#burn in the seven hells for all eternity

[the-girl-in-the-high-castle]

Looks like our baby Elliot has been cast as baby Kaz.

I love Kaz and I love that he's getting the attention he deserves because that kid is incredible, but I just want to cry because HE IS OUR BABY ELLIOT AND HE SHOULD GET TO KEEP BEING OUR BABY ELLIOT 🥺😭😭

[acourtofquestions]

Hearth to hearth, the Flame of War went.

Over snow-blasted mountains and amongst the trees of tangled forests, hiding from the enemies that prowled the skies. Through long, bitterly cold nights where the wind howled as it tried to wipe out any trace of that flame.

But the wind did not succeed, not against the flame of the queen.

So hearth to hearth, it went.

To remote villages where people screamed and scattered as a young-faced woman descended from the skies on a broom, waving her torch high.

Not to signal them, but the few women who did not run. Who walked toward the flame, the rider, as she called out, "Your queen summons you to war. Will you fly?"

Trunks hidden in attics were thrown open. Folded swaths of red cloth pulled from within. Brooms left in closets, beside doorways, tucked under beds, were brought out, bound in gold or silver or twine. And swords-ancient and beautiful—were drawn from beneath floorboards, or hauled down from haylofts, their metal shining as bright and fresh as the day they had been forged in a city now lying in ruin.

Witches, the townsfolk whispered, husbands wide-eyed and disbelieving as the women took to the skies, red cloaks billowing. Witches amongst us all this time.

Village to village, where hearths that had never once gone fully dark blazed in answer.

Always one rider going out, to find the next hearth, the next bastion of their people.

Witches, here amongst us. Witches, now going to war.

A rising tide of witches, who took to the skies in their red cloaks, swords strapped to their backs, brooms shedding years of dust with each mile northward.

Witches who bade their families farewell, offering no explanation before they kissed their sleeping babes and vanished into the starry night.

Mile after mile, across the darkening world, the call went out, ceaseless and unending as the eternal flame that passed from hearth to hearth.

"Fly, fly, fly!" they shouted. "To the queen! To war!"

Far and wide, through snow and storm and peril, the Crochans flew.

[alexsoenomel]

Seven Minutes In Heaven Ruined (Dean Winchester x Reader Smut)

Summary: You and Dean are horny and Sam doesn't know how to knock.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: oral female and male receiving

Word count: 1.2k

Note: This is an old one. I made it readable because teenage me didn't know how to words.

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)  

After finishing the last case you realized two things.

One, you were tired as fuck.

And two, you were hungry as fuck.

After a warm shower you put on one of Dean’s flannels, and went to the kitchen to make yourself dinner. Your sweet tooth was craving blueberry pancakes. While you were making the pancake mix, you felt arms around your waist pulling you closer. 

“Hey, sweetheart!” He said, and kissed your cheek.

“Hi handsome.��� You smiled. You haven’t seen Dean in almost a week. He was pretty sick with a fever, so you and Sam went without him on a hunt in San Francisco – vampires, your favorite. He needed to sit this one out, even though he protested like a damn child saying he was fine while not being able to stand. When you got back he was asleep in his room so you didn’t want to interrupt whatever he was dreaming about. 

 “How are you feeling?” 

“A lot better now that you are here.” He said leaving small kisses on your neck. You tilted your head giving him more access. His kisses would always make you shiver. “I missed you.” 

“Missed you too, handsome. Are you hungry? I’m making pancakes.” 

“I am hungry.” Dean’s hand went on your inner thigh until it reached your panties slowly rubbing you, making you sigh. Cheeky bastard – you thought. “But I don’t want pancakes.” He whispered into your ear. "I love when you wear my clothes.”

“Sleeping.” 

You tried to mix flour, eggs and whatever else that was in there but the urge for Dean’s touch grew and you suddenly had another need to fulfill. You turned around to face him, putting your arms around his neck.

“Where’s Sam?” He asked. 

“Good.”  He lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him, making you blush. You pulled his shirt only craving the softness of his lips on yours.  Seven long days without him felt like an eternity, especially at night – he was your home, your habit and your sanctuary. You kissed him softly and soon enough he deepened the kiss making you moan. When he stole the last breath from your lungs you broke away, resting your forehead on his. 

“Bedroom?” You smiled. 

“Hell yeah.”

His clothes hit the floor in seconds. Seven days without each other turned you into horny teenagers. He was only in his boxers laying on the bed looking at you, admiring the view and wondering how the hell he got so lucky.  You climbed on top of him as he slowly started to undo your shirt – taking his sweet time savoring you. Infatuated by you, Dean’s eyes spoke louder than words and in that very moment you only existed for him. You kissed him like it was the end of the world, and funny thing was, at one point it was actually the end of the world, so nothing mattered anyways. The world could be burning and you wouldn’t care.

Once he exposed you completely, we flipped you over and you were now completely under his control. His hands could kill and yet he was so gentle with you, trying not to break you, even though you wouldn’t mind being broken by him from time to time.

“Dean, don’t tease.” You sigh. 

Dean consumed you in every way there was. His lips needed to touch you, to feel you and you were desperate to feel him on your skin. Starting from your neck he kissed you, sucking and slightly biting, leaving light bruises all over. He then moved his lips lower and lower.

You became inpatient, needy and a little bit frustrated. His kisses had you under his spell but you wanted more. He kissed you through your black panties a few times, driving you mad.

You could feel him smirking while resting his lips on the fabric of your soaking underwear. 

“Dean!” You blissfully moaned. “ Oh my god!” 

“Just a little bit. “ He smirked and then took off your panties. You lifted your legs as he did it. His face went between your legs yet again and now you could only feel his warm tongue on your already wet cunt.

You closed your eyes, surrendering completely.  

“Shhhh we don’t want to wake up my brother, don’t we sweetheart?”

“No, but you’re going to kill me.” 

The wet sounds of your cunt filled the room as he added one finger first, pumping in and out slowly before adding another. He was aware you were addicted to his thick fingers, always so needy and desperate to have them in your pussy or in your mouth. You gripped the bed sheets as your breaths became heavy, feeling your climax deep in the lower part of your stomach. Before Dean it would take you ages to cum, and you always thought maybe the problem was you and not the other person you were sleeping with. After Dean, you realized that was bullshit and you just had a shitty taste in picking partners. 

His name was like a prayer you were reciting over and over again until you couldn’t take it anymore. The orgasm took over your body completely as you screamed his name one last time before his hand violently covered your mouth. 

He got up, face shining from your juices with a smile on his face.

“You’re crazy. Sam���s going to hear you!” 

“You are so…” You said, trying to catch your breath. 

“Amazing?” He laughed. 

“And full of yourself Winchester.” You rolled your eyes, still painting.

“Oh well thank you.” Dean said moving next to you. 

“Where is the damn condom?” Dean asked, searching through the drawer of his night stand. You giggled. The man never assumed or expected you to return the favor. Your pleasure was far more important than his own and taking care of you was his job and duty. You loved that about him, you loved being taken care of, but you also loved making him fall apart under you.  

“Dean?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Come here.” 

He turned to face you. “Huh?” 

You kissed him. “My turn.” Dean bit his lip as you rubbed him through his boxers. 

“S-shit!” He moaned. “Baby!”

You placed light kisses all over his body before your lips reached the hem of his underwear. You took them off, drooling over his already hard cock. You licked the tip a few times as Dean groaned.

You smiled loving the effect you had on him and then took him in your mouth as much as you could. 

His heaven didn’t last long because Sam decided to interrupt the pure bliss of having Dean’s cock in your mouth...yet again.

“Hey Dean can you- AH CRAP.” He said and immediately turned his back allowing you two to cover yourself.  “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck not again.” You laughed.

You jumped under the covers with Dean. “SAMMY I SWEAR I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”  

“I’m sorry.” Sammy said awkwardly, still refusing to turn around. “But I found us a case.” 

“I thought you were sleeping.” You said. 

“I couldn’t….you were…a little bit…..loud.” 

“So you heard her making happy noises IN MY ROOM and you still decided to come in?! WITHOUT KNOCKING? AGAIN?” 

“After 10 minutes I thought…you were…finished.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I will wait in the living room.” He then slammed the door. 

“I will kill him.” Dean said and got off the bed. 

“Wait.” You said pulling his arm. “He can wait. I’m not done with you!”

“I love you. “ Dean said and kissed you again.

[voxslays]

The night I found you.

Featuring >>> Alastor x Reader; In which, after death, Alastor finds you (his wifey) again, but at what cost?

Warnings: Smut, Dub-Con, Tentacles, AFAB! Reader, Alastor being a jerk.

A/N: Today has been stressful. I just got locked out of the google account I used for this tumblr account—yet somehow managed to stay signed in. Anyways, if I one day dissapear I probably got locked out again. Anyways, this is a part two of this fic. Hope you enjoy!

Years later, in the infernal depths of Hell, a twisted version of Alastor now known as the Radio Demon hunts from the shadows. His eyes, once filled with warmth and love, now gleam with malice and cruel amusement. But he had been missing for seven years. You knew Alastor would come looking for you eventually, but it had been almost ninety years since your deaths. Why hadn’t he come sooner? You assumed he didn't care. How wrong you were…

You were taking a relaxed stroll on the sidewalk, minding your own business, until you heard a familiar voice. A voice you knew all too well; Alastor. He had found you. You turn around just in time to see Alastors wicked grin, his voice a seductive purr over the static of his radio. “Well, well...If it isn't my darling little doe, finally come to join me in the eternal flames.” He chuckles darkly. “I've missed you, my sweet.” He slowly steps closer. 

He looks different. He still has the same tall, slender frame. But now, his skin is a light, grayish-tan, and he has a wide, toothy grin filled with sharp yellow teeth. He sports small, curved antlers reminiscent of those on a deer, which contribute to his imposing presence, and his eyes—which used to be a beautiful chocolate brown color—are now a bright, glowing red.

“Alastor…?” You say his name as if it's a question. Alastor tilts his head slightly, his red eyes narrowing as he gazes at you. "Oh, ma chéri...It's been so long. And look at you, just as beautiful as the day I... " He trails off, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Well, you know." He steps closer, the air around him crackling with static. "Did you like it, Y/N? Did you like how it felt? The sting of the blade?" He chuckles darkly. "I still remember the way you screamed... “ He takes another step closer. “Stop.” You say firmly, almost at your breaking point. ​​“But I've barely begun, my darling.”  

He reaches out and gently caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. His touch is ice-cold, and his skin feels like rough, parched leather.  "And now, we can be together forever." You smack his hand away. “Don't touch me.” ​​Alastor’s grin widens menacingly, baring his sharp teeth. "Feisty, just like old times."  He circles you like a predator, his voice a low purr. "You can't run from me now, my dear. We're trapped here together, for all eternity..."

“Our marriage ended the moment you decided to murder me.” You snap at him. Alastor stops circling and stands in front of you, his red eyes burning with an otherworldly intensity. "Our marriage ended the moment I realized you were a weakness, a liability," he corrects, his voice dripping with venom. “You’re truly sick.” You spit. Alastor lets out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Sick? Yes. In love? Still. Eternal."  He reaches out and grabs your throat, lifting you off your feet. "And now, you'll see what I've become. What I've done."

Alastor squeezes your throat, his grip like a vice, and you can feel your airway closing. He starts to lift you higher, your feet dangling in the air, until you're staring directly into his burning red eyes. "Look at me, Y/N." His grip tightens, his other hand coming up to grip your hair, forcing your head back. "I want you to see the monster I've become, the monster that will never let you go." His voice is a guttural growl, his breath hot against your face.

“I could never love a monster.” You manage to choke out. He drops you unceremoniously to the ground, leaving you gasping. "Love?" He spits the word like it's poison. "Love is a weakness I can no longer afford. But you, my dear Y/N, you're my eternal obsession." You take off the ring and throw it into a nearby drain. He watches as the gold band spins and disappears down into the sewer. Alastor’s expression darkens. "You shouldn't have done that."  

He slowly walks over to you, his movements predatory. "That ring was a symbol of our love. Now, it's a symbol of your disrespect." Alastor summons one of his tentacles, which retrieves the ring and places it into his hand. He forces the ring back onto your finger, his tentacle squeezing your hand until the metal bites into your skin. "It stays on your finger, a constant reminder of your love for me, and my ownership over you." He releases your hand, stepping back to admire the ring.

You try to remove the ring, but it won't budge. He chuckles as you try to remove the ring, his magic holding it firmly in place. "My power—among other things—has enchanted the ring to stay on your finger until I decide otherwise. And I have no intention of removing it anytime soon." He reaches out to stroke your cheek. Alastor caresses your cheek, his touch gentle despite the rough texture of his skin. "You're mine, Y/N. In life, in death, and in this endless nothingness between." He leans in closer, inhaling deeply. 

"You still wear the same perfume. Lavender and vanilla." This only makes you angrier. “It’s not for you.” You spit at him. "Always so defiant." He pulls you into a tight hug, his tentacles wrapping around you like chains. "I love it when you fight back." Alastor tightens his grip, his muscular arms constricting around your body. "Shhh, just relax." He nuzzles into your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. "I've missed holding you like this. Your struggles only make it better."

He teleports you to his bed, falling onto it with you still wrapped in his tentacles. He pins your arms above your head, his tail wrapping around your legs to keep them open. "You're so beautiful when you're helpless." Alastor grins wickedly, his eyes flashing with a predatory hunger. "I'm going to savor every moment of having you at my mercy again." His free hand roams your body, squeezing and caressing. "And you'll learn to love it, just like before." 

"Remember the good times, Y/N?"  He grinds himself against you, his hard length evident through his trousers.  "Remember how we used to spend our nights?” He leans in and kisses you roughly, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You give into the kiss. He withdraws from the kiss, smiling as he sees the change in your expression. "Good girl."  He releases your arms, his tentacles keeping your legs spread wide. "Leave the ring on."  He unbuckles his pants, his member springing free.

Alastor settles himself between your thighs, the tip of his erection pressing against your entrance. "Wrap your arms around my neck."  He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. "And tell me you love me."  His tail coils possessively around your legs, his muscles taut with anticipation. You do as he asks, wrapping your arms around him, and whispering an ‘I love you’ into his ear. Satisfied, he pushes forward, sheathing himself inside you in one powerful thrust. "Fuck, I've missed this."  He buries his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he starts to move, his hips snapping against yours in a brutal rhythm.

"You feel so good..." He hisses, his voice low and feral. His tentacles crawling up your body to hold your arms down again. "You're mine, Y/N. All mine." He increases his pace, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. Alastor lifts your hips to give him deeper access. "Say you love me."  He growls, his voice hoarse with desire. You cry out. 

At the sound of your cry, Alastor loses control. He pounds into you relentlessly, his member throbbing inside you as he reaches his climax. Alastor roars as he releases a torrent of cum deep within your pussy. “Mine." His tentacles squeeze you tightly as he rides out his orgasm, his tail thrashing wildly. His hot seed filling your womb as his tentacles tighten their grip. He collapses on top of you, his chest heaving. Alastor’s tentacles loosen their grip, but still keep you pinned. "You're perfect."  He murmurs, nuzzling into your neck. His softening member still inside you, plugging his seed in your pussy.

Alastor slowly pulls out, his cum dripping from your well-used hole. He scoops some up with his fingers and pushes it back inside you. "Keep my seed inside you." Alastor commands, a dark glint in his eye. "I want to make sure it takes." He murmurs. “What?” You ask confused. He grins wickedly, his eyes filled with dark amusement. "I think it's time we start a family, Y/N. A little demonling running around will keep me entertained when you're not around."  He crawls back on top of you, his arms wrapping around your waist possessively.

You knew what this meant. This was Alastor’s way of tying you down. Making sure you couldn't escape. You had absolutely no choice in the matter. The only answer Alastor would accept is ‘yes.’

You groaned. “Do I have a choice?” The answer was no. You knew it. Alastor chuckles, his warm breath fanning over your face. "No, you don't. You're mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure my seed takes root in your womb. Now, be a good girl and get comfortable."

Alastor nuzzles into your neck, his hands wandering over your body possessively. "Because I'm going to keep you pinned down and spend the rest of the day filling you with my seed until you're pregnant, and I want you to be comfortable while I breed you.” You are shocked. “What?” Your emotions are conflicting you. “I want to make sure there's no doubt that you're carrying my child." Alastor responds. You were in for a long night.

[smuttysabina]

Drunk on Love With Dreamcatcher

(Male Reader x Dreamcatcher, 5.2k Words) Tags: Group sex, Multiple sex partners, Everyone gets some, Everyone is also sloppy drunk, Dear lord these girls can drink, Don't worry though, they would fuck you even if they were sober, Also rampant lesbianism, Oh yeah, the girls are getting it on too, Multiple positions, Not enough hydration, Remember kids, drinking is bad!

The lovely ladies of Dreamcatcher chatter and giggle as they sit around you, teasing and gossiping as they guzzle their potent drinks. Flanked by a gregarious Jiu and Siyeon, you tentatively sip at your own wine, as the seven idols mostly ignore you as they grow ever more sleazy and boisterous as the night goes on. The girls cuddle and tickle one another, jostling against you as they spasm and laugh at each other's rough horseplay; even the introverts of the bunch start to join in the fun as well! All the while your own glass slowly empties, whilst Dreamcatcher's are drained repeatedly, burning through bottles of beer, wine, soju, and even harder options. You stare forlornly at your crotch, hoping the girls you love so much will not notice the undying bulge in your pants. Then suddenly Yoohyeon's tits are out, as she yanks her shirt up to reveal her perky breasts and wiggles them enticingly at the other girls who howl and cheer in encouragement. The protrusion in your pants only grows more painfully large, how did a poor Insomnia like you end up in this delicious hell?

You had been overjoyed after winning the contest at the meet and greet, one lucky Dreamcatcher fan would get to celebrate the girl's seventh anniversary as a group with them, and that fortuitous fan had been you. So after a tortuous week that seemed to drag on for eternity, you had been allowed entry into the hallowed Dreamcatcher Company building. Led up the stairs to their living room, the girls had arrayed themselves around a U-shaped couch there and greeted you cheerfully. Bubbly Yoohyeon, troublesome Handong, mischievous Sua, bratty Gahyeon, aloof Dami, sultry Siyeon, and kindly Jiu; all of them beaming and waving for you to join them. The table before the Dreamies is covered with alcohol, glasses, and snacks, there is barely enough room to contain the sprawling cityscape of glass. You greet each girl in turn, bowing and shaking their hand before you squeeze in on the edge between Jiu and SIyeon, who smile reassuringly at you. A staff member takes several photos of you with them, as the girls pose in silly or sexy ways for the countless fans who were unable to join them for this event while you sit there with rigid awkwardness. Then the staff bow themselves out of the room, but leave a camera to live stream the festivities. Which go about as you might expect, Dreamcatcher modestly drinking as they joke and chat with their fans on the live stream, politely including you in the conversation when needed but mostly leaving to your own devices as a prop for their fans to project onto. After about an hour of stressful boredom, the girls wave goodbye to the camera and turn off the stream; it's time for the real celebration to begin.

Away from the judgmental eyes of the public, Dreamcatcher is able to let loose in a manner that seems altogether familiar to them. The girls throw back their drinks as if it were water, with Sua and Gahyeon especially keen on drowning themselves in alcohol. Now their banter is far more ribald and lewd, with so many innuendos and inside jokes you are unable to understand half of what they are talking about. Jiu nicely tries to keep you engaged, but as the bedlam continues she soon ends up mostly neglecting you once more; Siyeon didn't even bother chatting with you much aside from some humorous flirting. But as the night wears on, the girls grow ever more lascivious in their touch and games, with the lightweights of the group becoming flushed and indecent in their mannerisms. Handong, sprawled against Sua, dares Yoohyeon to flash her tits; and that was how you found yourself goggling at Yoohyeon's boobs as she shakes them about to the jeers and laughter of her friends. Your boner straining the fabric of your pants.

Sua lurches upright and latches onto Yoohyeon's breasts, groping them lewdly before sliding her hands down her toned abs to Yooh's perky ass; who moans outrageously at the other idol's attentions. The other girls titter and cheer at the pair's antics, and soon Handong, who was forced backward from Sua's rushing body, takes her own revenge and mauls Sua's vulnerable ass in turn. The triplet then collapse back onto the couch in a flurry of squeals, accidentally bumping into Gahyeon who squawks loudly in protest as her beer sloshes out onto her lap. She slaps at the squirming mass of idol flesh in protest, before standing up in indignation as she notices the size of the stain on her pants. Huffing in annoyance, she strips off her pants and underwear and tosses them aside before plopping back down again and refilling her glass. Your jaw drops at this casual stripping, Gahyeon's smooth pussy had been an arms length away from your face, and the rest of Dreamcatcher had hardly even blinked. Dami though seemed to have noticed, as her hand starts to stroke against the maknae's exposed thigh, causing her to roll her eyes and playfully drive her off with loud kisses. Meanwhile the chaotic three seemed to have devolved into an extremely sloppy make-out session, as clothes were tossed aside with careless abandon. Soon the other girls were pulling their outfits off as well, and before your brain can fully process the fact you are surrounded by seven fully naked idols; leaving you the only one covered.

Eventually the cuddle puddle at the other end of the couch dissolves, and Dreamcatcher return to their drinking and joking, though now with a blatantly sexual tone overlaying their conversations. You continue to nurse your single glass, still unable to believe that your favorite idols were completely nude, bodies on fully display for you to feast your eyes upon. Gradually however, you started to notice that someone else was watching the girls as avidly as you, and was reacting in about the same way. Dami was surreptitiously playing with herself, her face becoming ever more flushed as she grows quiet and withdrawn; focused upon her own pleasure. Not that her masturbation session goes unnoticed, evidently this was a common occurrence at Dreamcatcher parties because Siyeon and Gahyeon start to kiss and suck on her neck. They fondle Dami's breasts and stroke her quivering thighs, naughtily whispering encouragement to her as she approaches her climax. Dami groans huskily as she spasms, her pussy emitting a wet sloshing noise as she fingers her drooling hole. The other Dreamies cheer at the sight, lewdly touching themselves to spur her on to yet another orgasm which leaves Dami shuddering with delight. Gahyeon turns away from the spasming pervert and is soon locked in an intense kiss with Handong, who wastes no time in working the maknae's breasts like udders. Meanwhile Siyeon had returned to her original position next to you, though she was now far closer than before, as was Jiu. The pair's hands covertly find their ways onto your thighs, staring at the other girls as they roam your legs. Jiu suddenly beams and looks at you as her fingers curl around your cock, her gentle eyebrows raised in mock surprise.

Then a hand turns your head and your lips are forced against Siyeon's as she lets out a sultry growl, leaving Jiu to haul your pants down and unveiling your erection. Her gentle fingers are soon wrapped around your manhood as she slowly strokes it, kissing your neck as she awaits her turn. You moan as Siyeon expertly devours you, her tongue roaming your mouth and hungrily pressing against your own; the combined stimulation enough to make your cock leak. Siyeon breaks things off with an intense stare before turning your head back to Jiu who greets you with a much more gentle kiss. Siyeon's hand joins Jiu's, and they stroke you together, taking turns to ravish your mouth until your head is spinning with desire. At one point they both get up to smother your face with their modest breasts, squishing and rubbing them against you, they laugh when you start to lick and kiss their flesh; patting your head affectionately. Eventually Siyeon breaks things off, and descends upon your upraised cock, taking it in her warm mouth. Your hips buck as she skillfully sucks you off, her tongue dancing along your shaft while she easily takes your length down her throat. Jiu leans back to enjoy the show, slowly rubbing at her pussy and allowing you to take stock of the rest of the girls. Gahyeon and Sua are doing shots together, while the lightweights Handong and Yoohyeon and blearily fingering one another as Dami takes her turn sucking on their perky tits. Gahyeon burps loudly as she spots you watching, before fixing you with a desirous stare and squeezing her breasts together pointedly. Sua notices her drinking partner's distraction, and joins in the fun, bending over seductively and spreading her cheeks so you can see her glistening folds.

Your balls are only beginning to pulsate from the overstimulating sight before, but Siyeon pulls off immediately, grandly declaring that your first load should go in their leader's pussy. The rest of Dreamcatcher howl their agreement, as Jiu scoots over and sits on your lap, your member bending up against her soggy slit. She grinds on you a little bit, before sitting up and smoothly mounting you, slowly sliding your manhood inside of the warm confines of her pussy. The Dreamies clap and shout encouragement, though your view is mostly blocked by Jiu's toned back so you are spared the more titillating visual support the girls were offering. Then Jiu lets out a soft gasp, and soon the room is filled with gales of laughter as the girls immediately recognize what had taken place, you were already cumming inside of her! You groan in embarrassment as your overexcited cock erupts into the idol's exquisitely tight hole, your sack pulsating as it desperately seeks to impregnate the goddess atop you. Jiu gently rides out your orgasm, allowing your seed to drain into her completely before unmounting and swiftly giving you a reassuring kiss. She pats your cheek, smiling kindly before moving away and is replaced by a giggling Sua and Yoohyeon. The pair have their arms wrapped around one another's' waists as they sashay up to you, smirking down at your shrinking member. Behind this captivating sight, Siyeon has a beer bottle shoved up her cunt, and is sloppily feeding a pouting Gayheon from it; while Handong is getting her ass eaten by an extremely drunk Dami.

You don't have time to watch the unfolding scene however, as Sua and Yooh lean down to peck your cheeks, before turning around and giving your eyes a health helping of their own. They bend over together, their pussies scandalously in full view, with Yoohyeon's butt noticeably perkier than her companion's, but Sua's cunt was far wetter. The pair sit on your lap, squishing your softening cock between their asses, sensuously grinding their dripping pussies along your thighs as they raise their arms gracefully. Then they start to dance, at first working together, their butts sliding against each other as much as your own body, seductively stroking one another as they move. Sua goes first, her tinier cheeks edging aside Yooh's and giving her enough space to give you a proper lap dance, her hips flying up and down in front of you and tantalizingly brushing her sex against your now hardening dick. She does the splits, forcing her pussy out even more until her slit is wrapping around your bulging erection, bouncing minutely to rub your cock with her sloppy pussy lips. Yoohyeon cheers in delight at the sight, slapping her friend's butt to spur her on as she rubs her back. Sua howls in protest at this sudden reversal, usually she was the one squeezing butts, and snaps her legs together before toppling to the side, leaving you clear for Yoohyeon to take her turn. Unlike Sua's excessive acrobatics, Yooh simply grinds on your dick, using her perky cheeks to stimulate your cock as she rubs up and down your length. Sua soon rejoins the fray however, chugging a glass of champagne before messily kissing Yooh, and pinching her erect nipples. The two moan as their embrace grows more passionate and the Yooh stops bothering to move and focuses solely upon Sua.

They only stop when you grasp Yoohyeon's hips and start to move her yourself, desperate for more sensation. The pair break off and giggle with feigned shock at your boldness, they were pleased to see you taking a more active role! So Yooh bends over the table wiggling her but enticingly before the much smaller Sua nimbly places herself on top of the other idol, their asses now stacked atop each other. Standing up, the pair look back at you as you rub your cock against their slits, relishing in the soft wetness of their lower lips. Sua has had enough teasing however, and loudly urges you to mount them already; but who to fuck first. Closing your eyes, you blindly thrust forward, meeting some resistance before plunging upwards and causing Sua to groan in triumph. Yoohyeon pouts as you plow Sua, slamming yourself into her painfully tight pussy and making it drool down your balls. With unimaginable effort you manage to pull out of Sua, who sighs in disappointment as you try out Yoohyeon's hole this time. Her bubble butt felt far more enjoyable slapping against your crotch than Sua's toned cheeks, even if Yooh's pussy was looser than the other idol's. You pump inside Yooh's pussy for a time, before Sua's blandishments convince you to return to her narrow hole. So you take your time, swapping between the two whenever you feel close to finishing, prolonging the situation for as long as possible before you have to cum. Gahyeon and Handong join you in the meantime, pressing their bodies against your sides as they give you lewd advice on how best to fuck the girls bent before you. Their breasts squish against your sweaty flesh, Gahyeon's prodigious bust in particular distracting you greatly as you pound Sua and Yooh's cunts. The stimulation was all too much now, and you groan unabashedly as your seed spews first into Sua's hole, before you pull out and slam your spurting cock into Yoohyeon's, creampieing both of their sopping pussies.

The pair croon in exaggerated amazement as they feel your warmth fill them, smugly wriggling their butts when you pull out as if mocking you for unloading so much semen inside of them. Then Handong is on her knees, sucking your cock clean as her fingers grope your sore balls; while Gahyeon pulls you down into a deep kiss. Sua and Yoohyeon scurry away, as Handong's head bobs in front of your crotch, and Gahyeon guides your hands to her impressive chest. She leans back to allow you enjoy yourself thoroughly, reaching over to grab a bottle of whiskey, as she teasingly purses her puffy lips. Gahyeon hops up onto the couch, shoving her weighty breasts into your face and uncorking the bottle. Licking her lips, she urges you to drink up as with lasciviously sloth she pours the alcohol down her tits, making you lap it up as the amber beads roll down her skin. The sensual moment is broken when Handong morosely protests from below, tugging on your flaccid cock in annoyance, get it up again already. Piqued, Gahyeon in turn starts yelling down at the other idol, who seems far from sober and more than happy to get into a screaming contest with the loudest idol of the Dreamcatcher. Luckily for the sake of your hearing, reinforcements arrive to soothe the squabbling pair, as Jiu and Sua drag the pair away, leaving you bleary from the sudden intake of alcohol as well as the absence of comforting heat. You blink away your confusion and notice Dami sprawled nearby, watching you with the quiet fixation of those truly drunk. She gestures vaguely towards the center table, now reduced to an unsightly mess, waggling her hand to guide you towards whatever object she seemed so interested in. You maneuver around Siyeon and Yoohyeon, the latter's lips locked tight around the former's cunt, greedily gorging upon her hole like a starving beast as Siyeon groans and holds her close. Eventually you find what Dami seemed to want, a small purple bottle with the Twice symbol curiously stamped upon it.

Dami sluggishly smiles as you had her the bottle, uncorking it with some difficulty before chugging a measure of it. She pauses, before her pupils suddenly dilate and she breathes heavily for a few seconds before calming once more. Her eyes have changed however, now they gleamed with feral sharpness as she lithely sits up and yanks you down onto the cushions with her. Dami lets out a chuckle at your surprise, her off hand snapping out and grasping your softened member, while she dangles the purple bottle proactively. Noting your confusion, she sighs huskily and explains somewhat unsteadily that it was aphrodisiac, and if you wanted some well... Dami was in the mood for some fun. You readily agree to her terms, one gorgeous goddess was better than none, considering the current state of you manhood. Dami grabs a glass and carefully measures out a small portion for you, before guiding it to your lips for you. You drink the oddly sweet liquid, and cock your head at the idol, wasn't this supposed to do something? She rolls her eyes at your impatience, and resumes fondling your genitals with aplomb until you feel a sudden burning spreading from your stomach to your crotch. You groan as your cock grinds upwards until you are staggeringly erect, your brains succumbing to the sweltering sensation wracking your body. Dami's lips part with anticipation as you fill her hand with throbbing meat, she leans back and spreads her legs for you; well?

In a flash you are ravishing Dami, your cock buried fully within her pussy before you could conjure the thought to do so. You rut like an animal, snorting and grunting as you pump between her lithe thighs, forcing her legs back until you are mating pressing her with abandon. Dami for her part responds in kind, the aphrodisiac mixing dangerously with the alcohol. leaving her lethargic yet still possessing some of the sadism she reserves for male fans. Her nail rake your back, she gnaws at your neck, she hoarsely hisses foul imprecations in your ears as you fuck her; all of which drives you further into a mating frenzy. You can dimly register baying laughter and raucous encouragement coming from nearby, but you are unable to focus upon it as your brain melts until it is solely fixated on breeding Dami. So it is to little surprise that you do, howling as your seed pours into her sopping wet cunt, your balls aching as they spend themselves inside of Dami. Who moans as you inseminate her, shuddering as she climaxes from the sheer pleasure of getting bred by a filthy man like you. The fog roiling your mind seems to drain away with your semen, leaving you cognizant, yet still undeniably aroused. When you gather your wits enough to glance down to see how Dami is faring, you find that she is already fast asleep, snoring even as her pussy burps your load out onto the couch.

You turn to find yourself presented with the surprising sight of an upraised ass, it's owners head buried in a trash can and blubbering in torment. Yoohyeon and Siyeon lounge nearby, both of them now thoroughly flushed from both their sex, as well as the alcohol, taking turns languidly slapping the unknown butt. They nod encouragingly as you step closer, blithely urging you to mount the idol, even as you hesitate. Then Handong's head pops out of the trashcan, and she groggily demands you fuck her asshole, slurring as she happily welcomes you inside of her. Siyeon and Yooh chortle at this, obviously used to Handong's eccentricities, and you are further fortified as Jiu joins the pair and endorses the plan; just stick it in her butt already! So you do, pressing your slick cock against the surprisingly unresisting anus, sliding into the stuffy heat of Handong's asshole. Her moans reverberate out of the can as you start to thrust, moving slowly so as to not hurt her more sensitive hole. The trio watching you copulate with their fellow member, pass commentary on your technique as they pour out yet another round of drinks, liberally drinking as they masturbate to the sight of you fucking Handong's butt. Then a familiar softness squishes against your chest, and the reek of whiskey tickles your nose, as Gahyeon presses herself against your back; and whispers slyly to be rougher with her roommate. Unconsciously, your pace increases, causing Handong to grow even louder, her slit now slick enough to wet your balls when they slap against it. She whimpers, less from the pain of having her ass violated and more from the colossal headache she is currently enduring. Finally though, Handong lets out a weak shiver, before going limp as she passes out, her asshole losing any semblance of tightness as her consciousness fades.

The awake members of Dreamcatcher cheer as they drag Handong's head out of the trashcan and lay her on her side, letting her sleep off the alcohol coursing through her veins. Not that your erection had gone unnoticed however, Siyeon and Yoohyeon had staggered back to you and were already fondling it playfully. This time Yoohyeon is the one to take you in her mouth, sucking you enthusiastically as Siyeon toys with your nipples and makes you grope her perky breasts. Gahyeon pouts jealously from next to Jiu and Sua, but her elders are soon soothing her by suckling upon her swaying breasts and fingering her skillfully. Siyeon forces your head back to look at her as she kisses you as lustfully as before, except this time she means to seal the deal. She pushes you back onto the couch, causing Yoohyeon to let out a gasp of inebriated confusion as your cock suddenly flies out of her mouth. Siyeon bites her plump lip as she clambers atop you, rubbing your tip against the soaking folds of her pussy as she prepares to mount you. With a drawn out groan she shoves your now bulbous manhood into her greedy cunt, relishing every inch that slides inside of her. Yoohyeon meanwhile staggers over and starts to grope and kiss Siyeon, playing with her clit as her fellow idol awkwardly attempts to ride you while bearing Yooh's weight. So she settles for a more primal grinding, which was less satisfying than a rough pounding, but still hit her sensitive spots quite nicely. The constant rocking seems to be getting to Yooh however, as her stomach sloshes its contents around precariously until she finally unlatches herself from Siyeon and collapses backwards with a nauseated groan. Which frees up Siyeon for the final stretch as she unleashes her pent up lust upon your cock, twerking and bouncing wildly as she approaches climax. She moans sweetly as her pussy convulses, her folds clenching tight around your manhood and causing it to join her in orgasming, unloading your turgid sperm into the idol. She blows kisses at you as your seed leaks slowly out of her cunt, slowly rocking her hips in the afterglow of sex before gingerly unimpaling herself. Siyeon curls up next to the now resting Yoohyeon, cheerfully uncaring of the mess her sloppy pussy was making on the couch, and promptly joins her cuddle buddy in sleep.

Which leaves the Mom and Dad of Dreamcatcher, as well as their most tumultuous Daughter. Jiu and Sua though appear content to simply lay back and finger one another however, passionately embracing as their perky breasts press together. Gahyeon on the other hand... Gahyeon had been glaring lustfully at you the entire night, and now she could finally slake herself upon you. Gahyeon drains the tankard of beer with a single gulp before sauntering towards you, her face flushed from more than just the massive amount of alcohol she had consumed. Her nipples were fully engorged, her skin slick with sweat and fluids, her pert lips pouting provocatively, her hips swaying seductively as she approaches, her lower lips swollen with desire. Gahyeon doesn't even need to say anything, growling with desire as she forcefully kisses you before getting on her knees before your still undiminished erection. She nuzzles against your hardon, still sticky with Siyeon's cunt juices, as she licks your ventral shaft from root to tip, cleaning it with her tongue. You hump needily against her face, your cock desperate for a hole, causing Gahyeon to smirk knowingly; so she takes you in her mouth. What starts as a sultry blowjob swiftly descends into a furious face-fucking as you treat her throat like it was her pussy, relentlessly fucking it until your balls feel fit to explode. Gahyeon's eyes tear up as she gags and chokes, even an idol as experienced as her unable to breath with the ferocious pace you were setting. Then you suddenly pull out, stroking furiously as she instinctively opens her mouth and unrolls her pink tongue for you to aim at. You groan as thick reams of cum slop out onto Gahyeon's face, your tip pressing against her tongue as the thicker loads leak down into her waiting mouth. She swallows it all of course, before presenting you with her empty maw as proof that she had not wasted a single drop, even as her face remains painted with your seed.

Your head snaps up as Sua cheers your performance, gaily waving a bottle of wine as her fingers churn up her asshole. Jiu now fast asleep next to her. Gahyeon preens at her senior's praise, chugging a bottle of vodka as she leans back and presents you with her chest, with what she had been teasing you with all night long. Her massive breasts wobble precariously as you hesitantly reach over to touch them, shyly at first, but soon you are lustily groping those fatty spheres. Gahyeon gives you a perversely demure look as you maul her tits, her own hands busy at work between her squatting thighs. When you bring your throbbing erection closer however, she smugly takes over for you, squishing her breasts together to form a fleshy cavern for you to fill; spit dribbling down to lubricate her already slick skin. Moaning, you mount Gahyeon's cleavage, your cock swallowed up almost completely by her boobs as you pump between them; your bright red cock head peeking out during your deepest thrusts. She nods frantically, urging you to plow her fat fucking tits as hard as you can, to defile them with your thick cum, to use her body for your own pleasure. With such salacious words in your ears, your balls quickly rise to the occasion, and soon sloppy globs of cum are fountaining up over her rosy breasts, filling her cleavage with sticky fluid as you empty yourself between her boobs. Panting, Gahyeon falls back onto her knees and cleans you off, her cheeks hollowing as she slurps your cock back to its original length.

Gahyeon leaps to her feet, and hops back onto the table, scattering empty bottles as she opens her legs for you in wordless need. You rub your tip through her sopping folds, her slit beyond soaking as it gushes onto your cockhead. She whines in annoyance at your teasing, her legs snapping around your waist and pulling you against her, desperate for your manhood. You both groan as you finally push into her warmth, her pussy gluttonously devouring every inch of your rigid cock. Her legs quiver as she orgasms from this initial thrust, so pent up with arousal that she is unable to contain herself once you are finally within her. So you plow Gahyeon's dripping cunt, violently rocking the table as your sweaty bodies slap together, with the idol exhorting you go fuck her harder and faster. Her arms curl around your neck, your foreheads pressing together as you lock eyes, unable to look away from one another. Gahyeon lets out another deep moan, as once more her pussy spasms around your dick, holding you tight as yet more of her juices leak out onto the table. Trembling, you slowly pull out of her pussy, releasing a gush fluids from the idol's gaping hole, your cock now as messy as it had been before she cleaned it. You haul her off of the table, as Gahyeon gives you a bemused look before you turn her around and bend her over it instead, you want to go deeper. She gasps loudly as you mount her from behind, the staccato clap of her ass hitting your crotch reverberating around the room as you pound away. She claws and grasps at the table as you go into a frenzy, your lust as fired as it had been with Dami, plowing her so hard her voice becomes shrill and piercing. You spank Gahyeon's already ripe-colored cheeks until they burn bright red, clenching tight around her nubile waist to hold her steady as you violate the depths of her hole. Your strokes gradually begin to slow, becoming harder and deeper, causing Gahyeon to harshly shriek for your seed; the idol's brain gone blurry in her need for sexual gratification. Her folds grip your cock like a vice, making every movement painfully enjoyable, forcing you to stay deep inside of her as your sore balls pulsate once more. Gahyeon howls as your semen sputters into her fertile cunt, her own cries easily drowning out your own as she screeches in triumphal pleasure as her pussy is at last doused with cum.

You stagger backwards, followed by Gahyeon who unsteadily wobbles to the couch and collapses next to Siyeon, exhausted from both the sex as well as the alcohol. And you are much inclined to join her, but loud applause comes from the other side of the couch, as Sua cackles with delight from the show you had put on. Though it seems as if the idol herself had been engaged in a performance of her own, judging by the wine bottle currently buried halfway up her ass. You trudge around the table to crumple down next to Sua, who greets you cheerfully enough, though she does seem a touch disappointed as she fondles your now flaccid cock. She congratulates you for cumming inside all of Dreamcatcher, even if you needed a little chemical help to do so. She pulls your head onto her modest breasts, soothingly rubbing it as she woos you to sleep; just rest for now you can get cleaned up in the morning... After all, you will need you strength for tomorrow when Dreamcatcher release the video of you fucking them all senseless.

Oh did they forget to tell you that? Well don't worry, Insomnia is a relatively tame fandom, unless you just porked all of their favorite idols of course...

Sweet dreams!

[minkdelovely]

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

prelude

“ask for forgiveness,

never permission.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags: acid rain wound, cannibals living their best lives in cannibal town, slow burn eventual: smut, violence, toxic themes

word count: 1.7k

hello world! i currently have alastor brain rot and felt compelled to jump back into writing fan fiction. i’m a little rusty and i’m not sure how many parts there will be; i won’t deny that this is purely self-indulgent but i hope you enjoy all the same :)

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Hell wasn’t what you had expected it to be. It was worse.

Thoughts of your grandmother rose to your mind, despite how desperately you tried to push them down. “Hell is the absence of God,” she would always say after one of her famous rants. A warning you perhaps would have heeded, had it been coming from a place of love instead of moral superiority. 

You had seen her on the streets of Hell a few times now, always sure to avoid catching her attention. The warm pleasure that bloomed in your chest was too precious to give up, despite knowing how good it would feel to rub her fate in her face. A lot of good all those Sunday mornings had done her, haughty bitch! You wondered how often your grandmother laid awake at night, desperate to know how she had ended up here. A wicked grin spread across your lips, revealing milky-pink fangs.

It was hard not to imagine the look your father would have given you if you could tell him she was here. He would definitely have scolded you, but you knew a small part of him would be amused. If calling her a bad grandmother was putting it lightly, she was an even worse mother-in-law. Hopefully you would never get the chance to tell him; Mother was waiting for him in Heaven, after all. And things should be much easier for him now, all things considered. Leaving him alone hadn’t been part of the plan, so all you could do was tell yourself that it had been worth it. Someday you would believe it.

Grandmother was right though, loathe as you were to admit it, and the feeling of loss burned through you every morning when you awoke. Every night, you dreamed of rain; the sound of it, the smell of it, the feeling of it coming down on you in the middle of the family garden. Oh, how you missed the garden. The dark, wet dirt. Blue puffs of hydrangea against stark-white azaleas, your mother’s coveted yellow roses. The Spanish Moss hanging like phantom sails off the branches of the huge oak tree in the corner, where your father had placed a bench and made a small pond. You would sit under that tree for hours lost in a book, listening to the sounds of the garden.

The fire and brimstone you could endure. It was the way everything else was twisted here that was grueling. As if feeling your lament, a drop of acid rain hit your window, quickly morphing into a full-blown storm. A frustrated growl erupted from you and you rolled onto your stomach, burying your head under your pillow and said a silent prayer to whatever force would grant mercy on your roof. You couldn’t afford to get it fixed again. The prayer had been answered just a moment after the rain stopped, when a drop of it fell from the ceiling and onto your pale, unsuspecting calf, your mattress absorbing the scream of pain that tore through your chest.

As the acid made its way through your leg, and eventually your mattress, all you could do was sob. Eternity… This was eternity. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

If this morning had been good, the day could only now be considered grand.

There was really nothing quite like a post-rain stroll through Cannibal Town, witnessing the misfortune of partially-dissolved sinners who had been caught in the deluge being consumed on the streets by the lively, ever-hungry inhabitants. Alastor would never tire of this jovial bunch that called this part of the Pentagram home, reveling in the sound of screams, the crunching of bone, the almost-lewd and animalistic grunts of feasting.

Were Rosie not expecting him for tea, he might have allowed himself to join in on the fun. Alas, his only solace was that Rosie never served anything less than superb, being the excellent hostess that she is.

He was quite intrigued by her invitation to join her alone, which meant that this likely wasn’t anything to do with donating a small army of cannibals to aid in the fight against the Angels. Indeed, Charlie’s presence would be required once it was time to cash that favor in.

Not that he didn’t enjoy a casual visit (as casual a visit between Overlords could be), he couldn’t help but wonder. Thinking a few steps ahead was a must if one was going to thrive in Hell, and well, it was no secret that Alastor was doing a pretty fine job at that, all things considered. He began to whistle, earning a few gory smiles from cannibals who stopped mid-meal to enjoy the tune. A true honor.

Rosie opened the door for him before he even had the chance to knock, the “Closed for Rain” sign clattering against the glass as she cooed. “Alastorrr! Come in, come in, before it starts raining again.”

As if on queue, a roll of thunder tore through the clouds, drawing a cheer from the denizens of Cannibal Town in anticipation for round two. 

“Rosie, my dear, always an honor and a privilege to be deemed worthy of your company,” Alastor said, bowing his head as Rosie feigned a blush, leading him to the parlor where they would be taking their tea.

The usual pleasantries were exchanged between sips of tea, coffee, and candied organs, which Alastor forced himself to consume through sheer courtesy. It was all part of the art of visiting, one he quite enjoyed, and he would never shame his mother’s memory with bad manners. They had just finished a plate of finger sandwiches when Rosie leaned in slightly, the conspiring grin on her face letting him know that it was, at last, time for business.

“You’re always so good to indulge me, Alastor. It doesn’t go unnoticed,” she said, grinning as she motioned to a maid to come grab their empty plates. “I’m sure you’ve been dying to know why I asked you over here this afternoon.”

“Oh, Rosie, it’s purely selfish! You know how hard it is to find good company in this godforsaken place. I’m more than grateful to receive your hospitality,” he said with a trademark smile and flick of the wrist, leaning back in his chair as the maid cleared the table.

She had just turned to leave with their plates when the smile on his face nearly faltered. Was that… almond he smelled? It had been so long, but he was fairly certain it was. There was an underlying trace of blood, though that was common enough around here. But almond? It was too pleasant for Hell.

Rosie’s eyes darkened to match her grin, not missing the twitch of Alastor’s mouth. She knew he’d have been able to smell it. It seemed that so far only Hellborn could pick it up, but what would be the fun in letting him know that? 

“Divine, isn’t she? A walking pastry, but not much of a talker. I like to bring her around whenever a room needs some pizzazz! She would’ve been eaten alive had I not taken her in,” Rosie whispered cheekily, as the maid returned with a fresh kettle and a gelatin mold for dessert. Rosie, not missing a beat once the tray had been set down, turned to her with a smile. “Thank you dear, you can leave now. I’ll ring the bell if we need anything else.”

The maid gave a silent curtsy and left the room as instructed, her sweet scent clinging to the air. Since coming to Hell, he took pleasure in the taste of bloody iron, the bite of black coffee. But in life… Memories of marzipan and frangipane tarts swam in his mind. And hadn’t Mother used almonds in her cherry pie crust? It took Alastor all he had not to drool, unsettled by the sudden rush of saliva in his mouth. Ages had passed since he last thought of such sweet things. He cleared his throat with as much grace as he could muster. Rosie only grinned.

“Well, she’s certainly new, so I suppose it’s not surprising she doesn’t talk much. It’s quite easy to tell when a sinner is… adjusting. So morose! You’re very gracious to have taken her on.” Alastor took a sip of coffee, desperate to get that almond smell out of his nostrils. 

“We both seem to be rather gracious these days, don’t you think?”

And there it was.

Rosie sat back in her chair and crossed her legs as she continued. “I was actually wondering if perhaps she might fare better in that hotel you’re running. Don’t get me wrong, she smells incredible, but fuck does she suck the air out of a room once the novelty wears off. She was scaring away clients, and you know it’s pretty bad if cannibals are uneasy around you for Christ’s sake, which is why I had her start working back here, but…”

Alastor had to resist gripping his knee, putting all his effort into maintaining a pleasant face. He had expected to be asked for a favor of sorts, but never did he imagine that Rosie wanted him to take on an employee. She’s had sinners sign contracts for little less than a new parasol, let alone a job. There was something more to this.

And beyond being an air freshener, what good was she for, really? He could deal with quiet, but to have to put up with yet another sulky face! What he had done to deserve it, he didn’t know.

But he knew there wasn’t really a choice other than to take the poor creature into his charge. Rosie was an alley he deeply cherished, and he was already in her debt for the help she had provided just weeks ago. This was no doubt the first part of paying that debt back, a sign of goodwill. Not every deal was beneficial from the start; still, Alastor wouldn’t outright accept the offer. That was part of the fun.

“Well we already have a maid,” Alastor said gently, “but after the recent renovation, we are anticipating more sinners to check in. Not that I doubt Niffty’s abilities, but I suppose she could do with some help when business picks up. How long were you thinking of lending her to our cause?”

Rosie waved her hand. “Lend? Oh, honey, if you’re willing to take her, she’s yours. I’ve got plenty of helping hands, but it does me no good to have such a wet blanket hanging around. There’s just the matter of…,” Rosie trailed off as she reached into her purse, retrieving what Alastor already knew she had been grabbing for, “…her contract.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

[queerweewoo]

Eddie stumbles from his tangled bedsheets to go take his nightly piss—alarm clock beaming its 4:03 AM display directly onto his sleep-wrecked retinas and etching it there for what will possibly be all of eternity—because being past the age of thirty is all fun and games. 

Bare feet padding quietly as an exhausted still half-asleep one hundred and seventy-five pounds not far off six-foot guy can manage, he's just about to pass the living room when he hears... something.  

He stops. Holds his breath. Listens. 

Buck is mumbling, talking in his sleep.

“And, man, I (something something) you. Because you always listen to me; never make me feel bad for (something something), always make me feel like I'm worth sticking around for, and I (something something) for that, Eddie.”

Buck is dreaming. Buck is dreaming about Eddie. Buck is dreaming about Eddie making Buck feel wanted. 

Eddie smiles—and before realising what he's doing he is in his living room, leaning over his couch, leaning over Buck, and pressing a soft kiss to Buck's birthmark as if he's done this a thousand times before. 

Buck wakes, blinks, smiles sleepily back at Eddie, cute as a bug, and is then craning his neck to peck his own soft kiss to the small mole underneath Eddie's left eye. 

With the speed of a gunshot or a lightning strike, Eddie suddenly doesn't know why the hell Buck is sleeping on his couch instead of in his bed, or why the hell he hasn't had the guts to tell Buck that he is so, so in love with him—especially after Buck split with Tommy a few weeks back and started testing the water with Eddie when Eddie grew a moustache and styled his hair a little differently and suggested they go to that gay club down on Burbank together to drink stupid amazing pink cocktails and dance the night away as if they didn't have a care in the world)—and then just as fast, he's thinking fuck it, and la vida es demasiado corta, deciding to remedy the latter (with the hope it might remedy the former) by saying, “It's ass o'clock in the morning, Buck, and I really fucking love you.” 

Eddie's best friend is at once wide a-fucking-wake, eyes the size of abuela’s best Talavera dinner plates, mouth doing a pretty great impression of a guppy as he gawps up at Eddie. 

There's a concerningly long moment of silence, before Buck says, “Oh.” 

Like a champ, Eddie chooses to ignore the way his heart plummets as it tries to relocate somewhere deep in his gut, because he's had to get pretty damn good at that, what with everything that has happened in his loco life. So he just smiles again, a little dimmer, a little more tight-lipped, while nodding his head and rolling his eyes in a yeah, silly ol’me, huh? sort of way, and is about to push himself upright with the hand gripping the top of the couch so that he can drag his sorry ass back to his bedroom and get a tension headache from not allowing himself to cry and getting zero sleep for what will probably be the rest his life and— 

That's when Buck reaches out, a big hand grabbing at Eddie's waist. 

Eddie's gaze tears itself away from those beautiful Talavera eyes that are shining brightly in the thick darkness of his sleeping house, settling where Buck's hand is holding him in place, where the contact blazes; not like fire but like the ever-burning candle flame that's lived behind Eddie's ribcage for the past seven or so years.

“Eds, I’m—I wasn't, like, awake enough to, uh, to, to, to process that? And the thing is—” 

“Hey, no, Buck, it's okay, you don't need to explain.” Eddie's heart is falling, falling, falling, right to the very soles of his feet. “I shouldn't have just blurted that out at you, without any preamble—

“Eddie.”

“—and I definitely shouldn't have bothered you while your were—”  

“Eddie." 

“—sleeping, I just—

“Eddie, will you shut up!”  

Eddie's teeth clack as he dutifully swallows the rest of his rambling. 

“Can you please just listen to me for a sec?” Buck pleads.  

“I—yeah, Buck, sure. I'm sorry, ‘course. Sorry.”

Buck takes a breath. “You don't gotta be sorry, Eds, I was just trying to say: The thing is, I have said a lot of dumb things in my life—like a lot—but me saying ‘oh’ to you telling me that you love me? Yeah, no, that has to top the bill. Dumbest fucking thing that's ever left these lips.” Eddie can't help it when his gaze flickers to the pretty culprits; it's an involuntary action by this point. “Because,” and Buck is now licking at them—tongue wet and lush against plush red—before he's honest to Dios batting those beautiful blonde eyelashes of his in Eddie's helpless direction, then breathing his next words right into Eddie's mouth as he leans up, pulling Eddie into him at the same time and fanning the flame in Eddie's chest by saying, “I really fucking love you too, Eds.”  

And then he's kissing Eddie again—only this time he's pressing his lips into Eddie's lips, and Eddie is right there with him, kissing Buck back as if they've done this a thousand times before. 

When Buck has to pull away, presumably to prevent a crick in his neck—Eddie cannot fathom even half of another good reason to stop—Eddie goes to follow him down, so eager after so long, wanting to cover the entirety of Buck's body with the entirety of his own. But Buck shakes his head and says says, “No, wait, Eddie.”  

Before Eddie's heart can start digging its way down through the carpet and floorboards and foundations and dirt to some place that resembles an old forgotten underground well, Buck is asking, “Can I come to bed with you?”  

Then Eddie gets whiplash from having to will his heart from beating right out of his chest with just how much happiness is bursting its way in there; with Buck bursting in with all of his love and sharing it with Eddie, just like everything else in their lives.  

Eddie feels his cheeks flush when he says, “That's, uh—honestly, Buck? You'd kinda be making my favourite recurring dream come true, if you did.”

“Well, you shot my recurring dream down in flames, Eds, by not listening to me for what must be the very first time in seven literal years and talking right over my heartfelt love confession—even if I did end up stealing your line,” Buck smiles. Then he frowns and tuts dramatically.“You're a monster, Eddie Diaz,” he adds, teasing.   

Eddie pays back Buck's grin with added interest, because it's as infectious and unstoppable as the common cold.

“Firstly, you had just answered 'oh' when I told you that I loved you, and secondly, does this monster not get a pass seeing as we just got off a clusterfuck of a twenty-four and it's ass o'clock in the morning and I'd assumed you were trying to let me down gently?” 

“Absolutely not, Firefighter Diaz. One should never assume when it comes to a Buckley.” He follows the statement with a pointed look. “But I might think about letting you make it up to me,” and he's now grinning again, and this time it's a sort of sheepish, hopeful thing, “if you agree to being the teaspoon to my tablespoon in your big, comfortable bed. What do you say?” He bats those blonde lashes again, as if Eddie would need convincing. 

“I say yes sir, Firefighter Buckley,” Eddie agrees instantly, obviously, bending down to scoop a surprised Buck up and over his shoulder and into a very appropriate Evacuation Lift, Buck kind of squealing hilariously when Eddie sets off for his bedroom at what is a pretty impressive pace, if you were to ask Eddie. 

And after they've sunk their bodies beneath the tangled bedsheets at ass o'clock in the morning (4.12 AM to be precise), and as Buck wraps the entirety of his long self around the entirety of Eddie, in Eddie's bed—their bed, now, Eddie's hoping—Eddie breathes in a full breath for the first time all summer, allowing himself to love and be loved.  

His next big breath is a couple of weeks later, when Christopher comes home and rolls his eyes at Eddie and Buck after they tell him they're together, merely giving them a slightly obnoxious finally! in that patented teenage tone before heading to his room to set up his gaming station and settle back in, like he'd never even been away.  

Oh, and in case anyone were to wonder, Eddie would have to admit that he really, really loves being the little spoon—almost as much as he and Buck love each other. 

.

on ao3 HERE if you'd like to leave me a comment!

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere husband Maegor the Cruel love letter togirlfriend or wife.

My beloved wife,

Not even the sun that lights up the Seven Kingdoms can rival the brightness of your beauty. Every time your eyes meet mine, I feel like the universe itself bends to our passion. As Valyrian steel is forged in a raging fire, our bond is tempered by the blazing flames of fate.

I would burn the heavens and plunge into the pits of hell to ensure your happiness and safety. Please accept this letter as proof of my undying love and unwavering devotion. May our history be written in blood and fire, a testament to a love that is pure and indomitable.

My actions may be seen as cruel by some, but you, my dear wife, know that everything I do is to protect our love and ensure that no one else can claim your heart. The sound of swords echoes in my ears, but the sweetest music is the sound of your laughter.

I promise that as long as I breathe, no harm will ever cross your path. Those who dare to threaten our happiness will face the wrath of a King whose love is as deep as the chasm between continents. You are the queen of my heart, and I am your tireless protector.

May the gods witness our eternal union, and may fear and doubt never find room between us. Together, we will rule all realms, like fire and ice that dance in the darkest night.

With unwavering love,

Maegor Targaryen.

[goosebasedcryptid]

thinking about aeron and davos not worshipping the same gods probably means they won't go to the same heaven (-or hell-) and they know it soooo

them being so afraid that if they die, they won't even reunite in the afterlife and will never see each other again

kid aeron going to his septon and asking where the followers of the old gods go when they die and the septon either telling him they go to the lowest of the seven hells or that they have no afterlife at all and then crying himself to sleep afraid davos is doomed

davos hearing that the brackens felled a weirwood on their lands and praying with all his soul aeron had no part in it, not knowing aeron begged his lord to leave the heart tree untouched

during an argument aeron saying something like "i wish i could die now so i'd be rid of you" and that hitting davos so hard he replies with "well i'd be happy to help you meet your false gods" and then they both regret it instantly

them falling asleep together beneath a weirwood and both getting one of those crazy trippy dreams in which they see themselves dying at each other's hand and being dragged to their respective hells by their deceased family members, and waking up so disturbed they don't talk or see each other for like a month, too afraid they might actually cause the vision to happen

them at the burning mill, realising they could never be together after slaughtering each other's families and both begging the other to kill them out of guilt and despair but neither accepting and fighting to get to die first, arguing that it's their fault, only to die together

probably so many more things that drive them both apart from the sheer terror of making a wrong move that would separate them for eternity and also make them want to enjoy every second they have together because they know it's all they have

[storm-angel989]

Okay so I saw your val and child fic and i got inspired to req as well😭 Lucifer x eldest!daughter!reader, what if luci and Lilith had like, a child before they fell. THIS IS PLATONIC OKAY almost forgot to mention. So like reader is like an angel (maybe with unique wings like luci?) and is more than tens of thousands years old cause she was born before they fell, and she can't go to hell or have any contact with her parents because heaven is worried that she'll fall too, so she's very protected by the angels. It'll add more to the angst if reader isn't even aware that she's the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith! Better, she didn't even know they existed at all because the angels tried their best to keep her away from everything about hell. I hc that Lucifer went to heaven to like, talk w sera to let charlie have a meeting about the extermination yeah!! So on his way, he caught a glimpse of reader gifting a basket full of pastries or idks to Sera in her office. After tens of thousands of years apart, what will he do? He can't fuck this up since of he makes sera angry, then charlie won't have a meeting at all!

Ask and you shall receive! I don't have a ton of experience writing Lucifer, but take a peek- feedback is always appreciated! Thank you so much for your request!

She looked just like her. 

Blonde hair. Wings that mimicked his own, at least, how they looked in his glory days. Prior to his fall. Her eyes sparkled with the goodness only heaven could create. Ironic, really, if he was being fully honest with himself. 

It was only a glimpse, a glance as she handed off a basket to one of the other angels. Sera’s secretary, maybe. Or one of the lower officers in her command. Honest Lucifer couldn’t care less who she was handing it to if it wasn’t him. After all, that was his daughter. 

Every part of him yearned to stand up, to blow these pretentious angels out of the way and to embrace what was rightfully his. To end the pain of a loss he had kept a secret from everyone around him for eons. 

But by the way she acted, he doubted she had any idea who he was. It had, after all, been ages since he had last seen her sweet face, bubbling and bright. Heard her soft giggles, her coos as he rocked her to sleep at night. Ages since the high seraphs of heaven ripped her from his arms as they cast him and Lilith to Earth, as punishment for their so called egregious errors.

Twenty nine thousand, seven hundred and fifty six years to be exact. Not that he was counting.

He tried to shake her from his mind. He had another daughter to focus on, after all. One bore after he and his wife fell, crashing into the underground world- a punishment for an external sin. 

At first, Lilith had cried. Dark echoing sobs that resulted in the creation of the sins of hell. Each of them one of the actions of heaven that led her to the loss of her daughter. Heaven’s pride, lust, greed, gluttony, wrath and sloth, all became embodiments of the third most powerful beings in hell. It took eons before the discussion of another child could even be considered. 

Ironic, he pointed out, that the crimes of heaven became reality in hell. But she didn’t care. He supposed in her mind, bringing to life heaven’s dark side was a sort of retribution. 

It was eons, eons before they decided to try again. 

That brought him here, to this moment, as he sat in front of Sera as casually as he could. She didn’t need to know he recognized his own daughter. Honestly, dangling her in front of him like that. How dare she? He should strike her now, his hands could leave burning marks of darkness across her face, a permanent scar was the very least she deserved for shattering his family. 

But he had another child to consider. 

You should be grateful, the commander taunted as he ripped his daughter from his arms. At least now she has a chance at happiness, a chance to avoid eternal damnation and punishment. Why are you not more grateful? 

Lucifer’s infant screamed in one of his oversized hands, and with the other pushed him down into the pits of hell alongside Lilith. Their punishment for daring to create something without the permission of a higher being. 

“She desires a meeting? With us?” Sera wondered aloud. “Whatever about?”

Lucifer snapped his attention back to the issue at hand. His other daughter, one created many, many years after the loss of their firstborn, needed him. Play it cool, Lucifer, he thought to himself. Charlie needed him. He casually looked at his fingertips and then glanced up at her. 

“I don’t know. Something about sinners and heaven. Honestly, Sera. What harm could come from a little….post extermination meeting? After all, wouldn’t you enjoy the chance to meet my daughter? You might notice a few connections that could help keep heaven safe.”

If Sera understood his insinuations, she didn’t let on. 

“Very well then, if you feel her knowledge will bring value to heaven. After all, the sanctity of our home is of utmost importance.”

Sanctimonious bitch, Lucifer thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his eldest, his reader laughing at a joke another angel told. 

In all the time that had passed, that ringing laugh never changed. 

“We have a deal then. Tomorrow, noon. And let Peter know, I don’t want my daughter treated as poorly as I was.”  He stood up and turned to walk towards the door. 

“She’s doing well, you know. Reader. She’s safe and happy in the hands of parents who truly love her.” Sera’s voice came softly from behind. 

Every part of him yearned to turn around, to rip her heart out of her chest and stomp on it the way she had done to him all those years ago. To scream, to gouge her eyes out- the worst circle of hell didn’t hold enough punishment for what this bitch deserved. What heaven deserved for tearing a family apart. 

But he had another child to think about. 

So instead he swallowed back his feelings and silently walked out the door as he chose to respond in the best way he knew how. He pushed open the outside door and lost in his mind, he tripped down the first step. 

A soft hand caught him from behind, preventing his fall. 

“I’m so sorry Mister, are you okay?” A familiar voice asked, worry evident. 

A cold feeling settled in his gut. No, fate couldn’t be so cruel. 

“Ahaha, yeah, just clumsy, you know? Thanks for the catch!” He replied as calmly as he could. He adjusted his tie, willing himself to not turn around. To not face one of the biggest sources of heartbreak a parent could imagine. 

He began to walk down the street, back towards the gates of heaven. Back towards the portal that would inevitably open up and toss him down into the pits of hell, where he could again safely hide in the sanctity of his office, again lose himself in yet another fruitless hobby as he tried desperately to forget the night that tore his family apart. 

“Dad! Over here!” Her voice sang out. 

Involuntarily, he turned around. Dad? Did she recognize him? Was it possible? For just a moment, his heart soared. Dad is right here, reader. 

The words caught in his throat as he watched her embrace another man, another angel. One he knew well. Every inch of him flared up with rage. Bad enough that heaven took her away but to give her to him? Of all angels? 

And they said hell was cruel. 

It took every ounce of self control to turn away from the scene. To once again bury the emotion deep within himself. To process the pain of yet another loss. 

After all, he had another daughter to think about. 

[the-girl-in-the-high-castle]

So I re-watched the last 3 episodes again last night (because of course I did) and I can't believe I haven't noticed or payed attention to this before.

At the beginning of episode 7 we have Daniel's "memory". But it's actually a memory of a simulation. When Maura gets out of the bed and leaves and then Daniel calls after her you can hear the voice saying "initiating shutdown" and once Daniel gets out of the room the landscape and the sky is full of glitches aka the sign the simulation is shutting down, just like on the Kerberos. So that means his "memory" is just the memory from one of the previous simulations. That's why none of it looked real. Also, the fact that Elliot wasn't in his "memory" and that he wasn't in Elliot's somehow seems strange to me that it makes me start thinking it means something. Plus, the place Maura wakes up at at the end of the final episode is the same where both Daniel and Elliot find her hospital gown in their memories.

In episode 8 when Henry has Maura strapped to the chair again and is telling her how she is the creator, he goes with his little speech about seeeker and avoider. He says she's a seeker and then a few seconds later he says she created the sim because she was trying to run away from pain. So he just went against his first claim about her being the seeker. Because yes, the seeker would create the sim to find something new, or to try and save someone, but would never run away from anything, let alone willingly make herself lose a part of herself, her memory, in order to do that. So Henry is bullshitting (if you wanted me to trust anything he says you shouldn't have cast freaking Qyburn).

And then, when Henry takes Elliot to the room to show him "his story" he talks about bodies remembering the previous simulations. When Elliot sees "the memory" after being injected and Maura tells him it's the only way they can be together, we see the close up of her face and she has triangles in her eyes in that moment, which means she is in a simulation, so that "memory" is also just a part of a simulation.

Yep, my theories are running loose again.

[the-girl-in-the-high-castle]

There is no show like 1899, and there never will be

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

tell them I was loved

A Dead Girls Detective AU for @palasakiweek based on the fic idea I talked about here. You can read it below or here on AO3.

Prompts: Dead Girl Detectives, Rescuing, Love Confessions

Words: 6K

Rating: M

Warnings: Canon-typical depictions of Hell and its horrors; David being the worst

Relationships: Crystal/Niko with background Edwin/Charles

Summary: Thirty-five years after escaping Hell and founding the Dead Girl Detectives with Niko, Crystal is dragged back down to Hell by David. She's not expecting Niko to come after her, but Niko has always liked to surprise her.

***

If there’s one thing that Crystal Palace can be certain of, it’s that Niko Sasaki doesn’t belong in Hell.

Even on that first night in the dark, damp attic of a dormitory at St. Hilda’s, when Niko was feverish, slipping in and out of delirium, and scared, she was everything Crystal hadn’t experienced in seventy-three long years: sweet and kind and wanting nothing from Crystal but companionship. The pink lights surrounding her turned out to be the dandelion sprites that would kill her, but sometimes, Crystal looks at her and almost thinks she can still see them.

She thought Niko was the most beautiful person she’d ever seen that night. She can’t believe it took her thirty-five years of working side-by-side to realize she was in love with her.

So it makes no sense that Niko is standing at the edge of Fraud’s mass of writhing snakes, her bright pink dress and white hair seeming to glow in the darkness as much as the lantern in her hand. And she’s smiling, like they aren’t surrounded by bloodthirsty snakes and screaming human souls, like she didn’t just walk through seven circles of Hell to get to Crystal.

And despite the pain, terror, and grief that’s gripped her since David dragged her back to Hell, Crystal finds herself smiling back. She staggers to her feet and stumbles forward, reaching out…

And a snake’s jaws close over her head.

***

Niko finds her huddled against the wall of the pit what might be a minute or an eternity later, after she’s turned into a giant snake then back into another human. This was always Crystal’s least favorite level of Hell, even worse than the pools of blood of Violence or the burning tombs of Heresy. She hates the moments where she’s a snake and all she can feel is the urge to find and bite someone, to pass on the pain and the bloodlust to someone else.

It reminds her of her time at St. Hilda’s too much.

Niko isn’t smiling anymore when she finds her. Instead, her eyes are wide and shocky. There’s a splatter of blood on her cheek. Crystal wants to wipe it off, but she can’t bear to touch her, not so soon after burying her fangs in another soul’s throat.

“Crystal?” Niko whispers, gripping her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

The inside of Crystal’s mouth tastes like blood. It’s the first thing she’s tasted in over thirty years. “What are you doing here?’

“I came to save you.”

“You don’t belong here.”

“Neither do you.” Niko places the lantern on the ground between them, just like Crystal put it next to her to keep her warm all those years ago.

Crystal’s throat feels tight and her eyes burn. “How did you find me?” Because David always liked to move her from level to level, snatching her away as soon as she became inured to one form of punishment or he just got bored. She could have been anywhere in Hell.

“I figured he would have put you in one of the levels that would hurt you the most. So Wrath or Fraud, where you have no choice but to hurt other people. And Fraud is a lot lower, so…” Niko shrugs, looking pleased with herself. “But all these snakes weren’t here when I got here. Where did they come from?”

“You have to truly see Hell before you can see all its horrors.” Crystal mimics the long-ago lesson she learned, just as a terrible thought strikes her. “The boys didn’t come with you, did they?”

She can’t see Charles letting Niko walk into Hell without him, especially not after watching Crystal get snatched away by her demonic ex-paramour, and Edwin seems to go wherever Charles goes these days. But they’re both human, both alive, and even with Charles’s psychic abilities and cricket bat, they wouldn’t stand a chance down here. The denizens of Hell would rip them apart with their bare hands.

“No, they wanted to come with me, so I locked them in a closet and told the Night Nurse to keep an eye on them.”

“You locked them in a closet ?”

Niko nods, a wicked little smile playing across her lips. “Maybe they’ll finally kiss?”

Despite the horror and fear, Crystal finds herself smiling. Because Niko is still Niko, even down here. “You need to go, Niko.”

Niko’s face falls. “Not without you.”

“You can escape.”

“So can you. You did it before.”

“I escaped from Avarice. There’s no getting out of here. I tried last time. You don’t belong down here, so they might let you go, but not if you’re trying to help a soul escape.”

“But you were alone last time.” Niko reaches into her pink Hello Kitty backpack and pulls out a Molotov cocktail. “And Charles sent me with supplies.”

Crystal’s eyes widen at the sight of Niko’s delicate hand wrapped around the burning bottle. It’s unexpectedly hot.

“On three,” Niko says.

“Niko—”

Niko talks over her. “One. Two.”

Crystal clambers up on legs that don’t feel like they’ve fully recovered from being transformed into a snake.

“Three.”

The Molotov cocktails arcs in the air, landing among the writhing snakes, and Crystal and Niko run.

***

They make it through the lakes of blood in Violence, the burning tombs of Heresy, and are almost clear of the violent mob in Wrath when David finds them. Crystal is yanking Niko out of the way of a large man whose hands are cracked and twisted from all the punches he’s thrown, his face contorted in a grimace of pain and rage, when she sees David standing next to a pair of woman who are trying to choke the life out of each other. He’s smiling, but it’s not bright and joyous like Niko’s smile.

“Did you really think you could get away from me again, Crystal?” he calls.

Crystal can barely hear him over the buzzing pressure in her head, the pressure that will only let up if she lashes out at something. Next to her, Niko is hunched over, her hands covering her ears ineffectually. “I did it before!”

“You got lucky.” David meanders towards her, taking his time, like he already knows how this will end and so there’s no need to hurry.

“She’s been outsmarting you for thirty-five years,” Niko says with fierceness Crystal rarely hears from sweet, smiley friend. “That’s not luck. She’s just stronger than you.”

David’s lip curls when he looks at Niko. “I’m so glad you’re here too, Niko. The Dead Girl Detectives. I’m going to watch both of you break over and over again and then I’m going to pop up to Port Townsend. Maybe I’ll possess your little friend with the cricket bat and make him snap his prissy boyfriend’s neck. What do you think of that, Crystal?”

Niko presses something into Crystal’s hand. She doesn’t have to look down to know what it is: a grenade. She’s going to have to talk to Charles about shoving all his weapons in the Hello Kitty backpack. Crystal keeps it close to her, hidden in the folds of her nightgown, and steps forward.

“You’re not going to touch me,” she tells him. “You’re not going to touch any of them. Never again, David. I’m stronger than I was when you first took me to Hell.”

“And yet, here you are again.” David shakes his head, wearing that infuriating smirk. “Poor Crystal. You think a pretty face and a sharp tongue is enough to protect you from me? All you are is a dead, decomposing bitch who thinks having friends is enough to—”

Crystal doesn’t let him finish, because she’s busy throwing the grenade in his smug fucking face. 

The violence makes the pressure in her head diminish for a blissful moment as David stumbles back, screaming. He collides with the large man with the busted fists, who doesn’t even seem to notice that David is on fire before he begins whaling on him, massive hands raining down on him. Niko grabs Crystal’s hand and drags her away through the mob.

When they reach the bank vaults of Avarice, filled with people being crushed under the weight of the treasures they’re grasping for, it’s a relief. Upper Hell is still Hell, but she’s gotten Niko away from the most gruesome of the torments. Thesy struggle out of Avarice—even the air seems heavy here—through Gluttony and into Lust, and finally make it to Limbo. Crystal doesn’t look at any of the frozen faces. There’s nothing she can do for these people.

“I don’t understand.” Niko stops in front of a boy who looks about their age. Crystal can instantly see why she stopped; he looks a bit like Charles, though he’s not as tall and his ears are the wrong shape. The boy is whimpering softly, tears rolling down his motionless cheeks. “This is where souls go when they don’t belong in Heaven or Hell, right? So why are they suffering? What did they do to deserve it?”

“No one down here deserves this,” Crystal tells her tiredly. “They’re not being actively tortured here and that’s Hell’s version of mercy. There’s nothing we can do for them. Come on, we need to keep moving. A grenade won’t slow David down for long.”

Niko lets her drag her away, even though she throws one last, sad glance back at the crying boy.

Crystal almost weeps in relief when she reaches the staircase. It’s not safety; she can’t count the times David found her here during her first stint in Hell. But it means they’re close. Niko goes first, her hand still gripping Crystal’s, like she’s afraid she’ll turn around to find that Crystal has vanished into thin air like Eurydice. Crystal squeezes her fingers reassuringly as they begin to climb the stairs. She’s not going anywhere, not if she can help it.

She remembers the first time she climbed these stairs, wondering if there was truly a door at the top, or if this was just another torture and she would keep climbing forever. They seem to stretch on for an eternity above them, but the walk feels less endless when she has Niko’s hand in hers and Niko’s white hair glowing and pink dress glowing like a beacon in front of her. They lost the lantern at some point; Crystal thinks Niko may have used it as a bludgeon in Wrath. Maybe some other poor soul will pick it up and use it to guide themselves out of Hell. Crystal likes that idea.

They climb and they climb and they climb until Crystal manages to work out the muddle of thoughts and feelings she’s been drowning in ever since she saw Niko standing on the other side of Fraud’s snake pit. “Why did you come?”

Niko looks over her shoulder, frowning with confusion, like she doesn’t understand the question. “Because you’re my best friend.”

“You could have gotten stuck down here forever.”

“I know.” Niko shrugs. “But I would have been stuck with you, so it would have been okay.”

“Okay?” Crystal freezes mid-step, staring up at her in dismay. Suddenly, the exhaustion, fear, and anger all seem to bubble up at once. “You knew you could have spent an eternity trapped in Hell, but you thought it would be okay? Niko, you saw what happens down there. None of that is okay! How could you risk your eternal soul for—”

“For you.” There’s a stubborn set to Niko’s jaw that reminds Crystal of the Great Mummy Escape of ‘99. “I wasn’t just going to leave you down here.”

“You don’t belong—”

“Neither do you!” Niko’s voice rises with indignation, echoing off the stone walls. “Crystal, after all this time, do you really think you belong in Hell?”

Crystal swallows back the tightness in her throat. They were supposed to be talking about Niko, not her. “David possessed me for a reason. I was cruel and selfish and—”

“And you were sixteen.” Niko fully turns to face her, taking Crystal’s other hand in hers and squeezing both of them. “You’ve spent three decades saving people. You saved me.”

“I didn’t,” Crystal says, because there was no way she could have. She hadn’t even known what was wrong with Niko until the dandelion sprites burst their way out of her.

“I wasn’t scared when I was dying. I had a friend for the first time in what felt like forever.” Niko smiles shyly. “You couldn’t stop me from dying, but you saved me from being alone. And how many times have you saved me since then?”

Crystal has no good answer for that.

“Come on.” Gently, Niko tugs her forward. “We need to keep moving. I think we’re close. Oh, look, there’s Maxine. We are close!”

They skirt around Jenny’s dead stalker, who sits in a circle of torn up love letters, whispering frantically to herself. With every step, Crystal should be relieved, but instead, a panicky sense of running out of time starts closing over her. Once they get through the door and return to Port Townsend, they’re going to have to deal with the Night Nurse. And even if she doesn’t drag them off to the Lost and Found Department, there’s Esther Finch and the Cat King and so much other shit they need to deal with. Crystal feels like she’s standing on the precipice of something and if she waits too long to jump, there will be no second chances.

She stops again. “Niko.”

A step above her, Niko turns around with wide eyes, looking as exasperated as Crystal has ever seen her. “Crystal, we’re so close!”

“I know.” Crystal smiles up at Niko, the first person who ever loved her unconditionally, the girl who brought light to her existence after seventy-three years in Hell, her best friend, her partner. If anyone deserves to know how loved she is, it’s Niko. Maybe this will go nowhere. Maybe it will make things so awkward Crystal will have no choice but to flee to some far-flung corner of the world. But she has to try.

“Everything that’s happened in the past few weeks has made me think,” Crystal says. “I’ve realized some things about myself. Some things I never let myself think about before, because I died in 1916 and—”

“It’s okay.” Niko nods, expression solemn. “I know.”

Crystal blinks. “You do?”

“Jenny is super pretty and kind of scary. Not my type, but I can see why you’d like her.”

“ What ?” Crystal’s indignant shriek echoes off the walls around them. “You think I have a crush on Jenny? The butcher? She’s twice my age!”

“When you think about, she’s actually young enough to be your granddaughter. Maybe even your great-granddaughter.”

Crystal decides to ignore that. “And she can’t even see me!”

“I know.” Niko sighs. “It’s romantic, isn’t it? The impossibility of it. The yearning.”

“There is no yearning.” Crystal closes her eyes. “Listen, I am not secretly harboring a crush on Jenny. I—”

“It’s not Charles again, is it? Because he and Edwin are so cute together and I really think you two are better as friends.”

“It’s not Charles.”

Niko’s nose scrunches up in a way that would be adorable if Crystal weren’t currently fighting the urge to scream. “Oh, do you like the Cat King? I was wondering what you spent all that time talking about. I guess he’s cute, but he lives in a cannery.”

“No,” Crystal says firmly, because at this rate, Niko’s going to accuse her of having a thing for Esther Finch next and then she’ll have to let herself plummet into the abyss below. “It’s you.”

“ I don’t like the Cat King.”

“Nobody likes the fucking Cat King!”

“Then—”

Crystal cuts her off before her best friend says something unforgivable. “Niko, I love you.”

Niko blinks, confused, then smiles. “I love you too, Crystal, but we should probably wait until we’re back in Port Townsend before we talk about whoever you’re crushing on.”

“No.” As Niko tries to pull her up the stairs, Crystal holds her ground. “I’m in love with you.”

Niko just stares at her, lips slightly parted, like she’s trying to speak, but can’t find the words.

“It’s okay,” Crystal adds quickly. “I don’t expect you to say it back. But, Niko, you’re the best person I know. The best friend I’ve ever had. You talk about how I saved you that night in the attic, but the truth is, you saved me. I’d forgotten what it was like to have people be kind to me. I’d forgotten that there were people who could be kind and then you were there and you stayed.”

Niko hasn’t let go of her hand. Crystal can feel that her fingers are trembling. “Do you mean it?”

Crystal huffs out a laugh. “Of course I mean it. I think I’ve loved you this whole time. I just didn’t know it, because it’s not like I ever had a healthy relationship to compare it to. But I love you so much, Niko. And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. I just thought you should know.”

Niko only stares at her, looking very young and very unsure, and Crystal has the horrible sense that she may have broken something irrevocably. What if she’s changed everything between them? What if Niko can’t move past this? What if she’s horrified to have someone like Crystal, someone irrevocably tainted by Hell, in love with her? Crystal knows that she’s prickly and selfish and a little mean. She just never considered those would be reasons for Niko not to love her.

“Niko,” she whispers. “I—”

Niko closes the distance between them and kisses her.

It’s far from the most graceful kiss. Surprise almost sends Crystal stumbling backwards and it’s only Niko’s hand in hers that stops her from knocking Maxine over like a bowling pin. She’s pretty sure her mouth still tastes like blood and Hell is permeated with a sulfuric stench that’s not exactly romantic, but she doesn’t care, because she’s kissing Niko Sasaki, and how could she care about anything else?

In Hell, she can feel Niko, not just the tingling energy she usually feels when she touches her, but warm skin and silky hair. Niko’s hands slide around her waist and Crystal can feel the warmth of her palms through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Crystal tangles one of her hands in that silky white hair and runs the other down the line of Niko’s back, wanting to drink in every detail, lest she forget it as soon as they emerge back into the real world. Niko lets out a little gasp when Crystal’s hand lands on her hip and Crystal wants nothing more than to hear that sound again. 

Except, they’re still in Hell.

Crystal forces herself to pull away. Niko’s cheeks are flushed and her hair is disheveled and the urge to swoop in for another kiss is overwhelming, but Crystal only has to hear Maxine’s frantic whispering nearby to remind her where they are and what the consequences will be if they get caught. “We should—”

“ Crystal.” The sing-song voice floating up below turns the blood in Crystal’s veins to ice. “Did you think you could run from me?”

“Go.” Crystal doesn’t look back to see how close David is, just shoves Niko forward. Hand in hand, they stumble upwards, running as fast as their legs will carry them.

“I don’t think I’m going to send you back to one of the levels this time,” David calls. “I think I’m going to devise your very own torture, Crystal. It will be watching me kill your girlfriend over and over again. Maybe that will finally teach you what happens when you fuck with me.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Crystal says, speaking more to herself than to Niko. “He’s not touching you.”

“We’re almost there!” Niko says and when Crystal looks up, she sees a door high above them, a figure silhouetted in the doorway.

“Girls, do hurry!” the Night Nurse calls.

“Does it look like we’re not hurrying?” But Crystal forces herself to run faster, even though it makes her legs ache and her lungs burn like they haven’t in decades.

The Night Nurse’s only response is a trilling noise like a tea kettle. Behind them, David’s taunts are getting closer and more descriptive. Crystal blocks him out, trying to focus on the doorway above and Niko’s hand in hers. There are now two figures standing behind the Night Nurse. Charles and Edwin. She thinks she hears Charles calling her and Niko’s names, but she can barely hear over the blood rushing in her own ears and David’s mocking voice.

“If you escape, I’ll just find you and drag you back down again!” David shouts. “You belong in Hell, Crystal. Deep down, you know it. You’ll always come back to me, because who else will have you?”

No one liked Crystal when she was alive. She was mean and vindictive and took out her aching loneliness on the classmates who looked down on her from the moment she stepped foot in St. Hilda’s Finishing School. They would never accept her, so she took it on herself to make their lives hell. She was so awful that it took weeks before anyone even realized she was possessed by a demon. Her own parents never even looked for her after the school covered up her death; they just went on to have a replacement daughter and moved on with their lives. Crystal wasn’t even worth mourning.

Niko’s grip on Crystal’s hand tightens, like she knows where Crystal’s mind is straying. “Me. I’ll have her. She doesn’t belong with you in Hell. She belongs with me.”

David shouts something else, something that’s surely foul, but Crystal doesn’t pay him any attention, looking up at Niko instead. She’s a Dead Girl Detective. She’s Niko’s friend, partner, and maybe more. Her parents may never have found it in themselves to mourn her, but Niko will if Crystal is dragged back down into the depths of Hell, so Crystal can’t let that happen. She can’t let David get in her head now, not after she’s spent so long blocking him out.

Besides, who cares if she was mean to her classmates back in 1916? They were all racist, classist assholes and probably deserved worse than the petty mind games Crystal played with them.

The door is right there, only steps away, close enough that Crystal can see the impatience in the Night Nurse’s expression and the fear in Charles and Edwin’s.

A hand encircles Crystal’s ankle and pulls. She falls, her hand slipping out of Niko’s, and crashes into the hard stone staircase. Her palms sting where they scrape the stone and the taste of blood in her mouth is stronger, but Crystal pays her discomfort no mind. She lashes out with her free leg, connecting with something solid. David grunts, but doesn’t let go.

“That’s right, bitch,” he says and she twists around to see him grinning down at her, his face mottled with burns from the grenade. “I’m going to make you scream your lungs out, you—”

A cricket bat hits him square in the face with a satisfying crunch. Crystal looks up, ready to start yelling, because if Charles really just walked into Hell… But no, it’s Niko standing there with Charles’s bat, face set in determined lines. She swings the bat again, connecting with David’s side, and he staggers, releasing his hold on Crystal’s ankle. She brings her foot up between his legs and that’s all it takes to send him tipping over the side into the darkness below, shrieking all the way.

“Come on.” Niko drags Crystal to her feet and pulls her up one step, two steps, three steps.

They stagger into Charles’s brightly lit apartment and Crystal falls forward, directly into Charles’s arms. He scoops her up into a hug that lifts her off her feet. If she had ribs, they’d probably be getting crushed right now. She can’t feel his embrace, but just knowing he’s there, as solid and dependable as ever, is reassuring.

“Bloody fucking hell,” he says into her hair. “You two scared the shit out of me.”

“I cannot believe you locked us in a closet,” Edwin says peevishly and Crystal looks over to see him hugging Niko, attempting to look very cross about the whole thing.

“Apparently, you two were going to follow Niko to Hell if she didn’t.” Crystal steps back from Charles, arms crossed over her chest, and glares between the two of them. “How fucking stupid can you be?”

“Oi,” Charles says indignantly. “One of my best mates got taken to Hell by her evil ex and the other one was going to follow. What was I supposed to do?”

“Stay here where you’re fucking safe!” Crystal nearly shrieks.

Charles shrugs, like his safety is of no importance. Crystal may actually kill him.

“How did you get out of the closet?” Niko asks, cutting Crystal off.

“Ah.” Edwin turns pink and tugs at his bowtie.

“I had to let them out,” the Night Nurse says severely. Crystal completely forgot she was there. She stands in front of the wall that was a portal to Hell the moment before, watching them with narrowed eyes. “I could not allow such shocking behavior to occur on my watch.”

“Shocking?” Crystal asks at the same time Niko squeals and demands, “Edwin, are those hickeys ?”

Edwin goes scarlet, which does nothing to hide the bruises trailing down the side of his neck.

“Sorry, mate.” Charles doesn’t even look a little sorry. “Guess I got carried away, didn’t I?”

“I would say so,” Edwin says severely.

Niko grabs Edwin’s hand. “Tell me everything. ”

The Night Nurse clears her throat sharply and Crystal’s nonexistent heart seems to sink into her stomach. “As delightful as this is,” the Night Nurse says in a tone that indicates that nothing about this is delightful. “A deal is a deal. Girls, it’s time to go. We can sort out the matter of your afterlife assignments at the Lost and Found Department.”

“A deal?” Crystal turns to Niko, who avoids her eyes.

“It was the only way she’d open the door to Hell,” Niko says softly.

Crystal reaches out and grabs her hand. “We have to stay together. After everything, you just can’t fucking separate us.” She can’t keep the desperation out of her voice. She’s finally realized what Niko means to her and she still has so many things she needs to say. She needs more time.

The Night Nurse smiles sweetly. “No decision has been made about your afterlife assignment as of yet, Crystal. I assure you, you and Niko will both end up exactly where you belong.”

“And what if where we belong is together?” Niko asks.

The Night Nurse lets out a gusty sigh. “I was hoping for a little more gratitude when I opened a portal to Hell, you know. Do you know how much paperwork I’m going to have to fill out? Now, chop, chop. You may have thirty seconds to say goodbye to your friends. I am not unreasonable.”

“I have a question.” Edwin steps forward and only then does Crystal realize he’s holding the Night Nurse’s book.

The Night Nurse groans. “Oh for heaven’s sake, what now?”

The thing about Edwin Payne is that Crystal hasn’t quite been able to figure out why Charles and Niko both act like rainbows and butterflies shine out of his asshole. Besides being a bit of a dick, it’s not like he can walk through mirrors, read minds, or even swing a cricket bat. He’s smart, but so is Niko. He can interact with the living, but so can Charles, who is way better with people. There’s really no reason to keep him around, but every time she says that to Charles or Niko, they act like she’s kicked a puppy.

Except, as Crystal watches Edwin argue with the fervor of a barrister making his closing argument in a courtroom drama that an obscure passage in the depths of the Night Nurse’s book means that she can’t take them away without filing a form, all she can feel is a reluctant sort of fondness. He’s clearly having the time of his life, complete with lots of hand gestures and dramatic little twirls whenever he feels like he’s made a good point. Charles looks like he may swoon; Crystal will have to tease him mercilessly later.

“Is that correct?” Edwin finally asks in the tone of someone who knows perfectly well that he’s correct and is daring anyone to argue, back ramrod straight and hands clasped behind his back.

The Night Nurse is white-faced and tight-lipped. If looks could kill, she’d be dragging Edwin off to the Lost and Found Department too. “You do appear to be correct.”

“Excellent.” Edwin hands her back her book. “Then do come back with the appropriate forms. Though if this is the standard the Lost and Found Department holds itself to, I can see why the ghosts of so many children slip through the cracks.”

Crystal snorts.

The Night Nurse draws herself up in outrage, then points at Crystal and Niko. “Don’t go anywhere.” Then she’s gone in a blink.

“Holy shit.” Crystal sags against Niko’s side. “Holy shit. ”

“Mate, that was amazing.” Charles slings an arm around Edwin’s shoulders.

Edwin shrugs, looking immensely pleased. “It was only simple reading comprehension.”

“She’s not taking us,” Niko whispers into Crystal’s neck.

“No, she’s not.” Crystal smooths her hand over Niko’s hair. She can’t feel the silkiness anymore, but after thirty-five years, her own ghostly form recognizes the energy of Niko’s. It tingles under her touch. On impulse, she pulls Niko into another kiss. This one is slow and sweet, without the franticness they shared on the steps of Hell. She can feel herself smiling stupidly into the kiss, giddy with the knowledge that she can do this now.

“Bloody finally,” she hears Charles mutter and looks around to see him grinning at them while Edwin stares determinedly at the ceiling, as mortified as if Crystal just started ravishing Niko right in front of them.

“It’s about time.” Charles closes the distance between them to pull Crystal and Niko into a hug. “Didn’t think you two would ever figure it out.”

“You’re one to talk,” Crystal mutters into his jacket.

“Only took me a few weeks. Took you lot thirty-five years and a trip to Hell. Wait, which one of you should I give the shovel talk to? Someone’s got to get the shovel talk, yeah?”

Crystal shoves him away without any heat. “Go help Edwin pack.”

Edwin arches an eyebrow at that. “And where am I going?”

“We have to get back to London before the Night Nurse comes back for us. We can come back to deal with Esther later. Obviously, you’re coming.”

His mouth drops open in surprise. “Crystal, I have school.”

“And Esther knows where you go to school and where you live, which is why you’re coming with us. There are schools in London.”

“I can’t just—”

“Mate, she’s right.” Charles takes Edwin’s hand. “It’s not safe for you here. Anyway, it’ll be brills. You can be a proper part of the Dead Girl Detectives.”

Crystal did not agree to that, but that’s something they can discuss when they’re safely out of this shit town.

Edwin looks like he might argue some more, but one glance at Charles—who has gone all wide-eyed and hopeful like a puppy dog—seems to be all the convincing he needs. “I suppose a short holiday in London wouldn’t be remiss.”

“Yay!” Niko claps her hands together. “Oh, this is going to be so fun! Edwin, we have so many books in the office. You’re going to love it!”

“Charles can tell Edwin all about the office while they’re packing.” Crystal gives Charles a pointed look.

He grins knowingly and steers Edwin towards the door. “She’s right, mate. This is going to be aces.” He hesitates at the door, looking back at them. “Just pretend I’ve given both of you a really convincing shovel talk, yeah?”

Crystal makes a rude hand gesture while Niko giggles.

The boys slip the door out hand in hand and Niko leans against Crystal. “What are the chances they’re just going to make out instead of pack?”

“High.” But Crystal doesn’t want to talk about Edwin and Charles; she’d rather talk about her and Niko. She turns to Niko, taking her hands. “When we get back to London, we should go out.”

Niko smiles. “Where would we go?”

“I have no idea.” Crystal has no idea what people do for dates in 2024, especially when those people are ghosts. It’s not like she can wine and dine Niko.

“We don’t have to.” Niko looks down at their joined hands.

“But I want to. I know you’ve always wished you got to have a real romance.” Niko is the most hopeless romantic Crystal knows, always getting misty-eyed over her mangas. The fact that she died without ever even being kissed is all the proof Crystal needs that the world is inherently bullshit.

“But I have.” Niko laughs softly. “Crystal, I’ve been in love with you since 1989.”

“ What? ”

Niko looks almost shy. “I was scared and sick and cold and then you brought me a lantern and kept me company. You were beautiful and you were so nice to me. And then I died and you showed me the ropes of being a ghost and you were so patient with me.”

“I’d been out of Hell for five minutes.” Crystal shakes her head. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

“But I didn’t know that then. You seemed so strong and brave and smart. I think I was in love with you within an hour or two. I didn’t think you loved me like that, but it didn’t really matter, because I got  to spend the last three decades with you and that’s all I ever wanted.”

Crystal bursts out laughing. “Sorry,” she says at Niko’s shocked expression, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close. “Sorry. It’s just, we’re so fucking stupid.”

Niko begins to giggle, leaning her head against Crystal’s shoulder. “We figured it out.”

“After I went to Hell.”

“It was a really dramatic first kiss. Like something out of a movie.”

“There’s that.” Crystal presses a kiss to the shell of Niko’s ear. “At least we have forever to make up for missed time.”

Niko smiles at her, as bright and beaming as the lantern she brought with her to Hell. She’s right where she belongs, in Crystal’s arms, and Crystal feels like she might burst from happiness. “Forever.”

***

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider leaving kudos and comments on AO3.

[transhitman]

Yk regardless of anyone's personal feelings on the guy something that kind of infuriates me about people discussing Curly's morality is that they only talk about how he failed to punish Jimmy, rather than how he failed to protect and support Anya... Like I get the appeal of a good revenge fantasy. I would blow up Jimmy without hesitation. But Jimmy could burn in hell for seven eternities and Anya would still be traumatized and undergoing an unwanted pregnancy. Idfc if you think Curly should have killed Jimmy or threw him in the pod or whatever. More importantly and obviously he should have put a lock on Anya's door and given her access to a safe abortion if it was possible. And if not he should have at least prioritized her feelings. Like. Fuck. The game is not about which man it's correct to hate. And in real life punishment beyond making sure an abuser can't hurt someone again is just vindictive. Solving the problem has to start with protecting and healing people who have been hurt. You are all falling into the trap of disregarding victims that the game itself is criticizing! Even in your vitriol you are making it all about the abuser!!! Like do you actually give a fuck about victims or do you just like the idea of inflicting justifiable violence on people? Quickly.

[sharenadraculea]

So, over the last few days I have seen several posts that were basically „Don‘t do anything weird (aka even vaguely sexual) with Izutsumi, she is a baby UwU and if you put her in any weird (aka even vaguely sexual) situations you are bad and gross and will burn in the eternal flames of hell UwU.“ Which annoys me, for multiple reasons:

First of all, I‘m a big proponent of Ship and let Ship and also don‘t scream at people on the internet that they are horrible for their silly little fics and keeping in mind that fiction is not reality and what people write is not necesarely what they want to do in real life.

Second, Izutsumi is not a baby. She is 17. Not seven. Seventeen. In the world of Dungeon Meshi she is a legal adult. And even in our world she is very much „Mentally prepare yourself for taxes“-age.

Does Izutsumi do things that are generally considered childish? Yeah. She wears a oversized coat. She doesn‘t like to sleep alone. She likes physical touch and cuddles. She is a picky eater. She is quite egocentric. She has a flat chest. She shows no romantic or sexual interest in anyone. She wishes for a parental/maternal figure. This absolutly does not change the fact that she is seventeen. Childish Teens and adults exist (hello, this is partly me self-projecting) and us beeing „childish“ does in no way, shape or form change the fact that we are very much not children. Childish teens and adults and also asexual and/or aromantic teens and adults are not innocent little babies that need to be protected from the „sinfull“ and „dirty“ world and if you would treat me, a aroace „childish“ young adult, like a fucking toddler, I would be very happy to throw all the smut I read and write at you.

Also like the internet is full of people that are around 17 and for which it is not weird at all to be attracted to a seventeen-yearold characters (obviously a lot of people who write about characters/draw them are not attracted to them at all, but we are all still strangers on the internet with rarelly enough infos to judge if a hyptothetical attractment would be weird or okay, whatever those terms mean to you)

And last but not least, Izutsumi also get‘s put in „weird“ situations in the manga, she isn‘t exactly treated like a little baby. Remember when Laios wanted to count her nipples?

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Twenty-Three

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: Hey, besties; sorry for the delay. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. First, one of my coworkers called off (she doesn't even work here anymore because she missed too much), and I had to do two 10-hour shifts. Then my freaking internet went out because some tree trimmers cut the connection line for everyone! And after that, I had a crisis and lost the inspiration and drive to write. This chapter is a two-parter, which I usually wouldn't say I like to do, but it would've been over 10k words. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always, thank you for reading!

Chapter Warnings: The reader has severely unresolved trauma, angst, Arryk is a white knight.

"The axe forgets; the tree remembers." - Zimbabwean Proverb from the Shona tribe.

You were still determining your place inside Maegor's Holdfast, unfamiliar with the royal wing layout like you were with the rest of the Keep, having found an abandoned terrace that the court long forgot. Leaves of green ivory crawled up the side of the castle, wrapping around the red rock banister like an unkempt tree in the Godswood.

Your eyes gazed at the iron mote of spikes that protected the Holdfast. They shined wet like a predator's teeth, grinning back at you in misery.

Your body felt full, yet empty, full of swirling emotions and thoughts you had long buried, stirring the formerly clear water into a murky pool. Yet in that same emotion, you felt nothing, the well dried up from a summer's prolonged drought left with dust and sand at the bottom. You were uncertain if the nothingness was a blessing. Conceivably, it was your psyche's way of coping with the trauma of your life's story. You were fearful that if you suddenly felt those surges of memories, thoughts, and regrets, the iron spikes would be dripping with your blood.

Your title was called out from behind you so softly and so tender it was a whisper in the wind, almost causing you to disregard it as a trick of your mind. The sound of armor clanking and fabric rustling told you otherwise.

"Princess, the hour is late. You must get your rest," Ser Arryk expressed, his voice as compassionate as a mother. You refused to answer, the energy to move your lips and tongue long sapped out from crying.

He stepped onto the balcony until he was beside you, his arms stiff behind his back, shoulders tense at the silence. Arryk was conflicted about what to do. He knew he could not order you to sleep. His position was not one to command the eldest daughter of Daemon Targaryen, but he was assigned to be your sworn protector in all matters, whether defending you from a foe or yourself.

"My Lady, you need not speak of what has stolen you from sleep, but let it take no longer. I shall lead you to your bed chambers," the kingsguard offered kindly, leaving no room for rejection.

Finally, your eyes met his blue ones, seeing your black lashes clumped together from tears. Arryk wanted to comfort and embrace you as any good-natured person would but refrained, simply placing an inviting palm on your shoulder. He had seen you at your worst years ago after your brawl with the Septa, knuckles swollen and red with the blood of the older woman, beautiful face pink and glistening with tears down your cheeks.

Otto Hightower, be damned. Damned to the fiery pits of the Seven Hells to burn for all eternity for what he made Arryk do. You were too dear to the knight to betray your trust anymore. Though Ser Arryk never discovered any hurtful information other than the peculiarity of you and the eldest son of the King's relationship. He spent every waking moment inhaling the same air as you, breathing in each exhale like it was his last. How could he ever betray your trust in good conscience?

"Aegon was the one who discovered Lyra's plans to smuggle me out of Kings Landing. He killed them." Your words tore him from his internal struggle with shock.

Arryk's brows scrunched in confusion, trying to recall what you were saying. His face paled when he did, remembering the blotchy grey faces displayed on the battlements of the Red Keep for all to see, for all to see the Hand's justice. May Lord Hightower's death be long and painful for what he did to you, Arryk thought.

"I wish Aegon were dead," you spoke aloud without realizing it.

The knight became worried, suddenly closing the distance between you to make somehow your confession disappear. "Princess. You must be careful what you say here. The walls have ears, and the ears have eyes."

"No, Ser Arryk. Let them hear it," you protested, your nails digging crescents into your palms. "Mayhaps they will understand the agony I have suffered all these years. The mornings and nights I have laid awake in bed, praying to the Old Gods and the New for them to somehow bring her back and make it so nothing happened." You sucked in a ragged breath, hiccuping from the remnants of your tears as your body became too challenging to carry. "I cannot do this anymore. I cannot be here."

The kingsguardmen did not understand your true meaning of how you desired greatly to leave this whole charade behind, to return to Dragonstone and watch little Joffery and the younger Viserys and Aegon grow into their skins, to watch Lucerys become the man you were confident for him to be. Instead, Arryk thought the worst, believing your words to be final and life-ending, as he firmly grabbed your biceps.

He said your name gently yet sternly, causing your glazed eyes to widen. "You must not think like that. I shan't allow it," he commanded. "You are the strongest maiden in the realm. You ride the fiercest dragon, feared by humans and its species. You have endured hardships and trials a girl of your age should never have to, and even when your blood was stolen from you, you did not turn to resentment. You were not bitter to those undeserving."

You attempted to move your face away from Arryk's, unconvinced at his words. He was so close that you could smell the mint leaves on his tongue. "You are stronger than you know, and until then, each moment like this, you will feel as if it is too much, but you will always find yourself emerging on the other side."

No words made their way to your lips, and you suddenly felt the rush of emotions you had thought dried. You stepped away from Arryk, embracing your torso as you faced the opened doors that led inside. You didn't want to feel anything. Not now, nor ever again. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you returned to the silver-armored knight of the Kingsguard.

"I seem to have lost my bearings, Ser Arryk," you whispered into the chill night air. "Will you help me find my way back to the guest wing?"

The request was a peace offering, a silent "thank you" for his unfailing kindness. If he had not dedicated his life in service to the King, he would've made an excellent father and an even better husband.

Ser Arryk nodded stiffly, taking long strides ahead of you until all you could see was his pristine white cape flowing like a field of wheat in the wind.

***

You desperately desired to stay within the confines of your bed, as if laying underneath the thin cotton sheets would protect you from the outside world. It was silly, and you felt childish, but truly, that was all you were—a child disguised as a woman painting a facade of fierceness and maturity on your skin. But the pigments had cracked and bleached from weathering winds, rains, and suns until it revealed the canvas underneath. You wished desperately for the chips to be covered, groping at your flesh to hide them from the world.

But it was too late, for they had seen the peeled paint and what lay beneath—a frightened young girl yearning for acceptance and love.

Tears returned to your eyes, a common occurrence over the past fortnight. Your maids had become used to seeing you sniffling in your bed as you were now, covers tucked underneath your nose to hide your sobs. They had tried more than once to find the root of your sadness, but you were a closed door, keeping those who cared for you locked from entering.

Helaena had moved your quarters to the Holdfast as she promised, something you were initially looking forward to. It meant less sneaking around the halls and the corridors of the Keep like a mouse to find Aegon, but that was why precisely you dreaded it now. Though you had scarcely seen him, no doubt drunker than a Bravosi sailor in the pillow houses, the fact that he resided within the same wing made your skin prickle with disgust.

He had yet to return your dagger, small and silver with dragons on the hilt, and you had half a mind to storm inside his chambers for it, but each time you were within eyesight of his door, profound nausea and the sting of tears would stop you.

How could you have lain with the man who bore the blood of two innocents? How could Aegon lay with the kin of the people he sentenced to death? You knew him to be cruel and unusual, but that was something even you could not rightly justify.

Aegon was no matter, you told yourself, rising from your bed at the smell of ham and boiled eggs. All that did was ensuring your Mother's smooth succession. You could achieve it in other manners of not seducing the eldest son of the King. Your presence was something enough to stop them should the Stranger take your Grandsire, and if Queen Alicent and Lord Otto Hightower try to place Aegon on the throne, you would gut her, then her Father, then her beloved first son before the following morn.

You would kill a legion of men before Aegon ever sat upon the Iron Throne, even if it meant your demise.

It's what your Father would want. He would proudly let his daughter lay down her life in service to the crown, just as he would. There would be no nobler of a death.

Jeyne had readied your bath and outfit for the day, a high-collared dress made of black satin. Small silver plates of metal and beads that looked like dragon scales were sewn on the torso in a 'v' shape, accentuating the scandalous low cut of your gown. The sleeves were a long, unsewn style, the stitching keeping them together ending just before the crook of your arm and flowing around you like a cape at your sides. You paired it with an ornate belt, the design of swirling dragons with their teeth bared melted into the steel,  matching hammered cuffs on your wrists. Your necklace was a simple chain, needlelike links dripping down your sternum until they looped into your house sigil. 

You looked to be in mourning garbs rather than the typical court colors, a common occurrence. Perhaps you were, in a sense, mourning. Mourning a loss you should have accepted years ago, weeping for happiness free of politics and schemes, mourning the connection from someone you tried so hard not to form one with.

The three ladies had learnt not to ask why you made such decisions in your clothes. They would only be met with a lie and a smile that stretched a bit too wide. They understood that something had happened and did their best to tread carefully. You were not cross with them, no matter how hurt, vengeful, or angry. Fiora, Jeyne, and Dyanna were innocent in all this, as Sara was, and you refused to have them involved with any of your personal affairs in fear of what would become of the three women.

You paused momentarily, adjusting the designed belt to rest comfortably on your waist, realizing the littlest maid was not there.

"Where is Dyanna?" you asked calmly, curious but not concerned about where she could be. "Is she unwell?"

"No, Princess," Fiora answered, ushering you to the vanity. "She's been assigned to care for Princess Helaena's children after one of the nursemaids fell ill and had to be sent home."

Your brows scrunched in confusion, frowning at the memory of your time with the young Prince and Princess. You have seen the little ones almost every day since the beginning of the planting season, and you haven't noticed any ailments in their caretaker.

You reasoned that illnesses always had the potential to be a sudden onset of symptoms. You had seen in your childhood on the merchant streets how a vendor was acceptable one day, selling different fruits and vegetables you could never afford, then the next, gone without a trace due to a fever. You hoped Jaehaerys and Jaehaera did not catch whatever it was. The first decade of a child's life was the most precarious, their tiny bodies not used to the dirt and disease the realm had to offer.

You left the thought at that, hoping to see the skittish, fair-skinned girl with them. A grimace made its way to your face, attempting to ignore how the wooden comb snagged on a tangle in your hair. Fiora styled it into a braided updo. Two thick plaits in a 'u' shape lay at your skull's base, a silver three-layered chain with black star sapphires pinning it to your hair. Clasping a pair of fan-shaped earrings in your lobes, you stood, stealing one last boiled egg before bidding your ladies farewell and greeting Ser Arryk at the door.

He followed wordlessly, as any knight should, observing how your hips slightly swayed with each step of your leather slippers. Arryk had tread carefully since that scornful night. Since the night you reeked of sweat, alcohol, and tears. He remembered seeing the stars reflected in your dark eyes, the violet hidden during the hour of the wolf, and he couldn't help but think how things might have been if your Father wasn't a Targaryen.

Perhaps he could've met you before he swore to take no wife and bear no heirs. Possibly still while he was a simple bannermen, living from allowance to allowance. Arryk would not have the luxuries he had now if it happened, but if ever given a chance, he might leave it all behind. It would be a shame to leave the highest rank a knight of lower-born descent could achieve, but he would do it for love, for only if you loved him back.

Your guard had suddenly stopped following behind you, standing idly with a slight wrinkle on his forehead and hand on the pommel of his sword.

"Ser Cargyll?" you questioned without words incredulously, tilting your head to the side.

He was silent for a moment more, seeming to come back from wherever he was inside his mind. It was a dangerous place to be inside one's head for too long. It sent some men mad, some women to despair, and some to where they could never leave. You knew what it was like when one would stay inside too long. It sent you reeling in anger, sadness, and joy. There is too much inside not to get lost in.

"Princess, this is not the way to the Godswood," Ser Arryk stated, the crease on his forehead gone.

"I know, Ser. We are not going to the Godswood today," you answered politely, not elaborating further as you continued walking.

"If you don't mind me asking, your Grace, where are we going?"

You flashed a bright smile at Arryk, glancing behind before coyly turning away. He started at the back of your intricately braided hair, mesmerized by the being that was you. His eyes traced how your ebony strands crossed in on themselves, the way the golden chains bounced with every stride. The knight noiselessly cursed the Maiden and the Mother for making you in their image.

While Ser Arryk did recognize the halls you traveled, he was sure you didn't. Your head twists and turns each way, peering into every door and threshold, searching for something he was unsure of.

"Princess, I may be a knight, but I am your protector. 'Tis my right to know your plans and destinations," he commanded as kindly a man could in hopes of not securing your wrath.

He had seen it once before in the training yard at the hour of ghosts, Prince Aegon standing too close to be considered appropriate, his sworn protector nowhere in sight. Despite Arryk's place on the ramparts above and the sun having long set in the west, he could spot the twitches underneath your eye, barely containing malice on your pursed lips as you pulled your bowstring. The knight hadn't noticed how you did it, but a rock was within the place of the arrow as you shot it at the crown Prince's foot, earning a yelp from the twenty-year-old lecher.

You turned back to him, crossing your arms with an undignified huff. "I am not gallivanting off into the Kingswood, Ser Cargyll. I do not understand your persistence with the matter." Arryk attempted to hide the frown that pulled his lips, but you saw him sighing softly and looking to the floor to think over your words more carefully. "We are visiting Grand Maester Orwyle. He has a collection of history and law books that has peaked my interest."

You stepped towards him, breathing a calming breath through your nose, and dropped your arms. Ser Arryk was a fragile soul, simple almost, only following the linear path of honor and duty with no concern for whether it was right or wrong. If the King said it, he did it. If the Queen said it, he did it. If you said it, he did it. His singular vision of things was almost admirable at times. To blindly follow orders without the moral guilt of your actions was something you hoped for. It would make things easier in this game of thrones and less heavy to bear.

But that wasn't life. That wasn't the fate the Gods intended for those with responsibility, though many attempted. Rhaenyra tried, and if you were her, impending the ever-looming doom of the crown, you too would stay tucked away in the little world where life felt light.

Arryk took your stillness as an invitation to walk alongside you, silently leading you to the Maester's quarters and saving your pride from ignorance. You ordered him to stay outside, and he obeyed without a second thought, dipping his head and muttering, "Princess."

Maester Orwyle was hunched over a large oak desk, tomes scattered across it, pieces of parchment covering most of the surface; peeking between them were lighter patches on the wood worn from centuries of usage. It was a simple room with a cot at the far end of it, large bookcases occupying most of the space. Multiple candles were lit throughout the dim room, the smell of incense burning heavily. Shelves lined the bare walls, glass bottles of liquids, salves, and dried herbs occupying them.

The brown-skinned man looked up from his work upon your entrance, sitting the quill he was writing with inside the inkwell and standing.

"Princess, how can I help you?" he asks sincerely. You could still recall when you first met him, scribbling notes and assisting the former Maester Mellos as he tended to you.

"I was inquiring if I may borrow some books of laws from your collection. I find myself not reading the correct ones in the library to assist my studies."

You weren't lying. You couldn't find the text you were searching for because it was not only laws. It was the death records of prisoners, and only the keeper of those things had access to them in their collection.

"Ah. I see," Orwyle nodded, rising from his desk and clasping his hands behind his canvas robes. He led you across the room, showing you to the section. "May I ask what specificity you require so that I may lead you to the correct tome?"

You planned for him to ask you this, and as you rehearsed a dozen times in your head, you smiled, bobbing politely. "Of course. I am in search of the laws regarding war aid. We have provided some to the Stepstones, and Lord Corlys brought to my attention that they require more. I do not want to make it seem like the Crown is inserting itself into the conflict."

He beamed slightly, a sight you never recalled seeing on the man before as he directed you to the section of law. An entire side of the bookshelf dedicated to just that, tomes of varying shades of green, brown, and black, and you blanched at the sight. What would the records be like if this was only the law section? Would you have time to sort through them all to find the one you need?

"Thank you," you said, concealing the sudden rush of anxiety within your gut. "I realized that your collection was vast, but this is..." you trailed off, gesturing to everything around you, "expansive. How do you ever keep track of them all?"

Orwyle chuckled, seeming to preen under what he took as praise, bowing in gratefulness. "It is not all from me, Princess. Each book has been added with every Maester since they were brought to the Keep. We simply divide each shelf by memory, though we try to keep the subjects together."

"That is..." you couldn't find the right words, truly at a loss for them as you stared at the collection before you, "extraordinary. You must show me everything!"

You took his arm in yours, leading him out of the secluded area like a child with their playmate, giggling like an unwed maiden as you skipped along. Orwyle was surprised by your giddy demeanor, contrasting the dim and almost gloomy atmosphere despite the late morning sun shining through the tall stained glass windows. The Maester was alone within these four walls, writing, studying, and mixing away with the occasional Lord or Lady stopping by. To have such radiant company was a welcomed intrusion to his duty-filled days.

Men are so easy. All you had to do was smile demurely, flutter your lashes, and they would eat shit out of the palm of your hand.

Orwyle guided you, explained how each section was organized, and added his anecdotes. You listened intently, nodding along to every word, no matter how minute it seemed. This endeavor had proven more fruitful than you intended. The Maester had enjoyed your company so much that he invited you back, insisting that you could pick whatever book you wished before he left to return to his work.

And so you did. Traversing to your rooms with six tomes piled high in your limbs before Ser Arryk insisted he carry some, keeping one hidden between the stack within your hold.

Once you reach your chambers, your sworn shield follows you, placing the stacks on a table with neatly stacked parchment, a letter sealed with the Targaryen emblem in black wax resting beside your writing set. You catch Arryk eyeing it for longer than appropriate, and you purposely meet his gaze, a raised brow on your face.

"That is all, Ser Cargyll. I thank you for your assistance." You never fail to detect how he stiffens when you say his title, a quirk you've been unable to comprehend.

As always, he bows and takes his leave, shutting the door noiselessly behind him. When the lock clicks, your hands immediately snatch the letter, knowing who it's from. You lived for the notes from your family; they were the lifeline that kept you afloat in the brackish waters of Kings Landing. It was your only form of communication with them, and you looked ahead to whatever they had to say, no matter how asinine or mundane the contents were.

You ripped the wax seal without care, devouring each word, your eyes moving too fast for your mind to keep up. You could quickly tell it was from your Father, the lines of his letters thicker and more potent than your Mother's, his writing purposeful.

"Daughter,

I hope you find yourself well. Your Mother missed you dearly at Jacaerys' nameday this spring, but she looks forward to seeing you for Luke's later this year. I informed her that you are dealing with matters of importance that require your attention and would be unable to attend. Death comes when we least expect it with crowned heads and ambitious hands."

Tears stinging took you from reading, pursuing your lips to keep them from wetting the document and making the ink illegible. You longed to return to Dragonstone and see your family. Smell the scent of brimstone and salt and feel the damp sea air on your skin as you rode Cannibal high above Dragonmont.

Daemon's reasoning was understandable, but it hurt. It made your heart clench and your chest feel hollow. Resting your forehead on the heel of your palm, the letter in the other, you continued.

"I know this will upset you, but I trust you'll understand my reasoning. We must make sacrifices until your Mother sits on the throne uncontested. You see the concept of duty and loyalty to your kin. You've always been the one out of my children to unwaver in your will, and that is something I admire.

I received word from Lord Dalton Greyjoy, who has proposed marriage just as you said. Your wit and cunning never cease to amaze me, daughter. I still need to send word regarding my decision. I wanted you to be the one to decide.

Lord Greyjoy is a fine match for you. His fleet of long boats and swords rivals that of the crown itself, but I hold my reservations regarding his intentions with you. I believe you have outdone yourself, for he seems bewitched, intent on making you his Rock Wife, and I am unsure if that is harmful or helpful. I've heard the rumors of his treatment regarding his Salt Wives, and I will not tolerate such things toward my eldest child. Should you accept his proposal, and he does not honor his duty as lord husband, I shall cut off his cock and throw it into the sea as a gift for his Drowned God.

Think over this. I do not expect an answer within a moon. If he truly desires you in such a way, he will wait as long as you deem fit. My daughter is not a shiny coin to be plucked and placed in a crow's nest.

Expect a letter from Lucerys soon. He's been inquiring about your happiness. I believe he misses you more than your Mother and I put together. I await your next raven with patience.

Yours Respectfully, Prince Daemon Of House Targaryen"

You scoffed, throwing the letter haphazardly across the table. You knew the proposal from Lord Dalton would come eventually, as you had corresponded for the past seven moons. It was a gratifying distraction you should have taken seriously, your letters filled with much less pomp than was expected for a woman of your status. Possibly, in your lack of care, you inadvertently wooed him as his last raven was treading the line of inappropriate. You remembered how his words made you, a girl who spent her early years in a whore house, blush.

He would be an excellent match politically, and perhaps you could grow to love him, even better his treatment of his Salt Wives. But you knew better. Lord Dalton Greyjoy only loved two things in this world: bloodshed and women. He would grow tired of you swifter than you would him, and it was not proper for women of the realm to have paramours, hypocrisy be damned.

You didn't want to give the situation more thought. Your Father permitted you to mull; you would gladly take it, opening the records book hidden between the stacks.

The pages were easy enough to navigate. The Masters, if not anything, were thorough, creating an index of years in ascending order to the most recent. Your finger paused on the one you remembered so well. The year in which you were stolen everything that might have been. The year that the Stranger claimed two souls earlier than they should have.

You turned the pages.

The smell of aged leather and parchment wafted into the air, nearly choking on its scent in the back of your throat. They arranged the death records from the first of the year to the end of it, and you searched for the seventh moon. On the fifth day, only two deaths are recorded, that of two prisoners named Lyra Black and Sara Smithe. The cause was beheaded by members of the City Watch.

It did not say the names of who, an intelligent choice on the Maester's part, for if you knew, their deaths would become sooner. They were lucky Mellos or one of the many others had the foresight not to write them down, as other Maesters had, but it only made this all the more exciting. The satisfaction as you plunged your dagger into their necks, slicing through tendons, muscles, and vertebrae, ensuring they felt every bit of suffering, anguish, and fear Lyra and Sara felt.

It would be messy. There were many veins and arteries within one's neck. You needed to bring some water with you to wash before returning to your chambers. It would all be for naught if someone saw you walking the halls with blood dripping from your digits and face.

You wished it would be the dagger Daemon had gifted you for your first name day to cut through their flesh, but Aegon still possessed it.

It was no matter. You had four more from the past, but that one, with its silver handle and roaring dragons engraved on both sides, held a place deep within your heart. And Aegon took it, as he always did with things. Take, take, take without concern about who he stole from. You would get it back, but not now. That would raise too much suspicion, and you would not put it past the eldest Prince to run to his Grandsire or Mother as he has done before.

You tried to recollect that fateful night, searching your memory for any detail you could sounder up, but it was hazy. The years you had blurred the picture of the throne room in your mind's eye. It was too painful to remember. Each time you thought of it, it was flashes, little glimpses of faces and bodies and heads. When you thought of it, all you could see was Lyra's smile, spending her last moments trying to reassure you, the fear behind Sara's eyes within her shackles, Otto Hightower's indifference, and Alicent's inaction in the face of two innocents deaths. You would never forget that, nor ever forgive.

You were scarcely in the Great Hall for a moment, and even then, your attention was elsewhere. You witnessed Ser Criston Cole grabbing you, pulling you back, the Queen turning away, and Lyra's comforting grin. Then, you saw them, gaze following the loops of the metal chain attached to Lyra and Sara, hands gripping at it as if the two women were nothing more than dogs. You met the eyes of two Gold Cloaks. You did not know their names, but you would soon; their countenance now burned into your mind.

Masterlist of Series

I've decided to change my uploading schedule from Sun/Mon to whenever possible. I'll always let you know before I post so you won't have to ask, "when are you going to post?!" I know that's not fun, but it works best for me because I get myself so worked up over updating on time when I'm in control of the situation. Also, I'm going to be getting rid of people in my taglist who haven't interacted with this fi since the list is so big. I want to have it all in one and make room for those who are active. So if you've been in my notifs in the past two months, you'll be fine. Welp, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The chapters are gonna get a little messy from here! xD

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @daenerysqueenofhearts, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @prettywhenicry, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @rachelnicolee, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @somemydayy, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @sunfyresrider, @heavenly1927, @prettylittlelady, @hjgdhghoe,