#finally their song is heard as it meant to knew we them alive

[sempegzrd]

shes playing ::)

[mrs-kmikaelson]

Our Song and Dance³

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader Summary: You'd grown used to dancing the same dance over and over again, the victor's dance, but then you start dancing with Finnick Odair and you feel things you never thought you'd feel. So you let yourself enjoy the dance, even though you knew that every song inevitably came to an end. Warnings: long, exploitation of minors, mentions of forced prostitution, suicidal thoughts, implied torture, violence, complicated relationships, complex mental health issues, and i involve finnick more in everything Words: 8.1K

Masterlist | Part 4

a/n: switching it up, so this part is from finnick's pov. it's basically mockingjay one, then i'll do one more part for mockingjay 2. ly guys!

Finnick Odair was not sure that love existed. Or, at least he wasn’t. He could barely remember what his parents looked like, let alone if they loved each other. But he had Mags; she proved to him that love existed because he loved her. It was the falling in love that he was unsure about.

And then he met Annie Cresta and it was like he suddenly understood. Yes, this was what the poets were talking about. This was love. 

But they couldn’t be together.

He was being sold off all the time, taking countless visits to the Capitol. He couldn’t endanger her like that, let her get involved in the fucked up world he lived in. So he didn’t. He loved her from afar, knowing they’d never really be together.

He thought it’d end there, but then one night, he saw you. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was all his own will, but he walked up to you. He’d seen you at these events before, back home, and on TV, but standing there so close to you, it was like it was just hitting him how beautiful you were.

You were a victor, too. But he realized just how alike you were when he watched as you left a hotel room, in the same state as him. After that, it was you who took a chance on him until he almost looked forward to coming to the Capitol, just to see you.

You weren’t Annie. You didn’t remind him of what poets had written. No, he couldn’t describe you or what you meant to him in just words. What he grew to feel for you over time wasn’t akin to anything he’d ever read. This was so much more than that.

He loved Annie, he always would, but being with you made him realize what it was like to be in love.

But he never told you this, never said any of it out loud out of fear that he’d lose you.

Now he lost you, anyway.

The doors to his hospital room opened. He knew it was Katniss, but he didn’t say anything, staring right at the ground in front of him.

If he looked hard enough, he could see your face.

“Finnick.”

He looked up from his feet, but still didn’t look at her. He already knew what she looked like, and it wasn’t much better than him.

She was mad at him. She’d barely spoken to him since they got to 13, but he knew that she couldn’t have been much more mad at him than he already was at himself.

His voice was quiet when he spoke. “I wanted to go back for them—for Peeta, and Johanna, and Y/N… but I- I couldn’t move.” He twiddled his fingers with the rope in his hands, wishing it was your hand he was holding, but he wasn’t. You weren’t there. He left you.

He finally looked up at Katniss. She looked both emotionless and so emotional at the same time, lifeless but alive. “I- I love her, y’know?” He looked back down at the knot he was tying, sniffling involuntarily.

He was trying to keep it together, but without you, that was like trying to fix a broken glass without any glue. 

You were the glue that held him together.

And now the Capitol had you.

The words left his lips without much thought. “I wish she was dead.” He chose to stare at a spot on the ground instead of looking at Katniss’ reaction. His chest tightened. “I wish they were all dead and we were, too.”

If they had died, then at least they wouldn’t have been going through this, having to live but feeling so dead, anyway.

Katniss was silent until he eventually heard her leave the room.

There were words she didn’t say that still floated around the room, agreement that she didn’t voice. She was just as broken as him, holding on for dear life. He hoped that she’d keep holding on.

He had to have hope. He had to have hope that he’d see you again, that this wasn’t all for nothing, that they could build a better world that you could both live in. He needed to hope.

That hope was the only thing that kept him holding on, too.

He was in the cafeteria, sitting next to Katniss and Annie when it happened. The fanfare started playing, Caesar Flickerman’s face coming to the screen. He scoffed, tuning out and looking back down at the food on his plate, swishing it around. Recently, it had been hard for him to work up an appetite.

He looked back up when Katniss grabbed his hand, hers trembling. He soon realized why.

It was Peeta, on the Capitol TV.

Katniss got up, walking to the TV and standing right in front of it, shocked. He would’ve gotten up and followed her, tried to console her, but it was as if he was paralyzed.

Peeta was on the TV.

And you were nowhere in sight.

He heard the conversation that had everyone on the edge of their seat through muffled ears. Peeta didn’t look exactly like himself, but he still looked like the golden boy Panem fell in love with. It was so obvious that the Capitol was using him, playing him like a puppet, but what confused him was that they were using him and not the much more powerful weapon they had in their arsenal.

You were the Princess of Panem. Plutarch and Coin knew that; that’s why they wanted you. Katniss could light a fire, but if they also had you, then together you could cause an explosion. If the Capitol wanted to sway public opinion, why wouldn’t they just use you, someone who the people trusted and adored?

Suddenly, his stomach fell.

If they weren’t using you, then it was because you weren’t in a condition to be shown to the public.

He felt a hand on his, turning his head to see it was Annie, looking at him with a sympathetic expression. As if she could hear his thoughts, the smallest of sad smiles grew on her lips.  “It’s gonna be okay, Finnick,” she whispered. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

How the tables had turned. Now it was her assuring him.

In that moment, he understood Annie like never before.

Because he wasn’t so sure she was right.

After Peeta’s interview, Finnick didn’t leave his room much. He’d lie in bed and stare up at the ceiling, pretending that you were there with him. He could withstand the silence if he had you by his side.

But now, the silence was deafening.

Sometimes, he didn’t hear a thing. Other times, your voice would fill the gaps, memories of you flashing before his eyes like a movie. Sometimes, they weren’t memories at all. Sometimes, he imagined a different life for you where you were both happy, in love.

And, sometimes, he imagined what they could’ve been doing to you in the Capitol.

Whenever these awake-nightmares got too vivid, he’d find Katniss and sit with her, knowing she must have been going through the same thing. It was what you would’ve done, what you did with him and Johanna.

You wouldn’t have wanted them to suffer alone.

The next time he was around everyone else, it was per Coin’s request. She announced to them all that Katniss agreed to be The Mockingjay and that, in return, she’d look for an opportunity to extract you, the victors that had been taken.

Katniss moved next to him. “Finnick, I made the deal for Y/N, too.”

It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Hope—this was hope.

“Good,” he said. For the first time since he left the arena, he smiled. “That’s good, Katniss.” A small chuckle left him.

Maybe he’d get a chance to make those dreams of his a reality.

With a newfound ardour, Finnick threw himself back into the ring instead of avoiding the fight like he had been, sitting in on meetings and doing whatever he could to make this work. He would see you again; he’d make sure of it. 

He went with the propo team to 8, watching as the Girl on Fire did exactly what they’d all been waiting for her to do. He wasn’t the only one that was hopeful—so were people in the districts, the people in 13.

They played her propo at the next assembly. The crowd cheered, but as he stood with The Mockingjay herself on the sidelines, she didn’t look so cheerful. Finnick understood this, he understood it well, but he couldn’t afford to think like that with your life hanging in the balance.

She shouldn’t have to either, he thought.

He leaned closer to her, quizzing, “You don’t like hearing a fight song at a funeral, huh?” She looked up at him almost in the same way she did when he made that joke in the arena. At the memory of your response, a small smile arose on his face. “The more people on our side, the closer we are to Peeta and Y/N,” he reminded her.

She nodded, muttering, “Yeah,” and then turning back to the crowd. She didn’t look so convinced, but he left it there, knowing she was coping with this in her own way.

If Katniss loved Peeta even half as much as he loved you, then he’d let her do whatever she felt comfortable with.

But at the end of the day, it was love that kept them both going.

The next time Peeta was on TV, it was a wake up call for everyone. He didn’t look so refined anymore, so clean. There were bags under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept or eaten in days.

If this was what Peeta looked like and they still had him on TV, then what about you? 

A bile rose in his throat. He ran to the nearest trash can and threw up whatever they served that morning for breakfast, your face flashing underneath his eyelids. You weren’t smiling like in the dreams he had, but screaming.

He knew you weren’t dead, that the Capitol wouldn’t kill you, but when he pictured your face, you didn’t look so alive.

Oh, he wished he could’ve made you smile more. But in the world you lived in, sometimes it was too hard to even do that.

That’s why we’re doing this, he reminded himself. We’re trying to build a better world. But there were no words that Coin could say to shake the guilt he felt, guilt for leaving you, guilt for being the reason this happened to you. There was no band-aid he could put over this wound, no pills that could kill this pain.

But he had to push through it, and he couldn’t do that by sitting in his room by himself; every time he closed his eyes, he saw you. So he went to Katniss’ room, finding her in a position so similar to his own.

That was the man she loved on TV, even if she hadn’t come to terms with her feelings. She must have been just as guilty as him, if not more so. Finnick could remember a time when he rejected his feelings for you, too, scared of caring for somebody, scared of this happening.

He went through the Hunger Games and the Quarter Quell, being sold when he was only sixteen, but falling in love with you was the scariest thing he’d ever experienced.

If that’s how Katniss felt, then he didn’t want her to be alone, not when she reminded him so much of you.

So he sat next to her in silence, letting all of the words he wanted to say hang in the air, hoping that she heard them. They sat there wordlessly until Gale came in, telling them it was time to go, that they were going to 12.

It was only when he was about to leave that he finally spoke, deciding that these were words he had to make sure that she heard, words that he needed to hear, too.

“We’re gonna get them back, Katniss.” 

She looked at him, forming somewhat of a smile and nodding. After staring at her for a few seconds, he left the room, going to get ready.

She didn’t know it, but the entire hovercraft ride on the way to 12, he repeated those same exact words to himself over and over again.

We’re gonna get them back.

While nothing could really ease Finnick’s worries, seeing the people fight back certainly helped. The revolution was picking up traction. The videos they shot in 12 had moved people so much that they were willing to put themselves at risk, just out of hope for a better Panem.

If they could do that, then he could, too.

He wondered if you knew about any of this, if you were even aware of what was happening or if the Capitol was just keeping you in the dark. Did you know? Did you hear Katniss sing?

Did it remind you of him the same way it reminded him of you?

He had so many questions, and so little answers.

Rebels in district 5 bombed a hydroelectric dam, cutting power in the Capitol. Not long after, Peeta Mellark was back on TV, talking about it. He no longer even looked like himself. He didn’t look like a victor, but like someone who had lost.

But Finnick supposed that was what a victor was.

Beetee managed to get through the Capitol’s firewall, cutting Peeta off with Katniss’ propo. They watched as tears filled his eyes on screen.

That was the first time he looked like himself.

Are you, are you comin’ to the tree?

He faltered. “Katniss?”

Finnick watched as Katniss got closer to the screen, shaking her head. She saw it, too. She saw the man that went into that arena with them.

But then, like a victor would, his mask went back up so quickly. 

“The attack on the dam was a callous and inhuman act of destruction-”

Where a dead man called out for his love to flee.

Peeta inhaled shakily, his lips so slightly quivering. “Think about it,” he said. “How will this end? What will be left?” Finnick walked closer to the screen, like he was caught in a trance. Peeta’s previously calm façade had broken and was replaced with someone who looked stricken by panic. “No one can survive this. No one is safe now. Not here in the Capitol.” He shook his head. “Not in any of the districts.” 

He stopped, looking right into the camera as if he was staring into Katniss’ eyes. He may not have known it, but he was.

“They’re coming, Katniss. They’re gonna kill everyone.” They heard quick footsteps behind the camera as Peeta rushed to get his words out. “And in district 13 you’ll be dead by morning-”

Then the camera cut out.

Finnick didn’t know what to say, glancing over at Katniss to see her cupping her mouth in shock.

Haymitch was much more calm. With Katniss spinning out, he had to be. “He’s warning us. That was a warning.” Behind him, Boggs said something in agreement.

Katniss looked to have gotten over her shock, frantically turning and fretting, “We have to get him out before they kill him.” She was ignored.

What about you? he wondered. Where did this leave you? But right now, what they needed to worry about was where it left them.

Otherwise, you wouldn’t have anything to come home to.

“It’s time for an air raid drill.” Seconds after Coin spoke, an alarm went off. Everyone that’d been fixed to their spot in the room was up, like they’d been preparing for this for a lifetime, and from what he heard, they had been.

Katniss went running, searching for her sister while he went looking for Annie and Mags, grabbing them and descending down the stairwell as soon as he saw them. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, his mind blank, just as it was in the arena.

If he let his thoughts take control, then he’d lose it, and he couldn’t do that right now. He couldn’t slip up right now with what was at stake.

It was your life on the line.

He couldn’t lose you.

But a part of him knew that, the second you were in Snow’s hands, the you that he knew was lost forever.

Down in the bunker, Finnick sat on the bottom bunk with Mags off resting by herself while Annie had fallen asleep at the top. Sometimes, with her episodes, it was easy to forget that she was a victor, too, that she had danced the same dance you had. But she was, and she was dancing like never before.

He could tell that she had been trying hard to keep it together, but with all of the panic and the noise, it was hard. She fell asleep easily. 

Although the bunker was pretty quiet, his thoughts were still so loud. The last time he saw you played out in his head. He could still taste your lips on his, still feel your soft skin, still see your beautiful eyes.

I’ll see you at midnight?

Yeah, I’ll see you at midnight.

But he didn’t. He never saw you again. He would’ve never let you go if he’d known then what’d happen. He would’ve held you longer, kissed you longer. He would’ve told you he loved you.

If he’d known this’d happen, he would’ve told you long before The Games. The truth was, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he fell in love with you. It had always been Annie for him, and you were just there.

But that was exactly it. You were there. You were always there. 

Maybe he started falling for you after the first time you slept together. Maybe it was after your fifth time mentoring together. Maybe it was after the time he had a nightmare and you let him hold you. Maybe it was after you smiled, and really smiled, for the first time since you decided to start pretending to be a couple. He couldn’t be sure, but somewhere along the way, you became so much more to him than just Y/N Y/L/N, Princess of Panem and victor of the 67th Hunger Games.

You became the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

He just wished he could’ve told you that.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when someone walked up to him. “Hey.” He looked up, seeing Katniss. She looked beat, her voice quiet. “Can I sit?”

He nodded, moving over so she could sit next to him. She had her family down here, that’s why he hadn’t gone over to her, but he understood why she was coming to him. After going through what they went through, it was easier to be around people who went through the same thing, who were going through the same thing.

Like she was reading his mind, she asked, “Are you thinking about her?”

There wasn’t any need for further explanation. Truthfully, he answered, “Yeah,” looking down at the ground. Every moment he had that wasn’t dedicated to this revolution was spent thinking about you.

After a second, she spoke up again. “Snow’s using her to punish you. He’s taunting us with them.” She scoffed a little. “I didn’t understand that until just now watching that stupid cat.”

She was right. This wasn’t just about propaganda. This was about Snow’s little puppets misbehaving.

So now he was showing them that, even in 13, he still owned them. He still owned Finnick. He still owned Katniss. He still owned Johanna. He still owned Peeta. And he still owned you.

He was using you against him because he knew how much you meant to him, the same way he knew how much Peeta meant to Katniss, even if she didn’t see that herself.

Finnick sighed, debating on whether or not he should say what he was thinking or keep it to himself before deciding that he had held enough in, that holding his thoughts in had never done him any good. So he turned to Katniss and started, “I- Y/N and I, we hadn’t met until after she won her Games. We weren’t really friends, at first, but rumours start fast in the Capitol, especially when ‘royalty’ is involved.” He humourlessly chuckled. “People were saying that we were dating, and so she- she thought the best thing for us to do was to let them believe it, let them have their love story. The alternative, two people coping together- that was a lot darker than what the Capitol could handle.”

She tilted her head, furrowing her brows. He watched as she put it all together. “Wait, are you saying that…”

He nodded. “Yes. It was fake. Our love story was just that: a story.” Surprise was painted all over her face.

“But… you told me that you love her.”

A ghost of a smile came to his face. “I do. I love her. It wasn’t like that at first, but over time, I fell for her, Katniss.” He saw a look pass over her face: understanding. What he was describing wasn’t just you and him; it was her and Peeta. “Y/N and I, we learned how to play the game. If anyone could spot a fake relationship, it was us. After your first Games, we thought your whole romance was an act. We expected you to continue that strategy. But it wasn’t until Peeta’s heart stopped and he nearly died that… I knew I’d misjudged you. You love him.”

Katniss looked away, like what he was saying was something she’d never even considered. It was so clear to everyone that she loved him, everyone but herself.

“I’m not saying in what way,” he added, understanding her feelings so well because he’d right where she was. “Maybe you don’t even know yourself. But anyone paying attention can see it.” He maintained his stare, even as she looked away.

With the life they lived, you didn’t want to give yourself to love, to admit that to yourself, to allow yourself to be vulnerable. But you could only hide a love so strong for so long.

She swallowed, gaze still aimed at the floor. “How do you live with it?”

You’re asking the wrong person, he thought, but that wasn’t an acceptable answer. That wasn’t the answer she was looking for. Right now, Katniss was lost; he needed to point her in the right direction.

Even if he still had trouble doing that for himself.

He paused for a moment, searching for the right words to say. “I drag myself outta nightmares and there’s no relief in waking up,” he confessed. “But I- sometimes, when I’m awake, I let myself dream about her.” Finally, she looked over to him. “I dream that, one day, when this is all over, we’re living in a better world, happy.” The corners of his lips quirked up at the thought. “It’s hope, Katniss. That’s how I live with it.”

Katniss eyes were dull, red, tired, but even in the darkness of the bunker, he was able to see a tiny spark light up in her eyes.

Hope.

They’d fallen asleep in the bunker along with everyone else until Finnick woke up to Boggs shaking him, telling him that they had to go. Coin wanted Katniss to get in front of the camera, tell Panem that they were still standing after the attack.

But, as soon as they stepped outside, he watched her fall apart.

Roses.

A rose?

They’re a Capitol favourite.

You hated roses. Looking at them himself, he couldn’t even blame Katniss. He felt sick, too.

She couldn’t do it. She was almost hysterical, so of course Boggs let her go. They couldn’t put her on TV when she was like this. But they also didn’t have time to wait.

With Katniss gone, Haymitch and Boggs pulled him aside to a briefing room, getting started on a new plan.

“Okay, what are we doing?”

They gave each other a look, much like the look Plutarch and Haymitch traded right after the Quell, like they knew something he didn’t, like they were getting ready for him to explode.

“Finnick, the dam that went down in district 5 cut power in most of the Capitol,” Haymitch started. “Their defences are down—Beetee’s gonna be able to get in now.”

His brows furrowed. He already knew that. 

Sensing his confusion, Boggs cut in, “We’ve gotten word that the victors are in the Tribute Centre.”

Suddenly, it was like his heart stopped.

You were coming home.

He echoed his thoughts. “You’re going to get them?”

“Yes, I’ll be leading the mission-”

“Well, I’m coming.” Again, they both shared a look, like they were expecting him to say that, and why wouldn’t they? You were his girlfriend; of course, he wanted to be there to save you. 

“Finnick-”

He cut Boggs off a second time, repeating himself, “I am coming with you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

He scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Finnick-”

“If you’re going to get Y/N, then I’m coming with you-”

“You are too valuable to this revolution for them to let you go,” Haymitch said, but Finnick really couldn’t give a damn about whatever reason they threw at him. You were all he could think about.

“I’m not just gonna sit here and do nothing while they’re being rescued,” he retaliated. For over a month, sitting around and doing nothing was practically all he’d been doing, fantasizing about you, unknowing of when he’d see you again or if he’d ever see you again, trying to imagine what you could’ve been going through.

He couldn’t just stand by while you were in a live or die situation.

If you died- no, he cut his thoughts off, refusing to finish the sentence.

You couldn’t die.

Haymitch sighed, glancing away before looking back at him. His eyes were always hard, but at that moment, Finnick saw flashes of sympathy. “You won’t be doing nothing.”

His eyes slightly narrowed. “What do you mean?”

The two shared another look before he told him, “Katniss can’t record right now. But you can.”

Another scoff left his lips, an incredulous look on his face as his voice was laced with sarcasm. “You want me to film a propo while you save Y/N?”

Haymitch didn’t respond right away, just staring at him like he was trying to properly articulate his words. The way he was looking at him unnerved him, like whatever he was gonna say could shatter him into a million pieces.

“Not a propo, Finnick,” he finally said, hesitation evident in his tone. “It’s a lot more than that.”

And, as Haymitch explained to him what they wanted him to do, Finnick learned just how much more that was.

Finnick Odair. That was a name synonymous with royalty, luxury, desire. Before he even met you, that was the name he’d built for himself—or, rather, the name that was thrusted into his arms.

A sex symbol.

When you won your Games, he could remember listening to the Capitol chatter. Stunning, refined, intelligent: a princess. You both already had so much in common, both from the same district, both so young when you won, but suddenly, as he watched you leave that hotel room that night in the Capitol, he realized that you had much more in common than he thought.

You were one and the same.

Those nights you spent together in the Capitol, out in the cold, you were silent. And then, even as you spoke to big Capitol fishes and gave speeches, you were still silent then, too, never speaking out about the injustices you’d been faced with.

Now, Finnick stood outside in the darkness, cold, but this time, you weren’t next to him. You weren’t next to him, and that was because Snow took you.

So he wasn’t going to stay silent anymore.

You deserved better than that.

He glanced around, almost as if he was trying to tell if his surroundings were real, if he was really doing this. 

He looked back when Cressida called his name, a careful look on her face. “Yeah,” he said, conveying he was okay without saying it, even if he really wasn’t. 

She didn’t look very convinced, but she still responded, “Okay.” She paused. “Take your time. Just remember to keep talking and don’t stop.”

He lightly nodded, looking up in front of him, seeing his breath in the air. For a moment, he was silent, but that moment didn’t last long. 

He had been silent for far too long already.

“This is Finnick Odair. Winner of the 65th Hunger Games,” he introduced himself, even though he knew that anyone watching must have recognized him right away. “And I’m coming to you from district 13, alive and well. We’ve survived an assault from the Capitol,” he recited. “But I’m not here to give you recent news.”

What he was going to tell them was much more than news about this rebellion. What he would reveal was about a war that’d started long before this rebellion ever did.

“I come with something much more valuable.”

I haven’t dealt in anything as common as money in years.

Well, then how do people pay for the pleasure of your company?

“The truth. The truth about being a victor, about being royalty.” Bitterness seeped through his tone. “Not the myths about a life of luxury. Not the lie about glory for your homeland.” He looked straight at the camera. “You can survive the arena. But the moment you leave, you’re a slave.”

We will never be free, Y/N.

He took in a breath before he spoke his next words, knowing that they held power stronger than a weapon. He may as well have been pointing the gun at his own head. But if he had to get burned to burn down the Capitol, then he would do it. He would do it a thousand times over.

And so would you.

“President Snow used to sell me. Or my body, at least. I wasn’t the only one.” Your face flashed in his mind. “If a victor is considered desirable, the President gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them. If you refuse, he kills someone you love.” Johanna.

It’s not fair. He killed her family. She said no, and he killed her family.

I know. It’s not fair, I know.

It was never fair. No riches or glory could ever be enough to compensate for that.

“To make themselves feel better, my patrons would make presents of money or jewelry. But I found a much more valuable form of payment.” The corners of his lips upturned slightly to form a small, humourless smile. “Secrets.”

The secrets he knew had the power to rip apart the Capitol’s so called “peace” at the seams. For him, for Katniss, for Johanna, for Peeta, for Annie, for you—this peace had fallen apart ages ago.

Katniss was forced to become the voice of thousands when she could barely do that for herself. Johanna turned to rage. Peeta turned to charm. Annie lost her mind. And you… what about you? 

It was about time that this peace was destroyed. It was about time that people understood exactly what victors really lost. And that Panem’s monsters weren’t hiding under the bed.

They were sitting on thrones.

“See, I know all the depravity, the deceit, and the cruelty of the Capitol’s pampered elite. But the biggest secrets are about our good President, Coriolanus Snow.” The biggest monster of them all. “Such a young man when he rose to power. Such a clever one to keep it. How, you may ask, did he do it?” He paused, looking right at the camera as if he was looking right into Snow’s eyes.

He hoped he was watching.

He hoped he was watching as they burned the Capitol to the ground.

“One word.” He lit the match. “Poison.” And then he dropped it.

“He stopped every mutiny before it even started. There are so many mysterious deaths to adversaries. Even to allies who were threats.” He could remember being at one of those dinners, watching a man fall onto his plate, his life over so quickly.

Once you were on the playing board, it didn’t matter how powerful you were. To Snow, you were all just pawns that he could knock off the board easily.

Not anymore.

“Snow would drink from the same cup to deflect suspicion. But… antidotes don’t always work, which is why he wears roses that reek of perfume. Help cover the scent of blood from sores in his mouth that will never heal.”

When Finnick learned this, he could remember the feeling he had, the satisfaction in knowing that a man who had spilled so much blood was bleeding himself. It was karmic.

How ironic was that?

“But he can’t hide the scent of who he really is,” he continued, remembering Cressida’s words. Don’t stop. “He kills without mercy. He rules with deception and fear. His weapon of choice is the only thing suited to such a man. Poison.” He scoffed. 

“The perfect weapon for a snake.”

Moments after Finnick’s last words, they were off the air. Cressida’s hand went to her ear, a dark look passing over her face. The Capitol air defence system’s coming back online, she said, and she didn’t get to say much else before he went running inside.

Much like every other day he’d spent in 13, your face came to his mind, but this time was different. This time, they went in to save you.

What if they couldn’t?

No, they had to bring you back- they had to.

He ran and ran until he got to ops, seeing Katniss crying in Haymitch’s arms. As soon as she saw him, she latched onto him and he reciprocated her hug tightly. He had to hold on. He had to.

He wouldn’t survive the fall if he let go.

He knows, he knows they’re in the Tribute Centre, she cried, and then for the second time that day, his heart stopped. He knew. Snow knew about the rescue mission.

His ears rang, eyes going blurry. And then things got a little blurry after that, too. Eventually, he ended up back in his room by himself. He didn’t know how he got there, but he did. All he could hear was your voices in his head.

No, you are coming home-

Finni-

We are both coming come. We are both coming home, Y/N, I swear.

He was supposed to protect you. He promised. He promised you that you would both make it home. But now where were you? You weren’t with him.

You never came home.

At one point, Annie came in, trying to be of some consolation, but she ended up leaving, unable to get through to him. He couldn’t hear her over your conversations that replayed in his head on a loop.

I told you. I’m not letting you die.

A tear raced down his cheek. He knew that you were maybe still alive, that you still had a chance, but that didn’t matter. It was never supposed to get to this point. He was never supposed to let it get to this point, a point where you could be dead.

He was supposed to bring you home.

Yeah, I’ll see you at midnight.

The doors suddenly slid open and Katniss walked in, breaking him out of his spell. He wiped the tears that’d fallen, clearing his throat. “Is there any news?”

Solemnly, she shook her head. “No.” He sighed as she sat down next to him, a big exhale leaving her lips, too. Both of them had passed the point of exhaustion, but it wasn’t like they could rest. Finnick wasn’t sure that he could sleep if he tried.

With this song playing so loudly, how could he?

Katniss was dancing the same dance as him, fighting the same battles. The man she loved was out there, too. She must have been just as scared as him.

They sat in silence for a while until she broke it, her voice raspy and just above a whisper. “Finnick?”

He turned to see her looking down at the ground. “Yeah?”

“I-” she stammered. It was only when she looked up at him that he saw the look in her eyes and knew why she was so nervous.

He shook his head. “It’s fine-”

She scoffed. “No, it’s not- it’s not fine-”

“Katniss-”

She cut him off. “I’m sorry.” Her words made him swallow. He knew she was going to speak them, but for some reason, hearing them was so different, surreal. She exhaled again, maintaining eye contact. “I am sorry.”

Finnick looked away. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate her apology, but he felt uncomfortable, looking into her eyes and just seeing the pure sorrow, pity. No, Katniss hadn’t been through exactly what he had, but at that moment, looking into her eyes was like looking into a mirror.

He couldn’t handle that right now, not when he stood at the top of the tallest mountain in the world and had such a long way to fall, everything to lose. 

He nodded, accepting her apology without words. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know, she didn’t know him back then. She hadn’t been a victor long enough to know yet. If anything, he was glad that she didn’t get to know their world, that she wasn’t sucked up by the same darkness that took you and him.

He was glad that her and Peeta got time in the sun, even if it was only for a little while.

“Y/N…” At the sound of your name, he turned back to her, seeing her brows furrow, eyes glazed over. “When I met her, she said something to me.” Realization flashed across her face as she looked up. “Was- was she-”

He cut her off, “Yeah. Yeah, she was.” When he blinked, he saw you walking out of that hotel room, the look on your face. He’d never forget the way you looked at him that night.

May the odds be ever in your favour, darling.

“There were more,” he admitted. “Any victor that the Capitol found desirable was taken. Annie only couldn’t because of her madness. Johanna-” a humourless chuckle left his lips. “Johanna refused, and her entire family paid the price.” He look back to Katniss to see that her mouth had fallen open, a look of horror on her face. “You and Peeta were spared because you were together. Hell, that’s the reason Y/N and I got together, to escape all this. And now look where we are.”

With you on the verge of dying and Finnick on the verge of losing everything.

You. You were his everything.

And you didn’t even know it.

“I never told her, Katniss.” He was breathless, like the wind had been knocked out of him. He’d realized this before, knew that he made a mistake, but now it was like he was realizing that he may never get the chance to correct it. “I- I never told her I loved her.”

I’m your girlfriend now?

Oh, come on, Y/N. You can’t be serious right now.

I am so serious right now.

You had no idea. You had no idea that you were the reason he kept living, that you were the reason he kept going, even when it hurt so badly. He’d walk through Hell if he could get to Heaven and be with you.

But what if you never knew that?

What if you died without knowing how he felt about you?

Katniss grabbed onto his hand. He looked to see tears welling in her eyes. “You will,” she whispered. “Hope, Finnick. You need to have hope.”

“Hope,” he echoed. Just like how he saw your face, he was able to see a future just as easily. It was so clear. That better world that Coin went on about, the better world that they were fighting for… it was just within their grasp. He nodded, managing to form somewhat of a smile. “Hope.”

He needed that, now more than ever. If he ever wanted to make it to that better world, to live in it with you, then he had to have hope—hope for the both of you.

Katniss didn’t say much after that; neither did he. Both of them were reflecting on their own, still trying to process all the turmoil that the day had caused. He spent his time thinking of you, imagining that better world.

In a better world, you and Finnick would’ve never been sold. You would’ve met, and he would’ve gotten the chance to fall in love with you the right way. He wouldn’t have been so scared to tell you. You would’ve given back to the community, not taken kids to their deaths.

You would’ve been so happy together.

But that wasn’t the world you lived in.

In the world you lived in, you and Finnick were sold at ages far too young. First, you sold your souls by winning The Games, and then your bodies were sold to people who had no business touching you.

In the world you lived in, you were only brought together because of tragedy. You only dated to try and save yourselves from a much greater evil, not because you loved each other.

In the world you lived in, Finnick fell in love with you. But he couldn’t tell you that, not when his biggest fear became losing you.

But in the world you lived in, he lost you, anyway.

So he had to have hope that a better world was possible- he had to. Not having that was another blow he wasn’t sure he could take.

When imagining your better world turned into reminiscing over all that’d happened to you both, he cut his thoughts off. He couldn’t let himself stop and break down now, not when he was so close to the finish line, so close to you.

So he pulled rope from his pocket, tying the same knots over and over again, a habit he’d picked up at a young age. Focusing on the knots was able to take his mind off everything, allowing white noise to play instead of this song.

He didn’t want to hear it without you.

He did this until he lost track of time. It was only when the doors slid open again that he was broken out of his trance. Katniss perked up right away. It was Haymitch behind the door, looking as enthusiastic as Finnick had ever seen him. “They’re back.”

She gasped, getting up and running right away, but it was as if Finnick was cemented to his spot. They’re back. 

You were back.

Just like that, he was shaken out of his shock, standing and quickly catching up with them.

They ran until they were in the medical area. As soon as they got there, he saw Johanna, ripping an IV out of her arm. Her hair was gone, shaven off, bruises all over her pale, pale face.

“Johanna,” Katniss muttered, but Finnick’s attention was elsewhere, eyes darting around the room, searching for you, heart racing.

And then he saw you.

His eyes went wide. “Y/N!” Without waiting another second, he ran to you. After over a month, here you were, right in front of him.

But it wasn’t so simple.

You flinched as his hands went to touch you, making him retract them right away. Your eyes didn’t look in his direction once.

Like you were scared of him.

At the thought, his heart clenched. It was only then that he noticed you were shaking, even as you were covered in blankets.

Your body was littered with cuts and bruises. You were pale, too, so clearly malnourished and sleep deprived. But it was your eyes that really got him. Your beautiful eyes no longer looked so lively. They looked empty.

You looked like a ghost.

“Y/N?” His voice cracked simultaneously with his heart. Why weren’t you looking at him? “Y/N-”

He was cut off. “Mr. Odair.” He turned to see a doctor standing on the other side of your bed, a hesitant look on her face and a look in her eyes that made a shiver go up spine. “Could I speak to you for a moment?”

He glanced back to you, seeing that you still weren’t looking at him. Your gaze was fixed on a spot on your bed. You hadn’t looked up once, even as the doctor spoke. Confused, he nodded, letting the woman pull him to the side, out of earshot from you.

But even as the doctor started speaking, he couldn’t get your eyes out of his mind.

That look in your eye was somehow worse than any of his nightmares combined.

“Mr. Odair, Ms. Y/L/N’s condition is… it’s quite complex,” she cautioned. He furrowed his brows, his worry increasing.

“What do you mean- is she okay-”

“No, I meant- physically, I’m not seeing much to be worried about. Of course, she could be better- much better, but this is what we were expecting.” She paused, glancing at you. “Mentally- I’m not even sure where to begin.”

He glanced back at you, too, to see that you were still staring at that same spot on your bed. He let the doctor’s words register in his brain. You weren’t okay.

“We’ve informed psych, but for now, you’re just gonna need to give her time.” Time.

He let out a breath, feeling his eyes getting wet as what she was saying really soaked in. “You’re telling me to leave.” Just as he got you back.

“Mr. Odair-”

“You’re telling me to leave.”

“Finnick.” She cut him off with a strong call of his name. “Your girlfriend’s mental state right now is unstable. She’s in shock; she’s not herself right now. It is going to take some time to get her out of this state, and it’s going to be hard for you to see her in it. In the meantime, the best thing you can do for her is take some time to collect your thoughts.”

She was telling him to go off and think. Did she know that’s all he’d been doing for hours, thinking and throwing himself into the worst possible scenarios, only to realize that one of them had become a reality?

But he didn’t tell her this, instead looking back at you. You were lifeless. When he looked back at the doctor, there was a pleading expression on her face. He didn’t want to leave you, but she made it sound like the best possible thing to do for you. So he did.

But the truth was, he just couldn’t bear to watch you when you were like that.

You were the love of his life. It was like his heart started beating again when he saw you there, alive, but then it dulled once he really looked at you.

You didn’t look like the girl he fell in love with, the girl that went into that arena, or the girl he said goodbye to. It only took a month, and now you looked like a completely different person, like you had seen things no man had ever seen.

In his haze, Finnick made it back to his room, but he didn’t make it to the bed, collapsing onto the floor, bringing his knees up to his chest as his mind spun.

You were alive. He thought that, when he finally saw you again, all of his worries would be erased, that everything would be okay again, that the world would go back to being in colour instead of this black and white that he’d been stuck in with Katniss.

But nothing seemed more colourful.

Nothing seemed better.

You were here. You were back, Y/N Y/L/N, the same woman he loved, the same woman he’d dreamt about for weeks. You were alive. 

But, oh, he should’ve known it couldn’t have been that easy.

Your heart was beating, your eyes were open, and you were there… but that didn’t mean you were alive.

I told you. I’m not letting you die.

Little did Finnick know, you were already dead. 

Taglist: @avoxrising @mxacegrey @littleshadow17 @lovelyteenagebeard @nasyanastya @catastrxblues @zodiyack @zulpix-blog @mushroomelephant @muggies @lantsovheiress @hobiebrowns-wife @notplutos @faeriepigeons

[theamberfist]

Like Father, Like Child | Part 3 | Alastor x Exorcist! Reader

Familial! Alastor + Exorcist! Adopted Child! Reader

Description:

(Notes: CW Alastor, mentions of murder, fallen angels) (gender neutral reader) (reader is Alastor's adopted child from when they were alive) (Part 3 of Like Father, Like Child)

Part 1, Part 2

❀ We've got a song in this one! (Sometimes I like to write in songs I find if they fit the scene since Hazbin Hotel is a musical after all!) ❀

Words: 3,687

"...Vox?" Velvette's voice finally called out, breaking the silence that had been enveloping the room. In front of her, the TV demon sat staring at the screen and panting heavily; almost like he'd just run a marathon that he'd been severely unprepared for. "You alright...?" When her companion didn't answer, she exchanged a glance with Valentino, who simply shrugged as if this wasn't her problem too.

Velvette rolled her eyes, leaning forward to gently touch Vox's shoulder in an attempt to wake him from whatever trance he'd gone into while watching the battle on TV. The second her hand made contact with him, he seemed to finally snap out of it with a start.

"Vox?" The fashionable overlord asked with a bit of concern in her voice. To her surprise and slight relief, the man demon with the TV head began laughing. It started quietly at first but as time went on, the sound got louder and louder, progressing into full-on cackles as he finally leaned back and cast his gaze upward. His laughter could probably heard from all the way down the hall as he brought a hand up to his head. Had he had any hair, he likely would have been running his fingers through it manically. 

Finally, the laughter subsided and he breathed a long, deep gasp. "Fuck, that was a show!" He exclaimed excitedly. The other two overlords watched him with interest, but also a bit of concern. 

"Who...Knew?" Vox finally asked as slowly stood from his chair and headed closer to the TV, which was paused on an image of Alastor and you right before you melted away into the shadows. "Who knew the great Radio Demon actually had something he cared about?"

"And an exorcist, too." Val added as he blew another puff from his cigarette. "I wouldn't have expected him to know anyone from heaven."

"If they're an exorcist then they're probably just as sick in the head as he is." Velvette said, returning to her phone now to post on her story, "Interesting how he seemed to defend them though, wasn't it?" 

"What the hell was that?!" Vox asked suddenly, putting a hand to the TV screen, "They were supposed to be fighting against the angels and then he just goes and saves one of them? What are they, friends or something?" 

"Don't get too jealous..." Velvette mumbled under her breath so that Vox didn't hear it. 

"He probably thinks he can use them for something," Valentino shrugged. It would be idiotic for Alastor to even try that, though; everyone knew the angels would never work alongside demons for anything, and especially not the exorcists. Unless, of course, the two of you had some kind of personal relation no one knew about. 

Vox laughed again, turning around to face his two companions. When his laughter died out he finally breathed in once more. "We can use this." 

"Can we?" Velvette asked, mostly uninterested in the idea. She and Val really didn't have the same beef with Alastor that their co-worker did and she'd always preferred to stay uninvolved with it. 

"If Alastor of all people cares enough to save them," Vox paused, an insane look on his face, "An exorcist, what will everyone think when they find out?"

"That he's lost his fucking mind, which we already knew?" Velvette suggested. 

"That he's gone soft." Vox replied, placing his hands behind his back and turning away as he headed for the next room over, "They'll finally see him for what he really is; a coward. The Radio Demon will lose his relevance, become a thing of the past, and we'll finally rise above like we were always meant to!" His plans were beginning to go off the rails now but no one wanted to stop him. "Mark my words; this time tomorrow, the V's will be the only overlords worth mentioning." His gaze darkened as he finished the sentence and walked out the door, slamming it shut dramatically behind him. 

"Does this mean we're not watching the rest?" Velvette called now that he was gone. She'd been looking forward to see the hotel residents cry after the loss of their home, as well as the broadcast that was supposed to come after it showcasing the full losses of the extermination. 

"Record it!" Vox shouted back and the fashionista overlord groaned but grabbed the remote to set it to record nonetheless. 

..........

You awoke to the sound of quiet jazz music playing somewhere nearby. At first, you thought your alarm had been changed. Today was the day of the extermination and, given the very detailed dream you'd had last night, you weren't looking forward to going down to hell at all. 

You knew Molly would come by your room like she'd done in your dream if you didn't wake up soon, but at the same time, you were just so tired. You didn't want to get out of your bed, which, you had to admit, was significantly less comfortable than you remembered. It was warm enough though, and you tugged the covers further up your body; in denial about your responsibilities for the day. 

At least the music coming from your alarm was nice. You'd always liked jazz; it reminded you of the kind of music that had been popular when you were alive; the kind you'd always listened to with your dad. 

...Your dad. Right; you didn't often allow yourself to think about the man. But he'd been in your dream last night, hadn't he? You thought back to the events, which were becoming significantly less blurry now. You'd gone to hell, seen him again, refused to kill him, and then been expelled from heaven...

Suddenly, your eyes shot open and you sat up straight; ignoring the dizziness in your head as you did so. 

"Ah, you're finally awake!" You froze. Yep, that had definitely not been a dream. You would recognize the voice of your father anywhere, but right now, it felt impossible to call that unfortunate. 

Finally, you turned to see the red deer-like demon standing to your left next to the bed you were currently laying in. He wore the same signature smile you knew so well; the one your dad had always wore.

But even as he stood in front of you now; his horrible past-actions clear from the fact that he was a sinner; you still somehow couldn't find it within yourself to denounce him as your father. He'd raised you, and like it or not, he'd also saved you yesterday.

That just didn't mean you had to forgive him immediately. 

"Where am I?" You asked, a hint of fear in your voice as you looked around the foreign room. The last thing you remembered before passing out was Adam ripping your wings off and stabbing you in the eye.

Speaking of, you reached up to your eye now, feeling that it had been heavily bandaged and probably cleaned as well. Shifting where you sat, you could also feel more bandages placed on your back where you'd lost your wings and anywhere else you might have been injured. They had no doubt been the work of the sinner before you, and you weren't sure whether to feel touched by that or angered. 

"Why, the Hazbin Hotel, of course!" Alastor replied as he set a glass of water you hadn't realized he had on the table next to your bed. "I know the owner quite well, and I managed to get you one of our better rooms!" It seemed like he expected you to be thankful, but instead, you met him with a look of confusion. Still, that didn't break his demeanor. "Of course, I'd do anything for you, my dear!" 

Slowly, you nodded, pushing yourself up straighter in the bed. You'd heard about this hotel from Adam's many rants; he'd been particularly angry about its existence after Charlie had come to heaven to attend angelic court, which you weren't present for. However, you'd never expected your dad, of all people, to be a part of some kind of rehabilitation center. 

"And...The rest of the angels?" You managed finally, unsure of what else to ask. No matter how many questions you for your dad, it seemed you couldn't manage to get them out right now. 

"Oh, they're long gone!" Alastor replied as he took a seat at the end of your bed and adjusted his bow-tie casually. "So it appears you'll be stuck here in hell for quite a while! What a shame." When he said the last part, though, he sounded anything but disappointed about it. 

You took a second to process that. Of course, you'd expected the other exorcists to leave you behind if something went wrong, but even though the job had never been your first choice, it was still...shocking to know that you really had fallen from heaven while doing it. Alastor seemed to notice your shock because his smile widened and he continued. 

"Not to worry though, my dear! You're welcome to stay here at the hotel for as long as you need!" You weren't sure how to respond to that. Did you want to stay here? You didn't have much other option, but at the same time, that feeling of betrayal that came over you after your dad's death still hadn't gone away. 

"I..." You weren't sure what to say, "Does the hotel owner know I'm..." You trailed off.

"An angel?" Alastor questioned, "Why, of course! How else do you think I explained your sudden arrival here? And it seemed our own fallen-angel resident recognized you too." At that, you perked up. Fallen angel? Did he mean Vaggie? Was this where she had ended up after being kicked out of heaven?

That wasn't what you were getting at though. "No, do they know you're..." You couldn't say it; not after all this time.

"The Radio Demon?" Alastor replied, though he knew exactly what you were referring to, "Why, of course! With a reputation like my own, it's hard for anyone down here not to know!" 

"No-" You started again, only for Alastor to interrupt you once more by gently taking your arm and pulling you up off the bed. 

"Now, I know we have quite a bit of catching up to do but it seems the rest of the hotel residents would love to meet you!" He explained as he pulled you along towards the door. Unsure of what else to do, you followed him out into the hotel, glancing down at your still-tattered exorcist uniform. 'What a way to make a first impression...' You thought. 

Luckily, Alastor seemed to notice this concern of yours too because he suddenly stopped. "Right, I suppose we can't have you looking a mess when you meet the other guests!" He decided, snapping his fingers and instantly making your clothes shift into a completely different outfit. It seemed to be modeled after what you'd worn back when you were alive; your favorite outfit, actually. You were surprised he still remembered which one you'd liked best. 

"There we are!" he spoke, gesturing for you to follow him down the hall. 

"Thanks..." You said quietly.

"Why, of course!" The Radio Demon replied, opening the door to what you assumed was to be the main lobby, "Now, prepare to meet the pathetic, hopeless sinners that are trying to redeem themselves." With that, he stepped through the door and you followed behind him. 

The second you entered the room, streamers and balloons were tossed your way, momentarily blocking your view. 

"Surprise!" A high-pitched voice shouted; accompanied by a few others. There was a brief moment of silence as you wiped confetti out of your face before you finally looked up to see a group of people gathered in the lobby. There was a tall girl with blonde hair and rosy red cheeks, a similar looking but much-shorter man, a tall spider-like demon with pink dots and heart shapes on his head, some sort of cat with wings, a tiny cyclops girl, and a girl you recognized very well who immediately looked away from your gaze. 

Above them was a huge banner that read 'welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!' You wondered how long you'd been out if they'd had this much time to prepare for your arrival. 

"Welcome to the hotel!" The tall blonde girl finally said, taking a step forward from the rest of the group, "I'm Charlie, the owner, and you already met Alastor." She gestured to your dad, who simply stood off to the side with a smug smile.

"Well, I would hope so-" You began, only for him to cut you off.

"It would appear so!" He exclaimed, "Now, why don't the rest of you introduce yourselves to our new guest? After all, you wouldn't want to be rude!" Something in his tone made them all shiver but when you looked back at him, he wore the same smile as always. It was creepy, sure, but it was no different than his usual demeanor. 

Still, the rest of the group came forward, introducing themselves one by one. The shorter man was Lucifer, the king of hell himself because of course he was here, and then there was Angel Dust, who made you slightly uncomfortable, Husk, whom you guessed worked for your dad based on their dynamic, Nifty, who honestly scared you but seemed to like you enough, and finally, Vaggie. 

"Hey." She said when it was finally her turn for introductions. 

"So this is where you ended up after you disappeared?" You asked, feeling a little ashamed you hadn't realized it sooner. Adam had just told the rest of you she was gone and that she wasn't coming back. 

"Yeah..." She admitted, rubbing the back of her neck, "And now you're here too."

"I guess so." You smiled, feeling a little better now that you knew you weren't alone in this situation. Once introductions were done, Charlie immediately pulled you away for a tour of the hotel, which your dad oversaw.

Though, you beginning to realize no one here knew he was your dad. You weren't sure what he'd told them when he brought you back to the hotel, but it seemed he often did things without reason- or at least, without reasons they could understand- so they weren't questioning it. You considered bringing it up yourself, but based on the side-eyes Alastor kept giving you, decided against it.

If it became important later, you would tell them. But for now, your dad was unfortunately the only person you knew well enough to trust here, despite all he'd done. 

Finally, the tour came to an end and you collapsed on your couch, exhausted. Charlie had way too much energy for you but you liked how cheerful she was. Vaggie came over to sit by you; a sympathetic look on her face as Charlie went off to work on her 'lesson plans' for the next day. It seemed she really was the only person in this hotel that took redemption seriously, which didn't seem very promising for its success. 

Angel Dust came over now, plopping down on the other side of you on the couch and noticing your tired-out state. "Charlie already got you running around, huh?" He asked and you nodded. "Well, get used to it, toots. That'll pretty much be your whole life from now on." You sighed but if you were being honest, you didn't have much of a problem with that. Charlie was sweet and since you had Vaggie here, you couldn't help feeling a little more hopeful about your situation. Even with your dad here...

"Can ya turn on channel 6?" Angel asked now, glancing at Vaggie, who was closest to the remote. You looked up, not realizing there had been a TV earlier. When you'd died, they'd been growing in popularity, but hadn't quite taken off yet, so you weren't used to using them. 

"I don't think they should have to see whatever it is you're watching." Vaggie replied as she crossed her arms, making no move to grab the remote. 

"What? The season finale of 'Yeah I Fucked Your Sister. So What?' is on! It's nothing like that!" You, being new to hell, weren't sure what he was referring to but decided to help him out nonetheless.

"I'll do it!" You chirped, grabbing the TV remote and flipping to Angel's requested channel. A smile grew on his face and Vaggie glared back at him. 

"Thanks, kid." The spider demon nudged you as he got comfortable on the couch. You leaned back too, deciding to watch the show with him and see what it was all about.

As it turned out, Angel's favorite show was actually pretty interesting. There was just so much drama ensuing at every turn! Once you got into it, you didn't want to stop watching. It seemed fate had had other ideas, though, because just a few minutes into the episode, it was interrupted by a surprise broadcast from a news channel you'd never heard of. Vaggie seemed to recognize it though because her eyes narrowed.

"Vox..." She said, crossing her arms over her chest. You turned back to the TV with a frown, only for your eyes to widen when a picture of you showed up on the screen as he spoke. Not only that, but the things he was saying about you were...Less than flattering.

"Hey, first day in hell and you already made the news!" Angel spoke, nudging you. You couldn't take your eyes off the TV, though.

"Why would I be on the news...?" You asked. No one had answer; simply watching as the TV overlord continued to slander your name.

..........

"Put this broadcast on every channel we have!" Vox barked to his assistant, who immediately scrambled to do as he said. 

"Sir, we have a few other programs set to run already-" He began, only to be cut off by the terrifying (in his opinion) overlord. 

"I don't care! You'd better make sure everyone in hell sees this news or I swear I will rip your intestines out of your body!" That was enough to make the other sinner get moving and Vox immediately went to plug himself into the broadcast system like he always did. He had a plan to not only ruin Alastor, but also lure him out of his little hiding place within the hotel for good.

If things went well, the Radio Demon would no longer be a problem after today. 

Vox set his broadcast so that it took place in a regular news setting, waiting for his assistant to cue him in. He knew one of the best ways to get through to the citizens of hell was through song- ironically- and so that was what he planned to do. His assistant signaled so he drew in a breath before beginning. 

"My good people of hell!" He spoke in that typical newscaster tone, "Are you aware that the last extermination left us with more than just confusion and a lack of dead bodies? Have you felt that there's been something amiss? Did you know an exorcist still walks among us right now?" He put extra emphasis on the last part and let a photo of you from during the extermination appear on the screen. It had no doubt gained the attention of anyone who was watching from the streets.

"Now is not the time to be complacent!" He told the cameras, "We should do something!" Then he changed the setting in an effort to keep everyone's attention. Now, he was among the crowd that always populated the bottom floor of the V's tower. 

"Something is lurking, something is near!" He sang, darting between people in the crowd, "Something is feeling stranger, stranger! Stirring up discord, whipping up fear! Whispering softly 'danger, danger!'" He pushed two people out of his way to step forward. 

"Outsiders creep up slow and steady, wings glistening, halos at the ready; think what they could do to the status quo!" He knew a photo of you was no doubt appearing on the screen as well and relished it. 

"Oh no!" His assistant chimed in for extra dramatics. The scene changed again so that they were now standing somewhere in Cannibal Town. 

"They're gonna steal, plunder, and pillage!" Vox announced to an old woman who looked very angry at the idea, "They're gonna take over the village!" The cannibals seemed to be foaming at the mouth with rage so he decided to use that. "Don't just sit on your butts and do nothing and wait; let's enter a blind, irrational state!" 

People began gathering around him; some of them from the cannibal colony and others from various other places in hell. He knew it his plan was working now; all he had to do was lead them to Alastor and you. 

"Better get nervous, better get tense!" He ordered the group following behind him down the street, "Better not let them catch you blinking!" He slid over to a group of people that had yet to join him. "You don't need a reason; ladies and gents! This is no time for sober thinking!" Seeing the look on their faces, he knew he'd convinced them too.

"Mob!" He announced.

"Mob?" One of the people following behind him questioned. 

"M-m-m-mob!" Vox confirmed.

"Mob? Mob?" The people repeated. 

"Angry angry mob!" Vox demanded, beginning to march down the street. Luckily, it seemed his powers as an overlord hadn't run out because the rest of the sinners followed with furious looks on their faces. 

"Mob, mob, m-m-m-mob!" They chanted, "Mob, mob! Angry angry!" 

"Sharpen your senses!" Vox ordered as they got within sight of the hotel now, "sharpen your tongues! Sharpen your moral indignation!" The more he sang, the more people seemed to join the mob behind him. "Gather in groups and ready your lungs! Holler with pent-up aggravation!"

"Mob, mob! M-m-m-mob!" The sinners behind him chanted, "Mob, mob! Angry angry! Mob, mob! M-m-m-mob! Mob, mob! Angry angry!"

Vox cackled as they reached the hotel now, ready to bang down the doors. This was going even better than he'd hoped; why hadn't he tried something like it sooner?

After all, sinners were so easy to control when they scared and confused.

..........

Part 4

[lainsshop]

We’re Simply Meant To Be 𝜗𝜚

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Tags: fluff, human alastor, out of character(?), tnbc, eveloping relationship(?) n probably more..

Song: Sally’s Song & We’re Simply Meant To Be - The Nightmare Before Christmas

A/N: Here we out.. Alastor is so Jack coded in someway like walk with meeee!! Not proud of this one tbh..

“… I sense there's something in the wind, that feels like tragedy's at hand-” The ringing in your ears and the dust around the destroyed hotel feel up your senses as you try to stand up. You were bleeding out after fighting against Adam with Alastor. You regained consciousness after remembering what happened, you coughed and begin to search for him.

“And though I'd like to stand by him,” You knew that he was okay but the changes are never zero, you couldn’t risk it- you couldn’t risk never telling him what you felt all those years being together before and after dead, even if it was a silly joke-

𝜗𝜚

“If we still don’t have partners by the age of 30, we should marry each other, what ya think?” You playfully suggest as you hand him a glass of rye. Soft jazz could be heard in Alastor’s radio as you both sat on his dining table. “Now, we both know that we won’t have a someone by that age, probably never.” He chuckled. “I know, I know- I was just joking.” You were lying.. deep down you wanted that, you wanted to be next to him and love him more than a friend but something was holding you back from confessing.

𝜗𝜚

“Can't shake this feeling that I have, the worst is just around the bend,” You continued to walk around, you couldn’t even see the rest of the crew so you were probably a lot farther from them. “And does he notice my feelings for him..?” Your legs betrayed you as you tumbled down on the ground, you became dizzy and rested against a demolished wall. “And will he see how much he means to me?”

“I think it’s not to be- what will become of me, dear friend?” You began to questioned yourself as you tried to push through the pain. “Where will my actions lead us then?”

Cough.

“Althought I’d like to join the crowd, in their enthusiastic cloud, try as I may, it doesn’t last… and will we ever end up together?” Questions. Questions running through your head.

What would happened? What if you weren’t so fucking pathetic and just told him everythi- “And will we ever end up together? No, I think not, it’s never to be ecome-“ You looked at your bloody hands as drops of tears started to appeared. This is your final moment? “For I am not the one..”

You were about to close your eyes as you heard footsteps, vague footsteps getting louder and louder and a radio static-

You quickly looked were the sound was coming from and you nearly jumped when you saw him so near to you.

“… Al-” “Shush, my dear, you’re severely wounded so I should suggest to not speak at the moment, hm?” A beat of silence.

“May I?” He was asking about your injury so you just simply nodded and let him do whatever. He started to help you with the wound. As he did that, he suddenly spoke- “… my dearest friend, if you don’t mind,” You looked at him wondering what he was gonna say next but he was trying to look for the right words and he looked at you with a soft gaze. “I’d like to join you by your side,” You felt a swirly feeling, you didn’t wanted to assume what he meant but you knew it was a positive gesture especially coming from him. “Where we can gaze into the stars-“

You see, there was rare moments where Alastor used to speak like this with you when y’all were alive, you never knew what he meant but in that moment you knew what he meant now. He was- “And sit together now and forever, for it is plain as anyone can see,” He gently grabbed your hand and gave it a small kiss. You both looked at each other with a soft smile.

“… we’re simply meant to be.” You both serenaded.

© LAINSSHOP 2024

[allmyhomieshatelawns]

Heyo I was seized by plot bunnies, so have a little DCXDP! Note, this IS heavily inspired by @phantomfen 's ao3 work https://archiveofourown.org/works/57152017

I highly recommend reading that, but this isn't connected, just inspired. This snippet is also inspired by the song "The Tale of The Shadow" by Sail North. I hope you enjoy!

This is Dead on Main because they're my favorite~

The Shadow:

The wooden boards groaned underneath my weight, as I paced in front of the boat I had purchased. I had finally done it. Bruce wasn't going to be happy, but when was he ever happy with what I did? I shook my head, straightening up as I heard several pairs of booted feet. Turning, I saw a gaggle of hardened sailors making their way down the docks towards me.

My own boat bobbed happily in the water next to me. It was smaller than anything that would normally carry cargo. I just hoped we weren't seen as a new rival pirate company. Bruce already dealt with the majority of them, but they always kept breaking out of jail and reclaiming their territory. The idea to claim it for myself was tempting, but that could come after I had found my prize.

For as long as I could remember, Alfred had put me to bed with a variety of stories. Above and beyond my favorite, besides anything set in the regency era, was the tale of The Shadow. A spectral ship, empty of any Captain or crew, but supposedly full of treasure, waiting for the right Captain to claim her. The only person said to be on the ship was some deck boy strung up to be thrown overboard. It wasn't known what the boy could have done to earn eternity on a damned ship, but I hoped I wouldn't find out.

Alfred couldn't tell me where the treasure had come from, but he did tell me of the many times someone tried to claim The Shadow for themselves, but each time, something would go wrong. The weather would turn, the crew would mutiny, a kraken would come and swallow their ship, the ship would come alive and kill the crew, the story would change but stay the same. No one was able to claim her.

The very idea sent me swooning. Tim and Dick both told me not to bother trying to look. Damian thought I was an idiot for believing the ship existed at all. With our nighttime activities of defending Gotham from gangs, pirates, and worse, I didn't know where they got the audacity to be such blatant hypocrites. If someone like Deadman could exist, then so too could The Shadow.

"Ready to go, Captain Jason?" A man I had hired on as First Mate stepped up beside me, a grin twisting his rugged features. He was unshaven, wearing sturdy clothing meant for hard labor. His hair was short and rusty brown, his eyes were a dull green, watering a bit. He slouched, turning to glance back at the men as they loaded themselves on, and began the process of getting the ship ready to sail.

My grin was sharper than his, and I hopped across the gap, landing on the top deck of the ship. Turning back to him, I gestured the man to follow. We toured the ship, and I made sure everything was flowing as it should. I had made sure to do my research on how ships ran, especially old ones, since the legend of The Shadow was as old as seafaring itself, maybe older. I knew how to sail a modern ship as well as, as many of the older versions of ships as I could sink my teeth into. I was ass at canoe, though I had no idea why. Kayaking was fine, and so was a little speed boat, but not a canoe. I kept getting flipped.

…

We cast out to sea, radio on and scanning for any unusual traffic. We were equipped to fish, and that's technically what we would be doing the most of. There was no telling how long it would take to find The Shadow, but I had made a map of where it had been sighted, color-coded by decade. We would find that ship, and I would… I would shove it in Bruce's face to stop doubting me. I would have finally proven myself to him, and he wouldn't have any choice but to pay attention!

Weeks passed, slowly sailing to each spot The Shadow had been spotted. We would occasionally put to port to speak with the ones whom had made the report. The crew was a little irritated with how long that method would take, so currently we were sailing out for our next destination, a series of sightings in the middle of the Atlantic.

"Captain! A storm's on the horizon!" One of the crew called from the crow's nest, sounding really worried.

"Size of the clouds?" I called back, already striding to the back deck to pull out my spyglass and get a better look. We had yet to see a storm yet, but it was sometimes said The Shadow would use them to travel, seemingly popping up once the storm passed and scaring the shit out of people.

"Too big! This storm'll tear us apart!" He called back, the nervous strings of his voice ringing out and alerting the rest of the crew that something wasn't right.

"Captain?" First Mate stepped up, hand reaching out for the spyglass. I handed it over easily, watching him as he held it up to his eye and looked through carefully. Pulling the lens from his eye, he glanced at me, giving a sharp nod.

"This is the best sign we've gotten so far." He announced, getting cheers from the crew. Shouldn't I be the one making that kind of announcement? Oh well. "With any luck, The Shadow is amongst those clouds! The treasure is close!"

The crew crowed in excitement, pumping their fists in the air. I dismissed them back to work, not liking some of the looks they would throw me when they thought I wouldn't notice. This crew wasn't my best idea, but it was almost over, I could almost taste the treasure on the air. We would split our shares, and be on our way.

…

Ocean spray blew into the air, flung across achingly familiar wooden planks. I glided across the damp wood, watching the ocean thrown around by my storm. The Shadow slipped across the water, my awareness brushing across something new. The souls wrapped around my throat like pearls shuddered at the foreign feeling, their rest disturbed. Interest piqued my mind however, the beauty of the ocean was unending, but then, so was the loneliness.

It had been a while since someone and tried to take what wasn't their's. My treasure had been safe for generations at this point. It had been so long, I thought the last person to know of my existence had finally died. I shouldn't have been so hopeful though, humans are too tenacious. They think they can just come aboard my ship, and hurt my charges. Maybe this can be the last time I have to defend. Maybe I can leave them with a lesson so harsh, no one else comes looking for me and mine. Maybe I could even keep a few of them for myself.

The wind I had been using to propel myself forward, ceased. I watched, flitting between portholes, flickering behind rigging, swarming the sails, as a boat drew closer. It teemed with people. They so badly wish to join my collection. I fingered my pearls, body clacking whenever I moved. The strings dangled across the ground, creating an eerie symphony.

Orders were shouted across the deck of the nearing ship. One voice stuck out from the rest. A young man with black hair stood at the helm, calling orders. A wild grin was on his face. Despite the distance I could see every detail. This young man looked as if he had found the thing he had been searching his entire life for. The way that emotion lit up his face was almost enough to make me blush.

This young man wanted me this badly? No one had come to purposefully seek me out in so long. Where maybe my heart was at one point, fluttered with emotion. Maybe this one. Maybe I could keep this one.

The boat was now close enough for them to clearly see my deck. Silence reigned as they all stared. Activity exploded, the Captain bursting forward. He stared at The Shadow, my ship, eyes sparkling and wide, his mouth hung open and everything. Tears sparked in the corners of his eyes, and he scrubbed them away quickly.

"This is it boys!" The Captain called, grabbing a rope and swinging over to me. His feet thunked on the wood, the first step made on this ship since…

Thunder filled the air as every boot landed on the deck. I flinched, hiding beneath the deck and staring up at them from between the floorboards. It had been so long since the souls around me were in a body. I fingered my string of pearls, the sound of the clattering drawing the attention of several of the sailors. They crossed themselves, glancing around nervously. I had to stifle a giggle. They had sealed their fate by coming after my charges, no amount of prayer could save them now.

My attention moved to the Captain, appearing in his shadow, watching him.

"At last… I've heard more stories about this magnificent beast than I can remember. The captaincy is within my grasp. It's right here." He murmured to himself, inspecting different areas of The Shadow. He opened doors, peaking in at empty rooms, followed closely by a few members of the crew. One of them had a knife in his hand, unsheathed, like he was going to kill the captain.

I frowned at the idea. That wouldn't be ideal. I could speak to a soul I had collected sure, but it was much easier if they had a body to move with. I tossed my head in exasperation, holding back a giggle as more of the vile sailors crossed themselves at the rattling clack that accompanied my every motion.

Pearls dripped down my body, strung across like a tight net. Each pearl was a soul I had collected on the seven seas. I kept them safe from those who might wish them harm. Here, with me, they could sail until time expired, feeling nothing but joy at the freedom bestowed to them. Being able to wander the earth, one with the oceans they had so loved? What more could a sailor want? They felt no hunger, no thirst, nor heat nor cold. I would take them around the world, even beneath the waves sometimes, to see magnificent wrecks.

I hadn't caused all of them.

The captain was stroking the wood of the bannister he leaned against. His thumb was gentle.

"I can't believe it. The Shadow is real, and looks as beautiful as if she had just come off the lot." He grinned, head tilting back to expose his neck. His eyes closed, and he sucked in a sharp breath. "I don't need anything else. I can die happy now, just having found The Shadow." He pulled away from the wood, hands going into his pockets.

"Captain! We've searched most of the hold already, it's just full of moldy rocks and bad water!" One of the sailors stomped up to the Captain, a scowl on his face.

The Captain raised an eyebrow, looking the slightly shorter man up and down. "And? We've definitely found the right ship. What do I care about treasure? You'll still get paid what I promised." The Captain waved away the sailor, running his hands over another section of railing. He was approaching the helm, staring at it like it could answer every question he had ever had.

I wasn't sure how to react to him not caring about the treasure though. No one who sought out my ship knew that I was guarding it. Everyone wanted to find and take the treasure for themselves. The crew didn't seem to like that the captain didn't care about the treasure.

My mind whirled with possibilities as the crew began to tear through the ship, trying to find me. This Captain might really be someone worth keeping around. At least for a little while. I could always collect him after I finished with the crew. It would be nice to have a soul here independent of me. Then I would know his decisions were his own. Not to mention, I can't just let him leave after finding me, and I don’t think his crew will let him leave either. I grinned at the idea that these sailors were now all mine.

The Captain touched the helm, awe on his face.

I plunged into the woodwork of the ship, stretching my senses out through every piece of rigging. Snapping out, I grabbed every throat, wringing them like so much laundry. The crew were dead before a sound could be uttered. Another string of pearls clacked into being, wrapped around my body.

The captain was staring at me, his eyes a startling blue. I hadn't seen a person with such blue eyes before. They were almost as beautifully blue as the ocean in all her moods. They would be perfect to add to my collection of the most precious objects I could find.

In a flash, I revealed myself, watching as the Captain's beautiful eyes widened, showing even more shades of blue within their depths. There was nothing for it, I was utterly besotted. I had to have them. My hand reached out, cupping his face. The man was taller than me, but it didn't mean much when my feet didn't have to touch the floor.

"You–! You're not tangled in rigging! You're the treasure!" The Captain gasped, one hand covering his mouth, while the other carefully reached forward. It was if I hadn't just killed his entire crew before his eyes.

My own hands reached out, I cupped his face, feeling the strong jawline beneath my palms. It was so strange to be touching living flesh. The Shadow had already absorbed the bodies and nutrients of the men, their bodies no longer hanging from the rigging. I hadn't touched skin in so long…

The Captain began to scream, reaching up to try and shove me away. His eyes were so pretty, they would look better as the centerpiece for my favorite necklace. The pearls on that necklace had long gone dormant, but the souls inside had been important. Probably. How long since they last spoke to me? I pushed the thought away, wiping my hand across the empty sockets of my new Captain.

The wounds healed, and the man stopped screaming, his hands slowly lowering.

"Much better. Ahhhh, these are so pretty!" I exclaimed, wanting him to know I hadn't just thrown them out. "It's been so long since someone sought me out. Even longer since I had a Captain… it seems like that was what you were hoping for?" I asked, floating around my Captain, giggling as he spun around to my clacking.

"I…" He wet his bottom lip, head tilting this way and that, probably trying to follow me. "I've dreamt about being the captain of this ship for as long as I can remember." He was even telling the truth, rare that. The emotions bleeding from him were a desperate yearning I hadn't felt in ages. Usually I would only feel them from the terrified sailors that would flee before my storm.

My grin stretched too wide, but that was okay. He couldn't see it anyway. I looped my arms around his shoulders, pressing my flat chest to his own. The sound of the pearls rang across the ship.

"Welcome then, my Captain. Where are we going?" I asked, eager to find the first place I hadn't decided on.

Captain looked like I had dangled something precious in front of his face, only to snatch it away again. He scowled, trying to shove me off. I just clung tighter, phasing through his scrabbling hands so I didn't go anywhere. My grin turned to a bit of a snarl.

"You wanted to be my Captain, didn't you? Did you think there would be no price to pay? Now tell me. Where are we going?" I nuzzled into my Captain's throat, not wanting to scare him too much. It had been millennia since I had been human myself (was I ever actually human? Or did I imagine that?), so I would have to be patient with my Captain. Maybe I wasn't speaking his language?

Captain choked on air, but had stopped trying to push me away. His heart rate had spiked, rushing faster through his body as I stayed snuggled up to him.

This was going to be the start of a beautiful partnership.

[ghostssimp]

The Death of Peace of Mind//Simon Ghost Riley

A/N This one is smuttish a..lot? I took some time from writing, because I didn't have anything in my head. No inspo. This is what came with a song; Bad Omens; The Death of Peace of Mind I hope you enjoy.

I made another mistake, thought I could change Thought I could make it out Promises break, need to hear you say You're gonna keep it now

You and Ghost were fuck buddies, nothing more. That was until you both started to feel something towards each other. That's when you begged Price to give you other tasks, to send you on different kinds of missions. You were avoiding him. He took notice of that, and it made him feel mixed emotions.

This was finally the longest that you were on a mission. The last time the two of you saw each other was 6 months ago. The last time you two had touched each other was 9 months ago. It made you only crave for the man more.

I miss the way you say my name The way you bend, the way you break Your makeup running down your face The way you touch, the way you taste

Those hot nights, where you would whimper his name. "Simon, please Simon." Were the whispers that you could moan out from all the pleasure he gave you as he pushed deep into you from the back, one of his huge hands holding your waist as the other was between your legs, making you grind against his cock more.

His groan echoed in the room. "That's right. Keep that mouth full of my name. That's the only one you will remember for some time." His deep voice could be heard behind you and it made you arch your back even more for him. "Yes, sir!" You cry out feeling closer and closer to your high.

His hand would catch the grip on your hair and pull it, so you would look in the mirror. You saw your red face that was wet from the sweat. Your eyes are in a haze as you look at him and how he thrusts into you. Each one was harder and harder. All you could see was his mask. "Look at yourself. Look how much of a good girl you are being for me, hm?" He would grunt into the night.

When the curtains call the time Will we both go home alive? It wasn't hard to realize Love's the death of peace of mind

You walk back, feeling a little tired and sore from the flight back. You go straight to Price's office. As you enter, Price is already in a room with someone. Your heart skipped a beat and your mouth dried.

"Y/N! Good to see that you came in one piece back home." Price told you, not feeling the tension rising in the room. When you met Ghost's icy look, it felt like you couldn't move. Like you were frozen in place as all those feelings came back to you.

You're in the walls that I made with crosses and frames Hanging upside down For granted, in vain, I took everything I ever cared about

Being on such long missions always meant that you were alone with your thoughts. What did you think about? Was it Simon?

Every night, it felt like he was next to you. It felt like his fingers traced from your lips to your pussy. It felt like he pumped them in and out. The feeling your fingers did, it just wasn't the same. You needed him. You needed his touch so badly. You moaned his name every night, trying to get yourself off at the memory of him.

It all just made it worse for your feelings towards him.

I miss the way you say my name The way you bend, the way you break Your makeup running down your face The way you fuck, the way you taste

You could still remember when the two of you came back from an undercover mission. You had to dress up and make the mafia boss fall for your charm.

When Ghost heard your soft whispers, when he saw your soft touches when he heard your low chuckles.. It made him go mad. His cock twitched. On the other hand, you were doing it all a little bit more to piss him off. He knew it.

So when he called you to his office, you were pinned to the wall. "Let's see how can you make it up and apologize with that pretty mouth of yours."

You were on your knees for him. At one point, his hands held your head as he fucked your mouth.

He pulled you up and bent you over the table. His hands held yours behind your back as he fucked you raw on his table. Your dress was ripped apart. Your whole body was screaming for more of him as you tried to keep your moans and screams in. "I'm gonna make you forget every man, this cock is the only thing that will be in your mind for a long time, love."

When the curtains call the time Will we both go home alive? It wasn't hard to realize Love's the death of peace of mind

After you filled Price in, you stormed out of his office, trying to run away from Simon. You can't do this now, because you're aching for him.

You even went pass Gaz and Soap with a quick 'hi'.

When the curtains call the time Will we both be satisfied? It wasn't hard to realize Love's the death of peace of mind

The fight between the two of you was still clear in your head.

You were holding your head in your hands as you were seated on the bed. Your heart was beating fast as you thought of what to say to him. The door opens and you look up to see tired eyes behind a skull mask.

He didn't need a second to see that something was wrong. "Y/N, what's going on?" His voice rang in the room and it made you feel even worse.

"I- I have to go Ghost." He was silent, but you could tell that there was a frown behind his mask. "Wha-"

"Ghost I have to go away from you. We have to stop." He took a few steps towards you. "We're in too deep to stop." You put your hand up and he stopped in front of you.

"No, you don't understand Si, I'm falling." With one look in your eyes, both of you knew that you were fucked.

A moment of silence, and then the chaos got out. A lot of words were said that weren't meant. A lot of feelings got spilled out and it ended with you storming out and slamming the door.

You come and go in waves Leaving me in your wake You come and go in waves Swallowing everything

He was always there, in the back of your head. No matter what you did, no matter what you tried. He was fucking you and loving you in the back of your mind.

Are you satisfied? Love's the death of peace of mind Mind, mind

Was this what you wanted? To be alone? To be left alone by him?

When the curtains call the time Will we both go home alive? It wasn't hard to realize Love's the death of peace of mind

As you were walking through the hall, a pair of strong arms pulled you into an empty room. His body was pressed against yours as he pinned you to the wall. His skull mask was already moved a little so his lips crashed against yours. The need for him screamed in you as you pulled him closer, your breathing getting heavy.

When the curtains call the time Will we both be satisfied? It wasn't hard to realize Love's the death of peace of mind

You whimper. "Simon-" He smashes his lips again against his as his arms explore your body. "Shut up and let me give you all the love you have missed in these months. I'll make you mine again and you're not fucking runnin' away love." His gruff voice was heard and you did it. You let yourself to him. He was the one you craved so much. He was your need, your drug.

Love's the death of peace of mind

[sir-aadiboii]

A sleepless stroll

Pairing: Alastor x Insomniac!Reader (unspecified, wrote this as a very close friendship, maybe queerplatonic is the word?? let me know if you have any knowledge on this!) Pronouns used: N/A, tried to keep it gender-neutral

Warnings: none(?) only one is probably writing out of character. please let me know if there is anything i should add (^u^)

have a good day/night!

It was the early hours of the morning…Oh, who were you kidding? It was the middle of the night. Past that, actually.

And yet, here you were, lying wide awake, without hope of a single wink of sleep.

You sighed.

“Oh, what’s the use? Might as well do something productive,” you mumbled.

You got out of bed, walked over to your desk, and grabbed your laptop.That was how you spent your night: whiling the time away by doing whatever you thought of- writing a new song, story, making art, even coming up with ways to help your friends at the hotel. Even if you were to suffer, why should they?

And so went the next night, and the night after that, and so on until-

“Hellooo? Toots, are you even paying attention?” Angel waved a hand in front of your face.

You blinked. “Oh, sorry. I missed what you said, could you repeat that?”

Husk snorted. “That’s the 17th time today. You doing okay, kid?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” you grinned sheepishly.

Angel and Husk exchanged a look.

“You sure? If there’s something bothering you, you can tell us,” said Charlie.

“She’s right, you know,” Vaggie chimed in. “If there’s something on your mind…”

You smiled softly. It was nice to know they were worried about you.

“Really, I’m alright. Nothing’s bothering me,” you assured them.

...Liar.

You waved off the thought just as you had waved off their worries. After all, they had enough on their plate, they didn’t need more.

And so, you went about your day as usual before night would fall again.

Everything would be fine…so long as he didn’t find out.

...Little did you know that your closest friend was steps ahead from where you believed…

Another sleepless night, but this time, an extremely unproductive one. You found yourself pacing about your room, wondering what you could possibly do.

Finally, you decided to head out for a walk.

Grabbing your room key, you checked yourself in the mirror, made yourself presentable, and walked out.

It would seem, however, that you were not meant to be alone for your midnight stroll.

You were walking through the streets of hell, humming to yourself as you aimlessly wandered, wondering what you might stumble upon. A secret hideout? A corpse? A deal? You never knew what you could find.

As you stared up at the sky, you heard footsteps. They grew nearer and nearer, then it was silent. You felt a burning gaze on you.

You didn’t have to turn around to recognize the person. “Alastor,” you greeted.

“Ah, there you are, my friend!” You turned around, and there he was. “Now then, what might a fine demon such as yourself be doing out here on a night such as this?”

“I could ask you the same,” you begin, but trail off when you see the look he’s giving you.

“Come now, darling. Tell me one thing: When did you sleep last?”

You hesitate. You think about lying, but the glint in his eye seems to warn against that.

“I…” He looks at you expectantly. “…I can’t remember. It’s been a while,” you resignedly finish.

He shakes his head, making a tutting sound. “Now, [Name], I knew you were quite the insomniac when we were alive, but I didn’t expect you to carry the habit into death!”

“A…what? Insomniac?”

He waves off the question. “A term I heard Charlie mention in relation to you. You can ask her in the morning. For now, why don’t we head back to the hotel? You may as well get some rest, if not proper sleep. You need it.” He mutters the last bit, studying your face. You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes.

You feel embarrassed, annoyed, and yet…slightly relieved. You don’t have to explain yourself because Alastor has always been your friend; through life and death still, he has remained by your side. He has kept your darkest secrets, and you have held his own tight to your chest. As you walk back to the hotel, you can’t help but gaze at your companion, glad that he’s here, thinking about how lucky you are to have him with you. Yet…you wonder why he would want to be with someone like you.

“Hmm? Why even ask such a thing?” You startle. Alastor hasn’t turned, but looks at you out of the corners of his eyes. Your eyes widen. Did you really just say that out loud?

He chuckles at your reaction. “Yes, you did say that out loud. Any particular reason why that was on your mind?”

“Oh, you know anxiety! Uncertainty too, amazing friends, wouldn't you say?” you try to joke, but it comes out far more bitter than you were hoping. It surprises you both, though Alastor does a better job at covering it up.

“Nonsense, my dear! You haven’t a thing to feel unsure about! After all, the positive things about you far outweigh the negatives, do they not?... At least, that is what I believe.” When he turns to you, his expression appears the same at first glance, but his smile is less sharp, and his eyes tell you he’s being genuine.

“…Thank you.” You turn away from him, but you can still feel his gaze burning into the side of your face as you walk. Strangely, your cheeks feel warm.

From there, the conversation settles into a comfortable silence, with the exception of Alastor pointing out random things you wouldn’t have noticed before.

As you enter the hotel, you make your way back to your room, with Alastor following not far behind. As you’re about to enter, you pause. You turn to your dear companion, who looks confused.

“Is something wrong?” He tilts his head. “You need a drink of water, perhaps? Or maybe some milk-”

“Thank you for being there for me,” you whisper.

Alastor looks like he’s taken off guard, but only for a moment, as the expression is swiftly replaced with one of affection.“Only for you, mon chéri.”

The moment seems to stand forever, neither of you wanting to break it. You eventually tear your eyes away and check your watch.

4:08 AM.

The time really went quickly, didn’t it?

You smile one last time at him. “Goodnight, Alastor.”

He responds with one of his own signature grins, waves, and disappears into the shadows.

With that, you unlock your room door, walk inside, and get ready for bed.

When you lie down on your bed, sleep does not take long to claim you.

Who knew all it would take was a visit from your oldest friend?

woo! my first fanfiction! please give me feedback, it's my first time writing this kind of stuff. it would be much appreciated :D

fluff/comfort not your thing? i can write angsty and/or gory stuff, just request!

(note: i am planning to post some of my random writing, not tied to fandom. my OCs!! i have piled up a lot of those, so i will gradually post them here. remember, *constructive* feedback is valued!!)

[danicadenniss]

DreamWorks Trolls

Branch: Troll Of The Wildglade

Chapter 6: Talons Rising To Power

In Trolls Brotherhood AU, when Branch, John Dory, Spruce, Floyd and Poppy were captured by Dante Reyes and his hunters and they taking them to the village. Clay remembered his father's sacrifice himself to save him and his family and then his friends Viva, Damian Hubbard, Janis 'Imi'ike, Abby Schmidt, Travis and the other children comfort him, after he blame himself for leaving the forest and even heard John Dory, Spruce, Floyd and Branch needs his help. In the prison scene.

The hunters arrived back from the valley, it wasn't the case for our teal trolls and a grayish pink troll. Since their capture, the hunters led them into the village.

Dante Reyes: (evil grin) How's our little prize going back there?

Facing the captors with a glare, Branch finally had the courage to speak up.

Branch: I don't need to answer to some ugly beast! (The hunters gasped) But if I must, I'll tell you one thing you should about my father's sacrifice, 20 years ago, I was a baby, when you take to wherever you taking us.

Arthur Slugworth: Oh, and what's that?

Gerald Prodnose: What? Oh my goodness, we whipped it before he'll sing it to us, just like the children.

Arthur Slugworth: They did what!

Branch: That I won't back down with a fight. I won't give up so easily! But most of all....(He then broke into a song as William Afton whipped him, groaning in pain)

Arthur Slugworth: The music won't work on it for now. Hernan Reyes is very good man, but he got killed by the fires, but Victoria will be here. Why thank you, Doctor?

William Afton: My pleasure, when the children sing in the museum's hall. I see it with my own eyes and two trolls are singing and still in there.

Arthur Slugworth: WHAT! Music? In the museum! How?

Branch suddenly heard a familiar roar and struggled against the ropes to turned his head around. Behind he saw his best friend Sky flying overhead. Seeing the sad face on Sky as he flew closer, Branch knew that his friend was depressed by the hunters. As much as he wanted Sky to help him, Branch knew that Sky might be endangering himself if he tried to free him. Floyd got out and he gave a message from their long lost brother Clay, Poppy urged him to fly away and leave them in roars and howls. Sensing what the brothers wanted, Sky sadly flow off. John Dory see a note from Clay and read it.

John Dory: Dear Older and younger brothers,

I'm worried about Dad's sacrifice and I feel worried about you guys and that the hunters captured you guys, Pastor Chunch want the hunters to stop hunting before he'll kill you guys. I'm sorry for leaving you guys in the forest because of the fire cause explosion in the woods, since Dad died, I miss his funeral, Mom and Grandma are worried about me, since I disappearance along with Viva. My new friends and I are going to save you guys from the hunters. I'll be there to rescue you guys soon.

Sincerely,

Your brother Clay

Spruce: (gasped) Clay?

Floyd: Clay, he's alive!

John Dory: My baby brother is alive! (sobbing)

Dante Reyes: Open the gate!

Once the gate opened, Branch's eyes widened at the area before him. Inside the prison, there were various trolls and people, either chatting and doing manual labors. As the hunters dragged them inside, Branch looked up. He even glared when they closed the gate behind them closing their chances of escape. Branch immediately knew trolls are slaves and they saw them working hard for the aristocrats.

Trolls were meant to be free and happy, not to be mistreated or work as a slave to someone.

Branch: (roared) Stop it! I'm not wild, but my brothers and I perfer to be free. That's how trolls should be. Always have and always should. Especially from the likes of you.

John Dory, Spruce and Floyd: Yeah!

John Dory: Branch, it's Clay, he's alive and he is gonna to us all.

Branch: Clay, is he okay?

Spruce: He is alive and he is going to save us.

The brothers wanted to know about the message from their long lost brother. A mysterious man with a black jumpsuit with arrows and bow loaded on his back. A mysterious woman wearing a sleeveless black jumpsuit with her twin blades on her belt around her waist. The brothers struggled and pulled their arms. Ignacio glared at the teal trolls who glared back in return.

Jennifer Kord running into the prison, as she wearing a black sleeveless jumpsuit with her staff on her back and a navy blue belt around her waist with her sword in her belt. The dogs barking at the trolls, Poppy wiped them out from being killed by the hunters. The hunters laughing wickedly, and they rise to power to hunt down trolls and burn the forest.

Damian and Janis arrived in the prison, he wears a black jumpsuit with his staff on his back and a gray belt around his waist. She wears a black sleeveless jumpsuit with a dark gray belt around her waist, a staff on her back and a black bandana on the top of her head. Black men and a British woman wearing black black jumpsuit with their armors, belts around their waist with their weapons. The Talons Bounty Troll Hunters looking on the sides and saw a white man with a black jumpsuit with black belt around his waist and sliver knuckles and pushed them in the face. A Latino man and a Latina woman wearing black jumpsuit with black belts around their waist with their weapons loaded arrows and bow.

Man with a black jumpsuit: So, Vanessa, what's next?

Vanessa Afton: I can do that for able to make Talons pay for their merchant services.

Noah Diaz running as he wore a black jumpsuit with black belt around his waist and held his bow loaded with arrows at the hunters.

Noah Diaz: Ramsey, Roman, Tej, you're up!

Tej: It's show time! Hit it!

Ramsey set up a bomb on the gate by set up a timer in 60 seconds.

Noah Diaz: Shaw, it's time to strike.

Deckard Shaw: Yes, it's time,

Vanessa slide down to the prison with a rope, she used her crossbow and taught her arrow at the hunter. The insignia burned into their skin will be a permanent reminder of where they had endured even ithey had escape. The brothers are trying to free themselves. They usually branded them on either their backs or chests.

Spruce: (trying untied the ropes) Ow!

Floyd: (struggled and pulled his arms) We have to fight against the hunters like we fought the Purma at our home.

John Dory: I hope Clay will be able to help us out. (An ambitious rogue and con artist named Forge Fitzwilliam speaks to them.)

Forge Fitzwilliam: Silent! (The slave trolls gasped) Every creatures will be marked by flame. The hunters bring the trolls from all the lands. Pop Trolls, Rock Trolls, Techno Trolls, Funk Trolls, Classical Trolls and finally County Trolls, all trolls from all the lands around every nature.

A funk troll: I don't like him and being a slave.

A funk troll: Me too, Cooper!

A rock troll: (growled) How's could you monster!

Dante Reyes: We're not monsters! All of you are!

A rock troll: What the hell are you talking about?

A pastel pink troll: This is going to take forever! (sobbing)

A lavender blue troll: (make snitch and rag clothes for the aristocrats.) There's no way, I will not being marked by a stupid iron from the dumb aristocrats.

Twin pop trolls: (two hunters whipped on their back.) Owie!

Bounty Troll Hunters #12: Get back to work, monsters! Unless you too get another whipped on your back.

A pastel pink troll: Alright!

A lavender blue troll: Please, don't ever hurt us! We'll must clothes for the aristocrats!

Ignacio Carapax come out with a branding iron with the shape of their insignia on the hot end. This was the mark of a slave to the Talons Bounty Troll Hunters and the brothers are next. Branch eyed Ignacio coming to him with the heated iron.

Ignacio Carapax: (Branch gasped, in the vision, Hernan Reyes battle Thorn in the forest, since his father's sacrifice himself to save them from the hunters, Baby Branch crying and wailing, teenage Dante Reyes stabbed him, Thorn groaned, end of the vision, scream) You're going to be a slave now.

The hunters lowered his leafy vest to leave room for him to brand his chest. As he was about to enjoy branding him, Branch struggled and pulled his arms and he branded his chest, until Clay arrived and successfully managed to free his brothers and Poppy cut off the ropes to free her arms and grabs the iron with her hands, while looking at Ignacio Carapax in the eye. Branch almost passed out and panting heavily with his eyes opened wide and he looked down at his chest with insignia mark on it.

Ignacio Carapax: Hey! That's mine! You grayish beast!

Poppy pulled the iron away and branded the iron into the hunter's face.

Ignacio Carapax: NO! MY IRON!

Poppy: (the hunter yelling from the burning pain and while he was distracted, Branch got up, she gave a hunter one blow on the head with the iron, knocking him out cold. The brothers managed to remove the sash from their move and scoffed.)

John Dory and Floyd: Branch!

Spruce: Bro, you okay?

Branch: (groaned) I'm fine, told you we still got plenty of fight in us.

Clay: Nobody messes with me and my brothers!

John Dory, Spruce, Floyd and Branch: Clay!

Clay: You asked for trouble, I'll give you trouble and plenty of it!

The hunters looked up at the gates and its cause explosion at the gates opened, the hunters screaming and they ran into take cover.

Can the brothers will escape from the hunters, and taking Branch to the hospital and healing his wounds?

[bananadrinkxxx]

THE BLOOD CROWN

Aemond Targaryen Fanfiction

Warning: 18+

PART 13

"Rhaenyra, we need her dragon."

Her dragon. It was like a slap in the face. It didn't come as a surprise, and yet it hit her. Hard and without mercy.

"No."

"Every dragon will help us get closer to the throne."

Fuck the throne, Rhaenyra wanted to say.

She was tired. The last few days had been exhausting and nerve-wracking. The miscarriage, the death of her beloved father, and the capture of Lucerys had driven her to the brink of despair. Alicent's letter and her ultimatum had been the final straw. Her betrayal had broken her heart. But in a moment of calm, she had wondered if it really came as a surprise. The years of resentment and dislike should have taught her better. And yet she had held on to that ridiculous friendship. To those moments between them. Alicent had once meant the world to her. She had been more than a friend. A soul mate, her pillar of support. But now she knew Alicent had never been that.

She finally saw who Alicent was. She was her enemy.

"I said no. He's way too young."

"He's old enough." Why didn't Daemon let up. Rhaenyra looked at him angrily. He returned her gaze.

"He is Aemma's dragon. He will not accept another rider."

"It's uncharacteristic but a dragon can have multiple riders. If Aemma is..." He stopped.

"If Aemma is what? Say it, Daemon, I dare you."

"What Daemon says is not wrong, Rhaenyra," Rhaenys objected. She interrupted the conversation that was slowly turning into an argument. Her grand cousin was standing next to Daemon, a strange sight. She knew that Rhaenys detested Daemon's manner. She always had. Rumor had it she was even against him marrying Laena. "Take it from someone who lost both her children." There was that undertone of blame in her voice but Rhaenys had not heard her speak of the accusation that Rhaenyra had murdered her son since she had chosen Rhaenyra's side. "It is more likely that Aemma is dead than that she is alive."

Rhaenyra still felt guilty about what she had done to Rhaenys. It was not what Rhaenys accused her of, but she had still robbed her of her son. It had been her suggestion that Laenor flee into the unknown. Wherever he was now. But she had needed Daemon and Laenor had needed his freedom. They both would have gone down.

"I don't believe Aemma is dead. I'll believe it when I hold her body in my hands. I am a mother, her mother, I feel that she is still alive."

Rhaenys gave her a pitying look. Rhaenyra did not want her pity.

"All right, let's forget about Aemma for a moment. We need the dragon. He's old enough to be useful," Corly added, standing next to his wife.

"I will not take my daughter's dragon away from her."

"But your daughter isn't here, damn it," Daemon suddenly shouted, flinging the figures off the painted table. "It's naive and stupid to leave the dragon unused when we can use it."

Rhaenyra looked at the table. The table that showed her future kingdom.

The Painted Table was a table carved in the shape of Westeros, engraved with its major cities, castles, and landmarks. Located at the top of the central keep of Dragonstone. Aegon the Conqueror planned his invasion of the Seven Kingdoms from the chamber. The Painted Table itself was more than fifty feet long: roughly twenty-five feet wide at its widest point and four feet at its thinnest.

"Everyone out."

She saw the surprised looks. Corlys seemed to want to say something, but Rhaenys gently put her hand on her husband's arm and shook her head. It didn't take long for everyone to obey the order, leaving only Rhaenyra and her husband, who looked at her angrily.

It reminded her of the moment when Daemon had first laid hands on her. Strangled her when she had told him about the Song of Ice and Fire, something her father had revealed only to her. From that moment on, she knew that her father had not appointed her just out of pity and guilt. He had believed in her.

Rhaenyra had forgiven her husband for his reaction. He was hurt, had lost his brother, and his child. In addition, he had found that his brother had never wanted him as heir to the throne and had never told him about the prophecy, which was of enormous importance.

But she had also lost loved ones, had been betrayed. Daemon had had no right to lay a hand on her, but Daemon was someone driven by his emotions. It was no excuse and it was not to be repeated, but she would not allow his rash action to drive a wedge between them. She needed him and he needed her. He had never touched her before, never threatened her. It had happened in a moment of anger and grief. She didn't want it to change anything between them. She needed him. Not only as a war leader and strategist. She needed him because he was like her. Of the same blood. Chaotic. Self-destructive. She loved him. And he loved her. That's why she had decided to forgive him. But she would make sure that it would not happen again.

"I know what you're going to say," Daemon said. "That I have given up on Aemma, but I haven't. I'm just being realistic and telling you that we need her dragon. You're not robbing your daughter just because you're passing on her dragon. The dragon makes the decision in the end. If he only wants Aemma and he feels she is still alive, then he will decide against any other rider." Daemon approached her and took her hands in his.

His hands were warm. Hers were always cold.

"I want to win this war. I will, no, we will win this war. But for that I need your support. You are my queen, but you must also act like one. Think of Lucerys. Think about our children."

"I don't do anything else."

Daemon came closer and pressed his forehead against hers. It was a special moment of connection. By the gods, how much she loved this man.

"Then let's give them our answer. Let us answer with fire and blood."

Aemma's dragon did not let anyone mount it. Two men were now dead and one seriously injured. Ten other men had failed. One woman had almost made it but the dragon Marax had thrown her into the sea. And although it was a defeat for the blacks, it was a gain for Rhaenyra. For she knew now that her feeling had not deceived her. The feeling in her heart that had never left her. She was no fool. The possibility still existed that Marax just didn't want another dragon, but she wanted to hold on to it, to the feeling that she would see her child again.

Aemma Velaryon was alive and she would do anything to find her girl again.

Daemon stared into the raging fire of the fireplace. He had retreated to his chambers; he needed a quiet moment. He needed to think. Marax had turned away every potential rider. The dragon was still young, and small, but he could have been useful. A dragon he could have sacrificed. Of course, he would never have told Rhaenyra that, he was no fool, but he had needed a dragon whose rider was of no great importance and who was weak enough to be useless to him in the present situation. He had been reluctant to sacrifice a dragon, any dragon had tremendous value and with luck nothing would have happened to the dragon, but without a rider Marax was useless.

Rhaenyra would never have agreed if she had known Daemon's true intentions. He did not want to betray her, but his wife was behaving foolishly in everything related to Aemma.

He stroked his face tiredly. The last days were very exhausting. He was no weakling, but the sleep he found was little. He wanted to see them all burn. If he had his way, they would already be at King's Landing in the Red Keep, with Rhaenyra on the throne and Aegon, Alicent and Otto on the ground, on their knees, whimpering for mercy, which he would grant with the Dark Sister.

A knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts.

A guard entered and bowed.

"Prince Daemon, you sent for me?"

Daemon swung one leg over the other. He did not turn around.

"Have you made contact with Mysaria?"

"Yes, we have, my prince."

"And her response?" Daemon looked to the man. They had not been empty words he had said to Aemond. He would kill every single one of the greens. Every one.

The guard turned to the door as if to make sure no one heard him.

"What do you think of ratcatchers, Prince Daemon?"

T̶H̶E̶ ̶B̶L̶O̶O̶D̶ ̶C̶R̶O̶W̶N̶

Rose was devastated after her conversation with Lucerys. If she was honest, she had already expected this reaction, but she had had hope. Hope that the young prince had now finally beaten Nina. She also had not known why she thought she had the power,

Lucerys, to change her mind. She had simply wanted to try. But now everything had been said. Rhaenyra's son would not bend the knee. Not even for his own life. And the Greens had made it clear that any resistance from now on would be punished by death.Maybe she should have tried harder. Maybe she should have given better arguments. Maybe she should have gotten down on her knees to beg Lucerys not to give up his life. But who was she? She was a nobody. She had no meaning for the boy.

When she entered Aemond's chambers, she had hopes of being alone. She did not want to face the prince and confess that she had failed. Aemond would probably be pleased, at her defeat. He had not wanted her to go to his nephew. Probably he could hardly wait for the day of execution. Perhaps he was also des would do. Together with his dragon. Even though she had exchanged caresses with the man in the last few days, she trusted him with these cruelties. Basically, she did not know him at all. He had changed towards her, shown a side here that she had not expected. But that didn't mean she forgot how he could be different.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized she was alone. Rose started cleaning up the room, but she didn't have much work to do. Aemond was a very tidy person. The bed had already been made by someone and someone had cleaned. The only thing she could do was to take the dirty dishes from the table and bring them to the kitchen. But just as she was about to step out the door, it opened and a sweaty Aemond stepped towards her. It was obvious that he had been working out. He looked at her in surprise, and she returned his gaze.

"You're here," Aemond stated. He closed the door behind him and regarded her. She felt uncomfortable under his gaze and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Did he see how nervous he was making her? Would he ask her about his nephews now? Would she see a happy face now? But instead of saying anything, he walked past her and put it a sword on the table.

"I wish to take a bath," he said. "Let in the water." Rose would love to tell him that she was needed elsewhere. That she would send Dyana, but she knew Aemond would not allow any excuse. So she just nodded, and set the dirty dishes aside. She went into the adjoining bathroom and prepared everything.

"I will wait in the room next door. Call for me if you wish anything," she said, her eyes fixed on the floor as Aemond entered.

"I wish you to stay here," Aemond ordered, and Rose looked up in surprise. "I need you to wash my hair. I'm too tired from training."

She didn't believe a word he said. She knew that Aemond preferred to bathe alone. Of course, she had talked beforehand with the servants who had served the prince before her. She was no fool. Rose had wanted to avoid anything that might have angered him.

"You don't look tired," she replied, and Aemond answered with a raised eyebrow. She knew she was being cheeky. Had the affection he had given her made her arrogant? Or was it the frustration that raged inside her? Did she blame him for what would happen to Lucerys?

"And yet I am," Aemond said coolly, and without a warning, he disposed of his coat. His coat slid down his naked body on the floor and before Rose could avert her gaze, it locked onto Aemond's naked member. Shock ran through her body. She tore her eyes open and tried to tear her gaze away from him. She had seen naked men before. The male private part, was nothing new to her. But Aemond's, on the other hand, was. It had a completely different effect on her.

Aemond paid her no further attention. As if it didn't bother him that she saw him like this. He swung one leg over the edge of the bathtub and lowered himself into the hot water. Rose stood there like an idiot, her eyes fixed on the back of his head. Her eyes bored into him. What was she supposed to do? A strange feeling arose inside her. It was the same feeling she had felt when he had flown with her on vhagar. His hand between her legs. That tingling in her belly, between her legs, was exactly the same thing she felt now. Some time passed, and as Aemond turned his head to the side, he signaled to her that he was waiting for her to wash his hair. Rose tried to pull herself together and went to the table with the soaps. She took a cup and dipped it in the water, pouring it over Aemond's head in the same breath. Aemond laid his head on the back of his neck. His hair was soft, unlike hers, which was always matted. She enjoyed running her fingers through his hair. She stroked his hair with the soap, wetting it with the pleasant scent.

"Was your conversation with my nephew successful?," Aemond interrupted the silence, and Rose closed her eyes. There it was, the question she hadn't wanted to hear. It was unmistakable, but still she had hoped it would be spared.

"The prince still refuses, I'm afraid," Rose admitted. "I have failed."

"Have you?"

Rose gave him an irritated look. "What else would you call it?"

"As something to be expected," he replied. His voice did not reveal his emotions. "Lucerys is not aware of the seriousness of the situation."

"I am sorry, my prince. But I disagree. I think he does know what he is doing, and what to expect. He will not betray his mother."

"Aemond."

"What?" retorted Rose.

"I told you that when we were alone, you could call me by my name." Then he immediately turned to her. "I want you to address me by my name."

His gaze was intense. She couldn't meet his gaze. She dipped the cup in the water again, but before she could lift it out, he grabbed her by the wrist and held her tight.

"It's not your fault," Aemond said seriously. Rose looked at him in surprise. "The bastard made his decision. You did everything you could do."

"I'm a bastard, too," Rose replied. "He's always insulting him as a bastard, but I get the feeling you're forgetting that I'm one, too."

"I haven't. I only insult him as a bastard because he says otherwise. There is no shame in being a bastard. It's a shame to take something that rightfully belongs to someone."

For a moment, Rose thought she was foolish enough to say the words that were on the tip of her tongue. Wasn't that exactly what the Greens had done to his mother? Rhaenyra had been the heir. Rose doubted that the king had a sudden change of heart at the moment of his death. She had sworn allegiance to Aegon, but that didn't mean she didn't have a head to think. She believed that many were thinking what she was thinking. Only most didn't care who they were led by. As the firstborn son, Aegon had a claim to the throne. It was easy to look past the fact that he had probably stolen from Rhaenyra.

"I don't look down on you for being a bastard. On the contrary, I think you've had a hard life, and I'm impressed by your strength."

Aemond's words hit her right in the heart. It was like warmth wrapped around it. Holding it tightly, not giving it back. She didn't know what it was, whether it was his words or his gaze that seemed to look deep into her soul. But before she could stop it, she felt her eyes fill with tears. Her lower lip trembled, and she felt a tear roll down her cheek. It left a hot trail, a revelation of how much the prince, hit her in the heart. Aemond's gaze softened, the hardness receding from his face to make way for gentleness. Suddenly he stood up. Rose drew in her breath in surprise as his strong hands grabbed her by the waist and a short moment later she was standing in the water with him. Rose stared at him with her mouth open. He had lifted her into the bathtub fully clothed. The water pressed her clothes against her body and nestled against them. Now she stood in the bathtub with him, she fully clothed and he completely naked. Before she could say anything, Aemond grabbed her face and pulled her close to him. He pressed his lips, on hers. His kiss was gentle and tender. I had an unexpected restraint. Rose did not hesitate long, and returned his kiss, confirming him in kissing her more passionately. One hand settled in her neck, the other stroked over her body, back to her hip, towards her bottom. His hand felt good there. He began to knead her bottom, and Rose felt the arousal in her body increase. She moaned into the kiss, and pressed herself into his body, knowing that only the thin fabric separated them. He wanted her, and she wanted him. There was no doubt about that. But if she gave herself to him, she would lose what was most important to a woman at this time. But was it also good to her most important? She doubted that she would ever marry. She was a servant, and a bastard at that. She had no value at all. But Aemond made her feel differently at the moment. She felt desired. She didn't care what anyone else said. This man made her feel like the only woman for him. And at that moment, she wanted to be the only one for him too. Therefore, she raised her hand and gently and carefully stroked his member. Aemond drew in a hissing breath, and dissolved the kiss. He looked at her in surprise. She saw him searching for an answer in her face. He was looking for the shyness in her face, but at that moment she felt feminine and strong. Full of confidence. She knew what she wanted, and her look showed it.

"Are you sure?" asked Aemond seriously and she saw, the desire in his eye. Rose nodded, and reached for his manhood again. This time he was hard. Aemond groaned. The corners of his mouth pulled up slightly.

"I do," Rose confirmed, and as if it was all Aemond needed to hear, he pressed his body against hers, and opened her dress. She watched him undo the strings of her dress with elegant movements. She ignored the question in the back of her mind if he had done this before. She wanted to enjoy this moment. She helped him pull the dress over her head. Although she was now completely naked as well, and he was the first man to see her like this, she strangely felt no shame. It felt right. She watched him let his gaze glide over her body. There was nothing but desire in his gaze. Placing his hand on her bare breast, Rose moaned.

"You are beautiful," he breathed, suddenly gripping her neck. Wrapped his long fingers around it. "And you're mine. You are mine."

"I am yours," she repeated.

He kissed her neck. She felt tears on her cheeks. Why was she still crying ?

"You want me?" His hand clasped her neck tighter.

"I do. Give yourself to me, Rose," Aemond whispered. "And I will make you mine." wasn't she already his?

She nodded, and a smile came to his lips. He should smile more often. It looked very good on him.

Something suddenly snapped inside Aemond and he lifted her up. Their naked wet bodies pressed together. He lifted her out of the bathtub and took her to his bedroom, laying her in the sheets of his soft bed. Rose barely had time to comprehend what was happening when he parted their legs and dove down between them without a warning. He licked a strip into her cunt and Rose threw her head back. She moaned, no she almost screamed, and her hands gripped his wet hair. By the gods. What was he doing to her? His tongue was making circles, dipping in and out, working its way to her tip, the point that made her forget everything, and sucking her in. It was like an explosion. Her pleasure painted stars on her eyelids.

"Aemond," she called out.

He moaned into her cunt, his tongue sliding inside her. Rose felt something rising inside her. She didn't know what it was, but she was about to climax. But just before she felt herself being flooded, he rose up and looked at her. She looked at him, completely dazed.

Her gaze slid to his bulging member and she felt herself getting even wetter. He had grown even bigger. She wanted to feel him inside her.

Aemond clasped her cheeks, his gaze shining intensely.

"You are mine," he repeated his words.

He kissed her again and pressed her more firmly into the bed. He covered her with his body, his cock nudging at her entrance. Rose heard her heart in her ears and felt the fire between them. She wanted him. She wanted him. She wanted him.

"Now," she breathed into his mouth, her kiss desperate. How could he possibly cause this boundless desire in her? His hwang slid slowly inside her. It hurt slightly as he entered her, but it felt wonderful in the same moment. She gasped for air. He was so big. She felt him pressing against her walls and opening her up from the inside.

"Shit," he gasped, "you feel so good." Her eyes were closed, her body stretching for him. He gave one last thrust of his and filled Rose. She knew why people couldn't wait until marriage and begat bastards. This feeling was breathtaking.

Aemond waited for her to get used to him inside her, but he didn't have to wait long. Rose couldn't help but rub against him, desperate to feel his heat burning inside her. He pulled back slightly, a hissing breath leaving his lips. He pushed forward slowly, burying himself to the hilt inside her. He moved slowly again and Aemma needs more. He was taking care of her, but that was not what she needed.

"Aemond," she whispered, "I need you deeper." And with that, Aemond's control faded. His body, lean and tense, withdrew in a rapid rhythm. And then he thrust forward again. Faster, deeper. Rose felt like she couldn't breathe. A pressure was building inside her that was almost driving her crazy.

"You're taking me so well," he praised her, his breath on her neck as he tongued her flesh. He fucked her without restraint. She screamed as his thrusts pressed hard into her womb, and when his fingers slid to the tip of her cunt, she lost control. She wrapped her legs around him and met his thrusts. Rose was burning alive and she never wanted to get rid of the flames.

Rose held on to his shoulders as his next thrusts went out of rhythm. It was frantic, fast, and uncontrolled. His moans hit her ears, and she felt him tense.

"Ameond," she cried out, and she came. She felt a wave slide over her and she leaned into the sensation. Never in her life had she felt anything like it. She pressed against him and Aemond found his release shortly after as well, filling her with his hot seed. He let himself fall on top of her, burying her under his weight, under his body, and Rose felt like she wanted to spend eternity like that.

It was the middle of the night when Rose woke up. She had fallen asleep with Aemond in his bed after he had bathed her. He had not let her go, and together they harrowed their eyes closed. He had pressed her against him, wrapping his strong arms around her, and she had fallen asleep into him from exhaustion.

When she woke up, it was dark. She didn't know what had woken her, but as she turned her gaze to the fireplace, still burning slightly, she couldn't avert her eyes. A strange feeling can him yes on. What was it? She was exhausted from what she and Aemond had been doing together, her eyes looking to be closed, but she couldn't stop looking at the fire.

Rose stared into the fire. It was calling to her. For a moment she thought she was dreaming, but then she saw it dancing. It opened and suddenly showed her a face. The face of a boy. Not just any boy. It was King Aegon's son. The oldest. And then she saw two men and a crying Helaena before it repeated itself over and over. What was that? What did that mean?

Edit: Nope, guys. She's not Alys Rivers. But maybe they have something in common.

[saph-soph]

Heathers: the musical

I just finally watched it (with Dan Domenech) after having only ever watched the movie, heard some of the songs, watching some clips and a recap, and I loved it!

Some of the things I loved:

• It turns out that this is the first musical I have ever watched fully. Having seen clips does not give one the full picture, as it turns out. I loved the things in between the scenes, which I knew. Like the scenes, where Veronica was trying to keep people (Martha and Madonna) away from JD for their own safety.

• I loved the songs. I already knew some iconic ones, such as "Beautiful", "Candy store", "Meant to be yours" and "Dead girl walking: reprise". But I never knew about such gems as "You make my balls feel blue" (or smth), Martha's song (idk the name), "Our love is god" and many more. Also, I have gained a new appreciation for "17" and "Dead girl walking". I was never that into them, but seeing the show as a whole really makes you feel them.

• I loved the scene of the guys' funeral. How, as JD mentioned, it brought a lot of good. How the dads used to hook up and are now again doing so. How the dad(s) advocated for their sons, saying that they weren't "perverted" or "dirty" for being gay and that they still went to heaven. And, of course, how Jesus was cool with everything. It is a great scene.

• I loved the way bullying is depicted here. They were literally telling Madonna to go and khs. I loved the theme of "war", which was started by JD and 'Ronica in "Our love is god"(I believe). How it was then treated as a bullying situation (how, when Veronica ended it, she meant everyone becoming nicer and treating each other better, thus making highschool a less toxic (which it was oh so) place), which Veronica ended alone, because JD was part of the problem (he tried to help, but did not know how to, so it only made things worse).

• I loved the JD x Veronica relationship here. From the movie and clips of this I did not really get their relationship, they just were in my opinion, but here. Here I loved the beginning of their relationship (on "Dead girl walking") and the theme of "Our love is god" and "I worship you" on JD's side.

• I think it's lovely, how they decided they were both damaged, but really - she was never as broken as him. I love how she was the only good thing in his life, how he did all of the things he did, because he wanted to protect Veronica (e.g. he killed the guys, because they made her cry). And, when he thought she was dead, he decided to finish, what they (he) started, because this society took her from him, it broke her, and he couldn't forgive it for that. He even said "I can't do this alone..." in "Meant to be yours", because it was all for her, and without her, what would be the point? And "Still I will, if I must" because now the point is revenge. First it was to protect her, but now it was to avenge her.

• I love how "I wish we'd met before they convinced you life is war". Because it genuinely is so true. I love their reconciliation period, because it gives us (me) hope for the former statement to have happened. That she can fix him, and that everything will be okay. They are alive and well, graduate together, go to college together and just be happy. But then we see, that it really was impossible. The statement was just wishful thinking after all, and JD could not be fixed (maybe a licenced specialist could have, but it is still not guaranteed). I love, how, in the end, he still saved her, sacrificing his life for her (*cough* "I'll trade my life for yours" *cough*). How after all that'd happened, their break up, her literally faking her death and then shooting him, and ruining his plan, that he only ever made for her, he still chose to save her.

• I love, how JD's love for Veronica had been so heavily emphasized the whole show. In "Our love is god", in him killing people not on random, but only ones, who hurt her, in him trying for her, agreeing not to kill anyone else, just because she asked him not to (he failed, but point for effort), in him train his life for hers, as I've talked about already.

• I love how they were such a tragedy and had so much potential! I love their, brief as it was, time together. They will always be famous. They will always be number one in my heart.

So in conclusion I am now officially a JD fan girl and a fan of Broadway musicals in general. Hope to see many more soon! 💋

[betterbooktitles]

Standing in a kitchen in Vermont, I spun the wheel on my black iPod and pressed down the fat, metallic button to select The Beatles’ Revolver from my long list of albums. “Taxman” came through the living room speakers. NPR had been echoing through the house for days in the TV-less room. The song’s opening guitar riff felt like watching fireworks.

My girlfriend’s dad, taking a break from DIY weatherproofing his home, a large open-concept cabin heated by a single wood-burning stove, said the words that always make me jealous: “I remember the day this came out.” 

He had run home from the record store after school with the album in tow, sat alone in his bedroom, and along with a bunch of kids his age in their respective rooms, heard Revolver for the first time. 

“Wow. What a day.” He said wistfully. 

“I remember it too.” My girlfriend said and tried to join in the reminiscing.

Her dad raised an eyebrow and looked at me.

“You mean you remember the first time you heard it?” I asked. 

“No I-” and her forehead wrinkled, and in her acid-addled brain, she tried to sort out for maybe 30 seconds how it was possible that she wasn’t alive in 1966 nor had she genetically inherited a memory from her parents of hearing Revolver the day it came out. “Yeah, I meant I can remember hearing it in this room for the first time, I guess.”

We listened to the rest of the album in classic Vermont style. That is, talking about how good the music is over the music you are currently listening to.

I don’t begrudge anyone wishing so hard they had been somewhere when they weren’t that they form an imaginary memory for something they never experienced. Only about 450,000 people were at Woodstock but millions claim they were there. Gen Z kids have mall nostalgia thanks to shows like Stranger Things showing them what a mall once was through rose-tinted glasses. I felt it most recently when my dad described using a reel-to-reel at the library and recording tapes of new albums before anyone else could borrow them.

As jealous as I feel toward every boomer or Gen Xer whose day revolved around getting out of school, buying a record, and hearing the needle drop the same day everyone else did, I know there is no equivalent for music for me, even though I can remember having nearly the same experiences with the radio and CDs. For instance, I remember our neighbor Kristen walking over to meet me and a big group of neighborhood kids at sunset one summer evening on our tree lawn (Cleveland suburbs term, the strip of grass between the street and the sidewalk outside your actual lawn that was technically the town’s responsibility but you still mowed). She had brought her battery-powered black boombox and (I swear) The Cranberries’ “Dreams” was playing. In my mind, I can see the final crane shot of a movie set in the 90s, the credits rolling as Dolores O’Riordan softly sings “Oh, my life…” It was the first of a million times I heard the song. This image is so on the nose, I can’t tell if it’s a real memory or a false one that’s been implanted in my brain like a replicant in Blade Runner.

Another music memory is attached to Kristen. A group of us were playing rummy in her basement, complete with an unused bar, the side of which was made of those thick borderline-opaque glass cubes. A light from behind behind the glass cast a greenish hue on the linoleum floor. I stared at it while she turned up a radio that looked like it was made in the ‘70s and said “I love this song!” She forced us all to pause the game and hear the 70s-style guitar tone of a 90s song complaining about “what the hell happened to the peace and love we knew so well in the 60s?” I was hearing a pre-Shrek-soundtrack Smash Mouth. I was spellbound. Surely, that was my ‘90s version of hearing Revolver the day it came out.

I have been forcing a feeling of nostalgia for times in which I did not exist my whole life, likely because the 60s/70s weren’t all that different from the 90s. Chuck Klosterman in his book The Nineties explores the topic in a chapter about That 70s Show:

“The kids on That ’70s Show hung out in basements and killed time by driving the family car around in circles, but those pastimes were not bygone pursuits—teenagers in the nineties were still hanging out in basements and still aimlessly cruising around. This was not some portal into an alien unknown. That ’70s Show could have instantly been remade as That ’80s Show or That ’90s Show if the references were changed and the fashions were updated. The characters and the conflicts were not entrenched in the seventies but ubiquitous to the entire last quarter of the twentieth century.”  -Klosterman, Chuck. The Nineties (p. 105). Penguin Publishing Group.

Klosterman is correct. The gap between my generation and my parents’ seems smaller than the one that exists between mine and a generation born after the iPhone, but I’ve always felt there was one big separation, one my parents’ generation never understood. I could pretend that sitting in the basement practicing drum solos and driving around town was as fun as it seemed on That 70s Show, but there was something else that haunted every hour of my adolescence and now pervades my adulthood. I could act like I’ve always been hip and young enough to understand each social media app as they entered the world, that the defining feature of my existence was LiveJournal, then Myspace, then Facebook…but no. The media that defines my life (besides 24-hour cable news incessantly reporting on terrorism and school shootings) is video games.

Read the rest here

[writtenjewels]

Scene of Love: Jamie and Erin

Erin pulled the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders. She still couldn't believe they all made it off that island alive. They had so many close calls during the night. She turned and caught Jamie's eyes on her. Erin's instincts were to duck her head away, but after all they went through, hiding like that felt a little silly.

“So,” Jamie began. “I found something.” She held out the lip balm Erin dropped earlier that day. Erin let out a weak laugh and reached for it, heart skipping a beat as her fingers brushed over Jamie's palm.

“Thanks.” Erin took her time in applying the balm to her lips. Jamie was still looking at her when she was finally done. Nervousness squirmed in her. Their heated moment in Jamie's room seemed so unreal-- something that belonged in a happier time. “Oh. Hey, look.” Erin nodded over Jamie's shoulder. The other girl turned.

Mark and Kate were leaning into each other, hands clasped and fingers intertwined. It was hard to tell for sure, but it certainly looked like there were still sparks between them.

“Good for them,” Jamie nodded approvingly. She turned back to Erin and her smile faded a little. “Erin,” she began.

“Listen,” Erin interrupted. “I just wanted to, um... about earlier. When you left to set up that trap to Du'Met, and... what I said.” She knew she was babbling like she always did when she was nervous, and took a breath. “I was worried I might lose you.”

“Are you saying you didn't mean it?”

“Well, ah...” Erin's eyes dropped down to her lap. “I know it was kind of fast. We only had our first kiss a little while ago and I just... I don't want to make it seem like I'm rushing you or anything.”

“Erin,” Jamie tried again, reaching for her hand. Erin looked up and caught the other girl's eyes. She prayed that her palms weren't too sweaty from nerves. “Honest answer: did you mean to say it or did it pop out in the heat of the moment?”

“Can it be both?” Erin squeaked out, causing Jamie to smile at her. Jamie squeezed her hand, leaning in a little closer.

“I'm glad you said it. It kept me alive through all that shit. I just kept thinking, 'I need to make it out of this, because I have to say it back'.”

“You... what?” Erin blinked at her. She wasn't sure she heard that right. “Say what?” Jamie let out an amused snort.

“That I love you, you dork.”

“Oh.” Tingles shot up her arms and spread through her body. Erin found she couldn't breathe, but it was a different kind of feeling than when she had an asthma attack. She eventually remembered to work her lungs on her own and, with her newfound courage, kissed Jamie.

It was a different sort than the one they shared in the room: a little more firm and sure, more exciting and promising. It was the sort of kiss that said we made it with everything those words meant for the two of them.

Erin broke away from the kiss to lift her blanket up and cover them both. Jamie's expression softened and she shifted to get in closer. She rested her head on Erin's shoulder.

“Ah... Jamie? Are you humming my 'don't be scared' song?”

“Yeah. I've never been serious with anyone before. It scares the hell out of me.”

“It's okay.” Erin patted her hand. “We'll sing the song together.”

[chaoticrebels]

Because I want to work out a backstory for this pairing, here we go.

The first time Kiani had met 10K, it was after her parents died and her siblings moved to Seattle to live with their uncle. It was before the world went to hell and he was still going by his birth name of Thomas, Tommy as she liked to call him. Despite being thirteen and devastated by the loss of her parents, she thought he was kinda cute, awkward but cute. He ended up becoming her first friend, which she honestly she was glad for that because he helped her get through everything going on in her life.

And even when she became a cheerleader and her life got busier, he remained one of her best friends. Though with time her feelings for him only grew more intense, went from just a crush to being in love with him. And to be honest that terrified her because it meant he had enough of her that losing him would devastate her beyond control, yet she'd never tell him because she didn't want to mess up their friendship. But life had other plans and she ended up moving to California when her older brother finally gotten custody of her, however Kiani had left Tommy a goodbye note with a few pictures of them. Leaving a kiss mark next to his name on the envelope, making sure he'd smell a very faint and sheer, lilac and rose qualities, accented with creamy vanilla and soft, almond-like aromas. Her Cherry Blossom Perfume, was the gesture cruel or sweet of her, she didn't know but she was hoping for the latter.

And while she missed Tommy, Kiani ended up making new best friends, whom she formed a band called Vixens Nightmare. Which after gaining quite a following on social media, with the help of her siblings and her friends parents, they ended playing gigs of the weekends at least til they graduated. Even writing songs about Tommy, which she swore one day she'd play them for him. But then the world went to hell and she had to fight for survival that it didn't matter anymore because she didn't even know if the male survived.

At the beginning of the apocalypse, Kai had ended up surviving with her siblings and bandmates. Then something happened and she ended up getting separated from them in their travels, had been doing everything she could to find them because being alone in this world wasn't ideal at all. Hell she'd settle on just finding her siblings again, after all she couldn't lose them. Which luck would have it, she ended up finding them sometime later. After she had all but given up months prior, she had came across an what she thought was an abandon amusement park. Was planning on just having fun until she drew her last breath, she had just gotten off an ride when she felt arms grip her and drag her away. It was in her struggles that she found out who had her and she stopped struggling, reunited with them both felt so good that she could cry and did.

It was only a couple of days that she finally left them, making her way to an abandon mall where her siblings said that's the last place they seen her friends. She had to find them, needed to know if they were alive or dead. It was while she was searching the practically abandon mall, getting frustrated when her search seemed to be fruitless. That she heard noise that startled her but she made her way towards the source, hoping, praying it was them. Disappointment settled upon her features when she realized that it was them but then her green hues were widening in surprise when Kiani came face to face with someone she hadn't seen in years, Tommy. And in that moment she didn't care if she found whom she was looking for or not, she found someone so much better or he found her. Either way, her weapon was dropping on the ground and her feet was running at full speed towards him after a few words were exchanged. Jumping into his arms and hugging him tightly, even though she knew better to trust people now a days, she didn't care if Tommy betrayed her in that moment because he was really there with her again. Though now he went by Ten K but she didn't care, she still joined him on his travels and was practically inseparable from him for most parts.

[vuulpecula]

✖ @defectiveprts inquired: ' no, don't leave me... ' xxx ( have buck say ' i'm sorry ' or something to really add to the vibe here )

meme | accepting bonus: gotta have a sad song to play in the episode duh

Cigarettes and oxygen tanks didn't go well together. There was a reason for the 'no smoking' signs, they weren't simply for color. Mr. Morris, however, disregarded that as he lit what would be his final. Stressed and needing to find some way to relax before he went back to see his ailing wife, he didn't notice what the cigarette between his fingers touched to as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Oxygen tanks. Before he could know what was happening, the hospital was shaking. Alarm bells were ringing and he would not be making it back to his wife.

Fox had made sure to get every patient out that she could and those that she couldn't were moved to other floors, far from where the smoke was billowing out of their lower-level supply closet. By the time she was on her second, a host of firefighters, the 118 included, were entering the building. She looked for Buck among them and when their eyes met, she wished she could kiss him for good luck, but they both had jobs to do. Now, standing outside the emergency room doors, stuck behind a police barrier, she waited for him to come back out.

It was taking too long. The fire must have accelerated, though it was hard to hear anything from the walkies on the officer's vests around her with the blaring of the alarms still ringing. She was chewing her lip, straining to listen, but what she heard did not require straining at all.

B O O M.

A second explosion blew dust and debris out the broken emergency doors. Fox was running before it even stopped ringing in her ears. Ripping herself out of the hands that tried to stop her as she re-entered the building, heart pounding. She knew something was wrong, that something had gone wrong. All that mattered was finding Buck. She needed to see him, to know that he was alive in very much the same way they used to. Clinging to one another as if the other would slip away forever.

Coughing on smoke, her arm raised to cover her mouth, Fox kept going. She could not stop, could not think, not until she found him and find him, she did. His hands were shaking from where they hung above his abdomen, stained with blood and ash. Beneath them was a mess of torn fabric and blood, his injury so gruesome that when she knelt beside him, she could not tell where the fabric of his jacket ended and where he began. "Buck," she breathed, knowing no amount of pressure upon the wound was going to stop what it was doing to his body.

"Firefighter down, firefighter down! North eastern hallway, hurry, please, hurry!" His walkie was left discarded to the side after she used it, it didn't matter what they answered with. All that mattered was him and these last moments she had with him.

"I'm sorry," he struggled, lips stained red with blood. His ocean eyes were filled with fear and it broke her heart into even more pieces. Pulling him closer, resting his head in her lap on the floor, Fox leaned close to him. Cradling his face, running her fingers through his hair, trying not to cry. She had to be strong for him, like he had always been strong for her.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Buck, nothing at all." She had said that to him once as they held hands across his hospital bed. As much as she had then, she still meant it. "I love you so much, I'm with you, alright? It's going to be okay." Her training told her it wouldn't be, but she hoped beyond hope that he could be spared one more small miracle. Her accident prone firefighter.

"Do you remember when we first met?" It was a trick they did with patients who weren't going to make it, when the options just weren't working. They spoke to them about something else, something happy, so that when they died, it was with that thought and not the ones that were surely running through their minds before.

"The very first time?" She brushed back a few of his stray curls, looking down at him with only love in her eyes. Love. And tears. "It was the night shift and you had come in for a follow-up. I wasn't even supposed to be on that floor, but I was covering for a friend." The words were shaking, laden with the sobs she was holding in. "Evan was crossed out and someone had written 'Firefighter' instead. I figured it was some kind of hazing, so that's what I called you. Firefighter Buckley." There was a husk of a laugh in her throat at the memory, especially for how often she had addressed him as such since. "I didn't even look up when entered the room, didn't check to see if you were the only one there, I said your name and then I--" A sob escaped. Fox pressed her lips together tightly, forcing them into a smile as she brushed away the tears streaming from his eyes.

"I looked up then and you were standing there, all tired and happy. The moment I saw you, Buck, it was like I knew you, like we had met before--but I wouldn't have forgotten you. Not you." She sniffled, the smile on her lips shaking as she struggled to keep it there. "Looking at you, Buck, it was like coming home. It's always been you, Buck. It's always been you." Leaning closer, she placed a kiss gently against his mouth, trembling as she felt the weakness in the little movement of his own.

"I wanted so badly to be brave, to say something to you, but I didn't. I led you to the room and I left as soon as I could. I wish I could go back there. I wish I could go back and tell you that I loved you the moment I saw you, that I knew it before I knew anything else. You are my home, Buck. You are my everything. I love you so much." He was so pale, so cold beneath her hands. It was time.

"You can sleep now, my love. I'll be there when you wake, I promise." Fox closed his eyes after he died. Unable to hold the floodgates back any further, she held him close to her and sobbed. It wasn't beautiful the way grief was in the movies, it was hideous. Like a wounded animal, choking for air, drowning in their own tears. Grasping at his hand, wishing beyond all hope that it would close around hers one last time.

[omissilem]

birth pangs of a creative

I've always longed to write music.

I don't know when it started,

but I remember as a teenager,

I would hand copy hymns, and draw the staff with a ruler, perfecting the curves of the clefs. It led to teaching myself how to use music notation software to digitize various hymns and exercises I used at church. (We used Encore back then.)

I remember clearly when I showed my band teacher one of my scrawled scores.

I said, "Look Mr. Wall, I think I wrote a song,"

sounding unsure as I trailed off by the end of the sentence. It was a lie, and I couldn't speak it. I had copied one of my favorite hymns at that time.

Mr. Wall stopped to listen as I played it out at the piano. I was so satisfied to be able to play from the map I had carefully scribed.

I shakingly beamed, waiting for his feedback.

"Uhm...this is an old protestant song, I know this song!" He said firmly.

My insides dropped. My fabricated sense of accomplishment faded, and I felt ashamed. The very first time I wanted to share my passion for writing music, I shared a lie and got caught!

Cheeks hot, I stammered, "I guess I heard it before and transcribed it from memory, heh."

I never showed anything I had written (or copied) to anyone after that.

Year after year, I would sit at the piano and try to compose, learning how to talk my feelings out with the keys.

Undisciplined and lacking knowledge, I wasn't able to transcribe any of the musical ideas that would come out.

Year after year, I kept on, trying to write at least one song.

I bought MIDI keyboards, tested software, made countless recordings and free writes. I even took a college MIDI production/composition course, eventually dropping out. I literally couldn't do my homework, or labwork. I would sit at the workstation in lab, picking out notes, and not understanding how to put them together.

I would hear my classmates singing into their mics, and laying down their tracks. I listened as they played back their licks, seeing them smile and take pleasure in each step of the process.

I was disheartened, wondering why I could not create anything when I knew I had a strong musical talent. I knew the theory, I was a capable performer. Yet, I was utterly useless when it came to creating new music.

Normally people realize after so many years of failure, that they want to put their effort to something more worthwhile.

Not me, of course.

I bought journals, and staff-lined notebooks, filled them up with lyrics without melodies, and enough books to fill a bookshelf. I poured over literature on composing. I still couldn't make a single song. I practiced, recorded, tried collaboration, tried solitude. I bought gear. I thought that if I get this or upgrade that, I could make music. I would add one thing after another, curating a myriad of MIDI keyboards, pricey headphones, and numerous apps to help me.

I still can't let go of this one thing. I've developed a complex over it, worked on it, and still. I won't give up. I can't give up.

I can't buy any more gear though, I can't add any more onto myself,

except for an absolute commitment to discipline my work ethic when creating.

It's late, I forgot what I wanted to say.

I meant to say my need to produce that one song is like a late pregnancy. I'm full of this thing inside me, it is alive, and I'm bursting. My back is tired, all my resources are feeding it, and I'm turning inside out to finally see it come into the world.

I imagine it feels like Bella from Twilight looked right before she all but died before giving birth to her child.

Can anyone relate? Or is it my own personal insanity?

I'll keep going until I can no longer.

[deathmaiidens]

@matchingmagi ❧ “ So, I’ve come to you hoping you might understand what it’s like. ” (Victor and Emily to Victoria and Lily)

Her beloved's words should have burned Victoria, tore a hole through her heart like acid spreading to obliterate it all together, and yet...

Ever since they were children, she'd been right at their side; Victoria clutching one hand and Victor the other. Emily Hargreaves had been her very first real friend (much to her parents' chagrin) and she'd introduced her to the love of her life. She'd shown her -- and him -- that there was so much more to the world than the grey and gloom of Blackwood, that on the other side of the forest, there was color and light and hope.

Out of the blue, she'd come back like Persephone from the Underworld, and out of the blue, she realized just how much she meant to her and her husband. In the days Emily had stayed with them, they were like children again at her side, so alive and so thoroughly enchanted by her. Even their daughter adored her and came to see her as something of a third parent (which was unsurprising, seeing as little Lily had somehow taken so much after her in her exuberance and open-heartedness). And Victor....She'd be jealous of the woman's bond with her husband if she wasn't jealous of him, too.

Was it really possible -- to be in love with two people at the same time? The thought was ludicrous, but one that kept her up at night when she closed her eyes and saw her with her hair flowing over her bare shoulders, heard her soft laughter, felt the gentle brush of her fingertips against her long lashes as she wiped a tear from that lovely face. Victoria wasn't sure if it was better or worse that she still loved Victor more than anything, that she often thought of him at their side. It was clear how much Emily adored him, too, and he her when they sat at the piano and played their duets. At times, she wished was on either side and at others, she could have listened to their songs and looked into the gentlest pairs of eyes she knew forever.

Now, they all had to confront their feelings for one another, the tangled spiderweb of their love and all it entailed. Nothing would have made her romantic heart happier than to have both of them with her always, but she was also practical. How could they make it work? What would they tell people, especially their parents? Would they be safe from the ever-scrutinizing eye of their society? Would Lily?

"I understand," Victoria said finally. "Truly, more than either of you could imagine, but..." She paused, her sad and longing smile sobering as she opened her mouth to speak. Suddenly, she was interrupted by an 'oof!' coming from behind the heavy velvet curtains in the parlor and a small fall to the ground.

"Lily!" Victoria exclaimed, putting a hand over her mouth and going to help her daughter up with great care. Victoria's demeanor turned stern very quickly, however, as it was wont to do when Lily was up to her usual mischief. "You've been eavesdropping, haven't you?"

"I--" Lily stopped, unsure of what to say and gritting her teeth together guiltily. "I'm a ghost." She stepped back behind the curtain and put it over her head, waving her arms about. She'd hoped to make her mother laugh with this little deflection (and she did; Victoria couldn't help herself), but not for very long.

"Sweetheart, we've talked about this." Victoria's palm went to her forehead exasperatedly. "I'm having a very serious discussion with your father and our friend and--"

"Please, please don't send Emily away!" Lily burst out quite unexpectedly.

"Heavens, no one is being sent away!" Victoria turned, horrified eyes meeting Emily's for a moment before facing her daughter. "No one is being sent away," she murmurs to her assuringly. "We just need time to settle things between us. You understand, don't you?" She knelt to caress her little girl's cheek.

Lily paused for a moment thoughtfully, an almost too-grown up worry in her too-wide cornflower blue eyes, before taking her mother's hand in hers and nodding. "Yes, Mamma, I do."

It almost brought tears to the woman's eyes to see her this way, clinging to her and then going over to the others, her father and their beautiful friend, to wrap her arms around them as if she might never see them again.

"I love you...all of you," Lily said softly before turning to leave the parlor.