#got the long night

[damn-stark]

Chapter 7 I see dead people

Chapter 7 of Sandstorm

A/N- someone’s Targaryen realness comes out in this chapter…someone learns after a very distant great grandfather named Daemon ;)

Warning- Y/N has a son, swearing, fluff, incest, ANGST, talks of pregnancy, death, blood, ALSO THERES CHANGES THAT DRIFT AWAY FROM THE SHOW (not big, but there is)

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

Episode- 8x03

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

Every shuddered breath releases a cloud of air in the cold bitter sky that soon gets lost within the thrashing violent winds. As much as you’ve really wanted to admire the snow, getting hit by it, feeling as if it’s little needles against your flesh, makes snow irritating. And getting lost within the raging storm makes it a true nightmare

You had been helping burn the dead below, but the storm came and clouded the battlefield, it clouded your eyesight too, to the point you can’t see past Eraxis’s face. You try to fly up, above the storm, but as Eraxis tries, suddenly something crashes against her, making you get jerked back.

It’s a damn good thing you’re restrained on your damn saddle or else you would have fallen already.

Regardless, when you open your eyes and look over you see it, Viserion and that damn bastard, the Night King.

This is it, you think, this can end here. “Dracarys!” You shout.

Eraxis blows out fire, burning away the snow that fell, and clouds that had blocked your view. However, when you try to see if Viserion is burning, or if the Night King is dead, they’re not there anymore.

“Damn it!” You bellow. “Fuck!”

You nudge the handles up, and Eraxis quickly flies out of the storm, letting you see the beautiful swirling cloud above the ground, letting you see Daenerys and Drogon across from you.

She can’t hear you so you don’t even try to talk, instead you point down, hoping she’ll understand to get close to the trench so can light it when they give the sign.

Daenerys seems to understand and nods before both of your dragons fly down. Yet it’s that moment that you lose sight of each other again, you’re lost within the stupid storm again unable to see anything, not even if you’re close to the ground. You can’t even try to blow out fire because there might be living people there.

It makes you feel useless, utterly useless because you can’t even spot the Night King anymore.

“Fuck,” you mutter. “Fuck!” Your shout gets lost in the wind.

Eraxis flies lower, hoping she’ll be closer to the ground. You can hear the groans from the dead, their screeching, you can hear the battle shouts, the cries. But you can’t see a thing.Not until suddenly fire blasts out a few feet below Eraxis, causing you to quickly snap your head down, and noticing the trench spark to life.

And even if it’s just for a bit, you feel relieved as the raging flames engulf every running wight. Your adrenaline spikes at that sight, it fills you with motivation and rage.

——

*RHAENAR*

“Do you want to see?” He asks the young girl with a scar on half of her face.

The girl lowers her gaze to the orange hatchling in awe and nods slowly.

Rhaenar grins and pulls out a piece of meat to place it before his hatchlings feet. “Helios,” he speaks, making the little dragon lift its head to meet the boy's gaze. “Dracarys.”

The hatchling lowers his gaze and steps back, it tilts its head and then blows out a small puff of fire from its mouth and cooks its piece of meat before it scarves it down.

The girl's eyes widen, but not with fear, she doesn’t seem fearful anymore, she seems impressed; she giggles and claps her hands, making the boy's cheeks burn and his smile go timid.

“May I try it?” She asks with a bit of excitement.

Rhaenar sighs. “Well, Helios will only listen to me, but you can throw his meat up in the air, he’ll fly up and burn it before he eats it.”

“Okay,” the girl doesn’t fret to agree.

Rhaenar grins brighter and pulls out another piece of meat to hand it to the girl. Helios turns and watches the piece of food in her hand, and waits.

“Alright,” Rhaenar says and glances at the girl. “Ready—”

Yet before he can tell the girl to do the trick, suddenly an arm wraps around her wrist and she gets pulled off the ground. Rhaenar looks up and sees an older lady staring down at him and avoiding looking at the dragon beside him.

“Come on,” the lady urges the girl, making her drop the piece of meat she carried in her hand. She then gets taken further away from him and deeper into the crowd of women hiding within the crypts.

And now that the girl is no longer visible he looks down at his dragon and frowns as he begins to wonder what he’s done wrong to be treated so poorly. People in Sunspear, people he’s met in other parts of the world aren’t like they are here, rude and distant. Sure people are scared of dragons, but why are they scared of him too?

None of the mothers here ever let any of their kids train with him, or let them talk to him, they take them away and he’s left talking with the adults he’s with. They’re nice but they aren’t his age….

Oh how much he’d give to go back home and talk to his aunts again, Obella, Dorea and Loreza, they’d be excited about Helios, and they’d for sure talk with him.

“May I try?” A sweet and feminine voice interjects.

Rhaenar looks up and sees Lady Sansa before him. She isn’t his age, but it’s better than sitting alone.

“Sure,” he agrees and watches her sit across from him and in front of Helios.

“I’ve heard his name is Helios?” Sansa queries.

Rhaenar nods in agreement. “Yes, it means sun,” he shares.

“Well,” Sansa says with a small smile. “Don’t tell your mother but I think my favorite dragon is yours. He’s very beautiful. He looks like a fire flame.”

Rhaenar begins to smile. “I won’t, but you should see my….” He trails off as he remembers that he’s forbidden from telling anyone about you being with a child. “My mothers,” he plays it off. “At night when the moon shines on Eraxis she’s the most beautiful, my uncle Doran said it’s a reflection of my mother,” he grins and lets Helios climb on his arm.

Sansa hums and doesn’t think twice about what he was actually going to say, even if she wanted to try Rhaenar then picks the piece of meat off the ground and hands it to her.

“Okay,” he sighs and glances at his hatchling. “Helios, <focus.>” He commands the dragon in High Valyrian.

The dragon turns its head to lock his eyes on the piece of meat in Sansa’s hand.

“And,” he points at Sansa, “now. Throw it.”

Sansa flings the piece of meat up in the air and Helios follows it with his eyes, whilst Rhaenar quickly throws out, “Dracarys.”

Without hesitation Helios flaps its little orange and yellow wings to fly off Rhaenar’s shoulder and burn the piece of meat before catching it and eating it.

Sansa smiles in disbelief and watches the hatchling land beside Rhaenar. “I’m sure Arya will be jealous when I tell her.”

Rhaenar meets Sansa’s gaze and holds back his smile. Sansa notices his stifled gesture and probes. “What?”

“Arya has already done it,” Rhaenar shares. “When she showed me some of her moves she learned from the faceless men. She even held Helios.” He begins to smirk. “She thought she could beat me at naming all the dragons, but I won because she forgot about Prince Lucerys Targaryen’s dragon, Arrax.”

“Of course she’s already grabbed the dragon,” Sansa comments.

Rhaenar looks down at the ground and begins to frown. “Do you think…” he pauses and lets out a deep breath. “Do you think my mother will survive? I know she’s strong, I know Eraxis will never let anything or anyone hurt her, but she can still get hurt….and if she gets hurt…if she dies….then…” he swallows thickly. “I’ll be alone.”

Sansa lets out a small breath and tilts her head down so she can meet his gaze. “Your mother will make it. She’ll live. I may not know her well, but one thing I do know about her is that she really loves you and that she’ll never think about leaving you alone in this world.”

Rhaenar sniffles and offers her a soft smile. “That’s good to hear.”

Sansa laughs softly and nods in agreement. “That is, isn't it? Besides from the sounds of it it seems that the trench is lit, there should be less of them out there, the battle should end soon.”

Rhaenar sighs in relief and watches Sansa stand to her feet. “Come on,” she invites him. “Let’s sit over here.”

Rhaenar quickly scoops up Helios and then runs over to sit beside Sansa against a wall.

Silence follows after that, dreadful silence as everyone listens to the battle raging above, as everyone waits for it to be over. Yet that silence doesn't last long.

“At least we’re already in a crypt,” Lord Varys interjects.

Rhaenar scoffs in distaste, but the guards beside him snicker.

“If we were up there,” Tyrion suddenly adds. “We might see something everyone else is missing. Something that makes a difference.”

Lord Varys scoffs, causing Tyrion to turn around quickly and snap back.

“What? Remember the Battle of Blackwater? I brought us through the Mud Gate.”

“And got your face cut in half,” Lord Varys reminds him, making Rhaenar glance over at Tyrion as he finally knows why he has that scar across his face.

“And it made a difference,” Tyrion counters. “If I was out there right now—”

“You’d die,” Sansa cuts him off. “There’s nothing you can do,” she continues as he looks over at him.

That’s quite brutal.

Rhaenar looks down to check for Lord Tyrion’s reaction, and sees him throw his wine aside to grab another as he strides towards Lady Sansa to argue back in his own defense. “You might be surprised at the lengths I’d go to avoid joining the Army of the Dead. I can think of no organization less suited to my talents.”

“Witty remarks won’t make a difference,” Sansa says. “That’s why we’re down here, none of us can do anything. It’s the truth. It’s the most heroic thing we can do now…look the truth in the face.”

Once again her words are quite brutal, but…Rhaenar likes it. How honest she can be but still mean it in a good way.

“Maybe we should’ve stayed married,” Tyrion comments quietly.

“You were the best of them.”

They were married? Rhaenar wonders in shock.

“What a terrifying thought,” Tyrion says, making Sansa smile. But only briefly.

“It wouldn't work between us,” Sansa adds in a more serious tone.

“Why not?” He probes.

“The Dragon Queen,” she shares, making Rhaenar begin to slowly furrow his eyebrows in confusion. “Your divided loyalties would become a problem.”

“Yes,” Rhaenar hears Missandei cut in. And when he looks at her he sees her look upset. “Without the Dragon Queen, there’d be no problem at all. We’d all be dead already.” She stands up and walks off, leaving an awkward silence. Leaving Rhaenar stuck. Does he go with Missandei, or stay with Sansa?

Missandei was right, his aunt Daenerys was only trying to help, can’t they see that?

On the other hand Sansa is now family too because of you and Jon getting married.

He’s stuck and he can’t be rude to either of them, he can’t bring himself to do it, so instead he just goes off and sits somewhere else and waits alone in silence again.

——

The snow keeps falling, the storm keeps raging, but the trench provides light. It lets you see a shadow of a dragon between the thick storm clouds.

Daenerys is across from you so it’s not her and Drogon, Jon and Rhaegal are no longer waiting by the Godswood…it must be them…or the Night King and Viserion. Whoever it is, they’ll fight soon, Jon is going to need help, he’s an inexperienced flier and can't fight the Night King alone.

So without a second to waste you nudge Eraxis up, and she quickly follows orders, choosing to fly away from the field and fly up further in the storm cloud. Once within the blizzard though, it’s hard to see again, you try to rely on shadows brightened by the moon's light, but that too is obscured.

Only flying will help.

Eraxis flies further up until she’s out of the storm and in the clearing, letting you look down. Yet just as you squint your eyes a figure emerges from inside, it’s…Jon.

You sigh in relief and without a command Eraxis flies to Rhaegal. Once you’re close the first thing you do is lift yourself off your seat to study Jon to make sure he isn’t injured.

As Jon feels your stare, he quickly meets your gaze before he looks at you up and down too. Once you’re both assured by your current injured status you both offer each other an assuring nod before you both look down. And actually as you do, you catch Drogon and Daenerys meeting up with the four of you.

Now to wait for the Night King in the silence and beauty of the night sky, above the destructive swirling storm cloud.

You wait and wait until suddenly a blast of blue flames bursts below Eraxis and Rhaegal seconds before Viserion rams between the two dragons and shoves them back, causing your body to jerk back as you’re caught off guard, and making Eraxis roar out in anger.

Rheagal and Jon get lost below in the cloud, and as Eraxis proceeds to fix herself, you have to quickly tighten your hold around your handles and lean forward. You then snap your eyes up and can’t help your gasp as you catch Viserion chasing after Drogon and Daenerys, and blasting out more of that blue majestic flame at their tail.

“<Come on,>” you mutter to Eraxis.

Without a fault Eraxis shoots up and quickly catches up to the dead dragon.

“Dracarys!” You bellow out with a smug smile as you’re at its tail.

Eraxis opens her mouth and fire erupts through the dark clouds. At the feeling of the heat at the tip of its tail, Viserion closes his mouth and tucks his wing back to then tilt to the side and fall down so as to not get caught in your dragon's wrath.

Drogon then stops flying and turns, letting you meet Daenerys gaze and share a worried glance she understands, and nods at so you’re not worried.

You offer her a gentle smile before you point your eyes below. She looks down too and when you meet each other's gaze again you both know to chase after Viserion and the Night King.

Rhaegal and Jon finally fly down to the clearing, letting you share the same understanding look with Jon that you just shared with Daenerys.

Jon understands it and without a second to waste, Rhaegal and Jon shoot down. Your lips pull to a smirk at the sight of your…husband flying down and quickly follow him too. Yet nevertheless Eraxis and you get lost again in the thickness of the blizzard. The sight of Jon and Rhaegal are no longer visible, and the sound of flapping wings is drowned out by the sound of the violent and icy wind.

Out of fear you’d hit Rhaegal and Jon you don’t let Eraxis throw out fire to light the way, so instead you navigate blindly basically and keep flying down. You close your eyes and try to focus more on the sounds to try and hear fighting, or a nearby dragon.

Albeit for the first few minutes all you hear is the howling of the wind hitting your ears.

“Come on, come on,” you mutter and fix your grip on your handles.

Eraxis keeps flying to try and spot them, but then suddenly screeches out. You snap your eyes open and squint your gaze to look around. And just as expected, you spot two dragons fighting below, yet you can’t make out who’s who from above.

Eraxis nevertheless tucks her wings back and flies down, you continue watching the battle and carefully study the dragons as they snap at each other to try and rip each other apart in any way they can. As you get closer you finally spot the difference, Viserion has holes in his wings and an almost icy complexion. So before he or the Night King can spot you, Eraxis leans down further to quicken her pace.

Once Eraxis is close, and just as Rhaegal rips out Viserions jaw, Eraxis slightly lifts her body up to slam her claws in Viserion and shove him down.

The Night King is caught off guard so he loses his grip, and you watch him hurdle down to the ground….

Fuck.

Fuck!

You pant and keep your eyes on him until he’s lost in the clouds. When you look up to check on Jon and Rhaegal, all you see is Drogon and Daenerys flying down after the Night King, there’s just no Jon—

Rhaegal must’ve gotten hurt.

Jon won’t be able to hold on if Rhaegal is losing control.

“I’m coming,” you murmur and nudge Eraxis down.

Yet just as you try to fly down, Viserions torn mouth suddenly clamps onto Eraxis neck, causing you to groan as your body is slammed to the side harshly.

Luckily the restraints hold you in place so you don’t fall. And what’s even luckier is that Eraxis is somewhat okay, she quickly retaliates by digging her claws in his belly and swinging down, making him screech out in pain.

Eraxis then pushes back and shoots fire at him, Viserion avoids the flame and dives down to try and attack Eraxis from below, but your dragon is quick and twists her body around, hitting the dead dragon in the face with her tail.

“<Come on girl,>” you encourage your dragon and watch as she turns to face Viserion again. This time as he tries to lunge at her you unsheath your double bladed spear from behind you to try and hurl it in Viserions mouth.

However, just as Eraxis and Viserion slam into one another and grip onto each other by the claws, they begin dancing through the sky violently. You try to continue aiming at his eye, even as they keep thrashing around, but then, from the corner of your eye you spot an opening and quickly pull your handles to the right instead.

Eraxis then sees what you do and bites down on Viserion’s wing and pulls back hard, managing to rip his wing partially off his body.

Viserion cries out, and you grin in disbelief. However, he still doesn’t let go of Eraxis, he holds onto her, digging his claws in her legs and pulling her down with him, making you thrash around. Eraxis tries to bite at him but he pulls back and shoots out his blue flames.

You quickly duck from the flames trajectory and barely miss getting hit. Eraxis knows that and gets more pissed off at the same time you do, so out of a fit of rage, as they’re both hurdling down at a rapid speed, she lunges at his neck.

Viserion finally lets go of her, but she bites down harder and keeps pulling him down. When you glance down you’re now a few feet away from crashing in the castle.

“Eraxis!” You yell out to try and get her to fly up.

Alas, just as she’s letting go, he bites on her shoulder. He wants to tear off her wing too.

You look down again and see you’re closer to the castle, it’s still quite a fall, but if you don’t help get rid of him he’ll only cause destruction. Besides, Eraxis is good, she’ll catch you. Right?

Fuck hopefully….

You let out a shaky breath and clench your hands around your spear before you pull at the strap on your left leg.

That one comes off quickly, but when you switch to the other side and pull, the buckle gets stuck.

“DAMN IT!” You yell and yank again, but it doesn’t budge. “FUCK!” Without another choice you use your spear to cut it off.

When you do the restraint is released but you also manage to cut your leg. “Agh! Fuck!” You cry out.

Yet there’s no time to wallow, even with the sharp pain you stand off your saddle. You don’t glance down anymore and swing your other leg off the saddle, you clench your jaw into a grimace and narrow your gaze on Viserion as he keeps digging his teeth in Eraxis’s shouder, as they both keep twirling down to the castle.

You let out a deep breath and grab onto one her spikes along her neck as you begin to crawl up her neck to reach her head. Your wounded leg keeps slipping off her side, but you hold on tighter and just quicken your pace until you reach the top of her head.

The breeze is quick, and the snow is sharp along your skin, barely letting you see or move. The fall from the looks of it isn’t far anymore, but you’d still break your bones or die—but he’d only damage the castle and kill more people, or even kill Eraxis. You have to do this….

You let out a deep shaky breath, bend your knees a bit before you let go of one of her spikes and break into a sprint down her head. When you reach her forehead you finally jump down.

As gravity rapidly pulls you down towards Viserion, you hastily grab your spear with both hands and throw your arms up. Just as you’re falling down to the dragon you let out a mighty cry before you swing down to stab his icy flesh.

Viserion screech’s out in protest and begins to squirm. You begin to slide the spear down his neck as you fall, until suddenly Viserion explodes into a thousands of ice shards, making you lose your grip and finally hurdle down towards the stone castle.

However, Eraxis spots you right away and flies to you, making you crash your side on her body and roll down. Luckily before you can slip off her body you manage to grip onto one of her spikes and stop. Yet since she’s falling down fast and can’t take flight right away, she crashes down in the castle hard, making you lose your grip.

This time a pile of dead bodies breaks your fall. But that’s where the problem starts, the wights spot you, hear you groan in pain, and come sprinting at you. Without a different choice you snap your eyes around and notice your spear a few feet away. You try to stand to go get it but your leg shoots out sharp throbbing pains, making you stumble back to your hands and knees, and leaving you to crawl rapidly towards your weapon as the dead continue to chase after you.

They get closer and closer as you approach your weapon. And just as you slap your hand on it and wrap your fingers around the spear, a hand wraps around your ankle and begins to pull you back. You yelp, and then nails dig in your flesh, making you cry out louder.

You swing back to try and hit them with your spear, but another wight throws itself on you, making you lose your spear and feel its stench on your neck and its bones on your back. It actually tries to stab you, but the armor you wear stops its attempts.

“Back off!” You bellow and thrash your body around. Yet one wight keeps pulling, and the one above you paralyzes you. As you peek up you see it lift its blade again, aiming at your neck.

Alas, just as it’s about to stab you, suddenly the wight that has you by your ankles lets go, and the one above you falls limb on you before it gets thrown off. You quickly flip around to see who your savior was, and for a second, as the flames behind their figure drowns them out, as they blind your eyesight, for a second you picture your father; his eyes, his tall figure. For a moment in time you imagine your father.

That is until they crouch down and offer you their hand, that’s when you finally recognize who stands above you, Jaime Lannister.

“Quickly,” he breaks you from your stupor. “Take my hand.”

You glance at his hand in shock, and having no other choice you take his hand and let him help you up. Yet you quickly regret putting weight on your leg because you instantly feel the pain from your wound intensify.

“Here,” he says and hands you your spear. “Let’s go.”

He lets go of you and begins to lead the way to the stairs so you can follow, however as you try to run the pain forbids you.

“I can’t run,” you mutter and shake your head. “My leg,” you groan.

Jaime stops and looks back at you before glancing at your leg and seeing the wound that’s visible through the gape in your pants.

“Eraxis, I need to get to her.” You mutter and quickly look around, seeing her struggling to get off her feet as the dead begin to mount her. “No,” you gasp and run to the hole that was on the wall so you can climb down the pile of dead wights to reach her below. But Jaime then runs backs to you and grabs you by your arm to begin pulling you away.

“No,” you argue. “I need to help her.”

“Only you’ll die before you can even reach her,” he argues and begins to pull you down the wooden staircase.

You snap your head back and see her barely managing to gain some momentum off the ground with each weak flap. Some dead cling onto her, desperate to try and get a good hit, but she shakes them off and flies higher up, letting you comfort yourself with the thought that now at least she won’t get injured further, or die, she can fly off and join you later. She’ll be okay.

Nevertheless, now that you’re on the ground you’re only welcomed with the sight of more dead everywhere, both wights and people. There’s even a corpse of a giant, and Lady Mormont dead beside it. As far as wights there’s a few left fighting the living, still…a few is one too many.

“Stay here,” Jaime commands you as puts you behind Lady Brienne and her squire.

You shake your head and snap back, “I can fight. I may not be on my dragon, but I can fight.” Without waiting for anyone to argue back you limp forward to stand in between him and Lady Brienne.

In that moment however, just as you fix your stance and get ready to welcome any wight that comes your way, suddenly dead bodies everywhere begin to rise up, all of them, every single one of them displaying those same glowing icy blue eyes, and making chills crawl all over your body.

“Fuck,” you mutter and grip onto your spear.

They don’t attack right away, they slowly turn as if they’re grasping their surroundings. Once they spot all the living then they run and lunge, making you act fast and counter each one of their moves, making you kill each and every one that comes your way.

This time there are no breaks, or waiting up in the sky. Down here every single second was a matter of life or death. It makes you thankful for all those hours that you spent training.

——

*RHAENAR*

“Shh. Shh.”

Besides the smell of dirt, now a different stench infiltrated the crypts, something putrid…

Death.

Now rather than whisperings filling the space, pained cries and screeches echoed around, both from the dead and those dying.

Two of Rhaenar’s personal guards had died, one trying to protect some woman, and the other trying to protect him. He wanted to fight, get rid of the wights that were around the room searching for bodies to kill, but the other two guards forced him to hide behind a statue. So as of now all he could do was stay still and quiet in hopes none of the dead would try and kill him too. He had to wait even if he heard people dying.

He closes his eyes and tries to cover his ears so it can go by faster by, so he couldn’t hear the fearful shrieks. But then in that moment a sharp cry rings out and he can’t stand just sitting, so he puts his dragon on his shoulder and springs into action, even if his guards keep telling him otherwise.

There are many bodies, many people hiding behind statues of their own, there are many dead roaming and it scares him; seeing their skulls, their moving skeletons, terrifies him to his very core, makes him want to freeze and search for you, but he ignores it all, all of it and follows the sound of the cries.

Once he reaches where it comes from he sees the woman from before, the one who had pulled the girl away as they tried to just be friends. The lady is being dragged by a wight, so without hesitation Rhaenar lifts his spear and stabs the wight through the skull, letting the woman live. Another wight proceeds to come running behind him, he can hear the footsteps against the stone ground, so without even saying a thing the dragon flaps its yellow and orange wings to hover by Rhaenar, whilst he spun around swiftly and swung on the wight. The dragon then blows out its little puff of fire and manages to burn the wight enough to kill it.

“Hide,” Rhaenar tells the lady as he faces the wights that came after him.

The lady drags herself up and nods rapidly before she runs off, leaving him and his guards that finally caught up with him to fight as hard as they could.

——

They won’t stop coming, there are more and more dead, they swarm everyone who is left fighting, they swarm you…try to anyway. They keep you busy, focused on only them, on your life and the life you carry within you.

Yet the moment you catch Jon across the yard all your attention is instantly just driven to his blood covered face, the fear and panic in his dark eyes. Ser Jaime had told you to stay behind him and Lady Brienne, but if Jon isn’t on Rheagal, if he’s here it means he’s going to try and go to Bran, and there’s so many dead between Jon and the Godswood. You just got married, you won’t lose him too.

So quickly you depart from the group you were fighting beside and slide under flinging arms of the dead to run after Jon.

Nevertheless, the dead keep getting in your way, those who aren’t busy trying to kill the other living try to come after you, and so as to not fall behind you just swerve past them, or kill one or two. The sight of Jon is lost in the raging crowd, but you…sort of know your way around, or at least you remember the map, so you try to enter a hall to cut the other yards.

Albeit, the moment you look around the corner you see it swarmed by wights so you step back out and cut through the yards anyway. That’s when suddenly one wight mostly made of bones comes from your side. It tries to tackle you down, but you shove your spear in its mouth and run forward to slam it into another one.

“Fucker,” you grimace and pull out your blade to continue running forward, continue to swerve and duck past and under swinging arms and blades. You begin to get close to the Godswood, but just as you walk past an archway to enter the last courtyard, you suddenly bump into a body.

Thinking it’s another wight you get ready to stab it without looking up at its decaying face, but then it grabs you by your arms and utters your name, so you look up and see Jon.

“Jon,” you sigh in relief.

He studies you quickly making sure you aren’t wounded, and you do the same.

The good thing is that all either of you see is dirt and dark blood from the dead.

“Come on. Bran,” he breathes out and grabs your hand to begin pulling you towards the Godswood, making you fight through your pain.

And while he leads ahead you want to keep holding onto him, you want to feel secured under his hold, but you have to quickly pull your hand away as you see an entire crowd of dead begin to fall down a stone wall. Jon and you try to avoid fighting them, but then another crowd comes running out of the shadows of a nearby archway around the yard. They all see Jon and you and don’t fret to charge directly, making Jon grab you by your hand again to turn you around and go a different way. However more dead now come out the way you had just come from.

Was this it? Get ripped apart by all these dead corpses? Only paces away from the enemy that can end this battle with one perfect hit?

At least you’re with Jon though, hand in hand, side by side. Many people don’t get to say they died beside the person they loved, you would. At least that’s an upside to this hell.

Of course you didn’t want to die, not yet, not before you can know your son is safe, not before maybe the baby can be born and have a chance to live. Maybe not before you’ve won the other war. But no matter how hard you try to fight off all the wights, there are too many of them and they surround you quickly leaving no chance to escape.

“Jon!” You yell over all the noise.

Said man looks over at you and waits.

“I love you,” you mutter through tears.

Jon’s eyes water and he grabs your hand again to press a kiss on your knuckles even as the dead keep trying to reach you up the hill of corpses you were now on.

“I love you,” he mutters back. “Thank you for the silence in the loud noise that has been my life.”

You smile through the tears and even if these might be your last moments, you glance at the approaching crowd of wights. “We fight?” You ask in a quivering voice and meet Jon’s gaze again since he had never stopped looking at you; if he was going to die, he would die looking at you, the woman he loved, that’d be the last thing he’d see. Yet when you say those words, he can’t help but be proud and feel encouraged to at least go out fighting, so without he nods in agreement and backs up your question.

“We fight.”

You let go once more, you face the relentless crowd and raise your spear again, whilst Jon stabs his sword into a wights skull. You continue fighting to try and still get to the Godswood.

Yet just as you ram your blade in a wights face, suddenly fire blasts down on a patch of wights before it swirls around Jon and you, killing all of the wights that had been trying to get you both.

At the feeling and the sight of the raging flames Jon tries to shield you, but you quickly look up at where the flames come from and see there in the night sky Eraxis. You beam at her, and Jon looks up at her disbelief before he yells out at you, “Bran!”

You glance down at him and nod before you both run down the piles of bodies and over dry patches of land that aren’t in flames. Eraxis hides back in the clouds, but you know she doesn’t wander far. Because just as you reach the Godswood and see its infiltrated wights, flames blast down again, burning away every single corpse, even those out of ice and with long white hair. She burns away every single tree that surrounds the red leaf Weirwood tree, leaving only a path that leads directly to the Night King and Bran, and letting Jon and you walk past before she completely surrounds the weirwood tree and all of you with a ring of fire.

The Night King's eyes then immediately set on Jon, and Jon glares at the monster as he pants.

Since there’s no one left to protect it, since there’s only fire around it, the Night King unsheathes its ice sword from behind him and faces Jon and you completely to stand its ground alone. Jon on the other hand secures his other hand around his sword handle before he begins to stride towards the Night King.

You begin to stride to it too, but then just behind the tree comes out a smaller corpse, or so it seems so, its face is covered by a hood, and its body is hidden behind a baggy cloak. It escaped Eraxis' wrath somehow.

It’s going to try and kill Bran.

So as Jon clashes his blade against the Night Kings you change your course and charge at the wight.

It spots you right away it though, but rather than running at you, it quickly raises its hand the closer you get and yanks it’s hood off, showing off a face of a wight, but a head full of brown hair pulled back to a small half ponytail that makes you falter and blink to watch in disbelief as you slow down.

Its eyes aren’t glowing blue or caved in, besides wights don’t pull off their hoods…this isn’t a corpse….and going by the hairstyle and hair color, and by the fact that they had hid so well, this can only be one person, Arya Stark.

Fucking impressive….

Regardless, you can’t precisely stop and come up with a plan together now that you see her too, so instead you look up at Eraxis as she watches whilst she flies around, and assure her that it’s okay with your look alone so she won’t burn Arya disguised as a wight. You then proceed to get closer to Arya before you both begin to slowly and quietly approach the Night King as Jon keeps fighting against it, and keeps its back facing Arya and you.

You get a few feet closer and then stop to meet Arya’s gaze while metal and ice keep clashing, she points to your spear with her eyes and then points at the Night King’s back before she drifts under the shadows that aren’t touched by fire light.

Jon and the Night King keep dancing around in the ring of fire as they clash their swords together, and it’s back keeps facing you. So as to not let this moment go to waste you lift your arm and then hurl your spear at its back.

Albeit just before it can hit its back, the Night King snaps its head back and catches sight of your spear before he maneuvers to the side, letting the spear now head to Jon.

“Jon!” You cry out.

Said man catches sight and barely manages to duck to avoid being hit.

The Night King then tries to lunge at you since he sees you’re defenseless, but then out of the shadows, from behind him Arya runs out and pushes herself off her feet to swing down. However, it then quickly snaps around stiffly and catches her by her throat.

Jon gets angrier at the sight and charges at it, whilst you begin to charge at it too, seeing Arya fling her blade over at you as it keeps her off her feet and gripped by her throat.

You catch the blade, and it snaps its icy blue eyes to you, letting Arya pull out her Valyrian blade she had hidden. It then snaps its eyes behind him as Jon raises his sword over its head, and lets go of Arya in hopes to swing his blade to slice all three of you.

But just before it can even move, Arya stabs her Valyrian blade in his chest, you stab your dragonglass dagger in its side, and Jon swings his blade down on his neck. All of you hit it simultaneously and the Night King erupts in thousands shards of ice, ending the battle once and for all….

Now there’s no sound of groans, grunts, screeches or running footsteps. There’s no more dead trying to run at you, there’s only dead corpses around the trees. There’s only silence and sorrowful peace.

It’s over. Now and always. The long night comes to an end, and the sun begins to break through the horizon, bringing relief and hope in you and everyone who lives.

Once the disbelief is somewhat surpassed, you and Jon look at one another after he makes sure his brother is okay, and instantly drop your weapons to close the gap with an embrace.

“Are you okay?” He asks between heavy pants.

You grip onto him and answer. “My leg,” you mention. “I hurt it, but it’s nothing too significant. You?”

Jon nods and then pulls back to instead cups your grime covered face and looks at you with concern. “The baby?” He asks, not caring if his siblings heard now.

You swallow thickly and shrug. “I don’t know,” you whisper, “I think the baby is fine.”

Jon swallows thickly and sees your worry so he tries to assure you now instead. “We’ll talk with the maester.”

You nod and then let your eyes linger on for a second to admire that he’s alive, that he isn’t another cold corpse. You relish in his touch before you press your forehead against him.

Jon presses a kiss on your lips as he caresses your cheek, and leans into your touch as you press your hands against his cheek.

“Rhaenar,” you whisper in quivering tone and pull away. “I'm going to check on Rhaenar.”

Jon nods. “Let me just grab Bran,” he says, “and I’ll catch up to check on Sansa as well.”

You nod in agreement and before you leave you meet Arya’s gaze and share a small passing smile before you run off, even through the pounding pain. You maneuver past dead bodies of all those you lost in battle, past debris, and past living people all grasping that it’s over.

Once you’re close to the crypts you finally slow down as you notice people coming out, Tyrion, Lord Varys, Missandei, yet Rhaenar is not behind them.

Your heart begins to pound in your ears, a force begins to clench around it, and the world begins to dim even if the sun rises. Sansa then comes out too, and thankfully, behind her is your son, covered in blood and grime, but he’s alive….he’s alive.

Relief washes over you instantly, and even if tears rush out of your eyes you’re filled with glee. “Rhaenar!” You call out.

Said boy instantly finds your voice and right away his shoulders fall, and his lips pull to a wobbly smile as he’s filled with relief.

“Mama!” He calls out before he quickly maneuvers past people to meet you halfway in an embrace. “Mama,” he cries once you have your arms around him, making his dragon hover beside him.

“My sweet boy,” you whisper and squeeze him tighter. “My little Sunspot.” You pull back only to grab his face and begin pressing kisses on his dirty forehead.

He scoffs softly, but he doesn’t shy away even if people around you see.

Once you completely step back you he quickly interjects with concern. “Are you okay?”

You nod and offer him a sweet smile. “I’m just hurt but I’ll live. You? You seem okay, are you?”

The boy begins to smile again and nods eagerly. “I’m fine. Mama you should’ve seen me, wights began to come out of graves and I fought some of them. Whom, swoosh!” He swings his arm, pretending to be holding his weapon. “One even tried to grab at my leg but I quickly flipped in the air and stabbed my spear in its SKULL! Just like how my uncle Oberyn taught me.”

You grin brightly and whisper, “I wish I could’ve seen, but I am proud.”

Rhaenar grins shyly, and in that moment there’s a soft dragon call from the sky. You look up and see Eraxis trying her best to fly past the castle walls.

“She’s hurt,” Rhaenar points out.

You grab him by his hand and begin to pull him after your dragon. “Yes,” you say, “Viserion hurt her, but she’ll recover with time.”

“Good,” he whispers.

“Now come,” you urge him, “she must’ve found Daenerys and Drogon.” You quicken your pace as best as you can, and once you make it out of the broken gate you gasp as you see the body littered battlefield. There’s thousands of people, all of them brave warriors.

The sight of a dark shadow then makes you lift your gaze, and you see Drogon fly by to fly away with Eraxis. Yet in the middle of the field of bodies is Daenerys in her dirty white coat, heading to the castle with a grief stricken look.

She sees Rhaenar and you and instantly her chest falls, her eyes glisten brighter, and the corner of her lips tug to a relieved smile.

“Aunt Dany!” Rhaenar yells out and pulls away from you to run over to her.

Quickly once he reaches her, he envelopes her in an embrace. She gets surprised for a moment, but once she's assured by his embrace she returns his hug and presses her cheek against the top of his head.

When you finally reach them they both let go of each other, letting you and Daenerys embrace each other now.

“It’s over,” you whisper to her. “It’s finally over.”

Daenerys holds onto you tighter and closes her eyes out of relief.

Feeling left out and happy that his family is alive, Rhaenar joins in the embrace and pulls you in a group hug.

“The war isn’t over,” Daenerys interjects quietly. “Not the real war.”

.

.

.

.

Tagged: @watercolorskyy @jessimay89 @cecespizza01 @theroyalbrownbarbie @crybabyatthediscooffandoms @neenieweenie @midnightpantherxo @ashleyforeverareject

[chloesimaginationthings]

Happy one year anniversary to this FNAF post,,

[hinamie]

alongside someone like you

[everwalldigan]

Random reporter: Mr Wayne, do you think men can get pregnant?

Bruce: uh, I am.

Reporter: *laughs* you are?

Bruce, offended: how about a congratulations instead of laughing at me?

Reporter, starting to get flustered: oh, um congratulations, I’m sorry… so how far along are you?

Bruce: two weeks.

Reporter: oh, uh… how did you know you were pregnant after two weeks?

Bruce: my stomach was growling more than usual, plus me and him had sex so that’s probably where it came from…*points towards Clark across the room*

Reporter: did you take a pregnancy test?

Bruce: uh, no?

Reporter: then how do you know for sure?

Bruce, smiling condescendingly: because I have a kid, I know how it feels like and it was like this. Where did you think Dick came from?

Reporter: But you took him in after his—

Bruce, putting his hand on the reporters shoulder, concerned: There are pictures everywhere of the day of his birth. Are you feeling well? You look a little pale, maybe you should take an early night…

[rdps01]

The Return Of..!! uhh 👍

[dieselocelot]

yuhhh.... process pics below cut

[anothersuperstition]

will you welcome your extinction in the morning rays?

[wincore]

I faked my engagement for free cake samples and got sued after I ran away AIO | haechan

pairing: haechan x baker!reader

genre: comedy, fluff, rivals (?) to lovers (?)

warning(s): quite possibly you will be inflicted with cringe, shameless scamming, mild swearing, one (1) innuendo

words: 5.4k

song recs: santa doesn’t know you like i do by sabrina carpenter, too late for chocolate? by kana hanazawa, like a raspberry by 宇宙ネコ子, honey by kara

a/n: ty to my queens lana and cat for gassing up this dumpster fire i wrote in a caffeine haze while watching my bf die every 20 secs in ds3. the initial plot was going to be far longer and more fleshed out but i fear i'm past my prime ( ._. )" i still hope you guys have fun with this one!! i got to play around with hallmark comedy far more this time, so overall it was a fun time writing <3 happy new year, my lovely mooncakes!!

part of a nonsense christmas: reddit edition collab <3

r/AmITheAsshole

u/YeastMode6969 • 3h

I faked my engagement for free cake samples then got sued after I ran away. AIO?

I (24F, small bakery owner) faked my engagement to get free cake samples at my rival bakery but the employee said I needed my fiance to be there. I panicked and grabbed the first guy to come through the bakery door after me. Turns out he’s not just some random customer. To top it off, he was ridiculously attractive even though he pissed me off every two sentences. I had a panic attack, told myself it’s totally not my fault, and moved on by baking fourteen cakes over the weekend. I thought I got away with it, but three days later, I got an email from him—he’s now suing me for “emotional damages” and “theft of pastries.” Am I doomed, or is this just karma with extra frosting?

⥣ 7.7k ⥥ 2,701 Comments

bun_theory0222 • 2h

INFO: Did you at least try the samples? Were they worth the lawsuit? We’re all dying to know here.

➥ Reply ⥣ 3.2k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h

nah cuz why is he suing when he CLEARLY wants to flirt??? this man is embarrassing but so are you. somebody matched ur freak <3

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.7k ⥥

soggywaffle0205 • 6m

YTA why can’t this shit happen to me. AT LEAST I would commit to the bit.

➥ Reply ⥣ 420 ⥥

cerealfordinner0323 • 2h

Bro sued you just to slide into your life again. He’s not slick, and neither are you. Good luck with that wedding cake.

➥ Reply ⥣ 9,011 ⥥

. . .

If you could hop a few steps to the right, feign unconsciousness, and climb right into the active fireplace, it could potentially make everything okay. For you, that is. Not for the poor bakery employees who would have to call the cops. 

“I’m sure he’s a handsome one!” The girl behind the counter giggles, light pink dusting her cheeks. “You’re- you’re so gorgeous!”

Setting aside the fact that most gorgeous women you know end up with malformed gargoyles, your current predicament is almost equally sinister. What started as an innocuous process to gain free wedding samples (in other words, a scam) has led to a question that should be obvious but completely escaped your mind following your trailing success.

“We’ll need to have you come in with your fiance for the free wedding cake samplers. Is he around?”

Is he around?! Boy, you sure hope so. Because now you’re also frantically looking around with the employee after you blurted out another lie: “He’s going to be here soon!”

When did you turn into a compulsive liar? You’re not sure if your mom would be proud of you for being so good at nabbing free food, or disappointed that you’re a filthy liar. After all, she did tell the buffet employees you were under 10 all the way till you were 14. So, really, you’re not the source of the problem! You brush your festive red skirt of invisible crumbs, trying to busy yourself.

The cafe itself is well decorated for Christmas—a silver reindeer bores holes into your head from by the front door, a small Christmas tree stands at the center that’s a little emaciated but the cute Sanrio ornaments in Santa hats make up for it, and most importantly, a beautiful Mont Blanc cake sparkles from atop the glass counter. (Seriously, why didn’t you think of this? Your own bakery is all sparkles and no play.)

You move out of the way of other customers, and casually glance at the source of your awe and joy. Powdered sugar dusts the top as idyllic snow, covering the sugared cranberries and sugared chestnuts, not dent in them under the white fondant star. The base of the cake is tied with an edible red ribbon, completing the seasonal aesthetic of it. A sigh rests momentarily upon your lips before it escapes. 

You love Mont Blanc cakes, but you never quite get it right. That’s your biggest failure as an up-and-coming baker, and such is the reason for your unhinged serial sampling scam. You swear it started off as a search for inspiration in a creative rut but before you knew it, a lie had spilled from your eclair-sweetened lips, and another, and another. 

It is at this point that you briefly consider bolting for the door. Tibet is great around this time of the year. Maybe if you convert to a monk lifestyle and atone for your sins, you’ll be granted a pardon in the form of delicious sweets. Before you can make your escape, however, the front door jingles, and in strides a sight unbelievably reassuring. A man with caramel hair enters, who might as well be wrapped in a giant red ribbon and seated atop a snow-white horse in golden ornaments.

It’s a Christmas miracle. Hallelujah! They still apply to you.

His smile—soft and sweet as meringue hearts—lights up the room as he inhales the warm, sugary air of the bakery. You’re hit with the vaguest sense of familiarity. He might be one of the few customers you get these days. For a moment, you falter. Are you really going to victimize this stranger?

Yes. Yes, you are. The situation is dire.

“Hi darling!” You exclaim within earshot of the employee, before lowering your voice. “Could you help me out a little here?”

The man blinks, dazed for whatever reason. “Uh… sure?”

“Okay, then follow along and ask questions later,” you reply, and loop your arm through his gingerly. The touch of his fuzzy winter coat makes you relax a little. It is chocolate-colored, with beige fluff around the collar. Not now, you think to yourself, You need to stop thinking about sweets for one goddamn moment.

“Here he is,” you laugh sheepishly as you bring the man forward. Gosh, what in the heavens are you doing? You didn’t even ask his name. 

The employee stares, jaw agape. What’s with the reaction? He’s not that hot. 

“O-oh,” she responds. “That’s quite the surprise. I never knew. Congratulations, sir!”

You turn to look at him. He simply scratches his chin with a sheepish smile, and manages to respond with a “Thanks, Kimi.”

He must be a regular, you think. Oh, (Name), what did you get yourself into? You’re just gonna have to read his name off his coffee order first.

“We have a selection of samples for our wedding cake choices,” the girl, Kimi, moves to the far side of the counter, offering a small menu card to the two of you. “I know you’re not a big fan of wedding cakes, Mr. Lee, but the latest tiramisu flavors should suit your tastes, no?”

Just how close are they?! You chew on your lip and try to calm your depraved little heart.

“Well,” he responds, thinking for a second, “I actually hadn’t thought this far. What do you think, honey?”

He turns to you with a radiant smile, but you sense a hint of mischief. You don’t have time to think of that though—so you just change the topic. 

“Actually, do you have a Mont Blanc flavor? I’ve always had trouble perfecting it myself.”

Truth be told, that ‘honey’ had flowed from his lips and struck you straight in the heart. He’s not too bad to look at, you think now. His tousled hair catches the light with a playful sheen, framing his face and accentuating his disbelieving smile, while his fluffy coat adds a cozy touch to his charming, boyish demeanor. If you were to overthink a little, you’d find a hint of mischief in his voice. Alas, you’re a simple girl who only overthinks sweet treats, not boys.

“You bake?” He blurts, before his ears turn red from realization.

Kimi shoots him a puzzled look and your breath hitches in your throat. Was the miracle an idiot in disguise?

“I mean, uh, gosh, you make me so nervous, honey.” He looks like he’s trying his very best to ace an exam he never studied for. “I meant to ask if you're going to bake.. today? Don’t look at me like that.” 

Maybe you should’ve picked a candied apple and prayed that a witch had poisoned it. You can’t even force out a smile at that pathetic save.

“You’re a lucky man, Mister,” Kimi jabs, a look of distrust in her eyes before they flash to you. “I’m afraid Miss (Name) in a wedding dress would make me drop dead at the altar.”

“Oh, you- you flatter me,” you choke out, “I promise you wedding gowns aren’t my thing at all. Besides, you’d look beautiful in white yourself.”

Why is she so into this wedding conversation? How close are these two? You’re not sure how to react, and neither do you know how this man is going to explain your mysterious disappearance the next time he visits the bakery. You’re sure as hell not going to continue the act beyond this. It’s time you retired from this scam business. You’re not even sure how you’ll talk your way out of this with the man, currently engaged in small talk with Kimi. 

And— is he blushing?! Does he have something going on with the girl—Kimi? Did you just ruin something? Your heart tightens a little, and you have to physically restrain yourself from falling to the floor, head in your hands.

You laugh awkwardly, trying to diffuse the situation. When you open your mouth, you are interrupted.

“Actually, Miss, I think I take back what I said about the handsome part,” Kimi jokes, evident disdain sent towards Donghyuck.

Your natural response is a little laugh that leaves before you know it. Maybe, the feelings you sensed were of unrequited resentment. He does have the kind of face that looks like it’s often smacked by girls. No offense to him.

Kimi hands you the first sample (two delicious slices of Mont Blanc) and excuses herself to fetch the rest. The two of you make your way to a booth with the heaviest silence you’ve ever experienced. You might as well be at a funeral.

“So… free samples are that good, huh?” The man asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Shut up,” you mutter. 

“I’m Donghyuck, by the way,” he responds with a youthful laugh. “Might I have the honor of knowing my fiance's name?”

“(Name). And stop looking at me like that.”

He lets out a short breath.

“You know, maybe we should’ve pretended it was an arranged marriage.”

“Quite proficient in the scamming business, are you?”

“Oh, you’re better off not knowing my dirty secrets.”

You couldn’t care less about his secrets but the look you shoot at him is certainly dirty.

He opens his mouth but you interrupt him to absolve yourself first. “Listen, I don’t do this often. And I’ll have you know it’s nothing personal. Well, not against you. The owner of this place maybe.”

Donghyuck blinks. “Oh? Do tell. I’m all for being a hater with my fiance.”

You stare at him, not impressed.

“Sorry.”

“Okay, so this started a month or two ago. I had been working tirelessly, testing recipe after recipe, trying to perfect the Mont Blanc cake. It was my dream to make it iconic, you know? But before I could even settle on the perfect combination of flavors, some smug bastard opens a bakery right across from me. And what does he have as his specialty? Why, the Mont Blanc cake of course. Seasonal! Cute, elaborate new decor every two weeks! Just how rich is he? I bet he doesn't even bother to create his own recipes. This guy didn’t just steal my idea, he’s turned my passion into some overpriced, generic trend!”

You heave, tired from the onslaught of frustration. Chewing on your lower lip, a pout naturally makes its way onto your face, and so do more complaints. 

“And that’s not all, okay? I never see him at the bakery. I refrain from entering my competitors' establishments unless I greet them in person. But this asshole is just never there! What, is he too good to work at his own bakery? Too good to grace us lowly bakers with a visit? How could he just swoop in and steal my signature item?”

Donghyuck listens to your rant with intent, cheek resting against his palm. He even looks a little ridiculously charmed right now. 

“Wait… so you’re the infamous Free Cake Phantom everyone’s talking about?” He gasps.

You’ve finally turned to your poor, neglected Mont Blanc sample, just for your heart to jump out. “What?”

“Just kidding. Your secret is safe,” he says, digging into the cake with infuriating nonchalance. “But hey, you’ve got good taste. This Mont Blanc though? It’s my personal recipe.”

Your fork halts halfway to your mouth. “Your recipe? What, you work here or something? And, no offense, but it’s overwhipped.”

If that’s a joke, it’s not very funny. The man looks more like a confectionary than a confectioner. There’s no way he works here. He’s probably some jobless guy drifting from bakery to bakery on early Saturday mornings.

His jaw drops. “Overwhipped? Are you kidding me?”

You wave the fork at him like it’s a weapon. “Chestnut puree shouldn’t have the texture of mousse. It’s called finesse, Mr. Lee.”

Before he can respond, Kimi returns with another tray, and you slip back into character, placing your hand on Donghyuck’s. “Thank you,” you coo at her. “I can’t wait to share all these flavors at our wedding.”

Donghyuck stiffens slightly at the unexpected contact, but he recovers quickly, plastering on the fakest grin known to man. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Kimi laughs. “You’re such a lovely couple. When’s the big day?”

You freeze, and so does Donghyuck. For a moment, neither of you has an answer.

“Oh, we’re still, uh, deciding,” you blurt, glancing at him for backup.

“Yeah, we’re thinking spring,” he adds smoothly. “Cherry blossoms. Very romantic.”

“Y-yes. Maybe the Raspberry Rose should be in the winner’s spot then.”

As Kimi bows politely and walks away again, Donghyuck leans in to whisper. “Should I book the honeymoon now, or…?”

“Don’t push your luck,” you hiss, elbowing him in the ribs. 

He makes a pained sound, but recovers quickly. 

The second flavor is dubbed “Marble Eclipse”, a decadent blend of rich chocolate and vanilla, perfectly balanced with a luscious buttercream frosting. You try to focus on the taste, but Donghyuck’s smug grin as he watches you take a bite is more distracting than you’d like to admit. You’re not easily flustered, not by men. Unfortunately, he would have been the exact type you’d have tried to nab in college.

You shake your head. Focus, (Name), you think to yourself, You’re in the enemy’s lair right now!

“So… I might as well come clean,” Donghyuck says with a serious tone, right after you’ve taken a bite. You pause in horror. What arcane knowledge is he going to use for your humiliation this time?

“I visit your bakery often, and I must say your selection is just as good, if not better.”

You exhale.

“Oh, it’s better alright,” you retort, before realizing the unwarranted passion in your voice. You compose yourself. “I mean, maybe their Mont Blanc is… a solid competitor.”

Donghyuck laughs, clearly amused by the bashfulness on your face.

“Wait, are you patronizing me?”

“Of course not!” He places his hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“I think the difference is that this one keeps up with the youth.” He waves his fork about, explaining his point further. “Everyone loves new, shiny things. Cycle those as much as possible. Have you ever considered holding blind box events with your cupcakes? I’m sure the kids would love to find out which flavor of panda bear cupcake they got—matcha, my personal favorite, or coconut cream, or… god forbid, chocolate mint. Ugh. Have you considered removing that from the menu? Anyway, that shouldn’t take too much time and money, right?”

The youth? What is he, forty? However, however, the look on his face as he describes your own baked goods to you is enough to make you intensely flustered. Has this man visited so often? And you never noticed him? How could you miss that easy-going smile?

A familiar figure saves you from whatever awkward, garbled response you were going to muster.

Despite Kimi’s arrival, Donghyuck has a hard time taking his eyes off you. Lashes swaying with each flicker of his eyes over your face, he’s hardly taking a bit of the delicious marble cake, in fact. What, have you got something on your face?

Kimi apologizes profusely before you can say anything to greet her. 

“There’s only one slice prepared for the Tiramisu Dream sample,” she explains. “I’m so sorry about this. Would you mind sharing this one? I apologize again.”

“No worries, Kimi,” Donghyuck responds, laughing a little. You shake your head and reassure it’s alright too. 

Anyway, that slice is going to be yours. You’re ready to pry it from his cold, dead hands.  

To your surprise, though, he shoots a friendly smile at you. 

“Want the first bite?”

“May I?” You ask, just to be sure.

“By all means,” he says, gesturing grandly. “After all, what’s mine is yours, fiance.”

You swear, if he calls you that one more time, he’s going to end up in the cake display.

Kimi stares at the two of you blankly for a moment. It instantly flusters you and Donghyuck both, so much so that the idiot digs his fork into the cake slice and holds it up to your lips with a soft ‘ah’ —and so much so that you actually accept it graciously. 

And all that only for Kimi to not even notice as she excused her way back to the counter. So now you’re just two idiots deep in your romantic charades. Donghyuck clears his throat, too late to cover his coral-tinted cheeks and ears. You’re certain you wear a similar expression.

“You’re- you’re so weird,” you jab, unable to come up with an insult higher than middle school grade. 

“What, you wanted me to do airplanes too?!”

“Take that fork and drive it through your tongue, will you?”

“Woah, woah, no need for violence, Miss (Name). Peace and Love.”

Unexpectedly, it makes you break character into unbound laughter. The weariness of the act and the silliness of the whole situation leaks into the sound, and it’s enough to make Donghyuck join in. For passersby, you are just a couple already past your third, fifth and seventh dates.

“Any comments for the tiramisu cake?” Donghyuck asks, grinning ear to ear.

You catch your breath, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “Yeah, I have a comment: who puts this much cocoa powder on top? Are you trying to choke your customers?”

“Awh, and I thought you were gonna be nice,” he whines, “Your smile is just so… inviting.”

As if on cue, he chokes on the cocoa powder. 

“I still like it,” you continue. “I’d just do it better.”

“I have the utmost confidence in that.”

Gosh, his smile is nauseating—too bright, too easy, like he’s actually enjoying this. Maybe he’s a rising actor, and you’re the one being hoodwinked. After all, who looks at someone like that on a first meeting?

A moment passes, and suddenly his thumb is at the corner of your lips, brushing off the cocoa powder with a touch so casual it feels anything but. “Got it,” he murmurs, and the air between you shifts, warm and oddly heavy.

“So, how do you know all this?” you ask, changing the topic. You’re forcing yourself to focus, to breathe. 

He leans back, a small laugh slipping out like he’s grateful for the lifeline. “You- uh- you could say I’m a connoisseur of pastries,” he offers, his voice lighter now. “I like to sample the best around town—just, you know, legally. I even take notes of my favorites.”

He gestures towards you, and you scoff.

The words settle between you as you toy with the edge of your skirt, smoothing the fabric down over your lap. There’s something about the way he speaks—so casual, so effortless—that needles at you. For a man so annoyingly confident, he sure seems relieved to have redirected the conversation.

Your hand grazes the tiny snowman buttons on your cardigan, tracing the cold plastic absentmindedly. His gaze flickers to the movement, then back to your face, a smile tugging at his lips like he’s trying not to laugh. You don’t know what’s more embarrassing—getting outed as the Cake Thief or the fact that he’s bound to know he flusters you.

You tilt your head, giving him a skeptical look. “How professional of you.”

The bite in your tone is softening, and you don’t like it one bit.

He holds up his hands, feigning surrender. “Hey, it’s an art. Someone’s gotta appreciate it, right?”

The faint chatter of other patrons fills the room, but his presence sharpens the moment, making it feel like it’s just the two of you. For a fleeting second, you catch yourself wondering what kind of person would take notes on pastries for fun. It’s so bizarrely specific, so utterly unnecessary—and yet, so like him.

His smile deepens, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he teases.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no stopping the traitorous grin threatening to break through. You refuse to indulge him, even as you feel the faintest crack in your defenses.

"Maybe,” you say, finally.

He chuckles, the sound warm and genuine, before leaning back against his chair with a satisfied air, as if he’s won something. You glance at the tray, willing yourself to focus on anything else.

How awkward. How warm. 

You spot a napkin fluttering off the table, carried by a sudden draft from the door. Instinctively, you step out of your chair to grab it, but Donghyuck beats you to it, scooping it up with an exaggerated flourish and a bow.

“Your knight in shining armor,” he declares dramatically, holding it out like a trophy.

“More like my nuisance in sugar-stained armor,” you retort, snatching it from his hand.

He laughs, unabashed. “Ah, so sharp. Yet here you are, sharing cake with said nuisance. Life is full of mysteries.”

“I’m just here for the cake,” you deadpan, dusting your hands off.

For a second, his smile falters—not in hurt but in sheer disbelief. He tilts his head, studying you with an incredulous expression, and you suddenly feel like a frog under a magnifying glass.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he says, almost to himself, his voice low but still playful.

“Get what?” you ask, genuinely confused.

Donghyuck presses his lips together, fighting back a grin. He steps closer, leaning in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of chestnut cream. “I mean, I could spell it out for you, but that might ruin the fun.”

“Spell what out?” you press, a little flustered now.

He straightens with a laugh, shaking his head. “Nothing, you airhead. Absolutely nothing. Is your head full of cotton candy, by any chance?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can respond, he’s already pulling his chair back, resuming his seat with a sigh.

“Mont Blanc, Marble Eclipse, and Tiramisu on the first date,” he states, deep in thought. “Maybe Matcha Lemon, Lavender Peach, and White Chocolate on the second… Perhaps a Red Velvet and a Strawberry Shortcake before you realize I literally own this place?”

You feel the heat intensify on your cheeks. You almost miss the last part, clouded by the implications of the rest of his words. He… wants to go on more dates with you? Was this a date all along? You’ve been swindled into having fun with a man somehow. He even knows the ins and outs of a baker’s life. And he’s charming in an oddball sort of way. You shouldn’t be feeling solidarity with this weirdo. But then again, somehow, his laugh is very… endearing. 

Wait a minute.

“You- you really own the place?!” A scream dies in your throat.

Donghyuck looks positively taken aback. “So you actually weren’t aware?!”

“What do you mean? How the hell am I supposed to know?! You described yourself as a connoisseur of pastries. I thought you were some kind of freelance failure so I didn’t pry!”

“Excuse me?!”

“Well, either that or you’re unbelievably rich. But then you don’t look it. Your sleeves have flour and oil stains on them, and your shoes are all dusty too, and there’s gold flakes in your hair—okay, how did I miss this?”

“Geez, way to judge someone by their looks. I’m not taking that from the local tart snatcher.”

The retort barely registers because your brain is too busy replaying the words “I own this place.” The realization hits, and before you can think better of it, the chair screeches back as you bolt upright.

“Wait, where are you—” Donghyuck’s voice is cut off by your shrill, mortified “Bye!” as you make a beeline for the door, leaving behind a very startled staff and a half-empty tray of cakes. Immediately after your exit, you let out a shriek. 

What the hell are you doing?!

Your face burns as you speed-walk down the street, each step punctuated by the memory of your impulsive retreat. You must have cast your senses away at that moment, like some wide-eyed fool in a fairy tale, almost charmed by that silly man and his absurd little quirks. It’s not your fault, of course—it’s his, with his flour-dusted sleeves, that stupidly endearing laugh, and the way he talked about pastries like they were a love language. What was wrong with him?! you think, conveniently ignoring the fact that it was your awkwardness and runaway theatrics that had caused the scene. You’d blame it on sugar overload if it weren’t for the nagging realization that maybe—just maybe—he’d gotten under your skin, and the fact that you deserved it.

. . .

You hadn’t expected to hear from him again. Not after your embarrassing getaway. But three days later, you’re staring at an email with the subject line: "Notice of Legal Action for Unauthorized Sampling."

You open it with trembling fingers, only to find what can only be described as the world’s most dramatic—and definitely fake—lawsuit. 

Your jaw drops as you scroll through the email. He’d even attached a fake case number: #CAKE-404-NO-FUN.

The body of the email was littered with ridiculous legalese. Phrases like "egregious acts of confectionery negligence" and "failure to properly appreciate artisanal craftsmanship" were scattered between absurdly specific accusations.

There is a diagram. An actual diagram. Arrows pointing to "Exhibit A" (the Mont Blanc) and "Exhibit B" (the empty spot on the tray), annotated with notes like "victim of hasty consumption" and "left to fend for itself."

And then, at the very bottom, there it was—the pièce de résistance:

“This suit may be settled by one (1) heartfelt apology and one (1) coffee date at the aforementioned bakery. Should you require legal counsel, I suggest bringing your A-game. I am, after all, a connoisseur of arguments… and pastries. 😉”

You groan, head thunking against the back of your chair. The audacity. The drama. The fuckass emojis. 

This man is getting to you.

Your first reaction is, of course, panic. Your second? Rage. And by the time you storm into the bakery at ass o’clock before it even opens, Donghyuck is waiting for you, leaning against the counter like he owns the place. (Which he does, actually.)

He’s propped on his elbows, his posture easy and unhurried, as if he’s been expecting you. The black apron around his waist is slightly askew, and his beige T-shirt bears faint streaks of flour across the chest, a testament to an already busy morning. His fluffy brown hair is an artful mess, the kind that looks unintentional but infuriatingly perfect, with a few errant strands curling over his forehead. There’s a streak of something golden—sugar, maybe?—on his cheek, catching the light as he tilts his head to regard you with an expression that’s equal parts curious and smug.

“You’re early,” he remarks, his voice low and teasing, as though he isn’t the root of all evil.

“You think this is funny?” you demand, shoving your phone in his face.

Donghyuck grins, unbothered. “Hilarious, actually. Did it get your attention?”

“You can’t just send someone a fake legal notice!”

“Worked, didn’t it?” He shrugs, leaning back with infuriating calmness. “Besides, you owed me an explanation for your Houdini act. You know, poor Kimi had to clear your tray. She almost cried.”

“She did not!”

As if on cue, Kimi pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Oh, she absolutely did. It was tragic,” she deadpans before ducking back in.

You groan, feeling your cheeks grow hotter by the second. “You’re unbelievable.”

Donghyuck leans back, smug as ever, and gestures to the email still open on your phone. “Unbelievable or resourceful? Let’s review: I sent a single, harmless message—full of creativity and wit, I might add—and look where we are.”

“At me wanting to strangle you?”

“At you running right to me,” he corrects, his grin widening. “What, were you worried?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snap. “I’m here because—” 

You stop, realizing you don’t have a decent answer. “I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of thinking I took you seriously.”

“Oh, you absolutely took me seriously.” He nods sagely. “I saw the panic in your eyes. Admit it: for a second, you thought you were going to have to pay me a hundred grand or grovel at my feet.”

“I- ugh- fuck you!” is all you can muster, stepping forward without thinking.

He mirrors your movement, the space between you shrinking by degrees. 

“But seriously, you ghosted me, and I had to get creative. What the hell was I supposed to do? I figured the legal drama might get my point across.”

“What point?”

“That I wanted to see you again.” The words come out so easily, so matter-of-fact, you don’t know how to respond. When you finally glance up, he’s watching you closely, his expression uncharacteristically sincere.

“Just because you’re all cute and covered in flour like the star of some indie chef movie doesn’t mean you get to toy with me.”

“Ha! You’re presumptuous—despite all the fine details on me you seem to observe.” He leans in. “But guess what, I’m a greedy bastard that loves attention. So, look closer.”

And you look anywhere but his lips, too pink and too plush, as your face grows hotter than a convection oven on broil.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you manage, staring resolutely at the display of cakes. “That hardly counts as details.”

“Details,” he echoes, his grin growing wider. “Like the way I look at you?”

“You’re just a flirt,” you mutter.

He gasps, mock-offended, and gestures dramatically to the kitchen. “Kimi, did you hear that? I’m just a flirt!”

“You said it, not me,” Kimi calls back without missing a beat.

You laugh despite yourself, the sound surprising you. And Donghyuck doesn’t miss it. His gaze softens, the teasing edge in his voice dropping slightly. “There it is. I knew you could laugh without running away.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late.”

For a moment, the air shifts, the humor giving way to something quieter. Donghyuck’s gaze lingers—not on your awkward posture or flushed cheeks, but on you, as though trying to piece together something he doesn’t quite understand.

“What?” you finally ask, defensive.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, but there’s a small, genuine smile now. “Just... you’re such a fidgety person.”

“Are you trying to shell out an insult?”

“No, I mean, I always see you scuttling here and there. Always on the move. Always observing, but never stopping long enough to be seen. You just… don’t seem like someone who takes much time for yourself.”

You blink, caught off guard. He tilts his head, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s crossed a line.

“I’m wrong?” he asks, almost sheepishly.

“I—” You pause, unsure of how to respond. “You’re nosy, that’s what you are.”

“That’s a yes,” he decides, grinning again.

Donghyuck chuckles, leaning just a little closer, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours. “Tell you what,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur, “I’ll prove I’m not just nosy. Let me take you out. Somewhere you don’t have to bolt out the door halfway through.”

“You think I’d agree to that?” you retort, though your words lack bite. The proximity is doing something to your brain, and you’re acutely aware of how close he’s leaned in.

His grin is confident and infuriating. “I think you’d be curious enough to say yes.”

Your breath hitches as you realize how little space is left between the two of you, your noses almost brushing. “Woah,” you whisper, trying to play it off, “my mommy warned me about boys like you. All up close and personal with flour in their hair.”

He raises a brow, unrepentant. “Smart woman. But she didn’t tell you we’re pretty good at first dates, did she?”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes, soft but genuine. “Fine,” you say, straightening up and taking a step back before your pulse betrays you further. “But you’re paying. And no weird cakes this time.”

“Deal,” he replies, his smile softer now, more sincere.

And for a moment, you believe it—not just the act, not just the cakes and the banter, but the idea that maybe, somehow, this strange, sugar-dusted series of events has led to something real.

. . .

r/AmITheAsshole

u/YeastMode6969 • 16h

UPDATE: I faked my engagement for free cake samples then got sued after I ran away. AIO?

Fine, you guys were right. We’re dating now. Let’s just say we’ve been filling my cream puffs lately  🫠

Edit: I also got the Mont Blanc recipe!!

⥣ 7.7k ⥥ 3,297 Comments

kimikakes • 13h

KIMI HERE, REPORTING LIVE FROM THE SCENE: they literally argued over frosting consistency for half an hour yesterday. This relationship is built on chaos and croissants.

➥ Reply ⥣ 7.1k ⥥

bun_theory0222 • 2h

Hellooo where are the recipes. Priorities, OP :/

➥ Reply ⥣ 4.1k ⥥

lil_sugar_daddy0813 • 1h

man i was betting on donghyuck dying alone i dont wanna lose my $20

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.3k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h Give me your money NYEOW ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.7k ⥥

soggywaffle0205 • 6m why are you suddenly a furry ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h pays the bills ➥ Reply ⥣ 2.7k ⥥

[fluffyslug]

Sunset duo just hang and I love it.

You know when his eyes get all round? Yeah, I love that too.

Okay, the farmhouse ark was awesome, and well done. It was beautiful.

But...

I think something hard to show was just how much pressure was put on Donnie at the time. First off, he blamed himself for Leo's comatose state, because he didn't want to leave the lair. No doubt he was beating himself up over that constantly (also his father "died" and he might have blamed that on himslef too). And he's also the default medic: everyone would have been looking to him for how to treat Leo, even if he had no idea how.

That's a lot to put on a guy who's just lost everything he ever knew, all his tools, two members of his family, his hometown, and probably has no internet connection to boot. Raph was keeping watch over Leo and wrapping his head around being temporarily in charge. Mikey was distracting himself with chores and activities, trying to keep everybody going.

Donnie was alone.

Trying to save a life.

With no recources to speak of and no one who could help.

[densewentz]

[slavhew]

jakey + dirkjake sandwiched between my organic chem notes. a poem in there somewhere

[methoughtsphantom]

Jason “my family doesn’t know im alive” Todd and Danny “my family doesn’t know I’m dead” Fenton going alongside each of their plans my beloved. like Danny will absolutely go head-to-head with all of Gotham to support his new best friend on all his crime lord endeavors while he drags Jason to also attend collage with him. They are roommates and there never seems to a mention of family from either side. It’s an unspoken understanding they have. They met because Crime alley as a ghost lair thrummed with so much loneliness, it was at first the perfect place for Danny to hide his ecto signature in. But then he saw the dumbass whose lair it was lean his motorcycle just a tad too much when making a sharp turn to an alley, he sweeped the floor through a lifted chain link that passed his body but not his helmet. Yep that’s right the red thing got stuck. Danny who at the moment happened to be watching through his window snorted. Much to his horror because if not a ghost that dude could’ve gotten his head flung off.

Still, the scene was ridiculous.

On a whim he irrationally sees the police closing in on the guy and panicked at the thought of the guy using intangibility to free himself so Danny phased them both through his apartment wall and left the guy sprawled in his couch. Jason didn’t freak out but that’s normal when one’s got a concussion, one the guy immediately denied having as Danny laid out the medical supplies. The idiot proceeded to almost flatten four steps to the door with his stubbornness. He also said “I’m asexual” in the most deadpan voice as Danny dropped him back in the couch.

Danny sighed. Clearly though, he’d done so too early in the night because the guy kept trying to go, kept trying to knock Danny out, kept trying to slash him with knifes Danny didn’t know he had stashed. He’d only disarmed the guy from his guns. The visible ones apparently, cause at one point the guy did take out a gun and shoot until the ammo ran out and then teetered the thing like it was an art prop and hit his moon lamp.

Danny "yeah you aren’t officially my friend until you’ve tried to kill me" fenton my guys.

Anyways both keep having the same argument over if Danny technically kidnapped Jason or not. Danny holds the fact that the police at least didn’t see the guy make the ridicule. Jason argued that happened cause he was sporting a concussion. Danny argued he got that after.

Jason at first thinks the guy's a meta, but no. Danny introduces himself, sheepily now that he recognizes this is who the lair he invaded is from. He bandages him and tries to cook for him. If Danny didn’t have ice powers he most certainly would’ve burned the apartment. Jason then proceeds to kick him out of his own kitchen and make them both enchiladas. It’s the most normal both had in a while with another person and the air seems oddly settled. From then on, Jason constantly invited himself over, under the pretense that this was his territory and therefore he could drop in unannounced. Danny who has actual powers says he only allows this because Jason cooks very well.

Danny stays away from the crime fighting business unless his buddy is in deep shit he can’t get himself out. Also it’s Danny’s turn to cover for his vigilante friend which Sam and Tucker give him so much shit for. (but also advice)

And they were roommates. (omg) Danny effectively derails Jason’s big comeback plans by casually dropping ghost lore every two days. Like,

Jason, talking about how he doesn’t want Bats snooping on his territory:

Danny: Just don’t let them in

Jason: ??

Danny: yeah!! Hasn’t Batman died and got revived??? You can totally kick out death touched people you don’t want entering on your lair.

Jason: …I can?

Danny: Yep dude, your lair’s supposed to feel safe.

Jason: wait does that mean I can kick you out?

Danny: First this is my apartment. Second, im dead, not dead touched. Third, it’s too late to get rid of me. bitch.

Anyways Jason is super excited. You mean to tell him he can actually deny people over to his territory haunt?? (Yes it’s only to people who have died and came back but still!! The sample size is exactly the type of people he doesn’t want to see—!)

Joker my beloathed can’t step foot in Crime Alley.

(Jason’d feel a lot safer if the clown was dead but the possibility of his murderer turning into a ghost and their little loophole not applying on the clown is too scary to contemplate.)

Anyways, Jason loves experimenting with the power. It can go from simply making people shudder and not want to enter crime Alley to straight up not letting them enter like there’s an invisible wall blocking the way.

Jason because he’s hurt that Bruce never even patrols Crime Alley and also because he’s petty put B under the category of “invisible wall” blacklist. His reasoning is that the man doesn’t even attempt to enter Crime Alley. To him it’s surely just a place shadowed in tragedy. (anyways that’s it’s the place he met Jason)

Ironically, Jason totally forgets that Batman does venture into Crime Alley one day in the whole year. The day he met Jason.

Okay. He didn’t forget at first. The first year Jason remembers cause it was only a few months till then but then the next— Jason forgets that today’s the anniversary of the day’s Bruce’s parents died. He forgets to allow B in when he feels a slight tug and dismiss the feeling that prompts Bruce to investigate because he literally can’t enter Crime Alley. He starts the trialsTM, he scouts on the very edge and sees people the whole day enter and get out and cross with no problem but Bruce can’t.

It’s literally just Bruce.

Time to call Constantine, i guess.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Michael can survive (almost) anything in FNAF

[hinamie]

theyre soft your honour

[nobleriver]

Rick and Michonne Grimes - Their Journey Over the Years

It's a broken world, Michonne. And you're the only thing that puts it back together. Til my last breath I am yours.

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 4: Haunted