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atleastpleasetelephone · 7 months ago

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Gentle On My Mind - Chapter 7

Initially set in 1967 when Elvis is filming Clambake. Feeling miserable and trapped after the Colonel banishes Larry and the spiritual texts, Elvis invites Gloria to keep him company through the last five days of filming. Gloria is an aspiring movie editor and more importantly she's a lot of fun. Will she be what Elvis needs to get him out of the depressive funk he's in?

Catch up with the other parts here.

Many thanks to @sissylittlefeather being my beta reader on this one.

A/N: We're up to 1968 now...

Pairing: Elvis x OC - Gloria, a budding film editor.

Word count: 5.1K

TWs: Infidelity, p in v sex, fingering, possessive kink, size kink, dirty photos, angst.

Elvis doesn’t say a word on the drive back to the set, and he refuses to let any of the guys help him pack his things, closing the trailer door in their faces angrily. He takes his time putting clothes in bags, staring around the room at everything of hers that’s still there. Part of him is hoping if he does this slowly enough she’ll be back to pick up her things too. He’d spent the whole journey looking desperately for her car in the rear view mirror and not seeing it. But what would be the point? He wonders. Seeing her again wouldn’t change anything. If anything, it would make things worse.

Picking up the last of his possessions, he suddenly realises he hadn’t ever given Gloria anything. He looks at his hands, but he’s barely wearing any rings, and he doesn’t want to just carelessly take one off for her. She deserves better than that. He scans the room again but there’s nothing. Sitting down on the bed, heavily, he wallows in self-pity. He can’t believe she is the one girl he hasn’t given something to. Even the rose he gave her on the first day she was on set was taken away again by Charlie. How will she remember him now?

***

Gloria walks around the trailer slowly, gathering her things. She’d waited for a long time before driving back from the beach. Partly because it took her a long time to calm down, and partly to avoid running into Elvis again. She wonders who really has the power to drag him away from her like this, she’s not sure that it’s the guy who found them and drove him back. That guy had looked strangely familiar, although she can’t place him now. Once she’s packed she sits on the bed and thinks of all the fun they’d had in this trailer. All the things he’d told her, the tears he’d shed. She can’t believe how sad she feels right now. Sighing, she picks up her bag and heads towards the door. It was just a fling, she tells herself. You’ll be over it in a week or so.

***

A couple of days later the wedding photos are plastered all over the papers. He looks so happy, Gloria starts to wonder if what happened on the beach was just because he felt guilty. Maybe he felt like he should’ve been sad, maybe he felt like she wanted him to make love to her like that. Make love. She shakes her head, trying to knock the words back out of it again. Absolute nonsense. It was just a fling for both of you. This proves it.

***

“Let’s get rid of them. Come on. Let’s burn them. It’ll be a fresh start for both of us.”

Elvis holds the books in his hands. It probably is best to put all of this stuff behind him, now Larry is gone. Cilla is probably right. He feels a pang of regret as he throws them, one by one, into the flames. His hand grips the numerology book, immediately thinking of Gloria telling him she was just a foolish impulsive girl and he’d be president someday. He swallows down the lump in his throat.

“A fresh start,” he repeats, tossing the book into the fire, watching as the edges curl up and then the whole thing is engulfed in flames. “A fresh start together.”

***

It’s the third day of filming in LA for Chautauqua. As usual, Elvis is disappointed by the script. But he doesn’t have many more of these left to make, and at least this is a little different from his usual movies. After the disappointment of Charro! he actually feels okay about it. Plus, he’s just finished wrapping the Singer special and that’s something he’s definitely proud of. Finally finding a way to get back to seeing an audience again, the whites of people’s eyes. He’s still afraid of what people might think when they see it on TV. Does he still have it? But his confidence is back. Sometime soon he’ll be back in front of real audiences again. Just like he told Cilla he wanted.

He’s making his way to the set for the day when he thinks he hears a familiar giggle. Gloria. He shakes his head. It can’t be her, why would she be…

“Elvis!” Suddenly she’s right in front of him, the same exuberant smile, the same beautiful face. His eyes scan down her body and he notices she’s dressed a little more demurely than the last time he saw her. She grins. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Well I mean it’s my movie, honey. Think it should be me surprised to see you, not the other way around.”

He kisses her cheek, his hand on her arm. His eyes are sparkling, the blue set off wonderfully against the white suit he’s wearing, and it takes everything in her not to melt there and then.

“I’m here helping with the editing work,” she explains, trying to control the blush that she’s sure has spread over her cheeks.

“Oh really? That’s wonderful,” he replies, warmly.

They both stand there for a while, looking at each other, not sure what to say or do. Eventually Gloria breaks the silence.

“Congratulations, by the way. On your marriage, and your little girl.”

Elvis’ mouth curls into a lop-sided grin. “Ah, thank you. She sure is the apple of my eye.”

“I’m sure. I um… I have some news too.”

“Oh yeah?” Still smiling.

“I’m engaged!” She waggles her finger at him, showing off the diamond ring there. “Getting married as soon as this wraps up actually. History repeating.”

His face falls, though he tries hard to recover. ‘Oh… ah… uh… well congratulations. I never thought ya were the marrying type, but uh… guess I was wrong.”

She smiles. “Well, when you find the right person it’s the only thing to do. You know that, of course. You have Priscilla.”

She doesn’t mean it to come out like that, so cold and accusatory, but it does. He nods curtly.

“Yeah, sure. Anyway, I better go. Needed on set.”

“Good luck!” Gloria replies, brightly, trying to fix what she’d just done. “Break a leg!”

***

They spend the month of filming largely avoiding each other, and being polite when they find themselves in the same place at the same time. Gloria can’t help the feeling when she sees him though, every time her heart leaps and that familiar tingling starts between her legs. She bites her lip and closes her eyes and tries hard to think about her fiance instead. Roger had told her he loved her after three dates. He’d moved in after a month. He bought her pretty gifts every day and told her how he couldn’t live without her. She liked him. Of course she did, maybe she even loved him. But the important part was his devotion to her, which was unquestionable. Everything he did was to make her happy. She’d never experienced anything like it. So when he popped the question, of course she said yes. Then work sent her to LA, and she knew she’d see Elvis again. She’d tried to avoid reading about him, since the day his wedding was in all the papers. Thought that perhaps, over a year later, she’d got over their little fling. She had a man now who wanted her and needed her and provided for her. Once they were married she’d give this job up. But she had wanted to do this last movie, just to see that her feelings were really gone. Of course, they weren’t.

She knows they’re really not gone the night her and some of the crew crowd around a television set to watch the Singer special. Of course she’s seen him on TV before, when she was much younger, but only once. After all the furore about his wiggling hips her parents put a stop to her watching him, even that awful show where they made him sing to the dog. And she saw him sing on set, when he was filming Clambake. But it’s nothing like this. For a start, he looks so damn good in that leather suit. The sweat is just dripping off him and Gloria can’t help having flashbacks to the time he carried her on his shoulder and then spanked her. But it isn’t just the way he looks, it’s the way he acts. The man she met on the set of Clambake was a shell in comparison to this. She can see he starts off the sit-down part slightly shy, awkward, a little nervous. But by the end, as he sings Memories to two girls on either side of him, that’s all gone. He’s a performer. He’s in his element.

Her heart is beating so fast by the end of it. She feels like the whole thing was a whirlwind of singing and dancing and him on his knees in that suit, singing like a man possessed. Her brain tells her over and over again to go back to her trailer and touch herself, get it out of her system. But her legs carry her to Elvis’ trailer, and she stands outside looking in. He’s still in his Walter Hale get up, for some reason, but his hat is off and his hair is wild. The guys are all in there, laughing and cheering, all so excited they’ve clearly forgotten to put someone outside as a guard. All the same, she can’t go knocking on the door, not with so many of them about. She notices the guy that came down to get him from the beach that day, Joe? She’d remembered where she knew him from, several weeks after filming had wrapped. It just floated into her head one day. He was the guy at the party who’d told her about the beach. That’s how he knew exactly how to find them when they were gone.

She walks back to her trailer and tries to make good on her promise to herself of masturbation and then sleep. But she keeps seeing flashes of him from that show, and she knows he’s not far away. And worst of all, she knows he’s still wearing that white suit. She groans. The only thing to do is call Roger.

“Hi honey, it’s me,” she announces, brightly.

“Oh… um… hi honey. How come you’re calling so late? Something wrong?” He sounds sleepy.

She looks at her watch. It is kinda late. “Nothing wrong, just wanted to hear your voice.” Nothing wrong, nothing like I’m only just holding it together not to run into the trailer across the way and fuck Elvis Presley senseless.

“Well that’s very sweet, but I was just in bed.”

“Oh. Naked?” She asks, hopefully.

“C’mon Gloria, you know I never sleep naked. And I’m really tired. Let’s just talk tomorrow, can we?”

“Did you uh… did you see that Elvis thing on the TV tonight?” She has no idea why she’s asking this, beyond trying to keep him on the phone.

“No. Look, honey, I really need my rest. I’ve got work tomorrow.”

“Okay, sorry. I just missed you, is all.”

“I miss you too Gloria, but it won’t be long before you finish this movie now and then you and I never need to be apart again. Love you.”

And without waiting for her to reply, he puts the phone down. Gloria frowns. He’s usually so much more excited to talk to her than this. He’s probably just tired. It is late. She takes a few deep breaths and tries to stop thinking about Elvis and the sweat pouring off him as he sings. Her hand moves to her belly and the temptation to touch herself thinking about him gets even worse. She pours herself a drink and puts a record on. Think about something else. Anything else.

Three drinks later and all remaining sensible thoughts are gone. She pulls a fur coat and her boots on and walks out of her trailer towards his. It’s much quieter than before and the blinds are down so she can’t see inside this time. Crossing her fingers that he’s alone, she knocks on the door. It’s a while before he finally appears, looking slightly dishevelled, raking his hair back from his face. He’s shocked to see her.

“Glory.”

“Can I come in?”

He nods and opens the door wide for her, feeling her brush past him in the small doorway. Closing it before turning to face her.

“You okay?” He asks, tentatively.

She shakes her head. “No,” she replies, and before he has a chance to ask why her arms are around his neck and her tongue is in his mouth.

He pulls her towards him with his big hands, holding her body tightly. “Shit,” he mutters, as they come up for air. “Thought ya were gettin’ married?”

She shakes her head in a way that tells him not to talk about that. Her eyes trail over his body in the white suit of Walter Hale and she tries hard not to moan audibly.

“I watched the special,” she manages to get out before he kisses her again.

“What d’ya think?” He asks, his breath hot on her cheek, trailing kisses from the corner of her mouth down her neck.

“Fuck me.”

He giggles into her ear. “That good, huh?”

“I really wanna tell you about it…” she breathes. “But first I really need you to fuck me with that big dick.”

“Oh God, I’ve missed that filthy mouth of yours.”

She giggles and they stand there for a moment, just looking into one another’s eyes. He’s missed more than just her filthy mouth. This energy, this joy. He’s missed her terribly.

“Can you keep the suit on, though?”

He blinks. “What? The whole thing? Wardrobe will be mad with me if we mess it up…”

“Will they? Do you need to wear it again?” Her head is tilted to the side and she’s smirking at him.

He can’t help smirking back. “Okay, fine. I don’t care. You want me to leave it on, I’ll leave it on.”

She bites her lip. “The jacket can go,” pushing it off his shoulders. “And we don’t need this tie,” undoing it and throwing it on the floor. “But the rest can stay.”

“What about the hat?” He asks, picking it up from the table he’d left it on earlier.

She giggles, remembering that first night in his trailer when he’d put on a hat and a jacket and pretended to be her boss. “Put it on, let’s have a look.”

He grins, putting it on his head and then spotting a cigar on the table and putting that between his teeth too. “Ya like Walter, do ya baby?”

Giggling and nodding. “You gonna smoke that while you fuck me?”

“If you want me to.”

“I want you to.”

“C’mere,” he pushes her coat off her shoulders then picks her up in his arms and carries her over to the bed, putting her down carefully. She kicks off her boots.

Catching a glimpse of the long mirror on the closet door out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly has an idea he’s sure she’ll like.

“You wanna watch yourself?” Nodding at the mirror.

Gloria can hardly believe her ears. “Are you… okay?” She asks, but she doesn’t really want an answer. She likes him like this.

Elvis laughs, pulling her back up from the bed again and standing her in front of the mirror, his arms around her waist. He kisses her neck, cigar back in his hand for a moment.

“This way you can see me in this suit you like so much. And you can see yourself, getting fucked by my big dick.”

His hand moves down between her legs and squeezes. She hums with pleasure, grinning at his reflection. “I’d like that, big boy.”

He pulls a lighter out of his pocket, lighting the cigar and puffing out a cloud of smoke around her. She can’t help giggling, until he unzips her pants and slides his hand into her panties. She gasps as his fingers touch her pussy and he presses more hot kisses to her neck. Roger never touches her like this.

“I don’t like it when girls wear pants, baby,” he tells her, teeth grazing her earlobe.

“I better take them off then,” she replies, quickly reaching to shimmy them off.

He grins. “Might as well take it all off,” he suggests, stepping back to take another drag of the cigar and look at her from behind and then at her reflection again.

Gloria’s heart races at the idea of her being completely naked, in front of a mirror, and him behind her still wearing all his clothes. That TV special has certainly done something for his confidence levels, she thinks. She unbuttons her blouse and tosses it onto the floor, unhooking her bra and removing that too, so she’s just in her panties and socks. She looks back at his reflection in the mirror.

He smirks around the cigar. “All of it, honey.”

She does as he asks, standing naked in front of the mirror. He takes the cigar out of his mouth so he can kiss her shoulder.

“You’ve got a beautiful body, Glory. I missed it.”

“I missed your big dick.”

They both giggle, Elvis pulling her back against him. He slides his fingers back between her legs and starts to rub slow circles around her clit.

“Your fiance…” he murmurs, close to her ear.

“Average-sized,” she replies, quickly, panting a little at the pleasure building already.

She knows it won’t be long before he makes her come, she’s so het up already.

“Mmm. That’s a shame, baby.”

“He’s nothing… like you,” she moans.

Elvis smirks, taking another drag on his cigar as his fingers speed up their movements, watching her face in the mirror.

“Come for me, Glory.”

She whimpers, tipping her head back and exposing her throat for his kisses. Her legs shake as the pleasure builds and builds and then finally reaches that wonderful crescendo. Moaning, her back arching, her head flopping onto his shoulder.

“Mmmm. Good girl.”

She breathes hard, chest heaving, body tingling all over. He holds her for a few moments and then kisses her cheek.

“Fuck. Elvis. That was so good.”

“Better than anything you’ve had lately?” His breath hot against her ear.

She laughs, and elbows him in the side. “Stop that.”

“Okay, okay.” He runs his fingers down her sides gently. “How about you lean forward and put your hands on the closet… and spread your legs.”

“Something has happened to you since I saw you last,” she says, leaning forward and putting her hands on either side of the mirror.

He looks down at her ass and gives it a gentle slap, grinning as he grips his cigar between his teeth and unzips his pants, his dick standing to attention as soon as he releases it from the underpants he’d been forced to wear with the suit. Slowly starting to push inside her, he groans at how tight she is. Pulling her against him when he bottoms out, his mouth next to her ear again.

“You’re so tight, Glory. Don’t think this man of yours can be giving you everything you need, hm?”

Gloria’s head spins. She loves Roger. Loves him. But the things Elvis is saying are turning her on so much. And he’s so good at this.

“Hm?” He repeats, pulling back and thrusting into her, hard.

She whimpers as he lets her body go and she falls against the mirror, looking at her own reflection smudged against the glass. He obviously wants an answer.

“No…” she breathes, trying to get her hands back on the closet before he thrusts inside her again.

“You like this?” He asks, starting to pick up a steady pace now, holding her hair to arch her back. “You like being fucked with this big dick?”

“Yes… Mr Presley…”

Smoke billows from his cigar as he continues to pound her pussy, watching his dick disappear into her over and over again, and then looking at her flushed, beautiful face in the mirror. She groans at the intensity of the feeling, knowing her second orgasm is coming soon. The sex was so good before, but this is unbelievable. She loves him being so dominant.

He can feel her pussy clenching around him and it spurs him on to fuck her harder, knowing she must be getting close again.

“Gonna come for me again?” He murmurs, mouth still around the cigar.

“Yes… ohhhh…” she moans, feeling him hit that place inside her again and again.

“Tell me I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

Her eyes go wide at his words, hands sliding onto the glass of the mirror, making it hard for her to stay upright. She manages to mumble, “mmm.”

“I wanna hear you say it,” he repeats.

His impending orgasm is making him feel a little crazy, like he somehow wants to get one over on this guy who’s stealing his girl. His Glory.

“You’re… the best… I’ve ever… had…” she pants, and then falls forward, her face against the mirror as he keeps going, relentless, fucking her like a man possessed.

Her orgasm crashes into her with such force she almost screams, her walls squeezing him over and over as he continues to thrust. He moans and slams his palm against the closet as he comes deep inside her. Slowly, weakly pumping his hips a few more times and then falling against her fully.

“Fuck me,” she says quietly, from between him and the closet mirror. “One TV special and you just think you’re God’s gift all of a sudden.”

“Oh… ah… honey I-I…” he stammers, until he sees her face in the mirror, grinning at him. Realising she’s teasing. “Oh, you’re naughty.”

He stands up and pulls her against him, his arms around her waist, growling into her ear. She giggles and squirms, but she’s enjoying the feeling of him still gradually softening inside her. He stops abruptly as he looks at the floor.

“Ah. Shit.” Letting her go so he can pick up the cigar that is burning a hole in the carpet.

She turns around and laughs. “Oh my God. Let’s try not to set the trailer on fire.”

She admires him in the suit again as he puts the cigar out safely in an ashtray. But she wants to see his body now.

“Let's get you out of this.” Her fingers undoing the buttons of his waistcoat.

He smiles and lets her take his clothes off, feeling so much happier about his body now he’s lost that bit of extra weight. She stops to look at him once he’s naked, her hands exploring every inch of his skin as she follows her fingers with kisses. He’s lost the squishiness around his middle, and she’s almost sad about it. He’s so slight without clothes on, she wonders if he’s been eating enough.

He’s still bashful though, laughing and blushing and asking her if she’s finished yet as she kneels down in front of him and runs her fingers down his legs. She giggles back, looking up at him through her lashes, wondering herself what on earth she’s doing. But she can’t stop, she even kisses his toes. She wants to touch every bit of him. His breathing is uneven as he stares down at her. No woman has ever done anything like this to him. She stands up again slowly and he takes her hand in his and leads her to the bed. They get under the covers and then just stare at one another, him absent-mindedly stroking her cheek as she runs her fingers through his hair.

“So, what did ya think of the Special, then?” He finally asks.

She grins. “Incredible. You were amazing. I’ve never seen you move like that before. And the songs… I loved the whole thing. You must be proud.”

He smiles a little. He supposes he is. “Yeah. I’m really proud of the way it turned out. The Colonel wanted a Christmas special, but Steve really stood up to him.”

“A Christmas special?”

“Yeah, he wanted snowmen and presents and me in a Christmas sweater…”

Gloria giggles. “Oh well I’m sure you would’ve looked cute, but… I mean that suit…”

“You liked it?”

She puts her hand on his face, gently moving his hair back from his forehead. Some things hadn’t changed about him. He still needed constant reassurance.

“Obviously I liked it, it was tight and it made you sweat.”

He laughs, and she thinks about how pronounced his cheekbones are now.

“You think I look better than I did when I saw you last?” He asks, almost shyly.

“I think you’re just fishing for compliments now,” she teases, her arm around him and her leg between his.

“Well I think you look real good Glory,” he tells her, pulling her tightly against him and kissing her neck again. “Thought ya might want to compliment me back.”

She laughs, rolling him onto his back and biting his neck. “I told you how good you looked already. You’re so needy.”

He growls, easily overpowering her and rolling on top of her. “I’ve been dieting. And I love food. C’mon.”

He leans down and starts nibbling on her collarbone, making her giggle. “Don’t eat me!”

“No?” He raises an eyebrow and smirks.

She shoves his chest, laughing, and pushes him back off her again. They tussle back and forth for a while, giggling until they’re both out of breath.

“You looked good when we met and you look good now. I love you no matter how you look.”

The words are out of her mouth before she notices the inclusion of the word love. She buries her head in his chest, wondering what to do next. Does she love him? Well, she certainly just said she does. Does he love her? He has a wife.

Elvis looks down at her, stroking her hair gently. “I love you too, Glory.”

It doesn’t matter whether we love one another, she thinks. That’s irrelevant. She looks up, slowly. “Elvis, I’m getting married.”

“You don’t have ta.”

Gloria swallows, hard. “But you’re already married. And I want to… I… I’m going to marry Roger.”

“His name is Roger?” Elvis is struggling not to smirk.

“Stop it!” She shoves him again, laughing.

“He’s not going to satisfy you, Glory.”

“And neither are you, Elvis. You’re married and you have a baby, and a career. And I… can’t wait around for my own family.”

Elvis sighs. “Cilla and I aren’t… I mean, we don’t sleep together anymore…”

Gloria shakes her head. “I don’t want to hear this. I don’t… I’m getting married and that’s all there is to it.” She pauses for a moment. “But I’ll stay here tonight if you want me to.”

“Of course I want you to.”

Elvis feels jealousy coursing through his veins, the urge to find this Roger and tell him to call it off with her is huge and he wants to demand to know her address so he can go right now. He tries to swallow it all down. Maybe she’ll change her mind if she stays tonight. Surely he can persuade her if she stays in his trailer for the next week or so, until filming wraps. There’s no way they’re going to be able to stay apart now.

They spend the rest of the night talking, rather than sleeping, and several hours in Elvis remembers something he’d brought with him to set. He pulls out a polaroid camera, it’s big and expensive and it produces photographs immediately. Gloria’s eyes light up when he explains the concept to her.

“Can I take some of you, honey?” He asks.

She grins. “Dirty photos?”

He blushes, a little of the old insecurity back. “Well, only if ya want to…”

“Of course I want to! You fucked me in front of a mirror with your Walter Hale outfit on. Obviously I wanna do filthy stuff.”

He takes a few photos of her face, and then she starts to pose like a pin up girl so he takes photos of her like that. Then she starts to pose like the centrefold of a dirty mag and he takes some of her like that, too. He finds himself between her legs, taking a shot of her pussy and barely even blushing. After a while she holds her hands out.

“C’mon. I want some of you.”

He looks a little uncomfortable, so she gets up and grabs his white hat and another cigar.

“Here. Let me have one with you like this.”

She lies back on the bed and takes a photo of him leaning over her, smirking around the cigar.

“That better just be my face.”

“That one was,” she replies, gesturing for him to lie on his back and getting up on her knees to take another. “But this one definitely isn’t.”

He grabs her waist and pulls her on top of him, and it’s all she can do to avoid hitting him with the camera. “Let’s see.”

They tussle again for a while and then sit up, looking through the photos. He tries to tell her she can’t keep the photo of his dick but she just giggles and tells him she’ll keep it from falling into the wrong hands. Eventually they fall asleep in one another’s arms.

Gloria wakes up after only a couple of hours of sleep and looks at her watch. 6am. He’ll be awake in an hour or so to start filming again. She looks at him sleeping peacefully next to her. Then she looks at the photos again and smiles. Slips them into her handbag and gets dressed quietly. She can’t stay here. Can’t stay on set. She’ll just end up in his bed every night and then what will happen with her and Roger? Elvis will never commit to her like Roger has. She sighs, pulling on her boots and coat.

She can’t wake him up or he’ll just beg her to stay. But she feels funny about leaving without saying anything too. She looks around briefly for a pen, and when she can’t find one she takes her lipstick out of her bag. Applying it to her lips she picks up one of the pin-up style photos he’d taken of her and presses a kiss to it. Turning it over she scrawls on the back.

“Sorry big boy. You know I love you. Glory xx”

Quietly slipping out of the trailer she thinks she will probably never see him in person again. She sighs. Well, they’d at least had some fun.

***

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myceliumsunshine · 3 months ago

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hi hi hi what about sam/dean x oc/reader and a super angsty ask but like in s5 what if she was having nightmares of lucifer after he takes nick as a vessel and he was torturing her in her dreams, and then she never told anyone but she asked cas about it and then a couple of weeks later Dean and sam find out and she looks really tired because she hasn’t been sleeping a lot and then they ask her in front of cas what was happening, and then cas asks, “is it because of your nightmares” and then she tells them she’s been hallucinating him too??

Wow this was super long im sorry it’s ok if u don’t wanna write it

Me and the Devil - Sam Winchester

A/N - thanks so much for the request! and for the rest of you who all sent in requests, I am working my way through them the fastest I can! I don't know if this is exactly what you wanted @anxiety-prime-max, but I hope I delivered! Word Count: 2010

You’re tired.

Not the usual ‘I’ve been up since yesterday researching a case’ type of tired that you usually are. No. It’s settled in your bones, the type of tired you are.

The ‘I might never sleep again’ type of tired. The ‘no nap can help me now’ type of tired. You’re so tired, that if you died, you’d be glad, because at least you’d finally be sleeping. That’s how tired you are.

Your major lack of sleep was beginning to come noticeable. It showed in the bags under your eyes, the ones that no longer fit the requirements for carry ons, and instead had to be towed away under the plane. Your lack of sleep showed in the way your morning routine had changed. You no longer woke Sam from sleep, basking in each other’s presence until you were forced to get out of bed, gentle kisses pressed to eyelids and to tips of noses. Instead, you were out of bed the second Sam woke, beelining for the kitchen and basking in the presence of the coffee machine, gentle kisses pressed to the rim of your mug as you sipped on it.

The thing was, until recently, you hadn’t even drank coffee. You had always preferred tea, sipping on it slowly as your eyes flickered over your computer screen, researching whatever monster it was that your Winchester boys had found to hunt that week, grimacing as you realised how much time had went by based on the ice cold tea slipping down the back of your throat as you sculled it, not wanting it to go to waste.

Your new habits hadn’t gone unnoticed by the men you lived with. Sam and Dean - and occasionally Bobby and Castiel - were worried about you, worried about the changes in your personality. The way you seemed to drift from case to case, eyes unfocused, the way you seemed to twitch randomly, it hadn’t gone unnoticed by your friends.

You’re hurting.

Not the usual ‘a ghost threw me into a wall and my ribs ache’ type of hurt that it usually is. No. It’s nestled deep in your chest, the type of hurt you are.

Your heart feels like it’s going to explode sometimes. Your head feels like it already has. Your limbs are heavy, and your stomach has been replaced by a chainsaw, constantly revving, carving out your insides, churning and giving you the urge to throw up. You hurt so badly, that if you died, you’d be glad, because at least it would finally stop.

You flinched at every touch, whirling around to look at the offending person like they’d hit you. You jumped at every noise, eyes wide and hand whipping to the gun that was now always on your belt.

That was on the good days.

Some days, you couldn’t take it anymore. The fatigue lingering in your bones, the ache in your chest. You’d lay your head down on something, and the people closest to you would watch as you’d lay there, eyes closed but not asleep, twitching and flinching in the dead quiet.

Cas found you on one of those nights, in one of the cars in Bobby’s junkyard. You’d climbed up a stack of three cars, your eyes closed but not asleep, as you lay your head on the steering wheel, grateful for the fact that the horn no longer worked, and hadn’t for years.

The flap of wings made you twitch, the only acknowledgement for the man now sitting beside you.

“It is late.” When you don’t respond, he continues. “What ails you?”

You let out a loud sigh, wondering for a split second if you could beat your own skull in on the steering wheel, and if that would even make it stop. “I can’t sleep.”

“I can help with that.” Cas offers, and you look up from the steering wheel, eyes locking with his. He’s sincere, something he’s learnt since the beginning of the end of the world.

“You can’t help me, Castiel.” There’s a sadness in your eyes that feels older than Cas is. You wish he could help you. It pains you to deny his induced sleep.

“I could put you to sleep with a simple touch.” Cas informs you.

“It wouldn’t help. I… Castiel, whenever I fall asleep I wake up screaming. My nightmares keep me awake. So putting me to sleep wouldn’t help, because I’d be awake sooner rather than later.”

Cas tilts his head, pondering that. “A dreamless sleep then?”

You pause. “You can do that? Stop all of my dreams? All of my nightmares? A dreamless sleep?”

Cas nods, and some of the centuries old sadness leaves your eyes, replaced by a dim sense of hope. You nod slowly, and lay your head backwards on the seat, closing your eyes. Cas places a gentle hand on your forehead, and then, you’re asleep for the first time in three days, breathing steady and your body slack.

Cas watched over you, eyes flickering over your resting form, making sure you didn’t have any nightmares. When he deemed that you would sleep through the night, he was gone, signified by a rustling of wings.

Your screams graced the air not ten minutes later.

When Dean found you passed out in the back seat of the Impala a week later, and you punched him in the jaw, he knew that he and Sam had to do something.

Sam studied the bruise on his brother’s jaw, frowning at the angry mottle of purple and red that swirled together on his brother’s face. There was something wrong. Something seriously wrong. You would never punch Dean. Despite your profession, you despised violence, keeping the brother’s aggressive natures in check with your own passive one. It was one of the things Sam loved most about you. Even after it all, you were still the antithesis to the barbarity and viciousness that was Sam and Dean Winchester. Something sweet to come home to, something worth living for.

“We need to put an end to this.” Dean’s voice had no room for argument, not that Sam would have argued anyway. “Call Cas and tell him to meet us at Bobby’s. We’re doing an intervention.”

You twitched when the Impala’s engine fell silent. You opened your weary eyes, glancing out of the window to Bobby’s house. You pulled open the door, staggering out of the car and towards the house. Sam slammed your car door closed, and you flinched at the noise, stumbling slightly before righting yourself and continuing on your path.

Your eyes flickered across Bobby’s kitchen when you made it inside, settling on the pot of coffee. You found a mug, sniffing it and giving it a run around with some water to get rid of the dust inside before taking a reliving sip of slightly cold coffee.

You sighed contentedly, pouring yourself another cup and nursing it close to your chest, glancing around the house once more, now that you had some coffee in your system. Your eyes settled on Bobby, who was staring at you in concern, and Cas, who stood next to him, also staring at you.

“What?” You asked, taking another long sip of your coffee, pouring yourself another one. “What’s the matter?”

“You, kid. You’re scaring us.” You scoffed at Bobby, rolling your eyes and stalking past him to the other room, sitting down on the couch and tucking your legs up underneath yourself. The now group of four watched as you sat there with a book you’d nabbed from the side table, the one you’d left there the last time you’d been at Bobby’s, drinking your coffee and routinely twitching.

“Alright. What’s going on?” Dean asked, pulling up a chair and slinging his leg over it so that he was leaning his arms on the back of the chair, facing you. You looked up from your book, eyes narrow as you looked around the room.

“Nothing’s going on, Dean.” You said, turning back to your book. Your point was undercut by your flinch.

“Is this something to do with your lack of sleep?” Cas asks. “Have your nightmares been getting worse?”

You look over at Cas, shooting him a glare.

“What nightmares? What’s going on?” Sam asked, settling in beside you, a hand on your thigh.

“Nothing.” You deepen the glare you’re still shooting at Cas. Then you turn to Sam, eyes soft. “I told you, it’s nothing.”

Sam’s eyes grow sad, and you look into your lap. “You can tell me. I promise, baby, you can tell me anything. We just want to help.”

You look up, eyes looking between your friends. Bobby’s eyes are also sad, full of concern. Cas - well, you aren’t even sure if Cas knows what concern is, but he’s radiating understanding. Dean looks ready to fight - not you, but whatever it is that is hurting you, what’s causing you to act the way you are. And Sam, he looks just about ready to get down on his knees in front of you and beg, beg you to tell him what the matter is so he can fix it, so he can take away your pain.

You flinch at the loud crash that comes from behind them all.

Sam tilts his head, his hand coming to rest on your cheek. “What’s wrong, baby? Just tell us. We’ll fix it.”

“You can’t.” You croak out, your voice barely a whisper. You stare past him at your torturer. Sam turns slowly, looking over to the empty air.

“What do you see?” He asked softly, pulling your attention back to him. You look around to your friends, and the absolute exhaustion you feel is suddenly entirely visible to them all.

“I see him…” You admit, looking back to him. The hallucination sends you a flirty wave, and when you look back to Sam, he’s bleeding from his eyes, nose, and mouth. You twitch, closing your own eyes, and when you open them, the blood is gone.

“Who?” Dean asked, his eyes dark. Someone was taunting you, someone was doing this to you, and Dean wasn’t going to stand for it.

“Lucifer…” And there it is. The name is in the air, and looks are being shot between your friends. “At first it was just my dreams, dreams turned nightmares. I woke up screaming, so I started sleeping in the Impala, or the junkyard, so I would wake any of you up. But now he’s here, and he won’t ever let me sleep.”

There are tears running down your face now, and you shut your eyes, not willing to see the sympathetic and pitiful faces of your friends. You feel Sam’s hand come up to your cheek, wiping your tears, and you lean into it. You open your eyes to stare fondly at your lover, but let out a loud shriek, throwing yourself back off of the couch, as your eyes follow the hand from your face to Lucifer, who’d grinning like… well he’s grinning like the devil.

“What?! What’s going on?” Sam asks, by your side in a second, but you aren’t looking at him. You’re looking at Lucifer, tears streaming down your face.

“Please…” You beg the hallucination. “Please just leave me alone.”

Sam pauses at that, backing away to give you space, but you don’t pay attention to him. You stare mournfully at Lucifer, still so tired. When Lucifer sighs and disappears, you launch yourself into Sam’s arms. They’re around you immediately, a tight, grounding grip on the back of your shirt.

“What happened?” Cas asks, and you pull back from the hug to look at him, to look at Bobby and Dean as well.

“He’s gone. For now. But he’ll be back. He always is.”

Sam pulls you back into a hug, rubbing your back comfortingly. “We’re going to fix this, okay? I swear. If it takes killing Lucifer myself, then we’re going to fix this.”

Your companions nod. They would kill Lucifer. They would set you free.

But until then, you will be tired.

tagslist @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

#fanfic #writing #sam winchester #supernatural #fanfiction #spn #supernatural spn #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fanfiction #lucifer supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #season 5 supernatural #bobby singer #light angst #one shot

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alwaysonf1 · 1 year ago

Text

leak?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 740

Warning: N/A

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: Dates and times don't matter.

“Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down. Do you see what’s trending right now?”

There’s a sigh over the phone and Iman feels bad, but not enough that her anxiety is subsiding or that she can apologize in the moment.

“Mon ange, it’s not even a good picture of us. Plus, would it be so bad?”

Yes, is on the tip of her tongue, but it wasn’t the truth. Iman had just hoped there would be more time before the world knew. She’s adept at handling the media frenzy because of how it was when the world found out she existed. But this was something so fresh and new. She didn’t want to have to share it with anyone.

“No, I just…”

There are no words that come to mind. Logic is returning to her brain and she knows she’s being dramatic. Next to K-Pop stans, Formula 1 fans are creepy good at detective work. And one is always going to be around no matter where they are.

Also, she wasn’t completely bothered. There was a part of her that took joy in speculating that they were together. That he was her’s. It just isn’t strong enough to make the biggest impact in her head.

Iman sighs.

“Let them speculate. We don’t have to confirm anything.”

Another sigh.

She knows that he’s right, but she’d deluded herself into thinking that things could be chill. For at least a month. Or a week. But she’d found herself attached to Charles’ hip no matter how in public they were. There was some hope that if anything were to leak it would be her getting her ass handed to her in volleyball by Logan. It was ego bruising because she’s the one who played it through high school, but it was better than this.

“I know.”

“Then why all of this? You knew it would come eventually.”

“Not this quickly,” she mumbles.

There is a sound on the other end that sounds like a scoff. Iman has picked up when Charles is calling her out on her bullshit.

“I mean I could post that video of you falling on your face on the beach. That would get everyone’s attention,” Logan chimes in.

Iman’s eyes narrow as she turns to look at him leaning against her door frame snacking on popcorn. Lewis stands behind him with the bowl of popcorn that he’s been eating from.

Both idiots think her reaction is funny and have been watching her as she fights not to go into a spiral. Lewis has made comments about how she wasn’t even this bad when things got intense with the media after their episode.

The urge to cuss them out presents itself, but Iman simply raises her hand with only one finger extended. Both of them react in faux shock and offense before falling into a giggling fit.

What she’d done to have this life she wasn’t sure, but goodness did it sometimes test her.

“Mon ange…”

“Huh?”

Charles laughs. “I asked what you wanted to do. I want what makes you happy.”

For a second, she sits with her lips pursed as she thinks about it. They could get it out of the way, but it is much too soon to be making those kinds of announcements. Even if they’re both sure about this, it feels much too fast. Though Iman has to be honest in admitting that sometimes things move at a different pace when you’ve had years of friendship. And there are a few recent thoughts she’s had that are much faster than admitting to dating Charles Leclerc.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“For now, at least. If they catch something else and it goes crazy, we’ll just admit it. Or after like a month.”

“Okay, but mon ange, I’m not going to change my mind about you.”

Breathing becomes hard and Iman is barely able to tell him bye as they hang up the phone. Her phone drops from her hand and she falls back to fully lay on her bed. Butterflies are how she’d describe what she feels.

Laughter starts. At a speed that could give whiplash she turns her head and glares at the two pains in her ass.

“Get out!”

A pillow sails through the air and hits Lewis square in the face. Logan is gone before the other one can leave her hand and Lewis isn’t far behind him.

“Lord help me,” she says, sighing.

liked by lewishamilton, alex_albon, and 45,628 others

logansargeant 2x national champ my ass.

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#charles leclerc x black reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #formula one x black reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 x black!reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #formula one x oc #formula 1 x oc #charles leclerc x oc

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yerimsdreams · 10 months ago

Text

Duty is Sacrifice

author's note: chapter 2 is finally here! sorry for the wait, I had an exam period, but that is finally over!

cregan stark x oc (she/her pronouns)

warnings: swearing. sentencing. mention of death and murder. spoilers for fire&blood.

The council chamber was dimly lit by the morning light filtering through narrow windows, casting long shadows across the stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and the muted rustle of cloaks as the nobles took their seats. Cregan sat at the head of the table, towering above everyone else.

Benjicot, Oscar and Kermit cautiously observed him. Kermit's fingers lightly drummed against the table as his brother and friend awaited the words of the Lord of Winterfell.

On the other side of the table, the brothers Leowyn and Corwyn Corbray of the Vale sat with anticipation. They'd only arrived that morning in King's Landing after they had received word from Lady Arryn, who occupied a place at the opposite end of the table, her sharp gaze never leaving Cregan.

He let the silence stretch, allowing it to settle over the room. He knew what was coming, the resistance he would face, but he remained fixed.

''Unworthy as Aegon the Usurper might have been, his murder was high treason. Those responsible must answer for it.'' He spoke clearly, his hands clasped in front of him.

The others remained quiet at his words, exchanging uneasy glances with one another. It was a sentiment that most did not share, but none were eager to challenge the northman so directly.

''My lord,'' Benjicot dared to speak up, ''no one here disputes the crime that was committed, but we must consider the realm. Pursuing vengeance will only breed more unrest.''

''What of those who still hold Aegon the Elder's banner? What if they decide to seek a vengeance of their own in response to those imprisoned here?'' Lord Leowyn asked, shifting in his seat.

''There are still pockets of resistance, but they are of little consequence, my Lords.'' Lady Jeyne Arryn responded to his concerns, before Cregan could.

Lord Tully spoke up for the first time, scratching his voice. ''The Dance is done. The war is over, and the realm is in shambles. It is time to make peace.''

The Warden's eyes flicked to Kermit, studying the young boy's tired features. The desire for peace was palpable in the room, but so was the fear of what Cregan might do if his demands were not met.

''The realm must heal,'' he conceded, though his tone remained firm, ''but it cannot come at the mercy of justice. The killers of King Aegon II cannot be allowed to walk free, lest we invite more treachery.''

Kermit Tully’s drumming fingers stopped abruptly. He leaned forward, his expression serious, any trepidation that had manifested itself around Cregan gone. ''Let it be on your head, Stark. I want no part of this, but I will not have it said that Riverrun stood in the way of justice.''

Cregan nodded, somewhat relieved they would stop fighting him on this, even if it was done with heavy hearts and lingering doubts.

''Aegon the Younger will have to make you Hand, my Lord. No lord has the right to put another lord to death. You will need the King's authority to act in his name.'' Ser Corwyn reminded him. If Cregan were to put sentences on the kingslayers' heads, he will at least do so according to the law.

The Warden gave an unimpressed glare to the Corbray knight. He had no desire to undermine the authority of the King, nor to cast doubt on the justice he sought to dispense. The law would be his shield as much as his sword.

''Then it will be done,'' Cregan declared, ''I will seek the King’s authority, and with it, the traitors will be judged.''

The room fell into a heavy silence. The lords and Lady Arryn exchanged uneasy glances but did little more than nod. They could sense the determination in Cregan, a man who would not easily be swayed from his course. Even if they harboured doubts, they understood that any attempt to change his mind would be futile. Cregan held the authority in court now, whether they liked it or not.

''Where is Visenya?'' Bloody Ben asked. He had waited all meeting for her to walk into the room and join them, her empty seat now gathering dust as the council continued without her.

The question hung in the air, drawing the attention of the assembled lords. Cregan looked over to the Blackwood boy, his keen eyes narrowing ever so slightly. It was not only the inquiry that caught him off guard, but the casual way Benjicot referred to Visenya - by her name alone, without her title. Cregan knew that the young lord had fought alongside her, sharing the burdens of war in ways that few others could understand. But even so, the breach in formalities did not sit well with him.

Before he could even think of a response, Jeyne's voice had him beaten again. ''It is curious, isn't it?'' She mused, her tone deceptively light, though her eyes gleamed with sharpness. ''The Princess is not one to retreat without reason.''

She did not know why Visenya had confined herself to her chambers for days on end, speaking to no one but the young King Aegon. However, she had her suspicions, and they pointed directly to the man sitting at the head of the table.

The lords around the table exchanged puzzled glances, not fully grasping the weight of her words, but Cregan understood. Her pointed comment was as much a question as it was an accusation, a way of nudging Cregan to acknowledge his own part in whatever had driven Visenya into isolation.

But Cregan would not allow her to unsettle him in front of the others. ''The Princess will join us when she is ready.'' He replied, emphasising her title as he glanced at Lord Blackwood.

''Or when you are ready for her to join us?'' She'd leaned forward as she asked, further provoking the Warden of the North.

It was uncomfortable to watch, to say the least. The Maiden of the Vale the only one brave enough to somewhat challenge the Wolf of the North. Cregan would respect it if he was not the object of her sharp words. He knew she was testing him, trying to see how far she could push, but he was not about to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

''Whenever that may be,'' his voice was surprisingly calm, ''the council will continue its work. I suggest we resume our other duties now.''

The finality in his tone left no room for further provocation. Jeyne, though clearly unsatisfied, leaned back in her seat, her eyes still fixed on him, as if weighing his resolve.

One by one, the lords rose from their seats exchanging quiet murmurs as they made their way out of the council chamber. The clatter of boots and swords filled the air, the heavy atmosphere easing as the chamber slowly emptied.

Cregan lingered for a moment more, staring at the parchments in front of him. He realised his control over the court was slipping out of his hands. His plans to march on Casterly Rock, Storm's End, and Oldtown had been cast aside, undone by Visenya and Corlys's pacts of peace sent before his arrival. The trials for the traitors in the dungeons was the only thing that remained to him, and he would not let go of it.

The room had emptied, save for one.

Jeyne Arryn had no intention of letting him leave without a final word. She rose from her seat and approached him, her steps slow. There was an air of quiet authority about her, the kind that came from years of ruling her own domain with both strength and wisdom.

''Lord Stark,'' she addressed him, ''a moment, if you would.''

Cregan paused, turning to face her with a guarded expression. He was not in the mood for more of her probing comments, but something in her demeanour told him it would be a bit different.

''What is it you wish to discuss, my Lady?'' He acknowledged, standing up from his chair that scraped against the floor.

She held his gaze, the silence stretching between them for a heartbeat longer than was comfortable. And then, with a tone that was both knowing and subtly accusatory, she spoke a single name.

''Visenya.''

Cregan's breath hitched for a moment, not expecting such an outright answer. The name hung between them like a drawn sword.

''What of the Princess?'' He replied, his voice carefully neutral, though he knew it was a futile attempt to shield himself from whatever insight Jeyne was about to lay bare. Cregan could feel his pulse quicken.

Jeyne tilted her head slightly, a look in her eyes that seemed to see through his composed exterior. ''No one has seen her or spoken to her in days. The court has taken notice, as have I. One might wonder what has driven her to such isolation.''

His jaw tightened, the recurring mention of her absence stirring emotions he had tried to bury. He had thought of little else but her in those silent days, his thoughts a storm of conflicting feelings.

''Perhaps the Princess simply needs time for herself.'' He said, his voice low, though the uncertainty in his tone betrayed him. He didn’t sound sure of himself, and he knew it.

The Lady's gaze softened, feeling somewhat pitiful for him. ''When the council is in need of her mind, she precludes herself? My cousin's daughter does not run when her presence is required by others.''

Cregan's expression remained stoic, his face a mask of controlled indifference. He wasn’t about to let Jeyne, or anyone else, see any sign of doubt or guilt. ''War has taken its toll on all of us, my Lady. I trust the Princess knows what is best for her.''

She noted the evasiveness in his voice. She had seen many men in positions of power adopt this same diplomatic tone, a way of deflecting blame while maintaining an air of authority. But Cregan Stark, despite his best efforts, was not fooling her.

Jeyne's eyes narrowed, her earlier pity giving way to a sharper curiosity. ''Of course,'' she replied, her voice laced with just enough doubt to make it clear she wasn’t convinced, ''But Visenya is not one to retreat, as you have seen for yourself, I am sure. She has been through more than most can bear, yet she always finds a way to press on. So I ask again, what of the Princess, Lord Stark?''

His composure faltered, just for a heartbeat. It was a moment so brief that most might have missed it, but Jeyne Arryn was not most. ''As I said, Lady Arryn,'' he quickly recovered, ''the Princess is taking the time she needs.''

''She is not a woman to be underestimated, my Lord. Nor is she one to leave herself out of decisions that deeply affect her family, such as a potential execution of Lord Corlys Velaryon.''

She was figuring him out despite Cregan not giving anything away, it aggravated him. ''I do not underestimate her, my Lady,'' he said, keeping his tone respectful, ''I know full well what she is capable of.''

Jeyne studied him, letting her eyes wander over his figure. ''Do you?'' She challenged, again.

A flash of frustration crossed his face before he masked it with his usual composure. ''If you are implying something, Lady Arryn, I suggest you say it plainly.''

She chuckled softly, a sound that was more calculating than amused. ''Do not let your sense of duty blind you to what is right in front of you, my Lord.'' Her tone was gentle, more advice than accusation.

Jeyne did not press further, sensing she had said enough. She offered him a faint smile before leaving. The sound of her footsteps echoed softly as she made her way out of the chamber, leaving Cregan alone with his thoughts and maps.

As the guards closed the doors behind her, Cregan stared at the empty room and the large table in front of him. She had seen something in him, something he was not ready to admit to himself yet.

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was eerily silent, the weight of the impending judgments pressing heavily on all present. The Iron Throne loomed in the background, a jagged, forbidding monument to the power that had been fought over so bitterly. But today, it was not the Iron Throne that commanded attention, it was the man sitting before it, on a simple wooden bench, that captured all the eyes in the room.

Lord Cregan Stark, newly named Hand of the King, though it was less an honour and more a necessity born from the young king's fear and the absence of his formidable aunt, sat in judgement of all the turncloaks and kingslayers that had been arrested.

The next criminal in session was Ser Perkin the Flea, a man of no great birth but of infamy enough to fill the hall. His shoulders hunched slightly, his gaze shifting nervously as he was brought forward to stand trial. The man who had once risen so high through treachery now looked small and pathetic.

''Ser Perkin,'' Cregan acknowledged the traitor, ''you rose up in rebellion against your lawful queen and helped drive her from this city to her death. You raised up your own squire in her place, then abandoned him to save your worthless hide.''

The Flea opened his mouth to protest to plead his case, but Cregan continued, his voice growing colder with each word. ''The realm will be a better place without you.''

Desperation flared in Perkin's eyes. ''I was pardoned for those crimes, my Lord! I was forgiven!''

The Warden's expression did not change as he delivered his final, damning words. ''Not by me.''

The weight of that statement hung in the air as the Flea was led away, his fate sealed by the undaunted judgement of the Lord of Winterfell.

Next came Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake himself. The room seemed to hold its breath as the old man was brought forward, his chains clinking softly with each step. Unlike Perkin, Corlys did not cower or plead. His gaze was steady, though weary, as he faced Cregan.

Cregan observed him for a long moment, his thoughts unreadable. The Sea Snake had been many things - an ally, a traitor, a hero, a villain - but now, he stood accused of murder, and that was all that mattered.

''You stand accused of murder, regicide, and high treason. How do you answer these charges, Lord Velaryon?'' His deep northern accent boomed through the Great Hall.

Much to everyone's surprise, Corlys did not attempt to hide his guilt. ''What I did, I did for the good of the realm. I would do the same again. The madness had to end.''

Cregan remained silent for a moment, his gaze steady, measuring Corlys’s resolve. The old man had seen countless battles, navigated treacherous waters, both literal and political, and yet here he stood, admitting to regicide without a flicker of regret.

As he stared into the Sea Snake’s eyes, Cregan’s mind drifted, if only for a heartbeat, to Visenya. Their bitter words echoed in his memory, and he felt the sting of her absence more keenly than ever. Seven days had passed since they had last spoken, seven days of not having even seen a glimpse of her. It was a wound that festered, a silent torment he could not afford to indulge.

His gaze faltered for a brief moment as those thoughts consumed him, but he quickly steeled himself. This was not the time for doubt. Corlys Velaryon had committed murder, and murder demanded justice, no matter the cost.

''I declare Lord Corlys Velaryon guilty of murder, regicide, and high treason. For his crimes, he must pay with his life.'' Cregan decided, every word a hammer blow.

The old man stood silent, accepting the verdict with the same calm he had displayed throughout the trial. His granddaughters watched in horror as their grandsire was escorted away back to his cell in the dungeons, now a sentenced murderer and traitor.

The price of peace was high, and today, it had claimed the Sea Snake.

The halls of the Red Keep were quieter now, the echo of recent trials still lingering in the air. The heavy weight of the verdicts hung over the castle, settling uneasily in every corner, as if the very stones themselves were absorbing the gravity of what had transpired.

Cregan walked the corridors alone,his thoughts occupied with the day's grim duties. He was heading towards the courtyard, seeking his men, when a sudden presence halted him in his tracks.

''You cannot do this,'' Baela's voice was steady, her expression fierce, her hand gripping the hilt of a sword, ''Aegon pardoned my grandsire. He granted him mercy, and you cannot simply take that away.''

Beside her, Rhaena lingered, her gaze troubled but determined. Cregan could see that while she did not entirely condone her sister's approach, she had chosen to stand by her regardless.

The Warden regarded her for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching in something that was almost a smile. He recognized the fire in her eyes, a familiar Targaryen resolve that demanded to be heard. But her words, her challenge, it amused him more than it angered him.

''And you intend to force this pardon with that sword?'' Cregan asked, his voice laced with a hint of mockery.

Baela tightened her grip on the sword, her expression remaining fierce. She had made a show of defiance, but deep down, she knew she would not raise her blade against him. Cregan saw it too, the internal struggle playing out behind her determined gaze.

He let out a low, rumbling laugh. ''You will not use it, Princess. You are not here to fight me,'' Cregan respected Baela, she had been Jace's betrothed and his late friend had always spoken of her in high praises, ''you are here because you think you can sway me with a threat, but we both know that is not going to work.''

Baela clenched her jaw, her pride wounded by his dismissal. Rhaena, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. ''My sister only seeks what was promised by the King. It is not too late to honour that, Lord Stark.''

His laughter faded, replaced by a more serious expression as he looked between the Dragon Twins. ''The King may have offered pardon, but I have not. Your grandsire committed crimes that cannot be overlooked. What’s done is done.''

Baela's grip did not falter as she held it up to Cregan, her eyes blazing with a mix of fury and desperation. She could see that her words alone weren't enough to sway him, so she aimed for what she hoped would be a weak spot.

''Is that what you told Visenya, Lord Stark? Or did you wish to court her, but she rejected your Northern beastliness, and you had her imprisoned like you did our grandsire?''

Cregan's eyes flashed with anger at Baela's words, a fire igniting within him that he struggled to keep in check. Her comment had struck deeper than she could have known, but he would not let her see how much it affected him.

''Whispers of the court do not concern me, Princess.'' He brushed it aside, though his voice was dangerously low, his temper barely restrained. He knew she was trying to provoke him.

Baela's eyes narrowed as she noted his reaction. ''But they seem to concern my cousin, and what concerns her, concerns us, Lord Stark.'' She said, her tone dripping with disdain.

His temper flared, but he forced himself to maintain his composure. ''Put the sword down, Princess. You know as well as I do that you will not be making use of it.''

Baela refused to back down, the fire in her eyes only growing more intense as she stared him down. ''Do you think so little of us, Lord Stark?'' She asked, her voice venomous. ''You dismiss our concerns, our family, as if they are beneath you. You should know better than to dance with a dragon.''

''I do not underestimate anyone,'' he retorted, the same way he had said to Lady Jeyne in the council chamber, ''least of all your cousin. Your grandfather was complicit in the poisoning of a King, even if it was the Usurper. A crime he will be punished for.''

Her hand slowly dropped from the sword, the fire in her eyes dimming, replaced by a mixture of frustration and resignation. Still, she was not ready to let him have the last word.

''You might believe this is justice, but there will be those who remember this as cruelty.'' She said quietly, only loud enough for him and her sister to hear.

Cregan nodded slightly, acknowledging her words without conceding to them. ''History will judge us all, Princess.''

With that, he stepped past the two women, leaving them standing in the corridor. He did not slow his pace, even as doubt clawed at the edges of his mind.

Baela's grip on the sword slackened further, her shoulders drooping as she exchanged a look with Rhaena. Her twin put a comforting hand on her shoulder, guiding her away from the cold emptiness of the corridor.

The castle was draped in silence, the kind that only settled over King's Landing in the dead of night. The corridors were empty, save for the occasional torch flickering in its sconce. Outside, the air was cool, a stark contrast to the stuffy warmth inside the castle walls.

Visenya moved quietly, her steps light as she made her way through the Great Yard. She had been to see her dragon, Sōnax, seeking solace in the dead of night when sleep eluded her. The moon cast a pale light over the paths, guiding her through the maze of hedges and flowers that had once been so meticulously tended. Now, they seemed as weary as she felt, their blooms drooping in the darkness.

She passed the godswood, pausing against the heart tree. She took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs, trying to ease the tension that had settled in her chest.

It was then that she heard the faint sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate. She turned, instinctively reaching for the dagger she kept hidden in the folds of her gown ever since the start of the Dance, but she relaxed slightly when she saw who it was.

Cregan emerged from the shadows, his tall figure illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. He had been patrolling the grounds, unable to sleep with the weight of the day’s decisions pressing down on him. The trials, the confrontations - it all swirled in his mind, leaving him restless.

They had not expected to see each other at this hour or even at all until the Lord of Winterfell would ultimately return to the North.

The pair stared at one another, neither moving or speaking. The tension that had manifested itself in Visenya's chest had been lifted from her body and into the air between them. Cregan's dark eyes met hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Visenya did not look away.

''Princess.'' He finally greeted her, his voice rough from the lack of sleep.

''Lord Stark.'' She nodded, her tone equally guarded. She could see the weariness in his eyes, the lines of fatigue etched into his face. It mirrored her own exhaustion, the strain of everything they had endured.

He loosened the grip on his sword as he took a few steps closer. ''What brings you here at this hour?'' He asked, though he already suspected the answer.

''I could ask you the same.'' She replied, her tone neutral, careful.

Cregan let out a soft breath, almost a chuckle, but it lacked any real humour. ''I suppose neither of us has found much comfort in sleep lately.''

Visenya nodded, her gaze turning back to the large tree behind her. ''The nights are long when ones thoughts are troubled.''

''And yours are troubled, Princess?'' He asked, taking a step closer, though still keeping a respectful distance.

Her eyes flickered back to his. ''They are. As are yours, I imagine.''

Cregan did not provide her with an answer right away, instead watching her. He looked at her, really looked at her, and he could see the toll that the last few days had taken on her. She was still beautiful, even in all her fatigue and unrest.

''Yes,'' he said, his voice thoughtful, ''there is much to ponder about.''

''The trials, I suppose.'' She was leaning against the tree, observing every step and move he made.

Cregan stopped his pacing and turned to face her. ''Indeed.''

''I know what you think of his actions,'' Visenya sighed, '' and I agree that poison is a coward's weapon.'' Her gaze became distant, as if dreaming.

The Wolf of the North nodded along, his expression one of contemplation.

''When I flew to King's Landing, I only had one purpose; to kill my half-brother, to kill him as he had my sister, by burning him alive and feeding him to my dragon. You can imagine my anger when I arrived here and I am told that the Usurper is dead, and by poison of all ways,'' she chuckled, though the sound was devoid of real mirth.

''However, I am glad he got a coward's death. My sister died like a true Targaryen, in fire and blood. Her death will be a grand story told for centuries, but no one will remember his. The story of his demise will fade because it lacked the valour and the strength that he lacked,'' She admitted, almost sounding proud.

Cregan nodded slowly, understanding the fierce loyalty and pride that Visenya held for her family.

''But there are others who acted not out of cowardice, but out of duty to the realm, to their family. They deserve a different fate.'' She met his gaze again, sorrow in her eyes.

Cregan's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing where the conversation was leading. ''Lord Corlys Velaryon?''

Visenya nodded. ''I ask you one last time to reconsider his sentence. Yes, he made a choice that many would condemn, but without him, Aegon would not be alive today.''

He remained unreadable, though his eyes softened slightly. ''You ask much, Princess. The law cannot bend every time someone believes their cause is just.''

She stepped closer to him, her violet eyes locked onto his.''If not for the stability of the realm, if not for the honour of my nephew, if not for the sake of peace, for me. A personal boon.''

Cregan studied her, the sincerity in her voice piercing through the walls he had built around himself. ''And if I were to grant this boon, what would you offer in return, Princess?'' There was a hint of curiosity, the first time the mighty Warden of the North could actually sound like his conviction could be persuaded.

''In return, I will give you whatever you desire, Lord Stark.'' Visenya answered, her voice strong despite the tremor in her earlier plea.

He could see the desperation in her eyes, the way she held herself with a dignity that was both regal and vulnerable. The offer she made was not one to be taken lightly.

''What I desire?'' He repeated, almost as if testing the weight of those words. He looked down, thoughtful, then back at her, his gaze piercing through the darkness. ''What if what I desire is not something you are willing to give?''

Visenya stiffened slightly, her heart pounding as she anticipated what he might say. ''Name it.'' She said, though there was a hint of apprehension in her voice.

Cregan took another step, closing the distance between them. ''What I desire is all of you, forever.''

Visenya felt the air catch in her throat as Cregan's words hung between them. It was as if the entire world had paused, waiting for her response. His dark eyes, intense and unwavering, held hers captive, and for a moment, she found herself unable to speak.

''All of me?'' She managed to whisper. She was not sure if it was a question or an incredulous statement.

Cregan nodded, his expression solemn. ''Yes. Your hand in marriage, your loyalty, your trust - everything that you are, everything that you could be. Not just for a night or a season, but for as long as we both shall live.''

She searched his eyes, looking for a trace of jest or manipulation, but found only earnestness. The Warden of the North was not a man to make light of such things. The very idea was preposterous - her, a Targaryen, bound to the North? Yet, in that moment, it felt as though he was offering something more than a mere proposal. It was an invitation to a different kind of life, one far away from King's Landing.

She let out a small, breathless laugh, one that held no humour. ''Are you mad, my Lord? A Targaryen in the North?''

Cregan's lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. ''Perhaps I am, my Princess. But madness and greatness often walk hand in hand, do they not?''

Visenya regarded him, the idea swirling in her mind. It was mad, audacious, and yet... "You would truly ask this of me? To marry into the North, where winter reigns and dragons do not fly?"

He nodded, his expression unwavering. ''I would. The North may be a land of ice and snow, but it is also a land of honour, of strength, and of loyalty. It is a place where bonds are not easily broken, where words are not just spoken but lived, my Princess.''

''It is no place for dragons, nor for those who carry their blood.'' She shook her head.

''And yet, here you are,'' he countered, ''a dragon in King's Landing, a place that has brought you nothing but pain and loss. What has this city given you that the North could not? What has this life offered you, other than endless war and treachery?''

She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words. His questions struck at the heart of her fears, her uncertainties. The life she had known was one of fire and blood, of power plays and betrayals. But what had it truly brought her? What had it cost her?

Everything.

Cregan took her silence as an opportunity to continue. ''I offer you more than just a marriage, Princess. I offer you a chance to build something new, something not tainted by the ghosts of the past.''

Visenya felt a chill run down her spine, though she was not sure if it was the cold night air or the weight of his words. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine it - a life in Winterfell, far from the scheming of King’s Landing, the endless battles for power. A life with a man who, despite his stern exterior, had shown her a kind of respect and understanding she had not expected.

But the thought of leaving everything behind, of binding herself to a man she barely knew, was terrifying. ''You ask much of me, my Lord.'' She remarked, her voice slightly trembling.

''And you asked much of me, my Princess.'' He retorted gently.

''You are right,'' she chuckled, ''I did ask much of you.''

Visenya looked down, her thoughts a tangled web of doubt and longing. She had always been a Targaryen, defined by her name, her blood, her dragon. But what had that brought her? Loss after loss, betrayal after betrayal.

''What of my dragon? Sōnax is a creature of fire and sky, bound to me as I am to her.'' She could not leave her behind, she'd seen how Seasmoke had acted when Laenor left. She did not want Sōnax to be subjected to the same fate.

''She would find her place,'' he assured her, his eyes not leaving hers, ''The North may be cold, but it is also vast, with endless skies and mountains that reach the heavens. She will not be confined, just as you will not be.''

It did not feel real to her. As a young girl, she had imagined how her betrothal would go. She figured it would be much like her sister's, one to strengthen alliances and no regard for what either the bride or groom want. There was no room for dreams or desires. It was all about duty.

Despite asking him for a favour, his proposal almost felt like a choice. It felt foreign, strange, like something she was not accustomed to. To have a choice in something so monumental felt both liberating and terrifying.

''And if I say yes, if I agree to this... I want to be your equal. I do not wish for you to rule, while my only purpose would be to squeeze out heirs like a broodmare.'' She was firm and resolute, no room for arguing.

Cregan took her hand, engulfed by his. ''You would be my equal in every way, my Princess. We do not see women as mere vessels for heirs. I already have one, my son Rickon. We value strength, wisdom, and the ability to lead, regardless of one's gender. If you stand beside me as my wife, you will be a Lady of Winterfell, not just in name but in action.''

Visenya felt the warmth of his hand enveloping hers, a stark contrast to the cool night air that surrounded them. Her heart raced as she met his gaze, his grey eyes filled with a depth of sincerity she had not encountered before.

With a deep breath, she nodded, her decision crystallising in the quiet of the night. ''I will marry you, Lord Stark. A hand for a head.'' She agreed, grinning.

A genuine look of joy and relief crossed Cregan's face. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. ''Then it is settled,'' he said, his voice warm with emotion, ''I will have my men release Lord Corlys from his cell when the sun rises.''

''Thank you, my Lord.'' She expressed quietly.

''Cregan.'' He corrected gently.

''What?'' Visenya blinked, caught off guard by his sudden informality.

''You may call me Cregan.'' He repeated, his smile softening.

Visenya hesitated for a moment before nodding, a small smile forming on her lips. ''Then you may call me Visenya.'' She offered in return.

The familiarity between them, though still new, felt strangely comfortable.

''I will be leaving for Winterfell once the sentences have been carried out.'' Cregan informed her, still holding onto her hand.

She nodded, the gravity of his words not lost on her. ''So soon,'' she murmured, squeezing his larger hand as if to hold onto the moment a little longer, ''I will have to stay here longer. For Aegon, he needs me here for the time being.''

''I know,'' he mumbled back, ''your duty to him comes first. But when your time here is done, Winterfell will be waiting for you...and so will I.''

There was a tenderness in his words that made Visenya's heart ache. She gave him a small nod, her grip on his hand tightening for just a moment before she finally let go.

''We will discuss the formalities once we both have found some rest. I am retiring for the night.'' She announced, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the past week catching up with her as she leaned against the tree.

Cregan noticed the weariness in her posture and stepped forward. ''Allow me to escort you to your chambers, my Princess.'' He offered his arm, for her to support her weight.

Visenya smiled softly, touched by his offer but aware of the distance between their quarters. ''You are kind, Cregan, but your chambers are far, and you need rest as well. We have both endured enough for one night.'' Her words were gentle, her refusal a considerate one.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, understanding her reasoning. ''As you wish,'' he accepted, ''goodnight, my betrothed.'' She could see a hint of a smirk on his face.

''Goodnight, my betrothed.'' Visenya echoed, the words feeling both strange and comforting on her lips.

With one last look, they parted ways, each retreating to their respective chambers.

As Visenya walked away, the weight of their conversation settled over her like a heavy cloak. She had made a decision that would change the course of her life, and yet, she felt a strange sense of peace. It was not the peace that came from certainty, but the kind that came from acceptance, from choosing a path and committing to it.

Cregan watched her until she disappeared into the castle, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He had asked for her hand not out of a simple desire for power or alliance, but because he saw how fiercely she protected those who had stood by her sister and their family.

He wanted to be the object of her loyalty, amidst other things.

taglist: @oxymakestheworldgoround

#cregan stark x oc #cregan stark #house of the dragon fics #hotd fanfic #hotd fics #cregan stark fics #cregan stark fanfic #hotd x oc

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gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 1 year ago

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What are some pro-team green fanfics you would recommend?

Ohh I've been meaning to recommend a few! Most of these are Aegon-centric because I'm generally more interested in him than Aemond, but there are a couple Aemond fics in here as well, and at least one that's Alicent centric.

a poison tree by @branwendaughterofllyr is a Dance retelling in which Daemon and Viserys' younger brother Aegon lived and had a daughter, and that daughter ended up being raised with the green children. Branwen tells a compelling story with great attention to historical detail, and although the story is green leaning, I feel it is fair to both sides. It has many POVs and really tells the story from many different angles, some some reliable than others.

My co-author @aifsaath's series The Skies Are Always Red Above Valyria is an entire Dance retelling that starts with Alicent as a lady at court before her marriage but eventually will progress to the Dance itself (and involves our beloved Baela/Aegon pairing). Aife's fics always feature impeccable worldbuilding and lush descriptions, so check them out.

The Wrath of the Queen by @florisbaratheons has just started but is very promising, featuring a more proactive Alicent who gets a cooperative if reluctant Aegon on board with her plan to put him on the throne following Driftmark, as well as fully fleshed out versions of the Baratheon and Lannister sisters. After seeing Cassandra Baratheon and Jason and/or Tyland Lannister cast as antagonists in dozens of Dance fics it's nice to see them get a fair shake.

The Dog Days Are Over is a Aegon/Helaena fix-it by @franzkafkagfn which they escape to Essos to start over with the kids. She also has another Aegon/Rhaenyra fic that is I'd say slightly more green slanted simply because much of the rest of the canon black faction doesn't exist per se.

This one has been on hiatus awhile but In The Ripe and Ruin by @kingsroad will forever have my heart as the first OC fic I ever got into, featuring gorgeous worldbuilding and one of my favorite iterations of Aegon. He's awful but also incredibly endearing. According to the author it's not going to be super canon divergent, and OC is Aegon's mistress through the Dance! Crossing my fingers that the author returns soon!

Would That They Were Not is a one shot by @navree that deals with Blood and Cheese and Aemond's feelings of guilt in the aftermath. It's heartbreaking! Blood and Cheese happens here the way it does in the book so if the show ends up changing it and you want an idea of how it might have gone down, this one is very faithful.

1968 is a modern AU by @inthedayswhenlandswerefew In which the wife of presidential candidate Aemond Targaryen, who is running against Richard Nixon in the 1968 election, forms a connection with the family screw up, his older brother Aegon. This is technically a readerfic (hear me out!), although I'd really call it a 2nd person POV because the "you" is a fully fleshed out character more so than a reader insert. I do not usually go for readerfic but opened this on a whim because the history teacher in me saw the premise and went "what on earth" and proceeded to be blown away by delicate character work, symbolism, and gorgeous prose. I actually got several friends who do not usually enjoy Dance fic OR readerfic fully invested in this one. Is it pro green? I guess? It's not set in Westeros and Aemond is a real POS but Aegon is lovely and the blacks don't really feature so I think it counts.

#asks #fic recs #team green #alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #i've read all of these fics personally #i have more recs but some are more neutralish #these are more pro green

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athanza · 1 year ago

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Starlett - Final part

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, romance, some fluff

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

2077

That night, after dinner, Irene found Cooper on the sofa with Janey asleep on his lap, watching an old noire film with the volume down low.

"Thank you very much for dinner Mr. H- Cooper." She corrected herself, speaking low so as not to wake Janey. "It was lovely."

He looked up as she walked over. "It was no trouble at all. Janey loved having you here."

She smiled at his daughters sleeping face as she sat down on the edge of the sofa. "You've got a good kid there."

He looked down at her proudly. "Yeah, I sure do."

"She reminds me of my baby sister, she lives with my folks in Sacramento. I don't get to see her much anymore with my work and everything with Frank and Lee. It'll be good to see her again."

"How long has it been?"

"Almost 2 years. I know my sister resents me for how much I'm away, but hopefully that'll change now that I'll be away from Frank, at least until the divorce proceedings." She sighed with uneasiness.

"You'll be fine." Said Cooper encouragingly. "You're stronger than you think."

"Ditto." She smiled warmly. "And don't worry about Janey, you both love her so much. She'll understand when she's older, I promise."

He smiled, touched by her words. "Thank you."

She looked into his eyes and saw something she never had, a good man, a man who loves unconditionally and stands up for his family.

She, just for a moment, imagined what it would be like if he was her husband instead of Frank, if Janey were their daughter, if this was her life and not the daily abuse she had been going home to every night.

She could feel emotions begin to well behind her eyes and she snapped out of it before she embarrassed herself.

"Well, I should get some sleep, I'll be leaving early tomorrow. Thank you again."

The warmness that emanated from her was a welcome comfort in the midst of everything that had happened in the last few months. He almost didn't want her to leave, but he couldn't let himself fall, not now, not for her. They were meant for another time, another world, not this one.

"Irene?" Said Cooper, stopping her before she left. "This whole thing with Vault Tec...something's happening, something I'm not sure we'll ever come back from.

You're free from it now. Whatever's coming...it won't be worth giving up your happiness."

What he said about Vault Tec concerned her, not that it was surprising, but he was right about her happiness, he was right about everything. She wasn't going to be held back any longer.

"Thank you." She said, smiling softly.

2296

The sky was still dark when he left the cave. He'd covered Irene with whatever he could find to try to conceal her from raiders, hoping nothing else would find her while he was gone.

He knew there was a clinic in this area somewhere but whether it had anything left in it was a gamble.

As he made his way hastily through the area, he couldn't stop thinking about her and it just made him angry, 219 years of trying to become the monster that he had to be in order to survive, only for her to show up and remind him of that warmth that he'd long since forgotten. It made him weak, but he couldn't let her die, not now.

He heard movement up ahead, two men laughing drunkenly as they stumbled to find somewhere to relieve themselves.

Raiders.

The cages and skewered bodies around the building were a dead give-away and their little base just happened to be the clinic he was looking for.

Jackpot. They definitely had a stash in there somewhere.

The two men separated to find somewhere to piss but just as one got comfortable, Cooper blast his head off and took the other one out just a split second later.

"Oh HELL no!" Came a voice from the doorway of the clinic.

Without hesitation, Cooper shot him too, a bloody mess left on the door frame behind where he had been standing.

He stormed inside, his pump-action shotgun in hand, willing to use up all of his ammo to get what he needed.

Bullets and wood chips were flying every which way, and he took a bullet or two, but it took him no time at all to obliterate every person in that building.

He searched hastily for supplies, and when he found a first aid box full of stimpaks and cotton thread, he grabbed it and left, picking up several blood packs on his way out.

2077

The next morning, Irene was up early, her bag already in her car when Cooper came out to meet her.

"You weren't kiddin' about leavin' early." He said, the clock in the hallway reading 7:12am.

"I thought it'd be best if I left earlier rather than later."

He knew why. He didn't argue.

"Give this to Janey for me, would you? I noticed she liked it and I know it'll be in good hands."

She handed Cooper a silver locket with a daisy engraved delicately on the front.

He looked at it a bit surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I don't much care for it anymore. It'll be more appreciated with her." She smiled.

She did one last check of her purse to make sure she had everything and the tention in the air was starting to thicken. When she knew she had everything, she looked back up at him.

"Cooper?" She asked. "Do me a favour and don't let the world harden that heart of yours, ok? That part of people is important, even if it makes us feel weak, always remember that, ok?"

She leant forward and kissed his cheek. "See you 'round cowboy."

She smiled at him one last time before getting in her car, and as he watched her drive away he felt his heart ache a little. He would miss her, her warm smiles, and how she made Janey laugh, but it wasn't meant to be, and he knew that.

2296

He pulled off the foliage covering her now pale body and opened the case.

Her breathing was shallow and laboured, a puddle of blood underneath her that had started to coagulate.

He used one of the stimpaks, then another, then another until he had used all six, then pulled out the thread and started sewing up the deep gashes on her side that were sticky with blood.

He remembered the last time he saw her, her smile, the kiss. He remembered watching her drive away and wishing she hadn't. He remembered the last things she said to him.

"...don't let the world harden that heart of yours, ok? That part of people is important, even if it makes us feel weak..."

When he finished sewing, he hung up one of the blood bags and attached the long tube to her arm.

He was still and focused, hoping he wasn't too late, his hands now covered in her blood.

When she woke up after only a few minutes, she saw him sitting by the fire beside her and smiled sleepily.

"Hey there cowboy."

The End

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callsign-magnolia · 2 years ago

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Undiagnosed // Ch. 17

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, trauma response, abusive parents, smut.

Word Count: 6.1k

Chapter 16 | Masterlist

I shook the entire ride to the venue. Jake held my hand in the backseat of the Bronco, calming me with his words. “I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you and I won’t.” He whispered into my ear before kissing my hair. “You promise?” I joked. I knew he was serious but I needed to lighten the mood, to get this weight off me. “I swear, darlin’.” His arm rested across my shoulder and held me close until we arrived. “Stay here.” He told me before him and Bradley slipped out, walking around to mine and Natasha’s side. Jake opened my door and kindly helped me out. “Careful with her, man.” Bradley said as he tossed the valet his keys before wrapping Nat’s arm around his. The hotel was a gorgeous stone structure towering over everything around it. We walked inside and all I saw were dress whites and ball gowns. “There are a lot of people here.” I said, squeezing his arm a little tighter. He just rested his free hand over mine and nodded. “There are. But it’s okay, no one here will say anything to your parents, coop or anyone else that would tell them.” I furrowed my brows as we stepped into the elevator. “How do you know?” I asked, looking up at him. “We may or may not have gone around to everyone who's attending and asked them not to say anything.” Natasha answered. I just stared at them, mouth gaping in disbelief. “You did?” I asked quietly and they all nodded.

They all went out of their way to make sure that no one would tell my parents where I was. This is what having real friends was like. I was broken out of my thoughts as Jake tugged me from the elevator and into a grand ballroom. It was extravagant to say the least. “So what exactly is this ball for?” I asked. “The fiftieth anniversary of Top Guns' founding.” My eyebrows shot up and I stopped walking. “He’s not here. He may be Fleet Commander, but Admiral Simpson is the air boss. He runs Top Gun. Plus your dad is in a meeting back on base with the rest of the brass.” I took a deep breath just as a familiar face stepped closer. “Hey Mav.” Bradley said, pulling Maverick into a hug. Once he let go he came over to Jake and I. “Hi, Katie.” He said before pulling me into a quick hug. “Hi, Mav.” I said. “I’m glad you decided to come. Hangman here has been talking about this non stop for weeks.” He said and I raised a brow at Jake. “Oh, really now?” He nodded, a blush creeping up his neck.

“You should’ve seen him when he came in after you said yes.” Mav laughed. “Okay, why don’t we go sit down in our seats.” Jake said, gently pulling me away. He walked us over to a table where everyone else was. “Hi guys.” I greeted. Bob quickly stood, hugging me gently before kissing my cheek. “You look beautiful.” He said and I gave him a small smile. “Thank you.” As he stepped away Payback pulled me into a hug, then Fanboy, then Coyote. “It’s good to see you. Hangman’s been hiding away with you. We haven’t seen him much outside of work.” Coyote said as Jake pulled out my chair for me. I felt my face heat up at his words. “I’m sorry.” I muttered, my fingers playing with the skirt of my dress, rubbing it between my thumb and pointer finger. The feel of the soft material was almost calming. “Eh, don’t apologize. It’s been good for him.” Fanboy said and everyone laughed as Jake waved them off. “Alright now, I haven’t changed that much!” He said. “I wonder how Katie’s class is going?” Payback asked. “I should call Katie and check in with her.” Coyote said. “I can’t wait to get home and listen to Katie do her homework. She’s so smart.” Fanboy added and I turned to Jake.

He had his head downcast, not looking at me or anyone else as a red color climbed his neck. I smiled, grabbing his hand from his lap, intertwining our fingers. He picked his head up and I met his eyes. “You’re so sweet.” I whispered before leaning over and kissing his cheek. Everyone oohed at us and it was my turn to blush. “How is school going, Katie?” Bob asked. “Good. Midterms are creeping up fast, but Jake has been a big help with studying.” I said, my hand resting on his arm. “What? Does he give you a kiss every time you get an answer right?” Payback teased. We haven’t done that, but I can’t say I haven’t thought about it. Maybe now that the idea has been put in his head he’ll try it. “Actually he’ll quiz me while we make dinner, or while we’re cleaning.” They nodded and Jake, still holding my hand lifted it, resting our intertwined fingers on the table.

We heard a noise behind us and turned to see Cyclone taking the stage. “Good evening.” He said, holding up what seemed to be a glass of scotch. “It’s wonderful to have you all here to celebrate the founding of the Navy Strike Fighter Tactics Instructor program, or as we all know it, Top Gun.” Everyone cheered, the noise startling me. I jumped slightly and Jake laid his hand on my back. Cyclone launched into a long speech and as soon as he was finished, food was brought out. Waiters set our food in front of us and I looked at Jake. “You didn’t tell me this was a dinner.” I said and he gave me a sheepish look. “You kind of gave me last minute notice. But I got you the chicken.” I looked down at the food in front of me, it looked good and that’s when I realized how hungry I really was.

We ate and talked, it was just a nice evening. Not long after we finished eating, Jake got up to go speak to someone but I still kept looking over my shoulder, waiting to see my parents and Bob must have noticed. “Come on.” He said as he stood, holding out his hand. “What?” I asked and he smiled at me. “You need a distraction. So let’s dance.” I stared at his hand for a minute but slid my hand into his. He led me out onto the dance floor where the other couples were. He held my right hand in his, my left rested on his shoulder as his free hand rested on my waist. “You’re tense.” He said and I scoffed. “You would be too if you were in my position.” I said. He just chuckled and smiled at me. “I would be. But you have nothing to worry about.” I huffed. “I know you keep saying that but-” “Even if they did show up, we wouldn’t let anything happen.” I smiled at him. “That means a lot.” I said as we danced.

Everytime the song changed I was dancing with someone new. I made it through almost the entire team when Bradley took the next dance. “I’m glad you came.” He said as he took my hand. “I’m actually glad I came too.” I told him. I was finally relaxing, not as tense as I was earlier. “Maybe soon we can take you to The Hard Deck.” I furrowed my brows. “Isn’t that the bar you guys like to go to?” I asked and he nodded. “Mav’s girlfriend Penny owns it. I actually think she’s here somewhere. I’ll have to introduce you when we see her.” I nodded in agreement. “I’d like that.” I told him. Halfway through our dance Jake came over. “Mind if I cut in?” He asked and Bradley stepped away, heading back to Natasha as Jake took my hand. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” He said and I nodded. “I am. Thank you for the invite.” I said and he chuckled. “Thank you for saying yes.” I smiled up at him before laying my head on his shoulder. His hand rested on my back, his thumb rubbing up and down, calming me even more. We quietly danced and when the song was over he looped my arm through his. “Let’s go get a drink.” He said and I nodded, letting him lead me towards the table full of champagne.

“Here darlin’.” Jake said, handing me a flute. “Thank you.” He grabbed his own glass, clinking it with mine before he kissed my cheek. “Well don’t you two make a cute pair?” I froze at the voice behind me. Jake’s hand tightened around my waist. “What are you doing here, Coop?” He asked. Jake set down his glass, turning us to face him. He kept a hold of me, tucking me into his side. “What? Am I not allowed to party too? Maverick gave Richardson and I quite a bit of work specifically to keep us from attending.” He swayed slightly and he had a glassy look in his eyes. “Are you drunk?” Jake asked and he scoffed. “It’s a party! I figured I’d indulge a little.” He said as he took a step closer and I immediately gripped Jake a little tighter.

“Your daddies been looking for you.” He said tauntingly as he pointed at me. I swallowed the fear creeping up my throat “Well he can kiss my ass for all I care. I’m never going back.” I said as I glared at him. “Ooh! You grew some nerve since you left!” He swiped a glass of champagne from the table, taking another step closer. “It’s okay. It won’t be hard to beat it out of you.” Jake attempted to move me behind him but I stopped him. “I’m done being fucking scared of you and everyone else. I’m not gonna let you do shit to me and neither is Jake!” He just laughed in my face. “You think Hangman is gonna stop anyone?” He asked loudly, drawing attention. “Kate, baby. Do you remember your very first conversation with him?” He asked and I furrowed my brows. “After Iceman’s funeral?” It took me a minute but I remembered. “I paid him a hundred bucks to talk to you.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “He wouldn’t have talked to you if I hadn’t paid him. He even came back and told us all about how he thought you were weird and he would never speak to you again for even a million bucks.” A lump formed in my throat and tears threatened to gather in my eyes.

“Go ahead, Hangman. Tell her about it.” I whipped around to face Jake and he flinched from the angry look on my face. “Darlin’-” “Is it true?” I seethed. His face fell and he sighed. “Is. It. True?” My hands were fisted at my sides, shaking slightly. “Yes. The first part is true-” I reared my hand back before flinging it across his face. The skin on skin contact echoed across the room and people stopped to look at us. Jake’s eyes were wide and his face was turned away from me. “How fucking dare you! I just- I can’t-” I just screamed at him, not able to form words. With that I turned and stormed away from him, gripping my skirt tightly in my hands. I shoulder checked Coop as I passed him, sending him into the table. Tears streaked my face as I walked through the doors, slamming them open and storming down the hall. Once I rounded the corner I took a deep breath, a sob taking up my exhale. I leaned against the wall, my head knocking into it but I didn’t care. It’s the same. It’s always the same.

I gave myself a minute before I took a deep breath, halting my tears. No more crying, I’m done with the tears. I stood straight, wiping beneath my eyes. “Fuck.” I muttered, turning to walk down the hallway but screamed out as someone pulled my hair. “You think you can ruin my reputation and get away with it?” My blood ran cold as my fathers voice hissed in my ear. My hands were behind my head, gripping his hands but I brought my right one down, ramming my elbow back into my ribs. It was weak but enough for him to loosen his grip. I yanked my head away from him, surely losing some hair in the process. “I’m done pretending to be your perfect daughter! Fuck off!” I yelled. His hand flew out and he grabbed my neck. My hands flew up and gripped his wrist, hoping to pry his hands off of me but it was no use. He jerked me towards him, staring into my eyes. “You think you can run from me?” He asked. I glared at him before spitting in his face. He yelled before squeezing my neck. I thought he would choke me but he threw me to the ground instead.

I managed to catch myself, keeping my head from bouncing off the floor. “YOU WILL RESPECT ME!!” “HEY!” I looked up, seeing Bradley and Bob rushing over. I managed to stand, stopping them from attacking him. “I have no respect for you. I don’t think I ever have. You’re weak! Tossing me around like I’m some kind of ragdoll because you can’t control your own rage! I’m not the one who’s going to ruin your image, you are!” He stepped forward, reaching out again but a voice stopped him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Natasha rounded the corner, holding up her phone. “You’d lose your position if this got out.” She said, coming to stand next to me. “And if you put another hand on Katie, it will get out.” She said, smirking. “Lieutenant Trace, you delete that right now or I will have you dishonorably discharged.” She just smirked at him. “I’ll release this and you’ll be court-martialed within twenty-four hours.” With all the evidence I have against him, it could cost him his entire career.

“So why don’t we just all walk away from this?” She asked with a smirk. I nodded. “Good idea. I'm tired.” I said, turning on my heel and walking away from them. “This isn’t over!” My father yelled and I just gave him the finger. I walked back into the ballroom and Jake rushed over. “Katie, darlin’ please. What happened?” He asked when he noticed my hair. “Just a run in with my dad.” I said and he stopped me as he gently grabbed my biceps. “Where is he?” He asked, his green eyes darkening. “Don’t worry about it. Natasha took care of it. Besides, I’m weird aren’t I? You also haven’t been paid a million bucks so why are you talking to me?” I pushed past him and headed over to the table which had my small bag. “You okay?” Fanboy asked and I sighed. “No. I’m sure Jake will explain at work.” I said before turning and walking away. I felt bad for being rude to them but I couldn’t talk about it. “Let’s go.” I said to Jake as I walked past him. We squeezed into the elevator with Bradley and Natasha and I stood quietly not even looking at him. Once we stepped outside the cool air felt good but my rage was bubbling inside, threatening to explode out of me.

Jake attempted to help me into the Bronco but I smacked his hand away. Opting to gather my skirt and hoist myself into the back seat. I slid clear across the seat putting space between Jake and I. "Darlin'?" I held up my hand. cutting him aff. "I'm not speaking to you until I know I won't knock your teeth in." I was so angry I probably could've broken his nose, but that wouldn't make me feel better. Or would it? I shook my head. No. It wouldn't. Bradley drove us home in a loud silence. Everyone wanted to say something, I knew it but I wasn’t up to talk to Jake or about my father. Once we arrived Bradley got out before I could and opened my door. I let him help me out and before I could walk away he pulled me into a hug. “You call me if you need anything. Okay?” Even though I was angry, his words brought tears to my eyes. “Okay.” He kissed my head before he let me go. I turned for the door which Jake had already unlocked. I stormed past him, into the house and headed for the stairs.

“Darlin’-” “Just… Just stop.” I said, looking up at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay. “I just… I should’ve known better, you know?” I said as I took a deep breath. “It’s always the fucking same.” My head snapped to him and he looked so… sad. “Did you get off on it? Did it give you some kind of thrill to make the weird girl think you cared? Because that’s sick if that’s the case.” My voice became harsher and he physically flinched. “No! Darlin, I would never.” I glared at him. “Is that why you won’t have sex with me? You think I’m weird?” I snapped as I narrowed my eyes at him. “What? No!” He said with a confused look on his face. “Then why? I want fucking answers Jake!” I said as I slapped my hands together. “Why did you say all those things and why won’t you fuck me?! So help me god if I don’t get answers I’m packing my shit and I’m out!” “I never said those things! Coop lied! I actually enjoyed our conversation till your bitch of a mother interrupted us. You can ask Rooster, Phoenix, anyone and they’ll tell you that I came back and said how awful your mother was and that I felt bad for you. But then Coop got in my head and that’s why I was an ass!”

“Fine. I’ll text Nat. She’ll tell me the truth.” I texted Natasha and asked her what exactly Jake said after our first conversation. “You think I’m lying?” He asked astounded. “I don’t know! I don’t know anymore, Jake! I thought I knew you but I guess not! You can’t even tell me why you won’t sleep with me! I have been trying for weeks and you just brush it off!” He groaned out, throwing his hat across the room before he rounded on me. “YOU WANNA KNOW WHY I WON’T HAVE SEX WITH YOU?!” “THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN ASKING ISN’T IT?!” I yelled. “I wanted your first time to be special! There! You happy? I didn’t want it to feel like a quick fuck! I’ve been trying to come up with some way that I could make your first experience special!” I furrowed my brows in confusion. “My first time?” I asked and then it clicked. “You think i’m a fucking virgin?!” I yelled and he seemed shocked.

“You’re not?” It was a quiet question, his neck flushing pink with embarrassment. “No! It’s been over two years but I’ve had sex before! God Jake! I’m twenty-five!” He shrugged. “I didn’t know! You seemed so sheltered that I didn’t think you ever slept with anyone!” I scoffed. “Oh I did, and it was all to piss off my father!” I snapped back and it was like the tension in the room snapped. The air didn’t feel as heavy but I still felt so angry. My heart was racing and my adrenaline was pumping. I felt like the only way I was gonna calm down was to run or something. Jake’s face fell and I could tell he was sorry but I still wanted to knock him out. My phone buzzed and I looked at it seeing Nat’s response. It was my turn to feel bad. I huffed, rubbing my face with my hands, not caring if I ruined my makeup. “I’m sorry.” Jake said and it almost made me more angry. “I’m still mad at you.” I didn’t really have a reason to be now, but my anger didn’t just go away. I guess that’s where my father and I are alike. “You were right, Coop lied but I’m still angry.” I kicked off my heels and went upstairs. “Where are you going? Katie, I think we should still talk.” I scoffed. “I don’t think we should talk until I’ve calmed down because you have no idea how bad I want to fucking throttle you!”

I stormed into my bedroom and attempted to slam the door but he stopped it. “Throttle me?” I whirled on him. “Yes! I want so badly to just hit you! I’m so damn angry I feel like I could kick holes in the walls!” I squeezed my hands, attempting to keep them by my side. “I feel like I could run a goddamn marathon!” I yelled. “Deep breath. How can I help?” “You can’t!” I yelled, jerking my harm from his grasp and turning away from him. “Just leave me alone!” It was quiet for a moment and I attempted to calm down when he suddenly turned me to face him and his lips crashed into mine. I squeaked and pushed on his chest until he released me and my hand came up, slapping him in the face for the second time tonight. “Do it again.” I furrowed my brows in confusion. “What?” “If you wanna hit me, hit me. If you want to knock my teeth out, do it. Anything that’s gonna make you feel better.” His hand came up, knuckles brushing against my cheek. “Fuck it out of me.” My chest was heaving and I was breathless. “What?” Now he was confused. “Fuck me, Jake.” He stared at me before he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me into a heated kiss.

My hands came up gripping the front of his dress whites a moan escaping me as he bit down on my bottom lip. “Fuck.” He backed me up until my back was pressed against the wall. ”Jake.” I whined. My hands drifted lower until my fingers brushed the button on his pants. “Uh uh.” He said, grabbing my hands and pinning them by my head. He kissed just under my jaw and my back slightly arched off of the wall. “I’m gonna take my time with you, darlin’.” My breath caught in my throat at his words. “You gonna be a good girl for me?” He asked, his hand gently gripping my throat and I grinned at him. “Why don’t you find out?” He just grinned at me before he slammed his lips into mine again. He let my hands go and I tossed them around his neck. I squealed when he smacked my ass. "Jump." I didn't hesitate before jumping and wrapping my legs around his waist. He pressed me back into the wall, causing a moan to escape me. "The bed." I whined against his lips "You want the bed?" He knew that's what I wanted, he just wanted to tease me. I nodded, lips pressing against his cheek before moving to his jaw. "Alright darlin’." He pulled me away from the wall and walked over to the bed before carefully laying me down. Like magnets our lips found each others again. I arched my back, my chest pressing into his. "My dress." I moaned, the fabric of my dress rubbing against my nipples. "Oh no. The dress is staying on." He sat up on his knees and I could tell just how hard he was. “Oh it is?" I asked, looking up at him through my lashes. He ran his hands along the sides of my thighs before gripping them and lifting.

I bit my lip and held his gaze as he leaned down between my legs. I watched in anticipation and gasped as his nose nudged me through my panties. "You're soaked." He said as he brought his hand up, a knuckle pressing into me before he tugged the fabric to the side. "This thin little thong did nothing to hide it from me." I moaned as he ran a finger through my wetness before slowly pushing into me. I whined, hand reaching behind my head and gripping the pillow. "C'mon darlin. Tell me how it feels." I moaned, hips rolling into his hand. "Good." I gasped as he added a second finger. “Jake. Stop teasing." I begged and he chuckled. "This isn't teasing. This is foreplay. I have to get you warmed up." He sat up, leaning over me. His free hand came to rest on the side of my neck, his other hand continuously pumping in and out of me.

"You're not leaving this bed until I've pulled every orgasm I possibly can from you." His words struck something deep in my belly and I moaned, arching up into him. “You're going to cum on my fingers, my tongue and my cock. By the time I'm done with you, you won't even remember why you were mad in the first place." With that he lowered himself between my legs again, fingers still working inside me. But I cried out in shock as his tongue roughly licked my clit. His eyes met mine before he gripped my thighs, separating them until the sides of my knees pressed into the mattress. His tongue flicked my clit before he added a third finger and I whined. "Can't wait to bury my cock in you. You're so fuckin' tight darlin'.” He curled his fingers and after a few thrusts he brushed one spot inside me and everything went hazy. "Jake." I moaned out. "I know. You're so close, darlin’." He licked my clit again and my body jolted. "Cum for me, Katie." A fire started in my belly and it felt like flames erupted as Jake wrapped his lips around my clit and sucked harshly. I wanted to close my legs but he pulled his fingers from me and used both hands to pin my knees on the bed.

“Jake!" I squealed, but he didn't stop. He continued to suck until my hands gripped his blonde locks and my legs shook. He stopped sucking and I took a deep breath. I thought he was done, but was startled when his tongue prodded my entrance. He slipped his tongue in, licking me as he buried his face in my pussy. I was still gripping his hair as I rolled my hips against his face, riding his tongue. After a moment he pulled away and sat up. He smiled at me as my chest heaved. He leaned over me, hands resting next to my head. His left hand moved to rest on the side of my neck. "Good girl." Those two words had me preening for him. "So good for me." He kissed my neck and I dragged my heel along the back of his calf. "You gonna take my lock like a good girl too?" I nodded. "Yes." I moaned out. I reached between us, feeling how hard he was in his dress whites. He groaned before grabbing my hand, intertwining our fingers and grinding his clothed length into my bare core. "Jake, please." He groaned and sat up. "I don't think I could ever tell you no." He went to take his jacket off but I sat up, stopping him. "If my dress stays on, so does the uniform." He stared at me for a minute before he grinned. He reached and unbuttoned his pants, I leaned back on the bed again and I couldn't help but spread my legs wider. He freed himself from the confines of his boxers and I stilled. I forgot how big he was and how heavy he felt on my tongue. He leaned in, kissing me again. I tasted myself on his tongue, a taste I never imagined I'd enjoy. My hands rested on his biceps as he lined himself up. "You sure?” I nodded, rolling my hips. "Please." I've been waiting so long, I am not above begging. He pressed his forehead to mine as he pushed in. I bit my lip, feeling the head of his cock slip past my entrance. He pushed farther in and I could feel my walls stretching to accommodate his size. "You okay?" He asked, thumb brushing my cheek. That's when I noticed the tears.

He pushed in farther and I gasped. "Talk to me, darlin’." I struggled to find the words and when I finally did it was only two words. "So big." He chuckled before kissing his way across my jaw. "I know. I know, but you're doing so good for me." He slowly withdrew before pushing back into me. It wasn't long before he found a steady rhythm, hips rocking into mine. I gripped my thighs, pulling my legs back against. my chest. Jake leaned forward, broad shoulders keeping my legs back as he kissed me. "Gonna cum for me, darlin’? " My moans were growing louder as the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock rubbed against my clit. "Jake." I was writhing beneath him, my second orgasm coming in quick. “Fuck!” I yelled out before clinging to him. He kissed me as my orgasm washed over me, his hips not stopping as I fluttered around him. “Squeezing me so tight, darlin’.” He said, moving to kiss my neck before slowing his thrusts, eventually stopping. “You okay?” He asked and I nodded, pulling him into another kiss. “Take it off.” I said, starting to unbutton his jacket. I needed him out of his uniform, totally naked. “Woah,” He gently grabbed my hands. “We got time, darlin’.” I just leaned up, kissing him. “Sooner we strip, the more time we have.” He immediately sat up, pulling out before he stripped. He had to unzip my dress for me and he carefully pulled it off of me, laying it across the chair in the corner. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing kisses to my shoulder.

“I’ve been dying to get my hands on you. Especially since you decided to lay out topless.” His hands came up, pawing at my breasts. He took one of my nipples between his fingers, rolling it harshly, making me hiss. “Mm, I did that for you.” I said breathily, pushing my ass back into him. He turned me around, picking me up again before gently laying me on the bed again. He lined himself up, slowly pushing in again. I know we just finished, but I felt the burn of the stretch all over again. “Jake.” I moaned as he bottomed out. “Look so pretty underneath me.” He muttered, lips dragging across my chest. “Jake.” He picked his head up, looking at me. I brought my hand up, cradling his face as he looked at me. “Don’t be gentle with me.” I said and he raised a brow. “You sure? Just a few minutes ago you had tears rolling down your cheeks.” He said and I nodded. “I like it. When you’re not gentle with me.” He searched my eyes for any kind of hesitation, but when he found none, he nodded. I pulled him into another kiss just as he started thrusting into me. I moaned into the kiss and was surprised when he pulled away, sitting up. His large hands held my hips, his thrusts becoming harsher. “Fuck! Jake, yes!” I moaned out, my hands reaching out, resting on his knees. “Look at you, my good girl taking my cock so well.” I never knew words could affect me this way, but all I wanted was praise from him.

He grabbed my legs, moving them to one shoulder as he fucked me. “Ngh, Jake!” I whined. “So full.” He took up every free space inside me and I wanted him impossibly closer. I sat up, pulling him into another kiss. “Stop.” Immediately everything stopped and he looked at me with wide eyes. “You okay? Did I hurt you?” I pushed him to sit up by the head board and crawled into his lap. “Not in any way I didn’t like.” I reached behind me, lining him up before I sunk down around him. “Fuck, Katie darlin’. You’re so tight.” His head fell back against the headboard as I stilled. “I love the way you feel inside me, Jake.” I moaned in his ear, lips attaching to his neck. His hands held my waist before he gripped my ass attempting to move me. “Bounce on my cock, darlin’. Be a good girl for me.” I did as he said, slowly finding a rhythm that had us both moaning loudly. My hands rested on his shoulders, head falling back as I gasped and moaned. “I’m gonna cum.” With that he held me still, fucking up into me. “I’m not done with you yet.” He said before he lifted me off of him and laid me on my back again.

He grabbed my ankles, pushing my knees by my head again. “You’re gonna take my cock like a good girl and you’ll cum when I tell you too.” I don’t know if I could do it. But I wanted to, I wanted to try. He entered me in one thrust and I moaned loudly, hands gripping his wrist as he held my legs back. He was brutal in his thrusts and I encouraged it. “Jake! Right there! Oh god!” I threw my head back, hardly able to form a coherent sentence. “You like that?” He leaned down closer, letting go of my legs, allowing me to wrap them around his waist. He gently cradled my neck, no pressure as he stared into my eyes. “You like taking my cock?” I moaned, tears flowing down my cheeks. “Yes! Fucking love it!” I yelled out and he smirked, leaning down and taking one of my nipples between his lips. I buried my fingers in his hair, keeping him there as he buried his cock in me. “Jake, I’m gonna cum!” I yelled out and he smirked. “Cum around my cock, darlin’. Make a mess for me.” Seconds later my back was arching off the bed, toes curling as he buried himself inside me. He pulled out and I sat up. “C’mere.” I reached for him, leaning down as I jerked him off. “Oh shit. YOu don’t have to darlin’.” I shook my head, tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock and that’s all it took.

Hot ropes of cum shot out of his cock and landed on my face. I closed my eyes, letting him coat my face as he threw his head back, throaty moans leaving him. Once he was done I opened my eyes and looked up at him. Our chests were heaving and I sat up. “Goddamn.” He muttered, sitting up on his knees and pulling me into a kiss, not caring that his own cum was covering my face. “Let’s get you cleaned up, darlin’.” He smiled at me, getting up and going to my bathroom and grabbing a warm wash rag before he came back, wiping my face clean before he cleaned between my legs as well. I laid back on top of the covers before Jake stood, grabbing his uniform. Panic settled in my chest as he headed for the door. “Jake?” I asked as he reached for the doorknob. He looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Will you… will you stay?” I fully expected him to say no, but relief settled in me as he smiled and walked over. “Of course. Let me put my uniform away.” I nodded and he walked out. I pulled the covers down and crawled under them, waiting. Five minutes went by before he came back, smiling at me as he crawled under the covers next to me. “How do you feel?” He asked, turning on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. “Better. A lot better. Thank you.” I said, looking at him. He leaned down, kissing me gently. “Do you regret it?” I asked and he quickly shook his head. “No. I never could.” His thumb brushed my cheek and my eyes fluttered closed. A yawn hit me and he chuckled. “Let’s get some sleep.” He said, sliding down in bed and pulling me into him. “Honestly, I could go again.” He just chuckled. “Not tonight.” He said as a yawn of his own hit him. “Trust me, this won’t be the last time.” I closed my eyes, pressing back into him. He placed a kiss on my shoulder before kissing the back of my head. “Goodnight, Jake.” I muttered. “Goodnight, darlin’.”

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Taglist: @wkndwlff @alltimereverie @cherrycola27 @daisydaisygoose @rosiahills22 @deanoheartspie @cornishkat @high-speed-r @fogle97 @mygyn @ohgodnotagainn @emma8895eb @senjoritanana @kmc1989 @sandaltoesocks @mayhemmanaged @dempy @itsdesiree86 @sunderland-6 @jstarr86 @brooke-stinson @rachkon @topguncultleader @bethbunnyy @topgun-imagines @clancycucumber230 @seitmai @kkrenae @djs8891 @shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @eugene-emt-roe @hisredheadedgoddess28 @littlewhiterose @formulapierre @wade-wilsons-chew-toy @bethabear12 @halstead-severide-fan @gg-trini @memeorydotcom @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker @inthestars-underthesun @praline357 @fanboyluvr @greaser9902 @felinegrate @lemmons1998 @thegoddessc @lynnevanss

#top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin top gun #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x neurodivergent oc #adhd oc #undiagnosed

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ark-inkweaving · 30 days ago

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✨Let's talk about OCs!✨ How would you describe your OC's personality/aesthetic? What's your favourite thing about them? Tell us a fun fact(s) about your OC or their creation!❤️ Send this to at least 3 people to spread some OC appreciation!❤️

hey Alina, thanks so much for the OC appreciation. i feel like it might be worth talking about Edra, Niev's kid

Edra (full name: Edrahil Mirolaena) is the vibrant age of ten at the start of the first book, and nearly seventeen at the end of the last. over the course of the story he grows into an ingenious and curious smartass and — thanks to the combined efforts of Niev, Lukiat and Reyenn, plus the many aunts and uncles he acquires — he keeps most of his innocence and wonder

this is not to say he's ignorant about the war, he actually grows up rather politically savvy and good with a number of weapons (Niev still doesn't know who taught him how to use a gun). the adults just try to keep him away from the worst of the violence

Edra is actually the mind behind some of the craziest moves taken from the end of book 4 and on, mostly on the political / social / propagandistic front

i have a very specific color in mind for him that is His Vibe™, it's this somewhat bright pastel blue-purple, with copper as his metal and black as his neutral. he's plenty iridescent tho, so his palette ends up more something like this

his aesthetic is bubbles and dewdrops and light refractions, but also spiders and snakes. soft and lighthearted, but still incredibly cunning and skilled

my favorite thing about him is that he's always observing, listening and thinking. Niev, Lukiat and Reyenn are both extremely proud and mildly terrified. they grow much more stressed about this when Edra enters the "i have analyzed the situation and concluded that [correct conclusion] and that the best course of action is [completely batshit insane idea]", and now they have to sit him down (again) and explain to him that things are more complicated than that but he can sit with them and explain his idea and they can talk through what works and what doesn't. he is the driving force behind the chaos

a fun fact about him is that he's also existed since the second version of the story, but at the time things were wildly different, from his backstory to his looks to his powerset and elemental resonance. he's probably one of the characters who has changed the most. actually, he definitely is. he's gone through four gender changes, three designs, two backstories and five ancestries before i settled on the one i have rn. this is substantially more than any other character

❊

✵ Revolve Taglist ✵ @corinneglass @aalinaaaaaa @write-with-will @mymomsaysbobcipher @writeintrees @firesidefantasy @inspirationallybored

#ark replies #with the mutuals #oc appreciation #ark originals #ark revolve #revolve edra #writeblr #writers on tumblr #creative writing

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rivalhughs · 7 days ago

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10 First Lines Challenge

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your latest fanfics (or up to if you have fewer) and tag ten people!

thank you for the tag @mailrebel ! i love a tag game ^_^

i shall tag ! @antihibikase @darthnell @clearedpipes @savameh @thetwinandpinleftbehind @energysynergymatrix @alphaareus @pancake-umbreon @memories-break-our-fall and anyone who'd like to ^_^

1- clip my wings and cast them in gold- The Hunger Games OC centric fic. With deep brown eyes and soft, curly brown hair, Dmitri was- to his peers- eye-catching to say the least.

2- ancient songs and post-picnic aftermath - TLOZ Breath of the Wild, Zelink With a content sigh, Zelda leaned back, lifted her head toward the sky, and breathed in the cooling, salted, seaside air.

3- there's darkness above and a cloud in my arms- TLOZ Echoes of Wisdom, Zelink The distant chimes of the hourly church bells weighed heavily on Zelda’s heart as she sat upright in her bed, cat by her side, glowering at the mirror on the wall.

4- forever changed - TLOZ Breath of the Wild Link is quite sure that his legs have turned to lead. They certainly feel heavy enough.

5- The Belle of the Poke-Ball! - Pokemon anime XYZ, satosere If there was a downside to having so many wonderful friends, it was the terrible ache that weighed his body down every moment he spent apart from them.

6- the sunbird and the swan- Hunger Games OC centric fic for the SYOT Verses discord Victors Exchange 2024

"Tap, tap, tap,

Kiro drummed his fingers against the chipped orange paint covering the rusted metal of the old monkey-bars as he stared past the end of the play park and down the hill."

7- dial tone- nerdy prudes must die

Still no response.

Ruth purses her lips and narrows her eyes as she looks down at her phone screen once more. It’s Monday. Richie has gone the whole entire weekend without replying to a single one of her texts.

8- i'll never see this house again- Hunger Games oc oneshot

‘There,’

Velvet breathed a sigh of relief as she cut through the final long lock of hair, and it fell to the floor.

9- please do not breathe in the pondwater- TLOZ BOTW oc centric fic A man who went missing a hundred years ago wakes up in the shallow pond atop Satori Mountain. It almost sounds like the beginning of a joke, but the shakes that tremble through his entire body when he bolts upright are not borne of laughter.

10-a brief interlude - Hunger Games OC-fic supplementary oneshot

That boy’s a ticking time bomb,” Blight says as I walk back into the apartment. His voice isn’t judgmental, nor rude or even concerned. It’s a simple fact. And I agree.

#tag games #words

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zaldritzosrose · 4 months ago

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To Tame A Wolf: Part Three

Summary: The battle for alliance had begun. The Greens and the Blacks. The North was a desired ally. And a marriage would be the way to secure it.

TW: She/Her Pronouns, use of OC (Lyanna Stark), mentions of brothels and sex work, arranged marriage, Aegon being a menace, slightly manipulative Alicent.

Words: 2120

Part One Part Two

Thank you, @legitalicat and @tumblin-theworldaway being my lovely betas!

Uneasy Lies The Head

That night, Lyanna did not sleep. A combination of a room that was not hers, a bed that was not hers and the sick feeling of missing her home. She was now without any of her comforts, without her friends, even her brother. And a soon to be husband who held as much disdain for her as she did for him.

Morning came far too soon, and she was sure she had slept maybe a few hours at the most. Not enough to tolerate a new day in the capital. And the wedding plans she knew would surely come. She had not even left her bed when a knock came to her door, the voice of a servant asking for entry.

“Enter,” she replied, slipping from the bed and searching for her robe.

The young girl entered the room, carrying a bucket of warm water for a bath and a small basket of clean clothing was at her feet.

“My lady, Queen Alicent has asked for some more clothing to be brought to you. Fabrics more suited to the Southern climates,” the young girl spoke so softly, as though she feared Lyanna would somehow be upset with her.

“Thank you,” was all Lyanna gave in reply, looking through the basket as the young serving girl filled her bath.

She appreciated the gesture. Her own clothing would not have been suited to the South. But it was the various shades of green that made her scrunch her nose in disgust. Lyanna knew that this particular branch of the royal family favoured the Hightower colours, but she was not yet married into it. Wearing only green did not sit well with her.

“Could you ask…could I have clothes that are not so…green?” Lyanna asked, turning to the servant with a calm expression.

The young girl seemed to falter, but she nodded softly. Finishing filling the bath and leaving without another word. Lyanna knew she was to be expected at a family breakfast that morning but as soon as the servant left, worry gnawed at her.

Would rejecting the clothes offend the Queen? That was not exactly a good foot to step from.

With a sigh, she picked the least green dress she could find. Laying it out on the bed before stepping into the bath.

Aemond had already been awake for a couple of hours when he was called to breakfast with his family. His usual routine of wake early, train for an hour and then bathe and dress for the day had not changed.

But this breakfast was to be different, for it would be the first breakfast with his betrothed in attendance. And it wasn’t her presence he was concerned about; it was his brother’s reaction to it that Aemond anticipated.

Aegon had already made it clear he planned to use this marriage to torment Aemond. So he imagined a breakfast wasn’t about to be any different.

He bathed, dressed and made his way quickly down to the breakfast chamber.

Aemond arrived before Lyanna, and he had barely crossed the threshold before his mother was at his side.

“Before Lady Lyanna arrives, I need to speak with you,” Alicent said calmly, but the grip on his arm told him he had no choice but to listen to what she had to say.

He nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“I want to ask you to do one thing, in regards to this marriage,” she continued and Aemond knew where this was going.

“As challenging as it may seem, show her some kindness. Civility at least. This marriage is a benefit to us all, should it succeed.”

Aemond sighed. Being ‘kind’ to Lyanna wasn’t to be as easy as his mother seemed to believe. She despised him, he knew that much. It wasn’t him personally, it was what he represented. And Aemond had yet to reveal the lengths he had gone to in order to secure the alliance.

“I will do what I can, Mother,” was all he answered as the doors opened again.

Lyanna ignored how everyone in the room turned to look at her as she entered. Like she was some new novelty to be gawked at.

Aegon and Helaena were already seated, as was Lord Otto. Her eyes travelled to where Alicent and Aemond were stood talking. And she was met with two very different stares. The soft, motherly gaze of the Queen Mother and the intense, singular stare of her betrothed.

But she didn’t miss the subtle push that Alicent gave Aemond, urging him in Lyanna’s direction.

“Good morning, my prince,” Lyanna said politely as Aemond approached, before offering similar greetings to the other members of his family.

Aemond offered out his arm, the words from his mother lingering in the back of his mind. Be kind, be respectful. This marriage was a duty, and he was not a man who shirked his duty.

“Good morning, my lady.”

He walked with her to the table, pulling out her chair and taking his seat beside her. Alicent sat across from them, waving her hand for the breakfast to be served now everyone had arrived.

Lyanna sat quietly, simply listening to the pockets of conversation around her. Otto kindly listening to Helaena, a proud smile on his face whilst Alicent began to order around the servants delivering food. To Aegon leaning across the table, in an attempt to speak to Aemond.

“Look at you, brother!” Aegon smirked, and Aemond’s jaw immediately tightened.

“Has the she wolf already got you by the stones?”

A pin could have dropped in the room. Even the servants seemed to stiffen as they hurriedly placed the down the plates they held and scurried away. Alicent stared daggers into Aegon’s side, though he paid no mind to her.

Aemond wrestled with a choice in his mind. Snap back at his brother as he usually did and earn his mother’s ire for embarrassing himself in front of his betrothed. Or say nothing and look weak – earning likely more teasing from Aegon.

But it seemed Lyanna made the choice before he could even speak.

“Not quite, Your Grace,” Lyanna said softly, her eyes betraying a little more of the annoyance she felt.

“Though we are not yet married.”

If the room had been quiet before, it was deathly quiet now. For a brief second, Lyanna’s mind seemed to catch up with her mouth and she mentally began to chastise herself for speaking to the King in such a way.

And yet, she felt no guilt. Aegon’s comment was not necessary, and it was more than disrespectful. But it seemed that no one was particularly surprised that he had said such a thing.

What she didn’t see, however, was the way Aemond glanced at her with the faintest beginnings of a smirk tugging at his lips.

He had to admit, he was impressed. From how she had spoken to him over the times they had been alone, Aemond knew there was a fire within her. But to see it wielded so quickly and easily against Aegon, even if this was tame for how he imagined her to be, was beyond fascinating.

It was Alicent, however, who broke the silence this time.

“Aegon, can you please not be so crass over breakfast?” she chastised, and Aegon slowly sunk back into his seat.

King or not, it seemed, he was not free from a telling off from his mother. The breakfast returned to an almost silence, though it was far less comfortable now.

Lyanna returned to her food as Aegon stewed in his seat, looking more like a sulking child than a king. Aemond’s smirk remained, though he was doing everything he could to hide it, sipping his tea to hide behind his cup.

Cutlery clanked, feeling far louder than it likely was before anyone spoke again.

“I wonder, Lyanna, if you would be interested in spending some time on wedding arrangements later today?” Alicent asked, turning to face Lyanna with a smile.

Lyanna felt every set of eyes turn to her. It wasn’t really a question, because a question implied a choice, which she knew she had very little of anymore.

“Of course, Your Grace, it would be a pleasure.”

The walk to the Sept was silent between the two ladies, Lyanna walking one step behind the Queen Mother. On one hand, Lyanna wanted to at least to attempt to make a good impression on the Queen Mother – Cregan would never let her hear the end if not. But on the other, she wished to be as far from anything wedding related as possible

Planning it meant it was real, and she wished with everything she had for the opposite. Not that any of her suggestions or wishes for the wedding would matter.

A Sept was somewhere Lyanna had never been, for the were entirely uncommon in the North. And it was far bigger than she could have ever pictured. For just a second, she stopped and simply stared up in wonder.

“It is beautiful, is not?” Alicent asked with a smile, turning just before the threshold.

Lyanna nodded, a small smile on her lips, “Yes, it really is, Your Grace.”

Alicent held out her hand towards the door, a subtle gesture for Lyanna to enter. Part of Lyanna wondered why Alicent had brought her here, but maybe it was the same as how she felt about the Godswood back in Winterfell. It was somewhere calm and safe.

Lyanna followed Alicent’s lead. She wasn’t a follower of the Faith of the Seven, but she imagined praying here wouldn’t be all too different from the Godswood.

But prayer wasn’t what Alicent intended, yet anyway.

She led Lyanna to a large hall, separated from the last room with heavy wooden doors. Lyanna’s eyes widened as she saw the size of the hall, culminating in a grand set of stars beneath a Seven Pointed Star.

“This is where the wedding will be, as all royal weddings are.” Alicent spoke, not looking back at Lyanna.

It was like the reality of it hit her, even more so than her arrival at the Red Keep. She was to be married, in front of likely most of King’s Landing. She was going to the wife of a Prince, and a pawn in a war for throne.

Alicent turned, mid-sentence, to see Lyanna simply staring at the stars. There was a mix of awe and fear on the young woman’s face.

She recognised that look. It was a look she was sure her own face had held before she married Viserys. Her own mind now torn between comforting a frightened young woman and making sure nothing interfered with the upcoming wedding.

When no answer came from Lyanna, Alicent took a step forward. The wedding was beyond important, but she could understand the terror in Lyanna’s eyes. Her hands took Lyanna’s forearms gently, turning her to focus entirely on her.

“I understand it seems like something to fear, but I can attest it is not.”

Lyanna blinked a few times, seemingly coming back to herself to look at Alicent. But nothing had ever occurred to Lyanna to consider she had felt the same fear she felt now.

Alicent’s motherly gaze should have put her at ease, but nothing about her situation was comfortable. If Lyanna had been paying more attention, she would have felt the edge to Alicent’s words. The insistence on making her a willing bride that lingered behind each syllable.

“But I assure you, Aemond is a man who will not fail in any duty put upon him.” Alicent said calmly, her hands tight on Lyanna’s arms.

“And it is now your duty as well, to your home and your brother and to our King.”

There it was again, soft words that were edged with steel. Lyanna would be married either way.

Alicent’s fingers stroked gentle circles on Lyanna’s arms.

“Fear is normal, my dear, but you cannot let it consume you.”

Aemond’s day had passed no different to his usual, which he was more than thankful for. He could almost forget that his life would soon change, though for better or worse it remained to be seen.

As evening fell and another family meal passed, Aemond was finally in the sanctuary of his own room. But with the murmurings of the wedding having passed him by all day, he needed out.

Before he knew it his cloak was wrapped around his shoulders, and he was making his way to the more unused halls out of the Keep.

There was only one place he planned to go. Hidden down a silken, side street of King’s Landing.

A place he kept as a closely guarded secret.

Series Taglist: (if you want to be removed/added, let me know)

@legitalicat @sylasthegrim @alexagirlie

@targaryen-dynasty @minttea07 @magicseahorse

@bellaisasleep @toodlesxcuddles

#oc lyanna stark #oc fanfiction #aemond x oc #stark oc

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twoidiotwriters1 · 2 months ago

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Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: I'm running out of GIFs someone help me -Danny Words: 2,360 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

L: Awake, but at What Cost?

"All of this is my fault," Lester says once they're all gathered by the cistern. "Caligula's goal has always been the same: to make himself a god. He saw his ancestors immortalized after their deaths: Julius, Augustus, even disgusting old Tiberius. But Caligula didn't want to wait for death. He was the first Roman emperor who wanted to be a living god."

"Caligula kind of is a minor god now, right?" Piper says. "You said he and the two other emperors have been around for thousands of years. So he got what he wanted."

"Partly. But being a minor anything isn't enough for Caligula. He always dreamed of replacing one of the Olympians. He toyed with the idea of becoming the new Jupiter or Mars. In the end, he set his sights on being... the new me."

Hedge scoffs. "So, what? Caligula kills you, puts on a Hi, I'm Apollo! name tag, and walks into Olympus hoping nobody notices?"

"It would be worse than killing me. He would consume my essence and Ara's, along with the essence of Helios, to make himself the new sun god."

Prickle Pear leans forward anxiously. "The other Olympians would just allow this?"

"Lester defied Zeus, played him," Ara responds. "He's a strict ruler and wants Apollo to be sorry for what he did. I don't think it matters who ascends as long as it's by the book. Caligula would be doing something greedy, yes, but it's not against the rules."

Lester lowers his gaze, he hates that he can't rebuke Ara's statement. His father has always been obsessed with the rules. "The Olympians allowed Zeus to strip me of my powers and toss me to earth. They've done half of Caligula's job for him. They won't interfere. As usual, they'll expect heroes to set things right. If Caligula does become the new sun god, I will be gone. Permanently gone. That's what Medea has been preparing for with the Burning Maze. It's a giant cooking pot for sun-god soup."

"So the fires of Helios—that's what's killing our land?" Joshua asks.

"Well, humans aren't helping. But on top of the usual pollution and climate change, yes, the Burning Maze was the tipping point. Everything that's left of the Titan Helios is now coursing through this section of the Labyrinth under Southern California, slowly turning the top side into a fiery wasteland."

"If Medea succeeds, will all the power go into Caligula? Will the maze stop burning and killing us?" Agave asks.

"Guys, that won't help," Grover is quick to respond. "Caligula's responsible for what's happening to us right now. He doesn't care about nature spirits. You really want to give him the full power of a sun god?"

"So what do we do? I don't want my son growing up in a burning wasteland." Mellie frowns.

"We kill Caligula."

"Meg, that may not be possible. You remember Commodus. He was the weakest of the three emperors, and the best we could do was force him out of Indianapolis. Caligula will be much more powerful, more deeply entrenched."

"Don't care. He hurt my dad. He did... all this."

"I cannot fight Helios, but I sure can fight Caligula," Ara says. "I'm immortal and I have blessings. What does he have? If I can distract him for long enough, you guys can get his boots, get the oracle, and leave him blind."

"What if Medea gets you while you're fighting him? He won't play fair," Lester frowns. "Then we're left vulnerable."

"I'm not all you have—"

"I need you with us," Lester's voice rises with exasperation. "It's not me everyone sees and feels instantly safer, it's you! What do you think it'll do to everyone's morals if you get yourself killed?"

Ara knows how it will look; her own heroes died for her to get here and it didn't make her feel stronger, it only made her more scared, and in that fear, she grew up broken. But what other choice does she have? She was born to die. And at least, personally, she's made her peace with it.

Piper changes the subject and turns to Meg. "I wonder what your dad's big project was with those glowing seeds. What did Medea call you... a descendant of Plemnaeus?"

The nature spirits around them gasp. "Plemnaeus? The Plemnaeus? Even in Argentina, we know of him!"

Lester looks flabbergasted. "You do?"

Prickly Pear laughs. "Oh, come on, Apollo! You're a god. Surely you know of the great hero Plemnaeus!"

"Um... What monster did he slay?"

"Apollo," Reba continues disapprovingly. "A healer god should know better."

"Er, of course. But, um, who exactly—?"

"Typical. The killers are remembered as heroes. The growers are forgotten. Except by us nature spirits." Prickly Pear chastises.

"Plemnaeus was a Greek king," Agave clarifies. "A noble man, but his children were born under a curse. If any of them cried even once during their infancy, they would die instantly."

"What happened?"

"He appealed to Demeter. The goddess herself raised his next son, Orthopolis, so that he would live. In gratitude, Plemnaeus built a temple to Demeter. Ever since, his offspring have dedicated themselves to Demeter's work. They have always been great agriculturalists and botanists." Agave smiles at Meg. "I understand now why your father was able to build Aeithales. His work must have been special indeed. Not only did he come from a long line of Demeter's heroes, he attracted the personal attention of the goddess, your mother. We are honoured that you've come home."

Coach brushes off the moment. "That's great. Kid, your dad must have been something. But, unless he was growing some kind of secret weapon, I don't know how it'll help us. We've still got an emperor to kill and a maze to destroy."

"Gleeson..."

"Hey, am I wrong?"

Grover sighs. "What do we do, then?"

"We stick to the plan," Lester says. "We find the Sibyl of Erythraea. She's more than just bait. She's the key to everything. I'm sure of it."

Piper pulls baby Chuck closer to her. "Apollo, we tried navigating the maze. You saw what happened."

"Jason Grace made it through. He found the Oracle."

"Maybe. But, even if you believe Medea, Jason only found the Oracle because Medea wanted him to."

"Yes, but she told him something, and we need to know what," Ara says. "Maybe he didn't understand what it meant, and it scared him, but we have to know."

"Besides, Medea mentioned there was another way to navigate the maze," Lester adds. "The emperor's shoes. Apparently, they let Caligula walk through safely. We need those shoes. That's what the prophecy meant: walk the path in thine own enemy's boots."

"So you're saying Ara's plan is also a go," Meg says.

"What? No."

"We need to find Caligula's place and steal his shoes. Ara says she's ready to face him. Why can't we just kill him?"

"See, now that's a plan. I like this girl." Hedge says happily. "Reminds me of Ara when she was younger."

"Friends," Lester says gravely. "Caligula's been alive for thousands of years. He's a minor god. We don't know how to kill him so he stays dead. We also don't know how to destroy the maze, and we certainly don't want to make things worse by unleashing all that godly heat into the upper world. Our priority has to be the Sibyl."

"Because it's your priority?" Pear demands.

"Either way," Lester blushes a bit, not wanting to admit that it had been his first idea when Ara suggested he should take her life force, "to learn the emperor's location, we need to consult Jason Grace. Piper, will you take us to Jason?"

After a moment of pondering, Piper speaks. "Jason's living at a boarding school in Pasadena. If Ara asks, there is a big chance he'll tell you what happened, though I don't know if it'll help. But we can try."

The next morning, Ara approaches Piper with a fresh set of clothes from Macro's army supply store and her octopus hanging from one shoulder. "You don't have to come, you know? Just tell me where I can find Jason, and I'll get him. I'll explain everything."

"It's fine," Piper smiles a bit. "Besides, I want to hear what the oracle said. Medea is right, when Jason came out, he had this look in his eyes... like the one you had when you faced Eros."

"Yikes," Ara feels her stomach churn with anxiety. "So it's bad-bad..."

"What about you and Lester?" Piper crosses her arms. "Every time a quest reaches a crisis, you get a little crazy. So what's the suicidal plot you're considering now?"

The girl rolls her eyes. "Can we not..."

"Mhm. That's what I thought," her friend sighs. "Ara, there's probably another way. There is always another way, haven't we proved it by now?"

"Nothing's set in stone, so if it makes you feel better, the suicidal plan isn't my first option anyway."

Piper snorts. "That's something, I suppose... come on, time to torment Jason."

Ara finds Lester and Meg next to what seems to be a recently tended patch of soil. She stops a few feet away when she hears the young girl's question. "Where is she?"

"Who?"

"If my family is so important to her, thousands of years of blessings, or whatever, why hasn't she ever...?" She gestures weakly.

"I don't know, Meg," Lester sighs. "But this? This is the sort of thing your mother would be proud of. Growing plants in an impossible place. Stubbornly insisting on creating life. It's ridiculously optimistic. Demeter would approve."

"And what would your father approve, Lester?" Ara speaks up, getting angry at the display of hopelessness from Meg. "Because it's been a long time since he cared about any sort of life other than the divine. You know, Jason tried to plead your case—"

"Ara," Lester warns her.

"No, really, he tried to defend you even after you caused all that trouble; he tried to make Zeus drop the punishment, told your father that you weren't to blame, that it was a collective failure. He didn't like it. No, he likes his little heroes as long as they're agreeable, but the moment they aren't, suddenly you're not worthy to be aided."

Lester looks at her, and there's something in his gaze that tells her he thinks she's walking on thin ice. Good. Maybe if Lester gets spooked, then Zeus will actually do something other than sit on his ass. "Come on," Ara says, leaving the conversation without easing his worries.

They take the borrowed car once more, and Ara drives despite being the youngest of the trio of teens. She follows Piper's directions, none of them excited to make conversation or sing along to the radio songs.

"I've never liked this city," Lester mutters. "It makes me think of game shows, tawdry parades and drunk washed-up starlets with spray-on tans."

Ara and Piper share a look. The latter speaks. "FYI, Jason's mom was from here. She died here, in a car accident."

"I'm sorry. What did she do?"

"She was a drunk washed-up starlet with a spray-on tan."

"Ah." Lester blushes. "So why would Jason want to go to school here?"

Piper sighs. "After we broke up, he transferred to an all-boys boarding school up in the hills. You'll see. I guess he wanted something different, something quiet and out-of-the-way. No drama."

"He'll be happy to see us, then," Meg mumbles without excitement.

"He's Roman," Ara says, "boarding schools have order and schedules. He can have discipline while lowering the stress levels... And yes, maybe being here gives him some kind of feeling that he's close to roots that have nothing to do with the demigod in him, which, you know, I guess feels good sometimes."

Piper smiles ironically. "You hate it. Jason and you really are opposites..."

Ara flashes a glare at the girl in warning. "Don't push me."

Piper blushes a bit. "I'm only saying—"

Ara speaks harshly. "I don't know what you expect me to say, honestly. That I knew you were messing up and decided not to tell you? Because none of that is true, Piper. I don't read minds, and now more than ever, I'm completely alienated to what's normal in a human. I understand Jason, but I understand Percy, too. And Lily. And Nico. You know how I did that? I accepted that they were not who I wanted them to be, and I was never going to be what they wanted either. Maybe that's your problem."

Piper's hands clench over her lap tightly enough to hurt her palms, but she only responds with one word. "Maybe."

The girl guides them to Jason's class, and it is not lost on Lester or Ara that she's got his schedule memorized. Ara doesn't think much of it, because it's not like breaking up makes you stop thinking about people. Heck, not even death stopped Ara from remembering what Mike's favorite drink was, and what his training schedule used to be at camp.

Piper peers into the classroom and announces some excuse Ara can't hear, still sulking guiltily after the way she lashed out. A moment later, Piper steps away, and Jason walks out. Ara feels almost at home looking at him and Piper, if it weren't for the uniform he's currently wearing.

Jason smiles awkwardly at Piper before his eyes land on Ara, and then his smile turns real. He hands over his books to Piper and crushes Ara in an uncharacteristic bear hug. "You're here."

Ara gives him a sympathetic smile, he's one of the few demigods she still has to look up to make eye contact. "Missed you too, Ken." She gives his forearm an affectionate squeeze. "We have to talk."

Jason glances at the people behind her. "Hey."

Ara takes the books Piper is holding and glances briefly at her friend, noticing an expression that's a mix of amusement and disbelief, then decides to move on as quickly as possible and hands the books back to Jason. "So, this is—"

"Meg McCaffrey and Apollo," Jason nods. "I've been waiting for you guys." Ara stares at him in surprise. She doesn't know why, but something about the way he's looking at the pair makes her stomach drop. She can feel something bad is looming over her friend.

Meg steps closer to Ara in hesitation. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Let's go back to my dorm room. We're not safe out here."

He starts walking, Lester and Meg following along. Ara and Piper linger. "See what I mean?" Piper whispers after seeing Ara's expression.

"I have to help this boy," she answers weakly.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes @chxosunbound

#twoidiots writing #leo valdez x oc #doo #leo valdez fanfic #pjo fanfic #toa fanfic

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endereies · 1 year ago

Text

FUCK IT - MATT STURNIOLO - PART 7

Spotify Playlist:

Pairing: Matt x Oc

Contains: Growing up with parents who make her feel isolated, what happens when she meets Matt. A person who introduces her to new people, new experiences and new feelings.

Requested?: no

Author's notes: This chapter was so hard to write and for why :,)

Word Count: 2489

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

“Is this something we are meant to do?”

“Fuck it.”

7:30am

Alyia pov:

I groaned, burying myself under the warm covers, hiding myself from the rays of lights that had started to creep through my curtains. My arms rested above my head, finger-combing my hair gently trying to find a small way to pass the time. Another morning of pure silence wasn’t one I was willing to opt for. I sigh and reach my arm over to grab my headphones, and take them out of the case. My phone lay next to them and I connect my headphones to my phone as I scroll through Spotify. One of my old playlists grabs my attention and I put it on to shuffle.

Softcore – The Neighbourhood

I make sure that the volume is high enough that I can’t hear anything else around me clearly. The music distracts me from any other silence in my house, but this time it isn’t necessary. I walk down stairs drowsily while rubbing my eyes somewhat. Once I get to the bottom of the stairs, I notice my parents both sat down on the sofa, my father preparing some eggs in a bowl and my mother applying some makeup. I look around and notice bags of suitcases around the sofa and I know they must have only arrived this morning.

“Ally! There you are. I was beginning to think you had forgotten about school.” I can barely make out my father’s words, still having my headphones in my ear. I take them out, however, so that I could talk to him.

“Father…When did you two get home...?” I walk towards him, giving him a side hug while he pours the eggs into a pan.

“Only about an hour ago, but due to time zones, we slept on the plane.” He tries to focus on his words but he quiets himself to focus on the food. I simply change my attention over to my mother.

“Did you have a good trip, mother.” I speak more bluntly towards her, adapting a cold attitude which she instantly matches.

“Not now Alyia. I’m busy” Yet her version of busy obviously only meant her eyeliner and I roll my eyes.

“Scarlett, we have been gone a week, at least greet our daughter.” My face scrunches up whilst a sour expression grows on my mother’s face.

“Hello, Alyia. The trip was fine and the contract went well” She places her make up on the counter, still limiting her eyesight to the products sprawled over the table.

“Contract?”

“Yes, the contract, I told you I ha-“

“No, mother. I wasn’t aware…” I mumble quietly but it’s enough her to drop her brush harshly and she finally turns to face me.

“What have I said about interrupting me, Alyia.” Her tone is angered and makes me break eye-contact with her.

I only go silent and face the ground under my feet. I blinked repeatedly, trying to get rid of the tears that pricked at my eyes.

This was pathetic that such a small sentence could affect me so much.

“So now you have nothing to say to me? Just go and get ready for school alright.” I normally would try and argue back but I simply wasn’t in the mood to fight today.

I had tried to distract myself with designing an outfit for school but considering half of it was mother’s brand, that grew hard quick. A simple white shirt is covered by a bold red tie that hung loosely around my neck, barely remaining under my collar. Then, it’s tucked into a tartan plaid skirt with a black belt tightening it to my waist. The sharp red complimented my brunette hair which I had put into a ponytail with my curtain bangs subsided, behind my ears. I grab an old pair of doc martins and slip my feet into them, no longer caring about the leather creasing whenever I step on the heel.

I just grab my headphones and place them back in my ears. I change over my school books and throw some main products like my keys in the front pocket and run back downstairs, slamming the door as I leave the house.

The day had barely started and I was in a sour mood. My parents were gone for a week and the most I get from my mother is a petty argument. At least my father had the decency to look at me when he spoke. Music wasn’t helping my mood as much since Mitski has started to play through.

The bus was late again but that wasn’t a surprise, they were always unreliable. I could easily get my license; I practically already have a car…or two. But the bus makes me feel more natural. My parents run fashion designs, but I don’t want to flaunt any money around like everything is expendable. I picked out what I wanted within reason and anything else of mine went into savings and my friends, mostly Jenny.

Thankfully the hallways were reasonably empty, I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. I simply make my way to the music room as quick as I could. All I wanted to do was play music and focus on anything other than mother’s words, but getting to my locker was first.

For once I was grateful for my parent’s money as it allowed me to keep my guitar in my locker with the added space inside, even if I had to constantly rearrange it around my books and other equipment. It takes me a moment but I manage to shift around all my belongings so I can remove my guitar. Once I do I lean it against the locker door next to me to free my hand and pick up a few makeup products from the floor. However, when I bend down to pick it up the guitar’s weight starts to shift and slams on the tiles below, echoing a light strum from the force. I grimace and close my eyes as an exasperated sigh leaves my lips. The case slides across the floor when I pull it closer and I slam my locker door shut.

It slings over my shoulder and I’m finally on track to the music room.

I take my seat down on the leather sofa and lean back with my head against the wall and finally exhale deeply. My hands quickly find the cable for my guitar and fidget with it between my fingers trying to untie it.

The door opens beside me and I don’t even bother to check who it is and I just plug my cable into my guitar.

“Good morning, Alyia” Matt’s voice is immediately bright and fills the room around me.

“Mhm…” I simply hum in response, still not looking up to him. I wasn’t in the mood to appease him after the rough morning I have been having.

“Alyia?” His body tilts down to face me more directly.

“Yeah?” I finally look up to face him and try to avoid looking pissed off so that I can change the subject.

“You alright?” I only nod at him, knowing my attitude would stem through my words.

He doesn’t push anything any further and sits on the stool behind the drums and takes his drumsticks out of his back pocket. His hand grips the bottom of the stool and drags it across the flooring, immediately proceeding to tap the skin on the drums lightly.

“You wanna play Dark Red again or…Rise?” Matt’s voice drags on as he simultaneously tries to decide on a song.

I take a deep sigh and just strum on my guitar, tuning one of the strings as soon as it doesn’t match within my chord. I lack any response to Matt, spending my time on tuning instead. The silence is awkward but at this point, I wasn’t bothered. Those seconds drag on internally and I try to relax myself in to the melody of my guitar. Rise is decided quickly in my head as I begin to pick at the strings to produce a chord.

Matt quickly catches on to the song but is still caught of guard by the time he is meant to start drumming and he speeds up in order to catch up.

“O-okay Rise it is…”

As the song progresses, I gradually speed up my pace to the song, subconsciously playing faster counts of eight in my head. Initially, Matt doesn’t notice the increase in pace. But, the more he plays, he starts to miss one or two beats and looks up towards me occasionally, trying to read my expressions.

I don’t even get to the end of the song before I give up with it, holding my guitar tight in my left arm but letting my right one drop to the side of my leg.

“Okay, what is up with you today.” Matt’s voice is sterner towards me and I do my best not to link it to my mother’s.

“Nothing, Matt. I’m fine.”

“Oh? Are we doing this again. Firstly, you have been cold towards me, barely speaking any full sentences. Then, you speed up the song and don’t even finish it before you stop in frustration. And finally you seem so much more shut off, just like when you stayed over my house.” He pauses and walks towards me, leaning down to face me.

“So, Alyia. I’ll ask again. What is up with you?.”

As much as I didn’t want to tell Matt, when he brought up the night in his kitchen, all I could think about was what he said to me.

“I want to know you.”

I practically freeze in my spot and he rubs his neck softly and drags his palm up and down his arm lightly.

“You do?”

“You doubted that?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know that, I stay to practise with you when I can, I make extra meetings for the English project simply because they typically end with us hanging out over a movie or something.” He starts to walk closer. “I want to be your friend Alyia. Besides you are one of the only friends I have that Nick hasn’t shit talked right away and that Chris feels comfortable being himself around.”

“I am?”

“You are. And frankly you are fucking awesome at guitar, don’t think those mornings are gonna stop any time soon.”

“I want to be your friend Alyia.” He gives me a genuine smile but I give him a tight-lipped weak one back.

“If you don’t want to talk, I get it, but you don’t have to restrict yourself, okay?” I can only nod in response but he only repeats himself. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Fine…” I lay my guitar at my feet and look down from Matt.

“Are you going to tell me, for real?” He takes a seat down next to me and looks at my face, reading my body language.

“I might as well, I have known you several months and you haven’t given me any reason to not trust you. It might also be better to have a new perspective than just Jenny.” I lean back into my chair as an attempt to calm my body down.

“Well, thank you...That does mean a lot.” He speaks through a breathy laugh and faces away from me and towards the drum kit he just left.

“Okay, uh shit how do I start…” I take a deep breath and internally analyse my situation, figuring out the best ‘script’ in my had that allows me to express the most.

“You know how whenever we go around to my house and do anything, my parents are never home and things are so bare apart from my own material?” I scan Matt’s face but he is hard to read in comparison to me so he nods in acknowledgement. “Well…they are never home because they are at meeting or business trips that take them across the world. My mother is a fashion designer and my father arranges all of the meetings and background things.”

“I guess that makes sense. Do they call you with updates or anything” I can only shake my head in response.

“Not really, my dad tries to but with so many calls from management to models and stuff, it only ends in voicemails. You would think when they get back they would think to update you on, y’know…their life. But no. My father wants to sit down with me and talk about the trips and the small details that you would never normally care about, yet my mother interrupts or gives him things to do.” My sentences start to ramble and I breath in quickly once I finish.

“It was just so different this morning, normally I can handle the shit my mother gives me but it felt like she hated me this morning. She fucking shut me down and told me to stop interrupting her as if that wasn’t all she ever did herself. She hadn’t seen me in a week and yet her eyeliner was far too important to trade…It feels so pathetic that she feels so low of me.”

Matt falls silent next to me and continues to face away from me.

“Alyia…I’m so sorry” His arm snakes around and lingers on my shoulder but once I flinch slightly, he jolts his hand back and places it back on his lap.

“It isn’t your fault Matt; in fact you have helped me.”

“I have? How?”

“By actually being there, after you leave my house, it actually feels like the place was lived in and not a decoration to flaunt.” I start to admit things to Matt that I wasn’t planning on telling him for months but it simply felt like I wasn’t restricted. He was right, I didn’t have to be.

“Alyia…I’m only being your friend”

“I don’t exactly have many of those, I fucking lack in social skills.” I try and lighten the mood but I’m only met with a tight-lipped smile back.

“You can always stay at my place whenever you need company?” He shrugs next to me and I can easily pick up on the sincerity in his voice. I look up at him, not even realising the smile that automatically grows on my face.

“And I don’t want to hear that ‘I don’t want to bother you’ shit because that’s the last thing you do.” His words halt as he processes his words.

“Thanks Matt. Really, other than Jenny I don’t exactly have anyone.”

His palm finds its way to my knee and rubs my leg slightly, his head nodding at me softly and we stay in silence for a moment.

“We should probably start to play music again...” I perk up and he snaps out from zoning out and immediately removes his hand and stands up.

“Right! Right. Yeah, you want to try Rise again.?”

@melliflws @axolotllover225 @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @sturniolosmind @worldlxvlys @patscorner @breeloveschris @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @mayhem-72

#sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo

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sephirothsplaything · 5 months ago

Text

DNA| Sec.80 high power-chapter 20

a/n: hi lolz. This chapter gave me hell, but I did enjoy making Rhaella super creepy. She is officially not normal but what else is new ammaright!!. Who would I be if i didn't beat everyone over the head with lore

enjoy<3

This is the story of Lady Rhaella Targaryen the I;the strange one and her role in the Dance Of Dragons. Loved by few and feared by many.

The blood of the dragon runs in Targaryen's veins. Something else runs in Rhaella.

BLACK TARGARYEN OC/READER

PARINGS: Aemond,Cregan, slight Jace, slight Addam, original charecter

read the last chapter here!

𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 as she readied herself.

Her mind was quiet, though she was unsure if that was a good thing. She stared at her reflection—

There was no obvious change, not outwardly.But perhaps this was what true power felt like- haunting silence. Her thoughts drifted to Aemond reluctantly. If Astris was indeed correct, he'd still be asleep at the moment.

When he awoke, however, what would his first course of action be, she wondered.Knowing him, Aemond wouldn't tell a soul for the sake of preserving his pride. The thought that his dragonless cousin had subdued him quite easily would be quite an embarrassment. Well, at the very least, Rhaella was no longer dragonless.

Rhaella had no particular plans in mind for the day as she had been effectively confined to her chamber by order of the Queen. She would not bother speaking to Baela or Jace; Rhaella was uninterested in making the two of them understand, and she was sure it would make her sound like a girl gone mad.

Of course, in a way, Rhaella Targaryen had indeed gone mad. Powers higher than the Targaryen dynasty had tainted her mind.

"My lady?" The voice of one of the maids permeated through the door. "Her Grace has summoned you."

It had not taken the queen so long, much to Rhaella's delight. The queen Rhaenyra had no choice but to speak to her, for fear of her motivations.

Rhaella followed the maid down the halls. She passed by members of the council and other servants. None of them dared look her way; The sight of Rhaella soaked in blood was still fresh.

'Good.' Rhaella thought. 'Let them fear me.'

To be horribly feared is to be sternly respected. Her own father was indicative of that.

When Rhaella entered the queen's chamber, the maid left in a hurry.

"Good morrow, your grace." Rhaella greeted with a haughty lightness. Queen Rhaenyra stood from her chair abruptly as if she hadn't been expecting this much.

"I trust you've had time to think on your actions?" Rhaenyra said.

"Indeed," Rhaella responded. And it was true—She had thought of all of her actions thus far and had decided she was prepared to do far worse things.

"I will not deny you of your accomplishments." Rhaenya began, and Rhaella followed her form as she moved across the room.

"Bonding yourself to a wild dragon that vicious is quite bold."

Queen Rhaenyra would not dare speak the rest of her thoughts aloud, but Rhaella could see it in her eyes.

Fear. Fear of what she could do atop a beast like that.

Aegarax should be the least of her worries, rather the growing perversion of Rhaella's soul.

"The Gods bonded me to Aegarax," Rhaella said, her voice drifting off slightly. "It was not my own doing."

Rhaenyra's brow furrowed in confusion—She had not realized it was possible for the girl to become somehow stranger.

"I should preface by saying I assign you this task with the greatest of reluctance," Rhaenyra said.

Rhaella tilted her head slightly. Perhaps her grace will let her rain down fire on the houses that had turned against them. She would have taken much pleasure in that.

"Daemon has not responded to any of my letters, nor to Baela's," Rhaenyra explained, and Rhaella's interest fell instantly.

"And you wish to send me to Harrenhal like a messenger raven, I suppose?" Rhaella did not bother to hide her venom, for what could the queen do to her?

"My wish is that he'll listen to you." Rhaenyra ignored Rhaella's jab.

"Your grace, I mean no offense, but this is beneath me. I should be plotting our next attack, burning our enemies." Rhaella said.

"Is that what you think this is then?" Rhaenyra sharply questioned. "Killing whomever you please?"

"Only those who threaten the good of our house," Rhaella said.

"This is precisely why I am sending you." Rhaenyra turned her attention back to the table.

"You are your father's mirror."

Rhaella thought herself better than that- better than him. Although she turned her nose up at the request, the prospect of taking flight was hard to pass.

"Fine, as you wish." Rhaella agreed.

"Rhaella," Rhaenyra called as the girl turned to leave. "Perhaps you may ask Baela to lend you something for riding?"

"Baela is not speaking to me at the moment," Rhaella said, leaving. In reality, Rhaella had little interest in wearing anything that wasn't her own.

Aegarax was hers, so why would she taint that with her sister's clothes?

—

THE FLIGHT TO HARRENHAL PROVED TO BE A BIT TRIFLING.

It must've been sometime at noon, though Rhaella could not be sure- The closer she approached the Riverlands, the darker the skies became.

Rhaella's scarred palms had increasingly become more irritated as she held onto Aegarax's spines tightly. Flying with naught but the clothes she wore had become inconvenient quite quickly.

After she finished this business, Rhaella resolved that she required multiple commissions for riding clothes and perhaps a saddle. Rhaella doubted The Cannibal would take to a saddle, though.

Up ahead, the large, darkened outline of the castle came into view. The damp winds breezed through her silver curls, rain sure to follow afterward.

For the most part, Aegarax had listened to Rhaella's commands; His black wings stretched easily through the skies.

It was only when he spotted the form of Caraxes that Aegarax became volatile. He gave a dominant, alerting roar.

Rhaella grimaced; she did not come all this way to battle her father's dragon.

"Daor, Aegarax," Rhaella commanded strictly. Her body leaned to the right, steering him away from the red dragon.

After some struggle, Rhaella landed Aegarax a ways away from the front of Harrenhal. She would have to walk the rest of the way to avoid worsening her dragon's mood.

Sliding off, Rhaella fixed her badly wrinkled dress with the ends of the silky fabric ruined from brushing against Aegarax's scales.

Slick mud met Rhaella's boots, causing her to nearly slip. She clutched onto her dragon to steady herself.

"Umbās,lykirī" Rhaella spoke soothingly. Aegarax jerked his head away from her like a petulant child.

Rhaella doubted Aegarax would wait around for her, but she could only hope he stayed away from Caraxes.

When Rhaella reached the front of the caste, she froze involuntarily. There was an undeniable heavy presence over this castle. She was no stranger to the feeling of magic, but the castle felt threatening.

The shriek of Caraxes brought her out of the trance, seeing the dragon slowly worm his head to her side.

"I see I am not completely mad in this, it seems." Rhaella half muttered to the dragon before walking inside.

She had heard the whispers that apparitions and things beyond human understanding haunted Harrenhal.

Perhaps there was a time when Rhaella would've dismissed the claims without much care.

Now, she knew there were Gods here, and one had taken residence inside of her. Maybe it was arrogance, but Rhaella had a feeling she would not be touched.

There were no guards in the halls, water dripped through the large openings of the roof. If Daemon had been doing something productive in his time here, there was no evidence of it.

Rhaella didn't announce herself, not seeing any point. The halls seemed to blend, and she could hear incoherent whispers brushing past her.

There, in the main room, was what she supposed were the inhabitants of this cursed place- her father sat at the head of them all.

"Father?" Rhaella did not care to address the rest of them.

Daemon looked up at the sound of her voice, momentarily frozen in fear. He was unsure if this was another one of the castle's tricks.

"Ah." Ser Simon Strong stood up. "The lady Rhaella Targaryen is it?"

"Good evening, Ser." Rhaella's voice was void of any real warmth- not untypical of her.

Daemon stood, walking over to her. There was still an obvious hesitance that Rhaella's darkened violet eyes hardly missed.

"What is this?" Daemon did not bother to greet her properly, and Rhaella's aggravation flared.

"Her grace wishes to know your doings." Rhaella folded her hands behind her, hiding the scars.

Daemon scoffed in response. "And in that, she sent you to spy on me." He marched into the outer halls, and Rhaella followed.

"You refuse to answer any of the plethora of letters Baela has sent to you." Rhaella pointed out in annoyance.

"Se skoriot issi aōhon, tala?" Daemon asked. 'And where are yours, daughter?'

"Why would I waste time with such pointless stupidity?" Rhaella deadpanned. "I had other things to attend to."

Daemon smirked at her tone. He had not seen her in weeks, and yet she spared him no such softness. It was then that he was sure it was truly his daughter standing before him.

"Other things, as in parading around on that wild beast?" Daemon questioned pointedly.

"I thought you'd be glad of it," Rhaella said. "I am not interested in hearing a lecture from you, of all people."

"Well then," Daemon stated. "As you can see, I am fine."

Rhaella tilted her head; Her father had never been a particularly convincing liar. But there was something all wrong about him, as well as this place.

Daemon's eyes were horribly distracted, flitting every which way but Rhaella.

'Witchery.' Something hissed to her. Perhaps Balerion or maybe her intuition.

So this was the cause of her father's extended absence- he was being played with.

Rhaella's fury swirled quicker than any dragon fire could possibly manage.

"Where is she?" Rhaella demanded, pushing past her father.

Only Gods know what the whore was filling her father's mind with.

"Where is the woman?" Rhaella asked again, causing Ser Simon to fuss nervously at his hands.

"Woman?" Ser Simon asked. "Would you mean Alys?"

'Alys.' Her very name sent strife right through Rhaella.

"Where is she?" Rhaella's voice became distant, her violet eyes sharpened into fixation.

It seemed as though her body already knew where to go, though Rhaella couldn't be sure.

She was led to a dimly candlelit room, dark-haired women humming a tune Rhaella subconciously recognized.

"It's a touch late to be sneaking about." Alys hummed.

She was mixing something in a bowl. It could have been juice from berries or blood.

"You're a witch." Rhaella blurted, as if it was not painfully obvious.

"You say that as if it's a terrible thing." Alys smiled, liking her fingers.

Rhaella eyed Alys up and down carefully. The magic that radiated from her being was palpable, but despite this, Rhaella was not intimidated.

"All women are witches." Alys continued wistfully. "In one way or another."

"I am not," Rhaella said, making Alys chuckle.

"No. You're much more than that; I can see it." Alys responded.

"You may have invaded my father's mind, but you would do well to stay away from mine."

"I doubt there's any room for me in there." Alys smiled. "It's a bit of a mess anyway."

It was like a game, Rhaella felt. A woman and a lady, each testing the limits of the other. Rhaella

was not so foolish to think that she was safe in this place.It was a battle of magic- of the Gods.

"Is your father aware you practice witchery so openly?" Rhaella shifted, daring to inch closer. Her gaze darted at the instruments on the table.

"Ser Simon is no father of mine, child," Alys said.

"Ah." Rhaella folded her hands. "A bastard, hardly surprising."

"How do you figure?"

"Because bastards are monstrous by nature," Rhaella answered. Alys blinked for a moment, her large eyes boring into Rhaella's. It could've been unnerving to anyone, but it was all too apparent that Rhaella was not ordinary.

"Yet here you stand, the purest of blood," Alys said. "The most monstrous of your line."

Well, Rhaella could hardly deny that fact. She let her own silence speak for her.

"I would not speak too lowly of bastards. Your life shall soon be full of them, I'm sure of it."

"Keep away from my father; all of your foolishness causes him strife," Rhaella said.

"I have done nothing. It is his own strife that haunts him." Alys insisted.

Rhaella couldn't tell if the woman was speaking the truth. The bastard witch was old, far older than anything Rhaella had ever known. She could see things far beyond her time.

Still though, Alys remained unchanging, practically looking into Rhaella's soul.

"It's far too late to fly back now," Alys spoke suddenly. "I shall prepare a room for you."

Rhaella's eyes never left Alys as she swiftly left her presence. That woman... was far beyond anyone she'd ever met before.

— RHAELLA HAD BEEN VAGUELY AWARE SHE WAS IN A DREAM. Admittedly, it had been a while since she'd had one, but the swirling ceiling above her was an indication that she wouldn't be spared this night.

She padded into the halls anyhow, knowing she was bound to come across something unsavory.

The sound of inhuman screeching wafted to her ears. Rhaella was mostly calm as she followed the noise. Pushing past a door, the sight she was met with made her feel truly sick.

It was a Targaryen girl, no more than four and ten years of age. She was stark naked, her pale skin boiling with angry red welts; it crackled and smoked as she writhed around in agony.

Rhaella wished to look away, but could not, for the girl's bloodshot eyes were staring at her.

In front of her was a maester, beside himself with horror. All his remedies and science could not mend whatever was happening inside the poor girl's body.

"I saw him!" The girl screeched. "I never truly wanted to, though I did!"

The girl screamed again, this time most of her words proved to be unintelligable.

Rhaella moved before she could help herself, right to the girl's lefthand side. Something awful was worming around in her body as her skin began to blacken, smoke emitting from her.

The frail girl gripped Rhaella's wrist, abnormally tight for one who was on the brink of her own death.

"Bisa iksis skoros morghon gaomas" She whispered. 'This is what death does to us.'

"Balerion?" Rhaella said, her wrist stinging at the contact.

"A crown of blood that shan't wash away. It is your turn to wear it now." The girl heaved.

"Tell me." Rhaella urged. "Skoros gaomas morghon jurnegon hae?"

'What does death look like?'

"I never-" The girl breathed out one last time.

Then she fell back onto the table. Dead.

Rhaella shot up from the bed in a gasp, sweat beading down her face.

That was hardly a dream; it was more akin to a nightmare. But it couldn't have been from the God she knew. It must've been a product of this castle.

Then what followed was a vile pang in her stomach that caused Rhaella to cautiously raise a hand over it.

Any hopes of drifting back into slumber were completely lost now. Rhaella rose from her bed, bringing with her a candle to find her way properly.

She hadn't the faintest of clues where she was even going; all these eerie halls looked exactly

alike. All the small whispers had gone completely still in her presence as if they did not wish for her to hear.

Somehow, Rhaella found herself outside in the Godswood. The moon cast down its rays onto the large Weirwood tree that stood in the middle.

Her father sat there, too, unfortunately. He looked both lost and extremely focused at the same time.

"Sleeping in a place such as this is quite the task, is it not?" Rhaella's voice monotonically carried to his ear.

Daemon jumped at the sound of his daughter's voice, placing his hand onto Dark Sister in a moment of paranoia. He was unsure if she was another haunting apparition or perhaps a lesson to learn.

But when Rhaella sat down next to him- she was much too real.

A perverted vision of his late wife. Those deadening, dark violet eyes hazed the comparison to Laena Velaryon.

"I thought you'd sleep just fine," Daemon spoke, an unneeded humor in his tone.

The two were silent for a while; What was there to say?

"I have killed two men," Rhaella stated. It wasn't an admisson of guilt; there was no trace of regret in her tone. She did not sound particularly proud of the matter either.

"And what did you feel?" Daemon briefly looked at his daughter, who met him with the blankest of expressions.

"Nauseous, the first time," Rhaella answered. "The second was easier."

Daemon tore his eyes away from her. His last daughter- She was the vision of his own sins. But to deny her would only be to deny himself.

"Is this how you feel?" Rhaella pondered. "Burning and raging without end?"

Her father swallowed thickly, it nearly choking him. His hands shook profusely, but Rhaella reached over to hold them.

It did not offer him any sort of comfort, but perhaps that wasn't his daughter's intention.

"Kepa." Rhaella whispered. "īlon issi daor raqagon se tolie"

And she was correct.

'Father, we are not like the others.'

"No," Daemon said after some time. "We are not."

Rhaella smiled at him, 1and Daemon had never been more fearful in his life.

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