#and i've already made it through two rounds of cuts

[plangentia]

interview today 😬😬😬

[dotster001]

For Tuna; The Search Continues

Summary:gn!reader Grin has begun round two of his search for his your sugar daddy. Luckily, this time he got a babysitter for you, so no interruptions!

This is such a crack fic...And I deeply love it 😂

A/N: It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age.

Part One Part three choose your ending...

"Thank you all for meeting me here," Grim said to the crowd of people. "And thank you all for the gifts. They shall be taken into consideration. Now, today will go as such."

He looked around the room in confusion. "Wait, it appears we are one person short, I guess-"

"Yeah! Me!" Floyd bursted into the room, revealing Jade clutching his cheek, and sitting on the floor.

"What the hell, Sealie! We had a deal! You promised I was in!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Grim shifted in his seat nervously.

"Then I'm gonna squeeze you so hard you have to remember!" Floyd made to rush Grim, as Azul wrapped his arms around Floyd's middle, not even seeming to break a sweat as Floyd "ran" in place.

"Jade, please come get your brother, before he kills Grim and ruins it for everyone."

"I tried to stop him," Jade hummed as he retrieved his brother.

"Sure you did," Azul sighed, casting a quick stun spell so Jade could  get him out of the room. Once things had settled down, Grim called for silence again.

He put on a wig styled in your style and color.

"You will court me as though I am Y/N. You will only move on to the next round if you prove yourself here today. Any questions?"

Idia raised his hand.

"Yeah, who are the normies?"

He pointed at the two random Octavinelle students sitting at the table.

"Ah, yes. Two of our applicants couldn't be here today. They have special circumstances surrounding their absences, so they will be doing their tests at a later date. These two are here to remind you all to step it up."

Rook raised his hand. "Not a question, I just want to say your fur is looking soft and luscious today, monsieur Fuzzball."

Leona, Riddle, and Malleus all groaned and mumbled to themselves, while Vil massaged his temples in pure exhaustion.

"Thank you, Rook," Grim said with a smug smirk. "An anonymous donor has been providing me with a new fur product." Rook winked at him before grinning at Vil.

Silver raised his hand. Lilia attempted to shove it down, but it was too late.

"Again, this feels wrong to me. Firstly because Y/N has no idea about any of this, and secondly, because Y/N should pick their lover! I mean we've all known the prefect long enough to know that-"

"Look!" Grim slammed his clipboard on the table, calling for silence. "I've had enough of you and your goody two shoes ways! The only reason you made it through to this round is because the prefect says you're "baby girl", and I want to say I at least tried to think about Y/N in this process, but if you don't get it together, I'm cutting you completely!"

Silver looked at Lilia in wide eyed confusion, and saw Lilia was grinning. He wasn't sure which was scarier. Not knowing what the hell Grim was talking about, or the fact that his father seemed to be very pleased by it.

"If there are no more questions, then I will give you all the scenario. You are to act as though this is your anniversary dinner. Some of you have already lost points, because you forgot a gift," Grim pointedly glared at Silver.

"Oh! I almost forgot. Silver entrusted me with his gift," Lilia said, excitedly pulling out a gift bag.

"No, I didn't."

"Yes. You did."

Silver shrunk into his chair, as Grim happily accepted the present.

"Alright then. Now," Grim cleared his throat, then in a horrendous mockery of your voice, "Let us begin."

….

"Yo! Y/N!" 

You heard Ace's voice shout behind you as you kneaded the bread dough Trey had asked you to help with.

You turned over your shoulder, in time to miss Trey's expression darken.

"What's u-"

"Ace!" Trey shouted, startling both of you into silence.

"Perfect timing, I need to speak with you. In private," Trey said through gritted teeth, attempting to cover up his earlier blunder with a smile.

"What? No don't distract me, I'm here to-" but Ace was cut off as Trey not so subtly shoved him out of the kitchen, telling you they'd be back in a minute.

"Trey, with all due respect, what the fuck? You know full well that right now, Grim is running a practice date with-"

"Ace, shut up for just one moment, I'm trying to help you!"

Ace's mouth snapped shut in shock.

"My first question is, did you have to take out a loan to be able to afford to come here?"

"Yeah everyone has to-"

"The kind of numbers we are fighting against is people who have so much money, that they might as well not have even come here, because they definitely don't have to work a day in their lives."

"But Y/N doesn't care about-"

"Ace, seriously. I need you to think this through, or I'm leaving you here to rot," Trey said tiredly. "No, Y/N doesn't care about money. But they care about Grim. Grim, if he's as smart as I'm starting to suspect he is, is going to make his final pick, then spin it as a fairytale choice for Y/N. He'll wait long enough that they have forgotten about him interviewing people, and he'll come in with a sad little face and be like, 'Y/N, you're my family, but I'm worried that I can't give you everything you need.' And he'll continue to say stuff like that, and lay the ground work, until one day he sets up a cutsie spontaneous date in the living room with his chosen suitor."

Ace frowned for a moment. "That's…that's actually pretty smart. But Y/N says Grim's a dumb ass all the time. Why would they listen to his arguments now?"

"Ace, sevens, I shouldn't have to spell everything out for you. There's a difference between "my dumbass friend" and "my dumbass roommate, who is wholly reliant on me, who is also my cat, and who is my only family in this world"."

Ace pouted for a moment, before spitting out, "It's not fair! How are we supposed to even compete then!"

Trey grinned. "Well, we're here, and they're there. The plan doesn't work if Y/N has already picked someone before Grim has."

Ace broke out into a grin. "Trey, you're just as devious as the rest of us!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Now, do you want to help Y/N and I make bread? This is a one time offer, after this you're on your own."

"Absolutely. Nothing like making bread amongst friends."

….

"Riddle, it was so very wonderful that they allowed you to have our anniversary dinner off," Grim hummed as he cut a piece of meat. "Unlike last year…" he sighed whistfully.

Riddle gritted his teeth. "I'm sorry, my rose, but it was unavoidable. I had to perform life saving surgery."

"You always say that. I'm starting to think you are avoiding me…."

Before Riddle could come up with a response, Malleus had risen from his seat and knelt before Grim.

"My treasure, our lives these last few years have been so wonderful, especially since we have been able to provide the Great Grim with his own estate, and a lifetime supply of sea meat. But I feel I cannot truly continue to share anniversaries with you, unless," he looked at the floor bashfully, "Unless they were with you ruling by my side."

Suddenly, a shimmering ring appeared in his hand.

Grim gasped. "Darling!"

"No fucking fair!" Idia shouted.

"Agreed, this stinks of deceit, lizard," Leona spit out angrily.

Rook subtly returned the ring box he'd been holding to his pocket.

"All's fair in love and war!" Lilia said with a boyish laugh. "But I suppose it is time for my move now."

He stood up from his seat, composing himself, before putting on a face of pure horror.

"My little bat, I beg you not to accept his proposal! You see, as his longtime attendant, and closest adviser, and general of his armies-"

"General?" Vil muttered under his breath, as he furrowed his brow in utter confusion.

"Aim high, I guess," Riddle muttered back.

"I have come to the terrible knowledge that, his highness, king of those who worship darkness, and highest of all draconic fae, has been seeing another on the side!"

"No!" Grim gasped.

"That's a vicious lie!" Malleus spit out, a green thunderbolt striking the ground behind him.

"Is it? Then why did I see you roaming the grounds in a lover's embrace with Silver yesterday?"

"What!" Silver shot up from his seat.

"No, that wasn't what it looked like!"

"Malleus! How could you do this to me? And on our anniversary no less?" Grim sobbed.

Malleus rushed to explain himself, while Lilia handed Silver a notecard.

"No! I'm not…I'm not reading this!" Silver exclaimed.

"Just do it! It's fun!" Lilia laughed, completely ignoring the sobbing Grim, and terrified Malleus.

"No! Fa-Lilia, how does this not seem weird to you in any way? How are you okay with any of this?"

Lilia stared at him blankly, before understanding dawned on his eyes. "Oh, right, see because I raised you so well, I sometimes forget you are human. But we do this all the time back home. I've hosted three of these for you already." 

Lilia shrugged, totally ignoring Silver's jaw dropping. 

"Obviously, no one has been worthy of my precious Silver, but I figure if anyone is it's Y/N. See if you win, you get Y/N, and I've raised the perfect son. If I win…well your odds are high of also someday finding a kick ass person."

Silver would have yelled at his father about the Insanity of his thought process, except he collapsed back in his chair and was asleep.

"That's it!" Grim shouted. "I'm clearly not enough for you! It's over!"

Malleus started sobbing. 

"For seven's sake," Vil groaned, before standing up, and stepping around Malleus' fetal positioned body. "Darling, I decided we're finally going to go on that vacation we've always dreamed about. And Grim will obviously come too, with all the gold and food  he could ever wish for. Happy anniversary, my apple blossom."

"Oh Vil, how romantic!" The betrayal from earlier completely forgotten, Grim sighed happily.

"But how are we able to afford it?"

"Sorry?" Vil choked.

"Your manager called this morning. She says no one wants to cast you anymore because you're too old."

"Excu-!"

"Vil, you're almost 25 now," Grim said pointedly. "You're practically dead in the industry, and those looks are only going to hold up for so long."

"I bought you an island!" Idia shouted over the table.

"Oh?"

"I bought you an island, and the ocean around it," Azul said with a smirk.

"Oh yeah? And how is Y/N supposed to get there, if I bought all the yachts, and patented all travel technology for myself?!" Idia shouted, hair turning a deep crimson.

"I will turn Y/N into the siren they were always meant to be, and they will swim to our island and oceanic home, far away from the dystopia of you running everything!" Azul hissed.

"Capitalist dipshit!" Idia yelled, before launching himself at Azul, both of them soon wrestling on the floor.

In the chaos, Rook, had snuck over to Grim and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"Mon amour, let us escape this room to explore parad-"

Leona yanked him by the collar, looking him right in the face.

"Back away from my mate, hunter."

"Oh Rois des Leones. I shan't surrender to you."

And now Leona and Rook were wrestling.

"Look, darling, I meant to get last year's anniversary off, but-" 

"Save it, Riddle," Grim somehow managed to get his sniffle to carry over the fighting. "All you care about is work!"

"It's the only way to afford the lifestyle I want to give you! I want to clothe you in finery the Queen of Hearts could only dream of!"

"If only I could believe that was true, you're only doing this to please your mother."

"I'm not old!" Vil suddenly shouted, as one of the wrestling duos hit the table too hard and caused it to collapse.

Grim pushed back a lock of Vil's hair, and smirked. "Is this a gray hair I see?"

"What?" Vil panicked and pulled out his mirror, before tripping over the still sobbing Malleus.

"Little bat, our romance is forbidden,"Lilia whispered into Grim's ear. "But now that you know Malleus is cheating on you, we can run away together! Start our own kingdom elsewhere! We'll be so happy together!"

"Lilia, I am flattered, but I think I should try to make it work with Malleus…"

"What? After all he's done to you? He tore out your heart and gave it to Silver!" Lilia shouted, before pointing at the seat Silver was passed out in. Or used to be passed out in.

"Where did Silver go?" It was the last thing Lilia got out before getting knocked over by a wrestling duo.

….

Silver wandered aimlessly through the NRC halls, trying to clear his head. 

"Silver?" He heard from behind him. He turned and saw Jamil, holding a bag of ingredients.

"If you're looking for, well, everyone, they're baking in Heartslaybul. I'm headed there right now with more flour of you want to come."

Silver nodded, figuring some baking would help him relax. When they arrived he saw you, the first years, Trey, Cater, Ruggie, Kalim and  Ortho, all baking in harmony.

"Trey, I brought Silver and the flour you texted for- Kalim! What are you doing here!" Jamil's calm voice turned into panicked yelling.

"What do you mean?" Kalim's asked, all confused. But Jamil was already shoving him out the door.

"You're supposed to be at…that thing. Remember? We talked about it?"

"Oh yeah! The thing where grikahzj" Jamil covered Kalim's mouth as they both stepped out the door.

"Well, since Kalim is gone, you can help me with kneading the dough, Silver," you said with a bright smile.

Silver smiled softly, and nodded, before joining you at your station.

….

Epilogue

One week later 

"Darling! I'm the headmaster, I can't just take off because our anniversary happens to be in the middle of a school week! You said you understood that when we got married!"

"You told me you were fine that I had a career in fashion! You know I think you are more beautiful than any model, why are you jealous now?"

Grim simpered in his seat, taking a sip of his apple juice, before saying in his Y/N voice, "I think we should see other people. Happy anniversary."

"No!"

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic @supertmntgirl @cxsmicdustdreams @aethermostbeloved @krystalkiller25 @asmallbean3 @theneurodivergentdummy @candlewitch-cryptic @smilingfox22-blog

[novaursa]

Hey again! 😃 Ok, so I've got 4 requests for you (since now it's 1K words per person).

I was thinking of some "lost" scenes from that Alicent fic I requested, but this time it's about the Reader's bond with each of his children.

With Aegon - A scene in which R catches Aegon drunk after a night out, and pulls him aside to listen to his concerns about fulfilling his duties and being responsible in general. Reader remains understanding and tells Aegon that no matter how old he gets, he can always count on his help, but that he has to find his way on his own (Aegon looks more closely at his father and sets him as an example of how a prince/king should behave.

With Helaena - A scene in which Reader takes her to Essos for a trip to a jungle (idk if there exists jungles in Essos, but let's pretend they do) on a quest to find more exotic bugs. Should be fun and playful! Maybe R trips over a root and lands on his bum, and that's what makes his darling daughter laugh so much.

With Aemond - That one scene after he gets gifted with "The Pink Dread". The Reader comforts him and even dares to tell him that should he have had a pink(ish) dragon, that's the nickname that he would bestow upon it (think of how people would expect TPD to be some small creature - yes, like a pig - but no, it's a FRIGGIN' DRAGON! 😂😂😂). Also, R mentions how he sees a lot of himself in Aemond (particularly related to his own youth).

With Daeron - The scene where he visits him in Oldtown and where R goes all buddy-buddy with Gwayne (one of the only sane guys in HoTD, I swear). Daeron impresses R with his musical skills and takes him to see Tessarion (who is happy to play the part of a big puppy - like rolling around on its back and bearing its belly to get free scratches 😉).

Where Dragons Dare (Lost Chapters)

- Summary: Unrecorded moments with each of your children, that no Maester will ever write about.

- Paring: father!reader/targ!children (platonic)

- Note: Since this was regarding your previous request that was turned into three part series, I've made an exception for you. Enjoy. ❤️

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: 3/3

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @literaturedog

You stride through the torchlit corridors of the Red Keep, the evening air heavy with the scent of incense and wine from the feast held in your honor. A king’s life is one of constant vigilance, not only for the realm but also for your own blood. The weight of your crown and responsibilities settles upon your shoulders, the unspoken burdens of the Iron Throne. It is a life you have come to accept. 

But not everyone does. 

The clink of armor catches your attention, and you hear a hushed voice speaking to one of the guards near the side entrance. You already know what you will find before you round the corner. Aegon—your eldest son, your heir—is once again trying to sneak into the keep after a night in the lower city. His form, slightly slouched, leaning against the doorway, makes it clear that his night's indulgences have taken their toll.

You sigh softly, but there is no malice in it. This is not the first time. It won’t be the last.

"Aegon," your voice, even and steady, cuts through the stillness of the night, causing your son to stiffen. He turns slowly, his eyes glassy, yet there is a flicker of recognition. His silver hair, unkempt, falls into his face as he gives you a sheepish smile, one that reminds you so much of his mother when she tries to conceal her worries. 

"Father," he mumbles, straightening himself as much as his state will allow. He’s a prince of the blood, but in this moment, he looks like nothing more than a wayward boy caught in the act.

"Walk with me," you say simply, motioning for him to follow. There's no need for a reprimand, not yet. You both know where this conversation is headed. You step into the open air, out onto one of the quieter terraces that overlook the city below.

Aegon follows, his steps slightly uneven, but he doesn't protest. The two of you stand there for a moment, the distant sounds of King's Landing below humming in the background. The city never truly sleeps, much like a king’s responsibilities. 

After a while, you glance at him from the corner of your eye. "You’ve been out drinking again."

Aegon leans on the stone balustrade, staring at the lights flickering in the darkness. "It’s not like anyone missed me," he mutters, his voice heavy with bitterness. "I’m no good at all this. What does it matter?"

"It matters because you’re the future king," you reply, your tone calm but firm. "Your actions don’t only reflect on yourself; they reflect on the crown, on our family."

At this, Aegon snorts softly, his lip curling into a sardonic smile. "Aegon the Unready, that’s what they’ll call me," he mutters, almost to himself. "They all expect me to be like you. I’ll never be that. I can barely stand the weight of their stares, let alone a crown."

There is silence for a moment, broken only by the distant sounds of the city below. The firelight dances across the sharp planes of your son’s face, making him seem older than he is, and yet still so young. You can see the weight of expectation, the fear of failure, all of it etched into his features. 

You step closer, resting a hand on his shoulder, the familiar comfort of a father’s touch. "I wasn’t always certain either," you admit, the words carrying the weight of your own journey to the throne. "When I was young, I doubted myself just as you do now."

Aegon looks at you, surprise flickering in his eyes. It’s rare for you to speak of your own vulnerabilities. You are the king—stoic, dutiful, unwavering. But tonight, you let that mask slip, if only for your son.

"You don’t need to be me," you say quietly. "You need to find your own way. Being king isn’t about perfection. It’s about responsibility, about understanding that you carry the hopes and fears of an entire realm on your shoulders. And yes, sometimes it’s heavy. But that’s why we’re here—to bear it, so others don’t have to."

Aegon’s gaze falls to the ground, his fingers tapping nervously against the stone railing. "I’m not sure I can," he admits after a long silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want to fail you."

Your heart clenches at the vulnerability in his words, the rawness of his fear. You step closer, turning to face him fully. "You won’t," you say firmly. "Not as long as you’re willing to try. You will make mistakes, we all do, but that’s part of the journey. You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here, Aegon, always."

His eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long while, you see not just the rebellion, not just the stubbornness, but the uncertainty and the longing for approval. He is so much like you were at his age, fighting against the very things that would one day define him.

"You’ve always been there for me," he says, his voice softer now, more introspective. "I just…I don’t want to be a disappointment."

"You’re not," you reply, without hesitation. "And you never will be. You will grow into this role, just as I did, just as many before us have. But it takes time. You will find your way, but you must be willing to take the first steps. Recklessness won’t serve you well when you sit on the throne."

Aegon nods, swallowing hard. He’s listening now, really listening. You can feel the shift in him, the internal battle as he begins to process your words. His posture relaxes just slightly, and he looks at you with a newfound respect.

"I look at you," he says quietly, "and I see what a king should be. You always know what to do. How did you learn?"

You smile faintly, the memories of your own trials and lessons flickering in your mind. "By making mistakes. By learning from them. And by trusting in those who love me. You’ll learn too, Aegon. But you have to start by taking responsibility for your actions. If you want to be a good king, you have to be a good man first."

He nods again, more resolutely this time. There’s still doubt in his eyes, but also something else—a spark of determination, a glimmer of hope.

"I’ll try," he says, the words holding more weight than any drunken apology ever could.

"I know you will," you reply, squeezing his shoulder one last time before stepping back. "But for now, let’s get you to bed. You can begin to prove yourself tomorrow."

As you guide your son back into the castle, you feel the familiar pull of duty and love intertwine within you. The road ahead will not be easy for Aegon, just as it wasn’t easy for you. But tonight, at least, a small part of that path has been cleared, and your son—your heir—is beginning to take his first steps toward the man he will one day become.

The warm, humid air of the jungle clings to your skin as you lead Helaena through the dense foliage, her excitement as palpable as the buzz of insects that fills the air around you. She’s always been different from her siblings—quiet, introspective, but with a mind that sees wonders where others see only the mundane. Today, her joy is infectious, and as you glance over your shoulder, you see her eyes wide with fascination, darting from tree to tree in search of her beloved bugs.

"Father, look!" she exclaims, her voice bright with enthusiasm. She crouches down, her slender fingers delicately picking up a beetle with iridescent wings, the colors shifting from emerald to sapphire in the dappled sunlight that pierces through the canopy above.

You smile at her, marveling at how her joy lights up the whole forest, making even the most alien surroundings feel like home. "That’s a beautiful one," you say, stepping closer to inspect her latest find. "What do you suppose it eats?"

Helaena tilts her head, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she watches the beetle crawl over her hand. "I think it feeds on nectar from the flowers," she muses, "or maybe the sap from the trees. Look at the way its legs move—so delicate, but strong."

You crouch beside her, nodding as you study the small creature. "You could be right. You always know more about these things than I do." Your tone is light, teasing, but there’s truth in your words. Helaena’s understanding of the natural world has always been beyond her years, her connection to it deep and mysterious.

The two of you continue your journey deeper into the jungle, the air growing thicker with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. Vines drape lazily from towering trees, and the occasional call of a bird echoes in the distance. Helaena moves with purpose, her gaze constantly scanning the ground, the trees, the air above for any new creatures she hasn’t yet discovered.

"Do you think there are bugs in Essos that no one in Westeros has ever seen?" she asks suddenly, her voice filled with a childlike wonder that makes you smile.

"I’m sure of it," you reply, pushing aside a low-hanging branch to let her pass. "That’s why we came here, isn’t it? To find something new, something no one’s ever written about in their tomes or sung about in their songs. Maybe you’ll discover the most magnificent bug the world’s ever seen."

Helaena beams up at you, her lavender eyes shimmering with excitement. "And I’ll name it after you," she says with a giggle, skipping ahead a few paces. "A beetle, maybe, or a butterfly—something regal."

You chuckle at the thought, shaking your head. "I can’t think of anything less regal than a bug named after me. But if anyone could make it sound important, it’s you."

The laughter between the two of you echoes through the trees, light and easy, as you continue on your way. You’re not following any particular path—there are no roads here, no guides to lead you. Just the two of you, father and daughter, on an adventure through the wilds of Essos.

As you step over a moss-covered log, you glance back at Helaena to see her crouching low again, examining a cluster of bright red flowers. Her fascination with the natural world has always been a source of pride for you, something that sets her apart in a family so often consumed by politics and power. Out here, in the quiet of the jungle, she’s in her element.

You’re so focused on her that you don’t notice the thick root winding through the underbrush until it’s too late. Your foot catches, and before you can catch yourself, you’re tumbling forward, arms flailing as you lose your balance. You hit the ground with a soft thud, landing squarely on your backside.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then—

Helaena bursts into laughter, the sound bright and musical, like the ringing of silver bells. She clutches her sides, doubling over as the laughter shakes her small frame, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

"Father!" she manages to gasp between fits of giggles. "You—you tripped on a root!"

You sit there for a moment, stunned, before letting out a laugh of your own. "Apparently, your father is no match for a jungle root," you say, shaking your head as you sit up, brushing leaves from your clothes. "I was so busy watching you, I forgot to watch where I was going."

Helaena, still laughing, steps over to you and offers a hand, her grin wide and infectious. "Here, let me help you up, Father. You’ve fallen in the dirt like one of your regal bugs."

You take her hand, letting her pull you to your feet, though it’s more symbolic than anything—she’s small and slender, and you mostly stand up on your own. Still, the gesture warms your heart, and you smile down at her.

"I suppose even kings can fall every now and then," you say, brushing off the last of the dirt from your breeches. "Especially when they’re distracted by a daughter who’s far too clever for her own good."

Helaena’s laughter finally subsides, though her smile remains, bright and full of affection. "I’m just glad I was here to see it," she says, her voice teasing but sweet. "I’ll have to remember this next time Aegon or Aemond try to act all serious."

You raise an eyebrow at her, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. "Oh? Are you planning on using this against me?"

She shrugs, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe. It depends on how much I need to bargain with them next time."

The two of you share another laugh, and the moment feels light, easy—like the weight of the crown and the responsibilities you both bear have been left far behind in Westeros, forgotten in the simplicity of a jungle trek and shared laughter.

As you continue walking, you let Helaena lead, her steps more confident now as she moves through the underbrush. The jungle is alive with sound—chirping insects, rustling leaves, the distant calls of unseen animals—and you find yourself marveling at how small and vast the world can feel all at once.

"Father," Helaena says after a while, her tone more thoughtful now, "thank you for bringing me here. I know there are more important things you could be doing back home, but…this means a lot to me."

You smile at her, feeling a swell of pride and affection. "There’s nothing more important than spending time with you, Helaena. The realm can wait a few days. Besides, I think we’ve both learned something valuable today—like how to avoid tree roots."

She giggles again, but there’s warmth in her eyes, the kind of warmth that makes you realize just how precious these moments are. The crown may be heavy, the throne demanding, but here, in the jungles of Essos, it’s just you and your daughter, sharing an adventure neither of you will ever forget.

"Now," you say, clapping your hands together as you glance around at the trees towering above, "shall we see what other exotic bugs we can find? Maybe one that doesn’t involve me falling on my backside this time?"

Helaena grins, her face lighting up with renewed excitement. "Let’s!" she says, darting ahead into the greenery, her laughter trailing behind her as you follow, ready for whatever adventure lies ahead.

The halls of the Red Keep seemed quieter than usual today. It was a rare stillness, the kind that hung heavy with unspoken tension. You could sense something had happened, though no one had yet brought it to your attention. You had spent much of the afternoon in the library, pouring over old maps of the Narrow Sea, but something in the air felt wrong.

As you rounded the corner toward the private wing where your children’s chambers lay, you heard faint sniffling. The sound was quiet, but unmistakable. You quickened your pace and followed the sound until you found Aemond, sitting alone on the cold stone floor, his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. His face was buried, but even from this distance, you could tell he had been crying.

"Aemond?" you called softly, kneeling beside him. "What’s happened?"

Aemond looked up at you, and your heart sank at the sight of his tear-streaked face. His usual stern, stoic expression was gone, replaced by vulnerability, the kind only a young boy trying so hard to be a man could wear.

"It’s nothing, Father," he muttered, wiping furiously at his eyes, though the gesture did little to hide the redness.

You sit beside him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Something has upset you, and I would like to know what it is."

For a moment, Aemond says nothing, as if weighing whether or not to burden you with whatever weighs on him. But eventually, his resolve crumbles, and he sighs, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s them. Jace, Luke...and Aegon. They—they played a trick on me."

You feel a tightening in your chest. You had heard rumblings before of the teasing that occasionally happened between your sons and your sister Rhaenyra’s sons, but this felt different. There was something more painful in Aemond’s voice.

"What kind of trick?" you ask gently, though you already have a sinking suspicion about what might have occurred.

Aemond’s cheeks flush with shame as he looks away. "They—they told me they had a dragon for me," he begins slowly, each word weighed with embarrassment. "I’ve always wanted one, and I thought… maybe this time…"

His voice trails off, and you feel your heart break for him. You know how much Aemond has longed for a dragon of his own, how he watches his siblings and cousins with their dragons, envy and longing etched into his every glance. 

"They said it was waiting for me," he continues, his voice shaking. "So I went to the dragon pit. I was so excited, Father. I thought—maybe, finally—" His breath hitches as fresh tears well in his eyes, but he quickly wipes them away, trying to be strong.

"And then I saw it," he says bitterly. "A pig. They dressed up a pig and called it the 'Pink Dread.' They were all laughing, all of them, even Aegon."

A cold anger flares in your chest at the cruelty of the prank. You can picture it all too easily: Aegon and the boys snickering behind Aemond’s back as he approached the animal, thinking, for one precious moment, that his dream had finally come true. You know how deeply this would have cut Aemond, how much it hurt him to be humiliated in front of his family. But for now, you push that anger aside. This moment is about Aemond, not them.

"Come here," you say softly, pulling Aemond into your arms. He resists at first, too proud to cry in front of you, but after a moment, he lets himself lean into you, his small frame trembling as he clutches at your tunic.

You stroke his hair, the familiar silver strands soft beneath your fingers. "I’m sorry that happened to you, Aemond," you whisper, your voice full of warmth and understanding. "That was cruel, and you didn’t deserve it."

He pulls back slightly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "They all have dragons," he says, his voice thick with frustration. "Why not me? Why am I the only one without one?"

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question. "Sometimes, life doesn’t seem fair," you say honestly. "It can feel like the things we want most are the things we’re denied, no matter how hard we wish for them."

Aemond looks up at you, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears. "But one day, Aemond," you continue, your voice full of quiet conviction, "you will have a dragon of your own. I know it. And when you do, you’ll be a better rider than any of them, because you’ve waited. You’ve longed for it. That’s something they’ll never understand."

He listens intently, his shoulders relaxing slightly as your words settle in. "And you know," you add with a smile, "if you ever did have a dragon that was pink, you could give it a name far more fitting than they ever imagined."

Aemond blinks at you, confusion flickering across his face. "What do you mean?"

You lean in conspiratorially, a playful grin tugging at your lips. "Think about it. A pink dragon, breathing fire, soaring over the battlefield. No one would laugh then. And you could call it the 'Pink Dread'—a name that would strike fear into the hearts of your enemies. They would hear it and tremble, knowing what it meant."

For the first time, a small smile pulls at Aemond’s lips. The idea takes root in his mind, and you can see his imagination sparking to life. "The Pink Dread," he murmurs, as if testing the words. "That… that would be funny. No one would laugh at a pink dragon breathing fire."

You nod, your heart warming at the sight of his growing confidence. "Exactly. They may laugh now, but one day, you’ll be the one laughing."

Aemond looks up at you, his blue eyes searching yours, and for a moment, you see a younger version of yourself reflected in him. The same yearning, the same fierce determination to prove oneself, the same frustration at being left behind while others surged ahead. You had been that boy once, trying to find your place, trying to prove you were worthy.

"I see a lot of myself in you, Aemond," you say softly, your voice filled with quiet pride. "When I was your age, I often felt the same way. I watched others get what I longed for, and it made me feel… less. But it didn’t stay that way forever. And it won’t for you either."

Aemond frowns slightly, looking down at the ground. "You were like me?"

You chuckle softly, ruffling his hair. "More than you might think. I wasn’t always so sure of myself. It takes time, but you’ll find your way, Aemond. You’ll grow into your own, just like I did. And when you do, there will be no one more capable than you."

Aemond’s small smile widens slightly, the last traces of tears fading from his eyes. "I’ll remember that, Father," he says, a quiet strength returning to his voice.

You wrap your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. "You are strong, Aemond. Stronger than you know. And one day, the world will see that too."

As you sit there with him, the warmth of the Red Keep surrounding you both, you know that the sting of today’s prank will fade, but the lessons Aemond is learning now—about resilience, about strength, about finding his place in the world—will shape him into the man he will one day become. And you will be there, guiding him, as he grows into the prince, and the dragonrider, you know he is destined to be.

It had been far too long since you’d visited Oldtown, and the excitement of seeing Daeron again filled you with anticipation. His letters had spoken highly of his time here, his training, and how much he had grown, but there was nothing quite like seeing it for yourself.

The familiar scent of saltwater from the Whispering Sound mixed with the spices and perfumes of the bustling city as you made your way through its cobbled streets. Your memories of Oldtown were filled with childhood games, racing through the alleyways, and the company of old friends. One of those friends, you knew, was waiting for you just inside the Hightower.

As you passed through the gates, you saw him: Gwayne Hightower, your childhood companion and steadfast friend. He stood tall, wearing the colors of House Hightower, a broad smile spreading across his face as he caught sight of you.

"Your Grace!" Gwayne called out, his arms open in welcome as he walked toward you with the easy confidence that only an old friend could have. "I was wondering when we’d see you again."

You smiled broadly, clasping his forearm in a firm handshake before pulling him into a warm embrace. "Gwayne, it’s been far too long," you said, clapping him on the back before stepping back to look at him. "You haven’t changed a bit."

Gwayne chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, I could say the same of you, but we both know a crown has its way of changing a man."

You smirked, shaking your head. "Perhaps, but Oldtown doesn’t. It feels like I’m stepping back into my youth."

"And that’s just what Daeron’s been waiting for," Gwayne said, his voice filled with pride. "He’s been practicing something special for your arrival."

The two of you made your way into the Hightower, exchanging stories of the years gone by. Gwayne filled you in on Daeron’s progress, not only in his studies but in his musical pursuits, something that had come as a surprise to you when you’d first heard of it. Daeron had always been a quiet boy, thoughtful and dutiful, but you hadn’t expected him to take to music with such dedication.

As you entered one of the private chambers, there he was—Daeron, your youngest son, sitting with a lute in his hands. His bright eyes lit up when he saw you, and he quickly set the instrument aside to rise and bow.

"Father," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. "I’m so glad you’re here."

You smiled, stepping forward to pull him into a quick embrace. "It’s good to see you, Daeron. I’ve been looking forward to this visit."

Daeron stepped back, a hint of shyness in his expression, but there was also pride. "I’ve been practicing," he said, gesturing to the harp behind him. "Would you like to hear?"

"Of course," you said, sitting down as Gwayne settled in beside you, both of you eager to see how much Daeron had improved.

Daeron returned to his seat, his fingers brushing the strings of the lute with ease. The melody that filled the room was soft at first, delicate and sweet, but soon it grew into something more complex, full of emotion and depth. His fingers moved skillfully, the notes flowing effortlessly across from the lute, creating a sound that was both soothing and captivating.

You watched him closely, impressed by the concentration and passion in his playing. He had grown so much, not just in skill, but in confidence. When he finished, the last note lingering in the air, you clapped your hands together, beaming with pride.

"That was beautiful, Daeron," you said earnestly. "You’ve improved so much. I never knew you had such a talent."

Daeron blushed slightly but smiled, pleased with your approval. "Thank you, Father. I’ve been practicing every day. It helps me focus."

Gwayne leaned over, grinning. "He’s the pride of Oldtown, your Grace. Everyone speaks of his music as much as his dragon."

At the mention of Tessarion, Daeron’s eyes brightened even more. "Speaking of which, would you like to see her?"

"I wouldn’t miss it," you said, standing and motioning for him to lead the way.

The three of you made your way through the halls of the Hightower and out toward the dragon stable where Tessarion was kept. As you walked, Daeron talked animatedly about his time in Oldtown, how much he had learned, and how attached he had become to his dragon. You could hear the excitement in his voice, and it warmed your heart to see him so full of life and purpose.

When you reached the stable, you were greeted by the sight of Tessarion, her blue and silver scales gleaming in the soft light of dusk. She was still small by dragon standards, no larger than a large horse, but she had a regal air about her. However, that air of regalness disappeared the moment she saw Daeron.

With an excited rumble, Tessarion bounded toward him, her wings fluttering slightly as she lowered her head and rolled onto her back, exposing her soft underbelly in a clear plea for scratches. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight—this mighty dragon, one day destined to be a force to be reckoned with, now behaving more like a playful pup than a creature of legend.

Daeron laughed too, kneeling beside her and rubbing her belly with both hands, her tail thumping happily against the ground.

"She’s just like a dog!" you exclaimed, amusement bubbling in your chest.

"She likes to be scratched here," Daeron said, his voice full of affection as he rubbed Tessarion’s side. "She’s still young, but she’ll grow big and strong. One day, she’ll be the fiercest dragon in all the realm."

"That, I have no doubt," you replied, watching as Tessarion nuzzled into Daeron’s hand, her eyes half-closed in contentment.

You knelt beside Daeron, reaching out to touch Tessarion’s shimmering scales. Her hide was warm under your palm, her breathing slow and steady as she basked in the affection. "She’s a beauty, Daeron. You should be proud."

"I am," Daeron said quietly, glancing at you. "She’s my closest friend."

There was something in his voice, a depth of connection between boy and dragon that was rare and powerful. You had seen it with your other children and their dragons, but with Daeron and Tessarion, it felt different. There was a quiet understanding between them, a bond that ran deep.

You smiled at him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "She’ll be a great dragon, Daeron, and you’ll be a great rider. Tessarion’s lucky to have you."

"And I’m lucky to have her," Daeron replied, his hand never leaving her side.

For a while, the three of you sat there in the dragonpit, Tessarion’s soft rumbles the only sound in the still evening air. The world seemed far away, the troubles of the realm forgotten in the warmth of family and the comfort of an old friend.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting Oldtown in shades of gold and pink, you looked at Daeron, filled with pride at the man he was becoming. He had found his place here, among his studies, his music, and his dragon. He had grown into himself, and you couldn’t wait to see what the future held for him.

"Thank you for bringing me here," you said quietly, your voice filled with affection. "I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you."

Daeron smiled, his eyes filled with warmth. "I’ve missed you too, Father. I’m glad you’re here."

And as Tessarion rolled over onto her side, thumping her tail against the ground with contentment, you realized that moments like this—simple, peaceful moments with your children—were worth more than any crown or throne.

[luveline]

hi jade, sending a request for prince steve if ur box is open rn, my apologies if not! i was wondering if we could get something about maybe the night before the wedding where they decide to make some private promises to each other that the whole kingdom won't be privy too? just some sweetness in general from those two would be nice. thx!! love u and ur writing and happy new years!

prince!steve soulmate au —you and steve have a last minute panic the night before your wedding, 1.3k. fem

Steve holds your hand all the way to the garden. It isn't proper to see him so late at night, especially the night before your wedding, but the guards lining the corridors say little as you pass. Selenite shines under your slippers, white shot through with an impossible light marbling. 

Steve sees where you're looking and gives your fingers a tender stroke. “You okay?” he asks. 

You nod and follow him down the steps to the garden. Steve has his own private section with a hammock on lifted stone and a terrace covered in honeysuckle. There's a picnic basket and a bottle of something beside it near two round cushions, but the small record player is what catches your attention. 

“Oh, you're going to sing for me,” you joke. 

“If you want me to. Are you warm enough?” 

The weather is temperate. Not as hot as you'd hoped but it is getting late, the surrounding light of the kingdom and the crystal eucalyptus sconces glowing a minty blue that chases back the shadows but not the lack of sun. 

“It's fine,” you say, giving his hand a careful squeeze back. He smiles to himself and helps you around the grass and onto your cushion. 

He knows your nerves are shot. You're terrified for tomorrow, so scared of the crowds and the ceremony and the great heavy weight of your tiara. Your dress is less imposing, colourful, gaussian cuts of silk layered over you like something out of your storybooks. When you saw it you gasped, unable to coalesce the image you'd seen in the mirror with your usual reflection. 

The wedding is suddenly here. You'll be a princess. You'll be his wife. 

“Steve,” you say tightly, wrapping your arms around your knees. 

“I know.” He opens the picnic basket and unearths a brown paper bag. “Here.” 

You take his little bag knowing already that it'll be filled with pear candies. “We have to run away,” you say, poking nervously through the candy for a small one. You put it between your molars and talk through your teeth. “Tonight.” 

“I have my bags packed.” He pulls out a sandwich made of finely cut tofu toasted in paprika and oil, then a second with softer bread. “That's lamb.” 

You raise your brows at it. “Thank you, Steve, really, but I'm–” 

“Not hungry. Me neither.” He closes the basket and pushes it all away, leaving nothing but air between you. “Do you really want to run away?” 

“Do you really want to marry me?” you ask. 

“Mm. More than anything,” he says, as though it isn't a big deal, as though he isn't himself. Steve acts like loving you is something he would've done regardless, and it always catches you off guard. 

“But if we weren't–” 

“But we are.” 

“If we weren't–” you stress. 

Steve crosses his legs on the pillow. He looks completely normal tonight, his hair unstyled and curling by his ears, his loose shirt and pants reminiscent of your own. The only thing that gives him away is the silver ring on his pinky finger that denotes the kingdom's main house. It's priceless. You could live a thousand luxurious lives off of the spoils you'd make from selling it. 

He twists it around his fingers when he notices your gaze. “Okay,” he says, pulling it off. 

“What?” 

“If you want to run away, I won't stop you. I've told you before that I'd never make you do something you don't want to do, and I still mean it.” He smiles handsomely as he offers you the ring. “Take it, sweetheart. I don't want it.” 

You take it uncertainly. 

“But if you want to stay,” he adds, his naked hand on the floor between you, “then I promise to make you believe it.” 

“Believe what?” you ask through a frown. 

“That being soulmates doesn't matter. Of course it does, I couldn't be luckier in who the fates picked for me, or the stars, whatever you believe, sweetheart, I couldn't be luckier. And if we weren't soulmates, I– if we met somewhere different, I'd still want to marry you. You know that? I look at you, and you're it for me.” 

You shake your head. “Would you come with me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Really?” 

“Is that hard to believe?” He gets onto his knees adjacent and holds out his hand, relief like the sun shining in his warm voice as he murmurs, “I'm freaking you out.” 

“You're not.” 

“I'm being too forward.” His smile wavers. “The wedding isn't for us. I want to marry you, but we both– I know you're not ready. You're doing this for me, because I've asked you to, because they've asked us to, and you're not ready. We don't know each other.” 

“We do,” you say. 

“Okay, we do.” He rubs the back of your hand, once again so tender. “But not as much as most married people do.” 

“Right,” you say quietly. 

“And the wedding is a total sham anyways. You're going to look beautiful, and I'll be handsome like always,” —you laugh breathlessly, your panic melding to relief— “but it's definitely not for us. I get that. There's no pressure for anything to change between us, okay? I like things how they are.” 

He shrugs and it's such a cute gesture, you forget for a moment what's worrying you. A split second, thinking, oh, he's lovely to look at. He acts like the Prince he is. He acts as though he's already fallen in love with you. 

“I think I'm just panicking because we don't have any choice,” you say. 

“We do, honey,” he reassures you. “Of course we do. If you really, really don't want to get married, we won't.” 

It would cause a huge palaver, and it might break his heart a little. It might, when you think about it, break yours.

“But I'm marrying you,” you say.

He breathes out hard, taking your shoulder into his hand to pull you forward for a relieved, chaste kiss. It's so sweet and warm, you can't help pulling away too fast. His soul mark glows a rosy pink. “You're marrying me,” he says, meeting your eyes. “I'm a lucky guy, huh?” 

He holds out his arms for a hug which you immediately give. 

“I want to marry you,” you continue, delighted when he relaxes in your arms. “I do. It's not about you, I'm just terrified. I mean, it's not really us? I didn't even get to write my own vows.” 

A small but heavily felt silence lapses. “You wanted to do that?” Steve asks. 

You nod into his shoulder, refusing to lean away even as his hands retract. “Yeah,” you say, voice small. 

“You really want to?”

“You've promised me a lot of things since I found you. I would've liked to return the favour,” you say, flustered. 

“You found me,” he says. You don't need to see his face to hear his smile. "Here, give me that back. If you aren't running away, you may as well wear it." He slides it onto your marriage finger. The significance isn't lost.

He gets you both a pad of paper and a cup of scratchy pens, and you spend the evening writing vows you're too embarrassed to say aloud to one another in the garden. You swap papers, and spend the night pouring over his promises with an aching awe built in your chest. When the maids come calling that morning you're already awake, getting ready for the day ahead. 

I'll make you laugh, and I'll keep you safe, and I'll never let the Palace idiots boss you around. I'll be the best kiss ever, and a better friend. I'll be careful with your heart if you're careful with mine. And I won't laugh if you slip in your new shoes. Much.

[verstappensseatcushion]

✩°｡⋆ pas de deux, ln4 ⋆｡°✩pt 4

part one part two part three

pairing: lando norris x fem! ballerina! reader

[face claim: luna montana is largely used as faceclaim but some other pinterest girlies in there too]

summary: y/n is new to monaco and quickly finds herself dancing with mclaren driver lando norris despite all intentions she has of focusing on only her career

a/n: i did not proof read so im so sorry if there's spelling mistakes at all! hope everyone had a happy holiday

y/n.ballet posted on their story

⟡⟡⟡

"i think some of the other drivers should be here soon," alex, charles girlfriend, says loudly over the music.

you've been out with charles and his friends for a few hours now, meeting for drinks at someone's yacht and now at a club that you can't remember the name of. alex has quickly become the person you're clinging to, as one of the only other girls out.

"oh! i didn't know anyone else was coming," you yell back. she shrugs and gets up to pull you along with her to the dancefloor.

when you return to the booth in the corner there are more guys at the table, all laughing to themselves as they take a round of shots. charles being the first to notice yours and alex's return goes to introduce you to the new arrivals.

"everyone this is y/n," his words slur together a bit, he then points to everyone, even the ones you've met already, and reintroduces them. "and lastly we have lando."

he looks familiar, and not just from seeing him on tv or in advertisements around monaco, but it's like you've met before.

⟡⟡⟡

y/n.ballet posted on their story

⟡⟡⟡

it's been at least an hour, and a few more drinks, since the other drivers met you guys at the club. you, alex, lando, and charles are sitting in the booth after everyone else abandoned the group for dancing. you've been sitting quietly, giggling with alex, as charles and lando go back and forth telling stories about each other.

alex leans towards charles, whispering something into his ear. he nods and then announces that they're gonna leave soon.

"i should leave too, its getting late i think," looking at your phone you see it's nearly 2am. you go to crawl out of the booth and stumble a bit trying to gain your balance. a hand reaches and grabs your arm steadying you.

"is someone taking you home?" lando asks looking down at you, hand still on your arm.

"that's a bit forward isn't it?"

"wha-oh, not like that, i mean how are you getting home," he sighs, "you're clearly drunk y/n, and no one in their right mind would let you get home alone."

giggling you try to touch both your fingers to your nose (not entirely correctly but the thought was there), "see not drunk im fine! plus i dont live far im just going to walk back to my apartment,"

"let me walk you?" he asks, moving his hand to the small of your back as he guides you to the exit.

...

"and tulip fever is why I like tulips so much, it's honestly one of the best movies I've ever watched," it's been about 20 minutes of you blabbering non-stop, walking through the middle of the street as lando follows you, "oh my god I walked into you the other day that's where I know you from! je le savais! I was on my way to classes and completely walked into you, im so sorry by the way. I can be so out of it someti-"

"breathe," lando cuts you off laughing, "I don't think you've stopped talking once since we left."

you blush with embarrassment, "I'm so sor-"

"don't apologize it's cute, I like it," he cuts you off again, "do you know where you're going, or have you just been walking down random roads hoping your apartment appears?"

you point at the building on the corner, "it's this building! I know where I'm going!"

"are you sure? because this the second time we've been on this street."

"yes I'm sure," you laugh, swatting at his chest.

he follows you as you enter the door code and walk up the stairs to your apartment door, "you coming in?" you ask.

"not tonight, just making sure the pretty girl made it home safely," he smiles, giving a half wave as he goes back down the stairs.

"goodnight lando."

"goodnight y/n."

⟡⟡⟡

y/n.ballet

liked by ybfusername, landonorris and 4,019 others.

y/n.ballet à propos de la nuit dernière 🌷

ybfusername you better be prepared to explain those flowers missy

username5 where's the dress from?? 😍

username2 gorgeous smile

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landonorris

liked by y/n.ballet, username3 and 320,872 others.

landonorris about last night 🕶

username1 that second pic omg

username3 DJ LANDOOOOO

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[sebastianswallows]

Nobody's Darling — 1. The Road

— PAIRING: Benny Cross x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Benny comes across a girl walking alone in the middle of nowhere and offers her a ride to the nearest town. They stop at a motel.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 3.1k

— A/N: Hello, my dears! So yeah, I saw The Bikeriders because of Austin (and Tom Hardy) and of course I had to write something for it 😂 I've been labouring at it for the past two weeks lol This was meant to be a one-shot but it kept growing and I decided to split it into chapters. The plot is partly based on something that happened to me, namely I missed my stop and the bus drove me way out of the city before I realised what had happened 💀 Anyway, hope you enjoy it! 😘💕✨

Grey clouds floated across the sky. Fields of yellow and burnt grass rolled along like waves. A string of birds cut through the far horizon. The fading light of the sun seeped softly through the glass and warmed her cheek but she was happy to keep sleeping, caught in that special spot between awake and dreaming when her thoughts were peaceful, settled, and she could weave from them a pretty fantasy. The chill of a November evening didn’t quite make it into the bus but the windows were already fogging and the seats grew cold.

She woke up with a start when the wheels struck a hole in the ground and everything jolted.

“Where am I?” she groaned, squinting at the window. Her reflection frowned back but beyond it, she could see… nothing. She was in the middle of nowhere with only naked fields and swaying power lines around her. She checked her watch and her heart stopped.

“I should’ve been home by now. Oh no, I did not sleep through my stop,” she whispered to herself — but she did. “Wait! Driver!”

She got up and ran to the front, scrambling past all those empty seats, her jacket in one hand and purse flailing in the other. The driver gave her a bored expression as she leaned panting against the divider.

“Wait, please, I need to get off! Where are we?”

The man looked at her with all the serenity of an overworked drone in a dead-end job. He didn’t seem particularly alarmed to see her there, nor did he seem to care about her predicament.

“Halfway to the next town,” he mumbled as he started to slow down. “There’s another stop ‘bout a mile back.”

“Great…”

“Next bus comes tomorrow ‘round seven thirty.”

“Oh.”

She looked around again as if she could see something different from up here but it was all the same. The vastness of it frightened her and she half-wished she’d never woken up.

The driver pulled over at the side of the road and tilted the cap on his bald head, his teeth tight around a toothpick.

“You’ll be alright?”

“Yeah…” she said automatically. “Sure.”

He opened the door and her whole body began to tremble, the situation suddenly completely real. She gathered all her nerves and put one step in front of the other, and as soon as her feet were on the ground the bus started to move again, driving away.

The sun was dipping into a pool of pink and the birds that circled overhead were growing louder. She was alone in a darkening field with nothing in front of and behind her except for lamplight spilling yellow and pale over an empty road and dead grass all around. If she regretted getting off that bus, it was too late now.

“At least it was warm inside,” she muttered. “But I could never make it back in time for work tomorrow from the next town… Damn it.”

There was nothing left to do. She sighed to herself and started walking back. In her head, she tried to calculate how late it would be by the time she made it home but each result only scared her further.

“Best not to think about it,” she said. “Just keep walking…”

She hadn’t gone on such a hike since she was a little girl, and never far outside of town. She’d only walked through fields and meadows and the forest that stretched east. There was certainly no time for it since getting hired at the local newspaper, and she liked it that way. Her days were measured and predictable, her clothes were always clean, and nothing ever hurt her — except her back if she sat down writing for too long. She was scared now not just because she was alone and in the dark but because she’d never done a thing like this before. Her heels were unsteady on the crumbling tar and her purse felt heavy on her shoulder. Insects were singing in the grass and creatures rustled through it that she dared not think about. Were there snakes around here? Rats? She pulled her jacket tighter around herself.

After half an hour she came across the bus stop that the driver mentioned. The sign for it was half-chewed off and the wooden bench was worn and stained a sickly yellow beneath a flickering light. She considered for a moment sleeping there until the morning but then the ignominy hit her: to sleep on a dirty wooden bench under the flutter of moths and mosquitoes. To come home unwashed and stinky with her hair a mess and her stockings torn. And if any of the neighbours saw her… No. She walked past that bus stop and didn’t look back, and soon found herself surrounded by darkness again.

“You deserve it,” she muttered as she wrapped her arms around herself, her body ambling forward with none of the grace and poise she had half an hour before. “How could you fall asleep? You weren’t even that tired, and the bus ride is so noisy. You couldn’t wait another ten minutes to get home? Idiot, idiot…”

The walk back to the city was taking longer than she thought it would, and by eight o’clock she was still out there. The sky was sprinkled with stars and the wind was flitting gently through her hair and the creatures in the bushes were growing ever louder. If she weren’t so cold and terrified she might have felt exhausted. Her feet hurt and her back was bent under the weight of her purse and she hadn’t eaten since noon. But suddenly, in the distance, she saw a glint of something made of glass and metal — it was a phone booth. The joy that rushed through her wiped all her pain away and she hurried to reach it, nearly tripping. She felt halfway home as soon as she stepped inside its murky walls.

“Please work, please work, please please please.”

She picked up the receiver and held it on her shoulder as she opened the phone book and started leafing through for the nearest police station. They would be obliged to come and pick her up — that is if she could only explain where she was…

“Hello? Operator?” But no voice came from the other side. The tone was dead. “Operator?” she tried again, her voice growing shaky. “Hello? Anyone?”

As she kept tapping on the phone hook, desperate to reach someone, a bright light came peeking over the horizon from the direction she had just come from. It couldn’t have belonged to a car but whatever it was that approached her was fast and loud as all hell. She held her breath as she watched it getting bigger, brighter, closer. This was the only driver she’d seen the whole night and she was equal parts hopeful and horrified of just what it could be. After all, what kind of person would be out driving at this hour on a weekday?

She forgot about the telephone as she followed this strange light until it was close enough to blot out all the darkness. It blinded her for a moment but that thunderous rumble soon settled to a pur and it stopped on the other side of the road from her. When her eyes adjusted to the brightness she realised it was a motorcycle, thin and lean and silver.

Its rider propped himself against the ground on one long leg clad in blue jeans and reached into his pocket. He was tall and slender, his figure swathed in shadows, his motions simple but relaxed and almost elegant.

“It doesn’t work,” he said as he lit a cigarette. “Been broken for a while now.”

The flash of flame from his zippo lighter gave her a hint of his face. He was young, perhaps even younger than her, with full pink lips and a slight stubble, soft blue eyes, and a sprinkle of dirt like freckles on his face. There was a wildness to him and an air of gentleness as well, but his jacket was a dark denim and thick with patches, symbols that probably meant something to him — he must’ve belonged to some sort of “club”. She didn’t know much about bikers aside from what she read about them in the papers, but they’d always seemed to be a bunch of layabouts. Aside from drinking far too much and smoking she knew they got into trouble with the law, had fights, caused accidents, and were generally dangerous to be around.

“I’m… just trying to get to town,” she said in a wary voice.

“Well, I’m headed that way.”

She said nothing, her hand still frozen on the telephone.

“Want a ride?”

It was a tempting offer but one that made her shiver. She’d never been around a man like that, never even exchanged words with one, and everything that she expected from his kind — rudeness, lewdness, and a bad attitude — was suspiciously absent from him. He looked at her with those soft eyes, his long leg braced against the road, and waited. She should have accepted his offer, she should have just gotten on his bike and wrapped her arms around him, but… she couldn’t.

“No, thank you.”

He kept on smoking quietly and looked her up and down much as she’d done with him. She wondered what he saw… She was probably a pathetic sight and a strange kind of person to come across in such a place. When his eyes finally left her figure they strayed across the wilderness. There was nothing around them for miles, they both knew that, and other cars wouldn’t be around that road for hours.

“You know how far away you are?” he asked, rolling the cigarette between his fingers.

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s a long walk.”

“I don’t want to…” She was about to say she didn’t want to ride all the way back with a stranger but instead said, “trouble you.”

He didn’t react at first, keeping that air of stillness about him that made her wonder what he thought. But after a few moments, he nodded and dropped the cigarette, crushed it underneath his boot, and with a leisurely motion mounted his bike once more and revved the engine up. Before she could say another word he’d already sped into the distance and left only a cloud of dust behind.

She almost felt sorry to see him go. Almost felt guilty too… She didn’t want her distrust of him to be so apparent or to cause offence, no matter what kind of a person he was. But she told herself he must’ve been a dangerous man and that she was better off alone than riding back to town with him. Well, she wouldn’t be riding back with anybody now… The telephone line was dead, just as he’d said. The wire must’ve been disconnected somewhere.

She wanted to cry. Instead, she began to walk once more, trudging through the dark.

The sky was as black as a curtain cast across a silent stage and against it lit from below the pale lights of interspersed lamps. The roaring of the bike got slowly lost in the road that lay before her and soon only her steps echoed to remind her of how alone she was. She watched the small light of the rider fade and hugged herself against the cold, holding the purse to her chest as if it could protect her. Her feet were hurting so much she worried they were bleeding and she considered taking them off until she looked down at the road and its uneven dirty tar. She closed her eyes even as she kept on walking, too tired to gaze out at the same old nothingness again.

But then she heard a roar floating on the wind and felt a tremble in her chest as if an earthquake was approaching, and when she opened her eyes again she saw that lone light making its way back to her. He seemed to ride back faster than he did as he was leaving and he reached her in no time at all. She slowed down to a stop and so did he, parking right beside her.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward, boyish way. “Look, I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. But I can’t just leave you out here. You sure you don’t want to —”

“Alright,” she said, her voice already weak and weary. She was hungry and cold and scared that she’d never make it back to town that night. Too scared to refuse his help a second time. “Just… just get me to the edge of town. I can make my own way home from there.”

If he was surprised at how quickly she accepted now, he didn’t show it. He simply moved closer to the front of his seat and made space for her behind him.

She took a deep breath and approached him carefully as if he rode a beast, not something made of metal. It looked solid and precariously thin at once and yet he straddled it confidently. The saddle looked just big enough for two. She hopped on as best she could and tried to keep her legs together but when he looked at her over his shoulder he shook his head and laughed.

“Legs on either side,” he said. “You’ll fall off if you ride like that.”

“But, my skirt…”

He looked up and down her legs and she tried not to read too much into the way his eyes had darkened.

“Roll it up,” he said in a low and soothing voice. “Don’t worry. I won’t look.”

She held her breath as she rolled her skirt up high enough so that she could throw her other leg over the side. He waited while she settled into the position and planted her feet firmly.

“Ready? Hang on,” he said as he revved the engine up. “I’ll go real slow, alright?”

“A-alright…” she said as she placed her hands timidly around his waist.

But he didn’t go slow, at least not by her standards.

It was completely different to riding in a car, more visceral and real with no windows to protect her. She let out a little scream and clung to his body more tightly than she meant to, eyes falling shut, legs tightening around his bike. He smelled of gasoline and metal and several days’ worth of sweat cooled down by the chilly autumn night but he felt so solid in her arms, so firm and steady, even as the world flashed by. Eventually, she was brave enough to rest her cheek against his back and opened her eyes to look at the vacant countryside. It was a little frightening, as she expected, but peaceful too. As she fisted her hands in his jacket, right over his heart, she tried to peek over his shoulder but could just see the side of his face, focused and relaxed, and the white circle of the headlight. Somehow, that was enough for her. His hair tickled her forehead, feeling softer than it had any right to be, and she found herself smiling. There was something base and ancient in the way he smelled, the way he spoke, even in the way he moved. It was as if he had in him the blood-memory of an ancient Knight on armoured steed galloping alone and steadfast through the fields and woods of untamed lands.

The outskirts of town were much tamer than that, however, and before long they could see the faint lights of the outermost buildings, squalid flats, and blinking advertisements. When he started slowing down she felt herself breathe a sigh of relief. It must’ve tickled the back of his neck because he bent his head forward as if to get away — or to ask for more.

“Where are we?” she asked once the noise of the motorcycle died down.

“Marshal Avenue,” he said, easing the bike to the side of the road.

She didn’t know exactly where that was, but she guessed they were on the other side of town from where she lived. All along the street were boarded-up shops, derelict flats, and liquor stores. Across from where he parked was a building that looked to be about a hundred years old. She could hardly fathom walking home at that hour, especially through a neighbourhood like that, but it was better than being in the middle of nowhere.

“Well, thank you. For the ride.”

He lit another cigarette and dismounted the bike, rolling his broad shoulders to unwind. She got off quickly, scrambling to cover her legs in the crumpled skirt before he turned around and saw her. He gave her a look over his shoulder when he heard her fussing and slowly turned around.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”

“Yeah, I… I can walk from here.”

He looked at her and stayed quiet but there was something in his eyes behind that veil of smoke that made her curious about what he had to say. He simply nodded and turned toward that old building behind him. She hugged herself and looked up and down the street, waiting for him to say anything — to ask for money, to make fun of her for thinking she could make it home, to make a pass at her…

“Well, good night,” she said.

And as soon as she started walking away he spoke to her again.

“Hey, it’s kinda late. They got rooms upstairs.”

“What?” she asked, turning on her heels a bit unsteadily.

“Owner knows me,” he shrugged, crushing the cigarette beneath his boot and immediately lighting up another. “Could get you one for cheap.”

She shifted her weight from one foot to another and looked around pretending to think… but her eyes kept coming back to him. He puffed quietly away and gazed at her with no design behind those clear blue eyes, looking just as uncertain and awkward as she felt standing in the middle of the street. She didn’t want to trust him but a part of her responded in the same way that she did when she saw a homeless puppy.

“You mean, a room of my own?”

“Yeah.”

She looked from him to the large building again.

He could probably tell that she was torn because he helpfully supplied, “They got food too. Hungry?”

She was. It had been over twelve hours since she’d eaten or had anything to drink.

“I kind of am.”

“Me too,” he said. “Come on.”

[wosoluver]

I have a request for Lena Oberdorf x Bayern Reader.

On the topic of her transfer to Bayern. This request is full on fluff with maybe a little angst of them being apart.

Reunited

Can we please get one about Obi loving domestic life with Reader when they see each other (cooking together, cuddling while watching movies & even versing each other at video games). But misses it dearly when the two have to be apart for months on end due to their commitments with their respective clubs. Sure the two see each other during the national break but that’s not enough. So Obi decides to transfer to Bayern to be with Reader 24/7.

Reunited.

Lena Oberdorf x reader

Lena Oberdorf Masterlist

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Finally reunited!" you said as you put your seatbelt on.

"Only for a little bit though." she said turning on the engine, to drive to her apartment from picking you up at the airport.

"Don't say that, we have a couple of days." you grabbed the hand she had in your thigh, intertwining your fingers and kissing the back of it.

"Sorry schatz. I swear, I'm very excited to spend time together."

You were a Bayern Munich player, and your girlfriend, well, she was one of your best rivals. She played for Wolfsburg.

You can say it took a lot of concessions, to make the relationship work.

"Okay love, I'm going to shower. Can you order dinner for us?"

"Yeah. Movie night or game night?"

"Game night!" you said disappearing into the bedroom's in suite.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"How does it feel to lose for the third time in a row?" she asked as you pouted your lips.

"You cheated this last round!"

"Well, all is fair in love and war." she tried to reason.

"And which one was it? Love or war?" she had distracted you, by removing her sweatshirt, staying in only a pair of shorts and a sports bra.

It would've been fine if she did it because she was hot. But she did it exactly to distract you. Flexing her muscles at any chance she got.

"Both. I wanted to win the game and I love to see you drooling." she said teasing you.

"I didn't drool!"

"You so did." she said pulling you to sit on her lap.

"Fine. How could I not? I'm dating the embodiment of a goddess."

That would have been enough, if she wasn't already turned on by you naturally.

"I think it's time we go to bed." she said with a naughty look on her face.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Good Morning my love." she said kissing your temple. You opened your eyes, taking in Lena's sleepy and puffy face, as a ray of light came through the window.

"Good morning liebling. Slept well?"

"The best I have, since the last time we slept in the same bed." she would always bring up the fact you guys were separated by over 400 kilometers, constantly.

"In a couple of years, this will be our lives everyday." you reassured her, the best you could every time.

"I'll die of happiness when that happens."

This woman made your heart feel like it was about to explode.

"How about we cook some breakfast? I can make your favorite."

"Yes! I've been craving it." giving you a kiss before getting up. "Let's go."

"I've never seen you get up so fast in my life." as you followed her to get cleaned up.

"I don't know how you make this taste so good. Usually healthy versions of things taste like cardboard." as you prepared the pancake batter.

"We can't really break our diets, so. Also it's just a good recipe."

"Don't play it on the recipe. It's all you. Take a complement please."

"Thank you, schatz. How about we make a smoothie to complement it?"

"I'll start cutting the fruits." but before she could turn, you grabbed her attention.

"Hey..." you said dabbing a finger in the liquid and tapping it on her nose.

"Oh, it's on." letting out a mischievous grin.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

You had the day all to yourselves. Not wanting to waste your time with anyone that wasn't each other, you decided upon watching movies. Only movies ever allowed to play by your girlfriend, was Disney movies. Not that you would ever complain. And you had chose the first one. Tangled.

Cuddling up to her. She was almost always the big spoon, only setting for other option when she felt extremely needy. So you laid on your back, as she placed her head on your chest, cuddling to your side the best she could, since you were a bit smaller than her.

You spent your time focusing partially on the movie and partially in gently combing her hair through you fingers and massaging her scalp.

"They are just like us. I'm obviously Flynn, good looking, funny, has a hot girlfriend."

"And I look nothing like Rapunzel."

"No, but you would probably defend yourself with a frying pan, if someone broke into the apartment."

She never failed at making you laugh. You loved that about her.

Every time you spent more time around eachother, she was more and more sure, of wanting to marry you. Of taking the decision to ask for a transfer.

She hadn't brought up yet. She was waiting till it felt like it was the right moment.

While you held each other under the blankets, you noticed she wasn't paying attention at all. So you brought up what you thought was bothering her.

"Aren't you supposed to be looking for a new apartment? I thought your lease was ending this summer."

"I've looked at some but, not one of them felt right." she mustered all her courage for her next words. It was now or now.

"It will only feel like a home, if I have you with me."

"What do you mean?"

"What if I moved to Munich?"

"That would be amazing! Are you planning to leave Wolfsburg next year?"

"Actually, I'm asking for a transfer over the summer."

"Are you messing with me?"

"I'm serious. All is fair in love and war, I want to move into a more competitive club and I want to be with you, close to you, not having to take a plane just to kiss you."

"You are?" You instantly jumped up on the bed.

"Yes." she said laughing as you jumped on the bed.

You landed on top of her. Pulling her into a hug.

"Love, I can't breathe properly." she said under you.

"Sorry, right, you have to be alive for that to happen." she pulled you back to her.

"I love you." she left a kiss on your forehead.

"And I love you." you said placing a kiss on her lips.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Hope you like it! Thanks for sending this in 🩷

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

Can you write where Ethan as Ghostface kidnaps reader to keep her from the reveal because he loves her and doesn’t want her to get hurt but she falls in love with his masked self so he ends up revealing himself anyway

kinda had to change this a tiny bit, but still got that stockholm syndrome vibe. also I've never done this trope so this might not be great, i tried.

masterlist

“shit. it’s a trap!” chad yelled as he paced around the floor. the lights in the theater cut off cloaking the space in an ominous darkness.

arms stretching in front of you, trying to keep yourself from running into cabinets or people. your heart was hammering against your ribs, quick uneven breaths leaving your mouth. “guys? guys!” not hearing anything back from your friends.

“anyone-“ a gloved hand covered your mouth and it muffled your horrified scream. ghostface got you, you’re already dead. you tried jerking away from them as they dragged you away and further in the abandoned theater. the scratchy material of their robe rubbed at your throat and tickled your stomach.

you could feel the muscle of the stranger beneath their costume, physically telling to you that you were out matched. your harsh breathing from your nostrils filled the hallway along with two steps of footsteps. their hold was tight but not restricted, if you could just kick or swing maybe-

“i wouldn’t try anything, sweetheart.” a low voice whispered in your right ear. they didn’t have the standard ghostface tone, but it sounded like they were trying to disguise it. an involuntary shiver racked your spine and hitched your breath.

continuing in their rush to drag you away they brought both of you to a cluttered closet, sneakers bumping into fallen bottles and soft rolls of towels. practically being shoved into a metal shelf and causing a wooden broom handle to clatter noisily to the linoleum flooring.

"help! help-"

"shut up! i'm trying to save you!" your captor growled and their clunky boots carried themself into your limited space. their towering stature staring down at you through those empty black eyeholes.

"save- save me?" you stuttered, "you've been trying to kill us for a week! sam! chad! help me-" scratchy fabric covered your mouth and part of your nose causing your breathing to be short and panicked.

ghostface leaned in closer, "well you seem like the only good one so I'm being generous and deciding to spare your life. now, i have to go after your friends, but you're gonna stay here until i come back and everything will be okay." waiting for a beat before rushing out back into the light and leaving you to sub come to the dark.

did it make you a bad person, or a bad friend if you were relieved that a serial killer decided you were worth keeping alive? you'd be willing to play their little game for however long until you were ready to run free and disappear, they seemed to have a sort of liking to you. maybe an obsession, they would've been stalking you if they knew your every move and location.

it kinda made you feel a certain way. a romantic, unhinged sort of way. you've heard of people saying how their partner is obsessed with them, but having a stranger being so obsessed with you they're willing to kill everyone else to keep you...

maybe your ex's were right. you were a bit sick in the head.

you weren't sure how long you were locked in the closet. could've been ten minutes could've been an hour, but when you heard rushed footsteps outside the door and the lock turn you rushed forward and threw your arms around your kidnapper.

"let's go before the cops arrive." was all they said after a minute of your hug. your dropped your arms, but they reached for your left hand and dragged you behind. you followed like a lost puppy.

when an exit sign came into view they halted to a stop causing you to bump into their back, confused by their decision. "what's wrong?" rounding to stand in front of them, hands still locked.

"i- i have to stash the costume. don't- don't want you to see my face." they almost seemed worried, concerned about your reaction to their identity.

"hey," you stepped closer, hand reaching to caress the mask, "it's okay. i'm not gonna run. i- i want to stay with you, you saved me." voice dripping in seduction and honey. eyes doeing to further convince them of your alliance to them only.

with their free hand they gripped the chin of the mask and slowly lifted it away until to came free and you were greeted by the shocking sight of- "ethan?" his sweaty curls shading his eyes.

he didn't say anything, just bit into his bottom lip while watching you closely waiting for that inevitable switch that always happens when the killer is revealed in movies. but all he got was a creeping smile changing your face and you saying, "when we're safe i'm gonna make out with you so hard, killer." before he rushed to stripe the black robe off and you both rushed out the deserted building.

hand in hand. grinning like the psychos you are.

[fafnir19]

Desperate Gamble

Lewis ran his hand through his unkempt, long blond hair, the weight of desperation settling in his tired eyes. He had lost his job, and the mountain of unpaid bills loomed over him like a dark cloud. Determined to turn his luck around, he made his way to the casino, hoping for a miracle. As he settled in front of the slot machines, he felt a glimmer of hope dwindling away with each spin of the reels.

Empty pockets and desperation drove him deeper into despair. That's when he caught the gaze of a sharply dressed man, Natas. "You look like you could use a win," Natas said, his voice smooth as silk. Lewis forced a weary smile. "I've already lost everything. It's too late for me." But Natas offered him a lifeline, a handful of chips to try his luck at roulette. "Keep the winnings for yourself. But if luck turns, I get to change something about you," Natas proposed, a smirk playing on his lips.

Desperation mixed with curiosity, Lewis accepted the chips and moved to the roulette table, filled with apprehension about Natas' vague terms. As the wheel spun, a spark of hope flickered in Lewis' eyes. He won the first two rounds, his spirits lifted. Yet, as the wheel stopped on the wrong number, Natas intervened. Lewis' long hair vanished, replaced by a neat faded cut.

His reflection showed a stranger in the mirror, but the thrill of victory outweighed his unease. Natas commented, "You look a little more well-groomed now," as Lewis racked up more wins. However, as luck ebbed and flowed, Lewis lost another round, and Natas changed his clothes, transforming his casual t-shirt into a crisp, unbuttoned shirt.

"Much better," Natas remarked, a glint of amusement in his eyes. With each victory, Lewis felt a new surge of hope, until the next loss resulted in a drastic change. His entire body morphed, becoming younger and more athletic.

Natas observed, "What a handsome devil you are now." Despite his unease about Natas' unpredictable alterations, the thought of erasing his debts fueled Lewis' resolve. He played on, ignoring the nagging fear brewing within him. Then with another loss, Lewis was taken aback to find a curly brown hair sprouting on his scalp. It was an odd change, but he found himself oddly comforted by the familiarity of his hair quirks. Another loss besieged him, and with it came a sudden eruption of beard hair that covered him like an untamed wilderness.

He found some semblance of peace and was convinced that Natas had run out of new ideas and a smile tugged at his lips. After all, what more could Natas possibly change about him? A curly hair and a beard, he thought wryly. It seemed frivolous and, frankly, amusing. As he continued his winning streak, a glimmer of hope danced in his eyes. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could finally clear his suffocating debts. However, the relentless whims of fate had other plans and Natas was far from done with his cruel game.

The next loss swiftly changed Lewis' appearance once again. This time, he found himself clad in a tuxedo, the sharp lines and tailored precision a far cry from the chaotic jumble of curly hair that had covered his sculp moments before.

Natas remarked: "You're more of a classic type. The tuxedo and the buzz cut suits you,"

And with the next loss, the tailored tuxedo morphed into a classic tailcoat. The beard was gone, replaced by the clean lines of the tailcoat, disturbingly polished and refined.

Natas' smug satisfaction was palpable as he remarked, "You look like a sophisticated servant in a tailcoat. I like that!” His eyes glittered with a mocking expression that betrayed unspeakable amusement. It felt like being stripped of an armor that had been forged from sheer desperation. It was a strange spectacle, Lewis mused, as the weight of his debts and Natas' twisted game bore down on him. The classic tailcoat now clung to him like a haunting specter of the changes that had befallen him. He felt like a marionette, herded along by the whims of an unseen force, the fabric clinging close like a whisper from a forgotten time.

Euphoria clawed at Lewis as the stakes rose. He was close to ridding himself of his debts, the  question of what Natas might alter next became a distant thought. As the wheel slowed to a stop, Lewis lost once more, and Natas' next change left him reeling. A sharp pain seared through Lewis, and in an instant, he was circumcised. Natas' chilling words pierced through Lewis, "You shouldn't hide anything from me, not even your glans under your foreskin." Shaken to the core, Lewis struggled with mounting terror, but the specter of his debts loomed larger. Pushing his fear down, he steeled himself to continue, knowing he was only a few wins away from financial freedom.

However, this time, the ball landed on the wrong number, and Natas' eyes twinkled with a devious delight. Lewis's pulse quickened, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach as he awaited the next change. But nothing happened. Confusion etched lines into his forehead as he turned to Natas. "Why... why didn't you change anything?" Natas' grin widened as he leaned in, his voice dripping with wicked amusement. "Ah, my dear Lewis, sometimes the greatest changes are not physical but rather... internal." Lewis's gaze hardened with a flicker of trepidation as he absorbed Natas' words. "What do you mean, internal?" Natas' eyes gleamed with a sinister glint as he began to explain. "You see, my friend, this time I didn't change your appearance. Instead, I made a change to your very essence, your soul, your... personality." An icy jolt of fear shot through Lewis' veins. His breath caught in his chest as the gravity of Natas' words sank in. "What did you do to me?" Natas let out a throaty chuckle, relishing in Lewis' disconcerted state. "You are now my loyal servant, my dear Lewis," Natas said, savoring every word. "And from now on, you shall pronounce my name the right way round. I am Satan, and you are Siwel."

Lewis' heart thundered in his chest, and a chill crept down his spine. The weight of Natas's proclamation shattered Lewis' hopes and imprisoned him in an unfathomable terror. "No, this can't be happening. I won't be... Siwel." Lewis’ mouth twisted into a desperate plea. "Please, don't do this. I beg you," he implored, his voice laced with desperation. "There must be an alternate path. I can't be tethered to this... this servitude." Satan smirked, an eerie satisfaction twisting his features. "But where has your freedom led you, Siwel? Bereft of purpose, shackled by debts. Your existence is an aimless spiral." Lewis grappled with the turmoil in his heart, the stinging tendrils of despair clawing at his resolve. "I beg of you, grant me a second chance. Release me from this servitude," he pleaded, his voice wrought with anguish. Satan's eyes glittered with malevolent amusement, but he could sense the desperation in Lewis' words. "Very well, a gamble then," Satan proposed, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "The next round will be the decisive one. If you win, you will be free to leave and return to your former self. However, if you lose, you will become my servant in every sense, including a change in your sexual orientation." Lewis' stomach twisted in knots, and a conflict raged within him. As the wheel spun, Lewi's thoughts whirled with indecision. His old life had been marred by despair and debt, while his new existence under Satan's tyranny offered a semblance of purpose, albeit twisted and vile. The thought of giving in to Satan's dark whims filled him with fear, but the prospect of returning to his old life was also grim. A daring impulse seized Lewis, and as the ball spiraled in the roulette wheel, he delved into the depths of his tumultuous mind. Surrendering to the chaos within, he let the ball roll and just as it neared a stop, he reached out and grabbed the ball and said with a cocky grin, "I think I've lost now!"

Satan's eyes flashed with dark glee, a cruel satisfaction washing over his features. "You seem to like balls," he remarked, reveling in Siwel's new fate. "From now on, you shall be a croupier in the casino, seducing people into gambling and addiction. And you'll offer your own balls for play, for both men and women alike." Siwel got horny by the thought that strangers play with his balls and he felt the shackles of his former self disintegrate with a  sensation of numb respite. "Yes, Satan," he murmured, inundated by a tide of delectable submission. "Thank you for this...refined purpose."

The sultry chuckle of Satan echoed through the dimly lit casino, sending a shiver of anticipation down Siwel's spine. The once-desperate man had transformed into a willing participant in Satan's twisted game, his heart pounding with a newfound exhilaration. As he stood before his master, a strange fusion of euphoria and apprehension coursed through him. "Satan, I'm grateful for the purpose you've bestowed upon me," Siwel began, his voice tinged with a mixture of fervor and trepidation. "I am eager to embrace my role as a croupier and seduce patrons into the vices of gambling and addiction." Satan's eyes glimmered with malevolent satisfaction. "Ah, Siwel, you understand the extent of your newfound purpose. Your willingness to indulge the desires of others will pave the way for their descent into the depths of temptation." Siwel's gaze drifted to the opulent surroundings of the casino, a haven for both decadence and despair. "I shall become the harbinger of their vices, an instrument of allure and enticement to beckon them further into the labyrinth of their own desires." Satan's lips curled into a sinister smile. "And do not forget, my devoted servant, that you offer your own allure as well. Your charismatic appeal will entice both men and women, binding them to the tantalizing allure of the game." Siwel's heart quickened at the prospect, a strange sense of purpose intertwining with his impending subservience. "I am ready to embrace this role wholeheartedly. Through temptation and allure, I shall ensnare their souls, binding them to the fate that I now willingly serve."

Days turned into endless nights, and Siwel was consumed by the intoxicating waltz of temptation and seduction. As he drifted through the hallowed halls of the casino, he became the embodiment of desire itself, a siren beckoning unwitting patrons into a turbulent sea of addiction and longing. One fateful eve, as the chimes of the roulette wheel reverberated through the casino, Satan's piercing gaze met Siwel's as the master of temptation approached his devoted servant. "Siwel, your dedication to the seductive arts has not gone unnoticed," Satan purred, his voice dripping with malevolent allure. "Your willingness to draw others into the enthralling web of temptation shall serve as a testament to your newfound devotion." Siwel's pulse quickened with a strange mixture of complicity and longing. "I embrace this role with every fiber of my being, eager to ensnare those who dare to test the boundaries of their desires." As the nights bled into each other, Siwel's spirit was consumed by the inferno of his newfound allure, a passion burgeoning within him that blurred the line between devotion and subservience.

On a moonlit night, amid the haunting melody of the casino's symphony, Satan approached Siwel once more. "Do you realize, Siwel, that to me, you are little more than a slot machine—an object to indulge the desires of those who dare to seek out their temptations."

Siwel's lips curved into a smile, a strange sense of excitement blossoming in his heart. "You have objectified me, my master, and yet, I have found a purpose in your bewitching design. Through the allure of temptation, I have become a vassal to the desires of those who revel in the tapestry of their vices." Satan's eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction as he beheld his devoted servant. "Your unwavering submission to the art of temptation is a testament to the mastery of your newfound purpose. Embrace the allure that envelops you, Siwel, and surrender to the symphony of enticement that binds you to the very essence of their desires." Lewis has become a living embodiment of his sinister master's command: An object of indomitable attraction, subservience and desire.

[tacoma-narrows]

Between the Sea and the Sky!

Hi everybody! Meet the TWO new guys I made between last night and today! Their names are Tarmac (an Aeromorph dog) and Soda (a pooltoy fox), and they've filled a desire for these two specific kinds of OCs I've had in mind for MONTHS lol. They were super fun to design and draw and I'm super excited to do more with them soon!! This piece is relatively simple but more so serves as their introduction hehe

See more about them, including refs and some additional pieces/information below the cut :] (it kind of turns into a huge braindump lmao)

Tarmac is an aeromorph, although a bit more towards the furry side of things rather than the plane side lol. His design is influenced primarily by the Concorde and the Space Shuttle! I couldn't decide for the life of me which of those two things I wanted to use so I thought "why not use both?" and here we are lol. I'm super happy with his design, with the black/dark gray markings mean to emulate the look of the Space Shuttle's thermal insulation tiles and then I really like how the red and blue stand out against the gray. I really like his icon too! I wanted to make it look like a stylized depiction of a plane (mainly a Concorde hehe) breaking through the sound barrier with a sonic boon! In terms of personality, I don't have a whole lot in mind yet. Mostly that he'd be the brave, adventurous type and since he can fly both in the air and through space, he's gonna be friends with Astro too :3

Soda is a pooltoy fox! I have wanted to make a pooltoy OC FOREVER (blame my mutuals for always posting/reblogging so many cool pooltoy OCs hehe). I finally got brave enough to actually give it a shot, and I love how he came out! I was mainly just thinking about summery themes and as I was just trying out different colors and stuff, I thought about orange soda, and that's the direction I ended up going! He's got a big stupid tail [affectionate] and can have either rounded bappy hands or have actual fingers, you're free to stylize that either way! I've only ever drawn a pooltoy character once ever before, so this was something way out of my realm of familiarity, but I'm so happy with how he came out! He's so shaped I love him so much already <33

So those are my two new guys! Making two new OCs at the same time is already a rarity for me lol. The only time it's happened before was when I made Rye and Pumpernickel back in August of 2021. And then making these guys when I had only gotten Astro about two and a half weeks ago means this is an exceedingly rare event for me lmao. My friends know how infrequently I make/get new OCs, so this just goes to show how much these guys have been bouncing around in my brain lately lol.

They are definitely gonna have some sort of connection to each other, but I'm not sure how I wanna go about that yet. Since I made them back to back, they are already connected in my brain, but I'm not sure how I wanna express that in a meaningful way. I don't wanna make them siblings bc, well, they're obv very different from each other lol, but they're kinda parallels (with one being in the sky and the other being in the water yknow), so as of right now they're definitely good friends with each other. I might upgrade that to bfs at some point in the future, but we'll see how things go hehe.

Anyways huge braindump of a post lmao, thank u for reading if u did! I'd love to hear your thoughts on these guys since they're so different from all my other characters! Also if anyone may wanna do an art trade of either of these guys (or Astro as well! I'd like to get more art of him too!) let me know hehe

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Marvel

Dumb, Dumber and Dumbass by tempestaurora

As Coach Wilson peered out the window in the living room, May said, very quietly, “You didn’t realise your brother worked at Peter’s school?”

“We all make mistakes!” Sam hissed.

Then Coach Wilson was leaning back and a figure in a hoodie and jeans stepped through the window and into the living room, and Peter’s heart sank into his stomach like a rock. Sam’s brother was, true to story, scarred from head to toe. He could see the puckered skin on his hands, the burns across his bald head. But that wasn’t the shocking part—the shocking part was that he’d already seen it before: he’d seen it when a certain vigilante’s suit had been destroyed three nights before, and Peter had walked with him back to his backpack to loan him some clothes.

“This is Wade,” Sam introduced.

Sam Wilson had two brothers: one was Peter’s gym teacher, and the other was fucking Deadpool.

OR: A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Family Dinner, during which Peter and May meet Sam's family. Meanwhile, Tony sends constant text updates about his search for whoever graffiti-ed Avengers Tower.

Death Before Inaction by hppjmxrgosg

"Fuck off, Nicky.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Hasn’t anyone ever told you spider-napping is illegal?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “You can’t hold me here, I know my spider-rights.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “God, you guys are so old. What are you? Like 27?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Scale of 1 to 10, how upset would you be if I told you I banged your mom?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Or, I got my grubby little hands on the spider-man time line and fucked around a little bit. Not much (everything) changes.

DC / Star Wars (Crossover)

Obi-Wan in Gotham by hoebiwan (+ podfic)

Obi-Wan falls through a hole in the universe and ends up in the Batcave.

Clone Wars

the war has just begun by unintentionalgenius

The first problem was that the Supreme Commander didn’t give them enough warning about what they were stumbling into, when they were ordered out into it. Someone above General Kenobi’s head sent the men planetside in standard-issue gear, without thermal clothing or heat packs or sleeping kit or enough food for more than a single day. They had no extra ammo, no tents, no heavy artillery. They had barely any warning.

The second problem was that Supreme Command underestimated the strength of the enemy; it was supposed to be an easy enough job, holding the planet long enough to route the Seppies and then right back to the ship, leaving a contingent of troopers stationed there to retain what they’d won.

The third problem - the real problem - came when they let themselves become surrounded and the Separatists cut their supply line. Cody’s partially at fault for that one; a better Commander would’ve seen it coming. A better Commander would’ve had more backup plans, been prepared for more contingencies.

Being cut off from re-supply would’ve been a problem before the snow started.

Then the snow started.

I've never made it with moderation by Trixree (+ podfic)

He’d known how some of the men are with younglings—known from Waxer and Boil how sharply those attachments can form with little ones. Hell, the men were raised to be protective, so much so that Obi-Wan has often wondered if their protective drive was not written into their very atoms, some intrinsic part of their DNA.

It wasn’t something Obi-Wan had ever questioned. He’d thought he had understood the scope of it. In reality, he hadn’t understood a thing.

Not until Kamino.

Or: Not all that dive from cliffs make a running head start. Sometimes, the Fall is only a natural progression.

Standards of Professionality by Trixree

"Are we going to pretend I didn’t just find you fucking your General, vod?” Rex hisses over private-comm.

Cody doesn’t even turn his head to look at him. Rex can hear the smile in Cody’s voice when he replies, “No, because I am not fucking my General, Rex’ika. I am fucking Obi-Wan. We are professionals.”

5 times Cody and Obi-Wan struggled to maintain plausible deniability regarding their affections for one another + 1 time they decidedly Did Not.

The Hunger Games

Lover & Loner by amateurwordbender

Haymitch once told him that he’s a survivor. It hadn’t been a compliment; he’d slurred out the words in pity after finding Finnick shaking apart from a panic attack.

Jo’s a survivor, too.

(Finnick and Johanna, from the moment they meet to the bitter end)

Original Works

for the want of a jewel by FormlessVoidbeast

With his country fallen to the unstoppable tide of the Dread Warlord, a terrified king sends a peace offering of his own flesh and blood in the hopes of buying leniency.

When Prince Damian of Miska is accepted as the symbol of his country's surrender and immediately wedded to the Warlord, he expects his fate to be both painful and humiliating, and his death inevitable. To his confusion, the Warlord and his terrible Warlock seem to have no interest in abusing that which they have claimed as their own. As Damian finds his feet and gains friends in a new land, he begins to question everything he once thought was true.

But some jewels were never meant to be sold, and the consequences of Damian's sacrifice are more far-reaching than anyone expected.

[randooffthestreet]

(Inofficial) Ghoaptober

Day 24: Wish

Summary: Ghost buys flowers for Soap

Going to a pub or a bar was a regular enough occurrence that the 141 had a little bit of a system. Price was the designated driver, so he’d nurse one drink for an hour or so before cutting himself off. Gaz and Soap drank enough to cause Ghost to get a sympathy headache, and Ghost himself would have a drink or two. Of course, he was never allowed to drive since Soap wouldn’t let him hear the end of what had happened in Las Almas.

If one or both of the sergeants got clingy, they wouldn’t bring it up in the morning.

“Ghost….Lt.” Soap whined, leaning against the brick wall of a man fearlessly. “Y’know I've never gotten flowers before? Have nae seen many flowers since I was a bairn.” Ghost sighed heavily. “That so?

The Scot nodded, taking a sip of his final drink. (Price had cut him off) “Dunnae why… Maybe cuz ah’m a big lad? Maybe…cuz they think ah would nae like em. But ah do! Love flowers.” He set his drink down. “It’s mah birthday end o’ this month. Prob’ly will nae get any flowers this year either, ye ken.”

Ghost just hummed. He’d known about his upcoming birthday, Gaz having already planned an outing to a pub that evening. He’d bought him a new sketchbook and nice pencils after learning about his affinity for drawing.

Soap groaned, his stomach lurching slightly. Ghost hissed, scooting away from him. “Don’t you dare throw up on me.” Soap laughed, wincing. “Ah won’t. Ye- ye ken, my ma had a flower garden. Before we grew apart, I used to help her tend to em. Loved the roses. They were mah favorite. Cliche, I ken.” He sniffled. “Miss em. Hell, miss me ma.”

Ghost sighed, hooking his arm over his shoulder. “You’re drunk, Soap. We should get you home.” The man groaned, but didn’t protest.

The day before Soap’s birthday, Ghost found himself thinking about that conversation. Sure, Soap had been drunk, but he also tended to be a bit more honest when he was drunk. Ghost found himself looking for stores near the pub that sold flowers.

When he found one, he just stared at the bouquets for a solid ten minutes before an employee came over. “Need help, sir?” She asked him, smiling a little wearily. He hummed. “...don’t know flowers.” He said in lieu of an answer. She looked through them. “Well, who are you looking for?”

He thought for a moment. “Friend’s birthday. He likes roses.” She nodded, before pointing out a pretty looking bouquet. “This one has roses and sunflowers. Does he like those?”

Ghost didn’t know, but from what little he did know about flowers, he knew that sunflowers would turn towards the sun, yearning for any bit of light from its rays.

They reminded him of how he acted around Johnny, always looking for his next fix of his sunshine’s attention.

He nodded. “That’ll do.” He picked it up and bought it, praying to whatever being that may exist that Soap would like them. They smelled pleasant enough, at least.

When he walked into the pub, the others hadn’t arrived yet. He’d already texted Gaz that he’d be coming separately, and would save them a table.

He tucked the bouquet in the booth seat next to him nervously when he saw them enter. Gaz ordered them a round and a cake, crowing at the uninterested waiter that it was his friend’s birthday just to piss Soap off.

Price got Soap a nice bottle of Scotch, and Gaz had laughed when he saw it because he’d gotten him the same thing. Soap didn’t mind, just grinned. “I get two bottles of the good stuff, why would I be mad?

Ghost gave him the sketchbook and pencils a bit nervously, but his nerves were soothed when his face lit up. “Oh wow! These are good supplies.” He grinned. Ghost touched the bouquet next to him lightly, having second thoughts, before sucking it up and handing them to him.

The table fell quiet, and Soap looked at him with wide eyes

“For me?” He asked softly, holding them so gently they could be made of glass. Ghost nodded, feeling really dumb all of a sudden. He felt a weight lift from his chest when Soap beamed at him.

“You remembered! Christ, this is too muchI was so sloshed when I said I wanted flowers, but… thanks. They’re beautiful. And- and they’re roses… like I said…” Soap was smiling so widely it made Ghost’s heart hurt.

“I love them, Lt.” Ghost had to fight back the disappointment that came with the title. It was his sergeant’s birthday, not his boyfriend’s.

Gaz and Price settled down a little upon hearing Soap had asked for flowers specifically, though Price did shoot Ghost a knowing look.

The rest of the time was business as usual, drinking and laughing with friends until they inevitably got drunk and had to go home when the bartenders cut them off.

Ghost walked Soap back to his room. The other man was so drunk he was just mumbling under his breath.

As Ghost eased him into his bed, the Scot spoke up. “Thanks for the flowers, Lt, Really like em. Specially from ye.” He smiled before knocking out. Ghost stood there for a few minutes before sighing quietly to himself and placing the bouquet on the nightstand next to Soap.

For the rest of the week, Soap was in a significantly good mood. Watching him interact with the recruits, Ghost found himself smiling softly. If a simple bouquet of flowers made him so happy that he was beaming every day, then Ghost would give him all the flowers his heart desired.

And the gestures would never lose their meaning; no, Ghost would put just as much thought and heart into every one, just like he did the first time.

In any universe, he would give him flowers just to see him smile.

From a church altar to a gravestone.

The sunflower and his rose.

[the-catmans-offical-2]

The offical art when it comes to Ed and Wrath are few and far between. However, there's some things I've noticed and would like to share!

Wrath, as a human, would have blue eyes - while this is something we pretty much already knew just by watching eps 28 through 30, if you look at Ed's eye color then you'll realize that they're very close to being inverses of each other!

Also Wrath is cool colors (Blues and greens, blacks and purples) whereas Ed is warm colors (Yellows and reds, whites and oranges). I think that's another contrast or inverse between them to show who they are as characters - with Wrath being a homunculus he is colder colors like the tones of a dead body or just generally not something alive, while Ed has warmer colors like a living human would.

There's more differences between them! Wrath's iris shape is (in the picture and originally) more circular than Ed's - who's is more ovular. Wrath also has slightly larger eyes than Ed, giving him a bit of more childlike appearance though his facial shape keeps him appearing as though he is of similar age to Ed. (I remember reading somewhere once, and please correct me if I am wrong but I personally believe this greatly, that Wrath was made with the goal kept in mind that he'd be an opponent to Ed of similar age and similar in other ways as well.) Wrath also has sharp teeth whilst Ed has dull flat ones - oddly enough Wrath's ears are pointed slightly and Ed's ears are rounded, furthermore giving the visual feel that Wrath isn't human. He must appear rather uncanny to Edward or to any human - same with the homunculi in general - because he looks human but with subtle things that make him... Off.

Wrath is all smilely too, whereas Ed looks more serious or weary; Showing off Wrath's inital innocence (which stays there throughout the series until he was betrayed by Dante and Envy, and I will fight anyone on that) and Ed's lingering distrust for Wrath. Fun fact, in CoS he seems to trust Wrath more even though the two never see each other again. Oh, they're gonna be the end of me. ED FUCKING ACTED LIKE HE KNEW WHAT WRATH WOULD WANT, which leads me to believe they had a talk or just SOMETHING during ep 51 that was cut out.

I have no idea what this image is from so please let me know if anyone knows! I've been curious for a while.

Anyway, Wrath:) He's poking out from behind Ed, and there's more things to point out between them!

Wrath is wearing dark clothes whereas Ed's wearing light ones. Like usual, Wrath's hair is down and messy while Ed's is up and neat. This is the offical art that made me realize that Ed has longer, thinner eyebrows than Wrath - who has thicker ones!

Also Wrath seems to be staring directly at Ed, but I personally can't read his expression as anything? Maybe curiosity? I'm not good with reading facial expressions lmao.

I only added this one bc WRATH LOOKS SO SILLY WHO THE FUCK PUT HIM IN A LIL SUIT??? HOW THE FUCK DID SOMEONE PUT HIM IN A SUIT???

I'm looking for a clearer image for this so I may update this post at some point to put the clearer one there if I find it!

Anyway so Wrath and Edward are standing back to back. They have a slight height difference with Wrath as the shorter of the two (I bet Ed is very happy/j)

Ed's expression is more angry or solem while Wrath's is a grin - but both can be said to look angry I'd think.

They both have a hand on their hip (Ed's in his pocket but Wrath doesn't have pockets, L) and the opposite arm resting more languidly at their side. They're both standing straight, Ed's head is tilted slightly downward while Wrath's is tilted up - no one else is shown standing back to back. Only Wrath any Ed. Al is there, standing beside Ed, but Gluttony is standing with his side to Alphonse, and Lust is more off to the side and facing the others rather than with her back to anyone. I think it is to further show that Ed and Wrath are such parallels (and Lust is standing a little to the side, possibly showing how she isn't really obeying anyone but herself - showing how she betrayed Dante and went to help Ed get Al back in exchange for becoming human again; But we know how that played out..)

I'm not really gonna talk about these here, as one of them is simply a scene redraw, and they're more Izumi focused if you look at them - with Izumi appearing somber while Ed looks weary or even fearful, and Wrath is just.. Being a kid. Running and flipping, and then in the redraw fighting Ed and Al.

The same could be said about these!! They aren't really interacting - in the first image Wrath is asleep at a table with the other homunculi, and in the second he does appear to be staring at Ed; But again Ed isn't focused on him.

Probably some of the ONLY FUCKING COS OFFICAL ART I HAVE FOUND with Wrath in it. Wrath and Ed are facing opposite of each other. No one, other than Wrath in the image, is fully facing at a side profile - which at first I thought represented how he had died, but Alfons is there and so is Eckhart.

Ed looks wistful, not angry but not happy. Sad perhaps, which is what he seems to be a lot in CoS. But Wrath, he looks down right angry. Yelling maybe? His mouth is opened wide and showing his sharp teeth, his visable eyebrow furrowed, he looks dirty and tired. Clearly this is during his fight with Gluttony. I love that they're seperated by the margin, representing the Gate kinda - Armestrian characters on one side, 'our world' characters on the other.

Again, this isn't really Ed and Wrath in particular. But I want you all to really look at Wrath. He's licking his Ed arm. In a similar fashion Dante does to Lyra's arm after possessing her body, and basically asking Hoenhiem to.. Yk, fuck. While I definitely don't think Wrath is doing it out of sexual desire or reason (that is a child, that is a child, that is a child), I do believe he's doing it to mimick or copy Dante. Wrath could've seen that she liked Hoenhiem, which is putting it lightly but for the sake of the sake I'll just say she liked him, and then copied her by licking said limb out of liking Ed or desiring (non-sexually) his body/limbs. To become human.

Also jfc Envy is buff, go back to being a twink you loser.

Uhh I dunno, I just rambled a lil. Maybe I'll make another post with this? Maybe not, but this is what you get for now!! Use my ask box if you have any questions! :)

[drewharrisonwriter]

On the Mend - Ch 1: Not Today

No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader

Read this on AO3 | On the Mend Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: You were having a really, really bad day in the midst of the scorching Austin summer, and seeing your ex boyfriend, Joel Miller, is the last thing you need.

Word count: 829

A/N: (EDIT 09/17/2023) Okay so I heard ya'll! LMAO and decided to turn this into a mini-series. Not sure exactly how things will play out for these two, but I've written a part 2 and decided to call this mini-series On the Mend. LOL hope you like it. This is a one-shot for now, not sure if and how to continue this. I just got this idea recently and wanted to write it.

The merciless sun bore down as she parked her car. The Austin summer had been relentless, and today, it seemed as if even the universe was conspiring against her. 

It had been a thoroughly miserable day. Work had been a disaster; she'd spent hours redoing half of a project her co-worker had botched because she was still hungover from the previous night. 

The Texas summer heat, relentless and unforgiving, only added to her misery. As if fate had a personal grudge against her, she realized she'd left her house keys on her office desk when she was already halfway home. 

She sighed in defeat and turned her car around to retrieve them. All of this was compounded by her lingering morning sickness, a term she found deceptive as it had resurfaced with a vengeance upon entering her third trimester. She had naively believed she had bid it farewell for good when she'd crossed into the second trimester.

"Whoever called it morning sickness should be shot for lying," she grumbled, attempting to quell the rising nausea that threatened to surface.

Dressed in biker shorts and an oversized t-shirt she kept in her car for emergencies, she got out and beelined to the frozen aisle for a popsicle stick and savored the brief respite offered by the melting ice cold treat.

She sighed in relief and grabbed a pushcart. Her only mission in the store was to grab some Oreos, pickles, and frozen pizza to satisfy her cravings that were so intense, she literally cried in the car on her way over. 

As she rounded a corner in the store, she was suddenly face to face with the last person she wanted to see: Joel Miller. 

Great. She thought to herself. Couldn't have been on a better day. 

Ah, Joel fucking Miller.

The man who had once been the love of her life.

The same man who had taken her on the most memorable first date she'd ever experienced, and had filled the past five years of her life with the kind of joy she'd never known before.

But this was also the man who made it clear to her months ago, after five whole years of being together and living together for three, that he has no plans of marrying her and having a family with her. 

She and Joel were arguing at the time when he said it. 

--

In the midst of their emotional clash, she couldn't help but speak her mind, her frustration boiling over. 

"Joel," she began, her voice trembling with pent-up feelings, "if you get mad at every damn little thing, what's going to happen if we were married? That's not the life I want, and it's not the husband I need."

Joel's eyes flashed with anger as he retorted, "Of course it’s not! And who told you I was going to marry you?" His words cut like a knife, and she felt her heart shatter into pieces. 

"We never talked about it, what put the idea into your head?" he continued, his tone harsh and unyielding. 

Her jaw went slack in shock, as tears welled up in her eyes as she choked back her emotions. 

"But I thought we--," she whispered, her voice barely audible, she couldn't even continue her thoughts when Joel cut her off.

"No." He barked. "You knew from the start that Sarah is my priority. Always was and always will be. I'm not going through the whole marriage thing again." And have our hearts broken all over again when you realize that we're not what you want, he wanted to add. But instead he allowed the silence to linger. 

Silent tears slipped from her eyes but she did not respond. 

Instead she stood up and went into the closet and started packing. So be it, she told herself as she zipped the last of her bags before going into the bathroom to hastily shove her toiletries into another bag. 

She stopped when she pulled one of the lower drawers open. The positive pregnancy test sticks under her box of tampons glared at her, and for a brief moment she contemplated telling Joel. But when she heard the front door slam shut, she pulled herself together and shoved the sticks in the bag as well. 

--

That was seven months ago and she hasn't seen nor heard from Joel since. 

Their eyes met for a moment before his gaze fell upon her very round baby bump. Acting on instinct, she hastily placed her handbag in the shopping cart, a futile attempt to hide it from him, though it didn't do much given the fact that she looked like she had tucked an entire watermelon under her shirt.

She grimaced, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. When she locked eyes with him once more, she began walking backwards, her eyes not leaving him and before he could say anything, she had rounded the corner and all he heard was, “Nope. Not today!”

Next Chapter 👉🏻

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 37 ~ Welcome Back

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 3

✧ Word Count : 6.2k

In this chapter ~ Even after Daryl was reunited with the group alongside his brother, Glenn and Rose continued to stay at each other's throats after all the built up anger from recent events. The group continued to stew over what the plan would be to fix the mess the Governor left behind, not even knowing if there was a solution. Rose's skepticism led to her having an interesting conversation with Merle, along with an unexpected guest arriving through their broken gates.

"If you stayed on that watchtower, you could've warned Hershel to get out of there faster!" Glenn screamed at me.

"If you had never left, you would've been able to help us take down those assholes who tore through our fucking gates!" I screamed back at him.

He scoffed, "So, you're saying this is my fault?"

"You saying it's mine?" I retorted.

"If you had actually been responsible for once, you would've-"

"Hey!" Daryl quickly cut him off, "I ain't gonna let ya talk to her like that, she was actually here helpin out!" he stepped in, gesturing wildly with his hands.

Glenn was practically unphased by his volume, turning to look at him as he only scoffed to himself, "Oh yeah? And where were you?" he asked.

I knocked his shoulder back harshly upon hearing that, "Oh you do not want to go there." I said coldly.

"Enough!" Rick yelled as he stepped in between us.

My breathing was heavy as I felt like my heart was going to explode. I don't think I've been this worked up in a very long time, and it surprised me immensely that Glenn was the cause of it. It seemed like the second we made it into the cellblock and he realized I wasn't keeping watch, he turned into this raging asshole, pointing fingers left and right about who was to blame. The others had just been silently watching our little fighting match with wide eyes, it was like their free entertainment. And I could tell Merle was getting a kick out of it from just outside of the gated door he was locked behind.

I shoved past Rick's arm, completely ignoring him as if he hadn't said anything at all, "At least I stayed put while you were out chasing The Govenor who was here the whole goddamn time!"

"I wanted to end this!" he yelled.

"We all want to end this, Glenn! Just because you were the one who got beat up by that jackass over there, doesn't mean you get to take control of whatever you want!"

"Hey." Merle said defensively.

Glenn looked like his head was going to explode, "Oh you are such a b-" he began to say, stopping himself suddenly.

"Say it! Oh, please say it! I'm a bitch? You can't own up to anything, biting people's heads off left and right, but I'm the fucking bitch?"

"I said enough!" Rick yelled again as he shoved us apart. He glanced back and forth between the two of us in slight disbelief, turning back towards me to speak lower than before, "Do I have to lock you out of here?"

My eyes narrowed at him in slight offense, "I'm not the problem."

"Then prove it." he snapped.

My eyes narrowed but I raised my hands in surrender, leaning up further against the wall to see where it would go from here. What genius plan Rick would somehow come up with to save all of our asses that we hadn't already ruled out. But by the looks of it, no one knew what to do now. They practically trapped us in here now with how many walkers were now filling the fields.

After Rick followed my movements, making sure I wasn't going to snap again, he turned towards everyone else, "We're not leaving."

"We can't stay here." Hershel argued.

"What if there's another sniper, a wood pallet won't stop one of those rounds."

Beth stepped up, "We can't even go outside."

"If Rick says we aren't running, we aren't running." Glenn said matter-of-factly.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head involuntary as Merle knocked his metal hand on the door separating the common room and the cellblock, grabbing all of our attention, "No, better to live like rats. Just here to apparently give y'all the reality check you need."

"You got a better idea?" Rick asked.

"Yeah, we should've slid out of here last night and lived to fight another day. But we lost that window now didn't we. I'm sure he's got scouts on every road out of this place by now." he said bluntly.

Daryl scoffed from next to me, "We ain't scared of that prick."

"Y'all should be," Merle replied, "That truck through the fence thing, that was just him ringin the doorbell. We might have some thick walls to hide behind, but he's got the guns and the numbers. And if he takes the high ground around this place, shit he could just starve us out if he wanted to."

Maggie's anxiety grew upon hearing that, tapping her crossed arms nervously as she snapped, "Let's put him in the other cellblock."

"No, he's gotta point." Daryl defended.

She shook her head vigorously, "This is all you! You started this!" she yelled at the older Dixon.

"What's the difference whose fault it is? What matters is what we do next, so what do we do?" Beth asked.

"I said we should leave, now Axel's dead. We can't just sit here." Hershel stated.

Rick shook his head slowly and started to walk away wordlessly as if the conversation was anywhere near done, running away the second he was hearing things he didn't want to hear. But he needed to hear them, process them, and move on because that's just how it was. It was already too late to prevent the attack that already happened, we just needed a solid plan on what to do next, one that he apparently wasn't ready to discuss.

Though the second he made it towards the door, getting out his keys to unlock it, Hershel seemed to be just as fed up as I was. He stood up swiftly from his spot on the stairs, crutches under his arms as he yelled, "Get back here!"

The man stopped completely in his tracks upon hearing his scream echo, hearing him now moving over to him to speak more gently, "You're slipping Rick. We've all seen it, and we understand why. But now is not the time, you once said this isn't a democracy and now you have to own up to that...I put my family's life in your hands. So, get your head clear, and do something."

Only silence followed. And after that, he left. He left us all in the most awkward silence you could imagine as he couldn't seem to process the sudden reality. But I wasted no time heading up into my cell to cool off after watching him just give up for the day. Everyone was on edge and then pushing each other more and more, and I was too tired to keep arguing back and forth like we always seemed to do lately.

I fell back onto the mattress dramatically with a breath, hearing hushed voices from outside but not bringing myself to care enough to pay attention. Leaning back further against the wall, I shut my eyes for a few moments to try and clear my head, to try and wipe the conversation clean from my mind. It was all so frustrating that I couldn't bring myself to think about it anymore, even if I was alone.

The voices from outside eventually dwindled down and stopped completely, leading me to assume that they had all left the cellblock to busy themselves with something else. But I still wasn't completely alone in the space. Footsteps seemed to echo down past each room on the second floor, slowing down before stopping directly in front of mine, hearing them then make their way inside.

I opened my eyes just in time to see Daryl walking over and sitting down on the edge of the bed, reaching back to brush his fingers across my legs gently. He then caught my gaze after a moment or two, neither one of us saying a word as I slowly sat up to face him better. But he didn't seem to hesitate once I had moved, leaning forward a bit to gently grasp my chin, pulling me closer until our lips touched.

I exhaled deeply through my nose as I pulled him closer, feeling him again was something that I never thought would happen. But yet here he was. I almost still couldn't get over the fact that he had come back, leaving my utterly speechless when I saw a glimpse of his face again. His face to which I only thought I would have to look back on in memories and dreams, not being able to actually see him looking right back at me. But yet...here he was.

He was the first to break away, but not without coming back a few more times to place light pecks on my lips as if he couldn't get enough, "...I missed ya so much." he whispered.

I felt myself smirk, "Oh yeah? How much?" I teased.

He rolled his eyes, "A lot. I couldn't stop thinkin about ya."

"I couldn't stop thinking about you either," I muttered while tracing my thumb lightly over his cheekbone, "I love you so much."

His cheeks bloomed a shade of red, "I love you." he replied instantly, pulling me in again to kiss me deeply.

He seemed to lift me with ease without breaking away, getting me to straddle his hips as I seemed to crave him even more, pulling him in closer by the collar on his shirt, desperate to feel him. My hands roamed around his arms and neck, trying to memorize every dip and curve that he had so I would never forget. He then broke away again after a few seconds of bliss, placing kisses all over my face just to get me to laugh, like he always did, and it always worked.

"God, I missed that sound," he whispered after I let out a light laugh, "And I missed yer pretty face."

A smile stretched across my lips at his sweet words, only causing me to laugh again as I let my mind wander, "What?" he asked curiously.

"Nothing," I shook my head, "You're just a big softie, that's all." I teased, moving his growing hair away from his forehead.

He scoffed as he gently pinched my sides, "Shut up." he muttered.

I laughed as I pushed his hands away to stop tickling me, but my amusement seemed to falter the smallest bit as a question popped up in my head. One I didn't even know if I wanted the answer to. "So...you want to tell me what happened out there?" I finally asked.

His smile fell slightly but he nodded his head as he leaned further to trace patterns on my thighs that were planted on either side of him, beginning to tell me everything.

He told me about his first night back in the woods and everything that Merle said to him, about how he claimed I didn't really love him. My face dropped a little upon hearing that, but he reassured me he didn't let it bother him in the slightest, pushing the thought out of his mind completely. I ran my fingers gently through his hair as I only quietly listened, hearing him talk about the group that he saved the very next day and his fight with Merle. And the worst part, the fight with him seemed to get a little out of hand as he managed to see the scars all over his back.

"I was wondering why your shirt was ripped." I spoke softly.

I watched as he nodded, "Yeah..." he breathed, "It's the first time he's even seen em."

My brows furrowed slightly as I thought, "Really?"

He scoffed, tilting his head back to look at me better, "Ya really see me confidin to my awesome brother bout somethin like that?" he asked sarcastically.

"No." I said with a shake of my head, "It's just...why-"

But I didn't even need to finish my question, like he knew exactly what I was going to say and had his answer already planned out. "Cause yer my girl Rosie, I trust ya. Trust ya more than anyone...especially bout things like this."

My heart swelled at his words. Even though we had been together for quite some time, it's still nice to hear how important you are to someone. And in these past few minutes alone, Daryl had shown me just how important I was to him, how much he had missed me, and how much he trusted me.

I didn't say anything else, mostly because I didn't need to. My actions were speaking much louder as I pulled him back into me, crashing my lips against his own. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that we were together again, in each other's arms and soaking up every second that we could.

At this moment in time, I didn't care about the threats from The Governor, or my fight with Glenn, or anything else. All I cared about was him as we slowly got lost in each other's touch.

My breathing was still slowing down, my skin slightly sticky with sweat, feeling myself slowly dozing off as I listened to Daryl's steady breathing from behind me, tickling the back of my neck. A smirk traced my lips as I felt him instinctively pull me closer, hugging my waist tightly and only bringing it more towards his chest. Though somehow, he noticed how I was just on the brink of falling asleep, raising his head to whisper in my ear.

"Don't fall asleep." his voice vibrated through his chest, enough to send shivers down my spine.

I smiled to myself as I shook my head, "I'm just resting my eyes."

He hummed in response before starting to leave light kisses on my shoulder, making his was back down towards my neck, nipping and sucking softly.

I sighed in content, "You really did miss me, huh?"

He chuckled, "Woman, you have no idea." he muttered before his lips busied themselves again.

A sudden burst of energy coursed through me the second he hit a certain spot below my ear, causing me to flip around and straddle his waist. I leaned down to capture his lips in a deep kiss, hearing him let out a sound of surprise before he was smiling against my mouth. He only pulled me up closer, gripping my hips with his big, calloused hands as I could subtly feel him get excited all over again beneath me.

But I stopped my movements completely when I heard voices coming back in the cellblock, loudly bouncing off the walls. I broke the kiss and looked over my shoulder towards the door, hearing him let out a low groan at the loss contact while his hands moved up and down my waist absentmindedly.

I turned back once I realized they weren't leaving anytime soon, pecking his lips before leaning down towards his ear to whisper, "Don't worry, we'll finish this later." leaving another lingering kiss on his jawline before getting up to gather my clothes.

I moved up and off the squeaky mattress to pick up my clothes off the ground, slipping my underwear back on, knowing he hadn't made any effort to move yet from just behind me. Just simply laying there with his eyes glued to my frame, I didn't even have to turn around as I could practically feel his gaze. Though as I finally got my pants back on, struggling to clasp my bra, I turned around to face him again, seeing the huge grin he had on his face and I couldn't help but smile back.

"What?" I asked playfully as I finally got it hooked.

He shrugged, "Yer just so beautiful."

My cheeks flushed slightly, "Thank you." I muttered a bit bashfully before throwing my shirt on over my head.

He stood up then after watching me for as long as he could, moving around quickly to get dressed now so we could head out and see what was happening downstairs. All of their voices seemed loud and rushed, like they were formulating some kind of plan for the time being that we surely needed to be a part of. Once he was finally finished, he kissed my forehead lightly before I started to walk towards the doorway to leave, but stopping in my tracks once I felt a light pinch on my ass.

I whipped around to look at him in mock surprise, seeing him with a lopsided grin as he held his hands up in surrender, trying his best to look innocent or something. I rolled my eyes, reaching around to push him in front of me so he would be walking down first instead so I would be safe for any other sneak attacks he had in mind.

We walked down the steps to see Rick telling Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, and Hershel what he saw when he took watch outside, describing in detail how much work would have to be put in when rebuilding the fence. He told Maggie to take the next shift, and then made his way over to the rest of us.

"Field's filled with walkers, didn't see any snipers out there, but we'll keep Maggie on watch..." Rick informed briefly before pausing suddenly, "Where the hell have you two been?" he asked, pointing at us.

I saw Daryl's face get beet red, but I was quick to answer, "Checking the tunnels again for walkers that might've slipped in, we just got back." I was surprised how easily the lie slipped off my tongue.

He didn't question anything and just nodded his head silently, Daryl awkwardly clearing his throat, "I'll uh...get up in the guard tower, take out half them walkers and give these guys a chance to fix the fence."

"Or use some of the cars to put the bus in place." Michonne suggested.

Hershel sighed, "We can't access the field without burning through our bullets."

"So, we're trapped in here," Glenn piped in not looking in my direction, "There's barely any food or ammo." he spoke angerly.

"Been here before, we'll be alright." Daryl reassured him.

"That's when it was just us, before there was a snake in the nest." Glenn snapped.

I sighed and felt the headache start to form as I knew what was about to go down. But seeing my actions got his attention and he just rolled his eyes at me at the fact that I apparently breathed wrong around him.

Daryl stepped closer to him, "Man, we gonna go through this again? Look Merle's stayin here, he's with us now. Get used to it, all y'all."

He didn't yell at Glenn, but I could tell his comment about Merle got to him as there was honest hurt in his voice. After he spoke, he headed out of the cellblock, storming past the things in his way while we all watched him leave, seeing he needed a minute to himself.

Though Glenn was quick to turn back to Rick, spitting out his opinion like he always seemed to do, "Seriously Rick, I don't think Merle living here is going to fly." he snapped.

"It's not your decision." I fired back.

His head spun towards me, "You're not a part of this discussion."

I scoffed, "Why the hell not?"

"Because you're clearly biased on the situation." he spat.

I was taken aback by his comment, and he could tell, he looked guilty as soon as he said it, "You think just because I'm with Daryl I can't think for myself and have my own opinion about this?" I asked angrily, "What the hell would you like us to do, Glenn? Throw him out there, let him fed for himself out in that field, he wouldn't last two seconds."

He shook his head, "No, that's not what I meant."

"He's stuck here with the rest of us." I said as I ignored his comment, "Whether your prideful ass attitude likes it or not." I snapped before storming out of the cellblock as well, needing to get far away from him before I said something I would truly regret.

I went straight through the main area, shoving my way past a door that led to a back room without even thinking twice about it. Slamming the door behind me, I just leaned my back up against it and sighed to myself with my hands over my face, trying to collect my thoughts.

But then a loud cackle suddenly erupted from the back corner of the room, making me jump out of my skin to only see Merle making himself comfortable on a nearby bench.

"Oh, didn't mean to scare ya there sweetheart." he chuckled again.

I rolled my eyes at the man and didn't say anything to him as I folded my arms around my middle, trying not to make eye contact with him as I had apparently dug myself into a hole here. I stayed completely silent as the air grew awkward and almost tense. But apparently, he was uncomfortable with the silence as he kept talking.

"So, do I officially get to meet the girl my baby brother's so smitten for?" he asked with a cocky tone.

Sighing to myself, I did the slow walk of shame the rest of the way over to him as I stuck out my hand, "Rose." I introduced.

"Merle." he said with a grin while taking my hand and giving it a firm shake.

He let go after a moment and I took a seat further away from him as we sat in silence for a few minutes. I could feel his eyes on me, like he was trying to pick me apart, but I knew with the bored expression I had on my face that he wouldn't find anything. I didn't even know what he was trying to accomplish.

He suddenly took in a breath, "So...what brings ya in here? I wouldn't think you would come venture out just to talk to little ole me."

I laughed sarcastically, "Right...I just came in here for some peace and quiet for a second."

"You have a cellblock for that." he pointed out.

I rolled my eyes, "Well, the issue happens to be in the cellblock so..."

He nodded his head, "Glenn?"

There were a few beats of silence as I didn't exactly answer him, but he already knew. "Ya know, it's good that he's angry. Not at you...but in general. It's gonna come in handy when The Governor comes back."

My brows furrowed a little, "What do you mean?"

He scooted a bit closer, "Maybe if he used that anger on The Governor's men, y'all will have a fighting chance. Maybe some of y'all might actually stay alive."

"I appreciate your confidence in us, thank you." I muttered sarcastically while looking away from him.

He hesitated and stopped for a moment, almost as if trying to piece together what he wanted to say, before he finally spit it out. "The Governor will kill me first when he comes back," he started, "Michonne, my brother, then Hershel and his girls, Glenn, Carl, that baby...then you."

I chill went down my spine as he listed in order how the mad man would kill us all, and yet he continued, "He'll save Rick for last, so he can watch his family and friends die painfully. That's who you're dealing with."

I wanted to say something, maybe even argue with him that he was wrong and that we were going to win this whole thing. But I knew he was right, considering he knew The Governor the best out of all of us. I didn't want him to see how scared I truly was of this man. Shit I didn't want anyone to see that. But I was. And it made me feel weak.

As if reading my mind, he spoke again, "I can tell you're scared. I can see it in your eyes, and all I'm saying is you should be. I'm not trying to scare ya. I'm trying to warn ya. Maybe shine a light on how sick he really is, because I don't think you people get it."

We sat there looking at each other for a few minutes as I let myself think. I didn't want him to be right, but I also didn't want to have false hope. For a split second I thought Merle was just trying to get in my head like he did with Daryl a few days ago. But something in my gut told me he wasn't, and he was just telling the truth. Warning me in a way that would get through my head.

I stood up suddenly, finding I had nothing to say, and turning to head outside and maybe take watch for a few hours and make myself useful, but his voice stopped me. "You're not listening. I'm ain't gonna tell ya what ya want to hear girl."

My hand fell on the door handle as I stopped to turn and face him one last time, "Oh believe me, I'm listening." I said calmly before turning to head out of the space, leaving him alone once more.

I made my way through the common room and out the heavy door towards where I knew Maggie was sitting and taking watch right now. Walking past Carl, I waved towards him before I headed over to where Maggie was placed up close near the fence, walking louder so I wouldn't scare her.

"Want some company?" I asked while grabbing the spare gun and taking a seat.

She slightly glanced over her shoulder at me with a small nod, "Sure."

My smile dropped suddenly and I could tell something was off about her almost instantly, and I had a feeling it was about how Glenn and I fought earlier. We were practically about to claw each other's eyes out if Rick didn't step in between us.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked.

"No. No...I'm not mad at you." she said while still not looking at me.

I sighed, "If this is about Glenn-"

"It's not," she cut me off calmly, "I mean it is, but it isn't. I'm just...I'm tired of seein all of us yelling at each other all the time now. Constantly at each other's throats."

I nodded in agreement as I looked out to the field, "Yeah well, that asshat of a Governor has been making it easier and easier to flip out on each other."

"You got that right." she muttered, "But that's what he wants."

"I know...I just hope we can make it through this." I said a bit quieter than before.

Her head turned toward me quickly as she heard my hesitance about this whole thing, her face dropping in concern, "What makes you think we can't?"

I gestured around us, "This. This is just the tip of the iceberg." I said as I scanned around, really getting a good look at all the damage he did.

Her eyes narrowed, "There's more." she pushed.

I sighed heavily, "...I talked to Merle."

"Oh God, why would you put yourself through that?"

I let out a laugh, "I don't know. I didn't necessarily seek him out...it's just, he knows The Governor better than anyone else here. It's hard not to believe him, you know?"

"Alright, I get that." she agreed, "But you gotta have a little more faith than that. Because Merle may know The Governor well, but he doesn't know us. He doesn't know what we can do, what we're capable of."

I smiled lightly, "Yeah, I guess that's true."

She smiled back as we both silently turned to look out and see the walkers that now surrounded us. It brought my mood down seeing all of the walking corpses that now filled our field, one that we tried so hard to keep secure. But it only seemed to motivate the rest of us more seeing the things that he destroyed. The things he so easily took away.

But I suddenly raised the scope of my gun up to my eye when I caught sight of something in the distance, movement coming up the gravel road. My eyes widened a little as a gasp left my lips once it all registered in my mind. It was Andrea, holding onto a walker and trying to make her way through up to the prison. Maggie followed my line of sight when she noticed my movements, and once she saw what I was looking at, her gaze whipped back towards me with concern behind her eyes.

She looked back to Carl and waved him back towards the prison, "It's Andrea, go get Rick!" she yelled, and we watched as he nodded before quickly running off.

A few seconds barely passed before Rick, Daryl, Merle, and Michonne came out of the prison with their weapons drawn. Merle ran a little ways ahead of him and once I heard him say "clear" I ran up with them as they rushed closer towards the gate. I had the gun still in my hands and now aimed it around the area, double checking to make sure she was just by herself, and this wasn't a trap. None of us could take that chance right now.

"Are you alone?" Rick yelled.

"Open the gate." she said breathlessly.

"Are you alone?!" he asked again, his eyes scanning over everything behind her head.

She had a shocked look on her face as more walkers started to notice her, "Rick!" she yelled pleadingly.

He sighed and tossed his keys to Daryl who was the closest to the gate, so he could quickly unlock it for her. They pulled the gate open and she threw the walker she was using as a shield off to her left and quickly jogged inside. I could tell Rick was pissed and wasn't having it at all, and honestly the thought crossed my mind that he was going to leave her out there. But then again another part of him seemed curious as to why she was back, and he clearly wanted to know why.

"Hands up, turn around!" he yelled and pushed her up against the fence.

I could hear the confusion in her voice as she questioned them, but I didn't pay too much attention. My eyes just scanned the trees around us, making sure no other surprises would pop out just as they did last time. Though once I was sure there was no one else around, I turned back to face them, seeing Andrea was now on her knees as Rick continued to search her.

She then suddenly caught my eye, gesturing over to the man, "You're really going to let him do this to me?" she asked.

I shrugged, "I don't really care." I said bluntly.

Her mouth fell open slightly as I tore her bag off of her and threw it a good distance away in case she tried anything. I didn't trust her anymore after what Merle briefly told us. Hell, I hardly really trusted her even when she was a part of our group.

After Rick was done searching her, he pulled her up roughly to her feet, "Welcome back." he muttered in the most unwelcoming tone I've ever heard.

We then all made our way back inside the prison to go into the common room, to see what she wanted. I watched as she immediately hugged Carol the moment she caught sight of her, and they stayed wrapped around each other for a little bit while the rest of us piled in. I leaned up against the wall, with the gun still in my hands, waiting patiently for her to start talking.

"Where'd ya go?" I heard a voice ask from beside me.

I looked to over see Daryl coming up next to me with a small smile on his face, "I just had to get away from Glenn...I ended up talking with your brother for a minute before going outside to keep watch with Maggie."

"You talked to Merle?" he asked in confusion.

I scoffed, "Yeah, kind of on accident. I tried to just get away to have some quiet, and he was in the room I walked in."

He hummed in response and nodded his head, though I saw he went to say something else, but that's when Andrea started speaking. Her eyes moved over everyone in the room in almost astonishment, acting as if she didn't know we were here the whole goddamn time. She knew ever since we took back our people from Woodbury, she just didn't seem to care enough until now.

"I can't believe this," she breathed as she glanced around, almost spinning in a circle as she took everything in. "Where's Shane?"

I rolled my eyes at the fact that he was the first person she noticed was missing from the bunch, leaving Daryl coughing trying to cover up a laugh as he saw my facial expression.

Nobody answered her question however, everyone remained still at the mere mention of him it seemed like. "Lori?" she asked again.

Rick couldn't meet her eyes as he stayed completely silent, Hershel having to answer for him. "She had a girl...Lori didn't survive."

"Neither did T-Dog." Maggie said.

"Oh...I'm so sorry," she whispered as her face grew sympathetic, "Carl-" she tried to speak, but couldn't find the words. "Rick I-" she tired again but he still wouldn't look at her, stopping herself when she saw the clear pain behind his eyes, that alone signaling her to stop.

She looked around at everyone again until her eyes landed right on Daryl and I. I knew we were standing close together, but I didn't think she would actually put the pieces together in her head. But with the growing smirk on her face, I knew she figured it out.

"So, you two finally got together?" she asked smugly.

Neither of us said anything, but Merle quickly started to laugh in amusement, "Ain't they cute? Daryl wouldn't shut up about her ever since I saw him again, and she's always makin goo goo eyes at him."

We both glared at him, "Shut up." we voiced at the same time.

That only caused him to laugh harder, yet for once he kept his mouth shut as he refrained from saying anything else. The room was then filled with tense silence after that, leaving everyone visibly upset by her presence, and she damn well knew it too.

"You all live here?" she then asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Here, in the cellblock." Glenn told her, nodding back towards the room with a stone-cold expression.

She looked toward it, "There? Well, can I go in?"

"I won't allow that." Rick said.

She huffed, "I'm not the enemy Rick." she defended herself and I felt I had to hold back a scoff. If you're fucking the enemy then you are the enemy, I don't make the rules.

Rick glared at her, "We had that field and the courtyard, until your boyfriend tore down the fence with a truck and shout us up."

"He said you fired first." she said with widened eyes.

"Well, he's lying." I stepped in.

She glanced over at me but then Hershel spoke, "He killed an inmate who survived in here."

"We liked him...he was one of us." Daryl said.

"I didn't know anything about that." she reassured us, "As soon as I found out, I came. I didn't even know you were in Woodbury until after the shootout."

"That was days ago." Glenn said.

"I told you I came as soon as I could." she repeated, her frustration building as we weren't giving her the light of day.

She then looked around the room and saw Michonne standing near the door, narrowing her eyes at her in suspicion, "What have you told them?" she asked with annoyance lacing her voice.

"Nothing." Michonne simply said with a shrug.

The woman began to grow irritated at all the targeted eyes, "I don't get it, I left Atlanta with you people and now I'm the odd man out?" she asked, annoyed.

This time I couldn't help but scoff, "You're sleeping with the guy who wants to kill us, I think that's why you're the odd man out." I said.

She looked over at me and couldn't find the words, Glenn only adding onto what I just said, "He almost killed Michonne, and he would've killed us."

"With his finger on the trigger." she said as she pointed to Merle, "Isn't he the one who kidnapped you? Who beat you?" she asked him harshly before stopping herself and taking a small breath. "Look...I cannot excuse or explain what Philip has done, but I am here trying to bring us together. We have to work this out."

I made a face at that. Philip? That was his name?

"There's nothing to work out, we're gonna kill him," Rick spoke, causing me to glance up at Merle and seeing his eyes were already on me with a knowing glance, the conversation we shared playing over and over again in my mind.

"I don't know how or when, but we will." he finished coldly.

"We can settle this." she tried, "There is room at Woodbury for all of you."

I made a clicking sound with my tongue, "Yeah, I think we're gonna pass on that. Might make things awkward if we're suddenly being ordered around by a man we almost went to war with."

"What makes you think that this man wants to negotiate? Did he say that?" Hershel asked.

"...No." she replied with her head down.

"Then what the hell are you doing here?" I snapped.

Her head snapped over to me in seriousness, "Because he's gearing up for war. The people are terrified, they see you as killers."

"Good." I shrugged.

"Tell you what, next time ya see Philip, you tell him m' gonna take his other eye." Daryl threatened lowly.

"We've taken too much shit for too long. He wants a war? He's got one." Glenn said.

She looked at us all in disbelief and turned towards Rick, "If you don't sit down and try to work this out, I don't know what's going to happen. He has a whole town," she stated before scanning the room again, "Look at you! You've lost so much already. You can't stand alone anymore."

"You can make this right...get us inside." Rick offered.

"No." she said instantly.

"Then we got nothing else to talk about." he said bitterly before turning to walk away.

"There are innocent people!" she yelled after him.

But he didn't say anything, he didn't even glance back. All we heard was the door to the cellblock slam shut behind him.

~ Thanks for reading!

[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

You're Losing Me Analysis

Ok, you got me, enough people messaged me with cute gifs and pretty pleases asking for this analysis to motivate me to finish it. So, here it is, my lyrical analysis of You're Losing Me.

I will stick to my interpretation of this song NOT being about a romantic relationship, the poll I did a while ago showed that most people interpret it to be about a romantic relationship breakdown. I will explain why I don't think that, but if you do, the main lyrical themes will still apply. (Colour coding of main themes at the end)

Before any lyrics, this songs starts with two sounds: A heartbeat and a massive sigh. Like, a really big one, you can even hear the inbreath. Something I've only ever experienced when someone is really, really exhausted and annoyed. I've sometimes made that noise when I'm standing in the pieces of something my children have broken, after I've told them a thousand times not to break it. The non-verbal expression of 'I f*cking told you this would happen'. So, before we even hear any words, I'm able to tell that this is about something that has happened before. We've been round and round this thing a million times. This breakdown has been a long time coming, a death by a thousand cuts if you will ;)

The heartbeat also sets the scene for the main lyrical theme before the first verse starts: A patient in an emergency situation, I envision a hospital room with a heart monitor. Over this heartbeat (and minimal production) we hear Taylor addressing her audience by saying

You say, "I don't understand," and I say, "I know you don't"

The You and the I are having a disagreement, but it's not so much an argument, as a miscommunication. They don't understand what she's saying but Taylor was already expecting that. Immediately, the first line confirms what the sigh was already indicating: This is not a new issue, we've been here many times before so Taylor is well aware that this communication isn't working. Then in the next line

We thought a cure would come through in time, now, I fear it won't

She introduces the medical theme in the lyrics with the word 'cure'. The metaphor is that the relationship that's being described here is the patient that's dying in hospital. This theme is incredibly present throughout the entire song, there is a constant 'brink of death' threat, with mentions of 'gashes', my face was grey' and 'too far gone to bring back to life'. And then, of course, the chorus is the culmination of this with the repetitions of 'Stop, you're losing me' and 'I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore'. This gives me images of an emergency room situation where the patient is flatlining and the doctors are trying to revive them. Or maybe a battlefield, as the last line of the first verse introduces the secondary theme of war or combat with 'You might just have dealt the final blow'. Taylor has of course used the war imagery many times before when talking about conflict, such as in All Too Well ('I'm a soldier who's returning half her weight'), Call it What You Want ('I brought a knife to a gun fight'), The Great War, and the Archer ('I'm ready for combat').

So, despite the initial resignation, Taylor is fighting with the person/people she is addressing here. They are the one that's injuring the patient to the point of near death. And in the chorus she is telling them that, asking them to stop, because the relationship is dying. But we don't yet learn what she is asking them to stop doing. She does, however, show the problem in the relationship when she says:

Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

It's a WE versus I situation: We used to love this room, but now I (and only I) am left sitting alone in the dark. And only I get to make the decision about what to do with all the stuff we built together, because you're not even here to sit in the dark with me. Also, notice the light versus dark comparison. You are only there for the light (easy) parts, and not the dark (hard). In that context, I am inclined to interpret the room in this line as her stages and the light being the spotlight. We loved standing in the light together/You loved seeing me in the light, but now you've left me in the dark. This is why I really think this song is about the relationship with her majority fanbase and not a romantic relationship. Since 1989 she's written about her romantic partner in a way that makes it clear that this person is with her through thick and thin, on reputation we had End Game and New Years Day, the ultimate song about being there after the party when the glitter fades and it's not glamorous anymore, and in CIWYW she literally says her lover's 'starry eyes sparking up my darkest night'. So, I don't think it's her partner who is leaving her in the dark here, it's the fans. And the 'everything we built' is of course the fame/sold out stadiums etc. And that theme continues in the next verse:

Every morning I glared at you with storms in my eyes How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick

Now the picture is becoming clearer as to what the 'you' here is doing that Taylor is asking them to stop, or better what they're NOT doing. She's glaring at them, sending signals and biting her nails, using all forms of non-verbal communication, but they're not being received. Or she's being willfully ignored. The 'I sent you signals' is a screaming parallel to 'I gave so many signs' from Exile and 'sending signals to be double-crossed' from Evermore. And I think in all three cases, it is referring to queer flagging. And just like in High Infidelity (a similar song thematically) she says 'There's many ways that you can kill the one you love/ the slowest way is never loving them enough', here she's saying 'How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?. Both boils down to the same thing: Your ignorance is killing me and it's a slow and painful death. She ends the verse on the medical theme which has now slightly shifted to Taylor being the dying patient ('My face was grey' - corpse) and the relationship being sick. Over the chorus we still hear the heartbeat though, so she's dying but she's not dead yet.

Let's talk about the bridge. This is juicy, as Taylor's bridges always are, but this one, of course, had the one line that sent all the swifties into an angry rampage against Joe Alwyn. But we'll get to that. The first line is in fact my favourite:

How long could we be a sad song 'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?

She calls the relationship a 'sad song'. And that's obviously an interesting thing for a songwriter to say, and I've seen many good interpretations of this line, but mine is this: Taylor is the girl who made her name as the young country singer who writes sad breakup songs about her past relationships. And she owned that for a while, until she openly discussed how much it trivialises her writing and that songs are more than just the person she's writing about (not as simple as a paternity test etc.), but have people stopped making her songs about men? When the Joe breakup hit the news, wasn't the first thing the swifties said 'Oh, the next album is going to be soooo sad...."?? So...for some people she still is, and will always be, just the girl who writes about breakups. And she's saying to those people 'how long can this relationship last if that's all you'll ever see me for?' She also, once again uses the medical theme of 'bringing the relationship back to life' when it has in fact died multiple deaths already. But this time it might just be 'too far gone' to be revived.

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me I'm the best thing at this party (You're losing me)

She also continues the war/combat theme with being the 'bravest soldier' who is bleeding whilst on the frontline 'fighting in only your army'. This is also important. Taylor is the soldier but she's not fighting for her own cause, she's fighting in the other person's army. She's making herself bleed, for the other person's sake. Much like a closeted gay person pretending to be straight for the mass appeal. It's making me bleed for your benefit, but you don't even notice, DON'T YOU IGNORE ME!! And then we get to the ultimate bait and switch line:

And I wouldn't marry me either A pathological people pleaser Who only wanted you to see her

Where you will all shout at me 'How can it not be about a romantic relationship, it has the line about marrying!!!'. Relax, I think this is intentional. What an easy way to make the whole song sound like it's about a breakup with just one line when the rest of the song suggest something else (to me at least). I don't see this as being about a literal marriage proposal, more like a 'I wouldn't choose me either'. Very much along the lines of Anti Hero, I'm the problem, why would you choose me, but I'd still love it if you did. And she even says in the next part 'I have nothing to believe, unless you're choosing me.'

And I'm fadin', thinkin'

(POV changes, addresses self:) "Do something, babe, say something" (Say something) "Lose something, babe, risk something" (You're losing me) "Choose something, babe, I got nothing" (I got nothing) "To believe, unless you're choosin' me"

So in the imperatives, the direction of address changes and she's now thinking to/addressing herself with these commands: 'DO something, SAY something, LOSE something, CHOOSE something, RISK something.' Almost like she's trying to jumpstart herself into action. This all screams BE BRAVE to me, especially the 'say something' because in the previous verse she was communicating in all these non-verbal ways (glaring, signals, nail biting) and that wasn't working. She's telling herself to be brave and SAY something, make it unmistakably clear, but that may well mean risking something and losing it. Also, choose something babe, you can't play both sides forever. In the last line she then addresses the audience again by saying 'I have nothing to believe unless you're choosing me.' She wants to be chosen by her audience as her authentic self, not as the 'sad song' girl. Once she's said all those hard hitting truths, what follows is a massive pause, a moment of total silence. Like the moment when you've finally said all you wanted to say and now you're waiting for the reaction. And when you almost think the song has ended, we get the heartbeat again and one more chorus.

SILENCE You're losin' me Stop (Stop, stop), you're losin' me Stop (Stop, stop), you're losin' me I can't find a pulse (HEARTBEAT STOPS) My heart won't start anymore

In this last chorus the Stops are now echoed twice to increase the urgency in this plea, it sounds almost like she's saying 'stop, stop stop! It's really about to be over!'. And it is, as the heartbeats stops on the word 'pulse' and the patient has finally died. She concludes on what we have just witnessed 'My heart won't start anymore' but there is no 'for you' this time, because the relationship is dead now. No more coming back this time.

Thematically, to fit into the concept of midnights, this could be a song set in early 2019 when she was planning her coming out, or it could be more recent, as an internal counter piece to Anti Hero. I hope this lived up to what you hoped for, people who asked so nicely :)

blue - medical theme/imagery

orange - direct address to audience

green - war/combat theme