#few cliffhangers could compare to that

[fandomrouletteburrito]

Finished s1 of Code Geass

What the fuck was that

[diejager]

BEGGING I WAS LEFT ON A CLIFFHANGER FOT THE MONSTER AU 141 😭😭😭😭😭

pretty pretty please 🙏🙏

Only Human pt.2

Pairing: Monster Task Force 141 + König & Horangi x reader

Cw: canon-typical violence, hate, xenophobia, mention of racism, blood and violence, injury, fighting, protective 141, trauma?, anxiety, tell me if I missed any. wc: 6.3k

Only Human Masterlist

Previous

You still wonder, to this day, why you were needed on the Task Force. It worked like a well-oiled machine when put to the task, nearly unstoppable in the face of enemies. Although you were prideful to call it your home, you felt lacking compared to them, all much stronger, fiercer, and nimbler than you in every aspect, separated by miles of distance. One thing, however, that you could wield with an iron fist was your human nature and people’s fear of newly implemented hybrids. The public expression from governments about welcoming them into their ranks and their society without staying hidden under the pretence of being sick or behind a veil of secrecy. 

You, after seeing how many Joint Task Forces and other Teams treated the 141, decided to deal with the introductions, the medium, the pacifier, between every team. Humans tended to react differently to another human than to a hybrid, they were nicer, less brutal and honest (a kind that held little spite). Laswell seemed more agreeable to your idea when you first came up to her with it, having seen the hate sent to hybrids she worked with. She encouraged you to be the first to interact or stand beside Price when he greeted human soldiers. Price, unlike Laswell, was reluctant at first. His instinct of protection and possession of his hoard made him less open to such ideas, especially if it brought you some, if any, backlash from other humans (humans are cruel, they shun what they don’t understand, they fear it and push to control it, if not, they destroy it. The need to control every aspect of their life made humans ruthlessly unremorseful and unsympathetic to other causes.).

As a tight-knit TF, some decisions are taken in votes, by hearing what the others thought of the idea or plan and his one was harsh. Ghost was hard-pressed on keeping you between them, the little, fleshy human of their Task Force (the youngest) and to let them deal with xenophobic glares while keeping you protected. Alejandro was similarly worried, but he knew the outcome of letting you speak first or accompany Price. He was torn. The others, Soap, Gaz and Rudy, seemed onboard, with the kind of why the fuck not? kind of look on their faces. Soap especially, he’d be able to stick close to you without having to hover over you like a protective guard dog. 

Seeing the votes in your favour, he let it pass, and no sooner had they needed to meet a second team - human soldiers - for the next deployment. You stood beside Price when he strutted down the walkway, shoulders broad and back straight, an image of a strong and fearless leader with his draconic tail flailing lowly. He, as intended, greeted them first, rank and name before he presented you, his little human helper with humans. They’d taken better to speaking to you, being spoken by one of their own rather than a hybrid. He saluted you more amicably and more sincerely:

“Pleasure meeting you, Hunter.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Captain.”

Although it wasn't without its setbacks, the operation went well, you had been able to come out mostly unscathed, leaving a few enemies on the brink of death for Ghost to savour. He was most thankful, a part of his body dissolving into the finest mist as they washed over the living bodies sprawled on the ground. You watched on, mesmerised by the uncanny way Ghost’s body absorbed the bodies of others, flooding the area with his shadow while you stayed unbothered, in the same condition as he first started. His darkness reached your neck, covering you in a soft cover of warmth as he ground the bodies to ash and dust. His skin was cold, but his powers were darkly hot, burning with the embers of hell, of a dead soul coming back for revenge and evilness.

Beyond the fact that your idea worked, you liked feeling useful to them, having a semblance of usefulness in a team of extremely competent beings. You felt with first greetings from then on, smiling and saluting to the leading figures of the groups you’d work alongside. It lessened the weight on Price to appease and pacify the new additions, he’d be able to fare better with the operators now that they had a different welcome, a different kind of greeting. It played into the minds of wary men that a human was the one to greet them, that one of theirs was leading the hybrids for them. You played the perfect example of a soldier for any xenophobic bastard. 

Ghost, while still feared, received fewer glares than he usually would, occasional ones from daring or bold soldiers holding a lower rank than him, but he appreciated your attempts at making them more comfortable. He’s used to the negative reactions, had been since his childhood, but you seemed to make him feel like he deserved better, like he shouldn’t be glared, spat and scoffed at.

Soap, Rudy and Alejandro looked like human men in peak condition, if only for Soap and Alejandro’s glowing eyes and heightened strength and agility. Rudy was somewhat human, he looked and acted like one, down to the DNA, but with the title of cadejos vessel came powers. Perhaps not as strongly affecting as the rest of the hybrids, but he had subtle changes in his molecular making. 

Gaz had stares coming left and right, daggers sent his way for having wings and talons he couldn’t will them to disappear, to recess under his skin and wear the appearance of a human man. He felt the heaviest blow by both not being able to cover his gifts and the colour of his skin. Although you wanted to proclaim that your new age came with more open-minded people, you knew that it simply couldn’t fix hundreds of years of standards in a few decades. People would still judge others by the tone and colour of your skin, they’d still hate the different and the strange; just like they hated hybrids. So you kept to his side most often after your introductions, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close, letting him embrace you with a protective wing and a grateful smile.

You mostly worked hand in hand with human-filled teams and spear-headed human-led operations. So you were shocked, frozen to your core, when you saw a tiger haetae hybrid beside a tall, veiled operator walking down the cargo ramp. The hybrid, a tiger variant from the black-striped, orange tail that flickered slowly in a warning to any approaching beings. Dark glasses and a mask covered his face, his jacket and vest riding to the edge of his jaw, covering any skin from showing, though his lower back was left uncovered for the comfort of his swaying tail. He was neither short nor tall, he was tall enough to be slightly over the average height, but his teammate dwarfed him.

Perhaps his enormous height was an aspect of his monster half, or maybe he had the perfect genes to hold such a frame. He too, like his haetae operator, hid his face under a veil with maroon tears painted under his eyes. Like Ghost, he was covered head to toe in equipment and clothes, a jacket, a vest, gloves and black paint around his eyes. Whoever this was had both height and mass, burly arms and broad shoulders eclipsed by a slim waist and equally, disastrously thick thighs. On their left arm were flags, one from South Korea and the other from Austria.

They were the only ones to walk out, the only ones to approach you. Then your TF only had two new faces to work with rather than a whole team. You were tempted to say it would be easier, you waited until they stopped for Price - Price only - to greet them since they wouldn’t need a human to negate any aggressiveness between human and hybrid - or so you thought. They moved in synchrony, Price stepping forward to cover you with his body, his back facing you as he crossed his arms. Ghost and Alejandro had moved next to the captain, covering your sides. Alejandro had crossed his arm in a similarly menacing way, and Ghost stood still, body rigid but ready to strike at a moment’s notice; both were glaring ahead. Soap and Rudy took their places behind the colonel and the lieutenant, arms glued on their sides, weapons within reach with menacing stares towards the Korean and the Austrian. Gaz’s wings grazed you, soft feathers wrapping themselves around you and pulling you into his chest, acting as a protective cocoon for you. 

“What-?”

They moved so quickly and efficiently that they seemed to suddenly appear in place, back straight and protective. Protective of you. Hybrids, from what you’d heard from couples and families, were possessive of their own, caring and extremely wary of other hybrids they hadn’t formed a bond with. Your TF was your pack, they were all tethered to each other through the familial bond they formed over the years. Then you came in, small and weak with your human self into a den of lions, thrown to be subjugated to their loving mercy and sinfully strong personalities. 

The team of six hybrids encased you, barring the KorTac specialists from seeing you. Monsters and hybrids could sense one another - from what you heard - and they reacted instinctively. You saw their bodies tense as the two approached your team, muscles strained under the compacting anxiety and possessiveness. You could neither see over their shoulders nor feel what was happening, they stopped farther from you than you’d expected and you couldn’t see their feet. 

The only sign you had was your captain’s gravelly voice welcoming them, his tail swaying like a cat’s tail, a slow, cautious motion. It - knowingly or unknowingly, seeing as Price acted on a mix of instincts and worry - wrapped around your ankle, clinging tightly to your boot-clad leg while a rumble rattled his chest. Steam rolled from his lips, billowing over the top of his hat in a show of power and warning. You hoped they wouldn’t take this negatively. They worked hard to curb the harmful rumours of 141 being beasts in human skin, acting like blood-thirsty and ravaging monsters that cared for nothing but themselves. 

Although you couldn’t see them, the Austrian could, his towering height assured that he could see over almost any human, monster and hybrid alike. He was curious about the way they protected one of theirs as if you were weak. He cocked his head, green eyes gleaming red as he stared silently at the small mop of hair between them. What made you so important? What made you such a protected soldier? He couldn’t sense you like he could the others, their scent and magic masking yours in a violent torrent. 

Unlike him, his friend couldn’t be bothered with the show of protection, he’d enrolled for the money and wouldn’t be deterred by much. He was a tiger haetae, honourable to a certain extent and proud. He might be shorter than the hybrids around him, but he was as vicious and talented as the next. He, however, was slightly curious, but he wasn’t paid enough to inquire or worry about the doings of 141’s pack.

It went as well as anyone would expect for the 141 with the added help of two military, hybrid operators from an elite PMC. As the combat medic of the TF, you followed them from behind and moved to the middle when you entered the building. You’d usually be at the back, being a medic, but you were a combat medic, having seen and participated in complete ops dealing with infiltrations and hostage rescue. You were an integral part of every mission. Now that they had a medic on hand, the wounds the men suffered could be treated in place rather than wait for the long ride home with the possibility of letting infection take root in the gash and watching it fester during hours in the carrier. 

They had a habit of getting shot and slashed, a tad bit reckless in their ways but still effective. The stress of risking infection or the impossibility of reaching a medic after a mission was lessened, Price would still be able to live a few more centuries before his hair turned grey with nerves and his face wrinkled with frowns. You were a treasure beyond the fact that you were extremely helpful and insightful on your own. Your hands were steady and your demeanour calm and collected (albeit fidgety when put under too much pressure and fiery when someone looked at them differently.), you were a beauty, someone they needed to nurse and protect. 

“I warned you about standing so close to the explosion!” They watched you berate Soap, cheeks puffed and lips pulled in an adorable pout. You went on a list of things he could’ve done better and safer than the decision he made, hands pulling the bandage around his arm, your bag set beside you. 

“How was I supposed ta know?” The werewolf grumbled, giving you his best version of his “puppy dog eyes'' while he slouched back, trying to sit as comfortably as possible on the hard seats of the aircraft carrier. 

“You’re a demolition expert, you’re supposed to know, Soap.” You hissed, tightening the wrap and smoothing it over so that it would hold. Your hand dipped into your bag, pulling out a few alcohol wipes for his face. With a jerky motion of your hands, you broke the seal and started patting his bleeding cuts from shrapnel and grazes from bullets. He winces with every dab, fidgeting in his seat while you disinfected his wounds, wiping away the dirt and blood before deeming it clean enough to move to the next one. “You also have a habit of setting things on fire.”

Although you mumbled it so quietly, the others heard you clearly, laughter rumbling out of the others while they watched Soap being scolded by the youngest. You never feared reprimanding them for an idiotic act that would result in having you tending to them, it was something they appreciated, the familiarity and comfort you had with them. They weren’t monsters, hybrids or anything with you, they were your family. 

Seeing you so at ease with them had König and Horangi curious, most would cower or segregate themselves from other hybrids. You especially, seeing as you were the only human with them, they thought it’d be normal to see you shrink onto yourself and ignore the world around you while you waited to return home. Yet here you were, berating a werewolf for cuts and bruises that would heal in the following days, his metabolism prevented infection and permanent scarring unless it was too deep or deadly. They’d simply add to his rugged handsomeness.

König wondered if you’d show him the same amount of compassion and ease when you tended to his wounds - if he ended up having any at all. Would your hands be soft like his mother’s when cradling his arm? Would you whisper soft nothings to him while you cleaned his gashes with antiseptics? Would you also scold him for being reckless? He doubted that. Granted, he was extremely reckless and lost himself to the adrenaline pumping through his system when he entered the field, but he always came out unscathed. As a percht hybrid, his extreme enhancements made him practically numb to pain and sensations, with the small exceptions of a few primarily driven emotions or natural reactions to certain stimuli.

Perhaps, if your efforts were thwarted by his immense height, you’d hold and tend to him as softly as you did with the others, running your fingers through his hair and cradling him against your chest. He thirsted for something mundane, something so human-like that he would be reminded that he wasn’t completely a monster. He missed the softness in people’s gazes or the carefree way they spoke to and with him. He missed being reminded that he - too - was a living being with their rights. You could be the start of a regular life - as regular as a mercenary could have.

Even Horangi, who had vehemently stated to König that he could care less about the small, weak human in the operation, gave you the merit of being strong-willed and confident enough to stand beside them. He, the ever prideful and strong hybrid he was, deemed you competent for a human. Your usefulness started with your quick reactions and impeccable skills in your field and stopped when you couldn’t save someone, which had yet to happen. He was intrigued by the workings of your TF, how they managed to score a single human and an amicable one at that, strong and fierce, yet gentle and compassionate. If he’d grown up with someone like you, would he have turned out the way he did? 

He simply watched from his corner beside König, through tinted glasses his eyes followed your movement, memorising everything you did for your brothers. They felt like imposters in your small, seven-men group, seemingly standing awkwardly in their little corner. 141 had shown a bit of aggression towards them in warning words and deadly glares when they assumed you didn’t see them, hissing out threats to ensure your safety among them. Not only were they confused by the dynamic, but they weren’t told anything besides “Back off” and growls. 

After patting Gaz’s knee, giving him an oscar winning smile with gleaming eyes that were received with enthusiasm, you packed your things in your bag and moved to the next patient. You skipped Price, Ghost and Rudy, crouching in front of Alejandro. Rummaging through your bag and handing him a clean wipe for his dust-covered face, the soot clinging to his cheeks. He expected you to sit by your locked rifle after checking them, but you continued walking. You were heading towards them.

He knew König left the ground unscathed, clean of anything but dirt and blood, which meant he was the one you were heading towards. Hand on your pouch and a steady step backed up by a determined expression, you stopped before him. He tilted his head, a silent question. You blinked dumbly, holding out your hand to him, your small fingers backing him to give you something.

“Can I see your hand?”

His hand? He hadn’t thought much of it as he rested it on yours, palm upwards and gloveless. He saw it then, the small cut that bled red, small enough to be neglectable, but long enough to still be bleeding. He hadn’t felt anything from it before or after boarding the aircraft, he must’ve still been riding the adrenaline rush from the fight. He wondered how you knew he hurt himself.

Your fingers curled around his palm, holding it firmly as you lightly dabbed the inflamed skin with a sterilised tissue, being careful of the flared sides of his torn flesh. Under the blood and dirt, his skin was pale and swollen, the area having demanded his body to react to the potential bacteria that would worm its way into his system. You threw the bloody tissue aside and got an antiseptic wipe, being careful to not irritate his wound. Your care was gentle and patient. To a being like him, a hybrid and KorTac op, gentle and patient were foreign words to him. None were gentle to hybrids and none were patient with mercenaries. 

Even as you wrapped the gauze and bandage around his hand, you gave him all your attention, sweetly cradling his hand between yours and nursing his gash with utmost care. It felt alien, the soothingly soft care of a medic. Other medics would’ve stared at him with disgust or hate if he walked near the infirmary, or they were rough and uncaring towards his needs. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, the sudden realisation of his silence in the face of a benevolent angel and the rush of embarrassment that flushed his neck hotly. He stared dumbly at his hand when you left, placed on his thigh with the white bandage staring right at him. The warmth of your hand had sunk into his skin, the feather-light tenderness of your fingers painted in his memory and your smile and determined expression stuck to him. 

Even as he let his mind wander and body thirst for another taste of your gentleness, he could feel the burning stares of the other men. König with his curious and envious gaze, wanting to feel the snippet you offered Horangi, wanting your hands and stare at his giant figure. The 141 with their protective and warning glare, resenting him for taking a few minutes of your attention from them. You’d moved on your own, making your decision to help him with his small wounds as you did with them, he hadn’t forced you or compelled you to treat him.

Perhaps there was more than money and experience that was worth in this joint operation. 

When the success of their first mission reached the prying ears of the General, he’d given them a few more joint ops - paid by the United States pockets, of course. Horangi and König were given temporary rooms in the barracks, in the same corner as the other hybrids and you, but far enough to show that they were excluded from them. Fortunately, they wouldn’t share the room, tigers were protective of one’s territory, and a percht hybrid - as rare as it may be - was documented to be hyper-possessive of their things, especially so for someone like König. 

Horangi didn’t ignore you anymore, wanting to start a conversation when he passed you or staring at you from the other side of the room until you waved at him, letting him know he could approach you. He worked relentlessly to close the gap he had made between you, wanting to attach himself to the one good thing he had. Yet he had to be cautious, any indication of him being a threat to you would make your team act out in unison, pushing him back and covering you like they did the second he descended the ramp. 

Ghost would hover over you, his body moving the darkness around him to seem more menacing. Ghost always glared at him when you turned your back to the Brit, his brown eyes swirling with the promise of death and devastation. Ghost wasn’t a physical hybrid, as Horangi had learned, but he had no qualms about keeping a hand on your hip or over your shoulder, acting as an imposing being that showcased his claim on you so publicly. It filled the Korean with envy and anger, he wanted to touch you as easily as the wraith did, he wanted a claim on you like the Lieutenant did, and he wanted to hold you close. 

If not Ghost, it’d be Rudy or Gaz crowding you. If you were in the rec room, Gaz would usually be there with you. His arm thrown over your shoulders, pulling you into his side while his wings curled around you two, dark brown feathers ruffled to look menacing but comfortable to your touch. With the way he sat, slouching and legs spread across the sofa, he took all the available seats on the cheap, brown couch. When Gaz caught sight of him, he’d purposefully moved to take up more space, showing just how much one of the nicest of the 141 ostracised him. Although when someone from his TF, he’d move aside, giving space to the man to join them. 

If you were walking around the base, Rudy - or Rudolfo as Horangi was forced to call him - would be by your side. Rudy had an arm wrapped around yours, seemingly like a military couple out on a casual walk, or he had his hand on your back, acting as the protective lover. Rudolfo’s smile was always wide and adoring when Horangi saw him walk you, exchanging words and making you laugh. It stung Horangi in an inexplicable way as if someone was knowingly sentencing him to death without any proof of his accountability. Rudy, the second nicest guy, also made glaring passes his way, pulling you closer to his side, directing you away and staring coldly at Horangi.

It rubbed him wrong, all the silent glares and insults at him to push him farther from you, but he was Horangi the Tiger haetae. He made his calculations, he was as smart and as resourceful as he was patient. Give it a few more missions together and they would loosen enough to let him swoop you off your feet. You were his source of comfort, of love and gentleness, he had to protect it. 

Unlike Horangi, König actively sought you out on the base, following the trail of your scent and the soft noises of your voice and heartbeat. He was like a dog on your trail, nose sniffing every bit of air for you and ears strained for any noise you’d make. His senses were stretched thin to find a moment with you. He was as animalistic as a hybrid could get, leaning towards his monster to help him with his ops and trials. 

You piqued König’s curiosity, making him wander the halls like a lumbering monster in a dark veil and glaring, red eyes. He saw how you treated big and dangerous monsters like the dragon hybrid you had as a captain, a respectable man, as soft as you treated the rowdy and rough werewolf and gracefully dangerous nagual. König wanted to feel your softness on him, your small hand grasping the tight muscles of his shoulders and back, kneading the tension away with grounding massages and stretches. You were their doctor, you cared enough to join them in the field, so you’d naturally be willing to mass the pain out of his body, no? 

He wanted moments alone, where he could speak his mind without fear of being interrupted or pushed away for his imposing stature and aura. He wanted to place a hand on your waist, to feel the plush roundness of your stomach and the firm contour of muscle on your thighs. He wanted his voice to carry easily in the void of silence, where his voice could be heard by you from a small whisper. He wanted your eyes to focus on him, solely, as if he was your world. 

He found it rather irritatingly difficult to find such moments. When he followed your scent through the halls and down to the medic's office, he’d find Captain Price crowding the room with his powerful musk of Ashe and fire - of metal and iron. Although Price was much shorter and lesser ranked than König was, he held the power of age and wisdom, an unfathomable strength that lay solely in draconic beings. This eternal power that none could rival apart from Eldritch beings, most cower, whimper and hide from dragons. He wore his power and wisdom on his sleeves, a warning for everyone, him and his KorTac operators included. König might’ve been reckless, but he wasn’t a fool, fighting headfirst with dragon seamed chaos and devastation. So, as any hybrid did, he backed away, an old dragon was dangerous, but a crippled one made it even more perilous.

When König tried to find you in the rec room, you were held in the tight embrace of a possessive wolf. Soap had you straddling his lap, facing him as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. He purred and kissed your skin, making you squirm and giggle, but then Soap’s eyes gazed upwards and grew cold and unruly at König’s appearance. A proud - dare he say, cruel - smirk curled the corners of his lips. That was when he realised what the sergeant was doing. Soap, in the open, was scenting you, rubbing his musk over your neck, where - if you were another sifting hybrid like him and Alejandro - would’ve been your scent gland. It was a blatant show of possession. He nipped at your throat, drinking in your yelp and hiss, your back arching and moving to push him from biting too much. It filled him with rage.

If you weren’t with either dragon or werewolf, you were with Alejandro, the Hispanic scenting you as much as Soap did, but he did it with more finesse and subtlety. He would draw your hair back, the gland on his wrist grazing your neck and ears, imprinting you with him. Alejandro would hold your hand, fingers neatly intertwined with yours, his face laying on your shoulder as he spooned you in his lap. He purred and whispered sweet promises that had you nodding and smiling like a child on Christmas. He oosed of pheromones, filling the area with his scent and in turn, covering you completely in him. König watched with envy as Alejandro read to you, cradled between his thighs and falling asleep, his, Soap and everyone else’s musk laying a possession over you. 

König’s a determined person when he put his mind to it, willing his beaten and bloodied self back to camp, or his sleep-deprived and insomniac-ridden mind to concentrate on the enemy. He was a battering ram, he pushed forward forcefully, however hard he had to, all to reach the end goal. This time, it wouldn’t be the head of his target, or the capture of an asset, this time, it would be you.

They both wondered, with how close your TF was, what was the dynamic. Was it a pack that shared the same lover? Was it a pack that had formed such a close connection to a human that you were deemed an integral part of the pack? Or were you the child they watched over and protected?

The next few missions 141 and the two from KorTac went on were as successful as the first, the cooperation of two ruthless mercenaries and a hybrid, specialist group made these tasks easy, near child’s play for them. Along with the aspect of having a medic on hand, it let them run wild, play along the edge and act more recklessly than they normally would. Having Horangi and König for so long, made them become a standard in the base, seeing them walk among the shorter and weaker humans. That also meant they had seen their fair share of xenophobic soldiers with balls bigger than a dragon’s and an ego the size of an Eldritch creature. 

Every hybrid and monster was used to their hateful glares and sneering venom-dripping words. Ignoring them had become easier after the first year of enrolment. Horangi and König were, however, not used to someone defending them with their most honest heart of gold with earth-shattering words. 

The first time they’d seen you defend your team was right after a mission, haunches, lumbering bodies descending the carrier’s ramp with their bags slung over their shoulders and addled with fatigue after a week of deployment. Young, power-hungry sergeants who’d let their ranks get to their heads had slid before them, head held high and shoulders held wide. Every single one of them knew that the moment the sergeant’s mouth opened, nothing good would come out of it. Perhaps degrading insults or back-handed sneers.

When the first sentence slipped from the man’s tongue, you pushed your way between them, barrelling into the man who’d insulted them. A deep frown was etched into your lips, brows creased so darkly into you that it cast a dark shroud of anger over your face. If König hadn’t known that you were a human, he would’ve thought that you were a being of darkness. 

“You dim-witted bastards-!” Was the first word you let out, your usually soft-spoken self with gentle hands spewed acid at them, threatening to burn their skin. 

Dim-witted, indeed. Old, conservative assholes who thought they were better than the rest with their pro-human propaganda and xenophobic acts against hybrids. Horangi had expected you to continue your scolding, wringing the sergeant dry with your words, not your hands. You used your hands, fingers curled inward, thumb over the curves of your bones and decked the man. It shocked them both, you were smaller, shorter, human and seemed weaker than the men, yet here you were, sending him toppling on the floor, his friend gaping and pouncing on you. Only to be met with your foot to his crotch. 

“You bet your ass you won’t get any medical attention after this,” you hissed.

Although your words sounded improbable since you weren’t the only medic on base, you had built a connection through the system, every medic knew you and heeded your words. If one didn’t want a man healed, you and the rest wouldn’t help him. If you wanted a man to suffer, the rest would watch on with you. Medics were themselves, a tight-knit couple that helped one another. So your words were more than a threat, it was a promise. 

“Until I see your sorry asses on your deathbed or grovelling, none of us will lift a finger for you. Bleed and beg all you want, but you aren’t getting help.”

You acted with an iron hand, sending the rest to the ground, moaning and groaning, cradling whatever part of their body you’d hit. They wondered why Ghost hadn’t moved, and neither did Gaz or Rudy, the most protective ones. When König glanced down at Ghost, he saw pride in his eyes, dark curled on sadistic pleasure swirling in his brown eyes. When Horangi gazed at Gaz and Rudy, he saw simple amusement, their mouths threatening to curl in a smirk.

All of them had known you’d act this way, erratic and violent rather than calmly scold them and stomp over their ego. You were strong-headed and blunt to them, making them bow to you, like lesser men to a lady, a queen, a goddess. 

Horangi had experienced his own protection from you. After the men had loosened enough to trust him and König, he could walk beside you and hold a simple banter, albeit awkward at the start. You were much more violent this time, reaching for the downed man while hissing and screeching after you sent him to the floor with well-aimed kicks. You were like a gremlin, small and lively. He understood your anger, they’d called him racist things, calling out his Asian roots and hybrid characteristics. 

Horangi had to hold you from going off on him following your promise of neglecting his medical needs. It worked, though. The first group had searched to plead, to apologise and beg for medical attention. You’d sent them away with a small note lifting the ban for medical help. You were as ruthless with people as they were to enemies. 

Any other encounters with hot-headed men and women that glanced at them weirdly were met with a varying amount of anger and disgust from you. Horangi understood why 141 held you so carefully, so tightly in their hold. Why they worshipped you like a priest would do with his goddess. It was a sense of camaraderie that had evolved into love, affection dripping from their pores. 

König received a bit more attention for his size, the threatening nature of his ouster coupled with his brute figure, made him a subject of fear and rejection. That hadn’t stopped you from wanting to approach him, had it? Going as far as calling him cute when he stuttered while broaching the subject of him liking certain things. For a burly man with the height of a giant, he was nice to sit next to, his quiet but anxious stature when he wasn’t deployed made it easy to talk to. He might sometimes let his instincts drive him, but they were all well-meaning, wanting nothing but goodness for you. 

His turn came in quick succession, he was shunned and ridiculed left and right. It never helped that he would shy from others, preferring his little corner that made the room look stranger and claustrophobic (not that he let them walk all over him, he growled and glared, standing tall with the promise of lashing out or eating them. Even when humans feared König, they still attempted to rile his anger.). But with you, he wasn’t by his lonesome, he had someone to rattle on about the things he liked to do, or the things he wanted to do. His shoulders were relaxed and mind calm, free to speak his mind about the goriest and the sweetest dreams he had, his speech unperturbed by his anxiety. 

Unlike the others, König stood before you as an impenetrable wall of muscle and fat when you raised your hand at an insignificant pig. Why would he let someone so disgusting touch you (even though it was to hit and kick the man, he would do it for you instead)? He guarded you as if they were insulting you rather than him - though it was the reverse - and glared down at anyone with dreadfully scary eyes. Like the devil that had risen, he sent them running with their tails tucked between their legs. Although he was the one that had gotten rid of them, he was always so proud of you, holding you close to him and gushing about your brave and inspiring actions. 

He saw how the men in 141 looked at you, he wanted to be a part of it, to be able to freely nuzzle your face and hold you like Soap would, to cradle you in his arms and carry you around the base. König wanted a piece of your heart, to be able to show the world he held it in his hands, caring for it between his big, calloused fingers and soft affection. He might be dangerous, he might be deadly, he might be reckless, but if you let him, you would be his world like you were to the others (Horangi would agree, they spoke about it on their own.).

Next

[touchme-teezme]

Last Pick.

PAIRING | ateez mingi x female bodied!reader

TAGS | angst, smut, friends to lovers(?), p0rn with a plot with a cliffhanger (oopsie), lots of kissing, oral, reader was angry then h0rny…and then sad :( oh! and mingi’s lowkey a hoe

RATINGS | NSFW 18+ (minors DNI!)

SONGS | Cherry Hill - Russ, That's why I love you - SiR & Sabrina Claudio & Do you like me? - Daniel Cesar

SUMMARY | you and mingi are best friends. he likes you, but you love him. one fight changes the trajectory of your friendship forever.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i didn't know if i wanted to write angst or smut... so here's both? a bonus fic to celebrate the hard (pun intended) launch of my blog! it’s a bit more dramatic than i’m used to but that’s what creative writing is for. i have a few other members in my drafts. i plan to update sometime this week. might just spam them idk. i've been in such a writing mojo lately; i think i just miss ateez haha. also if you’re new, english is not my first language so if i get some terminologies mixed up, sorry!! that's all, enjoy ya freaks.

inspired by a quote from ‘save me an orange’ by hayley grace. “Stop looking at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like I’m someone you could actually love.”

It was getting late, and you were growing tired.

Mentally tired. You were tired of hearing the same stories, the same kind of complaining, and most of all, tired of pathetically waiting on the sidelines. You’ve been avoiding the truth for so long that you didn’t notice it consumed you.

You weren’t Mingi’s type. He liked their personalities, bright, funny, and effortlessly interesting. Feminine, sexy and confident. Girls that could lead and had interesting hobbies. Compared to his colourful dating history, you felt like you weren’t anything particularly special.

You finally accepted that tonight, while drinking on your balcony as you listened to how his tinder dates this month went. At the mention of the second girl (whose name you already forgot), you were already dying inside.

Before you thought it wouldn’t get any worse, he went off topic and started talking about his future and what he actually wanted.

He blurted out that he should just marry you if he was still single at 35, declaring he had officially given up on the shrinking dating pool.

He looked at you with a mix of admiration and bliss in his eyes. That stupid, goddamn part of your brain convinced you it could happen. He acknowledged that small 0.0001% possibility of you and him ending up together, so there was actually a chance you could actually be with him.

But reality sunk in and drowned you.

Song Mingi would never love you.

That’s when the little glimmer of hope you’d carried throughout your friendship shattered. The shards had cut you and hurt bled out.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You sighed.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m someone you could actually love.”

Mingi didn’t know what to say at first, but at least a hundred responses came to his mind.

His face (which usually said whatever he was thinking for him) settled into a look that screamed Where did THAT come from? for him.

That was enough to discourage you altogether. You let silence grow between you two, quietly finishing your last sip with nothing but the sounds of midnight Seoul traffic beneath you.

You set the glass bottle on the table and rose from your chair. “I’m going to bed. You can hang out here or just leave or whatever.”

Mingi took a few seconds to process the shift in mood before he ran after you inside. He thought you two were having some decent conversations, but he got ahead of himself like he usually does.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

You paused and turned around slowly. You were trying to carefully pick out the right words from what you were feeling.

“Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“I know, that’s why I came. You weren’t really replying to me and San said he hasn’t heard from you. I…I just wanted to see you.”

“Well, you saw me. You can go.” You shrugged.

Mingi furrowed his eyebrows. “If this is about what I said about marrying you, I wasn’t serious. I know you don’t believe in marriage and—“

You let out a wry scoff, cutting his weak explanation short. You could’ve been mean, throw him out, laugh it off and say you were kidding. But you couldn’t ignore that feeling in your chest anymore.

With eyes shut, you murmured, “I hate how you make me feel sometimes.” and when you opened your eyes, they were already watery.

Mingi's face fell. "Hey, c’mon, I didn't mean to upset you."

He approached you delicately, his large hands encasing yours with a gentle touch. If he were to pull you in for one of his bear hugs, you might explode.

You quickly stepped back, creating distance between as you refused his hands. “That’s all you do lately. You don’t even realise half of the shit you say and how much it hurts to hear.”

His eyebrows furrowed, he was now growing very concerned. “I thought we were friends.”

“Do friends make each other feel like they’re the last pick of the litter?”

Mingi's eyes widened. "Last pick? Hey, what is going on with you?"

You laughed, but it was devoid of humour. "Let me break this down for you. All I have been hearing about these days are your dates, your perfect girls, how you have no connection with them so you’re going to die alone and yet you’re still choosing to sleep with the entire city. Then you throw out this ridiculous idea of how you want to settle down eventually, and when you’ve had your fun, you would marry me. Do you have any idea how that feels?"

He looked taken aback. “But… what I said, that was a joke and—“

"A joke?!” Your voice rose. "My feelings are a joke to you? Do you have any idea how long I've been…”

You stopped yourself, your mouth hanging slightly open as you realised there was no point. You had no business convincing a man to want you.

Still, the volume and hurt in your voice stunned him into silence despite you not finishing your sentence.

"You know what? Just get out." You seemed firm and dismissive, yet your heart was breaking. "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending that I'm okay with just being your friend if this is how it’s going to be until you… decide to settle. You have to go."

Mingi stood there, shock and confusion written all over his face. "You don't mean that. Please, we can talk about this.”

"No, Mingi. Just leave," you insisted, your voice cracking as you further widened the space between you, your hands held up in surrender as you walked away. "I'm done."

Yet another awkward silence grew between you. For a moment, Mingi didn’t move. He just watched you slowly walk towards your closed bedroom door disappointed.

Then, as if something snapped inside him. He finally realized what this was about.

You had feelings for him.

You didn’t say it out loud, but it made sense and Mingi felt like the biggest asshole in the world. He crossed the distance between you in two quick strides, desperate to reach you. His hand grabbed your shoulder first, turning you around.

“No, we’re talking about this.”

“I have nothing else to say to you. Go fuck someone new on tinder and just leave me out of it.”

“Dude, come on this is not how we talk to each other.” He was getting way too close to you.

“I couldn’t give two shits about how we talk to each other when you’ve pissed me off. So now, you have to go.”

“You almost said it a minute ago. Tell me why the girls bother you, why what I said bother you. I need to hear it.” He demanded.

Okay, that pissed you off more than you already were. Your chest heaved with the intensity of your emotions, the words bubbling up from a place you had kept buried for too long.

“This is stupid,” You whispered, shaking your head as your eyes continued watering as your gaze pierced into his. “You’re stupid, and you make me feel stupid.”

“Say what you wanted to, and I’ll go, and we never have to speak again.”

“So that’s it? You want an ego boost? You wanna feel on top?!” You practically yelled in his face.

“If that’ll make you be fucking honest for once, it might be worth it!”

“You’re so pretentious. I can’t believe I ever stuck around this long!”

“Why did you then, huh? Tell me exactly why you did!”

His yelling echoed in your apartment. You felt your heart beating in your throat as you stared at his lips.

Fuck it.

You closed the final few inches of distance between you in a swift motion. Gripping onto his shirt, you pulled him towards you forcefully, crashing your lips onto his with all the built-up anger and frustration pouring out.

Mingi was completely caught off guard by the intensity of the kiss. But the second you tried to pull away, he grabbed you back in. His hand gripped your waist tightly, pulling you against him as the kiss deepened.

He lifted one of your legs up to the sides of his hip as he pushed you up against the bedroom door, cushioning the impact with his palm on the back of your head. The heat between your legs was growing and rubbing against his crotch was making it worse.

Your hands were exploring his chest, his shoulders, his face and his hair. You finally gasped for air, tilting your head up which invited him to kiss down your chin to your neck.

“I hate you, I fucking hate you.” I whispered out, shaking your head. Baffled at how good of a kisser he was, but with how he was spending his weekends, it wasn’t exactly a mystery.

He bent down to hoist you up by your thighs, effortlessly wrapping them around his waist. With one of your arms snaked around his neck for support, the other reached behind to open the door.

“Hate me later.” He muttered, kissing you again as he carried you into your dark bedroom.

He laid you down, sandwiching you between his chest and your mattress. You could feel him getting hard through the tin fabric of his Adidas shorts.

He smelled so fucking good. His natural scent mixed with a hint of the cologne you got for him for his birthday made your imagination go wild. Your hands reached the hem of his shirt like an animal instinct, tempted to rip it off him if he didn’t take it off in the next few seconds.

He pulled up and tugged his shirt over his head when he noticed your neediness. In the faint light of the opened door behind him, you could see the outline of his toned body.

Soft streetlights from outside the window above the bed frame gently illuminated his face that looked down at you like you were a full course meal and he was starving.

You have found Mingi handsome since the first day you met. Hell, even he knew he was handsome but something about how he looked at that moment sent chills all throughout your body.

When he leaned back down over you, you couldn’t resist reaching out to his face to caress his cheek, your thumb brushing back and forth near the beauty mark on his face.

He took your hand gently, kissing the back of it. Guiding your hand to his chest, he let you trace your fingertips down his body.

You almost forgot why you were angry.

“Do you want to do this?” He asked, still sounding a little breathless from the escalation.

You looked up from your hand on his lower abdomen, “If you leave now I might actually kill you.”

almost.

He took in bottom lip with his teeth to hide an excited smile, before leaning down to capture your lips in another kiss. This time, he moved slower, savouring whatever was left of that cherry lip balm you had on. “I wasn’t planning to.”

You smiled into the next kiss. Typically you’re not supposed to enjoy having the tongue of the person you were just screaming at in your mouth, but you wanted it there for as long as possible. In fact, you wanted that tongue everywhere on you.

Mingi on the other hand was trying really hard to focus but he could literally feel your nipples through the t-shirt you still had on.

Why the fuck was it even still on, he had no idea.

He was now thinking about how you did not have a bra on the entire time he was hanging out at your house, wondering how often it had been happening without him realising.

You grabbed onto the sides of his hips, and groaned in his mouth. He flipped over, positioning you so you were centred on his hard cock. You readjusted your legs to straddle him comfortably, your arms crossing behind his neck for support as he was sitting up.

His hands found their way to your ass, squeezing it in encouragement as you started bucking your hips against him. Your nails scratching up his shoulders as you started to wonder if the rumours about his dick size were true — all while the friction was driving him insane with arousal.

He helped you take your baggy t-shirt over your head. Delighted that you weren’t wearing a bra, he even fixed your hair once it was off, carefully flipping it behind your shoulders. He slid a hand to the small of your bare back, stealing a quick glance at your face.

You were the prettiest girl he knew. He had told you that a few times, but stopped once he realised you were never going to believe him. He’d be lying if he said he was never attracted to you, he just could never find the courage to cross that line. He was afraid of losing you more than anyone else he’d ever met.

“What?” You simply asked.

Doe eyed, topless, in his arms. Mingi could’ve sworn he had a wet dream about this once. His eyes dipped to your chest without saying a word, and he buried his face there. You rolled your eyes, but inside you were screaming with joy.

He caught your left nipple between his swollen lips while he massaged the other in his free hand. You squirmed when you felt him nibble, and twist you like a personal bop it. You even felt the fucker smirk against your skin at your reaction.

Your hand moved to roughly grip on the hair on the back of his head and your back arched towards him, feeling his tongue licking on your chest in a circular motion.

His eyes looked up at you, as he sucked on your breasts sloppily and kneading them with his hand, admiring his view and the feeling it came with.

You felt the tip of his nose brush up across your collarbone to return to your neck. You were getting so wet, it’s a miracle you managed to restrain yourself from taking those eager hands of his and shoving them in your shorts.

“I-I’m still mad…a-at you.” You managed to choke out, shuddering from the tingling feeling of him sucking on a sweet spot you didn’t know you had.

“I know.” He groaned.

Your hand reached down to the rock solid boner you had been grinding up against. He took a sharp hiss of breath at your touch.

He flipped you over again before you could’ve tried to slip off his pants. He guided you a little higher on the bed and then sat up to pull your shorts and your underwear down in one firm swift motion.

With his hands gently on your knees, he parted your legs. “Fuck…” He whispered.

As you lay on the bed, propped up on your elbows, you were a little embarrassed that he was seeing that part of you at first, but the way his eyes looked into yours and raked down your body made you grow a little more confident in your skin.

“Are you gonna just stare?” You nodded your head at him.

“I’m taking my time because you have no idea how often I’ve thought of doing this to you.”

“Slut.”

Mingi cracked into a grin, his tongue cheekily running across his top teeth as he shook his head and took your leg over his shoulder. He pushed your other knee further out when he started to lean down, coming closer to your dripping cunt.

Took his time, he did.

He cherished every kiss, and the way his nose slid up and down against you made your breathing shaky. Your hands fondled your own tits that were still a little damp from his licks from earlier.

When he started basically making out with your clit, your head threw back and you couldn’t hold back your breathy moans. Your hips started to rock into his tongue.

“Who’s the slut now?” You heard him coo from under you. He watched you with fox-like eyes, keeping a vigilant gaze while you stimulated yourself and something about it made it ten times hotter.

“S-still you—Ah, Mingi!” Your head dropped onto the bed.

Your clit was swollen, and his fingers invited themselves between your folds before entering. There’s no way you could’ve held in that loud moan, or mask the look of absolute pure pleasure that contorted your face.

Something about how you were unravelling at the curl of his finger inside you, with your heel dug in lot his back and the sound of you moaning his name over and over had him excited for what’s to come.

Figuratively and literally.

Mingi’s dick had never been harder.

You reached for his hand that was gripping on your thigh to keep your legs parted. Your mouth dropped open as your eyes squeezed shut to feel the electrifying sensation throughout your entire body. His fingers and the upper inner part of your thighs were coated in your release.

Holy shit, Mingi actually made you cum. And he sucked and licked every last of it as you were riding it out.

He sucked on your clit one last time, giving a quick kiss goodbye before crawling up your body to meet your face.

His hand was beside your face as he tilted his head to the side. Mingi hovered over you and though you felt a bit dizzy, you managed to mirror the grin on his face.

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Furious.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

As you sat up slowly, he started to retreat to reel you in with your faces mere inches apart. Placing a hand on his chest, you pushed him down to get onto his back.

Who knows when’s the next time you would ever to be able to do this? In the back of your head, you knew this was a heat of a moment kind of thing, eventhough it made you a little sad, you wanted to kiss him again and again.

And he was more than willing to entertain it.

You could taste yourself off his lips. The dirtiness of it all made it hotter. His nails running up and down the side of your thigh as your chest pressed against his.

You moved down, planting little kisses down his gorgeous physique, you hands gripping on his sides as he watched. His hand reached out stroking the top of your head.

This had to be a dream.

You looked up when you reached the drawstring of the shorts he had on.

“Okay, okay, just be gentle,” He asked softly. “I’m a little… uh…”

With your teeth, you undid the little bow and tug his shorts down. Rumour confirmed: he was huge. Girthy, long, with cum already dripping down its sides from tip.

You thought you were seeing things wrongly so your hand reached out to hold it by the base and stroked up.

“Needy?” You teased.

Mingi’s brain electrocuted for a second, unsure if it was the tone or your hands. He flinched, “S-shit, baby, I’m really… hold on—“

You leaned forward, wrapping your hand comfortably around the base as you started to return the treatment he just gave you — tenfold. Mingi’s flustered face transformed into a look of pure satisfaction.

The way you licked, kissed, and sucked all over his shaft, he’d float if he could. The lewd noises you were making made him hiss, bitting in his lower lip as he watched from above.

“S-shit you’re doing so good.” He managed to say, leaning over to comb back your hair in his hands as you steadied your pace.

When his tip scratched the back of your throat, he was done for. You almost ended up choking on the cum that bursted out of his wet hard cock that pooled warm in your mouth, and swallowed.

The noise he made was unlike anything you’d ever heard in your decade long friendship, and it was the best he’d ever felt out of all his past experiences.

But that wasn’t why he had to take a breather. He realised how wrong he’d been doing you. Knowing how you felt about him, and how he’s been treating you made him wonder if he even deserved to see you this way.

He moved in behind you, gently guiding your face toward his for a soft, sweet kiss that made you smile. He trailed playful kisses along the side of your face as your hand caressed his. His large hands traced lightly over your waist.

If foreplay was this good already, he could only imagine how mind boggling actually fucking you would be. But he seemed to enjoy finally being able to shamelessly kiss you and touch you wherever he wanted more though.

You, however, had a different thought. The lines of your friendship were already blurred. Being with him like this had been a fantasy, but now you were stepping into uncharted territory, where everything about your relationship with him might change — if it hadn’t already.

That’s when reality hit, your smile fading. You needed a moment to pull back.

He started slowing down when he noticed you or your body weren’t really responding to him anymore.

It hit you like a cold splash of reality—his stories of conquests, the way he casually shared tales of his past flings, and how effortlessly he moved on from each one.

“Hey, look at me. What’s wrong?”

In that moment, you realized you were just another number on his hit list, a fleeting moment in his game, and the weight of that truth settled heavily in your chest, leaving you feeling small and insignificant.

Even with his own doubts, Mingi was still ready to take things further right then and there, but seeing that look — the one you make when you have a lot on your mind — he couldn’t bring himself to continue.

His hand reached out, caressing the other side of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear in comfort, “We don’t have to, you know.”

You nodded, “I know. I’m sorry, I just… I’m thinking a lot right now.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He smiled at you, shaking his head in reassurance before closing in to kiss the side of your head.

He shifted on the bed, pulling you into an embrace and brought you close to him under the sheets.

You’ve shared this bed several times over the years, but never this intimately, without a pillow barrier or clothes on. This easily felt very new to both of you, yet still comfortable enough.

As you cuddled facing eachother, you turned to the ceiling as your thoughts began to swirl. You had settled the argument from earlier with your bodies, but the confusion in your heart still remained.

“Are you okay?” Mingi finally asked, concern in his eyes as you took your time to answer.

“Yeah, just…” The room felt colder, smaller, and you could feel tears pricking at your eyes as you turned to look at him. “I don’t want to be like the others. I don’t want us to end up being… nothing.”

“You’re not like the others,” Mingi said softly, turning to face you, his eyes searching yours. “I’m serious. I’m sorry for the stupid things I said. You are… you’re everything to me. You’re it, and—”

You’d heard it all before. You knew his usual pretty words for his pretty girls thanks to his stories but what you didn’t know was how he actually meant what he said this time.

“Look, Mingi…I just can’t do the whole friends-with-benefits thing. I can’t just stay friends after this. I need you all in if you’re going to be in my life.” Your voice trembled, and each word felt like a struggle. This boy had a grip on your heart that made the thought of losing him hurt. “If you can’t do that, you really need to go tomorrow morning, okay?”

He took a moment to let your words sink in, the silence stretching between you. Then, quietly, he leaned in and kissed you—a soft, gentle kiss. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. The warmth of his skin soothed you in the cool air as he pressed a light kiss to your forehead.

[moiraimyths]

An Announcement on The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe)'s Route Order

Happy Saturday, fateful friends! We hope you're enjoying the update, if you've had a chance to play!

Some folks have asked us, both now and in the weeks leading up to Shae and Maeve's routes, what the overall route update order will be for the rest of NDM.

We're going to answer that question today, much too rigorously 👇

Initially, we'd planned to keep the route order a semi-secret in order to hype up the reveal for the next batch of characters, but after some thought/observation, the Moirai Myths team now thinks that revealing the order, and further explaining the order, would be more holistically useful to our players.

First things first: We are most likely always going to do route updates in two half-batches, instead of releasing the full route for one character at once. Two halves of two routes is roughly equivalent to one full route, so we could release each route one at a time, but this decreases the odds of us having an update that interests you if you're only presently interested in a few members of the cast. With this in mind, we've purposefully plotted out the routes so that the midway point for all routes will end on a cliffhanger or point of intrigue to encourage discussion/speculation regarding "what could come next," etc. If you've played Shae and Maeve's routes thus far, you'll know exactly what we mean by that. 😄

On that note: Why are Shae and Maeve's routes first? A small part of it is logistical. While they're not our most popular characters, most people like Shae and Maeve well enough coming out of the demo (Vol. 1), which gives them a decently broad appeal-potentiality. Preliminary data of ours also suggests that the average person's interest in these characters increases following the update. *wink* However, the second and larger reason is because of NDM's overarching story. While each route, as with other dating sims, explores the specific character arcs and personal struggles of their namesakes, these things are not the sole focus of the routes. NDM's story begins in a cold war scenario that could very well turn into a hot war scenario under the wrong set of circumstances. These plot points are persistent across the game, but certain elements are looked at more closely in some routes than in others.

Shae and Maeve basically serve as the introductory characters for our world beyond Vol. 1. Their routes explain essential concepts, such as the class dynamics of Tír na nÓg, the nature of the War of the Courts, etc., and they get some pretty big backstory questions answered and out of the way early on. This allows future routes to focus on other, similarly critical subjects, unimpeded by the need to go over previously-revealed information from the other routes in the same amount of detail. To that end, since major reveals in Shae and Maeve's routes may be comparatively understated in the next batch of routes, this begs the question...

✨ Is there an official recommended reading order? ✨

Yes. And some of our players have already guessed it:

Book of the Traveller (Vol. 1) is the "inciting incident" content for the game and must be read first. After that, you should play Shae's route (Book of the Soldier, Vol. 2), then Maeve's route (Book of the Warrior, Vol. 3). This means, according to the numbering: The next route batch will be Flannán and Aífe. Following them, Robin and Keagan.

We understand that in a lot of visual novels, routes can be read in any order without much impact to the story or experience. This is not so much the case with The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe), for the reasons we have previously explained. While we would not say the game would necessarily be ruined if players chose to, say, start with Keagan's route and work their way backwards, it would nevertheless be a less satisfying experience because you won't be getting the gradual build up of certain concepts and plot points in the prior volumes. In a sense, it would be somewhat similar to reading an actual book series out of order: You could probably read The Two Towers ahead of The Fellowship of the Ring and still have an enjoyable time, but you might find yourself asking, "Hm, why are they sending Hobbits on an important task like this? Sort of odd that an elf or human wasn't given this duty instead."

We hope this post is clarifying as to our artistic intent and general plans, and remember: Your favourite characters will appear in major ways across multiple routes, and we will be releasing side story DLCs featuring the other characters in between updates. 😊

Slán go foill! (Bye for now!)

-The Moirai Myths Team

[servantofthefates]

3 Signs You Just Returned From Astral Travel

These apply to beginners, not to veteran wanderers, who should wake up feeling normal.

Extreme Weakness

Natural physical weakness comes from feeling fatigued after a workout, or due to illness or lack of sleep.

The kind of physical weakness that comes with having wandered is different. You feel almost incapable of making the slightest movement, while knowing you are not paralyzed. You have to fight just to keep your eyes open, when you know you slept well and should not be tired. It’s as if you slept for a thousand years, and now your body no longer accepts your authority.

This happens when your soul has not yet fully returned to your physical vessel, but the latter has already awakened. It’s like trying to start a car with no fuel.

Prolonged Disorientation

Normal disorientation can happen to anyone. You take a nap, and you wake up not knowing where you are or what year it is. It fades after a few seconds.

But the disorientation that comes with having astral traveled takes between a full minute and half an hour. Even just the one minute could feel like torture. Within this period, you may fail to recognize your surroundings. You may even assume you have been kidnapped. You might look in the mirror and not recognize your face, making you wonder if you are still dreaming or if your real body has been stolen.

This happens when you are suddenly awakened by external stimuli (the sound of an ambulance or someone slamming a door in your house), while you are wandering in a past life. Your visit to your past self gets cut short without notice. So when your soul wakes up inside your body, it does not immediately recognize it.

Morning Anxiety

While it is an official term, morning anxiety is not a clinical condition. It can happen to people untouched by anxiety or depression.

You wake up with a feeling of dread. Heaviness looms. Darkness embraces. Worry reigns. Your mind cannot explain it. It’s not as if you are nervous about a presentation for work, or an exam in school. For no logical reason at all, you are completely on edge. This feeling fades after taking long deep breaths, or drinking or eating anything in this realm.

This happens when while wandering, your soul encountered a malevolent being, or learned a devastating truth about your soul kin. It can be compared to a cliffhanger. A shocking scene before cutting to commercial.

While all three helpfully serve as confirmation that you just wandered successfully, with enough practice, you should outgrow these.

[whateverloomis]

hihi! could I request poly!ghostface with an idol reader? afab but any/no pronouns works

The reader just enrolled in the school recently, both to be closer to LA and try and keep the public away. Reader isn't world famous or anything, but has a recognizable name. Maybe has been on a talent show and radio station a few times.

Hi! Thank you for your request anon 💖 This was a very interesting one to work with. I did a lil twist with the LA detail. I don't know if you wanted some saucy smut in here so I kept it on the teasy side, (I love this gif set 😭🙈.)

Warnings: Teasing, inappropriate touching, manipulation, alcohol consumption, getting tipsy, cliffhanger (I think?), unedited

Reader: They/Them pronouns in italics. Reader is AFAB fem presenting.

-

"An independent journalist?" Sidney asked, intrigued and confused all at once.

"Yeah, like. Y'know, the people who go around asking questions about crime cases and other crazy news." Tatum answered, filling the group in with the latest gossip.

"Yeah, I got interviewed yesterday, but apparently it's like a low-key thing. Some kind of personal project that might not go public." Randy added and Sidney nodded, processing all the information.

The press being all over town was bad enough, and now some secret journalist or something? She definitely wanted to avoid anymore questions, so she took note in order to avoid anyone that might've seemed, strange? She didn't really know how to handle the situation.

"Hey, how come I haven't gotten a cool secret interview?" Stu asked, pouting like a little kid.

"I don't think someone low-key like that wants to interview your loud ass." Billy replied and Stu faked being hurt. The rest of the group laughed at the boys usual grumpy commentary.

"Look, that's the journalist." Randy whispered and stared in a -not so subtle- way. Everyone else gave their visual attention to the person and Billy raised an eyebrow in amusement. Then he looked at Stu, who also seemed a bit more interested than usual.

They didn't know what to expect from the title "journalist" when it came to appearance but it definitely wasn't this. They had a short black dress on with a cream colored cardigan sweater. Black combat boots and white knee high leg warmers that completed the casual outfit and gave it a touch of cuteness compared to the little dress that hung dangerously close to their ass, threatening to rise up at any moment.

"Well damn." Stu said in a flirty and amused tone. Tatum glared at him and then the group continued their usual chaotic conversations and speculations about the ghost face murder case.

•

Inside the campus, a memorial for Casey Becker and Steve Orth was placed at the end of the main hallway. YN was looking at every detail and every note the students left close to the couples pictures and took notes in their leather journal. It seemed like a casual thing but Billy and Stu knew what was up.

"You think they might have a lead?" Stu questioned as he and Billy walked along the hallway casually, trying to seem like they were doing anything else other than approaching the journalist.

"I don't know... But we better make sure they don't find any." Billy answered and Stu widened this eyes, excitement radiating off him.

"Hooh, what are you suggesting man? We kill them?" Stu whisper-screamed and Billy hit his friends arm. "Would you shut up? That's not what I'm saying... Maybe, a distraction of some sort... A mislead." Billy answered and Stu got even more excited. It was like a game to them, one they knew how to manipulate however they wanted to.

•

After the last class of the day, YN was ready to go to their small apartment and put the pieces together with the info they gathered about the ghost face case.

As they were putting their books and other things into their shoulder bag, Billy approached them. He seemed mysterious to YN and they instantly grew curious. Maybe he knew something about the case?

"YN, right?" He said, his tone slightly flirty.

"Yes, and you are?" YN asked, mimicking his tone and smiling up at him innocently.

Billy let out a breathy laugh, smirking. "Billy. Billy Loomis. I uh, heard you were investigating the ghost face case or something of that sort?" He said, taking a step forward and placing his hand on YNs desk.

"Words getting around huh? Yes. I'm keeping it low-key though. Not everyone peeks my interest with this." They replied and Billy raised an eyebrow.

"No? Do I seem interesting enough?" He asked, smirking down at YN as they chuckled at his flirting and interest.

"Can't deny that you do, Loomis. We can talk. My place at 7? I'd rather be somewhere comfortable." They said and grabbed Billy's hand softly, writing their phone number and address on the palm of his hand with a marker.

Billy looked at it for a second and smiled at YN, nodding and leaning on the desk. "I have a friend too, he has some pretty interesting info as well. I could bring him over, if you'd like." He added and YN thought about it for a second. Other than receiving what seemed like good insight, if his friend was just as attractive as him, they wouldn't mind that one bit.

"Sure, that's fine with me. See you at 7?" YN checked one last time. "We'll be there." Billy replied and watched as they walked past him towards the exit door of the classroom and the boy couldn't help but scan their gorgeous body from head to toe.

•

"Wine?" YN asked the boys and Billy declined. Stu was about to say yes but Billy kicked him under the table.

"Dude, f- Uh, no I'm good. Thanks-" Stu stumbled on his words and YN giggled, pouring themselves a glass. It was perfect, if YN was tipsy enough the boys would be able to twist and turn their words in order to steer YN into the wrong direction with the case. They could also get information out of them and mess around with it too. Perfect plan.

All three of them conversed easily and it got better once YN started to get affected by the alcohol. They told Billy and Stu about how they lived in LA and how it was too overwhelming to live in. After they heard about the small town of Woodsboro and ghost face it didn't only peak their interest, but it was a perfect excuse for them to move out of LA and transfer into a new college. Have a real change in their lifestyle and pursue their journalism dream.

As the conversation went on YN got more intrigued by the boys and what they were saying.

"The thing is that Sidney's dad is missing. And it happened exactly when the murders took place so, it makes total sense that he'd be the prime suspect." Stu commented and YN wrote every single thing down.

Billy was standing close to YN, leaning against the kitchen counter trying to peak at their notes, but he could barely read anything.

"So what else do you have in there?" Billy asked, not caring about keeping his intentions low-key. He moved towards YN who was sitting on a stool, using the counter as a table.

"Nothing you should be concerned about, Loomis." YN answered and took another sip of their second glass of wine that night.

Stu chuckled and placed his hand on top of YNs. "C'mon, you can tell us, we can provide a lot of info."

"Yeah, we have a friend who's a cop too, so we have good insight." Billy continued and kept walking towards YN, sliding his hand against the counter top.

YN giggled at their attempts to get an insight scoop of what they've collected so far, but maybe the boys were right. I mean, they did have a cop as a friend, so that was definitely a good source.

Billy was a few inches away from YN, leaning against the counter top. "C'mon baby, you can tell us. We can keep a secret or two." He said and placed his hand on YNs left thigh.

They were almost drunk at that point and didn't care what they did or said. They were soaked between their legs because of the alcohol effects, plus Billy and Stu being so flirty and straight forward wasn't helping with their needyness.

Stu walked over to YN and stood right behind them. He placed his hands on their arms and soothed them. "We'll even introduce you to our cop friend, it'll be a perfect link for you." He whispered in their ear and they shivered at the sound of his soft voice.

"Mm... That does sound good... but I have a feeling there's a catch." YN said. Even in their tipsy state, they could reason and detect the boys wanted something in return.

"Now we're talking." Billy said and smirked, running his hand up and down YNs thigh. "We don't want much just..." He paused and stepped between YNs legs, running both his hands up their thighs and lifting their dress up the tiniest bit. "Wanna have a little fun with you, that's all..."

"It'll be good for you babe, you'll get exactly what you want, hm?" Stu said softly and placed his large hands on their waist.

YN was nearly melting at their soft touches and in their lack of sobriety Billy and Stu's offer sounded more than satisfying.

"Mm, you have a deal then." They replied and ran their left hand up Billy's chest.

"That's what I like to hear."

[rabbit-surfboard]

Fictional podcast recs

One of my friends got into audio drama and I just sent them a whole list of recommendations to go through, I thought someone who follows these tags might also appreciate it and perhaps have some more to throw in. I resisted the urge to throw in the little blurb about audio dramas as a weird little medium and their tropes that I wrote up. It was something to the effect of nodding at how the medium has rapidly been improving since Welcome to Nightvale started, also how a lot of the tropes that tie the medium together are products of the indie podcast scene being accessible and primarily based in audio. Also at how well horror works in the format. Those paragraphs went unsaved but writing first about the medium in general helped me to reflect on a lot of the things that make audiodramas appealing or repulsive to me for discussing each show in brief beyond just explaining what they're about.

All recommendations are tagged for the tldr.

Fiction podcast recommendations in no particular order:

The Magnus Archives

Horror

The biggest criticism I ever had of this podcast’s voice acting from episode 1 turned out to be a relevant plot point. This thing is probably the best of the best, but I would never recommend it to someone unfamiliar with podcasts because the listener only notices a plot hook somewhere between episodes 20-40 and that’s daunting in the face of a 200 episode show. Getting sucked in rewards you with 200 episodes of thoughtful content and a great explanation for most of the weird things this show chooses to incorporate.

Old Gods of Appalachia

Horror

Fantastic production quality on this ongoing show. Many seasons with interconnected lore and a hell of a narrator. It’s not my personal favorite but it’s quite excellent.

Red Valley

Found footage mystery

One of the newer shows I’ve gotten into, Red Valley is well-crafted. It becomes compelling very quickly with a rapid pace that slows down to land in a neat spot for a while so you can savor the cool parts. The production quality is excellent and the two main voice actors have excellent chemistry. The third and final season is currently being produced.

The Silt Verses

Horror

Often compared to American Gods, this newer podcast made by an experienced team is doing a lot of creative and fresh things at once. The magnificently fucked up religious system of The Silt Verses is both a neat plot vehicle and cleanly works as a criticism of late stage capitalism, where many podcasts like to jab at capitalism this one is much more pointed in its commentary. Episodes are long and very well produced. All the credits in the third season have been mostly diegetic and add flavor to the world.

Archive 81

Found footage horror

Slow to start but by season 2 the production quality and plot are among the best in the game. Unfortunately, on an extended hiatus.

Ars Paradoxica

Science fiction, historical

Very well produced considering its age, this is a highly regarded show among people who follow the medium. Excellent time travel mechanics here. The plot drags a bit by the end because time travel stories must violently contort themselves into a conclusion, but the first season or two are fantastic and it’s always nice to have an ending instead of interminable hiatus.

Caravan

Gay demons n stuff

Showed up, did magic and gay shit, disappeared and went on hiatus probably with some kinda unsatisfying cliffhanger seeing as I don’t remember the plot. Could I recommend it in good faith? Not until they at least cough up season 2. I don’t remember it being bad and that alone is notable for the medium.

Mabel

Gothic horror

This is the deepest cut on the list except for maybe Caravan. Lesbians pine at each other for increasingly complicated reasons, eventually devolving into them doing datura and then spewing cryptic poetry together for the rest of their days. The production quality is fair. The slow windup and creepy house are American-gothic af. This show has had a few hiatuses, but each time it comes back significantly more intriguing.

Welcome to Nightvale

Goofy spooky news broadcast

Old and iconic, not very consistent. Sometimes explores emotional, tense, spooky, or funny scenes well, but the show is really focused on being local news for an ooky spooky desert town because Cecil is damn good at his job. Don’t come here looking for plot, it’s a fun vibe and I don’t know that anybody’s ripped it off and notably improved on this classic. Above average production quality for its time which improved through the years.

Alice isn’t Dead

USA road trip, horror

Made by at least one of the Nightvale writers, totally different show with a lesbian trucker making wry observations of some magnificently twisted shit seen around the United States. The producers know how to run a show, so the production is pretty good.

Tanis

Found footage horror

Tanis is not good. However, it was the first fiction podcast to make me ask “Is this real?” and hesitantly believe it for a frankly embarrassing number of episodes. The stories in the first season were interesting and the lore is just some big-tent conspiracy style of cramming a bunch of fun Wikipedia research into what turns out to be an increasingly nonsensical plot. Every season after the second, I return to hate-listen and am gaslit into thinking the show might low-key rock a few episodes before the finale, which is routinely frustrating and makes sure to throw out any good plot points Terry Miles comes up with. The acting is routinely terrible, and the frame narrative allows lazy and frequent retcons, ruining what I think is a good premise. Also it’s incomplete.

The Black Tapes

Horror

Terry Miles started this show before Tanis began releasing about 5 months later. I think of it as one of his earlier works because it behaves like Tanis with an added layer of cringe from a time waster of an awkward romance(?) between the two main characters. I couldn’t finish this show. You won’t see this recommended as often as it used to be online because there’s many better shows now, but this used to be a big deal. There’s a bunch of memes making fun of the annoying cadence of the characters’ speech and iconic sponsorship reads in both this and Tanis. If you’re interested in some cringe atop your creepypasta podcast, the two are interchangeable.  

Rabbits

ARG investigation

Not as horror focused as Terry Miles’ other shows, the cringe is dialed down and the show is better for it. Tanis and The Black Tapes are more well known, I think the only reason more people don’t think about this one is because the first two don’t inspire trust in the production or narrative quality of this show, but I remember it being fine for a season. I have not gone back to catch up now that more is out.

Malevolent

Horror

Inspired by The King in Yellow, one man performs two voices and verbally abuses himself with aplomb. Having a blind main character with an extra voice in his head is a frame story I haven’t heard yet (unless it came up in the magnus archives and I don’t remember), the concept works out great for the frame of a podcast to deploy the environmental imagery that foley cannot communicate. It also prevents the podcast trope of lengthy exposition about visual surroundings from sounding awkward or potentially impacting someone’s character development to show setting.

Wolf 359

Comedy, science fiction

A crew of whacky characters is stuck in deep space, hanging out and researching a star. Since that’s not actually very interesting they crack jokes and fuck around for a slow burn until interesting stuff happens. Good but not great, this one is long and satisfying and a bit less heavy than all the horror this medium often focuses on. Decent production quality.

The White Vault

Found footage horror

I lost patience with this podcast even though the overarching story seemed very cool – it progresses very slowly yet appears to grow bigger and more confusing instead of deigning to answer basic questions for a frustratingly long drag through the first four seasons. I worry that this frustration may be the point and the Patreon gated stories are the drivers for this tendency towards the confusing patchwork of ideas this show communicates. The production quality is good though.

The Left Right Game

Found footage horror

Genuinely great reddit creepypasta got turned into an overproduced podcast – I say “over” in comparison to the voice acting quality because it’s kind of impossible to sell some of the lines, which makes sense considering the source. Brief, complete, punchy, interesting, and just a little odd to hear such a clean production but a creepypasta this fun deserves the effort.

Wooden Overcoats

Comedy

Surprisingly good production quality for its age, and also a refresher from the usual tropes of the medium. Just a chill sitcom about a funeral parlor in a small town. I haven’t finished this 4 season show yet but its good.

The Black List Table Reads

Movie script readings

Some movie scripts just short of making the cut to be turned into a full Hollywood production were well liked enough by a group of film nerds that sat down to act them out as a podcast. Half of the episodes are interviews with screenwriters, and the other half see a script read all the way through by actors. They’re all rejected for different reasons so there’s a pretty broad spread of genres. My favorites were Blood From a Stone and Balls Out.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

51 - Lies Within the Sunlight

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 17.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, discussion of pregnancy, physical and mental illness, disturbing imagery, medical distress, blood and violence, character death

Notes: So, we may or may not have skipped a bit ahead in time from the cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter:) Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The warmth of the sun felt like a lie. A conjurers trick, a shadow on the wall meant to manipulate those who look upon it's image to walk away with a false view of the world. It all mocked you in the hours you returned, but not for the same reasons Jons urgency was felt in. A truth had been shown, and yet the differences in what was seen were so vast you couldn't envision what else but that you had seen alone.

Jon handled it with grace whereas you could only hold back to not let it implode upon what of you was still going. One foot in front of the other, at this rate it would take another week to get to Castle Black but once more, the sun did not tell the truth. It was not warm enough to overpower the cold which came quickly into the night, and it was nowhere near bright enough to mask the rest of it. How Jon could hold it together you didn't understand, but you could only pray to whatever gods were listening that he was believing you walked the same beside him.

Perhaps you knew what made it worse, was how useless you finally felt. How unprepared you were to be this far out, this far along. Jon was more adamant that you not fall into that trap again, but this time there were factors outside his knowledge which effected the way your emotions were spinning around you out of your control. He was what a King should be, did not fall apart in the face of adversity and yet you crawled along the edges of sanity trying to do the same. It came naturally to him, the weight on his shoulders he carried and yet he did so without such needless confidence, nor the crushing feeling it would give any other.

Jon carried himself exactly as he always did, but you were giving him no reason to think he should feel otherwise. Afterall, he was shown the truth in a world which did not know the darkness coming for it, but the truth shown to you was what you could hardly grasp then or now. But you knew much more, that the fear of the unknown you felt then was nothing compared to now. Only, as you tried to push it out of your mind, did you exhale shakily, pushing away the other, far more new feeling again.

You had a week to go until reaching Castle Black, you would simply have to push through the feeling until then at the least. This was not part of Jons plan, you couldn't do this to him now.

Cawing drew your attention towards the sky, Jons as well. Grey eyes narrowing in a heavy distrust as his jaw clenched. Months the eagle had followed, and more and more lately it seemed as if it could not stop itself from tearing through whatever peaceful quiet could fall between you and Jon. It sounded itself into the sky again, and were you not a few feet from him, Jon surely would've reached out to yank you more into his side.

The bird had done nothing, but he did not care. He was sure he knew the eagle possessed the mind of a man once known as Orell, but so many years removed from his human life would've left little to be called a person inside the mind. Not attacking, not doing anything but following until now, Jon would watch it as you could tell his hands itched to take care of it's presence more and more. He'd glance up, and his hand would twitch by the side of him the quiver of arrows sat but do nothing.

Mindless was not the way Jon took any form of life, but he was a man who would not hesitate the second he was sure. But the eagle had not given him a reason to be sure yet, and it put him at an ill ease as much as your own person was doing for your mind. A low rasp left him, strained against the tension in his muscles. “When we get back to Castle Black, I'll take care of the rest, but I need you to send a raven to Maester Wolkan. It'll take us a few days to get back to Winterfell even if we leave right away, but I want everything to be ready the moment we get there.”

Trying to placate him, you got hardly far at all into your gentle plead. “Jon, it won't be for a fortnight then at least-”

It was not an order, but Jon left little room for question regardless. “I'm not risking it. I told you, I'm getting us back. I want you in our home safe long before he comes.” Your eyes softened looking at him, everything tense but there was the hint of gentle within the shimmer of grey glancing your way. Swallowing roughly, Jon looked back forward, face twisted once again to try and shed the tense feeling in him, despite it existing still within his voice. “Can I ask?” Looking his way with a raised eyebrow he was careful to broach the question with slow, chosen words. “What was Robbs plan? For you, if you were still at war.”

You knew sometimes he didn't expect the easy smile across your lips when Robb was brought up. But for eight months you had been carrying Jons baby, you had long since come to an acceptance with the first you'd hold in your arms of your own to not be of the father you thought they'd have. Jon never wished to overstep your time as Robbs wife, but he still did not find it simple to navigate the fact that your first child truly born would be Jons.

It wasn't his fault, he wouldn't be able to come to such terms until it was so real he held his own child for the first time. But you were calm and quiet, lost within the memories of planning long gone. “In a perfect world, he'd have won the war and we would be home in Winterfell when my time came. But, the more realistic one we had planned for, was that a small vassal of men would accompany us to Riverrun. So we would be somewhere safe without doubt.”

Nodding, you wondered perhaps if Jon was more lost in a fog of his minds making then you previously dismissed on him. So much was plaguing both of your minds. “Did it ever bother you? That you wouldn’t be able to have him at home?”

Whatever it was which was on his mind, you had no qualms about what the situation was then nor now, your life consisted of many instances in which you were forced to make peace with such extremes. “Of course it did. But, we also spent only one night together before being separated for months. We hadn't started doing things the normal way, it only made sense nothing was normal which came after either.”

You had to be patient, Jon would always coax you into talking about what you were holding back, but he wasn't the same. Jon was introspective, felt things more deeply the most men and women could combined and it all brewed inside a complicated, handsome mind. If one poked or prodded too early, he'd close it off and seal way the opportunity to discuss it for who knew how long. Not that you could know, but it was always a silence you gave him which Jon appreciated.

He knew you were one of the only people with a true capacity of patience to wait for him as long as he needed, even when a topic he'd gone back and forth about. But you both knew, Jons feelings on being a father would be impossible to gauge until it was real. Until it was in front of him. Son or daughter, it would only be real to him when they were in his arms.

“It wouldn't have changed anything.” Jon didn't meet your eyes, nor did you ask him too. “If your son with Robb had- nothing about how I feel about you would've changed.” Such a thing you hadn't really thought of. Scar across your stomach for good, you had not been brought back with the ability to imagine him in the world as you once did.

Flickering to the side, Jon seemed to be unsure if he'd meet your gaze but only found a distance he almost could not read at first. Walking forward in the quiet a little longer, the whisper you let you filled the air only enough for his ears. Not the wind nor bird following, but it almost didn't match the strange image in your head, your tone. “And if it weren't Robbs?”

Neither of you elaborated. It spoke for itself with a knowledge you lacked, but one Jon frowned as he considered without your awareness. It sat a bit odd in your chest, what that meant, if any child you might have had been Ramsays by some horror, would have changed anything about what stood between yourself and Jon now. His response however, was low. Too low to catch, you gently prompted him to repeat himself.

You were not expecting the words which followed. “It wouldn't have happened.” Brows narrowing yourself, Jon continued to not look at you. Muscles tense as he continued. “Roose Bolton needed you to give Ramsay a legitimate heir. He wasn't going to risk you getting pregnant before they were ready.” Almost interrupting with a confusion of what direction this was going in he silenced you with shock of your own feeling. “He had Wolkan lace your wine every night with tansy.”

Your feet stopped mid step. A strangeness in your chest which did not match what it was before, your mouth fell a bit open as you looked up at him. Turning to meet you, a feet feet away noticing you no longer following, an expression of confusion fell over you. Months Ramsay had..and never was there a hint you..it was part of why you had worried you had lost the ability to.

It was constant what Ramsay did, and you had begun to feel a festering poison inside of you that you had become so worthless that the gods had not even given you the ability to bear even a monsters child. You had heard Roose Bolton and Walda tell you she was going to have a boy, and you felt ill. Knowing yours was stolen from you and left you so broken you couldn't even give Ramsay one when that was supposed to be your one remaining use.

Closing your mouth, you swallowed the weight only to have it return the second you attempted to speak again. Jon taking very slow steps towards you, but you didn't really see him. His voice rang through your head but it did not register the manner it should've. “You never questioned how long it took with Robb, you were at war, it made it harder to take. But you had gone from being worried your first child after losing Robbs would be with Ramsay, to being with me scared you couldn't even have any. But it was never because of anything you did.”

When he had come so close you weren't sure, but you felt the muscles in your neck almost shake within you from such an oddity flowing in your nerves. Only a whisper on your tongue, “When did you-” Jon swiftly telling you that it was right before you had left for the Nightfort did he learn that, and you continued not to notice his approaching warmth until his gloved hands came to rest on your upper arms, leaning down a bit hoping to catch your distant gaze. “But if it was his?”

Sighing out, Jon tilted your chin to look up at him. Wide eyed and lost you looked with something much more sure in his. Shifting the same hand to run his thumb along your cheek and jaw. “I think I'm the last person who should judge a child for who a father he never met, was.”

In another world, perhaps the look on your face could have been vaguely interpreted as a smile or a huff of a smirk, but you nodded. Looking up at him, hands gently raising to rest along his waist. Your voice was just as light as your touch. “I wouldn't have expected you to..” Asking you what, you hesitated before letting it out. “I wouldn't have expected you to accept him. Or me. I would've understood.”

Jon sighed, leaning down more to rest his forehead against yours, cupping both of your cheeks to ensure you were pressed up against him as such. Not bothering to entertain you on that train of thoughts spiralling to the dark, “I told you, this isn't Kings Landing. I don't care the way you southerners do things. I still would've married you, still would've put a child in you. And Robb or Ramsay's, whatever child you had first, I would've raised with you.”

Unable to settle on relieved and something far too overwhelmed to comprehend, the sound which came from you seemed to settle more on what appeared to border on something pulling tears from your eyes. Grasping onto his wrists, you wished you could feel the pulse running through his veins, but had not the strength to seek it out. Whatever your heart tried to whisper, fell apart long before it reached the form of words.

When they did come, tactics had been switched quickly as if to keep away the feeling you were still hiding away. That still did not have a place ready yet to speak out loud, so you avoided it all together despite Jons own confession of truth. “Is it horrible of me to say I'm glad my first is with the first man I ever loved?”

Peeking to brighter eyes shining in the remaining daylight, Jon smiled. Thumb running along your cheek without a single trace of the trouble you felt inside. “I never wanted to replace Robb's son with my own, I never wanted to replace him ever. But we can't change that he's gone, so I'm going to be happy about what we have now. Including our first child together. You're allowed to be happy too.”

Nodding, Jon watched you closely for a moment. Almost as if gauging the degree to which you came to the same understanding. Tilting your head down, Jon pressed a firm kiss to your forehead, muttering against you as your arms slunk up to his shoulders. “But to answer your question, it doesn't matter whose child you had. You came to me, I would've loved them as my own no matter what, because I still would've loved you.”

Meekly spoken, you tried to push through the feeling in your heart with something even remotely resembling humour. “Thought pregnancy was supposed to make the woman the emotional one.”

And yet, he did not even hesitate to let it out as dry and blunt as ever, the smirk evident on his face the moment you sighed in response to it. “I'm not the one trying to pretend I wasn't just crying.”

Gods help how quickly he led you into traps you were too blind to see were right in front of you. Pulling away you almost went to protest, in the movement revealing the shine in your eyes begging to well up with yet unshed tears as you playfully tried to move out of his touch. Jon just followed, pulling your back into his chest with a call of your name. Your own reply just as dry finally. “This time I know you're making fun of me.” Jon tried to claim never would he, but your eyes only rolled and your face fell more flat. Your arms grasping at his forearm across your front all the same. “You know Robb never made fun of me this much.”

“Not to your face, he didn't.”

Mouth falling open, Jon let out the beauty of a true laugh deep in your ear as he interrupted with a kiss to your cheek. You'd playfully pull away if he'd let you. But alas, Jon was stronger and kept you up against him as you let your muscles relax into him. Muttering without any true malice, “Do I even want to know what you two would say about me behind my back?”

Letting out a short and gruff no, Jon only laughed more at your further unamused deflation. The Starks were all the same, no matter what age and stage in life it seemed. At least for now, it served to distract you long enough to keep going. Still hours of daylight left, you had to keep going.

Making it a week was already a tall order, but you were continuing to worry your ability to hold off until at least then. But as long as Jon, Ghost, and you walked further you could pretend otherwise. If for now at least. As long as it was not noticeable enough that Jon couldn't tell, you had time to figure it out. Your gaze shifting to Ghost however, you nodded for him to keep going forward, you needed the direwolf to keep your secret for once.

And you needed Jon to not warg into him, otherwise the ruse was over in a second and you weren't ready with a solution nor excuse yet.

It bordered on amusing, how long it seemed to be taking you to undo your braid. Or at least, it amused Jon, who had offered to do it for you but your own stubbornness had gotten in the way. You were within a much more mountainous section of the Haunted Forest and were determined to make it to the much more flat lands by the time you made camp. Stopping anymore was not conducive to that.

Rasping low, Jon was closer to your side then before only minutes ago. “I don't think I've seen your hair this long since we were little.”

Shrugging, you painstakingly continued to pull loose the strands. “I always hated keeping it this long around other girls. Whenever it got to be this long when I lived in Kings Landing, my handmaidens would take it upon themselves to fuss over it for me. So I would cut it, if it was just short enough I could handle it on my own, I refused to let it grow passed that.”

Jon had always known you liked it when it was very long, but by the time you had come back to Winterfell at fourteen, you had started to keep it shorter then many girls and ladies he knew. In your quiet nights hidden away together, Jon would always trim it for you, wondering in the back of his mind why not let it grow out down the length of your back as you used to as a girl, but you knew as he was watching you undo the braid now, perhaps you weren't sure if not cutting it was a good idea or a very bad one.

His hands loved finding their way into your hair, raking and running through the strands and even out here, Jon would always help brush and wash it for you. If the timing was right, you begun to suspect bathing was indeed taking longer the more you did not cut your own hair. Jon had found the length for his curls which worked for him, but it seemed your hair did not abide by the same rules. If he was behind you long enough, eventually his hands toyed with your hair, and clearly, the length to this degree was as if it were new to him, and just as fascinating.

You begged not to think of the insistence he would have for you to keep it this way once home in Winterfell, knowing he would have so much more room to play when he'd style it for you in the early mornings. Your only trust was that Jon was not your southern handmaidens, and such styles of design for hair would never come close to being what he chose.

Jons taste was simple for you, and he only enjoyed those simplicites more, knowing he did them. Hence, why he was not currently undoing the braid for you, knowing he'd draw it out longer then needed. “I could always-”

“Jon.”

Meeting his gaze quickly, you shook your head. “We have limited sunlight on our side, we do not have time for this.” Jon putting forth the question of what you were implying and your meeting jesting gazes said it all. Looking back as your hands ran through the loose strands finally. “When we've made camp for the night, then that will be a different discussion.”

Ghost from his close stride beside you huffed just slightly loud enough for you to hear. Meeting his blood red eyes, yours beckoned his discretion. Just once, you needed him to side with you first, just this instance today. And tomorrow. And all week. He had too. You had too. Just for this he needed to keep your secrets away from Jons knowledge.

It still wasn't that bad. It wasn't good, but you could walk forth and playfully tease and banter back and forth with Jon. As long as you did that, Jon didn't know, he wouldn't have the reason to watch and guess yet. Your gaze tore itself slightly above you, wondering if the eagle too knew. At least his cawing would not spill to Jons ears.

Everything that's happened, you needed to get back first. What you learned was more important then this, it had to be. You weren't ready for it otherwise. If you could ignore it, it wasn't real yet. And you nodded for Ghost to stop watching you as if forcing that ignorance on him as well.

Wolves should not be this perceptive. Ghost had come to such a conclusion because he was so close to your side, each and every sign this close screamed at the direwolf. As long as you kept Jon at a reasonable distance, perhaps you could avoid his perception picking it up.

As you glanced up at the eagle above, too did you in the moment Jon was not looking, did you let out a shaking exhale. It had only been a very few short hours, it was no where near close from each and every instance of this process you had seen. You had to hold off, and thus, the pain shooting within you could not grow to the point Jon would notice.

A week to Castle Black, and days there to Winterfell. This had to be false, you needed another fortnight to ensure you were following Jons own plan. You couldn't get in Jons plans way now, you hadn't done that yet you wouldn't start now. The worry still boiled within your nerves however, how long you'd be able to hide the pain from Jon, the man whose dark eyes, saw everything.

“How the fuck do people live out here?”

“Does it look like anyone lives out here, you dumb fuck?”

“Been travelling for miles and we haven't seen a soul-”

About to feel her head explode, Yara Greyjoy stood abruptly from where in the snow she knelt, utterly tired of the back and forth the men behind her were having. Days and days in a row they argued the same things, a herd of lost cattle they were, shuffling their feet in the snow without a clue how to navigate it.

The longer she spent away from the open waters, the more she begun to hate the North. She missed the salt of the open sea, the wind of the waters and the freedoms to sail island to island, shore to shore for whatever venture she saw fit. But instead she had spent far too many weeks trudging along the far North from where they had sailed up in the Bay of Seals.

Looking over to her Uncle Victarion, he seemed to hold not quite the same irritation with the men behind him but at the lack of progress made. Walking over she ignored the yelling as usual, before glancing up into the open air before her. Their maps were woefully lacking in detail, both of their own now laid out before her uncle with their own marks made trying to plot paths of lands neither of them knew anything about.

Barley sparing her a glance, she leaned over to look with him as he hissed under his breath. “I hear them complain one more day, I'll string them up by their feet and leave them for the wildlings.”

Yara felt it come up before she thought better of it, “What wildlings?” Victarion glared at her, but she stood her ground as if he was even a shred of intimidating to her. “Look around, Uncle. We haven't seen anyone the entire time we've been out here. You're not curious where they've all gone?”

He wasted no time muttering no. Yara's eyes rolled without a second thought. “Well, I'm glad you haven't thought about it, but I have. Why would they be out here when no one else is?” Asking if she had a better idea, the annoyance was too high in all of them. “Theon took Torrhens Square then Winterfell with twenty men. I say we go back to our ships, get on the other side of the Wall and look in the places that make any sense.”

Victarion ignored her until her hand slammed down on his eyesight of the map. Both looking at one another now with mighty glares. His own voice low without a care in her mind at what he'd do about her insolence. “And how well did taking Winterfell go last time?”

Yara was quick on the draw, voice flat as she was prepared to hit him. “I don't know, Uncle. How well did holding Moat Cailin go last time?” It was petty, she knew that. Balon had ordered both of them back to Pyke, leaving their men both at their respective holds.

The Bolton keeping her brother capture had killed every of her Uncle's men at Moat Cailin, and sometime later, Stannis Baratheon and this King in the North had defeated what was left of her own garrison keeping their last stronghold on Deepwood Motte. Once they had lost it, the arguing had started about what to do with the remaining Ironborn there, until at least, the day they found her father dead.

Once Euron had taken the Salt Throne, he ordered any remaining men back to the Iron Islands and when none came back, he had lamented that they were useless to have been killed by a bunch of pathetic northerners, not useful to his tasks. Yet now they trudged through the north beyond the Wall, looking for two bloody people.

Two people in a space of land no one knew the size of. He expected them to find them, and when Yara had asked how were they supposed to do that on foot he had only said one thing. “Fly then.” It was how they came to this idiotic plan thus far.

The past week they had been following a bird. A stupid bird. It was too far to ever see what it was following, but it would circle around a path through the thick forest trees and Victarion had taken that as the sign to follow, saying it was the only sign of life thus far. Everything to her, about this plan, was stupid. Muttering under her breath, “What does he even want with her?”

Shrugging, her uncle only twisted his face up. All but tossing the maps from him, the two of them looked to the mountain ranges around the forest below them for a moment, until at least the arguing crept back up behind. He found the muttering that time. “How is it I can spent months on deck with them but out here they make me want to gouge their eyes out.”

Both of them looking to their separate troops of men with the same disdain before looking back to the sights of forest. “We're islanders. We don't belong out here. You hate him more then I do, I don't even know why you're so dedicated to this.”

Watching him close, she saw a twitch in his jaw. His eyes unamused as he looked at her, before twisting his face into an unpleasant grimace. Pivoting around on the spot he yelled, “Yara and I are going ahead to scout. Feel free to bloody freeze to death before we get back if you can't learn to shut up.”

At least it was quiet now. It was too quiet for her liking, the winds a terrible replacement for the splashing waves of open water, but at least there was no bickering for once. Her uncle quiet for a moment until he spoke up, neither bothering to look at the other. “You remember when your father exiled Euron in the first place?”

Nodding once, “Of course. No one wanted to talk about how we lost, so they talked about that.”

Theon had not a clue what home was like once he was gone. Their rebellion squashed, he was gone, and her brothers were dead, and their father beside himself trying to lick his insufferable wounds having been embarrassed by the Baratheons and Starks so much.

It was why Euron wanting the Baratheon girl was so odd. She was Stannis Baratheons daughter, the child of the man who defeated his and Victorians fleets to the point it took ten years to rebuild their ships back to those numbers. Niece of the King that beat them and now twice married to the sons of the man who took her baby brother away.

Though she thought, what right did she have to complain about that anymore. Yara would rather not think about that why, so she tuned back into her uncle's mumbling rambles. “Lost two women I loved, not anyone's fault but I was staring to feel like I was cursed. Until she came along. Couldn't call her anything but a salt wife, lost my first and second but she was still mine. Then Euron came along. Couldn't stand letting me have something of my own, not after getting embarrassed at sea by Stannis Baratheon.”

Yara continued to climb through the snow around the mountain cliffs they travelled along, brows narrowed. She never heard this part of the tale. After Theon had been taken by Eddard Stark, Yara had been sent to bring her mother to Harlaw. She had seemed to lose part of her mind after the rebellion, forgetting her two eldest sons were dead. Yara had found her one day walking barefoot along the roped bridge of the Sea Tower searching for Theon when they had decided she should go somewhere a little less raw in memory.

Yara had eventually come home some months later only after Euron had been exiled. Her mother had not. Her uncle Rodrick, her mothers brother still says she seems to be recovering but Yara knew her mother was a shadow of her former self. Rambling that Balon had been murdered, and giving that bloody fool Tristifer Botely permission to marry Yara. Which was why he was here in the first place.

Clearly the years had taken her mothers memory of her daughters distinct lack of interest in lovers with extra inches, along with her health. He had tried to kiss her, telling her they were meant to be and he was lucky her mother was in the room, so she didn't do him any worse. Moving him out of her mothers earshot and shoving the idiot against the wall.

“Touch me again and you won't live long enough to breed any sons. You want a woman? Fine, I'll put one in your bed tonight. Pretend she's me if that will get your cock off, but do not touch me again. I'm not your wife.”

He was handsome and sweet, too sweet for the Iron Islands, but that was all the problem. He was handsome and wanted sons. Yara wanted beautiful women and adventures. Once her fathers heir, and now with Euron as their King she once more felt that freedom of not having such pressure to continue her fathers bloodline.

For a while, the day she had opened that chest sent by Ramsay Snow-Bolton whatever he was, finding what he had written was “Theons favourite toy” her father had pointed out he could not continue the family line, and she hated that it meant it once more was on her. She hadn't given Theon much care when he came home, but he being back did mean that playing nice with men no longer was what she needed to do. As much as she hated her uncle Euron, at least he being King meant that handsome, sweet Tristifer would not ever have reason to be in her bed finally.

But as she walked, she listened to the way her uncle talked of his third wife. She didn't remember her well, she couldn't even tell him what her name was. But the way he spoke about her now, a prose and a lightness she never saw on a man she assumed despised smiling and laughter. Victarion still felt for his third wife, the way Tristifer wished he was allowed to love Yara. She'd mock him for how all men are stupid, but there was something about how unusual the look on her uncle felt that made her listen in silence as he got to the point.

He had mentioned it all occurred when she took her mother to Harlaw, and only now was she focusing back in the middle of his story. “Balon commanded we never speak of it. Hardly anyone knew what happened, me, him, Damphair, but no one else. But the day I came back to Pyke, the way that fuck looked at me, he knew what I'd do. He knew the second I found out I was going to try and tear him apart so much there'd be nothing for the Drowned God to find.”

He was quiet as they trudged through the snow. Yara finding enough voice to prompt him. “What does his exile have to do with-”

“Euron will tell you she was willing. That she wanted it, that she loved every second of it. But she was my wife. I knew her. I knew the only way she'd find herself in my brothers bed is if he forced her there.” Yara said nothing, but the anger in her uncle's face was vivid. “Your father knew I was going to kill him, so he exiled him. And he bloody laughed at me when he left. Laughed. Thought it was all so funny, like he laughed every other time in my life he tormented me. Only that time he took the one thing I had that I cared about.”

Yara had said not a word, either Victarion's wife was willing or she was raped but Yara had distinctly remembered she had returned home to learn she had died. Looking over to the dark distance in her uncle's eyes she spoke with careful words. “You wanted to kill your own brother because he raped your wife?” The doubt was evident, and they both knew the explanation wasn't good enough. Not to an Ironborn.

“No. I wanted to kill him because he put a bastard in my own wife's belly.” The look the two of them shared suddenly came into light, and she begun connecting the dots in her head as her uncle looked away with a morose anger back to the same sight of snow and nothing. “Never touched another woman after her. Never wanted too. Fifteen years the only time I'd think of a woman, I'd remember what it felt like. Makes sense why most men kill with steel. You remember too much doing it with your bare hands.”

Her father had always just told her not to ask about any of it, but she supposed the man her uncle was, she could understand why he never laughed anymore. But the question still sat between them. “So why did you jump at the chance to come out here and do this now? Come all the way out to the middle of nowhere, looking for a girl so he can marry her. You could've let him send Rodrick, but you volunteered for it. Doesn't sound like someone who hates him.”

Cutting through the air however, did they catch the cawing of the bird. It was miles ahead in the forest nowhere could see, but Victarion only looked more determined as Yara felt confused. Mumbling under his breath, “We all follow orders when it's convenient. But we're Ironborn, Yara. We didn't get where we are by doing what we're told.”

Victarion watched her carefully as Yara watched him. She was beginning to think she was understanding the story he was trying to let go unsaid for then and now, but Yara wasn't sure about any of it. She wasn't before, and she still wasn't. But until they could pick up any sign that the Baratheon girl was even out here, Yara allowed that uncertainty to go in silence.

They needed to finish this task for Euron and get home. She didn't care about what happened to you once they get you to him, but Yara was beginning to wonder if getting you to Euron at all, was part of Victorians plans.

So far, all his plans were terrible.

You were so desperately imploring Ghost to knock it off. He all but bumped his head into your stomach with a whine, the only thing that saved Jon from noticing so obviously was a childish trick. A purposeful stumble, only tripping over the nothing in your foots way without going too far, and by the time Jon had whipped around you already had pretended to steady yourself with a grip on a low branch by your head.

A hand reaching out, Jon tilted his head a little, “Come up here with me. I don't want you trailing all the way back there.” You could fight him on it, but that would draw attention to not wanting to be near him, and you were truly beginning to worry how long you could hide this. In a few short hours it would be dark, and then what were you going to do?

Allowing Jon to take your hand, he pulled you up more into his side, letting go only to rest it in the middle of your lower back, prompting you forward. Your heart attempting to pound despite your need to breath evenly, you needed to calm your insides down. Not only was the feeling too much, but the more you worried the more the baby would react. Soft your tone was, hoping it too was convincing as well you looked at Jon from the side. “I've gotten this far with little injury.”

Deep chuckles warmed your insides, trying to keep your eyes forward instead of the inevitably bright look in his eyes looking towards you. His breath warm at your ear was not helping as he leaned down to mutter into it. “Do you think you're starting to believe me?” Your narrowed expression was not serious, and you both knew it but you gave the look anyways. Another chuckle was followed by Jon pulling you by the side of your head over to meet his lips.

The plan was to fool him, not be played fool and fall weak to his affections. But you still stopped in place, eyes playfully glaring. Asking what, you let a hand trace across his facial hair on his jaw, leaning up but he caught your intentions instantly. One hand resting at your hip, curling in to pull you close, his other brushed back the now long, loose strands of hair at your front, away from his touch before cupping your cheek.

His lips were so utterly soft but also as perfect as they always were, guiding you just as you needed. A follower to his lead, it always turned into a gentle dance with hinting need which to varying degrees could get pushed back down or inflamed. He made it easy to inflame though. Your hands moving around the back of his neck, toying with the curls loose around him as you leaned up.

Normally, your bump would get in the proper way, and both of you would pull back. Foreheads resting against each others as you breathed a laugh together about someone being in his way of pulling you against him. Only as he gently deepened the kiss ever so lightly, you felt that feeling again.

It came way too close to the last one, you had just done this minutes ago. You had to pull yourself together, or Jon was going to notice. But he did, didn't he? Pulling away from you, he murmured as he ran a hand over the hair at the back of your head. “What's wrong?”

Trying to play it off, you shook your head with a mutter. “Nothing.” Leaning back hoping to meet his enticing lips, Jon gently grasped that same hair, pulling you back enough to hold you in place. Grey eyes scouring your face with a painting concern creeping over his features. “It's nothing, just the cold.”

Every word you felt brush against your own lips, the rasp so low it husked out wanting your spine to shiver at the feeling as if you weren't presently overwhelmed by too many sensations. “You flinched like you were in pain.” Trying to shake your head, Jon nudged your nose with his too playfully for the once again growing beating of your heart. “I know a flinch when I see one, what's wrong?”

Quick enough to steal a kiss, you distracted long enough to slip from his grasp as soon as you pulled from his lips again. “It's only the cold, I promise.” Reversing the image, now you held your hand out to convince him to come along ahead.

His body was a bit tense looking, but otherwise you could see his working mind not yet come to a conclusion. So he pulled you firmly back into his side, Ghost trotting along at your other. Jon pressed a longer kiss to the side of your head again, muttering into your hair. “My stubborn wife..”

Perhaps such a word was not wrong. It was as the two of you were knelt down, a rock keeping most of you both hidden from view when the silent debate came about. Your eyes had glanced at the bow in his hands, and Jon read the intent right away. Raising his eyebrow, you tilted your head somewhat with a more flat expression in response.

The stand off continuing until you finally whispered out rather dryly, “Does being pregnant effect my aim now?”

Glancing down to what he could see of your form, Jons eyes narrowed the slightest as he looked at the much more obvious bump now before meeting your eyes. Leaning close to your face, he gently handed it over to you. The quiet remaining as you focused your attention now solely on the deer in the distance. A hand of Jons hovering just above your spine as to not disrupt you, but your eyes didn't notice.

Inhaling deep, posture straightening as much as you could, your eyes could form the path ahead from the very moment the deer would raise it's head. An easy mark, right between the eyes if you were to be accurate of your ability still. Not often did Jon let you do anything now, but as long as he was with you, you appreciated that he'd still give you your own agency when appropriate.

Slowly, the air left your lungs as your bow arm relaxed, only the moment you let go of the arrow, did the feeling return. The pressure stung in you so suddenly with such ferocity, your aim fell to the wayside entirely. The arrow slamming into a nearby tree, the deer shooting away at high speeds.

Jon beside you said something as his eyes watched the failing shot, but you knew there was no hiding it this time. Were you not knelt down already, you'd have keeled over barley able to stand as your face winced in a sharp pain. They had been getting worse and worse and this one there was no hiding. Ghost having come to your side with a whine, but still you did not hear him nor whatever Jon said until the seconds passed by and it eased up.

“It's nothing-”

The lie already begging to form, but you felt Jons warmth come close as he grabbed your waist to try and help keep you up but the other resting at your jaw and side of your neck trying to tilt your head to look up at him. Cutting you off shortly, Jons tone was not within any joke as it previously was. “Darling that wasn’t nothing.”

You shook your head though, it had begun to pass, it was fine. It was nothing because the feeling was gone again, but Ghosts whine was clearly fighting with your lack of willingness to explain anything to Jon and he knew it. Trying to catch your eyes, your face stilled like stone. Shifting to stand, and the sudden feeling exploding in your chest of a truly angering embarrassment of Jon having to gently help you stand to your feet when it was him you were trying to walk away from. Mumbling the second your feet were once more flat on the ground trying to pull from his touch. “Just leave it alone, Jon.”

Calling you name, he once more tried tugging you back, as Ghost continued to get more and more worked up. “Look at me.” Shaking your head, you pulled away again but you were no match and yet the more you felt the heat behind your face grow, did the weariness in your stomach grow again. Jon called your name much firmer that time, grabbing you by both your upper arms but still you did not look at him. “Hey, look at me.”

Shaking your head, Jon let a hand run along the side of your face before glancing down to Ghost who was far more worked up. By that point, there was no avoiding the manner in which the direwolf was trying to gesture to your stomach. Your excuse did not go over well. “We're all getting worked up over nothing.”

So why did the warmth in you face grow to something that was suffocating, something that made your eyes feel the beginnings of something stinging and your heart begun to race? It was nothing you already said that why was your body pretending you didn't just say it was nothing?

“How long have you been in pain?”

As it turns out, telling Jon it had come on and off all day was the exact opposite of comforting. You truly had said it off offhandedly, trying to more focus on swallowing the panic and pain you walked yourself right into the very thing you were trying to avoid. Grabbing your upper arms more firmly, Jon almost gave a single shake to force you to look at him. “What do you mean on and off?”

You raising your voice, did not help. “Jon I already told you, it isn't anything-”

But it wasn't anger, the high pitched sound rung too close to something weighed in your tone for comfort, and the waver was caught by his ears as much as his dark eyes could see the panic brewing in your eyes. You didn't want to look at him, you didn't want him to come to that conclusion because he was wrong, it was the wrong conclusion, it wasn't that and this entire situation was stupid. You had limited day light and chances to find fresh meat for the night and he was wasting that time.

So why did the sting in your eyes feel like it was watering up with the panic in your chest?

He and Ghost spoke a language in silence you had not the understanding of, Jon tearing his eyes from his direwolf back up to you. “If it wasn't anything you wouldn't be trying to hide it.” The situation only worsened when the pain returned, your hands instinctively grabbing Jons to steady yourself as it once more made you wish to keel over.

Whispering almost to himself, “We're not making it to the Wall.”

As he turned to Ghost still holding you tightly, instructions came from his mouth only to be interrupted by you, the more desperate tone coming through again. “No, Jon we are making it, it's fine.” He ignored you, telling Ghost to find somewhere safe they could take you, but you tried to move free from his grasp as you increased your yelling as Ghost took off. “Your overreacting, nothings going to happen.”

Suddenly finding your gaze, Jons had twisted into an expression not quite of anger but certainly he was taken back by your so sudden outburst of upsetting defiance, by the way your voice cracked as you raised to him. “This is happening-” Trying to but him off saying no, Jon pressed on. “Yes it is, we can't just ignore this-”

But the cracks had begun to slip. Something overwhelming in your chest filled within your lungs, cutting off any air moving in and out only to cause everything else flowing through to spread into panic. Heart racing to make up for such a lack of air and your head hurt along with the sudden washing of tears flowing through.

Tearing away from his touch completely, you almost had to push him just to be able to do so. A no tearing from your lips with a louder cry as you felt something in you overwhelm. Some of it an upset that tears had finally fell free, but most was something which was too close to fear to wish to experience. You had avoided this all day, you couldn't do this now, it was all wrong.

Only taking a step or two forward to follow, but giving you space Jon waited in the silence for you to turn back to him. The tears unable to stop but also those same eyes of yours were far too bright with that very fear you had been pretending did not exist. “This wasn't part of your plan, I'm not ruining that now, okay? I can't.” Shaking your head your arms crossed over your front almost protectively from what you couldn't really control. “I can't have her out here.”

One more step forward, a hand out slightly as if to tame a spooked horse Jons voice was slow and clear as it was low, contrasting to your high sensitive state. “There's nowhere I can take you, we're too far away from Castle Black.”

But you couldn't see the reason, not as everything inside you whirled in a strange pain and emotions twisting you raw to a painful and ill degree. Too much panic finally had built up. “I'm not having her there, either.” His head tilted slightly as if asking you to explain yourself while his body had tensed up immensely wishing you'd let him go to you. “You planned this all out, we said we'd have her in Winterfell, I won't have her anywhere else, it's too early.”

It was, eight months was too early and you were out here alone in the far north with no one around, you couldn't do this now. Jon rasped low as if begging to lull you into the tone of his voice you adored, but softly and continuing you try and meet where you stood away from him. “We don't have a choice, here. You know that, we have to do this now.” But his tracks were stopped when you finally said it.

The tears more free then he'd ever seen on you. “I can't, I'm not ready.” Lips parting slightly, Jons grey eyes painted over with a thick glaze of something forming into a heartbreak as he looked at you. Head shaking as if it would shove the tears from your cheeks but it didn't help. “I can't do this Jon, alright? I can't have her out here all alone.”

Vision blurring, you could not tell Jon had begun once more to close the gap between you. Letting you say it all to him, without interrupting. “I screw everything up, and now I'm screwing this up and there's no one out here to help when it goes wrong. She's not supposed to come for another month, and you're going to hate me for ruining it.”

Almost flinching away the second Jons warm presence came close, his hands running now up and down your arms as he leaned down trying to get you to listen to him through what you hadn't realized, were panicked breaths through attempts to smother the sob in your throat. Still, you could barley see him through the falling tears. A warm murmur in your ear which begged to be comforting. “Listen to me, you aren't ruining anything- no, darling I said listen.” Cutting you off the moment you tried shaking your head, your heart racing so fast you felt dizzy even in his touch. “I know you're scared, so am I, but we can't pretend this isn't going to happen. We have to do this together.”

Still too afraid to shift your stance and hold him back properly, you meekly shook your head again as the need to cry continued to scream to come out desperately. But a shaking mutter came out as you spoke through stuttered breaths. “She won't make it home if I don’t do this right..”

Unbeknownst to you, such a thing to say had utterly shattered Jons heart. What you were trying to say, and it was as heartbreaking as it was horrifying. You were afraid of having complications, no one here to help, and if you were gone you knew there wasn't a way for Jon to even feed the baby for a week at the bare minimum. You weren't even scared he realized, of what would happen to you. You were scared of what was going to happen to the baby if you didn't make it.

In truth, it made Jon feel dizzy. It made his heart lurch in his chest and a pain of his own want to well up in tears. Was this the fear his mother felt having him? Laying in a bed of her own blood, knowing she was dying and couldn't know what would happen to him when she was gone?

No longer did Jon care about keeping you at a distance for your sake. The swiftness in which he pulled you as close as possible. Your hands grasping around his shoulders tightly, Jon cupped the back of your neck to hide you in his, his own face in your hair close to your ear as he ran that same hand over the strands. “Nothing will happen to you, or him. Nothing. I told you I'm getting us home, all of us. But we can't pretend this isn't happening. He's coming and he needs us, both of us.”

Only when your breathing calmed and you nodded, did Jon cup the sides of your cheek. First turning your head downward to press a kiss to your forehead, but then tilting up to run his gloved thumbs along the skin they reached as his own eyes shined just as heavy in feeling. “She's supposed to come into this world in her home, in our home..”

Your voice weak, Jon left only a small, chaste kiss to your lips before seeking your gaze right back out. Not hesitating whatsoever in holding the confidence you could not feel. “He has us, and that's enough.”

Were your mind not such a ground of ruin, you would've noticed how serious things must be for neither of you to even notice how easily you took one side or him the other. It had been a back and forth ever since he told you, but now that it was real, what either of you thought was nothing compared to your fear of screwing this up and leaving Jon with a true nothing.

Muttering as your hands grasped gently at his wrists, you could barley look at his bright eyes shining down at you. “I just wanted to follow your plan, I didn't mean for this, I'm so sorry.” Another shaking of no from Jon, and another slightly longer kiss pressed to your lips as he then spoke right against them.

“We've never done anything the right way, darling. No reason to start now.”

The fact that he got even the slightest bit of a laugh out of you was enough to pull a true smile from him. Once more running his hand along your hair, making sure he caught your eyes as you nodded. It seemed dumb, saying it now, but your panic had turned into just now a bit more calm, silent tears. “I'm sorry if it's a girl.”

Mumbling to himself almost, “Seven hells..” Pulling you back into his front in a tight embrace once more, Jon rumbled to you. “Don't do this now.”

No strength to banter existed in you, and Jon knew that. But he didn't take any offence when you stayed quiet on the matter. He knew you were serious, he knew you worried his insistence meant he'd be disappointed for a girl but now was not the time to press the matter. Keeping you tight in his arms, pressed in his side as Ghost returned, leading you both to a cave by small cliff side.

Within an instance, Jon went to sit you down against the wall of the cave far enough in only to ensure Ghost read his ask. The large direwolf rushing to lay down behind you, giving you something firm, soft and hopefully comforting to lean against. Kneeling in front of you, Jon had to try and speak through your wincing of pain.

“I need to start a fire, and get ready. Just stay right here, stay with Ghost.” You nodded through heavy, slow breaths trying to calm yourself but the cave looking nothing like Winterfell and you hated that this all was going to fall on Jon. You hated that you had done this to him, but through the pain and the tears still trying to fall, you couldn't find the strength to apologize anymore.

Ghost rumbled behind you as he leaned his head over your shoulder. Turning to let part of your face hide in his fur, you could feel the direwolf desperate as Jon was to calm you. You couldn't even follow what it was he was doing, what he was gathering. All you knew was you couldn't see an end that would be okay.

It was a month early, and if anything went wrong, there was no one to help Jon. It'd all fall on him and how was he supposed to get a baby born a month early home, and have it survive without it's mother. Somewhere in the fuzz of your mind, of dreams and visions you once didn't and still don't truly understand you could hear the faint voice of a father all you could do was wish were still here.

“Better a quick death. They won't last without their mother.”

You were about to fail Jon, and if anything, that only made the tears fall faster then the fear which came before it.

Kneeling down in front of you again, Jon cupped your cheeks. “Darling, look at me. It's only us, which means you have to talk to me. Tell me if somethings wrong, or something feels off right away. Which means you also need to listen to everything I say, alright? Everything.” You nodded, and for once Jon didn't prompt you through your panic to make you say it out loud.

Leaning forward, Jon pressed a firm kiss again to your forehead before resting it against yours. Whispering to him, “I love you.” Jon only kissed your lips quick once more. Making you meet his eyes again.

“Tell me that again when we've made it through this together.” He was smart, he knew you meant it as if you wouldn't get another chance, but Jon it seemed held himself together the way you were supposed to be. He wouldn't accept a goodbye, and you wished he would. You didn't want to die with him having had false hope.

You weren’t Lyanna. There was no Ned Stark coming for you. No one would be able to come in time to protect his own child. But watching him carefully begin taking off your heavy layers now in the way, there was a determination pushing away the fear of the unknown in Jon, when all you could do, was prey to the gods watching, was if they were to take you tonight, to not take Jons baby with you.

Leave him with one thing he truly deserved if you weren't coming out on the other side alive.

This was how Yara knew she had been out here too long. That Tristifer was knelt this close to her and she hadn't yet considered tossing him into the cliff edge mere feet away. The sun was going down, and still they had yet to make progress. Another failure of a day and Victarion just did not know when to give up. He had been taking them all through the cliffs for hours, and still they found no sigh of any human life.

What were they supposed to be doing? Searching until the ends of time? More and more Yara could feel her patience wearing thin, the voice in her ear on one side mutterings of idiots, and the other one trying to be comforting without actually knowing what she would categorize into that idea. “It might be better to regroup, come up with-”

Victarion however, was not having such a discussion. Cutting Tristifer off with a sharp whisper, “This is the plan. We've followed it this far, and we are not changing it now.” The younger man trying to make his case but he was not being heard at all. “We are not leaving without the Baratheon girl.”

She could hear one of Victarion's men muttering behind her somewhat again. “I've been freezing my balls for months, don't reckon any one pair of tits is worth that.” Telling herself internally not to either roll her eyes into the back of her head nor gouge his out, but she was as fed up with searching for the girl as she was with their complaining about it.

Spitting out without even glancing back to him, “We bring her to Euron and he'll give you more tits then you could handle as payment. Your balls don't need to work to enjoy those.” She didn't even have to look to see the twisting of his face grumbling in annoyance. Yara did not know what Euron would do for a single situation, but as long as he was not here she could lie about his promises as much as she needed.

It was going to be get dark soon, and this far she preferred not to travel in night. Not out here, there was something so odd about the far north at night. Some kind of illusion in the sky making it look like it shined with something green as long as no sun could touch it. As far on the seas as she has travelled, Yara had never seen anything quite like that before.

They had seen a wide variety of odd things out here however, it truly was a place she'd be glad never to return too. Not long ago she had thought she saw a wolf the height of a man walking around. Looked as white as the snow around it, but by the time she had turned back it was so far away she couldn't see a thing anymore. Mentioning it later, the men had argued over it.

Nothing better to do once the sun goes down. One saying that the Starks were said to have direwolves, others said that was impossible or dumb and they were just trying to pass off normal wolves as special, or even just dogs. Dagma had even started saying something about how the Starks could turn into wolves themselves. Had she the ale, she'd have drowned herself in it by now.

Pushing up off the ground, Yara had begun retreating in a different direction, muttering something about scouting the perimeter to make camp for the night. She couldn't tell if Tristifer jumping to accompany her was irritating or not yet. But she allowed it, attempting to revel in the silence as long as he'd let it stand, which was not long.

Softer spoken then the others at least, he was. “I admire your dedication.”

Inhaling deeply, Yara's muscles tensed trying to maintain her composure. One night she begged for silence and was forever denied such a request. “It's not dedication. I'm following orders.” It however, was the strange look he was still giving her that she questioned. “What?”

It took him a moment, but the point was found despite the agitation on her face waiting for him to get to it. “I am only saying, I don't quite understand why. Following Eurons orders, that is. You had us and the entire crew flee once the Kingsmoot had elected him, but here we are. Far from home following orders he gave you.”

She didn't want to think about this, she didn't want to consider a single bit of it of what led her back to Euron but she had failed three times now to bring her brother home. She had the desperate hopes that she could convince Theon to come back now that he was free, but he never did. Never even wrote her a single word back.

It was not a real answer, but it was a form of an answer. “He was giving orders and declarations on my behalf anyways. At least if I am there to accept them, I might have even the chance to choose a future for myself again.” Truth be told she was surprised when his response was laughter. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, but he did not falter in amusement.

“Perhaps I am realizing, I would have had a chance were I a man as feirce as Erik Ironmaker. What a beautiful ceremony that must have been.” Yara hated she almost smirked at him, but he was correct wasn't he? Euron had used nothing but a seal to represent her in claiming her now married to the old man.

Muttering under her breath, “I can only wonder if he didn't insist on a consummation. Dagma is complaining his balls are freezing when my own uncle marries me to a man whose balls are so old they're stuck to the chair he can't get out of.” Tristifer commented she didn't seem very perturbed about being married off by Euron, and Yara had once more smirked. “With all luck he'll have died of old age by the time I return, then by law his Keep is mine. I don't need to be happy about it, just patient.”

It was all needlessly complicated, everything now felt complicated. Ever since the day she watched Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark lay siege to her home, her life stopped being simple. The only family she tried to reach out to, did not want to return. So she, like a rat, came crawling back to her family hoping to keep even a modicum of the Greyjoy name alive as it deserved. She couldn't do that alone and by running.

So here she was, following orders for the worst thing ever to pretend to be called a man. She was confident had Euron not shown up, she would've won the Kingsmoot. She almost had them until he appeared with his big words and big horn making grandiose claims better spoken of hope then she ever could. But the things he had said he had done and seen, she could not compete with that. That horn which turned a mans insides into something dark and black as she's never seen before, the eye patch covering his left eye that men rumoured was cut out and replaced with a sapphire like Aemond the Kinslayer, the talk of dragons as none in hundreds of years had heard before.

Yara couldn't compete with any of it. Euron was anything but a man, and more terrifying then any of them would give vocal credit towards. But it was as she spoke did she think she heard it. Their talking was to overpowering at first, holding a hand out to silence him. Yara looked around for where she thought she heard it.

It was not obvious right away, but she knew something was pricking at her mind to pay attention to it. So she begun walking more fervently along the edges of the cliff side with eyes wide and scouring the sights of the forest and clearings below. It happened again, the sound and she stopped to look for the direction of where it came from. Coming to her side once more, Tristifer spoke softly not to disturb the air. “Could be an owl or shadowcat.”

Shaking her head, Yaras face hardened with something knowing in her veins. “Listen closer.” Waiting and waiting, it finally rang out again. It sounded pained, and strained as if such a sound was not normal from which it came, but it was distinct enough for Yara to finally feel that rush of confidence in herself once more. Asking Tristifer what that sounded like to him, and his answer when the sound echoed once more, matched hers.

That was a gut wrenching scream of a woman.

Silence was finally something which felt deafening. Barley the crackle of the fire nearby, the wind barley even howled as it trailed into the cave, dying as it wound the corner and failed to reach. Not even his own breathing could he hear, Jons nerves were completely shot numb. As if only now was he experiencing the delayed reaction he would've felt, but it was all too late to let it overtake. It was already over.

Jon knew there were dried remains of tears which had stained his cheeks and he didn't care to wipe them away now. Letting it all settle as night fell over the north, Jon couldn't get the sound out of his head. He wasn't sure he ever would. He's heard much from people he's harmed and killed and watched die, a wide variety of sounds of pain and yet he felt like the echo in his head now was as loud as it was then.

He's never heard you scream like that. He had been in Winterfell for four of Lady Catelyn's children being born and he knew that normally there should've been a maester and midwives all around who knew exactly what to do to make the pain bearable. But Jon couldn't do anything, he couldn't comfort you, he couldn't make the pain better and he barley could support you because he had to be focused on everything else.

Childbirth hurt, of course it would, but this was something else. Jon had killed enough to know pain, and yet he knew the screams you let out were utter agony. Tears had fallen and you could barley speak anything but wordless cries to him, but he had to force you to feel that torture with not a shred of comfort but Ghost behind you because there was no choice. He could recall the day in Crasters Keep when Sam had tried to convince Jon to help Gilly.

The way Jon had dismissed Sam, saying they couldn't just bring a pregnant girl with them on their journey and all the men. He had looked at him in doubt knowing not one of them would be prepared.

“We can't take a girl with us. Mormont wouldn't have it. And even if he would, what would we do with her? Whose going to deliver a baby? You?”

But it was Jon alone who had to deal with this, and now he was left alone in silence. The quiet only made him wonder too, what did it look like for his mother? Was there a single person by her side? Did the Kingsguard, the cowards refusing to let her go home, did they help? Did they listen to a sixteen year old girl scream and cry and do nothing?

Howland Reed had said Jon was a week old when he and Ned got to them. That she was in a bed of her own blood. Did his mother scream in agony the way you did? Did she even have anyone to beg to, did she call out for her brother wishing someone was there who cared? It made the already ill feeling thick in Jons throat only beg to come out. The thought that there was no one to help her but perhaps some nameless wet nurse who did not care about her.

Bleeding and in pain, knowing something was horribly wrong, did his mother feel relived when she heard the sounds of Jons cries? Did the feeling of mother and son together bring her any comfort before she feared the end? His mother was terrified she was going to die alone, not knowing what would happen to Jon when she was gone.

The exact fear you held as Jon realized it. He too, still felt sick thinking of your reaction. You had been hiding this from him for hours because you were terrified of what his mother likely was. You were scared if you were going to die in childbirth, would Jon be able to get the baby somewhere safe? No one would even be able to feed them without you, he was a week away from anywhere near civilization until he got to the Wall.

If he were lucky, he'd pass through at Castle Black and seek out the first settlement of free folk he could find in the Gift. The women there would know what to do, they'd be able to help, but the thought of how he'd even get there with the baby alive was itself horrible. What was he supposed to do? Accept that he should leave your body behind and not do whatever he could to bring you back?

It all made him feel sick under the numbness of the quiet.

He should've been in Winterfell. Have you in his chambers, Maester Wolkan who knew what to do without a shadow of a doubt, and as many midwives as he could possibly find to ensure you had everything to help you. Jon should've been able to stand in his own home, arguing with those same midwives that there'd be nothing they could do to stop him from being with you the whole time. He should've been by your side to give you even something to let your agony out on, keep your hand in his, murmur into your ear with a gentle kiss to encourage how you were doing, remind you every step of the way that he knew you could do this and he should've been able to let you fall into his chest the moment a babies cries could be heard.

But he wasn't. None of that happened. Instead, Jon had only seconds to figure out what to do once he realized you were in far more pain then you should've been with blood that was too much. Forcing his mind to see passed the horror in his heart and make sure the pain and blood wasn't because you had been ripped open.

Jon had to keep going, but now in the dead silence, stillness all around him, Jon had spent the past hour trying to remind himself that no matter how close it was, you were not Lyanna. His mother had birthed him through pain blood and was alive with her newborn son until she died, but you were not her. You were not alone in the aftermath for a week being kept now a dying hostage.

It was all overwhelming. He had to pull his son from you himself, and not even then could he even attend to you at all. The baby was small, so very small. A month early, he would've grown so much more had none of this happened the way it did. And it took Jon an incredibly long and terrifying few seconds trying to prompt the baby to cry, and then he did.

Looking up to you though, you were so weak and frail were it not for one of your hands tensing into Ghosts fur, Jon had almost not known for a truly terrifying moment if you were alive.

But wrapping the baby up in the first material Jon could find of what he brought over to you, before settling his crying son into your arms, as that very same crying begun to settle within seconds of being held by you. Jon had pulled you into his embrace, somewhat sideways against you but also partially behind you. Your other side still supported comfortably by Ghost who had leaned his head forward to nearly rest on your lap. A small bubble of Jons own little pack of four, as he ran a hand over your sweaty hair, murmuring with a kiss pressed to that same sweat filled hair for you to sleep. You could barley keep your eyes open, and the baby had done so as well. He told you he'd protect you, and so he stayed awake.

His wife in his arms, and his son in yours. But Jon looked up to Ghost, catching his own gaze as he continued to lay behind you both to keep you comfortable and warm. And he knew maybe it only being the four of you out here, was how it should be. He would do everything properly for your second baby, with a Maester and enough midwives to put his own army to shame, but this time, maybe for a man who thought every bit of this would never be his, it made sense it was all unusual for Jon.

His mother had been forced to give birth as far from her home as they could force her to be, so maybe even though Jon too was still far from home, perhaps it made sense his first child with you was born in as deep in the thick of the North as he could manage. His father always said to Jon that he was of the North, so maybe he thought, he should let go of wishing it had gone any other way.

Because no matter how much your screams had scared him, Jon looked down to you curled into his arms, and his son doing the same between you, he wasn't scared anymore. Not when he had this sight in front of him.

A very slightly shifting was felt against him, his eyes glazing down to your fluttering ones barley managing to move at all once you came back to the world. Voice hardly above a whisper, only enough for him to hear very slightly. “I'm beginning to wonder if anything could wipe that brooding look off your face.”

Scratching and rough your voice was, it had Jon shift you closer into him as you let him do so without a fight. Leaning against the top of your head with his lips, Jon kept one hand wrapped around behind your own head to cup the side of yours opposite to him, keeping you close as possible as his other did the same only at the front. Running gently along your jaw and cheek his knuckles were as you slightly moved towards the touch. His rasp too, was barley there only for your ears. “I didn't look this way earlier, but someone fell asleep on me.” The second you went to open your mouth Jon cut you off with a chuckle hinted at in his tone. “A joke, darling. Don't be sorry.”

Nodding gently, your eyes naturally were drawn to what of blood you could still see both staining the ground and yourself. Brows narrowing, you glanced down to yourself not even knowing when Jon had gotten your pants back on your person. Your heaviest layer still off your torso, no doubt from how much you had been sweating and of course the little one still laying asleep on your torso. Looking up to Jon once more, you tried to broach the topic with whatever energy you had. “You're sure nothing was wrong?”

Shaking his head, Jon ran his hand over your hair as his other drifted downward naturally to your waist to keep you more upright without forcing you to do the work. “I can't be certain, but there wasn't anything I could see. No tears or-”

Cutting him off did not work quite as well when your voice cracked so weakly. “No I meant..”

Both of you knew you meant the baby, but Jon simply shook his head. Pressing his lips to your forehead and mumbling against you. “He's fine, as far as I can tell. I promise.” You simply nodded again to accept the answer, for once allowing Jon to fill the air with words, sensing you were struggling to do so still. “I'm so proud of you- no, I'm being honest. Giving birth isn’t easy, but this was a lot worse and you made it through. I'm proud of you.”

Mumbling, your eyes tore up to his shiningly bright grey ones. Letting your free hand reach up and run across the facial hair along his jaw, brushing his thick curls to the side enough your nails could scratch along the back of his neck where you collected that side of his hair. “I only did what you told me. I wouldn't have..we wouldn't have made it if I didn't have you.” Jons eyes were bright as they wished to say something, but he let you whisper to him uninterrupted. “You didn't just help make him, you helped bring him into the world. That isn't nothing, Jon.”

You both knew were the energy there, you both may have turned it into a playful debate, but Jon only shook his head again before kissing your forehead again as well. Leaning back to seek your eyes, “We'll talk about this later, just take the compliment for once.” Your laugh was barley a huff of laughter, but it was genuine. Jons chuckle deep from his chest was more vibrant then yours, and it only acted to sooth such a rough part of you.

Something was not normal about what happened, neither sides of your family did the women have labours such as that. You weren't sure how to describe it, and you could barley even speak trying to answer Jon. You didn't bleed so much you wouldn't survive, but you did bleed more then you should have, and even you knew the pain was far more then it should've been. Something had put you on an edge more dangerous then the mother and grandmothers before you, but you didn't have the strength to think on it.

You really weren't even aware that it took your son a few moments to cry, you didn't feel as if you existed until Jon came to your side with him. Barley the strength to hold him and hear what Jon had said before your eyes slipped closed, Jon muttering for you to sleep. If you thought much more about it, something dark inside you might obsess over the pain and the blood, but your brows narrowed at the effort suddenly to push that away. Not now, you thought.

Asking how long you'd slept, Jon told you not even an hour. Enjoying the quiet before you looked up to him with brighter eyes. “Can I say it now?”

It took him a moment, but laughing a rumble in his chest, Jon brought you closer to nudge your nose with his. Rasping deeply, “Go on.” Telling him with a weak sounding, but deeply meant I love you, Jon nudged your nose more playfully. “And I love you, more then anything.”

Foreheads now pressed together, you felt the soothing feeling of his hand raking through the hair at the back of your head still. Muttering as you tried to do the same, much more gently of course, “You do recall I'm holding your son.”

Another chuckle deep only for you, Jon nodded. “I said what I said, darling.” Your eyes hardly could roll before you moved on him. Seeking his lips, Jon once more did the harder work for you. Pulling you gently up to him so he could lean down to your kiss better. Softly guiding your lips without any demand or push, but the urgency was felt even in it's chaste slowness. How he kept you against his lips and you silently begging to not be let go just yet.

That was at least, until a small little grumble came as the little one fidgeted against you. Barley pulling from your lips, small strands of saliva between you both snapped as your foreheads pressed against one another to look down.

Smiles came so easy, the little wrapped bundle shifting like he was grumpy, of course the moment Jon had taken all of your attention for himself, and seemed to settle much more as you turned back down to look at him. Jons laugh breathed out, his warm hand running very gently along the top of his head as he rasped, “My own son is fighting me for your attention, now.” Looking to Ghost, Jon added, “Better still be on my side.”

Reaching his hand further now to similarly run along the top of the direwolves head and receiving a much more eager shake into the touch. Jons laugh and smile brightening up his face like you wish you could see the rest of your life on him. Of course Ghost was on Jons side, you wanted nothing less. He was being silly anyways. Muttering as you let the hand cradling the baby to you run along his back massagingly you commented, “He's so small...”

Neither Jon nor you took your eyes off him. “Of course he's small, he came from you.” You would tear your eyes up in a playful glare if you had the energy.

The small sounds from him weren't cries, he could cry, but it seemed he didn't yet choose that path by the time you seemed to put together what he was asking for in his fussiness. “I think he needs to be fed..”

Strange as it was, Jon was more prepared for the rest so far then you. Four siblings born after him, and he took to jumping into caring for the baby faster then you were ever told the father of your child would even want to be. Reaching for your darker layer, Jon muttered to you, “Let me.”

At least for you, some of it too was natural. The side of your head tilting to lean against Jons who followed suit, both of you no longer took your eyes off the baby. Jon replacing your hand to rest gentle against his back. His large one seemed so much larger against his son. Thumb running along the back of his head with a feather light touch, all you two could do for now was watch the baby, your baby, Jons baby, feed from your breast.

Neither of you knew how long you were there, letting him go at whatever slow speed he needed to feed at. Slowly you felt your energy return enough you felt as if your limbs would be able to move again, and your mind coming back from the strange fog as the four of you stayed there.

The baby fed, and as it closed in on three hours total since you had given birth had enough energy that Jon had begun to move from you. Not to leave, but pulling something over a bit as you both sensed the baby wasn't going to stir for a while once more. It was not much, something of a little bed, tucked away so he was not free and loose to stir and fall, and either of you could easily pick it up for now to move. But it had turned to night outside and here was good as any for camp.

The moment you moved to sit up and go closer to help with what else he was doing, Jon practically jumped at you. Hands pressing down at your upper arms with a sternness in dark eyes, and an expression once could have mistaken for anger if you didn't know better. “That wasn't an invitation. You need to rest. I'll handle everything.”

Turning to glance at Ghost who was now settled more freely beside you, the direwolf gave a look that was as good as a smile. Your hand running along his head and ears to scratch gently with your nails, his head shaking at the sensation happily. “I'm starting to worry this has only made him even more demanding with me.”

Jon looked up from where he had been now perched by the fire with a jesting glare, you raising your eyebrows feigning innocence as you once again gave Ghost some much appreciated scratches. You stood by what you said, but you weren't entirely sure you disliked the idea. Not when the man in question was Jon, never in any lifetime would you distrust him, not after this. Not after he led you and your son together alive to the other side now.

Many topics had yet to be broached, but Jon didn't want to rush you. He was happy to take his time, busy trying to make you something easy to keep down as he explained in a low rasp. “I don't want to push you, but the sooner I can get you two to a maester the better. I'd keep us here for a day to let you properly rest, but I need to get you both home, it's more important you see to someone who can know for sure if you're both alright.”

So why was it, that a strange sound was heard from the cave entrance? Something with a whoosh and a cut off sound as it air left something before the sound came from it and a light thud. Jon glanced to you, both your eyes narrowing before you glanced to the still slumbering boy. Jon only need tilt his head to his son for Ghost to circle around to stand by you both more protectively as he stood. “Jon-”

“Stay here, I'll see what it was.”

You nodded, letting him carefully broach the cave wall to glance at the entrance in the sights not visible to you with a more strange expression. Stepping out to the open, Jon called your name. The moment you moved to stand, Jon rushed to grab at your hand and waist to stand you upright. “What is it?” He only shook his head. Guiding you to look yourself, the sight was as unusual as Jons tense posture had indicated it was.

The eagle following you for months, currently lay at the mouth of the cave with an arrow straight through it's chest.

An arm keeping you behind him, Jon circled it as he stepped out into the cold. Eyes tearing upward, he felt something odd washing over him. Something unsure as he felt on edge, someone was here but for what reason? Nowhere in the immediate vicinity was even a scrap of life right around him but perhaps it wasn't life he was sniffing out, but something in the air of a smell he knew he recognized.

Following the genuine scent, Jon side stepped around a path leading up to the clearing. A glance of his vision, you had stepped carefully and slowly around the eagle as well. Eyes trailing despite the shaking in your muscles as he called out to your name, “You shouldn't be out here.”

Stepping up to the edge, the group wasn't large, five accompanying the two of them as the others had split into another group far lower. It wasn't faces she would know, and too dark to tell but she was willing to risk it anyways. Only, as Tristifer beside her motioned for Yara to inflame the edge of the arrow as another beside her did for Victarion, did her confirmation come through.

The man had called a name just loud enough to hear. Victarion protested, “Hold, Yara.” But she didn't listen. She didn't know what her uncle's plans were, but she had one right in front of her. As the man called out your name, and your head turned you were at the perfect spot. Victarion however, would have to go by her rules just this time. They had to separate them, it was the only chance.

Her arrow let go first, as Victorians followed each hurling towards their respective targets.

Just as Jon had knelt down somewhat to try and determine what it was he was seeing, you did the same. Recognizing the scent of pitch, Jon suddenly realized you and him didn't need to be surrounded, you simply needed to walk into a trap. A trap someone set right outside his view of the outside and he had walked into it. Only, the arrows came before any warning could be given.

Hitting small spots of nowhere on two trees, their paths followed a thin trail each before coming too close to where you were. Calling out your name once more, but not getting anything else out before light encompassed Jons vision.

Yara didn't care he was angry, Ironborn were known for their skills in archery and it had hit the mark just as she intended when coming up with this plan. The fire reached the pit of buried pitch, and an explosion consumed the small clearing. You hadn't been close enough to burn, but the power of the blast knocked you and the Stark to the ground behind.

The small cliff side behind you though, the blast sent you flying down the side of it and slamming right into the harsh ground. “You trying to capture her or kill her?”

Glaring at her uncle, Yara hissed out “If shes injured she can't fight back. I'm making their jobs easy.”

Standing up the seven of them, they watched as the Stark begun trying to get to his feet and they had one final thing to do tonight for a certain. Victarion was the one this time who had the right words at least. “Let's hunt ourselves a wolf.”

Ears ringing, Jon had to push up on his hands and knees to even see in front of him. The explosion had knocked him back a few feet and almost on instinct in the seconds he flew back did his mind travel, finding Ghosts eyes his own as quick as he returned to his own body. As if to tell Ghost what he now couldn't risk, not to let anyone anywhere near the baby.

Calling out to you, Jon felt a blood curling panic not getting a response. Pushing up to two feet once more, Jon tried your name and tried again until he heard you trying to call out against your scratched throat call his name back. “Are you alright?”

��Am- Am I alright?” Jon almost found his voice melting into anger at your audacity to care about him when the blast had thrown you down the jagged cliff side. Swiftly making his way over, he called back down to you, realizing how difficult it was going to be to come get you quickly. “Can you move?” He watched you wince trying to stand and his heart hurt, barley able to comprehend what was going on as he shook his head, more urgent then before. “Stay there, I'll come to you.”

Only as soon as Jon reached the mouth of the cave once more, did it happen. From the darkness they slithered in, these men watching as he heard you call to him desperately before something muffled you and nothing else came. Moving swiftly enough, Jon felt a surge of something dangerous flowing inside of him.

He didn't know who these people were, but as he grabbed Longclaw pulling it from it's sheath he looked firmly to Ghost. “No matter what Ghost, don't let them anywhere near him. No matter what.” His direwolf whined, almost curling his large figure around the baby as it to hopefully muffle the sounds coming from him as Jon made his way.

The plans flying through his head what he was about to do, only the sounds of you calling to him through a struggle faded, as footsteps had taken their place. Slowing to a stop, Jons heart pounded fast and painful as he looked to the seven people now circling a half moon around where he stood at the entrance to the cave. None he had ever seen before, but on two of their chest plates did Jon recognize the sigil of a kraken, and suddenly the darkness in his mind turned red at being walked into something he didn't even understand.

The two on each end closest to him with the sigil, they must have been Greyjoys. The woman standing with a seething glare as the man next to her stood close and protective, as if Jon were not the one surrounded. But it was the older man with the long hair which spoke, almost amused by the situation did he toy with Jon, when all he could do was think of what direction he thinks you went and how desperate you tried calling to him before nothing.

“Now isn't this a sight. Lone wolf, all the way out here without the pack.” If he expected this to be a discussion, he was wrong. Jon was too busy gripping Longclaw so tight were it made of glass he'd have shattered it. His blood burned inside of him and there was something deep within calling to a feeling he had little felt in a long time. Something inhuman was screaming throughout his veins as this man spoke to him. “I'll say, a bit disappointed how easy it was considering how long it took to find you.”

Jon said nothing, but the man took it as an answer to continue. “Though, we weren't really looking for you were we?” The longer Jon let this go on, the further away you were getting from his reach. But this man wouldn't stop boasting about things as if Jon hadn't spent the past six months out here with no knowledge of the outside world. “Awful pretty she is, surprised you haven't locked her away in a tower. Hide such a thing from the world, men are dangerous. But, we both know that don't we, Stark?”

Don't make the comparison, Jon told himself. Don't do it, not now. Not the comparison of you, or for him. Don't look at any of it that wasn't what this was and yet with seven up against him he hated how much the world was trying to mould Jon into reliving a past he wanted nothing to do with.

“Tell me, why drag her all the way out here? Not a charmer, you are. Wonder what she sees in you. Couldn't be much, never known a girl like her to marry a bastard.” You had done more then that, you and Jon together were so much more then that, these people had not a clue what they were talking about. He didn't have time for any of this.

The woman cut through for only a moment, “Uncle.”

The hand not resting on the hilt of his sword, the man held the other out to indicate for her to be quiet as he continued his staring towards Jon. “I wouldn't worry too much. I'll take care of her far better then Euron would. Far better then you clearly have.”

Twisting his sword in his grip, Jon readied his own stance just as the shing of metal hit his ears all around as the others too armed their own blades. The man stared once more with almost amusement. “Come now, Stark. You're completely outnumbered.” The woman yelled more angrily, telling the man, her uncle, not to toy with him. “What? Wolves never play with their food a bit first? Can't take it out on Euron, so why not take it out on the next best thing?”

Almost near a growl Jons voice was as he spoke low to the Greyjoy. “You think I'll let you do this?”

But the man had Jon on one thing. “We already have. Kill him.” He and the woman stood back, the man beside her hovering by with his weapon out as the other four came for Jon.

Only, these men had not a single clue what they had done. There was not a man here, there truly was a wolf raging within Jons heart as he moved to meet their blades with his. One then the other, he could feel the blood splatter across and he simply did not care. Only three, then two, then just as Jon managed to knock the last into the ground and sink his sword into him, did the fifth move away from the woman and towards him.

Jon however, had enough. At the last second, letting his guard down with his sword did Jon swiftly pull out a dagger on his person, always tucked away. He had once told Arya something he needed to remember. Her sword, Needle, wouldn't hack a mans head off, but it could poke him full of holes if she was quick enough. Jon didn't have Needle, just a dagger in one hand but the principal was the same. Jon just needed to make one though. Thrusting it right through the mans eye, it sunk deep to the point the man shook as blood splattered the side of Jons face and body. Letting it and him drop to the ground, the two Greyjoys looked wide eyed at one another.

They looked the nervous ones now, and Jon had nothing but a terrifying calm despite the raging in his heart. Stealing a wolf's mate right she birthed his pup, were a pack around they would've never stood a chance, but Jon was not a pack. Ghost was his pup's protector right now, but Jon was always yours. He could not, he would not fail you now. Not after everything you've done for him. Not when you were everything to him.

As one attacked on one side and the woman the other, they were clearly better then those they tried let taking care of the situation first. Dancing around one another they didn't work in the harmony which might have been able to overpower. Knocking him back or forcing him to spin to reorient himself, but Jon in his new life was more then just a man with a sword.

Jons new life was defined with blood, and he would remember that when it presented itself as such. When your whole life was bloodshed, you forget what makes spilling it so important, thus you have nothing to fight for. Jon had everything to fight for, and they didn't.

Knocking the woman to the ground as if to impale her, Jon quickly turned and drove his sword right through the mans chest. Not a word uttered to such a coward, letting him drop to the ground as the woman looked wide eyed and shocked. Trying to leap up, Jon only flipped his sword around to knock her back to the ground with the pommel of Longclaw.

Honour was saved for those who don't horrifically wound and kidnap the mother of his child. So he let himself not care. Forcing her face down into the snow she struggled, but was nothing against his strength. Ghost as if reading his mind came quickly to his side. Jon threw her sword to the side and held open at an angle until he felt his direwolf place the rope into his hands.

Yanking her arms behind her roughly, Jon spare no second in tying her up as he leaned down to growl at her in a strained anger, barley audible through the thick strength of his accent as if losing all sense of civilized within him as he saw red. “You're going to take me to my wife, and if I don't find her alive? I'm killing you next.”

Within only minutes, everything had gone so gut wrenchingly wrong, and now you were gone.

[angstigone]

WARNINGS: idiots-to-lovers, afab character - she/her pronouns, cliffhanger ending.

although you should have paid much more attention to your office crush, your mind had all been focused on aki to your right, who looked painfully irritated, enough that you weren't startled when he excused himself for a smoke break.

you were more startled when he excused you as well with him.

"you do remember I don't smoke?" you had whispered promptly as you got up from the floor, smiling at your office crush with a forcefulness that made your jaw click awkwardly.

it had been going that well as you had been glad to have put right in front of your office crush and hence it had felt naturally to start catching up and chatting about events.

well, he did a whole lot more of chatting than you and you were sure that he had cut you through a few times, but you were talking after long months of pining away at your desk in the hopes he'd notice you.

"I know" aki had replied sombrly, holding the door open for you to exit the busy izakaya and move outside in the chilly air of the beginning of autumn; the past few days had been pretty cold and you cursed yourself for having changed in a dress at the knowledge that it'd be your - one and only - chance to catch the eye of your office crush "... I just... well, I had to talk with you".

«couldn't it wait tomorrow?» you asked as you adjusted the coat around your shoulders to further shield yourself from the cold, standing the closest to the heat of the inside «... the conversation was going so well and it was... oh gods, it was flowing!».

«are you sure?».

aki's tense comment got you immediately self-doubting as you tried to recall the exact last words you had spoken to your office crush, immediately senidng you panicking before he added, while putting the cigarette between his lips.

«... because from what I could see he was the sole one talking. that isn't a conversation in my book».

you startled, definitely taken aback and after a first moment of confusion you couldn't help but be the irritated one: had aki just pulled you aside to... chastise you?

«well, I mean... he's... it's good, still, though?».

your experience with relationship was lacking as a former unpopular student; maybe that was also why you struggled so much to make the first move and had been basically snowballed by that trainwreck of a crush.

«... I don't mind it».

«you should».

since when had aki started giving out relationship advice? you did know he hadn't a girlfriend and neither he had had one for the time in which you had known each other, so what was he going to judge you on? w

hat were his grounds and what were his credentials?

professional party-pooper?

«... I don't... he doesn't seem like a nice guy».

«don't you know that girls usually go for bad boys?» you humored him, clearly wishing for this conversation to unfold in another whole way; the tone felt so heavy that you could cut the tension with a knife and wondered what got aki to act so somberly «... either way, I do apprecciate the concern, aki, but believe me...».

«is that... is that who'd you like be with?» although from anybody else it'd have sounded judging and ominous, strangely aki - and his blue eyes - had the ability to make it sound painfully serious, and more concerned than patronizing.

still, you couldn't help but feel slightly burned by the comment, moving further into the entrance of the place while aki exhaled promptly smoke from his mouth.

with his eyes set up onto you, it was impossible not to look at him: he looked handsome, damningly so and hadn't you been painfully aware that aki didn't do relationships, your work crush would have probably been him: pretty loose hair framing a delicate face with pretty features and a body that you knew was honed by training.

a forbidden fantasy that got you blushing.

«ahem... he is funny, and he...» you struggled sudenly to find adjectives to describe your office crush: you certainly thought him handsome but he paled if compared to aki.

he was funny, indeed, but in a way that got you to feel a bit annoyed at times as he recounted stories time over time that made nobody laugh.

he was... respectful you thought, but he had given you the bare minimum and he had indeed over time talked above you.

«... well, there isn't such a huge choice in the office».

and neither in the world outside, you had to admit: dating apps didn't work nor speed dating events or such. or better, they didn't work for anybody but you; was something wrong with you? probably but you were desperate.

and you were just about ready to throw yourself at a 'decent' man, a casual find instead of a perfect match.

«... well, you don't have to settle for him».

and maybe it was the fact that aki saw right through you that you felt yourself grow angry when you knew he was right all along; he had no right to be like that, no right to call you out at all for trying to form a relationship when he had backed off from them all too well.

maybe, if he hadn't been so emotionally unavailable...

no, that was a dangerous ecanrio that you didn't want to go down on; you knew of some subtle and unspoken feelings you had for aki, but they were to be kept smashed down and ignored, because otherwise you'd have ruined a good friendship.

«and you don't have to tell me what to do» you shot back, cringing at the harsh way in which you sounded; aki might have been sticking his nose where he shouldn't have but this didn't give you the right to berate him for something that was within you only «... I like him. maybe he isn't perfect, but I like him and I want to start a relationship with him so that's enough».

you had hoped that aki would banter again - if anything to show he cared -, but instead after a moment of confusion he simply smoked the last of his cig, nodding slowlu as he dropped his head to have his hair fall onto his face.

«yeah, I... heard you loud and clear» he spoke slowly, smushing his cig underneath his sole, promptly cruushing it in a quiet fashion that had you wondering whether he had heard you "loud and clear" as he had said «... it's cold, I... it's better if we go inside, alright?».

you nodded, a bit uneasy after this conversation - definitely unsettled at how attentive to you aki had been - but moved inside slowly, somehow not comforted in the slightest when your office crush waved you over, as you took back your place in front of him, catching with your side-eye aki settling onto your opposite sides but quickly collecting his coat and wallet.

"already going, aki?" himeno muttered, with her usual slurred speech while a poor arrai barely escaped her grasp "... you truly are no fucking fun!".

"think I have had enough for the night" aki replied gently, before putting an hand onto your shoulder strangely comforting and far warmer than the whole room "... have a good evening".

and like that he was off, as your eyes stayed linked on his back till it disappeared, brought back when your crush snapped his fingers in your face to regain your attention before starting to talk again; much to your horror, you found out that without rose-tinted heart shaped glasses, aki was right: he was an idiot.

his rambles weren't cute nor interesting and although you tried to fake a smile through them, by the time that everybody moved away from the bar, you were exhausted and socially drained.

"would you like to... have a coffee at my place? to end the night?" you were startled when your office crush asked you to stay, while you wrapped a scarf tightly around himeno's neck, least she got cold while obviously passed out.

had he asked you such a thing an hour before, you'd have been throughly happy, but somehow you couldn't help but overanalyze every small detail, like the fact that he had drunk almost as much as miss himeno and insisted that you did as well, although you weren't that big of a drinker.

his cologne smelled far too intensely and his eyes lingered all too close to where your dress pushed your chest up.

was this the man you truly wanted to go out with?

were you that desperate and alone to wind up with such a dude?

your mind flashed with deep blue eyes and concern, a warm hand on your shoulder and the gentle tone of somebody who cared.

"I am wiped" you immediately saw the disappointment over office crush's features and somehow you found yourself not caring at all, whereas his rejection would have meant the worst for you "... maybe another time".

"yes of course" no 'I enjoyed talking with you, tonight' or anything else.

and somehow that was all you needed.

---

monday you felt like couldn't have come sooner as you moved quickly into your cubicle, no longer catching snaps of former office crush; if anything, you ducked your head when he passed clearly searching for you, and were glad when aki came, looking as polished as ever although he hadn't the same precise glint. something was amiss.

it was already telling that he hadn't messaged you n the weekend aside for a "did you arrive home safe?" (that sounded like "did you go home, alone?"), but you had tried not to give it too much thought. you tried not to give too much thought to the night spent drinking.

not at all.

«hey!» you called him over, noticing he didn't have the air of somebody who had had his morning coffee «... coffee?».

at the canteen, you found that aki's silence extended from the weekend onto the weekdays as he stayed quiet after the usual pleasantries.

«you didn't ask me about how my weekend went» you took it upon yourself to speak up.

«mmh, thought you'd fill me in» he said, lightly brushing with his tips the hot lid of the plastic cup of coffee; the gesture shouldn't have felt as dirty-minded as you thought it «... anything interesting happened?».

«aside a good session of romcoms on my own with ice cream? not really» you shot back «... although I did receive a proposal on friday night. for some coffee... from you-know-who».

obviously even aki could tell that the proposal wasn't about coffee.

«mmh» it would have seemed disinterested but by now you knew all about aki hayakawa's slight moans «... how did it go? probably bad considering the romcoms and ice...».

«I didn't go» you flustered lightly, feeling silly at your admission, although not because again you were lonely and painfully single but somehow you hoped that aki wouldn't catch the reason why you hadn't gone with it «... you were right. he was a bit of a tool. talked too much and out of place... I don't... well, I don't know what got me into him in the first place».

you expected for aki to goad, to mutter a quiet and comforting 'I told you so' but nothing came out of his mouth for a long time making the silence awkward enough that you were about to excuse yourself and your coffee when he spoke again.

«I am glad» he spoke slowly as if he was coming up witht he words as he went, although they seemed also somehow practiced «... I... I know he wasn't the one for you. I... you deserve somebody better».

you doubted it somehow, but you doubted even more than you could find better and in an attack of sarcasm you shot back caustically.

«why the sudden concern, hayakawa?».

«because I like you» of course, he liked you as he was your best friend «... like... because I wish I could be the one. the right one for you».

you hadn't expected that in the slightest and it seemed not even your friend as he regarded you for a moment as if you had been the one admitting to him your sudden attraction to him.

«I... I....» he stalled, and as his face shot out sudden looks at you, you found yourself unable to speak what was aching in your mind; you had denied for so long your feelings for him that you had thought that they'd never come up your throat agaiin «... sorry, I... I ruined it, didn't I».

«no, aki, I...» that was all you managed to say before he was the one that got up, eyes darting everywhere but upon you as he said what broke your heart next.

«don't... you don't have to worry, I... I'll assure myself that my... my feelings won't interfere... it'll be like always... I won't make it awkward».

and somehow that felt more hurtful than straight up rejection.

part 2?

[dailycass-cain]

Birds of Prey #13 ends the "second arc" of the series aka the Birds finding out who was targeting Babs. Was it a rewarding finish? What about the Cass and Spirit World?

Well, here are my thoughts on the issue.

So I'm just gonna start off with the negative stuff I have to say about the issue. #1 being I was a bit disappointed at the entire resolution of it all. It is not so much how the Birds got free from the world hoping, but more about how the arc's villain, Maia was dealt with.

She just leaves and-- I guess she goes back into the portal? I mean that's what the characters say she did but it's never really implied on the pages.

In that regard, I felt a little meh on there being no real resolution. The Birds are free and all, but Maia isn't really beaten. She could still target Babs or do something else to make the Birds' lives hard.

#2 is a nitpick but Xanthe and Constantine just don't interact with Cass at all. I get it, given she wasn't with them until after getting Cela out. And man the comic got crowded. But zero interaction left me 😞. Not even Xanthe seeing Barda which I kind of wanted to see.

This is kind of a "hope" with the new Cass series is that well if this series does do well, I kind of want to see Cass interact with these characters (and new ones).

Like how is it we've seen her meet Richard Dragon? Or seeing Bronze Tiger again in Cass's life?

We're just getting Oynx and Grace in the next arc. Both have some strong ties to Cass that I'm REALLY curious where writer Kelly Thompson goes (sides the Barda stuff).

I'm rambling so back to the issue itself.

The final nitpick is a real nitpick. Cass was just called Cass at the intro. While Babs got the Batgirl/Oracle combo bit.

Come on DC… we've got two Batgirls in this issue. Just throw us a little bone here.

So I'm done focusing on the negatives so let's talk the positives now: the Cass and Cass/Cela portions are probably the strongest bits of the entire issue.

Like, the way Cass figures out how to end the loop and get Maia to open a portal and them to escape was quite genius. She a smart small bat.

Using the Spirit World proxy to "summon" her dead sisters was a nice touch to freak Maia the heck out. It also is a nice way to touch on last issue's cliffhanger with what Xanthe was feeling.

Same goes for all the Cass/Cela interaction. Like, Cass being Cass always is an open heart to anyone, and Cela has that and other things that Cass can relate too.

Again their interaction was the highlight of the issue as you could feel Cela's hope in seeing her fallen sisters and wanting to stay in "Spirit World". Or that she left Cass, and left on the downer note with her.

In all honesty, I kind of hope we see Cela again and she isn't lost like Christine or Harper in lost female "friends" that Cass strikes up with and it's completely ignored by others.

There is potential here with Cela in that she could try and find the real Spirit World, and there's an adventure with Xanthe to be ringed in with.

Besides the stuff involving Shiva and Spirit World too.

But that's more to the point I said prior. Just see more of these connections.

This was still a fun issue with the problems. There was still more good I had than the bad. But there was a bit more compared to prior outings.

Still, the art by Gavin Guiday and coloring by Jordie Bellaire were nice.

For Bellaire's coloring did a nice job homaging the prior coloring by Sebastian Chang (colorist on Spirit World) making the colors pop. Just felt so short in this variant. I guess it just makes me want to see that place again.

So yeah, the arc concluded but it does feel kind of rushed. I don't mind it given next we get Oynx and Grace Choi.

But there is a few things I hope Kelly gives us more stuff with like Mirai Maps.

A friend said they felt Mirai Maps felt "there" and we got nothing (other than answers to her tech). I agree we do need more on Mirai Maps more so why'd she stick around.

As for Cass? Yeah, it's obvious which character Kelly does favor most given Cass steals the show again. Though I'll admit she is kind of outshining Dinah a bit too much. But I digress we got Dinah's characterization in Kelly's side story that same week.

So, here's to the next arc and whatever we get with Dinah in Green Arrow! Just wish she had another series to read. I feel like there's one but nope just Green Arrow and Birds of Prey. A real pity.

[chcrryade]

  ⠀ര ( ˶°ㅁ°)⠀UNWRAP...⠀DOUBLE DIP! ⠀01082021⠀❘❙❚❙

Saccharin, a sound that suited the hot summer it was released in, and a colour scheme so bright it could make your eyes water, ‘DOUBLE DIP’ was simultaneously all and none of what the masses were expecting from CHERRYADE. Released on the 1st of August 2021 (digitally, that was, with physical versions only becoming available a few days later on the 5th), most look back on CHERRYADE’s debut mini album and consider it a success; remembered through smoke clouds, artificial flavouring, and a surprising lack of infighting allegations, as well as JAGUAR CEO Ae Seungdae’s reassurance through a short interview held a week before release that it would “leave a sweet aftertaste in the mouths of all who listen”—even if creative director Choi Eunhee seemed to disagree, if the hastily-covered scoff that left her lips was any indication.

⠀ᝪ  .ᐟ⠀⠀▬ ▬ ▬⠀⠀the  stats

RELEASED⠀01 & 05 / 08 / 2021

PROMOTIONAL PERIOD⠀5 WEEKS

UNITS SOLD⠀990K

WINS⠀3

⠀ᝪ  .ᐟ⠀⠀▬ ▬ ▬⠀⠀the  tracks

FUN⠀LEAD⠀WRITTEN 도연 & 대진 PROD. 대진

DANCE!⠀WRITTEN 해일 & 주순 PROD. 대진

FLAVOUR⠀PROMOTED B-SIDE⠀WRITTEN 하선 & 잘렌 PROD. 주순

SUMMER NIGHT⠀WRITTEN 잘렌 & 대진 PROD. 대진

ALL DAY⠀WRITTEN 宜君 & 잘렌 PROD. 주순

FlipSide⠀⸻⠀the  following  overviews  have  been  outsourced  from  various  netizens.  general  consensus:  ★★★★☆

ഒ⠀from  user  haeilade⠀06082021

so what did this sort-of-anticipated debut consist of, I hear you asking? well, first up is ‘Fun,’ a pretty straightforward anthem about enjoying some time in the sun to the fullest, and the track I expect will be the most performed on the various music shows the group are set to be appearing on in the coming weeks. next up is ‘DANCE!’—a song that seems to be becoming a fan-favourite b-side, in which they compare the feeling of falling in love to dancing, to flashing and falling lights, to a very summery feeling in general. it makes you want to get up and do exactly as the title tells you, and I can see why it’s climbing the ranks in the favourites department. third on the mini album comes a slight mood shift in the form of ‘Flavour,’ a bouncy and enjoyable experience no doubt hiding a number of sex innuendos in the form of the many food-and-drink-related lyrics (I mean, what are we letting ‘swell up a bit more,’ boys?), and what I predict to be the companion performance song, along with ‘Fun.’

second-to-last is ‘Summer Night,’ an upbeat affair speaking of dreams, of flying, of coaxing the listener to ‘have some fun,’ and and, on a less upbeat (but very brief) moment in the bridge, their fear of those aforementioned dreams ‘disappearing.’ and, last but not least, we have an even more noticeable shift in both mood and in tone, a much more direct attempt at a sensual (but still very enjoyable) anthem: ‘All Day.’ it doesn’t take a genius to guess at what they’re referring to. still, the delightful performances of the group and somewhat addictive whistling built into the instrumental makes it just as loveable as any of the others—in fact, it’s my personal favourite from the project as a whole, followed by ‘Flavour’ and ‘Fun,’ and I hope we’ll get a peek into the behind-the-scenes for it (and, really, all of the mini album as whole). credits-wise, all members bar gogo and jaehee contributed with lyrics, but personally I wouldn’t have cared if none of them put a pen to paper anyway.

ഒ⠀from  user  letsgogo⠀23082021

I’ve seen many people questioning the sudden flip in mood song-wise at the very end of the mini album, but as it usually is with JAGUAR, very little of those queries were answered. some have been calling it poorly structured and lacking in consistency, but some have thought up a theory for themselves (and whether they’re onto something or are just trying to make excuses to comfort themselves, at this point it’s a case of only time being able to tell)—that the change was intentional. that ‘All Day’ was setting the foundations for their next release, sort of like leaving a story on a cliffhanger; in order to get listeners intrigued enough to stick around a while longer for whatever may happen afterwards. but even if it isn’t, most of us are just happy to take it as it is, not minding the differing energy one bit—undoubtedly a positive.

another one of those was how well the seven look like they’re getting along. seeing as they’ve been stitched together from the members of past failed groups (and hand-picked from the companies those groups had been under), a large majority of people were eagerly awaiting their non-music related content (interviews, behinds, general extra things) to try and get a gauge of how they were getting along—because put-on acts of professionalism can really only work so well before someone or other starts to see through them. however, despite how hard many have been looking, not much has been found. there has been, of course, notable tension between yijun and jaehee (which hasn’t been so much of a surprise to anyone, considering their past), but the rest all seemed fine. friendly, even, if I dared to go that far. shocker!

ഒ⠀from  user  jaleon⠀25082021

past all of the apparent amicability between them, though, this debut era hasn’t been without its downs. first came the standard smoking allegations, grainy photos showcasing the smoke clouds leaking from their mouths or noses as one or two of the group huddled together round the back of the building after dark, laughing while caught up in whatever conversation they were having as they did so. longtime fans of most JAGUAR groups haven’t been deterred at all by this—most of them are just.. used to it. a nicotine addiction on the side has almost been written into the company’s contract at that point—and so these didn’t haven’t made much noise. some saw it as another good thing, if anything—they liked one another enough to hang out outside of work, so it must’ve been a positive.

there has been, however, a more serious issue that arose out of this promotional period. shortly after their first appearance as a group on inkigayo, whispers began to generate, centralising around yijun and seven, a member of senior boy group S(O)UL. the story was that an argument went south backstage, and the two parted on less-than-good terms. neither company has made any move to address it, though, and so the rumours are starting to die down—even if I doubt the feud will, and not for a while at that. I’ve heard similar whispers of mutual dirty looks also being exchanged between him and a member of group MELIORA, but even less has been said about that, so I know as much as everyone else does—pretty much nothing.

ഒ⠀from  user  hasunshine⠀06092021

styling (the outfits, as you’ll probably come to learn, are really only ever I want to talk about) this era was exactly as you’d expect something named ‘DOUBLE DIP’ to be. outlandish, bodacious, overly colourful, and with so many accessories plastered all over them it was a surprise all of their vocals during performances weren’t interrupted by the jingling and jangling of their jewellery. clunky rings, bedazzled sunglasses (and faces, and shoes, and hair.. bedazzled everything), fur hats and big caps and denim on leather on denim. you sort of just have to imagine someone’s thrown everything they can find in a vaguely-2000s second-hand store at them, and then said ‘break a leg!’—but, to their credit, they pull it off pretty well. maybe it’s just their faces.

and after that, we’ve reached the end of all I was ever intending to cover within CHERRYADE’s debut era. all that was bad brought in as much attention as any one of their performances (quite fitting with JAGUAR’s age-old motto of “all press is good press”), and overall it was very successful for the seven. I hope it’s just one of the (maybe) many more fruitful eras to come.

(¬_¬) ⠀at  a  glance  ⠀𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃⠀  doubledip.jpg ⠀(  OO3  )

[miami-lolz]

Rick and Morty Finale Theory’s/Predictions

inspired by posts by @fear-no-mort please check them out!!

The Freaky Morty Theory

The Freaky Morty Theory is that at some point either during or after episode 5, Evil Morty switched places with Morty Prime. There are some actual bases for this, and users have been collecting a decent amount of possible evidence for this reveal!

- Morty acting almost pre-season 4, like a Morty that hasn’t properly interacted with a Rick in a while

-Flinching significantly more then usual. In a flashback it implies Evil Mortys Rick was abusive which checks out

-the smug look. Don’t get me wrong Morty also has a chronic resting bitch face and smug I told you so look, but it has been a lot more prominent in the last couple of episodes

There’s a lot more to this but the basis is somehow they switched, and the season finale would be the time for the reveal.

If you are interested, @sadiecoocoo and @glitteringcrab have much more in-depth stuff about it!

personally, I want this theory to be true. It opens a lot of doors and would be a fantastic cliffhanger and segway to a more Morty-oriented episode or season.

Ricks Deepest Fears

His Fear Of Morty

Ok, so there are a lot of ways this can go. But here's in my opinion the most likely avenue;

Rick would absolutely never admit it, but part of Morty scares him. We see it on his face during the Purge episode, and more frequently during the last few seasons. But I think the reason he dogs on Morty and tries to keep his confidence low is because Rick knows how dangerous he can be when motivated enough. Morty is more aware than most and Rick picks up on that. He is scared one day Morty will grow up to be like him, bitter and angry. He sees it in him now and can't blame anyone else. Now with everything with Prime, I think Rick fears Morty will grow up not just like him, but like Rick Prime specifically. He'll get angry and lash out, do something drastic in revenge for all the ways Rick has wronged Morty throughout the years. Morty will realize what he's capable of and leave, and Rick couldn't really blame him.

His fear of Rick Prime

This one is probably what's gonna happen. Since Rick definitely didnt get closure from killing Prime, this could be his chance. To get over his fear of Rick Prime, of what he represents and what he is capable of. This episode might be his chance to a means to an end.

His fear of losing everyone else

Another huge one would be his fear of the Smith family dying the same way his family did. Rick has kind of detached himself but it’s no secret that he cares. He’s especially fond of the version of the Smiths he lives with now. Even admitting Summer reminds him of Diane. To lose them would absolutely devastate him. Maybe this episode will be him trying to finally heal from his fear of losing everything all over again and being alone.

Mortys Deepest Fears

His fear that Rick will kill him too.

Now I know how this sounds, but I thought, that would be interesting to see if one of Morty's fears is that Rick C-137 tries to kill him. Now I know that sounds out of character since WE know Rick would never but think about it, it’s not said but almost implied he probably could have fixed the prime universe from being Cronenberg but chose not to because it wasn’t his family, it was Primes. And I think Morty is smart enough to figure that out once he found out Prime was really his Rick.

He also compared Morty to his biological Rick multiple times, then basically beat his biological Rick to death with Morty to practically witness it. Now obviously Morty doesn’t blame Rick for hating Rick Prime and frankly Morty doesn’t seem to like Rick Prime either. But subconsciously I wonder if he thinks he’s the last strand, that Rick will one day finish what he started. it’s pretty clear C-137 would absolutely never actually kill him, but could you imagine him finding out Morty fears him

His fear of being alone

Morty has become detached in the past few seasons, and you can’t really blame him. His own Jerry seemed to get frustrated when he offered to get him a “new” Beth and Summer. Like they were toys he could just swap out. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. He does. He defends Summer and his parents. His love is like a dog, it’s unconditional so no matter what he still loves Rick even after everything he put him through. So he was angry and upset when he left. Even afterwards, when Summer brought up”The Crow Thing” Morty got visibly upset. He even tried to manipulate Rick to come back. If a representation of that comes up, this could be a chance for him to give faith to Rick and his family that he won’t be left behind.

[its-cartooncrazy]

Okay i finished my dunmeshi reread where I was trying to predict which chapters will go into which episodes for season 2 (assuming 24 episodes)

I made some questionable splits towards the end tbh but I ended up with 24 without pushing too hard so. I guess I'll write down my thoughts here mostly so when season 2 comes I can compare them

So I'm gonna add my screenshots from my notes page so I'll explain that the yellow numbers was me guessing from chapter titles and my poor memory, and the pink is from my reread and focusing on content.

I started by looking at season 1 and how they split stuff up. Every episode was two chapters, save for a few that either didn't need full episodes, or were a lot of action which takes up more space in comics. (I don't know where exactly the dragon chapters split, but the 7 dragon chapters + good medicine were 3 episodes, so that makes 2 episodes of 3 chapters there.) They also preferred to keep 2 part chapters in one episode, but also didn't shy away from doing it either.

Theres only enough chapters left for 22.5 episodes at a rate of 2 chapters per episode, so we actually never have to group three chapters into a single episode again!

That being said...

On Floor One features would be a banger season opener. It features a couple of fight scenes, so it shouldn't be too long. I wouldn't want to split it into two episodes anyway because for a season opener, I wouldn't want to be away from the main cast for too long.

(It also, oddly enough, cuts back to our cast and gives them little name badges, which is a joke about the changelings, but also its very fitting to reintroduce our characters in their first appearance in season 2)

Bicorn / Stewed Head go together very easily, as do Succubus 1 + 2

Jumping ahead a little, roasted walking mushroom and 6 days would fit together nicely, especially with the Winged Lion taking place during the Succubus chapters, but. I don't wanna squeeze that in with them...

I think if trigger do their thing, 6 days could be an episode all on its own (and it could be one of the best episodes, too) And hey, if they need more content then there's a couple of monster tidbits extras that take place here that they could add!

Confit was the problem child. I wanted Rabbit and Curry to get their own episodes, but I also wanted 6 days to stay alone, which left confit alone. It features a fair bit of important stuff: reaching thistles house, cleaning up, finding the book (and opening it I think), and eating the phoenix, so I wouldn't feel right cramming it with something else.

So I ignored it for the time being, to see if Rabbit and Curry could be split in half.

Confit would lead well into rabbit 1, with them arriving at the house and having a meal, and then rabbit 1 takes place shortly after the meal. Rabbit 1 ends with laios getting got by a rabbit. That seems like a pretty fun cliffhanger to be honest. Rabbit 2 ends with them comforting marcille, and then curry 1 cuts away to several scenes viewed through the eyes of the mage, ending with them showing up at the house. And then...

Grouping curry 2 and thistle 1 together is kinda evil actually. Sibling flashback scene, that fight, and then thistle backstory?? Yikes. I love it actually. So yeah I'll go with that.

Thistle 2 and 3 feature the dragon fight (placing the teaser at a predicted episode 9) and then thistle 4 and 5 include the chat with laios, the lion eating thistles desires, and then the wrap up meal. I'm pretty satisfied with that if a little disappointed we don't end an episode with laios in the plant

Bavarois and whatchamacallit are both the canaries' interrogation so thats easy, ending with a cliffhanger of sorts where the lion is fully released by marcille.

Lord of the Dungeon 1 and 2 are both pretty full chapters. It continues the fight with the canaries, which unfortunately features a lot of talking still, and then the aftermath with our group waking up to a room of unconscious canaries and spider guts like that one community gif.

Dungeon 1 is actually a shorter chapter. Putting these two together would possibly make for a kinda sparse episode. So, we have a full episode and an empty episode. Can we borrow a scene from lord of the dungeon to even it out? No! Because almost all of Lord of the Dungeon 2 is kabrus epic fumble, which isn't a scene that can be cut up neatly. Let's set those aside for a bit and see if the solution comes from the next few.

We have three single chapters before our next grouping, which doesn't split nicely into 2s like I want it to. Unfortunately, none of these are particularly short, and we're past the point in the series where we can skimp on the details. Parasites starts with a shortish scene with marcille and frozen falin, so I wondered about giving that to dungeon, if I could group the three together with slightly less content, but I think there's still probably too much content to get through with those three chapters even without that scene. (Not to mention, I don't think season one ever split any part of a chapter between episodes, so I'm reluctant)

Honestly, I thought for a long time about how to arrange these chapters and never came to a conclusion, so I just moved on for a bit, to see if answers were in the next section. (Spoiler alert: they were!)

Marcille 1 is kind of a misnomer (if I know what that word means) since it doesn't actually focus on marcille at all, and instead shows people around the world reacting to the dungeons opening. I don't feel as bad separating it from the rest of marcille in that case. (It's also a short chapter but local cuisine has a fair bit in it so I think that won't matter)

So to sum up the last section before we move fully into the marcilles, we have Lord of the Dungeon, Dungeon, Parasites/Food Chain and Local Cuisine/Marcille 1. Phew, that was a lot of effort just to end up splitting them into pairs of chapters. (Dungeon may still borrow from parasites, but that's up to them. Yknow, if they were still looking at how to split them up in this stage of production or whatever XD)

Marcille 4 ends with the group hug and, as sad as I am to not get a week to sit with that scene, it wouldn't work as well as an episode ending during the big finale battle segment, so pairing it with Winged Lion 1 (mostly chatting up on that tower, concluding with them getting gobbled up by the monster pile lion) works pretty well and gives a good cliffhanger.

Winged Lion 2 and 3 gives us Lion backstory, and then laios becoming dungeon master, ending with him plopping his head back on like its nothing. Lmao I can't wait to see what the outtro is for this episode.

Winged Lion 4 is short, actually, and with the action of Winged Lion 5, that episode might be a bit sparse. But, well. Iunno I figured it's fine? Look, I started to give up and make weird decisions around this point. Winged Lion 5 ends with everyone freezing and then laios picking up "laios".

Winged Lion 6 I gave its own episode. It doesn't have enough content for that, to be honest, but I gotta put some single chapter episodes in here somewhere and where better than laios eating laios and laios and laios and laios and then the winged Lions desire to eat desires. Idk I said I gave up, didn't I?

Starting here, I start to worry about momentum. How long can you keep people interested after the Big Bad has been defeated? Def-eat-ed lol

The Island I also gave its own episode, just 'cause, I guess. It features the action packed escape from the dungeon, everyone washing up safe and sound, and then searching for laios, ending with a nice hug. I didnt seem to take my own advice tbh, that ending doesn't really force you to keep watching. Hm.

Falin 1 and 2 gives us everyone pitching in to prepare to eat laios sister, and also mithrun 🥺, but much like the last episode, doesn't end on too captivating a note (although it is a very good scene, it just doesn't lead in to the next episode so much) so I guess I really didn't take my own advice much. I swear I took this into consideration while I was reading but I guess I gave up lol

Falin 3 is the izutsumi show, where she asks everyone what they're gonna do now (not cooking, I mean in life!!) and ive put this one by itself because there are plenty of scenes that could be expanded upon, and also izu deserves a whole episode to think about her character development because she is the best and I love her.

This also lets us group falin 4 and dungeon meshi for the season finale. Another reason I wanted falin 4 to go in this arrangement is that this is where laios becomes king, which really just screams "finale" for me. We also get falin waking up, and a sweet epilogue of laios' fantastic reign, plus him being good with kids <3

So uhhh. Yeah. That's how I would split up the chapters. Quick recap/summary to make it clear hopefully:

1: 53,54,55

2: 56,57

3: 58,59

4: 60,61

5: 62

6: 63,64

7: 65,66

8: 67,68

9: 69,70

10: 71,72

11: 73,74

12: 75,76

13: 77,78

14: 79,80

15: 81,82

16: 83,84

17: 85,86

18: 87,88

19: 89,90

20: 91

21: 92

22: 93,94

23: 95

24: 96,97

That was a lot of waffling to end up with mostly just two chapters per episode tbh. If you've made it all the way, I hope you don't consider your time wasted lol. Looking forward to seeing how trigger does it!

[babyboiboyega]

Next to me (The Study Room) Pt. 8 (Shuri x Black!Fem!reader)

HBCU!Shuri x Black!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 8.2 (gotdam, thats a lot for me yall)

Content: mostly fluff, you and Shuri being absolutely in love with each other but both scared to confront it, Shuri being absolutely adorable,...but then some angst, mentions of blood and injuries

Babyboiboyega’s Marvel Masterlist

Babyboiboyega’s Masterlist of Masterlists

Series Masterlist

Y/N: Here’s part 8 only a few minutes before 9 LMAO

This series is now called “Next To Me”, but I’ll still be tagging it as The Study Room because it’s what we’re all familiar with. I hope y’all enjoy this part and I’m not sorry for the cliffhanger

RECAP: If you thought your heart had been racing at her arrival, it was nothing compared to the way it raced now. She wanted to take you somewhere?

Her nervousness paired with her request to take you somewhere had a bashful, yet excited look appearing on your face as you nodded quickly. You didn’t dare think about the implications behind her request; the last thing you wanted was to think too much into everything and then either disappoint yourself or disappoint her when the truth came to light. 

But you could let yourself enjoy one night with her…right?

You had managed to keep your questions to yourself as soon as Shuri had offered to take you somewhere, or rather tell you that she wanted to take you somewhere. It was hard as hell considering all of the factors leading up to you two’s departure from the palace and how they all made your curiosity grow. 

They were managed while you cleaned up in the training room’s equivalent to a locker room, changing into the clothes she had brought you afterwards. You had found yourself coming up with different ideas of what it could be as you changed into the outfit that consisted of a light brown tank, beige shorts, and a dark brown button up that you threw over the ensemble and left unbuttoned. To finish it off, she had given you a pair of, what you affectionately called, “moon steppers” simply because of their sci-fi design that was so uniquely Shuri you couldn’t help but to love them. 

To be completely honest, all of your questions had almost left your mind after stepping out of the bathroom and receiving an appraising look from Shuri- one that she hadn’t been afraid to hide as she pushed off of the wall. The longer she had looked at you, the wider her smile had become until you were mirroring it. 

Of course, you had been a stuttering mess as she had complimented you, offering a smooth “you look good” paired with another scan of your body with her eyes. You had damn near tripped over your own feet as she guided you to the exit of the palace, placing a hand on the small of your back and turning you towards the door. She had deftly slid her hand into yours before gently pulling you on an unknown path through the palace and letting you know that you two would be taking a car.

“A car? So, we’re taking a car to…” You trailed off, looking over at her with your eyebrows raised in question. Your attempt to catch her slipping failed miserably, as she only glanced over at you, laughed, and shook her head. You kept your eyes on the side of her profile, your mind racing with excitement as to where you two could be heading. However, the moment your eyes trailed over her outfit, the excitement was quickly replaced with a warm feeling that settled over your entire being.

Shuri’s outfit was simple…but so damn good looking on her that it took a while for your brain to rewire before trying to form words.

It consisted of a white, high neck tank top coupled with a pair of cream colored joggers. There was a jacket around her waist that matched the color of her pants. The tightness of her top paired with the cropped nature of it showed off her midsection in all of its bronze, toned, muscular glory, and you had to prepare to bat away your thoughts with an imaginary broom. However, they only increased in volume and intensity as you looked closer, taking into account the details that further emphasized her outfit. 

She wore the same shoes as you, except she seemed to wear them much better due to the slightly different feeling of walking they provided. On her fingers were at least 3 golden rings, each one as simple and beautiful as the last one; and then around her neck she wore a necklace that you hadn’t seen on her before…that is until you two arrived in Wakanda. She had explained the purpose of it during your first tour; how it held the entirety of her Black Panther suit in it and how, with just one thought, she could make it appear and retract whenever needed. 

The outfit paired with her accessories and the way she carried herself, suave and smooth but with an air of regalness, was honestly enough to make you sweat. Your attraction towards her was nothing new for you; it had been there since meeting her for the first time in that study room. But one could say that a few things had happened since then that had only made your attraction grow.

And now here you were, about to go…somewhere with her because she had wanted to take you out. Just how big of a crush could you have on her before it crossed into unspoken territory? 

That was a thought to stress over later and not when you were being led outside of the palace and towards a familiar car, her car, that sat on the edge of what looked to be the airstrip.  

The sight of her car provided an instant flash back to the night she had driven you to the hospital to see Imani, your friend and roommate, who had been checked in because of a monoxide leak in your dorm building. You had only known each other for a few weeks at that point, yet she had immediately and willingly offered to help in any way she could. Hell, she had even offered you a place to stay in her room until your dorm building had been cleared.

Then, you had obviously known where you were going. Now, you had not one clue…and it was exciting. 

Her car wasn’t the only one on the tarmac; behind it idled two, intimidating looking jeeps that would presumably be driven by the few Dora Milaje and other members of the Royal Guard lingering by them. Surrounding all three vehicles were countless Talon Fighters, all of them looking sleek and deadly at the same time. Looking at them made a sudden desire to peek inside of one rise, especially given the fact that the last time you were in one, you had been unconscious and on the brink of death. 

Yeah, maybe we’ll hold off on that. 

As soon as Shuri stepped onto the tarmac, they all saluted her, their arms crossing their chests before quickly returning to their sides. Most of them simply nodded at you,  but a few of them even offered the tiniest of smiles that you were quick to return. 

So we’re going somewhere that requires protection. Another clue.

“You know I can practically see you trying to figure out tonight’s plans.”

Shuri’s amused voice captured your attention as you two stopped in front of her car. Your eyebrows furrowed almost immediately, turning to face her with words of denial already on the tip of your tongue. Had it been on your face or did she just know you that well?

“Yeah, well that’s what happens when you don’t tell me anything. Who knows? You could be…kidnapping me for all I know.”

With her eyebrows furrowed in question, she looked at you with a grin. 

“Kidnapping you from the palace that I already live in? With the Royal Guard standing watch?” She emphasized her question by motioning to the group around you. Shaking your head, you looked at her in mock exasperation, your eyes widening.

“They’re here to protect you; not keep you from doing something crazy.”

“Actually, that is a huge part of our job description. Probably the most stressful part.”

Okoye’s sudden appearance made the both of you turn quickly to her, your eyes falling on the General and the slightly impatient look she seemed to always have on her face. Just looking at her made your sore muscles throb once more.

“Oh, please, Okoye. I’m a joy to be around and protect.” 

Okoye made a face that showed just how much she disagreed with Shuri’s words, but before she could say anything, Okoye was making her way to the first jeep.

To your surprise, a few, nearly silent snickers came from a few of the guards surrounding you. It was evidently a normal occurrence for them to break their stoic, intimidating appearances, as Shuri rolled her eyes good-naturedly at the sound. 

The amount of excitement radiating from Shuri was palpable, and it was further shown in how she teasingly interacted with those around her. It wasn’t hard to see the difference between her now and how she had been…well, last night. The tension and worry that had been hovering over her as she had come to your room was nowhere to be seen, instead being replaced by a lightheartedness that was practically contagious. 

“Whatever you say, Umkanikazi. Are you ready to depart for-”

“Okoye!”

The General’s words halted abruptly, her eyebrows furrowing at Shuri’s alarmed yell. Her eyes had scanned the tarmac in a quick second, undoubtedly looking for what could have caused Shuri to yell, only to realize that there was no threat. Her eyes widened in alarm only to narrow in vexation as Shuri spoke.

“You can’t just tell her where we are going! It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

The two of them stared each other down across the hood of Shuri’s car, seeming to have a silent conversation; one that you weren’t privy to, despite standing right next to Shuri.

The staring ended once Okoye sighed, quickly saying something in Xhosa to Shuri before turning and speaking to the guards in the same language. Shuri, on the other hand, looked slightly offended…though it quickly turned into a smile so wide and contagious that you couldn’t help but smile. Nevermind you had no idea what they had just said…Maybe you should ask for Xhosa lessons instead of trying to learn it by yourself. 

Your smile turned into a soft laugh as she quickly turned to you, her hand pulling you to the passenger door which she opened. She waited until you were situated before closing your door and quickly walking around to the driver’s side. It only took her a few seconds to cross to the other side and join you.   

“If this is a kidnapping, at least let me grab a few clothes. Maybe my charger-”

You paused in your words as she threw her head back, letting out a genuine and loud laugh. You wondered if the adoration was as easy to see in your eyes as you watched her, your mouth hanging open slightly.

It was easy to come to the conclusion that you’d do anything throughout the night just to hear her uncontrolled laughter; something you had a feeling she didn’t get a lot of chances to do, given her royal status and appearances she had to constantly keep up. 

“This isn’t a kidnapping, uthando. It’s simply a way for me to get you out of the palace. You’ve been behind its walls since arriving, and I thought this would be a good chance to give you good memories of Wakanda, and not only of ones full of…poison and stress and stalkers.” Her smile had hardened around the edges as she finished speaking, but you were quick to keep the conversation moving, not wanting to see her smile fade for a second. 

“Well, in that case, is there anything I need to know before we get to this undisclosed location? Any cultural customs I need to learn? Special greetings? Speaking of greetings, I’d like to learn Xhosa. I’ve already learned a few phrases.”

Admittedly, your task of learning a few phrases in the language had been slightly encouraged by the thought of impressing Shuri, but mostly encouraged by the thought of learning such a beautiful language while in a country where it was mainly spoken. 

Her eyes flitted to you in acute surprise as the language’s name left your mouth correctly, lateral click and all. The impressed look on her face boosted your ego, making you smirk and lean back against the seat.

“Oh? Such as?” 

She busied herself with getting the car started and ready to leave as you spoke, yet her constant glances over at you reassured you that she was still listening. You could see one of the jeeps pull around until it was stationed in front while the other brought up the rear of Shuri’s car. The jeep idled in front until Shuri flashed her headlights, and then all three of the vehicles were moving in tandem. It didn’t take long for your little convoy to reach a bridge that connected the airstrip to the mainland that held the countless looming buildings, businesses, and homes. The Royal Guard members who weren’t in one of the two jeeps stood at the entrance of the bridge, their gazes focused and scanning the area. 

You didn’t know if it was the sight of the guards on high-alert as you passed them or the sight of the palace shrinking in the passenger mirror, but the further you drove from the palace, the more apprehension tried to weasel its way into your thoughts. 

You’d had no doubts that you two were safe behind the palace’s walls, and despite becoming a little stir crazy, you had taken solace in that fact- especially after days of working to find the stalker and not finding a shred of decent evidence that would allude to their identity. They had gone silent since their initial attack, but probably because their target, Shuri, had come back to Wakanda; a nearly impenetrable country to outsiders. 

While their silence and inactivity was a little relieving in the sense that neither of you would have to look over your shoulder, partly due to the protection surrounding you two, it was also worrying. It left their next moves up to your imagination, and that resulted in your imagination running wild. 

You could try to convince yourself that if they somehow made it into Wakanda, you all would’ve known by now, for they would have surely tried their luck once more; but the truth was if they did have the nerve to follow the Queen to her own country, they wouldn’t risk failing again; not when so much was at stake. When desperation rose, sanity decreased, and who knows what lengths this person was willing to go to-

“Y/N.” 

Your name being called coupled with a hand landing on your own caused your thoughts to pause abruptly. Your attention instantly switched from the distant palace to Shuri, your eyebrows raising in question. 

“Hm?”

Glancing out of the window showed that you were still moving, but now you were surrounded by trees that quickly whizzed by. They loomed over the vehicles, almost covering the sky above you…but not quite covering the soft, colorful lights that shined against it. After quickly noting the colorful and constantly changing lights peeking through the trees, you turned your gaze to Shuri.

Unbeknownst to you, she had been eagerly waiting for you to share with her the Xhosa phrases you had learned. It wasn’t an easy language to learn in any way, but the thought of you still wanting to try, undoubtedly out of genuine interest, made her heart skip a beat. At your silence, though, she had become slightly worried. It only took a quick glance at you to see that there was something on your mind, and whatever it was caused a slight frown to replace the smile that had been on your face only seconds earlier. 

Shuri pursed her lips slightly as she glanced once again at you, her eyebrows pulling together. Where there was once a glint of excitement and anticipation in your eye, there was now…concern? Restlessness? A feeling she had personally vowed to herself that wouldn’t take up an inch of your thoughts tonight. 

“What’s on your mind? What are you thinking about?” 

Your answer initially came in the form of a soft sigh, your jaw working as you thought of a way to answer without potentially ruining Shuri’s mood or the night in general. Seeing the worried look already on her face prompted you to shake your head, forcing your anxious thoughts to the back of your mind for the night with effort. You gave her a smile that you hoped seemed genuine.

“I was trying to remember what I learned. Now, don’t make fun of me. I learned these from a book.”

Pretending to ignore the suspicious look on her face, you turned your back towards the door to face her. You silently cheered as you saw the corner of her mouth lift up, the rest of her lips soon following as you began to speak.

“So, of course I learned the casual greetings: molo and molweni. And then I learned how to ask someone how they are-”

“Oh? Unjani?”

You perked up slightly, your smile genuinely growing with pride at being able to understand what she had asked, and knowing how to respond.

“Ndiphilile, unjani?”

Her look of appraisal paired with a proud smirk had a chill running down your back- one you quickly tried to hide by pretending to fix your seatbelt. 

“What else did you learn?”

Shuri, on the other hand, couldn’t get enough of hearing the language fall from your lips. Of course, it sounded as if you had just learned the language which was fitting considering that you had and by yourself, nonetheless; but she found the slight hesitation of your pronunciations endearing and the confidence in your voice…well she found that rather attractive. She found you rather attractive, in more than one way. That was something she had come to terms with while planning this little outing. 

She had realized rather quickly that, above all else, she only cared about making sure you enjoyed yourself. It didn’t matter how many times you told her you were fine being cooped up in the palace; she could tell that it was weighing on you in the slightest. Downplaying the circumstances you had been forced to accept was something that she didn’t take lightly. In fact, it would’ve been easy for you to resist staying in Wakanda altogether; it would have made it harder on herself, Okoye, and anyone else already working on the situation, but you had handled the change with emotional and mental grace. 

How could she not be attracted to you?

“Mmm…I think I remember…oh! Uxolo? Excuse me?” 

You hadn’t even realized that the group was slowing down until the car rolled to a soft stop. Shuri put the car in park before turning her gaze completely to you, unrelenting and piercing. There was a fond look on her face and you found yourself fidgeting with the seatbelt under her gaze. 

“That was close. It’s uxolo. You used the click for the letter ‘q’, but you were still close.”

It had sounded weird coming out of your mouth, and it was because you had used the wrong click. After practicing for hours in your room, all it took was being in an enclosed space with Shuri for you to forget the simplest pronunciations. Nevertheless, you copied what she said, taking time to sound exactly like her.

“Oh, right. Uxolo.”

“There you go- nantso ke, uyfumene! You got it!”

It’s honestly absurd how much of a reaction Shuri’s words of praise had on you, but you felt you handled it well. Instead of melting into a literal puddle right in the seat, you channeled that small bud of pride and brought it to the front. 

“Mmhm. Soon enough, I’ll be eavesdropping on you and Okoye’s conversations.”

Another loud laugh left her lips as she opened her door, letting the sounds of other car doors slamming shut filter into the car. But along with the slamming of doors came another sound; music, instruments, voices in varying degrees of joy and celebration. The amalgamation of sounds prompted you to quickly open your own door and step out, your eyes scanning the area in a search for where the voices were coming from. 

You couldn’t have been far from the edge of the moat where the bridge had ended, as you could still see glimpses of the palace through the trees you all had just driven through; but that wasn’t what caught your attention. 

You were acutely aware of Shuri coming to stand beside you, and of the Royal Guard following her and partially surrounding her; your attention had been entirely claimed by the view you could see quite clearly from the small, shaded area of land you all had parked on. 

Every chance you got, you had made sure to gaze down at the streets of the city every morning; always full of vibrant life and colors, and stalls that sold varying sizes, colors, and kinds of Wakandan artwork. Shuri had caught you staring a number of times, and she had even described a few of her favorite stalls she loved to frequent whenever she took the time to go. Of course, you had listened and held on to every word she said, loving to hear the passion and the affection of which she spoke about her city with. You had even vowed to yourself that before you left Wakanda, whenever that would be, you’d have to venture down and buy a few keepsakes just to remember your time here. 

But as your hand was eagerly grabbed and you were pulled out of the shadows of the trees, it was quickly made apparent that Shuri had taken care of that desire before you could do so yourself. 

The sheer amount of different smells, sights, and sounds would have normally been a little…much for you, but with Shuri’s firm grip around yours, expertly weaving you through the crowd with ease, you found yourself becoming completely engrossed in the festivities taking place around the two of you. It was easy to just let her lead you, and you took the time to look at every stall that passed. 

Scarves, dashikis, elaborate jewelry, clay pottery; all being sold alongside different meats, vegetables, and pastries that undoubtedly tasted just as good as they smelled. 

“We’ll come back, I promise! But I want to show you something first.”

Shuri’s voice spoke directly into your ear, making you jump slightly before you leaned in more. The crowd milling around the area was loud, but it was filled with such glee that you didn’t mind it all. And despite the crowd basically parting at the sight of their Queen accompanied by the Royal Guard led by Okoye, there weren’t many curious eyes locking onto the two of you. Remembering the fact that Shuri, and her brother before her, had frequented the city and the market multiple times explained the crowd’s seemingly “disinterest” in the monarch. Some still caught sight of her, giving her a quick and eager Wakandan salute (that she almost always returned with a salute back or even a smile), but most just went about their business. It certainly allowed Shuri to pull you quickly and easily to what she had wanted to show you, and upon arriving at the site, you immediately understood why it was the first stop she had wanted to visit. 

Unlike the section of the market you two had just been through, the area you arrived at was mostly clear. There were people standing in a circle around the area, but the only things- and people- inside the circle were a small group of drummers, sitting and kneeling behind a small group of what looked to be dancers. The drummers held their drums close to their bodies, their heads bowed and their bodies still, while the dancers did the same. 

Shuri still had your hand in hers, and as you turned to her, preparing to ask about the sight in front of you, she pulled you closer and lowered her head to speak into your ear.

“I’ll explain everything after the performance, but this is my favorite part.” When she pulled back, the smile on her face was enough to stop your questions from arising…for the meantime. It was giddy, and held every piece of childlike joy she had lost as a result of her brother and mother’s deaths. However, as you looked closer, there was something in her eyes; a deep, barely perceptible look of sadness. Her smile didn’t waver once, though; in fact, it only grew as the sudden sound of drums pierced the air. 

The drums commanded the attention of everyone they reached, making everyone pause and turn towards the sound, including you. They filled the air with rhythms that were so mesmerizing and heavy, you could feel it traveling through the ground and into the bottoms of your feet. The crowd was filled with people of different sizes, shapes, and skin tones; yet, you all were one in the collective immersion.

The dancers moved in a way that definitely told a story; a story that the singer undoubtedly echoed with a voice as strong and unwavering as the strongest oak tree. It didn’t matter that you couldn’t understand a word she was singing; the significance of the story being told could be felt through her voice and the dancer’s movements. 

“Those five dancers represent the 5 tribes of Wakanda,” Shuri spoke quietly, her voice coming from behind you. You hadn’t even realized that she had moved until she spoke, one of her hands raising to rest gently on your side as if to steady you. The chill that ran down your spine wasn’t a result of the soft breeze that blew across the land. 

The 5 dancers she referenced all wore traditional, African dance attire that contrasted beautifully against the advanced technology that covered every inch of the city. A high speed, magnetic train traveled above the heads of the crowd who watched a traditional performance. 

With every second that passed, you were reminded of why Wakanda was one of the top nations in the world in…well…everything. 

Each dancer’s costume consisted of a certain set of colors, and with Shuri’s help, you were able to recognize which dancer represented which tribe. Shades of green and white for the River Tribe; oranges, reds, and brown for the Mining Tribe; dark blue and purple for the Merchant Tribe; shades of blue for the Border Tribe; and gray and white for the Jabari Tribe. Each of them had specific elements of their costumes that represented their tribe further, such as the River Tribe’s beaded headdresses and accessories, and the Mining Tribes red clay covered skin and hair. Every dancer had an anklet of shells that rattled with every shake, stomp, and kick. 

The costumes showed only a small portion of what made that specific tribe beautiful and enthralling, and you found it unfortunate that you’d probably never get to fully experience what each one had to offer. 

As they continued to dance with movements that seemed both graceful and packed with heavy meaning, Shuri continued to translate the words being sung. Her voice effortlessly blended with the singer’s husky voice and the music, not taking anything away from the performance, but instead adding an entirely new layer of captivation on top. There were notes of excitement and familiarity as she spoke softly. 

“Long ago, these lands were blessed with a gift from beyond this world: vibranium. Everything touched by the vibranium flourished greatly, and when the time of man came, so did they.”

The rhythm of the drums changed to one that exuded energy and chaos, the shift being felt throughout the entire crowd. The dancers followed suit, suddenly moving together in a push-and-pull motion that resembled a conflict between all of them, their faces exhibiting conflict and hardships. Shuri’s next translation matched the change.

“Five tribes laid claim to the land, calling it Wakanda. For many years, they fought relentlessly and ruthlessly, resulting in many deaths and even more devastation…until-”

The dancers parted, revealing a man with an elaborate, black and purple headdress that instantly commanded every person’s attention, dancer and audience member alike. His movements were graceful…almost catlike…as he moved around the 5 tribes. Every time he passed a tribe, they would turn and follow him with their eyes transfixed; it happened again and again until all 5 tribes looked at him with reverence in their eyes.

“-a shaman, upon receiving a vision from the panther Goddess Bast, consumed the heart shaped herb. It granted him supernatural abilities- great enough to end the fighting and unite the 5 tribes. They made him king…and he became the first Black Panther…making him Wakanda’s protector.”

You watched as the 5 tribes bowed their heads, raising and crossing their arms in the Wakandan salute while the lone dancer- the Black Panther- continued to dance along to the drums. As the rhythm increased, so did the dancer’s movements until you could barely see his feet touch the ground. His movements paired with the music made you lean forward, your body subconsciously awaiting for the resolution to the climax that was happening. Shuri’s hand against your waist tightened in anticipation, and if you had taken a glance at her, you would’ve seen her eyes unblinking and staring at the scene, just as engrossed as you. 

Every bit of technology around you vanished, leaving you staring at a performance that represented the past, present, and future with a vividness you couldn’t help but feel deeply. This wasn’t as simple as storytelling; this was the passing down of generations upon generations of the beautiful country’s origins; this was making sure that the creation of Wakanda stayed just as important as its developments, no matter how advanced they were becoming.

As the drums’ final beat rang out, the dancer’s movements stopped abruptly. A charged silence that continued to carry the drum’s last beat descended upon the crowd. You held your breath, not wanting to break it with something as small as a puff of air, only for it to escape you shakily as the crowd erupted into cheers. 

It was almost like snapping out of a trance, or maybe stepping out of a movie theater after being pulled into the events happening on the screen for hours. The second it happened, every sight, sound, and smell came rushing back to you. You were admittedly startled at the loud applause, whistles, and ululations; but that didn’t stop you, and Shuri, from joining in eagerly. 

The applause had only continued until it turned into more music, the drums once again picking up but this time with an air of commemoration and entertainment. The sight of audience members entering the circle and dancing brought a smile to your face, and a quick thought of joining crossed your mind before you quickly pushed it aside. The people of Wakanda’s joy was so contagious that you 

were perfectly fine watching it from the sidelines. 

You were still reeling from the absolute experience you had just witnessed when you turned to Shuri. Her gaze was already on you when you met it, her eyes immediately softening. They still held that glint of excitement that had effortlessly reeled you in. 

“How’d you like it?”

Shuri’s question, full of glee and hope that you enjoyed yourself, made you pause; but not because you didn’t know how to answer. It was more-so because of a lack of words to describe exactly how you felt. How could you accurately describe an experience that both educated and enlightened you? How could you describe an experience that you’d continue to think about even after you leave Wakanda?

“I…don’t think I have any words. Shuri, that was the most…it was…” you blinked, your words completely evading you, “I don’t even know how to explain it. That was probably one of the best things- performances I’ve ever seen.”

Your words resulted in a blinding smile appearing on her face…and that's when the realization hit you. 

You’d do almost anything and everything to make her smile as hard as she was smiling right now. You didn’t know if you wanted to freeze the moment so that you could stay in it, or if you wanted to keep going with the hope that you’d find more things that would result in a smile like hers. 

“They put on the performance every Indalo Day- Creation day. We have this festival once every three years, where the tribes come together for at least two nights. They make artwork and trade goods and foods; it's definitely one of my favorite holidays. ” She turned her gaze to the steadily growing crowd of dancers, her eyes scanning over the people of her country with appreciation and a love that went deeper than simply being their queen. 

“I can see why…and that was only one performance.” 

You let out a soft laugh, motioning to the center of the circle and not being able to tear your eyes away from her side profile. Undoubtedly feeling your gaze on her, she turned back to you.

“You’re right, but there’s so much more to look at.” her smile turned slightly mischievous as she took your hand once more, lacing your fingers together. The action sent a feeling close to being shocked up your arm, and it helped you realize that you’d probably always react the same whenever Shuri touched you. 

She pulled you along the outskirts of the crowd, keeping you close enough to where she could speak to you without having to yell. She didn’t exactly have to ask for your permission to lead you through the crowd; the way you kept yourself close to her, matching her eager energy and steps as best as you could said enough.

For the next unknown amount of hours, you and Shuri visited every stall you two could reach. She had bought you a beautiful, multi-colored bag, using a reasoning of “we need a bag to hold everything that we buy.”

“You’re not slick, Shuri. I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything. Ooh, let’s go look at those.” 

And then she’d be pulling you to the next one. 

If she saw your eyes linger on a stall for a second too long, she’d either subtly steer you towards it with a knowing smile, or she’d disappear for a few minutes before mysteriously showing back up and slipping something into your bag. The few times you had caught her about to do the same thing, you had grabbed her arm or tightened your hand around hers, insisting that you were fine, only for her to shake her head and argue you up and down. 

“You look like you want it.”

“I never said I wanted it.”

“...But you look like you want it- do you want it?”

“Shuri-”

“You want it. Let’s go.”

It's not like you didn’t want to buy all of the souvenirs and items you thought were beautiful, as the exact opposite was the case. If you had the money, you’d be spending all of it recklessly throughout the market. However, you had quickly found out at the first stall that somehow, someway, you had forgotten your card in your room at the palace. You had immediately and jokingly blamed it on Shuri’s secrecy…who only responded by narrowing her eyes and speaking Wakandan in a quick fashion to the vendor. Only a minute later, the vendor was handing the tote bag to you with a smile. Before you could protest, Shuri was holding her kimoyo beads over the vendor’s, both bracelets letting out a little trill as a transaction was made, and then you were being pulled once again. 

Dealing with Shuri quickly resulted in your bag growing so heavy that you had to continuously switch it from shoulder to shoulder; though as soon as she noticed your struggle, she took the bag from you with a reassuring smile. 

“Thank you, but Shuri… I think I have enough keepsakes. I could fill an entire shelf with all of this.” 

Your words left your mouth with a laugh as you pulled her over to the side, not wanting to stop in the middle of the walkway and risk interrupting the flow of the crowd. 

“Maybe so, but there’s just one more thing I want you to see. And then we can head back.” 

You were quick to shake your head, your eyebrows drawing close together. She sounded apologetic, like she was sorry for keeping you out longer than you wished to be out. In reality, the thought of returning to the palace hadn’t crossed your mind once while exploring the festival. The ache in your limbs from your earlier training session had been pushed to the back of your mind, almost nonexistent. Shuri’s enthusiasm and the festival’s liveliness had taken up all of your thoughts. 

“Oh, no, I don’t wanna leave!” You squeezed her hand in reassurance. “In fact, if we could stay out here all night, I’d be more than willing to.” 

Returning to the palace meant entering the real world once more, and the real world was currently inhabited by people who would do anything because of an unhealthy obsession. Returning to the palace would undoubtedly result in that heavy weight, stacked high with royal duties and obligations to protect everyone she considered under her care, to hang over Shuri once more. The smile that had already carved out a space in your heart would fade, as would the reasons behind that smile. 

The longer you two stayed out, the better it would be for both of you. 

“Well, in that case, there’s still someplace I want to show you.” Her thumb rubbed across your knuckles in a soothing manner for just as much as her benefit as yours. She waited until you nodded, as if you would refuse or resist being taken somewhere- anywhere- by Shuri, and then you two were once again joining the crowd. 

You didn’t quite make it as far as you’d hoped, though, when a myriad of high-pitched and excited voices flooded the air, calling out “Queen Shuri!” 

With your hand still secured in hers, she turned to face the voices, her smile widening. Standing between two spaced out stalls was a small group of children, all belonging to different tribes and making their group look rather colorful. They all waved with wild movements as Shuri looked at them, beckoning her to come to them. It was evident why as one child bent down, picking up a ball and holding it over his head before speaking loudly and in enthusiasm. 

“Would you like to play with us?” 

One of the older looking kids nudged the child, a slightly scolding look on their face as they said something quickly to him. The sight of the child deflating and lowering the ball with a slight frown was all it took for Shuri to look back at you with a questioning but amusing gaze. It took you a few seconds to realize that she was asking if you’d like to join, as her mind was already made up about going to play with the children. 

“I’ll stick close by.”

The word “cute” wasn’t adequate enough to describe the look of joy and childlike glee on her face as she passed you the bag before turning on her heel and heading across the walkway to the group of children. They looked on in anticipation that only turned to surprise as she turned back around to face you. It only took a few steps for her to make her way back to you to your confusion. 

“What’s wrong-”

She moved so quickly that you had barely blinked before she was placing her lips against your cheek in a quick peck, and then she was turning and joining the children. Giggles rang through the air as they watched the entire scene, their eyes looking curiously between the two of you before their short attention spans were refocused on Shuri. 

You, on the other hand, remained rooted to the spot with wide eyes and a hot face. The smile that took over your face was wide enough to hurt your cheeks, making you raise your hand and lightly massage them as you watched her cheerily kick the ball around with the kids. Her wide smile was visible even from a distance, and her laugh could be heard echoing through the air along with the childrens’. 

The sight would’ve made any person smile, as nothing but indescribable joy radiated off of the group. It hit you that this was the happiest you had ever seen Shuri; surrounded by the people of her country, all coming together to participate in activities that showcased the love they had for each other and the land they lived on. 

Your movements were quick as you pulled your phone out of your pocket, raising it and aiming it at Shuri and the kids. Focusing it, you took a few pictures that you were Shuri would enjoy. You lowered your phone, swiping through the recently captured pictures with a soft laugh before your attention was pulled elsewhere. 

“They’re rather cute, aren’t they?” 

The strong accent belonged to a woman who didn’t look that much older than you, and as she approached you, you could see that she carried a bowl full of objects made out of stone. Offering a polite smile, you nodded in agreement, your eyes glancing back at Shuri.

“They are. Quite energetic, as well.” 

The woman let out a chuckle, nodding as well.

“Indeed they are. I could use a bit of that energy.” She paused only for a second, her gaze growing curious as she walked closer to you. You placed your phone back in your pocket, your curiosity growing as she held the bowl out to you. 

As you looked into it, you quickly came to the realization that the stone objects were actually what looked like spearheads ranging in different sizes, colors, and matter. Some were made out of metal, some out of wood, and of course, there were some made of vibranium. The lights of the city reflected off of the vibranium in a unique way, instantly making them known for what they were. They were almost iridescent, instantly drawing your attention to them.

“Oh, those are beautiful,” You spoke softly, your hand raising to ghost over them before you quickly pulled it back.

“Please, by all means…” she pushed the basket further towards you, indicating with her head that it was okay for you to pick one up. You smiled gratefully at her as you reached back in, gently picking up one which looked to be made of a dark purple crystal. It instantly reminded you of Shuri’s lamps that were in her dorm room. 

Holding it up to the light made it change shades of purple, and the sight made your lips part in slight surprise. The light hit it perfectly so that you could see every ridge, bump, and knick; but its flaws took nothing away from its beauty.

“Would you like to buy it?” 

The woman’s words quickly brought your attention back to her, and you smiled apologetically while lowering your arm. When you looked at her, you could see her eyes focused on something over your shoulder. 

“I’m unfortunately all out of money, I’m sorry. If you’re here tomorrow, I’d be more than happy to buy a few.”

It was almost as if your words flipped a switch, as the woman’s eyes narrowed as they met yours. Her gaze, which was once welcoming and curious, was now cynical and calculating. Assuming she was upset because you had wasted her time, you went to apologize once more while going to place the spearhead back in the bowl. Your hand hadn’t even reached it before her hand was closing around your wrist in a tight, almost bruising grip.

Her actions paired with her expression made you freeze, your eyes widening in alarm as you looked at her. Your mind blanked while simultaneously trying to come up with words that you could use to reason yourself out of the situation. Your voice was firm despite the way your heart raced.

“Ma’am, you need to let go of me. I was putting it back-”

“You must stay away.”

Her words made you stop, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. The thought of calling Shuri crossed your mind, but so did the lessons that you had just gone through earlier in the day. You were in no way prepared to take on the woman if she could actually fight- not in a way that would ensure you came out of it without any wounds; but the least you could do was get out of her grip the way you were taught to.

Instead of replying, you raised your hand and quickly grabbed at the woman’s thumb, hooking your fingers under it and pulling it back as far as you could. With a shocked and pained yelp, she snatched her hand back, her expression growing angrier by the second. You immediately held the spearhead out in front of you, not knowing how to properly use it but knowing that you’d use it somehow if need be. 

“One tree cannot be a forest.”

Her words that somehow seemed threatening even if their vagueness coupled with the adrenaline racing through your body threw you for a loop, your guard dropping in the slightest. You shook your head, your face twisting into one of bewilderment.

“...What the hell are you talking about? Look, just take this back-”

The sound of your name being called drew the woman’s eyes over your shoulder and caused you to glance behind you. 

Shuri’s eyebrows were furrowed as she looked across the way at you, her steps leading her right to where you and the woman were semi hidden. Her steps quickened right as her eyes widened. Her mouth opened, calling your name hoarsely and sounding like…a warning. You saw her bound forward, her eyes angry…and then a sharp pain was enveloping your entire arm.

A ragged gasp escaped your mouth as you turned back to face the lady only to see her back running further away from you, the spearhead you had been previously holding clutched in her own hand. Another gasp left you at the sight of blood flowing heavily from a gash in your palm. 

The initial pain of the spearhead being ripped from your hand had been sharp and quick, though the following pain was heavy as it traveled the length of your arm. The sight of nothing but a deep red covering the palm of your hand made you shudder as you quickly brought it to your chest, clutching it tightly. 

You hadn’t realized that Shuri had reached you until her hands were quickly turning you around, her eyes wild and panicked as she looked you over. While your heart thudded almost painfully in your chest, you were still aware enough to quickly speak to Shuri.

“I’m okay. I’m okay, its just my hand.”

Despite your reassurances, however unconfident they were, her eyes still scanned your being until they instantly focused on the vibrant red that managed to drip through your uninjured palm and stain the sleeves of the button up you wore. 

She barked orders at the Dora Milaje who now surrounded you, telling them to find the woman by any means necessary, though her voice sounded far away. You worked on taking deep breaths and trying to calm your heart, though you failed at both tasks. You didn’t know you were shaking until Shuri’s hands raised to cup your face, forcing you to look at her while also steadying your shaking vision. 

“You’re alright, okay? You’ll be okay.”

Her words provided you the smallest bit of comfort, but it quickly dissipated as another wave of sharp pain wracked through your palm, making you wince. You didn’t dare look at the torn skin of your palm, too afraid that it’d make your already rolling stomach even worse.

Your limbs weren’t your own as Shuri steered you in a direction you were too discombobulated to notice. Every step you took was shaky, and the sounds and smells that you had once been enjoying now overstimulated you. They flashed by quickly, your head pounding in tandem as you were presumably led back to the vehicles you all had arrived in. 

Your mind raced too quickly and was too focused on the pain to even recall what had happened; the only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Shuri’s arm around you, pulling you flush against her body, and her quick words that she spoke to you. They were the same words over and over again, but as she spoke, it became clear that you weren’t the only person she was reassuring; almost as if she were reassuring herself as well. 

“You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

molo/molweni: hello (sing./plur.)

Unjani? : how are you?

Ndiphilile, unjani?: I’m fine, how are you?

Nantso ke, uyfumene! : That’s it, you got it!

A/N: Once again, I hope y’all enjoyed this part! We’re really getting into the plot from here on out, yall >:) this is only the beginning of what I really want to happen, and I can’t wait to see how y’all react to it!

Stay safe, yall!

Tag list:   @shinsousliya , @honey-teaaaaaaaa , @tchhairbandhere , @jessiap , @zane2408 , @bananasplits-world , @yellowjacketmurder , @barkbarkbo , @butterflyybabe , @bananafishok , @zestgodtj , @mitsuya-takashi , @chaoticevilbakugo , @cedeni-beanie , @shuri-my-love , @kingstormpostsshit , @sailorsolar12 , @justariellove , @angelsmist , @eriksjournal , @mermaidchansons , @nil-eena , @paisholotus , @thesecretwriterblog , @brain-of-nekoma , @7tearsofatlantic , @simp4iwaizumi , @bumlyn , @jackdrawsjunk , @http-twyla , @cedeni-beanie , @taleiakirby , @brain-of-nekoma , @borderlineacademia , @honey-teaaaaaaaa , @ventingfanfics

[cantquitu]

Hi!

Im also watching Say Nothing and its really good! I also started to read the book. As an Irish person can you give me your perspective about it?

Sorry I completely missed this yesterday. I was binging the last few episodes, I couldn't tear myself away.

I thought Say Nothing was really good. It is such a complex and difficult subject with no clear right or wrong, only dark and shade. I liked that the series didn't try to give easy answers or take a moralistic stance. I think it portrayed the awful, messy complexity of the war as well as a piece of television could. I am sure it will provoke a breadth of differing opinions, and some will be angry, but I think it was a truly excellent attempt to portray this painful chapter in history with some nuance.

And not only that, but to make this story into such bingeworthy, pacy, riveting television without falling for Hollywood cliches and pat cliffhangers? I don't think I quite believed that was possible in a series about the war in Northern Ireland.

The acting was fantastic, such brilliant casting matches for the young & old versions of the characters! Lola Petticrew, Hazel Doupe and Anthony Boyle were particularly great, and I'm so glad that they chose West Belfast actors for two of those roles. I thought they were incredible.

But giving my perspective "as an Irish person" is kind of complicated. As an Irish person from the Republic I've had a completely different experience of events in the North compared to anyone who grew up there. A completely different personal relationship with our history. One of the strengths of Say Nothing for me was how it portrayed this contrast in the later episodes set in the '90s. My brain is still melted from being confronted with so many shades of the conflict all at once. Every time I felt conflicted about a scene, a later scene would address that conflict - not offering solutions or answers, but acknowledging that there were multiple other perspectives. Powerful stuff!

Growing up in the south, most of us had the option to tune out what was happening, to go about our days without our lives being directly impacted by the war. When I was very little, it was on the news every single night and I knew that after the grown-ups had had a few drinks, you didn't want the subject raised. But despite trying to figure out the words to U2's 'Sunday Bloody Sunday', my childhood understanding didn't really go beyond "We want the Brits out but they won't leave because the Protestants want them to stay and there are more of them than Catholics, and they'll probably keep killing each other forever and I really wish it could stop"

I never experienced British bigotry towards me personally as an Irish person until I was actually in England - it's something every Irish person anticipates in their bones, but it wasn't in my face growing up.

I never even went across the border until I was 16 years old. I went to see a British band play in Belfast (think of that episode of Derry Girls where they travel to Belfast to see Take That, if the Derry Girls were from Dublin and they were going to see a punk band, not a boyband). My parents wouldn't let me go because they said it was too dangerous, but I went anyway. They were right. There was a bomb scare on the train on the way there and another bomb scare at the club after the gig. My friends and I were totally out of our depth. At 4am we fucked up and called the wrong taxi service to take us to a Catholic area and had army rifles pointed in our faces at a checkpoint. We were young and didn't know what we were doing and couldn't quite grasp that this was reality. It was frightening and sobering, and I did not go back until after the ceasefire a couple of years later.

So that was the luxury of being raised in the south - I didn't have to think about it most of the time. A luxury no-one growing up in the North had. So as an Irish person I have a load of thoughts about Say Nothing, but I'm especially interested in what Northern Irish people have to say about it.

[booasaur]

Any new upcoming series with w/w?

Lol, I had a whole answer typed up and almost completed last night, I could only remember a few upcoming shows but added a bunch of ongoing and recent with descriptions and then the post editor hiccuped and removed most of it so I angrily went to sleep instead.

But maybe that was for the best, because this morning a video of upcoming f/f shows in April came out so now I can add a few more.

There's Dead Ringers, that show with Rachel Weisz playing twin gynecologists and since it's a genderbent adaptation of an existing movie we already know it's gonna be super messy. It would be pretty wild for Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies to not have some wlw and luckily it does, the trailer itself reveals a couple. Tiny Beautiful Things, with Kathryn Hahn and Sarah Pidgeon (Leah in The Wilds) playing her younger self, apparently Kathryn Hahn's character's daughter is queer. Slip is a kinda scifi, where a bored wife cheats on her husband and realizes every time she has sex with someone, she wakes up married to them. The show's about her trying to get back to her original life, and there are a series of different husbands, but also a few wives (also, the first "replacement" husband is played by Boorman's actor from Willow!). There are also the upcoming Thai dramas Be Mine, Reverse 4 You, and 23.5, as previously mentioned.

In terms of returning series coming back, there's the Disney cartoon The Owl House, getting its final ep. Single Drunk Female's second season is returning soon. It has a bi lead, and she did have a female love interest but it was pretty temporary compared to the will they/won't she has with the main character male love interest. Her Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor, also a very main character, is a lesbian, and she's married but her wife's actress is a regular on another show now so I dunno if she'll be back.

Welcome to Eden, a Spanish thriller about people trapped on an island with a cult, ended the first season on a major cliffhanger so it'll be exciting to see what happens now, though it feels like anyone could die so that's a bit nerve-wracking. It has a lot of different kinds of rep, f/f, m/m, trans, one of the gay guys is deaf too and it's a plot point that his boyfriend won't learn sign even though his friends have.

The Epix series From is a pretty well done horror series about people trapped in a town and who get hunted at night, it's more ominous and suspenseful than outright gory. It actually has three wlw, though one is mostly with one guy, the one who's engaged to a woman outside the town seems to be about to start a romance with another guy, and one is a teen who's crushing on the first woman, feels unrequited. I didn't know about any of them when I started, so they're a bonus, the show itself is rather compelling.

As for current shows, The Power (lol, get it, current) started last night on Prime, it's nice that after the misreading of Class of '07, this new show about girls does immediately have a wlw. Gap's already finished but it made such a splash, if you haven't watched, I'll mention it again. The other Thai drama, Show Me Love, is still airing. Fantasy Island is honestly kind of sweet, it feels like one of those '90s shows, episodic, bright colors and optimism, and great guest stars. One of the two leads, I'd say, or at least the second billed main, is queer.

We got our three firefighter shows, 9-1-1 with a solid (now) established relationship, Fire Country, a lesbian character but not much screentime, and of course Station 19, which is honestly winning me back in a huge way with their current storyline (if they land it).

Cop wlw update (why are there so many of them!): NCIS Hawai'i remains super cute, especially when Lucy is on, looks like Ayanna on Law & Order: Organized Crime got herself a new gf with a super hot voice, The Rookie: Feds still has Niecy Nash playing a super likable and bi lead. I couldn't stand the egregious copaganda in FBI: Most Wanted, and like, imagine how bad it'd have to be, when I can still watch all the rest of these shows, but Sheryll's still there, so. Sin Huellas (No Traces) has already finished but gets another mention for being as funny as it was, with a cute, hot couple at the center. Rabbit Hole's just started, but the initial antagonist/probable grudging ally's an FBI lady who within the first 10 minutes of the first ep dropped that she had a wife. Van der Valk has started its third season and though I'm gonna keep hoping Lucienne's INCREDIBLY hot ex from 2x03 returns, Lucienne, second billed, is plenty hot by herself. Ariana Guerra, who played the novitiate in Helstrom, has joined the second season of CSI: Vegas. Her character's bi and has a main character boyfriend but he seems like he'll most likely end up with a different character.

I'm not really going through these in any particular order, except combining the above two types, but let me just blow through the rest of the ongoing shows: the Canadian family comedy Run the Burbs has been quite sweet in how it's written the teen daughter, How I Met Your Father comes across as an old fashioned sitcom, except one of the characters is a lesbian. It's kind of fun in its familiarity and low stakes. I didn't expect to be as drawn into The Watchful Eye as I did, the trailer felt quite soapy and it was, at times, but all the nannies were great, and I ended up quite liking the f/f side couple. It's amazing what actual personalities can do. :o A Million Little Things is winding down its final season and Grace Park's character is engaged to Cameron Esposito's character so it feels pretty endgame at this point.

If you didn't watch or stopped watching Carnival Row because the main m/f relationship seemed so especially trite, you maaaay want to give it another look. I'm not nearly caught up with Bel-Air, but in the first season they wrote Ashley's sexuality really well, especially since she's so young. I'm sure you can't have missed my Perry Mason gifsets by now, but I can only reiterate what a great character Della Street is. One of the kids in Gotham Knights is bi (and her brother is trans!) but I'm not sure it's worth getting invested before cancellation. Unless the CW is only going to keep projects involving the Supernatural trio?

At this point, hoping everyone who's into wlw has at least tried Yellowjackets or is aware enough of it to know they don't want to try it. Las Pelotaris 1926 is a Spanish language historical drama about female athletes playing--well, the sport is basque pelota but if you need a reference point, it's like squash or racquetball. If you haven't yet caught up with RWBY, now would be an okay time. Lastly, I've still never watched any of Riverdale or even Choni clips, but its final season has just started and you know, I gotta respect the longevity of whatever they've been doing with them, however up and down they seem to have been, and perhaps this final season will be an up. From what I've seen on SM, they seem to get endgame soulmatey treatment more than any of the other ships and I can respect that.

Aside from the Thai dramas that might air after April and a few of the other shows that ended their seasons in March (or February in Gap's case), all of these have eps airing this month. After this year of cancellations, I think it's worth enjoying what we can, even as we acknowledge how much lead/main character rep and longevity we're losing. :o