#i think i made a version where i added all the languages i know so i can just look at posts i dint understand so i can stay happy

[writtenbyan-aries]

Summary: After years of being split apart from your group, due to being taken and relocated by the Saviors, you run in to not only one familiar face, but specifically, the one you were searching for this whole time.

Warnings: strong language, apocalypse setting, swearing, mentions of knives, guns, bows, other weapons, mentions of killing (both humans and zombies), some descriptive text, reader gets taken by the saviors, mentions of scars, fighting, AGE GAP - friends to lovers, reader likes Daryl, Daryl hides the fact that he likes reader, some flirting, nothing too spicy lol

Word count: 4.9k | not edited also my first Daryl fic so be nice :)

A/N - I’m writing this for me, yes, but I’m also this for the ones who have a problem, I mean… are attracted to men old enough to be their father, so please do NOT read if age gap relationships make you uncomfortable! This also is more or less my version of the walking dead, the group meets Negan, but not like in the show.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

ＦＩＶＥ • ＹＥＡＲＳ • ＡＧＯ

There was no denying that you were Daryl’s favorite person to go on runs with, anyone that just showed up could tell you that.

You were fast. Efficient. Very get in and get out type of girl. You didn’t fuck around, and Daryl loved that - but he’d never tell you that himself.

He also swore to never tell you that he wanted you around him because you made him happy in ways that he didn’t really like to talk about.

You were like a breath of fresh air to him, you picked up what he liked and what he didn’t like almost right away, you were one of the very few people that he didn’t get tired of being around all the time, hence why you join him every time he goes on a run.

He wasn’t much of a talker, the very first two runs together, you got a few mumbles out of him, mainly telling you where to go and when to look out.

But, that was until your third run of many run with Daryl. It would be silent, and he would almost scare you with just talking outright.

It wasn’t more than a, ‘how’s your day?’

Or maybe a, ‘ya sleep last night? Y’look tired’

You would always give him a quick, straight to the point response, ‘tossed and turned all night, might need a new blanket or somethin’

Or you would tease him slightly with something along the lines of, ‘Days better now that I’m out runnin’ around with my bestie.’

He says he hated when you called him that, but he would always chuckle and try to hide his smile by pointing out something ahead.

You would go with it, rolling your eyes subtly before you squint, “Daryl, I think you’re seeing things.” You look over at him, “or you’re just scared to talk to me.”

He’d scoff, “Ain’t scared of nothin’, darlin’.”

All you could do was smile and look away, mainly to hide the red on your cheeks from being spotted.

It really wasn’t that Daryl was scared, it was just, as slightly embarrassing as he thinks, he didn’t know how to talk to you.

He would always try to remind himself that you aren’t this delicate little flower, you can handle yourself. If you couldn’t, he would have never stumbled upon you.

You both would keep moving, not really stopping unless a walker or something came out of the tree line. The more runs you added to the list, the more you realized that you were patient enough to wait on him.

You really did have all the time in the world.

Were you also young and twenty one years old? Sure. But in this world, you’d always like to think, What’s it matter, really?

You had to roll with what you found, and you got lucky that day Daryl found you under a fallen tree - long story short, he helped you out and as soon as he knew your name, he couldn’t help but want to bring you home with him.

And that’s what he did.

Daryl has also spoken, well, more or less make comments to Rick about the girl from the woods. He’d beat around the bush as his eyes followed you across the way, watching as Carol showed you around, “y’know that girl I brought in?”

Rock would nod, “Y/n?”

A smirk would play sure Daryl’s lips as he replays you taking out two walkers at the same time, “Little young, though. Ain’t she?”

Rick shook his head, giving Daryl’s shoulder a squeeze as he stood up, “You deserve what ever makes you happy, Daryl. We make our own rules now.”

——

“There was a convenient store on the corner of one of these roads.” You look at Daryl then glancing behind you, “I figured.. if we don’t find it today.” You glance back and then forward, “We can try and hit it another day.”

“Would ya stop fuckin’ doin’ that?” He looks behind you and then at you, “really freakin’ me out today, y/n. What’s goin’ on with ya?”

“Sorry.” You sigh, shaking your head, “I just have this really weird feeling like we should have just stayed back today.”

“You wanna go back?” Daryl stops as you take a few steps ahead before turning around. He nods back, “We’re not that far away, if y’feel safer goin’ back-“

“I’m not letting you go out there alone.”

“I’m not goin’ back.” Daryl was stubborn, but so were you, “Then so am I.”

He scoffs quietly, shaking his head as he nudges you with his elbow, indicating you to walk with him. You turn, staying a little bit closer to Daryl as you make your way down the road.

About an hour away, you stand up from the last of the boxes in a semi fallen down shed, “Nothing.” You turn to Daryl and he shakes his head, “Got the same over here.”

“No where?” You look around the room and he shrugs, “should prolly just head back, it’s gonna get dark here soon.”

The weird feeling you had from earlier returns and you sigh, “Not to be annoying, but I can’t shake this feeling.”

Daryl clenches his jaw, “Alright, it’s alright.” He picks up his crossbow, “C’mon now.”

It’s the way Daryl makes your heart warm with the simple, nonchalant ways he makes sure you’re okay, trying to make sure you’re calm without actually letting you know that that is what he’s doing, but you know.

You’ve come to know Daryl better than anyone in the few short months you’ve been at Alexandria.

“Did somethin’ happen or, what?” Daryl asks as he glances over at you, trying to keep up with your slightly faster pace.

You shrug, “I just feel like something is going to happen, Daryl.” You look over at him, “Something bad.”

——

Your feeling was proven to be worth something because the moment you entered through the gates, you were gunned down, Daryl, too.

“Gimme your guns.” A tall man says in a sing-songy tone as he bends down, looking you right in your face, “And your cross bow.” He looks over to Daryl and Daryl wasn’t going to give it up without a fight.

The man stands up, walking over to lean down in Daryl’s face, “Now.”

“Y/n. Do it.” Rick says catching your attention. Only your eyes move towards Rick, hands up as a gun is pointed right next to his temple, “Daryl. You, too.”

“I’d listen to your boss man, alright. I don’t feel like killing anyone today, which is..” the man tilts his head, scratching at his temple, “Odd, but anyone. Consider this your one time act of kindness because I can promise you, from here on out, ain’t gonna be purdy.”

You tilt your head, taking your gun from your shoulder and laying it down. You take your pistol and set it down next to the rifle, “That’s all I have.”

“Mm.” The man tilts his head, “I don’t believe you.” He grips your bicep hard, causing you to yelp as he yanks you forward and onto your feet.

“Let her fuckin’ go!” Daryl yells, and you know he’s already trying to get up, but the moment you get to look back, there’s a gun in his face, blocking his view of you.

You’re thrown up against the side of the old and dusty moving truck, groaning as your head ricochetes off the side with a thump, “Fuck, ow!”

You bring your hand up, pulling it away to see red when you feel a wetness on your skin.

“You mother fu-“ Daryl starts to yell, but the man puts a gun to your temple, “I’m just trying to do my job, now shut the fuck up or I’ll really give you something to fucking yell about.”

You keep your eyes on Daryl, watching as his eyes quickly move between you and the man holding you hostage.

“I’ll keep it professional.” He taps your shoulder, “Arat. Come check her for weapons.”

You were scared shitless.

You didn’t want to die, or anyone else to die.

Who are these people, you thought as the woman behind you slid her hands roughly over your body, “Simon. This is her.”

You head shot up as Simon, supposedly, laughs, “No fucking way.” He steps back, “Negan is going to love this.”

“Who’s Negan?” Rick asks and Simon turns around slowly to look at Rick, arms spreading out to his sides slowly, “We’re all Negan.”

Simon points to you with his thumb, “Load her up.”

The uproar that happens within your people is instant and there’s a shot fired into the air, making you flinch.

“That’s e-fuckin’-nuff.” Simon yells, “The girl is coming with us, and there’s-“ he raises his voice, “Nothing you can do about it.”

He walks you back to the truck, motioning with his gun for you to get in.

You take one last look at Daryl before you start to get in, heading Simon chuckle as he sighs, “Maybe you’ll see her again, maybe you won’t. We’ll be back with more orders. Until then, stay the fuck here or more we will kill your beloved.. whatever she is to you.”

Simon looks at Daryl, “You got that Robin Hood?”

Daryl holds his heated stare onto him and that’s the last thing you see before the door shuts.

——

“Well, well, fuckin’ well. What do we have here?” A deep voice boasts from behind you. You wiggle your wrists and close your eyes, feeling a presence move around you to your front.

You open your eyes and you’re met with a rugged dude in a leather jacket, a baseball bat that’s wrapped in barbed wire tightly secured in his fist, “You must be the girl who knows her way around those dead fucks out there.”

“What are you talking about?” You look up, eyes meeting the tall, older man and he just chuckles, “A few of my men saw you take on a group, I dunno, five or six deep..” he points to you with each word, “..All. on. your. own.”

You shrug, “I’ve been out there a while.”

“And how longs a while, sweetheart?” The man asks, squatting down in front of you.

“Two years with a group, three on my own.” You say quietly, your brain reminding you about the night had no other choice but to go off on your own.

“Holy shit.” The man shakes his head, “You hearin’ this shit, Simon?”

“Arat said it was her. I can get Gavin to confirm, too.” Simon answers and the man nods, standing up to pull a chair over in front of you, “If I untie you, you promise you’ll play nice?”

You were disgusted. You wanted to go home.

You wanted Daryl. You wanted Daryl more than anything.

You nod, hands gripping the arm rests as his knife slides between your skin and the rope, flicking the blade upward to get it to cut open.

He repeats it to the other side and leans back, “You seem like you have a pretty name.” He tilts his head, fingers rubbing over the stubble on his chin, “Do you have a pretty name, sweetheart?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n.” The man repeats in a whisper, “Damn. That is pretty.” He shakes his head, smirking as his eyes take in your, very nervous figure sitting in the chair, “Look.”

The man leans forward, “I’ll tell you this, alright.” You keep your eyes off of him, which seemed to upset him. His voice grew louder and his hand reached up to tightly grip your chin, “Look. At. Me. When I am talking to you.”

You force your eyes to his and he picks up speaking where he stopped, “You’re a little spit fire out there, okay. Which mean, you’re a delicacy to your little asshole groupies back at that shithole, what was it called? Alex- some for bullshit?”

“Alexandria.” You mumble out, keeping your eyes on his. He tilts his head back, his hand still gripping your chin, “Oh, oh. Right. Yes. Alexandria.”

The door behind you opens and the man drops his hand, “Gavin, my man. I need you to tell me if this is the girl you say in the woods a few weeks ago.”

The man stands up, spinning the chair around for, presumed, Gavin to see you. His eyes move over your body, “Does she have a tattoo or some sort of mark on the back of her left arm?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“When she lifted her arm, it-“

“Lift your arm for me, sweetheart.” The man spins you towards him and you have no other choice but to oblige, you strongly feel that the other choice is death, which you can not allow to happen now.

You pull your shirt sleeve up and the man scoffs, “Bing-fucking-o.” The man shakes his head, “Get a team together, we’re going to meet the people of Alexandria earlier than expected.”

He looks to you, “Take her up to a room. A good room. She hasn’t done anything to not deserve it yet.” He winks at you and you look down as you feel a hand grab your bicep to lift you to your feet.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

You stop, turning to look at the man with the baseball bat resting on his shoulder, “Who are you?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He walks over, tilting his head as he looks down at you, “I’m Negan.”

——

Your first day here was scary. You cried yourself to sleep, worried both about Daryl and the rest of Alexandria.

By the next morning, You were itching to get out, constantly looking for a way to escape, but they had so many people, no matter where you looked, you had eyes on you at all times.

To your surprise, the last week you spent with what you heard them call themselves, The Saviors, wasn’t in a stone cell like you pictured them doing the second you left that room on the first day.

You really didn’t know why.

You kill zombies, big deal. Doesn’t everyone else on this fucked up planet?

“Come with me, honey pie.” Simon says as he pulls you along with him, “Your time to shine.”

You’re taken outside, squinting at the brightness of the sun shining down from above. You couldn’t help but take a deep breathe, it’s the first time you’ve been outside in days.

“Get in and scoot over.” Simon commands and you climb up into the truck, your eyes meeting Negan’s as he steps up to sit into the passengers seat.

You don’t say a word to him. You just face forward as Simon smooshes you between him and Negan as he closes the door.

“So you and Robin Hood, huh?” Simon asks, referring to Daryl. You shake your head in response.

“Listen, sweetie. One thing we do around here, is answer people questions, with the words we learned how to speak. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” You say, clearing your throat, “No, me and.. Robin Hood are not a thing.”

“Seems to care about you like he does. You catch onto that Negan? The way he wanted to rip your throat out yesterday?” Simon chuckles, “Aw the look in his, man. I tell you what though, if looks could kill, you would have been dead.”

“Gonna have to take more than a nasty look to kill me.” Negan chuckles deeply, “Oh looky here.” He points, looking over at you as he sings, “honey.. we’re home.”

Your heart was racing as you seen Rosita motion to open the gate.

You watch her face shift into a shocked look when she caught glimpse of you through the windshield.

As you drive in, coming to a stop, you already see Daryl, front and center with Rick.

“C’mon.” Simon motions to you and you slide over, allowing him to help you down before you follow him around the truck. He pulls you closer to him, the click sending a shiver down your spine.

“Alright. Here’s the deal. You all want your badass, Duffy the zombie slayer black, but I don’t know.” Negan glances back at you, “She could be useful to me.”

You see Rick tighten his grip on Daryl’s vest and you send him a loving look.

“That thought didn’t even cross my mind, but you know what, how about this, If you want y/n back, give us half of your food today, and I want, we’ll make it easy.. ten guns by next week.”

“T-ten guns?” Rick asks baffled, “by next week? Negan that’s.. don’t you think that’s a little impossible?”

“Fine, make it fifteen by Friday, or you can say goodbye to the only chance you all actually have at surviving.” Negan points to you, “As you can she, she’s alive and well, now.”

Negan motions to the truck, “Let’s go.”

You shake your head and Simon grabs your arm roughly and you pull back, letting your fear get the best of you, “No, please. Nono, please no! No!”

Your pleads only set everyone on your side off, yelling and trying to push past the wall of Saviors.

Knives are drawn and you’re held to Negan’s chest, “Listen here! I make the rules. I have something you want and now, you’re going to go off and fuckin’ get me what I want. I’m done negotiating.”

“Negan, please. Just let y/n stay an I pro-“

Negan cuts Rick off, “You promise what, Rick? Huh? You already doubted yourselves with getting ten-“ He gasps, “Sorry, I mean fifteen by next Friday.”

He laughs, shaking his head, sighing as he brings his bat, Lucille, next for your face, “what makes you think you can handle the load of getting this thing here back.”

Daryl’s eyes squint as Negan calls you, this thing.

You swallow, glancing around.

You can take on six walkers, but not this many saviors, the walkers didn’t have rifles pointed at the people you’ve come to love and care for.

“Why are-“ Negan scoffs, “Why are we even still discussing this? You know what. Fine.” He pushes you to the back of the truck and you stumble, silently begging for help.

“If you’re going to cause this big of a fuss instead of just doing as I say..” Negan looks at you, “Then no one can.”

He shrugs, pointing Lucille at the open back, “Get in, or I kill someone.”

——

Ｐ Ｒ Ｅ Ｓ Ｅ Ｎ Ｔ • Ｄ Ａ Ｙ

You held your breath as you pushed your back up against the tree, waiting for the stray walker to move past you, knife at the ready just in case.

You slip around the tree, opposite way from the dead before you continue your journey through the woods.

It’s been, almost five years since you were left stranded in the middle of god knows where by Negan and his Saviors.

You weren’t even sure if they were still a thing or not, but jokes on them, you’re still alive.

And you’re full of fight.

You stopped at the river, bending down to feel the cool water on your fingertips. You’ve been walking all day, and you just needed to take a second.

You look up, taking in the scenery for a few moments before it all starts to becomes, familiar.

You stand up, looking around as your heart starts to pound. You shake your head, laughing slightly as you bend down to grab your bag.

If this is the river you were thinking of, then this river runs directly past your grandfathers cabin, and you can only hope that if Daryl was alive and out there looking for you, that he comes this way.

He should know about this, you stumbled upon it while on a run the one day. You remember about it, but all you knew was that it was next to the river that looked really pretty when the sun was setting, and it still does.

You only had about two hours of sunlight left, and you didn’t know how far you had to go yet, or even if you were going in the right direction.

If this cabin was here, maybe you could finally get a decent nights sleep, that is if it isn’t destroyed by walkers and the storms that plow through.

“I’m going to go get some more firewood.” A woman’s voice sounds through the trees. You stop, moving, furrowing your brows as you try and listen, but she’s already moving, walking away from the small building.

Your cabin.

You feel like you could throw up.

You turn around, trying to see if you can get a glimpse of who she was talking, too, but nothing.

“Raise your hands and turn around slowly.”

You whip around, catching her off guard before her face settles, “Holy shit.” Carol laughs slightly, “Daryl is going to lose his mind.”

She pulls you into a hug and you hear her sniffle, “oh my god, look at you.” She leans back, hands sliding over your hand and down your face, “You grew up.”

You smile slightly, your mind going back to who’s in the cabin, “Is he in there?”

“Every chance he got.” She shakes her head, “So much has happened.” You see the pain in her eyes but you opt to keep things happy right now, “we can talk later. I want to see Daryl first.”

She nods, brushing hair from your face, “Im so happy you found your way back.”

“It was hell, but right now, totally worth it.” You take a deep breath, “You go in first.”

She nods, walking a head of you as she leads you back towards the cabin, “Hey Daryl.” Carol calls as she smaller back at you, “I found something that you’re going to want to see.”

You stand by the fire, the glow illuminates you as you stand there waiting to see his face for the very first time in five years.

The feelings you had, never went away.

“What’d ya fi-“ His face falls and his arms go limp by his sides as he shakes his head, “No fuckin’ way.”

Tears well up in your eyes as Daryl slowly steps down off the porch, “No fuckin’ way.” He looks at Carol and back to you before quickly making his way over to you.

“Where the hell ya been?” He grabs you, pulling you into his chest tight, “I thought you were dead, I-.” He leans back, looking over your slightly older looks.

“Negan told us that he watched you get attacked by walkers.” Carol chimes in, finishing what Daryl couldn’t, “He brought back your necklace, there was blood on it.. we didn’t..”

You keep your hands on Daryl, your fingers moving under the sleeve of his jacket, “Negan snapped that necklace off my neck before they dumped me in the middle of nowhere.”

Daryl scoffs, pulling you closer to rest his chin on your head. Carol smiles as she watches the affectionate radiate off of him.

“They drove me way past the city, too. I don’t know. I’m pretty sure they drugged me or something because I was out for most of the trip.”

You feel Daryl’s grip tighten with your words and you shake your head, laying a hand on his bicep, “So much happened.”

You think back to all the stuff you had to do just to make it back to here, cringing at yourself.

“Ya hungry?” Daryl asks changing the subject and you nod, “Starving.”

——

Since the minute you found them, Daryl hasn’t left your side, and Dog right by his.

You were able to handle the news of the deaths and destruction among your group and homes, it hurt to hear, but it’s better that you know how than walking in expecting everything to be all sunshine and rainbows.

ou cried, but there was one question you needed the answer to.

“Are the Savior’s gone?” You looked up at Carol as she looks to Daryl. Your attention moves to him and he nods, “Ah, yeah. Yeah. But..”

“What?”

“Negan is at Alexandria.”

You’re on your feet, “What.”

“It’s only tem-“

You turn, walking away from Carol as she tries to explain, but you walk over to a tree, pressing your hand into it.

As you take a few deep breathes, you feel someone walking up to you, “I just need a minute.” You tilt your head, closing your eyes as you swallow the feeling of wanting to puke away.

“S’alot to process.” Daryl mumbles, unsure of what to do, “Take your time.”

Do you resent him now?

Are you going to leave again?

He wanted you to know everything, but he wouldn’t have if that meant you leaving again.

“Daryl?” You wave your hand in front of his face and he blinks, “Sorry I just..” he shakes his head, “please don’t leave me again.”

“Leave you again?” You laugh slightly, letting out a sigh, “Why would you think that I’d leave you? I’ve been looking for you.”

“I haven’t stopped. I came here because I-“

You smirk slightly, “Because you actually paid attention to your bestie?”

He gives you a small smirk, shoulders heaving as he laughs ever so slightly, “You’ve changed..” Daryl brushes his hand over your hair, his thumb gently brushing over your face, His brows furrow, “when did you get this?”

His finger brushes over the scar on your top lip, “Did someone do this t’you?”

“One of those assholes that pushed me out of the car, hit my face on a rock.” You shake your head, “It’s just a scar, Daryl.”

Which was one of many you have received.

“Sorry I-“

“Don’t. Don’t do that.” You shake your head, “What happened to me wasn’t your fault, okay.”

All he does is nod but you frown slightly, “Have I ever told you that I liked you?”

“I don’t think you’d come on runs with me if ya didn’t.” Daryl looks at you and you tilt your head, “No, like..” you bite your lip and sigh.

He laughs slightly, “M’old enough to be your daddy, y/n.” You smirk up at him, getting ready to say something but he pulls you towards him, “Watch out.”

Natural instinct, you have your knife in your hand within a second and you both swing around, the blades of your knives entering the dead’s skull in unison.

You look at the knives and back to Daryl, “Either way I look at it.” You pull your knife from the walker, “You and I will always have unfinished business to take care of.”

Daryl shakes his head as he withdrawals his knife, “You think?”

You lay your hand on his chest, “I know.”

You couldn’t let yourself feel what you’ve pushed through, but both Carol and Daryl can see that.

“Hi, boy.” You bend down to pet Dog, your shirt riding up to reveal a slightly bigger scar than on your lip. Daryl’s eyes fixate on it right away and he clenches his jaw.

Before he can ask, you stand up, “You fix up everything?”

“Yeah, go take a look.” Daryl sniffles and walks towards Carol as you walk into the cabin. Memories of growing up here flood through, almost breaking that barrier until Dog pushes between your legs, whining as he trots in.

“Do you need anything?” Carol asks walking up beside you. You shake your head, hesitating to look over at her at first, “No, no. I’m good.”

“We can head back to Alexandria in the morning.” She rubs your back, “It’s really good to have you back.”

You smile, nodding, “It’s really nice to not be alone.”

“What happened out there?”

You shake your head sluggishly, “I don’t-“

“Okay.” She says quickly as Daryl walks in. You look up at him, “I think I’m going to go lay down.” You walk over to where your bag is and sit down.

You bring your knees to your chest, eyes focusing on Dog as he glows in the light of the fire.

A few moments later, Daryl’s footsteps move closer to you. He stays silent as he moves to sit next to you. He brings his arm out, laying it around your back as he pulls you into his side.

You immediately fall into him, your head on his chest, arm around his torso. He inches back, just enough to lean against the wall for support.

Daryl looked down at you, gently playing with strands of your now long hair, it was just a little past your shoulders when you were separated.

You lost weight from having to scavenge for any food that was safe to eat.

He knew what you went through was tormenting you, he just wanted you to know that you aren’t alone.

“Look at me, y/n.”

You roll over into your back, head in his lap as you stare up at him.

“When you’re ready to tell someone, m’here f’ya.”

You close your eyes as his hand strokes over your hair. You haven’t felt this safe in a while, so you were just trying to soak it all in without having to worry every single second of the day and most nights.

“I love you.” Daryl whispers, “Should’ve told you that years ago.”

“It’s about time you say those words to me, Daryl Dixon.” You sit up, keeping your chest on his arm as you lean in, “I love you.”

——

I started to hate this towards the end but I NEEDED to get this off of my chest. I hope you enjoyed. As always, I love you so much. Thank you for reading! 🖤

likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 5: Heads Or Tails, Fairy Tales In My Mind]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, RIP Jace.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Are We The Waiting” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.8k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“I know he has a scalpel in his bag,” Baela says, meaning Aemond. You are sitting with her on the front steps of a two-story house—1970s construction, split foyer, pale blue siding and rust-red bricks—on Trux Street in Plymouth, Ohio. This town was named for the place where the pilgrims stepped off the Mayflower over four hundred years ago, pioneers who crossed through the doorway of an unfathomably changing world to die of disease, cold, accidents, starvation, violence. You wonder if you are so unlike them. “He’s assisted with c-sections before, if it comes to that. And he has needles and surgical thread. But he doesn’t have any way to anesthetize me.”

Luke and Rhaena are on the roof of the silver Chrysler Pacifica parked at the end of the driveway and surveilling the road. Everyone else is inside tearing the house apart as they try to find the keys. You don’t know what to say to Baela. There is no way to console her except by lying, and she’s too smart for that. “How far along are you?”

“I don’t even know.” She laughs like she’s on the verge of losing her mind. You don’t blame her. “The doctors calculate it based on the date of your last period, but mine was all over the place. I had tried a few different birth control pills and had all these side effects, weird spotting and cramping, no sex drive, feeling depressed, so I just figured I’d go all natural for six months and give my body a chance to reset. And we all know how that turned out.” She skims her palms over the globe of her belly, hidden beneath the flowing periwinkle cotton of a maternity dress she found at the Walmart back in Shenandoah. “I’m officially due in four weeks.”

“But it could happen at any time.”

Baela nods miserably. “My mum had me and Rhaena the…you know…the natural way, and it was smooth sailing. But she needed an emergency c-section with my little brother. What happens if that’s how it goes for me? Do you ever think about all the ways people can die now? It’s not just the zombies. I could get murdered, or fall and crack my skull open, or get a cut that turns septic, or rupture my appendix, or get frostbite or heatstroke, or get bitten by a snake. It never ends. We’ll be balancing on the knife’s edge for the rest of our lives.”

You wish you were better with words; you wish you were someone who spoke effortlessly like Rio or Aegon. You reply with the only thing you can think of. “Humans have survived for hundreds of thousands of years, and for the vast majority of that time with no modern medicine. It was dangerous, and it was painful. But there have always been people who made it. We wouldn’t exist otherwise.”

Remarkably, this seems to help. “I know Aemond will do everything he can for me,” Baela says, more steadily now. “He’s always been the most dependable one. So serious, so protective. Daeron was visiting us in Boston when everything shut down, and Aemond wouldn’t let the kid out of his sight for weeks…then Aemond almost died when he lost his eye and Daeron proved he could take care of himself with his compound bow.” Baela unwraps a Twizzler and takes a bite out of it, gazing vacantly at the sky, calm and overcast now that the storm has passed, breezy, mid-80s. She doesn’t even like them, but she’s been eating through a pack of Twizzlers Luke had been carrying in his backpack for Jace, slow mindless chewing like a cow’s. “Aemond feels responsible for you now. And that’s difficult when there’s so little control he actually has over what ends up happening.”

“Baela…I’m so sorry about Jace.”

“Drowning isn’t so bad, I guess. I hope he drowned. I hope he was dead before he washed ashore and they ate him.” Baela turns to you, eyes glazed. “Do you think we should have shot him before we left the river? To make sure he didn’t die in pain? You could have done it if you wanted to. Your aim is good enough.”

“No,” you say, horrified but trying to soften it. “I think that would have been…immoral.”

“I don’t even have a picture of Jace to show the baby, everything was online or on my phone, and now that’s all…gone. Just gone. Like he never even existed. How am I going to explain to my child what Boston was, or law school, or aerospace engineering, or grocery stores or shopping malls or Instagram, or anything else about our lives before this whole fucking disaster? All they’ll ever know is running from monsters, scrounging for shelter and supplies from the ruins of civilization.”

“The world is going to come back, Baela. Maybe not for five or ten years, and maybe looking a lot different than it did before, but humanity will recover. The Black Death wasn’t the end, and neither were the World Wars or the Mongol invasions or the colonization of the Americas, or famines or floods or volcanic eruptions. The zombies won’t end us either.”

“Do you really believe that?”

I want to. “Yeah, I do. We just have to hold on until the tide turns. We can’t give up.”

“In that case, I’ll try not to go completely insane in the immediate future. Thank God Rhaena and Luke are still here. Do you have any siblings?”

You smile vaguely. “Four.”

“Wow,” Baela says. “Do you know where they are now?”

There is an interruption before you have to decide how to answer: a roaring high above in the sky, a remote mechanical growling. You and Baela both look up to see a jet zooming by, just below the steel grey cloud cover and leaving a trail of condensation behind it like a comet’s tail of eons-old cosmic dust. From where he is perched atop the Pacifica, Luke is pointing at the jet to show Rhaena. Aemond, Rio, Aegon, and Daeron come rocketing out of the house to find the source of the noise. After a moment, Helaena moseys onto the front porch as well, tucking flashlights and napkins into her burlap messenger bag. Meanwhile, Aegon is filling his pockets with packs of Marlboro Golds and orange prescription bottles labelled Percocet.

“Is that an airplane?!” Aegon gasps. “People are flying again?! Oh, we are back, baby! We are so back! I’m catching the next flight to SFO, peace out bitches, no more Oregon Trail for me!”

“It’s a jet,” Aemond says flatly. “Not a passenger carrier. Probably military.”

“Doesn’t look like one of ours.” Rio turns to you for confirmation.

“No, I don’t recognize it.”

“Then who the fuck is up there?” Aegon says. “Canada? The U.K.?”

Rio sighs, ruffling Aegon’s already quite disheveled blonde hair. “Who knows, Honey Bun. Maybe it’s China or Russia swinging by to drop nukes on any survivors.”

“Fortunately, nobody’s going to waste a nuclear bomb on freaking Plymouth, Ohio,” Baela says, watching the jet vanish into the west, the droning of its engines replaced by the breeze through the sugar maples and sycamores, the screeching of cicadas and chirps of robins. “No luck finding the keys?”

Aemond frowns as he shakes his head, tapping his chin anxiously. He knows she can’t walk much farther.

“How do none of us know how to hotwire a car?” Aegon demands, exasperated.

Rio replies cheerfully: “Well, Chips and I have been diligently serving this glorious nation since we were eighteen years old, and you’re all clueless rich kids. So…I think that just about sums it up.”

“I need more arrows,” Daeron says, clutching his compound bow. All the ones he had are now speared through zombies along the river where Jace died. When you snuck away from the farm at dawn, Luke used his binoculars to check the shores; they were still swamped with zombies, even more than the night before. They are pack animals; alone, they are aimless and easily confounded, their memories calamitously short. As part of a group—if they were crows they’d be a murder, if they were camels they’d be a caravan—zombies attract and guide each other, moving symbiotically like planets and moons locked in orbit.

“I think you’re going to have to start making them the old fashioned way, kid,” Rio tells Daeron, accompanied by a rough pat of encouragement on the back.

“What, like with sticks?!”

“Yeah. Use a knife to carve one end to make it pointy and you’re good to go.”

“Love it. Very pioneer.” Aegon holds up a Sony Walkman, pink and covered with Disney stickers, Ava spelled out across the top in glittering rhinestones. “At least I found this. Helaena, do we have any more AA batteries?” She fishes around in her bag and hands him a pair.

Baela gapes at him, but she’s smiling. It’s horrible, it’s absurd, it’s something you can’t help but find a macabre humor in. “Aegon, you cannot use that poor eaten kid’s CD player. You know it’s haunted.”

Aegon sings like a jingle from a commercial: “Little Ava died, RIP. Now I get to listen to my CDs.”

“Oh, that is so fucked up!” Rio cackles.

You say, grinning: “Aegon, I’m really going to miss you when we’re all in heaven at the bowling alley made of clouds and you’re downstairs in the fiery version of the afterlife.”

“Don’t feel bad for me, Chipmunk. You’re the one who’s going to die without ever having an orgasm.”

“You don’t need a man for that, Aegon,” Baela says.

“You definitely don’t,” you agree. Aemond glances over at you, intrigued. You stare dauntlessly back. What? You said you weren’t interested. The corners of his lips curl up in a reticent smile; he looks down to try to hide it. He’s touching his chin again. His cheeks flush pink as his mind wanders.

Rio chuckles. “Oh yeah, I remember your little experimenting phase. Lots of trips to the Spencer’s in the Tysons Corner mall when we were stationed at Anacostia.”

You raise your eyebrows, though you’re not annoyed. “I thought you were never going to tell anybody about that.”

“It’s the end of the world, baby. No time to be shy.” Then Rio asks Aemond: “Since we’re here and it’s quiet, you want to go ahead and check every house that has a car with the fuel cap still closed? There are some minivans and SUVs down at the other end of the street. Even a few gallons of gas will take us farther than days on foot.”

Aegon adds, checking his map: “A half tank would get us all the way to Decatur, Indiana.”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Aemond says. He offers Baela a hand and helps lift her to her feet. “You guys go ahead, I’ll meet you down at the driveway with the black…what is that, a Honda Odyssey? You know the one, the van in front of the yellow house. Don’t go inside until I get there.”

“Yup!” Aegon agrees as he speeds off, racing Daeron to the house. Rio—not one for sprinting—jogs after them with his Remington in hand, ready to bash rotting skulls in at a moment’s notice. Baela toddles down to the Pacifica to tell Luke and Rhaena the plan, her periwinkle dress billowing in the wind; then they climb down to walk with her. Helaena floats across the sidewalk like a ghost, pausing to pick buttercups that grow up between the cracks in the cement.

Aemond has been waiting until the two of you are alone. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.” A few houses down, a female zombie—early-twenties, white bikini top, red Ohio State shorts—staggers across the yard and in her attempt to snag Aegon falls and impales herself on the white picket fence. She is suspended there, clawing and yowling, her blackening intestines and dark clotted blood staining the wood. Aegon takes his time getting into a stance and swings his golf club like he’s at a driving range. He hits her dead-on, caves the front of her face in, takes a few more shots just to be sure.

“I get what’s in Oregon for Rio,” Aemond says. “Sophie, the baby, his parents. But why are you going there?”

“Rio’s my best friend. He might be my only friend who’s still alive. And when we left Saratoga Springs, he made me promise that I wouldn’t let him die alone. So before anything else, I have to make sure he gets to Odessa and finds his family. And then I can figure out what’s next for me. But if it really is safe there, I don’t see why I’d leave. I’ve never wanted to be on my own. Maybe I can end up having a family in Oregon too.”

Aemond rests his elbows on the porch railing. He’s teasing you. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I’m still alive.”

You tease him back. He deserves it. “I’m not sure about you and me.”

“I’d like for us to be friends.”

“Would you?”

“Resoundingly.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a try.”

He considers you. “You know, Kentucky might have been a good place for you to hide out. And it would be a lot closer than Oregon.”

You stand up, throwing on your backpack full of bullets for your Beretta M9s, beef jerky and peanut butter crackers and granola bars, lip balm, bottles of water, Kleenex tissues, Juicy Fruit, miscellaneous treasures from the road, practically worthless trinkets made so impossibly valuable. “We’re done here, right?”

Aemond is disappointed, though not with you. He has committed an error he cannot understand. “Yeah, we’re done.” He walks with you to the yellow house, your sneakers pounding in tandem on the sidewalk, squirrels and rabbits darting through the overgrown lawns, eastern tiger swallowtails swooping between blossoms.

Aegon says when you and Aemond arrive in the driveway, nodding to the once-attractive blonde zombie pawing and licking at the glass of the living room window: “Who wants to take care of Ryan Seacrest?”

“Got it,” Rio replies immediately. He kicks down the front door, macerates the zombie’s skull with the butt of his Remington, then sweeps through the kitchen and dining room searching for any other monsters in need of hasty euthanasia. He doesn’t find any. He drags the corpse outside to lessen the stench of decomposition and opens all the downstairs windows.

“Commence Operation Find The Minivan Keys,” Aegon says as he rummages through drawers and cabinets. Helaena joins him, seeking so delicately she is almost soundless, her large blue eyes flicking from place to place. Luke, Rhaena, and Daeron stay outside to keep watch. Baela collapses into a recliner in one corner of the living room and is dozing within seconds.

“I’ll clear the upstairs,” Aemond volunteers, then asks you: “Watch my blind side?”

You can’t help but smile; it is a generous invitation. It is an honor. You shadow him up the staircase of olive green carpet, through the hallway, into each of the three bedrooms and one full bath. When you are certain it is safe—exploring the back of every closet, under every bed—you and Aemond begin searching for weapons and car keys. The main bedroom is like a forest: blankets pattered with trees and deer, wood furniture, paintings of the Battle of the Wilderness during the Civil War. You investigate every drawer of the nightstand and dresser, then go to leave.

“Wait.” Aemond peeks out into the hallway to make sure no one else is around, then closes the bedroom door. Your eyes track him quizzically, shy skittish optimism, your head tilted, your fingers finding the dresser behind you, cool rust-hued oak, a color like dried blood. You slip off your backpack. Then Aemond comes to you like a returning comet—once in a lifetime, once in an eon—and holds your face in his hands as he kisses you, soft, careful, unhurried, then turning famished, sweltering incurable hunger. You lift yourself up onto the dresser; your thighs have parted, and Aemond is between them, still fully clothed and leaving yours in place too, so innocent, so spotless, and yet in your mind you are imagining what it would feel like to lie beneath him as he opens and fills you, to be so irredeemably close to another person, to watch and listen as he teaches you what to do.

Right here? Right now?

It suddenly strikes you as too soon; you want this but you aren’t ready. Your heart races, you can’t catch your breath. “I am obligated to make you aware that according to your own calculations, I am likely dangerously fertile at the moment.”

Aemond grins as he bites playfully at your lower lip. “Relax. We’re not rounding all the bases this time.”

His voice evaporates your panic, lulls your rushing blood. Your muscles turn to seamless rippling water. Your bones crave the weight of his. “Yeah, totally, good, that’s good. Just making sure.”

“I want to touch you. Can I touch you?”

In reply, you unbutton your denim shorts and pull down the zipper, slowly, very slowly, your gaze linked with his like torn flesh stitched together. He’s close enough to kiss you again, but he doesn’t; he takes your chin gently and turns your face to the side, admiring the curve of your jaw. Then his lips are on your throat and his right hand is skimming down the front of your shirt, over your belly, under your shorts. You gasp—the foreignness of another’s hand here, the disorienting vulnerability—and Aemond stops.

“No, I’m okay,” you assure him, smiling. You kiss him deeply, your fingertips tracing his scar, the work of his careful, gifted hands. Aemond does not flinch away. He presses his face into your palm, offering himself fully, taking shelter in you. And everything other than him—this house, this world, this age, this westward journey, this apocalypse—goes quiet, quiet, quiet, like when you are shooting, like when you are hammering nails under the sun. Aemond makes everything horrifying disappear. It is the greatest sort of magic you can imagine.

“So,” he says. “What did you buy at Spencer’s?”

“Green Day t-shirts.”

“Sure.”

“And some, uh, battery-powered companionship.”

“Hm.” Aemond’s fingers are moving against you; it is increasingly difficult to respond to his questions. “Internal or external? Or both?”

“Oh, definitely…um…I stayed on the outside, mostly. I tried…oh wow, okay…inside a few times, but I didn’t get much out of it. It was mostly just uncomfortable.”

“No problem. We’ll work up to that.”

“Will we?” You hope you don’t sound too desperate. The warm coiling pleasure is swelling, strengthening, begging to be released, loosed like an arrow or fired like a bullet. Aemond’s fingers slip through your wetness, circling and pressing down harder, insistently, masterfully. It feels different than using toys: it is more gradual, less sharp, helplessly overpowering.

“That’s my plan. If you’ll allow it.”

You exhale a threadbare ghost of a whimper against his throat and then reach for his shorts, fumbling blindly for the button and zipper.

“No, don’t do anything,” Aemond murmurs, soft and pleading, almost like a prayer. “Let me take care of you. Please let me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re doing a lot right at the moment.” You’re close now, your breaths quick and panting. You throw your arms around the back of Aemond’s neck and fold into him, feeling the thudding pulse of his carotid artery beneath your fingertips, the softness of his lips and unscarred cheek as he nuzzles the side of your face. It’s so quiet, but there’s no need to fill the silence, no words, no uneasiness. You’ve always wondered what you would have to do to please a man, what premeditated motions and praises you would offer him, niceties, perhaps even lies. But this is effortless. The shimmering golden glow like sunlight is here, and he is the one drawing it out of you, water from a well, blood from a tapped vein. The only sound you make is a shuddering inhale, but Aemond knows immediately. He closes his eyes, relieved, proud, beaming, resting his forehead against yours.

He asks: “Can I try…?”

“Yes, do it, please, I want you to.”

Aemond’s hand shifts between your thighs, moves lower, and there is a sudden jolt of pain like a pinch, like a bite. You wince before you can think to disguise it. Immediately, Aemond retreats, kissing your lips and your cheeks. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You were incredible.”

You reach for his shorts again and unbutton them. “Show me what to do.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

He takes a shaky breath, drags his tongue over the fingers he touched you with, moans so quietly you can barely hear him. He frees himself from his clothes: long and thick, harder than you believed flesh could be. Aemond grasps your hand and places it, demonstrates how to move and how much pressure to apply. Then his own hands drop to grip the edge of the dresser as you stroke him. You nip at his throat, his jaw, the shell of his ear; you coax euphoric sighs from him, feel a high in your bloodstream like something illicit and lethal.

“I’ll be honest,” you say. “I have no idea how that’s ever going to fit inside me.”

Aemond chuckles, distracted. “Women stretch, just like men do. It might take time, but it will happen. And I’ll make sure it’s as good as it can be.”

“I want it to be you, Aemond,” you whisper, and you can feel him throbbing in your hand. “You and no one else. Teach me how to do everything.” Make the world go away.

He gasps as he finishes, a thunderous trembling all over, a gush of white heat that flows over your hand. Curious, you lift it to your mouth. “Don’t—!”

But he’s too late; you lick him from your palm and then recoil at the taste, pungent, bitter, salty.

Aemond laughs hysterically, kissing your mouth and then your forehead. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

“I hope I taste better than that.”

“You definitely do.”

You peer up at him, dazed, dreamy. “I really like you, Aemond.”

“You can’t fall in love with me.” It is a taunt; it is a warning.

“If I do, I won’t let you know,” you promise. “You’re on first watch tonight, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“Then I’ll stay up too.”

“Rio already volunteered to do it.”

“Really, I don’t mind.”

“No,” Aemond purrs, brushing your hair back from your face, marveling at you. “I can’t have you sleep deprived. You’re our best shot.”

“I can handle it.”

“You want to be honest with each other, you want to communicate? I like knowing you’re rested. I like knowing you’re safe.”

The door flies open with a bang; Aegon stands in the threshold. “We’ve got three-quarters of a tank of gas!” he announces ecstatically, jangling car keys in the air. Then he registers what he’s looking at. “Come outside when you’re done fucking.” Aegon slams the door shut; you hear his Sperry Bahama sneakers drumming on the staircase.

“I guess we should go,” you say reluctantly, untangling yourself from Aemond and sliding down from the dresser.

“Wait.” He gets a water bottle out of your backpack, soaks a handful of Kleenex tissues, and gives them to you to clean yourself off. When you’re done, he wipes himself down too. “Make sure you always take a piss after any…activities. We don’t have antibiotics if you get a kidney infection.”

“I know, doctor. I’ve read Reddit threads.”

“Not a doctor. Just a lowly intern.”

“You seem like an anatomy expert to me,” you say, then head downstairs.

The black Honda Odyssey is idling as the last of the supplies are loaded, the windows down, Baela adjusting the driver’s seat so she can accommodate her belly. Everyone piles inside and she steers the minivan out of the driveway and onto Trux Street. Aegon pops one of his mixtapes into the CD player. The song that pipes through the speakers is Prayer In C:

“Yeah, you never said a word

You didn’t send me no letter

Don’t think I could forgive you…”

“So,” Baela says casually, grinning at you in the rearview mirror. “How was the sex?”

“Stop,” Aemond begs, his face going red, smiling involuntarily.

You say placidly: “I appreciate your interest, but that’s not what we were doing.”

Rio turns to Aegon. “Do you know what sex looks like or not, dumbass?”

“They were doing something, okay! Those were not virginal activities!”

“See, our world is slowly dying

I’m not wasting no more time

Don’t think I could believe you…”

You rest your head on Aemond’s shoulder and watch the abandoned houses pass by in a blur.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Odyssey arrives in Decatur, Indiana just a few hours before sunset, gas to spare and plenty of time to find a safe place to spend the night. You break into a house on the outskirts of the west side of the city: a rancher with a screened-in porch, beach décor, bowls of seashells on tables and spray-painted aluminum dolphins on the wall. Baela plummets into sleep immediately, sharing the largest bed with Rhaena and Luke. Helaena writes in her spider notebook for a while before curling up on the living room couch, Daeron sprawled on the floor beside her with a couch cushion for a pillow. Aegon is in what was once a child’s bedroom; you have the bedroom of a teenage girl, perhaps spirited away to friends or relatives in some other part of the country, perhaps dead, perhaps lurching around out in the night somewhere, mad and murderous. Everything is purple, the walls, the blankets, the stuffed animals that form a mountain on the other half of the bed.

You are exhausted, but you can’t sleep. Your thoughts won’t stop racing, stop craving. Aemond and Rio are in rocking chairs out on the porch, keeping watch and working their way through the case of Sunny D they found in the kitchen pantry. You go out to join them, then stop at the screen door that separates the linoleum-floored dining room from the porch. They are discussing you. You sit, legs crossed, listening in the dim silvery light, stars and moon and nothing else.

Aemond is saying: “She doesn’t talk much about where she came from.”

Rio chuckles, a low baritone rumble. “She doesn’t talk much in general. But yeah, don’t expect any juicy revelations. That’s not how she does things.”

“Do you know what her life was like before?”

“I know some of it. I don’t know a lot.” Rio pauses; you can envision him shrugging and running his fingers through his dark curly hair, weighing what you would be okay with him sharing. “I know that when I met her, her mother was calling all the time telling her to send money home. And she’d do it, because she felt like she didn’t have a choice. Then she never had cash for drinks or anything, I was always paying her way, and one day I was finally like ‘Chips, how much do you actually have in your account right now?’ because I figured she must be down real low. Jesus Christ, I couldn’t believe it when she showed me the balance, she had like three bucks left until her next paycheck, and of course then her mother would be calling again. She sent tens of thousands of dollars home that disappeared, poof, gone, without a trace.”

Aemond sounds stunned. “What did they spend it on?”

“Who the fuck knows with those people. Lottery tickets and cigs, probably. Trips to Virginia Beach. Benny Hinn Bibles. And when she tried to hit the brakes, her mother and siblings got nasty, calling constantly and telling her how awful she was and that they were going to starve. I convinced her to stop picking up the phone, but it took forever. I think she knew by then she was going to have to cut them off if she didn’t want to end up back there, but she needed somebody to give her permission. That was my job. As far as I know, she hasn’t spoken to anyone from home in years. Hell, Sophie was her AOP.”

“AOP…?”

“Oh, sorry, Arrears of Pay. It’s the person you designate to get all your benefits if you die in the service. I guess she figured that if our base got bombed or our plane went down or something, at least it would end up with my family.”

Aemond is quiet, thirty seconds, a minute, maybe two. “Obviously my circumstances were a lot different. But I understand having to choose between other people’s expectations and yourself.”

“Why are you asking me all this?”

Another pause; silent thoughts under glimmering stars and the shrieks of short-lived summer cicadas. “She takes me out of this world for a while. She makes the guilt and the fear go quiet. I want to know everything about her.”

When Rio speaks, he is gentle, compassionate. “The hard truth is, the details aren’t my business. They aren’t yours either. When people enlist, they’re starting over. It’s a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It gets them away from home, but it also gets them away from whoever they were before.”

“She said something like that once. Back at Fort Indiantown Gap.”

“It’s a polite way of telling you to shut up.” You know from his voice that Rio is smiling. “If she wants to forget her old life, you have to let her. If you care about her, you’ll want her to be able to move on.”

“I care.”

“She likes you,” Rio says. “But you could still fuck it up. She’s good at finding reasons not to trust people.”

“It’s a bad way to live.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I know. I’m the same way.”

There is quiet now, only the sounds of Sunny D being slurped and cicadas screaming through the darkness. You have intruded enough. You stand and walk back down the hallway, then remember something Aegon said outside a Burger King in Pennsylvania. You go to his bedroom, illuminated by a flashlight pointed towards the ceiling, casting long deformed shadows.

Aegon is lying on his back with his head hanging upside down over the side of the bed—dinosaur blankets, bright red and blue pillows—puffing on a cigarette and listening to his new CD player, previously Ava’s, with both earbuds in. Then he spots you. Still upside down, Aegon hits the pause button on his CD player and says: “Hey, Microchip.”

“What did you mean about people pretending to love you?”

He smirks, shrugs, takes a lazy drag off his Marlboro Gold. “Every friend I’ve ever had has used me for money, mansions, yachts. Every girl I’ve ever fucked has wanted something in return. Mother prefers Daeron, Grandfather prefers Helaena, Criston prefers Aemond, and Father prefers his real estate empire and his model ships. Can you imagine loving a miniature replica of the Titanic more than your own children?”

“No,” you say, honestly and with heavy, gore-red pity. “You shouldn’t have to go back to people who make you feel that way. I wouldn’t.”

Aegon takes another drag as he watches you. “Aemond mentioned you’re from Kentucky.”

“I am.”

“But you won’t be returning.”

“No.”

Aegon nods, like you’ve answered an important question. “Aemond talks about you a lot. It’s cute. It doesn’t make me sick like when he was with Alys. Playing her games, breaking himself in half to follow her rules.”

You peer down at your fingernails, short and functional and unglamorous. You don’t want to hear about the older woman who was his lover, his obsession, his cure, his venom. She was poisonous to him, surely, and yet she was experienced where you are uninitiated and unversed, she had a PhD to compare with your high school diploma. Surely in those seven years he shared moments with her that were divine. Surely even a curse is woven from magic.

“Anyway.” Aegon rolls over, props himself up on his elbows, and extinguishes his cigarette in an empty plastic Sunny D bottle. “I have no particular affinity for my old life or the beach house in California, but that’s where Aemond is going. And I have to be where he is. I have to make sure he’s alright, you know?”

Yes, you do know; that’s how you feel about Rio. “What’s it like? That house up on a cliff all by itself?”

Aegon grins, like he’s caught you in a mouthwateringly compromising position. “Why? You thinking about visiting someday?”

“Just wondering.”

He squirms over to one side of the bed to make room for you, popping in an earbud. “Come listen with me.”

“What is it?”

“Just come over here!”

You cross the room and kick off your sneakers, climb onto the bed, lie down and take the other earbud that Aegon offers you. What you hear when you listen is Don McLean’s American Pie. “Oh, this is ancient.”

“It’s a classic. I wish I’d gotten to live through the 70s.”

“We’ll reinvent them when the world starts up again. Disco and lava lamps and shag carpets. We’ll shoot heroin and listen to vinyl records. Jimmy Carter can be president if he’s still alive.”

Aegon snickers, and then he sings along, hushed but surprisingly melodic, solemn, tender. He’s looking at you expectantly, eyebrows raised, nodding, beckoning for you to join him. You adamantly refuse. You don’t sing in front of anybody, not even Rio.

“I met a girl who sang the blues

And I asked her for some happy news

But she just smiled and turned away

I went down to the sacred store

Where I’d heard the music years before

But the man there said the music wouldn’t play…”

Aegon shoves your shoulder. “I could be dead tomorrow. Don’t ignore me.”

Self-consciously, but smiling a little bit, you begin to sing with him, so softly you can barely hear yourself. Aegon is beaming, small even white teeth beneath sparkling eyes, a murky cool blue like storm clouds, like the ocean, waves lapping at the shores of Diego Garcia, the Gulf of Tadjoura off the east coast of Djibouti, Corpus Christi Bay, places you once never knew existed.

“And in the streets, the children screamed

The lovers cried and the poets dreamed

But not a word was spoken

The church bells all were broken

And the three men I admire most

The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost

They caught the last train for the coast

The day the music died.”

[kradogsrats]

Theory: The Other Primal Magic

So I realized something recently: we've actually been shown two adjacent-but-different forms of primal magic, which everyone has just conflated into one because the distinction isn't made obvious.

Primal spell runes are not a form of draconic writing. Both versions of the "humans receive primal magic" story have a strong distinction between the draconic words and spell runes, and the runes themselves have more in common with ideograms than logograms. For example, the pluviam praesidium rune isn't a combination of symbols that independently correspond to words meaning "rain" and "shield," it's a picture of a rain shield (i.e. an umbrella).

Even in the alternate concepts for that rune, where it is explicitly composed of several independent elements instead of just "umbrella," pretty much all of them (including the final one seen in the show) combine something that could be interpreted as rain (the bouncing downward stroke that forms the "handle" of the umbrella) and a shield (the curved dome), but those two symbols don't represent the words "pluviam" and "praesidium."

This is a subtle but important distinction, because while the majority of primal spell runes we see are like this—representations of what the spell does, rather than the spell's words—there is a subset of spells that work the opposite way:

What do these spells (though "spell" is a stretch for the elevator) have in common?

Each is a three-word spell with three corresponding runes, while other primal spell runes are single symbols representing spells of between one and three words (but usually two)

In three out of four, the runes are activated or "lit" individually (aquis spirare faucibus lights all at once, but it's a bit of an outlier in other respects, as well)

Two of these spells—manus pluma volantus and Karim's Sunforge orb destruction spell (which we only know two of the three words of, so I'm just going to call it that)—explicitly can be achieved by only the most powerful mages of those primals. So here's what I think:

These are primal magic spells invented by primal mages, possibly more recently than the primal rune spells.

Except for the elevator (which I'll come back to in a minute), I think these are spells created using draconic words paired with elven runes that correspond to those words. The (presumably Skywing elf) symbols of manus pluma volantus are very different from the (presumably Sunfire elf) runes of Karim's spell because the symbols themselves aren't from the same language. Basically, a powerful mage can combine draconic words and "runes" from their own language to build a spell out of component parts, which are distinct from the universal rune spells any mage can cast.

This also explains one of the more cryptic statements in Tales of Xadia (which is saying a lot):

Plotice, I would bet, has either discovered a combination of draconic words and Skywing runes that forms a new spell, or he may have discovered a universal rune that can be used for an existing compound spell, making a previously difficult spell attainable for less powerful mages. "Discovered" is an interesting word here (compared to "invented") because it implies that you can't just do this by combining words willy-nilly—maybe dragons or archdragons can, but there's a limit to what an elven (or human) mage can achieve, and the trick is figuring out what combinations work. Same for turning the spell words into a universal rune, if that's even possible—you can't just draw a picture and call it a day.

What's interesting is the possibilities introduced by inscribing these runes on objects. We know that even if Rayla carves terminus ad glacium into some ice, she can't activate it herself. Callum the Ocean mage has to do that. However, it's not super clear whether Rayla could have activated the Starscraper elevator if she was the one to read the words, or if a Sky mage (or even just a Sky arcanum) is required for that. We don't really know whether the Starscraper elevator symbols are Skywing or actual written draconic, just that Callum can read them:

Our other example is the waterbreathing amulet, which has to be usable by someone without an Ocean arcanum, considering that Callum doesn't have one when Akiyu gives him the amulet. Callum does have to activate or cast the spell when he draws it himself, but it seems like the amulet is sufficiently magical, itself. (Stella also uses it, but that's less concrete evidence that it can be used without an Ocean arcanum because Callum could be activating it at the same time as the others.)

We aren't told whether the waterbreathing spell (I'm not going to type out aquis spirare faucibus every time, fight me) is particularly difficult, but it fits the pattern and Callum describes it as conceptually similar to manus pluma volantus. Which it is! You might think that "breathe underwater" would be a fairly basic and desirable Ocean spell, but how do you do that with only Ocean magic—no "air" or "breath," those are both Sky primal domain. The way to do it is, as Callum says, "mage gills" that physically attune you to the Ocean the way that mage wings attune you to the Sky. My only doubt with the amulet and its spell is that, unlike the other comparable spells, the runes really don't say "Tidebound elf language" to me. Of course, we haven't really seen any Tidebound elf environments, so who knows.

Anyway, I think this has some interesting implications regarding the link between primal magic and very specifically dragons, how it may have been passed to elves and/or humans, and what kind of "claim" any of them (vs. dragons) have on it. Additionally, it goes a long way toward soothing my nerdrage over the wildly different "sets" of rune designs we are otherwise expected to accept as being from the same language, even though I know that—primal runes aside—this show could not possibly care less about the design of what they call "writing."

It's also shockingly similar to my much-less-substantiated headcanons about how dark magic works, but that's a whole other thing.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Humans are not perfectly vigilant

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in BOSTON with Randall "XKCD" Munroe (Apr 11), then PROVIDENCE (Apr 12), and beyond!

Here's a fun AI story: a security researcher noticed that large companies' AI-authored source-code repeatedly referenced a nonexistent library (an AI "hallucination"), so he created a (defanged) malicious library with that name and uploaded it, and thousands of developers automatically downloaded and incorporated it as they compiled the code:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/03/28/ai_bots_hallucinate_software_packages/

These "hallucinations" are a stubbornly persistent feature of large language models, because these models only give the illusion of understanding; in reality, they are just sophisticated forms of autocomplete, drawing on huge databases to make shrewd (but reliably fallible) guesses about which word comes next:

https://dl.acm.org/doi/10.1145/3442188.3445922

Guessing the next word without understanding the meaning of the resulting sentence makes unsupervised LLMs unsuitable for high-stakes tasks. The whole AI bubble is based on convincing investors that one or more of the following is true:

There are low-stakes, high-value tasks that will recoup the massive costs of AI training and operation;

There are high-stakes, high-value tasks that can be made cheaper by adding an AI to a human operator;

Adding more training data to an AI will make it stop hallucinating, so that it can take over high-stakes, high-value tasks without a "human in the loop."

These are dubious propositions. There's a universe of low-stakes, low-value tasks – political disinformation, spam, fraud, academic cheating, nonconsensual porn, dialog for video-game NPCs – but none of them seem likely to generate enough revenue for AI companies to justify the billions spent on models, nor the trillions in valuation attributed to AI companies:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

The proposition that increasing training data will decrease hallucinations is hotly contested among AI practitioners. I confess that I don't know enough about AI to evaluate opposing sides' claims, but even if you stipulate that adding lots of human-generated training data will make the software a better guesser, there's a serious problem. All those low-value, low-stakes applications are flooding the internet with botshit. After all, the one thing AI is unarguably very good at is producing bullshit at scale. As the web becomes an anaerobic lagoon for botshit, the quantum of human-generated "content" in any internet core sample is dwindling to homeopathic levels:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/14/inhuman-centipede/#enshittibottification

This means that adding another order of magnitude more training data to AI won't just add massive computational expense – the data will be many orders of magnitude more expensive to acquire, even without factoring in the additional liability arising from new legal theories about scraping:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

That leaves us with "humans in the loop" – the idea that an AI's business model is selling software to businesses that will pair it with human operators who will closely scrutinize the code's guesses. There's a version of this that sounds plausible – the one in which the human operator is in charge, and the AI acts as an eternally vigilant "sanity check" on the human's activities.

For example, my car has a system that notices when I activate my blinker while there's another car in my blind-spot. I'm pretty consistent about checking my blind spot, but I'm also a fallible human and there've been a couple times where the alert saved me from making a potentially dangerous maneuver. As disciplined as I am, I'm also sometimes forgetful about turning off lights, or waking up in time for work, or remembering someone's phone number (or birthday). I like having an automated system that does the robotically perfect trick of never forgetting something important.

There's a name for this in automation circles: a "centaur." I'm the human head, and I've fused with a powerful robot body that supports me, doing things that humans are innately bad at.

That's the good kind of automation, and we all benefit from it. But it only takes a small twist to turn this good automation into a nightmare. I'm speaking here of the reverse-centaur: automation in which the computer is in charge, bossing a human around so it can get its job done. Think of Amazon warehouse workers, who wear haptic bracelets and are continuously observed by AI cameras as autonomous shelves shuttle in front of them and demand that they pick and pack items at a pace that destroys their bodies and drives them mad:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

Automation centaurs are great: they relieve humans of drudgework and let them focus on the creative and satisfying parts of their jobs. That's how AI-assisted coding is pitched: rather than looking up tricky syntax and other tedious programming tasks, an AI "co-pilot" is billed as freeing up its human "pilot" to focus on the creative puzzle-solving that makes coding so satisfying.

But an hallucinating AI is a terrible co-pilot. It's just good enough to get the job done much of the time, but it also sneakily inserts booby-traps that are statistically guaranteed to look as plausible as the good code (that's what a next-word-guessing program does: guesses the statistically most likely word).

This turns AI-"assisted" coders into reverse centaurs. The AI can churn out code at superhuman speed, and you, the human in the loop, must maintain perfect vigilance and attention as you review that code, spotting the cleverly disguised hooks for malicious code that the AI can't be prevented from inserting into its code. As "Lena" writes, "code review [is] difficult relative to writing new code":

https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773779967521780169

Why is that? "Passively reading someone else's code just doesn't engage my brain in the same way. It's harder to do properly":

https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773780355708764665

There's a name for this phenomenon: "automation blindness." Humans are just not equipped for eternal vigilance. We get good at spotting patterns that occur frequently – so good that we miss the anomalies. That's why TSA agents are so good at spotting harmless shampoo bottles on X-rays, even as they miss nearly every gun and bomb that a red team smuggles through their checkpoints:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/23/automation-blindness/#humans-in-the-loop

"Lena"'s thread points out that this is as true for AI-assisted driving as it is for AI-assisted coding: "self-driving cars replace the experience of driving with the experience of being a driving instructor":

https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773841546753831283

In other words, they turn you into a reverse-centaur. Whereas my blind-spot double-checking robot allows me to make maneuvers at human speed and points out the things I've missed, a "supervised" self-driving car makes maneuvers at a computer's frantic pace, and demands that its human supervisor tirelessly and perfectly assesses each of those maneuvers. No wonder Cruise's murderous "self-driving" taxis replaced each low-waged driver with 1.5 high-waged technical robot supervisors:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

AI radiology programs are said to be able to spot cancerous masses that human radiologists miss. A centaur-based AI-assisted radiology program would keep the same number of radiologists in the field, but they would get less done: every time they assessed an X-ray, the AI would give them a second opinion. If the human and the AI disagreed, the human would go back and re-assess the X-ray. We'd get better radiology, at a higher price (the price of the AI software, plus the additional hours the radiologist would work).

But back to making the AI bubble pay off: for AI to pay off, the human in the loop has to reduce the costs of the business buying an AI. No one who invests in an AI company believes that their returns will come from business customers to agree to increase their costs. The AI can't do your job, but the AI salesman can convince your boss to fire you and replace you with an AI anyway – that pitch is the most successful form of AI disinformation in the world.

An AI that "hallucinates" bad advice to fliers can't replace human customer service reps, but airlines are firing reps and replacing them with chatbots:

https://www.bbc.com/travel/article/20240222-air-canada-chatbot-misinformation-what-travellers-should-know

An AI that "hallucinates" bad legal advice to New Yorkers can't replace city services, but Mayor Adams still tells New Yorkers to get their legal advice from his chatbots:

https://arstechnica.com/ai/2024/03/nycs-government-chatbot-is-lying-about-city-laws-and-regulations/

The only reason bosses want to buy robots is to fire humans and lower their costs. That's why "AI art" is such a pisser. There are plenty of harmless ways to automate art production with software – everything from a "healing brush" in Photoshop to deepfake tools that let a video-editor alter the eye-lines of all the extras in a scene to shift the focus. A graphic novelist who models a room in The Sims and then moves the camera around to get traceable geometry for different angles is a centaur – they are genuinely offloading some finicky drudgework onto a robot that is perfectly attentive and vigilant.

But the pitch from "AI art" companies is "fire your graphic artists and replace them with botshit." They're pitching a world where the robots get to do all the creative stuff (badly) and humans have to work at robotic pace, with robotic vigilance, in order to catch the mistakes that the robots make at superhuman speed.

Reverse centaurism is brutal. That's not news: Charlie Chaplin documented the problems of reverse centaurs nearly 100 years ago:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Modern_Times_(film)

As ever, the problem with a gadget isn't what it does: it's who it does it for and who it does it to. There are plenty of benefits from being a centaur – lots of ways that automation can help workers. But the only path to AI profitability lies in reverse centaurs, automation that turns the human in the loop into the crumple-zone for a robot:

https://estsjournal.org/index.php/ests/article/view/260

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/01/human-in-the-loop/#monkey-in-the-middle

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

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Jorge Royan (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Munich_-_Two_boys_playing_in_a_park_-_7328.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

--

Noah Wulf (modified) https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Thunderbirds_at_Attention_Next_to_Thunderbird_1_-_Aviation_Nation_2019.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[mrs-delaney]

Hide | Different Paths | Chapter Four

Yes, we are late—and it’s entirely my fault. I decided today at 5:30 PM to completely rework a finished chapter because apparently, I like suffering. But I think it was worth it.

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC)

Word Count: 9.3k

Requested: No | Yes

Warnings: Mild language, reckless amounts of texting, one very charming quarterback, mentions of past toxic relationships, and an increasing risk of catching feelings.

A Few Quick Notes:

📌 This story is ONLY posted on Wattpad and Tumblr under miss_delaney. If you see it anywhere else, it’s been stolen. Do NOT copy, repost, translate, or distribute my work on any other platform. Please respect my writing.

📌 Want to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or message me!

📌 Requests: Open

Author’s Note:

So… this chapter was finished. It was done. And then I decided at the final hour to edit the entire thing again because apparently, my brain only functions in chaos.

But honestly? No regrets.

This chapter is all about what’s unspoken. The small shifts. The quiet moments. The way Joe and Riley are both trying so hard to act like this isn’t something—when it so obviously is.

Riley is still untangling herself from the chaos that was her past—her ex, the reckless choices, the version of herself she’s trying to leave behind. And Joe? He’s careful. Guarded. He doesn’t let people in easily, doesn’t start things he’s not sure he can finish. But somehow, despite all of that, they’re making this work. Or at least, they’re trying to.

Even if neither of them knows exactly what this is yet.

And of course, because I love to make things messy—this is just the beginning. 😉

Let me know what you think! 💛✨

Taglist: @wickedfun9 @starsyoongi @amiets2

Riley kicked off her shoes, leaving them where they fell, and padded barefoot to the refrigerator. The cool tiles against her feet grounded her as she pulled out a bottle of water. Leaning against the counter, she twisted off the cap and took a long sip, the cold liquid doing little to cool the warmth spreading through her chest as the night replayed itself in loops.

She felt simultaneously wired and bone-tired, like she'd just walked offstage after a show—exhausted but too full of something electric to crash. But this was different. Calmer. Steadier. Without the chaotic edge that had defined her relationship with her ex.

Joe’s face when he’d opened the door, the flicker of appreciation in his eyes before his composure slid back into place.The quiet precision in the way he served the pasta, movements measured, deliberate—like everything he did. How his eyes had lingered on her when he thought she wasn’t looking, the weight of his attention both thrilling and unsettling.

It had been... nice.

Nice. What an insultingly inadequate word. The kind of thing you say about an acceptable meal or a polite stranger. Not about whatever tonight had been. For someone who made her living with lyrics, she was suddenly struggling to find the right words for whatever had transpired between them.

She wandered into the bedroom, peeling off her jacket, her mind drifting to that moment at his door—the brief pause thick with something unspoken. His eyes had dropped to her lips for just an instant, and she’d felt herself leaning in, barely.

But then he’d stepped back.

His hand had brushed her arm instead as he’d said goodnight.

Joe had hesitated.

Ethan never hesitated—he took. Joe paused, considered.

Joe held space. Ethan had taken it.

The memory conjured conflicting emotions. Relief hummed beneath frustration. Because starting something with Joe Burrow wasn’t just complicated—it was a storm on the horizon, full of questions she hadn’t begun to answer. Different cities. Demanding careers. Public scrutiny. All the usual obstacles, amplified by who they were.

And then there was the matter of her leaving New York tomorrow and him flying out Sunday.

"Stop overthinking," she muttered to herself, the irony not lost on her that she was the one usually thinking things through these days. That had been her adaptation after Ethan. After watching him plunge headlong into every impulse, every high, without a thought for the wreckage left behind. Their last explosive fight had ended with his bitter accusation: "You think too much now, Riley. What happened to the girl who'd follow me anywhere?"

The memory surfaced like a bruise pressed too hard, still tender after all this time.

She was halfway through washing her face when her phone buzzed on the counter. She patted her skin dry and reached for it, expecting a text from her manager about tomorrow's studio session.

Instead, Joe's name illuminated the screen.

Joe : Home safe?

Three simple words that shouldn't make her smile so widely. Three words that revealed more about him than perhaps he realized—that he was the kind of man who checked, who followed through, who thought of such things.

Riley: Safe and sound. Thanks for dinner.

Joe: Anytime, Riley. I had a great time.

Riley patted her face dry, tossing the hand towel onto the counter before switching off the bathroom light. The apartment was quiet as she padded into the bedroom, exhaustion settling into her bones.

By the time she climbed into bed and set her phone on the nightstand, the weight of the day was pressing down on her. She flipped off the light, pulling the covers up, knowing tomorrow would be packed—final studio session, packing, tying up loose ends before her flight.

But as she drifted toward sleep, her mind refused to engage with practicalities. Instead, it circled back to Joe. His steady hands with their faint calluses that spoke of work beyond the football field. His focused attention, the way he listened like he was committing her words to memory. The quiet confidence he carried without arrogance.

She sighed, rolling onto her stomach.

And for the first time in longer than she could remember, Riley fell asleep still smiling.

---

Joe's eyes opened at 5:28 AM, two minutes before his alarm. He reached over and switched it off before it could break the silence, then exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling of his hotel room. He ran through the day in his head.

Workout, breakfast, contract review, meeting with Bill, another brand deal meeting, dinner with the company to celebrate closing the deal.

A packed schedule, but none of it was what he was thinking about.

His mind kept circling back to Riley—the way she’d leaned against his counter, at ease in his space. How she talked with her hands, sharp and animated when she was passionate. The way she listened, really listened, like she was paying attention to more than just his words. The way she’d smiled at him in the doorway, like she was waiting for something.

He should have kissed her.

The thought had been sitting with him since last night, lingering at the edge of his mind. By the time he was halfway through his workout, it was all he could think about. It stuck with him as he moved through reps, so sudden and distracting that he nearly lost his grip on the dumbbell.

There had been a moment—right there, standing in his doorway—when it would have been easy. When she had looked up at him, lips slightly parted, the air between them charged with something he recognized too late.

Not because he didn’t want to.

Because hesitation was ingrained in him.

Joe wasn’t reckless with decisions—on the field or off. It wasn’t about control, not exactly. It was instinct. A natural tendency to weigh things before he acted. A quality that made him one of the best at what he did.

But sometimes, it meant he missed moments he couldn’t calculate.

Maybe, this time, that was a mistake.

By the time he was showered and dressed, it was just past 8 AM. He sat down with his laptop to review the contract before meeting Bill, but his focus was shot. He skimmed the same paragraph three times, the words slipping through his brain without meaning.

Finally, he gave up and grabbed his phone.

---

Joe’s thumb hovered over Riley’s name.

Would she be annoyed if he woke her up?

No. Because she wouldn’t wake up.

Riley had practically groaned about it the night before, half-challenging him to judge her for sleeping past noon.

Joe glanced at the time: 8:42 AM.

Yeah, she was definitely still asleep.

He set his phone down, exhaling as he turned back to his laptop. Focus. The world does not revolve around a girl you’ve known for two days.

But ten minutes later, his phone was back in his hand.

His thumb hovering over her name.

He didn’t do this.

Didn’t hesitate over a text. Didn’t overthink something so simple.

If he wanted to say something, he said it.

Still, he hesitated.

Was this normal?

It wasn’t about the text.

It was about her.

About the fact that he wasn’t used to wanting something like this.

He tapped his fingers against the table, exhaling.

It was just one dinner.

One night. One conversation.

There had been other nights. Other conversations. Other women. Plenty of them.

So why was this different?

Maybe it was the way she looked at him—like she saw something past all the things everyone else focused on.

Maybe that was why it was still with him.

And that wasn’t something he could say about anyone else.

Twenty minutes later, his resolve crumbled.

He picked up his phone and typed out a message.

Joe: You up?

Simple. Direct. No way to read too much into it.

His finger hovered over the send button. Too casual? Too early?

Maybe.

But he sent it anyway.

Then set his phone down before he could second-guess himself again.

He knew the answer already—no, she was not up.

But something about being the first thing she saw when she did wake up settled something in him.

When no response came, Joe smirked to himself, shook his head, and finally turned back to his work.

---

The sunlight streaming through the curtains was rude. Too bright. Too early.

Riley groaned, rolling over in bed and blindly reaching for her phone. The screen temporarily blinded her as she squinted at the time.

10:42 AM.

Her phone was stacked with notifications—one from her manager about the studio session, a missed call from Haley, and—

Joe : You up?

Sent two hours ago.

Her lips curved into a sleepy smile as she imagined him, already showered and productive, typing out those two casual words while she’d been dead to the world. She stretched, feeling the pleasant protest of muscles, warmth still lingering in her sheets, before typing her response.

Riley : Barely. It's like practically dawn.

His reply came almost instantly, as if he'd been waiting.

Joe : Dawn? It's almost 11.

Riley smirked, stretching lazily in bed.

Riley : 11 is early for me!

Joe : Dear God. I've already worked out and now I'm crushing breakfast.

Riley rolled onto her back, the sheets tangling around her legs as she made herself comfortable. There was something oddly intimate about texting him from her bed, still warm from sleep, her hair a disaster and last night's mascara probably smudged beneath her eyes.

Riley : Whatcha eating? Send pics

The three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.

Riley bit her lip, picturing him deliberating whether to indulge her request. Finally, a photo popped up.

Riley smirked as she opened it, still blinking sleep from her eyes. The picture showed a spread that could easily fuel an entire offensive line—eggs, toast, fruit, and what looked like enough protein to feed a small army. 

But it wasn't the food that caught her attention.

Joe was in the shot too, sitting at a kitchen counter, his phone held at just the right angle to capture both his meal and the fact that he was already showered, dressed, and looking disgustingly awake for someone who had probably been up since sunrise. His hair was damp, pushed back casually, and the sleeves of his long-sleeve black tee were pushed up to reveal the kind of forearms that made a girl consider making bad decisions.

Heat crawled up her neck as she caught herself staring at the picture longer than necessary. She scrolled back up to it. Once. Twice. Then quickly locked her phone before she did something reckless, like save it.

This was new—this immediate, unthinking attraction. Joe wasn’t the kind of man she usually found herself tangled up with. No sharp edges. No inevitable disaster waiting in the wings. Someone stable. Structured. Certain.

For a woman who’d built her career on embracing chaos and transmuting it into art, the pull toward his steadiness was unexpected. And maybe, just maybe, a little dangerous in its own way.

Riley: Did you make this?

A few seconds later, the dots appeared.

Joe: I have no comment at this time.

Riley snorted.

Riley : So, DoorDash, huh?

Joe : I prefer the term expertly outsourced.

Riley : Uh-huh. That's what I thought. Try again, Burrow.

Joe : Fine. Maybe a professional had a hand in it. But I still had to order it. That counts for something.

Riley : Oh, totally. Clicking "place order" is exhausting. I'm surprised you even had the energy for your workout.

Joe : I know. I really overcome a lot before noon.

Riley laughed outright, rolling onto her stomach, her phone warm in her hands.

Riley : Well, if we're talking effort, I feel like you should've brought me breakfast too.

Joe : Noted for next time.

Next time.

Riley : Next time? Bit presumptuous, huh?

Joe : Not presumptuous, just confident. I was at that dinner last night—I have no doubts you'd let me buy you breakfast.

Riley : Okay, cocky much?

Joe : Not cocky. Confident.

Riley : So what if I would? I like breakfast.

Joe : And me.

Riley nearly dropped her phone, a startled laugh escaping her. Her pulse jumped. She blinked at the screen like she’d misread it.

Riley : I have no comment at this time.

Joe : It's okay. I'm into you too.

Jesus Christ. 

Riley exhaled sharply. Not flirty, not vague. Just honest.

For someone who overthought a kiss, he certainly wasn’t overthinking this. And that contrast was throwing her off in the best way.

Riley : And on that note, I'm going back to bed.

Joe : It's 11:15.

Riley : Exactly. Practically dawn.

Joe : Unbelievable.

Riley : Sweet dreams, Burrow.

Joe : Enjoy your nap, Carter.

Riley locked her phone, still smiling as she buried her face in her pillow.

She had every reason to play it cool. To tell herself it was just easy banter, nothing serious.

But her stomach was still flipping.

---

Later that afternoon, the dining table in Joe's apartment was covered in paperwork—contracts, schedules, and Mark's iPad, which he'd been aggressively scrolling through since he sat down. The remnants of lunch sat forgotten at the far end of the table, coffee going cold in ceramic mugs.

Joe leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, while Bill methodically stacked the papers in front of him.

He’d been through enough of these meetings to know where this was going.

They were gearing up to talk to him about shit he wasn’t going to want to talk about.

"So," Mark said, finally breaking the silence, "are we just ignoring the Riley Carter situation?"

Joe exhaled slowly, forcing himself not to react. Not outwardly, at least. “Didn’t realize it was a situation.”

Mark gave him a look, then turned his iPad toward him. Joe barely glanced at the screen—he already knew what it would be.

A mix of sports blogs, gossip sites, and social media screenshots, all running with the same story.

JOE BURROW & RILEY CARTER: UNEXPECTED CONNECTION?

FANS ARE OBSESSED WITH THIS DUO – BUT HOW REAL IS IT?

RILEY CARTER: FOOTBALL'S NEWEST WAG?

Joe clenched his jaw at that last one but kept his face unreadable.

Mark swiped to another screen—paparazzi shots of Riley leaving a recording studio the night after their dinner. Another from a club two years ago, walking out with someone barely recognizable in the dim lighting. A throwback to her early twenties, a cigarette between her fingers, laughing in the back of a car with her bandmates, the headline RILEY CARTER: BAD HABITS NEVER DIE? sprawled beneath it.

"You see the problem, right?" Mark pressed.

Joe barely flicked his gaze over the screen before looking back at him. "What problem?"

Mark scoffed. “Come on, man. You’ve kept your name clean. No bullshit, no scandals, nothing for the media to pick apart. You’re careful about endorsements, you don’t get caught up in dumb shit, and now you’re getting linked to this?”

Joe's expression didn't change, but something in his posture shifted—just slightly.

Bill, ever the mediator, cleared his throat. "No one is saying Riley Carter is bad for you, Joe."

Mark snorted. "I am saying that."

Joe's gaze snapped to him, sharp and unwavering.

Mark held up his hands. "I don't mean her personally; I mean her history." He gestured at the screen again. "This isn't someone who's been sitting at home knitting for the last decade. She was a tabloid fixture for years. The messy breakup with Ethan Mills alone--"

Joe's brow furrowed slightly. "Who?"

Mark blinked. "You don't know?"

Joe’s patience thinned. He knew Riley had an ex, obviously. But he hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t offered. “If I did, would I be asking?”

Bill exhaled, adjusting his glasses. "Ethan Mills. Lead singer of The Faded. Riley was with him for a long time—on and off, very public, very dramatic."

Mark swiped to another set of articles—headlines not that old. A year or two.

RILEY CARTER & ETHAN MILLS: BREAKUP #3 OR BREAKUP #4?

HE SAID, SHE SAID: INSIDE THE MESSIEST SPLIT OF THE YEAR

RILEY CARTER LEAVING A HOTEL ALONE—WHERE'S ETHAN?

Joe skimmed them, his expression unreadable.

“They were bad for each other,” Bill said, exhaling. “Too much history, too much chaos. And whatever went down, it stuck—people still talk about it. He was the bigger problem, but she wasn’t innocent either.”

Joe's jaw ticked.

Mark continued, swiping through more headlines. "Even after they broke up, she didn't exactly lay low. She's had her own share of shit. Reckless partying, club incidents, rumored drug use."

Joe’s brow lifted slightly. He still didn’t look at the iPad, but his voice cooled. “Rumors?”

Bill sighed. "Nothing solid. No arrests, no proof. But there were whispers. Enough to make headlines."

Mark scrolled further, landing on a particularly damning photo—Riley outside a club, makeup smudged, pupils blown, arm slung around someone who looked equally out of it.

"That one's from four years ago," Mark said. "Paparazzi swore she was high. Could've just been a bad angle. But it stuck."

Joe exhaled sharply through his nose, rolling his neck once, slow and deliberate.

Mark leaned forward. "Look, I'll give her this—she's respected in the industry. Musicians love her. Everyone from legacy rock guys to indie artists sings her praises. But she's also reckless. The last few years have been quieter, but it's still there. The impulsive bullshit, the 'live fast, die young' energy—"

Joe cut him off, voice flat. “You’re talking about her like she’s some out-of-control disaster.”

Mark huffed, but Bill lifted a hand, silently signaling for him to ease up. He turned to Joe instead. “Look, we’re not telling you what to do. But you need to be aware that this stuff doesn’t just disappear.”

Joe didn't respond right away, just held Bill's gaze for a long beat before exhaling slowly.

"This is a lot of talking over something that doesn't exist," he said finally.

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't exist?"

Joe met his gaze evenly. "I had dinner with her. That's it."

"Joe," Mark said, exasperated. "You know how this works."

Joe shrugged. "Yeah. I do. Which is why I don't give a shit."

That shut them both up.

Bill, ever the professional, simply nodded. "Understood. But if this does become something, we need to be prepared."

Joe exhaled through his nose. "Then cross that bridge when we get there."

Mark ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but backing off. "Fine. But if this turns into a PR nightmare, don't say we didn't warn you."

"Are we done?" Joe asked, already reaching for his coffee.

Bill nodded, standing. "For now."

As they continued discussing the next items on their agenda, Joe's phone buzzed on the table. He discreetly glanced down, a new message lighting up the screen.

Later

Riley: crushing breakfast.

Attached was a photo—Riley sitting cross-legged on the floor of a recording studio, a guitar in her lap, tangled cords sprawled around her like she'd given up fighting them. A pair of headphones hung loosely around her neck. Her hair was piled into a messy bun, a few strands falling into her face, and she was wearing an old hoodie that had slipped off one shoulder, exposing just enough skin to make him pause.

In her hands? A burrito. Massive, overstuffed, barely holding itself together. She was mid-bite, eyes closed in exaggerated bliss, clearly putting on a show.

Joe exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he fired off a response.

Joe: It's 2PM.

A few seconds later, another text. Another picture—this time, Riley holding up the burrito with both hands like a trophy, smirking at the camera.

Riley: Breakfast is a state of mind, Burrow.

Joe dragged a hand over his jaw, fighting back a grin.

"Joe?"

Mark's voice cut through his distraction. Joe blinked up, realizing everyone at the table was watching him expectantly.

He straightened, locking his phone and pushing it to the side. "Yeah. Sounds good," he said smoothly, as if he hadn't just been pulled halfway across the city by a girl in a hoodie making a breakfast burrito look like a religious experience.

They moved on, but his mind stayed tangled somewhere in that studio—wrapped up in guitar chords, late morning breakfasts, and a girl.

---

Riley sat on the floor, her back against the couch, legs stretched out in front of her. Her guitar rested in her lap, but she wasn't playing. 

The guys were scattered around the room—Andy was slouched in an armchair, lazily strumming his guitar, the sleeves of his worn flannel rolled to the elbows. Pete was absently tuning his bass even though they weren't working on anything, his fingers moving by muscle memory while his attention drifted elsewhere. Daniel sat cross-legged by the mixing board, clicking a pen against his knee in a rhythm only he could hear, his dark eyes occasionally flicking to the door as if expecting their producer to materialize at any second.

She'd been waiting for it.

The second she walked in; they'd given her a look. That specific look they'd perfected over fifteen years of friendship. Not a single word had been spoken about last night yet, but it was coming.

Andy cracked first. "Alright, let's hear it."

Riley feigned confusion, plucking a single note on her guitar. "Hear what?"

Daniel snorted, his pen clicking faster. "You know what."

Pete leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "Burrow."

Riley sighed, letting her head fall back against the couch cushions. "We went on a date."

Pete smirked, exchanging a glance with Andy. "Gotta say, I'm shocked you agreed to go out with him. I really thought your type was just… walking red flags."

Andy nodded, feigning deep thought. "Yeah. Usually, the bigger the ego, the tighter the jeans, the worse the decision."

Daniel spun a drumstick between his fingers, a habit from their teenage years that surfaced whenever they teased each other. "I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but we've spent years watching you go for emotionally unavailable rockstars with bad impulse control."

Riley groaned, rubbing her temples. "Okay, wow. Love the support, thanks."

Pete pointed at her with the headstock of his bass. "Just saying, a guy who actually texts you first? That's character development."

Riley muttered under her breath, "Dear God, why am I in this band again?"

Pete ignored her. "But it was a good date though, right? So, when's the next one?"

Riley rolled her eyes, fingers finding a minor chord on the guitar. "Can we change the subject? It was one date."

Andy pointed at her, his eyes narrowing beneath his shaggy hair. "Your face just did a thing when you said that."

Daniel smirked. "Yeah, she's downplaying."

Riley groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. "Fine. It was a good date. Are you happy?"

Andy looked genuinely surprised, raising his eyebrows so high they disappeared under his fringe. "Tickled."

Andy tilted his head, studying her with newfound interest. "So, what's he like? I figured he'd be…"

Pete finished for him, setting aside his bass. "Cocky. Arrogant. The whole 'I throw a football for a living, worship me' vibe."

Riley smirked, her fingers absently finding the opening notes to a song they'd been working on. "Oh, he's cocky."

Andy frowned, his shoulders tensing. "Wait, really? Then I'd like to reiterate your thing for men who are red flags."

Riley rolled her eyes. “It’s not that kind of cocky. He’s not performing. He just… is. He’s comfortable in his own skin.”

Daniel stopped spinning his drumstick, his brow furrowing. "So what, like… controlled cocky?"

Pete nodded, understanding dawning on his face. "Confident. The kind that's earned."

Riley pointed at him, grateful someone got it. "Exactly. See, Pete gets it."

Pete grinned, leaning back in his seat. "Damn. So we're officially into 'Riley actually respects this one' territory?"

Andy let out a low whistle, the sound echoing in the studio. "That's new."

Riley rolled her eyes, but she couldn't ignore the warmth in her chest. "I don't know. We've been texting all day."

Daniel raised an eyebrow, trading a look with Andy. “And he texted you first.”

Riley huffed a small laugh, remembering the "You up?" message that had been waiting when she woke. "This morning. Sent a whole damn selfie with his breakfast."

Pete grinned. "The bar is in hell."

Andy nodded solemnly. "Respect."

While Joe had been up for hours—working out, eating his perfectly balanced meal, looking disgustingly put together. Meanwhile, she had only just dragged herself out of bed and was now eating a burrito bigger than her face on the floor of a recording studio.

The contrast should've been embarrassing. Instead, it made her smirk.

It had been a while since she'd enjoyed this—bantering with someone, looking forward to their messages, feeling that little rush when her phone lit up. It was easy. Fun. The kind of thing she hadn't let herself have in a long time.

Maybe that's why, without overthinking it, she snapped a quick photo—cross-legged on the studio floor, guitar in her lap, a half-eaten burrito in one hand—and sent it to him.

A few seconds later, her phone buzzed.

Joe: It's like 2PM.

Riley smirked, thumbs moving swiftly.

Riley: Breakfast is a state of mind, Burrow.

Another buzz.

Joe: I stand corrected.

Riley grinned, wiping salsa off her thumb before typing back.

Riley: I'm thriving.

This time, the response was immediate.

Joe: I can see that. Looking good, Carter.

Her stomach flipped.

It was stupid, really. A dumb little text, a casual compliment. But something about the way he said it—like he meant it, like he was paying attention—made her bite her lip before locking her phone.

She wasn't about to give the guys more ammunition.

But Pete was already eyeing her. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

Andy snorted. "Liar."

Pete smirked, nudging Daniel with his foot. "She's smiling again."

Daniel nodded, his eyes knowing. "Second time today."

Riley groaned, dramatically falling back against the couch. "I hate all of you."

Andy grinned, the expression softening his usually stoic face. "Nah. You're just mad because we see you."

She huffed, but there was no real heat behind it. Because maybe—for the first time in a while—she didn't actually mind being seen.

---

A little while later, during a break, Riley sat cross-legged on the studio floor, scribbling in her notebook. The guys were scattered around working on different things.

"I think I wanna spend some time in NOLA," Riley said casually, not looking up from the lyrics she was revising.

Pete cracked one eye open. "You think?"

Daniel frowned, his drumstick going still. "Wait. Like… instead of LA? Because I got plans in LA."

Riley glanced up, tucking her pen behind her ear. "You guys still go to LA. I just need some time at home."

Andy smirked, not looking up from his phone. "One thing about Riley Carter—she's gonna find time to be home for Carnival."

Pete nodded, eyes closed again. "You missed it last year. You were miserable."

Riley sighed, leaning her head back against the couch. "My house is there. I miss it. You guys know how sad I get when I'm away from my stuff for too long."

Daniel stretched his legs out, shoes leaving scuff marks on the polished floor. "Yeah, yeah. You and your deep emotional attachment to your overpriced vintage rugs."

"They tie the room together," Riley said flatly, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

Andy smirked, finally looking up from his phone. "You gonna invite Burrow?"

She blinked, her pen freezing mid-word. She hadn't considered it.

But now that they'd put the thought in her head… she kind of wanted to.

"I don't know," Riley said slowly, flipping her pen between her fingers.

Pete let out a low whistle. "I don't see him being a Mardi Gras guy."

Riley scoffed, closing her notebook with more force than necessary. "You don't even know him."

"I don't have to," Pete said, sitting up and fixing her with a knowing look. "He's just got that whole structured, disciplined, football-robot thing going on. Can you really picture him posted up at a parade for hours with a drink in one hand and a plate of something messy in the other?"

Riley snorted, though the mental image gave her pause. "Okay, first of all, you just described my perfect day. Second, we wouldn't be in the Quarter. I'd already be Uptown, so it wouldn't be total chaos."

Andy tilted his head, genuinely curious now. "Yeah, but would he like it? You thrive in that kind of thing. He seems more… I don't know. Like the 'watch from a balcony' type."

Riley considered that, absently tracing the edge of her notebook with her thumb. "Okay, maybe. But he's chill. He wouldn't be weird about it."

Daniel was still skeptical, his expression dubious. "I just don't see him jumping into the middle of a second line."

Pete smirked, nudging Riley with his foot. "Riley would shove him into one."

"I would not," Riley said, then immediately corrected, "Okay, I might."

Andy shook his head, a fond smile playing at his lips. "If you invite him, you're gonna have to ease him in. No throwing him straight into the deep end with a bunch of drunk locals."

Riley tapped her pen against her knee, already thinking about it. "Alright, so no parades right away. But if he's around, he's at least getting a po'boy and a sazerac."

Daniel raised an eyebrow, exchanging a significant look with Pete. "You're actually thinking about this."

Riley hesitated, suddenly aware of how much consideration she was giving to a man she'd known for all of two days. "I mean… maybe?"

Pete smirked. "That's not a no."

Daniel snorted. "It's definitely not a no."

Riley rolled her eyes, but she was already flipping her phone over in her palm, fighting the urge to check for messages.

She didn't know if she'd invite him.

But the fact that she was even considering it felt significant in a way she wasn't ready to examine too closely.

---

Later that afternoon, her phone lit up with a new message.

Joe: What time are you done at the studio tonight?

Riley glanced at the mountain of work still ahead of them, then back at her phone.

Riley: Really late. Why?

Joe: I’ve got dinner plans, but I was gonna see if we could meet up before or after.

Riley sighed, checking the clock on the wall. Between the late session and the fact that she hadn’t even started packing, there was no way she’d have time.

Riley: I wish, but we’re going late tonight, and I still have to pack for tomorrow. I’m sorry.

His response came immediately, no hint of disappointment.

Joe: No need to apologize. What about tomorrow morning?

Riley frowned, mentally calculating.

Riley: My flight’s at 9:15.

There was a longer pause before his next message appeared.

Joe: So if I showed up at your place at 7, that would be…?

Her pulse kicked up a notch. He was really willing to wake up at the crack of dawn just to see her? Something about that gesture—that he'd inconvenience himself just for a few minutes of her time before she left—made her feel oddly valued. Not in the way men had valued her before, for what she represented or what she could give them, but just for her.

Riley: I’d think normal Riley would really like that, but morning Riley may also be a little grumpy.

Joe: I’ll take my chances, Carter.

Riley bit her lip, warmth settling in her chest. It wasn't ideal—too early, too rushed—but the thought of leaving without seeing him again didn't sit right. For someone who prided herself on living spontaneously, she was surprised by how much she wanted this one last New York moment with him.

Riley: Then I guess I’ll see you at 7.

Joe: Looking forward to it.

---

“That face means Burrow again,” Andy observed from across the room, not even looking up from his phone.

Riley didn’t dignify that with a response, but Pete snorted. “Definitely Burrow. That’s the same face she made when you two were texting earlier.”

Riley sighed, setting her phone face down on the couch. “Can we not?”

Pete ignored her completely. “So? What’s the latest?”

“None of your business,” Riley replied, but her tone lacked any real heat.

Andy smirked. “So… he’s coming to NOLA?”

“No,” she said quickly, which only made Daniel arch an eyebrow.

“But you are seeing him before you leave,” he guessed.

Riley hesitated for half a second too long.

Pete grinned. “Oh, that was an admission pause if I’ve ever heard one.”

Andy leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Okay, so when?”

Riley exhaled through her nose, already regretting telling them anything. “Tomorrow morning. Before my flight. Happy now?”

Pete and Andy exchanged looks.

“She’s waking up early for a man,” Pete said solemnly.

Andy let out a low whistle. “That’s commitment.”

Daniel shook his head. “I think we should document this moment. Historic, really.”

Riley grabbed the nearest throw pillow and chucked it at Pete, who barely dodged it. “Can we get back to work, please?”

Andy chuckled, picking up his guitar. “Sure, sure. Let’s get back to work, lovebird.”

Riley rolled her eyes and adjusted her guitar strap, forcing herself to focus. But inside, she was already counting the hours until tomorrow morning.

---

Joe sat at an upscale restaurant in Midtown, nursing his second bourbon while one of the Body Armour executives detailed their Q2 marketing strategy. The dinner was important—the endorsement deal they were finalizing would be one of his biggest yet—but he found his attention drifting.

When the conversation turned to golf and the CFO launched into a story about his recent trip to Pebble Beach, Joe discreetly slipped his phone from his pocket beneath the table. The bourbon had just enough influence to lower his usual professional boundaries.

 Joe: Still alive?

He tucked his phone away, returning his attention to the table. Ten minutes later, during a lull as the server cleared plates, he checked for a response.

Riley: Barely. My brain is mush.

Joe: Mine's currently being wasted at a sponsor dinner. You can borrow it.

Riley: Sounds thrilling. Very jealous.

Joe: Don't be. Rather be anywhere else.

He pocketed his phone again, re-engaging with the conversation and raising his glass for a toast to "mutually beneficial partnerships." The conversation shifted to football, territory Joe could navigate on autopilot, which allowed his mind to drift back to Riley. To her smile at dinner, to how she'd looked at him in the doorway like she was waiting for something he'd been too cautious to give.

When dessert arrived, he checked his phone again.

Riley: Any chance you could fake an emergency and come rescue me too? These guys won't stop arguing over a single guitar note that nobody but us will ever notice.

Joe smiled, an expression that didn't go unnoticed by Bill, who was seated across from him. His agent raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Joe: Would if I could. Rain check for another time.

Riley: Holding you to that, mister.

---

It was past midnight by the time Joe made it back to his apartment. He nodded to the doorman as he crossed the lobby, rolling his shoulders to shake off the tension of the long day.

Once in his room, he kicked off his shoes and shrugged out of his suit jacket, tugging his white T-shirt loose from where it had been tucked in. He grabbed his phone and settled onto the edge of the bed.

Joe: Freed from small talk hell. Please tell me you’ve made progress.

The response came faster than he expected.

Riley: Still here. Currently hiding in the bathroom to avoid killing my bandmates.

Joe huffed a quiet laugh.

Joe : That bad?

Riley : Pete keeps saying “one more take,” but we’ve done SEVENTEEN.

Joe: Perfectionist?

Riley: The biggest!

He smirked.

Joe: Seriously, no end in sight?

Riley: I’m giving them 30 more minutes, then I’m pulling a diva move and walking out.

Joe: I’d pay good money to see that.

Riley: Careful, I might take you up on it.

The bourbon still warming his system gave him just enough courage to push a little further.

Joe: Wouldn’t mind that at all.

There was a pause before her response.

Riley: Getting bold on me sir.

Joe: Just honest.

Riley: I like honest. Keep it up.

Something about those simple words sent a rush of heat through him. Joe leaned back against the headboard, considering his next message carefully.

Joe: I'm looking forward to tomorrow.

Riley: Enough to get up at the crack of dawn?

Joe: For you? Worth it.

Riley: Careful, Burrow. That almost sounded sweet.

Joe: Don't tell anyone. I've got a reputation to maintain.

Riley: Your secret's safe with me.

The typing indicator appeared, disappeared, then reappeared.

Riley: Good news finally got the take. Heading home before I fall asleep standing up.

Joe: Text when you’re there.

Joe sat on his couch, one ankle resting on his opposite knee, absently nursing a bourbon as the city lights flickered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. His laptop sat open in front of him, but he hadn’t glanced at the email he was supposed to be reading in at least twenty minutes. His phone was still face down on the coffee table, exactly where he’d dropped it after the PR meeting.

He should’ve been thinking about his schedule tomorrow. His upcoming media obligations. The season ahead.

Instead, he was thinking about Riley.

Joe knew how the media worked. Knew how they exaggerated, twisted, repackaged, and sold half-truths as reality. He’d dealt with it plenty—bullshit rumors about his personal life, fabricated stories about rifts with teammates, speculation about contract negotiations before they’d even begun. But hearing about Riley’s past in their words, filtered through their lens, had left a sour taste in his mouth.

The thing was, he hadn’t needed them to tell him Riley wasn’t squeaky clean. He’d already known that. He’d known it from the way she carried herself, the sharp edge to her humor, the way she sometimes hesitated before sharing things—like she wasn’t used to being given the space to do so.

He liked that about her.

But now, he was realizing how little he actually knew.

He didn’t know about Ethan. Didn’t know about the rumors. Didn’t know how much of what Mark and Bill had thrown at him was exaggerated and how much was true.

And that? That made him pause.

Not in the way they wanted. Not because of the PR nightmare they were so afraid of.

But because if this was going anywhere, he wanted to know her.

Not the headlines. Not the rumors.

Her.

His phone buzzed against the coffee table. He exhaled, leaning forward to grab it.

Riley: Home now.

Joe settled back against the cushions, phone resting against his thigh.

Joe: Good.

That was it.

No prying. No unnecessary conversation. Just… good.

And for some reason, that settled something in her.

A moment later, another buzz. A photo.

Riley, sitting cross-legged on her kitchen floor, messy hair piled into a bun, an oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder. A half-empty takeout container rested in her lap. Her fingers were curled around chopsticks, her eyes slightly squinted, like she was teasingly daring him to judge her for it.

Joe huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

Riley: Celebrating.

His response came thirty seconds later.

Joe: Is that dinner at midnight?

Riley smirked.

Riley: This is practically early for me.

Another pause.

Then—

Joe: Go to sleep, Riley.

Riley: Yes, sir.

The thought still lingered when he woke before dawn.

By the time he was lacing up his sneakers for a run, the city outside his hotel window was just starting to wake. He should’ve been thinking about his day—meetings, calls, getting back on schedule—but instead, his mind was still on Riley.

---

By the time he’d showered, dressed, and grabbed a water, he was fully aware that he’d lost the battle with himself.

So at exactly 6:30 AM, he picked up his phone, shot off a quick text, and headed out the door.

Riley was just finishing her coffee when the intercom buzzed. 6:58 AM.

She smiled, setting down her mug and pressing the button to let Joe in.

She’d woken up early—too early—but hadn’t done much with the extra time besides make coffee and sit with it. Her suitcase was by the door, mostly packed but not quite zipped, proof that she’d tossed a few more things in last minute. She considered freshening up, maybe putting on a little makeup, but ultimately shrugged it off.

Her outfit was very Riley—high-waisted checkered pants, a cropped vintage Harley-Davidson tee, and white sneakers. Casual but cool. Pulled together just enough to look intentional—but not like she’d tried too hard.

A soft knock sent her stomach into freefall.

Taking a breath, she shook it off, then opened the door.

Joe stood in the hallway, dressed in jeans and a gray quarter-zip that somehow made his shoulders look even broader. His hair was slightly damp, like he'd showered not long ago, and he carried a brown paper bag in one hand.

His gaze flicked over her outfit, lingering just a second longer than necessary. "You always look this good at seven in the morning?"

Riley smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "Depends who's coming over."

Joe huffed out a quiet laugh. "Noted." He held up the bag. "Googled the best bagels in the area and picked some up on the way."

Riley blinked. "You went bagel hunting at 6:30 in the morning?"

Joe shrugged, stepping inside. "Figured if I was gonna show up this early, I should at least bring food."

Something about that—about the effort, the thought behind it—made her stomach flip.

Riley shook her head, grabbing plates. "Making sure I don't starve before my flight?"

Joe grinned, setting the bag down. "Figured I'd at least try to be useful."

Riley stepped back, gesturing for him to come in. "Well, in that case, you might as well stay and enjoy the fruits of your labor."

Joe stepped inside, his gaze flicking around as she shut the door behind him. The apartment was small, nothing fancy, but lived-in. A half-drunk coffee sat on the counter, a guitar leaned against the couch, and her suitcase—packed but slightly ajar—stood by the door like she'd been rifling through it last minute. It was a little chaotic, but somehow, it fit.

“Nice place,” Joe said, setting the bag down on the kitchen island.

Riley snorted, grabbing a knife for the bagels. “It’s definitely not as polished as yours.”

Joe leaned against the counter, glancing around. “No. But it feels like you.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what does that mean?”

Joe’s lips curved slightly. “You don’t like things that feel too new. Too perfect.”

Riley scoffed, but there was no real argument in it. “I like things with history.”

Joe just gave her a knowing look, like he’d already figured that out.

Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the bagels, slicing into one. “You want coffee?”

“Please.”

She poured him a mug, sliding it across the counter with a half-smile.

Joe took a sip, lingering by the island as Riley finished slicing the bagels. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward—it was comfortable, easy. But still, she found herself glancing at him, studying the strong line of his jaw, the way his eyes took everything in with quiet consideration.

He caught her watching him and smiled, a hint of something in his eyes that made her breath catch.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

Joe set his coffee down, meeting her eyes across the counter. “That I should’ve kissed you the other night.”

Riley’s breath caught, but she held his gaze, fingers idly tracing the rim of her mug. “Why didn’t you?”

Joe rounded the counter slowly, each step deliberate, until he was standing in front of her.

“Because I overthink everything,” he admitted, his voice lower now. “Always have. It’s what makes me good at what I do.” A small, self-deprecating smile. “Also makes me miss things I shouldn’t.”

He was close now—close enough for her to catch the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating off him.

“And now?” she asked, tilting her chin up slightly.

“Now I’m done overthinking this.”

His hand found the curve of her waist as his lips met hers. The kiss was self-assured but unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world even with her flight looming. She could taste coffee on his lips, feel the subtle pressure of his fingers at her waist drawing her closer. The morning sunlight streaming through her kitchen window warmed her skin as she melted into him, the world narrowing to just this moment.

The moment she responded—her hand sliding up to his shoulder, lips parting slightly—the kiss deepened, slow and sure.The focused intensity he brought to everything else was here to, making her forget about bagels and coffee and early morning flights.

His hand moved to the nape of her neck, fingers threading through her hair with just enough pressure to send shivers down her spine. She pressed closer, the solid warmth of him anchoring her as the kiss turned from exploratory to something more demanding. The counter pressed into her back as she leaned against it, grateful for something solid to keep her grounded.

When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Joe kept his forehead pressed against hers for a moment.

"Worth waiting for," he said simply, his voice low, rough around the edges in a way that made her want to chase that sound.

Riley smiled, her hand still resting on his chest where she could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath her palm. "Definitely."

After another moment, he pulled back slightly, his hand settling lightly at her waist.

Riley let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Not exactly how I pictured my morning.”

Joe smirked. “Can’t say I’m mad about it.”

“Same.” She tilted her head, studying him. "You really woke up before sunrise just for twenty minutes of my time?"

Joe's eyes warmed with amusement. "I woke up before sunrise for this." He brushed his thumb lightly against her hip, his touch easy but deliberate.

Riley rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop the warmth that spread through her. "Smooth."

Joe shrugged. "It's not a line if it's true."

He leaned back against the counter, watching her. "So, you're off to LA?"

Riley shook her head, reaching for the last sip of her coffee. "Actually… no. I'm going to New Orleans."

Joe raised an eyebrow. "Change of plans?"

She shrugged. “Not really. I just like being home when I can. If I go too long without checking in, I start feeling off. Has nothing to do with Carnival season or the fact that I’m craving king cake.”

Joe huffed a quiet laugh. “Right. Totally unrelated.”

Riley's lips quirked up, then she glanced at him, debating something for half a second before tilting her head. "You should come."

Joe exhaled, like he'd already thought about it. "Tempting. But I'd have about fifty people very pissed off at me if I skipped what I've got going on next week."

Riley nodded, keeping her expression neutral, even though she felt a slight pang of disappointment. "Yeah, of course. Would've been fun, though."

Joe didn’t say anything right away. He should’ve. Should’ve let it go, should’ve let her leave without overcomplicating things.

But instead, he reached for his phone.

He hadn’t planned this. Hell, he’d only just found out she was going to New Orleans. But the second she said You should come, something in him had already started working through the logistics.

And before he could talk himself out of it, he tapped a few times, then slid his phone across the counter toward her.

Riley glanced down. A flight confirmation.

Her stomach flipped. “You booked a flight!?”

Joe just watched her, like he was still catching up to the decision himself. “Wednesday afternoon. Stay through Friday. I’ll leave early Saturday.”

He let out a quiet breath, shaking his head. Probably a bad idea.

But when he looked at her—eyes wide, lips parted in surprise—he didn’t regret it

“This is crazy, right?” He exhaled, half-amused, half-wary. “We barely know each other.”

Riley laughed softly, appreciating the honesty. "Completely crazy. I don't normally invite men I just met to my home in another state."

Joe chuckled softly. "And I don't normally rearrange my schedule for someone I've had one dinner with."

Her phone buzzed again.

Car's downstairs.

She sighed, glancing toward the half-packed suitcase by the door “Shit. Hold on.” She crouched down, shoving a stray sweatshirt inside and forcing the zipper closed with the heel of her hand.

Joe watched, amused, before stepping forward. “Here—” He crouched beside her, gripping the zipper and making quick work of it.

Riley huffed, standing as he did. “You’re annoyingly efficient.”

“You’re impressively inefficient,” he shot back, grabbing the handle before she could. “C’mon, I’ll walk you down.”

As his hand reached for the doorknob, Riley touched his arm. “Hey.”

Joe turned to her, eyebrow raised.

“If you decide later to change your mind, no hard feelings,” Riley said, keeping her voice light, casual—like she wasn’t already bracing for the possibility.

Joe looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head with a small smile. “I’m not changing my mind. I want to be there.” His voice had that same steady certainty that seemed to ground everything he did. “No overthinking.”

Riley exhaled, something warm settling in her chest. “No overthinking.”

Joe’s gaze flicked over her face like he was memorizing something, then—without hesitation—he leaned in.

The kiss was quick, just a press of lips, but there was a certainty to it. No second-guessing, no hesitation. Just him, making sure she knew exactly where he stood.

When he pulled back, his expression was calm, resolved. "Now let's get you to that flight."

They stepped out of her apartment together, moving in unspoken sync.

At the curb, her driver was already waiting, trunk open, the city just starting to hum to life around them. Joe set her suitcase inside, then turned back to face her.

He looked down at her, the quiet intensity in his gaze making her pulse stutter. "Wednesday," he said, the word somewhere between a question and a promise.

Riley smiled, despite the disappointment of leaving. "Wednesday."

Joe reached for her, his hand warm at the small of her back as he leaned in, kissing her once more—brief but thorough, like he was locking in the memory.

"Safe travels, Riley."

She stepped back, fingers lingering at his wrist for half a second before she pulled away completely. "See you soon, Joe."

As she slid into the backseat, she glanced out the window just in time to see Joe still standing there, hands in his pockets, watching her drive away. His expression was unreadable—thoughtful, maybe. Or something closer to anticipation.

Either way, it made Riley's pulse kick up.

Nine days.

Nine days until New Orleans. Nine days until they could figure out what this thing between them really was—without the ticking clock.

And for the first time in a long time, leaving didn't feel like an ending.

It felt like the start of something.

Joe watched Riley's car pull away, standing motionless on the sidewalk until it disappeared around the corner. He remained there for a moment longer, hands in his pockets, a small smile playing at his lips despite the early morning chill.

Nine days.

Adjusting his collar against the February wind, he pulled out his phone and ordered a car back to his hotel. He had a flight to catch that afternoon, and before that, a conversation he wasn't particularly looking forward to.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair before heading inside.

Because for the first time in a long time, he found himself looking forward to something that had nothing to do with football.

---

“You booked a flight to New Orleans.”

Bill set his folder down with a sigh, his expression unreadable.

Joe didn’t look up from his drink. “Wednesday through Friday. Back Saturday morning.”

Mark, seated at the far end of the table, stopped scrolling through his phone. “Wait—seriously?”

Joe finally glanced up, unimpressed. “Would I joke about this?”

Mark groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ. We just had this conversation yesterday.”

“And?” Joe took another sip, unconcerned.

Bill adjusted his glasses. “And we thought you’d at least take some time before diving in headfirst.”

“It’s three days,” Joe corrected. “Not exactly life-altering.”

“It might be,” Mark muttered, flipping his phone screen toward him. Joe barely glanced at it—some mix of gossip blogs, fan tweets, and sports media trying to make something out of nothing. “The internet’s already running wild, and now you’re flying across the country? What do you think that’s gonna look like?”

Joe set his cup down with a quiet clink. His voice was calm. “They won’t see if I’m careful.”

Mark let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “So let me get this straight—you, Joe Burrow, are voluntarily flying into New Orleans during Mardi Gras? The busiest, most chaotic time of year? To spend time with someone who’s got a reputation for being… let’s just say, not exactly low-profile?”

Joe didn’t blink. “Yeah.”

Mark dragged a hand down his face. “Unbelievable.”

Bill exhaled, adjusting his glasses. “Look, no one’s saying you can’t do this. Just be aware that when it gets out—and it will—people will have opinions.”

Joe leaned back in his chair, unfazed. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t get out.”

Mark scoffed. “Right. Because keeping a secret relationship with a famous musician is super easy.”

Joe gave him a flat look. “I didn’t say it would be easy.”

Mark let out an exhausted sigh, rubbing his temples. “Fine. But don’t call me when TMZ gets a grainy-ass photo of you two at a bar in the French Quarter.”

Joe smirked faintly. “I’ll make sure we aren’t in the Quarter.”

Mark threw up his hands. “Great. He’s got a plan. I feel so much better.”

Bill, already shifting gears, stood. “Body Armour’s rescheduled for Monday. And we’ll move the ESPN shoot to when you’re back.”

Joe gave a short nod, already done with the conversation.

As they gathered their things, Bill paused by the door. “For what it’s worth, Joe, I hope it works out.”

Joe looked up, surprised by the rare sincerity in his voice.

Bill smirked faintly. “She doesn’t seem like your usual type.”

Joe huffed a quiet laugh. “She’s not.”

And that was kind of the point.

Without another word, he grabbed his phone and stood, already moving past the conversation.

At the window of his rented New York apartment, Joe stared out at the Manhattan skyline. The constant noise, the endless activity, the perpetual motion of the city—it was all a stark contrast to his preferred offseason routine. Normally, he'd be counting the days until he could get back to his regular training schedule, his familiar spaces, the quiet predictability he valued.

But for once, he wasn't in a hurry to return to that routine.

He pulled out his phone, checking the confirmation for his Wednesday flight to New Orleans. He knew the city well enough from his LSU days—the energy, the food, the unmistakable atmosphere—but experiencing it through Riley's eyes would be something entirely different.

Something settled in his chest. A certainty he hadn't felt about anything outside of football in a long time.

Nine days.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself looking forward to something that had nothing to do with football.

[fligniuz]

Idk why but all I can think about is how lu is probably the type of bf who’d be so in love and obsessed with his girlfriend. Like he’d be the type of bf who is very supportive of what his girlfriend does. You wanna start working out? He’s going with you to your gym sessions and Pilates classes so you’re not on the journey alone, you wanna start eating healthy? He’s looking up healthier recipes to cook for you both. You speak another language? Mans is already on Duolingo as we speak learning as much as he can! I also saw a tiktok recently of a bf cooking his gf steak when she’s on her period so she can get iron and that screamed ‘lu’ to me lmao

i just wrote this whole thing out and thought it posted but it didn’t UGH whatever let’s try again

YES NONNIE!!! luigi is the definition of active boyfriend!

he loves to get involved in all your hobbies and activities. you like biking? luigi will be doing research for a whole fucking week narrowing down the best brand, seat size, and tires for the kinds of rides you like to go on. def will surprise you with a little bow tied on the seat, like in the ice cream pic :-) his sweet smile. and you know he’s got his own bike to go with you every time!

heavy on pilates classes ORRRR we know he did yoga for some time? would absolutely come to yoga with U! you get jealous because all the girls in class stare at him but you KNOW that man is all yours so you’re not too worried. if U like cooking/baking i can see him organizing a digital recipe book for U, adding new things you mention wanting to try whenever he can (and sneaking in his own suggestions, of course☺️). if you’re outdoorsy, he is too!! loves hiking with U!! is the most prepared when it comes to this shit too, since we know he likes the idea of having an efficient one-bag lifestyle. he brings extra water for the both of U, sweat rags (LOL☹️sorry), a change of clothes in case you’re somewhere kinda messy, and absolutely has scoured some perfect walkers with the best tread on them so you’ve got a reliable pair of shoes! everything U need for an adventure with him, he’s got two bags packed and ready to go, and he’s never going to miss out on an opportunity to explore nature with his fav person. he loves seeing new things with U

i can imagine that he’d like to play video games with U!! i like animal crossing and he made his own wordpress post about the og version for the gamecube so i know he likes it too! don’t know if he ever tried new horizons out but he’d like the summery feel of it and the setting of the island. would set up his own house on your island although he never gets around to upgrading it completely and it’s just filled with fish he’s caught (in that post he said his favorite part was fishing!) and waiting to sell to the nooks😭but i think he would use that one website that allows you to make your own pictures into custom designs, and he would have his favorite image of you guys together hanging on the wall!!! would lowkey be the breadwinner in your little animal crossing family. he likes the simpler, more nature-focused aspects like collecting materials, bug catching, and crafting, while U appreciate the creative parts that allow customization and design. he stocks up on bells for U and is always trying to help U complete your catalog! asks shit like “i know you’ve been looking for that one wallpaper and it’s finally in stock at the shop, you want to take some of these bells off of me?” :-) i’ve seen a few fics where U play mario kart together and he always wins which makes me mad because personally i would be whooping that ass AND laughing at him for it but whatever🙄 (the sex after a hard match would be…well i’ll let U imagine it ehehehe)

i’ve got a stomach bug rn so i’ve been thinking a lot about him being your caretaker when you’re sick or just hungover🥺stays in bed with U, keeps fluids in U, reminds U to take meds when needed, ties your hair back when U vomit, just constantly worried about his baby’s health. tries to be very careful about what he says and how he reacts so he doesn’t make you feel embarrassed or bad about being all icky. never forces U to eat if you don’t feel like it because he understands completely, but will gently encourage U to take some bites of a banana or toast, just so you have something in your stomach

“baby i know you’re dehydrated and probably thirsty, you want some water with ice? maybe some juice? i could go get some gatorade, that’ll replace all these electrolytes you’re losing!”

and when U do have a drink he reminds U “little sips, honey, little sips. too much at once will make that nausea worse”

definitely coos at U like “ohhhh my poor baby” or “i’m so sorry” or “it’s okay, mia cara, it’s okay. i’m right here with you, baby. i wish i could take all the pain away from you.”

sorry this got kinda self-indulgent😭i do NOT feel good

[the-daydreaming-show]

(4.) The Skyfall

SUMMARY: Your time is up.

NOTE: I'll be honest, I've been struggling with this chapter, and this is the final version, but even then I'm not sure. It's a bit boring, but next chapter has a bonus, and then the final chapter of finales! So, sorry about the lame chapter, but hope you like it as leas for entertemiend and see you in the bonus chapter!! XOXO Ella

Memories/Thoughts in italics

Dragon Language in bold italics

Reader dress is inspired by this art of Queen Rhaenys.

Previus Part: (3.) DREAMS MADE HEAVY.

AO3 / Story Masterlist

There was less than a week between Nyx's birthday and the Starfall celebration. From what Elain had told you in the party, the previous year they had not celebrated it due to the birth and other circumstances she didn't explain. 

So, it was not only her nephew’s first Starfall celebration but also the first for her and Nesta.

You spent every day until it at the House of Wind, until the morning of the celebration, when you decided it would be best to take Balerion for a fly. There was a possibility that Feyre and Rhysand would appear early at the house for the party preparations, and despite your newly acquired ability to avoid people in that house, you ran into Nesta at breakfast before leaving.

“I hope you’re not thinking about fleeing the party,” she mocked coldly at you. Of course, because she would be the first to notice how you had spent more time than usual inside the house rather than outside on the balconies or in the sky with your dragons.

“No, I'm just going to take a fly. To make sure, Balerion doesn't cause a scandal when he sees there's a party here tonight.” You explained while spreading butter on your bread and then adding a disrespectful amount of honey.

“I was glad to know that you're well-" She admitted behind her cup of tea. "She missed you too."

You tried not to halt your movements at her words and smiled as best you could before biting into your toast—a poor attempt to hide in some way.

"You can fool many people, Nesta Archeron, but you and I both know you have been missing me every day since the day I disappeared." You teased gently, taking a sip of your own tea. A small tilt of her lips was visible behind her cup. She didn’t deny it, but you hadn’t expected her to admit it out loud.

With her, it had always been like that. The longest conversation you had ever had was before you really knew each other, and you had always been able to understand her silences. You knew that made it more irritating than useful—because you already knew things she didn’t want to tell anyone. Silence had become both an agreement and a decision over the years, a shared language. That was why you had breakfast in silence and parted ways just as quietly when you got up from the table.

With Feyre, there had never been silences, probably the reason it now felt so uncomfortable not to tell her about the things that had happened and those you knew would happen. But you had seen firsthand the life she had now, and there was no room for you or what you had to do in that life. Even if she were able to accept everything. 

You love her, and that was why you wouldn’t drag her to where you stood now—just for the selfish comfort of her company.

Already in the sky, you roamed the mountains and even accompanied Balerion in his hunt of the day—anything to avoid returning to the house, just in case. 

All of it left your face covered in ash, so Mayhem would probably scold you later. After all, your presence that night was supposed to be an official visit—the last before leaving. Your court expected you to inform Feyre and Rhysand of your decision today. Those two didn’t know that, of course. However, you were aware that, since the decision had already been made and confirmed, staying until the party was already too much by the political standards.

So you stayed in the sky until night started to fall. Your stomach growled with hunger, and your tongue felt dry with thirst. It was then that you realized maybe you had overdone it. You flew over the house to dismount, no longer after. You threw yourself off Balerion’s side, using his wings to slow your descent and land on the balcony of your rooms—a dangerous maneuver. The dragon was flying too close to the house, meaning he could easily break something, and the risk of you missing the balcony, falling onto the one below, or any of them, and breaking something was high. But you preferred that risk. 

Fortunately, you didn’t break anything, you simply stepped onto the balcony, where an angry Mayhem was already waiting for you. She glared at you with the same fury while you dropped the harnesses on the floor and headed toward the bathroom, where a bathtub had been waiting for you for far too long.

“It's cold,” you complained as you got into the water. You started to stand up, but her hands pushed your shoulders down, submerging you up to your neck.

“It would be hotter if you weren’t an hour late,” May said offhandedly, but she still left the room in search of hot water.

After the extra hot water, the bath wasn’t as hot, but warm was better than freezing, so you didn’t complain when she went for more. Your presence in the tub helped reheat it, after all, and by the time you were done, the water was bubbling and boiling. May had to let you finish washing alone because of this—for her irritation and your amusement.

You dried yourself in silence while she busied herself in the room. You wrapped yourself in a towel and went to find her, and found her delicately placing your dress on the bed, ready for use.

“Go get yourself ready. I'll call you for the hair,” you said. She frowned at you. You roll your eyes. “I know how to dress myself. You can check my work when you return. Now go get ready.”

“Okay, call me if you get tangled up.” You nodded to her demand.

Mayhem closed the door behind her, leaving you alone. You sat on the bed next to the dress and felt your stomach growl. You closed your eyes, silently regretting all your decisions, and when you opened them again, you noticed that at some point, May had left a tray with juice and a sandwich for you.

"How did I not see this before?" you muttered, quickly reaching for it.

The sandwich was simple, but it was enough to satisfy you and silence the hunger. After it, you shook off your fatigue and turned to your dress with renewed energy.

The dress Mayhem had chosen for the party was composed of two layers that required careful arrangement, which explained her hesitation about letting you put it on alone. The first layer was a sleeveless black dress with a V-shaped neckline, clinging to your figure thanks to the corset, accentuating your hips and letting the fabric cascade to the floor without a train or excessive drama. The corset had a texture reminiscent of Balerion’s scales, adorned with tiny diamonds so small they were invisible unless viewed up close.

When you put it on, you felt as if you were wearing stars, glimmering in the darkness of the room—just as Balerion’s scales did at night.

The second layer of the outfit was dark red, made of a softer fabric. This part covered the left side of the corset, fastening at the waist with an embellishment in the shape of a black iron dragon. From the sleeve, which perfectly matched the dress underneath, a cape extended, also serving as the train of the dress, elegantly crossing your bare back and cascading to the ground. It could have been just a single dress, but this way, you were sure you could wear both pieces on other occasions and with different outfits. That was a condition when you agreed to the special preparation of this attire for the event.

You were putting on heeled sandals, complaining due to the corset that prevented you from breathing and bending down enough to adjust them properly, when Mayhem returned, wearing her own red and black ensemble. All of her outfit complimented yours, but did not imitate it. Her dark hair was styled into a crown of braids on her head, leaving not a strand of place. It was surprising that she had managed to get completely ready in the same amount of time it took you to put on your dress and struggle with your sandals. She entered with a tray with more sandwich and juice, and quickly let all in the night table knelt in front of you to help. You sigh as you sit straight, since movement causes the corset to stop stabbing into the lower stomach.

"You need to eat something. " May said. You felt cold sweat running down your back.

You let yourself fall onto the bed for a moment, trying to catch your breath. That sandwich clearly hadn’t been enough. Mayhem offered you one of the sandwiches, and held the juice while you ate to offer it to you as soon as you finished, the next sandwich was offered to you immediately after. 

By the time you were done, downing the third and finishing your juice, Mayhem stopped worrying about it to stop and check your dress. While you were chewing, May loosened the corset of your black dress, allowing you to breathe more freely, and refastened it just right. You hadn't realized the corset was strangling you because it was so poorly fitted until May readjusted it, and you could easily swallow the last few bites of your food. 

You could barely feel the corset; probably if you hadn't suffered from it earlier due to your poor performance, you wouldn't be so self-conscious about its position. But she didn't adjust anything else, which made you feel proud that you'd managed to put almost the entire outfit on correctly.

You were led to sit at the vanity to do your hair after that, hoping that what you had eaten would be enough to tide you over until dinner and that a good meal would be served at the party. Mayhem carefully brushed your hair, and you almost fell asleep. You frowned in disappointment when she finished before you could even nod off.

"We won't do anything too dramatic with the hair," May told you as she set down the brush and grabbed a jar to apply oils. She massaged your hair and scalp for a while. "We could touch up the roots if you want," she whispered at the end, noticing the tiny roots peeking through the front strands of your hair. 

You shook your head gently after considering it for a couple seconds.

Mayhem used two hair-slides shaped like dragon wings.With them, Mayhem gathered your hair away from your face, and in a half updo with a bun at the back of your head. The combs matched the clasp that fastened your dress, and they were made of the same material as the bracelets she placed on your bare arms. Then, you stood in front of the full-length mirror while Mayhem carefully hooked part of the dress’s train to the bracelets, so it wouldn’t drag too heavily behind you.

Looking at your reflection, you realized the train resembled a blood-red halo that unfurled when you moved.

Mayhem was applying perfume to your neck when Armin and Luka entered the room, also dressed for the occasion, just like May. Coordinated, but not identical to you, their queen.

"You look beautiful, your grace," Armin remarked lovingly, smiling.

"Impossible not to look good with the amount of money spent on this outfit," you remarked gracefully, stretching your neck while Mayhem continued perfuming you. "Are you all going to keep calling me your grace all night?"

"I'm afraid so, your grace," Luka replied mockingly. 

You roll your eyes, and look at yourself in the mirror. 

You looked ethereal. 

It was strange, considering there was a time when you didn't care about your appearance because there was no room in your life to even think about that. Back then, you were still young and had your whole life ahead of you. 

And then, as you learned, appearances meant survival. So you took great care of yours, always wanting to look better—in the ideal way to attract the customers you wanted, not others. You had perfected your image, making sure that every aspect of your outfit, hair, and attitude played the role that would earn you more money and more time for Rue.

Now, everything feels so foreign to you. You played with the fabric of the dress a little, watching the reflection mimic your movements, confirming that it was really you. 

You didn’t know what to say or do about the outfit. It was beautiful, but that didn’t mean you looked beautiful in it. It made no sense. Perfecting your image years ago hadn’t saved Rue, and this outfit wouldn't change anything that night. So, it didn't really matter.

You had barely made it down the stairs to the ballroom, where the party was already underway, when Morrigan appeared and took your arm, leading you around the room with Mayhem shadowing you both. She complimented your dress, and without hesitation, you told her she could have it if she wanted; you wouldn’t have much use for it in the Bay. Truthfully, the Bay's fashions were nowhere near what your outfit looked like that night—it had been designed to blend seamlessly with the party and Prythian styles.

"Honestly, for a moment, I was afraid you'd come out wearing a diamond-studded riding habit or something, considering how long you took to land. I was sure Mayhem would be scrambling to get you into something elegant for the evening," she mocked, glancing at your friend for a reaction. But May just looked at her briefly before whispering,

"If I had tried, I definitely would have never left," she declared firmly, making Mor laugh.

Morrigan led you to the table, unconcerned with the people who had to shift and adjust so that the trains of both your dress and hers could pass without being stepped on. The three of you stared at the snack table in silence for a while, until the blonde picked up a caviar sandwich, never letting go of your arm. You watched her chew nonchalantly before slipping your arm free and reaching for a glass of champagne, ignoring Mayhem's gaze.

"Are you on babysitting duty, Mor?" you asked, bringing the glass to your lips with utmost delicacy, mindful of the work May had put into your makeup.

"Something like that. You are the honored guests of the evening, so keeping you entertained and well cared for tonight is the responsibility of the court emissaries, while Rhys and Feyre are the evening’s hosts. Cassian was assigned your general, and Nesta, your secretary," she explained, and you made a quip over the rim of your glass.

"I'm sure that'll be fun for Luka," you remarked mockingly, and May smiled beside you. Mor looked at you as she took another bite. "Armin is the slowest talker in the world—he's very serious, I always tell him that. He says it's his age. And Luka is just Luka. I don't think he and Nesta will exchange a single word all night unless someone forces them. Though I think they'd both prefer it that way."

"And this one?" Mor asked, pointing at Mayhem with a smile. Your friend's ears turned red in the dimly lit room. "How should I ensure his fun tonight? Since he won’t leave your side."

"Well—"

Someone calling your name interrupted you. You turned to see Feyre and Rhysand walking toward you.

Feyre wore a dark blue, mermaid-style dress that hugged her curves, with a single sheer sleeve that draped over her arm down to her wrist, where it fit snugly. Around her neck, a strip of fabric wrapped like a scarf, cascading behind her like a cape. The entire ensemble was adorned with tiny gems, making her look as though she were covered in stars.

Rhysand wasn't far behind, dressed in pants, boots, and a black tunic with silver embroidery that provided subtle contrast. Beneath the tunic, he wore a shirt in the same dark blue hue as Feyre’s—sparkly and all. They were stupidly attractive as a couple. Their coordinated outfits only made them look better—and worse—all at the same time.

You were suddenly grateful that Armin, Luka, and Mayhem matched you, because the thought of standing out alone left a hollow, lonely feeling in your chest.

"I see Mor already dragged you to attack the snack table," Rhysand teased, glancing at Morrigan, who stuck her tongue out at him while taking a sip of champagne with one hand, the other still holding a bite of food, waiting to be eaten.

"I thought I dragged her, but it may have simply been mutual," you admitted honestly, to which Rhysand smiled in amusement.

"I was looking for you," Feyre said gently, her eyes obviously trailing over your dress. "You look incredible."

"There’s no doubt the Dragon Queen of the East has arrived tonight," Rhysand added, following Feyre’s lead. "You’ll definitely steal the show, Your Grace."

"Oh, please. There’s no dethroning the best-dressed couple of the evening. High Lord and High Lady, you are undoubtedly the envy of all Prythian with the beauty you carry tonight," you said, hoping it sounded less bitter than it felt. You immediately took a sip from your glass and set it down on the table, refusing to look at their reactions.

"And Nyx?" you asked, forcing a lighthearted tone, maybe a little too disingenuous. "I hope he matches too, or I’ll be disappointed!" The words slipped out before you could stop them. But there was no turning back now—you had already stepped in the mud; you might as well sink into it completely to hide it.

You met Feyre's gaze, saw a flicker of concern in her eyes, and pointedly gave her the best everything-is-okay smile you could muster. It didn't work as quickly as you would have liked, so you turned your attention to Rhysand, making him the most interesting person of the evening as you avoided Feyre.

"He is, but I'm afraid nap time clashes with the start of the celebration, so he'll be here for the big moment only," he explained gently, his tone completely casual, his hand resting on Feyre’s waist. You nodded slowly, smiling at him, and took another glass from the table beside you. You sipped it as calmly as possible, though you could have easily downed the champagne in one go.

"I should go find Armin and Luka before they make any strangers too uncomfortable with their lack of sociability," you told them, stepping away from the table before anyone could say anything else, your dress billowing behind you as you walked away.

Once you were sufficiently covered by the crowd, you tipped your glass back at an angle, emptying it in one motion. You placed it on the tray of a passing waiter. Mayhem followed you closely to the balconies, where people were chatting without missing a beat.

There they were, standing with their matching outfits and ethereal beauty. You realized you couldn't stand it for another second. So you made your choice—you would keep your distance for the rest of the party. You ran away. That was the solution. It wouldn’t change anything, only hasten the inevitable.

And so you did.

You dodged Feyre and Rhysand as best you could for a couple of hours while they flitted around the food and drink tables, eating and drinking. But the task proved more difficult than you had anticipated—you quickly realized your dress was working against you.

That's how Morrigan found you a couple of hours later, just before the starfall began. She announced that Nyx was already at the party and had brought his dragons, so you let her drag you along—Mayhem included.

The boy truly matched his parents, which warmed your heart instead of bringing the heartache you had feared. You silently thanked that relief with a sigh. He wore pants and boots that matched his father's and a loose shirt made from the same fabric as his mother's dress. His black curls had been slicked back, but by the time you reached him, he had already managed to loosen some of them.

"Hi," you greeted softly, stepping closer to him, as he was currently in Elain's arms. The boy looked at you and immediately broke into a smile, offering you one of the wooden dragons.

"Bababa," he declared proudly, showing you the black-painted wooden dragon.

"Yes, Balerion." You hesitated, feeling Feyre and Rhysand’s gazes on you. And you could bet the rest of the Inner Circle also had their eyes on you and the boy. "Did you see that Balerion has stars?" you asked sweetly. You knew he probably didn’t understand what you were saying and wouldn’t answer, but you still spoke to him that way, unsure of how to interact with children so young.

Nyx tilted his head curiously and looked at his toy. Then he offered it to you again, trying to understand what you meant. He seemed to recognize the word stars.

"Like this," you said softly, gently holding his hand. You raised his arm so it looked like he was flying the dragon above his head. "See? There, Nyx—stars."

The toy had its wings stretched out as if it were hovering in the sky, and when Nyx looked up at it, he saw its entire belly, legs, and the underside of its wings twinkling, as if a starry sky lay beneath. The boy let out a squeal of excitement at the discovery. You thought that, in his mind, you had just revealed to him that this toy truly contained stars, because the way he held it upside down and excitedly showed Elain the stars beneath it was as if he were presenting the greatest discovery of the century.

You let out a laugh at his enthusiasm.

"Does Balerion really do that?" Rhysand asked, his tone curious. You looked at him for a moment, searching for any trace of insincerity in his voice but finding none.

"Yes. It's his scales. In the dark, they shimmer as if covered in stars, and in the sky, they camouflage him." You explained simply. "The toy is made to mimic that."

"It sounds beautiful," Nesta remarked, to which you smiled in appreciation.

"No doubt," Elain added, adjusting Nyx in her arms as he excitedly moved to show his aunts and uncles how the stars appeared on his toy.

"Can we see it?" Feyre asked, making you look directly at her. You noticed the silver combs in her hair, matching Rhysand’s cufflinks, and how beautiful she looked with her hair styled that way. You couldn't bring yourself to say no—but you forced yourself to.

“I wouldn't want to interrupt today's big event. I'm sure it'll start soon,” you said quickly, trying to divert attention from the conversation so you could escape again. Nyx showed you the toy once more, and you smiled at him again.

“Maybe later, we could watch it from one of the higher balconies. I'm sure it’ll be an equally beautiful sight to close out the evening,” Rhysand offered swiftly, glancing between you and Feyre.

Feyre smiled excitedly, waiting for your response. You looked at the toy Nyx was babbling excitedly about, staring at the stars painted on the wood and trying to scratch at them with your fingers to see if they would come off—but they wouldn't. You glanced back at Feyre, who was still waiting for an answer with hope in her eyes, and felt the urge to refuse leave your body with a resigned sigh.

“Well, I guess a demonstration won't hurt, as long as we don’t overshadow the main event of the evening,” you agreed, having no real choice.

Nyx began throwing himself toward his mother, babbling and yelling that he wanted to go with her. As the child was passed into her arms, you silently stepped away, watching as his bright eyes moved further from you.

You hid at the nearest snack table until an announcement prompted the guests to move to the balconies for the start of the meteor shower. You stood on a balcony with your court and a group of other guests. You’d like to say that the meteor shower took your breath away with its beauty for the rest of the night, but you didn’t get to enjoy it—because a few feet away, on another balcony where the Inner Circle stood, Nyx’s reaction to his first meteor shower stole your attention. And you didn’t mind, because the sight of the child, mesmerized by the way the sky lit up, was brighter than the stars themselves.

That balcony made for a perfect family portrait. Feyre should paint it, you thought as you took another sip from your glass. You had lost count of how many you’d had, but the champagne wasn’t strong enough to get you drunk.

A knot tightened in your stomach, coiling in on itself. The corset wasn’t helping matters. You seriously considered hiding in one of the bathrooms and pretending you’d had too much to drink to avoid the private demonstration. But you didn’t get the chance, because an excited Elain—who must have spotted you across the balconies—appeared out of nowhere just as you were leaving the area with your court and led you to a different, more private balcony.

On the way there, you glanced at Armin and Luka, silently warning them not to follow. If I suffer, we all suffer, you told them with your eyes. Armin, despite his age, somehow didn’t even hear Elain when she called for the attention of those still at the ball.

You did the only thing you could think of to calm your nerves. You reached through the bond with Balerion and commanded him to demonstrate, using the moment to focus on his breathing, heartbeat, and movements—syncing with them, relaxing into the connection they represented. By the time you reached the balcony, you had calmed down, and Balerion roared, making you aware of how close the house truly was. The people on the balconies below, where the party continued, leaned out to watch as well

“Well, here we go,” you said softly as Elain told you how to spot Balerion approaching, and you leaned on the edge of the balcony.

Your boy put on a show. First, Balerion revealed himself, flying around the mountain, rising from beneath the house until he passed by the balconies—so close that some people below stumbled as the wind from his wings shook them all. You only watched with affection. Upon reaching the top of the house, he quickly ascended, making sure everyone knew where he was, spitting a ball of fire through which he flew before disappearing into the sky.

A few seconds passed before anyone spoke.

“Where is he?” Nesta asked in amazement beside you.

You looked around, noticing the balcony filled with the Inner Circle and your court. Nyx was leaning against his mother's hip, staring at the sky in fascination, clutching his dragon toy in his hand. You were more than capable of locating Balerion because you knew what to look for, but the others weren’t.

You stepped closer, making sure to stand next to Nyx, accidentally placing yourself between Feyre and Rhysand—which you chose to ignore for the sake of demonstrating to the boy. You hoped they would do the same.

"Nyx," you called softly. The boy turned to you, though his eyes were still preoccupied with the disappearance of the dragon in the sky. "There, look," you said, placing a gentle hand on his back and pointing to a particular spot in the sky. He followed your finger intently, leaning forward as his eyes narrowed.

It was easy to spot Balerion in the sky if you knew what to look for. It was like staring at the sea, searching for a ripple on the still surface to find where a fish swam just below. The way the stars seemed to flicker more than the others—how some appeared to shift before blinking out—was the clue. Then, Balerion let out another burst of fire, betraying his position once again, and whispers rose from below, a mixture of admiration and fear.

“Bababa,” Nyx whispered in awe. You glanced at him, unable to help but smile at the way he stared at the sky. You were surprised by how quickly he had located Balerion after only being pointed in the right direction once, absorbing the information like a sponge.

That was when you realized you were perhaps too close to him—because, in the next second, his small arm wrapped around your neck, and his weight pressed against you as he threw himself at you with complete trust that you would catch him. You had no choice but to hold him as he leaned into you, taking you by surprise. He was probably used to being passed around effortlessly, and you froze slightly once he was settled in your arms, his legs resting around your waist.

For the first time, you willingly looked at Feyre, silently asking for help with the situation. But she only smiled and shrugged gently before turning her gaze back to the sky, where Balerion was still circling—offering no further assistance.

Traitor, you thought, and you could have sworn you heard a chuckle from your right, where Rhysand was still standing.

“Bababa,” the boy in your arms said with more certainty, drawing your attention as he lifted his toy, mimicking the real dragon’s flight.

“Yes—yes, Balerion flies like that,” you managed, stumbling slightly over your words.

Rhysand circled behind you and stood beside Feyre, but when you looked at him for help, he simply smiled, as if he found the situation amusing. You might have rolled your eyes, but any movement beyond focusing on holding the boy felt like a risk, so you didn’t.

Mayhem appeared behind you, like a saving grace. Without hesitation, she approached the boy. She gently adjusted his position, placing his legs against your hips, one arm resting slightly behind his back and the other supporting one of his legs to keep him steady. You relaxed slightly thanks to her help—and even more so when she positioned herself on the side where Rhysand had been.

You looked back at the stars, trying to appear as casual as possible, afraid that if you seemed too uncomfortable, Nyx would notice and grow uneasy. You adjusted him slightly in your arms, almost hugging him to you, wrapping the cloak attached to your bracelets around him accordingly.

Gods, it had been years since you had held a child. Your sister was the first and the last.

You stood there for a while, watching as Balerion broke the stillness of the sky with his movements. The rest of the Inner Circle and your people moved about the balcony, but Nyx remained utterly fascinated, guiding his toy through the air in tandem with the real dragon. You stayed still, letting him be. You were too focused on the weight in your arms to pay attention to anything else.

For a while, the boy was quiet—but when Balerion let out a particularly loud roar in the sky, Nyx shifted excitedly in your hold, and a pop caught your attention.

“Oh,” you whispered, surprised to see two small wings suddenly sprout from the boy’s back, tangled in the fabric of his dress. You instinctively moved to free them, but hesitated—you didn’t want to take your hands off him for too long, afraid he might move and fall.

“Here, let me help you,” Rhysand whispered, leaning closer. “Move your hand like this.” He guided your hand to support the boy’s back beneath his wings, careful not to press too far.

“Get the fabric out of there,” you instructed softly, pointing to a piece of cloth caught on the small horn atop Nyx’s wing. Rhysand followed your instructions with ease, and soon, Nyx’s wings were free of any fabric, folding neatly into place, twitching in excitement as he gazed up at the sky.

“Better, Nyx?”

You didn't get a response from him—just watched as he continued playing with his toy—and you felt bad because Balerion had already told you the show was over.

"Balerion has to go, Nyx," you informed him softly. He looked up at you in surprise, clearly not very happy about it. "Say goodbye. Goodbye, Balerion." You waved at the dragon, who breathed fire and roared before swooping down into the mountains, where he slept most nights.

"Baba, baba, baba," Nyx mumbled, mimicking your gesture with a sad tone and pouting.

You followed Balerion with your eyes as he descended into the mountains, feeling his landing through the bond, reassuring yourself that he was safe. Then, out of nowhere, Nyx rested his head against your chest. You were grateful you hadn’t worn a collar because, immediately after, he rubbed his head against your skin as if it were a pillow.

"Oh… okay," you whispered, surprised and overwhelmed by the trust the boy displayed as he murmured against you, settling deeper into your arms.

"It's because you're warm," May's teasing voice reached your ears, and you glared at her, offended by her persistence on the subject.

"I'm not," you retorted, irritated but keeping your voice gentle, not wanting to startle Nyx, who had grown even more comfortable, snuggling against your chest with his little hands all over you, as if you were a very large pillow. "He's just sleepy."

"And yet, he chose to settle against the little oven that you are," she mocked again, hands behind her back, a smirk spreading across her face. She didn’t even look at you, which irritated you even more. This time, you rolled your eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Feyre asked as Rhysand reentered the balcony with a drink in hand, which he then offered to her. You hadn't even noticed he was gone.

"Mayhem and Ragnar insist that I'm warm—like my dragons. Which is nonsense. My body temperature is perfectly normal; all the medical tests confirm it," you explained, throwing an irritated glance at your friend, but May just shrugged and grinned mockingly.

"That doesn't mean you're not unusually warm for a person—and very huggable. Nyx seems to agree." As if on cue, the boy let out a contented sigh against your chest. "See? The evidence speaks for itself."

"Go to sleep, Mayhem. You get annoying when you're tired," you told her coolly, but she only responded with a mischievous laugh. She left the balcony soon after, bidding Feyre and Rhysand goodnight.

You suspected her lack of further teasing had something to do with the fact that you were holding the child—doubtful anyone would try to kill you while you carried him.

Armin was nearby, in the hallway inside the house.

There, you realized you were alone on the balcony with Feyre, Rhysand, and their tiny, winged baby in your arms. The discomfort of holding the child returned. You felt like an intruder again, as if you were trespassing on a moment that should be theirs—to hold their child and cherish the beautiful life they had fought so hard to achieve. You were about to muster the courage to say you needed to leave, hoping it would prompt them to take the child from you, but they got there first.

"I think it would be best if I put him to bed," Rhysand said, reaching out to take the baby. You almost sighed in relief, but as soon as Rhysand pulled the child away from you, Nyx’s hand clutched at the fabric of your dress, grabbing the red part that stuck out beneath your cloak, pulling it over your shoulder. Suddenly, three adults were struggling to manage a half-asleep child who had begun to fuss, trying to free his grip without tearing anything.

"Let me get his hand out."

"Nyx, honey, please let go."

"He really has a strong grip," you laughed uncomfortably, now caught between both rulers as they tried to pry their child off you.

"Here, here," Feyre said, taking the toy from one of his hands and guiding his grip from your dress to one of the toy dragon’s wings. "There we go," she whispered as she succeeded, finally freeing the red fabric from his grasp.

You exhaled in relief as Feyre and Rhysand focused on soothing Nyx back to sleep. Rhysand rocked him gently in his arms, while Feyre whispered reassuringly. It was a beautiful sight, and you needed to escape from it, but they were blocking your only way out. You stepped back toward the balcony railing, resting your arms on it and gazing up at the sky.

Breathing through the bond with Balerion, who was already nestled in the mountains, you synchronized with his calm, steady breaths. He dragged his claws over the earth beneath him, and you sighed, feeling the sensation in your palms. The sound of birds above him and the rustling treetops in the breeze grounded you.

The click of approaching stilettos pulled you from your trance, and you turned to see Feyre settling beside you, resting her arms on the railing, her hand dangling near yours. If you moved your fingers, you could intertwine them with hers. You looked back up at the stars and immediately dismissed the thought, folding your hands in front of you, away from both the railing and Feyre.

A comfortable silence stretched between you, carried by the cool night breeze.

"You have something beautiful here, Fey," you whispered, and you knew you’d regret it later, because it revealed too much—because you felt too much saying the words. "I'm glad you found him, after all these years."

“I'm sure the Bay is beautiful,” Feyre said quickly.

“Yes, it is,” you confirmed without hesitation, looking down at your hands and the ring that had been created for you when you took over the Bay. The Bay was, without a doubt, beautiful. There was no denying that. “It used to be called Slaver's Bay; now it's Trinity Bay. And it's so beautiful that sometimes it feels like a dream, as if I'm oblivious to everything around me.”

“I understand,” Feyre assured, and you looked at her to confirm that she wasn’t just saying it to make you feel better, which was unusual because your Fey never said things just to please others. But she wasn’t Fey anymore; she was Feyre Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court. So you looked to confirm, and she noticed. “Sometimes I still wake up thinking about the routine I had before. I wake up thinking about what I should hunt, buy, or fix in the cabin.” It takes hearing Nyx complain or feeling Rhys beside me to remember I’m no longer there. Other times, it's as simple as the warmth of the blankets, which reminds me, because it was never this warm at home.”

“With those holes in the floor, it was impossible; all the houses in the area used to have that problem,” you recalled with a smile that felt inappropriate, considering how they had once lived in such poverty.

“It was that horrendous, rocky soil. Elain always complained that she couldn't grow plants there. I don't doubt it also made building anything difficult,” Feyre laughed, joining you in the memory without giving it much thought.

“Yes, my mother also complained that you couldn't even make mud to cover holes in the floors or walls. Too many stones, and the soil was too fine; the mud would form but fall apart after it dried.”

“The soil caused the problems and refused to fix them, too.” Feyre laughed again, and you burst out laughing at the remark.

“It was a renegade and spiteful land,” you added, and it wasn’t all that funny, but soon you were both laughing out loud at the idea. The laughter shook your chest in ways you couldn’t control, and for a moment, you were afraid you might go from laughing to crying in ways you couldn’t help.

“The area where our neighborhood was really shouldn’t have been built on,” you admitted as you stopped laughing. “But the town had to move a few generations ago because the nearby river flooded the surrounding area after a year of torrential rains.”

“Really?” Feyre asked, shifting from where she stood beside you. “How do you know?”

“My great-grandfather was among the people who started building away from the river before the floods. They called him paranoid, and they were the only ones who had lived in the river area who survived the floods because he wasn’t there.” You rolled your eyes at the thought. “My father loves this story—something about family pride and being born leaders.”

Feyre nodded silently, clearly tense at the mention of your father. She said nothing about it, but you could feel her irritation from where you stood.

Silence filled the balcony. You could still hear the distant bustle and the clatter of toasting glasses. The night breeze stirred the sleeves of Feyre's dress and the cape of yours.

"I wanted to find you, even when the odds were that you were dead."

It took you a second to realize that the statement, so familiar in your mind, hadn't come from you. You looked at Feyre as if she had grown a third head.

"Feyre, she was sold to a slaver. She would have died looking for me," you told her, straightening, trying to be logical and disabuse her of the idea that she might have found you. She mimicked your posture.

It would have been impossible for her. You had been in the volcano when she might have had the resources—halfway around the world. You stood across from each other now, nose to nose, and you realized you were barely taller than her in your heels.

“I would have,” Feyre admitted firmly, anger bubbling up at your response. “Rhys even offered to build a tomb for you, so I could have some peace—to honor you—but we didn’t because of the news from the Mortal Lands. But I’m immortal now; I would have sought you out beyond my lifetime if I hadn't been bound by logic. You were everything to me in those years—”

She stopped dead in her tracks, stiffening. Recognition crossed her face, and her eyes bore into yours, widening wildly in surprise. A line of panic tightened her jaw before she rocked back as if dizzy. You were about to step forward to support her, but she threw herself against the balcony railing and looked at you in horror.

Something was wrong with her, and you were about to rush to her side, to ask what was wrong. But panic didn’t quite form when a voice called out urgently.

"Your Highness."

You jumped in place when Luka's voice rang from the doorway. He stood there with a stony expression. "Just a word, please."

"Please" was the key. It was urgent. You looked at Feyre, saw her adjusting herself and regaining her balance, and although you should have asked her something anyway—to make sure she wasn’t dizzy or unwell—you walked toward Luka. Rhysand passed by you like a gust of wind, heading toward her, so you focused your gaze on Luka.

When you reached him, Luka leaned toward you, speaking in your ear in an equally flat tone.

"Astapor is under siege."

The statement made you mirror the horror on Feyre's face a moment ago, and you straightened.

“You know what to do,” you instructed, turning to face your hosts.

Rhysand and Feyre stared at each other as if having a silent conversation, and then Rhysand looked at you, his jaw clenched. You didn’t give yourself time to think or worry about any unknown offense he might have committed before speaking.

"I'm afraid we must leave early."

Morrigan and Rhysand ensured that your court arrived safely at the Bay during the night. In the morning, you dressed in complete solitude and silence, putting on your riding habit and harness with a serene expression. You had known that the former slave masters would try to attack when you were away from the Bay, even though many of your dragons were still there to defend it if necessary. They were desperate men; they would do desperate things.

You were just putting on your gloves when a pair of footsteps sounded behind you. You recognized Rhysand without needing to turn around. He remained silent as you finished fitting the leather around your fingers.

“I hope we can finish our talks once the issues at the Bay are resolved.” The phrase was more of a question than a statement, evident from the caution in his tone.

Will you return? That was the real question.

“As agreed in the negotiation treaty we signed, once the war is resolved, negotiations will resume,” you told him as you finished your task, turning to look at him. The way he stood in the doorway, where the morning sun shone directly on him, made you see even more of the man you had been told he was, rather than the mask he wore.

“Feyre will be waiting for you,” he assured you, and for some reason, he seemed to be searching for something in your reaction. You remained expressionless, giving him nothing, until Rhysand stopped. You didn’t know if he had found what he was looking for or not, but you had no time for that.

Neither of you said anything else. There was nothing left to say. Without further ado, you turned around, walking toward the balcony of the room where you had lived for these past weeks—now devoid of any trace that you had ever been there, as it should be.

You climbed up the wall to the roof closest to the balcony and glanced one last time at your room’s balcony, where Rhysand stood, watching you as if he still expected something from you.

You jumped onto Balerion’s back and flew into battle without looking back.

TAG LIST: @pinksmellslikelove @saltedcoffeescotch @raisam @asweetblueberry2 @kabekusa @throneofsapphics @makayla2036789 @jojodojo02 @kooterz @rcarbo1 @whyucloudingmymind @hjgdhghoe @minbeatriz16 @azzydaddy

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

Hello, oh my, damn... so english isn't my first language and i wasn't sure how to phrase it better so don't worry, i totally understand being uncomfortable and I'm sorry 😅

I did enjoy your version very much and i also think that you should definitely go for a crow reader cause that is such a cute idea!

- accidentally proposing anon

No problem! And since you're interested here's some very quick ideas I had about crow reader before I go to work today!

Alastor

Nothing phases this man anymore. Niffty literally gifted him a crown of dead roaches. So when you flutter excitedly and present him with a string of shiny can tabs, you've been collecting he accepts it graciously.

"You're quite right dear, these are incredibly colorful. Yes, very shiny are you sure you don't want to keep this? Oh! You made it for me? Well, aren't you just precious."

He makes it into a necklace or even something to decorate his horns.

Vox

Valentino likes light, you like shiny things, both of you tend to like being around screens and bright colors.

Except you don't just like screens, it's anything colorful or shiny. Actually sometimes it's not even that, its just random odds and ends that caught your attention for some reason. He gets it sometimes, textures, patterns, things like that.

But you have everything from soda can tabs to random buttons to rocks of various shapes, sizes, and colors. You have different sticks and pieces of wood you found that for some reason you then had to have. Pieces of mismatched jewelry. It's cute but it also clutters up space and he eventually designates one room for your stuff and tells you to keep it condensed. You do, and swear it's organized, but it's all just a jumbled mess to him.

He's in his lair, observing all the many different cameras, looking for some wannabe actress who owed him money, when you bounce in, barely stifling excited squaking. He sighs fondly and turns to you, knowing he's not going to be able to concentrate until he sees what you want to show him.

It's a collection of your molted feathers, the best ones, sleek and iridescent, bound together with some colorful twine you found and attached to it is a miniature glass jar filled with colorful, shiny bits of plastic, metal, and rock, and corked shut and sealed with hot glue.

It makes a nice rattle sound when he shakes it and the feathers are nice to pet and run his fingers over and..."Did you make me a fidget toy? From....random stuff you found? That's, that's actually really cute, thanks Doll."

He downplays how much he uses it, but it's literally on his key ring, so you know it goes everywhere with him and if during long meetings his staff are subjected to the consistent background noise of little shiny bits rattling around in a jar, then that's their problem.

Lucifer

As you may have noticed Lucifer also tends to collect things he has no need for. But he might need it one day! Between the two of you it does get to be a bit of a problem, so you both agree to sort through and condense your piles.

It takes days cuz you guys keep stopping to show each other cool stuff you guys have. Then, several more days just to get through his numerous rubber ducks. Eventually it's down to a single room where your collections have merged. Each item carefully chosen and presented to one another like expensive jewelry or other such luxurious things. But it's a cool rock you found, a giant bronze spring, a box full of candy wrappers with clever sayings, and a scrapbook with various brightly colored pieces of cardboard from snacks, toys, shoes, literally anything, that caught your eye.

It's anyone's guess on who adds what, but you do both have to agree on it before it's added so you don't hoard things again.

That's the end, but maybe I'll go back and add Adam and some of the other characters later. I just wanted to get my initial ideas down before work.

[wandixx]

Ghost of fries and hero of cookies part 6

All work words count: 14 643

Words in this part: 2 686

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay

Or

Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: Batman wants an explanation. His kids however, wouldn't be themselves if they did add some chaos

Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

First part, Previous part

“Signal.”

Duke bit back a sigh as his last hope to leave Cave undiscovered disappeared. He shot Steph message of:

Having The Talk. Come as moral support

and turned around to face Bruce.

“Yes?”

B grunted in disapproving and ‘Signal report’ way but Duke decided to buy some time and answer only questions that were actually asked. He slowly sat at the briefing table and looked at the man expectantly.

Lift chimed and moments later Tim and Cass went to Batcomputer and training mats respectively. Duke was, like, 80% sure they were there to eavesdrop. He knew them well enough. He knew them well enough.

“The girl”

“Izzy?” Was Duke annoying on purpose? Yes. He really didn’t want to have this talk. Like, at all. Psychological warfare it was “I mean, I know she is civilian and you don’t approve but at least she isn’t doing anything illegal, right? Like, you know, robbing museums or killing people?”

Bruce looked repulsed and Tim snorted.

“Low blow Narrows, low blow” Jason announced through speakers. He was slightly winded as if he just finished a fight “Good job kid”

“So you’re listening too, great” Duke muttered under his breath before louder he added “Is everyone who wants in on a show, here already?”

“Give me a sec- here Dick you’re going live now”

“Thanks Babs, you’re the best”

“I know. Donuts, you know which one”

“Of course. Glad we’re finally going to talk about Duke’s kid”

“Shut up, she is not my kid!”

“Steph ETA 2 minutes” Cass interrupted.

At least Damian didn’t show up- as if summoned by this thought Damian stomped down the stares, Alfred the Cat curled in his arms. Maybe others had a point, calling him Demon kid and stuff.

“What is an emergency?” he demanded and Duke decided to take what little relief he could from the fact that Bruce seemed equally defeated by sheer number of people around for this talk. 

“It seems like… oh, literally everyone lost an adoption bet” Babs explained. Huh, so Steph didn’t change her stance.

Damian looked genuinely terrified as he muttered “No” eyes darting between everyone present in silent calculation.

“Oh, shut up” Duke whined knowing all too well his stalling had to come to the end. Maybe it was wishful thinking but he almost heard roar of engine of Steph’s motorcycle. Her presence would be double edged sword but she would help him advocate for Dani and that was more important.

“Thomas, what have you done?!” if it was anyone other than Damian, Duke would call sound he made a whine. As it was, he preferred his entrails to stay inside and since the boy showed up, called by thought, the older boy preferred not to take risks.

“Nothing, Babs is overreacting”

“Don’t deny it. She went about it kinda Tim Lite style but it worked”

“I don’t even know her surname, where she stays or really, anything about her life outside of our patrols, how do you expect me to go about adoption?!”

“B knew even less about me when he decided, yes this tire thief is my new son!” Jason chimed in and Duke knew he was grinning despite voice modulator.

“What from my origin story was lost to make Lite version?”

“Identities weren't breached as far as we're aware. Just ‘came one day and refuses to leave’ part and some light stalking. She was smart about it, invisible, keeping out of sight and to the hot spots. Wouldn't find her if I didn't know she was there”

“She could still just not tell, I mean I knew for years before telling anyone…”

“There is no way. Believe me, she has no brain-mouth filter, I swear”

“But-”

“She introduced herself by her first name,” Duke deadpanned ”She told me civilian names of heroes from her hometown, in context that didn't require me to do any actual research to clue me. I did anyway. I don't think she even realized she did it. If she knew our identities we would know already”

There was a moment of silence as everyone digested the thought of just how gigantic breach Dani accidentally caused.

“Well, it's as good of a proof as we can get for now,” Babs bristled. 

“Who let her in on such secrets then?!” Damian sounded genuinely appalled and Duke wasn't too surprised.

Like on a cue, Steph stormed inside on her Spoiler in civies. Bruce looked about ready to get aneurysm. Duke was a bit glad that everyone was doing such good job in distraction department.

“IT’S OKAY, WHY? BECAUSE I AM HERE!” Steph yelled, jumping from before her vehicle fully stopped. She threw something small in general direction of Batcomputer “Timmy plug it in, I made a PowerPoint!”

Duke felt blood leave his face. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what Steph put together but he probably didn't. Tim opened it anyways.

WHY HOOPOE IS ADORABLE&CHAOTIC BEAN AND SHOULD BE PART OF THE TEAM

The title slide said, one of the clearest photos of Dani from before she started wearing mask in the background. It was close-up of girl smiling, bits of brownie on her cheeks.

“Was this photo taken with a goddamn calculator?” Tim asked with disgust so clear Duke could taste it. Metaphorically of course.

“Nah, just body-cam. Her powers mess with technology a bit”

Tim still looked displeased at the craftsmanship.

“Don't worry, it's not  a bad photo. Baby Bird is just being perfectionist,” Dick placated.

Duke didn't realize that Damian froze until he unfroze and made his way to the screen, stopping less than one foot away from it. His movements were rigid, his face scrunched with distress. Alfred the Cat escaped its master probably due to hoe tense he was. Everyone in Cave quietened as soon as boy took first step and expecting mood had to run through microphones because nobody from the on-line crowd quipped in.

“This is the green of Lazarus” he whispered finally, sounding actually scared. Jason swore. Bruce and Cass visibly stiffened. Tim choked and he wasn't even drinking. Dick did his whinny breezy name saying thing when he wanted explanation and felt lightly betrayed. 

It was Duke's turn to freeze because… it wasn't. Of course he wasn't all that well versed in the Pit, less alone its color but he did bust quite a few trafficking rings with Jason and he saw his eyes afterwards all raging, toxic, neon green glory and it wasn't the same as Dani’s. As much as he liked English and how good he was at it, it failed him at simple task of describing the obvious difference between each other. He'd have more luck describing tastes with set of color samples from IKEA or something. And really, even if he tried he would lose the fight of competence with Damian. Who wouldn't.  But-

“There is no way she has any connection with LOA”

“Why is that?” Damian seemed to misinterpret it as challenge like he always did when emotions were running high. Duke took a deep breath. Well, it was a moment to use all of his diplomatic skills and speak in the language of the demons.

“I've seen her fight. She would be utter disgrace”

“It does not prove-”

“It does” Duke interrupted with the tone and mimic of person who saw too much because he did ”None of you have any say until you watch a tiny and I mean tiny ten year old tackle five Joker goons like it's a joke, by sheer virtue of super strength and intangibility-means-I-can-ignore-bullets-Signal-don’t-be-such-worrywart. She should get shot, like, three times at least. And she kept laughing!” he was low key wheezing at the end because even after all this time (a week) it was fucking horrifying. Bruce made a huff that meant he was laughing and put a hand on his shoulder as a sign of support. Dick's lighthearted laugh sang from the speakers.

“Don't worry Duke, it never gets better” B said with mirth.

He refused to elaborate whether he meant ‘kids keep jumping into danger like there is no tomorrow‘ or ‘it's equally terrifying every time’ and Duke decided to reflect on that sentiment later. It put some things into perspective. A lot of things if he was being honest.

Also, he was not ready for stuff like that to become even semi-normal occurrence. He was ready to give her all of his Alfred cookies if it could change anything. He knew it wouldn't. 

“Do you have any other evidence that your new acquaintance does not just fake being less experienced to make you lower your guard?” Damian asked warily.

“I had to teach her out of putting her thumb in her fist,” he deadpanned. Several people hissed in empathetic pain. Steph coughed to bring attention to where she stood in front of Batcomputer, other slide of her Power Point open. Duke recognised video from his body-cam.

“Exhibit A” she announced. She played a video with Dani’s first mugging attempt he witnessed. Let it be said, it was a disaster.

“Exhibit B '' One of Dani’s most epic fails at side-kick that ended with her falling face first to the ground.

“Exhibit C” Dani fumbled with zip-ties, looking at him utterly at loss.

“Exhibit D” the talk about her prior training.

“What’s was that sound?” Dick obviously on the verge of cooing when girl on video growled. Steph stopped video.

“Very angry kitten” Tim stated with soft smile.

“Honestly, furious girl” Cass corrected “She was really mad at you”

“Yeah, I know but promise of Alfred’s cookies was enough to placate her”

“You gave her Alfred’s cookies?!”

“She started by giving me a lot of food on a really shitty patrol, had to repay somehow”

“Was it from your share or-” Dick asked like it was most important thing in the world.

“Miss Hoopoe was added to my plans after she picked her new name” Alfred explained and shit, Duke really should get used to how man just appeared sometimes. Jumpscare the original.

“Alfred, you knew?” Bruce sounded so utterly betrayed.

“I have yet to meet her but I was informed about her presence about two weeks ago”

“He caught me printing mask for her”

“About that” Steph clapped and skipped her slide show “Look at thi clueless child with such horrible disguises and codename ideas” There was whole list of every name Dani wanted to try out and photo of her bare face.  Duke kinda repressed his memories of it. It was worse than he remembered.

“Did she really tried kenting that?”

“Got it after her cousin. He used his first name as part of his alias for almost half a year” Duke admitted in carefree tone, knowing it would cause a mess.

“Cousin?!” several people yelled in surprise.

“Caped cousin?!”

“Yup. Small time hero from Illinois. As far as I’m aware she’s alone in Gotham but they’re in regular contact and she has strong believe that he can and will help her if she used her panic button”

“Who in their right mind let’s kid alone in Gotham?!” Jason sounded about ready to strangle Phantom.

“He seems to be fifteen himself. And has anti-meta parents if I’m picking things up correctly. She didn’t mention them much. I highly doubt she has present parents at all, so…”

“What the hell Narrows.”

“I don’t know, it’s just a wild guess”

“Does it call for the rescue?” Steph asked eagerly.

“We’re not going to Illinois to rescue Phantom if he doesn’t ask for it. He has means to it” Bruce interrupted with bone deep sigh.

“How do you know I meant Phantom?” Duke perked up because he never mentioned this name.

“He is from Illinois, looks almost the same as far as I can tell from the photos and they share a lot of powers”

“I didn’t know you knew about random kid hero from other state?”

“He dropped by on few Justice League’s mission. There is still dispute whether we should approach him in his city or not. He was very clear on his opinion that we should stay away. I think we really shouldn’t”

“How you haven’t gone or sent anyone there yet?” Tim teased.

Bruce just stared at him then gestured at mountain of cases they were currently working on. Yes, they were printed. Apparently for man it made it easier to work on them like that.

“Can we focus back on untrained child you let join you on patrol, Duke?”

“You act like I could stop her from doing her own thing if I didn’t  let her. Plus, even though she doesn’t have combat training, she can handle herself well enough. And has this damn intangibility that makes her really hard to punch”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell anyone other than Alfred and Steph and I wanted to wait a bit before leaving her to the wolfs”

“The bet”

“Shut up Steph”

“When did you plan on letting us know?” Bruce ignored what blonde insinuated. Duke was utterly grateful for that, he knew he would get lecture for that later but he was more than happy to leave it be for now.

“Somewhen next week. I hoped to introduce her gradually but apparently everyone knew already?”

“Kids tell me things. Hoopoe made a good impression on them” Jason explained.

“Hero sightings on Twitter” Dick admitted without a shadow of shame.

“What he said” Tim agreed “This person from crochet dolls made one for your kid too, so in public eyes she’s our already”

“For the last time, she isn’t my kid!” Duke groaned but as always went ignored.

“Nobody expected old man’s tendencies to rub on you so fast, Narrows”

“Shut up and this is half a reason I didn’t let you meet her. All of you”

“With all due respect Duke” Babs started teasingly “You gave us ammo yourself. You improved her diet, you brought her to The Food Track Of Mental Breakdowns, you teach her stuff, you check in on her almost as often as her cousin and their friends do…”

“How did you hack her pho- No, wrong question, why?!”

“We’re all paranoid bastards, I needed to check out the newest bird. She legally doesn’t exist btw so I suspect some shady stuff with her birth but otherwise nothing sus about her. Comms and trackers for her are waiting in drawer C19. You will give it to her tomorrow”

“Aye, aye captain Oracle ma’am” he joked.

“Wait, you showed her The Food Track?”

“She deserved it” he gritted out.

Before this could turn into a fight or something, Alfred demanded:

“Since we are all on the same page now, I would like to extend an invitation for family dinner to miss Hoopoe”

“We’ll eat it down here in full costumes”

“As you wish master Bruce. Master Duke make sure to let her know”

“Of course Alfred”

And he planned to do that but Dani didn’t show up. He hadn’t thought much of it because she was unpredictable like that. She tended to disappear from the face of the Earth for a day or two and return with tales of her “autograph hunting trips”

But then she didn’t show up on the next patrol too. It was unprecedented. And she hadn’t responded to the check in. Three times in the row. He was getting kinda sick from the stress.

He knew Dani well enough, she wouldn’t ghost him like that and in Gotham disappearing meant three things: getting kidnapped, trafficked or six feet under. To their knowledge, Dani didn’t have anyone who would pay ransom for her other than Signal and no demands were made so the first option was out.

Bats launched full fledged search.

Duke himself found and busted two trafficking rings in three weeks which was around how much he did in two months on a daily basis.

Thanks to Oracle, they found Dani’s utterly crashed phone in the dead end in the Narrows. It didn’t look any better.

Duke really hoped they wouldn’t be too late.

With each day it seemed more likely.

********

Bruce: *wants to have private conversation with his son about unknown child he's been working with*

All of the Batfam: Hello there

Duke: I managed to keep Dani secret my family of detectives!

Everyone other than Bruce: I knew for past two weeks, but goood job kid

Random o Twitter: I'm sooo disappointed with Signal for letting Hoopoe fight crime. She is just a little child, she shouldn't have to witness Gotham's worst

Other Random: Have you heard about Robin????? Have you seen teories that Signal is teenager???? With proofs????? Are you mad at child for not taking proper care of the other child????? That's messed up my dude/gal

Yell at Batman

Signal: You act like she isn't personification of feral cat I try to coax home so I can prevent her from getting in trouble. I dare you to try and stop her

Phantom: I do too, 100$ if you manage. It would save me from so much stress

Random: Now, who the f*ck are you?!

(Guess who never touched Twitter with 20 meters stick in her life)

Next part

Tag list: @pickleking8 @mynameisnotlaura

[iateyourparents]

can you do one like the medium but for sam? 🙊

medium | s.g.

pairing: sam golbach x fem!medium!reader

summary: you’re a guest in sam and colby’s video.

warnings: place they are exploring is made up by me, mentions of death, physical hurt, use of y/n, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry but english isn’t my first language), wasn’t proofread

an: thank you! i wrote it kinda differently than colby’s one but i hope you like it <33 here’s colby’s version of medium.

pictures are from pinterest:)

“What’s up guys! It’s Sam and Colby!” Colby started the video.

You stood next to them waiting for them to announce your presence.

“Today we are exploring haunted hospital. But it’s not just a hospital.” Sam said “It has graveyard in the backyard. People laying there were murdered by doctors and nurses here and then they were buried behind the hospital by cleaners to get rid of the bodies.”

“Exactly.” Colby nodded „We will tell you more about the history of this place in a moment but now let’s welcome on our channel ours today’s guest! Y/n, Sam’s girlfriend, will be exploring with us!”

You smiled and waved at the camera while Sam cointinued Colby’s introduction of your person “Most of you probably don’t know but my love is a medium. So we’re positive it will give us more perspectives on this place. Baby, how do you feel about this experience?”

You were about to answer when Colby interrupted with a cheeky smirk “Good, thanks babe.”

You only laughed while Sam shook his head with a smile and again looked at you.

“I feel excited, that’s my first time in so haunted place.” you laughed “I already can tell there’s so much bad and sad vibes in this place.”

“Great, then let’s start.” Colby clapped his hands.

You all walked into the hospital where waiting for you was yours tourguide. He quicky gave you a tour and said some things about this place to the camera and the left you alone.

„Okay, so like Mike said, the graveyard is called the most active place on the hospital’s grounds. So why won’t we start there?” Sam offered.

You went to the exit into the backyard and just as you walked through the doorframe you could feel shivers running down your spine. You felt overwhelming sadness and brutality. You literally could feel emotions of spirits here but as fast as it came it was gone.

“When I walked through the doors I felt shivers all over me and I felt like I was one of those spirits. I felt their emotions. But it was quickly gone.” you said to the camera.

“You just can feel this…sadness.” Colby added “I don’t know if it’s only me but I feel like I’m being watched.”

You and Sam agreed with his words and you explained to the viewers “I’m honestly not surprised we feel like it because we are being watched. I feel so many spirits here. I can see only couple of them but I’m sure that those I can’t see are also looking at us. But honestly I don’t feel…threatened? Like, I was expecting to feel not okay, to them not being okay with us because of how they ended up here but it’s actually opposite. They are curious but don’t feel need to harass us or something.”

“That’s actually a big relief because this place is known for people getting attacked in many ways.” Sam said. „Baby, could you describe who you see?”

“Sure.” you shrugged and looked around “Most spirits I see are pretty young. But I can see some olders ones too. They all are just standing or sitting around, I think they may be in places where their bodies are.”

“That’s so sad.” Sam pouted “Imagine dying here and getting buried here without your family knowing so they couldn’t even visit you and when it all was discovered it was too late to find everybody’s relatives.”

“We should probably start investigation.” Colby stated after a moment of silence. “We will start here with the spirit box but we were thinking about doing an estes method here outside later.”

You took a rempod from Sam and placed it on the stone that was gravered with story of this grounds as a memory of all these victims of bad care system and cruel people working here.

It wasn’t long later when rem pod started going off.

“Alright, whoever touched that, thank you.” Colby said „We want you all to know we come here in peace and just to get to know more about you and what happened here. We don’t want to disrespect or harass you. We promise we won’t do anything you don’t want us to but we’re hoping some of you will communicate with us.” rem pod went off again. “Thank you.”

“I can feel that most of them actually came here after your speech.” you stated and boys smiled.

„If you want to say anything to us, just say it to this thing and it will say it to us.” Sam explained turning on the spirit box.

Not a second later box said “dead” and “doctors���.

„Doctors killed you? Unfortunately we know, that’s awful what happened.” Sam tried to hold the conversation.

Box answered “body” and “here”.

„Your bodies are here?” Colby asked and spirit box confirmed.

You were asking more questions when suddenly you could feel emotions around you changing.

„Guys, for some reason some of them are starting to get angry. I think it might be because we are reminding them of everything.” you frowned when some ghost confirmed your words using the spirit box “We are sorry for reminding you…” you couldn’t continue because you felt like something scratched your face and you hissed placing your hand on burning place.

Sam immediately frowned in worry and stood next you carefully taking your hand away from your face just to gasp.

“Holy shit, something scratched you.” Colby pointed camera at your cheek where were two red lines.

“I think they don’t want us here anymore.” Sam said and you could hear worry in his voice so you squeezed his hand to let him know you’re alright.

“Yeah, let’s go inside.” Colby offered.

You went to take rem pod off the stone when it suddenly was swept off of it and landed on the grass.

“Holy fuck, did you recorded that?” Sam asked shocked picking up the rem pod.

“Yeah, camera was pointing there so I think it was captured.” Colby said and pointed camera at himself “Holy shit guys, it’s so sick.”

You took all your things and went inside where you decided to start investigation in the waiting room.

And again you didn’t have to wait long for some signs. Just as you were about to place your equipment you all heard a serie of knocks and then footsteps.

“I hope you guys can hear it too.” Sam whispered to the camera “It’s coming from this way.” he pointed at one of the examination rooms

“We are currently in the children ward but I don’t feel any children here.” you frowned “There’s only adults. Were the wards changed?”

“No.” Colby shook his head “There’s nothing about this anywhere. It was children ward to the end.”

“That’s weird.” you sighed and a moment later you could hear a scratching noise, like a chair against the floor.

“Shit.” Sam said with camera facing old chairs next to one of the walls. What attracted his attention was fact that the chairs weren’t in places they were a minute ago.

Next moment later your attention was turned to hissing Sam who hold his side with one hand.

Colby quickly took camera from the blonde while you lifted your boyfriend’s hoodie just to see a red handprint.

“Oh my god.” you gasped and Colby zoomed camera to give viewers a better look on the red spot “It literally looks like someone slapped you. Did it felt like it?”

“No.” Sam shook his head squeezing your hand in his “I felt like something was touching my side and then it suddenly felt hot.”

Before anyone could say anything more, Colby hissed and you could see handprint starting to show on his collarbone.

“It felt just like you described it.” Colby frowned “Is there something?”

“Yeah, it looks the same as Sam’s handprint.” you stated taking camera from him to show both boys and the red spots.

Then there was a loud noise coming from the same examination room as earlier.

You went there, boys following you and when you were in the room there wasn’t anything special but then the doors closed themselves loudly behind you.

“What the hell?” you pointed camera at the closed door and Sam went to open them. They, thankfully, opened and you quickly got out.

“Okay, something is wrong.” you stated giving camera to Colby. Sam looked worried and stood next to you. “I can’t explain this but I just know that something is so not right.”

“Our equipment.” Sam pointed out suddenly. Their equipment was scattered carelessly around the floor. It wasn’t like that when you went to that room.

“It’s dead.” you said picking up the spirit box that wasn’t flashing a red light anymore. “Or broken.”

“Shit, it must drained energy from it.” Colby said.

Suddenly you felt like something pulled your hand and you thought it was Sam but when you looked behind you, Sam was good few inches away from you.

“What the hell, something just grabbed and pulled my hand.” you frowned and Sam grabbed your hand giving it a squeeze.

Then something pulled Sam’s hair and you all could feel temperature in room changing. It was freezing.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked massaging his scalp.

“Someone is angry and feel need to be violent. I think it might be a doctor because it has, like authority aura around itself.” you explained.

“There was this one doctor that died here.” Sam told you “He died because of hypothermia in the winter.”

“It would explain the temperature changing.” Colby deduced.

You heard big thud from examination room.

“It wants us there.” Sam offered and started walking that way but you stopped him grabbing his hand and shaking your head.

“We shouldn’t go there, it’s luring us there with bad intentions in mind.” you said and boys looked impressed.

“It has a lot of energy if it’s the same one who was doing sounds during our tour.” said your boyfriend.

Again, big thud, this time closer to you.

“We should get out boys.” you stated “Something bad is about to happen. And it won’t end well for any of us.”

Sam and Colby knew your intuition was almost never failing so they just started packing and Colby said to their viewers “Remember that your health is the most important while things like this and that’s why we don’t wanna risk now, especially with y/n with us.”

“You cannot follow us home or hurt us.” Sam said sternly.

You quickly got out of the hospital and you could hear constant thuds, knocking and footsteps behind you that ended just when you were safely out of the building.

“It’s mad we got away.” you informed boys. They gulped and quickly said few words to the camera as an outro and you all got into the car and drove away from the hospital.

“I think we should go back there after some time. And take more people. And do that estes method in the backyard.” Sam said holding your hand between seats.

“Yeah, that’s good idea. We should take Nate and Seth.” Colby offered.

Not longer later you were in your and Sam’s hotel room sitting on his lap.

“Your cheek is more red than before.” he pouted kissing delicately the scratches.

“It will go away in few days.” you assured.

“It might scar.” he frowned.

“It’s okay.” you knew he felt bad for taking you there “Don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault and I wanted to go there.” you reminded and he just sighed and kissed you.

“I’m glad it only ended with scratches and not something worse.” he started peppering your face with small kisses and you smiled.

“Me too.”

This time you started a kiss.

[lazycats-stuff]

Ra's Al Ghul x male!reader

@wisecreatorprofessorwolf, a second part for you. Also, this version is also hot.

Ra's Al Ghul x male reader - a first part to this.

Summary: (Y/N) came back from a date. The others will lose their minds.

Warnings:

After a nice breakfast in the hotel and a little bit of more fun, Ra's knew he had to bring (Y/N) back to the manor, otherwise he will have the Detective and the rest of the family will be going after him. And that's something he didn't want.

The drive in the car was peaceful and (Y/N) knew he had love bites peaking from the collar of the shirt that Ra's has sent him as a gift as a part of the suit. He had to make sure that everyone knows who his beloved is.

And can you blame him?

" Are you in any pain? " Ra's asked for the nth time and (Y/N) shook his head.

" Ra's, I'm not in pain. I would tell you so. " (Y/N) said with a smile on his face as he leaned his head on Ra's shoulder. (Y/N) was still tired and he had relied on Ra's to help him get dressed. He is so going to sleep until lunch.

" How are you still tired? " Ra's asked softly and kissed his forehead. (Y/N) shrugged his shoulders. He was always tired, but your body and mind get used to it.

" You should sleep a little bit longer. " Ra's suggested and (Y/N) nodded.

" I will. Also, do you have my number? " (Y/N) asked and Ra's nodded, unsure where this is going.

" Good. Next time don't send me gifts that lowkey freak me out, just call. "

" And what exactly freaked you out? " Ra's asked, afraid of his plans backfiring.

" Well, the flowers were fine, but the suit kind of scared me. It felt like you broke the sanctity of my room you know? " (Y/N) said and Ra's squeezed him a bit tighter.

" My apologies beloved, I didn't mean to scare you. " Ra's said and (Y/N) raised his head to kiss him on the lips.

" Now you know. And if you decided to send me gifts, then leave them at the front door or just let me know so I can pick it up myself. But no more going into my room without my permission. " (Y/N) said with a smile and Ra's nodded, cupping (Y/N)'s face to kiss him again.

(Y/N) allowed it and Ra's felt at ease. " Of course beloved. Whatever you wish. " Ra's murmured, kissing (Y/N) on the cheek.

" Good. Now, I suggest you start thinking about our second date. "

Ra's smirked and raised his brow. " Is that so? "

" Yes. You will have to court me in order for B to see that you are serious. " (Y/N) said with a smile that reached his eyes and Ra's made sure it was etched into his memory.

The car stopped and (Y/N) undid his seatbelt. Ra's kissed him once more before letting (Y/N) leave the car. (Y/N) closed the door of the car and Ra's didn't leave until (Y/N) was inside.

(Y/N) sighed as he walked through the hall, hearing the chatter of his family. They stopped when they saw (Y/N)'s appearance.

" Oh God. " Was the only thing that Bruce said before burying his face into his hands.

Jason shook his head and Dick's jaw was on the ground. Tim put his coffee mug down, rubbing his forehead. Damian seemed to be the only one who wasn't concerned.

Alfred sighed, looking up at the ceiling. He was hoping for some strength.

" He defiled my son. " Bruce said as he accepted a glass of scotch from Alfred who also poured himself some.

" Bru- "

" He defiled my grandson. " Alfred added and took a sip of scotch.

" You slept with him? " Jason ask as he had to sit down. This is insane.

" Will you lot relax? " (Y/N) asked and Alfred looked him like he was insane.

" I'm sorry- Relax?! " Jason exploded and (Y/N) sighed.

" Yes. "

Damian looked at (Y/N)'s body language. There was no sign of discomfort. " Did he hurt you? " Damian asked and (Y/N) shook his head.

" He didn't Dames. He treated with outmost care in the world. " (Y/N) said to Damian who nodded. No signs of lying. Good.

" Good. If he does, let us know. " Damian said, a dark look passing through his eyes.

" Will do. Also, there will be a second date. Just to let you all know. " (Y/N) said and Bruce downed his scotch in one gulp. (Y/N) grimaced a little bit.

Bruce never drinks. Alfred muttered something as he downed his too.

" Guys- "

" (Y/N), I will have to talk to Ra's. " Bruce started and Alfred just glanced at the pantry, where one of his beloved shotguns was waiting.

" The second date will be here. End of story. " Bruce said and Alfred smirked to himself.

" Alfred, no. No nonono. Absolutely not. " (Y/N) said and Alfred just nodded in pure satisfaction.

" If you want to move forward with whatever this is, I have to talk to him. " Bruce said and Alfred smirked and (Y/N) sighed.

" Okay. Fair enough. " (Y/N) said and Jason frowned.

" (Y/N), you are covered in bite marks. " Jason said and (Y/N) just smirked.

" I know. " (Y/N) said as he left the room, snorting at the gagging noises from the kitchen.

The second date came a week later. Ra's wasn't shocked by the insistence of Bruce and the others wanting to talk to him about dating their brother, son and grandson. (Y/N) was very nervous, knowing exactly how they were going to react and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Everyone was going to make Ra's time here awful and (Y/N) was afraid of what was going to transpire tonight. Well, there is on certain thing that is going to go south.

They will push Ra's buttons until he snaps and then maybe shows that he wouldn't treat (Y/N) the way he is supposed to and then that would show that he isn't worthy of (Y/N).

And that's what made (Y/N) nervous. He wanted to pursue this with Ra's, he really did, but what if Bruce somehow managed to turn Ra's against the idea of pursuing this?

(Y/N) would never forgive Bruce and he would move out effective immediately. He would even relinquish his suit and the title. If Ra's plans to use him somehow, then that's on him. He knows he is smart, intelligent and he knows when he is being played.

He has enough experience to know when he is being played and used for something more than the other people were letting on. He always knew. And yes, while Ra's is different type of person than your average man trying to use your last name for fame, it's different with him.

(Y/N) could feel it in his bones. He really did. And he wanted this to work. He talked to Ra's on the phone before hand and asked him what is he going to do. Maybe Ra's could sense the worry in (Y/N)'s voice and maybe Ra's knows what is going to happen, but Ra's comforted (Y/N).

He told (Y/N) that no matter what happened tonight, he would stay with (Y/N). And he offered for him to stay with him at his base, far away from Gotham. (Y/N) chuckled at the suggestion, but said to wait until the dinner finished.

(Y/N) sighed quietly as he made his way down the stairs, knowing that Ra's is going to be here in matter of minutes. Ra's is always on time, no matter what, just like on the first date they had. (Y/N) smiled as he got down, hearing the car drive in.

He ignored Alfred who made a point to clean his shotgun on the table.

" Alfred, I love you, but do you have to clean it here? " (Y/N) asked, head snapping to the front door opening and voices in the hall.

" Yes master (Y/N). He needs to know what he is in for. " Alfred replied casually and (Y/N) walked off, wanting to see Ra's. He saw Ra's where Bruce and Damian were talking to him. Ra's eyes lit up when he saw (Y/N) and ever so kindly passed Bruce and Damian and then quickly hugged (Y/N).

" It's so nice to see you habibi. I missed you a lot. " Ra's whispered into his ear before parting and then showing him the flowers he got. Asterias once more.

" Thank you Ra's. " (Y/N) accepting the flowers from Ra's. (Y/N) quickly glanced at Bruce to see what Ra's has brought. A bottle of what looked like Scotch. Well, it's a fancy looking bottle.

He glanced back at Ra's who gave him a chaste kiss on the lips before going to the kitchen. (Y/N) followed closely, wanting to see what Alfred was going to do.

Alfred didn't clean it anymore, but instead picked it up, clearly showing it off to Ra's. Then he put it back in the pantry again, just in case. You never know.

" Mister Pennyworth. " Ra's said and Alfred gave him the biggest side eye that (Y/N) has ever seen.

Here we go.

" Ra's. Do sit, dinner will be served shortly. " Alfred said and Ra's sat down. (Y/N) sat down next to him and he saw a side eye directed from Jason to Ra's. (Y/N) glared back at him as he sat down the opposite of them. Alfred served everyone before sitting down himself.

It was quiet at first and everyone ate.

That was until Bruce start his line of interrogation.

" Ra's, why did you ask my son out on a date? " Bruce asked, taking a bite of the tasty lamb. Ra's looked up from his plate directly into Bruce's eyes.

" Because I have feelings for him. " Ra's answered simply before glancing at Alfred. " I must say, this is one of the best lambs I have ever eaten. "

Alfred gave him a look that told (Y/N) that now it wasn't the time for compliments. Usually Alfred happily accepted compliments, but now it seems like Alfred is going to kill anyone who tried to compliment him.

" And when did those feelings start? " Dick took over the questioning.

" When he started college. " Ra's answered quickly and shortly.

" And there isn't a ploy of any kind? I don't believe it. " Jason said, honest and direct as always.

" You don't have to believe it. I promised to (Y/N) that there isn't any kind of ploy. In regards to him, Bruce and Damian. " Ra's clarified to Jason and Jason didn't show any emotion.

" And the presents? (Y/N) was freaked out by them. " Tim asked, looking up from his plate.

" I promised to not send that way anymore. They will be delivered here and if necessary, (Y/N) will be warned before hand. " Ra's said to Tim and Tim seemed happy with the explanation.

" I'm going to cut through all of this slow interrogation. " Alfred interjected. " I see the way you look at him and that can't be faked. But, if you hurt my grandson in any way, shape or form, myself and my shotgun that you have seen will be the last thing you will ever see and you will not will be able to come back to life. I don't share the no kill rule with master Bruce. " Alfred said in a voice that (Y/N) has never heard.

(Y/N) felt afraid of Alfred and that was something that he never thought he would think about Alfred. But he knew that he had his back and that he will protect him, even when he is in his college years and able to protect himself.

" I can assure you, all of you- " Ra's stopped for a moment to take (Y/N)'s hand into his. " - That I have genuine feelings for (Y/N). There is nothing sinister behind my feelings. " Ra's said and (Y/N) melted inside.

Ra's really loves him. Ra's really loves him.

Everyone was silent at first and then Damian just murmured good. (Y/N) glanced at Damian who gave him a small subtle smile.

" Now that everything got out of the way, can we eat desserts? " (Y/N) asked and Alfred nodded, cleaning up the table. (Y/N) knew that he made cheesecake, (Y/N)'s favorite dessert.

" Now is everyone at peace? " (Y/N) asked and nobody gave him an answer, everyone pointedly looked everywhere else.

" Oh come on! "

" What do you want us to say? We are having a family dinner with Ra's al Ghul! " Jason retorted and (Y/N) just sighed and Ra's lifted his hand to kiss it.

(Y/N) melted again.

" I just have to say that I won't stop Alfred. I have no power over him. " Bruce said, putting some of Alfred's cheesecake into his mouth.

" That much is true. " Alfred said as he served (Y/N) and Ra's their dessert.

" Although, I don't understand what (Y/N) sees in you, but I trust his judgement. " Jason said, rubbing his hands together at the sight of a cheesecake.

" At least somebody trusts me. " (Y/N) said and Damian glared at him.

" Okay, Damian trusts me too. " (Y/N) said with a smile and Damian grumbled something out.

" I trust you oo (Y/N), but knowing Ra's, I am worried about you. I am your father and all of you worry me. And I guess only time will tell. And if something happens between you two and you need to get away, manor is always open to you. " Bruce said from his spot.

" Now, " He said standing up. " I hope that scotch you brought isn't poisoned or tempered with. I need some right now. " Bruce added walking off to look for the expensive scotch.

" Well that went well. " (Y/N) said to Ra's and Ra's nodded in agreement.

" Well, I appreciate the dinner and the talk, but I have to go. Thank you for this dinner. " Ra's said and stood up and (Y/N) stood up with him.

" I will walk you out. " (Y/N) said and led Ra's back outside. They stood outside for a moment before Ra's leaned down to kiss him. (Y/N) allowed it and smiled into the kiss.

Ra's cupped (Y/N)'s face as he deepened it and (Y/N) melted into his embrace. After parting for air, the two hugged, staying in silence.

" I will come by in a week, I have a mission approaching. " Ra's started, hands wandering to his lower back. " And then I will take you out on our third date. " Ra's whispered into (Y/N)'s hair and (Y/N) hummed in agreement. The the two pulled away and Ra's went to his car.

(Y/N) watched as the car sped off. (Y/N) sighed happily before going inside. Everyone was eavesdropping and Jason gagged.

" Really? " (Y/N) asked as he pushed past them all.

" Yes really! " Jason called after (Y/N) as he ran up the stairs to his room. (Y/N) can't wait for the week to pass.

[ingravinoveritas]

How did u feel with the age gap question was it pr or do u really think he meant it and this was the truth

This is referring to the question asked on The Assembly last night. I'll post the clip here, for those who haven't seen it yet:

A lot of what I felt while watching this was touched on in this incredibly thoughtful post from @body-face-words, so I encourage folks to give that a read. But I think for me, when it comes to Michael's answer, it's not a matter of whether he lied or told the truth. It's that his response was sweet, but it was also a version of the truth that sounded convincing because it needed to, because this was not a time or place where he could say what he actually felt.

I'm really not sure what people expected him to say, in all honesty, as he was never going to say anything that would make him or Anna look bad, and especially not anything that could potentially negatively impact the kids, so he instead gave a very perfect PR answer. This again does not come as a surprise because we know Michael has scripted his answers about AL/their relationship in the past, but I noticed how careful he was in his response, which seems to contrast with how off-the-cuff he normally is when discussing every other subject. Part of what so many of us love about Michael is how unfiltered he is and always has been, with the exception of how much he filters and edits himself when talking about Anna.

It also seemed like, at least from my perspective, that Michael answered the question without answering the question. What the girl asked wasn't so much about the age gap, but about AL being five years older than Michael's daughter Lily, and it would've been a perfect opportunity for him to mention her, or how the relationship with AL affected his and Lily's relationship. He could've talked about the falling out he had with her (and Kate) in 2019 once AL's existence/pregnancy came to light, and what has happened in the years since, or how Lily now gets along with Anna/her half-sisters. But instead Michael deflected from all of that and talked about everything while saying nothing at the same time.

It was also the things Michael didn't say that stood out as much as the things he did. In the entire answer to the question, Michael never once used the word "love." Prior to the show airing, I saw a lot of people online confident that he would say that he loves Anna, but he never did. He never praised her, never talked about the things he loves about her, or how glad he is to be with her. He never once mentioned her by name. The pivot and focus was on the kids, and there was a clear distinction made between how happy he is to have the family he does, rather than to be in the relationship that he is in. Michael's use of the phrase "very happy" was also identical to the wording of a comment AL wrote on Instagram the other day, which added to the whole "reinforcing a public narrative" feeling of his response.

I think what struck me most of all, though, was how somber and heavyhearted Michael sounded while saying how happy he is. It reminded me of the song "I Am a Rock" by Simon & Garfunkel, where the upbeat and cheerful music contrasts starkly with the fraught, angry lyrics. There was no sparkle in Michael's eyes when he said it, no enthusiasm for what he was saying (which is particularly jarring when we know Michael has the capacity for incredible enthusiasm), and his face never lit up while he was talking.

There was one specific moment (which is also highlighted in the body language post) where he seemed to visibly wince and the micro-expressions were in overdrive, and it immediately made me think of a moment from Good Omens:

Time and again, I have seen fans talk about Michael's micro-expressions as an actor and how he uses them to such devastating effect (especially in the role of Aziraphale). And while these two moments are not completely identical, the idea of ignoring how Michael uses those same micro-expressions in real life makes no sense to me at all. In this instance, what we're seeing could be either because he has put so much of himself into Aziraphale that we can now recognize those "Michael" moments...or it could be because in both clips he is performing, albeit for different reasons.

The difference between Michael when he is doing this vs. when he is being genuinely himself is made even more apparent by the question immediately following this one. Unprompted, he brings up David, and the change in his expression and demeanor is swift and dramatic:

Having the mention of David happen so soon after the AL question seemed to highlight so many things. I can't help but feel that David is a security blanket for Michael, something he hides behind when he is feeling anxious or sad or overwhelmed. I wondered if perhaps he was even already thinking of David while answering the AL question, which would explain why he named him so readily--as if his mind needed to drift to someplace else just to finish answering that question.

To me, this made it abundantly clear that David is Michael's safe place. Here was where we saw Michael's eyes sparkling. Here was where we saw him light up from the inside. And it was David he kept returning to and bringing up during the rest of the show in response to other questions. So if that doesn't speak volumes about where Michael's heart seems to be, I'm not sure what does.

So yes, those are my thoughts on Michael answering the age gap question on The Assembly. As always, this is just my interpretation, but I am glad to hear from my followers with your take as well. Thanks for writing in! x

[thewolfofthestars]

I finally got a new laptop! Yay! My geriatric 8-year-old can finally be sent to the retirement home (aka gathering dust in the closet because what if I need it later). And now I can run programs and perform tasks without it taking a dog's age! :D

But I did notice something in getting everything set up.

I've been a staunch Linux lad since I was very little--one of the few things my father and I actually agree on. And the new laptop came pre-installed with Windows 11, as most new non-Macs do, so I decided to partition a bit of the drive for it rather than wiping it completely, just in case I need Windows compatibility for school or work stuff, even if I spend the majority of my time in Ubuntu. (I had wanted to do that with my old machine, actually, but something went horrendously wrong in the process and it took two days to fix and my laptop briefly did not have a functioning OS on it at all lol.)

Now, I find Windows... unpleasant to use. And obviously part of that is just that I'm not familiar with it--the last time I had Windows on a personal computer was when I was 6 years old, and that thing ran Windows 2000 with a genuine CRT monitor and it was not connected to the internet and I spent my time playing King's Quest and MS Paint. I don't know where things are anymore, and the UX seems pretty uninterested in telling me.

Another issue is, of course, how bloated with ads and spyware it's become in recent iterations. I see where people are coming from when they decide to stick with Windows 7 or Vista or some other older version, even if I disagree with them for security and malware reasons--"person on previous version of Windows" is by far the largest and juiciest target for all manner of bad actors online.

But I think a really big core part of the problem is this: modern Windows is speaking a different language than I am. And the language it's speaking is that of phones, not of computers.

I only spent enough time on Windows to get it set up and strip away all the permissions I possibly could, and in that time I could tell: the default user Microsoft is designing this system for is people who are more familiar with Android and Apple than they are with a desktop computer. They made me log in with my email, rather than creating a device-specific profile. When I created my password they didn't even call it a password, they called it a "Hello Windows PIN". The format of the Settings page UI is nigh-identical to the one on my phone, right down to the list of access permissions siloed away by app (and yes, everything is called an app--no programs, no functions, no systems, no app*lications*, nothing else). I had to check a specific box to be able to look through my entire computer's file system, for crying out loud, rather than just browsing my Pictures and Downloads!

Hey, Windows! My laptop! Is not! A phone! And I don't want it to be! This is a computer OS for people who hate computers and I. HATE IT!

[writingdisposal]

I can't stop thinking about Vox.

There two ways to think about Vox as a regular love interest. You could think that because this might be his first time ever genuinely liking someone, he'd stumble over his words and struggle to charm their little crush. He is just so overwhelmed with these new emotions. He doesn't know how to act, especially when his old tactics don't result in the expected reactions from you.

This version is cute, but I feel like, it's inaccurate to his character. I can agree that you might be his first genuine crush, but I don't think he'd get nervous that badly.

The first times these emotions rise up, he swallows them down. Yeah, yeah, a pretty face walks by. Of course, it'll peak his interest, but he can't lose sight of his goals and that is to broaden his influence. He will only have to confront his crush once you both get to talking.

"The name's Vox," he lowly spoke, placing a gentle kiss on the back of your hand, "It's a pleasure meeting you." Quickly you take your hand back, not hiding your disinterest. "Oh please, the pleasure is all mine," you reply, noting his smile becoming a little straint, "Let's skip right ahead to business. I don't like wasting my time." "Ah, just the way I like it. Follow me," he said, gesturing you to his office. Vox held open the door, a charming gaze looking back at your stunning face. Up until now, no smile or joy was presented in your attitude, but as you passed him, you shot him a small smile, "Thank you." It made Vox's breath hitch. His eyes widened and his body tensed up a little, yet his smile stayed the same.

An airy chuckle escaped his lips, "No need to thank. Its common courtesy really." "In a place like this? It's rare," you countered, sitting down and waiting for him to follow. Vox quickly shut the door and sat down across from you. Talking to you was easy, especially when a laugh or two snuck in-between. Vox found himself relaxing, enjoying the sound of you voice more so than the actual deal.

This when it hits him that he has a crush. The realisation doesn't stop him or makes him stutter. The only clue you might have of him catching feelings is that he keeps adjusting himself in his seat or talks a little faster. Honestly, nothing else changes. His tone, voice, body language, smile and eyes don't change a bit. Nothing is less or more genuine than before, because Vox is a competent business man first before he is anything else. Over time it'll appear more clear... to others that is. You will stay oblivious because that is how Vox wants it to be. It's going to be far more likely for someone else to tell you that Vox has feelings for you than for him to admit it. Vox isn't a coward about his feelings per say. He will drop you hints when the moment is right, but that is all he is giving. He likes the moments spend together more than anything and if this is all he can get out of this that is just fine by him.

Of course, he wishes for more, but if it isn't what you want, then this is just as good for him. That attitude might change though if you get interested in another demon or spend less time with him. Days that should have been spent together become days where he roughly fucks some whores to let his frustrations out. Those days will also have him casually checking his cameras scattered across town, just to see if you're fine or with someone he should worry about. Naturally you have no idea of this occurring because Vox doesn't want the image of the "suave and charming business man" to slip away. He fears, he can't be this vulnerable with you, at least not now, because you might reject him outright and completely severe contact. So he will continue talking to you, exchanging witty comebacks as well as a flirtatious comment here or there.

Also I think this is clear from the beginning, but just to have added it, Vox would never use his powers on you. It feels forced and that's no fun. He will however use his power to maybe impress you, only if the situation suits it of course.

Ok, that's it. No more thoughts available rn.

[animelovelover123]

V's Yandere Alphabet v2.0

Synopsis: An updated and improved version of my original with more content. For those who have read the original, the big changes can be seen in entries L, P, Q, V, X, and Y.

Author's Note: I wrote the original during a troubling time and it resulted in the project taking 6 months and me hatting it by the end. However, after being encouraged by someone asking me if I would write for the other guys and my completionist side being bugged by how the original alphabet was not complete, I went back in and felt more motivated. I actually kind of want to write for the other guys now! Still no promises though.

The yandere alphabet I am using is an edited version of one made by no gender bee on tumblr. I added missing letters, changed some of the letters/descriptions, and altered some of the grammar (like using Canadian spelling).

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction for personal entertainment. If you are reading this, please understand that drawing/writing/reading/imagining things of this nature does NOT equate to desiring or supporting real-world assault.

Abuse = Could they ever hurt you physically or mentally? What would be the reason?

Physically? No. Mentally, kind of. He would not do it with the intent of causing harm, but some of V’s mental manipulation can hurt. He’ll pull at your heartstrings, saddle you with guilt, and talk in circles to get you to comply with his wishes all while using flowery language to mask the manipulative web he is weaving.

A big one, and the most common form of mental strain he gives you, is when he is desperate for attention and at the end of his rope. He will plead for it, reminding you that neither of you knows how long he has left to live and that he only wants to spend it with you. He does this to show you how much you mean to him, but he is also aware that he is inciting guilt in you. He does not realize how deeply and long it can affect you though until you tell/show him.

Both = You are a Yandere too, what’s their reaction?

V is intrigued and finds it amusing at first. His obsessive tendencies take longer to form, and he also does not believe he will live long so he sees your invasive and manipulative actions as entertaining with no fear of long-term repercussions. Even if you think you are being sneaky, he sees everything you are doing and he enjoys watching your reactions as he either plays along with your schemes or effortlessly evades them.

But once he finds himself falling for you in return, he gets rather depressed. He sees how desperately you want him, yet he knows, no matter how much he wants you as well, that all of your attempts to show your love will be in vain. He’ll try to pull away from you, but the more you chase, the more he wants you.

Then he finds out a way to live longer and his restraints are finally broken. You and he revel in your shared obsession, happily lavishing each other with love and attention. He sees your quirks and views them as romantic gestures. He finds out you have been stealing his things? How it warms his heart to know you want him close at all times even when home alone. Why don’t we move in together darling to save you the trouble? You’ve cancelled his plans with others behind his back? Well, why didn’t you tell him you wanted a night alone? He would love nothing more. You’ve killed a supposed love rival? Snuffing out another's life just because they threatened to take his love, though not necessary as you already have his heart, is such a beautiful display of adoration that he just has to give you a reward~

Crazy = How easy do they enter crazy mode? How do they act when they are in it?

It takes a lot for this man to snap. He is the essence of calm and collected, able to keep his composure in circumstances where most would panic and/or become angry. You could rage at him before walking out the door claiming you will never return, and though he will put up a bit of a fight, he knows deep down that you are just lashing out. After you have time to calm down you will be back in his arms soon enough. Whether by your own means or his, that was yet to be seen. This man could be in the middle of getting arrested and he would comply because he knows that this is not the end. He could easily escape prison and find his way back to you. The only true end is death, and that is what will cause him to snap.

Not his own death per se as that mental break will be directed and contained to himself. If his plan for extended life starts failing, he will fight tooth and nail to survive while rushing through the stages of grief. The most this will affect you is that he will disappear for a while as he tries to find a solution before returning when he realizes there is no hope for him and begs you to stay with him until his last breath.

The true snapping point would be a result of your life almost being lost, particularly if you try to take your own. Knowing or, worse, catching you trying to end your life flips a switch in him. He already had a lot of stress from trying to preserve his own life, but when he realizes that he could lose the primary reason he fought so hard to live all of that effort, panic, and stress gets funneled into caring for you. Now that he perceives a proverbial ticking clock for both of your lives, he will no longer allow a single second to go by without you. He will lock you up in his home and become your caretaker, tying you up so you can’t hurt yourself and taking care of all of your needs himself like feeding you and bathing you. You are his everything, and he will not let a second of both of your possibly short lives not be spent together. (see Kidnapped)

Difference = When can you notice a difference in behaviour in them? What are the first signs that their love for you is unhealthy?

At first V’s yandere tendencies were subdued and easily hidden. For the first couple months of knowing you he was under the belief that he was not long for this world. His body was actively deteriorating and soon he would have to return to Vergil.

But then he found a way that he could continue living as his own person. Maybe through killing and absorbing Urizen’s life force rather than merging with it or by somehow stealing it from others. Either way, there was a chance for him to survive and pursue a relationship with you. That is when he changed and that is when you start noticing his obsession with you.

He won't totally indulge in his attraction to you until he has proof that this lead is viable, but he will suddenly become more affectionate. Where he once kept any compliments and flirtatious remarks shrouded in flowery language so that you could not quite tell if he meant it that way became more direct and regular. The few feet he always put between you two was shorted as much as you would allow.

When he does gain evidence that his plan for a longer life is working, all restraints are off. He immediately goes to you and confesses his love. He may even tell you right then his true origins, why they resulted in him being distant at first, and how now that he has a long life ahead of him he is excited to spend it with you.

Enjoy = Do they enjoy what they’re doing to you, your life and the people around you? Do they show it?

V does worry about how some of his actions affect you. He is a bit of a philosopher type, often getting lost in thoughts or conversations about the deeper meanings and effects things have on people and the world as a whole. He is also introspective so he will occasionally worry himself over what he is doing. This line of thought doesn’t only trigger when you show hints of discomfort or hesitation. You could be perfectly happy, but he is privy to the manipulation and trickery of his that you are falling for. He considers and speculates on how his actions could warp your mind in the long run. And when he pictures the worst-case scenario, he might just guilt himself into admitting to, and apologizing for, a recent misconception he gave you.

He did not say those things with malicious intent, he just wanted to protect you from the cruel world and keep you loving him.

Force = What, if any, kinds of things will they force on you? Isolating from friends and family? Going on dates? Physical affection and/or sexual acts?

If you are a demon, to any extent, V will force you into a contract with him, assuming he is unsuccessful in his initial attempt at convincing you to join willingly. Depending on your battle prowess he will even call you to (relatively easy) fights along with his other familiars. Seeing you in battle is just as beautiful as seeing you dance to him so he will gladly do it as long as the risk of permanent harm is practically nonexistent. No matter how skilled you are in combat though, your primary duty as one of his demons is as a companion. With you being bound to him he can call you to him whenever he wishes to be with you, which is most of the time. He’ll try to offer you space and as much free will as he can, but the more obsessed he becomes the more he will abuse this power over you. One thing to note though is that he will not force you into romantic or sexual acts, even if he technically could through your contract. No matter how much he desired you, he would never hurt you in that way.

Alternatively, say you were a human. He would force you, again assuming you don’t fall for his flowery words, to take on a demon familiar. Not just any demon though. Specifically, he wants you to bond with one of his familiars. If you want more than that that is your prerogative, the more safety you have and empowerment you feel is only a boon, but being partially bonded to one of his familiars is his requirement. He tells you that he wants to keep you safe by giving you access to one, or more, of his demons for protection, and this is true. Though V is their primary master, V will willingly put himself at a disadvantage in battle by allowing you to call one of his familiars for protection. And if you don’t call them V will send them to you. He also advertises the practical benefits of having creatures at your beck and call. One aspect that he does not fully disclose though is how being bonded to a demon under his command also acts as a tracking device for when you try to run. (See Hide)

Gross = What is something they think is really romantic/sweet but is actually horrifying?

He writes letters and notes to you using his blood as ink. Sometimes it is just his signature coloured burgundy, and other times you find whole notes or poems scrawled in thin, inconsistently faded cursive which he delivers to your home or work with a bandaged arm.

He already puts his heart and soul into these letters. To him, offering part of his body with them shows you his complete devotion.

Hide = How easy is it to hide from them?

Depends on if he has bound you to one of his familiars yet.

First, let's assume he hasn't. Then, honestly, it’s pretty easy as he is but one man with not a lot of connections. He can send out his familiars to scan the area for you, but they can not go too far from V. That is only if he works alone though because the few connections he does have are with people who hunt down living creatures as their profession. Sure, hunting a demon is not quite the same as hunting a person down and his friends will initially question why you would run off, but V just has to string together a tail of how you are being influenced by a denizen of hell and that they must find you before it is too late. Sure enough, he will convince the morally just crew of demon hunters to find his love and now half a dozen people are calling in favours and travelling the country looking for you. And when they do find you, even if you try to tell them that you ran away from V willingly, V’s story has already cemented itself in their brains so they will drag you back anyway. A caveat to this plan is that the crew will get more and more suspicious if you run away multiple times and V keeps asking them for their help.

One of the benefits of binding you to one of his demons is that he won't have to risk growing doubt within his friends. With you bound to one of his demons (see Force), no matter where in the world you run V can track your location by getting his familiar to appear around you, scan the area to gather information, and relay it to him. And when he is close enough, the familiar can just pin you down and call out like a siren so V can easily find you.

Improve = Will they be willing to recover from this psychotic state for their lover?

Working off of E for Enjoy, V can find the conviction to be better for you. The problem is that he does not really know how to be better. He has only existed as his own entity for a relatively short time and has no experience with having a healthy relationship. He has only ever had you and the, sometimes maddening, urges to be with you. But because of his overwhelming love for you and the fear that his actions risk harming you, he will work towards being better.

He has to look to healthier relationships, like Nero and Kyrie’s and what little memories of Sparda and Eva’s he retains from Vergil, to understand what they look like and how he himself is failing. And if he can’t make the headway he wishes, being unable to stop himself from telling you subtle lies and trying to monopolize your attention, he will talk to someone about his feelings and urges. He understands that he does not yet really understand how to be human and is not above asking for aid in learning, for his own well-being yes, but mostly for yours.

Justification = Why are they acting like this? When and how did it start?

Upon being created, V knew that he did not have long to live. Soon he would join with Urizen and become Vergil once more. When he first started to fall for you, he knew it would not last due to his minuscule lifespan so would not pursue a romantic relationship. He could not, however, stay away from you. You were like a work of art, so utterly perfect that it was a miracle you even existed in such a cold and cruel world. He tried to accept the brief moments of connection you shared as enough to have him return to Vergil without regrets, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

His body was failing though, crumbling away. Perhaps when he becomes whole again Vergil will be able to be with you. But that would not be the same for you or V, and he knew that.

And then, he found a way to continue living as his own person (See Difference). Now he had a chance to have a life with you. But always lurking in the back of his mind is the fear that this means of sustaining his body and life will fail. He does not know when he will disappear or how quickly it could take him. This is why he needs to always be with you. He doesn’t know how much time he has left and he wants to spend as much of it with you as he can. You understand, don’t you darling?

Kidnap = Are they willing to kidnap you? If so, how will they do it? For how long will they keep you and where?

He will kidnap you if you make the drastic decision to try to end your own life (see Crazy). He has given you the freedom to do what you want, far more than most yanderes would, despite the dangers in the world because he trusted you and himself to keep you safe. But now that even you are a danger to yourself, that shattered any trust V had.

When he finds out what you were trying to do, whether it be through catching you in the act or finding out in the aftermath of a failed attempt, he will bring you to his home. He will tell you, and anyone else privy to your attempt, that he wanted to give you a safe place where you can be monitored, rest, and offer an ear to which you can discuss your feelings and thoughts without judgment. And with him being your partner, if other people knew of your attempt, they would trust him to watch over you and stop you from trying this again. And that was exactly what he would do.

So you spend the night with V in his home where he refuses to leave your side for more than a minute at a time. It was understandable though, right? He was just shaken from what you tried to do. But when you woke up you found your wrists belted together, as were your ankles, and were chained to the bed’s headboard and one of the bed’s end legs respectively.

“My love, you are awake.” V greets as he enters the room, a bowl of oatmeal in his hand. “How wonderful it is to see your beautiful eyes finally open.” You can ask him what is going on, but no matter if you question him in fear, anger, or confusion, he will smile sympathetically as he helps you sit up. “I know this may be a bit frightening my dear, but this is all for your safety. You have somehow come to the heartbreaking and erroneous belief that you should not live and have become a danger to yourself because of it. But worry not, for I love you unconditionally and will care for you in your stead. Now, open up~” He coos as he holds out a spoonful of oatmeal.

V keeps you bound for as long as it takes for him to trust you not to attack him. Still, whenever he leaves the house he chains you to the bed to make sure you don’t try anything. Soon enough he stops going out, instead spending every waking moment coddling you. He feeds you by hand, dresses you, bathes you, and loves you through any bout of emotions, be they positive or negative. You don’t get to step foot outside until after you are knocked out by drugs and discreetly transferred to a new home out in some forest. Once there he will be willing to take you on walks, if you can prove you can behave. Even if you do try to escape though, the forest is enchanted so any human without a demon guide will be lost to endlessly loop through the same areas.

After years of living like this and proving that you don’t intend to leave him or harm yourself, you may just be lucky enough to find out how V was able to keep you locked up and disappear without anyone coming to look for you. You see, your friends and family were devastated when they heard from V that you had killed yourself by running off into a demon nest and letting yourself be eaten. And then it was unfortunate but unsurprising when V, now without the love of his life, spiraled into depression, became a recluse, moved away from the city where he and his love spent their time together, and soon after joined you in the afterlife.

“What a tragic tale, isn’t it dear?” He asks you with a proud smile on his face as he feeds you your lunch.

Lonely = They are feeling lonely but you are busy with something else, what will they do?

V is a patient man. If you are busy with an activity or responsibility, he will wait patiently for you to finish. He has his limits though (See Non-Stop). Also, depending on how urgently the task must be done or the rules regarding it, V would like to get involved.

“What are you doing my songbird? Watching something? May I join you?” “What is that craft you are making? How fascinating… Would you do me the honour of teaching me how to do it?” “What are you so furiously researching love? I would so dearly like to hear all about it, and perhaps I can help you search.”

V wants to learn everything he can about you and be involved with your interests and hobbies. And even if you are doing something that he can not assist in, such as writing a paper for school or work, then he will still insert himself by delivering to you snacks, drinks, messages, or simply his silky voice reading out his poetry to calm you and act as white noise while you focus. As long as it does not harm you or put you in danger, then V wants to support you and uplift you in any way he can.

Moving On = If you die or escape, will they be able to move on? How easy will it be for them?

You are his light, his world, and the number one reason that he fought to stay alive. If you were to leave him, he would be devastated. With you gone so is his will to live, and so he will follow you into the beyond. However, one deciding factor for how he will come to his end is how you met yours. If it was some unforeseen tragedy then he would chase after you into the next world immediately. But if your death was in any way his doing, he would drag out his death. Whether it be through starvation or letting his body deteriorate, whichever was more painful and a fitter punishment for the sins he has committed.

Alternatively, if you were to escape and he could not find you, his will would slowly drain. He would spend more time and energy looking for you and despairing over not being able to find you, he would neglect what he needs to do to stay alive. Slowly his failing body would wither away or, if the option is still available, he may just make a last-ditch effort to become whole again. He knows that death would be an easier option than reforming, but his lingering feelings may unconsciously drive Vergil to keep looking for you and you wouldn’t hide from Vergil, right? Knowing you were at least alive would give V’s broken heart and soul some levity while it rotted away somewhere inside Vergil.

Non-Stop = How clingy will they be when you’re in a relationship? How possessive are they? And how much free space do they give you?

V will give you a great deal more space than most yandere’s. He is fine with you spending time with others, whether he is present or not. He will even allow you to go on multiple-day-long trips, like road trips or vacations, with others. Seeing you happy and hearing you excitedly recount your outings was a joy in it of itself for him. Hearing you talk with exuberance and seeing your radiant smile as you describe the event you attended, the activity you did, and the conversations you had was just enough to make missing you worth it. It also helps that he is an introvert so is more than okay with spending some time for himself.

There is a limit to this though. If you have a job or attend school then he can get by with having you in the morning and evening. He will encourage you and praise you for your hard work before and after each day while enjoying having you all to himself. But if, on top of this, you are going out with friends two or three days a week then he’ll get antsy. He won’t get in the way, but he will get a bit needy and clingy, doing things like wanting to walk you to and from places just to spend more time with you and inviting you on more dates and activities to offset how much you go out with others.

But if others try to take up more of your time than that, V will become a lot more proactive. Suddenly you start ‘forgetting’ your phone in the other room all the time, meaning you miss calls and texts. Your calendar and alarms start messing up more, giving you incorrect times and dates causing you to miss events. V seemingly becomes more worried about your well-being. Do you have a bit of a cough? Feeling warmer than usual? A bit of a headache? Well, then it is best if you stay home. Even if it seems small now, exserting yourself by going out could just make things worse. Besides, the weather report said it might rain. So just rest at home today, V will be there to care for you.

Other = Someone else speaks to or flirts with you, how will they react?

V is usually very confident and trusting of you to not betray him so does not mind when others speak to you. He doesn’t blame the person either because you are a truly fascinating person that V can’t get enough of, so others wanting to get to know you is only logical. Other’s flirting with you is usually a similar story, as he trusted you implicitly. But that does not mean he is always complicit. If you or the person give him a reason to worry, such as you seemingly reciprocating that flirtation or the person overstepping boundaries, then V will act.

It won’t be a full-on assault, physically or verbally, it will be a subtle, insidious poison that he seeps into the bothersome person. Through his words he will gracefully belittle and insult the person while showcasing his superior knowledge and sharp wit. Most of his comments don’t even immodestly register as insults, instead, they will weigh the person down bit by bit until their confidence is but dust in the wind and they realize that they have no chance in besting V in his control over your heart.

Persistent = You have rejected/ignored their first attempts at gaining your attention. How many more times will they try and how quickly will their actions ramp up in intensity?

Before discovering a means of sustaining himself, he will see your rejection or obliviousness to his signs of affection as signs and reminders to not pursue you as it will only end in heartbreak. However, if, after proving to himself that he can indeed survive his once-set expiration date and he confesses to you (See Difference), you somehow misunderstand his confession, perhaps as some kind of bout of manic joy from being able to extend his life, then he will take time to calm down so you know he is being serious and tell you honestly and blatantly. He has already waited for so long, suppressing the calling of his heart and soul, and he will not waste another moment of his life not cherishing and worshiping you as you so deserve.

Questioned = How do they react if someone catches on to their odd behaviour and questions them?

V is calm, composed, levelheaded, and a master at manipulation and the ways of the English language. If someone starts questioning his actions then he can easily lead, twist, loop, and end the conversation like a conductor to an orchestra with the other speaker left satisfied and a bit confused on the topic and point of the conversation.

Risk = How risky will they be with getting rid of rivals?

V has no intention of killing anyone. He loves you and, though you may not see it now, he knows you love him too. But if he really feels the need to dispose of someone, he has to be careful. Not so much because he fears the police or the friends and family of the victim. They could easily be tricked and manipulated into cooperating. It was his own family and friends that posed a problem. Dante, Nero, Kyrie, they would never understand. They don’t understand how deep his love is for you. If they found out he killed someone to protect his relationship with you, they would try to intervene or, worst of all, try to get you away from him. V can’t risk that.

So he carefully plans out his assassination. He can’t use his familiars because there is a chance that as soon as the police/family realize the murder was done by a demon they may call Lady or Dante’s businesses for help and they can spot Griffon, Shadow, and Nightmare’s work easily. And a physical altercation, even with the aid of weapons, would cause too much of a scene. So instead, V will kill with discreet methods, such as poison, or a disposable method, such as forming a contract with a demon, sending them out on their elimination mission, and then killing the new demon familiar so it could not be traced back to V.

Sweet = Even when they’re Yandere they can be sweet. What’s their sweet Yandere side?

You are his world, his everything, and he will tell you that often. Every day he tells you and shows you how much he appreciates you and all you do, for him and others. Being able to wake up beside you, spend time with you, and hold you at night is a blessing that he will always cherish, no matter how long you are together.

Type = What type of Yandere are they?

Going off of the Yandere Fandom Wiki’s list, V would mostly be a Manipulative Yandere (Focuses on working a series of situations to prevent losing their love.) with a bit of a Submissive Yandere (Only in love with one specific person and will carry out any task asked of them.).

V has a way with words and with his ability to stay calm and collected no matter the intricate lies he is weaving, he will subtly manipulate you into things like spending more time with him and fending off anyone who seriously threatens your relationship (See Other). He won’t just have you wrapped around his finger, as he will also make others question themselves or change their mind through his poetic, complex, cryptic wording. This can range from telling your family and friends that they should not make you go to some even, claiming things like how tired and stressed you are when in reality he just wants more time alone with you, to even beneficial things like convincing your teachers or boss to treat you better because you are such an amazing student/worker.

There is also little he wouldn’t do for you. He will of course do small things if you ask like taking you to and from appointments no matter the ungodly hour it is happening and taking you on dates to all the places you are interested in. But he will do so much more if only you ask it of him. For example, if you come to him for help, telling him about some person or group that is hurting you somehow, either directly or through association, and ask him to get rid of them, he will.

Unsure = How much trust do they have in you? What happens if you break it?

V trusts you a great deal, more than most yandere. Even when you make small mistakes he will quickly forgive you and assure you that he understands that you are doing your best and don’t truly mean any harm. If you do something drastic though, that is different. There is what will happen if you try to hurt yourself (See Kidnapping), but if you do something like cheat on him he will be devastated. He will blame himself for the most part, assuming he has failed to provide you with the love and affection you desire and is determined to be better. He will follow you without being too pushy, not quite a stalker but he will reappear in your life every couple of weeks to try to win your heart back. And between each meeting, he would work on improving himself in any way he thinks he is failing you, from physical to social to financial. At times he may even consider leaving you be, letting you go free, but he can’t help but be drawn to you. In the end, he would rather give up on life rather than give up on you.

Vexation = What is the one thing that you could do to piss them off or worry them the most?

V does not really get angry, being levelheaded enough to stay calm and give you and himself some space if he is getting frustrated. As for worrying him, the thing that will unsettle and worry him the most is if you suddenly, without plausible reason, start claiming that you love him and saying overly sweet things. If you were to say ‘I love you’ without complete sincerity he would see it as the complete opposite. You must be upset and/or unhappy in some way. Though he does not want to pry, if you keep forcing words of affection out it will eat away at him until he pleads for you to stop and instead tell him what it is that is driving you to hurt him like this.

Welcome = Let’s say they’re Yandere for you but you’ve not had your first meeting. How do they initiate it?

If you two have not officially met but you have caught V’s eye, he will avoid approaching you due to the belief that he will return to Vergil soon. He does not wish to hurt you by charming you and then disappearing, though that does have a romantic air to it. So perhaps he will allow himself to be seen once or twice if the situation requires. For example, if you are attacked by demons he will jump in to save you, maybe take a moment to let his mysterious and alluring aura seep in before disappearing like a masked hero, never truly known but leaving a sense of mysticism. At least this way, when the being known as V does disappear from this world, he will live on in you to a small extent.

If/when he knows that he can prolong his life, he will search for you right away. He’ll want to keep up his dark, mysterious, romantic aura as much as possible to make a good impression. This includes not giving you all the answers right away, slipping into the shadows and reappearing for the first few meets, and not letting you meet the blabbermouth Griffon or the horrific Nightmare, at least not at first. Shadow you may meet because he trusts her to not ruin the moment and may even add to his allure as he has a powerful jungle cat at his whim.

He has read countless poems and stories of romance, and he will use that to his advantage to make your introduction to him as perfect as possible.

Xeric = What is an innocuous thing you do that hits a nerve in their twisted mind and really turns them on?

Whether it is done casually during a time when you are relaxing and holding each other or if he is in the middle of something and your wandering mind leads you to do it, having you lightly trace the patterns of his tattoos sets his body and heart on fire faster then he is able to ask you why you are doing it. Having your fingers delicately glide along his skin has him twisting, arching, and bending into your touch, trembling slightly as soft gasps that sometimes sound more like moans, slip from his lips.

Yearning = They want you but you are already with someone else. How will they win you over/steal you from your current partner?

V will not even try. He is already hesitant to get close to you with his mission of becoming Vergil again. You being in a happy relationship with another offers him a melancholy peace as he knows that once he is gone you will be taken care of. In this circumstance, he will not even bother looking for a way to extend his life and simply complete the task he was created to do.

Zealot = If everything fails, will they be able to kill their partner? For the most part, no. Even if you fight, run, reject, and abandon him over and over he will never be pushed to kill you. The only circumstance in which he would take your life is if you have been irreparably damaged, physically or mentally. If, because of a demon attack, the cruelty of the world infecting you with an incurable disease, or you have lost your mind, if your life is nothing but suffering, he will mercy kill you. And he would follow you soon after, to be able to hold you in the afterlife and watch you be free of this pain.

[danketsuround]

A simple guide to how Kuwana uses honorifics - Lost Judgement (Revised)

This is a revised version of a post I wrote previously - I made a few errors so I decided to make a new post instead of just adding on to the original, especially since a few people said they wanted to use this as a reference for comic or fic writing in the future.

Please note that much of this is based on my own interpretation and should not be taken as pure fact. Japanese is a context-heavy and nuanced language - so I am simply building off what I already know about Japanese [culture] (I live here!) as well as my own idea on what type of character Kuwana is. Actually, I think Kuwana is strangely polite - all things considered - so the way he refers to other people is mostly unsurprising.

I also want to note that just because one honorific means one thing does not mean that interpretation is universal. The use and meaning of honorifics change depending to who you're speaking to as well. For example, many people may know that -kun is used for younger boys, and -chan for younger girls, but language is much more nuanced than that. While honorifics can be used to "honor" someone (imagine that!) they can also be used flippantly, sarcastically, aggressively, or even to put someone at a lower position than you.

You can see a previous analysis on how he refers to Mitsuru here. For that reason, he will not be included in this post.

Thanks for reading!

with Yagami

Perhaps the one people are most interested in. Most of the time, both Yagami and Kuwana drop honorifics with each other entirely. A cursory glance at Wikipedia may tell you that this is only used for people with close relationships or for inferiors (fittingly, like a teacher with their student) but in this case, it is neither of those things.

They drop honorifics with each other, simply, because they do not respect each other. Although there are other instances in which you can drop honorifics with another person (see: above, my original Mitsuru post, or read further) when Kuwana isn't referring to Yagami by name - which is very often - he is using 「お前」 (omae) or 「あんた」 which are very forward, rude ways to refer to someone. When someone uses 「お前」 with you, it usually implies they are angry with you.

However, there are a few occasions when Kuwana uses honorifics with Yagami. In the scene where Kuwana is hanging out at Y99, he uses -san.

This is a simple formality because they are not yet rivals or enemies. In retrospect, you can also interpret this as Kuwana using -san sarcastically or passive-aggressively, but honestly I think he's too polite to be doing that so early-on.

Other instances in which Kuwana uses -san with Yagami are when he is speaking about Yagami to another person:

There are two ways you can look at this: these are both formative scenes in which Kuwana is trying to coax empathy from Yagami. Using -san rather than "OMAE" would, of course, be the more respectful way to address someone - especially after you've made a temporary truce with them. The other way - this is how I originally interpreted it, which is why it wasn't in my original post - is that, because Kuwana is speaking about Yagami to another person, he is using the honorifics the person he is speaking with should/would use when addressing Yagami. Meaning, Kuwana is asserting that it would be appropriate for Akaike or Mamiya to use -san with Yagami - not himself.

Aside from that, Kuwana also uses -kun with Yagami once. Originally, I thought it would be strange for him to ever use -kun despite Yagami being younger than him. However, he does!

In Chapter 7, after Kuwana leaves Yagami to fight RK alone, he says: "I'm sorry, Yagami-kun."

-kun, in this case, is being used out of familiarity - not sharing the same politeness or formality as -san. I think Kuwana said it more to himself and not directly at Yagami - in a meta way, this assures the viewer that their relationship has changed. This was a rare sign of compassion (perhaps respect?) from Kuwana: I believe in part because Yagami showed that he believed in fighting for Kuwana - even if he was not given the context as to why RK was after him. Also, Yagami was fighting to defend Sawa - someone Kuwana deeply cares about.

with Kaito

To be honest, I'm not sure why Kuwana doesn't use honorifics with Kaito. I could have sworn he used -san with Kaito once, but I can't find it. Forgive me. And, don't call me hypocritical for saying this, but I don't think dropping the honorifics with Kaito is the same as dropping them with Yagami.

The only reason I can think of is that Kaito asked for Kuwana to not use honorifics with him (like, off camera). Some people don't use honorifics for themselves because they believe it to be old fashioned. I think in this case, it says more about Kaito than it does Kuwana. He wouldn't be doing 呼び捨て (yobisute - dropping honorifics for someone who you have a close relationship to) because they aren't very close.

Conjunctionally related, the reason why Yagami uses -san with Kaito is likely the same reason why Kaito calls him Ta-bo - they have been calling each other that for a long time, and it has become part of each other's nickname.

with Y99

Kuwana uses -kun with both Sugiura and Tsukumo. Sugiura even refers to Kuwana as their "senpai" since they do similar work in the same area - this is a joke, though. Grown men do not normally refer to each other as senpai - Sugiura and Tsukumo are both younger than Mitsuru, so it's hard to believe Kuwana would honestly see them as real adults.

with Sawa and Mamiya + a bit about former Kurokawa students

I talked a little bit about this in my other post, but he uses -kun with them. Using -kun with adult women is a formality. It's the same reason why Genda uses -kun with Saori - though, their relationship is a bit different. It's kinda... old fashioned I think? There's an implication that, "even though I'm using a formality with you, we aren't totally equals.". That's because Saori is a younger woman working at Genda's law agency.

Using -kun with girls/women is different than using -kun with boys/men - especially in a school setting. While using -kun can be seen as a bit boyish, from a teacher to a female student, it's similar to using -san; and the reason why -san isn't used for male and female students (by teachers) is partially because it's a little too formal between a child and adult. Yeah, I know. Japanese is hard.

Therefore, it's natural he might use -kun for his former female students, because, ultimately, it is up to a teacher to decide how, when, and who to use honorifics with. For the same reason, Akaike is referred to without honorifics (unlike Mitsuru, who is almost always referred to with -kun). Kawai's honorifics are also totally dropped, perhaps for the same reason, but I also think it's because he is dead and Kuwana has no intention of humanizing him. The reason for that being: Reiko does this as well!

with Kusumoto Reiko

Kuwana is a Kusumoto-san bot almost as much as Yagami is with Sawa-sensei. Since she is older and their relationship is a bit strained and distant, Kuwana uses her last name and -san. Reiko returns the formality in an interesting way, referring to him directly as "Kitakata-sensei" because that is how she knows him as. However, during the emotional climax, she refers to him as "Sensei", which is sort of an endearing formality that indicates respect and ...love? Not necessarily romantic, but a certain fondness or gratitude - as normally, students would refer to their teacher as "Sensei", not necessarily student's parents or their fellow coworkers. (I do have one older female teacher who calls everyone else just "Sensei" and it makes me blush, lol) I know that's less about how Kuwana refers to her but I think their relationship is not as stiff as it may seem based on what honorifics they use with each other.

That seems to be a correction of everything from the original post. If you have any questions or would like me to expand on some points (whether it's confusing to you or seems contradictory), feel free to reply and I can answer you or alter the wording for clarity.

*A note about "omae":

Part of what makes writing posts like these extremely difficult is because everyone is characterized by the way they speak, and the way they speak is the typical RGG rough-and-tumble "tuff guy" act. Therefore, I want to clarify that omae is not always extremely rude. Rather, it is the tone, level of familiarity, and even gender that characterizes it as rude. For example, there are instances in which Kaito uses omae with Yagami, but that's because their relationship is established enough that using omae does not immediately set off alarm bells for Yagami. That makes it different for when Kuwana uses it, because he is more-or-less setting the tone of their relationship as distant and competitive right off the bat. Hope that makes sense. Thanks to @passthroughtime for the previous corrections as well as the screenshots I use in this post, lol.