#just wanted to make something for laughs in this bleak situation

[alchemistc]

He's been good. He's been - pretending to be good well enough that no one has been suspicious.

It's just -

That was it. That was The One.

And sure. He can get back out into the world. He can fall in love again. There is a beautiful man somewhere out in the world who will make him laugh, make him cry.

He's just not sure he wants to put the effort in anymore.

For a hot second he'd really thought -

Not that it matters, anymore.

He's pretty sure his leg is pinned. The cockpit is more smoke than air, at this point. He can feel his toes, but honestly that might be more a curse than a blessing.

He's been staring at the phone in his hand for the last five minutes. Ever since he realized he didn't have the leverage to try to move the bracket keeping him from slipping free of the broken, crunched in door frame.

It's selfish. It's the most selfish fucking thing he's considered since he decided to break his own heart instead of letting someone else.

But logistically he's got about seven minutes until there's too much smoke and not enough air in here, and that's only IF the fire doesn't catch somewhere else.

He's got enough bars. And there are two numbers he could call. Two ways this could go.

The phone rings through four times, and on the fifth, someone answers.

"This is a bad time, Tommy," Eddie says, and Tommy feels a little hysterical. The laughter comes in fits, only slows when he gets a nice good whiff of smoke straight up his nose.

"Sure is."

The tone shifts. "Are you okay?"

"It was a bad idea anyway."

He feels woozy. Glances down at his leg and realizes that stain he'd thought was shadow is... definitely blood.

"Listen. I'm - when Evan gets the call, don't let him go alone. It's my fault for not updating my ICE."

The silence on the other line is deafening. "Tommy, where are you? Don't - don't make any decisions you can't come back from." It's a panned line he'd heard at the VA the half dozen times he'd gone.

"Yeah I didn't really make this decision myself. I'm just - I'm losing a lot of blood, here, and there's not a lot of ways for the smoke to get out of this cabin, and -."

High alert has a very specific sound and feel to it.

Eddie's cursing, something is shuffling, he's snapping his fingers in the distance. God, they're probably at work. "Where are you?"

Tommy rattles off his last known coordinates. "I already told dispatch, Eddie. I'm just. They're not gonna make it in time, and I need you to promise me you won't let him be alone when -."

It'd been a trip he would have been riding shotgun for, if Tommy hadn't made sure he wasn't. He's grateful for that, at least.

He's really not expecting much, he thinks. Eddie doesn't have to go far out of his way to support Buck. It'll hurt him, true. But Tommy's gotten pretty used to being the cause of that. And. He'll be dead, anyway, so he won't have to carry that guilt for long.

And then Eddie betrays whatever vestige of friendship they had left, because it's not Eddie's voice that responds.

"Hey asshole. Do you have enough leverage to break the window?"

He's got a good voice. A little gruff, a little heavy.

Tommy doesn't want this.

"No."

"Actually no, or are you just accepting your fate again without even talking about alternatives."

It's not how he thought he'd go. Dramatic final hour phone call, the end of their relationship as a metaphor for the bleakness of his situation. "I'm sorry, Buck."

He's having trouble focusing his eyes. There's a beat behind his ears that keeps slowing down. He thinks he might be hearing sirens but -

"Evan," Tommy says for the first time in six months. "I'm so sorry, Evan."

He says - something. The tone of it is there, even if he can't quite make out the words.

Tommy blinks. Coughs.

There's a phone in his hands.

Why is there a phone in his hands, he's supposed to be flying a -

He'd crashed it, actually.

Well shit.

Damn.

Eddie's gonna be so pissed if he has to find out second hand that Buck's going to get a really fucking shitty call in a few hours.

He should call.

---

When he blinks open his eyes, he finds his fingers first, nearly has a panic attack when they don't move they way he wants them to, except - oh.

There are fingers interlocked with his.

Tommy follows the line of the arm, even though he knows.

"Sorry," Evan says, and there are tears unshed at the corners of his eyes but he looks mad as hell. "You only get one dramatic exit out of my life in a calendar year."

[happysparklingshadows]

A Certain Hunger (4/?)

Chapter 3 ✿ Chapter 5

Summary: It's been a few weeks in this cabin, and thinking about being saved is getting a little bit bleak. So, you have a good idea for everyone to find a job to make things easier for your time being in Canada. You pick up a fishing rod, and everyone else picks up the gun to see who will become the hunter. You reconnect with a childhood friend and start to accept your new home.

Pairing: Surviving!Poly! Yellowjackets x reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Smut, HOMOSEXUAL SEXXX, Lowkey controversial entirely written sex scene with a character yall wouldn't guess lol, Lowkey mean reader, Depiction of a terminal illness and death of a mother, 90s setting with the views of the time, homophobia and internal homophobia, Homophobic slurs, Alcohol/drug use, gore and blood, depictions of mental health, depictions of death, 90s slang is used (411 means giving the tea or details of a situation to someone).

Word count: 13.4k

Notes: I want to apologize for my hiatus, but it was for good reason. I needed to care for my father, who got very sick around September last year when I was going to write the 4th chapter, and he has since been better. Sadly, I lost my motivation, but I have detailed notes for the following 8 chapters, and I will be trying to finish seasons 1 and two of the story as soon as I can before the third season airs! This year, for NANOWRIMO, I have decided to write for this story and see how far I can go within the next month or two. Thank you to everyone who was so kind and understanding about my disappearance and still loves my story!

“(Y/n), what the fuck is a ratio?” Jackie whispers to you loud enough for Shauna to hear beside you in a lull in math class. Mrs. Goldberg had to leave the class for some reason, you don’t remember why. You smile over at Jackie with her lovely brown eyes and take a good look at her. She’s as beautiful as you remember.  

You chuckle as you look into your notes and say, “From what Mrs. Goldmen wrote, an ordered pair of numbers a and b, written a / b where b does not equal 0.” You read from your notes as Shauna and Jackie looked blankly up at you from the obtuse definition. You laugh with them, “Whatever the fuck that means!” 

Jackie and Shauna laugh with you, but Jackie groans in frustration at the last question. 

Taissa, behind you, leans forward and smiles, “What’s wrong?” 

Jackie turns dramatically to Taissa as she pulls her paper over to Taissa; she just wants the answer now. You look at Jackie moving around as Van pulls your attention with a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, (y/n), can you help me with the first question? Jackie stole my answer key.” She joked as you turned to help her. 

You giggle at her joke as you look down at the paper. 

It was blank. 

There weren’t even questions printed onto the page like you thought. You looked at your paper again, flipping it around but finding that it had nothing written on it either. It didn’t have the answers you thought you were writing on it.

You furrow your brows as you look up to Van, but the redhead isn’t there. Neither were the others. A chill runs down your spine as you start to remember. 

The door of your old math teacher's class slams open, causing you to squeal and jump from your desk. That then was the only desk in the room. It was as if when your eyes looked away from something, it disappeared. 

Mrs. Goldmen looks at you with a sad, sympathetic smile as she leads you to the hallway; you don’t have any control at the moment as your legs walk you down the hallway with her. Mrs. Goldmen's hand is on your shoulder as she says words that have been etched into the gray matter of your brain. “Honey, your mother has gone to the hospital, and your father is here to pick you up.” 

You remember this. This was the day your mother’s health got so much worse. The day you became her caretaker. 

Fat tears run down your eyes as you walk to the office door. Mrs. Goldman disappears when her hand leaves your shoulder. You look around for her; the hallways of your old high school are empty, and liminal darkness creeps in the corners of the walls. You felt an urge to go into the office. 

You held the cold handle and turned the knob to the left to open the office door. 

It wasn’t right. 

You are met with the darkness of the woods, which has claimed you as its own. You turn, and the hallways no longer protect you from the cold forest. You scream as you are surrounded by woods again; the door stands alone with its hinges.  

 You feel the ripe cold air coming up your legs and arms; you hug yourself. 

Howls from the trees start to chant above you. Every corner was a howl from a freakish, unnatural octave, and you started to feel the snow melt under your toes and the nip of the winter bite at the skin of your arms. Unbearable and cutting is how it felt—hunger in the air. 

You look down at yourself and see something that drops your heart. 

The gold heart necklace from Jackie’s Sweet 16. 

You don’t think before you run. You run straight and away from trees as the howls follow you. Helpless as sticks and bushes stopped you as you rushed through the 4ft of snow. 

You sob and run, knowing you are coming to an end. You are going to die. You should just stay still and watch with open eyes as they slice your throat, shoot you with an arrow, or stab you with a spear. So why would you run? 

But you ran anyway. 

Raw, cold toes feel the crunching of the snow. Twigs tickle between your toes and scratch when you lift your feet. 

You don’t hear anything anymore. You are in the heart of the woods; the tree watches you as you finally fall onto a mound of snow. Nothing makes any sense. You cry and feel yourself shake with adrenaline; you need to keep going. 

A chanting comes to your ears. You freeze in the moment; you hear yourself. 

You crawl towards the song, French humming and chanting from a distance. 

Over the hill, you see yourself dressed in your old headdress, the pink stain furs of a white rabbit made into a cloak with the head of a doe adorn on the top. You circle the campfire that cooks the meat; the others dressed in their cloaks watch with stabbing eyes. 

The queen in the center watches a younger you dance around the fire. The Antler queen nods her head and looks around the circle. 

You watch yourself take a satisfying bite of the fatty meat from the pan that cooked the chunks. The others immediately rush to the pan and take their share of the meat. The grease shines on your satisfied smirk on the younger self, bubbling in your stomach. “Wake up, " you blurt out to yourself in a panic. 

You gag as your eyes fill with tears. 

No. 

No. You don’t want to remember this. 

This wasn’t even the worst of it. 

Stop. 

Wake up (y/n) wake up wake up wake up wake up-

‘21

You wake up violently from your dream. You feel yourself lean harder onto the surface you were on and feel a darting pain from a rod in your neck. You gasp as you look around, realizing you weren’t in your house again. 

The tree whispers to you again. You know it. 

You stand in the wooded area behind your home. It was always comforting to hide in the trees and smell the sun's sweet earth, playing pirates or whispering about boys you never liked with Shauna and Jackie. This was your hideout as a child. You played fox and hounds and painted nails as you watched the sunset. You hate it now. It screams at you, and it itches your skin to be surrounded again; you need a little distance. Your breath is short again. 

Your hands cling to the tree behind you, and you feel something in your hand: your pocket knife. You turn around to look at what you have done again. You stare back at the symbol. Even when you dream, you seem to find a way to protect yourself, even a little bit. 

You put the knife in your nightgown pocket. And you backed away. Slowly accepting the fact that this is something you will never stop doing, no matter the pills, sleep therapy, or drinking, can make you stop sleepwalking to the trees when you think about them. It follows closely behind, no matter the distance. 

Fucking Shauna. 

When you went to her house last night, you weren’t planning on sleeping with her.

You were sitting at her island drinking coffee like you usually do. Ever since you returned from New York to Wiskayok, you reconnected with Shauna because of the brunches with Jackie's parents. You have been coming over for coffee to talk about your lives like regular people. It was refreshing to look at Shauna and see an adult woman instead of the girl you grew up with and survived with. Not seeing Shauna was especially hard after coming home from the wilderness because you were the closest to her before the crash, even before you knew who you were. You still don’t know who you are without her in some ways. 

You both talk about the upcoming brunch, how you'll get a rabbit as a present, and how Jackie’s parents will talk down to you like they always do. But as the conversation continues, Shauna confesses that she and Jeff are in a deep dry spell. They haven’t touched each other in a long time, and how Shauna has not been touched in a long time. Then, without even thinking about it, you two start kissing each other. 

Then, something instinctually comes over you as you kiss and touch each other. The planned 40-minute coffee became hours of love-making.

But as soon as the passion ended, you left. You felt satisfied and a little weird from your desperation with Shauna. You get dressed, kiss them goodbye, and return to your lives like it never happened, like it has always worked. You remember feeling so grateful Callie was sleeping over at her friend's house and Jeff was out of the house for the night for some reason. 

When you drove home, all you thought about was your day with Misty and Natalie, Travis killing himself, and making love with Shauna. It was a blast from the past. As you entered your driveway, an intrusive thought came to mind: the image of a pan over an open fire frying chunks of meat.

You shouldn’t have gone to bed thinking about the past. This only happens when the team creeps into your space; they always do that if you give them a chance. 

You thought grumpily as you walked back to your backdoor. Your cat, Ginger, rubs on your legs when you get into your backyard. Your nightgown has mud at the ends, and your feet are dirty; your toenails have dirt under them. 

A black van passes by as you walk into your home. It hisses in the wind as it drives by. You look at it, worried someone will see the dirt on your nightgown and think you are some senile old woman. 

You get back into your home and sigh. Rubbing the ache in the back of your neck, you start a pot of coffee for yourself before you start your day. You needed a moment for yourself before you had to act all day, masking all your quirks and characteristics to seem normal. 

“You don’t think people can notice you’re a little crazy, right?” 

You froze as you put your cup of coffee on the counter. You know that voice. 

“I mean, I love you for how crazy you are, but you have been losing it a lot lately.” Jackie’s voice says behind you. She always stands in her yellowjacket uniform with curled hair; she looks precisely how she should be remembered. “Don’t want you to bite someone on accident.”

“I’ll try not to, Jackie. But you never know; someone might not know not to put their hand so close to my mouth.” You say back at her. You feel your eyes well; she was always so sad to remember even more when you see her. Her phantom has been long accepted and dreaded, but something that no one could stop. You didn’t know if you even would want her spirit to leave you. 

“Well, you should comb your hair and take a bath. You look like death… smell like it too,” Jackie says, and as if she was never there, she was gone. 

You sigh and rub your eyes. You turn back for your coffee and pour sugar inside of it, “It’s too early for this shit.” You mutter to yourself. You can’t get angry at this. It’s your best hallucination, and you couldn’t get mad with Jackie, never with her. You got to leave, but Jackie never got to the chance to live out of the cedar and butterfly weeds. 

‘96

“Lottie, I know it is… fucking weird as shit. But we can’t pass up a house in the woods, okay? I didn’t see any books wrapped in human skin.” You say softly to Lottie as everyone finishes their breakfast of berries and gossip. You rub the stinging at the back of your neck that can’t go away. 

“I know, but it just doesn’t feel right being in the same house as a dead body,” Lottie says back. 

“Well, maybe we can make something for the house to ease, you know, the energies.” 

“Like charms?” 

“Maybe? I have never dealt with this situation, but I trust you can settle the energies here. You are so good at being a peacekeeper.” You say to her and put your hand on her shoulder; you take it off quickly because you still don’t know where you stand with her after last night's kiss. Because you know if the others were to look at you and check if you were gay, you would be quickly exposed. 

“Thank you, (Y/n)...” She says, looking down at her shoes.”Are we okay? I didn’t mean to make things weird. I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

You smile, hiding the hurt, and quickly say, “Oh, my god, yeah, we are, Lottie. I get it. We have been through a lot, and we just wanted some comfort. It’s not a big deal.” 

Lottie chuckles out of relief and pats your arm; she nods. “Okay, good; I didn’t want anything to be weird.” 

“No, nothing is weird, Lottie.” You reassure her as you move yourself away. You want to peel your skin off, and a sudden loneliness surrounds you. 

The morning moves on quickly. Travis sits on the porch with a gun, and you just stare at him as you walk to the campfire in front of the cabin with the angler's box and pole. 

“Okay, everyone! We need to talk plans!” You announce in your loudest voice. Everyone circles the fire and the porch to listen to you; every morning since the crash, you have made an effort to set goals for the day and get through the days until rescue. “Okay, so we’ve been in these woods for ten days. We are low on food but shouldn’t worry too much longer. We now have a fishing line and a working pole with the help of Lottie and Shauna,” You say as you smile at the two. The others do the same, giving little thanks to the two blushing girls. “So, we’re not hopeless right now; anyone who wants to learn how to fish can come with me and see if you want to do that. But does anyone know how to use the rifle?” You ask the group and consider your list of things to speak about today. 

Couch Ben clears his throat and says, “I went hunting with family before, so I can teach people who want to.” 

You nod your head at him and say, “Okay! Everyone should try it out to see who is the best with a gun. We’ve been out here for a little bit, and I am sure we will have to take care of ourselves until they get here-”

Jackie interrupts, “So, we shouldn’t worry about the food because they must be close by now?” 

You look over at her; you know why she is talking. She doesn’t want a job, and she doesn’t want to worry about getting saved. But it has been 11 days since the crash; you don’t want to kill hope. 

“Well, kind of. We should be prepared if it takes them a few more weeks to find us in these woods. Jackie, we’re in the thick of it right now, so it would be better if we all tried to use the gun and see if we can hunt-” 

“Well, are you going to try out the gun?” She asked you with crossed arms and a well-known tone of annoyance. 

You suck your teeth and tilt your head to her, “No, I am going out fishing. I know I am good at it, so I will do that. You can try to see if you are good at hunting. It’s just a tryout.” To end this small conversation, you say, “Okay, so the goal for today is to find some food and learn some skills tonight. Mari, Laura, and Krystal have already volunteered to clean and do the projects we have started at the cabin, alright? Anything else?”. 

No one else had anything to say. You nod as you hold up the fisher pole and say, “I am going to the beach to fish and make a little project. if anyone wants to come with me, you will find me.” You say this as you see that no one will move to fish with you for some reason. You nod and start heading out of the campsite and walking down Natalie's trail to the lake. A few nights ago, Natalie took the time to crave a path to the beach and plane with small crosses on the trees. She wanted everyone to be able to tell where they were in the woods without getting lost.

The days have gone by quickly lately since you all have found the cabin, and it's been getting to you a little bit. You didn't like the feeling of being able to find your way around the woods, even though it was convenient. It still would never replace your home. You missed home, and you can't tell anyone else about it. 

As you walk down the trail deep in thought, the sun hits your eyes through the leaves, it reminds you of your backyard. It’s precisely like where your tree house stands just outside your home, where you can look out the window and see your mother washing dishes. God, you missed your mom. And as of an hour ago, she should have taken her morning medicine and had her legs messaged because she can’t walk around too much. You feel your throat tighten, and your body has a wave of emotional nausea. 

“Hey, Wait up!” Shauna called from behind you on the trail. 

You stop and smile at her, “Hey, Shauna. You coming with me?” you ask. 

“Yeah, I don’t want to touch the gun. I don’t want to kill anything.” 

“I get it. I hate fish, so I like killing them.” You joke to her with the best deadpan voice you can muster. 

Shauna chuckles and shakes her head softly, “You’re a freak, you know that?” 

“Oh yeah? You’re not going to say that when I get a fish.” You cackled. “You can just journal if you want; I am just going to make you help me make a lazy fisherman.” 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s a heavy stick supported with rocks with a hook and line attached. It just catches fish without anyone doing anything. You just raise the line, and hopefully, a fish is hooked.” 

“We have hooks? What was in that box?” 

“Not a lot, but it had a bait hook and a lure for the pole. It had some rusty hooks and oil for the pole. I made some hooks from the pop things on top of the cans.” 

“The tab?”

“Yeah, I kinda cut them and made them like hooks. I’m thinking about making a net while we’re here.” 

“You think we’ll be here long enough for that?” 

“I don’t know; all I know is I will go crazy if I sit still too much. I overthink, you know.” You confess to Shauna as you come across a wide river a little off the trail from the lake. You and Shauna make some marks on the trees to make a path back to the trail. 

After a while, the two of you settle up after making a lazy fisherman. It was easy to be around Shauna. You’ve been sandbox friends, and that kind of love never dies. You mainly talked about school and the annoying people you knew, like Randy. The biggest meathead you’ve ever met. 

“Randy smells like Salmi and is cold to the touch but also is very hot when you stand near him.” You say to Shauna as you cast a line with a little bug at the end. You sit on the river's edge with Shauna sitting against a tree. 

Shauna laughs out loud as she hugs her journal to her chest. And you keep going on your rant. 

“Honestly, girl, If I ever hear him say the words Faggot or Dyke again, to Misty or Kevin or whoever. I’ll write a story about him eating Jeff’s ass and finally getting to feel Jeff’s sweet touch. Because you can’t tell me he isn’t in love with that guy.” You say with a laugh in your tone as you can’t talk straight. It’s ridiculous, but it was so funny to both of you. Shauna is snorting like a pig next to you, making you fall on your back, laughing. 

“What the fuck?!” 

“He thinks about gay people too much to not be gay!” You laugh louder. Both of you laugh until your sides hurt. It felt nice just to be girls for a moment in the woods, and you pretend you were at the back of your house with Shauna. 

It lulls for a moment before Shauna asks, “Randy called Misty a dyke?” 

“Yeah. At the Spring Fling.” You said with a little bit of sadness going through. You felt so bad for Misty in moments like that. “I remember when me, you, and Jackie got there after getting ready seeing Misty-”

“In that big puffy pink dress,” Shauna says, pointing a finger at you. She remembers, and she smirks a little. At the time, unfortunately, you laughed at her dress for being out of date and seemed to be “trying too hard.” 

“Yeah… But Misty was just there and- I mean, I am not going to say Misty is cool or that she isn’t weird. Sometimes, I don’t know if she isn’t an alien, but she isn’t mean or disgusting.” You say as you gently rile in the line. You feel yourself frown a little bit. “She was standing in the corner without a date and any friends, and Randy just comes up to her and calls her an ugly dyke.” You say a little quieter. 

“Oh my god, that is so horrible; why didn’t you tell me the 411?” 

“I mean, I only knew because she cried when I went into the bathroom. I was a shoulder to cry on; I didn’t want to make it a thing if Misty didn’t want to. I wish I could have done something. Fuck Randy.” 

“Fuck Randy!” Shauna agreed. Shauna looks at you fish peacefully as the sound of gunshots rings in the distance. You look over to her and think about the next thing to discuss. 

“So, Jackie is mad at me, isn’t she? Jackie learning how to shoot a gun?” You ask her, point her to talk to you about Jackie. You love Jackie deeply, but she usually causes drama within the trio. 

“Yeah, she is being a bitch lately.” 

“Yeah, I think she has the worst attitude out of everyone, but I can’t be upset that she is trying to come to terms with the crash.” 

“Okay, but she doesn’t have to fight everything you ask her to do. You’re just trying to help everyone.” 

“Thank you. And yeah, I hope she will stop fighting me every step of the way, but we just don’t know how long we’ll be out here, so I just don’t think we should be so argumentative…” You sigh and look at her with wary eyes, “I’ll talk to her. Like I always do. It’ll be okay. We love each other. No fucking gun will get in the way.” 

“You’re right. It’ll be okay. We must be here for each other before we’re rescued.” 

“You're right.” You say as you keep watching your line in the water. Praying for a fish to take a bite

‘21

You smile as your father laughs at the TV. You rub your hands to apply lotion to his shaking ones. You and he were watching “I Love Lucy” because it was his favorite childhood show. 

He doesn’t have fully solid days constantly anymore, and it's the reason you have him in the nursing home. Somedays, he was just like you when you returned from the wilderness. He wouldn’t eat or do anything but watch TV. He would sit in his chair and watch TV; when it was off, he didn’t know where he was anymore. One day, he forgot where the bathroom was in the home he had lived in for 45 years, and he wet himself before you found him in the living room looking in the china cabinet, thinking it was the bathroom. But other days, he was as sharp as nails, playing chess and talking about things from the 70s like it was yesterday. 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach when he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s and early-set dementia, but you were calm. You were now an adult with savings and a career, and you had the means to care for him now. To repay him for him nursing you after you came back. 

You remember the nights he would pet your hair back after you vomited from episodes of PTSD. How he would sit in your bedroom holding you in his lap with tears in his eyes, listening to you scream in his chest. He just sat there with you and let you sob; no words were needed. He just stood there and let you cling like a little girl again. He let you yell at him and berate him as if he were the wilderness himself because he knew you weren’t yelling at him. He knew when to push you forward and when you needed to be held. 

He helped you through the 5 years of healing after you were found. You had a total of 3 surgeries to make your brain's blood vessels normal again. You had to wear a splint on your neck for 1 year. You had to have countless MRIs throughout your life. Countless painful nights as your neck stabbed at you and caused you to feel no comfort. Your dad was always there with you, sitting beside you at every doctor's appointment and every event. He would only sit outside the waiting room for your therapy sessions. 

Your father looks at you with (e/c) eyes and a soft smile, “I’m so happy to see you, peanut.  How is your job?”

“Well, I'm still stuck around the last few chapters of my trilogy, Trying to fight my publisher for more time," you say as you let his shaking hand down and go to his other to lotion them. They were callous and dry. Your father's hard work was shown in his battered hands, which shivered. “You took a shower already?”

“Yeah, I wanted to look nice for you.” He rasps with a chuckle, his wrinkled face still holding his cheeky smile. He had the same soul as he always had, and moments like these make you think of happy memories of being in the woods with him and your mom. 

“Oh, thank you, dad! I was going to say it didn’t smell like a caveman in here.” You chuckle back with him as you finish rubbing the lotion on his other hand. 

“Oh, hush, you!” He slowly pokes your side and cheek, holding a smile. 

“No.” You giggle back at him as you stand up, your hands moving to comb his hair. “Have the nurses been kind to you?”

“Sweethearts. Kirsta, the night shift nurse, is very kind. She comes in here when I sleep and never has a bad attitude.” He said as he leisurely scratches his nose, “Don’t hate the food.” 

“Well, that's good, Dad.” You say as you look down at him. He looked clean and comfortable in his recliner. “I should get going. I need to get a few words down before I go to bed.” 

“Alright, Peanut.” He says and takes you in. He grabs your hand gingerly and says, “I love you. Be safe. Text me when you get home.” 

You chuckle and nod your head. You find it adorable that your father still wants you to tell him whenever you leave him. Even when you lived with him at your grown age, he wanted to know you were safe. “Of course, Dad! Don’t worry.” 

“You better, " he says as he points at you with a shaking finger. He was so cute to you at that moment. You just laugh and nod your head to him. “I will!” you state back with a big smile.

You leave his room and start walking down the hallway of the nursing home. Walking down the halls, you can hear the other residents talking and watching TV.

You hear a ping on your phone and see Shauna texting you again. You sigh as you click on the notification. 

Shauna  Okay so I did something bad.  You  Like what? Did you rear-end someone again? Shauna  No  Shauna Dinner You Omg you went to the dinner? What happened? Shauna Jeff is cheating  Shauna Jeff is cheating on me, and he isn’t trying to fix some fucking data system. I am just so done. Shauna So I went to dinner.  Shauna  And I stayed for dessert.  You  Omg you didn’t Shauna Yep, and I am going to see him again tonight. You  Shit Shauna!  You I mean, get your lick back but don’t go too far. 

As you approached the front of the nursing home, which had a large circle desk for the nurses, you turned on the curve and accidentally tripped over another woman. 

You look at the woman with a smile, which drops for a second because you know her. It was Misty. You didn’t realize she worked here, where your father is, but you quickly perk your lips up again.

“Oh my god, Misty!” 

“(Y/n)! What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, well. My dad has been here for a while, and I am here to visit! I didn’t know we were going to meet again so soon.” 

“I was picking up my Tupperware, which I left yesterday.” She shows you her red-top Tupperware in her oversized purse. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to have Chocolate Martinis at Antonio’s; they are outstanding.” 

You didn’t want to. You have been seeing the team too much again, and you had sex with Shauna last night. You become increasingly like how you used to be when you get around these women. 

“Sure! You wanna pick me up from my house?” You blurt without a second to stop yourself. You wanted to kick yourself, but you couldn’t stop it. 

“Great!” Misty beams with a big smile as you both leave the nursing home. “I’ll tell you about the Travis situation, " she adds as she walks beside you. 

‘96

You and Shauna sat beside the riverbank for a long time, talking about everything and nothing. It didn’t feel like you were doing anything as you and she gossiped about the others in the wilderness. It was relaxing and pleasing. You kept looking down to your now two fishing lines for any signs of fish. The sounds of gunfire going off in the distance, in an odd way, were comforting because you knew where everyone else was while being far away. 

While waiting for the fish, you started talking about school and dances- anything to keep your mind busy. 

“So, after my mom curled my hair and did my makeup, she left me to get my dress on. You remember the one purple one with the ruffles.” 

“Sophmore year homecoming, right?” Shauna asks as she points to you, trying to remember. 

“Yeah, that one. I don’t know if I have ever told you, but the zipper popped open when I put on the dress.” You said with a smile hurting your cheeks as you laughed loudly from your gut at your story. It used to make you cry thinking about that time, but now it is funny. Shauna bubbled in laughter beside you as you continued, “She was yelling at me, crying and sobbing, that I was going to that dance whether I liked it or not. She just started sewing me into the dress.” 

“No fucking way your mom sewed you into a dress!” Shauna laughed with you as she grabbed your arm. Her eyes water with tears as she laughs with you. 

“No, she did! It was the last time I ever got anything from Macy’s.” You giggle as you glance back to the fishing line one more time. 

Shauna began to chuckle softly, her eyes crinkling slightly as she listened to your story. It made her miss everyday life before the crash. "God, homecoming. I wish we were back there instead of this," Shauna motioned to the wilderness around us with a sigh.

"Yeah, same. I would much rather be crying about being fat over this any day." You sign as you lean on Shauna’s shoulder. You try to keep the good vibes that were made, so you smile and nudge her, "But, hey, we have each other, and people are looking for us. They have to be."

Shauna smiled softly as you moved closer to her. She smiled at you, but inside, she wasn't sure if she believed you'd be found. But she didn't want to worry you. "Yeah, of course. Maybe we're already on the news," she added, attempting to sound optimistic.

"Oh yeah, I don't know how people haven't heard about us,” You said quickly after she finished because you believed you were headline news. “ All our families must be doing everything to find us, and they would have known as soon as the plane didn't land." You added a lump in your throat growing as you said families. You thought about your family's reaction and everyone’s family’s reaction to them being missing. You couldn't imagine the fear and worry they must be experiencing, not knowing where you all were. But you tried hard to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, needing to remain strong.

"I'm sure they're out there looking for us. They'll find us," she said, mostly trying to persuade herself and you. 

"They will, and all we have to do is wait until they do." You nudge her again and smile, saying, “Besides, we have good company.”

As you move your head back, you see the lure dramatically dunking into the water. You quickly grab your pole and start to reel in the fish. As ywou start to move, you can feel how heavy the fish is on the other end. 

“Whoa, oh my god, did you catch a fish?” Shauna asks in excitement as she sits up on her knees beside you and looks at the water. 

“Trying to!” You say back as you keep reeling in the fish. 

Suddenly, after struggling with the reel a little bit, you pull up two fish on one hook. You squeal in happiness as you quickly grab the two fish with pride. Shauna squeals with you as you hold the two big fish. 

You and Shauna hug each other happily as you hold the pole up, “Holy shit! Holy shit Shauna!” 

“They are fucking huge!” Shauna gushed as she grabbed one of the fish and immediately cringed at the feeling of the fish’s slimy-scaled skin. “Gross” 

“I know, right? Come on, let's get this back to the cabin before we get some more,” you say with a big smile. You feel relieved. You all will eat tonight and be full tonight. Your dad would be very proud of you. 

You walk back to the cabin in triumph as you laugh and talk with Shauna all the way up the trail. Before too long, you arrive at the cabin, and everyone starts to finish off firing the gun. 

Van's face brightens like a light bulb as she sees you two walk to the cabin with dinner: “Whoa! Look at you!” 

Everyone’s attention turns to you, and they cheer for you both on for the find. 

“You got a fish!” Jackie squealed as she sat up from her seat on the cabin steps. Mari came over and grabbed the fish with a big smile, holding the fish from the mouth with her finger. “No, they caught two fish!” Mari said back, she looked into its lifeless eye. 

“I didn’t do anything.” Shauna chuckled as you shook your head, wanting to share the praise with her. 

You roll your eyes and look back to Mari. You notice behind Mari that Natalie is looking at you with a serious face that you can’t place in your mind. You couldn’t tell if Natalie was angry, happy, or disgusted by the fish. 

“Yeah, the pole still works, thank god.” You chuckle as you put the pole on the wood seat you all have made around the fireplace. You add, “I think it’s a good sign we got two fish. Maybe it’s the woods telling us we’ll be okay until we’re found.” 

You look up to the group, and your eyes meet Lottie’s as if you were saying, “See, told you so” with your eyes. She warily smiles at you and looks down as you silently converse with just the context from earlier. 

“You are you trying to sound like Miss Cleo? Wanna read my future?” Jackie jokes and snickers at your comments, dismissing them as stupid. You chuckle and shake your head, “No, Jackie, I’m being hopeful! I can overread a thing or two.” You say as you push her shoulder; she looks at you and chuckles. 

You and Mari let the fish rest on the cabin table before you descaled them for dinner tonight. There was more than enough for everyone to eat, and it made you feel so proud to be able to provide dinner for everyone. And because you were going to wait anyway, you both put a bowl on top of the fish to keep it fresh until you return from everyone testing out shooting on cans. 

You didn’t care much for the gun or the loud noise of it going off, it unsettled you deeply. It made you feel uncomfortable and cringe at the ringing in your ears. 

Lottie and Van placed the old cans on a log infront of the group, quickly retreating into the brush of the woods. With your arms crossed, you lean against a tree, waiting for everyone to finish practicing there. 

“Team, this is how this will go down—one final round for all the marbles. You got five targets, five shots each. Mari, can you start us off?’ 

“Um, just a thought. Shouldn’t we be saving bullets, you know?” Laura Lee added with concern in her voice. 

“Uh, yeah, in theory, but lucky for us, the nutjob who lived here before was apparently hoarding for the apocalypse.” Couch Ben reassured as best he could. You could tell he didn’t want to be here, but he was putting up as much of a front as he could.

Mari fires a shot at the cans. You quickly cover your ears as you cringe at the boom. She missed the can, and you recoil before she goes again. 

“The cans,” Travis mocks as he looks at her with narrowed, judgemental eyes. You couldn’t stand him in any way lately. His mere voice made you wish it was a gunshot. “You’re-You’re aiming for the cans.” 

“Shut up,” Mari snapped at him as she cocks the gun, still holding it to the cans. 

“Do you like being this way?” Natalie says to Travis, her eyes slowly rolling to him in annoyance. Waiting for the gunshot, you haven’t moved your hands from your ears. 

“If you shit the bed again, you gonna ask for another do-over?” 

Natalie shakes her head at him quietly as you glare at him. You just want him to shut up with his edgy and macho persona so everyone can get on with this stupid practice. You added, “You don’t ask for a do-over, you just clean your fucking bed, we are shooting cans, idiot.” 

Your hands aren’t as firmly over your ears as Mari fires again. You flinch again as you cover them. Your eyes locked in a broad expression as you looked at the cans; the startling way the sound ripped through you, made you freeze like a deer in the woods, hoping the bullet wasn’t for them. 

And she fires again quickly, this time hitting a can. You smile and nod at her, keeping your hands over your ears. You now see the eyes on you as you react to the sounds. You feel a blush over your body as embarrassment comes over you, but you can’t bring yourself to pull your hands down. “Hey. All right.” Couch Ben says calmly but clearly happy she finally hit a can. “Good job, Mari.”  Everyone slowly claps for her. She smiles, and as she walks back to Akilah, she thrusts the Gun into Travis’s hands. 

Travis immediately starts preparing to shoot at the cans, and he hits four cans until he misses his first. 

“So close, flex.” Natalie teased him from behind. You looked at her with a snicker at her comment. 

Suddenly, Travis turns around with the gun ready in his hand, and he aims it at Natalie’s face. “Don’t fucking call me that!”

“Whoa!” You gasp as you step closer to Natalie out of instinct to protect your friend, your eyes as wide as saucers. 

“Travis! Put the gun down.” Couch Ben shouts demands at him, His eyes wide with panic because he can’t stand and take it away from him. 

You don’t even think as you yell, “Put the fucking gun down, Travis! What the fuck are you doing?” 

He then turns around and shoots at the cans after an intense silence. You cringe again at the sound of his gun. 

“All right, that’s, uh-yeah, that’s good shooting, Martinez. Don’t ever do that again.” Couch Ben says awkwardly as everyone quietly watches on with tension in their shoulders. You felt yourself seething with anger bubbling in your stomach. 

“Don’t choke. Again.” He says to Natalie with an antagonistic glare. 

He then backs away and stands near you. You look at him with disgust as you spit at his feet, “Stand away from me, asshole.” You hiss at him.

He looks at you in surprise that you are still so angry at him that you just keep your mean mug on him, and he steps away. He was surprised at your sudden outburst, as did everyone behind you because you were known for being overly friendly, but you ensured he knew not to be near you. 

You look at Natalie and nod, “You got this, girl.” you say. You cover your ears quickly before she does anything else.

Natalie looks at Travis with the same intensity as you and takes a smooth, deep breath. She then puts the gun to her shoulder and hits each can without hesitation. One by One, they drop to the forest floor. She then smiles slowly as she finishes. Everyone cheers and applauds her for showing Travis up.

You snicker as you look at her. Natalie moves her head towards you first. Meeting your eyes with happy eyes and a big smile, she looks at you quickly over and looks away to the other. You blush quickly, trying not to overthink about her looking for your approval first and your praise, and you don’t think much about her looking you over. She sure wasn’t checking you out. 

After the gun practice, everyone searched for berries and mushrooms in the woods. Travis left to the cabin with his tail tucked between his legs after you kept telling him to go away. He left after you said that you don’t trust him and no one should because he acts like a brat. He looked hurt and looked around at the other girls with eyes that screamed he regretted what he did with the gun, but no one had his back. He just stepped back, and you shook your head as you turned to the others. 

“Are any of these, like, Maple syrup trees?” Laura Lee asks as she looks up at the tall sycamore tree.

“What?” Tai questions as she walks behind her, towards the clearing a few feet away. 

“I don’t know,” Laura Lee mumbled as she walked away. She softly touched your shoulder as she walked by, needing you to stabilize her from the trail's incline. 

You found some chestnuts on the ground. They were fresh and not ready yet, and you put them in your pocket as you heard Akilah smack Misty’s hand. 

“Don’t eat that kind,” Akilah panicked as she pushed the mushroom in Misty’s hand on the forest floor. “It’s poisonous.” 

Misty looks at her with big eyes and a little shaky hands. 

Van says, sarcastically, “Like “Kill you” poisonous, or like, “trip your balls off” poisonous?”

“What? I don’t know. My Girl Scout leader didn’t get all that specific about it.” 

” (y/n)?” Taissa asks as she kneels to the ground with Mari.

You look over to Taissa, looking at tiny button-like mushrooms that grow from decaying animals. 

“Don’t eat that one either. That's a dead mushroom. It is too new to eat if we could eat it. It would be like eating rotting meat. Don’t even touch.” You say as you look for more nuts on the forest ground. “Try to look for nuts. They are on the ground. If it has a hole, just drop it for the animals.” 

“Well, could you just show us something edible so we can get going?” Misty asks kindly, impatiently—this is the first time you have heard her sound like that. 

Taissa looks behind her to Misty, rising to stand over her, “What’s the big furry?” 

“Coach needs a sponge bath?” Van teases Misty with a smirk, and you feel one grow on your lips at the joke, too. Everyone pauses to look at Misty, animals looking down at the runt. As a snicker comes to their lips, Taissa fully laughs, covering her mouth. 

“That’s-That’s so mean.” Taissa laughs as she looks to the ground. Everyone softly holds their laughs as Misty storms off. Van laughs as Misty rushes past and giggles out, “I’m sorry. Whatever.” 

Van puts her arm around Taissa’s shoulders, and you look at them. Jealousy courses through you. Why couldn’t you have someone like they do? 

“Get off me!” Taissa patted Van’s arm away. In response, Van smears a smash berry she hid on her finger on Taissa’s face. “Did you put a berry on me?”

“I did.” Van said, taking her arm off her, and moved herself towards you. 

“Okay, so, everyone, we just need to focus. We know we can’t touch those and those ones.” Taissa spoke to the group, trying to lead them back on track,

“No mushrooms, No mushrooms.” Van says as she starts to look up the trees for the chestnuts. 

“Uh, Guys…” Jackie called out from a few yards away. You all moved quickly to her voice out of concern that she had encountered a wild animal in the woods.

 “Jackie? “What is it?” you called back as you rushed to her. 

“Guys, come here!” Jackie laughed.

“Look! Holy Shit!” Jackie exclaimed. You come over some trees and bushes to see Jackie slapping the door of a small personal plane that has vines and moss growing on it. The woods themselves are almost swallowing it, as it has had overgrowth for at least a decade, only covering and trapping it in place.

“W-what is this doing here?” Van asks in disbelief. 

“It must have been the dead guy’s.” Jackie says as she looks at the wheels being stuck in the mud. 

Laura Lee quickly finds the door and opens it, “I wonder if It still works?” Laura Lee questioned to no one in particular. 

Van gently spins the propeller, “Holy fuck!” 

Laura Lee is inside the plane, messing around loudly. You don’t want to get near that thing. You never want to be near a plane again. You stand away as you watch them touch the plane in excitement, everyone else coming closer to the plane.

Suddenly, as your anxieties manifested themselves to life, the plane started from Van’s spinning the propeller and Laura Lee messing around inside. The engine started with a startling rattle as it crept forward. 

“Holy shit.” Van says as she steps back in shock. Jackie is wholly frozen until she suddenly pushes Van out of the way of the plane. 

“Back away! What the fuck?” Jackie says as she is frozen in place.

“Stop the fucking plane!” You scream out to the plane. You feel yourself planted to the ground. You didn’t even react when Van fell to the ground. Everyone yells to stop the plane, and Laura Lee panics inside the plane, crying out, “I’m trying! I’m trying!” 

The plane stopped just in time to avoid harming Jackie. She looked at the plane with buggy, big eyes and took a deep breath of relief. 

Everyone pauses after the intense change of events. You stand frozen in silence as you look down at the wheels and wings. You had an intrusive thought creep into your mind, but you quieted quickly before speaking it out. 

Lottie looks on, almost disassociated, as she says, “It didn’t want him to leave.” 

You turn your head to her and look at her deeply concernedly. She says what you had thought. Maybe the wilderness didn’t want the mummy to leave. That's why he did what he did in the attic and why the air was so suffocating. 

‘21

You giggle at Misty’s goofy joke about old men as you try not to spit out the chocolate martini in your mouth. Earlier today, Misty called you to ask how you were doing after the road trip because she thought the air between you and Natalie was off. She just wanted to check up. It ended up with you sitting across from her at an Italian restaurant. 

“Yeah, so I just turned off the oxygen tank.” She says to add on to the joke, which kind of makes you laugh harder because you can see her doing that. 

“Stop, you didn’t!” You giggle again as you try to hide your face with a napkin; your face is red hot. 

“I didn’t-” Misty laughs with you as she sips on her chocolate martini. She says, “I wouldn’t do that to anyone.” 

“No, you wouldn’t.” You say it with some sternness from Misty’s character. You make her feel more supported if you sometimes reaffirm what she wants to be seen as. You see her in that way. No one likes to be told who they are. 

You notice her laugh, look slightly behind you briefly, and note it. 

“Well, So, How is your work? Any new boos” Misty asks as she takes another sip of her martini. You feel yourself smile at the question and know she asks for more profound reasons. 

“No, no, nothing special about work. And just little flings here and there. Keep the bed warm,” you say as you look at Misty’s eyes intently. You feel a little tense when you ask, “And you? How is it going with Kevin?” You ask with a soft joke about the last time you saw each other. 

Misty became slightly flustered momentarily and shook her head, “I was trying to get Natalie out of her comfort zone.” Looking behind you again, she says, “But more or less the same. No one special enough to say they dated Misty Quigley.” 

You chuckle and smile at Misty’s last comment, but you look behind you as soon as she finishes talking out of curiosity. You see behind a window of the inside of the restaurant. Dressed up nice, Misty is holding her head on her fist, listening to the man across from her, Natalie. Misty is following Natalie. 

“Misty-”

“I can explain!” Misty says as she blabbers on, “I was trying to keep an eye on her and make sure she is okay after seeing Travis because she might do something crazy or relapse.” 

You quietly listen to Misty explain herself with a soft smile as you scoff softly, pulling out your phone, “And here I thought you wanted to spend time with little old me.” 

Misty squeals, “I did want to see you. I wanted to get a drink.” 

“It’s okay.” You chuckle softly and say, “Sometimes you trade friends out for a night out. It’s alright, girl.” 

Suddenly, Misty straightens her back and smiles softly. She lifts her drink to her lips as Natalie rushes to your table. You lean back on your chair with wide eyes, holding your chocolate martini. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Natalie hissed to Misty, standing in a black dress. She was clearly on a fate tonight, and you couldn’t help but feel a mumbling jealousy in your stomach as you looked at her.  

“Okay, so, don’t look now, but,” Misty lowers her voice to a whisper and says, “that reporter, Jessica Roberts, is sitting at the bar right now. She’s watching you.” 

“And what are you doing?” Natalie tilted her head to the side as she looked at Misty with suspicious eyes, her tone clear of annoyance. 

“I’m having your back.” Misty stated. 

“Y-you’re having my…” Natalie is in disbelief. “How did you even know I was even here?” 

“I’m a citizen detective, " Misty said, looking at Natalie with big, innocent eyes. 

“I hate to break it to you, but we’re not Rizzoli and Isles. I don’t need you.” 

“Yeah, but, Natalie-” 

“Go the fuck home.” Natalie spat. 

“Alright, you need to stop talking to Misty like that-” You finally cut yourself into the conversation.

“Who are you speaking to?” Natalie snapped her head to you and said, “I expect this from Misty, but you? I don’t understand why you are here.” 

“I’m here, having a drink with Misty. I saw her at her job, and we decided to get drinks.” 

“Oh please, you came here to spy on me! How fucking pathetic. Don’t you have to write a book about rubbing off a genie?” She hissed at you and looked daggers into you. She went too far in your eyes now, and you lean on your elbow on the table as you look back into her eyes. 

“Oh, aren’t you so strong and high mighty?” You hiss lowly to Natalie. Ever since the night in the woods with Natalie, you have had difficulty holding back your teeth when you feel cornered, even a little. “Misty is here protecting you and having your back like always. Because Jessica,” You point to the bar, Jessica looking to the bartender to order another drink, “Is here waiting for you to relapse to spill the beans about it. Stop biting at people trying to be there for you; you might not be so alone. Now go drink, and go on your date with goth freak Kevin Tang.” You cut coldly as you look into Natalie’s blue eyes. You grab your drink, lean back in your chair, take a sip.

“Make sure you don’t go too far. You might need to get another one of your coins, right? What does that make it 9 times you have gotten a sobriety coin?” you stab at her and mention her many times in AA. You didn’t care how hurtful or unnecessary your anger was to her. You must say it to her, and she needed to hear it. She needed to back off Misty. 

It was intense, and it was real. 

You didn’t need to bite so hard. But she didn’t need to bite first.

You two hold a glare as Natalie steps back and scowls at you. She doesn’t say a word. You know why. 

It’s because you are right.   

You feel Misty touching your hand and saying, “Are you alright? That was pretty harsh.” Once, Natalie returned to her table with a perfect smile mask. 

“I’m alright. But I think we should go now.” You say softly as you touch Misty’s hand back, 

Misty holds your hand with a squeeze quickly. She wants to hold you. You have protected her yet again from the wolves in the group. 

You both held the heavy silence as you softly panted a bit.  You felt it in the car; it was surrounding and whole. You were happy and open, as always. 

In the car, you look over to Misty, noticing the flustered face she holds. She was always awkward, but you always found her adoring. As you both drive down to your home, the trees that pass hypnotize you into a calm place. You feel your body, and with each breath you take, cold air enters your nose, and an image of last night's dream comes to your mind. Running past trees, you felt as if you were back there somehow. Maybe it was because of the anniversary, the reporter, or Travis’s death; you couldn’t pinpoint it, but you felt a forgotten hunger you hadn’t felt in a long time. You let it take over like it did them because of the exciting thrill of it all again. It felt youthful and intense. 

“Misty.” 

“Yes?” 

“Do you miss me?” You ask her as you softly touch a lint off her shoulder.

“W-what do you mean? I have been with you for the past two hours.” She says as she drives down your street. 

“No. No, Misty.” You chuckle, and the hunger comes over you. You want to feel warm; you have been far too cold lately. “Have you missed me and the warmth we shared?”

You don’t understand yourself. You sound like you did all those years ago in the woods. How sexual you became without trying. It felt like the air around us darkened into lustful wants and licks. How natural you were with your body. 

Misty was caught off guard by how quickly your words changed the car's atmosphere. The memories of the wilderness and how you looked her over suddenly brought back feelings that she thought were long gone. Misty’s throat tightened, and her heart quickened as she glanced over at you, taking in the expression on your face as you asked her the question. She slowly parked the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel tight “Y-yeah, I did…”

Your hand snakes onto Misty’s inner thigh, and your thumb rubs the fabric of her jeans. Your eyes stare down at your hand. 

“Would you like to feel my heat again?” you whisper, feeling your hot breath hitting off her cheek. You don’t understand the tingling and desperatiness your cunt feels at this moment. You shouldn’t have touched her, spoken to her, or even considered thinking about her. You knew better than to let yourself cave into your primal instincts, instincts you have because of the wilderness with them. All the hurt in the woods manifested into want as it always did.   

Misty’s breath hitches at the feeling of your hand on her thigh, and her heartbeat quickens in her chest as her skin tingles under your touch. It's almost as if no time has passed at all. Your words and desperate tone send a shiver down her spine as she glances over at you, her eyes darkening with lust and need. “Yes… please.” She whispered back, her voice filled with want. Your hand moves up her thigh and softly rubs the fabric at the crotch of her jeans. You could feel her heat underneath. 

You lunged at Misty, cupping her cheeks with your hands. You pulled her into your face and kissed her. Your lips met and mashed together as your hands moved closer to her, pushing her back against the driver’s side door. Thank God you live on a dirt road. 

Misty lets a small gasp into the kiss as your hand moves up her thigh. Her body already feels as if it's on fire. She responds to the kiss passionately, her desire for you growing with each passing second. She reaches up and grips your hair, pulling you closer as she deepens the kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth with desperate need.

(y/n) hands quickly work to unbutton Misty's jeans. You move your kisses off Misty's lips to her jaw and neck. Misty lets out a small moan as your lips move down her jaw. She leans her head back and closes her eyes, surrendering herself to the feel of your lips on her skin. The feel of your tongue moving down her neck, sending small licks and nips here and there, makes her shiver in pleasure. You softly growl in lust as you start to pull the jeans and underwear down her pale legs, your thumb touching the bare skin. She spreads her legs farther apart, allowing you to pull her jeans and underwear down, her breathing getting more labored with each passing second. 

You quickly push your two fingers inside of Misty’s weeping cunt, and she dramatically moves her leg to the center console for you to have more of her. You move her head from her neck and just look at her as you push inside of her, a gasp rattling the car escapes from her. 

You look into her brown eyes for a moment as you see when pleasure takes over her being as you feel her walls tighten around your fingers. You feel her pink, wet hole flex and twitch to your fingers; it feels like she hasn’t had sex in a long time as you start to pump your fingers into her. 

Her hand locks into your hair, or more so your head, as she rubs her other hand on your shoulder. She softly pushes you down to her cunt as she rolls her head back in a deep moan. You feel the vibration on the pads of your pointer and middle fingers. You feel the hotness of her cunt as you lean down, her musk clouding your judgment and making you think of only one thing. 

You lean down, pushing your body to the floor of the passenger’s seat, licking her cunt. You taste her flavor and wetness leaking from her clit. You circle your tongue around the bulb with reckless abandon. You feel her gushing onto your fingers, and her loud moans only encourage you to go harder. 

“(y-y/n)! Honey- right there, yeah!” Misty’s needy, desperate moans fill the car up with hot air. Her legs shake as she rolls her eyes.  She panted like an animal as you tongue into her, sucking up all her wetness as you could. You felt throbbing in your wrist as you curled your fingers up to touch her soft spot. You could have been here for days and not cared. 

Misty grabs her breast as she arches her back to your mouth. She moaned louder and louder to tell you she was going to cum, but you didn’t care. You kept licking and sucking her juices. 

“Sweet Jesus!” Misty whispers to the air as she feels you fuck her harder with your mouth. She finally lets out a high-pitched, needy groan as her feet curl, legs twitching. Her eyes closed as her head hit the glass of her door, and she leaned back to relish in the feeling. You bury yourself in her folds, looking up from her lap, and watch as she shivers, as your tongue doesn’t stop. 

You move your mouth up to her clit again and your fingers into her hole, pounding her with an elemental need to feel your fingers caress her cervix. You don’t move again. You don’t care how uncomfortable it felt as your legs were pinched into the floor, or how the cupholder stabbed into your rib, or that your neck was throbbing so that you could hear your heartbeat. You wanted her, and you wanted to feel her ultimately come undone to your fingers again.

‘96 

The clattering of some forks and spoons scrap across the plates, people talking over everyone else, and the heat of the fire warm the cabin’s first floor. Everyone was in a better mood after shooting practice and settling for the night. Travis sits alone in the corner of the room, rejected by everyone tonight as punishment. You felt yourself thinking about him being sad and alone in the corner. “Good.” 

Jackie and Shauna sit beside you at the table, your attention entirely on them and their discussion about how Pamala Anderson’s sex tape scandal. 

“I mean, she shouldn’t have been a slut and done it, is all I have to say.” Jackie shrugged and took a bite of the white fish, and her face cringed when she pulled out a small bone. 

“No!” You say with a chuckle and shake of your head, “Someone shouldn’t have robbed their safe and sold the sex tape.” 

“She shouldn’t have even done it. Like, who just does a porno if they are not a slut?” 

“She was with her husband. Who else are you supposed to have a sex tape with?” Shauna asked as she shook her head at Jackie.

“No one! No one should ever do a porn! It's so degrading.”  

“I don’t know, I don’t know how someone would want to make one, but she wasn’t with a whole lot of guys.  She’s married to Tommy Lee. And it was supposed to be his thing for tour.”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t think a Mötley Crüe member would have a sex tape? I wouldn’t be surprised if they taped the many other women they have fucked,” You say as you delightfully eat the fish. It was fresh and delicious after days of only eating berries and leftover snacks you could find from the crash. You are having meat, and it feels like a real treat as you haven’t tasted anything as delicious in weeks. 

Before you could continue, Van touched your shoulder as you looked at Jackie. You turned to her as she said, “Hey, do you have a sweater I can burrow? I don’t think anyone else has anything I can wear.” 

You smiled big at Vanessa, nodding your head, and stood up. “Yeah, I have a few.” 

“Where are you going?” Jackie asks sassily as you get up. She tilts her eyes at you. 

Shauna looks up at you and is slightly confused, but she also asks, “Are you coming back?” 

“Yeah, just getting something for Van, hold up.” You say as you start to walk away. 

“Thanks, (y/n). You're a lifesaver.” Van beams as her smile moves with you. You touch her shoulder as you walk past her, and you walk over to the other side of the cabin to the bags. 

You were one of the lucky ones that found all your luggage. You had your carry-on, luggage, and purse still intact and untouched from the fire. You were so happy to have your journal and book you haven’t finished, but you felt bad for everyone still looking for their things. Van could only find her carry-on; some didn’t have anything they packed. You all carried every bag you could find, but some still had missing clothes. Because of that, Van has been coming to you to burrow clothes as the only other heavy girl much smaller than you, so you let her burrow your shirts and hoodies since the crash.

 A small sandwich bag falls to the floor as you open the bag and grab the heavy yellowjackets sweatshirt. It was your stash of weed with the rolling papers and filters. You blush as you quickly grab the bag from the ground and put it into your jeans pocket. You look behind you to see if anyone has seen that, with embarrassment painted all over your face.

You walk back over to Van and hand her the hoodie. You smile widely as you sit down. You didn’t want everyone to know you had weed, but you think that tonight would be the best night to do anything. You smile as you whisper into Jackie’s ear, “I have weed.” 

She stops eating instantly, and her eyes bug out. She looks over at you and laughs, “What?” 

You hit her shoulder softly as she laughs again, “You have what?” 

“What?” Shauna asks, besides Jackie, and when you two make eye contact, it makes you laugh. 

You whisper in Jackie’s ear again. “I have weed. Would we like a joint?” Jackie laughs and hits you on the shoulder, her mouth wide open in shock and amusement. She nods her head and whispers to Shauna, and you turn your head to Van, “Hey, I have a joint-” 

“What?” Van asks as she leans her ear towards your lips. Your lips accidentally graze her ear, and you say, “I have a joint. Tell the other seniors. Don’t be suspicious; don’t tell the underclassmen.” 

Van smirk grew wide on her freckled face as she nods her head, she says. “Okay, I’ll let them know. When are we doing this?” 

“When everyone is asleep, " you tell her, knowing that if anyone overhears you, they will not understand what you are discussing. 

 You light the joint with a twig, puffing the air out of the end of the filter. You hear muffled giggles from Jackie and Shauna beside you. " Stop laughing,” you snicker back and pull the joint from your lips. You pull Shauna and Jackie to the back of the cabin and show them the weed you packed on the plane. You all decide to roll one out. 

“Didn’t know you would have the good stuff,” Jackie smirks with an amused laugh in her voice. She takes a puff and hands it to Shauna with a muffled cough. 

Shauna laughs softly as she also smokes and coughs in response to inhaling the smoke. She covers her mouth with her elbow, and you laugh at her. 

Van moves behind the cabin's hunter shed, and Taissa, Natalie, and Lottie follow her. 

“Hey!" you say to them as you take a hit of the joint and blow the smoke quickly.

Natalie says to you, “Damn, (y/n). Didn’t know you were such a criminal. Hand that over to me.”

You giggle happily as you hand it over to Natalie. You look up at her from your spot on the log. She looks down at you with heavy eyes as she takes a hit. She slowly looks over your face again before handing it over to Van. You felt a blush come over you again as you felt her eyes scan over your features, and you didn’t know what to do. You felt insecure and flattered at the attention but still deeply hesitated to meet her eyes. 

Natalie, who never passes up a joint, reaches out her hand to take it from you while Taissa eyes it. Lottie looks at the joint and then at you with a tiny bit of concern; the others knew she’d probably be the one most concerned about the joint.

“Where’d you get that from?” Nat asks as she inhales the joint.

You felt yourself joke, “Where do you think I got weed from?’ 

“I don’t know. A drug dealer.” Van jokes to you with a scrunch of her freckled nose. 

“Sort of. My mom is the one who has the weed. She has a weed card since she got diagnosed with cancer.” You said without realizing the words from your throat. You hadn’t thought about your mom almost all day, “She grows some behind our house in the woods, Natalie,” You point at her jokingly, “Don’t get any ideas. You have to buy that shit.” 

Everyone laughs loudly at your joke. Lottie takes the joint and smiles, holding the smoke in her mouth. You look at your feet, and suddenly, your mother comes to mind. You think about your mom, and a lump grows in your throat. Did she take her night medicine? Is she watching Frasier? Is she worrying about you?  

From the side of the shed, there is a crunch of leaves and twigs, and a petite figure comes from behind the shed. Natalie turns herself and turns back to face you. She gives you a face of “fuck it's her again.” 

Misty comes from the shed, pushing a curl behind her ear as she looks at the group. You smile at her as Jackie rolls her eyes, smoking the joint beside you. 

“Hey Misty! What are you doing here?” 

“H-hi. I was going to the bathroom. What are you guys doing?” she asks nervously as she approaches the group. 

“Drugs.” Lottie says as she looks at Misty with a humorous tone. 

You laugh as you take the joint from Jackie and wave your hand to Misty to enter the circle, “Come closer, it’s okay; it’s legal here.” You joke, and it makes everyone laugh with bloodshot eyes. Misty chuckles and looks around at everyone in approval. Sometimes, it was painful to see her so desperate for some kind of friendship that it made you feel bad, so in your intoxicated state, you pulled your hand out for her, “You can try it if you want to, Misty. Sit.” 

Misty’s eyes looked wide as everyone turned their head towards you as you invited her into the smoke circle, but no one stopped you. They seemed also to want to see what Misty does. 

“I-I can? Is it safe?” she asks as she approaches the log beside you. 

Jackie snickered and looked at Misty with narrow eyes, “No, that’s why we are all smoking on it.” She condescended. 

You shake your head and take Misty’s hand. “Ignore her. Just don’t take a huge hit. You gotta get used to it, then you’ll want more,” You told Misty gently. You puff the joint before it goes out in the wind. Your body is starting to relax and calm in the woods, and your neck doesn’t hurt as much as it did earlier. 

You hand Misty the joint, and everyone watching the scene plays out with amused eyes. You gently hold your hand over hers to guide her. “Have you ever smoked a cigarette?” 

“No, they’re bad for you.” 

You chuckle and nod, “Yes, but they are just like weed. You take small inhales, not like you're trying to breathe it in, but sip on a drink with a straw, okay? Baby puff.” You say, pulling the joint back to your lips and showing her. 

Your lips wrap around the filter softly as you take a quarter breath in. You then dramatically hold it out and show that you take the rest of the breath through your mouth. You hold the smoke in for a moment and then let it out for her to understand. “You get it now?” you cough. 

“I-I think.” she says as she takes the joint from you, holding it between shaky fingers. She takes a puff and then starts coughing furiously. Natalie took the joint from Misty’s shaking hand before it fell to the ground, she takes a puff inbetween her laughs. 

Misty holds her fist to her lips as she tries to get all the smoke out of her lungs. Everyone laughs happily and claps for her when she does it, enjoying seeing Misty try something for the first time. You put your hand on her back to pat it gently. She seems to relax at your touch momentarily before finally getting her coughing under control.

“You finally tried marijuana for the first time!” You exclaim and rub a circle on Misty’s back, her cheeks crimson. 

“It was amazing,” Misty breathlessly says as she looks at everyone else. Everyone is very high now, and their eyes are bloodshot and dry. You smack your lips, longing for a drink. 

“Misty, have you ever drank?” Lottie asks as she sits with her knees to her chest. She tilts her head to the sides and watches Misty’s facial expressions. You didn’t understand the feeling you felt from her eyes. It felt almost like she was studying and calculating Misty. You have never seen that look on someone. 

Misty studders and says, “Y-Yeah, I have. I stole some sherry from my mother’s cabinet.” 

Van laughs a little “whoa” out as a joke about how mild Misty’s confession was, the smoke of the joint coming out of her mouth like the hot breath of a hunger wolf, and she says, “I’ve done crazier.” 

Taissa looks at Van with a playful glare and says, “Like what?” 

“I stole a whole bottle fo whiskey from my mom. And she didn’t even find out. She didn’t even realize she didn’t drink it, so she just got more for herself.” Van confesses with a smug smirk on her face, and Natalie chuckles and nods her head like she’s done that before to her mom. You felt a little wrong about what Van said because it made you feel like her mom had a nasty drinking problem. 

“I did that before with my mom’s cigarettes.” Natalie says, “They never notice if you just take a few here and there.” 

Jackie smirked and said, “I know every one of my mom's pills in the bathroom cabinet. I took a few for the trip. She’s never caught me before.” 

“My dad is very strict with those things. I don’t think I can do anything without my parents knowing,” Lottie said, looking to the ground with a severe expression. You couldn’t put your finger on it, it her confession felt like it had a little more then she was letting on. Lately she has been off and talking more vague about things, and confessing more things about her life. Lottie’s parents were strict but the more you hear about them it sounds like they hover over Lottie’s every move.  

“My mom just grows the shit, and I just take it.” You blurt out with your words softly slurring because you are high, and you realize you talked about your mom again. Was she okay? 

Everyone laughs at how you talk and starts to laugh at their words sounding like yours—slurred and funny to hear. 

You felt a sudden wave come over you as you laughed with your friends. It felt good—maybe too good—so good that it made you think about your mother. Was she okay? Did she get her pills on time? Did she bathe? Did she go to chemo?

In your laughter, your laughs turn to sobs in a second. You cover your mouth as heavy sobs leave your throat. You couldn’t help yourself. You couldn’t stop yourself. 

Everyone slowly realized that your sounds weren’t in glee anymore; they were out of sorrow and a moment of weakness. 

When you look, you see brown eyes, concerns, and worry on all the faces. You let out one thing that you knew was going to hurt them. Your body didn’t stop itself from letting out deep-seated sorrow. 

“I’m sorry. I really miss my parents and momm- mom so much.” You whimpered as you wiped your tears. You had a full belly and a fire keeping you warm. But inside, you have never been so cold and helpless in these woods. 

Everyone’s faces soften and twist in their sadness. We all know what we are feeling, and they also start tearing up. Everyone missed their parents, and you felt like an asshole even saying anything. 

You sniffle and try to stop your tears. Being strong has worn you down, but you have a “strong shoulder.” Like your father always said, you can handle the hurt. 

You say to everyone, “I think we all need some love right now. Group hug. Please.” Standing up, throwing the dying joint into the fire, moving your plush arms around to urge them to you.  

One by one, they stood, hovered over you, and hugged you and each other—a moment of shared pain and joy. Being strong was hard, but as you felt them hold you, you felt a second wind. You have to get yourself and the others out of here. Out of these fucking woods. 

Note 2: Sorry to anyone who wanted to be on the taglist and I couldn’t add you! I hope you still find this fic!

Taglist: @zhivaxo @h-doodles @homopheli @bigtimesalt8196 @juniperjean @scatorccioz @juniperjean @yaakooi @lottieswebs @juchily @freezinggay @deathly710-blog @ghostoflesbianism @marvelous-wandanatangel @errriiie @anskkks @deathvidal @slutforhotpeople @thursdayygrrrl @day-ziez @evewasheretoday @mayasaurusss @captainbabybear @eleanormall @mommyeater2000 @leonchef @mikititta @tigersarrcool @nyasbae @dykepvppy @jax1118 @oakwave @mmiah @dvrkhcld @swiftin0f @opheliadeservedbetter-27 @psychicdreamwonderland @pinkmoonzzz @under-your-bed-not-in-it @sadsapphic-rose @fictitious-sapphic

[letoasai]

dp x dc

I’m usually more of a lurker in this fandom, you know? But this happened and it just needed to be written down. If someone wants to take the idea or continue it, go for it! Prompt - Consort

~~~ ~~~

Danny is told that while he is officially the Ghost King, there are a few last minute things to check off the list to keep the Observants from being able to mess with Danny's business. Clockwork even subtly confirms that this is something Danny should consider carefully. Being able to keep them in check is important.

 While not keen on a to-do list, Danny sighs and trusts that Clockwork is ultimately giving him less work.

He spends a few years doing odds and ends. Whatever task Clockwork mentions and it honestly suits Danny fine. It’s giving him time to grow into his position. It’s going well, that is until he learns that in his last task he has to consummate his newly acquired position in a very traditional way. With someone else...

That's bad enough, but it's thrown out to him that he must do this with one of his own kind. It's never been an issue before since The Ghost King is usually... a ghost and can pick whoever they want in the Zone.

Danny however is a halfa and because he's only one of three halfa's he's forced to pick between Vlad and Dani. A fruit loop and his clone/sister. The first is horrifying on many levels and the second is just plain unappealing. It's not happening, nope. 

It's practically a miracle that before Danny can completely fall into panic, Clockwork mentions the existence of a forth halfa. 

It doesn't matter who they are, it HAS to be better then his current options. That's how Danny ends up in Gotham.

~

"I can't believe you went without us." Sam complained. "We could have gone with you. What if you need help?" 

"I don't think Gotham is ready for ghost powers, Sam." Tucker commented. "Any trouble he runs into won't know what hit them." 

"Could you both stop wishing trouble on me?" Danny asked, he should have known he'd get ganged up on when he had them both on the phone at once. He was looking around and had noticed how he wasn't headed to the...best of neighborhoods. Had he not had ghost powers he might have turned right around. 

He'd gotten a fairly nice hotel room for the long weekend in a somewhat nice area. All of Gotham looked pretty damn bleak to him but at least he could easily survive in a place like this. There was so much ambient ectoplasm in the air that he was, frankly, surprised he hadn't spotted more ghosts. It was all to his benefit though. 

"Wishing?" Tucker chuckled, the sound of his keyboard clicking on the other side of the call. "It'll find you whether we wish it or not." 

"And then you'll be able to say you got to fight in Gotham." Sam lamented. 

"So this isn't about me not bringing you along to help me find this halfa, but because you just wanted to see this city in particular?" 

"Little bit." 

Tucker started laughing. "Damn, Sam. Nothing's stopping you from visiting." 

"There absolutely is." Sam grumbled. "Their names are Jeremy and Pam." "We're graduating soon, Sam." Danny commented. "After both your eighteen birthday and graduation you'll find your freedom." 

"And possibly your way out of their living will." Tucker commented, but Sam only snickered at the thought.

"That doesn't help me today. Danny's out in one of the coolest cities ever on a quest to get laid, and we’re stuck having a boring weekend." "Sam." Danny hissed as if someone else could have possibly over heard their conversation. This entire situation was beyond awkward. He didn't even know how to start. Hi, you're a halfa too? Wild? Wanna sleep with me so i can make sure my position isn't puppeteered?   "What? That's literally why you're there." Sam was back to being amused, conveniently forgetting for a second that she wasn't with him in Gotham. "You're not gonna seduce anyone with that attitude." "I'm not trying-!" "Aren't you supposed to be though?" She hummed. "Gotta put that charm to work, Phantom." "Oh shut up..." Danny grumbled. If this halfa immediately pegged him as king, would they feel obligated to sleep with him? Ugh, this was the worst. If the ghost he was tracking lived in this neighborhood then it was no wonder he was half dead... "I mean, the wording of this could mean anything." Tucker commented right as the clicking stopped. He'd shown his to-do list to Sam and Tucker ages ago, and this hurdle had always seemed so daunting. "Go forth and find what's just. A night of bliss and trust. A match for your soul in desire. A second coming to conspire." Tucker repeated the lines. "Man, someone did not take a poetry class." Danny just made a face, so sick of the instructions that even making fun of it didn't help anymore. "And you think that can mean anything?" Sam hummed quietly. "I guess you were told it was a basic innuendo so that's what you hear. It’s what we all heard." "Yeah, it doesn't say go fuck." Tucker said. "Could just mean you could hang out for a night and vibe. Video games. Take out." Danny made a face. "I can't see me doing that with Vlad either." "I should fucking hope not." He could practically see Sam's disgusted face. "Okay but that still doesn't make sense. I gotta hang out with another halfa? Why? Why would that block the Observants and their never ending input?" Danny wondered. "No idea." Tucker relented, "But it's worth a shot. right? You can always hang out first and see if it works. If it doesn't... well then you know what you gotta do." "Flirt. Bend over and show your butt. It's eye catching." "Sam..." Danny sighed, this was exhausting. She clucked her tongue. "It's good advice. Even Paulina did a double take last week." Danny just made an irritated sound in his throat, nearly tripping over a destroyed section of the side walk. All the businesses nearby had bars across their windows as extra security and more and more people seemed to loiter. "So glad that ship has sailed." Young crushes were painful. "It could also mean cuddling?" Tucker offered. "How'd you make that leap?" Sam asked. "Guys." Danny interrupted suddenly, his ghost sense chilling him. "I'll call you guys back. I might have tracked them down." "Don't forget!" Tucker said, tone only slightly accusatory. Sam just made a noise of agreement. "We'll want the whole play by play." "Well... maybe not the whole play by play." Tucker added, but Danny just hung up on them. His support system was filled with bullies. See if they got their Gotham tee-shirts now! Danny turned down an alleyway, not sure just yet what he was following but it felt fairly powerful. So far he'd seen mostly shades and remnants of what was. He was left to try to find this halfa the same way he had to track down Dani when looking for her, and that usually meant looking for a big source. When he took a turn and nearly walked right into an obvious drug deal, he inhaled sharply and turned invisible. The dealer had looked up at the sound but brushed it off a moment later when he didn't see anyone rounding the corner. Gotham was nuts but at least they weren't clowns. Deciding it really was within his best interest, Danny transformed completely, staying invisible for the time being as he followed his ghost sense through the scary part of town. Minutes felt like hours but he spotted a dude coming closer on a motorcycle and Danny's skin felt like it was vibrating. The halfa was a guy, okay. Danny could work with that, he really could. Even sitting on the bike, the guy looked a head taller than Danny. All the ghost powers in the world couldn't take away him inheriting his mothers build. For fucks sake, did he have to become evil to bulk up?! Danny flew closer, wanting to get a good look, only to have his vision impeded by a red helmet. When the bike swerved and the rider looked around around, likely sensing him, Danny backed off. His jaw was already hanging open in disbelief. Red Hood. That was Red Hood. Red Hood was a halfa?! Okay, he was the freaking Ghost King. When was that memo gonna land on his desk. Holy crap. Was he actually going to ask Red Hood to have sex ...er... platonically hang out with him? Danny's face was going to explode with heat. He flew away, watching him from the sky. Red Hood slowly brushed off whatever he had felt from Danny and rode on, making only a few more turns before stopping at an apartment building that Danny wouldn't have thought was still in use. This had secret lair written all over it. Danny followed, waited, watched. Of course he knew all about the vigilantes of Gotham but he hadn't really expected to run into any of them. Honestly, what were the odds? What did he do? Red Hood was technically a killer but he'd met more then one ghost who'd been avenged. It caused mixed feelings really. After two hours of nothing, a guy walked out of the same apartment. This time in street clothes. Same build, same height, same half energy. Crap. There goes that secret identity. Danny didn't know his name but he knew what he looked like. Dark hair, that curl of white in the front. Light eyes. Permanent looking frown and... Well now, Danny was frowning too. Something about his energy was off putting. Twisted. Wrong. Well... that would need to be looked into. From afar, Danny watched him go about his evening which involved stopping into those little stores and checking on people. Those people seemed to greet him with a friendly smile and know him somewhat well. Danny also got the impression that none of these people knew he was Red Hood, though he wasn't sure it would have mattered if they had. Red Hood was a crime lord but this was his territory... his haunt. Danny wasn't quite sure how this was both incredibly confusing while making all the sense in the world. He'd have an attitude too if his ectoplasm was all jacked up. What was he supposed to do? Suddenly if felt so presumptuous to show up at this guys doorstep to ask for such a favor from a stranger. He could leave and figure something else out, but the guy clearly needed help too. Maybe they could work out a trade or something. Danny felt torn about the whole damn thing and only decided to suck it up and act like an adult when his alternative was to call Jazz and ask for advice and he was not asking his sister about this. He flew ahead of the guy, making it back to his apartment first. He turned human again and sat on the stoop to wait for him. Internally he went over his lines in his head, what he would say, what parts he could leave out but all of that stopped when a shadow towered over him. The guy somehow seemed so much bigger in person. "You alright, kid?" he asked, there was the strange mix of concern and suspicion on his face. "There's housing up the street if you need someplace to go. They take anyone." "Oh uh..." His haunt had a place like that? Cool. So much for all those lines he’d been rehearsing. "I wanted to talk to you, actually. If you have a second?" He raised a brow but gestured to Danny with a nod to continue. Guess they were doing this out here then. "Okay, this is going to sound strange as hell but i've been looking for another halfa to help me with something. It's like.. a stupid huge favor and, fuck i hate even calling it a favor because that sounds weird. I also wanted to say up front that you can totally turn me down too, this isn't like, a demand or anything." Danny started talking, and couldn't seem to stop. His nerves were getting the better of him along side this guys emotions which were confused and itching with something aggravating. "It's not like i wrote this particular law either. I'm not even sure why i agreed to this shit but i've seen bad alternatives before a-" "What the fuck are you talking about, kid?" he interrupted. "Rude. I am actually eighteen." Danny grumbled. His eyes narrowed. Did he think he was lying about his age? "You sure about that?" "Yeah, my birthday is the same day every year." Danny deadpanned, almost getting a smile. "Let me start over, um, my name is Danny." he stood but didn't offer his hand because this guy didn't look like he'd take it. "And i've been looking for you." "Right i sorta got that, but why?" Danny could already feel his ears turning red. "Okay, hear me out because this sound fucking awful. I need to sleep with a halfa." Just rip that baid-aid off right?

Red Hood's frown was back full force. Guess he was still Red Hood since he didn't offer a name. "What the fuck is a halfa?" Danny short circuited. Was it possible this guy didn't know? "Okay." Danny said slowly. "Backing up and starting over again. Did you... You... You know you died once, right?" He scowled. "Yeah, i was there. How the fuck do you know that?" "Oh good, we don't gotta go back that far. Okay. Okay, so a halfa is someone that died. Like me." He gestured to himself. "Who came back. Someone who is half dead and half alive. There's only four of us. I have to sleep with one because of some political bullshit and i know how desperate that has to sound to you but i absolutely can not sleep with my sister or a fruit loop that wants to marry my mom." Red Hood stepped closer, a large hand wrapping around Danny’s bicep and pulling him along with him towards his door. It was opened long enough for the two of them to slip through and then shut and locked again. "Alright, lets unpack everything that just left your mouth and start to pick out the sane verses insane pieces." He said, somewhat exasperated. He was unhappy. Very unhappy. Danny had to hide a wince, guess Hood wasn’t ready to talk about his death. Jazz would be pissed, he needed to learn to be more sensitive about these things. "You're half dead?" "And so are you." Danny said. "Haven't you noticed any ghost abilities?" "Any what...?"  Distress. That was an odd reaction. Danny looked around, there wasn't much furniture but there was a couch and Danny made a show of going intangible and walking right through it. "Anything like that?" Red Hood was frowning. "No. Look. Half dead and half alive sounds more like a zombie to me. Where are you getting this ghost shit? How did you find me at all?" "Ghost sense." He scowled. "Of course." Danny sighed a little, biting his lip and brushing a piece of hair from his face. "Okay, this is my fault. I'm bad at explaining and i'm sorta having too many conversations at once. Lets start with you. You ever seen like.. glowy green sludge?" His scowl deepened, for a second there was true hatred etched into his face but it wasn't directed at Danny. The suspicion and distrust however were. "What do you have to do with the Lazarus Pit?" Danny blinked, it was evidently his turned to be confused. "The what?" "The green shit, kid. The Lazarus Pit. It's what did this shit to me. What drives me insane." Danny frowned. "The green sludge is ectoplasm, which we need. It shouldn't hurt you, but if it did...could explain why you feel so twisted up inside." He scoffed. "Twisted up, that's the kindest way anyone has ever put it. I don’t need someone elses insane ramblings on top of what i already got in my head. So if you're looking for a fuck, go somewhere else." "Okay." Danny muttered, he'd known that could be an option. "But would you let me see if i could straighten out to ectoplasm anyway? I think i can help at least a little and uh, i think your's is trying to eat away at your soul which is...bad?" Hood actually dropped onto the couch, looking beyond done with this day. "Do you think you there's anything i haven't tried?" "I bet you have." Danny said, stepping closer. "But my ectoplasm is healthy and isn't trying to eat me. You don't really have anything to lose, do you?" Trustme. Trustme.  His expression was nearly murderous and Danny could taste the rage. It seemed like he was having a hard time controlling it, and the more Danny looked, the more he was blaming the tainted ectoplasm. It even seemed to block some of the calm Danny was pushing towards him. "Kid, you have no idea what you're -" Danny stepped closer, hands on Red Hood's chest. He could feel the faint humming of a drowning core, trying to breath through the toxicity that had been forced into his body. Danny added his own ectoplasm to the mix, a sort of ghost transfusion. Ghost King privileges came with a wide aura and a lot of energy. There was a shudder, and the difference was almost instantaneous. The tainted ectoplasm had tried to rear up, tried to roll into rage and snowball but Danny just had more to work with. Danny didn't remember kneeling in front of his new acquaintance, or shutting his eyes, or shifting into his ghost form. He was however, aware of his core tuning into Red Hood's, trying to coax it to life...so to speak. He didn't know what it would have been like, a half ghost but confined only to his human side. Maybe if he'd never known any better it wouldn't have mattered to him but the thought of it now was suffocating,

There was a moment when Danny suddenly felt Hood’s confusion. It seems like he was finally picking up on Danny’s silent messages. 

"What did you do?" Red Hood asked, sounding tired, but far less hostile. "You made it quiet. You're also..glowing." Danny looked up at him with a nervous laugh. "Well, i did say i could fix it. This fix is kinda temporary but I know Frostbite can fix it for you permanently. I'll talk to him." He reached up and rubbed at his eyes, "...Thanks...." "No problem Hood." His eyes jerked up and Danny just smiled. "I won't tell anyone..." He hissed in soft irritation but it didn’t match his emotions. He was still riding the high of being in control of that rage. "So i did feel you following me earlier? I swear there was something around." Danny nodded once. "Had to be sure you were who i thought you were... and all..." Excuse. Excuse... Red Hood shook his head. "My name's Jason. I have a hundred questions minimum about this half ghost thing." "I could probably answer most of them?" Danny offered, realizing he was still on his knees in front of Jason and quickly getting up, a cold blush coloring his face as he shifted back into his human form.  Jason watched him, brow quirking again but he seemed so much more relaxed now that the tension was drained out of him and the taint to his ectoplasm was quiet. It almost made him seem a little younger too, not that Danny would have pegged him any older than early twenties, if that. Maybe he was still a teenager too. "Halfa's... You said there were four of us?" Jason asked cautiously. "Yeah." Danny sat on the other end of the couch. "My sister who is also my clone, and Vlad. Billionaire asshole who's a major creep." "Clone. You have an interesting life."   "That's a lot coming from Red Hood." Jason snorted. "Fair." he paused, proving he'd been listening to all the jumbled up words Danny had been spurting. "Why do you have to sleep with a halfa?" "Aah..." Danny's face went hot again. "So...i..." he paused. "Okay this all sounds bad. I defeated the Ghost King in combat, making me the new Ghost King." Jason brow arched again, "Kudos." "Thank you? Anyway... there's a lot of stupid... add on rules. I didn't make them. Hell i don't even know them all. Some ancient jerk just tells me one at a time. Usually with bad timing which is stupid because he basically is time." "And one of them is fucking?" "Ugh." Danny actually groaned, head falling into his hands. "Someone of my own kind and there's only us four..." he spoke into his hands. "Sucks." "Little bit, yeah." Danny looked up at him, hoping Jason wasn’t actually feeling any of Danny’s nerves or embarrassment. "My friend has a theory that it might not mean sex exactly and might be more of a proximity thing." Jason didn't look overly convinced. "And you decided to try that with some guy you don't know over your clone?" Danny blinked, brain crashing. If he could have just had a sleep over with Dani and avoided all of this... certain ghosts were going to get banished from the Infinite Realm. "Didn't think of that did you?" Jason snickered suddenly and Danny just groaned again. "No.... She's like my sister, i just completely wrote it off." He was going to die... again. This time of embarrassment. Jason laughed softly, the sound not used very often these days. "I mean, i guess i get that. Some times things are easier when you're family isn't involved." "You can say that again..." Danny muttered. Jason leaned back on his spot on the couch, watching Danny with something like amusement in his eyes. He was...so different without the tainted ectoplasm gnawing on his soul. He was finally relaxing. "Well, your Majesty. Would this get me a favor with the king?" Danny's blush stretched down his neck. "Don't call me that. It's too weird." "Nope." Jason was grinning now. "Too much fun. You are way too easy to fluster for a guy that just popped up to ask for sex." "That's not-...!..." Danny winced. "I mean you said no, so that's that." "Changing my mind." Jason said instead, attuned to Danny's look of surprise. Ah, fuck he was definitely able to read Danny now. "Besides. "I have a hundred questions, remember? I'm sure we can mange between rounds." "Rounds?" Danny mouthed the word but no sound came out. Okay, it wasn't a big deal if his heart stopped beating but he was pretty sure it just did. Yeah, it stopped. "O..okay." He attempted, but it just seemed to endear him more as Jason moved again, his time leaning closer. Okay, hot guy in his personal space, he could handle this. It was why he was here.   Jason tugged on Danny’s hair. “It changes. Black to white. That’s cool. Kinda wanna see it more.”

Okay, hot guy in his personal space, he could not handle this. “It uh..yeah. Does that. Alive verses dead i guess. I’ll show you once your ectoplasm is worked out. I don’t see why you wouldn’t gain abilities too once your core is sorted out.”  “You really love to say words without context, don’t you?” Jason said and his amusement was loud.  “I guess... i get ahead of myself.” Danny muttered, unable to make eye contact as Jason slid closer. This was not his first kiss. What was going on with him?  "It’s alright, i’m a quick learner. Besides, i really want to say thank you for you clearing my mind, even if it is temporary." Jason muttered. He’d been screaming for help but no one had ever heard him before.  "We will get that fixed." Danny promised, voice just as quiet. "First thing tomorrow, if you want." "Second thing." Jason said, reaching out to cup Danny's cheek this time before drawing him closer to kiss. Danny didn't think you could see stars in Gotham but he was sure seeing them now. ~~~~  ~~~~

I kinda wonder who’s going to tell Danny he just found a consort. My money’s on Frostbite....  ...As for who tell’s Jason?....That’s Dani barging in to meet her new brother in law  Hope you enjoyed this, feel free to add whatever you want.

Master List 

[damn-stark]

Chapter 15 I was born something

Chapter 15 of Moonlight

A/N- Soulmatism is both being called to power at the same time, one shrouded by darkness and the other illuminated by bright flames.

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy and sexual harassment, ser gwayne (not bad I just want to say he's in this chapter tehe) angst!!, fluff!!, SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- 2x05-and the very beginning of 2x06

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

He listened to your breaths as they came and went. They’re calm, and the most sweetest song.

Worry once plagued him, it clashed into him the moment he saw you falling under that fainting spell, he was lucky to have been so close otherwise, you would have hit the ground. Yet he didn't take that as a sign of luck at that moment. His worry brought out the worst of his anger he is willing to admit, but why shouldn’t he be upset?

He saw you fall, you could have been dying, and there’s nothing that he could’ve done to prevent death from taking you away from him, so all he knew how to be was desperate. There was no other emotion that would’ve felt right, not even as the maester was checking you.

Did it help in that situation? No, you would have told him that, his mother would have told him that, but he didn’t care, he was terrified until the exact moment the maester revealed you were with child with twins. He felt a bliss wash over him at that moment, like the sun breaking through dark clouds made by a raging storm.

Yet his worry was all but gone, it lingers even still, like sprinkling rain after the worst of the storm. He admires you as you sleep, he admires the way the sun kisses your soft skin making you illuminate even more divine than you already are. He takes note of the way your eyelashes kiss your skin, and the way your lips gently rest on each other. He could watch you for hours on end, his peace in the chaos of the world, his way of life; without you, life would be dull, lifeless, bleak, black and white, boring, and almost pointless.

How could other people find a way to love someone else? Sure he seeked company in someone, it’s his greatest sin and he will never commit it again. Not even if you die. If it was his responsibility to have more children to secure his succession then he would do his duty, but he wouldn’t love her, he would think of you, your smile, your laugh, your beauty, your touch, and your enchanting song because he knows no one would ever love him like you love him.

It’s pretty foolish of you to love him after what he’s done to break your heart, but for some reason, you keep clinging onto him like when you were young. You had a chance to escape, to laugh and point with the others, but you never did, and you never have. It’s perhaps the only weakness in you, but he’s grateful, blessed, and glad that you continue to love him unconditionally.

It’s why he has to protect you. You and your son—your children.

“Aemond.”

He hears the call and looks at the intruder who barged in without warning; seeing his mother walking in with worry filtered in her big brown eyes.

“How is she?” She asks.

Aemond returns his attention to you in hopes you’ll wake soon and continues to stroke your knuckles with his thumb as he refuses to let your hand go.

“The maester said she will be fine,” Aemond shares. “It was her grief and the fact that she did not eat.”

Alicent walks down the two steps that lead to the bed and watches her son and his refusal to miss a single breath that escapes you.

“How did you tell her?” She asks with a hint of judgment clinging onto her. “I hope you did not just blurt it. She may be on our side, but the others are still her family that she loves, you need to be careful when you share such dark words.”

Aemond huffs and turns his head to pass her a brief glare that she misses as she watches you.

“Did you know?” He asks and chooses not to comment on the fact that he knows how to talk to you, he’s no imbecile. “She’s with child.”

Alicent’s brown eyes find him and he quickly looks back at you. “Yes, Helaena told me last night. She just found out, which is why I warn you that you need to be—”

“I know,” he cuts his mother off impatiently. “I know how to talk to her. I’m no fool. I’m not…mhm,” he chooses to leave Aegon out of the conversation.

“Twins, Helaena says,” Alicent chooses to ignore what was at the tip of his tongue and reaches the foot of the bed to watch Aemond and his short-lived bliss. “Congratulations. You must be happy.”

Aemond tilts his head, making his hair cascade over his shoulder and hide the faint smile that tugs on his lips, and stays while he reaches his hand over to caress your belly with a feathered touch.

Before he can express his joy, or give any positive reaction at all, he takes a deep breath as if the next words that are coming out of him are going to hurt to say, causing his happiness to dimishness as worry makes itself plain to see.

“One…twin is smaller than the other the maester says,” he says in a voice that’s so rare for Alicent to hear nowadays. “What does that mean?”

He looks over at his mother for help, for reassurance that it will be fine. As if her words were the salvation.

“Just that,” she tries to comfort Aemond’s worry that begins to ache her own heart even if she tries hard to fight it. “Sometimes it tends to happen with twins, one takes more than the other, but,” she breathes out deeply and looks at you with more worry than she offered her son. “It’s still early, it will resolve.”

Aemond’s eye stays on his mother to take in more comfort but when he finds none his eyes return to you and tries to believe the little help his mother offered with a faint smile—No, he smirks now and this time Alicent doesn’t miss it.

“This war will take a lot from us, but my children will be the future of my house. I will make sure of it,” he says, making Alicent’s lips twitch to a frown while her eyebrows knit together with conflict brought by his choice of words.

A gleam proceeds to catch her eyes and when she locates where it comes from, she sees Aegon’s Valyrian steel dagger strapped to his belt as if it was a trophy he won and needed to show off to everyone who had eyes.

“Be easy on her,” Alicent musters as she breathes out her conflict. “And don’t involve her in your warpath, Aemond.”

He scoffs but doesn’t counter, he instead interjects softly. “She won’t be happy about it.”

Alicent chuckles breathlessly. “No, she will not, it seems she inherited her ferocity from both parts of her family.”

He hums and slides his hand away from your belly to cup your hand with both of his large hands to be able to bring your hand up and kiss your knuckles.

“She won’t wake,” Aemond mutters ever so softly with a hint of desperation that escapes as if asking for help without outright expressing it at this moment where it’s just her and him.

“Give her time,” she offers him some console. “The maester said she will be fine, so she shall. She’s lost a lot in a short time…it’s not easy. “

Aemond answers with silence whilst he brings your hand down to rest it on the bed without letting it actually escape from the security of his hold.

“My Prince,” a third visitor interjects in the silence and steals the attention of both Aemond and Alicent. “King Aegon’s carriage is approaching the city.”

At the mention, Aemond sits up straight, and that softness that his features were cast under slowly hardens just as he gives the guard a response. “Let me know when he’s reached the Red Keep.”

Alicent watches the guard take in Aemond’s demand without hesitance before he takes off, leaving her troubled by her conflict as she watches her son act too unbothered by what befell his brother.

He should be furious, but his rage is missing. He should be overcome with worry that his King and older brother was wounded in battle, but his worry is just placed on you and you alone.

——

*YOU*

She was there, the day you touched the clouds for the first time. She was there when you knew nothing was better than being a part of the never-ending sky. She was there because the first dragon you ever rode was Meleys.

“My mother was seven years old when she first took to the skies,” you remember pointing out with disappointment because you just turned seven and you could not mount your dragon yet. You were too young, your mother said.

You never realized then that she was just protecting you, after all the sickness that plagued you since you were a babe had barely been expelled from your body, she just wanted to make sure that nothing took you from her just as she was assured you would live a long life after all.

Nevertheless, that disappointment was short-lived, your grandmother had made sure of that.

“Actually I talked to your mother and guess what?” She began to tease you while you caressed Meleys’ snout much to your dragon's jealousy.

“What is it?” You’re too impatient to play.

A smile brightens her face before she gives you the answer. “You can fly with me. I know it’s not the same as flying your own dragon, but that time will come soon. As for now, we can mount Meleys together and we can take to the skies together as a name day present from me.”

You remember the joy that overcame you at that moment. Sure you still wanted to mount your own dragon, but her offer did satisfy that desire. It is like having a snack when you’re hungry, it does not fulfill you but it does keep you satisfied for a while. That’s how it was. You were satisfied at that moment, you were happy to be in the sky. It was the best moment of your life, you knew you would die happy if death had chosen to take you that day.

It was an exaggeration, of course, you realized that not long after, but you were only seven then and you were in the clouds for the first time. You could finally stop imagining how they felt because you could feel the moistness soak your fingertips as you tried to reach them while Meleys ascended higher. And when she was lost within the fluffy white clouds, the water soaked your face, but you did not care. You were carefree.

Nothing occupied your mind at that moment, nothing worried you. You felt as weightless as the clouds, and you beamed as bright as the sun in the sky. Your dreams hadn’t come true yet, you needed to take to the skies on the back of your own dragon, but the gift of flying for the first time was all thanks to her. She gave you that experience, she made you happy at that moment and never failed to make you happy as you got older. She never stopped protecting you…but…you did fail her.

You’re in King’s Landing for a reason, aren’t you? To report to your family the war plans, the comings and goings of the most valuable members in the Green faction, the decisions that are made around the council table, and any other plans that the Green council may have. You’re here to warn your family so they can get an advantage, so they can get closer to the throne, so they don’t run such a high risk of getting wounded or dying. But your grandmother died regardless.

You failed her, you failed them. You failed at the one thing you were supposed to do and now you lost someone else you love. And the crazy thing is that you don’t hate or blame Aemond for what happened, you blame yourself.

The weight of guilt lies on you because you couldn’t do the one thing you were supposed to do. Because no matter how hard you try you can’t be something valuable. That’s all you wanted, that’s why you left in the first place, to prove to your mother that you could be reliable, that you can be a fierce warrior, that you aren’t just a princess in a castle, and that you can be so much more. You wanted to be so much more, prove to her that you can be important, valuable, and fierce. That part of you is there, you wanted to show her that, but your grandmother died, and with her lies that fight. You feel like nothing now…

Daemon would be so mad…and you shouldn't care what he has to think about you, but how can you not after you failed so miserably? After your grandmother died and her dragon along with her?

You’re mad at yourself—no, you’re furious at yourself. If you had been better perhaps she would still be alive.

“Ready?” You tug yourself away from your train of thought and focus on Aerion before you grab a raw piece of meat from the bowl beside you, and place it down in front of his hatchling.

“Shrykos, <Dracarys>,” you command.

Shrykos tilts her little head before blinking and glancing at Aerion as if waiting for the okay. But your son can’t answer, he just watches Shrykos, and the hatchling watches him.

“Shrykos, <Dracarys>,” you repeat the command, making the hatchling now look at the piece of meat in front of her before she opens her mouth and lets out a small blast of fire.

Aerion watches the fire engulf the small piece of meat, the way the flames come out of his dragon's mouth to cook the meat and he can’t help but giggle and wave his fat little arms.

“<Good job, Shrykos,>” you praise the hatchling.

Aerion’s head turns to you and he coos, making a smile spread on your mournful face. “Shrykos,” you repeat to your son, making him study you before he coos after you as if trying to say his dragon's name too.

“Yes!” You clap. “She’s your dragon. Shrykos.”

Aerion coos the same way again and his dragon this time scurries over to him to sit in between his legs.

“Your mother would be delighted to see the way he interacts with his dragon,” Vanessa comments, making you smile wider.

“She would,” you muse and reach over to try and caress your son's head, but you must have reached out to him too quickly because suddenly Shrykos snaps her head towards you and shrieks out at you.

“<Whoa,>” you gasp in surprise yet also awe because she’s grown to be so protective in such a short time. Jacaerys was right, having Aerion bond with a dragon can protect him in ways some guards can’t.

“<It's okay. Calm down, girl.>” You try to ease her worry. “<Calm.>”

The dragon’s eyes don’t leave you for a solid minute, she watches you carefully until Aerion starts to cry.

“She meant no harm,” you assure him as you’re able to grab him now and bring him up with you as you stand to your given height, causing the hatchling to flap her delicate wings to perch herself on your shoulder and remain close to Aerion.

“It’s okay,” you continue to try to console him before you wipe away his tears and press a kiss on his cheek.

Shrykos watches the interaction and stretches her neck out to coo softly at Aerion as if trying to mimic you in calming him down.

“See? She’s just worried about you,” you tell Aerion, and he sniffles just seconds before his attention focuses on the pendant that you found around your neck after you woke up.

“Of course,” you mutter with an amused smile and watch him grab your pendant before he yanks it back towards him, pulling a gasp out of your mouth. “Gods.”

Aerion pulls the pendant to his mouth but you grab his hand and shake your head. Yet before you can pull the pendant away, the doors open and snatch your attention to your husband walking in and coming to an immediate halt when he sees you on your feet.

“Aemond,” you greet him with a faint smile.

Said man takes a step forward and his eye studies you hard as if making sure you’re really there, that you’re not some ghost set out to bid a last goodbye; while also trying to figure out if your smile directed at him is real or feigned. After all, you both know who brought down Meleys and your grandmother. It wasn’t Aegon you both knew that.

Yet no matter how hard or how long his eye remains fixated on you, that sweet smile doesn’t falter or fade, that smile on your face turns to a grin actually.

“What is it?” You break him from his stupor whilst also trying to tug your pendant away from Aerion’s mouth.

“You…” Aemond trails off and finally breaks away from the cast your mere presence put him under to close the distance that keeps you apart. “You should be abed. Not on your feet.”

You roll your eyes and approach Vanessa to hand Aerion to her, causing the little hatchling to disembark your shoulder and instead fly over to Vanessa’s.

“I’m fine,” you direct at Aemond as you turn to face him and find your body moving toward him. “I ate, I—”

“Vanessa,” Aemond snaps at your handmaiden with a glower that you get in between.

“Stop, don’t snap at her, talk to me,” you ease the worry you see weighing down on him.

Aemond’s eye flickers to you, but he also wants to scold Vanessa for not keeping you abed where you’ll be safe so he parts his lips to argue, but you finally meet him halfway and grab his arm, focusing all his attention back to you as if you were the center of the universe.

“Leave her be. I stood up, you know that. I am not an invalid, I just should've been more careful,” you add to your case. “But I ate. I’m feeling stronger already.”

His chest rises high as he takes in a deep frustrated breath before he lets it all go and is left with worry.

Before you can continue to address the matter at hand though, you turn your attention to Vanessa. “Take him to Helaena and Jaehaera, she has Morghul out too, he and Shrykos can bond.”

Vanessa nods and doesn’t linger behind, she leaves your quarters rather quickly, leaving you to face your husband and slide your hand down his arm to grab his hand.

“I’m fine,” you tell him one more. “The news just didn’t settle well, plus I was on an empty stomach, it all just overwhelmed me, but I’m fine…we’re fine,” you finish in a whisper and pull his hand toward you to press his palm against your belly.

“I’m sure the maester broke the news,” you continue with a proud smile that he misses because he watches your intertwined hands caressing the spot where your twins are growing.

“Twins,” he whispers with no worry clinging to his voice, it's soft and full of awe just like his eye.

“That’s why I haven’t been feeling hungry, and why I’ve been uncomfortable,” you address the matter. “They’re the reason.”

Aemond’s eye goes to you and now endearment also accompanies the already sweet feelings his eye expresses. You want to follow up with more, but your lips part, and a single breath escapes past your lips as you stand there feeling seen, appreciated, and loved under his gaze, but also feeling worry and guilt strike your heart as he looks at you.

You want to share it, you want to spill out what troubles you, but your words get caught in your throat when Aemond goes down on one knee and presses a gentle kiss on your belly before he rests his forehead against it.

Now at this very moment, the tension of war is forgotten completely. You exist only in your bliss.

“I wanted to tell you. I had half the mind to fly to Rook’s Rest the moment I found out to tell you, but I resisted my urge,” you share as you swing your arm around his head to caress it gently as he keeps his forehead pressed against your belly. “So can you just pretend I told you and that the maester didn’t ruin it?”

He chuckles softly and tilts his head up to meet your gaze as he remains on one knee. “He also told me about one of them being smaller than the other.” He brings up and the blissful paradise comes crumbling down as the guilt and the worry return.

“Yes, he told me too…” you trail off and gulp. “I-I don’t know what that means. He said he’ll monitor me, but…I’m scared.”

Aemond pushes himself up to tower over you again and grabs your face with a gentle touch as if he's afraid he’ll break you if he's too rough.

“My mother said it happens,” he now comes to your aid even if he doesn’t really know either. “They’ll get stronger and be equal after a while.”

You don’t find comfort in Alicent’s words, you need to hear them from your mother or read her own words to feel completely comforted.

“Ok,” your voice trembles. “Aemond,” you say and grab his hands. “I’m sorry.”

His eyebrows pinch together so you quickly respond to his confusion. “If being with child is an inconvenience right now. Everything is so chaotic, I’m sorry if I have become a burden—”

“Quiet,” he cuts you off and pulls you to him. “Shut up. You are the furthest thing from a burden or an inconvenience. Don’t apologize. Don’t torment yourself. We are blessed. That’s all. The risks you’ll take are just fewer now, but it seems you and Helaena have found more comfort in each other so you won’t be bored here.”

You blink and that worry falls, he helped resolve it. The guilt has diminished as well, but now you’re completely baffled by what he says.

You won’t just sit by the fire, you may be with child, but you will not just sit idly by while he risks his life, while your brother is out there, and while your family still needs you too. Just because you’re expecting doesn’t mean you have to sit and wait like a trapped princess in distress!

“No,” you spat and let his hands go. He sees the fire already engulfing your eyes so he pouts in annoyance whilst he lets your face go too.

“I will not—”

“I will not sit here and wait for you to come back,” you cut him off lividly. “I have a dragon, I have skill! Just because I’m with child—”

“That’s exactly why!” He argues back with quick-growing frustration. “Do you really expect me to send you to fight while you’re expecting?! Do you really think I can just watch you in the sky knowing your state?! It’s like you said…”

You shake your head and turn away as he continues.

“…it takes one arrow, a dragon's jaw, or fire…”

Your eyes shift at the last mention and you almost want to rebuttal with the truth of your…fire resistance, but that would take you down a rabbit hole that you don’t want to fall into at this very moment. You need to make a point and win.

“I would never forgive myself if something happened to you or the twins,” he tries to lure you into the trap using sweet words that usually work. “I would not feel comfortable sending you out to battle now.”

“That’s the difference between me and you,” you counter right away and twist around to face him. “I will wear armor! I had armor made for me, I can protect myself! My dragon will protect me! I will not sit here and do nothing while you are out there! While Sunfyre and Aegon are now indisposed!”

Aemond strides to you, and you stand your ground and challenge him with your enraged glare alone.

“I don’t care what you want or don’t want, you are not going to fight on dragonback or on the ground,” he counters back spitefully with his nose flared and his glare piercing right back at you. “If you try I will lock you in here with a hundred guards. Or I will take you to a tower where you can’t reach your dragon and you’ll be miles away.”

You part your lips but you can’t argue back, you’re caught in disbelief because you know he would be capable of doing that. You’re also too enraged that your words turn to ashes in your mouth by the stupid tears that come to your eyes. Thus instead you snap around to give him your back as you approach the hearth keeping the room warm, and watch the dancing flames with your arms crossed over your chest.

Aemond sighs deeply and leaves the room silent for a moment as he lets his frustration and impatience leave his body before he approaches you from behind.

At first, he breaks the silence with the soft utter of your name before he makes the mistake of brushing his fingertips on your hip, causing you to flinch away out of fear that it was someone else.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters in confusion to your sudden jolt.

You realize what you did and take a deep breath, realizing that your rage gets snuffed out like dying fire.

At first, you did not think you wanted to tell Aemond what Aegon did, but he’s here now, you look at him now; the confusion on his face. You look at your best friend, your husband, and the man that you love, and the words crawl up your throat like bile.

“Aemond,” you whimper and his confusion is lost and replaced by concern once again.

The sound of your lips parting fills your chambers, but a breath is all that comes out. You can’t be outward with it, you’re too afraid, too ashamed, so you close the distance and bring your lips to his ear.

He does look at you completely puzzled albeit that soon diminishes and slowly transforms into livid rage as you whisper the words in his ear. After that, you only pull back when you try to plead your case as if he didn’t believe you right away. He did, you just need him to know desperately.

“I told him to stop, I did, I promise, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. You have to believe me, Aemond.” You cry and he sighs, but that anger doesn’t die, he just musters the softness he can to gently cup your face before he slides his hand down to stroke your chin.

“I believe you,” he whispers so you can hear, and presses his forehead against yours.

“I wanted to fight back,” you keep trying to tell him. “I promise. I…I.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he coos and brings his hand back up to cradle your cheek and use his thumb to stroke it. “You will be okay.”

He suddenly rips himself away from you and stomps away. You turn to not miss a step and notice him grab his sword while he gets away in a rage, thus you interfere because you know he’s letting his anger steer his thoughts. “Aemond stop!”

He doesn’t falter in his pace, he keeps storming away.

“Aemond!” You cry out. “Stop! Aemond! Please,” you beg and it’s that quiver in your voice that stops him.

“Do you really expect me to stay here knowing what—”

“Stay with me,” you cut him off to tell him what you need the most. “Please don’t go. Just stay.”

Aemond slowly turns around and when he faces you he sees how hard you’re pleading with your teary eyes, and how much you need just his company. Not his rage, not his revenge, just his comfort. His anger does want to get the best of him, but he beats it down with a deep breath and rests his blade against the wall to go to you and immediately wrap you in an embrace.

When you’re surrounded by nothing but the security of his warm arms you let yourself melt in his embrace because you know that nothing and no one can hurt you there.

“Let’s take a bath, hm?” He suggests as he kisses the top of your head. “Me and you.”

You nod softly and after depleting him of all the comfort you need, as the sun leaves the earth and lets the moon and the stars shine, you have a bath drawn where hundreds of candles enlighten the room with their soft glow. Where a soothing incense fills the room, and the warm flames from the hearth near your bath is a warm third body that keeps you company while you relax against Aemond.

“And that one is my favorite song, there’s a certain eeriness to it, but also an enchanting melody that I love,” you muse as you cross one leg over the other.

Aemond hums. “Those have always been my favorite for you to sing,” he muses.

You smile widely, and slither your fingers over his gently caressing your knee, welcoming a silence to the room that causes Aemond to grow uncomfortable yet bold enough to ask one question he’s been holding back out of fear that you will admit that you hate him now, or that you’re only here because of Aerion.

He doesn’t want to hear rejection or see you turn your back on him. He still needs you and he doesn’t want to face potential abandonment. But he also can’t sleep peacefully not knowing how you feel after what he did.

“Can I ask you something?” Aemond brings up quietly before saying your name as if there were more people in this chamber. But there isn’t, it’s just you and him.

“Mhm,” you let him continue and lay your head back on his shoulder to look at him from the corner of your eyes.

“You know it was not Sunfyre or Aegon who brought down Rhaenys or Meleys,” he hesitates to say but he does speak it out loud, and right away he feels how stiff you grow.

“I…know,” you breathe out and slowly sit up, losing contact with his fingers, and causing his fingers on your knee to slip off. “I could read it off you. You weren’t so discreet you know? Maybe you should be a little less smug if you’re going to let Aegon take the win.”

He hums and sits up to press his hand on your back before gently wrapping his arm around your neck to speak by your ear. “Do you…hate me?”

How could you hate him when it’s yourself that you hate for failing her?

There’s no point in thinking. No debate needs to be had, it’s an easy answer that comes from the depths of your wounded heart.

“No,” you whisper, leaving no time for him to doubt your response. “Should I?”

You turn to face him with sincerity bringing tears to your eyes. “I don’t hate you.”

Aemond’s arm slips off you and his eye falls on the water, but rather than trying hard to find his gaze, you actually find his reflection in the water and see a frown on his face; one brought by sorrow and torment over your response.

It’s like he almost wants you to hate him.

“It’s different this time,” you try to explain without bringing up the real reason behind your logic. “She wasn’t a messenger, she wasn’t trying to get away, it was a battle. Death is never fair for people like her, she did not deserve to die, but her death was different because I know that she wouldn’t want to go out any other way. She went out like a dragon warrior. I know she fought hard until her last breath.”

Aemond’s eye climbs up your body and finds your attentive gaze, letting you see his eye clouded with tears and that weight not ease off his body, so you drag yourself in between his legs to cup his cheek and offer him a faint assuring smile.

“I do not hate you,” you assure him and hold his gaze so he can read that you’re being sincere.

When he has the confirmation his heart needs he lets out a deep breath that makes that tension lift off his chest.

“Now,” you change the subject before you start crying, and slide your hand down to hold his knee and gently shake his leg. “You are going to be Prince Regent.”

His lips tug to a faint flustered smile and his eye once again falls on the water.

“Grin, my love, all your hard work will pay off,” you flatter him with a beaming grin. “All that time spent in books, learning from great minds, and working tirelessly will be rewarded.”

Do you really think he has the mind to rule?

Maybe if he hadn't gotten his eye taken out, or if he had seen his father care for him after being maimed then he would be the ruler the Greens need to win, that the kingdoms need, but he’s fueled with anger. His ego is inflated because he never got told that he’s so much more than he knows, so he had to rely on his large dragon for power.

It’s not to say you aren’t proud of him, because you are. He’s worked hard, he’s leaned into his books to gain knowledge. He has a military mind and good swordsman skills. He's the one keeping his family alive, and he has much more logic than Aegon, but a good ruler needs to be more than that.

A good ruler needs to listen to his people, they need to be just but also need to know when to put their foot down. They need to control their emotions even if sometimes they get tested by idiots or people being too daring. They need to know when to pull their blade out to fight, and when to use harsh words instead. Can he do that?

You can’t be sure. To be honest, you are not sure he can, but it’s why he can be the key to getting your mother on the throne.

Is he something important, something so much more that people don’t see? Yes, a hundred times yes. You don’t doubt that, you genuinely are happy that he’s being seen, that he gets to finally prove himself because you know that there’s so much more to him that people don’t see, that they ignore because he’s a second son, and he’s more quiet, like a shadow.

He’s not scary or just intimidating like he lets people believe, he’s smart, he's gentle, he’s so much more than people see and you have always known that. You have always supported that. And that’s what you’re praising, because after all this waiting he’s no longer in the shadows. A light is shining on him. He deserves it.

“Maybe,” Aemond mutters with his smile faltering. “There’s also my mother. She’s Queen Dowager.”

You sit back on your legs and your confusion is clear. “But,” you genuinely argue. “Your mother ruled in a time of peace, and she has no military mind. They couldn’t really consider her. It’s you they’ll pick.”

Aemond meets your gaze and sighs deeply. “I cannot be sure until the morrow.”

You hum and avert your gaze to think if the men around the table will really pick Alicent over the next heir in Aegon's line of succession. It would be pretty stupid to pick Alicent when they’re working hard to remove your mother.

“Well, I'm sure they’ll pick you,” you express your genuine opinion. “They’ll be stupid not to. And you have an heir, maybe more on the way. Perfect choice I’ll say.”

His lips tug up to a soft smile, and your more negative opinions falter at the sight of that smile alone.

“And you,” he piques your interest whilst he leans over to capture your chin in between his thumb and his pointer finger. “You’ll be Princess Regent.”

You gulp nervously and shake your head. “Helaena is alive and healthy, I couldn’t be Princess Regent.” You contradict him, but he continues to press his side.

“My sister is sweet and good, but,” he sighs. “We all know she has no mind to be Queen, she’d rather be outside with her bugs than be anywhere near court, but you…you’re smart, fierce, attentive, and you have the mind to be a good Queen. The people love you and you care for them for some reason. You’ll be good.”

And there it is, your foundations shake at the sound of those sweet words that work like bait like magic to enchant you.

He would consider you, and that makes you consider a change of thought…

Like getting drunk, slowly your mind and your body start to lose yourself to its rich power.

“You think so?” You mumble softly with your eyes full of desperation to be told you can be so much more.

“I know it. You and I would be a powerhouse everyone would respect,” he doesn’t take back his opinion and it’s a dangerous thing. He needs to stop.

Stop.

Stop…

But you can’t help but smile like an idiot as your heart gets fed more of that addicting honey it can never get enough of. It’s all you ever wanted deep down. it’s a dream you even shared with Cregan and Arra…

But…no!

No! No…

——

*THE NEXT MORNING*

“They will name you regent,” you try to reassure him as you fix the collar of his leather vest. “I know it. So head up high and deep breath.”

He holds your gaze as he lets out a deep breath, making you giggle as you slide your hands down to pat his chest.

“I love you,” you don’t fret to send him off with sweet words that make his heart swoon.

“I love you too,” he doesn’t hesitate to return before he leans in and presses a kiss on your lips.

Before he can back away you steal one more kiss from his thin lips, causing him to leave with a faint smile.

After a few minutes of lingering in the spot where he left you, you scurry out the secret door and trudge through the secret tunnels to reach the shadows of the Small council room and be part of the big debate that will change the Green fraction one way or the other.

“The armor was Valyrian steel,” Maester Orwyle shares with the council. “But his Grace suffered grievous burns over much of his body. He has many broken bones. I fear there are more injuries within, injuries we cannot see.”

He can die for all you care.

“We are grateful for your works, Grand Maester,” Alicent interjects after you catch her take in a deep breath. “Has he woken?”

“No,” the maester doesn’t try to be assuring, he’s bold so no one gets any hope he might survive. “I must admit, I’m not sure he will ever wake. I have piled my crafts to their fullest extents. Our king's fate lies with the gods now.”

And may the gods be ever so merciful to give him death.

“A king cannot rule in his sleep,” you hear Alicent say after a few seconds of silence. “The realm will have noticed his absence. Let them hear of his great deeds at Rook’s Rest. But now we must name a regent to take his place until he recovers…or does not.”

You lean your ear closer to the gaps on the wall and wait to see if Aemond is right.

“A wise strategy, Your Grace,” you recognize Lord Larys’ pestering voice. “A regency will assure the people of the stability of the crown.”

A silence follows and you wonder why it’s so awkward in there when the choice is plain to see.

“Did you have a candidate in mind, Your Grace?” Ser Tyland asks.

“I myself served in this role for my husband, I am well-prepared to do it again,” she proves Aemond right, and if you would have bet you would have lost.

“You played your part admirably in a time of peace, Your Grace,” Lord Jasper weighs in. “But circumstances have changed.”

“And here I had forgotten,” you catch the sarcasm in Alicent’s voice which does amuse you.

“The King does not lack for heirs,” Lord Jasper continues to argue against Alicent. “The obvious choice is his immediate successor, Prince Aemond, who has his own heir in his son, strengthening the line of succession.”

“Agreed,” Ser Tyland comments, making your heart skip a beat for Aemond.

“Aemond is young,” Alicent immediately rebuttals, causing your eyebrows to furrow because you all know there’s been younger Kings. “And his lack of restraint has already cost us dearly.”

A third silence follows and you suspect it’s because she wants people to agree with her, but it doesn’t seem like anyone does. Which is awkward, you can feel that tension from where you are.

“It is an experience that offers the surest path to security,” you hear the maester give his opinion. “Queen Alicent ably shouldered the duties of the realm when her husband's health failed him.”

Once again in a time of peace, it doesn’t seem like she has a military mind. And someone could argue that your mother doesn’t either, but you know her, she’s smart and leans on her books. She doesn’t need her father like Alicent needed hers.

“Experience is valuable, yes,” Lord Jasper interjects. “But the Dowager Queen is a woman.”

You almost have to laugh but you hold it in. It’s so poetic really.

“I’m no stranger to rule or to sitting at this council,” Alicent argues. “Aemond is a fearsome dragonrider. His skill is best employed in the field, but my experience is needed here, at this table—”

“No offense was meant, Your Grace,” Ser Tyland cuts her off as she’s growing frustrated. “But at a time when we must show strength.”

“Lord Larys,” she tries to garner the man’s support.

“I agree, Your Grace, it must be Prince Aemond,” he contradicts her. “What would it say if, in response to Rhaenyra’s crowning, we raised up a woman of our own?”

Oh sweet, sweet karma.

“But, um…the Hand speaks for the King’s voice, Ser Criston what say you?”

You start to fiddle with your hands as a smirk tugs on your face.

“Aemond is the next in line,” he adds salt to the injury. “It must be him.”

You can’t help it, you grin.

“It’s agreed then,” Aemond finally breaks his silence before you hear the sound of him rising from his chair and his heels clicking around the table.

And just like that he is now regent, Alicent has now been treated the way she treated your mother. The Green fraction has changed to a more Ironfist rule. You can be certain of that.

“What is our standing in the Riverlands?” Aemond jumps right into business, proving already to possess a better mind than Aegon ever did.

“Uh, the banners of House Tully are in disarray, Your Grace,” Ser Tyland is the one who gives Aemond the answer he sought, and the first one to call him your Grace, which brings a chill down your spine. “Prince Daemon has little hope of fielding an army or any, for now.”

Why do they doubt Daemon so much? Is it just that they hope that their negativity will help him fail?

You don’t like him, and you know he has the power to gain that army, you know he will.

“We would do well to send word to young Oscar Tully,” Lord Larys follows up with his comment. “It’s only a matter of time before he inherits his grandsire’s mantle.”

“Tell me, Lord Strong, how I can trust the counsel of a man who leaves the jewel of the Riverlands to be plucked by our enemy?”

You wait for the response from the Lord, but he gives none, and you couldn’t be more smug that he didn’t and that he’s most likely intimidated by Aemond.

“Your brother's host can meet Daemon,” Aemond changes the subject to now speak to Ser Tyland. “He should quicken its pace and check the Rivermen while their banners are in disarray.”

No matter what you can’t help but be proud of Aemond. Command suits him.

“I shall send Lord Jason encouragement,” Ser Tyland assures Aemond.

“What else?” Aemond probes.

“We might turn our attention to the smallfolk here in King’s Landing,” Maester Orweyle says. “They have grown weary of the Sea Snake’s blockade.”

“So have we all,” Aemond says nonchalantly.

“Many are fleeing the city,” the maester continues. “Spreading word of their fear and unrest.”

“Mm, then let the gates be closed,” Aemond picks the wrong choice which proves you right too. “No one is to leave or enter, save with our consent. Merchants, so forth.”

And that’s how you get the smallfolk to hate you. He’s supposed to assure them, feed them, and give them something to hope for, not fear and disdain. Hopefully, your mother can work that in her favor.

“Ser Criston,” Aemond calls out. “I need you to pick three of your best and most trusted men. I shall have two guarding my son and heir, and a second guard protecting my wife. She’s with child, I don’t wish to leave her vulnerable.”

Your breath catches and your heart skips a beat.

It is going to be harder to just be around the Red Keep, but you are happy he didn’t forget about you or Aerion.

“Go to your tasks,” Aemond then abruptly ends the meeting. “We shall meet again at first light. Oh, and someone cut down the fucking ratcatchers.”

Finally! You thought it was never going to be taken down, it’s such a nasty display.

Nevertheless, now to report to your mother. And since Aemond did mention he was going to be busy after the Small council meeting, you have time to take the message to Astraea so she can go take it right away. Plus there’s another matter you need to entrust your mother about because she's the only one you trust to give you comfort.

Which is why in the second letter you write, you make sure to direct to your mother.

“Dear Rhaenyra,

As you know I am with child. The maester assured me of that not long ago, but he also told me something else. He said that one twin is smaller than the other, and honestly, that frightens me. Alicent said it could be fixed in time, but I don’t trust her, and I don’t know what it really means. I just want to know if they’ll be okay. I need them to be okay.”

You don’t sign your name, but there’s no one else who would write to her so there’s no need to really sign your name. Hopefully, this time they write back though, or send anything in return so you’re not left worried. You made sure to point that out so hopefully they listen.

And! Hopefully, Jacaerys’ nosy ass doesn’t read your personal letter to your mother!

He would dare, he would be so protective about it, like, “come home now!” It’s a surprise he didn’t fly after you when he found out you left! Sure you feel bad for leaving him behind, but he has Baela, he won’t be alone. He’ll just be worried about you, annoying too because he wants to hear any news from you, and he will also probably be attentive to any sighting of Astraea in hopes to hear any news from you, so maybe you should write a warning to keep him out.

You should, but you don’t, just like you don’t take the secret tunnels to the cove where Astraea is resting. You’re simply going to the cove behind the castle to visit your dragon, that's all! If there’s eyes on you they won’t find you suspicious, you’re not flaunting the letters; you have them hidden, and you have your sworn protector trailing behind you. There’s no need for alarm or whispers to be spread or given to Aemond, it’s a simple visit…

You just need to secure something on her horn.

Yet as you’re trying to secure the letters, she suddenly slips her head away and starts to growl at your sworn protector in the shadows.

“<Astraea, calm girl,” you assure her. “He’s a friend. He’s my sworn protector. It’s alright.>”

Astraea doesn’t listen; she pushes herself closer to the man, making sure to block your path with her large neck.

“<Astraea,>” you warn her. “<Stop.>”

Her growling gets louder and you see her opening her jaw, pushing Ser Jason against the wall with panicked breaths.

“It’s alright Ser,” you try to assure him. “She won’t harm you. She’s just wary, but <he’s a friend>,” you address the last comment to Astraea, but she has a mind of her own. She corners the man and you watch her nostrils flare as she sniffs him.

“Astraea,” you call out and try to inch closer, but the moment she hears your feet shift she moves her neck against you and starts to snarl until she then suddenly grows quiet, and her neck starts to move away from you, letting you see her close her mouth, and blink as her pupils dilate while she looks at the panicked man before her.

Instead of calling her to back away, you watch with growing curiosity as she then begins to coo at him.

Ser Jason notices the hostility slip away so between pants and with wide eyes he slowly raises his hand and carefully reaches out for her scaled nostril.

You expect your dragon to move, but she remains where she is and lets the man pet her, pulling a surprised breath out of you.

“You,” you huff with relief that she didn’t kill him. “Must be special.”

Ser Jason’s blue eyes snap to you and his eyes almost pop out of his skull before he shakes his head. “No—I mean I am a—”

“She likes you,” you cut off his nervous rambling with a sweet smile. “Funny way of showing it, but she does. She let you pet her. There’s only a few people who aren’t of Valyrian descent that she lets pet her.”

Ser Jason’s eyes slowly drift away as his hand slips off Astraea, letting her back away and turn her head towards you to focus on you.

“<You naughty girl,>” you taunt her and watch her lips spread up as if she’s responding to your comment and smile with a smirk. “Sorry,” you direct at Ser Jason. “For the fright.”

The knight lets out a deep breath to relieve himself of that fear that he was just hit with, and with a breathless laugh, retorts, “I can finally say I have touched a dragon. It’s fine.”

You hum softly in return and once and for all attach the letters to your dragon's horn before you throw your arms around her in an attempt to embrace her. But she’s too big now, your arms don’t go around her anymore, they're just spread out against her in an attempt.

“<You know what you must do, my girl. Remember just my mother, Jace, Baela, or my grandfather can grab the letters. No one else. Don’t delay and be careful.>”

Lady Arra Norrey always poked fun at you for talking to your dragon like you talk to a person, but dragons understand more than commoners know, and Astraea understands you at a deep level.

“<Now go.>” You send her off and don’t move away, you approach the shore to watch her ascend the skies.

It’s once she’s high in the clouds that you return inside, and this time rather than having a clear path, you’re interrupted just at the last courtyard before you can reach the doors. Thankfully it’s on your way back to your quarters though and not the other way around.

“Princess,” Ser Gwayne Hightower brings you to a stop, making you take a deep and annoyed breath before you turn to face him with a plastered smile.

“Ser,” you greet and watch him bow his head at you before he finishes approaching you to be closer. “You returned.”

That’s all, you’re not glad he did, you’re not surprised either, he just returned, it’s that simple.

“Thanks to your favor,” he retorts smugly, making you scoff.

“Me or a few other pretty ladies?” You remark, making him flash you a charming grin before he chuckles and nods.

“Oh yes many did give me their favors,” he doesn’t remain modest, he’s blunt and that makes an amused smile twitch on your lips unwillingly. “But only one worked in my favor. The only one close to the gods, yours, my Princess.”

You hold his gaze as you nod in comprehension before you hide your flattered smile by looking at the ground.

“I heard you are quite a spectacular singer,” he continues trying to work his charm on you. “The Siren of Driftmark. I have wanted to hear if it’s true that your voice is as enchanting as they say.”

You draw in a deep breath and clasp your hands together before you roll your eyes up to look at him with a mischievous smirk that he starts to take in his favor. Yet…

“Was it your idea to parade around the head of my grandmother's dragon throughout the city?” You bring a cold end to his flattery and make that ever-so-charming smile fall.

“No,” he clears his throat and shifts back, making your own smirk deepen. “It was Ser Criston Cole’s.”

“Our good Lord Hand,” you both say in sync and with the same level of sarcasm, bringing a silence where you both share a teasing smile as if you were friends sharing gossip.

“He may have a good military mind,” he shares with you after a small genuine smile. “But may the gods help him with political matters.”

You hum and nod. “It seems the realm was in better hands with your father as hand and Ser Criston as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.”

“I’ll say.” He doesn’t shy away from agreeing. “Uh, I heard of your accident, I do hope you are okay.” He changes the subject smoothly, causing you to blink in surprise and find yourself answering without disdain.

“Quite, being with child just takes a toll. Thank you, Ser.”

He bows his head and just as he parts his lips to add more, a third voice cuts in. “Uncle.”

You both look at the incomer and notice Aemond with his eye locked on his uncle.

“Nephew,” Ser Gwayne greets Aemond with a smile, unlike Aemond who seems bothered—“I was just talking to the Princess. You have quite the pretty pearl here.”

You swallow back nervously and watch Aemond’s chest rise whilst the corner of his lips twitch to a forced smile.

“And you are expecting!” Ser Gwayne brings up and leans toward Aemond to pat his arm. “Congratulations, nephew.”

Aemond offers him a stiff nod of his head so you cut in. “Thank you, Ser. He is the most delighted.”

Aemond hums and remains cold and bothered so you cut this conversation short before you’re swallowed by the awkwardness that begins to build. “I hope we get to see more of you before you’re off again, maybe you can meet our son, Aerion.”

“Ah, yes I would be delighted, my sister speaks fondly of her grandchildren. I will have to see them for myself,” Ser Gwayne says in return, letting you offer him the first genuine smile before you turn and head inside with Aemond who keeps his jaw clenched and his eye narrowed.

“What…were you talking about?” Aemond tries to hide how jealous he is, but it's a futile attempt considering it’s written all over his face; in his flared nostrils, in the darkness in his eye that is brought up by annoyance and anger, and in his raised chest in attempts to try and insert his dominance over you.

Any other time you would find it amusing, it's his uncle and he can’t help but be jealous, but right now you’re bothered by something else entirely that you won’t let go unheard of.

“<The nasty parade that took place while I was abed,>” you take your opportunity to bring up without actually deflecting because it’s true, the topic was brought up.

But of course, he doesn’t answer, do you let it go though? No, you don't back off even if you see him wanting to avoid the topic, you press the matter with growing frustration.

“<When do people stop fearing gods, Aemond?>” You ask rhetorically. “<When they see gods bleed. They saw that dragon's head being paraded around the city and saw that they’re just like every other animal.>”

“<They're not,” Aemond scoffs back in High Valyrian, just like you. “<They can test it if they like, let’s see what fate awaits from them then.>”

You share a dry chuckle and only counter when you’re past the doors and inside the Red Keep. “<Don't underestimate the power of the people, Aemond. They can find power in rage if you give them the right spark. And that display…>” you trail off but don’t ease off him, you don’t use your anger either, you let it go with a deep exhale and instead, try to work this in your favor with the simple power of your enchanting voice.

“<No qualified Hand would have allowed that to happen, or even given it any thought. Dragons are the power of our house, they are sacred creatures. You know that. He doesn’t understand; he did something stupidly foolish that could cost us a lot.>”

Aemond finally looks over at you as if captured by your words, or as if he agrees too.

“<He’s our Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,>” he brings up, but that doesn’t work in anyone's defense. You use that.

“Exactly.”

Aemond studies you to try and get in your mind and read your running thoughts, finding that the words you just sang are haunting his mind instead, like a melody one can’t forget.

“I’m not saying he’s not a qualified man,” you add softly as you climb up flights of stairs to head to your room. “He may not be my favorite, he may have quite a reputation, but he still has a good mind for battle. That I can say. Maybe his skills will be best displayed trying to take Harrenhal, hm? The longer that gets left alone, the more time Daemon has to gain power there.”

“I thought you didn’t like him,” Aemond brings up and glances ahead.

“No,” you scoff. “I don’t, but,” you sigh. “He’s smart. He has experience. I can admit that. We have to admit that to ourselves.”

Aemond hums and you look at him as he looks ahead. And after knowing you said all you needed to say on the matter without being pushy or suspicious, you finally shift over to a matter that brings a bright grin to your face.

“So?! Tell me, are you Regent?”

Aemond’s eye falls and a soft smile slowly starts to grow on his face before he lifts his head and meets your gaze, showing off that smile that gives you your answer and makes you squeal before you bring the both of you to a stop atop the stairs when you throw your arms around him.

“I told you! Congratulations, my love,” you praise him genuinely since you know how much he wants to prove himself. “I knew you’d get it.”

He can’t help it, he wants to grow smug, but he grows flustered instead and only makes that smile grow warm.

“You deserve it,” you whisper so only he can hear.

Aemond wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss on the top of your head, keeping his lips and nose pressed against you as he takes in the praise that you alone have given him.

“Thank you,” he mutters against you.

You hum and pull your head back to meet his eye. “Really, I’m proud of you,” you whisper with no sign of deceit, your words come from the bottom of your heart because now people can see what you see, what you have always seen; that he’s so much more, that he is something.

“I…” he trails off and his eye turns glossy, while a breath catches in his throat and a fondness and awe paints his face. “I love you.”

You bring one hand up to caress his cheek, making him lean towards your touch right away as if instinct to seek your warmth and comfort.

“I love you too,” you redirect softly and press a gentle kiss against his lips.

“You are my Princess Regent,” he whispers against your lips, making you scoff and gently smack his chest before you pull away from his grasp to continue to your shared quarters.

Aemond of course doesn’t hesitate to follow at your side and presses what he said. “I can make you that if you want. You and me.”

You shake your head. “It can’t happen. Helaena is Queen, and,” you hesitate and he knows that so he uses it in his favor.

“You don’t want it?”

You want to say no, but you part your lips and you can’t bring yourself to counter or deny. Instead, once again there’s something dark and hungry that plagues you…

And it doesn’t let you answer

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” you retort and flash him a feigned smile. He wants to counter, but you leave him no room to answer because you pick up your pace to finally get off the stairs.

Once you reach your quarters you find Vanessa with Aerion and Shrykos. You see Aerion happy with his little hatchling, you see him get even happier when he sees his father and you can’t help it, all your mind focuses on is spending time with your family. You watch as Aemond interacts with Aerion and his little hatchling. You see how much Aerion loves spending time with Aemond and vice versa. You cherish the moment, you live in it because of what lurks outside your safety walls.

Even when you see Astraea return to the city, you don’t let your attention drift away. This stolen moment is where you find joy, where you find awe as you see how easy Aerion falls asleep when he’s laying on Aemond’s chest as the three of you just spend time on the bed with Aemond’s head on your lap, your fingers messaging his temple, and your eyes interlocked as if sharing hundreds of words in the silence.

Soon there will hopefully be more of you, you and Aemond will be outnumbered, but nothing will ever lessen the love you give your son. You may love each other selfishly, and Aemond may put you over everything, but that will never impact how much you love your children because he doesn’t want them to feel lonely like the way he felt when you were gone from his life and no longer there to be the hopeful light in the darkness. He knows that for certain, just like you know for certain that you would not mind living in this peaceful moment forever.

Yet the peace gets interrupted by Ser Criston requiring Aemond’s attention to take a look at the men he chose to protect you and your son. And since the moment was already interrupted you find your chance to go to Astraea and check for any notes.

And this time there is a note from your mother that you read in the safety of your room since Aemond will be gone for a while.

“I hope you find yourself well. I thank you for your sacrifices, it must not be easy having to sneak about the Red Keep, so thank you, my Sweet. Astraea will grow impatient, and someone will suspect if she’s gone too long so I will get to the point. With the help of the Mysaria, I have sent Elinda to King’s Landing to help with a secret plan to gain the favor of the smallfolk. By the time you get this, she should be at the west city gates by nightfall, she will stay with a friend. I hope you can send someone you trust to see her in the city, she will share what we have planned—”

You pull your eyes off the paper and glance over at Vanessa as she’s the only one you can trust to do what your mother wants of you.

“—As to you. I would really like it if you came home now, I would feel more comfortable with you being taken care of by a maester I can trust. Please come home, leave Vanessa there to help Elinda, and relay any plans the greens have, just come home.

Love, your mother.”

Come home?

It's true that you would feel more comfortable there regarding your twins, but when you go home what will you do? Just sit around the table and listen? Sit and do nothing while a war rages around you?

You already failed her, failed them all once, you need to prove yourself. That’s why you’re here because you wanted to prove to your mother that you can be useful, that you can be something. You can do that here, not there trapped like a bird.

You can’t go home. No matter how much she wants you back, no matter how much you do ache to return, you can’t leave yet. Thus you stride towards the hearth and throw the letter in the fire so it’s not discovered.

Once the paper and all the words are ash you lift your nose in the air and call out to your handmaiden. “Vanessa could you let Ser Jason in, I need to speak to the both of you.”

Vanessa doesn’t wait or question you, she beckons your sworn protector, and once he’s inside and they both stand a few feet behind you, you slowly turn to face them with confidence so they feel it too.

“I need you, Vanessa to go into the city,” you share without dragging it out just in case Aemond does come soon. “Elinda is on her way to the city and I need you to help her inside. I need you to help her for me. Be my ears, my voice with what she needs.”

Vanessa’s dark eyes slowly drift down as many thoughts cross her mind. Many doubts you’re sure. The city is dangerous nowadays, and there’s no guarantee that her whereabouts won’t be caught, but you need her to run the risk because you can’t. She has a higher chance of being in the city undetected, you not so much.

“I know I'm asking a lot, but you are the only one I trust with this,” you try to make her feel comfortable. “My mother does too, if you don’t feel comfortable helping, just let Elinda in the city and walk her to where she’ll stay, okay?”

Vanessa lets out a deep breath and after a few seconds her eyes slowly scale up and she finds you, letting you see the sense of determination painting her pretty face. “I will do it, I’ll help you, the Queen, and Elinda. With whatever they need.” She assures you with a nod and a gentle smile, making you flash her a grin before you now address your sworn protector.

“As for you Ser, I need you to accompany Vanessa, protect her like you do me while she’s out in the city. She is my dearest friend and I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

Ser Jason glances at the woman beside him and swallows thickly before he looks back at you and doesn’t hesitate, he nods in agreement.

“I will protect her as I do you, my Princess,” he says with a sense of confidence that strikes him too. “I am also friends with the Gold Cloaks, I can convince them to let your friend in.”

You sigh with relief and nod in comprehension. “Good, I’m glad. Now go before Aemond gets here. And ser, don’t walk so tense, pretend you’re…taking the lady out to the city, hm?” You suggest, making his cheeks grow furiously red. “I’m being serious.”

Vanessa glances at the timid man and snickers before she approaches you and looks at you with concern and sorrow. “And you? Will you light the pyre alone?”

Your eyes flicker down, but you quickly blink and look back at her with a faint assuring smile so she doesn’t have to worry. “I’m no stranger to grieving alone. I will be fine, I know how to build a pyre.”

“It is raining,” Vanessa argues in an attempt to have you wait for her to light your grandmother's funeral pyre. “Maybe tomorrow—”

“I will be fine, I already know which courtyard to use. Go, I will be fine.” You interrupt her so she can stop worrying. “I’ll see you on the morrow hm?”

She hesitates now for the first time, and as if she was a caring older sister she pats your cheek and offers you a sweet smile.

Before she can go you grab ahold of her hand and welcome her comfort for a lingering moment before you let her go.

Once you’re alone, and Aerion’s wetnurse arrives to take care of him, you put on a beautiful blue velvet cloak and direct yourself to the courtyard you told Vanessa about; one close to the throne room, one with a spiral roof that welcomes the thick drops of rain through the gaps that usually welcome the sunlight on a clear day, or the moonlight on a cloudless night, but not today.

Today the rain is like music against the stone ground, the rain is a mess and puddles around your feet, soaking the ends of your gown and cloak. Lighting and thunder accompany the sheets of rain today, which would add an ominous feeling in the darkness of the night, but the bright fire that lights the shitty pyre you built, burns away the menacing presence of the lightning and thunder.

Now one would wonder how a pyre is still lit with how hard the rain hits the earth, but the center of the courtyard offers a roof that protects the fire and keeps most of you dry. That’s where you stand, that’s where the fire eats away at the wood in peace, and where it’s allowed to glow ragefully; basking the entire courtyard in its red and orange hue as if it was like a wildfire with the power of a thousand suns, and engulfing you with its illuminating hue that makes the grief and sorrow on your face look angelic.

Or that’s what poets would write, what bypassers would think as they watched how the raging light kisses your face and makes those tears on your cheeks glimmer like shining crystals, but you feel anything but divine, you’re grieving alone again. Just like how you grieved your father six years ago.

You shouldn’t be a stranger to grieving alone, but here you are again, away from your cousins, brother, mother, and grandfather who loved your grandmother and Meleys. You’re alone again in front of a funeral pyre bidding a last goodbye to someone you love, and no one is here to hold your hand or embrace your shaking shoulders. You’re alone grieving a grandmother you failed.

Maybe if you had written that letter faster, or sent that warning before, then she would still be alive. If you could’ve done what you were sent to do right she would be victorious or perhaps left with her life, but you failed her, you failed your Queen; your mother, and those who loved your grandmother. You amounted to nothing, but maybe that’s what you’ve been all along?

A simple girl with a luxurious title who dreamt too big and wanted too much. A selfish girl who thought she could get the world, but can’t get a scrap because no matter how hard you try you can’t reach those stars to amount to anything. You can’t feed the hunger inside you. You can’t be anything…

But…

As you stand there in the silence of solace, as you hear the fire crackle, the rain patter, and the thunderclap in the sky, there’s something that you feel calling you, something in the fire.

Something that has always called out to you since you could remember, but something that you have ignored, that you want to ignore now as you mourn your grandmother.

Yet the hot flames dry your tears and its heat embraces you tighter, but like every other time, its embrace, its kiss, and its touch is not uncomfortable like it is to everyone else. It’s welcoming, it’s nice like a friend…that’s been with you since you can recall.

No matter how hard you try, its whispers grow louder, but never desperate, it’s calling is charming, and like many other times, it entrances you.

The longer you stare at its beauty, the more it promises, swears that it’s empowering but only if you embrace it back.

You try to look away regardless of what calls for you, but how can you turn your back on what’s feeding your starving soul?

Fire kills the girl and awakens the dragon.

You can’t look away. You can’t ignore it. Not anymore.

Thus you mindlessly shrug your cloak off and let it drown in the puddle around your feet. You kick your shoes off because you are mindful of how much you love your shoes, and get closer, but it almost feels like you aren't the one controlling your body, it’s being controlled by the power of the trance. It moves you and you let it.

You raise your hand from your side and reach for the flames as if reaching out for an inviting hand.

You don’t show hesitation or fear, a malicious smirk tugs on your lips and the confidence, pride, and malice that washes over you gleams in your eyes like the illuminating fire because there’s never been anything to fear about the fire. It's why you don’t think of pulling away, you embrace the fire like securing your grip on an inviting hand.

Yet just as you raise your foot to step inside the calling flames, a hand suddenly grabs a hold of your wrist and you’re yanked back harshly under the rain.

When you look at the intruder you meet the gaze of your husband, your Aemond looking at you with horror. Yet that emotion slowly fades away as he lifts your hand and sees that you’re unharmed.

Now instead of fearing that you were going to jump in the fire to hurt yourself, he’s left flabbergasted and confused. You could explain it to him with words, but at that moment you can’t muster a single syllable, so instead you pull away and show him.

Aemond wants to stop you again. It’s an instinct, but when you put your hand in the fire and don’t wince, or make a sound of pain, as he sees that the fire doesn’t hurt a single perimeter of your flesh he’s struck with awe that leaves him paralyzed where he stands. It’s not horror or disgust. You walk under the rain again and study him closely to make sure, to know if you should be ashamed, but no matter how much you search his face or dig your gaze in his, there’s nothing you see but awe, admiration, a bit of confusion, and more adoration for you.

He sees you with the opposite of what you feared, with love and fascination, and you feel seen.

There in the darkness you are cast in is your light and you feel…like…you can be something important under his eye, with him because he sees you.

Sure you could have shown your mother, your brother, or even Cregan that the fire doesn’t hurt you. It’s your friend, you're immune to its violence and that’s your gift, but you didn’t share that with them and they didn’t see, but Aemond does. He sees you now, he looks at you like you are something more than you thought you could be and you’re relieved

You have yet to fully be embraced by the flames, but at last, someone knows and someone loves you for it. Someone sees your value and your power. Then again in some ways he always has, now he just sees all of you.

“Come with me,” he whispers, and thunder cuts in from the distant sky.

He offers you his hand and you don’t hesitate, you place your hand over his, and secure his grasp. Before you leave though you slip your shoes back on and pick up your cloak drenched with water.

At first, you expect to be taken well anywhere else but the throne room. Yet much to your surprise, you’re now embraced by the darkness of the glorious hall with only the night's hue casting in a natural light, and the occasional shots of bright lightning flashing an ominous light.

“They would love you,” his voice oozes out like honey. “I know that. Even now they love you, but imagine then, hm?” His words travel in your ear and they make a chill crawl down your spine.

“We—even before we married, when we were just kids…” he says and walks around you, making sure to bring his hand up to press his palm down on the back of your neck, making the hairs on the back of your neck rise, and those goosebumps to spread as he brings his lips close to your ear and lets his breath unfurl over your skin.

“…we were a lot more than my sister and Aegon. We valued our traditions, we value them even now. We are what all Targaryens rulers should be because we always wanted it.”

…he…

“Can’t you see it? Can’t you see us?” He whispers against your flesh, tempting you to tilt your head to try and meet his lips.

“Be Regent with me,” he offers again, but this time in a soft and almost pleading voice that makes your body move so you can be face to face and interlock gazes.

“I hear your protests,” he adds and glances at your lips only inches away from his. “But Helaena has never wanted what she has, you have…”

He…

“You and I will be the best of them,” he continues and continues to grow this realization. That’s what it is, a realization in the darkness of the room.

No matter how much you have tried to deny it, how hard you have pushed it down and brushed it off, it’s always been there. And it was never a darkness, and that hunger for more was never a plague. That’s a lie.

There was this desire, this need always within you. He knows that he sees that like no one else has. And just like the fascination he had for you when he saw you unhurt by the fire, now you return that fascination for him and his offer.

“You and me,” you whisper and those silent words travel over the sound of thunder because you can feel the warmth of his lips basically embrace yours.

And instead of answering with words, a malicious smirk tugs on his lips, and his awe only heightens for you, drawing him to smash his lips over yours just as you lean in at the same time, and bringing you both to forget where you are.

The rain patters harshly against the windows, against the roof, the thunder booms, and the lightning strikes the earth and flashes its bright light, but neither of you give it a second thought or any thought at all. It’s just you and him, basking in the passion brought by your selfish desires come to life. Because that's what it is, selfish on your part. It’s not selfless, you did not accept his offer for her, you accepted because you wanted to.

But Daemon pushed you here, didn’t he?

And Aemond sees you, he sees something in you. You can be something with him. That’s all you want, that’s all you have wanted.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“He dares to summon me!” Aemond barks with rage after reading a demand from Lord Jason Lannister. “With haste?”

He throws the crumbled letter to the side and leans over the table to glare at the brother sitting at your right side.

“Are the Lannisters so diminished that they cannot march from the Tooth to Harrenhal without an escort?”

You clasp your hands over the table and slowly drift your gaze to the blond man avoiding Aemond’s seething glare.

“There is a large dragon in the Riverlands, Your Grace,” Ser Tyland defends his brother's choice, which makes sense, but also sounds a bit like an excuse. A pretty pathetic excuse. “My brother's army is strong, but it does seem—”

“I am the Prince Regent,” Aemond reminds the man. “Not a dog to be called to heel. Tell your brother that if he does not deliver his host to Harrenhal, with ‘haste’,” he mocks. “Daemon’s dragon will become the least of his worries.”

A smirk tugs on your lips that you can't hide, that you can’t shame either. Aemond is right to be angry, and right to project his anger in that way, or else they won’t listen. Besides, you do have to admit you like it when he’s angry, and this new role of command suits him well.

Yet not everyone agrees, especially not his mother. She glances over at you in search of aid, but you just meet her gaze and flash her your smirk as you lift your nose in the air and sit back; because now you too carry this sense of cockiness, this rise in your ego that comes with your new title that the Lords around the table had to oblige to out of fear of Aemond.

If it were up to them they wouldn’t have allowed the daughter of Rhaenyra to sit amongst them and listen to their war plans, but you are now the Princess Regent in a time of war, you are needed around the table to listen mostly. And yes that bugs you, you still want to do more, and you hope now that Aemond discovered your immunity he’ll let you do more, that he’ll let you fight like you wanted to, but you don’t know. You haven’t talked about that night and the fact that he saw that the fire is not harmful or deadly to you, you haven’t had time, and even if you know you saw the love and awe in his eyes you still fear what he has to say on the matter, so that also why you haven’t really tried to talk about it.

You’ll talk about it soon, you have to, right now you’re just relishing in the fact that you’re around the table and that you have a more important title. You find pride in it, and more power than you’ve had before.

It’s intoxicating.

“Your irritations are justified, Aemond,” Alicent tries to do what she wanted you to do. “But it does seem—”

“I have a task for you, as well,” Aemond cuts Alicent off as he begins to stalk around the table. “Ser Tyland.”

Alicent’s brown eyes once again find you and pass her confusion for her son's sudden cold shoulder towards her, and even if you know what brought this on, you don’t offer her sympathy or pity, you look at her blankly before following Aemond with your eyes and watch him land behind Ser Tyland, like a predator scaring its prey.

“We will make an alliance with the Triarchy,” Aemond continues. “I've had enough of this cursed blockade.”

“My Prince,” Ser Tyland tries to bring up an argument. “You cannot mean to treat with the Free Cities. The captains of their ships are dangerous mercenaries, little more than pirates—”

“They are a stone's throw away across the Narrow Sea,” Aemond cuts the man's argument off as he steals a glance at you to let his gaze linger on you before he drops his eye on the man under him. “Lannister and Hightower ships will take months to arrive. The Triarchy will delight in the chance to terrorize the Sea Snake again. Let them weaken his blockade while our true allies make their long journey east.”

“The Triarchy may play at accepting terms but they are not to be trusted,” Alicent tries to reason with Aemond. “Your father knew this. What has come of our letters to the Greyjoys?” She drifts to a different matter in the same territory.

“They have been to no avail,” maester Orwyle gives the Dowager Queen the answer she seeked.

“The Red Kraken waits,” Lord Jasper interjects. “Seeking his best advantage. Though we may draw him in with honey. If it comes to it. An offer of marriage, perhaps to the Dowager Queen?”

You snicker in amusement and Alicent glances at you as she protests. “Out of the question.”

“You’ll have better luck breaking the Ice Wall,” you break your silence with knowledge you harbor from your past in the North. “When I was ward to Lady Karstark, the Greyjoys would send raid parties to Stony Shores, so to make them stop Lord Bennard Stark sent a proposal, one of his sons to one of Lord Greyjoy's many daughters,” you scoff and slowly lean forward.

“Lord Greyjoy sent back a nasty and bloody reply to deny the proposal. The raids did not stop until Lord Cregan Stark became lord because the Greyjoys’s answer with violence. I would suggest letting them sack some town close to their shores to gain their favor.”

“A bloody proposal but it might work,” Lord Larys actually says in your favor.

Alas Lord Jasper counters with discreet disagreement.

“We would have to think about it, and think of which shores they can attack.”

And that’s another way of saying no. You’ll tell your mother then, or Daemon, they’ll listen and gain their favor instead.

“The Dowager Queen spoke wisely, Your Grace,” Ser Criston cuts in. “Even if the blockade could be broken, are we to invite these alien raiders into our waters, so close to King’s Landing?”

“It’s time you set out for Harrenhal, I think,” Aemond pays his thought no mind and actually does as you told him. Which only works to feed that already heightened cockiness.

“Your Grace, if Daemon prevails in the Riverlands I no longer have the numbers to challenge him,” Ser Criston rebuttals, making you bite back your smug smile as you sit back and instead let your cockiness be shown in the way you sit, and the way your nose is slightly perked to touch the air, welcoming the sunlight to kiss your face just perfectly and only make you look that more regal.

“We lost much at Rook’s Rest,” Ser Criston makes sure to share while his eyes follow Aemond as he sits on the edge of the table beside him. “As you well know.”

“The longer we wait, the more chance he will prevail,” Aemond rebuttals using a variation of what you told him not long ago. “Lannister will march from the west. Take what strength we have and force Daemon and his Riverlords to fight on two fronts.”

You fiddle with one of your many rings on your fingers and watch the man seem almost hesitant to do as he’s told.

“His Grace speaks wisely,” Lord Larys says, but Ser Criston argues.

“We would do better to await the Hightower host and set out in good time.”

Aemond’s gaze drifts to you and you lock eyes but say or motion for nothing. You remain as prideful and smug and just hold his gaze until he returns his attention to the man beside him.

“There is no time,” Aemond counters. “It’s a fortnight's march to Harrenhal. We must strike before his army is raised.”

“And you yourself?”

Aemond tilts his head up and once again shares his smugness on the Daemon matter. “I will fly out to meet you when the time is ripe. My uncle is a challenge I welcome…if he dares face me.”

You could laugh at that. You could laugh at the many things Aemond says about Daemon because he thinks that Daemon is somehow scared, or at his level, and sure Aemond is threatening with Vhagar and his swordsman’s skills, but Aemond doesn’t have Daemon’s experience yet, once he does then you can say they could see eye to eye.

“I have some concerning news to share,” Lord Larys interjects and earns everyone’s attention. “I have just heard that Lord Cregan Stark leads an army of two thousand older men.”

You blink and that overpowering arrogance falters at the mention of Cregan, at the mention that he’s on his way to fight for his Queen after he said he couldn’t march so soon himself.

He’s actually coming down and that thought excites you more than it should. It makes your heart swoon more than it should. Yet you don’t display the smile that threatens to spread on your lips, you don’t let your heart show your pride or joy through your eyes, you remain nonchalant and ignore the attentive eyes of Lord Larys as he tries to catch any reaction, but you don’t give him the satisfaction.

“A measly army of old men that will be brought down quickly,” Aemond brushes Lord Larys off, but that's what the Lord expected, he just wanted to see how you would react, but you don’t fall for his trap.

“Now, I see we’re all agreed,” Aemond brings an end to the meeting after a moment's silence whilst he returns to his seat across from you.

“Your Grace,” Ser Criston says after he stands up.

The other bodies around the table don’t linger behind, they rise from their seats and walk out, you do the same but rather than walking out right away, you make yourself around the table to press a kiss on Aemond’s cheek that he welcomes by leaning over to meet your lips.

“My love,” you offer him sweet words before stepping back to walk around his seat with your fingers brushing over his shoulders.

Before you can lose touch, he captures your hand and brings you to a stop.

“Mother…a word,” he calls out before Alicent can leave the perimeters, all while he never once breaks your connection, and sparks this quick-growing tension that makes your heart begin to race with excitement.

“You,” he directs at you. “Eat. Don’t think you went unnoticed when we broke fast.”

You sigh. “I have found it more difficult this morning, they did not like what I ate,” you refer to the twins inside you. “Even now the thought of any food makes me want to vomit.”

Aemond hums and lets your hand go to caress your belly. “I’ll talk to the maester. You talk to Vanessa, have her make you some tea.”

You offer him a soft smile and give his mind some peace by nodding in agreement.

Aemond caresses your belly one more time with a faint smile before he grabs your hand and sends you off with a kiss on your knuckles.

As you walk away you don’t leave in silence, you pass Alicent and give her your last word. “Mother.”

Her eyes follow you and you can feel them on your back as you stride out with a teasing smirk because you both know that you meant that mockingly.

Now to the Godswood, where you won’t be alone, no, now rather than one guard there’s two watching over you now; Ser Jason, and Ser Cane Clegane; The Blood Hound as he’s popularly known, a thirty-something-year-old man who is rather stoic, with broad shoulders, built like an ox, and carries a deep and almost rocky voice. You are wary mostly because of your own indiscretions, but from what little time you have had with him he does look rather trustworthy.

Then again Aemond did personally inspect him and even tested his worth, so he is reliable if your life is ever threatened.

You hope you’ll have to wait and see.

Regardless, no one interrupts the peace you instantly find in the Godswood. You find comfort in the smell of the red leaves that swirl in your nose thanks to the gentle wind that howls in your ear. You feel bliss as the warm sunlight peeking through the gaps between the red leaves kisses your face. And not counting the shadows lurking in the distance, you don’t feel alone as you lose your eyes on the weeping face carved on the weirwood tree.

Eyes stare back at you, but it’s not a piercing gaze, it’s not judgmental, or heavy with intimidation, they’re gentle eyes, caring, and attentive. They admire your smile as you can’t help but think of Cregan marching down with his men to fight.

You shouldn’t be so happy, you need to knock your joy and pride down a peg or two after all, it’s unlikely you’ll see him, but you can’t help but feel…happy at the thought after you were certain that he would not dare come so soon.

And it’s not that you want to hop on your dragon and meet him halfway, no, the thought doesn’t cross your mind. You’re just happy to hear he’s coming with his army of men.

“Princess.”

And just like that your peace is broken, and by no other than Alicent who seems quite distressed when you turn to face her.

Why? What could she want?

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A/N- Abbey by Mitski is yours and Aemond's anthem period in this story period.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan

[pretzel-box]

Hallo ●♡●

I got a funny request

So basically Sebastian meets a reader/player with a korblox/headless/troll avatar/ wings or horns/cosplayers (maybe one as Seb)

Ect... (You can describe you own avatar too)

Silly prompt cause what if Sebastian could see we (our avatar) clearly don't look human and why we haven't been captured/experimented on

Aka this whole request is just Seb being confused as fuck-

Tags: Comedy, random apperance for reader, gender neutral reader, headless

Words: 1,4k

Authors Note: As someone with real headless, I can confirm that headless doesn't work ingame.

Sebastian watched in horrified fascination as you emerged from the vent. Your movements were nonchalant, as if clambering through air ducts was as routine as taking a stroll. You dusted off your uniform, a completely unnecessary gesture since the dust was clearly imaginary, and adjusted the peculiar floating accessory hovering over what should have been your shoulders.

It took him a moment to process what he was seeing. His three eyes widened, pupils dilating as they locked onto you. Where your head should have been, there was… nothing. Just a void, an empty space that seemed to defy logic. He could see right through you, catching glimpses of the rusted pipes and wires lining the walls behind.

“What the hell—” Sebastian stuttered, his voice filled with shock and more than a hint of repulsion. His fingers twitched at his sides, and he had to resist the instinctive urge to reach for a weapon—though he knew that, logically, weapons wouldn’t do much good in a situation like this. He continued to stare, his confusion only growing with each passing second.

You turned toward him—or at least, your body did, since there was no face to show any expression. “What?” you asked, your voice eerily calm, completely unaffected by the lack of a mouth. “Is there something on my uniform?”

Sebastian blinked rapidly, as if trying to reset his brain to make sense of this absurd reality. “That's… strangely…” he stammered, searching for the right words. “...Disgusting.”

“Rude,” you shot back, hands going to your hips. His gaze dropped, and he couldn’t help but notice the bright yellow rubber duck bag hanging there, comically out of place in this bleak, industrial environment. As if that weren’t enough, a floating picture of Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson hovered just above your shoulders, rotating slowly as if it were on display. It was surreal. Completely, utterly surreal.

Sebastian’s mouth fell open. “You’ve got… a rubber duck bag… and a floating headshot of The Rock,” he managed, pointing weakly at the bizarre ensemble. “And no face. How are you even speaking? How do you see? And why in the world do you have a picture of Dwayne Johnson just… floating there?!”

You tilted your non-existent head, a gesture that would’ve looked quizzical if you had any features to display it. “I see just fine,” you replied with a casual shrug. “As for speaking, that’s just a matter of speaking. And The Rock?” You gestured vaguely toward the picture, which continued its slow, mesmerizing spin. “He’s my emotional support human.”

Sebastian let out a half-snort, half-laugh, though his expression remained one of disbelief. “Why am I freaked out?” he repeated, still staring at the empty space where your head should be. “You look like something out of a fever dream! How have you not been captured or experimented on down here?”

You let out a chuckle—an eerie sound given the circumstances. “Oh, I get that a lot. But I think I blend in just fine with the rest of the… what do you call them? Entities?” You glanced around the room, as if to emphasize your point. “Besides, no one wants to mess with someone who looks like they stepped out of a nightmare.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but grin, despite himself. “Yeah, you’ve got that part nailed,” he muttered, still shaking his head in disbelief. “You probably scare off half the things down here just by existing.”

You did a mock bow, your non-existent head dipping forward with exaggerated grace. “Thank you, thank you. I aim to unsettle.”

Sebastian chuckled, the sound coming out lighter this time, more genuine. “You’re definitely good at that,” he admitted, relaxing slightly. “But seriously, next time, give a guy a heads-up before you pop out of a vent looking like… well, whatever this is.”

“I’ll consider it,” you replied with a teasing tone, the rubber duck on your bag giving a little bounce as you shifted your weight. “But where’s the fun in that?”

The tension in the room seemed to dissolve, replaced by an odd sense of camaraderie. Sebastian shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he tried to make sense of the strange being standing before him.

“Only in this place,” he muttered, “could I end up with a faceless, rubber duck-toting, Rock-fanatic as a companion.”

And somehow, despite the absurdity of it all, that was exactly what made it feel… right.

Sebastian was still trying to wrap his head around the sight of you when the sound of frantic scrambling echoed from the vent behind him. He turned just in time to see another figure tumble through the duct opening—a short, pudgy man with wild hair and a permanent look of bewilderment on his face. Berry. One of Sebastian’s more frequent, and certainly clumsier, customers.

Berry landed awkwardly on his feet, nearly toppling over before catching himself against a nearby shelf. His eyes were wide, darting around nervously as if he’d been followed. “Sebastian! AHHHHH—” he began, his voice high-pitched and breathless, but then his gaze shifted to you.

The moment he saw your faceless form with the floating Rock photo and rubber duck bag, Berry’s jaw dropped, his face going pale. He froze, staring at you with a mixture of terror and confusion. “AHHHHHHhhh?!” he squeaked, pointing a shaky finger in your direction.

You raised a hand in a casual wave, the kind that might say “hello” if you had a face to go with it. “Hi,” you said cheerfully, as if your appearance wasn’t the least bit disturbing. “Nice to meet you!”

Berry’s eyes bulged even wider. “Ahhhhhhhh?!” he stammered, taking a stumbling step backward. In his panic, his foot caught on a loose piece of metal on the floor. He tried to catch his balance, but instead, he lurched into a nearby shelf.

The impact was enough to send the precariously stacked items on the shelf cascading down. Jars of strange glowing liquids, bits of rusted machinery, and a few well-loved trinkets that Sebastian had collected over the years came crashing to the ground with a series of loud clatters and splashes.

“Berry, watch it!” Sebastian shouted, rushing forward to try to steady the shelf, but it was too late. One of the jars rolled off the edge and shattered on the floor, sending a bright green substance oozing across the metal surface.

Berry’s eyes darted between you and the mess he’d just created, his panic only increasing. “Ahhhhaheee!” he babbled, his voice shrill with fear. “AHhhhhheeee!”

Before Sebastian could say another word, Berry spun around and bolted for the vent he’d come through. He scrambled up, his limbs flailing as he tried to pull himself back inside. “AHHHH!” he yelled over his shoulder, his voice echoing from within the duct. “AHHHHHHH.”

And with that, he disappeared back into the darkness of the vent, his panicked scrambling fading into the distance.

Sebastian sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he looked at the chaos left behind. “Great. Another mess,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Berry’s going to scare himself to death one of these days.”

You watched the whole scene unfold with a sort of bemused curiosity. “Is he always like that?” you asked, turning your headless gaze back toward Sebastian.

Sebastian chuckled softly, bending down to pick up one of the trinkets that had survived the fall. “Pretty much,” he said, setting the item back onto the now-empty shelf. “He’s harmless, though. Just a bit… high-strung.”

You nodded—or at least made a nodding motion. “Can’t blame him, I suppose. I do have that effect on people.”

Sebastian glanced over at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, well, you’re definitely unique,” he said. “But hey, you scared him off without even trying. Maybe you should hang around more often. Could help keep the riffraff out.”

You gave a mock bow again, this time with an exaggerated flourish. “Always happy to help,” you replied with a hint of playful sarcasm. “Though next time, I’ll try not to make someone pee their pants.”

Sebastian laughed, a genuine sound that echoed warmly through the cluttered shop. “Yeah, let’s keep the cleanup to a minimum,” he agreed, still smiling. “But, hey, thanks. For… whatever this is. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good laugh.”

“Anytime,” you said, your tone light and cheerful. “And if you ever need an unsettling presence to keep things lively, you know where to find me.”

Sebastian nodded, his grin widening. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied. And for a moment, in this bizarre, twisted world they both inhabited, everything felt oddly… normal.

Well, as normal as things could get when you had a faceless companion with a rubber duck bag and a floating photo of The Rock hovering by your side.

[onyourhyuck]

Animal Instinct. | NCT SERIES

Title: PROLOGUE ‘Sour Grapes.’

— Prologue: “They don’t speak to people unless they want one thing from them. And they pick their prey very carefully. They don’t go for everyone.”

— Summary: You are a marine biologist. You should be able to understand animals and their way of living. When you encounter a new society in a bar under the name ‘Sour Grapes’ you find yourself in a troubling situation with seven different men. Seven different animals.

— Genre: Smut with plot. Minors dni. Fantasy with modern timeline. Female!reader. Secondary genders (but with animals) dreamies are complete red flags. Dub-con. Everything is very dark romance related. Nothing here is for the weak. Everything is just pure filth. It gets progressively worse and worse. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. Pet names such as ‘my pretty who’re’ or ‘princess’ — minor hair pulling, blowjob male receiving. Fingering (female receiving) and sex tape mentioned. Breeding kink is a common theme here. Possessiveness.

— Notes:

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There was a new bar that took everyone’s attention and money away. Your friends have been nonstop talking about this new secret bar that is hidden away from everyone by a password. You wonder what the big deal was about it. It just sounded like a stupid bar to you. Apparently only ‘special’ guests could enter this bar. Your friend, Ningning has claimed that she knows what the password to the bar is, and that she will need to take a friend with her.

Which explains why you’re in Ningning’s car with the most absolute deadpanned expression when you see this empty isolating road ahead and the parking lot you’re now at.

You let out a sigh. “Ningning no offence but bars are meant to be welcoming. This looks like a horror movie in front of me.” The building that stood out to the both of you was looking bleak and dark from the darkness sorrowing it. You have a bad stomachache from all of this.

Your friend turns to you with a begging expression to make you come with her, because let’s be honest, Ningning wouldn’t want to go alone to this bar that no one has heard about. “Y/n please just trust me. The guy I was supposed to meet up with told me the password to this bar. I cant go along without you.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” You remark back furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance. You eventually gave in after five seconds of whining from Ningning because you can’t stand this at all.

Scowling out of the car with your friend you follow her inside with the least enthusiasm for partying tonight as well. Unlike Ningning you actually don’t have this much free time.

“If I see something weird I’m getting out of here and calling the police, Ning.” You tell her, your voice coming out more sternly.

But she was your friend and you love her. You can’t just leave her to go to this weird scam-looking bar alone. Good knows what could’ve happened to her if you didn’t come with her.

Ningning gave you a small smile. “Yeah! Deal.”

The building looked like it was probably abandoned for many years. The entrance itself gave you spooky vibes and you hated it. The girl in front of you was the first one to approach the singular bookshelf on the wall guided against the wall. Your eyes stare blankly at the set up.

You saw your friend touching every book on the shelf and you let out a sigh and a laugh at the same time. This was ridiculous.

“Don’t tell me you’re looking for a secret book-lever?” You mumble behind Ningning who gave a very optimistic smile. “Yeah. The guy said the passcode will work if we find the book that is the right one.”

You sigh. “This is a lot of effort to go through just to drink and find yourself a fling isn’t it?” You had a point. There was definitely something going around here that you’re missing. Maybe some information that your friend wasn’t telling you?

Few seconds later Ningning found the reddish book on the bookshelf stand that had peeked out and she pulled it out, only to find it reattach and the whole bookshelf moving to the left. Revealing a secret door. Your eyes widen at Ningning; because for a moment or two you’ve been doubting this whole bookshelf thing. Ningning gave you a proud-eating smirk which made you automatically scowl and roll your eyes. You walk ahead and Ningning followed behind you. The dark corridor welcomed both of you and the sound of bar music came in louder and louder. The more you both walked you’d see two patrolling bar security guards at the door.

Your feet tried to past them but they shoulders block. One gruff man gave you an intimidating look. “Password.” He said to you.

Ningning pulls you back a little. She knows you’d probably start an argument with someone tonight, you’re kind of like a magnet for starting fights.

“Green tea.” She said to the guards. You stare in disbelief when the two guards let Ningning and you pass through once the secret password was said.

You see, you don’t understand humans. But you understand animals on many levels. Humans are just something too complex for you to figure out. Ningning here was very confusing. She wasn’t telling you anything about this place.

But you had to admit. The bar looks expensive. Luxurious even. There was something so lush about this bar you couldn’t put your tongue on it. Everyone seems like they are a movie star. Or perhaps singers even.

Pushing through the crowd. Ningning instantly ordered a drink at the bar. The handsome man with a pale thinly skin and alerting brown alluring eyes pulled you closer. The bar owner tending to the drinks had really beautiful thick hair. There was a mixture of proud and sweetness about this guy. He looks like he has this whole place together.

“Two martini’s please.” Ningning told. Jaehyun gave her a glance and a single nod with a charming smirk. He turned around making the two drinks for you and Ningning.

You whisper to your friend. “This whole place is weird vibes Ning. What’s so special about this place?” You don’t understand why she was so eager to come here.

Your friend gave you a sympathetic response but she didn’t seem to find this all so suspicious like you. Sometimes you analyse things too much for her own liking. “I just heard it amongst people at my workplace. So I wanted to try it out.” Ningning said with a shrug.

The two glasses were plopped down and your head turns to the martini then to the guy with a small glance you take the martini to sip.

Your friend’s answer was so vague to be honest. So much effort just to find out about this bar?

Reaching for your phone you wanted to check if anyone has been texting you. To your answer you find out the signal here was completely nonexistent and crap. You grumble and Ningning saw you struggling. She furrows her eyebrows when you curse.

“Does this bar have no wifi signal or what?” You said with your tone of voice becoming frustrated. You put your phone down when Jaehyun reached over. “Actually phones aren’t allowed in this bar, miss.” He explained, even though his handsome face was definitely a distraction from how annoying this rule was.

“What? No phone. Isn’t that a bit weird and suspicious.” You grumble not understanding what kind of a rule was this?

Ningning switched glances between Jaehyun and you. You were watching him with a double sided glare like you were a mirror reflecting how much you hated this rule so much.

Jaehyun smirks and pulls back. “At Sour Grape’s whatever happens stays here. Therefore no phones. Just enjoy your night.” He reassures.

It sounds like everyone had something to hide what was was it?

Deciding to let your eyes wonder around the whole bar to check out what could take your interest; you found your eyes gravitating to a specific table of seven guys seated like they own the whole place. Crouching between girls. You find yourself wondering what the whole deal was with them.

You turn to the bar owner, Jaehyun was cleaning a few glasses with a cloth. He wore this white top with a black vest over and a tie neatly over it. The hair was slick back too.

“What are those guys all doing? They look like they own the whole damn place.”

Jaehyun laughs at your words. “Because they do. They are my main clients who make this whole bar popular.”

You furrow your eyebrows turning back to watching the group of men seating down. They all had a specialised accessory with an animal of their choice. You don’t understand why. But all you could see was that it somehow matches their appearance.

He leans close now, he decided to give you a little introduction to who runs this whole place like it is their kingdom.

“Let me explain to you who they are.” He softly said and you nodded watching the group.

“That man is Mark Lee.” Jaehyun said it with some pride when the name comes out of his mouth. As if he was some sort of king. “He is what you call a womaniser I believe. No intentions of settling down. However he is loaded with money.”

A blonde guy sitting in the middle with his legs spread while a woman was on his lap in the middle, his hand sneaking around the waist to pull the beautiful woman closer. His eyes felt deadly and sharp. You feel like nearly as a prey would when watching this encounter. On his right hand was a shiny silver ring on his middle finger — with a tiger face shaped on it. Engraved.

Your eyes move to the right. Jaehyun saw you checking out the guy next to Mark now.

Next to the man was a sickly pale man. He looks as cold as ice to you; it shouldn’t be possible to look this pale without looking like the clouds in the sky itself. However his facial expressions were the least exciting. He looks like he did not have intentions of getting woman. A necklace was hanging around his neck in shape of a wolf.

“That is Lee Jeno.” He said to you with a smirk. “This guy is probably the least you likely will ever meet. Jeno is a tough one to grasp. He’s very loyal to Mark and his friends. He doesn’t even show slightest interest in women.”

You roll your eyes. “Why is that? Is he scared of women?”

Jaehyun grinned shrugging. “Pack law maybe?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at the comment you tried to not think much of this. Perhaps it was a metaphor but you can’t really put your finger on why he said something like that.

Your attitude towards the group was getting more and more conflicting. You wanted to know more about the rest of them.

“Who is the guy standing up over there?” You try to point your eyes at the man standing up next to the couch that all the other men were sitting together. Jaehyun looks over there.

“Zhong Chenle, he is a reliable guy with source of information from everywhere.” Jaehyun smirks at you and you raise your eyebrows scoffing.

“Why?” You question. Jaehyun responded with an obvious tone. “Because he’s rich. They all are.”

Chenle wore the most expensive clothing you’d have to be honest. He wore and extended his beauty with all his money he could afford it with. But what caught your eye at the end was this hanging shark tooth down his ears.

Sudden arm around Chenle was wrapped by a much larger and bigger man in height with pale skin and black hair. Darkly covered clothes and makeup on his face. A choker was around the guy’s neck with a spider in the middle showing off.

“And that guy with Chenle?” You grumble staring the taller boy down.

Jaehyun puts the drinking glass down, lifting up his head over the bar. “Park Jisung. Chenle’s best friend; he’s also deadly. I don’t think you should go near him unless you want him to completely destroy you.”

“You make it sound like he’s a killer.” You roll your eyes not taking whatever he said about Jisung or the others too seriously.

Jaehyun scoffs. “You never know.” He points out and then leans over pointing over to three other guys that were speaking together as they sat down at the table table with the others.

“Those three are always together.” He explained to you and your head turns to analyse the other three people.

Sun kissed man with brunette hair and beautiful brown eyes with black moles; wearing a bear shaped pendant down his neck while discussing something with his two friends. Lee Haechan.

In the middle a smaller frame but a sheepish man with beautiful hair and fox-like eyes made you look twice. He looks unreal if anything. With a lip piercing on the bottom lip, you swore you saw a fox tail on the lip piercing detail. Huang Renjun.

And then a man with a bracelet on his wrist, he looked to be the most troublesome and quiet person in the group. The snake bracelet on his arm intrigued you nonetheless. Na Jaemin.

They all wore animal charms which looked silly but at the same time you wonder if it meant something more?

“Why do they all wear those jewellery? I don’t understand why they have all those animals on them.”

Jaehyun wasn’t aware if you knew why this bar was such a high secrecy but he leans down and now got a real serious one on one with you. “Can you keep a secret?” He asked as his face told you that he was being serious.

The information he’s about to tell you will change your entire life forever.

“Yeah.” You slant back watching Jaehyun sit up with a grin at your response.

“Everyone in this bar knows this but you.” Jaehyun smartly points out. “What do they know?” You became wary of what this was all about. Suddenly your stomachache was back again as if it was a warning from whatever you were about to find out.

Jaehyun trails with a devilish look. “The reason Sour Grape’s is such a secret place to enter is because everyone in this place has evolved from different species of animals.”

“For example, most people like you who evolve from monkeys exist in this world. But there are people who evolved from others.”

He whispers back pulling away to show you his arm bracelet with horses on it. You raise your eyes from Jaehyun’s wrist and back to his face in disbelief. This wasn’t making enough sense to you.

“So you’re telling me you and the other guys came from animals that weren’t monkeys? What kind of logic is that.” You grumble feeling that maybe you’re drunk and he was fooling around with you.

Jaehyun gave you a light shrug with his shoulders. “You said you can keep a secret. You can’t tell this to anyone.”

“Hyung pass me a bottle. You know what I want the usual.” A dark deep and striking tone alerts me from behind as if I’ve never heard any footsteps coming from behind me. The tall domineering man next to my shoulder peeking down at the bar. He saw my intense gaze fixated on him. Mark turns around watching my look with a bit of haste. “And you are miss? Do I have something on my face?”

You could practically pass out from the way he is watching you like you are just some thing, a bug that could be squished by the size of his palm. “No…I…”

The bottle being placed down made you flinched. Somehow all the things Jaehyun said to you now makes sense. Mark had a look of a tiger behind his eyes. He wasn’t no cub. He was a fully grown animal in a human body. It made you scared to even look the other way.

Watching him leave with the bottle in hand. Jaehyun knew by your expression that you finally found some truth to his story.

You look down at your hands. “How do i get to speak to him?”

You hate to admit it but you want to meet them all. You want to analyse them; to get to know them. Somehow deep inside you’re willing to even try and befriend them.

Jaehyun gave you a laugh. “They don’t speak to people unless they want one thing from them. And they pick their prey very carefully. They don’t go for everyone.” You grumble at the bar owner. “Okay what’s that?”

An obvious tone was spoken again. “To sleep with you, nothing else.”

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank you. Reblog this fic and follow me for more it helps a girl out!

[shybluebirdninja]

FADED DAYS: PART 2

Summary: In a bleak world where Logan has lost his purpose, an unexpected connection with his nurse brings a spark of humanity back into his fading life as an Uber driver.

Pairing             : Uber-Driver!Logan Howlett x Nurse!Fem-reader

Genre              : Heavy Angst

You swipe the screen to clock out from your shift, feeling the heavy pull of exhaustion in your bones. It was one of those nights—sick patients, endless charts, and a doctor who looked at you like you’d just ruined his life every time you handed him a pen. You just want to go home, crawl under the covers, and sleep for a decade.

But the second you tap the Uber app, you see it.

Your driver: Logan. Estimated arrival: 4 minutes.

“Oh, hell no.”

You vaguely remember the grumpy old guy from last time, the one who looked like he was one minor inconvenience away from driving the car straight off a cliff. You sigh, rubbing your temples. The last thing you need is another ride full of awkward silences and death glares.

His car pulls up, same as before, creaking to a stop like it’s gasping for its last breath. You get in and immediately regret it. It smells faintly of...is that whiskey? And maybe motor oil? You’re not even sure anymore.

“Hey,” you say as you settle in. “Fancy seeing you again.”

“Yeah, lucky me,” he grunts, his voice sounding like it’s been dragged over sandpaper. No eye contact, just the same stoic stare out the windshield. The engine groans, and you wonder if the car’s going to make it through the ride—or if the driver will, for that matter.

The silence stretches out like an awkward third wheel in the backseat. You figure you might as well try to lighten the mood.

“So, Uber driver, huh? Is this, like, your dream job?” You flash a grin, hoping for at least a chuckle.

“Pays the bills,” he mutters. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Ouch. Guess humor isn’t his thing. Still, you push on.

“I dunno, man. You don’t really scream 'people person' to me. No offense, but I thought Uber drivers were supposed to be...uh, friendlier.”

He snorts. “I ain't here to be your friend.”

“Clearly,” you mumble under your breath. “Just trying to make conversation.”

Another snort, this one a little more amused, but still tinged with that world-weary, grumpy-old-man vibe. You’re not sure whether to laugh or feel sorry for him. He’s like the human version of a stray dog—ragged, angry, but you know deep down he’s just tired of being kicked around.

The car lurches forward as he merges onto the freeway, and you notice the deep lines on his hands again. The knuckles, those strange scars. You’ve seen your fair share of battle wounds in the hospital, but his look different. Old. Like he’s lived through something worse than just a bad day at work.

“Rough shift?” he asks suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice is still gruff, but there’s something softer beneath it. Not exactly sympathy, but...close enough.

“Yeah,” you admit. “You could say that.”

He grunts again. “I’ve had worse.”

“Yeah?” You glance at him, eyebrow raised. “Like what?”

He doesn’t answer right away, but his grip on the wheel tightens. For a second, you think you’ve hit a nerve, but then he shrugs. “Nothing you’d believe.”

“Try me.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, you think he’s going to brush you off. But then he glances at you, just for a split second. His eyes are tired, so tired. “You ever been shot six times in the chest?”

Your eyes widen. “Uh…no?”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

You blink, unsure if he’s serious. Then he coughs—this raspy, painful sound—and you can’t help but laugh. It’s ridiculous. The whole situation is ridiculous. This grumpy, near-dead Uber driver who claims he’s been shot six times and lived to tell the tale.

“You’re kidding, right?” you ask, half-expecting him to say it’s a joke.

“Nope,” he says, popping the p in the most deadpan way possible. “Still hurts when it rains.”

There’s a beat of silence before you both laugh, his cough mingling with the sound. It’s not exactly a light-hearted moment, but it’s…something.

But as you look at him, the laughter fades. You see the deep, hollow weariness in his eyes again. The kind that no joke can really erase. And something tugs at your chest—a weird mix of sympathy and sadness.

You shake your head, changing the subject. “So, Uber wasn’t your first gig, huh? What’d you do before?”

“Stuff,” he says, evasively.

“Stuff? Very specific.”

“Stuff that ain’t your concern.” His tone is final, but there’s no malice in it. Just the same wall of grumpiness he’s clearly used to hiding behind.

When he pulls up to your place, you linger in the car for a second, wondering if you should say something more. Something...human. But instead, you just glance over at him one last time.

“Take care of yourself, Logan.”

For the first time, his eyes flick up to meet yours, and you swear there’s a flicker of something behind that grizzled exterior.

“Yeah,” he says, voice low. “You too.”

You step out, closing the door softly behind you. The car lingers for a moment, like he’s thinking about something. Then, with a groan of the engine, he’s gone, disappearing into the night.

As you walk up to your apartment, you can’t help but smile. Who knew a grumpy old Uber driver could leave you feeling this weird mix of sadness and warmth?

You’ll probably see him again. Something tells you he’ll be around.

[ririsasy]

Bro Daddy was such a cheerful movie to watch, was curious to see what Prithvi would do teaming up with Mohanlal again for his second movie as a director after their success together with Lucifer and Prithvi really didn’t disappoint, he really has an unique style as a director, I think he was trying to proof himself and see if he could do a good rom-com and I think he definitely could! This movie was an enjoyable ride from start to finish. Prithvi said in an interview that he did this movie during pandemic and thinking about a light hearted movie to watch on streaming services with family because the time was bleak and want to bring something to laugh together with and it was clear that he also have so much fun himself directing the movie, love seeing his adorable laugh between takes. What this man couldn’t do?? That’s the real question now.

Even though the movie was so colorful and there were so many scenes to gif lol but for me the most fun part was watching the BTS (pardon the quality because they only gave that tiny footage beside the rolling credits) because when Prithvi was directing he acted and became like every character in his movie 😂

1. Acting like a cool capable savvy tech dude

2. Directing an attitude for a granny 😂

3. Became an eccentric wedding organizer lol

4. How to act cute toward your mother in law

5. And of course directing the Mohanlal, I adore all these BTS footage because Mohanlal look like he clearly adore Prithvi. These are like two strikes successful good movies they made together

No wonder Prithvi could emote so easily when he became the actor himself, he could just put his director mind and thought about what a director would want to see in this or that kind of situation from him.

And my favorite from the bts is pregnant prithviraj 😂 when he’s directing the morning sickness because well…this BTS inspired the whole new Salaar AU for me 😂🤣 (forgive me because whatever movie I watched of Prithviraj I will keep trying to connect it to Salaar somehow, so watch out for more crossover 😂)

Salaar omega verse AU headcanon below (thanks to this bro daddy BTS) 🤣 👇👇🐺🐮

Obviously it’s an mpreg. So proceed if you’re okay with it.

Salaar is so easy to see as an omegaverse because Deva's traits are inherently similar to all the feral possessive alpha traits (with never let anyone to touch Varadha or he will lost his cool and he basically from a wolf tribe like???? That’s an alpha right there) and Varadha is the omega that everyone is crazy about (seriously what’s up with everyone trying to take Varadha’s honor and touching him in humiliating and inappropriate way hands off!)

So, what if Varadha after Deva left Khansaar started showing symptoms making Baachi (okay we gonna pretend he’s alive in this AU) all confused what happened to his brother.

Deva didn't know that Varadha was pregnant with his child and it was Varadha who banished him anyway, Actually even Varadha himself didn't know that he was pregnant he only figured it out after 3 months of Deva's departure.

I will imagine that it’s the same with Prithvi character in bro daddy where he is having a hard time trying to tell the news to his parents but in Salaar AU he keeps making up excuses to Baachi about his morning sickness like it was because of the food stomach flu and everything until he runs out of excuses and Baachi figured it out eventually when his stomach started showing and Varadha just didn’t make a public appearance much anymore.

So Imagine 7 years later Deva broke the seal only to be greeted at Khansaar gate by a 7 years old kid that look like him.

It is hilarious but also sad at the same time moment like “why the hell this kid looks like me , where is his parents”

Varadha was searching for the brat (attitude close to a maniac that one he used to love) that’s been causing havoc all throughout the palace, his kid was so close of getting out of the big gate himself because he was spying on the gate to open ready to run away.

The reason why he run because he got into an argument that morning with Varadha who didn’t tell him about his mother. Varadha was like “you didn’t have a mother, I carried you myself” and his son was like “then where’s my father???? What’s his name” and Varadha refused to answer so his kid set out his heart and packed a tiny backpack throwing his clothes inside ready to explore the world searching for his dad 😂

That he immediately met at the gate! what’s the odd and he looked up at Deva, strong and big Deva full of charisma with sun rays illuminating his figure like “are you my dad?” Just as Varadha arrived behind them with his entourage.

Bilal that arrived behind Deva a moment later also didn’t know that Varadha was pregnant! He left with Deva but it’s so easy for him to put the two pictures together because well the brat look like the splitting image of deva and varadha. They didn’t need DNA test for that to know who his fathers are 😂

Varadha calling his son that he named Raju (pfft) to quickly come to his side and scold him because why would he bother a stranger like that.

Deva is like “is he?–” (Mine) he couldn’t say the word because what if he’s not? 😭😭

Deva didn’t know which one is worse, not knowing you fathered a child and not be there for him for 7 full years or Varadha already taking a queen and got married and have a son now. Both equally devastating. That’s when Baachi rushed toward him to punch Deva on his face and Deva got his answer.

Imagine if it was the last hate sex they have before the big separation that made Varadha got 🫃, I mean they start rawing the moment Deva enter Khansaar (cough the moment where Vishnu was throwing that firework at Varadha’s doorstep and Deva was waking up behind Varadha 👀 omega verse and all I imagined Deva’s presence might’ve triggered an early heat for Varadha) but since Varadha never showed any symptoms when he was around in Khansaar for a whole year so Deva made a quick calculation that the child was indeed conceived when they were tearing the house apart before they went their separate ways. 😞

Anyway that’s all I got from now lol feel free if you want to elaborate it more or continue this headcanon . I love my imaginary 7 years old boy, Raju, already.

[kierongillen]

i have to know - as a disco elysium fan who didnt do disco, what would you say is essential disco listening for me?

I'm hugely behind on the asks, but I have to answer this one, because I'm going to answer a connected but completely different question, and then maybe then loop back to you. I'm just looking for an excuse to ramble, and do the writer equivalent of a warm-up sketch (i.e. waste time).

My apologies.

If you wake up and decide that you want to get into a whole genre of music, there's basically two tactics.

(There's also the "Why would anyone care to get into something they don't care about", which is one of the few things I have a "There's two sorts of people..." response to - those who when presented by something unknown either think "why should I know about that?" or "why don't I know about that?" I'm the latter, and it's served me well.)

The first tactic is simple.

Jump on a genre with Best Of in the title and follow your pleasure response. Here's a Spotify one. What interests you? What excited you? What makes you laugh? Probably explore more of that. If not, indulge widely, and see what sticks. At a glance, Disco playlists seem to have the problem of most playlists, in that strictly not everything on it is disco per se. For example, Dancing Queen strictly speaking isn't a disco song - but it's a song about disco, in every way. But if anything has found its way on a playlist, it's found its way on for a reason.

In your case, you're interested in what Disco resonates with Disco Elysium. Which I've bought for C, but not played, but I'm aware of in a "if I was still a games journalist, this is clearly one I would write a lot about." I spent years writing about Planescape Torment, and I know a spiritual successor when I see one.

This makes me think the area you want is basically the classier end - the big bleak emotions, the chilliness, the control, lonely on a dancefloor, lonely everywhere, oh-so-much cocaine, and - to steal Paul Lester's line - glass mountains on fire.

Which leads back to the second way of getting into a genre of music - which is to hit a major artist, and hit them hard.

When asked about "how shall I get into a band" my advice is actually the opposite of what I'm about to give. If you just want to get into a band, get Best Of, see what tracks you like, then go to the albums they're from. But if you're trying to get into a whole genre of music, that's a more serious endeavour, and may reward the opposite approach.

Basically pick a key album from a key band, and get into it, and grow from there. Read about the band - you don't need much, but a little helps. Learn how to listen to what their tracks do. And then you use that band as the single point of knowledge you have to orientate yourself to everything else you listen afterwarads.

There's a huge danger to this - basically, no-one is more ignorant than someone with a little knowledge. You have to be aware that you are the person who knows a bit about Boss Baby, and using that to get into things other than Boss Baby.

The strength is that it's a more holistic, lived in knowledge than just skimming the surface. You understand the music better as an artifact of their times, made by people, responding to their specific situation - which adds different flavours to your appreciation of it. Sure, your own response and how it finds a place in your life is always the thing which over-rules anything else - but the more you can listen for, the more you can hear, the more you can get from a work of art.

Anyway - I'm telling you to go and listen to Risque by Chic.

Chic are basically fucking awesome. If you don't know Disco at all, the opening Good Times chilly ironic take on American late-seventies culture is a great and (I suspect) Disco Elysium relevant intro. You'll know it as a sample, if nothing else, and the eight minutes version that opens Risque is a great way to think about it as both music for dancing (it is endless) and music for listening (it is boundless).

I got Risque as Paul Lester went to bat for it so hard in the Unknown Pleasures book the Maker stuck on the cover in 1995 (it was covering 20 albums that had fell out of the critical conversation, and it absolutely changed the dirction of my listening in the period). Here's Lester writing about Risque more recently for a taste, as the original piece doesn't appear to be online. I just read it in my copy, and it's a burst of love, describing it Disco as music about love - never sex, only love, and mainly love that is denied. That seems solid, at least for the best of chic.

Risque is the Chic album that Lloyd from Phonogram would have been listening to, certainly. I know I did.

(Plus At Last I Am Free from C'est Chic, obv)

There's a lot of Chic to listen to - their own work, especially in the period, and all their productions. Their work with Sister Sledge is of particular import - Lost In Music was one of the working title for Phonogram, and you can see and hear why. They're also the Disco band whose influence is perhaps most obvious in other bands. Everyone liked Chic. No Chic, no Orange Juice, no Orange Juice, no Smiths, etc.

Sister Sledge was the first live band I was at. My mum went to see them when she was eight and a half months pregnant. The temptration to say I'd have heard Lost in Music then and sold is tempting, but ahistorical - it's well before their work with Chic.

Anyway - get into Chic. It'll make your life better - and when your life isn't better, it's a superior context to lose yourself.

However, to go back to your question, as a Disco Elysium fan, I'm not sure it's actually THIS Disco you're looking for.

How about Disco Inferno?

Not Disco at all, but most like itself than anything else, which sounds like what I understand about Disco Elysium. right?

(DI Goes Pop is the starting place)

[lemonswoop]

Stray is one of my top 10 games of all time, so I decided to do a little replay to remind myself why I love it so much.

Full journal entry under the cut

Stray

Start date:8/18

End date: 8/27

Platform: Steam Deck

Hours played: 14

Rating: 5/5

On the day I finished Stray I sat back and said "I can feel this game is going to be very special to me." It's an odd game to be in my top 10 games of all time. I knew the simple concept of playing as a little cat (with me being a huge cat lover) would be an instant favorite, but I didn't expect that the message of the game would hit a particular soft spot in my heart.

What I thought would be a silly little cat sim set in a cyberpunk city turned out to be a twist on the classic dystopian future filled with hope, love and the beauty of the human spirit.

The game starts off with a cat falling into a walled slums of a domed society where humans have been dead for thousands of years. Our tiny cat protagonist meets the very last known human in existence, B12, a scientist whose consciousness gets uploaded into a tiny drone. Disease and plague ravaged the futuristic city, leaving nothing but memories and the robot companions programed to serve its lost inhabitants. But something special happened;

In the forsaken slums, gritty and filled with despair, hope thrived before the humans passed. When energy was capped, rebellion lit up the city with neon lights. When things seemed bleak, humans created art, tended to thriving plants, and hugged their loved ones tight. They went to bars to get sloppy drunk and laugh off the dark times with friends.

They Lived.

"Humans often said that making art is important in desperate situations. There are certainly desperate times."

Humans may have passed, but humanity lived on in the companion robots who gained sentience. The only models they had was what humanity had left behind for them. In the lowest levels of society is where the beautiful parts of humanity survived. The robot citizens didn't need to eat, wear clothes, love one another, but they did so because of the examples that were left for them. They fostered a community to protect one another all while dreaming of it all being better somehow.

The main goal of a small group was to open up the domed city, see the blue sky and go back to the long abandoned outside. It's what the humans would have wanted, and a place the robots have only ever heard about in stories.

One of my favorite aspects of the game is that while it reaches far beyond the scope of a little cat plot-wise, the cat represented a larger theme of hope for better still existing and it was time to start trying to reach it again. The cat inspired brave and bold actions in the robots, all resulting in finally reaching the top of the walled city. A sterile place where the rich and powerful operation controllers all lived; now gone. And in that city no culture, no art, no humanity survived. The robots were just robots, forever following the last directive they were given before humanity perished.; A pristine wasteland.

B12, the last human, sacrifices himself to take down the system and open the walled city to the bright blue sky. No longer did B12 feel the need to carry the weight of humanities past because they never left. They just belonged to a new society lovingly passed down. A future existed where our best qualities as a collective are what survived.

Sometimes I feel as if the beautiful message of this game gets overlooked, which is a shame when its a message I feel we all can use when the world at large feels bleak.

Nothing is ever wasted or in vain. The beauty of humanity is in what we leave behind. Even the small and whimsical things that only exist to bring us joy; they all matter.

Making music, art, reading, tending to a garden, hugging a loved one, holding onto hope... and yes, loving and finding companionship in a little cat.

"But I see a future in the companions, and in you."

[literary-motif]

Two Weeks

Alex x Reader

You continue sharing an apartment with Alex after he breaks up with you. The past weighs heavily.

“So is this going to be us intensely avoiding each other for as long as I stay here or—?” Alex let his sentence trail off. You did not turn around to face him, silently continuing to make yourself a cup of tea.

It was only for two weeks, after all. Two weeks, and you would be rid of him forever. 

Kicking him out of the apartment had felt like a cruelty you could not bring yourself to do to him. Two weeks had felt like nothing at all, considering the two years you had been together with him. You could continue living with him until his flight went to the US — at least you told yourself you could. 

“What do you want me to say?” you replied dismissively, picking up the cup and turning to face him. “Did you expect everything to stay the same?”

“No!” he said exasperatedly. 

His hair was disheveled. You knew he ran his hands through it repeatedly when he was frustrated. The thought that the situation weighed as heavily on him as it did on you offered you at least a little comfort.

You took a sip of your tea. 

“But I thought we could at least be civil — be friends, even!”

You could not help the incredulous laugh from slipping past your lips. “Friends?” you said, with a humorless chuckle. “Honestly Alex, you’re delusional. What did you think would happen? You broke up with me, telling me you were leaving the country in less than a month! What—? Do you think my life is a joke? Where do you think I— How am I supposed to afford this place alone? Did you think of that, huh? When you told the whole world that you got a prestigious job offer on the other end of the world, did you maybe consider that you were throwing me off the deep end with literally no warning?”

Alex blinked, opening his mouth to reply. He frowned. “You’re well off,” he said, sounding confused. “I never thought that this might be a problem for you. I— I can help you out with rent, I think.”

You shook your head, the fight leaving you with a deep sigh. “Don’t kid yourself,” you said, cradling the warm cup in your hands, “you might make enough to support yourself, but apartments in the States aren’t any cheaper than they are here.”

He sighed as well, leaning against the doorframe and biting his lip. “I’m sorry,” he said, suddenly sounding small. “I— I swear I didn’t mean to. There was just so much going on that I didn’t consider something so fundamental. I mean, I was uprooting my whole life, losing the person I loved” — the past tense stung — “I didn’t consider how leaving would be a financial problem for you.”

You waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll figure it out,” you mumbled. 

Despite things seeming bleak — finding an affordable apartment in London in two weeks was next to impossible — you were confident that everything would click into place eventually. You could support yourself independently. Working at the law firm gave you enough stability to be alright without him. 

“What you did hurt me more than anything,” you said quietly, staring into your tea. “Part of me understands your reasoning, but being the last to know about the job offer you planned to accept from the beginning when your decision affected my life so much, felt like a betrayal.”

“I know,” he said, rummaging through a cupboard and pulling out a packet of his favorite biscuits. “After you accused me of cheating, I couldn’t— I couldn’t see you the same way.”

“You know I said that on a whim, right?” you said, looking at him. “It was a stupid accusation, and I didn’t believe it when I said it. You were gone so often that I didn’t know how to express my frustration. I thought you would deny it and move on, seeing it as the overreaction that it was. Instead—” you trailed off. “I didn’t know it would hurt you so much.”

He scoffed, taking a bite of his biscuit. “I can’t imagine anyone would brush off such an accusation. How would you have felt?”

“I see that now. Still, just because you were hurt and angry at me, it did not give you the right to shut me out completely like you did. I get that you thought our relationship had changed, but you did not even talk to me about it.”

“I couldn’t, you were too fixed on Natalie!” he said, raising his voice in frustration. “Every time I tried to talk to you, you made some snide comment about how ‘I was always with Natalie’ or how I was ‘going to go see Natalie,’ when I was working on my career! Do you remember what we said when we first met? Our career always comes first. Always!”

“Yes, but I didn’t love you back then!” you screamed. “How— what are we even comparing? I want to further my career. I would seize every opportunity, but never at the expense of our relationship! I— I always thought we would make it work. I imagined you flying from Paris to New York to take snapshots for magazines that would pay a fortune to have your amazing pictures, but you would be a phone call away when I lost a case. You would be here to give me a victory kiss when I won a tough one.”

“Yeah,” he said, holding out the packet of biscuits. You shook your head, and he gave you a sad smile. “I guess life doesn’t work out how we want it sometimes.”

You looked at him for a long moment, trying to find the person you so loved under the cloud of animosity that had hidden him away lately. 

“You know,” you began, taking a sip of your tea to gather the strength for the words you were about to say, “we could still try to work it out if you would be open to giving us another chance.”

Alex bit his lip, searching your gaze. He opened his mouth to reply. 

His phone rang, the caller flashing brightly where it lay on the kitchen table. Natalie. “Sorry, let me just—” he said, picking up the call. “We’ll talk later. I need to take this. Hello?” 

Your face fell. “Don’t bother,” you mumbled, watching him leave the kitchen.

Two weeks. You could do two weeks.

[ri-writes-if]

I'm usually a Vezmancer, but this time I decided to try all the routes and Laz...my my my what do we have here? I love the Oracle being this morose, hissing wet cat to him, hitting him with the "Why are you doing this I'm doomed to die sooner or later, stop it, let me die in solitude" is just marvelous (I'm a sucker for that sort of thing). (I also love being able to just pick whoever without worrying about always picking that RO in other scenes).

I truly hope at some point we get to circle back to the loneliness conversation (for added angst maybe after Laz fs up and get to hit them with the "should've stayed lonely I guess" and idk turn invisible or into a bird/butterfly so they can't/won't look at us and fly off).

I do have a question, mostly because I can't remember what the warnings were prior to this chapter, but just how dark can we make the story? Cause I noticed that every time the Oracle starts to go dark, they immediately bounce back. Like with Argellan (apologies if that's not how it's spelled, I don't remember assholes' names out of disrespect lol jk I'm just terrible with spelling) they almost start to cry and then just don't. Or they feel helpless and then just get determined even if most options I pick are the passive/I deserve this and "oh well guess I'll die" options. I'm not complaining, mind, I get going down the major depression path is not something everyone wants to do nor is comfortable doing, and that's 1000% ok. Your story, I'm just here for the ride.

I'm mostly curious given the warnings on if those tags are for the other characters? Or if it depends on our sanity or if it can get darker later? To set my expectations if you will. No need for spoilers and if it makes you uncomfortable/upset apologies, please don't feel the need to answer.

Regardless I look forward to confusing all the ROs with my pessimism and chaos.

I’m glad you enjoyed Laz’s route! Thank you for sharing your thoughts 💛

I understand you might want more “depressing” options, but it’s just not the direction I planned for this main character. They can end up in a pretty bad situation if their sanity falls, but overall, their potential tragedy is in misinterpreting what they need to become happy.

The Oracle is someone who wants a better life. It’s at the heart of their character. Every decision they have been making their whole life is pushed by this desire. They might be doomed, but they’re not going down quietly. They will force themselves to get up even when the situation is bleak, and that was the point of that moment—to show that they don’t allow anyone/anything to beat them down easily. They never have, and that’s why they’re still alive and trying to not just live, but live well.

Their developing arc isn’t “I want to live love laugh” vs “I’ll die so everything’s meaningless”, it’s more like “I’ll become a better person against all odds and find my place” vs “I’ll take what I want by any means necessarily even if it makes me miserable”. That’s as much as I can say without spoilering things.

So yeah, they’re not staying in the gutter. We’re actually at the point in the story where they begin to pick themselves up and take control of their life.

For the warnings—it’s mostly for what the Oracle encounters, though some of it will apply to them if you go down a particular path. Let’s just say… they might end up in a worse situation than they’re in now, you know? 🌚 Perhaps you'll enjoy that route! :)

[th0rns-n-r0ses]

the call ~

axl rose ~ smut ~ female reader ~ 721 words ~

~~~~~

There was nothing special about today. The sky is bleak and gray and the outside world seems deary. You sigh, leaning back in your chair and looking around the room. You have an office on the main floor of Axl Rose’s house, as you take calls for him and occasionally act as a waitress or bartender.

You rub your eyes and yawn. Today was going slow. No calls are coming through and he’s oddly quiet today, when normally he would pester you just to get a laugh out of it.

The phone rings.

“Oh, finally.” You groan and pick up the phone.

“You’re calling the Rose Residence, how may I help you?” Your entire demeanor shifts, as if you weren’t just groaning and bored.

“Hello,” It was the band’s manager. “We need to see Axl in the studio in about an hour. Would you be a doll and go tell him for me?” “Of course, sir.” You place the call on hold and get up from your desk, walking out of the room. Your skirt swishes a little as you walk, and your heels make small clicks and taps on the ground each time you take a step.

You reach the upstairs and find Axl’s room by taking a corner and walking down the hall. You open the door and-

“Axl, your manager ne-” 

Upon seeing Axl, you completely stop. Your mouth hangs open and your eyes are wide.

You’ve got a full view of his hard dick, his fingers wrapped around it. He stares back at you, also wide eyed. You can tell he wants you to get out, but something else crosses his mind and a little smirk crosses his face.

“Get over here.” Axl mutters.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said, get over here, you slut.” His tone is rough and raw. It’s a little intimidating. “I have a name, you know.” “Don’t care. Get over here.” You swallow hard, then slowly walk over to where he was sitting on the edge of his bed. Your eyes couldn’t leave his throbbing cock. It was a slightly odd situation, but you ached for it.

“On your knees.”

You do as Axl says and you crouch down, sitting on your knees. You’re now face to face with his dick, and you can feel sweat beading up on your forehead.

He pushes your jaw open. You know you want this, and he can see the desire in your eyes. Why do you want this? God, who knows? But he can see the desire in your eyes. Axl’s gaze looking back, you can tell he wants this too.

“You’re okay with this, right? Just gotta make sure.” He gives you a half smile, but behind it, you could sense a form of lust.

“Yeah.” Your breath catches in your throat “Good girl.” He lets out a low and sexual chuckle that makes your back arch a little.

Next thing you know, Axl Rose’s dick is in your mouth, your lips wrapped around his throbbing cock. You move your head back and forth, giving him that sense of pleasure he ached for. It was one you ached for too, that itch finally being scratched. Your tongue teases the tip, giving it small swishes and swirls around it.

He lets out low moans, his fingers tangled in your hair and pushing you down on his cock a little bit more. He strives for that sense of release, and he knows you can give it to him.

“Good- Mmmhh.. Good girl.” Axl swallows hard, his head leaning back a bit. 

He shoves your face down on his dick a little more, and you move your head faster and faster, giving him that release he longs for.

“I’m gonna- Nnnnhh, fuck..” He breathes through his teeth, his breaths uneven and quick. You could sense him edging closer and closer, and any minute now he would-

Cum.

The salty taste lines the back of your mouth and drips down your throat, so deep that you couldn’t spit it out if you wanted to. He yanks your hair back, pushing you away from his dick. A small trail of saliva mixed with cum connects from your tongue to his dick.

“Mmmmhh, thanks.” He groans and sits back on the bed, then looks down at you.

“Now, what about my manager?” ~~~~~

[princessofgotham777]

Venice Bitch

Part One????

Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, I don’t write smut

Heyyy since the Naboo scenes were filmed in Italy this iconic Lana Del Rey song kinda inspired me lol. Of course I don’t own any Star Wars characters, this is purely fanfic. Sometimes I lowkey make myself laugh writing these💀I hope you enjoy!!!

Summary: You’re a former Queen of Naboo hiding there during the clone wars. Obi-Wan has been ordered by the Jedi council to keep you safe after there was an attempt at your life. You seem down lately, little does he know it is because the love of your life, Anakin, is off fighting in the war a million light years away from you and you’ve been keeping a secret from everyone.

Warnings: reader is sad and they talk about violence and war

A cool breeze greeted you as the sun rose. Days on Naboo were warm, but they were nothing compared to the scorching heat of Tatooine. For the past four months you’d been hiding in an isolated part of the country side of Naboo with Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. The situation was not ideal. Doing seemingly nothing all day with your fiancés friend and teacher was not your idea of fun. Especially since Anakin was off with Ashoka, his padwan, fighting in the clone war; always in danger and always so far from you. You worried about both him and Ashoka day and night. Anakin contacted you sometimes but it was hard since he was constantly busy and also didn’t want to seem suspicious, after all romance and attachment was strictly prohibited by the Jedi Order. Sometimes Ashoka would contact you and tell you tales of her adventures, you’d met her many times before and she’s like a little sister to you. You did find her stories exciting but they also worried you even more. Constantly hearing about times her and Anakin nearly died seriously stressed you out. Obi-Wan could tell something was bothering you but he assumed it was the constant threat you could be found and killed by the Separtists. You and Obi-Wan got along but you found days in the country side to be bleak and depressing. The days repeated and you felt useless. Once a Queen of Naboo and now it was too dangerous for you to even appear before the Republic to fight against their acts of war.

You sat by the water, in the very spot Anakin proposed four months ago. It was just a few days after that he was ordered to take up being a general and partnered with Ashoka. The halls of the castle by the lake were once filled with laughter and love, and now they exist empty and soulless.

“Is something else bothering you Y/N?” Obi-Wan says as he walks to you by the water.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“At first I thought your sadness was because of the assassination attempt but I sense there is something else troubling you,” he says.

“I’m just worried,” you say. “You know I’ve known Anakin since I was a child, I think of him as a friend. And Ashoka, she’s like a sister to me. I am worried for them Obi-Wan.” You didn’t enjoy lying to Obi-Wan or anyone for that matter about your and Anakin’s relationship but you two agreed to keep it a secret. If it got out a former Queen of Naboo and Jedi Knight were to be married he would have to leave the council and your political reputation would be tainted.

“I see,” he says. “I guess you’ll be happy to know I came to get you because inside there’s a hologram waiting for you.” A smile appears on your face as you begin rushing inside.

“Thank you,” you yell back at Obi-Wan.

Inside you find a hologram of Anakin.

“Y/N,” he says. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine,” you say quickly. “Are you and Ashoka okay?”

“Yes, we’re both safe,” he reassures you. “Is Obi-Wan there?”

“No, I’m alone.”

“I miss you more and more each day,” he says, his tone becoming softer.

“I do too, I know you and Ashoka are highly trained Jedi but I cannot stop worrying for you. If something happened to you Anakin, I don’t know what I’d do,” you say. You pause for a moment then say, “Anakin I have something to tell you”

“What is it my love?”

“You’re…you’re going to be a father. I’m pregnant Anakin,” you say with a grave look on your face.

“That’s wonderful,” he says with a smile.

“It’s a blessing I know but it only makes me more afraid. For your safety, for mine, for your place in the council and mine in the Republic,” you say. “I wish you were here,” you say as a tear escapes and rolls down your face.

“I’ll come home. The work I’m doing is important but any Jedi or General could equally if not better do this. I want to be there for you, I need to be,” he says without hesitation.

“How? What will you tell the council and Obi-Wan?”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll come up with something. All you need to worry about is staying safe,” he says. “I’ll see you soon, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say softly.

Heyyy, sorry if this is short I’m lowkey falling asleep and this seems like a good place to end this part anyways. I’ll probably post a part two I do have an idea for it so stay tuned for that. If you enjoyed reading please like, reblog and or follow. If you want to check out my Masterlist I’ll leave the link there are fics for Jason Todd x reader, Dick Grayson x reader and of course other Anakin Skywalker x reader. Any and all positive feedback is very much appreciated I love knowing people are enjoying the fanfiction. Thanks for reading🩷

Masterlist

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Pierre/Yuki

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and I will remove it immediately, no questions asked. I have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop me a message🤍

have a pairing you want me to do next? please read the faqs and then head to my inbox.

don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!

hi, anons. of course! i hope you enjoy these. 🫶🏻

it took me a ridiculously long time to find a photo for the header for this one, because of their height difference. lmao.

Sweet-tooth by @12romy | G | 2.6k Pierre keeps on finding sweet treats in his room. This story is very sweet (ha!) The author does such a great job of developing this lovely, warm atmosphere. I'm not sure I stopped smiling once during my read! They are certainly Idiots in Love here, and I love it. ❤️

'Summer break feels like it's missing something. Two things actually, the cakes, and Yuki. Especially Yuki.'

nsfw: I Feel Like I Exist For Love by @tinytauris | E | 3k Pierre comes to terms with the way he feels about Yuki. This is such a beautifully written story - almost like poetry, with a gorgeous flow that really suits the yearning and pining and overwhelming levels of love present in this fic. Just absolutely stunning!

'Other times he’ll make Yuki laugh, see the younger man tip his head back, and thinks I wish I could bottle up that sound, save it for when the world seems bleak'

nsfw: part-time soulmate, full-time problem by @mediumtyres | E | 3k Pierre feels jealous. I absolutely love the dynamic that the author has created here. Yuki has all of the control, and it is delicious. The push-pull here, the undercurrent of need and mutual desire that runs throughout - gorgeous, and such a pleasure to read.

'He looks like he’s been pulled out of a renaissance painting; plush lips bitten red raw, the indents his teeth had made just starting to fade; eyes blown wide, the black of his pupils completely swallowing the brown of his eyes; chest heaving, sweat starting to glisten in the early evening sun.'

nsfw: lay your bones down with me by @librasuncharles | E | 3.1k Yuki adjusts after Pierre's departure to Alpine. This fic is like a gut-punch. So beautifully written, and very real. The dynamic here is also fantastic - the teasing, the fondness, the obvious adoration that exists between them (even if that isn't necessarily obvious to them), contrasted with the circumstances and the reality of the situation. This fic stayed with me for a long time after I read it.

'“It’s been great,” Pierre says, finally. It’s funny; he can say all the words in the world about missing Yuki and whether they’ll still be friends next year to every interviewer in the paddock, but these are all the words they can say to each other.'

the alps by @grandprix-ao3 | T | 4.9k Yuki and Pierre adjust after Pierre's move to Alpine. No one does deep, soulful yearning like GP. There is an ache that runs throughout the entire fic, so visceral and intense that I felt it in my own chest. Beautifully done, as always.

'Yuki nods, though he’s not being paid attention to. He wonders, absently, if he had said something before, at some point, somewhere, if Pierre wouldn’t have signed the contract, if he would have stayed. It’s selfish, but he lets his mind go there, anyway.'

knowing i was beyond what could be recovered from by @milflewis | No Rating | 5.7k Pierre comes to terms with life on a team without Yuki. This story is gorgeous. The author weaves in so many beautiful details - Pierre's relationship with Esteban and Charles and Arthur, the frequent little touches between Yuki and Pierre, the glimpse into the future - and it all adds up to create the richest, most stunning story. The dialogue here is some of my favourite in the whole fandom. Truly - I could talk about this fic all day.

'Sometimes, Pierre used to spend longer than normal shaking hands and saying his goodbyes to the team, dragging it out, just to see if Yuki would wait for him. He always did. He wonders if Nyck is now doing the same.'

wingman by @riccardont | T | 6.8k (wip) Yuki and Pierre are roommates at college. This fic is hilarious. The author captures their voices absolutely perfectly, and the humour always, always hits. One thing that I love about this author's writing is their dialogue - it is so easy to read and flows so well, and it's just so fun. I love this fic, and can't wait to read more!

'Pierre almost feels bad for disappointing him. Almost. Probably because it feels like disappointing his grandma.'

nsfw: Set fire to the rain by @housepandacrimes | T | 8.9k Yuki and Pierre are detectives - Pierre is recalled to his old unit after his replacement is found dead. This fic is hilarious, hot, beautifully characterised, wonderfully paced, and complete with suitably unhinged vibes. One thing that I really love about this fic is that it is very atmospheric, and perfectly captures the Noir genre.

'He seems a bit guarded. The dark circles under Yuki’s eyes are hardly new but they do look more severe than usual. Has he been losing sleep over the death of his partner or is it something else? Pierre lays a gloved hand gently on his cheek, running his thumb just where Yuki's lack of sleep is showing.'

nsfw: your mouth makes me reconsider where my heart lies by @yukierres | E | 10.3k After a difficult race, Pierre is looking for a distraction - he finds camboy Yuki and things quickly develop. Not only is this fic ridiculously hot, the emotional journey that Pierre goes on is one of my favourites that I've ever read. Pierre's yearning throughout - he is a man obsessed, and he's not afraid to show it. It's just so well written and paced, and a joy to read.

'Pierre's ears burn. It has never been a thing before, all his partners delighted by his tongue and the things he can whisper in their ears. But his normal confidence is lost here, and he is not quite sure if it is the situation at hand or the way Yuki is looking down the camera.'

[worldwide-simp]

Diary of the inferior

Scp x reader

(isn't really proof-read )

This is something I had written a few words of, stored in my drafts and didn't let it see the light of day (see what I did there hehe) for some time. But I have now finished it (kinda) and its certainly one of my longest pieces. 

(The first few entries are short and poorly written, but it becomes better after some time.)

warnings: gore, kinda pessimistic views, I hate Entry 1 with all my heart, false reality, violence, euthanasia, body horror, religious talk, death.

Scp 105 is post Omega-7, she’s 24 here.

Entry 1: New Beginnings

Dear Diary, 

Maybe I should’ve listened when people told me to never take strange job opportunities.  

I thought it was perfect, I was working in a shop on minimum wage, and I could barely afford simple life necessities.

I still had to pay off my student debt and that made life all the harder. When I saw this strange opportunity presented to me by a shady caucasian man, I believed that this would be my saving light. 

I wish I had been shot that day. A bullet mysteriously found its way into my skull. A news reported merely stated it was an accident; or running from that horrid officer only to “disappear” and never see the light of day again.

I just wish that death had claimed me as one of their countless victims before immortality and the infinite loop of time laid hands upon me.

—-

Entry 2: the flower of beloved Iris

Dear Diary, 

On my photo ID, there was my smiling face. It was a smile of pure joy. You could glance at it and call it cheeky if you dared. But I was merely innocent. Innocent as a human could be. 

After the photo had been taken, I was briefed on what I’d be doing. A rambling speech about the foundation's lack of care for qualified staff and instead people with logic and reasoning. 

That gave you a fighting chance, because how bad could this job be if you just needed a little logic?  I met a girl a few weeks later. I always wondered why she had that camera with her. Perhaps it had been a dear hobby of hers? 

I found out my presumption was wrong when she took a photograph of a flower in a vase some distance away, took the picture out and then proceeded to stick her hand in the image; giving me the flower after twirling it in her fingers. 

Iris seemed proud of making me joyful, I believed I laughed all night. I later placed the flower on my desk, and even after it wilted and its petals fragile and bleak; I still folded it into my pocket and to this day it still resides there. 

She was more on the quiet side but still gave me those sad smiles with dimples on her cheeks.  I had distinctively remembered wondering about the cause of those scars on her eyelid, jaw and hands.  — 

Entry 3: false reality

Dear Diary, 

I found out Iris was an anomaly; an Scp, if you wanted a more precise definition. This was told to me by a person higher on the foundation hierarchy for its staff. Not Iris herself. 

Was I slightly hurt? Yes. 

It had left me staring into a void, although I had seen her camera doing its magic. I must have created some false reality in my head that explained this bizarre situation. 

At the time, I was scrawling through my notebook with such vigour it was comparable to an inspired writer. I was not inspired in a awestriking way. Simply wanting to write about my trepidations concerning this topic and send the letter to me in a shitty way of making myself laugh.

(Mind you, if you too were stuck as a lab assistant watching sentient doughnuts bite people, you almost certainly develop terrible humour.)

—

Entry 4: the beginning of the end

Dear Diary, 

Something strange had occurred.

I had been assigned a mission. Naturally I was confused. Lab assistants being assigned things other than cleaning up the blood after cross-testings? It was something I found most peculiar. 

They, (foundation staff),had suited me up in some strange black equipment, handed me a gun and pushed me over to some people waiting inside a black van.

I don't even have a formal qualification to handle a gun; I had screamed. Why would this be happening? I remember saying that to myself. over and over again.

A pathetic mantra that I so feebly considered answered by the many voices in my head. I cried. Then I wiped the liquid with my hand; I had refused the notion that I was a weak, feeble creature hiding the true meaning of my nature. 

When I really was just that. 

All those other people had kept their heads down, mindlessly fidgeting with their hands or drumming their fingers nervously on the knee. I merely stared at the wall, already feeling the sensation of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. 

I didn't know them, and at this rate; I would never.

—

Entry 5: pathetic chess games

Dear diary, 

They had gotten off the van, dressed in full tactical gear and shivering with a dreadful fear. This situation felt wrong and I memorized the look of someone who knew too much. It was in a puddle of water. It was my face.

Perhaps I was seeing the foreshadows of fate that dangled right in front of my eyes. But I saw nothing, heard nothing and knew nothing. This was all one of the many cruel games the foundation played, killing people as if they were mere chess pieces. 

All just to win to the game, only for another to proceed after that.

—

Entry 6: the majority and the minority

Dear Diary, 

 Scp-001 S. D. Locke’s proposal is one of the many 001 proposals that exist: detailing the sun becoming a hostile being that eradicates human beings, converts them into sentient piles of flesh which aim to find unconverted humans and drag them into the sunlight, for them too to become those hideous masses of skin. 

The scenario occurred in my timeline, at first I didn't know what was happening, only that the other staff members had screamed about the light being good and holy before I heard the most awful noises.

It squelched, moaned and cried. I suppressed gags and muffled my mouth with a cloth. What the fuck was happening? Where had they all gone? Why do they sound not human anymore?

I had ran out from the cover of the van to shield under the safety of a building, not before looking back and laying my eyes upon a horror of flesh melting away under the rays of the hostile sun, dragging its amorphous clumps of bodies towards me. 

They had once been human like myself. I had only saved myself but not them. I should go join them to redeem myself to the judging light and have my sins cleansed. I was a wretched human not worthy of being alive. 

I kept on running, determined to never let the sun touch my skin ever again. I had slammed the door of the building. It was desolate and empty. When I’d step on the ground too hard, I could hear the echoes of the impact.

The was a distinctive waft of bleach, specifically chlorine that reminded me of swimming pools. There was a lack of furnacing; which reminisced the not-so-distant memory of my office. I took shallow breaths, slumping down to the ground and rubbing a sore ligament. 

This was a weak thing a human could do, but I sobbed. I cried and cried until I felt like everything went numb. But it cleared my mind slightly, feeling less like a suffocating cloth and more so like a haze of cloud. 

I felt around in my breast pocket, closing my fingers around a packet and tearing it off and chewed on the granola bar slowly. My mouth felt dry and my throat burned, however, despite the lack of comfort, I still ate. 

I pondered on what I could do. Could I stay here and call for backup or try to find someone who was still alive? 

I sighed, then fiddled with the packet from the granola bar. Was I at fault for my comrades being turned into those abominations of flesh? I could've saved them; told them to stay inside the van and that I’d go out and check. It would’ve resulted in my death, but wasn't appeasing the majority a more important factor than the minority? 

—

Entry 7: The silence of the lamb

Dear Diary,  

I had a radio that I had snatched last minute from the van before dashing off. I had tried reaching out to anyone I could. But there was only silence.

—

Entry 8: Nihilism

Dear Diary, 

I had successfully contacted a person without being disoriented by loud static. I heard heavy breathing, it was loud and quite alarming. There was a persistent sloshing of liquid in the background. It was quiet for a few seconds; eerily quiet. Before someone spoke. 

“You are alone. You will stay forever alone if you do not accept the beautiful light. Go outside.” 

I threw the radio to a corner of the room, and it broke into several pieces. The voice didn't sound human anymore, it was distorted with an otherworldly passion. I was so blinded by the anger that had irrationally consumed me for a second I broke my only means of communication.  

Maybe I would be truly alone if I didn't go outside.

There was nothing to live for anymore.

—

Entry 9: kiss away the gore

Dear Diary, 

If loneliness was the way I would die, perhaps it would be better to perish in the sun than of hunger and the echoing quiet. I lived in cowardliness and fear. I can be free where I belong. 

I opened the door I had blocked two days ago. Such a feeble mind, but I had found revelation.  I will cleanse my body of this impurity, harbouring sins and the devil's hands caressing my skin. 

I will burn it all away. 

This was the only way I would be accepted, then I’d find peace. 

I stepped into the sunlight and stared at the scarlet sun's beauty. I felt my skin being pulled apart, melting into a puddle of goo, bones liquefying and a boiling feeling. My human mouth shrieked, but that was insignificant. My fingers merged together before becoming a singular stump and my body was crafted new.

There was an agony I couldn't describe in words. No matter how many times I may rip out this page and rewrite it countless times, no work of poetry could ever shed light on the feeling. 

My body was crafted pristine, I now moved surprisingly fast. The puddle of goo had moulded itself into the body of my absolute nature. I sought new flesh. That I would bind myself to another pure being. 

Later, I stumbled across a facility devoid of people, there were only pools of blood on the floor. The once pure white walls had undertones of fleshy colours. If I were still human, I would've gagged at the goriness of it all.

But I didn't, instead I lurked deeper into the building. A net ensnared my body all of a sudden, and I choked out a throaty snarl. A familiar figure loomed over me, with a knife poised at my throat. 

I gnashed my fleshy teeth together, reaching out to capture this impure human and bring it to the light. But the creases under their eyes faded, tossed the knife to the side and removed the netting. 

What was this revolting human doing-

I was engulfed in an embrace, a hand of theirs resting on the small of my back and the other placed upon my throat, pushing it back. Almost as if it was endeavouring for me not to rip out their face.

“I can't believe something like this could happen to such a beautiful person like you.” They murmured, gripping my body tighter like I would dissolve into ash at any moment. My jaw snapped abruptly and they hushed me. 

I heard the shuffling of fabric. Cool metal grazed my face before I heard them speak again; “It must be painful for you, I’ll shoot you so you can rest peacefully.” 

Then they squeezed my back with such gentleness it would be hard to imagine that someone like this would shoot me. 

The last things I felt were the soft fluttering of my dead heart, a soft kiss on the lips and seeing their appearance one more time. Admiring their shortly cut blond hair, scars adorning their face and cerulean blue eyes. 

Those beloved dimples showed as they smiled so miserably at the prospect of being alone once again. But this was for your sake. 

“Wait-”

She pulled the trigger. 

And you saw nothing.