jace looked at Helaena. “I'm sorry, what?”

“Haven't you heard the rumors? She has a history of breaking up couples.”

“That's demented.”

As Jace and Helaena talked about how cruel Alys was to her students outside their academic life, all you could think about was him. You still refused to say his name out loud. Saying his name would be admitting that he was real. For once, you wished your relationship was fake, a figment of your imagination. If you could convince yourself it never happened then you never got hurt.

A delusional smile crossed your face. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine. What are we even talking about? I don't know any Professor Rivers,” you laughed.

Helaena and Jace shared a concerned look.

“I've never heard of her.”

“Sweetie, she's a professor at your university. You know this very well,” Helaena said gently. “Are you okay?”

You started laughing maniacally. “Of course I'm okay! Why wouldn't I be? And again, I don’t know any Professor Rivers. That name means nothing to me. Nothing.” You reached for Jace’s hand and squeezed it as tight as you could.

“Damn, you have a strong grip. Can you loosen up or let me go?” Jace tried to wiggle his hand out of yours.

“I have never given my heart to anyone. I have never been hurt. I am completely fine. My heart is whole and safe. I have never fallen in love. No one has shattered me. Nothing bad ever happened, I’m just having a bad dream or something. But I’m fine. Fine and happy. I'm happy.”

“Oh, my dear,” Helaena tugged your hand off of Jace’s and took it in hers instead. “You're not okay and that's okay. But it happened, you can't pretend it didn't happen. It's not healthy.”

Your smile dissipated as you cocked your head to the side. “Nothing happened, Helaena. I am fine. I've never dated anyone.” You shook your head. “Please, I don't want it to be real,” you whispered. Trembling, you pulled your hands away from Helaena and wrapped them around yourself. Rocking back and forth you began to mumble, “It didn't happen. I'm okay. It didn't happen.” Your eyes became unfocused until everything around you was blurry. You didn't even try to correct it. 

“Let's go to the spare room. You can stay here as long as you need,” Jace said as he gathered your things.

“Come on, sweetie. Let's get you up,” Helaena tried to get you to stand but you sat rooted on the spot.

Tucking your chin in and wrapping your arms around you even tighter, you closed your eyes and refused to open them. “I'm fine right here.”

“Okay, you can stay here but Jace is going to take your things to the spare room.”

Jace left with your belongings and brought them to the bedroom, the place you'll be living in for the next unforeseeable days. Helaena stayed next to you, refusing for you to be left alone. 

“Do you want me to stay the night? I don't want you to be alone.”

With eyes still shut you nodded your head. You agreed with her; you should not be left alone.

“Your room is set up.” Jace entered the living room. “Do you want to sleep there now or?”

“I think she's gonna sleep out here on the couch tonight, Jace.” Helaena turned to you. “Can you get up or do you want to stay here?”

“I can't move. My body won't let me,” you whispered.

“Yeah, she’ll sleep out here tonight, Jace. I'll sleep on the floor.”

“I have an air mattress, Hel. You're not gonna sleep on the floor.” Jace turned and left the room once again to get the air mattress and some extra pillows and a blanket.

“Lay down, sweetie. Close your eyes. You've had a rough day.” 

Helaena’s voice calmed you. You did as she said and slowly unwound yourself and laid down on the couch. “Hel, I still love him. And I hate him for it.”

It was the last thing you said before falling into the sweet darkness of sleep.

Aemond was still sitting on the floor of your - his - bedroom. Clothes were strewn across the floor. His eye was red from crying; he hasn't stopped since you left. He went to the bathroom to clean up but stopped at the door. When he saw the shattered glass on the ground he whimpered. You did this. You did it because he caused you to feel so much pain that you needed to break something. 

Fresh tears began pouring out. His heart was continually breaking. He tried to clean up the mess the best he could but it was hard to see with his one good eye blurry from the crying. Aemond had just picked up all the glass when his phone started ringing. 

Without looking at who it was, he answered it, hoping it would be you.

“Princess, please, are you -”

“Princess? Well, that's a new name for me, baby,” the female voice said.

Anger rose inside of him. “How did you get my number, Professor Rivers?”

“‘Professor Rivers?’ Now, now, you know me better than that. In fact you know me extremely well.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

“Oh, no need to know.” He could hear her smile. “I just called to make sure you're okay. I know you're hurting but you know my arms are always open for you.”

“I'm done with you,” Aemond ground out.

“You say that but you know you'll come back to me. They always do.”

“You said you loved me.”

“Yes, and it's true. I love all my students.”

“You said I was the only one.”

“Yes, now that was a lie. Would you have chosen to be with me if you had known you were not the first?”

“I didn't choose you,” he spat out.

“That's not what I remember. If memory serves me correctly, I asked if you were sure you wanted this and you said yes.”

“You were straddling my lap with my cock in your hand!” Aemond’s heartbeat was racing, not at the memory, but at the anger towards this woman.

“And you still could’ve said no. But you didn't. Instead you said yes and the rest is history. And what a damn good history it was.”

“Delete this number and never come near me again.”

“I know you wish that could happen but you know better. I'll delete this number but I'll see you in class on Monday.” With a click the phone call ended.

Aemond let out a guttural scream and punched the already broken mirror. Once. Twice. Three times. Just like you. Tears streamed down his face as he stared at his bloody knuckle. It was another thing that reminded him of you. Opening and closing his hand, he let the blood run down. He stared at it, thinking of you and hoping you were okay. 

He turned on the water and ran his hand under it then wrapped it up in some gauze. He wasn't rushing so he had time to actually look for some. Everything has slowed down for him. 

After he cleaned up the rest of the glass he went to the couch in the living room. He sat there for a while but soon remembered the many times the two of you made love on it. Immediately getting up he paced, thinking of a place where he wouldn't be reminded of his sins.

“I'm not gonna hear the end of this,” he mumbled to himself. Not packing anything, he left the apartment and called an Uber for his brother, Aegon's, place.

When he got to Aegon’s front door he couldn't even bring himself to knock on the door. Instead he texted his brother to come and open the door.

“And what can I do for my little brother?” Aegon wore a grin.

Aemond took a deep breath. “I cheated on her, Aegon. I fucked up and I can't stand to be in our apartment.”

Aegon’s face dropped. “Shit, I wasn't expecting that. Get in here and tell me how you messed everything up.”

Aemond followed Aegon into the apartment and plopped himself on the couch. Without giving him a second glance, Aegon went to the fridge and grabbed two beers. 

“Drink it,” he said as he handed him one. “If you're going to relive your mistakes you should have something to ease the pain.”

In one smooth motion, Aemond took it from Aegon, opened it, and began chugging it. He stopped halfway through the bottle.

“My professor seduced me,” he started off. “And I fucking fell for her. She has a history of getting with students and I thought I could never be one of them but I am, Aegon. I slept with my fucking professor and ruined the only true relationship I've ever had.”

Aegon ran a hand down his face. “Dude, that's bad. Like bad bad.”

“It was more than once, too,” Aemond admitted.

“I'm sorry, what?”

“I basically had a relationship with her. She'd tell me she loved me and I thought it was real even though I already had someone who loved me unconditionally. Fuck, she gave me her heart and I stomped on it the second I started talking to Professor Rivers.” Aemond put his face in his hands. 

Aegon nodded his head. “Oh, her.”

“Do you know her?”

“Even I knew she was bad news. There's a reason other than my grades as to why I didn't take her class. She's hot though, I'll give you that.”

“That doesn't help, Aegon.”

Aegon shrugged. “Just saying,” he took a sip of his beer. “What are you gonna do to get her back?”

Aemond blinked. “‘Get her back?’ I don't deserve her!”

“Listen,” Aegon leaned forward. “I've seen you two together and I have never seen you so happy before. I don't know her well but it looked like she had eyes only for you. You gotta go back and get her. Or at least help her.”

“How can I help her when all I've done is cause her pain?” Aemond’s hands began to shake.

“Beg. Get on your knees. Anything to make her smile.”

“I think me dying would make her smile,” Aemond grumbled.

“There we go, that's it!” Aegon went over and clapped Aemond on the back. “While you try to regain your honor, I'm going to ruin that Professor Alys and her career.”

“No! Please don't do that!”

Aegon narrowed his eyes. “Don't tell me you actually have feelings for her.”

“She called me earlier. I don't know how but she got my number. She sounded so sure that I'd go back to her. But I don't! I mean, fuck, you can't. She'll know it was me somehow.”

“I’ll cover your ass, don't worry.” Aegon finished his beer. “Now, you can stay as long as you need to but I don't want you wallowing in self pity. It's annoying when you do that.”

“Thank you, brother.” Aemond went to clasp his arm but Aegon pulled him in for a hug.

“Go get her back.”

When you woke up the next day it took you a while to remember where you were. As you looked around the room, you saw Helaena on an air mattress. That was when it all came rushing back.

Aemond and Alys.

Punching the mirror.

Slapping Aemond.

Running away.

You hurriedly got up when you felt whatever was left in your stomach come up to the surface. Careful not to trip over Helaena, you made a beeline for the bathroom and emptied out your guts. It was the dry heaving that had you crying again. Between the retching and the memories, it all became too much again.

“Sweetie?” Came a sleepy voice. “Are you okay?”

You gagged on nothing in response.

“I'm coming in, hold up.”

The bathroom door creaked open and Helaena entered, hair messy from sleeping.

“Oh, my dear, you look horrible.”

You gave a dry laugh. “Thanks, Hel.” You gagged into the bowl again.

Helaena knelt by you and rubbed your back in soothing circles. “We’ll take it day by day. You can get through this, you're one of the strongest people I know.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, I feel so strong right now.” You hurled out nothing into the toilet bowl again. Your chest was beginning to hurt from all the heaving and still your heart was aching, too. “I don't know when this will stop,” you admitted. Sitting back on your haunches, you looked up at Helaena. “Do I forgive him? Do I ignore him? What do I do if he wants to be back in my life?”

“Then you'll have a decision to make. Open your heart once again to the guy who shattered and trust that he won't do it again, or close yourself off from him forever.”

Your chest tightened at the prospect. On one hand you never wanted to see him again, it'd be too painful. But on the other hand, life without him seemed impossible, lifeless. Yet he broke you and made you feel the way you feel now and that is unforgivable.

When you moved to get up Helaena offered her hand. Once you took it you gave her a thankful squeeze. You linked arms with her and walked to the kitchen where Jace was making breakfast.

“Waffle morning!” He called out. Jace sent you a bright smile.

You cracked the first genuine smile you've had since the break up. Jace always knew how to raise your spirit.

“I made your favorite waffles. There’s whipped cream and strawberries in the fridge if you want any.”

You noticed he wasn’t mentioning yesterday. That was fine for you; you needed a break. Over breakfast you laughed with your friends and briefly forgot about the last twenty four hours. It wasn’t until you brought up slapping him that you brought the topic to the day before.

“I will admit that I did slap him and it felt great. Do I regret it? I do. I’ve never wanted to hurt him but I didn’t know what to do. He kept trying to get closer to me and I didn’t want him near me.”

Helaena and Jace looked at you, stunned.

“You slapped him?” Helaena wanted clarification.

“I wasn’t thinking.” You shrugged.

“That’s better than me,” Jace chuckled. “Next time I see him I’m gonna deck the shit out of him.”

“He deserved that,” Helaena agreed.

“Please don't deck him, Jace. As upset as I am, I still don't want him hurt.”

“You don't want him to get hurt? Look at you! Aemond hurt you so much, punching him is the nicest thing I could do to him,” Jace said.

You flinched at the mention of his name. “Please don't say his name right now.”

“You can't even say his name!” Jace was getting aggravated. “I know you don't like this, but he hurt you and that's not okay. You're one of my best friends and I refuse to stand by and do nothing.”

“And I appreciate that so much, I really do,” you gave Jace a small smile. “But I still care about him, as stupid as that sounds.”

“It's not stupid, sweetie,” Helaena put a hand on your arm. “You love him - don't try to deny it.”

Looking down at your half eaten waffle you contemplated the complexity of your feelings. You still loved him, you knew that. But it hurt so much. You didn't want to love him, he didn't deserve your love. Still, your heart reached out to him, he hurt you, shattered you, but it also being away from him made your heart ache as well.

“I do. I still love him. I feel empty without him and I wish it would stop. I don't want to feel anything anymore.”

“Feeling this is okay, it means you're human.”

“Ugh,” you stuffed a bit of waffle in your mouth. “I don't want to be a human then.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” Jace elbowed you in the side.

“I can't help it,” you elbowed him back.

“See, you're already doing better,” Helaena said.

You took a breath. “Yeah, I am.” A weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“It will still hit you every now and then,” Helaean warned you.

“I know. But I have you guys to help me,” you clasped a hand from both of them. “And I'm forever grateful.” You sighed. “Ugh, I don’t want to go to class on Monday.”

“I mean,” Jace started, “you don’t have to.”

“You can always take a mental day and it seems like a good time to take one,” Helaena said.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. And -” You were cut off by the doorbell. “Did you guys tell anyone else to be here?”

“No, the only person I called was Hel,” Jace said. “I’ll go check on the door.”

The doorbell rang again.

A familiar sinking feeling came over you. “Gods, what if it’s him?”

Jace’s face hardened. “Then I’m going to punch him like I said I would.”

You turned to Helaena, face filled with panic. “I don’t want to see him again, not now. Please, I can’t do this!” Tears began to fill your eyes.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Helaena took your hand. “We’ll go back to the spare room. Jace will handle this.”

The doorbell rang a third time.

“Gods, he’s impatient,” Jace muttered.

“Go get the door before he starts knocking and trying to break it down,” Helaena ordered.

With your hand in her, Helaena guided you back to the spare room while Jace went to answer the door. Your heartbeat quickened as you heard him open it.

A familiar voice began to speak. “Please, I’m here for -”

You heard the sound of skin hitting skin.

“That’s for hurting my best friend,” you heard Jace say.

A deep sigh. “I deserved that.”

Silence. You imagined the two guys staring at each other. Well, Jace staring hard at him and the other one with his head down in shame.

“I just need to see her, make sure she’s okay.”

“Physically, she’s fine. Emotionally? I’ve never seen her so broken.”

“Fuck,” you almost didn’t hear him. “Can I at least talk to Hel? I saw her car.”

A pause. “Fine.”

Jace’s footsteps came closer and closer to the door. “Hel, he wants to talk to you. Think you can handle it?”

“Of course I can handle my little brother,” Helaena scoffed. “You stay right here.” She gave you one last hug before exiting the room.

“Hel, I really fucked up and -”

SLAP

You couldn’t help the small smile that graced your face.

“How dare you?” Helaena exclaimed. “How dare you hurt her then show up? You should be absolutely ashamed of yourself. You’re weak, Aemond.”

You sucked in a breath at the mention of his name.

“I know I am.” You heard him sniffle. “I destroyed our relationship and now I’m asking for her forgiveness. I know she may never want to see me again, but I at least want to know that she’s healing.”

“Aemond, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. She’s not okay at all!” Helaena sighed. “I think you need to leave. She needs space and time before she can see you. Hell, she can’t even say your name. Whatever you did hurt her bad.”

“She - she won’t even say my name?”

“No. That’s how bad this is. So I suggest you go home.”

“...Can I at least see her?”

“No, Aemond. Now, go home.”

You heard the door beginning to close. “WAIT! I mean - he can see me.”

Helaena went to you and gripped your hand. “Sweetie, are you sure?”

“If he tries anything I’ll punch him again,” Jace said.

“It’s fine, guys. Really. I’ll need to face him at some point,” you shrugged. Wiping your eyes, you tried to make yourself look somewhat presentable, that you haven’t been a complete wreck. You walked to the door to face him. To face Aemond.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you looked at Aemond but it certainly wasn’t this. His hair was messy, eye was puffy and red, there was a mark where Jace punched him and Helaena slapped him. His eye was devoid of any happiness. Good.

“Princess, I -” he started.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” you stopped him. “I’m not your princess, never was apparently.”

Something in Aemond’s face broke. “No, no, you know that’s not true.”

“Stop. Please,” you took a deep breath. “You broke me, Aemond,” your voice shook on his name. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for what you’ve done. I gave you everything I had and you dropped it all for a professor. I can’t go through that again. Please don’t make me.” Tears slipped out. “Please, just go home.”

Aemond took in a shaky breath. “I’ll go. But know that I will do everything I can to prove to you that you are my one and only love.”

Jace coughed next to you. “Sure.”

Helaena went to the door. “It’s time for you to go, Aemond.”

Aemond nodded his head and turned around. When he got to his car you collapsed into Jace’s arms, full of fresh tears.

“He came back for me,” you choked out. “I don’t know if I want him.”

“You don’t need to take him back if you don’t want to,” Jace said as he held you tight.

“He’s right. Aemond is not entitled to you.” Helaena came back from the doorway. She made sure that Aemond actually left.

“Can I go back to sleep?” you mumbled against Jace.

“Of course, let’s get you in an actual bed this time, though.” Helaena gently peeled you off of Jace and led you to the spare room.

You fell on the bed with a plop and immediately you welcomed the soothing darkness of sleep.

Aemond stepped back into the apartment feeling broken. All he had to do was gather some of his things to take to Aegon’s house. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. Simply walking into the apartment, however, had his memories reeling.

“Aemond!” you called from the doorway. “I’m home!”

Aemond made sure you were turned around before picking you up from behind and twirling you. “How were classes, princess?” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Classes were meh. So nothing new, just normal.” You shrugged. “What about you?”

Aemond felt himself stiffen very briefly. She couldn’t know. He couldn’t tell her. It would only break her. No, he would have to break off everything with Alys. “Classes are fine, nothing new, just like yours.”

“And Professor Rivers?” you asked him. You knew she was a flirt and didn’t want her anywhere near Aemond.

“She’s nowhere near me.” A lie. “I sit in the back of the class.” Another lie.

“Hmmm okay.” There was something unsettling about his answer but you let it slide.

“I love you and only you, okay Princess? Never forget that.” He captured your lips in a kiss.

------

“Oh, fuck, harder, Aemond!” Alys was bent over her desk with her skirt hiked up.

Aemond pounded into her. He was torn in his mind. His body craved Alys but his heart and mind knew this would break his Princess if she ever found out.

“More, more!”

His fingers dug into Alys’ skin as he picked up the pace. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, he was near his peak.

“FUCK, AEMOND!” Alys squeezed Aemond’s cock, triggering his own release.

Aemond caught himself before he fell on top of Alys, not out of courtesy, but that he didn’t want to touch her anymore. He pulled out of her and fixed his pants. He didn’t look her in the eye anymore when he was with her. He simply looked at the ground.

“Aw, baby, are you okay?” Alys had fixed her skirt. She trailed a manicured hand up his chest and brought it up to cup his face.

Without thinking, Aemond leaned into her touch.

“Don’t worry, she’ll never find out.” She pulled him down so she could whisper in his ear. “You’ll always have a place with me. You don’t need her.”

At that, Aemond recoiled. “You’re wrong, I do need her.”

“If that’s true, then why are you with me?”

He couldn’t think of a reason.

“Exactly. You want me, and that’s okay.” Alys moved her other hand to cup him through his pants. He was already beginning to harden again. “Tsk, you already want to go again, babe?”

“No,” Aemond ground out. “I don’t.”

Alys ignored him as she kneeled down to the ground. “Oh, but your cock says otherwise.” She slowly unzipped his pants and freed his cock. “Would you like me to taste you?”

Aemond swore he said no but, “Yes.”

Aemond was crying as he was gathering his clothes. It hurt. Everything hurt. When he was in the bathroom all he could think about was you punching the mirror. When he was in the living room all he could think about was all the times you made love on the couch. 

He fell to his knees and clutched his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Princess.” He curled up on the ground and held himself while he sobbed. He was broken. He knew he made terrible choices and now he had to live with them. 

When he finally got up to leave the apartment, he found one of your favorite sweaters. He choked on another sob as he ran his fingers on it, imagining you and your smile while wearing it. Bringing it up to his nose, he inhaled the scent. Your scent. Putting it back on the hook, he adjusted the bags in his hands, and made his way back to the outside world.

“Why did you go to her?” Aegon groaned. “That was such a stupid move.”

“I had to see her,” Aemond murmured. “I had to make sure she was okay. That she wasn’t took hurt.”

“And how did that work out for you?”

Aemond looked up at his brother. “She’s in so much pain and I caused all of that.”

“Were you expecting anything different?”

“Not really.”

“Exactly. Man, you’re just punishing yourself by seeing her like that. Stop. You want to fix this? Then get off your ass and start fixing it. This means ending everything, and I mean everything, with Professor Rivers.”

Aemond nodded; he had to follow his brother’s advice if he were to get you back.

“Thank you for a constructive class this afternoon. I'll see you all on Wednesday.” Professor Rivers dismissed her students. 

Aemond was quick to get up and gather his things but Professor Rivers was quicker.

“Aemond, I'd like to see you in my office, please.”

Something in Aemond's gut began to sink. His hands were soon clammy. He didn't want to do this, didn't want to face her, but he knew he had to. Taking a shaky breath, he followed Professor Rivers to her office.

He was sure she was swaying her hips more than usual, and even wore a smaller skirt. As they arrived at her office she looked around before sliding a hand along his chest and whispering in his ear. “Gods, I've missed you.” One hand moved to cup his crotch while she used her other hand to pulled him down in a kiss. Aemond wanted to lean into her, to kiss her, but he thought of you and pulled back.

“You said you needed to see me, Professor Rivers?” He tried to keep his face neutral.

“Ah, yes. Please, come in.” She opened the door.

As Aemond stepped in, he took a seat in front of her desk, like any other student would do. He heard the click of a lock but refused to turn around. 

Alys ran a hand across his back then over his shoulder. She gripped him tight. “Why don't you turn around, baby? Or do you want me in your lap?” She sauntered around him and set herself on his thighs. “Oh, I can feel you. You're trying so hard but you know you could never resist me.” She pulled him in for a kiss.

Aemond let her kiss him. He did his best not to kiss back but he failed. Soon, he was gripping her waist and aggressively kissing her. Alys was right. He could never leave her. She ground herself on his cock, straining against his pants. 

“Forget about her,” she said against his lips. 

Immediately, reality hit Aemond and he reeled back and pushed her off. “No. It’s you I need to forget.”

Alys looked at him, eyes wide, panting with her hand on her chest. For a second she looked stunned but recovered quickly. “Aemond. She’s gone. You ruined her. It’s because of you that she left, not me.”

“No,” Aemond shook his head. “You tricked me, you used me somehow. Convinced that we could be together.”

“Oh, my dear,” she purred, “you made the choice to come to me. And you will always come to me, or in me. It’s wonderful both ways.” She stalked towards him and once again reached out.

“I love her more than I want to be with you.”

“That’s not what your body says.” Alys made a note of glancing at his crotch.

“I don’t care what my body says. It only wants a fuck, that’s all you’ll ever be to anyone.”

“Who says I want more? That’s all I want, all I ever needed out of you, was a good fuck. And damn, are you fucking good.”

Aemond ignored her. “Gods, you played me and I was an idiot to believe your lies.”

“Lies? Not all of them are lies. It’s not a lie that I love you, well part of you. Your cock is just so good.”

Aemond crossed the room to get away from her but she followed. “Fuck that. I never want to see you again, Professor Rivers.” He pushed her away again.

“Now, now, we don’t have to get into formalities.” She was looking worried. No other student has talked to her like this before, has actually pushed her back.

“We’re done. I’m done with you, with your lies, everything. Hell, I’ll even report you.”

Alys laughed. “Report me? And who will believe you?”

“You don’t know what exactly I’m capable of to get what I want.” There was a vengeful gleam in his eye. He turned to leave. “By the way, I’m transferring out of your class. I never want to see you or hear from you ever again.” And with that, Aemond stalked out of her office.

As soon as Aemond was out of her office, he went straight to the president. “Professor Strong, one of your staff members has been harassing students.”

Professor Larys Strong turned around. “Ah, yes. I think I know who you’re talking about. I’ve heard all the rumors.”

“Then why haven’t you done anything?” Aemond asked.

“Because they’re just that. Rumors. Unless you have proof?”

Aemond blanched. “Check the hallway cameras outside of Professor Rivers’ office. She cornered me there.”

Professor Strong hummed. “Cornered? Are you sure? I’ve heard whispers that you’ve been going to her willingly.”

“She shouldn’t be doing this! She’s taking advantage of her students!”

“Fine.” Professor Strong flourished a hand. “If there is footage of her, coercing you, and you are resisting, then fine. I will look into it.”

Aemond nodded his head, knowing it was the best answer he could get right now, and left for Aegon’s apartment.

“I did it!” Aemond burst into the living room breathing hard. “I ended everything and I reported her.”

“Great!” Aegon popped his head around the corner. “I keyed her car!”

“I - you - what?” 

“Yeah, I keyed her car,” Aegon repeated. Aegon walked over to Aemond, completely serious. “I found her car in the campus parking lot and I keyed it. Specifically, I carved ‘fuck you.’”

“I guess I'll have to thank you for that one. Wish I could've been there myself but…” Aemond trailed off.

“You made the right choice, brother.”

About a month had passed and you felt…lighter. It was as though a weight had been taken off of your shoulder. You still felt the heaviness of the break up but it wasn't completely unbearable anymore. 

You still hadn't gone back to the apartment; you still stayed with Jace. Sitting up and stretching, you looked out the window to see the sun rising. Staring out the window you thought of all that you had gone through the last month. 

Aemond’s tried to contact you but every time your phone rang you let it go to voicemail. You'd be lying if you said you didn't listen to each and every message. It broke your heart to hear him but you had to stand your ground. He betrayed you in the worst way possible, he couldn’t be easily forgiven.

Every now and then you'd go through your social media profiles and look through the pictures of the two of you. Both of you were so happy, so in love, and it showed. But he broke it. It was a lie. Taking a shaky breath, you pushed the thought from your mind. Over the last week or so you've been training yourself not to say it was a lie. He did love you, at least at one point, but then he met Professor Rivers and he apparently fell out of love with you. Wrapping your arms around yourself you cried a bit for the first time in a few days. It was cathartic. There was a knock at the door and Helaena stepped in.

“Hey, sweetie, how are you doing?” She said softly.

A watery smile graced your face. “I'm doing okay, no improvement from the last few days. I've just been thinking.”

“I figured as much.” She sat down on the bed next to you. “You know, I do believe he loves you. He's been trying to get in touch, but I don't blame you for not answering him. I've seen my brother at his worst but whenever I saw you two together he looked the happiest I've ever seen.”

“‘Loves?’ I think you're looking for ‘loved.’ I don't think he loves me anymore.”

“Even with the constant phone calls and texts?”

“He just feels bad he was caught, I'm sure.” You rolled your eyes.

“Sweetie, I know you may not want to hear it, but I think he really might still love you.”

There was a sinking feeling in your gut. You wanted so badly to believe Helaena but letting Aemond in again would mean opening yourself up to more hurt. 

“I don't know if I want to risk my heart again, Hel. And how do I know he's not gonna cheat on me again? What if Professor Rivers comes back?”

“You won't have to worry about her,” Jace said as he leaned on the door frame. “Apparently she's being investigated for sexually harassing students. That and it's against university policy to be involved with them, too.”

A smile played on your lips. “Wait, what?”

Jace shrugged. “Apparently someone finally stepped up to tell the president. There was footage of Professor Rivers hitting on a student outside of her office in the hallway.”

“Do you know who reported her?” Helaena was on the edge of her seat.

“Aemond.” 

You sucked in a breath. “Aemond reported her?”

“Yeah, and apparently she tried to kiss him in the hallway and moved her hand over his, uh, crotch.”

Anger bubbled within you. As much as it hurt for him to have betrayed you, knowing Professor Rivers still wanted him even after he pushed her away made your blood boil. 

“Gods I hate her. I hate what she did to Aemond, I hate what she did to me, I hate what she did to us,” you ground out.

“The investigation isn't complete. While Aemond's footage does show that she made unwanted advances, he still followed her into her office.

“Of course he did. He'll keep going back to her.”

It hurt, knowing he still followed her even after he said no. You had no doubt they still did things in her office. 

“But,” Jace interjected, “there are a few others who have stepped up to say something. Apparently the guys Professor Rivers has been involved with include Jason Lannister and Cregan Stark. Just those two alone make a good case against her.”

“Maybe I should talk to him,” you murmured. 

“I think you should, sweetie.” Helaena put a hand over yours and squeezed tight.

“...I think I will. It's not a promise we'll get back together but it's something.” You looked at your two best friends. “Thank you for everything, I love you guys so much.” Your eyes began to water and a few tears slipped out but they were thankful tears. Tears that were light.

When Jace and Helaena left your room you picked up your phone to find a new voicemail from Aemond. With shaking hands you brought the phone up to your eye and listened.

“I'm so sorry. I know I can't say it enough. I never loved her, I was thinking with my dick. I miss you. I miss you so much and I will do whatever it takes for you to at least look at me again. Everything I do, everything I see, reminds me of you. If I could turn back time and never enroll in her class I'd do it. I'm not even in it anymore, I dropped out of the class.” A break. “When I saw you that day, when you saw everything, I knew I had fucked up. I knew beforehand that I fucked up yet I kept making those decisions. I will never be able to erase the pain from your heart and I wish I could. Gods, I wish I could. I promise you that you are the love of my life, no one else.”

A fresh wave of tears rolled down your face. It's the same thing he's said over and over again but this time you could feel his desperation. You didn't know how long it would last until he would give up, so you took your chance and called him back. The phone rang once.

“Aemond,” you wanted to be the first one to talk. “I - I think I'm ready to see you.”

“Princess! Gods, you called me back.” You could hear his voice crack.

“Please don't call me that,” you whispered. Being called his princess made your heart ache.

“I'm sorry, I won't do that again.”

You smiled a sad smile. “Let's meet at the apartment, okay? Neutral ground.”

“You want to see me?” 

“I think I'm ready now. I'll see you around noon?”

“Yeah, noon works. I'll see you then.”

And with a click of the button the line was dead.

Walking out of the spare room and into the living room, you found Helaena and Jace lounging on the couch.

“I'm going to meet him later today at the apartment,” you announced.

“You are?” Exclaimed Jace. “If he tries anything I swear I'm gonna -”

Helaena interrupted him, “I don't think Aemond is going to try anything. He's too afraid of hurting her even more.”

Jace turned to you. “Are you sure about this?”

You nodded. “As sure as I'll ever be. But I can't keep avoiding him forever, either.”

“I'm so proud of you.” Helaena got up and wrapped you in a warm hug. “You can do this, sweetie.”

As you pulled up at the apartment complex, your chest began to tighten and your breaths became short.

“I'm right out here if you need me, remember? If you gotta get out just run and hop in.” Helaena told you.

You took one big breath before nodding your head and then stepping out of the car. There wasn't any sign of Aemond, at least not that you could tell. Walking up the stairs was a challenge; each step felt heavier and heavier. You had to do this, though. Face your fear and tackle him straight on. As you reached the door you noticed it wasn't locked.

“I can do this,” you whispered to yourself. Steeling your nerves, you knocked on the door.

Almost immediately the door opened. It was as if Aemond was sitting by the door waiting for you.

“You came,” he mumbled.

“I did.”

“Come in.” He held the door open for you to enter the threshold.

The apartment was a mess. It was unkempt, clothes were everywhere, you could even see the shattered glass that was never picked up after you punched the mirror. It was as though Aemond had no drive to keep the place tidy anymore. You turned your focus to him and saw that he was in the same state as the apartment; a mess. His hair was frizzy, loose ends were everywhere. His face looked like it had sunken in a bit. He seemed skinnier than before and it's only been a month. There was a dark circle under his eye that looks like it's been there a long time.

For a moment you and Aemond just stared at each other, not believing you were seeing one another.

“I got her fired. She's no longer on campus,” he blurted.

“Good, good.”

“I've missed you.”

You met him with silence. Staring at him, you could see how painful this was for him, not to touch you, not to comfort.

“Why? Why did you do it?” Your voice was barely louder than a whisper.

Aemond shuffled awkwardly. “I don't know.”

“That's not an answer.” A laugh left you. “Tell me why or I'm going to walk out. What did she have that I didn't? Was I not enough for you?” Tears began to flow down your cheeks.

“No, no,” he took a step towards you but you stepped back. “I don't know what I was thinking. She was seductive, I guess. I liked how she was taboo.”

“So I need to be a forbidden fruit to be with you?” You scoffed

“No, I know now that's not what I want.”

“You wanted her? If you wanted her then why didn't you break up with me when it started?”

“Because I didn't want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? Aemond, you did so much more damage than what you could've done. You shattered me. I felt my heart break when I saw you fucking her,” you spat out the last few words.

“I know, I know,” he pleaded.

“Do you?”

He took a step back. “You're right, I don't know. I don't know how badly I've hurt you, I don't know the struggle you've been through.” He collapsed to his knees and bowed his head. “And I'm so fucking sorry. I wish I could take everything back.” His body began to shake with sobs.

“Aemond…” you knelt down in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I…I don't know if I could ever forgive you.”

He sobbed harder.

“But I know I still want you in my life. I love you, Aemond, and this past month has been terrible without you by my side.”

“You still love me? Even after all I've done?” He looked into your eyes. His one was puffy and red.

“I don't think I can ever not love you,” you have him a small smile. “I don't know if I could trust you again, either.”

“I understand.”

“But,” you started. “I'm willing to try again.” You placed a hand on his cheek and cupped his face. “It'll be a long time until I'll even be ready to hear you call me Princess again. But we can work on it together.”

Aemond looked at you with awe. “You want to try again?”

“Yes. I do. I can't imagine a world without you. I could barely stand a single month.” You chuckled and moved to intertwine your hand with his.

“I don't deserve you,” he whispered.

“No, you don't. But I miss you and I need you in my life, please, Aemond.”

“I'll be in your life if you want me to. I'll do anything for you.” His hand reached for your arm and he gave a small squeeze.

“It'll be a while until I can give my heart to you again. We'll take it slow.”

“I'll hold on to you tight.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “I'll do better this time.”

“One step at a time.”

“One step at a time.”

[hottiesforhockey]

look at me ⎜d.mercer

pairings: dawson mercer x afab!reader genre: smut ⎜established relationship ⎜ warnings: katoptronophilia (this is a new word for me) ⎜pwp ⎜insecure reader ⎜ masturbation ⎜ praise kink ⎜descriptions of anxiety ⎜ synopsis: your first night at a devils home game leaves you feeling a little insecure - dawson knows just the kind of exposure therapy you need. word count: 4k authors note:  this was requested by @devilsandrangersfan so I hope they enjoy!

(unedited)

The moment you step into the Prudential Center, the roar of the crowd vibrates through your chest, rattling your ribs. The energy is electric—fans clad in red and black, jerseys sporting bold names and numbers, the crisp scent of ice lingering beneath the stadium lights.

“So is this your first time at a game?”  

“Excuse me?” You gaze shifts over to the petite brunette sliding into the chair besides you - Dawson had shown you to the family box just before warm ups started, placing the “family and friends” lanyard over your neck before leaving you with a soft kiss on the cheek. 

“I’ll meet you back here.” He said softly, knowing that you had no idea how to get around the arena without inevitably getting lost in the crowd somewhere, you had just nodded still unsure what to say as you took in the lavish lounge, a spread of food on the tables off to the side, a bar on the back wall and obscenely large viewing chairs with the perfect view of the ice. 

You and Dawson has only started dating a few months ago — well officially dating, your friendship having built up for years over high school but never seeming to actually go anywhere until he came home last summer — you turn back to the woman with a surprised look that she was still waiting for your answer. 

“Oh, ah yeah” you start, catching yourself quickly before adding, “I mean I’ve been to his games before just not here in jersey.” You explain, again taken by surprise by the roaring crowd as the teams zoom onto the ice the large ’91’ catching your attention instantly. 

The brunette smiles knowingly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she leans back in her seat.

"It's different here, isn't it? The energy, the fans—Jersey loves their hockey. And they love Dawson." You nod absently, your gaze fixed on the ice where Dawson glides effortlessly, weaving through his teammates during warm-ups. He looks so at home here, so confident. It’s not that you doubt your place in his life, but something about tonight, about being surrounded by people who have watched him play for years, makes you feel like an outsider. You’re still adjusting to the idea of being ‘Dawson Mercer’s girlfriend’ rather than just his old friend from home. The title comes with a level of attention you hadn’t quite prepared for.

"I'm Aly, by the way," she offers, snapping you out of your thoughts. "My Husband’s on the team too—Stefan." She says pointing to the jersey with "NOESEN" written on the back in large letters, you nod in understand quickly sharing your name as well.  Relief washes over you at her friendly demeanour, and you shake her hand. 

"Nice to meet you. So you’re, like, used to all of this?" She laughs, gesturing toward the arena with a flourish. 

"Oh, it took time, trust me. We haven't been in Jersey long but the first few games, I was so overwhelmed by the noise, the fans, all the little traditions—it's a lot to take in. But once you get the hang of it, it’s kind of addicting." You glance at the ice just in time to see Dawson’s gaze flicker toward the box. When he spots you, he grins, waving frantically before skating back to where his fellow teammates are stretching. Your stomach flutters.

Aly nudges you. "See? He’s got eyes on you already. You’ll be fine." continuing the chatter away as the game starts. 

The intermission is a welcome reprieve, a chance to step away and take a breath as you excuse yourself from your seat besides Aly who sends you a knowing smile, turning to one of the girls next to her to discuss the refs bad calls. You step away from your seat, wandering toward the back of the lounge to grab a drink. 

You’re taking a long sip as you turn back to the group of wives and girlfriends in the box — only recognising a few from instagram and photos Dawson had shown you, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed. The atmosphere feels suffocating, the laughter and chatter filling the space with a kind of intensity that presses in on you. Each one of them looks so effortlessly put together, so confident. They are comfortable in their roles, perfectly in sync with the world Dawson lives in. You feel like an imposter in your jeans and oversized sweater, standing there awkwardly with your drink in hand. The contrast between your casual appearance and their designer outfits makes your pulse quicken, and your throat tightens in discomfort.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus on the conversations happening around you, but it only makes it worse. Aly is talking to a woman you don’t recognise, laughing about something, and you can’t help but notice how easily they fall into their conversation. The others seem so at ease with each other, like they've known each other for years, and you’re just the odd one out, lingering on the outskirts. You can’t remember the last time you felt so painfully aware of every little detail about yourself—how you don’t quite match their polished appearances or their effortless ease in this world.

"Are you alright?" a voice interrupts your spiralling thoughts. You turn to find a woman standing next to you, a gentle smile on her face. Her expression is warm, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s seen this kind of discomfort before.

"Yeah," you force a smile, but it feels so strained. "Just a little... overwhelmed, I guess." She nods knowingly, as if she understands exactly what you mean. 

"It’s a lot at first. I remember feeling like a fish out of water when I first started coming to these games." Her words only deepen your sense of being out of place. She’s been here before. She knows what she’s doing, she knows the others, she knows the expectations. You’re just the girl from home who never thought she’d be here, let alone be surrounded by so many people who seem to have everything figured out. And here you are, standing in the middle of it all, trying to pretend like you belong. You’re still standing there, feeling like a ghost, when Aly’s voice cuts through the murmur of the others around you.

"Oh, hey! Come sit with us!" She waves you over enthusiastically, the warmth of her invitation a stark contrast to the cold knot in your stomach. You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should just slip away, hide in the corner, but you nod and make your way over, forcing your feet to move.

As you sit down, you feel the eyes on you. You can’t help but notice the glances exchanged between the other women, the soft smiles that don’t quite reach their eyes. Maybe it’s all in your head, but the way they look at you feels like they’re measuring you up, sizing you up in a way that makes your skin itch.

"How long have you and Dawson been together?" one of them asks, her voice polite but with an undercurrent of curiosity.

"Uh, a few months," you answer quickly, your heart racing. You want to add something else, something that will make you seem more worthy of being here, but your mind goes blank.

Aly jumps in to rescue you. "They’ve known each other for years, actually. Been friends since high school." The mention of the word “friend” sends a ripple of unease through you, and you quickly glance at Dawson. He’s on the ice now, his movements smooth and fluid, but the moment he sees you, his eyes lock with yours, and you can almost picture the smile he’d send you as he focuses back on what his teammates is whispering to him as they prep to start the second period. Your heart stutters, and for a moment, you feel seen. But it’s only a brief moment. The reality of the situation comes crashing back in.

You glance around again, catching sight of another woman with flawless hair, her jawline sharp and perfect, her outfit so sleek and coordinated. Her eyes flick to you, then flick away, and you feel the weight of her judgment—real or imagined—pressing down on you. You’re still just the girl from home. You haven’t earned your place here, in this world, not like they have.

The game drags on, but you can’t focus. You’re so wrapped up in your own insecurities, in the comparison between yourself and these women who seem so much more polished, so much more in tune with everything, that the sound of the crowd fades into background noise. You feel smaller by the second.

Before you know it, the game is over and each of the players is happily bonking their goalie on the head, the other WAGs slowly filing out of the family box as their partners clean up and reach the room to collect them. 

Aly wishes you a ‘see you next time’ as she clasps her husbands hand, turning her attention to him and cooing over the game he played, you watch them for a while the feeling of discomfort settling deep in your stomach as you stand up, suddenly feeling the need to escape. Your drink is long gone, but you feel the need to move, to get out of this box before the pressure inside your head gets to be too much.

You’re halfway toward the exit when you hear a voice calling your name.

"Dawson?" you say, turning around to see him making his way toward you, his expression concerned. You had almost forgotten he said he would come to get you after the game. 

"You alright?" he asks softly, his eyes scanning your face, noticing the strain in your features. His hand rests gently on your shoulder, grounding you in a way only he can.

"I..." you swallow, trying to gather your thoughts. "I just feel... out of place. I don’t know if I’m cut out for this."

Dawson’s brow furrows, his hand slipping down to take yours. "What do you mean?" You glance back at the family box, your gaze lingering on the women who seem so comfortable, so sure of themselves, and it all tumbles out. "I just feel like everyone’s got it all figured out, the look, the vibe, whatever it is, and I’m... just here, trying to keep up.” You take a breath, swiping at the hair falling in your face,  “I just don’t belong here, Dawson."

His expression softens, and he steps closer, his hand now cupping your face gently. "You belong with me. That’s all that matters." The sincerity in his voice pulls at something deep inside you. The overwhelming pressure of the moment melts away, and for a brief second, you let yourself breathe. 

“Let’s get you home.” He whispers, slowly reaching out to take your hand, hesitant to do much more hoping to avoid making you more overstimulated then you already seem to be. The ride home is quiet, the low hum of the engine and the soft music from the radio the only sounds filling the space between you. Dawson doesn't push you to talk, but you can feel his gaze flickering to you every so often, his concern evident. Your hands rest in your lap, fingers idly twisting together as you stare out the window, the city lights blurring past.

As soon as you step into Dawson’s apartment, a familiar warmth settles over you. His place has always felt comfortable, lived-in, with soft lighting and worn furniture that makes it feel like a home rather than just a space to exist in. You toe off your shoes, making your way to the bedroom your boyfriend following closely behind, Dawson’s hand wraps gently around your wrist, stopping you in place before you can escape to the bathroom.

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice low. "Talk to me." You hesitate, still feeling the weight of everything from tonight pressing down on your chest. But the concern in his eyes, the patience in his touch—it makes it impossible to brush him off.

"I just..." You exhale, shaking your head as you glance down. "I felt so out of place tonight, Dawson. Like I didn’t belong. Those women—they’re so confident, so sure of themselves. And then there’s me, standing there in my sweater and jeans, feeling like I somehow wandered into a world I was never supposed to be part of." His fingers tighten ever so slightly around your wrist before he lets go, only to cup your face instead. His thumb brushes over your cheek, his touch firm but careful, as if he knows just how fragile you feel right now.

"You belong with me," he says, repeating his words from earlier, but this time there’s something more in them—something deeper, something raw. "Not because of where I play or who I’m around. You belong because you’re you. That’s all I want. That’s all that matters."

You swallow, your throat tight. "But I don’t fit in." He exhales, shaking his head slightly. 

"You don’t have to. There’s no rule saying you need to be like them. I don’t want you to be like them—I want you to be you. The girl I’ve known forever, the one who calls me out on my shit, who knows how to make me laugh even when I’ve had the worst game of my life. That’s who I fell for. Not some version of you that fits into some mould." The sincerity in his words, in his gaze, makes something inside you ache. He steps closer, his fingers trailing down to your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. The air between you shifts, thickening with something unspoken, something deeper than just comfort.

Your lips part slightly, your pulse quickening as he studies you. "Do you get it now?" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "Or do I need to convince you a little more?"

Your breath catches, heat rising in your cheeks at the challenge in his tone, the teasing glint in his eyes. The tension crackles between you, pulling you closer like gravity itself is at work. His nose brushes against yours, not quite a kiss, just lingering there, waiting.

"Dawson..." your voice is barely audible, but the way his lips curve tells you he hears it.

"Hmm?" he hums, his thumb still lazily stroking along your jaw. "Tell me what you need, baby."

The way he says it, soft yet firm, full of intention, makes your stomach flip. The doubt that had wrapped around your ribs earlier loosens, just a little, as his hands slide down to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him. His body is solid, warm, grounding.

"I just need you," you admit, barely getting the words out before his lips finally press against yours. It starts slow, deliberate, like he’s proving a point more than anything else. Like he’s trying to kiss away every ounce of insecurity lingering in your mind. His fingers flex against your waist, holding you tighter, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

You won’t.

Not when he kisses you like this, like you’re the only thing that matters.

“You keep talking about yourself like that, and I’m gonna have to remind you just how perfect you are.” His voice was low, warm, coaxing as he pulls away, your lips still tingling from the feeling of his. You let out a soft laugh, but he catches the way your eyes dropped again, your confidence still shaken. That wouldn’t do. Not for his girl.

His fingers curled under the hem of your sweater, dragging it up over your head before you could protest. His lips pressed against your bare shoulder, his breath hot against your skin as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your back flush against him as he turns you to face the large mirror. 

“Look,” he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Watch the way I touch you.” Heat bloomed in your chest, spreading down your spine as his hands roamed, slow and deliberate. His fingers traced over your ribs, teasing along the band of your bra before slipping lower, mapping the dips and curves of your body with reverence. Every touch sent a shiver through you, every glance at your reflection making your pulse quicken.

His eyes met yours in the mirror, dark and full of intent. “See what I see?” he asked, his voice husky, laced with something almost possessive. “Every inch of you drives me crazy.” Your breath hitched as he let his lips trail down your neck, his hands gripping your thighs, urging them apart as he made sure you saw—saw how easily he unraveled you, how much he worshipped you. His fingers make quick work of unbuttoning your jeans, sliding them slowly down your legs as he help you take each foot out, sliding them to the side. 

Then, he moves away from you, grabbing the chair in the corner of the room, shucking off all the clothes that you’re going to have to clean up later and dragging it to sit in front of the mirror, he takes quick steps around to the chair sinking into the plush leather with a smile, patting his lap lightly as he settles in. 

“Sit.” He says softly, and it’s not like you need any further instruction, stepping around the chair to sink into his lap, Dawson quickly slipping each of your thighs over his until you sit on his laps with your legs spread open.  “Keep watching,” he murmured against you, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. 

He glanced up, his dark eyes locking onto yours in the mirror. “You see now?” he asked, his voice thick with desire. “How could you ever doubt how much I want you?” By the time he was done proving his point, there was no doubt left in your mind—you belonged there, with him, in every way possible.

Dawson’s hands tighten on your hips, his touch grounding, firm. The heat of his palms against your skin is almost too much, too intense, yet not nearly enough. His voice is low, coaxing as he tilts your chin up, forcing your gaze back to the mirror where your reflection tells a story of surrender and desire.

“Don't look away,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your neck as he trails kisses down the sensitive skin there, his lips leaving a path of fire in their wake. “I want you to see what I see.” Your breath catches as his hands wander, fingers tracing slow, teasing patterns along the inside of your thighs, the anticipation thrumming through you like an electric current. He knows exactly what he’s doing, the way he takes his time, savouring every little reaction he pulls from you. His eyes flicker up to yours in the reflection, dark and hungry, his pupils blown wide with need. A slow, deliberate stroke of his fingers against the thin fabric still covering you has your thighs tensing, your lips parting in a soft gasp. Dawson smirks, his other hand splaying against your stomach, holding you in place against him.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice thick with satisfaction. “Let me take care of you.” His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your underwear, teasing, barely touching where you need him most. The anticipation coils tight in your belly, a desperate ache settling deep in your core.

“Dawson,” you breathe, your head falling back against his shoulder, your body instinctively pressing into his touch, silently begging for more.

He hums in approval, his free hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb circling over the clothed peak, sending another wave of heat through you. “So sensitive,” he muses, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “So responsive for me.” You whimper as his fingers finally press where you need them, his touch both gentle and commanding. He works you into putty with slow, deliberate movements, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. The sight of him touching you, of your body arching into his hands, only fuels the fire burning between you.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with pride and something deeper, something possessive. “So perfect. So beautiful.” Your hands grasp at his forearm, nails digging in slightly as pleasure builds, winding tighter and tighter until it feels like you might come apart at the seams. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, his lips soft, reverent.

“You feel how good you are for me?” His voice is a low rasp, his fingers curling just right, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. Your answer is a broken moan, your body trembling in his hold.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulls his hand away, leaving you aching, desperate. You let out a frustrated whimper, but before you can protest, he catches your wrist, guiding your hand down instead.

“Show me,” he whispers against your skin, his voice laced with dark encouragement. “I want to watch you fall apart for me.” Your breath shudders as your fingers take his place, the heat of his gaze burning into you as you touch yourself under his watchful eyes, only slight pushing your panties to the side to get full access to your dripping cunt. His hands don’t leave you—one steady on your stomach, the other stroking over your breast, his hand tugging the cup of your bra down, a smile spreading across his face as your breast tumbles out, his thumb flicking at your sensitive peak. Every sound you make is met with his approving hum, every shiver answered by the slow, deliberate grind of his body against yours.

“Just like that,” he coaxes, his mouth tracing the shell of your ear. “You’re so beautiful when you let go.” Your movements become more frantic, the pressure building unbearably fast under his murmured praise. His lips press against your temple, his voice a steady, grounding presence. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me see how good you are.”

The pleasure crests, a wave crashing over you, stealing the breath from your lungs as you unravel in his arms. His name falls from your lips in a desperate cry, and he holds you through it, whispering sweet, reverent words against your skin, his hands gentle as they stroke over your trembling form. As the aftershocks fade, you collapse back against his chest, breathless and sated. He presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his grip on you unyielding, protective.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, his voice rich with satisfaction. “Just perfect.” He continues to whisper praises into your ear, his lips tracing a path down the column of your throat. Every word, every touch, is designed to unravel you, to strip away every lingering doubt until all that’s left is the certainty of him—of this.

“You feel that?” he murmurs against your skin, his hands gliding down your sides, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs, the firm press of something hard against your back. “That’s me wanting you. Every inch of you. Every part of you that you think doesn’t belong? It does, baby. You do.” Your breath stutters as he shifts beneath you, the firm press of his body against yours making it impossible to think about anything other than the way he fits against you, the way his hands guide your movements, slow and deliberate. His lips brush the shell of your ear, and you swear you feel him smile.

“I could spend all night reminding you,” he says, voice thick with promise, “but I think you’re starting to get it now, aren’t you?” His fingers slip lower, teasing, coaxing, until your gasp fills the space between you. You meet his gaze in the mirror, your body flushed, lips parted, eyes heavy with desire. And in that moment, you finally see what he sees—how much he wants you, how much you belong here, with him, in every way that matters.

And as the night stretches on, Dawson keeps his word—reminding you, again and again, until there isn’t a single doubt left in your mind.

[novaursa]

The Second Daughter (raven across the realm)

- Summary: You were born as a second daughter under the watchful eye of a full moon. And just like the moon you were beautiful—and cursed to exist only in the dark.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: stone by stone

- Next part: the golden lion

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @l3thal-l0lita @alkadri-layal @ninihrtss @barnes70stark

The day dawned quiet, with the soft hum of the ocean breeze carrying through the open windows of Casterly Rock. The faint scent of salt mixed with the crisp air, and the castle seemed to stir at a slower, more deliberate pace. You sat in the solar, sunlight pooling at your feet as you rested in a cushioned chair. Marna and Alys were nearby, quietly folding linens and speaking in hushed tones. Jason had left to attend to some pressing matters of the Rock, promising to return before long.

But as the morning wore on, a strange sensation began to stir within you—subtle at first, a faint tightening low in your abdomen that gave you pause. At first, you thought it was nothing more than the discomfort that had become common in the later weeks of your pregnancy. Yet as the minutes passed, the sensation returned, a stronger, more insistent pressure that made you clutch the armrest of your chair.

Marna noticed first, her keen eyes catching the change in your posture. She set down the linen she was folding and moved closer. “My lady?” she asked gently, her tone laced with concern. “Is something the matter?”

You inhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself. “I’m not sure,” you admitted, your voice soft. “It’s… a pressure. It comes and goes.”

Alys dropped the sheet she was folding, her face pale as she hurried to your side. “Is it the baby?” she asked, her voice rising slightly. “Should we fetch Maester Halford?”

You nodded faintly, another wave of pressure building. “Yes,” you said, your breath hitching. “It feels… different.”

Marna was already moving toward the door, her steps quick and purposeful. “I’ll fetch him at once,” she said over her shoulder, disappearing into the corridor.

Alys knelt beside you, her hands hovering uncertainly as though unsure whether to comfort you or prepare for something more. “It’s going to be alright, my lady,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “The maester will be here soon.”

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on hers despite the tightening in your abdomen. “I know,” you said, though your own voice held a hint of nervousness. “It’s just… sooner than I expected.”

Moments later, the door burst open, and Jason strode in, his hair slightly disheveled from his hurried steps. His eyes swept the room, landing on you immediately. “Y/N,” he said, crossing the distance to kneel beside you. “What’s happening? Are you alright?”

“I think it’s starting,” you said, your voice calm but strained. “The baby…”

Jason’s jaw tightened, though his hand was gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You’re sure?”

Marna appeared behind him, followed closely by Maester Halford, who carried a leather satchel of supplies. The elderly maester’s expression was composed but focused as he approached.

“My lady,” Halford said, setting his satchel down and gesturing for Jason to step aside. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

You described the sensations as best you could, your hands gripping the armrests of the chair as another wave of pressure rolled through you. Halford listened carefully, nodding as he placed a steadying hand on your shoulder.

“It seems labor has begun,” he said, his tone calm and measured. “The early stages, at least. It may be some time yet before the child is ready to come, but we should prepare.

Jason stood behind you, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “What do we do?” he asked, his voice firm but tinged with worry.

Halford glanced at Marna and Alys. “Bring fresh water and clean linens. Ensure the chamber is warm but not stifling. And send word to the wet nurse—we may need her before long.”

Marna and Alys nodded, hurrying to carry out the maester’s instructions. Jason crouched beside you again, his green eyes searching your face. “You’re going to be fine,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “I’m here. I won’t leave your side.”

You managed a faint smile, your hand finding his. “I know,” you said, gripping his fingers tightly as another contraction built. “I’ll be alright, Jason. I have to be.”

Halford straightened, his tone gentle but firm. “We’ll move her to the birthing chamber now. It’s better to have her resting there as things progress.”

Jason nodded, sliding an arm under your shoulders to help you stand. The movement was slow, deliberate, as you leaned on him for support. Each step toward the birthing chamber felt heavier, the reality of what was to come settling in your chest. Yet Jason’s presence beside you, his strength and steady reassurance, gave you the courage to keep moving.

As you reached the chamber, the maester and the servants bustled around, preparing for the hours ahead. Jason helped you onto the bed, his hand never leaving yours. 

The midwives moved quickly yet methodically around the room, their soft murmurs blending into the steady hum of activity.

You lay on the bed, propped up with pillows, your face flushed and glistening with perspiration as another contraction rippled through your body. Marna held your hand tightly, her voice calm as she whispered soothing words in your ear. Alys stood nearby, ready to fetch water or towels as needed, her youthful face pale with worry.

Jason stood at the far side of the room, his eyes fixed on you even as he spoke in low tones to Maester Halford. His posture was tense, his shoulders squared as though bracing for battle. The maester, his expression calm but focused, gestured toward a table where his instruments and remedies were laid out.

“The contractions are regular now,” Halford said, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. “She’s progressing as expected, but this stage can last for hours—or longer. Your wife is strong, my lord, but we must be patient.”

Jason nodded, though his jaw tightened. “Is there any sign of trouble?” he asked, his tone clipped. “Anything I should know?”

Halford shook his head. “So far, everything is proceeding as it should. But childbirth is always unpredictable. The midwives are experienced, and I’ll be here the entire time to ensure nothing is overlooked.”

Jason exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I trust you, Halford. But if anything changes—anything—you’ll tell me immediately.”

“Of course, my lord,” the maester replied with a slight bow.

Nearby, Lady Leonella Lannister sat in a high-backed chair, her hair arranged in an elegant braid despite the late hour. A goblet of watered wine rested in her hand, though she had barely touched it. Her discerning eyes flicked between Jason and the bed where you labored, her expression a mixture of concern and composed strength.

“Jason,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the air. “Pacing the room won’t help her. Come sit, at least for a moment.”

Jason turned to his mother, his brow furrowed. “I can’t just sit, Mother. She’s—” He broke off, his gaze flickering back to you as another contraction gripped your body, your soft cry filling the room. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “She’s in pain, and there’s nothing I can do.”

Leonella’s expression softened, and she gestured for him to approach. “You can be here,” she said gently. “You can give her your strength, even from across the room. She’ll feel it, Jason. Believe me.”

Reluctantly, Jason crossed the room to stand beside her chair. His mother reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “This is the hardest part for you,” she said quietly. “Watching and waiting. But Y/N is strong. She’ll see this through.”

Jason nodded, though his eyes remained fixed on you. “I know she will,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

Across the room, the midwives hovered around you, their hands gentle but firm as they adjusted your position and wiped your brow with a cool cloth. “You’re doing well, my lady,” one of them said, her voice calm and encouraging. “Just breathe. In and out, slow and steady.”

Your grip on Marna’s hand tightened as another contraction rolled through you, and your breath came in short, uneven gasps. “Jason…” you murmured, your voice strained but steady.

He was at your side in an instant, kneeling beside the bed and taking your free hand in both of his. “I’m here,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet determination. “I’m right here, Y/N.”

You turned your face toward him, your expression weary but resolute. “It feels… like it’s getting closer,” you said between breaths.

Jason nodded, his grip firm and steady. “You’re doing so well,” he said, his tone a mixture of pride and awe. “I’m so proud of you.”

Behind him, Leonella watched with a small, knowing smile. Though her gaze remained vigilant, she seemed reassured by the sight of her son at your side. She turned to Maester Halford, her tone low but firm. “Ensure everything is prepared. My son’s child will be born into this world with no complications.”

Halford bowed slightly, his hands already busy arranging his tools. “Of course, my lady. Every precaution has been taken.”

Jason’s focus remained entirely on you, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as he whispered quiet reassurances. The hours stretched on, each moment both agonizingly slow and fraught with anticipation. Yet through it all, Jason never wavered, his presence a constant source of strength as you faced the final stages of labor together.

Your cries, though pained, were steady and determined, a testament to your strength. Jason knelt beside you, his hand tightly clasping yours, his eyes never leaving your face even as the midwives worked tirelessly.

“You’re almost there,” Jason murmured, his voice low but filled with conviction. “Just a little more, Y/N. You’re incredible.”

A final push brought the room to a standstill, followed by the sound of a newborn’s wail—a strong, piercing cry that seemed to echo through the chamber. Relief and awe flooded the room as the midwife carefully lifted the child, her experienced hands cradling the tiny, wriggling form.

“It’s a boy,” she announced, her voice filled with warmth and reverence.

Jason exhaled, as though releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His gaze locked onto the child as the midwife brought him over, the newborn’s small body wrapped in a soft linen cloth. The boy’s skin was flushed pink, his tiny hands curling into fists as he cried with a vigor that made Jason’s chest swell with pride.

Jason reached out, his hands steady despite the tremor of emotion coursing through him. As he cradled his son for the first time, the weight of the moment hit him fully. The boy had a crown of soft, silvery-gold hair, a perfect blend of his parents’ lineage. His eyes, though tightly shut, bore the faintest hint of lilac—a gift of Targaryen blood.

“Y/N,” Jason whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he turned to you. “He’s perfect.”

You were exhausted, your body trembling from the effort, but your lips curved into a soft smile at his words. “Let me hold him,” you murmured, your voice faint but insistent.

Jason nodded, carefully lowering the baby onto your chest. As the newborn’s cries softened, his tiny face nestled against you, a warmth spread through the room. You reached out with trembling hands, your fingers brushing over the baby’s delicate features—the curve of his cheek, the soft down of his hair, the tiny button of his nose.

“He’s beautiful,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks as you trailed your hand gently across his face, memorizing every detail. “Jason… describe him to me.”

Jason sat beside you, his arm slipping around your shoulders as he gazed at the child with a mixture of awe and love. “He has our hair,” he said softly, his voice reverent. “Silver and gold, like moonlight. His eyes… I think they’ll be lilac, like yours, though it’s hard to tell just yet.”

You smiled faintly, your fingers brushing against the baby’s tiny hands as they gripped instinctively at your touch. “And his face?”

Jason’s hand rested lightly on your shoulder as he continued. “He has a strong jaw, but it’s soft now, rounded. His nose is small, delicate. And his lips…” He chuckled softly, the sound warm. “They already pout like he’s displeased with the world.”

You laughed weakly, the sound filled with joy despite your exhaustion. “A true Lannister, then.”

Jason leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “He’s perfect, Y/N. A lion with dragon’s wings.”

The baby stirred against you, his tiny cries quieting as he settled into your warmth. Jason reached out, his fingers brushing over the child’s hair. “Aemerys,” he said suddenly, his voice steady. “We’ll call him Aemerys Lannister.”

You turned your face toward him, your smile widening. “Aemerys,” you repeated softly, the name rolling off your tongue like a prayer. “It’s perfect.”

Jason leaned in, his forehead resting against yours as the two of you gazed down at your son. The room around you seemed to fade, leaving only the three of you in the glow of the moment. 

As Aemerys stirred in your arms, you whispered softly, “Welcome to the world, my little one.”

The birthing chamber had grown quieter, the frantic energy of labor giving way to a peaceful stillness. Maester Halford worked methodically, tending to both you and the newborn, his hands steady and experienced. Alys and Marna moved about the room, their voices soft as they fetched fresh linens and warm water. The scent of lavender and herbs lingered in the air, mingling with the faint cries of Aemerys as he shifted in your arms.

Jason stood by your side, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as he watched you cradle your son. His expression was a mixture of pride and protectiveness, his green eyes softening each time he looked at the tiny bundle in your arms. He seemed reluctant to leave, even as a soft knock came at the chamber door.

Lady Leonella stepped inside, her elegant figure silhouetted against the torchlight in the hallway. Her golden hair was impeccably arranged, though her expression carried the weight of something pressing. She approached quietly, her gaze flicking briefly to you and the baby before settling on Jason.

“Jason,” she said softly, her tone carrying an unspoken urgency. “May I speak with you outside?”

Jason hesitated, his hand brushing lightly over your hair before he turned to his mother. “What is it, Mother?” he asked, his voice low to avoid disturbing the tranquil atmosphere.

Leonella gestured toward the door, her expression unreadable. “It’s best discussed in private.”

With a final glance at you, Jason reluctantly followed his mother into the corridor, the heavy door closing softly behind them. The stone hallway was dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long shadows on the walls. Leonella turned to face Jason, her eyes studying him carefully.

“Damon has gone,” she said without preamble, her voice calm but firm. “He left with a small party of our family to attend Allard Reyne’s wedding. They should have arrived by now.”

Jason’s expression didn’t shift, his features remaining cool and composed. “Good for him,” he said simply, crossing his arms. “I assume he’s enjoying the spectacle.”

Leonella raised an eyebrow at his disinterest. “You know Allard will be disappointed that the Lord of Casterly Rock isn’t present. He’ll use it to sow discord, claiming you’re too arrogant to attend his grand affair.”

Jason shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Let him,” he said dismissively. “If Allard wants to throw a tantrum over my absence, he’s welcome to it. The birth of my heir is far more important than indulging his ego.”

Leonella tilted her head slightly, her expression softening as she regarded her son. “You’ve changed, Jason,” she said quietly. “A few years ago, you might have felt compelled to attend, if only to keep appearances. Now, you don’t seem to care what Allard thinks.”

Jason met her gaze, his green eyes unwavering. “Why should I?” he asked. “Allard thrives on attention, on playing the game of petty politics. But I don’t answer to him. My priorities are here, with my family. Aemerys and Y/N mean more to me than whatever fleeting power play Allard thinks he’s making.”

Leonella’s lips curved into a faint smile, and she nodded approvingly. “You’ve become a true lord, Jason. Focused on what truly matters.”

Jason’s smirk widened slightly, though his tone remained serious. “I’ve learned that nothing is more important than the people who depend on me. Let Allard have his feast. I have my legacy in my arms.”

Leonella stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “And a fine legacy it will be. You’ve done well, my son.”

Jason inclined his head, the faintest hint of a smile softening his stern features. “Thank you, Mother.”

With that, he turned back toward the chamber door, his steps purposeful as he reentered the room where his world had shifted forever. 

His gaze immediately fell on you, resting against the pillows, Aemerys cradled protectively in your arms. A soft smile curved his lips as he approached, the weight of his earlier conversation fading into the background.

He reached out, brushing a strand of damp hair from your forehead, his touch light and affectionate. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

“Tired,” you admitted, your voice faint but warm. “But happy.”

Jason smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “You’ve been incredible, Y/N. Truly.”

The sound of the door opening behind him drew his attention, and he turned to see his mother, Lady Leonella, entering the room with her usual composed elegance. Her gaze immediately fell on the newborn in your arms, and her expression softened, a rare vulnerability slipping through her usual poise.

“May I?” she asked gently, her gaze flickering to you and then to Jason.

You smiled and nodded, shifting slightly to allow Jason to take Aemerys from your arms. He lifted the tiny bundle with practiced care, his movements steady as he carried his son to his mother. Leonella reached out, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she took her grandson for the first time.

“Oh, Jason,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion as she gazed down at the baby. “He’s beautiful. A true Lannister.”

Jason stood beside her, his arms crossed but his expression softened. “He has some Targaryen in him, too,” he said with a faint smile. “Lilac eyes, just like Y/N.”

Leonella chuckled, her gaze never leaving the child. “A perfect blend of lion and dragon,” she said softly. She ran her fingers lightly over Aemerys’s tiny hand, marveling as he instinctively gripped her finger. “It saddens me that your father isn’t here to see this moment. He would’ve been so proud, Jason.”

Jason’s expression flickered, a shadow of loss passing briefly over his features. “He would’ve been,” he agreed quietly. “But he’s here in spirit, Mother. I feel it.”

Leonella nodded, blinking away the moisture in her eyes as she rocked the baby gently. “Your father always said you’d lead our house to greatness, Jason. This little one is proof of that.”

Maester Halford stepped forward, his voice calm but purposeful. “I’ll send a raven to King’s Landing at once,” he announced, bowing slightly. “His Grace will want to hear of his grandchild’s birth.”

Jason turned to him, nodding curtly. “Good. Ensure the message conveys the strength of the child—his health, his Targaryen blood. My wife has brought honor to both our houses.”

Halford inclined his head. “Of course, my lord. The news will be delivered with all due reverence.”

As the maester moved to the writing desk in the corner, Leonella continued to hold Aemerys, her expression filled with a quiet joy. “He’s strong already,” she murmured, her fingers brushing over the baby’s soft hair. “I can feel it.”

Jason smiled, placing a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “He’ll need to be. The world won’t be kind to a child who carries the weight of two great houses.”

Leonella looked up at her son, her gaze steady. “Then it’s up to us to ensure he grows up knowing his worth—and his strength. He has a great legacy to uphold.”

Jason nodded, his eyes drifting back to you as you watched the scene with a tired but content smile. “He will,” Jason said firmly. “Because we’ll make sure of it.”

Leonella returned to the bed, carefully lowering Aemerys back into your waiting arms. As the baby nestled against you, his tiny face serene, Jason sat beside you, his hand resting lightly on your knee. The three of you, along with Leonella, shared a moment of quiet reflection—a family united in purpose, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Excerpts from Fire and Blood: The Triumphs and Trials of the Reign of Viserys I Targaryen

The Birth of Aemerys Lannister (116 AC)

Grand Maester Mellos writes:

“It was in the sixth moon of 116 AC that a raven arrived in King’s Landing, its wings bearing news of great joy. From the towering heights of Casterly Rock, Lord Jason Lannister sent word that his wife, Princess Y/N Targaryen, had given birth to a son, healthy and strong. The boy, named Aemerys Lannister, was declared by his lord father as a union of lion and dragon, a testament to the strength of both House Lannister and House Targaryen.

King Viserys received the raven in the Small Council chamber, where he read the letter aloud to those present. ‘A grandson!’ he exclaimed, tears glistening in his eyes. ‘And a fine name he has been given—Aemerys, after his Valyrian ancestors.’ The King, ever sentimental when it came to his family, declared a feast to celebrate the birth, summoning the court to rejoice in this union of the two great houses.

The news was met with mixed reactions in the capital. Many lords and ladies expressed their congratulations, seeing the child as a promising bridge between the might of Casterly Rock and the fire of the Targaryens. Yet, others whispered in corners about the child’s claim. Though young Aemerys would hold no direct claim to the Iron Throne, some speculated that his Targaryen blood might someday stir ambitions among his descendants.”

Mushroom, the fool, offers his account:

“When the King read the letter, his face lit up like a man twenty years younger. I daresay the old fool wept into his wine that night, toasting the babe more times than I could count. ‘Aemerys,’ he said, ‘a name worthy of a dragon.’ But not everyone at court shared his joy.

Prince Aegon, that proud boy, was none too pleased. His favorite sister had gone off to the West to wed that golden-haired lion, and now she’d birthed a cub of her own. I saw the boy storm from the hall, muttering about how ‘Jason the Golden Lion’ was stealing what rightfully belonged in King’s Landing. The lad may have been nine, but he had the temper of a dragon—though not the strength to back it up.

Princess Helaena, sweet and strange as ever, seemed more curious than anything. She asked what color the baby’s hair was and whether he would ride a dragon someday. As for Prince Aemond, he was quieter, his eyes narrowing as he listened to the court’s murmurs. ‘A lion with dragon’s blood,’ he said once, to no one in particular. I couldn’t tell if he was impressed or suspicious.

Oh, and Queen Alicent? Ever the picture of composure, she offered her polite congratulations to the King, though I noticed her knuckles turn white as she gripped her goblet. It seems she wasn’t as thrilled about her stepdaughter’s success as she pretended to be. The Queen had hoped for a more… loyal match, perhaps. But who could object openly when the King was so elated?”

Grand Maester Mellos adds:

“The celebration at court lasted for three days, marked by feasts, dances, and toasts to the health of the newborn Aemerys. Yet, beneath the merriment, subtle tensions brewed. Prince Aegon’s displeasure was noted by many, his moods growing more sullen with each passing day. The young prince, though beloved by the King, harbored a deep attachment to his sister Y/N, and her departure from the capital had left a void he was unwilling to accept.

Princess Rhaenyra, ever protective of her younger sister, expressed her own concerns privately to the King. ‘Childbirth is dangerous,’ she reminded him. ‘We must pray for her continued health.’ Her fears were well-founded, given the fate of their mother, Queen Aemma, yet Viserys waved away her worries, declaring that Y/N was strong and in good hands.

Despite the undercurrents of discontent, the birth of Aemerys Lannister was hailed as a triumph, a symbol of unity between the houses of dragon and lion. As ravens flew across the realm, carrying news of the child’s birth, lords and ladies from all corners sent their congratulations, along with speculations about what this union might mean for the future of Westeros.”

Mushroom concludes:

“The birth of Aemerys Lannister was not just the joining of two bloodlines. It was the spark that would light a fire—one that might burn bright, or burn all it touched. Only time would tell whether the lion and the dragon would share their den peacefully, or if their roars and flames would one day shake the very foundations of the realm.”

The Shadow of a Lion-Dragon (116 AC)

Grand Maester Mellos writes:

“While the court of King’s Landing celebrated the birth of Aemerys Lannister with feasting and toasts, far to the west in the halls of Castamere, another gathering took place—one less jubilant for its host. Lord Allard Reyne’s wedding day, long anticipated for its spectacle and grandeur, was darkened by the arrival of a raven bearing the news from Casterly Rock.

The announcement of a Lannister heir, born of a Targaryen princess, overshadowed the marriage festivities, casting a long shadow over what should have been the proudest day of Lord Allard’s life. Many who had come to honor his union with Lady Marissa Lefford found their attention drawn instead to the implications of the child’s birth. A boy of Valyrian and Lannister blood was a rarity, a symbol of power and unity that few could ignore.

Lord Damon Lannister, uncle to Jason and acting lord in his nephew’s absence, was among the first to raise his goblet. ‘To Aemerys Lannister,’ he declared loudly, his voice ringing through the hall, ‘a lion with dragon’s wings, born to bring strength and fire to our house.’ His toast was met with cheers from the Lannister party and murmurs of unease from others.

Tyland Lannister, younger twin brother to Jason and a member of the King’s Small Council, was also present as an envoy from the capital. Ever sharp-tongued and observant, Tyland followed Damon’s toast with one of his own. ‘May young Aemerys grow strong and wise,’ he said, his words laced with an unmistakable edge. ‘And may he remind us all of what true power looks like.’ Though his tone was measured, the room caught the underlying provocation, and many turned their eyes to Lord Allard, whose face had grown visibly tense.”

Mushroom, as always, offers his own account:

“Oh, how I wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall at Castamere that day! Allard Reyne, strutting like a cockerel in his crimson cloak, had planned a feast to rival the greatest in the West. But when the raven came bearing news of Aemerys’s birth, it was as though a storm had blown through the hall.

The fool thought his wedding would cement his standing among the lords of the Westerlands. Instead, the talk of every table turned to the lion-dragon born at Casterly Rock. Guests who had traveled far for Allard’s feast whispered of the child’s Valyrian blood, the strength of his lineage, and what his birth meant for House Lannister. Even Lady Marissa, poor thing, couldn’t hide her discomfort as her new husband’s fury simmered beneath the surface.

And then came the toasts! Lord Damon, always the one to speak plainly, made his allegiance clear with his bold praise of Jason’s heir. But Tyland—oh, Tyland! That one knows how to twist the knife. His words were a clever blade, sheathed in politeness but sharp enough to draw blood. ‘True power,’ he said, and Allard’s knuckles turned white on his goblet.

By the end of the night, Allard looked ready to storm Casterly Rock himself, though I doubt he would’ve made it past the gates. A lion of Castamere he may be, but against the might of the Rock, he’s little more than a cub.”

Grand Maester Mellos continues:

“It is said that Lord Allard’s mood darkened further as the evening wore on. While his guests continued to toast and dance, his mind lingered on the implications of the news. The birth of Aemerys was not merely a personal triumph for Jason Lannister but a public declaration of the strength and unity of House Lannister under his leadership.

Toasts continued throughout the night, with many guests offering polite congratulations on the wedding but lingering longer on the significance of the newborn heir. Tyland, ever the diplomat, ensured that no slight against Allard was made openly, but his words planted seeds of unease that would not soon be forgotten.”

Mushroom concludes:

“Oh, and the bride? Poor Lady Marissa tried her best to salvage the evening, smiling and curtsying through it all, but even she couldn’t keep her husband’s simmering temper from casting a pall over the night.

Mark my words, dear reader: Allard Reyne’s wedding feast will not be remembered for its music or its wine but for the raven that stole his moment. The lion-dragon born at the Rock cast a long shadow that night, and it’s a shadow that still lingers over Castamere to this day.”

[hippiegoth97]

Hangman's Joke: An Eddie Munson x Reader Halloween Special (The Crow AU) Part One

Collage by me :)

Masterlist

A/N: It's finally here, guys! I hope you all enjoy, I worked very hard on this one! And I have to thank @keikoraven for being the best beta reader in the world! I still have two parts to write, but I am ecstatic to get spooky season going!

Tag List: @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafeyscurtainbangs @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @userchai @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @bimbogorewhore

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n @emxxblog

@cxrrodedcoffin @queenimmadolla @kellsck @keeksandgigz

If anyone wants added/removed from tags please let me know <3

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, fem!reader, brief mentions of sex, mentions of sexual abuse/ritual abuse/child abuse, violence, blood, character death, murder, smoking, alcohol use, use of homophobic language, grief, angst, mentions of dead animals, mentions of threats, subjects concerning satanic panic

Word Count: 8.2k

divider by @strangergraphics

Part One

“People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right.”

October 30th, 1991

Hopper steps out into the crisp fall night, the air biting its way under the collar of his windbreaker. He shoves the door to his vehicle closed, flicking the ash of his cigarette with his other hand. “How bad is it?” He asks as Callahan and Powell approach him. There’s four other police vehicles parked out front of the Crystal Ridge apartment complex, the berries and cherries flashing across every surface in a choppy swirl of light and dark. Unmasked disgust reads on every officer’s face, though Hopper isn’t sure if it’s regarding the scene, or who the victims are inside. 

“Well, it’s not good. And it’s certainly not going to ease any of the tension in town.” Powell replies with a sigh, shaking his head. 

“No shit.” Hopper says flatly, tossing his half-smoked cig away. He walks toward the building, going up the front steps and down the hall until he finds the unit cordoned off with police tape. A few more officers are inside, snapping photos of the carnage, as well as snickering amongst themselves about ‘amusing’ items they find in the residence. All nudging elbows and scrutinizing fingers pointed at books and figurines on nearby shelves or tables, nevermind the bodies lying in the middle of the living room floor. “Something funny here, boys? Last I checked, murder isn't a goddamn joke.” Hopper barks, the mouths of his lower officers clapping shut all at the same time, their eyes widening at being caught in such an immature display. They resume their work in silence, snapping photographs of blood splatters and discarded weapons. 

Hopper takes in the scene, focusing his attention on the victims first, as one should in these situations. Eddie and Y/N Munson, aged twenty-five and twenty-three, respectively. Married for two years, hopelessly in love since Hopper first caught them necking in Roane County Cemetery back in the fall of ‘82. Eddie, known to the Chief as the town’s resident metalhead and small-time drug dealer. Despite his intimidating exterior, Hopper knew he was a good kid who just happened to get into a bit of trouble every now and again. It made him rather proud to see Munson turn it around once he graduated in ‘86, becoming a mentor for troubled Hawkins youth with his Hellfire D&D Club. 

And then there was Y/N, the Bonnie to Eddie’s Clyde. Dressed from head to toe in black leather seemingly since birth, paired with the sweetest, most welcoming smile. Hopper recalls the times she’d cover for Eddie whenever he got busted, and how easily he let them both go. A small twinge of reminiscence tugs the corner of his lip up, but only for a moment. Y/N became a librarian, encouraging the youngsters of the town to embrace literature and expand their developing minds. The kids absolutely adored her, like a spooky big sister who always had their back. There’s sure to be thousands of tiny tears when the news breaks tomorrow.

To see what’s now become of possibly the kindest people in Hawkins he’s ever known, it truly makes Hopper’s heart ache. He gazes upon their bodies, an unwelcome sting coming to his eyes. His pupils dart from place to place, unable to settle on any singular gruesome detail for too long. Their clothes are torn to shreds. Their limbs are splayed about in an eerily doll-like fashion, though their hands meet in the middle, as if to hold one another one last time. Thick, angry slashes and stabs puncture their skin. Clotting blood soaks the remnants of fabric and pools into the carpet below. Their eyes haven’t clouded over just yet, looking as if they’ll spring to life with a hearty laugh any moment now. Surely, they’ll sit up and shout ‘GOTCHA!’, revealing that this was all some twisted Halloween prank. Hopper hopes for it, even prays for it a moment. But the relief he wants never comes. There’s no bright blinking eyes, or smiling mouths, or their matching infectious laughter. It’s all been snuffed out of them completely. 

A sudden choked gasp breaks the monotonous click and whirr of crime scene cameras, and a bloodied arm snatches at Hopper’s ankle. “Holy shit!” Jim yelps, wondering if his wish actually came true. His eyes snap to where the sound came from, finding Eddie gasping for air on the floor as a small trickle of blood flows from his mouth.

“H-Hop?” Eddie wheezes, his features frightened and confused. His thick curls stick to his cheeks in nests of coagulated crimson. Numerous cuts are visible on his chin, forehead, and just below his eyes. 

“I’m here, kid. It’s gonna be okay.” Hopper replies, kneeling beside the young man. Eddie’s in real bad shape, so this promise is probably a lie. “We got a live one, boys! Get a medic in here!” Jim yells, snapping the other officers, who have been watching on in horror, into action. “We’re gonna get you outta here, kid.” Hopper takes hold of Eddie’s shaking hand, doing his best to comfort him.

“Where’s Y/N?” Eddie gargles out, trying to turn his head. Just as Hopper is about to lie to the young man again, the EMTs come in with a stretcher to wheel him out of here. 

“She’ll be right behind you, Eddie. You’re both gonna be fine.” Jim reassures him, squeezing his hand, noticing the rapidly weakening grip of it. Not much longer now, he thinks. At least his pain will be over soon. The medics roll Eddie away, disappearing down the hall of the complex to reach the ambulance.

“You lied to him, didn’t you?” A redheaded girl says in the doorway, tears streaming down her cheeks. Max Mayfield, another familiar face. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” Hopper replies, stepping to the right to shield her young eyes from Y/N’s corpse. He remembers seeing Max with the Munsons quite often, having formed a special relationship with them. Her own home life hasn’t exactly been peachy since she moved to Hawkins with her parents and stepbrother. Said inherited sibling has always been bad news, causing Hopper nothing but trouble for the last few years. 

“I know. I saw the cars outside, and I know what people in town have said about the Munsons. But they aren’t like that…devil worshippers, or whatever.” Max states, rolling her eyes at the baseless accusation she’s heard thrown their way hundreds of times. 

“I know that, kid.” Hopper sighs, stepping closer to her.

“She’s dead, right?” Max asks, looking down at her feet. Tears drip onto the tips of her converse, though she keeps the sobs inside. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Jim answers, no need for polite truth-twisting now. 

“Can I…say goodbye?” Max lifts her head up again, brushing a stray hair that’s escaped her ponytail behind her ear. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Hopper shakes his head, stepping closer to lead the girl away from the bloody mess. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride home.” He offers.

“Okay. Thanks.” She nods, not bothering to sneak a morbid glance behind her as they walk down the hallway. They make their way outside, bypassing the other officers.

“Where you off to, Chief?” Callahan pipes up.

“I’ll be back, just dropping Ms. Mayfield at home first.” Jim answers without turning back, opening the passenger door to let the child hop inside. He closes it after her, going over to his side. “Maybe secure the perimeter properly before I get back, hm?” He suggests gruffly to his subordinate. 

“You got it, sir.” Callahan chuckles dryly, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. “Hey.” He lightly smacks Powell on the chest as Hopper pulls out of the lot of the complex. “Secure the perimeter.” He orders unseriously, earning a scoff from his fellow officer.

“Give me orders again, and you can secure my foot in your ass.” Powell laughs, going about his business.

The drive to the Mayfield-Hargrove household is a quiet one, almost painfully so. Max is slumped in her seat, staring out the window at all the places her surrogate parents will no longer be able to visit or ride past on their motorcycle. The record store where they bought every piece of their extensive metal collection, of which they let Max borrow from whenever she liked. The ice cream shop they’d take her to after a nasty day at school or big fight at home. The cemetery where Y/N taught her how to do grave rubbings. She supposes they’ll both be buried there within a few days. At least I’ll be able to visit them again, she thinks, cursing herself for such a selfish thought. More tears pour from her eyes, hot and stinging. She sniffles, trying to hide the evidence on the sleeve of her hoodie.

“Here.” Hopper reaches over, popping open the glove compartment to reveal a collection of napkins from various fast food joints. 

“Thanks.” Max says softly, reaches for a few of the napkins, closing the compartment afterwards. She wipes her eyes, blowing her nose. “I’m sorry for sneaking in. I just had to be sure.” 

“Sure of what?” Jim asks, finding her phrasing rather odd. Like she knows something.

“Well, you know how this town’s treated them. The comments they got, the threats.” Max fiddles with her crumpled tissue.

“Sure do.” Hopper agrees.

“I’ve heard Billy talking about them a lot. The same satanic crap everyone else does, at first.” She pauses, further drawing Hopper’s attention. He glances at her, finding the napkin becoming shredded to pieces in her hands now. “But lately, I’d been hearing him talk with his friends about…’taking care’ of them. You know what I mean?” She looks at him now, appearing far more afraid than she did when Eddie was being carted away in his near-dead state. 

“I do.” He nods, and her shoulders relax a little, as if she’s relieved to have someone believe her. It certainly isn’t outside of the realm of possibility that Billy had something to do with this, though Hopper highly doubts the little fucker acted alone. He almost never does when it comes to starting trouble. His shithead entourage is usually right on his heels at every wrong turn. Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan, and Jason Carver. The four of them have spent their entire collective time in Hawkins wreaking all sorts of havoc. Drunken parties, even drunker fights, vandalizing police vehicles, getting frisky with nearly every young lady in town in various public venues. You name it, and those four have been busted doing it. Unfortunately, their status in town almost guarantees they never see as much as a few scant hours of community service. Hopper worries that brutal murder may soon be added to that list.

“Do you think he…did it?” Max asks, a mix of disbelief and realized terror in her voice.

“I don’t know, kid.” He replies as he pulls up to her house. “But, it’s my job to find out. Don’t you worry, I’m gonna catch whoever did this.” He says with resolve, hoping to bring the girl some comfort. 

“I hope so. Doesn’t seem like anybody else wants to.” She says sadly, recalling how uncaring the other cops looked when she snuck past them in her quest to confirm the worst.

“Well, they don’t have much choice, since I’m in charge.” He laughs, earning a small giggle from Max as well. “Now, get inside. I’m sure your mom’s worried sick.” 

“Probably.” She rolls her eyes. “Thanks for the ride, Hop. And for helping the Munsons.” She smiles at him, and he returns it. Max hops out of the car, and Hopper waits for her to make it inside before pulling away. He catches a small glimpse of Billy in the window, who’s wearing a far more smug smirk than usual. 

“I’ve got my work cut out for me.” He sighs, pulling out a fresh smoke as he drives back to the crime scene. 

“Where the hell were you?” Billy asks as Max comes into the house, shedding her damp jacket and setting her skateboard by the door.

“Nowhere.” She answers softly, hoping to avoid an altercation.

“Bullshit. Why the fuck was the pig Chief dropping you off?” He snarls, more than ready to take out the reaming he received from his father earlier tonight on Max.

“I was just…out. It started to rain, so Hop offered me a ride.” She rolls her eyes and shrugs, beginning to walk away towards her room.

“You went to see if those freaks were dead, didn’t you?” He asks cruelly, following her.

“They weren’t freaks! They were my friends!” Max snaps, turning to face her brother in the doorway. 

“You know what they did, Max! They hurt that kid Pete Howell, made him do all sorts of fucked up satanic shit! Everyone in town knows about it!” Billy yells, stalking over to get in her face.

“That’s a lie and you know it! The Munsons would never do that! To anyone!” She shrieks back, taking a step forward. Billy looms over her, fury in his eyes.

“We all saw the bruises, Maxine! And other kids came forward, too! Eddie made all those Hellfire kids drink his blood and touch each other for his rituals! And don’t even get me started on that bitch, Y/N!” He continues to spew lies in a fervent rant, spit flying from his lips. “She gave kids books about witchcraft, encouraging them to put evil spells on each other and sacrifice their pets! I can’t even imagine what messed up shit those two got up to when they were together! Hell, they were probably just waiting for the right kid to come along so they could kill ‘em! It could’ve even been you!”

“Shut up!” Max screams, slapping Billy across the face with all her might to make him stop. He grunts in surprise at the pain, and a throbbing sting spreads through Max’s hand. Before Billy has time to react to what’s just happened, Max runs into her room and slams the door, locking it tight.

“Open this fucking door, Max! You know I’m right about them! You just don’t wanna see it! But you will! Once the cops go through all their shit, you’ll see how evil they really were!” Billy keeps it up, pounding his fist into the door. Max climbs onto her bed, pulling the covers over her head as fresh tears spring free. “You’ll see! And I’ll be right there to say ‘I told you so’! You’ll see them for what they were, just like everybody else has! Fucking freaks who needed to be put down! Savage animals who worshiped Satan! Do you hear me, Max? Do you?! You’ll fucking see!”

“Shut up. Shut up. It’s not true. It’s not. Shut up. It’s not true…” Max murmurs to herself over and over, covering her ears to block out the noise. She refuses to listen, she can’t let Billy’s words get to her. She can’t let the memories of Eddie and Y/N be soiled. Not by him, not by anyone. 

Jim spends the rest of the evening overseeing the processing of the scene, ensuring every piece of evidence is bagged and labeled, leaving no stone unturned in the entire apartment. He can’t leave anything to chance if he’s going to catch these sick fucks. Looking over every detail more closely has made it very clear that no singular person could be responsible for this level of carnage. Y/N’s body has been wheeled away by the coroner, but the bloody outline of her remains on the floor. Eddie’s own became a little muddied when he was taken to the hospital, smudges and smears leading where they ought not to. Disconnection, a word that rings in Hopper’s mind as he studies it.

He receives the call a short time before things wrap up for the night, Eddie didn’t make it. He barely made it into an operating room before the blood loss took him out. Hopper supposes it’s better that way. Rather than Eddie get all cut open and stitched up again, only to find out his wife is gone. He doubts the young man would’ve been able to cope with the loss, or anyone, for that matter. Jim certainly didn’t take the death of his own daughter very well, it’s one of many reasons why he ended up back in this podunk town. At least now, (Hopper hopes, anyway), the Munsons will be able to rest peacefully with one another, no longer subject to the unbridled hatred they faced from their so-called neighbors. He imagines them in a far happier place, speeding around on their motorcycle, blasting heavy metal from the portable stereo strapped to Y/N’s hip, riding down a long, winding road to that great big D&D campaign in the sky. If Jim hadn’t become rather disillusioned with religion, he could almost believe it. 

After Hopper has dismissed everyone, he stops by the corner store to pick up a six-pack to indulge in once he arrives home. He spends the short drive struggling to hold the anger and tears in, he’s already spent hours keeping up the stoic act that’s required of him. Add on top of  that the immense frustration that came from his lower officers besmirching the badge with their careless conduct tonight, and he’s about ready to punch a damn hole in the wall. The moment he makes it through the door to his place, tosses his hat and jacket to a chair in the corner, and sinks down onto his sofa, he can’t hold it back any longer. A choked sob escapes his trembling lips, a harsh breath sucked in right after it. His shaking hands fumble with one of the beers, struggling to push the tab open. When his finger slips a couple times too many, he drops the can onto the floor in defeat, his head falling forward into his hands. He cries softly, still hanging onto the idea that his manhood might be in jeopardy if he lets out the wails he’s got chained up inside. He just sits, eyes scrunched closed tight as tears spill from them, his chest heaving in thick, noiseless bellows as he mourns. 

In an odd way, he had become a bit of a father figure to the Munsons over the years. Neither of them had much in the way of loving homes, except for Eddie’s uncle Wayne. But the poor man worked a lot, leaving Eddie to fend for himself most of the time, though it wasn’t really his fault. Wayne provided everything he could for the boy, until cancer took him unexpectedly in ‘88. Shit, that day was sunshine and lollipops compared to this one. The preceding funeral was small, only attended by Eddie and Y/N, himself, and a few of Wayne’s coworkers from the plant. Eddie kept things short and sweet, just the way his uncle liked it. Afterwards, the three of them went to the Hideaway for a couple drinks. Hopper ignored Y/N’s use of a fake ID, given the circumstances, as well as being off-duty. There wasn’t a dry eye between them, though warm smiles graced their lips regardless as they recalled happy stories of Wayne through the years.

Hopper slowly wipes his hands down along his face once he gets ahold of himself. He picks up the dropped beer, surely it can’t blow up on him after sitting for so long. He cracks it open despite his tear-blurred vision, and chugs it down like bitter medicine to drown his sorrows. It warms his belly instantly, foaming up into a loud belch once he’s swallowed. He sighs, feeling just a little bit better. He supposes the rest of the pack should finish the job, at least for tonight. He sits back on the sofa, clicking the remote to the TV and hopes something is on this late. He grabs a second beer from the bundle. The hiss of the seal breaking seems to hush his thoughts, like a kind woman comforting his uneasy mind. The first sip is like a tender kiss, dizzying his head and warming his body up from the inside out. “Shit, I really need to get laid.” Hopper thinks aloud to himself, not exactly intending to put much effort into such a task. Oh well, nothing another sip couldn’t fix.

A few months earlier…

“We’ve got another one.” You say as you pick up what must be the fiftieth dead animal that’s been left outside the door to your apartment. It’s a pigeon this time. But you’ve found mice, squirrels, rats, frogs, a couple cats, and even a raccoon laid out for you in this very spot before. It’s been happening for months, both before the accusations leveled against you and Eddie, and even more so after.

“Shit, again?” Eddie sighs, scrunching his nose as you hold the pigeon by its feet. Its neck has been snapped, a dribble of blood coming from its beak. “That’s the third one this week.” He leaves you alone with it for a moment, retrieving a plastic bag from the kitchen. “And we’re the ones accused of hurting little critters like this one.” Eddie scoffs in frustration on his journey back to you. “Maybe we should call Hop again.” He offers as he holds the bag open for you to put the poor animal inside it.

“There’s no point, Eds. Even if they catch whoever is doing this, someone else will surely take their place.” You reply in resignation, letting the bird plop into the bag with a dull rustle. Eddie ties it off, the two of you going back to the kitchen. He tosses the pigeon in the trash, and you both wash your hands. You would bury the animals, out of respect, but living in an apartment doesn’t exactly allow for burial sites. Not to mention said animal cemetery would fill up pretty fucking quickly with how many new additions show up on your welcome mat.

“It would be better than doing nothing.” Eddie huffs, drying his hands with a towel.

“Let’s face it, love. This town hates us. Always has. Always will. If we get Hop involved, all it will do is show them that they’re getting to us. Then they win.” You reason, though it would be  untruthful to say the ongoing torture you’ve both endured isn’t getting to you. But the narrow-minded people of this town don’t need to know that. If anything, the intense urge to carry on out of spite drives you to keep the discomfort to yourself. Outside the walls of your own home, that is. 

Neither you or Eddie are strangers to torment. Even back in your school days, all kinds of nasty names would be thrown your way in the halls of Hawkins High. You’d found refuge in each other pretty quickly back then. You were a budding little freshman, and Eddie was a junior barely skating by in all his classes. From the moment your eyes met, you were both total goners. Eddie’s wild curls and boisterous attitude sent you careening head over heels, and your dark style dragged him down the same road right alongside you. Your shared love for metal music and all things nerdy deepened your connection, further weaving you together as a gleaming example of true love, soulmates. You got each other, when no one else did. 

Your bond has only grown stronger over the years, sturdy roots set in your hearts. You helped Eddie study when ‘86 was his last chance to graduate, which was quite a task in itself. Despite your rebellious style and interests, you’re quite the bookworm. You were patient with him, keeping him on track with sweet kisses and touches as ‘rewards’ for doing so well, among other things. In turn, he spoiled you to no end, taking you on sweet dates and presenting you with whatever new book you’d been eyeing lately. And you always had each other’s backs when bullies came your way. Silver tongues have served your mouths well, and a defensive punch on one another’s behalf didn’t hurt, either. 

And, until recently, your shared adult lives have been better than you ever imagined. You moved in together right after graduation, finally free from unfair curfews and sneaking in through bedroom windows. Eddie got himself straightened up, ending his dealing days and getting a job as a mechanic, while still mentoring the Hellfire club on the side. Meanwhile, you have quickly established yourself as the coolest librarian Hawkins has ever seen. The library has never had  such a wide selection of horror and fantasy, everything the kiddos love, despite their parents’ protests. They also happen to love you, for encouraging their curiosity and creativity.

When Eddie popped the question a couple years ago, you were over the moon. It was a beautiful Halloween Wedding, with you in a black gown as you stood at the altar with Eddie in a field littered with colorful leaves. Hopper was kind enough to officiate, and Wayne and all the kids you care so much about were in attendance. Your own parents refused their invite, having long-since rejected you for your ‘un-Christian ways’. So, Wayne did the honor of giving you away, which meant the world to you. The ceremony was short and sweet, and after some simple sandwiches and cake in the park, Eddie whisked you off in his arms to enjoy the perfect honeymoon at home. Nothing but fucking for a solid week straight, all of which was the ultimate mix of affectionate and wild. Neither of you would’ve had it any other way. Every single second of your entire relationship has felt like the easiest thing in the entire world, bringing you nothing but happiness.

What you’ve been subjected to lately, though, is far from easy. As has been said, you’re no stranger to mistreatment. You don’t get through life looking the way you do, liking the things you like, without earning a few dirty looks and unseemly comments. It comes with the territory. But the last few months are nothing you’d ever expected.The stares and verbal jabs are there, alright. But then there’s the graffiti on your front door, poorly drawn pentagrams and misspelled swears. The dead animals, delivered to your door numerous times a week. Broken mirrors on your shared motorcycle if it’s parked on the street a little too long. Books stolen from the library that you later find burned by the dumpsters out back. Calls for books to be outright banned and removed from the library due to ‘satanic or inappropriate material’, all of which have thankfully been dismissed by the Mayor and any other officials involved. Freedom of speech wins out, for once. Although it doesn’t mean much, when everything has only escalated since the Pete Howell incident.

Pete Howell was a freshman member of Eddie’s Hellfire Club, a sweet young kid who has a similar homelife to your own. Unloving parents, who usually don’t pay much attention to him…unless he’s in trouble. They’re far more attentive then, so to speak. That’s how this whole thing started. Pete came to school last month with far more bruises than usual, ones he couldn’t write off as clumsy mishaps. When questioned by teachers, and Eddie, he vehemently denied anyone did anything to him. He said he ‘fell going down the stairs’ and would be fine. Knowing that was clearly bullshit, Eddie did the right thing and asked Hopper to look into it. 

Someone must’ve tipped off Mr. and Mrs. Howell that he was coming, because by the time he knocked on their door, they had the whole story cooked up for him. They claimed that Eddie had brought him to your apartment after a D&D session, and the two of you made him engage in all sorts of vile acts. Ritual sacrifice, spellcasting, and various sexual activities as a means to summon the devil. Hopper didn’t buy a word of it, he knows you both far too well to think you’d ever be capable of such a thing. 

To be properly thorough, he had a doctor check Pete out, ask him more questions. While there was no evidence of sexual abuse, Pete started singing a far more zealous tune than he was before. He screamed bloody murder about all the evil things you’d done to him, how scared he was, how much you hurt him. It made you sick to your stomach when Hopper came around to warn you that he had no choice in searching your place for evidence. To think that anyone would accuse you or Eddie of doing such disgusting things, it sent your heart sinking like a stone in your chest. In order to clear up this ridiculous matter, you allowed the police to go through all your belongings, and answered every single question they asked. Hopper thankfully kept the reporters at bay, but it didn’t take long for the populace at large to spread the rumors like wildfire. 

The couple of weeks during the investigation were absolute hell. You could barely leave the apartment without a police escort, and whichever officer you were assigned at the time seemed less than enthused to assist you. When you did dare to step outside, cameras were on you immediately, as well as a sea of recognizable faces shouting and screaming at you. Calling you a whore of the devil, a witch, a monster, saying similar things to Eddie as well. These were people you’d known your entire life, and they turned on you with very little resistance. The fanatical preachers, trashy tabloids and exaggerated news stories breaking out across the country certainly didn’t help. 

When you and Eddie were finally cleared of any wrongdoing, things only got worse. There were demands for Hopper’s badge, or his head, as well as yours. What they did get was Eddie’s banishment from school property. ‘To be on the safe side’, as Principal Higgins put it. Pete has stuck to his story since then, you imagine under threat of being beaten even harder next time. You don’t blame him, he’s just a scared, hurt child. His parents have garnered mountains of support from the community, who have come together in an effort to drive you and Eddie out of town, by any means necessary. Threatening phone calls at all hours and vulgar letters slipped under your door have joined the mix now, to a point where you’ve left the phone unplugged, and taped the bottom of your front door to prevent the letters from fitting under it. You often have nightmares of people breaking into the apartment, and hurting you or Eddie. It’s become difficult to get much sleep, without Eddie having to hold you close and coo sweet nothings as you cry. It makes you feel like you’re going insane at times, your mind left searching as to how people who once seemed rational could act in such a way. Satan is on everyone’s mind these days, and their devil detectors are now permanently poised directly at you. 

“I’m just so tired of being scared all the time. I worry about you every time you walk out that door, or when I do. I'm afraid that one day, one of us might not make it back at night.” You find yourself breaking down again, tears welling and lips trembling. You turn away, frustrated with losing what little control you have left. You ball your fists at your sides as you choke on anguished sobs. Eddie’s arms wrap around your middle as your eyes squeeze shut, his chest meeting your back with a welcome warmth.

“I’m scared too, sweetheart. Every time I drop you off at work, I spend every second hoping I don’t get a call or visit from Hop at the shop.” Eddie says softly, holding back his own tears. His hands find yours, loosening the knotted knuckles. He slowly makes you face him, his heart breaking at the redness of your face, the hopeless expression it carries. It kills him that he can’t do more for you, to protect you. He’s suggested buying a gun a couple of times, but you always refuse. He’s not exactly a fan either, but what else can he do? He intertwines his fingers with your own, keeping you close. “All we can hope for is that this will all blow over soon. Then we won’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I know, love. I just wonder how long they’ll keep it up.” You reply, sounding utterly defeated.

“They’re bound to get tired of it eventually. Until then, we’ve got each other. We’ll be okay, angel.” Eddie assures you, pulling you further into his arms.

You sigh, welcoming his embrace. “I really hope you’re right, babe. Not sure how much more of this I can take.” You press your cheek into his chest, unable to quell the ever-growing uneasiness brewing inside you.

October 31, 1991

“We’ve got them all set up for you, Chief. Whenever you’re ready.” Powell says as Hopper steps out of his office, having sent the cavalry to pick up a certain group of young men who sit at the top of his suspect list.

“Perfect. I’ll start with Hargrove.” Hopper smiles, chugging the rest of his black coffee, handing the mug off to Callahan. I’m gonna enjoy this, he thinks to himself as Powell leads him to the interrogation room. Their footsteps land on the linoleum with purpose, closing the distance between him and where the suspected ringleader in all this is being held. Jim sincerely hopes Billy gives him a good reason to manhandle him a little bit, some well-earned payback for what he’s done. His fist balls up of its own volition at the thought, his fingernails nearly drawing blood as they press into his palm. He closes his eyes and takes a very deep breath once he and Powell reach the door, letting it out nice and slow like his officially-mandated therapist showed him. 

“You good, Chief?” Powell asks, his hand trained on the doorknob as he awaits Hopper’s go-ahead.

“Never better.” Jim opens his eyes again, nodding to the officer. “Let’s do it.” With that, Powell opens the door, stepping inside with Hopper right behind him. “Know why you’re here, kid?” He asks Billy, not wasting any time. The young man is sitting in a stiff chair on one side of the table in the room, legs spread wide in tight blue jeans. A matching jacket rests over the back of the chair, leaving him in a ratty old t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscles and tattoos.

“Not a clue.” Billy bites, crossing his thick arms. “Mind filling me in?” He asks with a smirk, adjusting in his seat. There’s not a lick of fear struck within him, only annoyance. As if being questioned about a serious crime is only a minor inconvenience to his day. Hopper has brought him in here many times before, but usually for far more petty things. He’d like to think any normal person would be at least a little bit nervous in this scenario. The completely unbothered demeanor Hargrove holds sends a chill scurrying up his spine.

“No problem.” Hopper grins back, already forgetting all the anger management techniques Linda has shown him. He drops a manila folder onto the table, opening it to face Billy. “As you know, Eddie and Y/N Munson were murdered last night in their apartment. Pretty gruesomely, if I might add.” Jim spreads the crime scene photos out across the table, letting the kid have a good long look, searching for a reaction. But Billy’s eyes barely flick down for a glance, deepening the unsettling feeling in Hopper’s stomach. 

“What’s that gotta do with me?” Billy asks, shrugging his shoulders. His lip is fixed stiff, eyebrows drawn downward to evoke confusion. But Hopper isn’t buying it.

“Why don’t you tell me? Where were you last night?” Jim asks.

“I was out with friends.” Billy answers coldly.

“Which friends?” Hopper continues, hoping to make the kid slip up in his quick succession of questions. The method usually works out pretty well for him.

“Tommy, Steve, and Jason.” Billy answers just as quickly, his eyes barely blinking as he keeps up just fine. 

“And what were the four of you doing?” Hopper questions.

“Drinking beers, hanging out.” The young man responds.

“And what time was this?” 

“I dunno, man. All night, probably?” There it is, a flash of uncertainty. Hopper can use that.

“Probably? I’m gonna need you to be more specific.” Jim smiles, hoping whatever lies Billy’s got lined up will start to crumble.

“Do I look like I wear a watch? I don’t know how long it went on for. But we stayed at Steve’s all night, our girls were there, too. You can ask them.” Billy snaps, losing that cool, calculating exterior.

“Oh, you bet I will.” Hopper chuckles, feeling a little too much satisfaction at making the kid crack just a bit. It’s the small victories that matter in life, after all. If he keeps at it, with the other boys, too, he’s almost certain he can nail them for this. “You wanna know what I think?” Jim asks, hoping to goad a few more mistakes out of Billy before taking a run at the other three.

“What?” Billy scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Hopper stands up, leaning as far over the table as he can reach. His face sits centimeters away from Billy’s, and the proximity seems to shake the kid up just the tiniest bit more. “I think you and your psychopathic little friends were real upset when I found no evidence of the Munsons doing what everyone claims they did. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands. They certainly suffered enough harassment and threats. Someone was bound to get fed up pussy-footin’ around and do what everybody in this town has wanted to. I think you rounded up your boys, and finished the job. I think you broke into the Munson’s home, you tortured them, and then you killed them. That’s what I think.” Jim resists the urge to spit in the young man’s face, backing off and sitting down in his chair.

Billy sits with the accusation for a moment, before bursting out laughing. It’s certainly not the reaction Hopper was expecting. “That’s quite a theory you got there, Chief!” He hollers, pounding his fist on the table as if he’s just been told the funniest joke in the entire world. “You’ve got a real sick sense of humor, I like it.” He chuckles as he calms himself down. Deep red amusement colors his cheeks and throat. “Too bad you can never prove it.” He sighs loudly, pretending to be disappointed. “Like I said, I was with my boys, and my lady, havin’ some drinks. I’d tell ya more, but I doubt you wanna hear the details of my sex life.” He laughs callously, before continuing. “Now, even if I did kill those freaks, I doubt anyone will miss them.” His smile grows a little, revealing the joy in his words. “We all know what they were, what they were capable of.” He speaks slowly, baiting Hopper into losing his cool. 

“And what would that be?” Jim asks, daring the little fucker to say another word about them.

“They were a couple of evil devil worshippers, posing a threat to this community! A community you’re meant to be protecting, Hopper!” Billy shouts as he stands, his chair sliding back. “You know what that witch bitch and her faggot husband did to Pete Howell! And you did nothing about it!”

“I did my job.” Hopper bellows back, getting to his feet. “I searched their apartment, I made them feel like criminals to put this ignorant town at ease! I had Pete checked out! I did everything I was supposed to, you insolent fuck! I couldn’t find a damn thing to back up this bullshit you and everybody else continue to spew all over the place!” His voice raises more and more with every sentence. 

“Chief.” Powell says quietly, hoping to get his boss’s attention. But Hopper pays him no mind. In fact, he goes around the table to get at Billy, quickly leading him backwards by the collar to slam into the wall.

“They were good people! They never hurt anyone! Even in the face of all this hatred you hurled at them, they still managed to be kind! Which is more than I can say for you, or anyone else in this godforsaken town!” Jim shouts in the young man’s face, earning no reaction besides that same stupidly smug smirk. He breathes heavily, still gripping Billy’s shirt in his hands.

“I’d like my lawyer now.” Billy says coolly, having lured Hopper right into his trap. He’s aware of the close relationship the Chief had with the Munsons, so it was easy enough to exploit. No way a judge will convict him now, not after the investigating officers have gotten physical with him. Add on his rock-solid alibi, and he probably won’t even see any charges. 

“Fuck.” Hopper sighs, his head falling to look at the floor once he realizes what he’s done. He can kiss justice for Eddie and Y/N goodbye. His hands slowly release Billy’s shirt, and he turns away to have a fucking breather before he goes for his next opponent. 

The other young men provide the same story to Hopper, asking for lawyers shortly after their almost identical retellings. Things were already not looking good after his outburst earlier, and it’s only getting worse as the night wears on. As predicted, the ‘girls’ in question for the alibi 一Nancy Wheeler, Carol Perkins, Vicki Carmichael, and Tina Johnson一 all corroborate Billy’s tale. The lawyers and parents give him an earful or two, and he’s left with four empty interrogation rooms and no arrests by the end of his shift. He goes home feeling even worse than he did yesterday, picking up two six-packs on the way home this time. Time will tell if he’s ever able to recover from this, but as one of Y/N’s gag oracles would say: ‘outlook not so good’.

October 30th, 1992

Inky clouds flood the night sky as the hour grows late, small blooms of light from the full moon willfully piercing the thick blanket in defiance. Max sits cross-legged before Y/N’s grave in Roane County Cemetery, scrubbing red spray-painted graffiti from it with a soapy sponge. She dips the sponge in a bucket beside her to refresh it, ignoring the knot tied up inside her at what the defacement says. ‘Burn in Hell Bitch’. An accompanying message still sits untainted on Eddie’s, ‘Burn in Hell Fag’.

“They could’ve at least bothered to put the commas in.” A low voice speaks from behind Max, startling her. She turns around, finding Hopper standing a couple feet away. He wears a sad smile beneath his wide-brimmed hat, coming closer to her. “Want some help?” He asks, groaning slightly as he joins her on the moist grass.

“Yeah.” Max replies, nodding. “Thanks.” She reaches into the bucket, handing him the sopping piece of foam. “I swear, every time I clean this shit off, someone comes along and puts something else in its place. I’m sick of it.” She expresses her frustration, feeling free to do so in Hopper’s presence.

“You and me both, kid. But I’m sure the Munsons appreciate you lookin’ after them.” Jim says, rubbing away at the ‘F’ on Eddie’s headstone. 

“I can’t believe it’s already been a year.” Max says sadly, low roars of thunder rumbling through the clouds above.

“Me either.” Hopper sighs, scraping a little harder now. It’s the least he can do, given how miserably he failed at catching the killers. He’s barely been by to visit since the funeral, too twisted up with guilt to bear looking at these very stones. The epitaphs are simple, yet capture exactly who the Munsons were. ‘Loving Wife (or Husband), Caring Friend, and Free Spirit’. 

Hopper remembers being tasked with handling their final arrangements, no living kin of theirs was interested in doing so. He allowed Max to help a little, choosing flowers and program designs. Small stuff, so Hopper himself could handle the hard part. Like selecting coffins, and deciding what these very graves would say to whoever may visit them. Max picked black dahlias, Y/N’s favorite. Jim also let her inside the apartment once the mess was cleaned up to find clothes for them to be buried in. He initially worried if it would’ve been too morbid for such a young girl, but she knew them well enough to select exactly what they would’ve wanted. A sleek black leather dress for Y/N, and a nice black shirt and clean matching jeans for Eddie. Hopper even made sure their wedding bands were released from evidence, and any other significant pieces Max could think of. He didn’t want to leave them incomplete before they were laid to rest. No one at the station seemed to mind, having already washed their hands of the case before the ground could break to bury the Munsons.

The funeral itself was a small affair. Only Hopper, Max, a non-denominational minister, and the few kids in town who weren’t banned from going were in attendance. The proceedings were peaceful, though, thankfully free from any protesters. Everything was kept short and sweet, the way the Munsons would have wanted it. Jim doubts they would’ve cared for a drawn-out sobfest, quite the opposite. They would’ve wanted whoever cared to show up to remember them as they were. Two sweet, loving, hilarious, eccentric, beautiful people who made the world so much brighter just by existing in it. So, that’s what he did. When the bodies were lowered into the ground, Hopper walked the kids to the ice cream shop, and everyone took turns telling their favorite memories of their lost friends. There were lots of laughs and tears, leaving the day feeling unbearably bittersweet. Just the way Y/N and Eddie wanted it to be.

“Is it weird that I talk to them sometimes?” Max asks, breaking the silence. She doesn’t look at Jim, worried he may judge her.

“Not at all. I used to talk to my Sarah sometimes.” Hopper says, dipping his sponge in the bucket. “She was my little girl…” He trails off, wondering how much he should tell her. “She got sick, and we did everything we could for her. But it wasn’t enough.” He adds, letting out a low sigh.

“I’m sorry.” Max says, looking at him now. 

“Don’t be, it was a long time ago.” He shakes his head, forcing a smile as he returns to scrubbing. 

The two of them keep going until all the offending red is washed away, leaving Y/N and Eddie looking spotless once again. They speak casually, passing the time in one another’s company, ignoring the flashes of lightning that periodically screech across the sky. Max dumps the bucket out once the work is done, wringing the sponges out thoroughly. “Mind giving me a ride home? Looks like it’s gonna rain.” She asks, peering up uneasily at the stormclouds. 

“Sure, kid. I’ll even get you some grub on the way.” Hopper agrees, taking hold of the bucket to carry it for her.

“BK?” She asks hopefully, pouting her lower lip out.

“You got it.” Hopper chuckles, finding a smidge of Sarah in Max’s feigned puppy eyes. “C’mon, we’d better beat this rain.” He takes her hand in his free one, and they walk together out of the cemetery just as the first drops start to fall.

The clouds grow thicker, claps of thunder and strikes of lightning clashing in the sky like a raging battle of the gods is taking place. A lone crow flies overhead the newly cleaned headstones, its caw barely audible over the storm. It lands on Y/N’s grave as the rain begins to pour in curtains, ruffling its shiny feathers, pecking at the newly-washed stone with its obsidian beak. It lets out another caw, tilting its head side to side in curiosity as it peers at the ground. A booming rumble breaks through the air, followed by a bright white streak of lightning piercing the earth where the woman lies resting. The crow caws again, and the ground begins to groan and wheeze as it shifts. Bulging rolls form beneath the green grass, rippling in thick waves. 

The bird makes its call one final time, a crack suddenly splitting the earth open in a tangled mess of dirt and roots. A puddle quickly pools in the hole, mud sliding down inwards. And a twitching hand springs up out of the grave, clawing for purchase on the slick edge of the rift with black painted fingernails.

To Be Continued…

[dany-is-my-queen]

A QUESTION OF LOYALTY XX

Rhaneyra Targaryen x reader, Alicent Hightower x reader

Word count: 3.9k

Summary: When dragons of green and dragons of black dance, you have to choose the color that suits you best.

The golden hues of the setting sun bathed the Kingswood in warmth, casting long shadows across the ground as the lake reflected the fiery colors of the sky. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and wildflowers, and the soft chirping of crickets began to fill the evening. The fire you had built crackled softly, its glow adding a gentle amber light to the serene surroundings.

You and Alicent sat side by side on the grass, your shoulders brushing as you both gazed at the breathtaking view before you. It was a rare moment of peace, a stolen reprieve from the turmoil of the capital.

She was quiet, lost in her thoughts, but her hand found yours, her fingers slipping into place with a natural ease that made your heart flutter. She squeezed lightly, as if grounding herself in your presence, and you turned to her, the beauty of the sunset paling in comparison to the way the fading light illuminated her auburn hair and soft features.

“The sky is beautiful,” she said suddenly. Her gaze remained on the horizon for a moment before she turned to you. A faint blush bloomed on her cheeks as she added, “You are just like the sky.”

She reached up and cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin with a tenderness that felt like it could mend all the broken pieces inside you.

“Ali…” you murmured, your voice heavy with emotion as you leaned into her touch.

She smiled softly. Her lips parted, but no further words came; instead, she leaned closer, her forehead brushing against yours, her breath warm against your skin.

You closed the gap, your lips meeting hers in a kiss that was gentle, sweet, slow. Her fingers trailed down to your jaw, pulling you closer as your hands found her waist, holding her as if she might vanish.

When the coolness of the evening deepened and the stars began to dot the sky, you guided her to the privacy of the tent. The soft fabric enclosed you, creating a cocoon of intimacy where the only sound was your whispered names and the quiet rustling of movements.

Her hands traced your features as if memorizing them, her lips trailing across your skin with a reverence that made your heart ache.

As the night fully claimed the world outside, you lay together, her head resting against your chest, your fingers running through her hair. The fire outside had dimmed, but the warmth between you both lingered, steady and enduring.

———-

The screams of the mob outside echoed through the Keep as if the walls themselves were mourning the chaos within. You moved swiftly through the shadowed corridors, searching desperately for Helaena. When you heard the hurried footsteps of a servant crying, “She’s gone to the window!” your blood ran cold.

Bursting into her chambers, you found Helaena standing on the ledge, her pale hands gripping the window frame. The wind caught her silken hair, and her gown billowed around her like ghostly wings.

“Helaena!” you called.

She didn’t turn, her gaze fixed on the horizon as though it held some promise of peace. “Do you hear them?” she whispered. “The whispers… they won’t stop. They want me to pay for what I’ve done.”

Your chest tightened, and you took another cautious step forward. “Helaena, look at me. It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault.”

Her head tilted slightly, her voice a fragile melody of sorrow. “The dragons are dying. The realm is falling. My children… my little ones… they’re gone. What else is left?”

Your throat burned, and tears stung your eyes. “You are left, Helaena. You carry their memory, their love. And you have people who love you still. Your mom. Daeron. Me. We are not ready to lose you.”

Her grip on the window frame faltered, but her feet remained steady on the ledge. “I see them, Y/N. In my dreams, I see them reaching for me.”

You swallowed hard, stepping closer until you could almost touch her. “And they would want you to stay. To live. For their memory. Your family needs you. I need you.”

Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, and for a moment, she wavered. Seizing the chance, you reached out, your hand gently gripping her arm.

“Come back to us,” you pleaded, your voice breaking. “Come back to me, my darling girl.”

Finally, she turned, her tear-streaked face full of anguish and hesitation. With a trembling nod, she let you pull her away from the ledge and into your arms. She collapsed against you, her sobs shaking her fragile frame.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

“I know,” you murmured, holding her tightly.

—————

Seated at a dimly lit desk, you dipped your quill into the inkwell, the parchment before you a blank slate for the words that might determine the fate of a family—and perhaps the realm itself.

To Prince Daeron Targaryen,

My dear prince,

It has been too long since I last looked upon your face, but not a day passes when I do not think of you with pride. You have become the man I always knew you could be—strong, virtuous, and wise beyond your years. The realm speaks of your valor and your kindness, and though these are dark times, it warms my heart to know that some part of the Targaryen legacy remains untainted.

I write to you now with both urgency and hope. Your mother, Queen Alicent, and your sister, Queen Helaena, travel under my protection to Tumbleton. By the time this letter reaches you, they should be safe within your care. They have endured unimaginable grief and hardship, and they need the solace only you can provide. I trust you will embrace them with the love and strength that define you.

Daeron, the war has taken much from us all, but it need not take more. There are whispers of those who would name you King or Prince of Dragonstone, urging you to claim a throne that has brought nothing but sorrow. But hear me: Rhaenyra Targaryen does not wish for your demise. She does not wish for bloodshed where it can be avoided. She would welcome you and all who surrender with open arms, not as conquerors, but as kin.

You are wise enough to see that the throne, though gilded, is a curse. The Iron Throne has claimed the lives of too many in our family. But you, Daeron—you have the power to rise above this madness. I believe in you, as I always have. I believe you will do what is right, not for power, but for peace.

I look forward to the day we meet again, my prince. When I can embrace you as I once did, proud of the man you have become. Until then, take care of your mother and sister. They need you now more than ever. And know this: no matter where this war takes us, I will always love you dearly.

With all my heart, Y/N Velaryon

Sealing the letter with the wax of House Velaryon, you carefully attached it to the leg of the waiting raven. The black bird shifted on its perch, its keen eyes fixed on you as if it sensed the gravity of the message it carried.

“Fly swift and sure,” you whispered, stroking the raven’s sleek feathers.

With a small gesture, the raven took flight, its dark silhouette cutting across the fading light of the evening sky. You watched it until it disappeared into the horizon, a silent prayer on your lips that the letter would find its way safely to Daeron’s hands.

————

Your heart pounding against your ribcage, dread coiling in your stomach. Each step echoed like a warning, urging you to act before it was too late.

When you reached Alicent’s chambers, you didn’t wait to be announced. She looked up at you, her brown eyes filled with exhaustion and something deeper—resignation. Helaena sat quietly by the window, her gaze distant, her fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air.

“You Grace,” you said urgently, stepping inside and closing the door behind you. “We need to leave. Tonight.”

She frowned, her brow furrowing as she rose to her feet. “Leave? What are you talking about?”

“The city is a powder keg, and the spark is about to be lit,” you explained. “It’s too dangerous for you to stay here any longer. I’ll get you to Tumbleton, where you’ll be safe with your family. Prince Daeron is there—you’ll be reunited with him. Safer than here, that’s for certain.”

Her hands tightened into fists at her sides. “What about Helaena? I’m not leaving her behind.”

“You won’t,” you assured her quickly. “We’ll take her with us.”

“And your father?” Alicent’s voice cracked slightly. “What about him? He’s still in the dungeons.”

You hesitated. “I won’t let him rot there,” you said finally. “I’ll ensure his safety too. But you—both of you—must leave tonight.”

Alicent shook her head, her expression anguished. “Y/N, they’ll seize you. If you defy Rhaenyra one more time—“”

“I need to ensure all of your safety. That’s all that matters.”

She stepped closer to you, her voice trembling. “I won’t leave you here all by yourself, defenseless… What if something happens to you?”

“It won’t,” you said firmly, though you weren’t certain. “Silverwing is strong and large enough to carry both of you. She knows you, Alicent. I trust her to keep you safe.”

“What if she rejects us?”

“She won’t,” you promised. “Dreamfyre is in the Dragonpit, and if we go there, we’ll draw unwanted attention. Silverwing is here, in the Keep. Please, my Queen, this is our only shot.”

You knelt before her Healena, taking her delicate hands in yours. “Protect each other,” you said gently. “Do that for me, sweet girl.”

Healena blinked, her expression softening as she leaned forward to embrace you. “I will protect my lady mother,” she murmured. Then, with a rare clarity, she added, “You’ll come back to us, won’t you, mom?”

You held her tightly, your throat constricting. “I’ll find you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I promise.”

Alicent’s resolve seemed to crack as she approached, pulling you into an embrace that was both desperate and tender.

“You better come find us.”

The cold night air bit at your skin as you led both of them through the shadowy corridors.

Silverwing awaited in the courtyard, her silver scales gleaming faintly in the moonlight. The great dragon stood still, her head lowered as though sensing the gravity of the moment. Her sharp eyes flicked to you as you approached, and she let out a low, rumbling croon of recognition.

“Stay close to me,” you whispered.

Helaena hesitated, staring at the dragon with wide, uncertain eyes. Alicent placed a comforting hand on her daughter’s shoulder, murmuring softly before turning to you. “Are you sure she’ll take us?”

“She will,” you said firmly, stepping closer to Silverwing and placing a hand on her warm flank. The dragon turned her massive head toward you, her breath washing over you in a warm gust. “We’ve spoken. She knows what she must do. Don’t be afraid—she’s gentle.”

Her eyes glistening as she searched your face. “And what about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured her once more, though your voice wavered slightly. “My place is here, for now. But I’ll find you as soon as I can. I swear it.”

Helaena stepped forward suddenly, her hand reaching out to touch Silverwing’s scales. The dragon didn’t flinch, instead lowering her head slightly as if inviting her to come closer. The girl’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, a rare moment of lucidity flickering across her face.

“She’s warm,” Helaena murmured, soft with wonder.

“And she’ll protect you, just as I would.”

With some effort, you helped Alicent and Helaena climb onto Silverwing’s back. The dragon shifted slightly but remained steady, her great wings folded at her sides. You adjusted the straps, your hands trembling slightly as you worked.

Once they were secured, you stepped back, your gaze locking with Alicent’s. She leaned forward, her expression stricken. “You better keep your promise,” she said.

“I will,” you vowed, your throat tightening. “Now go. Sōvēs, Silverwing!” You commanded.

Silverwing let out a low rumble. With a powerful beat of her wings, she lifted into the air, her massive form rising above the castle. You stood rooted to the spot, watching as they ascended higher and higher, the sound of her wings like distant thunder.

You didn’t move until they were out of sight.

———

The room was stifling. The Small Council was gathered, the few lords and knights that remained seated around the great table, their faces a mix of discomfort and curiosity. Rhaenyra, at the head of the table, had summoned you urgently, and now she stood, her hands gripping the back of her chair, her knuckles white with fury.

“How dare you act without my permission again, Y/N!” she bellowed, her voice reverberating through the chamber. All eyes turned to you, their gazes expectant and uneasy. “You sent Queen Alicent and Queen Helaena away. And worse, you sent Silverwing with them! A dragon—a vital asset to our cause—gone from the capital at a time when we need every advantage!”

You rose from your seat. “Your Grace, I acted as I believed necessary,” you said evenly, meeting her. “They were in peril, and I could not, in good conscience, stand by and do nothing while the city turned against them.”

“Their peril was not your concern!” Rhaenyra snapped, slamming her hand on the table. The lords flinched at the sound, but you stood your ground. “Do you not understand what you’ve done? Their presence here was a symbol of their surrender, of my rule over the Hightowers. And now you’ve allowed them to flee—to slip through my grasp like sand!”

You took a step forward. “It is my concern. Their presence was also a liability, Your Grace. Would you have waited for the small folk to tear them apart in the streets? Because they would. They’ve grown with hatred in their hearts."

“You’ve undermined me.” she shot back.

“With all due respect, Your Grace,” you said, your voice rising slightly, “There is no strength in allowing innocents to die when you have the power to save them. Silverwing was the safest and quickest way to get them out. She knows them. She trusted my command. And I trusted her to carry them to safety.”

The room was silent, save for the occasional murmur between the lords. Ser Harrold Darke shifted uncomfortably in his seat, while Lord Manderly cleared his throat but said nothing.

“And what of Silverwing now?” Rhaenyra demanded “She is lost to us. We are down another dragon, and for what?”

You stepped closer to the table, your hands resting firmly on the wood as you leaned in. “The city turned against them, as it turned against you, Your Grace. Punish me if you must, but I will not regret what I did.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes bore into yours, her breathing heavy, her expression a mix of fury and something else—something softer, though she tried to hide it.

Lord Gyles Yronwood spoke up cautiously, his voice breaking the tense silence. “Your Grace, perhaps Lady Y/N’s actions, while unconventional, were not entirely without merit. And their absence may prevent further escalation.”

“Or embolden our enemies,” Ser Willam Royce countered. “The perception of weakness could be just as dangerous.”

Rhaenyra raised her hand, silencing them both. She turned back to you, her tone quieter but no less sharp. “You defied me, my lady. Again. And now I am left to deal with the consequences of your choice. How can I trust you when you continue to act without my leave? I did not name you my Hand out of whim. It was because I believed you could strengthen me, not the other way around."

“I am doing the best I can, you know it is true. I made this choice because I believed it would save lives. Your stepsister almost took her own life days ago. I know you are better than that. You can be angry with me, Your Grace, but know that I acted out of care, not rebellion.”

Her gaze faltered for a brief moment, the fire in her eyes dimming. But she quickly masked it, her expression hardening again. “You overstepped, Y/N. This cannot happen again. Do you understand me?”

You nodded solemnly. “I understand, Your Grace.”

She exhaled deeply, the tension in the room lessening but not disappearing entirely. “You may go,” she said, waving a hand dismissively.

You bowed deeply, your heart heavy but resolute. As you turned and left the chamber, the whispers of the council followed you, but you paid them no mind. You had made your choice, and though it had cost you Rhaenyra’s trust—at least for now—you knew in your heart it was the right one.

----------

The halls of Maegor’s Holdfast were eerily quiet as you made your way to the Queen’s solar. The weight of your intentions bore heavily on your shoulders, but you knew this conversation was necessary.

“The lady Y/N, Your Grace” Her protector announced. 

“Your Grace,” you called softly, approaching her.

“You seek me out so late,” she said quietly. 

You stopped a few paces from her, your expression serious but calm. “I’ve come to talk sense, Rhaenyra. Not to scold. There’s something you need to hear.”

She nodded for you to continue.

“I’ve written to Daeron,” you began, your voice steady. “Days ago. I believe there’s a chance for a truce.”

Her expression hardened immediately. “You what?”

“I wrote to him,” you repeated. “I see no purpose in pursuing more war, more death. Aemond and Aegon are gone. Helaena—she is your sister, Rhaenyra. Your blood. And Daeron… he is young, untainted by the bitterness that consumed his brothers. I believe he may listen.”

Rhaenyra’s jaw tightened, and she turned away, staring out at the horizon. “You believe he may listen. And if he doesn’t? What if he comes to King’s Landing and stabs me in the back? Would you stake the future of my reign, my life, on the hope that a Hightower can be trusted?

“I would,” you said firmly, stepping closer. “Because I know him. Daeron is not Aegon, nor Aemond. He is not the product of years of spite and vengeance. He’s a boy who loves his family but has not yet been consumed by their hatred. You have more to gain than lose by offering him a chance.”

Her eyes narrowed. “A chance? What if his love for his mother blinds him? For all your conviction, Y/N, how can you be certain he will not act as the Hightowers have always acted—with treachery?”

“He is not a man drunk on power or vengeance. He has always been different—kinder, more reasonable. If you give him the chance, I believe he will choose peace.”

She turned back to you, her eyes blazing. “And what if you’re wrong? What if he betrays us, and everything we’ve fought for crumbles because of your misplaced faith?”

“Then it will be my failure to bear,” you said without hesitation. “But ask yourself this, Rhaenyra—how much more blood can you spill before the realm is too broken to mend? You trust me, don’t you?” your voice soft but resolute. “I’ve stood by you through all of this. I’ve fought for you, bled for you. Trust me when I say this is the best chance we have. The prince may be young, but he understands the cost of war. He’s seen the devastation it brings. He doesn’t want this any more than we do.”

She stared at you for a long moment, the silence stretching between you like a taut string. Finally, she exhaled deeply, her shoulders slumping. “You believe he will come in good faith?”

“I do,” you said firmly. “But it’s up to you to meet him with the same.”

Her eyes searched yours, and after what felt like an eternity, she gave a reluctant nod. “I will consider it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But know this, my lady—if he betrays me, if this goes wrong…”

“One step closer to the peace we both want.”

————-

The sun was low on the horizon when Prince Daeron’s army reached the crossroads where the banners of the North had gathered. The cold winds from the North clashed with the balmy air of the Reach, creating an eerie stillness. The Hightower host, led by their green banners and bolstered by their massive numbers, had been poised to march on King’s Landing.

The Stark encampment stood against the twilight sky, their banners snapping in the cold northern breeze. Lord Cregan Stark and Prince Daeron Targaryen sat opposite one another in a modest pavilion, a brazier crackling between them. The room smelled of iron, fire, and faintly of pine.

Daeron broke the silence, his young voice steady and grave. “The news has been confirmed then? Aemond is dead. So is Aegon.”

Cregan Stark inclined his head, his expression a mask of solemnity. “A raven arrived this morning. Both your brothers fell in battle.“

Daeron leaned back. Despite his composure, his eyes betrayed a flicker of grief. “They were not men to inspire love, but they were my blood.” taking a slow breath before continuing. “And yet, what remains of this burden is greater still. Aegon’s death makes me heir to a throne I do not seek, and my mother…” He trailed off, his gaze distant.

Cregan spoke after a moment, his tone thoughtful. “She is safe, thanks to the efforts of Lady Y/N Velaryon, the Queen’s Hand.”

At the mention of your name, Daeron’s demeanor shifted. His eyes sharpened, and a flicker of warmth broke through his stoic exterior. “Lady Y/N. She has always been… exceptional.”

Cregan agreed. “I never met her. I wish to. It was her wisdom that brought us here, Prince. Her letter spoke of peace, not conquest. She wrote with the clarity of one who understands the weight of war and the price it exacts. If not for her, this conversation might not exist.”

Daeron nodded, his fingers toying with the edge of the cup before him. “I’ve known her since I was a babe. She is more than wise—she’s fierce in her loyalty, unwavering in her principles. Aegon and Aemond both underestimated her, but I never did. If she believes peace is possible, then I believe it as well.”

Cregan regarded the young prince, his own features softening as he considered his next words. “The North respects wisdom as much as it values honor. I have seen much blood spilled in these past months. If peace can truly be reached, I would see it done, for the sake of the realm and for those who will come after us.”

Daeron straightened, a new resolve settling in his gaze. “Then let us take her offer to heart. I will not march on King’s Landing—not to claim a throne I do not want, nor to destroy what little remains of my family. Rhaenyra will have my word, and I will accept hers.”

The room fell into a contemplative silence, broken only by the crackle of the brazier. Finally, Daeron looked at Cregan. “Let us see this through, Lord Stark. For the realm, for our houses, and for Lady Y/N, who has done more than any of us to keep hope alive.”

Cregan raised his cup in silent agreement. “For peace,” he said simply.

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[pitchsidestories]

Welcome to New York II Ali Krieger x Reader

"Everybody here was someone else before And you can want who you want Boys and boys and girls and girls." Welcome To New York, Taylor Swift

masterlist I word count: 2901

The first thing you thought as you spotted Ali Krieger standing on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum was that this could have been a scene from a romantic comedy. A warm smile played on the defender’s lips while she had two cups of coffees in her hands:” Hi.” “Hi. Is this one for me or do you just need a lot of caffeine today”, you asked her teasingly.

Amused she shook her head: “No, the second one is for you. Ocean and Sloane let me sleep long enough today.” “Oh, lucky for me. Thank you so much.”, you answered grateful for her thoughtfulness. Still smiling Ali handed you your coffee: “You’re welcome.” Nervously you put a string of your hair behind your ear: “I hope you didn’t wait too long for me.” As much as you loved this city, the public transport was against you coming punctually to your coffee date with the equally busy soccer player today. Kindly she waved at you:” No, I didn’t. Do you want to keep standing here or walk around?” “Let’s walk around a bit.”, you decided.

Side by side you started walking, clearing her throat Ali admitted with a shy grin: “Alright. To be honest, I’m so glad Jason Sudeikis introduced us to each other at my last league game party.” “Oh, me too. Trust me. It was nice to get a look inside a soccer team.”, you agreed with her. Curiously the older woman looked at you:” As inspiration for your upcoming leading role in the female ted lasso spin off?” “You can never have enough inspiration. And to be honest, I’m a bit of a perfectionist, so I want to portray my role as realistically as possible.”, you declared slightly blushing.

Playfully the defender pouted: “Oh, and I hoped you were really interested in me as a person and not only in the soccer player part of my personality.” “Not at all. I think the soccer player part is impressive but it’s not the most interesting part about you.”, you told her.   “Oh really?” The blush on your cheeks intensified: “Maybe your good looks were also a part of it.” “And the glasses of wine we shared.", she winked at you. This comment made you chuckle:” I can only say that they definitely kept the conversation going.”

“Not only that.”, Ali added grinning hinting at what happened as the night turned over into the early morning, the time in which the never sleeping city was buzzing with life and excitement and the sexual attraction between you could not been denied any longer. “Ali!”

“What? It’s true.”, the football player shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. You scoffed: “You’re terrible.” “Yes, but you don’t mind it.”, she observed. Laughing you confessed: “Actually, I kinda like it.” “I can tell.”, Ali nodded satisfied. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be.”, the defender whispered.  Elegantly you changed the topic: “It’s really beautiful today. The weather is perfect.”

Ali let her gaze wander over the autumnal scenery of the Central Park. The yellowing leaves were contrasting against the blue sky. “Agreed. New York in fall is stunning.“, she smiled. “It is.“, you agreed, taking in the crisp air. “Have you always lived in New York?“, Ali asked, genuine curiosity on her face. You shook your had and admitted; “Actually, no.“ The football players eyebrows knotted together; “No?“ With a sigh, your gaze dropped down to the fallen leaves on the ground; “Although I wished…“ “Tell me about it…“, Ali implored.

“Actually, I grew up in a conservative midwestern town.“, you started to explain. The defender grimaced, understanding the implication; “Oh. I’m sorry.“ “So coming to New York as a young adult did feel liberating in every way.“, you continued with a sad smile. Ali sipped on her coffee; “You know, a lot of my team mates who are queer had similar experiences.“ “Similar to some of my acting friends.“, you added. Ali shrugged with a sigh; “I’m always glad to hear when queer people from difficult places found a safe space.“

Nervously turning the cup in your hand, you asked; “You came out quite late to the public too, right?“ “Yes, that’s true. I thought it’s no one’s business but mine.“, she replied, nodding in thought. “What made you change your mind about it?“ “I realized that I can be of better use as a role model.“, she answered nonchalantly. You bit your lip, moved by revelation; “That’s very brave of you.“ Ali gave you a wry smile; “Thank you. But that wasn’t an easy decision for me either.“ “No, I understand that. Being queer wasn’t something that people in the movie industry liked to see a few years ago… sometimes even now.“, you told her. “I’m sorry.“ You shook your head; “It’s fine, really.“ “I guess we all have our struggles.“, the defender thought out lout. “Yes, we do.“

You were grateful when Ali finally offered; “Do you want to change the topic?“ Smiling, you gave her a soft nod to leave that topic behind; “Yes, please. I don’t want to ruin the mood during our little coffee date.“ “You couldn’t. I really enjoy talking to you.“, Ali said, carefully taking your hand into hers. “Same.“ „You do?“ “Yes, even though I told you about my sad little childhood.“, you laughed, your cheeks turning slightly pink as you wondered if you had overshared. But the smile on Alis face made that thought immediately disappear; “I appreciate it. Really. I’m glad you shared it.“

“That means a lot. So, what about you? Are you excited for the play offs?”, you asked her. The eyes of the defender lit up:” Yes, absolutely. I’m happy about every game I get to play.” “This must feel very special.”, you said, her excitement was infecting you too. “It is. If you’d like to get some more inspiration you could come.”, she offered you without hesitation.

Delighted you replied:” To your game? I’d love that.” “I’ll make sure you get some tickets.”, Ali continued happily. “Thank you.” The football player could not stop smiling: “You’re welcome.” For a second you looked worried:” You don’t think Ashlyn would mind, right?” “She won’t. Trust me.”, she reassured you quickly. Relieved you sighed:” Okay. Good.” Don’t worry about it. This is over.”, Ali confirmed. With a remark you tried to lighten up the mood again:” Yes, you made that very clear when you kissed me at the doorstep after your party.” “You asked about her.” “Sorry, I’m an idiot.”, you hid your face in her hands.  Softly the football player disagreed with you: “No, you’re not.” “So that means I can kiss you? This time without alcohol breath?”, hopeful you looked up to her.  

Amused Ali glanced at you:“You can always kiss me. Doesn’t matter if it’s on parties or in the Central Park.” “Although, I’d argue that this here is way more romantic.”, you chuckled.  Expectantly she threw a look at you:” You can argue all you want but I’d rather you just kiss me.” “As you wish.”, you said before your lips met her who were waiting for that to happen since they departed from another.

After the training ended for the Gotham players Kristie let out an excited shriek: ”Oh my god, Ali ! I’m so jealous!” Confused the captain looked at her before the blonde showed her an article on her phone which contained photos of Ali and her new girlfriend kissing romantically in the Central Park. Laughing Kelley intervened:” Jealous about the fact that they had a romantic moment in the autumnal Central Park or that she made it into the news with that?” “Actually.. both.”, Kristie admitted. 

Surprised the dark-haired defender mumbled:” Oh no, they wrote about us.” “What’s wrong? It’s a cute photo.”, Kelley furrowed her eyebrows. Enthusiastically Kristie reminded the older player: “Exactly and you’re allowed to have fun, Ali. You’re in your lemonade era, remember?” “Still, I wasn’t ready to go public with that yet. And I don’t know if she was either.”, Ali bit her lip.  Empathetic Kelley put an arm around her shoulder:” I get that too.” “I need to call her.”, the captain announced.

You were on set, spending your lunch break with the other actors, when you noticed your phone ringing. Seeing Alis name appear on the display made your heart jump unexpectedly. Happily you took the call; “Ali, Hi.“ “Hi.“, she replied. The tone of her voice made you frown; “What’s wrong? You sound a bit upset.“ The football player sighed as if to brace herself; “Have you seen the article yet?“

You grabbed your coat and your bag and hurried away from the other actors, ignoring Jason Sudeikis’ sceptical glance; “Uhm no. What article? We were busy filming the new tv episodes.“ “They photographed as kissing.“, she came straight to the point. You froze in place; “Wait. What?“ “I’m sorry.“ Your thoughts began racing, bringing you back to how exhilarated you felt during your date. Even though Ali couldn’t see you, you still shook your head; “No, I’m sorry. If I hadn’t kissed you there… this article would not exist.“ “I don’t regret the kiss… really.“, the defender replied with determination in her voice. “But you wish to have been private a little longer, right? Which is understandable considering your divorce is still fresh…“, you were thinking out loud.

Ali confirmed your thoughts; “Actually, yes. How do you feel about it?“ You let a few seconds pass before admitting; “It feels very early.“ “I know.“ “But you should know that I’m serious with you.“, you added truthfully. Ali let out a small breath, relieved; “Me too. I want this.“ Your smile was back in place; “Jason gifted me an Ali Krieger Fan club - shirt. Should I wear it to one of your games or would this be too much?“ “Please do it. If they won’t let us have our privacy, we can at least have some fun with them.“ You could basically hear Ali grinning through the phone. “Exactly what I thought too.“ Ali laughed; “I like that. You get me.“

“So, I’ll see you at the stadium? Will Sloane and Ocean be there too?“, you asked. You had the chance to meet Alis kids briefly for a few times and they had already won your heart, so you got even more excited when you heard Ali say; “Yes.“ “Great. Because I already miss them while being away on the set.“ “I’m sure they’re happy to see you again too.“, Ali said, her voice soft. “And I miss you too of course.“, you added quickly. “I do hope that!“, the defender teased. “So much.“, you admitted and with a quick glance on your watch, you ended the call; “Okay, break is over. I’ll call you back tonight.“ “Talk to you later.“

The team of Gotham FC was buzzing with excitement as they stepped on the field in Portland. If the players won, this game they would make it to the final. Grinning Lynn Williams touched the shoulder of her captain: “I spotted your girl, Ali!” “Really?”, Ali wanted to know from the forward, trying to discover your face in the crowd at Providence Park.  Equally thrilled Kristie pointed to the direction where you were standing: “Over there.” “Oh. She’s wearing the shirt.”, the defender observed with a hint of proudness in her voice.

Amused Kelley remarked: “Not subtle at all.” “It’s not supposed to be.”, Ali told her. A bright smile was on Kristie’s lips:“I love it, I’m obsessed.”  “Of course, you like that, Kristie.”, Kelley threw in unsurprised. Clearing her throat Lynn drew all the attention on her:” Yeah, so that’s all cute and sweet but we’ve a game to win girls.” “Yes. We got to focus on that.”, Ali agreed with the forward. Gotham’s number 5 nodded along:” Yes, we’re making sure that Ali has another game to play before her retirement.” 

“What retirement? With those many games, I guess you can’t really call it retirement yet.”, their captain corrected her smiling. Winking Kelley reminded the dark - haired player: “Yes, but it’s one game before the final.” “And I’d love to get to the final, girls.”, with a cheeky grin Ali glanced at each of their teammates to give them that extra motivation tonight.

The game was really close, and they had to went into overtime but thanks to Katie Stengels goal in the 107’ minute against the Portland Thorns, they won this important match and would make it to the Final. After the referee blew the final whistle, Kelley cheered loudly:” She’s not done yet!” “I’m not leaving without a trophy!”, Ali shouted happily. Ecstatic Kristie who played her first minutes after her injury in today’s game screamed: “We won, bitches!” “Who are you calling a bitch?”, Ali threw an eyebrow up at the blonde before the two and Kelley started to dance out their feelings. The words to describe their emotions would be found later, now was the time to just be in the moment and celebrate.

Meanwhile Sloane made her way through the soccer players:” Mummy!” “No more b-words here, Mewis!, Ali warned her fellow teammate before pulling her daughter into a hug, Hi, baby.”

“Okay, but your new girlfriend has a nice ass.“, Kristie commented with a smirk, disregarding Alis warning, while Sloane jumped into her mums arms; “You won!“ “Mewis!“, Ali yelled before turning back to her daughter and agreed with a much softer voice; “Yes, we won. That means mum has to play one more game.“ “That’s okay. Love to see you play. Ocean was such a baby though. He fell asleep in her arms.“, Sloane rolled her big brown eyes and pointed in your direction where her little brother was sleeping in your arms. With a laugh, Ali explained to her daughter: “He is still small.“ “Yes. I’ll forgive him that.“, Sloane nodded. Alis eyes met yours and you both had to suppress a laugh.

Slowly you bridged the few steps between you two; “Hi. Sorry, someone is very sleepy. As is the big one who pretends she’s wide awake.“ You nodded first into Oceans, then into Sloanes direction. Ali put Sloane down who pressed into her leg with a yawn. “Let me take him.“, Ali offered, holding out her hands to take her sleeping son from you. She gratefully smiled at you; “Thank you so much for taking care of them. I appreciate it.“ “You’re welcome.“, you replied, leaning over to kiss your girlfriend passionately but careful to not wake up Ocean.

“Excuse me! Those kisses are not child friendly either!“, Kristies voice interrupted the two of you. Alis face was still close to yours as she rolled her eyes; “It’s a kiss. You do worse things with your girlfriend!“ “Ali is right about that!“, Lynn chimed in. Ali shook her head and you noticed the adoration for her teammates in her eyes, even though she wanted to seem annoyed; “Sorry about them.“ “It’s okay, trust me. My acting friends are even more dramatic.“, you laughed. „Yeah, I can imagine.“, the defender grinned, leaning in for another kiss.

Next to you, Lynns face brightened while she pointed to her teammate; “I bet Kristie would have been great in drama school too!“ “Yeah, but she can’t remember shit.“, Ali interjected. Kristies mouth fell open in outrage; “You guys are so mean.“ “Only because we love you.“, Kelley now joined your group, winking at Kristie. Ignoring the others, Kristie turned to you, her phone in hand; “Can we take a selfie together? My girlfriend Sam is such a fan of you and can’t wait for your upcoming tv show.“ “Sure, but I’m for Ali tonight…“, you answered politely. You posed for the photo together, grinning into Kristies phone camera while she smirked; “Yeah, we noticed that.“

“The shirt spoke for itself, huh?”, you laughed with her. An amused smile was on the blonde’s lip:” I can assure you it did.” “Good.”, you nodded satisfied. Slightly displeased Ali asked her teammate:” Are you done now, Kristie?” “Yes, sounds like someone is missing her girlfriend.”, the younger player winked at you.

The older woman rolled her eyes before turning her attention to you:” Ignore her.” “With a pleasure.”, you told her as you kissed her again. Expectantly Ali looked into your eyes when you two ended the kiss:” I hope you know that you have to come to the final now too.” “That’s alright with me.”, you replied happily. The defender whispered into your ear:“You seem to bring me luck.” “Meaning I need to wear the same shirt too?”, you asked her, throwing an eyebrow up.

Innocently Ali played with a loose hair string of yours:” Actually, this time I’d like to see you in my jersey.” “Your Jersey? Okay.”, you agreed. Softly your girlfriend blushed:“It’s a bit more.. official.” “I see.” “If you want to of course.”, Ali’s face went serious. Quickly you replied: “I do.”  “I’ll bring you one.”, the older woman decided. Proudly you glanced at her:” Thanks, it’ll be an honour to wear it.” “It’s an honour for us that you support us.”, Ali corrected you. Looking at her children you said: “The children look tired.” “Let’s take them to bed now.”

“Good night you three.”, you wished them warmly while you all four were slowly falling asleep in the hotelroom. With a bright grin on her face Ali answered:”Good night.”

[odoroussavourssweet]

Perfumes for Vorkosigan Saga Characters

There are enough offhand references to fragrance in the Vorkosigan books that I strongly suspect Lois McMaster Bujold of being a perfume enthusiast. Also it's fun to imagine what the characters would wear.

Aral and Miles Vorkosigan

Miles is sometimes noted to wear a traditional masculine cologne, and he strikes me as the sort to wear the same thing his father does, as a sort of default grooming routine. You don't get much more traditional and correct than Chanel Monsieur, a mossy, bone-dry cologne/chypre hybrid.

Cordelia Vorkosigan

As the author-insert character, I think Cordelia enjoys perfume and knows exactly what she wants. I picture her in my beloved vintage Rochas Mystere, an earthy, outdoorsy, yet elegant chypre, with lots of brisk cypress and a rusty warm carnation heart to match her auburn hair.

Alys Vorpatril

Alys is a lady of a certain age with excellent taste, and therefore appreciates the formal, embellished perfection of Divine, a classical aldehydic floral weighted towards tuberose.

Ivan Vorpatril

Ivan has no taste of his own; once he got old enough to try dousing himself in body spray as a teen, his mother bought him a bottle of Divine L'Etre Aime Homme, a classically French masculine with a warm, smoky immortelle note, which sets off his darkly athletic good looks.

Elena Bothari-Jesek

Elena, I think, came to perfume later in life, finding a balm in a private feminine pleasure that wasn't part of her rigidly militaristic youth. She'd appreciate something delicate and poignant, like YSL Paris, a rose-violet powder-puff scent.

Bel Thorne

Bel was once mentioned wearing "floral perfume" to emphasize its feminine side. The adventurous Betan mercenary strikes me as a tuberose fan, and I imagine it wearing something like Frederic Malle Carnal Flower -- bold, sleek, streamlined, stylish but not too obscure. (Bel is, at heart, a bit of a normie.)

Elli Quinn

Space-station-born Elli is used to being in confined spaces with strangers, so she never wears perfume -- she even insists on unscented soaps. But she might have picked up a bottle of Etat Libre d'Orange Secretions Magnifiques as a vile practical joke (it smells, very realistically, like vomit.)

Taura

Taura's genetic enhancements gave her an exceptional sense of smell, and her lust for life and enthusiastic experiments in feminine presentation suggest she would absolutely try out perfume, but she's not analytical enough to get super into it. Somebody gives her Narciso Rodriguez For Her, a basic sweet floral musk, and she sticks with that.

Cavilo

The sociopathic mercenary Cavilo is described as wearing a very sharp green floral perfume that gives Miles allergies. I imagine this as Tom Ford Vert Boheme, a clean, contemporary take on the classic 1970s green florals, which smells exactly like a crisp green leaf before opening out into a ladylike magnolia.

Pel Navarr

The Cetagandans are perfume-lovers, so the aristocratic haut Pel would certainly wear perfume. Given her restrained, elevated tastes, I picture her in Parfums MDCI Le Cri De La Lumiere, a barely-there, sparkling-white iris-rose concoction of surpassing purity.

Lilly Durona

I have a soft spot for the Durona Group -- rogue ancap bioengineering clone family of my heart. In her artificially extended lifespan, the matriarch Lilly must have tried her hand at perfuming at some point, and probably invented a few new aromachemicals of her own. All the Durona women have flower names, and I imagine Lilly wears her namesake via something similar to Serge Lutens Un Lys, the most realistic, narcotic, honey-dripping lily scent ever.

Mark Vorkosigan

We know Mark's visual aesthetic tends towards the dark and gloomy, his gustatory tastes run towards the sweet and indulgent, and his erotic tastes are, um, both. There's only one right answer here and it's Bvlgari Black: fetishy black rubber up top, birthday-cake sweet vanilla below.

Enrique Borgos

Enrique is a nerd, and in his own way an aesthetic soul. I guarantee you he is interested in perfume, and he'd gravitate to the perfumer's perfumer, the chemist Christophe Laudamiel. He would be fascinated by the strange "neon-hologram" effect in The Zoo Spacewood.

Kareen Koudelka

Kareen's adventurous nature probably took her to try some perfumes on Beta Colony, and she'd invariably gravitate to warm, cozy ambers and gourmands. I can see her in the unpretentious burnt-caramel smell of Kerosene Broken Theories.

Ekaterin Vorsoisson

The reserved, introverted Ekaterin has "unerring taste". Which means, in an olfactory context, she's probably figured out that Liz Moores is one of the best living perfumers. I have Ekaterin pegged for an iris lover, so she wears Papillon Angelique, a delicate, rustic spring iris with subtle, velvety layers of texture.

[lexosaurus]

Everything Was White: Part 25

[see all chapters]

read on: [ao3] [ffn] (please read tags)

Summary: After being accidentally revealed to the public and taken away by the government, Danny deals with the aftermath of his time with the GIW.

****

"You can't stay inside forever, Danny," his mother told him that morning as he tried to eat his sad, soggy cereal.

"I know, Mom," he snapped. Because he did know, Captain Obvious. But it still didn't make today any less nerve-racking.

"You'll be fine. Your friends will be there with you, and Sam has her car, right? So the only walking you'll be doing is from her car to inside the restaurant."

Danny scowled at his spoon. "It's not the walking I have a problem with, and it’s not like I’m using my crutches anyway."

There was no saying how long they would be out, and using his crutches for longer than a few minutes was still exhausting. So no, that wasn’t the reason he was so on edge about this.

The truth was, this was officially the first time Daniel Fenton Phantom was going to be out and about in public. 

"People will leave you alone. And worst case, just leave!" Maddie offered a smile as she plucked his now-empty bowl from the table. "This is a big step, but your therapists have been telling you for some time now that you need to do this. It'll be fine, you'll see."

It was just lunch at the Nasty Burger. He'd done it hundreds of times before. And this time, because his parents were just so proud of him for taking this big step, sweetie, Jack had even left him a crisp twenty-dollar bill on the table that morning.

Apparently, Jack had chalked his last wad of missing cash up to ghosts. Assuming that Danny would ever do something like stealing was simply unthinkable. 

Danny went about his morning, showering, putting fresh clothes on, and combing his hair no fewer than three times because what if he couldn't convince the public that he was normal? What if they all saw him as a grotesque, dead monster in a human skin suit? Or worse, a traumatized, skinny, weak kid that the Guys in White had trained into their pet plaything?

No, he wasn't a dog, and he could cover up all his fears under shampoo, washed clothes, and a friendly smile that he tried to practice in the mirror but felt silly enough to stop.

And then the doorbell rang.

His core sizzled, and he was almost too slow to stamp it out, to remind himself that it was just Sam and Tucker, that there were no government agents at the door, Danny.

His therapist had said this adrenaline response was natural. Still, it infuriated him the way his heart pounded and fingers tingled pins and needles whenever someone approached the other side of a closed door.

"Danny!" Sam bounded through the entrance.

He barely remembered to put on that smile he'd practiced in front of the mirror that morning. "Hey, Sam! Tucker!"

"Dude!" Tucker pranced inside like he owned the place. "This has been such a long time coming!"

"Yeah, it was kind of—kind of hard for me to get out before."

"No worries, man!" Tucker offered him a high five, and though Danny rolled his eyes, he met his friend halfway.

"Eating alone with Tucker has been torture," Sam lamented, her dark purple lips setting in a pout. "There's only so many times I can take him drooling over his beef environmental disasters by myself before I lose my sanity."

"Well, don't worry, Sammykins, because now you'll have to witness the power of two of us drooling over our beef environmental disasters!"

Sam slugged Tucker in the arm, and although Danny could see there was little power behind it, Tucker still made a big show about gripping his shoulder and wailing, "You wound me, woman!”

"Shut up!" Sam cackled.

Danny watched the dramatic performance as if he were standing on the other side of a glass wall. Every time the three of them hung out, he noticed these little moments more and more. Moments where Sam and Tucker seemed like they were from another planet.

Or maybe Danny was the one from another planet. The hopeless alien trying to blend in with the humans.

"Alright, let's go?" Danny asked, not wanting to delve further into his depressed psychology.

Tucker snapped out of his performance. "Let's go!"

"My car's in your driveway. You good to get in on your own? I mean—uh—" Sam stammered, glancing at Danny's wheelchair.

Right. He hadn't driven with his friends before.

"I'm good. You just—um, throw it in the—you know what? I'll show you." Danny transferred from the couch and headed for the door.

It was warm for a typical January day in Amity Park. There was no paparazzi outside their house either—thank god. Danny was last year's sensational hit, and his overnight fame seemed to be beginning to die down.

Not that he was becoming obscure by any means. He was still on the front page of Reddit nearly every day, and his tag on TikTok had thousands of videos and millions of interactions. But the constant bombardment of people stalking him outside his house was finally dispelling.

Of course, this only added fuel to the fire that was his parents’ recent insistence on him going outside. The paparazzi would find him eventually as they always did, and there was nothing he could do about people recording videos of him to post on social media, but Danny would at least get a semblance of normalcy.

He followed them out of the house and into the driveway where Sam’s car—a hybrid, she’d been very proud to show off—was waiting for them. He climbed into the car. The passenger seat, because although Danny was fully expecting Tucker to call shotgun, he hadn't.

"So I just put it in the back?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. The brakes are on, so just put it in as is. It won't move or anything."

"Alright." Sam picked up his wheelchair as if she were picking up a baby for the first time. Nervous, hesitant, as if afraid it would break under the lightest touch.

He remembered when he was like that too. Scared he would break it by shifting his weight even slightly incorrectly. But those days had long since passed. 

Sam slipped into the driver's seat just in time for Tucker to lean over the center console. "Alright, Team Phantom! Nasty Burger time!"

"Ugh, don't remind me," Sam groaned, but Danny could see her smiling.

With little more fanfare than a nervous glance Danny's way, she turned the car on and backed out of his driveway.

"Should we get milkshakes, too?" Tucker asked. "I mean, what am I even saying? Of course we're going to get milkshakes! Duh! It's Danny's first time out since...since..."

"July," Danny finished all too quickly.

An awkward silence settled over the car. Tucker tried to save it. "Wow, that long? That's..."

He wasn't successful.

"It's okay! Uh, we're really happy that—that you…" Sam's voice also stammered.

God, the awkwardness between him and his friends was painful. Okay, it was Danny's turn to step in. Maybe a joke to ease the tension?

"Yeah. Well, you know, I was—I was too busy being kidnapped."

The dead silence grew, and Danny's heartbeat stuttered. He mentally kicked himself for bringing that up when he absolutely was not ready to talk about it with his friends.

If only they could see that he was Phantom again. That he had his core back and he was fine, he was okay. He wasn't some weak kid anymore, this helpless, fragile child. 

"Yeah..." Tucker said, looking at Danny like he had spinach in his teeth and he was too nervous to tell him.

"Listen, I'm good, guys, seriously. I'm just looking forward to—to eating my body weight in Nasty Burger fries," he lied. 

He’d wanted to take extra measures that morning to ensure the looming red bag wouldn’t be a problem, but he needed to be careful. Sam and Tucker knew him better than anyone else. He couldn’t take too much medication or they’d know something was up. But if Danny had a freak-out in the middle of the Nasty Burger, what would they do? How would they react? Would they agree with his parents and say that Phantom should never come out again?

Well, they already thought that, actually. That's why they didn't help him get Frostbite to take his chip out. That's why Danny had to turn to Vlad of all people.

Danny tried to shove that particular strain of bitterness away and tune back into their conversation. Sam and Tucker were chatting about…something that happened in their science class. Danny didn't know what because he wasn't in their science class. He was in the Learning Center because he couldn't handle being in a normal classroom. At least, not yet. 

“Yeah, but you’ll be back soon,” Sam said.

Oops, had he said something out loud?

"We wouldn't be in the same class anyway. You're in—in honors," Danny said. He turned to her, incredulous. "Do I look like an honors kid to you?"

"Well, you never know!" Sam said. “I’m not in honors everything, you know.”

"Yeah, we could be in the same English class!" Tucker said. “I’d rather die than join Sam in honors English hell, after all.”

“Maybe. But knowing me, they’ll invent a new—a new class below all the other ones.”

"Nah, no way you're leaving me alone with Valerie. You know she's been trying to talk to me, right? She knows we know she's the Red Huntress. She keeps asking about you."

He did not, in fact, know that Tucker and Valerie had spoken.

"What'd she say?" Danny asked, trying to seem casual as their car passed by a group of joggers who didn't so much as bat an eye at their normal car passing by. He was too used to people staring at the GAV.

"Uh…you know…" Tucker began, waving his hand around. "She said she was sorry for being rude or whatever—you know, back before she noticed my stunning good looks and charm!"

Sam snorted. "You're so full of it."

Danny found it difficult to find the humor. "Seriously, what?"

"Just the normal stuff you'd expect. You know, the same sorts of questions everyone else has. Was wanting to know how long we'd known you were Phantom, and how we'd helped out with the ghost fights and stuff. Nothing really special."

Danny had forgotten that Sam and Tucker had become somewhat public figures when he had been both thrust into the spotlight and taken from them. It was short-sighted of him to believe that they would have been left alone in Casper High

Sam pulled into the Nasty Burger parking lot. "She's been trying to talk to me, too. Same as Tucker. Have you talked to her at all?"

“No,” Danny lied, glancing at the red-and-white building. "You know if she still works here?"

"Nah," Tucker said. "She quit last fall. I think Vlad gave her a raise."

That was good. It meant there was little chance Danny would run into her again.

The car came to a stop. The drive had seemed much too short. Though, Danny suspected that even if the drive had lasted three hours, he would still think it was too short. Inside the car, he was safe, he was anonymous. But outside?

Outside, he was none of those things.

Danny took a breath in. Held. Then, on the exhale, said, "Okay." He looked at the gray ceiling of the car if only to avoid his friends' eyes. He didn't want to know if they were looking at him with pity or concern.

He opened his eyes and went to open the door when he noticed the large black SUV parked directly next to them. "Wait, Sam, uh—sorry. Sorry, I can't...you need to..." His cheeks heated up, and he felt the weight of the disabled parking placard in his hoodie pocket. He pulled it out and flipped it over in his fingers.

Sam's eyebrows knit in confusion, but then her eyes met the distinct blue and white stick figure, and her eyes lit up. "Oh shit! Sorry—totally forgot. Force of habit."

She turned the car back on, and Danny's cheeks only heated more. "Not—not a big deal. It's…it's not the distance. It's the space."

"No, no, I get it," Sam said.

Tucker leaned over the center console, not bothering to buckle his seatbelt again for the ten-second drive. "Listen, Danny, all I'm saying is that I can totally piggyback you over to the curb."

"I'd rather take my chances crawling, thanks."

"You're no fun!"

"Tucker, you can barely lift a wet paper bag," Sam quipped.

"You too? Come on, I've put on muscle this year!" He flexed his arm, though nothing bulged out from the sleeve of his baggy hoodie.

Sam snorted. "Doing what? Lifting your pencil from your desk every day?"

"No! I've totally been going to the gym, Sam!"

If he had, that was news to Danny.

But apparently, Sam knew exactly what he was talking about. She parked the car again and turned it off, saying, "Your New Year's resolution doesn't count! You've gone what, like three times so far? That's not exactly going to get you gains."

Tucker mimicked her lead, throwing open the car door and sliding out of his seat. "I told you, I'm easing into it! They say people fail because they go too hard too fast. Hell, you were the one that told me that!"

"Yeah, but I also told you it was important to establish a routine. Have you done any of that?"

"I'm working up to it, woman!"

Danny was about to yell out to his friends, "Hey! I'm still in here! Don't forget about me!" but thankfully, just as the awkwardness was beginning to get to him, Sam opened the trunk of the car and gently pulled his wheelchair out.

"Do I undo the breaks or…?" she called over.

"No, just leave them. I have to, um, transfer."

"Right! Duh!" Sam set the wheelchair next to his door.

Danny tried to make this transfer seem as fluid as possible. He tried to descend out of the car with the practice of someone who had had a spinal cord injury for a decade and was confident in their own body, thank you very much, but he couldn't help but notice the way Tucker awkwardly shuffled nearby, or the child with its eyes glued on Danny as his mother yanked him through the Nasty Burger doors, admonishing him because it's rude to stare.

He was fine. He was fine. It was only the Nasty Burger. He had come here a million times before.

He undid the brakes and gripped the rims of his wheels, his palms clammy against the sleek metal. He felt so small between Sam and Tucker. He was usually half the height of everyone else, but the gap felt so much greater out in public. He wondered how long it would take before someone posted a video of him on social media. This would almost certainly make the fame worse again.

Maybe people would see that he was just trying to return to his old life and would leave him alone. But as soon as that thought crossed his mind, he stamped it out. No way would that ever happen.

"Okay, let’s go! I'm fucking starving!" Tucker said, ushering the pace along. He ran ahead and held open the door nice and wide. "Come on, you guys are so slow! Make way, make way, the world's slowest people might come through!"

In times like these, Danny was almost grateful for Tucker's dorky obnoxiousness, if only to help quell some of his seemingly never-ending anxiety.

He opened his mouth to say something about Tucker being a little shit and maybe a threat about sleeping with one eye open that night when his voice died in his throat.

Friend groups and families of all ages packed the Nasty Burger as the weekend lunch rush commenced. And Danny could see them, the people whose eyes lazily glanced over to the loud teen at the door, spotted Danny, and froze. Then they nudged their friends, who also turned to stare at Danny.

The whispers started, and the cell phones rose.

"That's really him?"

"No way!"

"Do you think that means Phantom's back?"

Phantom was back, but Danny couldn't say that much. He could only sit here and grind his teeth into silence.

Meanwhile, Sam and Tucker seemed to be faring far better with the whispers and blatant videoing of their trio. Maybe they were used to it. Or maybe they were trying to pretend everything was normal for Danny because he was fragile now, he couldn't handle the pressure last time that's what landed him in inpatient.

"I keep telling you to come to the gym with me," Sam chatted animatedly. "I'll show you how to build a solid routine!"

"Oh yeah, because sticking to a rigid routine is exactly what I'd call having fun at the gym," Tucker snarked. "Seriously, do I look like the kind of person who'd be into that?"

"You're impossible sometimes, you know that?"

Tucker only offered his signature shit-eating grin in return. "And you still love me anyway!"

Once again, Danny was not a participant in their banter.

"Okay, I seriously wasn't joking before that I'm starving! I didn't eat breakfast."

"That's what you get for waking up late."

"Yeah, yeah. What are you, my mom?"

Danny forced himself to join the conversation as they got in line. Primarily, to distract himself from the blatant onlookers. And, perhaps also, to show that he was a normal kid with normal friends. "What are you gonna get?"

"Triple Nasty combo," Tucker answered automatically. "And probably a milkshake on the side. Duh!"

"That's so much food. The poor animals," Sam said.

"Yeah, and I'll eat it all too. You watch!"

"I'd rather not."

"Well, I already know you're getting a tofu melt because you hate fun. So what about you, Danny?" Tucker asked.

Danny shrugged. He wasn't sure he could eat with his stomach practicing gymnastics inside his torso. The smell wasn't horrible in the Nasty Burger, but it still had that slight processed scent that made Danny's eyes think that every red booth they spotted in passing was a vestige of the red bag.

Shit, now his brain was thinking about it. He wanted to stop thinking about it. Just stop, Danny, it's not that hard.

People got behind him in line. He could hear their whispers.

"…so small in person…"

"…feds messed him up…"

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Normal kid. He was a normal kid.

"Danny?" Sam's tone was too gentle.

He looked up to see that they were now standing in front of the register, and a nervous-looking teenager was staring openly at him. People around gave him a wide berth, most openly gawking at this point. The rims of his wheelchair felt cold, and then he realized shit, that was just the ecto-frost on his palms threatening to freeze him to the floor.

"Um…" Danny pretended to look at the menu, but his eyes couldn't really focus on anything. "I guess a…uh…just—just a regular Nasty Burger. And, um, fries."

That was a normal teenager thing to order, right?

"What, no milkshake?" Tucker asked.

"Not—not that hungry," Danny admitted. He tried to remember if he would have ordered a milkshake in the past. He probably did, right? His shrunken stomach was supposed to be back to normal now, according to his doctors, but he still didn't feel like it was.

"Aw, for real?" Tucker said, but he snapped himself out of it quickly, clasping a hand on Danny's shoulder and flashing a grin. "Don't worry, because I'm such an amazing friend, I'll let you share mine!"

"Oh, yeah, thanks."

The cashier rang him up—only slightly stuttering when she pressed a wrong button and apologized five times for making him wait an extra few seconds—and then the trio headed for a table.

"Needs to be off to the side," Danny said, realizing there was no way he could fit through the narrow aisles in the middle of the packed joint. "Not near the front windows, though."

Like hell was his face going to be the first that everyone saw when they entered the restaurant.

Sam was way ahead of him, though, already beelining for a table along the side. Danny followed with Tucker in tow yapping about some glitch he'd discovered in whatever video game he was playing. Danny appreciated the effort, truly. Video games used to be the primary thing that they bonded over. But now, Danny didn't even recognize the title, and he realized that he wasn't too interested in trying it for himself.

As they passed by the crowd, people practically leaped out of the way. When a middle schooler with her back turned was partially blocking Danny's path, her friends yanked her aside so hard that Danny thought the poor kid was going to fly headfirst into a table. But then she turned, saw him, and her eyes grew comically wide as she yelled, "Oh shit!"

Her friends, of course, giggled uncontrollably at that, chiding their friend for being "so oblivious, oh my god!"

Yeah, this was fine. He was just a normal teen at a Nasty Burger. There was nothing to yell about.

In another universe, they would have sat at a booth along the outer perimeter of the fast food joint. After all, booths were always superior. But not now, not when sitting in a booth meant abandoning his wheelchair to the aisle where the general public could trip and spill their drinks on it.

Danny didn't have to ask Sam to move one of the chairs off to another table. He scooted himself in as if this were rehearsed and they'd done this before, as if this were a normal Saturday routine for them and Danny wasn't so anxious he thought he might actually sink through the floor.

"This is why you never get any better at games, though," Sam snapped at Tucker.

It took Danny a few seconds to realize that they were still in the middle of a conversation.

"But it's fun! Come on, Danny, back me up!"

Danny blinked owlishly at him. "What is?"

There was the barest hint of a flicker in Tucker's face. A brief moment where his eyebrows began pulling together, where his lips dropped, where his eyes flashed, before he pulled his cheeky smile back on and answered in the same bright, whiny tone, "Exploiting the system, of course!"

If Danny hadn't known any better, he would have excused that as a trick of the light.

"But if you spend the entire time cheating, then you'll never actually develop any skill! See, this is why I always crush you one-on-one," Sam argued.

"Yeah but it's fun," Tucker reiterated.

Danny attempted to put on his best bro-code as he backed Tucker up with what was probably an extremely convincing, "Right."

Sam pressed her lips together, and Danny's fingers twitched for his pocket where a little plastic baggy awaited him.

He was not doing well at this whole pretending-to-be-normal thing. Maybe at home it was less obvious, but here, surrounded by dozens of other normal people, his little quirks were too glaring. Too freakish.

If he could take up the offerings of the small plastic bag in his pocket, he could pass as normal. But then Sam and Tucker would know something was up, and oh god, everyone was watching him, right? There were whispers everywhere. Why was being normal so easy for Sam and Tucker? Why couldn’t he be like them?

Maybe the pills were like his wheelchair or crutches. He couldn't be normal without them. He was a freak, a zoo animal in an exhibit, and everyone knew it. Maybe he belonged in a little cage where everyone could watch him, point and whisper, one with white walls and white floors and—

A kid stumbled forward, knocking into his wheelchair. Danny turned, and the child hid his face behind his stubby fingers and backed away. He bumped into his parents, who gently said, "Go on," and pushed him forward again.

The child, who couldn't have been older than six, approached him again, now peeking rather obviously out of his fingers. A tuft of dirty blond hair sat on a head almost too large for his body. But Danny immediately zeroed in on the child’s black shirt with a familiar white logo on his chest.

Why was this kid wearing his shirt when Phantom hadn't made an appearance in months?

"Hi." The kid stood beside Danny and dropped his fingers from his face. He rocked back and forth on his heels, barely able to hide his nervous excitement as he asked, "Can I take a picture with you?"

Danny's mouth dried instantly. He glanced at Sam’s and Tucker's reassuring expressions before turning back to this bouncing child.

Phantom had taken lots of pictures with kids before. But Fenton? Well, before the reveal, Fenton was a nobody. And after the reveal, he'd turned government-plaything-to-crazy-kid. The fact that not only did this random child want a picture with him but his parents were standing a few steps away encouraging it?

Was he dreaming?

Thankfully, his voice returned to Danny quickly enough for him to say, "Uh—yeah. Yeah! Of course!"

The child squealed and closed the gap between himself and Danny, who leaned to the side with his arm out. The kid went right for it, clasping his hands in delight when Danny's hand wrapped around his shoulder.

The kid's parents were quick with their phones, snapping their photos before Danny's brain could finish processing the bizarre nature of whatever the fuck was happening.

When the parents gave their thumbs-up, the kid whipped back around to face Danny, his nerves now fully given way to excitement. "Thank you, Phantom! You're my favorite superhero. Look, I have your shirt!"

For the first time in his life, Danny felt completely out of his depth. Thankfully, Tucker was to the rescue, leaning over with a "Wow! Look, Danny, it matches your suit perfectly!"

The kid clapped. "It does! I got it because then we match!"

"Thank you." Danny hoped he didn't sound too dumbfounded. "Um, what's your name?"

"Theo! Santa got me this for Christmas. I wear it all the time and my friends wanted the shirt from Santa! Bryce has a shirt already, and sometimes we match too!"

"Well, thank you, Theo!" Danny said, having no idea how to respond.

"Come now, let's let Mr. Phantom get back to his friends," his father said.

"Okay!" Theo said, then hesitated, glancing between the wheelchair and Danny before something in his little brain computed and he reached over and tried his best to hug Danny.

And if Danny's brainpower was flickering before, now it officially short-circuited. Because this kid, this kid, was really...hugging him? He took a picture with Danny and now he was trying to hug him?

And his parents weren't screaming and cursing at him for being a danger to their son?

No. Wait, his parents were taking a picture of this? They were smiling?

Danny felt a kick to the side of his wheelchair, and he snapped back to Earth to realize that oh, duh, he was supposed to hug Theo back.

Even though he was afraid that touching the kid might set someone off enough to call the police on him, nothing of the sort happened. He gently wrapped his hands around Theo's back, and then the kid broke free, beaming up at him with a smile so wide, Danny was afraid it might fly off his face.

"Thank you, Mr. Phantom! I hope you feel better soon!" Theo said, skipping back to his parents.

His father high-fived him, praising him for being such a good boy and asking Mr. Phantom first before leading them back to their table across the restaurant. The mother hovered for a moment, hesitating, before walking over to Danny and saying, "Thank you for taking a photo with him. You're Theo's idol. He was so worried about you when everything happened, so seeing you here today meant a lot to him."

"It's no problem," Danny said, and he meant it. He was still reeling that this happened at all.

Not that it was bad. It wasn't. It was actually…kind of nice. Warm in a way he couldn’t explain.

He pushed through his jittering nerves because, for some reason, he really felt like he needed to say one more thing. "Tell—tell your son that—that Phantom is working hard to be back soon."

The woman's eyes almost looked watery as she said, "I will. Thank you."

And then she left to join her family.

The whispers followed, but Danny suddenly didn't care. He felt light. Like he was almost flying. His core hummed happily, sending waves of exhilaration dancing along his limbs.

"Wow, that's so cool, Danny!" Sam said.

"Yeah, I guess it is,” Danny replied, blinking more stars from his eyes. "I didn't think anyone—anyone would…"

"It's like I said, dude!" Tucker grinned. "You're kind of a big deal. Both you, and Phantom."

"Well, yeah, I noticed." Danny's eyes flickered to that group of middle school girls who were very obviously sending Snapchat videos of him to all of their friends. "I just—I didn't think it would be—be like…that. I don't know."

Sam's lips pulled into a frown. "Danny, you realize that most people are on your side, right? That it's just the angry people who are the loudest?"

"On my—on my side and letting their kid take photos with me are two different things, Sam."

Sam and Tucker exchanged a look. A long look. One that soured Danny's mood instantly because shit, his friends thought he was unstable, didn't they? Were they going to tattle on him to his parents? Or Jazz? Tell them that Danny thought of himself as little more than a freakshow exhibit at the circus and that they should get him more therapy?

"It's—forget it," Danny said. He opened his mouth to elaborate, to make an excuse that the kid just caught him off guard and that he was aware that most people were on his side, thanks, and maybe spill that he'd seen their post pinned to his subreddit, when the girl at the counter called their order number.

He waited at the table while Sam and Tucker got their food. He could feel everyone's eyes on him. He was alone, vulnerable. Everyone was looking at him. Whispering. Wondering.

He heard a snicker behind him. Were people laughing at him?

No, it was just a group of friends, they were talking, they probably were laughing at something else entirely. Not everything revolves around you, Danny. Stop being so egotistical.

Thankfully, Sam and Tucker didn't abandon him for too long. They returned, trays of food in hand.

Sam placed his plate in front of him, and he held his breath. He could feel his fingers start to shake, and he hid them within the sleeves of his hoodie. He couldn't crack, not now, not while he was in public.

Don't think about it. It doesn't smell the same. This is totally different.

Eventually, he had to let out a breath, but not until the world had drowned out of his ears and his head was spinning. Was it from the lack of oxygen or the anxiety biting holes in his skin? 

"You're not going to eat?" 

He jolted up to see Tucker already halfway through his burger. Sam, too, was looking at him with a lost expression.

Panic swirled in him. Had his friends been talking casually to each other the entire time? Had they noticed his silence?

Did they care?

Was he even really their friend anymore? Or was he just the third they let tag along because they felt bad leaving him behind?

"Oh, what?" Danny tried to let out the breath he'd been holding as quietly as he could. His lungs burned. "Sorry. Yeah, just spaced out."

They stared at him a moment longer, and Danny could feel his face heating up. He could smell the processed food in front of him.

It's not the same thing.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Sam asked gently. “We can take this to go if you need.”

God, he hated how she looked at him like he could break at any moment.

"I'm fine," he snapped. He wasn't going to let her see him weak.

His pulse quickened. He needed another pill.

This was the issue with the hydrocodone. It wasn’t as potent as the oxycodone. It didn't last as long either. The mental relief wore off too soon.

He should have taken the extra one in his pocket.

Tucker and Sam were having a silent conversation. But this one was so loud, Danny could almost hear it.

"Should we bring him home?"

"I don't know."

"What if he has a meltdown?"

"He can't have one right now. We're in public."

He wanted them to shut up, to leave him alone, to stop looking at him like he was something to pity, like some starving dog begging on the street corner. And so, he raised his burger to his mouth and took a bite.

It was fine. He was in the Nasty Burger. He was fine.

The burger was juicy, and regardless of the smell, it really did taste like a burger. Nothing at all like what he’d eaten before. Which seemed to work for whatever set of stringent rules his brain had decided on, and he could feel the panic begin to trickle out of his skin.

"It's good," Danny commented when his gaze flickered up to see the strained looks on his friends’ faces. "Really good."

Sam's face melted in relief. "I'm glad!"

"That's why we brought you out here!” said Tucker. “Figured a taste of the best fast food ever would bring you right back to the good old days!"

Danny wished that was all it took.

"Yeah. I guess the reminder is nice."

Their eyes weighed a thousand pounds on his skull as he bent down and took another bite.

It did taste pretty okay. Nothing at all like the red bag, though it smelled a little like the red bag and ugh no don’t think about it, don’t think about it.

Their chatter started up again, and this time, Danny tried his best to follow along.

Or, maybe not. Because while they were talking about school, a topic Danny should have at least been familiar with, he was already lost.

“Dash and Paulina haven’t broken up yet, idiot,” Sam said.

“‘Yet’ being the key word there,” Tucker said. “That means you think they’re a bad matchup too!”

“Yeah, they have basically nothing in common other than popularity.” Sam swiped a fry off Tucker’s plate with a level of ease that made Danny’s gut squirm, though he didn’t understand why. “That doesn’t mean you’re suddenly going to become her knight in shining armor. You have even less in common with Paulina than Dash does!”

“Wait, Dash and Paulina are dating?” Danny asked.

Sam rolled her eyes. “Barely. Tucker’s convinced he has a chance to ask her to prom. No one thinks they’re going to last.”

“Prom?” Danny’s voice squeaked.

“Yeah, we’re juniors!” Tucker nudged him playfully. “We get to go to prom in the spring! It’s still a few months away before promposals start, but a man’s gotta plan early, right?”

Danny took a slow bite of his burger and chewed, not making eye contact with either of his friends. He’d forgotten that he was an upperclassman, technically. Though, given his current academic situation, he barely felt like a student at all.

But it didn’t really matter, because there was no way a damaged, fucked-up hybrid like him was ever going to get a date to prom.

“Hey,” a voice behind him said.

He turned just in time for a camera to flash.

The paparazzi instinct was burned deep into his reflexes at this point, and he ducked his face behind his hands.

“Can you still turn into Phantom?” the pap asked.

Sam shot her a glare. “Um, do you mind? We’re eating.”

The girl ignored Sam. “Can you speak to the rumors about why you haven’t transformed since your arrest? Is it true that the government took away your ghost form?”

“He’s literally still injured. He can turn into Phantom just fine. Let him heal first,” Sam said.

Danny felt his core pulse and winced, pushing it back down. His ghostly half didn't take kindly to the implication that it was weak and needed to stay hidden. It didn't like to lose.

It wanted to appear, to show the world that he was here again, he was back. 

But no. No.

"Does this mean that you're done acting as the town's protector?"

Danny ducked his head to hide the green glow of his eyes under his bangs, and he heard Tucker suck in a breath beside him.

Click!

The camera flashed.

Conversations at other tables hushed around him. Other people were picking up on what was happening.

Calm down. 

The door opened, and another set of footsteps began stalking over to his booth. 

Click!

"Phantom! Hey, Phantom, look over here!" 

Another paparazzo.

"Hey, hey!" a gruff voice behind the register called out. "What the hell are you guys doing on my property?"

"Phantom!" the paparazzo said, closer this time, ignoring the Nasty Burger manager.

"Okay, it's time for us to go," Tucker said quietly, stuffing both his and Danny's food back into its paper bag and tugging Danny's hoodie sleeve. "Come on, we're leaving."

If he got up, then that would be another shining example of him running away from his problems. It would be proof that he was weak, that he couldn’t handle a few simple questions. It would show the public that he couldn’t do normal human things like go to the Nasty Burger with his friends. 

But he didn’t have enough of the medication in him. His fingers wouldn’t stop trembling. He couldn’t make a stand without the fog.

"Let's go." Tucker's uncharacteristically serious tone offered no argument, and his eyes were hardened like a soldier going into battle. 

In all their years of friendship, Danny had never seen this side of Tucker before. Sam had always been the leader of their group, but in this moment, it wasn't Sam taking charge. It was Tucker not just asking but commanding Danny to follow his orders.

So Danny did. He pushed himself away from the table and followed Tucker to the door, passing by nameless faces and eyes all tracking his every muscle twitch. 

He felt like an alien. 

He should have just taken the extra hydrocodone that he couldn’t afford, suspicions from Sam and Tucker be damned. 

It was sickening how instantly he’d caved to the pressure from the paparazzi. He just wanted to look them in the eye and tell them to fuck off. 

But he couldn’t do that. Not without help.

"Phantom! Look over here!"

"Phantom!"

Had they multiplied?

"Get the fuck out of my store before I call the fucking cops, you vultures!" 

Those girls were whispering again. As were the other group of teens next to them. And the group of families behind them. And every group around the store. They were all staring at him, whispering, talking about him because they couldn't believe that Phantom was actually here in the flesh after months of only seeing his name in the news.

He felt hands on the back of his wheelchair, and then he had the stunning realization that Tucker was pushing him out of the restaurant. Had he stopped moving? He hadn't even noticed.

Déjà vu rushed over him, and for a moment, he felt like this was last fall all over again. With him spacey and confused, and Sam and Tucker doing their best to maintain a normal friendship out of some deluded sense of obligation, even though they were acting more like Danny was a toddler they were responsible for looking after rather than their friend. And worse, he couldn't even blame them.

Danny had rarely heard Tucker sound so serious. So confident. Gone was his squeaky, puberty-ridden voice, and now here was the blooming baritone of a nearly seventeen-year-old who had matured far more in the last six months than Danny had even realized.

Both of them had matured, he amended as he looked over to Sam's straight back and squared shoulders. Her toned arms swung and her chin stuck out with a set jaw and purple lips pressed in a line.

They had both grown so much. And he hadn't.

A toddler. He was just a toddler to them.

"I got it," he muttered, trying not to sound too bitter as he regained control of his wheelchair. 

The paparazzi followed them out of the restaurant, of course, yelling questions that sounded more like the buzzing of a mosquito than actual words.

Sam's car was right in front of the building where they'd left it, which meant that it was in the prime location for the paparazzi to get a nice show of Danny transferring to the car.

"Sorry that your faces are gonna end up on TMZ tomorrow," Danny said, trying to keep the tone light. 

Tucker waved him off with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Don't sweat it, dude."

"Wouldn't be the first time, anyway," Sam added.

Yeah, he supposed it wouldn't.

He tried to look more energetic than he felt as he got into the car, turning his head away as Sam and Tucker stowed the wheelchair in the trunk, even as he heard the flurry of camera clicks capturing every moment of it.

He also didn't miss Sam's overly aggressive door slam, or the tensely lighthearted tone Tucker's voice held as he called out to the paps, "Enjoy the rent money!"

Sam snorted, then opened the driver's door and began sliding into the seat. "Yeah, hope your parents are proud of you right now! Harassing a bunch of teens like this!"

"Just a word!" one of the paparazzi yelled back.

"Why haven't you turned into Phantom?" the second asked.

"Is it true that the Ghost Investigation Ward destroyed your ghost half?"

"Why didn't you answer me before? Are you finished working as Amity Park's protector?"

Danny's core twinged, and not for the first time today, he cursed his ghostly Obsession for making things like this utterly impossible to ignore. "I'm not done!"

Beside him, Sam stiffened, her hand poised on her open door, a second too late to close it. 

"I'm not done working as Phantom!" His core hummed. "I—I'll be back! Soon!"

"Danny, stop," Sam hissed.

Danny was done listening to what other people thought he should do with Phantom. He was done hiding.

"How soon?"

His core throbbed, and it took everything in him to not transform right then and there. Though judging by the breath Tucker sucked in, Danny could guess that he hadn't managed to keep his eyes from glowing green.

The first ghostly display he'd shown the public since his release from the hospital, and…he wasn’t concerned in the slightest at the potential backlash.

In fact, his core was preening like a peacock at the mere thought that the paparazzi had caught a video of his eyes glowing.

Recklessly, he pushed his aura out harder.

"How soon, Phantom?" 

Danny grinned. "Soon!"

****

previous / next

****

Thanks to @imekitty for betaing!

[read more of my works here]

[bl00dlight]

an abuser? devolving into genocide? Targaryen fascist? is this really how you see Aemond? i think that's quite harsh and unfair to say... i think he deserves better than to be seen as that, he clearly cares about people, he's hurt and desperate. i find it hard to believe he could be that plain evil.

Yea... I don't know how to tell you this. But this isn't how I see him. That's literally what he is and literally what he does. Again, some of yall REALLY need to at least go on fan wiki or something. Because... it's worrying. I don't think you're gonna like S3....

Here is a tally of all the evil shit Aemond in the book does/is likely about to do:

Spoiler alert.

- Abandon his family at KL for Harrenhal, leaving them completely unprotected.

-Burn a bunch of villages, espeically in the Riverlands/generally burn the place to a fine crisp. Killing a bunch of innocent people basically just cause he is pissed the fuck off.

-Ethnically cleanse House Strong - and its Bastards. Including, but not limited to; Cutting Simon Strong into tiny pieces and then feeding him to Vhagar, massacring every male member of House Strong - including young children, "The heap made of their severed heads ultimately stood three feet tall.", possibly taking Alys as a sex slave (if he wasn't bewitched)

-He refers to people from the Riverlands as 'River-scum'; so you know... pretty obvious how he feels about non-Valyrians.

-Is a raging misogynist (he would be an incel today) - He refers to Rhaenyra as the 'The whore of Dragonstone' in the books. And literally asks if they have to 'kiss the old whores cunny (cunt)'

He also? Like I'm sorry girl, but even S1? He 10000% is abusive towards his nephews? Even if they did bully him, they are several years younger - ESPECIALLY Luke? He literally is beefing with a kid and then KILLS HIM?

On top of that, have you seen the way he speaks to people? He's a fucking asshole girl. Like I love him, I think he is fascinating, but you probably need to distinguish between Aemond Targaryen fluff VS how Aemond actually behaves. He is about to evolve into genocide, he is literally about to kill a bunch of people next episode.

I can't believe I have to defend the idea Aemond might not be a very nice dude. Remember most abusers are people who are hurt, are people who are scared. Did you even read my post?

[thecountesstribe]

HOTD 2X6 Review and Spoilers!!

Another slow episode. The episode dragged especially considering it's currently down to the last 3 episodes of the season.

Alicent got booted off the council, LMFAO. I don't take pleasure in seeing women suffer but older Alicent earned her shit, it's what she gets. Larys thinking he was gonna be named the hand of the Regent King LMFAO. Aemond said get your toad looking ass tf on and go call my grandfather. That was smart as much as I hate to admit it. Aegon definitely remembers his brother trying to kill him though. Larys is going to be protecting Aegon from now on because he knows that they can't control Aemond, I'm mad I gotta say something decent about him but he's actually thinking with his brain. The green council is still in a mess and divided and they know Aemond is going to be a tyrant king, hell Alicent knows and she's still somehow shocked by the monster she created like she didn't have a big part to do with him harboring his worst qualities and helping him mold into it. Delusional I tell you. The small folk are suffering already and got on their asses though, the only thing I didn't like is Helaena getting caught in the crossfire again. Another Daeron mention and did they just subtly hint at Criston being his father? Meaning Alicent was really sleeping with him before Vizzy T kicked the bucket? The writing for the show is all over the place, my God.

We were a diva down and I didn't like it one bit. WHERE TF WAS BAELA?! Like we saw her husband but where was she? Ugh. Rhaena and Joffrey sighting. They were so cute! Rhaena is still trying to convince herself she doesn't need a dragon to be important 💔 and Joff just wants his momma. Nettles looks like she's officially scrapped. I'm so pissed. They could've totally given Rhaena something else to do in the meantime, they didn't have to merge Nettles and her story together. Wtf Sara and Ryan?! This is why people say there is a Team green bias and they aren't beating those accusations. What does this mean for Rhaena hatching Morning? There were four eggs does that mean she still has a chance to do it? I'm so mad. Then again after what Dumbass and Dunderhead pulled in the final seasons of GOT why tf am I surprised!

We saw baby Stormcloud!!! I never realized how much I missed seeing baby dragons on screen. It's like having baby Viserion, Rhaegal and Drogon back. My heart did a little quick thump. He was so derpy too 🥺🤣 How Aegon's supposed to get away on him is beyond me, he's literally the size of a kitten. The timeline is so messed up as well.

Daemon is still in spooky land and although I'm over it, I understand it's a culmination of all his regrets and things he wishes he could've had and done differently. We saw Vizzy T and that scene where it showed Daemon wanted to be there for him, he just didn't know how.... Man I kinda teared up. At the end of the day Daemon just wanted his brother's love and approval, he went about it in the wrong way because he's chaos personified but that's what it was always about to him. Vizzy T was his parental figure, his everything really and man 💔. Miscommunication trope strikes again. Him and Alys becoming friends even though she's the one that's tormenting him wasn't on my bingo cards. Somebody come get Caraxes outta there, I know he's bored asf. Every time we catch a glimpse of him he looks more and more over the entire thing. 🤣

One of the highpoints of the episode was Seasmoke. Dragons have personality y'hear me. More of that! Seasmoke is a whole clown 🤣🤣🤣. Why would he do Ser Steffon like that? I mean sure he got a little cocky but intentionally bending his neck for him to get on and then essentially saying “BITCH YOU THOUGHT” AND THEN BURNING THEM TO A CRISP?!! He was so funny for that 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😭😭😭. He said “get y'all mid looking asses on” I already got eyes for one person and he's so real for that. You guys think he used to have dragon conversations with momma Meleys about picking their riders? We know dragons pick their riders as much as riders claim their dragons but do you think Meleys taught him if the unfortunate should ever happen make sure and pick the baddest of the bunch? We know Meleys picked Rhaenys as Rhaenys picked Meleys, that was confirmed. Meleys said Pretty Women Only and do you think she told Seasmoke to get him a pretty rider to match his aesthetic if the need ever arises? I know Laenor hatched him but Laenor was pretty asf. Seasmoke saw Addam smiling on the beach once and said “yeah I gotta have that” plus it helps that he has dreads, a pretty smile, a pretty face and looks like Corlys. He said welcome back Laenor Velaryon. Addam being Laenor's brother makes it hysterical as hell too, I'm creased LMFAO. He didn't have to chase down Addam like that but I respect it, he saw what he wanted and shooters shoot. I too would chase down Addam until he accepts my advances and affection, Seasmoke been eyeing him for awhile.

Corlys is officially the hand of the rightful Queen of the 7 kingdoms.

We got canon bisexual Rhaenyra. Although I wish she was kissing another beautiful Velaryon instead, Laena I miss you so much baby, that was for me. Her and Mysaria kissing before Jace and Baela is egregious to me though. I'm just saying why everybody locking lips before the main og star couple?Rhaenyra smacking men, 100000s across the boards. She should've been doing that sooner but better late than never I suppose. That lady is still in her resentment of her husband era. Her face when Jace said they needed Daemon 🤣🤣🤣😭😭😭 She's sick of hearing about that man. He's right btw, Rhaenyra go get him, he's out there giving our diva Simon grief. Mysaria actually helping her with PR and actually giving her great advice. I love women supporting women! Her sending food with her banners for the common folk was so politically savvy. Mysaria being one of the few that is actually coming in clutch to help her to win the war 😉. I still don't trust her though, something about this entire thing tells me it's gonna end badly for her. I'll enjoy them trauma dumping and bonding on one another before the shit hits the fan though. I know doomed Yuri when I see it. Jace and that one guard immediately knowing something is up with both of them is sending me though. She took off at the end of the episode to go confront her ex-husband's new dragon rider and Syrax about to be screaming at her dragon ex husband too apparently. 🤣🤣

Since they're essentially changing the entire plot and the leaks that I thought were written like fanfiction might actually be true could we get Jace surviving the battle of the gullet? It's not slated for this season but I'm here to spread my agenda. Since we're essentially fucking canon atp instead of in certain scenarios and all this for Bran the broken to sit the Iron Throne (I'm still fuckin disgusted and furious at that btw, fuck you D&D) could they switch that shit up? Let's come together and manifest it guys.

Until next week guys. I better see Baela, Rhaena, Jace and more dragons though. I'm here for them and them only.

And another thing, could you guys stop leaking shit. I block words and myself from certain pages and sites but y'know how stuff still slips through the cracks. Have some decorum and etiquette please!

[eveningdreams8]

I wanted custom labels for my doll clothes, and perhaps other items as needed, for ages and I finally got around to it on Ali and was pleased to find it was a lot more affordable then I expected (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

It was a lot less then 1$cad a yard, I didn't get to use my preferred font since the seller advised I use a simpler more crisp one for such a small ribbon and I will take their professional opinion on it

The idea is that larger items will get the full name and smaller items get the abbreviation ! It's a little pinker then I expected but the colour is still very nice and I am actually not that particular about the colour of this as long as it's within a certain range, honestly it's so nice now I am thinking of getting another roll in slightly different colours;;;

[mermaidgirl30]

This is Epilogue: Pt II for my fic Look for the Light but can be read as a standalone. I was not done writing sappy POV’s from Joel. He deserves to be happy, and I wanted it to be super romantic because I just love soft Joel so much 🥹 Joel on his wedding day is so OMG, I cried writing it 😭🥹🥰 (18+ Only)

Inspired by the one and only TS ✨

Joel’s POV

The summer came to an end as the hint of fall brushed over Jackson. Hot summer days turned into breezier autumn evenings. Deep orange, red, and golden colors encased the leaves as the crisp scent of October entwined with the end of September.

It was now September 28. Your wedding day. The one year anniversary of when you met the love of your life, Alyson Harper. The day your entire life changed forever. Because of her. Your special, sweet girl.

You were standing in the middle of the flower field that you planted for her. Deep purples surrounded you as the lilacs and violets swayed in the cool breeze, the afternoon sun rays shining down, making the flowers almost glisten in the warmth. Maria, Dina, Jesse, and a few other folks from town sat in the audience in white wooden chairs, patiently waiting to see you marry the girl of your dreams. Tommy was standing behind you, the wedding officiant, just waiting to marry you off. Who better to do it than your brother.

Ellie stood off to the side in her baggy jeans and Converse shoes as she twirled the rings in her hands carefully. You weren’t going to force her to put on anything fancy. In fact, you told everyone to just dress casual. Except you. You had to look nice today because today was the most important day of your life, and you wanted to impress Aly.

As you stood waiting, you fidgeted with your hands and tried to stop the nerves that raced through your body. You put one of your hands inside the pocket of your slick, black dress pants and pulled on your black tie that was pressed against your button-up white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to your elbows.

“Joel, stop fidgeting,” Ellie whispered to you in a harsh voice.

“Can’t help it,” you answered back as sweat covered the inside of your fisted palm.

“Just try to keep it cool. Aly’s about to be here. You’re fine. You look good so stop worrying. She’s gonna say yes,” she said with a small laugh.

Aly. You couldn’t wait to see her, couldn’t wait to officially call her yours.

You ran a hand through your slicked back hair nervously and brought it down to your mouth as you raked it through your scruff. You still couldn’t believe this day was happening. You were going to marry the love of your life.

Out of the corner of your eye, a ray of white caught your attention. You flicked your eyes up and gasped at the angelic beauty that was coming closer to you. You saw Aly walking towards you as she made her way through the thick brush of violets. Your heart stopped and your eyes went wide as your mouth dropped open at the vision that stood in front of you.

She was a ray of sunshine. An angelic presence that was sent down from Heaven just for you. And she was exceptionally beautiful. Your perfect treasure.

Your eyes slid over her as you took in her entirety. She was wearing a long, white satin dress that flowed effortlessly down to the ground. The thin, satin straps across her shoulders barely kissed her skin, and the whimsical material shined against the sunlight. Her hair was in long, flowing waves with lilacs attached to her waterfall braid. She was holding a small bouquet full of purple lilacs spilling over the sides, effortlessly gorgeous.

Her face was glowing as she smiled up at you with her deep red lips, blushing crimson as she walked up to you slowly through the crowd. Her vibrant blue eyes were staring intensely at you as those beautiful sapphires knocked the wind out of you. She looked just like an angel. She was an angel. Your angel.

You felt dizzy and disoriented as you watched her walk up right in front of you as you took her hand and brought her next to you, slowly turning to face her head on.

She was so goddamn beautiful. A perfect, delicate lilac that stood out amongst all the rest of the flowers. A flower that would never wilt or fade, not when she was with you. Because you’d keep her alive and thriving from the love and care you would forever give her. Your perfect, rare lilac.

“Hi,” she said nervously as she bit her lip, staring up into your awestruck face.

“Hi.” You gulped, looking at the stunning girl in front of you. “You look breathtaking, darlin’,” you breathed out as you drank in her beauty, barely able to keep your mouth closed.

She blushed and smiled up at you. “And you look so handsome, my love.”

My love. You’d never get tired of hearing that.

“You two ready?” Tommy asked.

The two of you nodded as the short ceremony began. Tommy started off by saying a quick introduction and got to the important part quickly. He read a few lines from a piece of paper, and then you said your confessions of love to each other, devoting yourselves to one another entirely.

Aly’s words sounded like a sweet melody as it carried through the wind. Saying how much she loved you and how she’d forever take care of you in sickness and in health, promising forever and pouring her heart out to you.

“Joel, my love, my favorite person. I can’t put into words how much you mean to me. You are truly the best man I have ever met. You’ve been so careful with me, so loving. You’re the only man for me. And I want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. Because you saved me, in more ways than one. You are my everything. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you,” she smiled as a tear fell down her face. You caught it just in time as you wiped it away with your thumb and caressed her cheek lovingly as you stared at her with admiration.

You leaked a few tears listening to her and quickly wiped them away as you said your speech next, promising forever and always to the love of your life in front of you, being completely vulnerable as your heart was now hers.

“Alyson, my love, my light. Thank you for loving me, for showing me what patience and selflessness was. You’ve changed me, showed me what it was like to live again. You pulled me out of the darkness and have been nothing but a ray of sunshine that never lets me fade away. You are the absolute love of my life. And I’m going to spend every day of my life showing you just how much you mean to me. Thank you for showing up to the Boston QZ, for I would be utterly lost without you. My love, my precious lilac. I love you,” you said with tears filling your eyes. Aly cupped your face and ran her fingers through your scruff, her blue, watery eyes beaming with love.

Ellie took the lilac bouquet from Aly and handed the rings to you as she went to find a seat, watching the two of you exchange them as you slowly slid the purple diamond ring onto Aly’s finger. She took the gold band from your palm and slid it on your left finger, promising herself to you.

“Aly, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Tommy asked as he flashed a smile to Aly.

“I do,” she responded as she looked up at you with a huge grin on her face.

“And Joel, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“You’re damn right I do,” you said energetically as Aly quietly laughed at you.

“Then I pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride!” Tommy announced excitedly.

“C’mere, baby,” you said as you pulled Aly to you, dipping her back in your arms as you leaned down and kissed her passionately, staying in her embrace for as long as you could.

The crowd erupted into loud applause as you pulled Aly back up and took her hand in yours. You placed your forehead on hers as you smiled down at her, giving her your best smile.

“Everyone, please welcome the newly wed Mr. And Mrs. Miller!” Tommy cheered as he loudly clapped behind you, the rest of the audience following after him.

“How ‘bout that? I can finally call you Mrs. Miller. My wife. Mine.” You were beaming from the inside as your chest felt like it was about to come out of your throat. You’d never been this happy before in your life.

“I could listen to you say that all day long,” she lulled gently against your ear as she grazed her hand through your scruff, sending electric vibrations through you.

“We’ve got plenty of time for that. C’mon, let’s get out of here.” You took her by the hand and led her through the crowd as the wind whipped gently across your face and carried over Aly’s silky dress, blowing up the ends of it just faintly.

You nodded at Tommy and waved goodbye to everyone else. It was time to go home. With your wife. Time for that honeymoon phase to kick in. Ellie was staying at Dina’s for the next week so you had plenty of alone time with Aly. And that was good because you were about to christen the entire house with her. Consummating and making sweet love to the love of your life in your forever home.

You lifted Aly up on Shimmer and sat her down sidesaddle. You hoisted yourself up and got into position on the saddle and then you pulled Aly to you, placing your arms around her and kissing her head gently.

“You ready to go back home?” You grazed your lips down her face and softly kissed her cheek.

“I’m already home. Home is where you are. That’s where my heart burns.” She smiled up at you and ran her fingers gently through your scruff in an affectionate way, making your heart quake with desire.

Home. She said home is where you are. And that made you want to completely surrender all of yourself to her. But you already had. You were hers, devoted and unwavering. Forever and always. Hers.

“I love you, my morningstar. My sweet girl.” You kissed her softly on the lips as you pulled her face to you as you tasted cherries and sugar, breathing in her deep lilac scent. Completely drowning in her already. “Let’s go home. So I can make love to my wife.”

She beamed up at you as you brushed your lips over hers again, then you took the reins and sent Shimmer on her way. She galloped through the lilacs and violets, sending a burst of fresh floral scents through your nose. You kept Aly close to your chest as you kept one hand running along her arm. Your fingers sliding up and down her as you breathed in her intoxicating lilac smell. You would never, ever get tired of this. Never tired of her. Never tired of holding her in your arms. You would keep her there forever. Till death do us part.

-

When you got back to the house, you carried Aly in bridal style as you slammed the door and crossed the living room threshold, you and Aly laughing together in sync. You climbed up the narrow steps and went straight into the bedroom where you set her down gently on the bed.

“Can you believe it? We have the whole house to ourselves for an entire week!” Aly gleamed as she kicked off her heels and kept a hand tightly in yours.

“We’re gonna need an entire week ‘cause I’m gonna make love to ya on every square surface of this house,” you stated adamantly.

“Oh, is that right?” she asked as she laughed, sending a beautiful smile your way.

“Mhm,” you answered as you kneeled down in front of her and placed your hands on her thighs, on the silky white material of her wedding dress.

Aly ran her fingers through your slicked back hair, making some of your curls become disheveled. You groaned at her touch as her other hand hooked around your neck, pulling your face up to meet her lips as she leaned down and kissed you softly. Her lips were silklike. Creamy and glossy. And she tasted like summer.

When you pulled apart, you hooked a finger under her thin strap and tugged it down her arm, doing the same to the other. You slowly skimmed it down her body and let it drop to the floor, leaving her only in a white, lacy pair of underwear.

You trailed your eyes up and down her body slowly, committing to memory the picture of your perfect girl. Your gorgeous wife. Yours.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you said, gawking at the angelic vision in front of you.

She blushed and grabbed your tie, pulling you to her. She slowly untied your tie and threw it to the ground, carefully unbuttoning your white shirt and then pulling it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap.

She ran a hand meticulously over your chest, gliding it all the way down to your belt as she unhooked it from the belt loops, guiding her hand to your zipper as she unzipped your pants and slid them down to the floor, leaving you only in your boxers.

“Joel…my husband, my darling.” She ran a hand over your scruff as you placed your hand on top of hers, leaning into her as you enjoyed the warmth of her touch.

“I like the sound of that. You callin’ me your husband.” You smiled at her and leaned your weight into her as you pulled her to the edge of the bed, where you could reach every part of her.

“My sweet husband…” she purred, sending waves of warmth into your chest, feeling like your heart was illuminating for the entire town to see.

“Oh, my sweet lilac. My gentle girl.” You placed a kiss gently on each cheek, then one on her soft lips, then down to her neck, sucking and nipping the further you went. She let out a soft moan as you found that sensitive spot on her neck that always got her.

Her hand explored the back of your neck as you went down lower, ghosting over her breasts with your hot breath blowing on them, making them pebble right before you. You leisurely ran your tongue over each, feeling them harden as she twisted her fingers into your messy curls.

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby. Gonna make sweet love to my wife, Mrs. Miller,” you groaned low from your throat.

“Please,” she begged.

You teased at the waistband of her lacy underwear, her entire front already sopping wet underneath for you. Your eyes started to dilate as you felt your pupils expanding, turning darker. A burning hunger started in your throat and traveled down to your lower regions as you felt yourself start to harden. Wanting to bury yourself in her for hours. Wanting to feel her walls constrict and tighten as you made her come for you again and again.

You lifted her leg over your shoulder and started to kiss her ankle, her calf, her inner thigh unhurriedly. Wanting to tease until she was so wet that she couldn’t stand it. You wanted to lap her up and savor the sweet flavor on your tongue as you got lost in her.

You moved to her clothed center carefully as you placed a kiss on her drenched lace. You could feel a wave of slick drip down, and it just turned you on even more.

“Joel, please…” she begged, bucking her hips up in the air, trying to get some release from the tension.

“Don’t worry, baby. Gonna take good care of ya. Gonna make you feel so good.” You ran your thumb up her center, putting pressure right where her clit was. She groaned as you hit that sweet spot.

“Already so wet for me, sweetheart,” you praised, hooking your fingers over the lacy edges and pulling them down as you dragged them to the floor. You got in between her legs and pushed her thighs apart, getting in position to drink her down.

“This what you want? Want me to kiss you here?” you asked as you planted your lips against her wetness, smelling the sweet arousal pooling at her insides.

“Mmm yes, please,” she groaned. “Want your tongue, your fingers, your everything,” she breathed out in rushed breaths.

“Don’t worry, baby. Gonna give you everything. Gonna give you my all.”

You smirked up at her and then licked all the way from her dripping hole to the top of her folds. She dropped back on her elbows and watched you devour her nice and slow. You spread her folds and connected with her clit as you flicked meticulous circles around her, pulling her into your mouth as you sucked on her gently, sending pulsing vibrations through her body.

“Fuck, that feels good,” she moaned. “Don’t stop, please. Keep going,” she gasped out.

“I’m not gonna stop, darlin’. Gonna make you come so hard your legs will be shaking and squeezing around me,” you teased as you plunged two fingers inside her, hooking them just enough so you could hit that sweet spongy spot that drove Aly crazy.

“Oh, God,” she moaned as she squeezed her legs around you tightly.

You gave her your best smoldering eyes and continued. “Eyes on me love, that’s it. Such a good girl,” you purred as you brought your tongue back to her clit, gently massaging her most sensitive spots as another shot of slick ran down her dripping hole.

“Joel, I’m gonna…I’m about to…” she whined, squeezing her legs even tighter around your back.

“Let go, baby. Come for me,” you cooed. And that’s exactly what she did. She clenched around your fingers and then relaxed, opening up the flood gates as her slick went everywhere. Her moan was loud and desperate, and when she called your name it sounded like angelic music to your ears.

You lapped up every bit with your tongue and praised her, gently massaging her thighs with your hands, easing her from her orgasm. “Such a good girl. Did so good for me, sweetheart.”

She slowly sat up and reached for you as she tugged on the waistband of your boxers. You lifted an eyebrow in question of what she wanted. “Need you, please,” she begged.

“Such a needy girl,” you laughed. “You want me?”

“Yes, I want you. All of you, my husband,” she purred. She was smoldering the dark blues of her eyes at you, showing you just how much she needed you, and you about came undone at the sight.

She pulled down your boxers as your erection sprang free of its constricts, planting firmly against the base of your stomach. She reached up and softly stroked you back and forth, up and down, spreading your precum down your entire length. Her hands were like magic as heat started building at the base of your spine.

She leaned forward and slowly licked at the tip, swirling her tongue in all the sensitive places as she hit every single one. A low groan sounded from your throat as she took you in deeper in her throat as her head began to bob up and down, slow and steady, making that gagging sound as she took you as far as she could.

“Christ, feels so good, baby. Fuck,” you growled as she released you from her mouth. She tugged up and down as you heard the slick noises from her hands melt in with the stickiness of you.

Another bead of precum spilled down and mixed in with the rest of your slick, messy cock. You took her hand and stopped her as you gently backed her down on the bed, slowly spreading her thighs as you inched your way in between them, nuzzling your scruff against her neck, slowly kissing up and down her collar bone.

“Gonna make love to ya now, my sweet girl,” you whispered. “My angel.” You kissed her again, making your way up her neck and tugging on her soft earlobe. “My love.”

You ghosted your lips over her soft skin and to her mouth, gently kissing her as you brought your tip right against her folds. “My precious lilac.” You plunged your length into her and started nice and slow, pumping in and out as her walls clenched around you.

She bit her lip and wrapped her legs around your back, caging you into her as she reached up and raked her fingers through your tousled curls. And it felt so fucking good that you wanted to get lost in her, let her run her gentle fingers through your hair all night long.

You sped up your tempo and bottomed out in her as she whined and took her other hand and scratched it down your back, sinking her nails into you. And fuck it felt amazing.

You thrusted in and out of her, reaching that soft, spongy spot over and over as she moaned your name, squeezing her legs tighter around you as you knew she was almost there. So close for you.

“Let go, baby. C’mon. Here, let me help,” you cooed.

You took your thumb and pressed it hard over her clit, drawing tiny circles at just the right pressure as you felt her walls clench up around you.

“Fuck, darlin’. Squeezin’ me so tight, feels so good,” you groaned as you continued thrusting in and out, hitting that spongy area, and working at her clit meticulously.

“Joel, fuck, I…” she moaned as her eyes were fixed intently on you. Those dazzling, deep blues. The way she was looking at you was so intense, so loving. You swear you could see galaxies in those sparkling eyes. Could even see your own reflection in her eyes as she pined for you, burned for you, loved you.

“Go on, darlin’. Come for me, love,” you encouraged her softly.

One more press to her clit and she was done for. Her walls tightened up around you and then released as white slick coated your cock, dripping down the insides of her thighs.

“God, I love you,” you groaned as you cupped her face and kissed her passionately as you picked up your tempo and thrusted faster, harder into her.

“I love you, Joel,” she whispered against your lips. And that was it. That’s what made you come undone.

“Fuck, Alyson…” you growled as your jaw clenched tight. Your breath hitched as you thrusted once more and then spilled all of you inside her, feeling your seed fill up her tight walls as you stayed inside her for just a few more seconds. As you slowly slid out, you felt your seed spill out all over her thighs as the white, sticky substance coated over her.

You grabbed the closest thing you could find which was your boxers and cleaned her off, gently wiping all the slick from her thighs and center. You threw them over the edge of the bed and plopped down beside her on the mattress in exhaustion, pulling her to your chest as you took your hand and gently caressed her cheek, pulling her in for another kiss.

Her lips felt as soft as a rose petal, tasted like sugar and honey, something you wanted to drink down, consume for eternity. “Alyson, baby, I love you. I wish I could paint your eyes in the stars so I could stare across the ocean and still see those beautiful blue eyes. They’re like galaxies, and I can see my future etched in every single star. Your heart and mine entwined together, forever,” you hummed out as you tucked a brunette wave behind her ear.

She was looking at you with the most serene, loving expression you ever saw as her eyes sparkled and watered. “Joel Miller, my love, that has got to be one of the most romantic things you have ever said to me.” She smiled and kissed you again as she crawled on top of your chest and leaned on you, her eyes staring longingly into your soul, making your heart beat that much more for her.

“What can I say, darlin’. You bring out the soft side of me. I’m so immensely in love with you. Just call me a hopeless romantic now. Never been one until I found you. Then you changed me. Showed me what true love looked like. And it’s you. You’re the complete picture of love, and I’ll continue to show you every single day how deeply and desperately I am in love with you. My sweet girl.”

You brushed a tear away from your eyes and then caught a falling tear from Aly’s eye, gently caressing her cheek slowly. There was so much love in the room that your heart was nearly bursting at the seams. Tugging on you so hard, telling you that you were so in love. Because you were. You were in love with your wife. Your lover. Alyson Miller. That beautiful, delicate lilac that you’d love and cherish forever.

“Joel Miller, my husband. I love you, and I will forever love you,” she whispered as she planted a soft kiss on your lips.

“Alyson Miller, my wife, my sweet girl. From this day forward, you are my forever. My best friend, my partner, my one true love. And I’ll spend the rest of my days fully loving you and protecting you. You have made me the happiest man in the world, and I am so lucky that you chose me. My sweet, beautiful girl. My favorite lilac.”

You spent the rest of the night consummating your love and christening the entire bedroom, ending the night with her in your arms as you soothingly ran a hand up and down her back as she slept soundly wrapped up in your side with her head against your chest.

You languidly stroked her waves as your fingers ran up and down her scalp, breathing in that fresh lilac scent that fully intoxicated you. You laid there thinking how lucky you got, how absolutely blessed and fortunate you were. You got the girl of your dreams, the one thing that had been missing in your life all along.

It was her. Alyson. Your wife. The love of your life. She was your forever and always, your constant, your future, your everything. And you loved her. You loved her with every breath in your body. For she was an ocean of love, and you’d forevermore drown in her. Drinking in all her ecstasy as you intertwined with her soothing waves, crashing all your love into her. Just two souls colliding into one for eternity, never letting the other disappear into the dark abyss of the waters. You’d keep each other in the light.

Alyson was your light, your way home. She was your home.

Your love, your peace, your ray of sunshine.

And now, your wife.

Forevermore.

Tags: @janaispunk @amyispxnk @itsokbbygrl @tuquoquebrute @dugiioh @ladamari68

[very-straight-blog]

After the butchering of both B&C and Rooks Rest, I’m officially done with the show

I gave it a chance after B&C but after the butchering of the two of the biggest plot points in the show I really just can’t watch it anymore. This isn’t the books I liked. Hell it’s not even a good show. If the changes had made it a good show I would still stick around.

I wanted to keep watching because I really like this community and I love the TG actors but the show actually sucks and it was such a chore to get through this episode. I had to keep stopping it because it just wasn’t good.

They’ve ruined my favorite character Aemond and I can’t even express my like of the character anymore without someone bringing up the weird nude scene or him trying to kill his brother (which would have never happened in the books)

They’re changing everything so TB doesn’t look bad. Aegon in the books put up a great fight against Rhaenys and she got burnt to a crisp. They had to change it to where she destroyed Aegon and didn’t burn once because they can’t make a woman look bad.

There is zero chance after these two plot points are ruined that they pull of anything good in the rest of the book. Alys is probably going to have Aemond mind controlled, Aemond is going to abandon his family. Alicent will continue to put Rhaenyra above her own family. And now the best character Aegon is out for an extended time. I would have been so happy for Aemonds regency arc after season 1 but now I don’t even want to see his character on screen anymore.

Consolation is that a lot of people have already stopped watching the show. The viewership is so bad HBO won’t release the full numbers. HBO is quick to release them when they’re good, slowly releases them when they’re just ok and hides them when they’re bad. We’re on episode 4 and they haven’t released them. They’re really bad.

I really like this community so I’ll probably stick around for the posts and the subs views on the episodes but I’m done watching the show. I’ll catch clips on tik tok of the things I want to see.

I totally understand you, seriously. I suppose the show should bring at least some joy, but here I feel only anger and frustration. However, I can't stop watching it yet, I'm too attached to Tom and Ewan in these roles, so I admire your willpower. I'd really like HOTD to be closed, just closed and the actors would be free and find projects where their characters would be at least a little respected. I honestly feel sorry for the actors, although, of course, this project brought popularity to many of them, but they also received a lot of hate and many other problems. Anyway, I'm stuck here.

[dirtfullofwork]

call of duty oc: sal "ruz" le ciel ( reboot ! Sal)

As of 2024 ruz is associated members of the task force and was called in by laswell to assist the task force with a mission in Las almas with the help of Ghost, Alejandro and soap to capture Hassan.

General:

Name: Salamanca (sal) le Ciel

Age: 24 (as of 2022 where mw2 reboot takes place)

Alies: ruz , coperal, sal, ruzzy

Gender: female

Birthday: October 31, 1998

Nationality: British (UK)

Languages: English, Spanish, some Russian (for educational purposes) and some asain languages

Occupation/ rank: corporal, British SAS (special air services), Associated member of 141- Ghost team and medic

Sexuality: bisexual

Appearance:

Hair color: dark brown

Eye color: cocoa brown

Scars: a few some her childhood and during her time in the militarily (minor ones)

Face claim: Aimee Garcia (?)

Height: 5,6 (166 cm)

Build: lean muscular

Blood type: o+

She had glasses but she can see fairly she mostly uses glasses to read

Family:

Mother: freya (unknown last name) status: Deceased , deceased unnamed father, Martinez le Ciel

Siblings: none.

Personality:

●Looks like a cinnamon bun could kill you.

●confident

●kind

●funny

●loyal

Favorites:

color: green

Season: winter

Food: popcorn shrimp, (she really likes Asian food)

Drink: green tea

Desert: matcha ice cream with rice crisp and also soft cookies (hand baked)

Hobbies: wrestling, running, yard work, gardening, reading, sleep

Task force 141:

John price

Soap mactavish

Ghost Riley

Gaz Garrick

Ruz

Cat @cyberghostdraws

Warriors task force: @islandtarochips ocs!

Tiala shark

Captian kanoa tka

Nigel Harrison

Agnes blast

Dr kalani

Alana Kalani

Fighting style:

Fighting skills: she relys of stealth, she also use her wresting skills she learned. She also uses toture methods like nail pulling, fire, water log

Weapons: she is proficient with in field crafts and knifes. Especially her black talon knife. Its a blade with a slight curve and needle sharp tip

Weaknesses:

•she dosent open to her emotions

•she is a people pleaser, she never knows how to say no

●she can be dishonest

●she can be reluctant

Trivia:

●she is afraid of dogs, she thinks hairy ,messy and sloppy and they are just scary in general, she loves cats

●she loves reading Greek mythology

●she is a Virgin, she thinks love will get in the way of her life and job, and she's just serious about love as she never dated anyone.

•she likes tying her hair up, but always gets messy after missions

•she has glasses but only for reading she can see afar

•she likes girls and boys romantically

Backstory:

At a very young age her mother died from an accidental overdose and her never meeting her father due to him being locked up for murder. She was raised by her aunt, Martinez le Ceil. She lived a decent life, she was fed well raised well to her. And she also heard storys of her late mother being a retired solider and she use to be so inspired by her story and wanted to be her mother one day, but it was hard. Later she decided she should change her life because she didint have no clue what to do with his life and pay off her aunts (Martinez) depts. And thought it be fun.. oh she be so wrong..

so after some years later sal learned tons of stuff, and over time she joined the British sas at the age 19 where she got her code name “ruz”, later she was later called for a mission in El Salvador to kill a group of terrorist and to get info on a report of a drug stash with a few co workers , and after a fail she had to watch her only friend co worker get killed in front of her in a brutal way while she was held hostage then got tortured for 4 days until she escaped but not without a mark, months after that things were normal until she got called by laswell to help them with a mission to las Almas.

[wenclairly]

I will probably just write this myself someday but

A fic where the Stalker is revealed to be Yoko. Much like Rowan, she has convinced herself that Wednesday is dangerous, and wants to keep her bestie Enid from getting hurt again. Unlike Rowan, she was radicalized by MorningSong, whose "therapy" app actually exaggerates fear and doubt to dangerous extremes.

letters, knives, and second chances | wenclair

wednesday addams x enid sinclair

description: wednesday and enid receive a note from wendesday's stalker, leading to revelations that they never could have expected.

tags/warnings: stalker, stalking, post-canon.

wc: 3.5k

a/n: thank you kbb306 for this amazing request, and our first one no less :) we apologize for a tiny delay! we've been trying to balance our own writing with this blog too. and we're very excited to share our first co-written req!! we do have another requested one shot in the works, and feel free to request more guys we LOVE when you do! enjoy this lil one ;) - jes & aly

The metallic clang of the cafeteria doors echoed behind Wednesday as she emerged, the lingering taste of lukewarm gruel a bitter reminder of Nevermore’s culinary shortcomings. The midday sun was casting its usual shadows across the cobblestone courtyard; yet something felt amiss. The distorted patches of darkness seemed to cause an unease in Wednesday, one that had long taken root since her return to school.

Two months had passed since the harrowing events that had nearly torn Nevermore apart, and the scars were still visible. The manicured lawns bore the scorch marks of battle, the stone gargoyles seemed to leer with a newfound malevolence, and the whispers of students now carried an undercurrent of fear that hadn’t been there before.

Wednesday tugged her blazer tighter around her, a futile attempt to ward off the growing chill. Even her usually vibrant roommate had subdued, her infectious laughter now punctuated by moments of quiet introspection. It was as if the darkness that had threatened to consume them all had left a permanent stain.

As Wednesday made her way back to the dorm, her mind drifted to Enid’s therapy session. The new therapist, a chipper woman with a penchant for pastel sweaters and motivational posters, had arrived in the wake of the chaos, a self-proclaimed expert in trauma recovery. Enid had embraced the sessions with her usual enthusiasm, but Wednesday remained skeptical. Could a few platitudes and breathing exercises truly mend the wounds inflicted by a centuries-old monster?

Lost in her thoughts, Wednesday rounded the corner. Only to be jolted back to reality by an unexpected sight. Their door, usually firmly shut, stood slightly ajar. A frown tugged at her lips as she approached, her pace quickening with each step. Had Enid forgotten to close it before leaving? Or had someone else ventured into their shared space, disturbing the delicate balance they had carefully constructed?

The air hung heavy with an unfamiliar scent, a subtle blend of cedarwood and something floral, decidedly not Enid’s usual werewolf musk. A chill slithered down Wednesday’s spine. With a soft push, the door creaked open.

The room appeared undisturbed at first glance. Enid’s collection of stuffed animals were still perched on her bed, their wide eyes watching Wednesday with an unnerving intensity. And her overflowing bookshelf of romance novels and werewolf folklore remained untouched. Even Wednesday’s typewriter sat calmly on her desk, a half-finished poem visible in its carriage.

But as her eyes adjusted, a discordant detail pierced the illusion of normalcy. A crisp white envelope laying on the inky blackness of her bedspread. It was intrusion, a violation of her personal space that set her teeth on edge.

With a measured step, Wednesday approached the bed. Her eyes fixed on the envelope as she reached out to brush her fingers against the smooth paper. It was unsealed, an invitation to delve into its contents.

She swiftly slid her finger beneath the flap and tore it open. A single sheet of paper, thick and heavy, fell into her hand. The handwriting was an attempt at elegance, but held an obvious note of sloppiness. Yet it wasn’t how the letters were penned that unnerved her, but the words themselves.

“Dearest Wednesday,” the letter began, “Your darkness casts a long shadow, a blight on the innocence of Nevermore. I see the danger you pose, the poison you spread with your twisted words and morbid obsessions. Enid, my dear sweet Enid, deserves better than to be ensnared by your darkness.”

A cold fury ignited in Wednesday’s chest. But she read on, each word twisting the knot in her stomach tighter.

“I will not allow you to corrupt her any more than you have, to drag her further down your abyss. You will leave Nevermore, or I will ensure that Enid pays the price. Consider this a warning, a taste of a different darkness that awaits you, should you refuse to heed my words.”

The letter ended abruptly, the final sentence hanging venomously in the air. Wednesday’s grip tightened on the paper, her knuckles turning white as she fought to contain her rage. This was not a prank, not a childish attempt at intimidation. This was a declaration of war, a threat against the person she held most dear.

* * *

When Enid returned from therapy, she entered the dorm to see Wednesday furiously typing away, the familiar sound of the typewriter clacking aggressively. Enid’s eyebrow raised, though she didn’t question Wednesday’s anger. It could range from something serious to a minor inconvenience that had ruined her day. As logical as Wednesday was, Enid had to admit that sometimes she was quite brash.

It wasn’t the aggressive typing that worried Enid. Instead, it was the way Wednesday stood up and pulled the paper from the typewriter, crumpling it and flattening it down onto her desk. Thing was waiting there and kicked it into the waiting wastebasket. After that, the clacking sounds stopped. Wednesday sat at her desk and huffed a loud sigh.

“Everything okay?” Enid asked hesitantly. She’d beelined for her bed, laying down with her laptop resting on her legs. She had an essay due within the next few days, and she was terrible at getting them done on time. She had considered asking for help, but Wednesday’s apparent bad mood was enough to prevent her from doing so.

“I’m fine.” Wednesday answered briskly, not even bothering to turn around to face Enid. Instead she stared at her typewriter as if trying to burn a hole into it.

Enid hummed thoughtfully, then slid her laptop off her legs and onto the bed beside her. “You don’t seem fine.” Enid pointed out, much to Wednesday’s chagrin. The girl’s shoulders tensed and she turned, her permanent glare boring into Enid. “Yikes. Okay.” Enid immediately turned her attention back to her laptop, turning so her back was facing Wednesday.

Things were quiet for a moment, before she heard another long sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m simply frustrated. It seems my ability to write has conveniently decided to disappear.” There was a slight tremor in Wednesday’s voice. It was definitely more than that.

“Writer’s block?” Enid suggested, her gaze moving back to Wednesday. The raven was resting a hand on her temple, her elbow propped up on the desk.

“Absolutely not. I have never once been afflicted with writer’s block and I certainly will not begin to be now.” Wednesday drummed her fingers on her desk.

Enid’s sensitive hearing picked up on the drumming. Her eyebrow rose in a skeptical expression. “Maybe something else is bothering you?”

Wednesday froze at the remark. Enid tilted her head. That was an indication of her being correct. It seemed clear enough to her that something else was going on inside of Wednesday’s head. Something that was bothering her. “What’s wrong?”

Enid watched as her roommate looked at her, then averted her gaze, then looked at her again. She was unsure, nervous, even. “I received another message from my stalker.”

Enid perked up, sitting up straight in her bed upon hearing the news. “Really? What was it?”

“A threat.” Wednesday said ominously, opening the drawer at the side of her desk and pulling a letter out of it. Enid got on her feet, swiftly crossing the line between their two halves and taking the letter from Wednesday once it was offered to her. Her eyes scanned the piece of paper, and with each line she felt more nauseated.

“‘My dear sweet Enid’?” Enid quoted the letter, frowning. “Whoever wrote this clearly has no idea who you are.” She felt anger of her own festering in her chest, building up. Who did this person think they were? Insulting Wednesday and their friendship. As if Enid was too weak to be friends with someone like Wednesday.

Enid was tired of being seen as weak.

“I have a relatively good idea of who it might be.” Wednesday’s burning glare returned back to the paper loaded in her typewriter. “Who else would refer to you that way? It must be Ajax.” There was a sort of bitterness in her voice. It wasn’t aggressive enough to be anger, but it wasn’t placid enough to be just a simple dislike. It was deeper than that. Enid wondered if she was overthinking it, but if she didn’t know any better, she’d think Wednesday was jealous.

“That’s true.” Enid’s eyebrows furrowed. “But he’s never called me ‘dear’ or ‘sweet’.”

“A failure of a partner, if you ask me.” Wednesday grumbled under her breath.

Enid blinked. “That’s a little harsh.”

“Not harsh enough. I should have nailed his heart to a wall before you two reached whatever you define it to be now.” Wednesday looked up at Enid, who was staring down at her with a confused expression.

Enid sighed softly. “It’s complicated.” She quickly muttered, not particularly in the mood to detail how the best word she could use to describe what she and Ajax had was “situationship”.

“That’s what they all say.” Wednesday bit back, turning her gaze back to the blank piece of paper in front of her.

“Okay, well-” Enid started to argue, then paused and took a deep breath. “That’s besides the point. What are we supposed to do about this stalker?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Wednesday’s lips. “I could always build another makeshift guillotine.”

“Wednesday, no.” Enid huffed. “Something that doesn’t involve killing my…” She hesitated, “...him.” She finished, unsure once again how to describe Ajax.

Wednesday scoffed. “You’d be better off without him.”

Enid waved her off. “That’s besides the point.” She rubbed her temple with two fingers, starting to get a headache from Wednesday’s one-sided hatred of Ajax. “Why don’t we just talk to him?”

“I suppose. But I’m bringing a knife with me.”

Enid already knew that Wednesday wasn’t going to budge on that point, so she didn’t bother trying to fight it. “Fine.” She said lowly. Wednesday was already standing up and moving to her bed, kneeling down and reaching underneath it. “Wait, you mean right now?”

“Yes, right now. We need to get to the bottom of this immediately. These letters are unacceptable.” Wednesday pulled a small box out from under her bed, opening it to reveal an intricate dagger.

“You don’t-” Enid rolled her eyes. “Okay. Fine.” She agreed begrudgingly once again. “Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

“Alright.” Wednesday stood up, hiding the dagger in her sleeve, and began walking towards the door, Enid in tow as usual. The two of them exited the dorm, bent on ending this “stalker” business right then and there.

The quad at Nevermore was a microcosm of the school’s social hierarchy. Flocks of sirens gossiped near the fountains, their scales shimmering in the afternoon light. A group of gorgons, their stony gazes fixed on chessboards, hurled under the shade of the outside trees. And nestled in the corner, at a small stony table, was Ajax Petropolus sitting beside Bianca Barclay.

Wednesday and Enid approached the pair. Enid’s usually bouncy gait was tempered by a hint of apprehension as she trailed behind Wednesday’s, whose stride remained as purposeful as ever. Her eyes were fixed on their target with the intensity of a predator stalking its prey.

Ajax, oblivious to their approach, was mid-sentence. Bianca, her eyes half-closed against the sun, seemed to be humoring him with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Petropolus,” Wednesday’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

Ajax’s head snapped up, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in the sight of Wednesday and Enid standing before him. A nervous smile flickered across his face before it was quickly replaced by a look of feigned nonchalance.

“Yo, Wednesday, Enid,” he greeted them with a casual nod of his head. “What’s up?”

Wednesday’s lips curled in disgust. “Don’t,” she snapped, the word dripping with venom. “We have a matter of grave importance to discuss with you.”

Enid, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward in an attempt to be a calming counterpoint to Wednesday’s iciness. “Ajax, we need to talk about the letters,” she said, her eyes searching his face.

Ajax blinked, a puzzled frown creasing his brow. “Letters?” he echoed, his voice tinged with genuine confusion. “What letters?”

Bianca tilted her head, even her expression betrayed a hint of bewilderment. “You mean fan mail, Enid?” she quipped, a playful lilt to her voice. “Saving Nevermore isn’t taken lightly. You’ve got quite the following now I see.”

Enid’s patience, already stretched thin, snapped. “Not fan mail, Bianca,” she retorted, her voice rising an octave. “Threatening letters. From Wednesday’s stalker.”

The word hung in the air. Ajax’s expression shifted from confusion to concern, while Bianca’s demeanor was replaced by a mask of guarded curiosity.

“A stalker?” Ajax repeated, his voice barely a whisper. “But who would…?”

Wednesday cut him off with a chillingly calm voice, her eyes narrowing to slits. “You tell us, Petropolus,” she hissed, her words dripping with accusation. “You seem awfully confused, perhaps suspiciously so.”

Ajax recoiled under Wednesday’s piercing gaze. “Woah, Wednesday,” he stammered slightly, raising his hands in a gesture of defense. “I don’t know anything about any stalker. What even makes you think that?”

That’s when Bianca stepped in, her voice sharp and defensive. “Back off, Wednesday,” she snapped. “Ajax is the last person who would do something like this. He’s been nothing but kind and supportive to Enid—”

Wednesday was quick to interrupt with a scoff. “Kind and supportive?” she echoed, a venomous edge to her voice. “Or perhaps he’s simply following a well-trodden path of deception, lulling us into a false sense of security while harboring sinister intentions.”

Ajax flinched as if struck, his face paling under the intensity of her accusation. Bianca bristled, her lips forming a thin line of displeasure.

Enid, however, had reached her limit. She stepped forward, her voice a low growl. “Enough, Wednesday,” she hissed. “You’re being unfair now. Ajax… isn’t him.” 

A tense silence descended upon them. Wednesday was momentarily taken aback by the outburst, remaining silent as the implications seeped into her. It stung. But there was a creeping sense that perhaps Enid was right.

After a beat, Ajax finally spoke, his voice a hesitant plea. “Enid, I don’t get it,” he said, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What did the letter even say? What kind of threats are we talking about?”

Enid’s breath hitched, the words of the letter had been a sour taste on her tongue. “It said,” she began, lowering her voice, “something about Wednesday being a ‘danger’... a ‘blight on the innocence of Nevermore’. It says that I… I deserve better than to be ‘ensnared by her darkness’.” She paused for a moment, tracing her mind back to what else the letter had said. A knot formed in her stomach as she remembered the rest, the threat to her own safety. Enid couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “Such theatrics,” she muttered, a hint of disgust lacing her tone. “One would think we were dealing with a Shakespearean villain, not some cowardly stalker hiding behind vague threats and flowery language.”

Bianca dismissively waved her hand. “Sounds like the kind of fear-mongering nonsense MorningSong’s ‘wellness app’ is always peddling,” she scoffed, the disdain evident. “All that talk of darkness and danger, it’s enough to make one paranoid.”

“MorningSong?” Wednesday echoed, deceptively calm. “Who here subscribes to that drivel?”

Ajax shifted uncomfortably on the bench, his eyes darting nervously towards Bianca. “Yoko,” he blurted out, the name a low mumble.

Enid’s eyes widened. “Yoko has that app?” Her voice was filled with incredulity.

“I told her not to get it.” Bianca hummed pensively, shaking her head. “But she said it was just a joke, that she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I didn’t think she’d take it seriously.”

Wednesday’s expression darkened. “Well. I suppose we know who our stalker is. Good thing I brought a knife.”

“You brought a what?” Ajax blinked, watching closely as Wednesday gestured towards her sleeve. 

“It’s Wednesday. What were you expecting?” Bianca grumbled sarcastically. 

Enid waved them off. “Does it really matter? Let’s just go find Yoko and talk to her. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. She knows what we’ve been through. It’s gotta be that stupid app.”

“Good luck.” Bianca called as they walked away, settling back down next to Ajax, who looked as confused as always.

“When I find that vampire, I’m going to shove a stake through her heart.” Wednesday hissed under her breath. The two of them made their way to Yoko’s dorm, Wednesday fuming and Enid feeling more unsure with each step.

When they finally arrived, Enid went to knock on the door, but Wednesday simply shoved it open with no regard of who might be on the other side or what they might be doing.

“Tanaka.” Wednesday practically growled, entering the room like an ominous storm cloud.

Yoko was sitting at her desk, her laptop open in front of her. She jolted, her shoulders tensing. She whipped around in her chair, staring directly at both Wednesday and Enid, a nervous smile flickering over her face. “Uh… Hey, Enid. Wednesday.” She greeted, her voice shaking slightly.

“Care to explain your pathetic letters?” Wednesday stormed over to Yoko, slamming her hand onto the desk and leaning over the vampire.

“Wednesday-” Enid started. She was promptly cut off by Yoko, who stood up. Given Wednesday’s small stature, Yoko stood a few inches taller than her, looking down at her with a glare. “I’ll explain it alright. Enid wouldn’t have been hurt by the Hyde if it wasn’t for you. She wouldn’t have come crying to my dorm if it wasn’t for you. All you do is hurt her, Wednesday. You’re dangerous and reckless.”

Wednesday was clearly ready to fight, but Enid crossed the room and put space between the two of them, holding her arm out in front of Wednesday. “Yoko, where is this all coming from? You were there the night we fought the Hyde. You were there the night she saved the school. You know what happened.”

Yoko hesitated, shoving her hands into her pockets. “This app I downloaded. It was telling me that something dark and foreboding was coming. I kept getting stuff like that, and the only thing I could think of… given she was the reason everything happened in the first place…”

“That app spews nonsense in exchange for popularity. You are a fool for taking anything it tells you to heart.” Wednesday snapped, barely able to hold back her anger. “You should have known better.”

Yoko seemed unsure of herself now, her shoulders slumping. “I… I just wanted what was best for Enid.”

Enid sighed softly. There wasn’t any anger in her expression, and her tone was gentle. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Yoko. I know you care, but Wednesday and I care about each other. And we’ve worked out our issues.” She looked back at Wednesday, whose demeanor had softened. “She would fight for me in a heartbeat. Even if she refuses to admit it.”

Wednesday grumbled something under her breath. Enid didn’t hear it, though she was sure that it was yet another empty threat.

“Come on, Yoko. You know better than this.” Enid chided quietly. “Delete the app, and all is forgiven.”

“Who says all is forgiven?” Wednesday asked, straightening her posture. Until Enid glared at her and she relented. “Fine.”

Yoko took her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through it and deleting MorningSong from it. “It’s gone.” She flipped her phone around, showing both Wednesday and Enid that it was completely gone. “I only got it as a joke, I wasn’t expecting it to be so effective.”

“It’s all about psychology. If you had any sense of logic, you would realize that.” Wednesday relaxed now that the threat was gone, her tone less abrasive.

“Now that that’s over with…” Enid started, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “I think you two should have some bonding time! It’ll be great. My two besties, getting along!”

“Absolutely not-” Wednesday tried to object, but was immediately cut off by Enid.

“We should go get coffee at the Weathervane to celebrate! And Yoko, you should definitely bring Divina. We’ll become a gang, the four of us!” She raised her hands to her chest, balling them into fists. Excitement was radiating off of her. Excitement so genuine, that not even Wednesday could deny her wishes. “Alright, stop your incessant jabbering.” Wednesday turned to exit the dorm, glancing back at Yoko. “Meet us in the quad in fifteen minutes sharp, Tanaka.” She put an emphasis on the word “sharp”, wanting to be completely clear.

Yoko, who was stunned by the quick forgiveness, could only stand and nod as the two girls exited her dorm, Enid talking Wednesday’s ear off and Wednesday only able to listen grumpily as they walked side by side, shoulder to shoulder.