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damn-stark · 2 months ago

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Chapter 28 Let it be fear

Chapter 28 of Moonlight

A/N- :/

Warning- talks of pregnancy, ANGST, FLUFF, fluff, and more fluff, some violence, talks of blood, and SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

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

Episode/Pages- 491-515

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

There’s a certain beauty that blesses the Trident today as the chilling blue sky lets the cold sun shine over the thick green wilderness, but what is a rainless horizon compared to him?

There’s a serene silence that accompanies you as you overlook The Keep of House Frey from the top of a nearby hill, and in that silence, you’re captivated by the way the sun captures Cregan, and for a moment, like sunbeams breaking through a storm, there’s a warmth in his stormy eyes that melts away the threat he usually carries, providing a warmth only his grey eyes can offer; which is pretty fascinating considering grey is cold, hard, and dull, but those grey eyes of his have a way of being warm under the sun. They’re also mysterious and beautiful like steel against firelight. It’s your favorite color too, but only because he makes it captivating.

Alas, in all that admiration does he notice you? No, and it’s okay because you find your courage and motivation to keep going in his unawareness.

“The last destination,” you break the silence and as if taking one last breath of him you look away to follow his line of sight to the The Twins sitting below.

“You’ll gain their support just like you have gained all the rest,” he offers as a piece of reassurance, but this time it doesn’t ease your concern.

Cregan notices that the moment you don’t respond and only gets reassurance of that when he looks over at you and sees the storm of stress raging behind your eyes. “You will get their support one way or another,” he presses and gently cups your neck, causing you to quickly look away from the keep to meet his eyes that just reflect you this time.

“I burned Lady Frey and her army of men—”

“After they tried to take Harrenhal by force and captured you in the process,” he cuts you off to remind you of that detail. “They were okay with betraying the Queen to take control of the rubble of a useless castle. What you did was justifiable in a time of war. You did the right thing and if they don’t see it that way then we'll make them. Or you will,” he says with a lighthearted huff and proceeds to offer you an assuring smile as he drags his hand down your side to interlace his fingers with yours.

“You’re right,” you breathe out and find it again, just there in his eyes as your hands are interlinked, the bliss of home. However, as you’re in the depths of your comfort you find it in yourself to ask something that’s been gnawing at you. “And once we fight in this upcoming battle when we win, do you think that will be enough to return home? To my mother?”

Cregan blinks in confusion and you explain why you haven’t returned home or sent her a letter. “When I returned from Harrenhal after leaving my mother for months, she said to never leave her again. She found it in herself to forgive me for betraying her and siding with Aemond, but I left again. I left after she told me not to, so do you think gaining this support, building this reputation, and winning the battle will be enough for her to forgive me again? I let her down so many times I don’t know…if this is enough now.”

Cregan lets out a deep breath and his eyes drift to the side as the sound of incoming footsteps starts to ascend the hill, but he doesn’t pay them any mind, he leans his face forward and offers the best reassurance. “She’s your mother, would you forgive your children if you were in her position?”

You draw in a shaky breath and nod gently. “Of course, they’re my children, but…” you trail off and he fills your silence.

“She will forgive you. I can imagine there might have been tension before. This is all a tense situation, but you’re trying and fighting hard for her, she will recognize that and forgive you if she hasn’t already,” he offers you sweet words, making you nod gently in comprehension with no need to seek for more help. He fills your heart with the assurance you need to move on without hesitation or getting lost in the wilderness that are your thoughts.

So much so that you walk down the hill with your head held high and your mind clear because you know the Frey’s have this need to be resistant. They’re stubborn and proud, so you know that this meeting is not going to be as easy as the others were, there will be resistance and you prepare for that accordingly, making sure to have silver chains over your face that match the armor on your corset.

Never once do you falter in your step or the way you carry an intimidating stare behind those silver chains because you can see them the moment you walk into the great hall; you see them look for a fault in your step, a slight mistake, or an out of line hair to pick on and use against you and the people you’re with, but you don’t give them the satisfaction. With your blazing stare alone you challenge the young and great Lady Sabitha Frey, eldest daughter of Lord Frey, and Lady Frey who you killed at Harrenhal.

“Thank you for allowing us in your home,” Addam is the one who breaks the tension first but can hardly gain any of the audience's attention. Lady Sabitha has her sharp eyes on him, but everyone else…they all have their eyes on you as if wanting to tear you apart, but also keep you at a distance fearing if they got too close they’d burn alive too, which means the message was sent.

“I have heard that a great army has been marching through the Riverlands,” Lady Sabitha speaks at last but she doesn’t offer any greetings, she’s blunt and cold. “I was beginning to wonder if we would be paid a visit or be left out.”

“The Riverlands are grand,” Addam says back. “And our task is significant, it’s taken us time, but we are here at last.”

“It was her!” A voice blurts, bringing a stunned silence and turning all of the attention to you standing at Addam’s side—“She was the killer! She burned Lady Serena and her men! She did it! She’s the Fire Demon!”

You tilt your nose to the air and can’t help but smirk in response, but that only lets Lady Sabitha find a reason to finally display her rage and grief because she doesn't care if she got interrupted and humiliated by some common warrior, she's looking for a single step out of line to be able to drive her focus to you and her rage.

“I know there’s unresolved tension,” Addam tries to diffuse the situation. “But right now is not the time—”

“You find this humorous?” Lady Sabitha cuts Addam off without a care. “Is my mother's death funny to you, Princess?” She throws out as she rises off her seat. “Then again what can I expect from someone who breaks enemy lines whenever she pleases? That treason may be pushed aside, but my mother's death will not go unpunished. Not here in my home and my lands,” she sneers and slowly begins to step forward.

“Punished?” She feign a laugh. “What would be my sentence?” You quip and raise your brows to press her. “I showed Lady Serena that there are consequences to her treason—”

“Treason?!” She spats and opens her mouth to continue, but Ser Cane cuts her off.

“You will not interrupt the princess whilst she’s speaking. This may be your house but she still is the heir and your princess,” he scolds her as he takes a big step forward to be a more menacing presence amongst Cregan also standing at your side.

“Sure,” Lady Sabitha mutters under her breath as she comes to a stop without coming too close to you. “As I was saying,” she continues louder even though it should have been you taking the spotlight, but regardless, you let her share her argument. “My mother committed no treason, Prince Jacaerys promised Harrenhal to us. She was only taking what was hers by right.”

You scoff and flash her an amused smile. “If she wanted to take it by right she should have said so,” you rebuttal. “But no, she did not. She knew I was there and took me captive to try and sell me to my mother or my husband. She was willing to change sides. She took me captive, that is treason,” you spat and take a step forward. “Or what you’re going to argue and say it didn’t go that way? Because it did, ask the man who just barged in.”

The attention turns to the man who had interrupted the meeting and he shrinks within himself but doesn’t dare leave. He averts his gaze and listens to Cregan interject. “Tell us if the Princess is right or if your lady is. Now.”

The man blinks nervously and quietly gives his response. “We had lost so much and the lady was grieving her husband, she wanted to find a point to her loss.”

You don’t respond with anything, you look at Lady Sabitha Frey with a pointed glare as you celebrate within.

However, in your silence, you did expect Lady Sabitha to start forming some kind of apology, but she remains at a standstill with her eyes downcasted.

“Bend the knee,” you sneer with your glare turning cold. “You were wrong, bend the knee and give us fighting men to add to our army so we can fight our war. And since you have heard so much about us I’m sure you know which war. Bend the knee.”

A tension grows tenfold in the great hall as Lady Sabitha remains standing because in doing so she causes her people filling this hall to remain resistant as well.

“Bend the knee to your princess and heir by orders of Queen Rhaenyra,” Ser Cane insists in a booming voice.

Yet without speaking Lady Sabitha looks you up and down with her lips curled in anger and remains defiant, and even then you still wait and wait, giving her the benefit of the doubt.

However, when you don’t hear a word or see her bend the knee you throw your hand back without saying a word. And without the need for instructions as if your minds are connected, Ser Cane pulls Blackfyre out of its sheath, filling the hall with the sharp ringing of metal scraping before the Valyrian steel blade glistens against the rays of the sun as the large sword is handed to you. Once you have it in your grasp you then step forward to be at the center of attention.

“I am your heir,” you say in a voice laced with deadly venom that brings chills to the audience without the need to yell to get your point or voice across. “I am your princess. I am the Blood Dragon, you will bend the knee, pledge fealty to Queen Rhaenyra first of her name, and me, her chosen heir.”

Lady Sabitha glances at your shining sword and then slowly meets your gaze without uttering a single word. She keeps quiet and her glare becomes challenging and conflicted.

“Unless you plan to switch loyalty,” you continue in the same venomous voice still missing volume. “If so, tell me right now by pulling out your sword or choosing your champion.”

Lady Sabitha Frey tilts her head and snaps her gaze to your belly. “And you will fight like that?” She points her eyes to your belly, making you scoff and flash her a smile that’s all too menacing.

“I won’t fight,” you clarify. “I could say I want a champion and all my men would volunteer. Even Lord Stark and Ser Addam would fight for me, but why waste their energy or risk their lives when I have my dragon as champion? Tell me Lady Frey can you, your people, and your castle stand against my dragon?” You finally start to raise your voice. “Or will you turn to ash just like your mother did?”

Gasps bounce around the room and the woman’s jaw clenches as her eyes turn even more fierce.

“Tell me!” You exclaim and then turn on your heels to point the tip of your sword at the audience remaining just as defiant as their Lady. “Tell me if any of you can stand against my dragon!”

As expected, silence, even from the brave lady.

“No?” you continue. “Well, I can. I am the Fire Demon! My flesh is fire made!” Your voice continues to boom out of frustration, and passion as well. “And,” you laugh and slowly lower the volume of your voice but never drop the venom behind it. “It will bring me great pleasure to watch you all burn and scream as your flesh melts off your bones. Just say the word.”

Lady Sabitha Frey looks around at all the frightened looks that the audience all share in her defiance. She looks and looks in hopes for something that can keep her own flame from being blown out, but that defiance once so vividly lit within her people is snuffed out by the great fire you are and she knows she’s lost. When she turns to look at you and meets your glowering glare, you further prove to her that you’re not one to bluff, so what other choice does she have?

Thus without uttering a single word, but with the intention clear in her eyes she drops her challenging glare and drops her head in defeat. The moment you see her head fall, to add more shame to her actions you get close to her and throw your hand out just below her eye line.

Now Lady Sabitha has no need for explanations, she knows what you mean and what you want, so what other choice does she have but to slowly bend down, grab the tip of your fingers, and push her lips forward to press a light feathered peck on your golden Targaryen sigil ring before she at last bends the knee, causing the once defiant audience to follow her suit and bend the knee.

Once you see the top of everyone’s heads you look down at her again between your lashes and shoot her smirk before you turn around dramatically and talk to her over your shoulder. “You will lend us the swords we came for, and in response to your treason, Harrenhal is no longer yours. You will keep your lands, your home, and your lives, I will make sure to let the Queen know of your loyalty and apology as well.” You share with a honey-laced tone that only shames them more. “Oh, and you will prepare your home to host your guests accordingly, I will be staying inside for the night. Pleasure doing business with you, House Frey.”

——

*LATER*

What is it about the day?

There was a sense of peace that filled the day as the sun reigned over the sky. Even after the complicated business with the Frey’s, the serenity stayed, but now even against the fiery sky cast over the land, the dragons are caught in a restless spell as if they were uncomfortable and needed to be somewhere but couldn’t quite find a way to leave. They’re just flying in circles, filling the fierce sky with their almost melancholy song.

Maybe they’re tired of being in the Riverlands? Astraea and Seasmoke do love the sea, you think to yourself as Addam walks in and joins you in the library.

“They’re acting odd don’t you think?” You ask him as you refer to your dragons. “They’ve been circling the sky and crying for a while now.”

Addam approaches you near the window that has the best view of the running river that The Twins stand over, and at the moment notices the way the setting sun in its red and orange reign catches you with its fierce hues, but never once makes you look threatening or as rageful. The red and orange hue makes you appear enchanting and otherworldly; everything a Valyrian princess should be under such a fierce horizon.

“I wish I could know,” he doesn’t offer any kind of solution. “Where’s your Lord Stark?”

You roll your eyes away from the window and glance down at the book you have been reading. “He’s busy answering correspondence from home,” you let Addam know regardless if he’s teasing you. “He is a busy man, you know? He doesn’t just spend time at my side. You just happen to catch him with me when you look for me, that’s all.”

“Okay, okay,” Addam brushes you off lightheartedly and then nudges your knee with his foot. “You changed, you look nice.”

You look at him with a smile. “Thank you,” you redirect before you start to grin with amusement. “Just so you remember I am meant to change about three to four times a day. There’s my morning gown, my lunch and afternoon gown, my dinner gown, and if I go out or have to attend a meeting or court I change for that.”

Addam snickers and hides his grin by looking out the window. “I remember,” he says in response. “It’s ridiculous and a waste if you ask me. I mean why not wear the same thing all day or twice?”

You scrunch your nose. “Twice?” You quip. “I have only worn my favorite and most expensive gowns more than once, and now that we’re out here I have no other option, but why would I wear things repeatedly?”

Addam scoffs and leans forward. “Because why waste your money on something so materialistic?” He retorts with a dry laugh. “And because why not use it more than once?”

You squint at him and shake your head. “Money is not a problem for me,” you explain as if it isn't an obvious fact about you. “I am a Velaryon, our family is the richest there is, why shouldn’t I spend my share? Besides, there’s so many beautiful fabrics and talented designers, I can’t resist it,” you muse. “And all the colors,” you swoon. “The embroidery? The gold, pearl, or silver linings? It’s all so beautiful!”

With nothing left to argue with in his defense, Addam leaves it be with a roll of his eyes, letting you finally find the time to share the news you have been holding in for what feels like months. “Can I tell you something?”

“You’re going to do it anyway,” he retorts and rests his head back against the wooden panel as he locks his eyes on you. “What?”

A giddy smile creeps on your lips as you lean forward and grab his hands before you share. “Cregan and I are betrothed.”

Addam blinks repeatedly and his eyebrows slowly begin to pinch together, but then from one moment to the next, he flashes you a smile and scoffs. “I should have seen that coming. When did he ask?”

“A couple of nights ago,” you share and lean back without being able to let your smile go. “The night we had our campfire.”

Addam hums and slowly passes you a quizzical look. “Has he asked your mother? Or Lord Corlys? That’s who he would need to ask, no? How does that work without your father or Daemon?”

You shoot him a pointed glare. “I am a grown woman already with child. I don’t belong to anyone for him to ask permission. If I was a maiden then yes, he would have to ask for my hand, but I’m a widow. It’s my choice now…However,” you do add and avert your gaze. “Since I’m heir he does need to tell my mother, the Queen, but she won’t protest.”

You turn your gaze back to him and sigh to release your excitement before you clasp your hands and start to nervously fiddle with your rings. “But that’s not the only reason I’m telling you,” you pause and let out another deep breath before you look at him with a softened gaze riddled with a fragile vulnerability that could break at any given second.

“Weddings under the Old Gods are different,” you continue to say a bit quieter now. “They’re done under a heart three and usually a father walks the bride to the groom, but…my father is gone and Jacaerys is gone. I could ask my grandfather, but…I wanted to ask if you could walk me down the aisle when the day comes?” You ask and blink nervously, with each blink filling your eyes with more and more tears whilst Addam’s breath hitches and his own face drops that taunting expression to instead display his disbelief.

“It's okay if you don’t want to,” you quickly assure him in his silence you can’t read. “I can ask Joffrey, I’m sure he’ll be delighted to take that role.” You share your alternative with a happy smile so he doesn’t feel bad.

However, after another second of silence passes he finally draws out a deep breath he had been holding in and nods gently before he voices his answer. “I would be honored to walk you down the aisle.”

You beam and then lean forward to grab his hands and give it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” you offer sweetly. “Now Cregan and I want to marry after the war is over so we don’t have that weighing down on us or potentially ruin the day, so there’s still time, but I wanted to ask you now.”

Addam lowers his head to hide his smile whilst he also interjects with a smug comment. “You also need time to have your gown made, don’t you? What will it be made out of?”

You giggle and as you part your lips to rebuttal with something witty a knock raps on the door, pulling your attention away from your conversation.

“Come,” you welcome the visitor and slowly pull away from Addam.

The door opens and Cregan walks in. You’re happy to see him, you greet him with a smile, but when he walks further inside with a scroll in his hand you notice the solemn look he carries. And he’s usually serious so his expression shouldn’t really concern you all that much, but there’s something about the solemn look that he carries now that makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise.

“Cregan,” you utter his name nervously and don’t move, hoping that if you stay in place whatever he has to say won't reach you.

“My princess,” he greets hesitantly and then greets Addam with a small nod. “Ser.”

You swallow back nervously and press your hands against the cushion to stand up, but he quickly shakes his head and retorts. “Why don’t you stay sitting.”

A shaky breath escapes you and you nod stiffly as you feel the goosebumps travel from the back of your neck down to the perimeters of your skin.

“What’s wrong?” You ask and his grey eyes leave you to drift to the scroll in his hand. You follow his line of gaze but then drift your eyes back to him in hopes that whatever it has to say isn’t as bad as you’re starting to assume.

“A raven just came,” Cregan finally shares and slowly drifts his gaze back to you. “From Kings Landing. It’s for you.”

You were starting to assume it was for you. You could read it off his face.

“I could paraphrase what it says. I think that would be better with the news it contains,” he says and only adds more fuel to the already worrisome fire, but you can’t have him summarize whatever news arrived for you or else you won’t believe it. You need to read every word yourself even though you’ll have a hard time believing it too.

“No, no. I want to read it. Let me read it,” you press him and stretch your hand out to reach for the scroll. However, Cregan hesitates and grabs the scroll with both hands to smooth out the parchment first before he leans forward and hands it to you.

“Thank you,” you whisper breathlessly and watch how the paper trembles in your hold as you already expect the worst news to be written on the parchment because what else would it be?

Life has been cruel. Why would it be nice now?

You shouldn’t even read it, you should leave the news unread because at least that way you’ll be oblivious to anything…but you also know you won’t rest easy if you don’t know, so after a deep breath you turn the parchment and read what was brought to you.

“To The Princess and Heir of Queen Rhaenyra,

I dislike having to send you this letter, but it has to be written so you may know.

I regret to inform you that as of last night, all the dragons that were kept in the Dragonpit have perished after an angry mob of smallfolk following some fake prophet called The Shepherd, raided the Dragonpit—“

Your breath hitches and you feel as if somebody had punched you in the stomach. The news that the power of your house, and the beautiful creatures that are like your soulmates have all perished at the hands of common folk filled with anger sinks your heart. It leaves you paralyzed in your seat, but you don’t cry. Not yet.

“—when the news broke of what was transcending the young Prince Joffrey left the Red Keep against the Queen’s wishes, mounted Syrax, and fell from the saddle whilst in the sky—”

A shaky breath escapes you and a heavy pressure falls on your chest, but you don’t cry. Not yet.

“—Syrax perished not much later after getting caught in the mob that killed the other dragons. And it seems that at the news of Dreamfyre��s unfortunate passing, Princess Helaena Targaryen flung herself from a window and fell to her death, enraging the crowds—“

More pressure falls on your chest, your bottom lip trembles and your eyes sting further as the tears building in your eyes pain them. However, you don’t cry. Not yet.

Cregan who was watching you read the letter expects you to weep. He keeps a close eye out, expecting you to fold over in heartache, but you remain poised and collected, almost like the agony is not as hurtful anymore.

“—and making the city fall. Amidst the chaos Queen Rhaenyra took Prince Aegon, Lord Aerion, the Queensguard, trusted knights, and her handmaidens, and escaped the city, leaving Lord Corlys in his imprisonment which he escaped. As to where she is we don’t know, but until your return with Ser Addam, it’s best she remains hiding. That’s why I write to you in hopes you can retaliate at once and take back the city. You are our only hope unless Prince Daeron marches here first.

Maester Orwyle.”

You watch the words on the parchment and go over the news in your head again and again, faster and faster every single time until you can’t process any more news and you’re sitting there baffled and without being able to utter a single word. Time is at a standstill, the once-warm room is freezing and your body is paralyzed.

Cregan and Addam call out your name ever so softly, fearing that you’ll break if they raise their voices, but you stay there stiffly, realizing that you have to mourn yet another beloved brother. You had five, now you’re left with a single one who barely knows your name.

The woman you loved like a sister, the woman you cherished and adored, the woman who was your dearest friend, the woman you grew up with is gone because she couldn’t bear any more grief. Your grandfather escaped a cell you didn’t know he was in. And your mother is on the run with your remaining brother and your son to escape the angry crowds who brought the city down with their rage which you assume is caused by the same things that were upsetting them when you were there; things your mother can’t control.

Everything you once knew is slipping from your grasp. You can see that clearly now—no, you’re admitting that to yourself now. The only thing you have left is a fragment of hope and it’s just your mother, your brother, and Aerion. They’re all you have left. They’re that last fragment of hope. Yet even if you still have them, even if they’re the last flicker of hope you’re holding onto, nothing stops that pressure once weighing your chest down from tearing you down because you still lost all the beautiful and cherished dragons that connected you to Old Valyria. You lost Helaena, your beloved and gentle aunt who was more like the sister you never got to have. And you lost your little brother Joffrey, a boy you held when he was only a few minutes old, a brother who was the reminder of your sweet childhood; the sweet and blissful life you had before you were ripped from your family. He was that last piece of your childhood and now he’s gone, taking that memory with him, and leaving nothing but this new version of you.

And yet you still don’t cry. Even with the two pairs of eyes that feel like a hundred people are waiting for you to break down, you still don’t cry. You do reflect the grief through your eyes, but you don’t weep, you don’t shed even a single tear. You let out a shaky breath and sit up straight with your head hanging low, but you don’t cry. You shake your head gently at the realization of the tragedy, but you don’t cry. You meet Cregan’s worried and pitiful gaze and remain collected. It takes a lot out of you to remain so strong, but you remember all you were taught and lift your head high and keep your chest out with your nose slowly starting to flare.

“Addam,” you break your silence, making the man’s shoulders jump and be even more attentive than he already was.

“I hope you’re ready,” you continue to mutter in a low and almost threatening voice. “We’re moving up our plans. We will attack Tumbleton right away.”

Addam shifts in his seat before he probes. “Why? What’s going on?”

You let out a deep huff and your drooped gaze slowly starts to harden, whilst your heart begins to pound in your chest as your blood starts pumping through your veins frantically.

“I want to catch them by surprise now,” you share in that same almost threatening way. It’s not threatening yet but it’s slowly building up to it. “I don’t want them to see us coming until the sky is falling down upon them so word is not passed to King’s Landing that we’re coming.”

Cregan and Addam share a worried look and you proceed to get up from your seat to look at them both between your lashes.

“We’re going to attack King’s Landing,” you proclaim, and with that threat, you completely abandon every desire to be loved and respected. If they want to fear you, you’ll give them a reason to really fear you. “They’re preaching that we’re a threat, a curse, and a menace,” you scoff and smirk menacingly. “So I will be just that. I will rain fire down upon them so they may see the curse they want me to be”

Neither man try to talk you down from the rage clearly now set upon you, they could try but what good would that do? So they do nothing but accept and welcome your rage.

“Come,” you direct at Cregan as you walk past him. “I’m going to tell the troops to get ready. We leave tonight.”

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

The sun is slowly lowering over the horizon, and with each passing second as the sun slowly leaves the sky darker and darker, making you grow more nervous as the fate of this battle is unknown. All that’s known is that only one side will win and depending on who comes out to fight another day, that person will determine the fate of this war and your mother's survival. With all the dragons dead and the others against her, she can only depend on Addam and you. If you lose tonight, she does too. So you can’t lose.

“You know,” Cregan interjects through the solemn silence that was blanketing you both, but in doing so he doesn’t pull your attention to him, you keep your eyes on the painted sky as if today will be the last time you ever see a sunset as beautiful as the one over your head.

“I wish you would wear more than just a chainmail gown,” he finally shares his complaints that have been nagging him since he saw you with the chainmail gown on you. “I would feel a lot better knowing you were heavily protected.”

You scoff and roll your eyes his way. “Do you want me to look like a cannonball with a full set of heavy armor?” You quip with a teasing smile. “Because that’s what I would look like.”

Cregan tries to muster a laugh but with his heavy worry dragging him down he can’t even muster the twitch of a smile. “At least you and the twins would be protected against anything that may come your way.”

You sigh deeply and drag yourself closer to him to grab his cold hands and cling onto them as you try and offer him some reassurance. “My Astraea will protect me from any incoming threat, and this chainmail gown is enough to block any attack. I’ll be fine, besides, I won’t stray too far from my dragon I…intend to keep my promise to Addam and Ser Cane,” you laugh stiffly. “No ground fighting if it’s not completely necessary.”

Cregan watches the way you caress his knuckles with your thumb as he tries not to argue against you, so you proceed to pull one hand away from his grasp and reach over to cup his jaw. “I won’t die tonight. I want to live. I have to live, so don’t worry about me, okay?”

Cregan’s dark eyebrows furrow and his eyes snap to you. “How could you tell me not to worry? About you of all people.”

The corner of your lips twitch to a smile as your heart is riddled with admiration. “Because my love, there beside all my grief and agony is a dream I want to see through. A dream that involves going back home with you. I thought about it…” you trail off to a whisper and drop the hand you have on his cheek to grab his hand once again.

“My mother has Aegon and Aerion, so hopefully by the time it comes to passing her crown down she’ll be old and wrinkly and the boys will be men, so they will be mature and ready to rule the kingdom she’ll leave behind,” you share words you never thought would come out of your mouth when you were younger, but now…what does Queen even mean without your brothers, Aemond, or anyone you used to know by your side?

It doesn’t mean anything. Not even a fraction of what it once meant to your beating heart and deepest desires. That’s why this new dream is easy to share because you’re certain it’s what you want.

“Because I don’t want any part of it,” you continue and he parts his lips in surprise. “I want to stay in Winterfell with you, with our family that we will have, and the people we will govern together. I don’t want to be Queen anymore, I want to be your princess until our last breath.”

Cregan shakes his head and reaches his hand over to cradle your face. “No, you can’t do that. Being Queen is all you wanted. You can’t just abandon that dream,” he tries to argue against the plans you murmur to him, but there’s nothing to argue about, you slept on it and pondered it long and hard so you’re certain abandoning your title as heir is what you desire the most.

“You’re wrong,” you argue and look at him with a softened gaze as you just admire him. “My dream is you now. You’re everything I want, so please don’t try and convince me any longer because my mind is made. Once this war is over I will take my children and pack all my life to leave with you. That’s why I’ll survive because I want to go home. Is that not nice?” You ask as your face contorts with heartache out of worry that he doesn’t like the sound of your new desires.

However, Cregan’s grip grows firmer against your cheeks and his hardened face twisted by surprise now softens and that smile that was once impossible slowly gets painted on his pale face. “Of course it’s nice. It’s great and I will do everything in my power to give you that beautiful dream, my darling love.”

You huff softly in relief and let him pull you closer to him so he can whisper against your lips.

“But tell me you’re certain. Tell me that your heart is set on this new dream of yours because I don’t want you abandoning something you always wanted out of fear or because of me.”

You grab into his wrists and nod gently. “I’m certain,” you affirm and kiss the heel of his palms. “I want to be wherever you are. I want to be home.”

The corner is his lips tug wider but that smile is quickly hidden as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I will always keep an eye out for you tonight,” he lets you know. “I will have your back from the ground, but if the battle gets too heavy you fly away, okay? Everyone will understand. You leave the fighting to Addam and us, okay? I know you’re angry, but my darling, you need to worry about your children, if not you, then worry about them.”

You swallow back nervously as you wish to protest, but in the state you’re in you really can’t fight like you used to, so you have to agree regardless.

“Okay,” you reassure him and gently stroke his wrist with your thumb before you steal a glance at his lips, and then look up into his grey eyes with a softened look full of awe before you lean in and steal a lingering kiss from his pink lips.

The kiss is not long, but it’s deep and full of passion. It’s full of longing and desire, and it reminds the both of you how much you really missed this form of intimacy. You missed being connected in such a sweet and passionate way that only you and him can ever understand. You missed the taste of each other, and getting lost in the wonders that kissing each other brings to your isolated world where only you and him exist.

However, once again it’s not long. Not as long as he would’ve wanted because you still feel odd kissing someone else after losing Aemond.

“And with this kiss my sweet Lord you have my favor in this upcoming battle,” you murmur against his lips, making him chuckle and then stroke your bottom lip with his thumb before he leans over and presses a peck on your lips.

“Gods I missed kissing you,” he flatters you and makes your face grow hot. “Once we marry I’ll never know that feeling ever again.”

You giggle and reach over to grab his face one more time before you pull away and pull a ring off from your finger; one your father had given you that carries this beautiful called The Gem of The Sea.

“This is my real favor,” you tell him and grab his hand to place the ring on his palm. “I want it back, okay? It’s really expensive and the gem is one of a kind.”

Cregan scoffs but he wraps his hand around the ring before he secures it in his pocket. “I’ll hang it around my chain later.”

You let out a deep breath and nod before you go still as you catch him sliding off a wolf brooch that was hooked to his cloak.

“And this is for you,” he lets you know and leans toward you to clip the brooch onto your fur cloak. “You’ll be a Stark soon, why not wear something that represents your new name?”

“And you?” You interject and offer him a giddy smile. “My betrothed?”

He huffs and drops his head to hide his smile. “Well yes because you’ll be all mine soon enough.” He says confidently as he meets your gaze with a smirk. “That’s why I will live, so you can at last be my wife.”

“I will be,” you whisper and glance at the wolf brooch to mutter, “now this will be like having you right beside me. Thank you. I’ll cherish it.”

“Good,” he says breathlessly before he lets out a deep breath and just takes you in for a lingering minute as the last rays of sun lose its grip on the earth and dance on your face.

He memorizes the color of your eyes, down to every small hue. He takes note of the form of your lips, of the curve of your cheeks, and the shape of your jaw as if he's afraid that if he doesn't take his time to mark every part of you in his memory he will forget the moment you were out of sight. He almost doesn’t want to keep his eyes off you, but once the sun is completely gone and the earth is completely cast in the darkness, you both stand up and walk away from your stolen moment to rejoin your army of men all ready to attack Tumbleton and the army of men occupying it to once and for all put an end to The Green army.

Yet how can you depart toward your dragon without offering them a few words of encouragement first? And once they see your presence upon that hill that overlooks them a wave of chills washes over them. Not because they fear you, but because they are filled with awe and respect at the sight of you in your glimmering black chainmail gown.

“I know,” you address the crowd as they go quiet upon the sight of your presence. “Today's attack came sooner than expected. We have been marching with little rest since we left the twins, but it’s not for nothing. Tonight we attack Tumbleton!” You proclaim and garner some murmurs. “Tonight we put an end to the Hightower army and the turncloaks that sit behind that wall! Us! Not just you, and not just me! All of us! You are the blood to my fire.”

“Yeah!” The men below bellow and throw their fists in the air.

“As you all know I am with child,” you continue. “But that won’t stop me, I will fight with you tonight upon my dragon. I will kill Prince Daeron Targaryen and his dragon tonight and be one step closer to ending the tyranny of his brother and faction!” You exclaim with a growl behind that threat. “Now I won’t lie, some of you won’t see daylight again. Some of you know that too, but your deaths won’t be in vain, you will bleed and die for your families, your homes, your lords! Your pride! And your Queen! Tonight we fight for her! We fight to win! We won’t lose tonight! We will win with fire and blood! Us! WE WILL WIN WITH WHATEVER IT TAKES! WITH FIRE AND BLOOD!”

“BLOOD DRAGON! BLOOD DRAGON!” All the men below implode into a cheer full of vigor, making chills crawl down your own spine as you watch them all pumped with adrenaline and ferocity.

“I’m going to join my squadron now,” Cregan interjects and snaps your attention to him, calming down your racing heart. “Be careful.”

You blink repeatedly before you rush to him to close the gap with an embrace. “Take care, okay? I can’t lose you too.”

Cregan hugs you back and presses a kiss on your head. “You won’t lose me.”

You let out a shaky breath and clutch onto him tighter. “Take care of Ser Cane for me, okay?”

He scoffs but nods to assure you. “I will…I love you.”

You smile softly and turn your head to press one last kiss on his cheek. “I love you too.”

You proceed to pull back and he cups your cheek one more time to linger in each other's presence for another moment before you both part ways, letting him join his men, and letting you join your dragon and Addam and his dragon.

“If things start to get too out of control you fly out there, okay?” Addam interjects the moment he sees you making your way to him. “And don’t be getting off your dragon for anything unless you really have to.”

Even though he’s scolding you, you still can’t help but flash him a giddy smile as he makes you feel such a warm feeling.

“I know, I know,” you roll out and meet him halfway. “You have told me multiple times. I will not involve myself in any heavy fighting, or fight on the ground. I know.”

Addam puts his hand on his hip and sighs. “Yes well, you like to be spontaneous and think about yourself.”

Your smile falls but you don’t get upset because no matter how harsh it is it’s true.

“Don’t think about yourself,” he presses and looks at you with concern. “Your son needs you and your mother needs you. Don’t let your anger consume you.”

You blink repeatedly as his words ache your heart.

“You be careful too,” you whisper to the ground. “I need you. And Alyn needs you.”

He scoffs and as you look up you see him nod softly. You proceed to reach over and grab his arm to gain his unwavering attention. “I love you, Addam. You are someone to me, and I wish we would have met sooner, but I am glad our paths crossed. You…saved me from drowning in my grief. Without you, I would have died in that lake waiting for a dead man to come back to life. I…wouldn’t be here if you weren’t in my life.”

Addam’s eyes fill to the brim with tears but only two single tears break out and roll down his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he whispers softly and offers you half a smile. “You know all my life I looked up at the world from the surface I was born in, it made me believe you were untouchable gods too high in the sky to care about anyone below you, but…when I too touched the clouds, when I met you…I see now that you are good. You have a good heart. You are a bit mad for liking the things you like, but you are like the sister I never had and I will always be thankful for that. I will always be thankful for you.”

Tears fill your eyes but you refuse to cry. You don't want to cry so you gnaw on your bottom lip and hold it all in.

“I love you too,” he redirects and closes the gap that was left between you to embrace you—“Be careful, okay?”

You nod as you hold onto him and whisper back. “I will. You be careful too.”

“I will,” he assures you before he pulls back and taps your chest with his fist, causing you to mirror his actions right back at him.

“I’ll see you up there,” you interject one more time, making him flash you a smile and offer you a nod before you both pull away from each other and mount your respected dragons.

“<Don’t worry girl,” you talk to Astraea as you click on your restraints—or as many as you can with your swollen belly in the way. “…today we won’t be the day we lose>.”

Astraea turns her head to look at you, making you offer her a gentle smile. “<Our fight won’t be over after this fight but we will be one step closer. You’ve been doing great>.”

Astraea growls and you can’t help but grin wider whilst you wrap your hands around the handles. When Astraea looks back at the dark sky you follow her line of gaze and take one last look at the serene night sky, taking note of the stars, and taking a deep breath of the brisk and clean air before you part your lips and mutter. “<Fly, Astraea.>”

Your she-dragon starts walking down slowly before she quickly picks up her pace, opens her giant purple wings, and then takes flight at the same time as Seasmoke, sending a signal to the army of men below to start running. Not marching, running.

You are so close to Tumbleton that you don’t want to risk being seen by any man. You want to stay under the cover of night and catch them by surprise so you rush, hitting the ground with thousands of claps of thunder as horses sprint through empty fields of grass.

The sky is silent, giving the illusion of a serene night, but looming threats cover the light of the stars and cast large shadows over the earth that fly past at an incredible speed.

A heightened rush of adrenaline connects you all as you get closer and closer to the grand battle, but nothing and you mean absolutely nothing matters but your anger. As if Daeron was solely at fault for all the pain you endured and everything that had happened all you can focus on is him and the rage that makes your blood and your heart thump violently.

You should keep your mind clear, you should fly into this war selflessly, after all, thousands of lives, and the lives of your mother, your son, and your brother depend on you to win this war, but there’s no fight with yourself when you choose to be selfish. You choose the blood-thirsty and raging anger. That’s all you hear. That’s all that fills you. It burns like the blasts of fire that rain down the moment you cross enemy lines and create chaos. And it’s all you see until there’s him; Daeron Targaryen standing in the midst of the army of his men.

His blond-silver hair stands out in between the storm of people all sent into a panic, and the wave of fires that wash over the army.

He stands there with his dark eyes on you and your raging dragon.

He stands there, Daeron Targaryen. He’s all you see and it makes your already heightened anger that more livid.

——

*A FEW YEARS AGO. KING’S LANDING*

The sun is high and beaming down fiercely. The breeze, when it does run, is hot, bringing with it waves of heat that run through your bodies and can’t cool down with any open window or fluttering fan, raising the already high tensions that are forever set between your families.

Yet no matter how high the tensions are, how many whispers are passed, and side glares are shot, none of that affects you, Jacaerys, Lucerys, Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, or Daeron.

Besides, today on the hottest day of summer is Daeron’s last day in the Red Keep. After today he will leave for Old Town until gods know when to become a ward…

A/N- For story purposes Daeron was apart of everyone’s childhoods, he won’t be forgotten here!

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 @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

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cabinetofquriosities · 23 days ago

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Everybody Wants to Rule the World || Chapter 1

Agatha x Rio || Warnings: Violence, Smut for later chapters

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Chapter 1: Westview

Mr. and Mrs. Hart took their nightly walk through their lovely neighborhood in Westview. The smell of an incoming storm was in the air. It was sharp and heavy, carrying a tightness within it. Mrs. Hart happily chatted with her husband of forty years about every menial thing throughout their day, finding contentment in the comfort of their lifestyle.

In the distance, she heart a meow.

She perked up at the sound, wondering if it was a neighborhood pet who escaped. Outdoor cats were banned by the housing association for their risk to the local ecosystem. The only felines allowed needed to be confined to a house.

“Oh, Arthur, we should-,” Mrs. Hart began.

“Absolutely not!” Arthur said, anticipating his animal lover wife’s reaction.

“Honey, don’t be so heartless. If we don’t find that cat, the animal control officers will.”

“What if it has tags?”

“What if it doesn’t? Remember when Mittens was taken? Diane had to jump through hoops to prove she was hers. They were a week away from putting that poor cat down!”

Arthur let out a heavy sigh. He knew that if they didn’t at least try and something happened to the cat, his wife would lose respect for him.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said.

Mrs. Hart visibly relaxed, giving a grateful smile to her husband. They set out to look for the animal. She cooed and made kissy noises to lure her out. They did not have to look far. Clear blue eyes glinted with moonlight. The white, long-haired cat sauntered out from a bush.

Mrs. Hart knelt down, baby talking to the cat as her husband noticed something on the pavement. Paw marks. Red paw marks. Mrs. Hart petted the friendly cat’s head before her eyes dropped to its legs. The bottoms were soaked in blood.

“Is she hurt?” she wondered aloud, carefully taking a paw and checking the pad.

“Any scratches?” her husband asked.

“None,�� she said, looking up at him with her face draining of color.

“She’s Herbert’s, right?” he asked.

“Yes. Mittens,” she said, looking at the cat’s stained feet.

“Stay here,” he said.

“Arthur, wait! It might not be safe!” She said.

“Someone might be hurt in there. I’ll be okay,” he said, waving her off before thinking better of it, “If I’m not back in five, call the cops.”

Arthur walked up to the green front door, knocking on it before it slowly creaked open. He leaned in a bit to call out with his feet firmly planted in the doorway.

“Herb? We found your cat… you okay?” he listed for a minute, “Herb?! I’m coming in, so no need to ‘stand your ground’, okay?”

He carefully crept in. The house was completely silent and still. Shadows engulfed a leather sectional, mounted fish, and dozens of other items that made it clear the place hadn’t known the touch of a woman for quite some time. He looked around, seeing nothing out of place in the living room. Even though it was early in the evening, every light was switched off. Arthur hoped that he was just out at a friend’s place… and happened to keep his front door ajar. He heard a floorboard creak from the staircase.

“Herb! You here?”

He hurried to the stairwell and was met with nothing. He began climbing up before hearing a few muffled steps in the kitchen. He froze for a moment before walking back down. His heart thudded against his chest at the thought of what he would find. Perhaps his wife had been right.

He hoped against hope that he would find his neighbor of fourteen years puttering around his place, exhausted after a long golf game. After a few slow steps, he opened the kitchen door. The screen door to the outside squealed shut. The crackling of the autumn leaves sounded, only to grow distant as rain began to fall. Whoever had been there was now gone.

Rather than give chase with his bad hip, Arthur returned to the bottom of the stairs. He could just stop now. He could just call the police and have them check, but how would that make him look? The steps could’ve been a branch knocking against the wall. The door could’ve been opened and shut by the strong gusts of wind that were starting to kick up. He refused to be some loopy old man who overreacted to a strange situation.

Taking a deep breath, he ascended the stairs to the second floor. He was about to call out again, but knew it would be redundant given that Herb hadn’t answered before. Instead, he walked to the end of the hallway, passing pictures of Herbert’s late wife, their daughter, and their various pets throughout the years. His life had whittled down to just him and a cat now.

Time seemed to stretch as Herb reached for the doorknob. He finally turned it, revealing the fate of his neighbor. The stains that decorated the wall were angry and long from a violent struggle.

The dim streetlights outside illuminated the horrifying tableau. Frames on the wall were tilted or broken on the floor with smeared crimson streaking across them. A mahogany nightstand had been kicked over, leaving the lamp atop it in pieces. The forest green curtains had been torn down during whatever took place with dark stains where someone had clung to them. The rod they hung on was crooked against the wall after being yanked down.

The curtains unfortunately did not save Arthur from seeing the full extent of what Herb had endured in his final moments. He was sitting up on the floor by the window, his head tilted back and his mouth stretched open. His hazel eyes were bulging out, fixed on the ceiling above as if he were frozen in fear.

His body had been savagely vivisected. His chest and stomach had been cut. The cut was long, traveling down from the bottom of his belly up to his diaphragm. Whoever cut into it was messy. Several slices formed the wound as if the killer either didn’t have the care or the tool to completely open someone up in one go. They had grabbed each side of the cut and pulled it apart, opening his body to show Herb’s inner workings. It looked more like he had been attacked by an animal than a human being.

Arthur stood there dumbly, his brain refusing to process how this man he knew for over a decade was suddenly turned into nothing more than meat. He was jolted out of his stupor by a voice sounding from the front door.

“Arthur?! Are you alright?” his wife called.

“STAY DOWN THERE!” he bellowed.

“Why? What’s ha-“

“Call the police!”

—————————————————————

Agent Harkness downed a black coffee on the way to her next assignment. The bitter taste made her cringe, the grounds loose in there from her broken coffee maker. She had been called to a scene an hour and a half away following an urgent request by a small town chief who understood how in over his head he was. The town was one she had never heard of. Westview sat in Connecticut between Wilton and Ridgefield. Since it was a single killing in a single town, she would only be aiding the local police, so she figured it would be an easier situation than traveling states away. It especially helped that it was less than ninety minutes away from Longmeadow. For someone in her profession, that was a reasonable commute.

The neighborhood surrounded the taped off yard of Herb’s home. The neighbors craned their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. Despite their supposed care of the dearly departed, they still had that morbid curiosity shared by humanity as a whole.

She stepped past the perimeter and into the yard. While it had been Westfield’s first murder since the seventies, Agatha had to admit that the local cops did well in securing the scene. She walked up to the front door where a man with an aggressive mustache greeted her.

“Agent Harkness? Hello, I’m Chief Jones,” he said.

“Hey, Chief. Nice to meet you. So, we have an intruder homicide here?”

The Chief nodded, shifting his weight uncomfortably. Despite his position, he had a self consciousness about him. Agatha was shorter in stature, but commanded any room she was in with a confident attitude. The two of them looked like a combined contradiction.

“…Could you take me through the scene?” she asked dryly after a few silent moments passed.

“Oh, right, sorry…” he sputtered out, stepping inside and guiding her up the stairs.

Agatha took in every minute detail she saw. Nothing was disturbed. Every frame was perfectly balanced. There were no signs of a struggle, no busted doorframe, no broken windows. The door was ajar, but the lock was in tact. The surgical precision of the break in was all a sharp contrast to the bloody scene in the bedroom. Even with everything Agatha had seen in her line of work, she was still stunned for a beat by the unexpected brutality of the kill. Maybe she hadn’t completely numbed herself to the darkness of the world.

“Geez… look at these cuts…” Agatha said, kneeling down.

Chief Jones winced and looked away, unable to keep his eyes on the carnage. Agatha, however, pushed through her own discomfort by treating it all like a puzzle. She leaned in, squatting just far enough to preserve any evidence on the body. Her attention was drawn to the jagged edges of the wounds

“This killer hated this man,” she muttered.

“Uh… How’dya figure?” the Chief asked.

“Look here,” she said, forcing him to face Herb.

He gagged before regaining composure. Agatha rolled her eyes. She took a pen out of her pocket and used it to point out the discoloration surrounding the wounds.

“See the swelling here? Only living tissue develops edemas like this. You can also see marks of active bleeding down the entire path of the injuries.”

“So… he was-“

“Alive through the entire thing.”

“Shit…”

“I know. This killer wanted him to suffer.”

They both straightened up, standing and facing each other.

“Did he have any enemies?” she asked.

“Herb? No. He was just a nice guy. Never bothered anyone.”

“Heard that before.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said with a shake of her head, “He definitely made at least one enemy. I would say it was a hired killer, maybe a business dispute, but this seems more personal than that. No professional would be this… emotional.”

“Someone who can do things like this can’t have feelings or regular emotions, can he?” the Chief asked.

“Rage is an emotion. A pretty strong one,” Agatha said before leaving to examine the rest of the house.

—————————————————————

Agatha made the long drive home while on the phone with her boss. She felt spent after not only seeing such a horrible scene, but also trying to keep an inexperienced police force calm while handling their first major crime.

“I don’t know how well this case is going to go if it all falls on them,” Agatha said.

“Well, that is why you are there to help. Keep them on track. If there are more victims across state lines, then you can take it off of their hands. In the meantime, be a resource.”

“Lilia, they have no idea what they are facing with this guy. The scene was…”

“Was what? You sound shaken.”

Agatha sighed, biting her thumbnail while resting her elbow on the driver’s window sill.

“It reminds me of Englewood,” she said.

“Oh, dear…”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Agatha began to drift off into her thoughts again until Lilia’s voice cut through.

“How similar is it?”

“The method of killing is different. A knife as opposed to blunt trauma, but something about it…”

“How about the victim?” Lilia asked.

“Elderly male.”

“The other was thirty six.”

“I know, I-“

“Agatha, I know you have your hunches, but I am failing to see a connection.”

“It was a perfect scene apart from the body itself. I mean… nothing disturbed or left behind. No prints, no hair, not even a discernible footprint. Everything was so skillfully done… except the kill itself.”

“Was the victim a mark?”

“I don’t know. It was so much more brutal than a hitperson would bother with.”

“Perhaps he was paid to torture him beforehand?” Lilia posed.

“Not like this. This body was hacked to pieces. He wasn’t tortured in the typical ways done by hired hands. The pursuit and escape were smooth and planned. The unsub left no fingerprints or DNA behind as far as we have found. But, the murder used excessive force and emotional drive. They allowed for a struggle that left blood everywhere. They didn’t try to hide the body or clean the room even though their own tracks were completely covered. It was a chaotic kill, but not an unplanned one.”

“So, disorganized during the kill but an organized killer in every other way?” Lilia said uncertainly, “And you think this could be someone who knew him? If it was, it is unlikely the same person killed someone states away in the same manner.”

“Maybe. I just feel like they must be linked. Maybe he doesn’t know them personally… maybe he hates them for what they are. Like how some killers hate mothers and kill older women, or hate their ex girlfriend and kill someone who looks like her.”

“Similar ages and types of people. These two… a young dentist and an old retiree? I don’t know, hun. It seems like a reach. You need more.”

“I know. I’ll let ya know if I have it,” she sighed.

“Agatha?”

“Yeah?”

“Get some sleep.”

Agatha let out a small laugh through her nose before hanging up. She mentally thanked the universe for the sleeping pills waiting for her at home.

Once she pulled into her garage attached to her ranch style house, she turned her car off. She got out, pressing the button to close the garage door and kicked off her boots. She could hear the soft noises of her pet through the door before she walked inside. Agatha smiled at the black and white rabbit waiting for her in an oversized enclosure she had built for it.

“Hello, Señor Scratchy!” Agatha cooed, her voice taking on a tone that only the rabbit would ever hear from her.

The rabbit jumped around happily like a kernel of popcorn at her arrival. She opened his enclosure and picked him up, hugging him close. She carried him as she checked the house. In her line of work with her own personal history, Agatha could never relax before checking every dark corner of her home.

She returned to the living room with him, setting him down on the floor to explore. She wandered into the kitchen while rolling her neck, groaning as it popped. She took the bottle of pills from a cabinet and took one out. She nearly reached for the wine, but could just imagine her friend Wanda scolding her about mixing the two. That woman was the only person apart from Lilia who could be that motherly toward her without getting an earful. Maternal figures had left such a bad taste in her mouth throughout her life.

She opted for water instead of wine and washed the baby blue sleeping pill down. She felt her thoughts beginning to blend together as it started to take effect. She was swaying on her feet by the time she was brushing her teeth. She watched as shadows seemed to shift in the room. One passed by the window and stopped for a minute, the dark outline falling over Agatha. She turned around and it moved away. Occasional hallucinations were a symptom of the medication, she reminded herself. It did little to ease her mind.

She squinted her eyes to see a soft outline of the word “hi” rubbed into the fog on her window, revealed by the frosty temperature drop outside. She shook her head, convinced it was her mind drifting to sleep before she had reached the bed. She clumsily stripped her clothing off, flinging each article in a different direction. She face-planted into her pillow before sinking into her mattress.

The next morning, she was jerked out of a deep sleep by her screeching alarm clock. She groaned, her limbs feeling heavier than usual. The meds had done their job almost too well. She stumbled to the bathroom with her eyes still closed and sat down on the toilet. As she peed, she looked up at the window and remembered the message from the night before.

After flushing, she looked at the pane of glass that was stippled with the morning dew. Instead of “hi” was a spot that looked like it had been wiped off by someone’s sleeve.

She rolled her eyes and smirked, knowing it was likely one of Wanda’s kids who often snuck into her backyard. They would write messages in chalk or the snow to say hello to Agatha when she was away for work. It was very sweet and meant more to her than she cared to admit.

A question of why Billy or Tommy had wiped it away flashed in her mind, but it was shooed away as she tripped over her bunny.

—————————————————————

“Where’d you get a black eye?” Chief Jones asked as she walked into the station.

“Where’d you get that stain on your shirt?” she calmly snapped back.

He looked down at his white shirt, noticing a few drops of brown from his coffee.

“Damn it…” he muttered, dabbing at it with his tie as if that was any better.

“So, were the witnesses interviewed?” she asked, sitting herself in a chair by his desk.

“Yeah. Sharon…”

“Who’s Sharon?”

“Uh, Mrs. Hart. She’s the wife of the man who found Herb,” he said as Agatha nodded and motioned for him to continue, “She told her husband, Arthur, to help her find a loose cat. The cat was Herbert’s. Mr. Hart approached the house. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary in the house… apart from-“

“The corpse in the bedroom-“

“Uh, right. He found the front door open and went inside.”

“Which is when he found him,” she droned on, making an impatient circling motion with her hand.

“Actually, no.”

“Oh?”

“He heard something first. Someone in the kitchen. He went to see what it was and saw someone fleeing the scene.”

“What details did he give about the killer?” she said, sitting upright with more urgency.

“Uh… he said he didn’t see them. He saw the door close and heard his footsteps.”

“Damn…” she muttered before perking up again, “Wait… he was there and the killer just ran off?”

“Yeah, luckily.”

“Huh… the killer was really only there for Herb…” she wondered.

“I guess so. What does that mean?”

“I don’t know yet,” she muttered, “And his daughter?”

“Pepper? Oh, they don’t talk much.”

“Why not?”

“Eh, loss changes families. Y’know?”

“I do…” she said quietly before clearing her throat, “So they’re estranged, then?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you reached out to her?”

“She’s been notified. She said she doesn’t have interest in any of this.”

“Really?” Agatha asked with an arched brow, “Do we know where she was that night?”

“Yes. She was on the other side of the country vacationing in the Hamptons.”

“Wow… A rich alibi for a rich woman.”

“Yeah, she ended up working at a pretty big ad agency.”

“And she won’t fly back for her dead father? Herb must’ve done something to drive his only child away like that,” she said.

“Like I said, loss changes people.”

“Not like that, it doesn’t. Not so much that you don’t cut your vacation short if they get murdered,” she said, thinking back to when her own mother passed, “No, there is something deeper. Do you think she was abused?”

“By Herb?! No, the guy was a teddy bear. He was always so proud of her. He’d never do anything to her.”

“Thing is, Chief, a lot of people who terrorize their families seem like harmless people.”

“I knew the guy. No drinking issues, no bar fights, no cheating on his wife. I don’t think he ever even got a speeding ticket.”

“And Pepper?”

“What about Pepper?” Jones asked.

“Was she also a rule follower?”

Chief Jones hesitated a bit before saying, “Well, every kid goes through a rebellious phase.”

“And what did hers look like?”

“Just the usual stupid teenage mistakes. Getting drunk, caught with pot, fights with girls at school…”

“She got into fights?”

“Yeah. She would get pretty scrappy in the locker room when she was on the soccer team.”

“A temper issue?”

“Something like that. Girls fighting over a boy. Typical. Tale as old as time,” he said.

Agatha fought every instinct to bristle at that comment.

“Which boy?”

“Tony,” he said with a grimace.

Agatha took note of his reaction, unaware that the man was capable of showing such vitriol for one of his neighbors.

“Tell me about him.”

“Well, if you think Pepper was rebellious, he made her look like a saint. He was a bit of a heartbreaker. He was this little rich brat who would hold these wild parties and…”

“And what? Partying isn’t worse than fist fighting other students.”

“Well… Pepper always had bruises on her when she dated him. Herb hated him. Hell, I hated him. Everyone tried to reach her, but she never pressed charges.”

“Sounds like Tony had a reason for a grudge. When did they break up?” she asked.

“They didn’t. He’s with her in the Hamptons. Married for over twenty five years.”

“Geez. I’ll have someone look into their finances. If there’s anyone who could afford a hired gun, it would be them. I need to talk to them.”

“They aren’t answering any questions.”

“Tell them the FBI wants to speak with them. That usually lights a fire under people’s asses.”

—————————————————————

“Tony STARK?!” Lilia yelled over the phone.

Agatha flinched at the reaction.

“Yes, that Tony,” she said.

“You had better be sure to tread lightly here. This is a powerful and litigious family.”

“I always tread lightly.”

“Agatha, you tread with the weight of an elephant in steel-toed boots. Be. Smart,” Lilia scolded.

“I will be! I just need to look at them. They are the strongest leads we have right now. Like you said, they are rich and powerful, which means they have the resources to get away with murder. They also have anger issues and a grudge against our victim. Now, either Pepper is hiding something about why she wouldn’t speak to her father or her husband isolated her from him on purpose. Either way, we need to explore this.”

“Agreed, as much as I hate to say it. Ugh, there is going to be so much paperwork. I will try to get a warrant for the finances AFTER you speak to them.”

“That could give them the warning they need to move things around!”

“If they are masterminds who plan murders, they have already done that. This will go much better if you get an interview with them.”

“Fine. I will do everything possible.”

“Good. Call them.”

Lilia hung up and Agatha huffed out a breath. She retrieved their numbers and called them all, only to be sent to different answering services. She left messages with each one.

—————————————————————

After going through every detail of what they had, Agatha forced herself to leave for the day. She drove the hour and a half to Longmeadow while listening to a podcast and stopped off at the 24hr gym a few miles from her house. It wasn’t the fanciest gym, but it was the only one that was open after she worked half the night or when she couldn’t sleep.

She took her gym bag out of the trunk and walked inside, a handful cars surrounding her in the parking lot as the streetlights turned on. She changed into yoga pants and a sleeveless tee that hung loosely around her muscular form. She brought her bottle, put in her earbuds, and got onto an elliptical. As she exercised, she scanned the gym to take stock of her surroundings. She had made a habit of memorizing the people around her.

A mother and teenage daughter were on the other ellipticals, seemingly competing with one another in a friendly manner. There was an old woman on the exercise bike. Two high school boys were spotting each other on the bench, pressing weights with terrible form. She was watching them closely when a woman next to her got onto the treadmill.

She seemed younger than Agatha’s fifty three years. This woman was either in her late thirties or early forties. She had dark hair and prominent brown eyes. The irises were nearly black. Her mid length hair was pulled up into a ponytail that bounced as she ran. She definitely worked out. Though slender, Agatha could see abs and lean muscle given the sports bra and shorts she wore.

She looked away the moment she was caught staring, swallowing as she moved a little faster, pressing a button to raise the machine’s resistance.

She heard a muffled voice close to her. She looked around before her eyes fell on the woman next to her. Agatha tapped her earbud to pause it and took it out. She must have looked annoyed since the other woman looked apologetic.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know you were listening to something,” she said.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Agatha nearly stuttered out, “Uh, did you need the machine?”

“Oh, no,” she said, lightly panting as she jogged on the treadmill, “I’m new here and just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Alison.”

Agatha normally hated socializing with anyone outside of her tight friend group. Her resting bitch face normally warded people off. This woman seemed unaffected, though. That alone interested her.

“Agatha,” she said.

“Both A names. Weird coincidence,” Alison said with a smirk.

“I mean, maybe,” she said.

Agatha needed a plan of escape if this woman started talking about fate or, even worse, astrology. It was bad enough that Lilia used her birth certificate in her file to do her charts. She didn’t need someone else telling her that she was anxious or upset because “Your 8th house is in Saturn” or whatever the fuck.

“Yeah, I guess that’d be more impressive if our names started with X or something,” Alison joked, “Did you just get out of work?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious… also, you’re wearing a watch.”

“Why does a watch give that away?” Agatha asked.

“The only people who wear watches are old or in a job where they can’t always be on their phone. Unless it’s a smart watch, people normally don’t carry them around.”

“Huh… forgot it was on,” she said, undoing the thick, men’s silver watch and slipping it around her water bottle.

“What do you do for work?” Alison asked.

“I’m a law enforcement officer,” she said.

“Oh, so the enemy, then,” Alison said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Sorry?” Agatha asked.

“I work at a nonprofit that works with victims of police violence and I organize protests on the side. A lot of your boys in blue have caused their share of trouble.”

“Ah… yeah, I’m not one to defend dirtbags like that. I’m also not in blue. I’m a federal agent.”

“Ooh,” Alison said, clearly pretending to be impressed, “DEA? ATF? Immigration? What sort of people do you go after?”

Agatha scoffed at the baiting this woman was doing. While she was fully aware at the massive flaws in the system, she also didn’t appreciate being lumped in with all of the corruption due to her job title alone.

“Murderers. I work in homicide,” Agatha said tersely.

“FBI. Okay, I actually am impressed.”

“So glad to have your approval,” Agatha muttered, looking ahead as she kept exercising.

Alison sighed and said, “Hey, I’m sorry. That was really hostile. I’ve been told I can come off a little strong sometimes.”

Agatha slowed down and looked at her for a beat.

“Same,” Agatha said, “And that I’m off putting and too blunt, so I guess we have that in common.”

Instead of being offended like most people would, Alison let out a full body laugh. A small smile settled on Agatha’s face as well.

“I like you, Agatha,” she said.

“Thanks… you’re not terrible either,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

The two exercised quietly, only talking a bit during water breaks. Agatha appreciated how sarcastic and self assured Alison was. She also caught herself sneaking a few peeks at her while she ran. She couldn’t deny a slight attraction.

After an hour and a half later, the two of them made their way to the lockers. Agatha took her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“You’re not showering?” Alison asked, already taking her shoes off.

“No, I live really close by.”

“Oh, well, I hope I see you later!” she said, “Never thought I’d want to spend time with a cop— well, Federal Agent.”

“I never thought I’d want to spend time with a bleeding heart, but here we are,” Agatha retorted.

“Bleeding heart? You make me sound soft,” Alison said with fake offense, dropping her register to a goofy creepy voice, “No, I have a tough, black heart.”

“A bleeding black heart?”

Alison laughed again, winking at her. Agatha knew from the warmth in her cheeks that she was blushing.

“See you around, Black Heart,” Agatha said.

“See you around Officer,” Alison teased before walking deeper into the locker room.

Agatha found herself smiling as she walked back to her car.

Fic Masterlist

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gldrushh · 3 months ago

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SUGAR AND SIN | JK

🧁✧ ˚. TITLE: Sugar and Sin.

🧁✧ ˚. PAIRING: Mafia boss! Jungkook x female oc

🧁✧ ˚. BLURB: Aurora assumes a pounding headache and overbearing anxiety were the worst she could experience after witnessing a murder. The gun-wielding stranger from last night is here to prove otherwise.

🧁✧ ˚. GENRE: Mafia au, grumpy x sunshine, forced proximity, slow burn, dark romance, crime/thriller.

🧁✧ ˚. WARNINGS: Mentions of murder, guilt, and anxiety.

🧁✧ ˚. TAGS: oc is STRUGGLING, also she likes cereals

🧁✧ ˚. A/N: I'm sorry if you feel like the chapters are too short, but the word limit is gonna be somewhere around this for like 8 chapters or something. But I promise things are still gonna happen 😅 thank you for reading 💕💕

🧁✧ ˚. TAG LIST: @scuzmunkie... (Please do let me know if any of you want to be added too.)

CHAPTER 2: AURORA

Pain.

A dull throb.

Was the first thing aurora registered in the back of her head as she started to gain consciousness.

another thing she registered was the familiar softness of her mattress under her weight and warmth of her sheets enveloping her whole. Not her body bound by chains in a dark room. To say it was surprising would be an understatement.

She blinked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand, and pushed herself upright with a soft hiss. The throbbing behind her skull reminded her of how she’d ridiculously passed out , probably hitting her head on the way down.

Even if she had her consciousness back, her mind was a mess of a haze, trying to grasp at the incidents that happened the night before. Was it even real? Was her mind playing tricks on her?

If it was, it was one hell of a gruesome trick.

But she knew it wasn't even if she tried to convince herself otherwise. The scene played again in her head—the man bleeding out on the floor of her bakery, the lifeless thud as his body collapsed, and those cold, empty eyes of the man who’d pulled the trigger.

How the did she even get back here? How the hell did she get back alive and not become the second dead body lying down there at the floor of her bakery?

The image made the nausea bubble up again. With that, many others feelings also rose up. She always felt a little too much- that was her curse.

Yet before she could go back to dissecting each one of them throughly, her phone rang on the bedside table. Didn't- did'nt she leave her phone there too?

But the more horrifying information would be that there are 29 missed calls from Lia with another one incoming right now. She was probably at the bakery right now.

Picking up the phone, the gasp that left her mouth after reading the time couldn't be helped. 12:00 am. Maybe her impending death was for her blonde haired friend's to have.

Taking a deep breath, she answered the phone, the sound of her best friend exhaling heavily following right after. The calm before the storm.

"Aurora Beckett." There it was. She only called her by her full name when she was mad. Pissed, even.

"H-Hi, Lia." She greeted, mustering the best imitation of her chirpy voice when she was not on the verge of throwing up after the memories of a murder she witnessed stayed fresh in her mind.

"Don't 'hi, lia' me after ghosting my worried ass. Where were you? Is everything okay? You didn't even text me last night to inform that you've got home?" She started going on and on like the mother figure she had grown to be, and Aurora almost spilled like the dead guy's brains did last night.

Speaking of that- "I-I am. I'm super fine like really. Just had a little migraine last night and slept in a little longer than usual." She spoke in the most convincing tone she could and hoped she'd believe since migraines were pretty common with her.

"Are you at the bakery right now?" Aurora spoke again before Lia could bombard her with questions she didn't want to answer right now. "Yes, I am. And don't you go on changing the topic. I keep telling you not to overwork yourself, and God forbid you ever listen." Lia wasn't the talkative one yet when she got all mama bear mode, she would go against her usual nature.

"I'm fine, Lia. Please stop exploiting your blood pressure." She sighed in response before speaking again, in a much quieter tone. "E-Everything's okay at the bakery, right?"

There was a silence for a moment from her side, and yet Aurora could still hear the clear confusion.

"Why wouldn't it be? And look at you worrying for four walls of bricks rather than yourself? Rory, you worry me."

Aurora chose to focus on the former. Everything was fine. No blood to clean. No dead bodies to report. Right. Like hell didn't itself dominate the space and kill a man in its way last night.

"Everything worries you, Lia." She replied as a matter of fact. The statement being reason enough for her best friend to be the last person she should be sharing the occurrence of last night.

"Also, do you mind if I take this day off? I could use some more rest." Going to the place where she witnessed a murder happening was not the ideal thing to do. That much she was aware of.

"Finally a sensible decision. Of course you're gonna stay home and I'll be bringing you dinner sometime later. That is not up for any negotiation."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare." She huffed out before her voice grew quieter again or rather softer. "Thank you, Lee. I'll see you later tonight, yeah?"

"You will. Bye, rory. Take care, okay?" With that, Aurora was again left with the silence of her troubling thoughts.

They didn't leave her side when she got up from bed and walked to the shower to let water drain the tightness of her muscles. They didn't leave when she ate her favorite brand of cereals in brunch, trying to pretend everything was normal. But nothing was.

How could it be? How could she? Go on with her life, engage herself in mundane tasks like nothing ever happened?

The guilt was weighting down on her, but so was the fear that a certain something or someone was now out there for her after she made herself the sole witness of such heinous crime.

Yet the former won. Of course, she was certain that doom was on its way. But not if she goes to the police first.

She would tell them all that happened, tell them the way the devil with no mercy and his shadows backing him up snatched a life out of an innocent being, how they promised something similar to her. She would.

Crossing over the short space of her living room, she got inside her room to get changed. she tried to convince herself that she was ready to face the world and do something good. Something right.

It didn't take long before she stepped out of her room in one of her overly floral dresses with a cardigan wrapped around her shoulders for the autumn wind. She liked to take her time in the shower, but that also birthed a lot of unnecessary thoughts. A thing she wasn't mentally prepared for right now.

And neither was she for the sight in front of her.

"Going somewhere, baker girl?"

The devil from her darkest nightmare has now escaped her head and was sparwled out on the couch-her couch.

To be continued..

┈➤Previous chapter.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook ff #jk #jeon jungkook #jjk #bts jungkook #bts fanfic #bts scenarios

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gremlin-girly · 2 months ago

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Flufftober Day 11

@flufftober

Prompt(s): Ingredients, potions, spells

Pairing: sick!Loki x gn!reader

Tags/warnings: Loki (he's a warning), descriptions of cold/flu symptoms, gn!reader, feverish confessions (but it's sweet I promise), mutual pining

Summary: Loki gets sick and reader takes care of him :)

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: I thought of this when I was sick myself haha. Most of these remedies are what I use when I'm ill and they work a treat. And for a special treat for you dear reader, here's the Roasted Garlic and Potato Recipe I use (minus the nutritional yeast - and I use single cream not vegan).

Also, don't know why I keep writing stuff that's mostly 2k? Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment because I realise towards the end that I'm not writing a novel? Who knows. Enjoy! - Love, Grem x Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

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It started with sniffles.

You’d raised your eyebrows at Loki when he sniffed softly, but frequently, the warning signs of the impending flu clear to only you. Somehow, the irony of a frost giant having a cold wasn’t lost on you either.

“Are you feeling alright?” You asked when Thor was out of earshot. If one thing would put Loki on edge it would be his adoring brother fretting over him.

Loki sniffed again and cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

His usually smooth voice was gravelly and hoarse, another sign that he was most definitely not fine. You frown softly. You don’t want to push him; you’d gradually worked up a friendly bond with the God of Mischief, at least you thought you had, and you didn’t want to blow it all up. Still, your eyes rake over Loki’s face worriedly, noting the redness around his nose and the missing mischievious glimmer in Loki’s bleary eyes.

Loki narrows his eyes at you, sensing your worry and prickling with defiance. “What?”

“Nothing.” You squeak, snapping your head back to the papers you’d been reading. Maybe this was how ill he’d get he was a god after all. Yet you had a nagging feeling that it would get worse.

Shuffling your papers together, mind made up, you begin to rise to your feet. You can feel Loki’s gaze on you as you pack your bag and try to ignore it, trying to hurry as much as possible.

“I need to run some errands,” you tell him hoisting your bag onto your shoulder. You look over and give him a gentle smile. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”

Loki huffs in response, clearly believing that he wouldn’t need a mere mortal’s help for anything. You head to the door, waving at Loki before you step through the threshold. Once you’re out of sight, you walk at a breakneck pace to the nearest convince store to do some last minute shopping for the incoming storm you predict.

The following morning, Loki can’t breathe.

His sniffles became worse and no amount of healing spells made a dent. The headache he thought was Thor, turned out to be a real headache and worst of all, he was hot all over. The burning sensation rolled over him in waves, leaving him sweaty and uncomfortable. He could barely sleep with the stuffy humidity of his body and he thought he may die. We’re frost giants meant to be so hot?

Loki could barely keep his eyes open. He hadn’t felt this ill since he was a child. His heart constricted as he remembered his mother, Freya, fussing over him and caring for him in a pathetic snotty state as a child. She made sure he was cared for, spoiled and well-fed. Tears stung at his eyes in the dark room and he cursed softly, the pain in his sinuses worsening as the threat of tears triggered a new onslaught of snot to build painfully in the bridge of his nose.

The door to his room creeper open, golden light spilling in making him squint angrily. Was it not enough that he was sick with a human affliction, but to be assaulted with bright lights too? But then your head peeked in, and Loki’s breathing hitched – causing him to cough violently into his covers.

“Loki? You okay?” you ask, knowing it’s a stupid question. “Can I come in?”

“I’m fine,” He croaks, turning onto his side. God’s, how embarassing. “Just a bit under the weather.”

You enter his room, tentatively stepping towards the bed and kneeling before him. Loki barely registers your presence, his green eyes looking up at you and struggling to stay open. Any other time he would have equipped about you finally knowing your place before a god, but he’s too tired, too sick, to care. His eyes flutter and he sighs with content when he feels a cool palm press on his sweaty forehead. He leans meekly into your palm and looks up into your worried fface.Your palm is soft and soothes his aching body better than any of the healing spells he’d tried.

And Its probably the fever, but you look ethereal. Loki smiles at you, a dazed smile, but a smile nonetheless. No sneer, no smirk, a genuine smile.

“You’re burning up,” you say, voice laced with concern. You ignore they way your heart skips as he smiles at you, brushing it away as delirium. You go to move your hand, but Loki’s face follows, chasing the cool calm your palm offers. You sigh a little. Your gut feeling had been right; he is worse. You were glad to have gone to the store to get the ingredients for remedies you knew would help ease the symptoms and speed up recovery. “Stay here, I won’t be long.”

Loki humphs, which turns into a wracking cough. You hastily remove yourself and head to the common area of the tower. You’d already prepared food the night before so setting up a large tray with an assortment foods was quick. You pulled out your pre-made bowl of roasted garlic and potato soup and stuff it into the microwave whilst the kettle boils, slicing rounds of lemon, orange and ginger and adding them to a large mug with honey. You breathe in the aromatics smells of citrus and garlic melded together, wondering if Loki would heal quicker because he’s a god, or if he'd be defeated by the common cold.

When the microwave dings, interrupting your thoughts, you remove the bowl of soup giving it a quick stir before setting it on the tray with the rest of the cold-beating snacks you’d bought the day before. You look down at the tray with a sheepish smile. Maybe you had gone overboard; cold and flu tablets, a box of tissues, homemade soup, bread, honey-and-lemon drink.... and you had isotonic drinks to help with fluid retention.

Yeah.

You had gone overboard.

You carry the tray precariously back to Loki’s room. Pushing the door with your foot, you re-enter the dark room.

“I’m back.” You say into the darkness, waiting for your eyes to adjust. You place the tray beside his bed, and turn on his bedside lamp.

“Hng?”

“Here, let me help you sit up.” Loki meekly swats you away, but he’s too weak to prop himself up without assistance, and begrudgingly concedes to allow you to help him. Your arms wrap around is chest, slotting under his shoulder to help shimmy him upwards before fluffing a pillow behind his head. Loki is frowning slightly, and if you weren’t so concerned about his health, you’d notice he was blushing.

“I’ve brought you some food. You need to eat before you take any medicine.” You give him a soft smile. “And I brought tissues.”

“Hmph.” Loki huffs, glancing to the tray you’d set down. His chest tightens when he sees everything you’ve brought. You must have planned this. Maybe you cursed him somehow?

“Did you... put a spell on me?:

“What? No. Loki you know I can’t use magic.” You chuckle at the absurdity of his question and pick up the bowl of soup. On autopilot you scoop some onto the spoon and guide it to his lips. Loki leans forward slightly, eyeing you suspiciously, but opens his mouth to accept your offering. He can’t taste anything, but as soon as the creamy texture hits his tongue his stomach growls. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was. He weakly reaches for the bowl and spoon, which you gladly hand to him, and forces himself to eat slowly. Loki hums with delight as he eats , the warm soup soothing his throat and filling his stomach. Whatever you had made was making him feel better already. He wished he could taste it and was overcome with that same fluttery feeling his his chest whenever you were around.

His cedar green eyes rise over the spoon to meet yours and in a quiet voice he mumbles, “Thank you.”

You give him another smile. “No problem. Happy to help.”

The feeling in Loki’s chest increased, tightening almost uncomfortably. Your presence had already helped with the fever, now the hunger. You were slowly but surely making him better just by being near him. Being your silly, idiotic, caring, kind human self.

“You don’t have to.” He thickly after another spoonful. His eyes are downcast, almost ashamed. He hadn’t made it easy to be befriended by you, but you had been patient with him and accepted him as part of the team without so much as a second thought. Over time, Loki had developed a liking to you and he hated that. Feelings for a human? No. Not Loki. He just favoured you above the rest. With your beautiful smile you always gave him and the way your eyes twinkled when he’d get one over on Tony or Thor, even if you were reprimanding him or shaking your head. And of course, the way you made an effort to speak with him everyday; even if it was a quick hello. Treating him with a kindness that no one else offered.

“I know. I want to.” You say firmly. “I can leave you be, obviously, but you just need to call me and I’ll get you what you need.”

You push some of his unruly hair out of his face whilst he eats and his eyes flutter closed briefly. Your heart warms at the sight. You were infatuated with the God who was a black cat personified. Handsome wasn’t even a befitting word for Loki but it was the best you could come up with at short notice. His eyes were so green you wondered if emeralds would be jealous of the hue and you always found yourself enraptured by them. Too bad you were just a human.

Loki considers your words carefully, a wave of heat creeping up his neck that had nothing to do with the fever. Selfishly, he didn’t want you to leave. In fact, he wanted you to stay so badly it made his stomach churn with excitement but he was a god and the whole thing was supposed to be beneath him-

“Please stay.” Loki whispers, ignoring pestering thoughts. He’d worry about consequences later, as usual. He was too tired to argue. You only nod in response, but your body sings with happiness.

Once Loki has finished eating you clear away the bowl and hand him two flu tablets and the mug of citrusy goodness. Loki’s large hands envelop the mug entirely whilst he sips, humming again at the soothing feeling that you and your food bring him.

“What is this potion?” He asks, sinking further back into his pillows.

“it’s lemon and honey, with ginger and orange.” You lean back onto your palms, watching him like a hawk. “It’s hardly a potion.”

Loki humphs quietly, not quite believing you, but continues to drink it. It’s not long before he’s drifting to sleep, the fullness of eating and the comfort you bring quelling the sickness that wracks his body. You gently pry the half drunk mug from his hands. Loki can barely keep his head up, leaning onto your shoulder as his eyelids fighting to stay open but his sleepy sighs are winning the battle.

He hums quietly and murmurs something you can’t quite make out. When you ask him to repeat himself he obliged, but remains ever so haughty about the fact you didn’t hear his incoherent mumblings.

“I said,” He huffs. “You are my favourite.”

“Favourite?” You chuckle. “Is it hard to be your favourite?”

Loki frowns slightly and cuddles closer. You smell nice and you’re warm. Enrapturingly so.

“Yes – but you. You. You’re different.”

“Oh?” for a moment you feel smug, until he continues.

“Infuriating.”

“Oh.” You roll your eyes to yourself. That one was on you.

“Captivating.” Loki’ tone is wistful, teetering on feverishly dream-like, but you perk up nonetheless. “Beautiful.”

“Oh...”

You look down at his form lying against your shoulder. He looks so different now, vulnerable, a cocoon of his usual self and it makes your heart melt. You were sweet on him and the feverish confessions were making your heart do somersaults.

“Make me feel so... nice and fuzzy,” he huffs out gently, slumping more and more against you. “You’ve cursed me.”

You bite your lip, trying to stifle a flustered giggle. Your cheeks are bright and so hot that you worry you may catch Loki’s cold. You wish you could record this moment; knowing that Loki would deny, deny, deny ever saying these things when he was better.

“To feel... fuzzy?” you try not to snicker but it’s too cute.

“Yes.” Loki hisses, turning his face against your collar bone. His skin his warm and sweaty and worry prickles at you again.

“You’re clammy,” You comment, going to move to grab the head towel. However, Loki’s arm wraps around you, holding you loosely but stopping you from moving away. “Loki?”

“Stay.” His voice is so quiet you barely hear it. The soft plea making your resolve break instantly. “You make it better. You make me better. Please don’t leave me.”

“Of course I'll stay. For as long as you need me.” You say gently and you hunker down next to Loki, wrapping him in your arms. You move hair from his face and his green eyes flicker to you briefly with a small sniffle.

“Do you swear it?” He murmurs.

“I swear it.” You murmur back without hesitation. Content with your answer, Loki pulls you closer and cuddles into you. You murmur sweet nothings to him as he drifts to sleep in your arms.

You stay with Loki until his sickness passes. Unwavering in your promise to him and as he recovers, his feelings for you grow tenfold.

So when you inevitably get ill, Loki remains by your side, just as you had for him. Once you’re both recovered, you’re inseparable.

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kiddbegins · 10 months ago

Text

Texting - Matt Casey

Requested: yes

Word count: 436

A/n: sorry it’s tiny but I think it’s cute

Masterlist

Texting you cheesy things that they know will make you blush while you’re at work (engaged - doctor at med)

If there was one thing that Matt Casey was, it was a love struck doofus. He always gave his all to those he loved. You were no different.

The problem though was the conflict of shifts. His 24 hours along with your daily 12’s. It wasn’t the easiest thing to make work.

But you guys did. And now you were engaged and you were truly over the moon about it. The ring had picked out was perfect and if you didn’t know better you’d say he had it made custom.

Today you were at work, him simultaneously on shift in the middle of the crazy snow storm that was going on outside.

Winter always made you worry more and he knew that, so his slew of texts when he had the chance grew tenfold. Which you barely knew was possible.

‘I really can not wait for this shift to be over. I miss you.’

Your smile was wide as you read over the text from Matt, knowing this small breather at the vending machine was probably one of the few you’d gotten this shift, winter meant idiots driving stupidly in the snow and getting hurt.

It had been hell, helping patients left and right, barely any time to breathe. You sent out a brief reply ‘same here. I miss you too :(‘ before having to go back to work.

You felt the buzz of your phone in your coat pocket a while later, Maggie telling you about something that had to do with a patient that swirled in one ear and out the other as you read over yet another text from Matt.

‘It’s freezing but it’s getting closer to see you. Thought about what we should do yet? ;)’

A light blush crossed your cheeks as you stuffed the device away, turning to go to the patient but of course being cornered by said nurse.

“God that boy has you whipped as hell doesn’t he,” Maggie had nudged your side as you tried to hide the tinge to your face.

It was useless of course, especially with her. “He does not. I’m just happy to be marrying someone that I love, okay?” You said defensively, laughing at the end.

Those that knew you, knew the story of your ex and how horribly that ended. So the fact you found yourself a big, strong firefighter to get over them had all of them clapping their hands together.

Maggie hummed, nodding, “Uh-huh, and that love has you whipped. Incoming, you’re going to Baghdad.” She switched to instructor mode swiftly as her device beeped, the patient wheeling in seconds later.

JOIN MATTS TAGLIST HERE!

tags: @winchesterszvonecek, @halsteadbrasil, @wnbweasley, @firetruckstuckley

#matt casey #matthew casey #matt casey x reader #matt casey writing #chicago fire #chicagofire #chicago fire fanfic #fanfiction #one chicago fanfiction #matt casey imagine #matt casey one shot #one chicago x reader #x reader #teddy writes #teddy writes matt casey #teddy writes chicago fire #teddy writes one chicago

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dsireland86 · 8 days ago

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The First Day Of Christmas:

A White Christmas

Tag list:

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @nyxthedestroyerofworlds-deactiv @missduffsblog @bngurngheart @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @fadingangelwisp @dizzylmwahh @Youlookforultraviolet

The sky outside was gray, the threat of an incoming storm looming over the cabin. I carried the stack of logs up onto the porch, turning around to stare out into the vast grayness.

"Looks like a storm is moving in," Folio commented, coming up behind me. The smell of leather filled my senses as his tan leather gloves lay gently on my shoulders. "It sure does," leaning back against his chest.

His hands found my hips as he leaned over and kissed my neck, breathing in deeply.

"Here, let me take those."

Turning around, I handed over the logs, catching Nick's kiss as I did so.

"Mmm, let me have those lips again," he smiled, making my knees weak. "Do you think maybe we should head home sooner just in case? I don't want to get snowed in and miss Christmas with our family."

Nick's bottom lip protruded out, frowning as if thinking. He looked up at the sky, shaking his head.

"I'll check the weather, just in case."

I nodded, folding my arms tightly around me.

"C'mon, let's go in. I'll throw these bad boys on the fire, and then we can cuddle up on the couch and finish the movie from last night." "Oh, you mean the one we didn't get to finish because you couldn't keep your hand out of my sleepy pants?" "I don't know what you're talking about. I was a good boy last night," Folio denied, patting my bottom as he followed me inside.

Christmas was in two days. We had a plan. But now, that plan was on hold.

"Are they seriously calling for an accumulation of five feet? Holy shirt, Nick! We're going to be snowed in for god knows how long!"

Folio sighed, as if knowing this was going to send me into panic mode.

"Okay, first off," he said, tapping the weather app closed then turning around to face me. "You should know by now that they are never right ninety percent of the time. A lot of times it's just an assumption."

Reaching for my hand, Folio pulled me towards him then down into his lap, wrapping his arms around me.

"Besides, would being snowed in for a few days together be so bad? Just think of all the fun things we could do, not to mention an actual white Christmas..." "Like the movie," we both said in unison, laughing afterwards.

The charming smile that creeped over his adorable face made my tummy flutter, and the playful glint in his eyes made the tingling feeling between my thighs deepen. His lips reached my throat and I giggled, laying my arms around his neck as my head feel on his shoulder.

"No, it wouldn't be so bad, but just the thought of missing Christmas with our family makes me sad, that's all." "I'll tell you what, then. Just in case, lets go to the closest town and get some last minute Christmas decorations and a few supplies just in case. Maybe that won't make you feel as sad."

Folio slipped a finger under my chin and lifted my face. "God, you're beautiful," he smiled, laying a soft kiss on my lips. "You're pretty cute yourself," I complimented back, leaning in and kissing him back. His tongue slipped over my bottom lip forcing me to open my mouth and when I did, he invaded my mouth heavily.

For a few moments we made out, feeling the heat between us beginning to rise.

"Alright, alright," I said, pulling away. "Don't get too carried away. Lets go to town before night falls." "Ohhh, it was just getting good too," Nick pouted. "Maybe, if you're a good boy, you'll get an extra special treat tonight." "Holy shit!" he said, excitedly. "Alright then, let's go!"

Folio picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder and ran out the front door, making sure to lock up first, all the way to the truck with you laughing hysterically all the way.

"There, how's that?"

I looked over and gasped. Nick had placed the small angel tree topper in her proper place, putting the finished touch on our final mission.

"It's perfect, baby, thank you," I said softly, grinning like an idiot. I had just finished hanging the lighted garland around the fire place, after hanging the two stockings and placing the two small nutcrackers and snowmen on the mantle. "You're welcome. Anything for you."

Folio grabbed my face and kissed my forehead before patting my bottom.

"God, I love your butt," he chuckled, grabbing as much as he could and pushing me against him. I could feel his excitement and it made me a little lightheaded. "Oh, I know, trust me," I said, laughing. "I'm going to go shower. I feel gross." "Okay."

He began to walk away, but stopped, turning around.

"You want to join me?"

I looked over at him only to find he'd already removed his shirt and the top button of his jeans was undone. The perfect v shape of his hips that dived down well below his jeans had me clenching my teeth and swallowing hard.

"I, uh, I," clearing my throat before grabbing some more garland. "I think I'll pass and let you have your space," turning my back to Nick. But his warmth and presence were felt before his arms even wrapped around me. "I don't want my space. I want you. In the shower with me. Hot water, soap, and me inside you. Now," he whispered against my shoulder. "I might need a little more convincing than just words," I coaxed him.

I smiled as he took the garland from my hands and tossed it on the floor, reaching for the hem of my leggings and tugging them down along with my panties. My breath hitched in my throat at the feeling of the cold air hitting my skin.

"Fuck, look at that ass," Folio praised, running his hand gently over my rear end. I knew what was coming. It was just a matter of when.

The slap against my skin was, thankfully, lighter than I thought it would be, but if I was being honest with myself, I loved the hard, harsh feeling of my boyfriend's strong drummer hand coming down on my bottom.

"Convinced, yet?"

I woke to the strong smell of coffee. Rolling over and reaching for Nick, I was only met with disappointment. He was the reason for the strong coffee smell.

Groaning and unwillingly pulling myself out of the warmth of the blankets, I grabbed his brown hoodie and threw it on before trucking out into the main area of the cabin.

Folio was standing at the kitchen counter, arms stretched out with hands bracing the counter top. He was shirtless, wearing only his red flannel sleepy pants, making me wonder how in the hell he wasn't freezing. His hair was dry, causing it to look utterly disheveled, yet I couldn't wait to run m y hands through it.

"Mmm, good morning sweetheart," he mumbled as I slipped my arms around his waist. He took one of my hands in his and the warmth that came from it surprised me.

I kissed his shoulder first, dragging my lips across his skin to the middle of his back while sliding my free hand down the front of him and hearing him sigh.

"God, woman," Folio moaned, letting his head fall back. I wrapped my hand around his covered erection, hoping to give him the satisfaction I knew he was craving. "You made me wake up without you," I pouted, lighting massaging his tip with the palm of my hand.

Nick hissed, gripping the counter top.

"At least I made coffee," he chuckled as did I while planting kiss after kiss over the skin of his back. "That's not the point." "Then what is?" he growled through clenched teeth.

"I wanted to make love to you," I confessed against his back.

I heard the subtle curse fall from Folio's lips as he turned around and grabbed my face between his callused hands, kissing me hard.

"Goddamn, why do you tease me so badly," he laughed, his bright smile warming my heart. Picking me up, I locked my legs around his waist as he carried me back to the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

"It's coming down pretty hard. I think there's already over a foot out there," Nick said, taking off his coat and boots.

I groaned, turning my attention back to the movie. White Christmas. How convenient.

Folio came over, recovering his seat from earlier. He pulled me into him where I snuggled in deeply, entangling my arms around his and the blanket. His sweet kisses to face and forehead made me feel a little better, but not completely. I wanted to be home for Christmas. But now, I didn't think that was going to happen.

As if Nick could sense my sadness, he squeezed me a little tighter.

"It's going to be okay, sweetheart. At least we're together. Think about if we had to be apart for Christmas. That would suck."

I wiped the tears that slid down the sides of my nose, gripping Nick's arms tighter, thanking god silently that he was right. At least we were together.

The hour passed and I was almost asleep by the time the end of the movie was near. As Bing and Danny, Rosemary and Vera sang, and the snow outside softly rained down leaving a blanket of white in it's wake, Christmas Eve passed quietly, leading me and my love into the early morning hours of Christmas Day.

"Merry Christmas, Sweetheart," Folio said quietly, kissing the side of my face as I drifted off into a deep sleep.

"Holy crap! It really is a white Christmas!"

Everything was covered in white. I could barely see the truck, the shape of it buried beneath the mountain of white the only visible thing.

"Aghh," was all Folio could say, rubbing the back of his neck. "I freaking hate snow."

I looked over at him as if he was crazy.

"Now who's not being so optimistic," I scolded, earning me a hard glare.

"Yeah, whatever."

I frowned, walking over to him.

"Hey, what's wrong? This attitude isn't like you."

I hugged Nick's waist while patting his chest. He took my hand and kept it the there, squeezing it tightly. The look on his face was one of great disappointment, and it worried me.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

Nick sighed, looking down at me. The loose tendrils of hair falling in his face made him look absolutely delicious, and it made me want him.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "I had this whole thing planned for today, that's all."

"What kind of thing?" "A surprise kind of thing."

I tried my best to hide my smile, not wanting to make Folio feel worse.

"Okay, well, can't you improvise or something? Is that possible?"

Folio grinned at me, and the sweet sparkle in his eyes returned.

"It's possible, I guess, just not the way I wanted it to be." "Well, that's okay. I'm sure it can still be good."

Nick just stared at me for a moment, thinking.

"Alright, fine. Come with me," offering me his hand. I took it willingly, allowing him to lead me back into the house.

After minutes that felt like hours of waiting, Nick finally came out of the bedroom, telling me to close my eyes, which I did, skeptically.

"Okay, open them."

I was so confused. Sitting on the floor, at my feet, was a box, a big box, all folded up, but not wrapped. I scowled at Nick, and he told me not to think about it too much and just open it.

"A box inside a box?"

"Keep going."

Another box. And another, but they kept getting smaller.

"Nick? What in the world," "Just keep going. There's only a few more," he insisted.

A few more turned into three.

"My question is where did you find all these boxes?" I stared at my boyfriend, puzzled.

"You would care about that, wouldn't you" he laughed. "There's one more box," he said, nodding towards me.

Smiling, I opened the last box and gasped, almost dropping it. I brought one hand to my mouth. It was shaking so badly. Was he really serious? I looked up at Folio who was staring at me intently.

"Are you for real?"

He nodded, slowly.

I shook my head, unable to believe what I was looking at. Inside the box was a small, simple, silver diamond ring. An engagement ring.

Tears filled my eyes at the realization of what was happening.

"Marry me," was all Folio could say. "Is that a question or a demand," I chuckled, looking up at him. "Both?" he shrugged, forcing a small smile.

I took the ring from out of the box, holding it up to see it better. Nick came closer, watching as I studied it.

"Are you sure about this, Nick? I mean are you sure you want to marry me? I mean I'm not always the happiest person to be around, and sometimes I have really low days that make me a total bitch and I end up feeling terrible for the way I treat you and others around me. I don't thinking you've thought this properly through. I don't think..."

My words were cutoff by Nick's mouth on mine as he pinned me against the couch, almost climbing into my lap.

"Just shut the hell up and answer the question, dammit," he demanded, trying his best to suppress his laughter. "I fucking love you. You should already know that by now. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, fishing and fucking and making babies with you like we've talked about."

I huffed a laugh through my tears, wiping them away.

"You're it, sweetheart," Folio confessed. "I don't want anybody else. Only you. Forever. You're the one I've chose to give my heart to. Just you."

I was crying. Tears rolled down my face. I threw my arms around Folio's neck, burying my face in him. He smelled like heaven

"Okay, then. Yes. Yes," I squealed. I raised my face to see the look of relief wash over him.

He took the ring and slipped it on my ring finger, pulling me in for a kiss.

"This isn't the end, you know that right? I'll never finish falling in love with you."

Nick's words hit my heart like fire, creating a whirlwind of emotions inside me.

"You're my favorite," he said, smiling at me. "My favorite everything."

Gently, he wiped my tears away as I wrapped my arms around him tight.

"Merry Christmas, Baby," I whispered to him. "I love you."

#nick folio #nick folio one shots #nick folio fanfiction #bad omens cult #bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens fanfiction

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spotaus · 3 months ago

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Okay, putting a New Age au thing under the cut (likely a ramble-)

So, this one might come from my own hcs a bit too much. However, smth @ancha-aus (hope u don't mind the tag-) said about a situation in which newly teen Night would reach out to *Cross* if he was sick or feeling unwell? I thought a lil more and I ended up deciding that Cross is the most reliable one of the four to keep Nightmare to his word for his own good.

By that, I mean the others can't say no to Night when they have even an inkling he's uncomfortable, and while Cross definitely also would rather Night be comfy, he's also someone Night picked out for his willingness to follow orders. So, say, Night says Ccino is in charge if he falls ill. But, Ccino also has to manage a lot, so Ccino sets the guys to care for Night directly. Night reaches out to Cross, because he's aware even if he's sniffly and miserable, Cross *will* make him eat his dinner and get healing done. Killer? Would honestly probably just curl up around Night and make things worse and/or get himself sick too (<- has never cared for a sick person). Dust? Would try, but the moment Night looks even a bit more distressed than normal, he'd give up on trying to make him do what he doesn't want to. Horror? 2nd best to care for him, but he's also been known to... not but heads, just have a sort of inherent rivalry with Ccino regarding healing and rest (tradition stuff). So Cross? Cross would be the perfect storm of making sure Night feels secure and safe and comfy, while also using his Older Brother skills to get Night to stop being fussy and just do the things that will make him feel better.

On that same note! Cute brotherly things these nerds do w/ Night:

Dust loves playing traditional table games, like chess or checkers, with Night. It's a calm activity they can do together pretty much anywhere, and I know that Dust would bring it out anytime Night seemed down or stressed.

Horror? Horror loves to take trips to the countryside, buy when Night becomes small, it only makes sense for them to visit the gardens more often instead. Horror has a ridiculous amount of knowledge on flora since he lived out on the outskirts and used to farm/forage for a living. Night loves sitting under a tree with Horror after a long day.

Killer has... a lot he likes to do with Night. He's been here the longest, so he knows Night's hobbies thoroughly (Nightmare him go everywhere with him during paranoia episodes) but Killer enjoys the most reading with Night. Whether that's Night reading to him or vice versa. (I like to think Night might have taught his boys to read, or at least Horror and Killer, because I doubt they knew before-) It's his first instinct if Night I'd upset to grab a book. It was what helped him escape his episodes, and now it helps him calm from night terrors and decompress after stressful meetings.

Cross (headcanon incoming) really enjoys music. I think whenever he has the chance, he and Night will go to the music room, and Cross will play. He learned Cello when he was younger, alongside his training as a soldier, and it was one of the few times he was able to be around his siblings normally. Night knows the piano and viola (Dream learned Violin) so Night and Cross will play together sometimes, to decompress and to help Cross shake off that wall he puts up while he's working.

And! When Night was still running on the Apple Magic, their favorite group activity was always Sparring. The fighting was how Night taught the four to be so trusting of eachother, because he would tell them to incapacitate him as a team. If the worked together, they always has more fun and got used to trust eachother like an extra limb (Like Brothers). Night was always too swift for them to catch, most of the time, but it posed a challenge. When Night lost the apple magic, he never really got back that combat prowess he had before, so they couldn't spar the way they used to... To make up for it, Night and his brothers will sometimes have game nights that involve sparring challenges. Like, passing Night between eachother in fun ways, or hide and seek with him, or tags things that don't require Night to have amazing reflexes like he used to, that still let the group have fun!

Bonus Round for the side characters!

Error! Sometimes when Nightmare is really liking a story, Error will weave him a little "tapestry" of a scene out of his strings. Conversely, Night loves to sit and listen to Error ramble about his latest craft project or his new magical device. They bond over info dumping and insane passion for stuff. (Night is also allowed into Error's 'extra floors' which he weaves into the rooms with high ceilings as a safe-haven for himself.)

Ccino! They have an odd relationship, babysitter, turned confidant, turned... both? But Ccino loves when Night offers to help him make food. Like, at first it was a way to make sure Night didn't starve hinself, but then he kept ordering new interesting ingredients and recipes, and they bonded over the craft. It's a time when they both feel extremely at ease.

Lastly... I'm thinking about slipping Crop and Straw in as an homage to RealAge again, but idk where I'd plop them just yet! Maybe Crop is where Night sources a lot of supplies from? Maybe he's a guy who hid Night and a few of the guys after the first escape from Dream? We'll see lmao.

#New Age au #I still have a few things to do #but this is that post about The Baby that I almost wrote yesterday then decided against lmao---#i will be back... eventually-

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littlespoonevan · 7 months ago

Note

You can't say you have a specific call or scene in mind for those music choices and not share!!!

Anonymous asked: https://www.tumblr.com/littlespoonevan/752482136680005632/now-that-i-know-all-your-favourite-music-moments Can you tell us about the song call related that wins ?

okay i feel like i should've clarified i don't have like, Detailed scenes for most of those songs - just a general idea for the type of scene/call i could see it in askjdfhs but here is my take anyway:

I Was Made For Lovin’ You - KISS

ironically, i had an idea forever ago about a call to a movie set where an action stunt goes wrong so given this was the main song in the fall guy it feels very appropriate lmao. basically in my head there exists an episode about best friends where they keep getting calls about best friends and in this particular call, the two best friends are the stunt actors one and one of them confesses their love to the other in the midst of their panicked tangent while the other one is hurt/getting treated (yes this hypothetical episode ends with buddie feelings realisation obviously aksjdfh)

Barracuda - Heart

okay i don't have a specific scene for this but i do think it should match the energy of buck and eddie standing on top of the firetruck as it's moving to catch that sky diver in 3x11, like show me them doing something Cool

Time of the Season - The Zombies

i actually wanted this to be in the blackout arc lol. i think i was even talking to someone about it at the time too??? basically i thought it'd be Great as an opening montage song a la pressure in 2x01. and in line with that, i also think it'd be Great montage song if there was another heatwave (buddie secret relationship making out at the side of the firetruck a la bathena yes/yes?????)

California Dreamin’ - The Mamas & Papas

i wanted this to be in the season 6 opener askdjh i think it was when we were still theorising about the bathena cruise in s6 and the potential of a storm????? again, a very good opening montage song that could be a harbinger of an incoming disaster (i do believe it would work really well for a storm since you have the rain sounds at the beginning of the song and the contradiction of the lyrics)

Gimme, Gimme, Gimme - ABBA

i also wanted this to be in the blackout arc lmfao. look, when i accidentally predicted the blackout arc back in the summer before s5 i had a way more fUN arc planned in my head than what happened and having the lyrics 'Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away? Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight Take me through the darkness to the break of the day' as part of an ep about a blackout is just very funny

i don't really have a specific call in mind for it but i do have a viscerally vivid image of buck jumping down from the truck like he did in the first call in treasure hunt while that song is playing overhead. also some people in the tags have suggested it playing on a call to a gay bar and i'd be very in favour of that askdjhf

Rasputin - Boney M.

this was originally the song i wanted playing in the stunt gone wrong scene lol

Everybody (Backstreet’s Back) - Backstreet Boys

i did literally just think of this one as i was making the poll but it would be so FUN!!!! halloween ep obviously, idk what context, but something along the lines of chim and the crow would be very funny. maybe something vampire-y/werewolf-esque to keep in theme with the music video. either way it should play during a call where the 118 is Freaked Out in an amusing way 👻

the poll is still active for another few hours if people feel like voting!! 🥰

#anon #asks #911 related #i hope these weren't a disappointment lmao #but also if anyone else has call headcanons for the songs share them in the notes!!!!

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mischief-lies-and-stories · 1 year ago

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5 Immortal Thor Thoughts

I know common courtesy is to wait a week before posting spoilers. I'm sorry. I'm tagging and putting it under a read more. (And I'm starting to run out of post ideas, so I can't wait a week.)

And here's your additional warning: Spoilers incoming, y'all.

1. "The Gods are creatures of story." When Al Ewing quotes himself it makes me feral. This time it's a good feral, but when he (Doom) referred to Peter Quill as "the lotus lord of the dance" after bestowing that rad as hell title on Loki first, I was pissed.

2. (Red underline by me) Al Ewing isn't even in the realm of fucking around. First mention of Loki and immediately out the gates, Ewing is like, 'Genderfluid Loki rights forever!' And everyone (mostly Thor, but other characters, too) maintain they/them pronouns for Loki throughout. Have I mentioned lately how much I love Al Ewing?

3. When I tell you I shrieked, and loudly! I had wondered if Ewing would hold off bringing Loki in until after the miniseries wrapped up, for continuity, because they're off on their own mission but--

HANG ON, IS THAT A CHIPPED TOOTH?! HELL YEAH, POST-EGO DEATH LOKI IS BACK, BABY!!!

4. I will not ship Fandral/Loki. I will not ship Fandral/Loki. I ship Loki with enough people. AO3 couldn't get me to ship it. The Loki Tumblr tag couldn't get me to ship it. I'll be damned if my favorite author gets me to ship it.

STOP FLIRTING, GODDAMMIT! I am a simple man, all I need is an interaction to make me insufferable for the next six weeks, don't do this to me!

Okay, LISTEN. This is where the real spoilers start. You have been warned.

5. So it's basically established in the introduction to the plot of this arc that Thor is not master of superstorms. That title belongs to a god of gods, Utgard-Thor. (And well, if we've got Utgard-Loki, it stands to reason there'd be an Utgard-Thor.) So as the might of Utgard-Thor starts wreaking havoc across New York, we get a panel of a Roxxon billboard blown down.

WHICH GOT ME THINKING. In the Loki show, when they find out where Sylvie is hiding out, they exit the Timedoor into a catastrophic storm in Haven Hills, outside of a Roxxcart, owned by the Roxxon corporation. Now, the Roxxon billboard itself is not part of this theory, it just made me think of this scene. Anyway, when they get there, Loki almost immediately looks up at the sky, like he's expecting to see Thor. Mobius looks at him, almost like he realizes what Loki's thinking, and then herds him forward, toward the store. This comic made me wonder if Mobius knows something about this storm Loki doesn't. This isn't just any storm; this is a superstorm. And so Thor isn't here. This is Utgard-Thor's doing.

I mean, are you really that surprised my thoughts around a Thor comic are only about Loki?

Bonus:

Look, he just gets it, okay? I can't wait to see what comes next.

#loki #spoilers #spoilers for the immortal thor #the immortal thor #the immortal thor spoilers #immortal thor spoilers #spoilers for immortal thor #comic spoilers #marvel comics #marvel comics spoilers #(I think that might be all the combinations of spoilers tags i can do)#loki theories #genderfluid loki #al ewing

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sirens-sanctuary · 1 year ago

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Deception

. Miguel Ohara x fem!reader

. FWC (final word count): 5619

. TW: Attempted suicide, violence, a small bit of angst, hating your parents?

. (this is gonna have multiple parts :3, and this is very much a slow build story sorrrry)

. authors note, masterlist, rules, and taglist below ;3

There you were. Standing on the ledge of HQ, staring down at the ground below you.

The wind was blowing calmly through your hair, a soothing feeling.

You stood there, eyes shut just thinking. You breathed in calmly, and out shaking.

You want to feel something. Anything at all.

You heard him call out your name. Thats when you leaned forward and allowed yourself to fall, letting go of your worries, and the tinge of betrayal you felt.

You let yourself fall, not shooting out a web to catch yourself. You opened your eyes, seeing the ground get closer and closer to you, almost. As the wind rushed between your fingers, you began to think.

'Why am I here?'

You shut your eyes again, the ground so close, as if you could caress the pavement. Images surging through your mind, taking you back. Way back.

~~~~~~~~~~

[1 month prior]

"What do you mean I can't draw anymore money out? It's my money- is it not?" You asked the bank teller, annoyed that she won't help you.

"I'm sorry sweetie, but without you having some kind of steady income I can't draw out more money for you. I know this was left to you by your parents but the businesses that they had open aren't functioning anymore. I'm sorry I really am." The bank teller tells you regrettably, placing her hand on top of yours.

You flicked her hand off yours and looked down in your lap, "Okay, so you're saying if I get a job I can get more money out?"

"Yes-" You stood up before she could say anything else blurting out a 'thanks' and storming out of the bank.

You thought about how your parents screwed you up. You hated them with every part of your being.

They tested on you as a kid, shoving test tubes in and out of you, pricking you with needles, feeding you disgusting liquids and serums, hooking you up to machines and moniters.

They tested on you with spider venom and blood. Exposing you to dangerous amounts of radiation and gamma rays. As much as you tried not to think about the torture you went through as a kid, wishing you could only remember small bits and pieces. But unfortunately, you remember everything.

The testing they did on you gave you spider-like abilities. You could climb walls, shoot out webs from your wrist, made you extra sensitive to sounds, you could feel the vibrations of everyone walking and other things alike. Just something your parents cursed you with.

Your parents died. They were killed, probably pissed someone off. 'Deserved' You thought to yourself. After they died you had to live with your uncle Micheal and his shitty girlfriend Beth. Uncle Mike died too, you were more than upset. He was your rock and *poof* he was gone. His girlfriend moved on and wanted nothing to do with you, you were cool with that.

Dragging yourself from your thoughts you opened up the door to a diner. The sweet smell of buttercream pancakes and syrup flood your nose, the smell so strong you could almost taste the bacon.

You sat down at a booth and waited for a waitres to come up to you.

After about 5 minutes, a short blonde woman with a round face came up to you with a pen and pad.

"What can I getcha darling?" She had a sweet southern accent, surprising since you're in the north. Her name tag said, 'Donna' in pretty cursive writing.

"I'm uh- I'm actually wondering if I could get a job here?"

Her eyes widen slightly, but smiles softly.

"Yes of course sugar~ I'll be right back!"

You smile back at her and watches as she trails to the back of the diner.

As people begin to place their tips down and leave you realize how small and empty the place is.

The lady comes back with an equally as short and stubby man. A tall and lanky man comes out from the kitchen as well with a broom, he gives you a toothy grin.

'I'm gonna like it here.'

[2 weeks later]

You were wiping down tables and brushing crumbs on the floor. The lanky man you first met 2 weeks ago hands you a bottle of vinegar.

"Thanks Randy." You give Randall, or Randy as you like to call- him a smile when you grab the bottle from him. You spray small spurts on the table and wipe them down.

John; the stubby man from before, walks out from the kitchen and grabs a remote. He points the remote towards the small box tv in the corner of the diner and places his hands on his hips, flicking between channels before stopping on the news.

"Oh my god..." Donna says as she drops the broom on the floor and brings her hands to cover her mouth.

You flick your eyes up to the box tv, hearing everyone's cries coming from it. The sound of the news reporter being drowned out as you look at the villain on tv.

She's nothing you've ever seen before. She's different than the other villains you usually fight.

She was a tall, 7-8 feet. She was semi-reptile with dark green hair and piercing yellow eyes.She was scaling the side of the empire state...

It looked like she didn't belong here...

You snapped out of your trance and began to speak up.

"I uh I have to um go- I have to uh... i have a doctors appointment."

You began to rush towards your bag, the bag that has your spider suit in it.

"Johnny we should just tell her we know.." Donna says in a hushed voice.

You freeze in your tracks.

'They know? How do they know?' You weren't going to lie to them anymore. After these long two weeks Randy, Donna and John have become your...third family.

"H-how?" You say walking into the bathroom with your stuff. You slipped out of your work uniform quickly and put on your spider suit. You walk out the bathroom with your mask in hand looking at their faces.

"You leave at odd hours, or whenever someone is attacking the city," Randy speaks up giving you a somber look.

"I'm the one that brought up the bruises to everyone, wanted to make sure I wasn't the only one that saw them." John says chuckling a little to lighten the mood.

'I could've hidden those better' You think to yourself as you pull your mask on.

"Well. Guess it's out then. I'll be back, I always am."

You ran out of the diner, but looked back and waved before you slung out a web and pulled yourself away.

You swing from rooftop to rooftop, getting as close as you can to Empire state. You didn't even think as you swung yourself onto the building, scaling up the building faster than you ever have. The sounds of people screaming and glass breaking flooding your senses, your muscles screaming at you to stop climbing.

"HEY." You scream as you ram your foot into the reptiles face, barreling her inside the building.

"Who the fuck are you- what are you?"

"Fia." She growls her name at you as she lunges forward, gripping you in between her large hands.

You two are falling through the air, getting closer and closer to the ground.

You punch at Fia but she doesn't let go.

You begin to tear up, thinking this may be your last time alive. You claw and scratch at Fia but she doesn't let up, she smiles devilishly at you.

You shut your eyes.

You feel a strange warmth and light engulf you.

You hit the ground hard causing you to scream out.

You cough and roll over to your side, you peel your mask off and open your eyes taking in your surroundings.

'Where the hell am I..?'

You hear Fia yell, saying something along the lines of let me out. You turn over and see her stuck inside a red-like net and other...Spider-people? around her.

"Are you ok?"

You whip your head back around as you hear a husky voice beside you.

It's a man with sharp features and tan skin, hair slightly below his ears, he's..cute.

"What the fuck~" You slur and say with a confused look before falling back and passing out, everything fading to black...

๑۞๑,¸¸,ø¤º°°๑۩ ร𝓲ᖇᵉŇ. ๑۩ ,¸¸,ø¤º°°๑۞๑๑۞๑,¸¸,ø¤º°°๑۩ ร𝓲ᖇᵉŇ. ๑۩ ,¸¸,ø¤º°°๑۞๑

. A/N: AAHHHHHH OMG OMG I finally typed this out I was having a bit of trouble trying to figure out how this was going to work but I figured it out! i hope anyone that reads this enjoys. also, feel free to leave a request! I'll also be making a taglist soon, and pleasse leave feedback for me to improve or change thanks! <3

. masterlist | rules | taglist |

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triscribeaucollection · 11 months ago

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@foxstronaut: #YEAH SO I DID IN FACT WANT TO SEE IT#this is so good……this au just keeps getting better……….tysm for the link to this post!!#the wider context of the time travel……the fallout of bens betrayal…..#positively eating this up#also if i can ask- what is the ‘shereshoy’ mentioned in ur tag? :0

Shereshoy is the capstone of my Vod'e An Star Wars series, which is ALL about time travel, but I keep copy-pasting the intro scene into different AUs because it is. Definitely one of my favorite bits of writing to date.

Here's the series summary:

Have you ever seen a time traveler dropped into the middle of someone else's butterfly effect? How about several dozen someones? AKA I nabbed all my fave clone troopers and sprinkled them into a much happier galaxy, with a touch of violence on top. As a treat.

Aaand just for laughs, here's the intro scene in question:

---

The Force screamed in the middle of the night, and Ahsoka lurched awake with one overriding thought: not again.

Both lightsabers immediately flew to her hands as she rolled out of bed - boots and outer robes left behind in her sprint for the door. For the first time since constructing her own hab at Luke’s school, Ahsoka regretted putting herself on a neighboring ridge instead of down in the valley among the students.

Even as she ran, the Force flickered with another youngling’s death.

Beams of red light in the darkness, matched to knots of Dark power, drew her forward at even greater speed. Bounding off rocks and trees, the togruta remained nearly silent with every leap; she instinctively shielded herself with the Force to mask her approach, until the moment she burst out over the heads of three Sith acolytes, and let her own power flare.

Their helmeted heads snapped upwards. In the span of two heartbeats, her white sabers slashed, and those same heads fell to the ground, their bodies following after a brief pause.

Ahsoka landed in a battle-ready crouch, positioned defensively over a boy collapsed on the ground. When no further Sith revealed themselves, she deactivated and tucked away one lightsaber, freed hand reaching for the teenager at her feet. “Jacen?”

“I’m okay,” he rasped, heart pounding hard enough her lekku could feel the vibrations. “What- what’s happening?”

“Another Purge,” Ahsoka said, fighting hard to keep her voice level. “Can you feel Ezra?” After a moment’s pause, his face scrunched with desperate concentration, Jacen nodded. “Then let’s go. I’ll watch your back.”

The boy staggered upright, and led her around to the far side of the school buildings: student sleeping huts, a kitchen and meal hall, storage and laundry and library. Most of them bore scorch marks and other damage, while further up the valley, the actual temple where Luke handled meditation and combat training burned.

Storm clouds rumbled overhead, an echo of the fury roaring in Ahsoka’s mind. Twice, cracks of lightning revealed fallen bodies as she and Jacen ran past.

Another set of Sith attempted an ambush, only to falter when they registered her white lightsabers. Ahsoka didn’t hesitate to leap forward and deal with them swiftly, before any attention could be turned to the padawan beside her. Jacen, thankfully, didn’t attempt to join her, nor did he comment afterward - but his Force-presence shivered and pulled in even tighter on itself.

The next enemies they came across were a squad of stormtroopers, concentrating fire on a solitary figure, who deflected incoming plasma bolts and shot back his own with the same weapon. Ahsoka could sense two more younglings hidden behind Ezra’s billowed cloak, and increased her speed.

One trooper spotted her mid-charge. He and his neighbor turned to shoot at the new target, but their bolts went wild, too far off the mark to even require deflection. Ridiculous, Ahsoka could hear in her mind, as she spun and slashed, No brother would have gotten off Kamino with aim like that; do they even bother training these shinies, or just hand ‘em armor and a blaster and a new set of orders?

Faster than droids, but not nearly as fast or coordinated as clones, which meant Ahsoka carved through the stormtroopers within moments. As the last blaster fell in pieces to the ground, she saw Jacen dash past to crash against his favorite teacher with a desperate hug. Ezra wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, the other still holding his lightsaber. “Ahsoka?”

“Get to my ship,” she ordered, as another peal of thunder rang above their heads, and the first few raindrops began to fall. “Don’t wait for anyone else, just take off and get to safety.”

Expression grim, Ezra nodded, and turned to drop into a crouch. He helped Alora get to her feet, the girl holding Grogu against her chest. “Pypey?”

The teenager shook her head, headscarf gone, face covered in tears. Ezra didn’t waste any more time before hustling her and Jacen off, towards the hidden landing pad where they kept hyper-capable craft. Ahsoka barely waited before hurrying onward again.

She passed more bodies; some students, some stormtroopers, the occasional Sith in black and red armor. The rain began coming down harder, turning the ground slick with mud, dragging visibility down to mere feet and severely impacting how much Ahsoka could sense with her hollow montrals.

But the Force didn’t falter. Every leap took her from one mostly-stable spot to another, following further death knells and surges of power, all the way up to the front steps of the old Jedi temple set into the mountainside. All the way to Luke.

Despite his much smaller stature, he moved like Anakin, and she could feel the intense emotions racing through him. One trooper after another fell, Luke refusing to let any of them put so much as a single foot on the steps into his school, his Academy. More bodies sprawled across the stones behind him; only one still flickered faintly with life.

Ahsoka took over the fight.

She landed ahead and just to one side of Luke, better positioned to defend the one student still gasping for breath. “Go! Take her and go!” Her fellow Jedi hesitated, clearly torn between multiple directions. “She’s dying, Luke, take Jaina and go, NOW!”

His Force-presence flared, then settled, decision made. Ahsoka felt the man lunge, scoop up his wounded student, and bolt into the Temple. She knew he’d follow a secret route out to the far side of the mountain, where an overhang sheltered his old X-Wing. With any luck, Artoo would be waiting, engines already fired up and ready to take off.

Even without luck, Ahsoka would buy them enough time to escape. Raindrops sizzled off her lightsabers as she swept them through the air, evaporating into steam that trailed after her every movement.

And Ahsoka moved.

#star wars #vod'e an series #ahsoka tano #time travel fixit #shereshoy #which was SUPPOSED to be the final installment #but then haat ijaa haa'it happened #and who knows when that will be finished #but that's just individual snippet chapters #the full plot of the series is Done and Dusted

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shadowglens · 2 years ago

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wip tag

i was tagged by @marivenah to post a snippet of my wip, and i actually have one this time 🥺😍 tagging @denerims, @risingsh0t, @aartyom, @malefiicarum, @solasan, @cptcassian, @chuckhansen, @loriane-elmuerto, @shellibisshe, @nightbloodbix, @aragorngf, @fenharel & you!

wip: the battle of irelius prime, star wars, dylan pov

The streaking blue of hyperspace reflects off the command console as Dylan fights to put the incoming call through. His comms officer, Vann, swears across from him as the transmission flickers and sputters, until it eventually spits out the image of General Kenobi.

He’s kneeling, mid firefight, lightsaber ignited and distorted over the comm. There’s a streak of soot across his cheek, a strand of normally-immaculate hair falling in his eyes. Something explodes close enough for Dylan to feel it in his hands where he’s gripping the console.

“Quite a predicament you’ve found yourself in, Kenobi,” General Diem says as she appears beside Dylan, arms crossed and grinning despite another explosion rattling through the transmission. Vann’s fingers are still flying over the controls, an astromec plugging into the console at his hip and whirring unhappily.

“Yes, well,” Kenobi stops, ducks, shouts off to his left, “our dear General Grievous has apparently taken quite a liking to me.”

“Better you than me.”

The general rolls his eyes, dodges a blaster bolt. “If only we were all so lucky. I take it you got our request for aid, then?”

“Well, I didn’t call just to listen to you complain.”

A groan that sounds suspiciously like Cody’s echoes from Kenobi’s right. “At least tell me you’re close?”

“A few clicks, if that. Make sure you’re still in one piece when we arrive.”

Diem’s padawan, Gungi, rushes up behind her, lightsaber already gripped in one hand. Dylan nods at the kid, who smiles back with too many large, sharp teeth. His belt is hanging lopsided on his hips; when Gungi follows Dylan’s gaze, he grumbles and tugs it tighter.

General Kenobi smiles tightly, mouth forming around a reply, when the transmission is abruptly cut.

“Sorry, General,” Vann says after a moment of frantic typing, eyes still on the console. “Looks like they’re being jammed.”

“It’s okay. I’m surprised we got through at all.” Diem sighs, pushing off the console to face Dylan. His eyes catch on the creases at her brow, the downturned edge of her lips, the blue reflection of hyperspace in her teal eyes, before darting to a vacant spot over her shoulder as she lifts her gaze to his.

“Dylan, I want every fighter and gunship ready to launch as soon as we arrive. Brief the men on the storm we’re about to fly into.”

The salute feels stiff, too quick, as he snaps it out. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Gungi, I’ll meet you in the hangar. Make sure our fighter is prepped.”

The kid’s salute is comical at best, mocking at worst. Diem only chuckles under her breath and ruffles the young Wookiee’s hair, before lightly pushing him to follow Dylan off the bridge. Admiral Barov is already walking over and rattling off the latest report to Diem by the time she’s turned back around to the comm.

Dylan can hear the kid’s footfalls echoing through the corridor behind him as he rushes to catch up. Even as a Wookiee, Gungi only just barely scrapes Dylan’s shoulder (still so young). The kid growls, large clawed hands waving in front of him. Thankfully, his lightsaber has made it back safely onto his belt.

“Sorry, kid, I’m not taking that bet if the General’s flying.”

An indignant roar. Another hand wave. The lift jolts around them as they rocket down to the hangar. When the doors slide open, the two of them emerge into barely-controlled chaos.

Gungi stays planted in the elevator, hands on his hips.

Dylan takes one look at him, rolls his eyes, and relents. “Fine, fine. But don’t come crying to me when Coil puts you on scrubbing duty.”

Gungi smiles, and all-but skips off to the General’s fighter where it’s sitting pride of place across the hangar.

Kids.

“Ok, boys, wheels up in five. Let’s go! Let’s go!”

#wip #writing tag #ch: ione diem #ch: dylan #ione x dylan #the fic is sitting at like 3k words so far which im very proud of adfsgsdjf #this is a bit of a longer snippet but whatever

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beyondthetemples-ooc · 11 months ago

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I was tagged by @cxttlefishcxller! Thank you, Conniefef!

The rules are simple - find a sentence, or excerpt, that includes the words you're given and paste it in, and include a link to the finished story if you want. But honestly, these are guidelines at best - do what you want.

My words to find: Paper, Sunset, Natural, Leather, Bookmark, Steel, Chill, Ember, Storm, Makeshift

I'm tagging: (Under the condition that you want to do this!) @astrearl, @chasm-connected and @sirenianheart if they have enough of their writings at hand to do this, @monstrousgourmandizingcats, aaand @cxttlefishcxller again if you want to do more words!

Also any writers who see this post and think it'd be fun!

Your words are: - Fly - Green - Independent - Fixated - Magical - Incoherent - Copy - Mental - Fire - Glowing

(Zira addition: If my words are too "purple prose" or specific for your style, feel free to find a synonym or excerpt that captures its mood if not its exact verbiage!)

~*~

I chose a few paragraphs for my excerpts, but I'll post Just The Sentences first, and if you want some context with a satisfying beginning and ending, you can read past the cut!

Paper: A breeze rustled the desiccated newspapers at the end of the alley, blowing in some less-stale air, and she inhaled deeply as she regathered her strength.

Sunset: Looking closer, her eyes seemed to glow with a smooth but wary light, the violet-gray of a sunset thinly veiled with incoming stormclouds.

Natural: It was only natural to thought-speak in this conducive mindscape, anyways.

Leather: And the bird herself changed. Full wings became ragged. Claws hooked the wingtips. Beak filled with knifepoint teeth, deadly, made to tear - lit by red fire of cruelty in her eyes. Feather became leather, roughhewn, scales.

Bookmark: She sighed inwardly as she lay the book aside gently, placing in the tiny paper bookmark... right next to her on the bed.

Steel: Facts, memories, details-- all things Raven knew to steel herself against when she opened herself to their ravages.

Chill: She found, her mother's memory of that glimpse was already slightly cloudy and vague... but what Dove knew was accurate to her humanity, her ethereal appearance, her chill.

Ember: Her cloak had adopted an unusual color, a faded orange, like dying embers just before they were totally extinguished.

Storm: His presence breached the storm of her powers and she coughed on a gasp and sensed him and his desperate affection so suddenly it choked her mind to stillness; the flames suddenly vanished, and Dove was left choking on the dust from the section of collapsed wall – her powers had ravaged the room.

Makeshift: A makeshift bowl wouldn’t be so hard to obtain…

~*~

Paper: (This one was hard to find for some reason. It was mentioned in a lot of the files, referring to notes written on paper, and it was used quite a few times in the emvents, but I'm not comfortable sharing those. It's not the WHOLE word, but this is from the revamp of Kary's debut.)

She sat down on the cold, unforgiving concrete and tried to breathe it all away. No, no, she couldn’t faint in the city, not around these people!

A breeze rustled the desiccated newspapers at the end of the alley, blowing in some less-stale air, and she inhaled deeply as she regathered her strength. She needed to find something to eat, and fast. Soon she’d be too weak to travel, then too weak to walk... but it hurt, this place was giving her such a headache...

Whimpering quietly, the dog nuzzled her hands and licked her across the cheek as if begging her to get up.

“Okay...” The dizziness gone, she stood warily. She had to hold her hand on the wall for balance, and to ward off the uncertainty that she couldn’t do it. She wouldn't give her body any other choice. Testing her legs again – at least they’d hold her up.

Sunset: (An excerpt from the Team Transition story file, describing character!Zira (who had the name before I took it for myself)...)

Looking closer, her eyes seemed to glow with a smooth but wary light, the violet-gray of a sunset thinly veiled with incoming stormclouds. He'd never seen a color like that... and her face was just barely discernible in the hood's shadow. The eyes, mouth, and areas between were visible - but the shape of her face was impossible to tell; the edges melded into the shadows too smoothly. He wondered how she got her hood to do that so perfectly.

Natural: (I use this word a lot, apparently. But I haven't shared any secretshipping scenes yet!)

And through her concentration, Dove was hopelessly confused when she heard HIM muttering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

“You haven’t DONE anything...”

"I know, and that’s WHY.” Whatever he was feeling, it was strong enough to leave Dove breathless and it wouldn’t let him speak through his throat. It was only natural to thought-speak in this conducive mindscape, anyways.

"Srentha."

"I’m so sorry I can’t do anything to HELP!”

"Srentha, you're crying..."

"I want to HELP you, Dove! But I tried everything - the herbs, the magic, the memories - and none of it did you any good! You even seem worse - I feel so USELESS!"

Dove’s whirl of confusion seemed to shock the storm to silence. She felt concern so deep it ached, and deeply desperately frustrated crackles of white lightning still sparked out all around her. "No... no, Srentha, that is SO far from true..."

"But I probably only made you worse."

He blinked his wide, tear-soaked eyes, and looked into her indigo gaze so deeply it broke her heart to pieces. He was crying, and to see that usually lit-up and enthusiastic gaze so desperate and hopeless... It was like taking the stars from the night sky.

Leather: (From the opening of Dove's Dark Discovery, chapter 14...)

This wind felt heavy… strong… Approaching.

She flapped hurriedly – the dark already held her. She fled, her heart quickening. Feathers darkening, melding with the shadows, blending in and erasing edges until she was one with the blackness no matter how frantically she tried to evade, the invisible claws were already latched on.

And the bird herself changed. Full wings became ragged. Claws hooked the wingtips. Beak filled with knifepoint teeth, deadly, made to tear - lit by red fire of cruelty in her eyes. Feather became leather, roughhewn, scales. This bird was no longer an image of peace but an icon of evil. Peace to protection, serenity to strength as her lithe form slithered onward, onward, flexing new muscles as she glided towards a red light that was more like a bloodstain on the velvety black background.

Bookmark: (Weirdly enough, the book word was one of the least frequently occurring in my story notes! And half of them aren't even fully written. So here, take this. From something I wrote 10+ years ago.)

If only, if only... She could dream, no harm in that... unless the dream turned into a nightmare... Psh, right. Nightmares, what a joke. At least you WAKE UP and get away from the prison, or you find yourself on a comfy bed before you hit the ground.

She shook her head, bringing her eyes back into focus and back to the book.

Two words, a sentence...

She sighed inwardly as she lay the book aside gently, placing in the tiny paper bookmark... right next to her on the bed. She stared up at the ceiling, the plastic stars stuck up there with tack and - what was that, duct tape...? Well, it wasn't anything like the night sky, even when the lamp went off - those streetlights at her window robbed the phosphorescent stars of their beauty. She wondered, wished she could have a skylight, tilted away form the sick electric glow of the street and facing the south, or west towards the parkway... Maybe south-southeast, where the winter moon would rise tonight, slender and beautiful.

Ah, if only, if only...

Steel: (From the yet-unpublished revamp of Unforeseen and Unforesaken, I present to you an excerpt from my favorite scene in the revamped "Revelations" chapter!)

Empathically connected, Raven began working to ground Dove's energies, but this time she was far more fueled by the need to defend her friends against whatever dangers Dove had brought to them.

She didn't know what they were anymore. But she knew she needed to stop them.

So her eyes screwed tight, her face shadowed a grimace, her body clenched in resistance to the raging uncontrolled power she not only sensed, but shared, processed; taking charge, taking control, taking Dove's burden upon herself.

But there was more to Raven's connections-- much, much more than simple emotive empathy. Telepathy; clairvoyance; clairsentience. And a mind was much more than just emotions and power.

Facts, memories, details-- all things Raven knew to steel herself against when she opened herself to their ravages.

Dove's terror had long unleashed disorganized subconscious telepathic projections that Raven fought off instinctively.

But nothing could have prepared her for the shock that followed when Dove's life truths hit her awareness.

Raven's eyes flew open, wide and pinpricked and back rigid under shoulders that pulled back so suddenly both her concentration and the connection were shattered into fizzling black sparks.

Chill: (This one hasn't been placed in a story just yet, let alone published. If I ever do publish it, it'll likely be in the collection of Dove's childhood memories. If you've ever been curious about how Dove thought about Raven during her childhood...)

Raven was like a legend to her. And when she SAW her in her mother's memories for the first time: She was powerfully hit with sympathy... but also deep fascination.

That first time, she found herself thinking about her a lot, wondering, wistful - sympathetic. How could someone so young, made to be cold and calm, be the end to their world?

Her mother had told her enough about the way she was treated for Dove to know that very few, if any, had an answer. And she kept these wonderings mostly to herself.

That glimpse of her face became familiar in her thoughts. Dove studied the memory - her inhumanly pale skin, hair draping in an unearthly color, eyes deep yet distant. Relating her to the stories - Raven, the omen, the child that quaked Azarath in birth and would send them all to their death. More than story, not only prophecy - but Azar's sacred decree.

And Azar - RAISING her!

Sometimes she asked her mother if she can see her again. And Alerina would smile in that softly, sadly, sympathetic way of hers, and bring the memory back, so easily.

And then Dove studied every little aspect, mentally tracing the curve of her jawline, the hooded curve of her eyelids, the effortless focus so unobtainable to her... Tracing her, learning her, again and again and again. Until she realized she was dedicating her to memory.

And suddenly, Raven to her seemed REAL.

She was surprised at the depth of her feeling, for a moment - and then she asked her mother if she could see her yet again. She wanted to be sure her memorization was accurate. She didn't want to distort Raven behind her eyes, the way everyone else had done.

She found, her mother's memory of that glimpse was already slightly cloudy and vague... but what Dove knew was accurate to her humanity, her ethereal appearance, her chill.

Ember: (I had a hard time finding this word itself because I don't know how to specify that in File Explorer. But I could in Word at least! And even then, I had to approximate it... Here's one from DDD, chapter 18.)

Movie night.

Raven thought it was a bad idea for Dove to join them, with how erratic her emotions had been lately, and said exactly as much.

"It's just a movie," Dove muttered in a quiet monotone. "It can't be that dangerous..." Her cloak had adopted an unusual color, a faded orange, like dying embers just before they were totally extinguished.

Raven supposed it signaled apathy.

Storm: (Unpublished scene from The Next Step wherein Dove has a nightmare...)

“Dove, you’re screaming again!”

Srentha ran in full-speed through the doorway, though he was already panting hard.

His presence breached the storm of her powers and she coughed on a gasp and sensed him and his desperate affection so suddenly it choked her mind to stillness; the flames suddenly vanished, and Dove was left choking on the dust from the section of collapsed wall – her powers had ravaged the room.

Bedside he leaned over so he could see her in the near-endless blackness (was it just him or was her room even darker than usual?) – her eyes were wide, desperate, hurt, absently gaping up at him as she gasped desperately for breath, frozen in place.

"Dove, are you alright?!"

She didn’t answer – but she didn’t pull away, so he knew it was okay to clutch her close to him, promising her it was only a dream until the black-laced lightning wore itself out and her convulsive breaths had calmed to a quiet shudder.

Makeshift: (From an unpublished chapter of Srentha's debut story, Fire and Flight.)

He nodded to himself, finalizing that today would be the day he left. He pulled one of the oldest corked bottles from his robe, tilting his head in calculation. It wouldn’t be easy, but if he could form some of the more basic ingredients from the ashes, and if he could gather the right quantities, it would only be a matter of combining them in a container big enough the hold the solution. A makeshift bowl wouldn’t be so hard to obtain…

And so he set to work, gathering a pile of ash here, a broken chunk of the ground there, all the while keeping track of his findings and being sure he had exactly the right amount of everything. And then he called forth his energies, sitting on the ground and beginning the transformations. Each object shifted as he cast the spells, smoothly changing their shape, color, texture – first the bowl, then the white powder, the golden sand, and the deep blue liquid from his vial. He added each ingredient to the mix, carrying out each step more carefully than he ever had before.

Finally, the mixture took on a faint glow, and he smiled. The light emanating from the bowl faded as he tapped the final drops into the mixture, leaving a mass of glittering white-blue crystals, so small they seemed to be made of sand. So many thoughts flashed through his mind as he stood and took the bowl in his arms – if this worked and he did manage to pierce the dimensional boundary, how was he going to find the way to Earth? Would he be able to find his long-lost friend? Would he even be able to stay on that world long enough to search for her? And how would she react when they met? Would she believe it was really him…?

She’ll know, a voice within him promised – she always knew when he was lying in the past, so what would keep her from knowing the truth now?

#rhs writing #rhs stories #random fun

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