#pay me $300 for my silence

[nuricurry]

Me and @kashuan have been watching a playthrough of the Witcher 1 game since I never played it and tbh I'm immediately charmed.

Love how Geralt's fighting stand of choice includes him just swirling the sword above his head alskdjf I don't know if that has any merit but wanna believe he came up with it all on his own

Also the stilted voice acting/line delivery and the way conversations just randomly cut off to go into a cutscene are great tbh, I need more of it. ALSO NO ONE TOLD ME ABOUT LEO who was perfect and pure and was born with glass bones and paper skin, no idea how he was gonna survive being a witcher but I love him 10/10 no notes. Last, me and Kas laughed for like 5 mins at this quest:

[citrinae]

alarm clock.

sanji x reader

contents; in which you’re having the sloppiest, laziest morning sex with sanji. fluffy smut, piv, creampie, afab!reader, mdni. thought this as a blurb of like 200 to 300 words but then things degenerated & now it’s 1.2k. oops i guess?

masterlist

Silence; the room taking from dark blue to beige.

You rarely wake up in Sanji’s arms—close to never, you dare to say. So when he allows himself the luxury to slack off, you try to make the most of the little amount of time you catch together. This is what is happening now; trying to blink off the sleep from your eyes, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

Then you become aware of Sanji's hand cupping your breasts through your pyjamas. Absently he fiddles with one of your nipples, his breathing a heavy staccato against your nape as his lips trail down to reach your neck. You let out a satisfied hum into the covers. He chuckles in response, a light, dreamy sound that makes you shiver. 

“I dreamt about you, mon coeur,” he tells you, all melted sugar as his lashes ghost over your ear. 

It's reflexively that you press your back against his chest, embracing the warmth. Your lips part as he adds more pressure to your hardened bud. Still dazed from your sleep, you keep your eyes closed.

“Seems like it was a good dream,” you say.

“Mhm,” his fingertips roll off your chest and further down your stomach. He sounds distracted, but he buzzes with heat, like he’s trying to relive the events passing through him just moments ago in his sleep. It does not take long until you start feeling him under your shirt. 

“What was I doing there?” you wonder. 

Leaking through his boxers, Sanji's erection is evident as you find yourself moving against him. “You were just so,” hoarse, kissing across your jawline. “Beautiful, my dear. Like you always are.” A moment later, approaching the hem of your pants, he adds, “We had the ship to ourselves, and…” 

Your thighs shift in anticipation. “And?”

“You let me touch you,” he says. “From behind, like this,” his fingers touch across your inner thigh and further down your slit, one by one, squelching sounds climbing from the sheets. “Fuck, you’re so wet. A little needy for me already, are we?”

Truth is, you are, wet and needy, like you’ve never been this early in the day. His other hand continues to toy with your breast and now you’re practically grinding yourself against him, focusing on Sanji's throbbing cock into the thin fabric of your pyjamas. 

Speaking becomes a little challenging with Sanji’s fingers making diligent circles on your clit. “Just hoping we did more than just touching, mh—in your dream.”

“Oh,” his digits push themselves into a drowsy rhythm, paying special attention to the spots that make your toes curl. “Yeah, there was more.”

The air grows dense with body heat and your sheets are damp. For a minute you allow each other to just lose yourselves to the comfortable press of your skins, touching through your clothes and filling the room with your moans. You feel smooth in Sanji's arms, lit quicksilver, punched out as his fingertips grace your slit with their sugar devotion. 

Noticing the desperation with which your hips cling to his crotch, Sanji takes the opportunity to push himself into you, grazing his cock against your pants.

“You want it in, don’t you?” he murmurs, and it’s low, magnetic, barely containing the lust that settled at the bottom of his throat. 

Delirious. It makes you delirious. 

“I do,” you say, breathless. “I want you so bad.”

“Well you should have it,” Sanji buries his face into your hair as he tugs at the hem of your pants, pulling them off in a fluid motion. His cock springs free from his boxers, too, not wasting much time before brushing himself at your entrance. “I'm all yours, always.”

Despite the growing need he can read in your breathing, Sanji is a man who likes to start slowly, coating his cock in your slick and kissing across your shoulder to reward you for your patience. When he goes in, it’s with a sigh that leaves you in a hypnotic fog. Deeper he drags himself into you, and you whine at the fullness, your thighs damp with traces of your desire for Sanji and his cock and the way he makes you feel like you’re the only ones breathing across these seas. You accommodate fast, almost like you were made for him. 

“Goodness, you’re tight,” his lips vibrate on your skin. Moments later he starts up a pace, lethargic and messy as he pulls himself in and out of you, not that either of you seem to care. “Does it feel good, my love?”

“’s so good, Sanji,” rolling your hips against him. “Please don’t stop.”

So he doesn’t, thrusting deeper but not the less slow, mouthing heated praises into your ear. With just as much devotion he touches your breasts and stomach and butt, making sure you know he loves you down to every curve. In return you allow yourself the liberty of letting out the sounds that you know he adores just so. A shoulder slips from the covers, soon followed by an ankle, let sunlight spill in through the window and mix itself with the affection emanated by Sanji's body. This time he pushes himself a little harder than the context requires, skins pressed back together with a slapping sound, and the bed creaks as he does. 

“You always take me so well,” he heaves it with so much solemnity, so much love. “So good and sweet it’s driving me crazy.”

You clutch the sheets in your hands, feeling closer and closer to your high with each deep thrust he makes into you. Quivering from the friction, your folds are wrapped tightly around his cock, and Sanji growls wetly into your nape from the electric sensation coming from being milked by your heat. 

“Keep up, keep up,” comes out more desperate than you intended. “So close, god.”

Sanji picks up the pace here, buckling his hips with just the perfect amount of strength and using his hand to push two digits round your clit.

“Come for me,” he urges you, sweetly. “Cream around this cock you love so much, my dearest.”

And you come; heavily, loudly, letting yourself go to the waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tempest. You can tell this has Sanji moaning, too, but it’s muffled, distanced from the orgasm he continues to fuck you through. Your head still buzzes as you ride off your peak, and that’s when you notice how close Sanji is from his own, breath trembling, overwhelmed. 

“Fuck,” is all he can manage. “Ngh, when you look like that I—” Something snaps within him. Soon there’s warmth spilling into you, dripping off your thighs and onto the sheets. His face collapses at your shoulder blades. You stay like that for a minute, his arms still wrapped around you in a closest embrace. Then he flips you over, and it’s the first time you meet his eyes today—droopy and dull like he just got pulled from a dream. 

A smile tugs at his lips. He is soon to scoop you up and clean after the mess he’s made of you. Doing something to these sheets, all wrinkled and drenched in arousal, would be a good idea as well. But before all that, there’s one thing he has to make sure of. 

“So what do you want for breakfast, butterfly?”

[crookedteethed]

MORESAL of praise | e.m.

Pairing: Up-and-coming Musician!Eddie Munson x Girlfriend Musician reader

Warning: 18+ Cursing, Smut (p in v), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), Reader is intimidated by Eddie's size, Praise kink, Pet names, cockwarming, Eddie being a tool, barely proofread, reader and Eddie are both in their mid-twenties, From y/n perspective

Word count: 2.7k

Divider cred → @saradika-graphics

There's a squeak to my door that needs fixing, and a water leak somewhere that needs tending.

I asked my tenant to fix it, but he tells me: "This is what you get when you pay $300 a month."

The Luminary, home of musicians trying to live for cheap.

I sit my guitar case on the creaking floors, and kick off my ten-hut boots.

My apartment had been cold. A dull gray atmosphere manifested itself not only due to the cold weather outside but also the poor insulation through my apartment walls.

The door to my room was slightly cracked and I noticed between the lines of static silence were the faint sounds of acoustic strings.

I opened the door. In my room, there was one dim lamp light lit. It shined a yellow hue on my boyfriend, who sat on the edge of my bed. Eddie had been playing his black acoustic guitar--the one he wrote "This machine slays dragons" in white paint on, his notebook he often wrote in laid open next to him, a black ink pen between the margins of the notebook.

He doesn't look up at me when I tell him "Hi."

His concentration was on the nylon strings of his acoustic guitar as he mutters an "Oh, hey." back.

My boyfriend looked beautiful at the moment, inattentive, yet beautiful. The warm yellow tone reflected his pallor skin, strands of his thick curly hair tucked behind his ear, and a brown celluloid guitar pick between his teeth. Somewhat of a Vermeer painting.

I walk over to my dresser.

"Sorry, I'd broken in." Eddie says. "I needed to be somewhere quiet, my roommates wouldn't give me that." The roommates that had also doubled as Eddies bandmates.

"It's okay." I say, while shimming out of my black satin skirt. "I was going to ask if you wanted to come over tonight anyway."

My skirt falls to the floor, it pools around my ankles. Next to come off is my stockings, then my shirt, and lastly my bra.

I catch Eddies eyes lingering on my bareback as I fish for something I can sleep in. My hands pick a shirt that said "Margaritaville" and was four sizes too big.

When I turn back around to Eddie, he's back to strumming a random chord then he writes it down in his notebook.

In the small bathroom that connected to my bedroom, I don't look myself in the mirror when I take off my panties and throw them into the hamper.

Now getting into bed, I crawled over to where Eddie sat, sitting behind him on the weight of my knees.

Eddie had seemed to form some sort of a strumming pattern with his song, but he didn't seem to like the sound of it by the harsh glare he gave his guitar.

"It sounds pretty." I assure him.

He lets out a low mumble that sounds like a "Thank you."

"Thinking about playing it to the guys, play it at our audition at Beacon records, maybe?"

I hum as I slowly walked on my knees, my calloused hands gripping his bare shoulders. "Mmm-hmm," I say as he kept speaking, but I was too busy stroking his hair to fathom anything he was saying.

I lean in closer to his body, enveloping myself in his warmth.

My boyfriend: the thermal.

I bring my lips to his neck, and in one long hard suck, I kiss the flesh. His reaction is what catches me off guard.

"Babe." he turns to me, he stares at me with the same glare he gave his guitar. "I'm almost done." He continued. "Then we can do whatever you want."

The music continues.

My bottom lip start to poke out, and I probably would've started to cry if he was a bit more harsher.

I start to scoot to the head of the bed. "Take as long as you want. I'm going to bed." I tell him.

I get underneath my cold blankets, lay to my side and force myself to sleep (despite not being sleepy).

Suddenly, his strumming stops.

With one eye opened, I peak at him (out of curiosity). I squeeze both my eyes shut when I feel Eddie get up from the bed, his bones cracking in the mitts.

He leans his guitar on the wall, and places his closed notebook on the bedside table.

We accidentally make eye contact when he turns off the lamp light, I squeeze my eyes in a haste, but l feel the smirk on his lips illuminating in the darkness of my room.

Eddie then slips underneath the covers beside me, his clipped nails and rough hands graze the plush of my slender hips. I feel his smirked lips kiss the dip of my shoulder blade.

"I'm trying to sleep." I mumble.

"No you're not." He says, breathing on the nape of my neck.

I feel Eddie's muscular hands turn me over by the shoulders. When we're face to face I get a glimpse of his shadow covered face, alabaster skin darker then normal.

Eddie traces a finger over the line of my jaw and pulled my body tight to his chest. His body heat makes me feel less cold. Eddie brings a warmness to me that spreads from my temples, to my limps and it makes me melt like ice cream on a midsummer day's night.

"You're freezing." he states.

My lips part as his thump soothes the petal skin of my jawline.

"Lemme make you warm. Lemme make up for before, yeah?" He said in that voice I couldn't resist. It's a low, gravelly tone. A tone filled with assurance and leverage.

And though I wanted to roll over and play sleep, I simply couldn't. With sluggish eyes and a parted mouth (due to his thumb playing with my bottom lip) I found myself nodding to Eddie's words.

As Eddie crawls on top of me, I combed my fingers through his thick dark curls. Eddie's the one to close the gap between our mouths.

The kiss begins with the utmost tenderness. It was long enough that I could inhale his breath, feel the warmness of his skin, and tasted the last thing that lingered on his lips (the celluloid guitar pick).

But, with the hunger of a starving man, Eddie deepens the kiss. I responded to him with a low mewl between the gnawing and the suckling.

When I feel Eddie's hand snake to where our cores met, I stopped him.

He hovers over me with concerning eyes, and red-bitten lips.

"Did I do something wron--"

"I want to ride you." I breathlessly say, earning another smirk from him and glint in his eyes.

In a swift motion, Eddie and I switched places, with him now being on the bottom while I was on top. Eddie rests his back on the metallic bars of my headboard. In this position, the moonlight peaking from my curtains had shined on his face, leaving me in the shadows.

I start to adjust myself by bunching the hem of my shirt around my waist; Eddie adjusts himself by lifting his weight to pull down his boxers, and that's when I feel it.

I feel the warmth that radiates from his cock to my wet slit. His tip nearly meshing with my clit.

Eddie's cock had had a slight curved mushroom shape to it with a hefty girth to it as well, with three large straining veins running along the side of it.

His reddening tip spewed drops of clear pre-cum that leaked down from his dick and to my thighs.

I gawked at his cock, with slightly parted lips.

Oh, how I yearned for Eddie to be inside of me all day. During my yearning, Eddie was on top. It occurred to me then that I'd never ridden Eddie before. Eddie is always the one to do the penetrating.

My eyes met with his, a devious look in his deep, earthy brown eyes.

"Sorry." I mutter.

Eddie looks at me with a condescending grin as I lift myself up by my knees. I give a few tugs to his cock, before aligning his length to my entrance.

I feel the supple wetness of my cunt drip down my thighs and onto the puddle of Eddie's pre-cum that resides there, as I inch him closer to me.

It was either the intimidation or excitement in my lower belly that lead me to stop.

"Can you help me?" I mumble.

"What?" Eddie says, cuffing his hand behind his ear. Whatta prick.

"You heard me." I said.

"I believe I didn't sweetheart, you were mumbling."

He knew for a fact he heard me; we were so close to one another that I could listen to the fluids swishing around in his belly. But for the sake of it,

"Can you help me?" I repeat, this time loud and clear.

"Ohh, that's what I thought you said." He decides to play dumb, desperation pulls on my face. "Thought you wanted to ride me, huh?"

"I do, but I'm scared it won't fit." I say.

"It fit all those other times." He rebuttals.

"But all those other times weren't like this." I stare deep into his eyes and poke out my bottom lip. "Please, just help me."

"Oh, don't cry sweets, you know I was gonna help ya, y'know." He tells me. "But first, take off your top fr'me."

I comply, watching him watch me take off my "Margaritaville" shirt and discarding it onto the floor.

Now completely bare, I feel my nipples start to pebble at the cool breeze of my apartment.

Eddie's mouth latches onto my left breast like a moth to a flame. I feel his hand give my right breast a firm squeeze. As his lips and tongue revolved around my sensitive buds, the tips of his curls tickled my chest.

"Eds." I gasp, bringing his head closer to my chest as if I were trying to feed him.

In the next moment, he spilled a few drops of saliva on my other nipple and flicked the newly wet nub, and started to suck on the puffy skin.

"Eds, baby, you're doing so good." I moan. Eddie hums in acknowledgment, concentrating on my left nipple like it was his guitar and notebook.

"But please, Eddie, I need you inside of me; I'm dripping here." I whine.

Eddie slowly detaches himself from my right nipple, a string of saliva connecting his lips from my nub. He looks down at the slickness that coats his and my thighs.

"Shit." he curses. He looks at me with those chocolate brown eyes of his, and a look of flattery on his face. "And I didn't even have to touch that little clit of yours to have you dripping like this."

"Eddie, please!"

"Alright, alright." He says. "By the way, y'know you're beautiful when you're all whiney and struggling on me."

Before I can rebuttal, I see Eddie gripping the thick base of his cock; as he brings his tip to my entrance, I bite on my bottom lip out of pure anticipation.

A faint sigh of relief died on our lips as Eddie melded inside me. I let out a shaky gasp at the sudden stretch. For a brief second, I sit on his cock, taking in his size, taking in his heat.

Involuntary, I clench around his girthy length as a response his cock throbs inside of me. I think if we knew morse code, our private parts could have a flirty conversation without each of us knowing; I giggle at this thought.

Eddie wraps his arms tightly around my waist "You got this mama." He pecks the skin of my collarbone.

With doe eyes I slowly nod my head, before slowly starting to grinding my hips onto his.

"That's it, baby, keep going." Eddie praises, looking up at me with such admiration. I start to quicken my pace, feeling my slick and clit coat his torso.

As Eddie's lips ravishes the dip of my neck, he breaths against my skin: "You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now."

"Then do it." I say. "Fuck me."

And with the quick placement of his large hands groping the plush fat of my waist, Eddie starts to slam my body up and down on his cock in a bouncing motion.

I mewl at his relentless thrust. Groaning every time I feel his ridged cock dragging inside of my gummy walls, I whimper when I feel him graze my sweet-spot, only for him to draw himself back and slam right back into me.

The only sounds to fill the air was skin on skin, hard smacks coming from each time our bodies thrashed.

"Fuckin' shit." Eddie groans. "Look at my girl, taking me so well." Butterflies swarm inside of my belly.

I look down to where Eddie and I connected once again, I see the lips of my cunt touch the base of his cock and then back up to his tip. Eddie fingertips graze the meat of my ass, he gives my cheeks a tight squeeze.

My cup runneth over.

My eyes begin to flutter close. "M'close." I murmured against Eddie's lips. I was tottering on the edge of my climax.

Eddie switches from mercilessly slamming me unto his cock to grinding, rubbing me against him. With the palms of his hands splayed across my ass cheeks, he rubs me closer to him in fast, greedy motions.

"Eds, M'close!" I whine.

"Finish f'me, sweets." He says, voice hoarse like he was on the edge of his climax too.

It was the hoarseness in Eddie's voice, the bead of sweat sloping down the side of his face, and then the delicious feeling of his cock finally bumping into my sweet spot.

A plethora of moans escapes my lips. My back arches at the shockwaves of pleasure that ebbs and flows throughout my body. There's a ripple of orgasmic delight all over. My cunt starts clenching and unclenching around Eddie's cock.

Accompanied with the sounds of our skin slapping is the wet slick coming from my spent cunt.

Lazily, I collapsed into Eddie's chest and bury my face in the croak of his neck, giving him quick little pecks on the hot flesh--my body twitching every now and then.

Eddie still fucks into me.

"Almost there, sweets." he elongates. "You're so good to me." He kisses my cheek. "Always taking me so well in that little cunt of yours, always letting me use you, even when you're on top."

You would think Eddie was talking me through my orgasm, but he was talking him through his, I think his own praised turned him on twice as much.

I start to feel Eddie's cock spasm inside of me. I'm too spent to do anything but pull him tighter to me.

He pushes himself all the way in and stills himself. I feel his cock swell up, and in those two seconds of stillness I can feel just how large Eddie really is.

With each spurt of cum, Eddie's cock pulsates. I feel the warmth and pressure of his cum coating my cervix. With each spurt, Eddie lets out low (gravelly) groans.

Eddie kisses my forehead.

I lay on his chest, listening to the fast paced pumping of his heartbeat. My eyelids start to fall and I start to feel that post-coital weariness.

I try to move myself off of Eddie, but my sore and stiff hips and limps makes it hard.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asks me as I try to move beside him.

"Eddie, I have to get off of you, we can't stay in this position all night." I say.

"Says who?"

And as I snuggled back into Eddie's lap, his semi-hard cock starting to soften inside my warm cunt, I told Eddie he was right.

Who said we couldn't stay enveloped in each other's warmth for the rest of the night? Two lovers wrapped around one another in a cold bed in the cold Luminary. With no money, dead-end jobs, a guitar in hand, and dreams not only of each other but dreams of making a difference someday.

Eddie didn't need to be famous to make a difference in people's lives when he'd already made a difference in mine, my beautiful boyfriend.

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts V.

Summary:

'My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep, the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite' - William Shakespeare (Romeo & Juliet).

Aemond and Valaena arrive at Storms End and the dragons begin their dance with devestating concequnces for both the Blacks and Greens.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Secret Relationship, Funeral, Grief, Mild Threats, Mild Violence, Dragon Battle, Death.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 5079

A.N - Don't hate me, things must be this way for a reason!!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Valaena stood next to her brothers, Jace and Luke, her eyes fixed on the pyre where her little sister, Visenya, was being laid to rest.

The crackling flames illuminated Rhaenyra and Daemon as they stood at the head of the pyre, their hands joined in silent farewell to their daughter. All around them, heads were bowed in respect, the weight of grief heavy on the air.

Valaena could feel the cut on her palm sting as she pressed her hand to her stomach.

As she watched her mother and Daemon, Valaena wondered if what she was about to do was too cruel, to subject her mother to yet more pain.

But there really was no other way, Aemond was right there was only one way for them to be together now.

As the final words of mourning were whispered, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the sombre silence. Valaena furrowed her brow and turned, watching as Ser Erryk stepped forward.

He stopped behind Rhaenyra, reaching into his bag and pulling out a gleaming golden crown—that once belonged to King Viserys. He knelt, holding it up with reverence, his voice steady as he swore his loyalty.

“I swear to ward the Queen, with all my strength and give my blood for hers. I shall take no wife hold no lands and father no children.”

Daemon stepped forward, taking the crown from Ser Erryk’s hands. He turned to Rhaenyra, his face filled with fierce devotion.

With a deliberate motion, he placed the crown upon her head, then bent his knee before her, his voice ringing out loud and clear. “My queen.”

The words seemed to resonate through the gathered crowd, and Valaena, Jace, and Luke immediately bent their knees.

Soon, everyone in attendance followed suit, paying homage to Rhaenyra and acknowledging her  as their Queen.

After the funeral, the gathering made their way back inside Dragonstone. The heavy doors of the hall closed behind them, and Daemon stepped forward, announcing Rhaenyra to the assembled lords and knights.

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

Rhaenyra, now wearing her father’s crown, approached the painted table with determination. “What is our standing?” she asked, her voice sharp and commanding.

Daemon stood beside her. “We have 30 knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and 300 men-at-arms. Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves much to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I’ll have some support there, but I cannot speak to the numbers.”

Valaena stepped forward. “You already have declarations from Celtigar, Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, and Bar Emmon.”

Rhaenyra nodded, acknowledging her daughter’s support. “My lady mother was an Arryn. The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin.”

Maester Gerardys spoke up. “Riverrun was always a close friend to your father, Your Grace. With Prince Daemon’s acquiescence, I’ve already sent ravens to Lord Grover.”

Rhaenyra’s expression tightened. “Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed. He will need to be convinced of the strength of our position and that we will support him should it come to war.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going to treat with him myself.”

As the discussions continued, Steffon Darklyn stepped forward. “What about Winterfell and Storm’s End?”

At the mention of Storm’s End, Valaena felt her stomach churn. She tried to steady herself, taking slow, deep breaths to keep from being overtaken by the wave of nausea. But the feeling of unease persisted.

Lord Bartimos stepped forward. “With House Stark, the rest of the North will follow. But perhaps an offer of marriage will convince Lord Stark to declare for the Queen.”

Rhaenyra turned to him, her brow furrowing. “Whose hand do you suggest I offer, my lord?”

Bartimos glanced towards Valaena. “Princess Valaena, Your Grace. She is your heir, and a match between her and Lord Stark would be most beneficial.”

Valaena’s hand instinctively went to the cut on her palm, a reminder of the bond she had forged with Aemond the night before.

She traced the mark lightly with her fingertips, remembering his words, his vow to her. Her heart raced in her chest, but she forced herself to take a deep breath.

"I will agree to the match, mother," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Rhaenyra studied her daughter, searching her face for any sign of hesitation. “Are you sure?”

Valaena nodded, her eyes flickering to the painted table. “Yes. I will do what I must in order to support my queen.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened with pride, and she gave a short nod before turning her attention to other matters.

“And our enemies?”

Daemon’s face darkened. “We have no friends among the Lannisters. Tyland has served the Hand too long to turn against him. And Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet.”

Valaena, still feeling sick, forced herself to refocus on the discussion. “Without the Lannisters, you are not likely to find any allies west of the Golden Tooth.”

An older lord stepped forward, his voice blunt but respectful. “Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons.”

Rhaenyra’s expression tightened. “The Greens have dragons as well.”

Jace added, “Three adults.”

Daemon’s smirk returned. “We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys. Your oldest children have Silverwing, Vermax, and Arrax. Baela has Moondancer.”

Rhaenyra sighed. “Daemon, none of our dragons have been to war.”

“We need a place to gather,” Daemon replied, eyes gleaming with ambition. “A toehold large enough to house a sizable host. Here, at Harrenhal. We cut off the west, surround King’s Landing with the dragons. And we could have every Green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns.”

Just then, Ser Erryk stepped forward, interrupting the conversation. “Your Grace a ship has been sighted offshore: a lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon.”

Daemon charged past Rhaenyra, barking orders. “Alert the watchtowers. Sight the skies.”

Rhaenyra followed him quickly, but Valaena remained behind, standing with Jace, Luke, and the other lords.

A wave of sickness washed over her once more, and she had to take several deep breaths to keep from vomiting.

As she steadied herself, she noticed Rhaenys watching her closely, a curious look on her face.

Valaena quickly turned her attention to Luke, who was fiddling with one of the dragon figurines on the painted table.

A heavy tension filled the room as Daemon and Rhaenyra returned, their expressions grim. Daemon was the first to speak, his voice laced with frustration. “The simple truth is this: we have more dragons than Aegon.”

Rhaenyra, however, looked unsettled as she added, “I do not wish to rule over a kingdom of ash and bone.”

Valaena, standing with her brothers and the gathered lords, stepped forward, her brow furrowed. “Were terms delivered?”

Rhaenyra nodded, her face betraying no emotion. “If I acknowledge Aegon as king and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne, in exchange, he will confirm my possession of Dragonstone. It will pass to you, my trueborn daughter, upon my death. Jacaerys will be confirmed as the legitimate heir to Driftmark and all the lands and holdings of House Velaryon. My sons, Lucerys, Aegon, and Viserys, will also be given places of high honour at court. And the King, in his good grace, will pardon any knight or lord who conspired against his ascent.”

Valaena’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. Everything Aemond had told her the night before was true.

The offer was generous, but the underlying manipulation was unmistakable. She glanced briefly at Daemon, whose face darkened with anger.

“It’s a farce,” Daemon scoffed, his voice cutting through the room. “Offering you that which you already possess, and I would rather feed all of our children to the dragons before I bend the knee to that drunken usurper cunt of a king-”

Rhaenyra ignored his biting tone, her gaze unwavering. “As Queen, what is my true duty to the realm, Lord Bartimos? Ensuring peace and unity? Or that I sit the Iron Throne, no matter the cost?”

Before Lord Bartimos could respond, Daemon interjected, his voice sharp. “That’s your father talking.”

Rhaenyra’s expression hardened. “My father is dead. And he chose me as his successor-to defend the realm, not cast it headlong into war.”

Daemon’s eyes flashed with fire. “Well, the enemy has already declared war. What are you going to do about it?”

Before the argument could escalate further, Valaena stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “That is enough. This back and forth is getting us nowhere. The most important thing now is for you to establish who your allies are.”

Just as the tension in the room seemed ready to boil over, a familiar voice broke through. “Quite right, Princess.”

All eyes turned to see Lord Corlys Velaryon, hobbling into the room, leaning on a wooden cane. His weathered face showed signs of recent illness, but his presence was commanding as ever.

Rhaenyra’s face softened with relief. “Lord Corlys, it brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again.”

Corlys cast a glance at the painted table, surveying the situation. “Your declared allies? Too few to win a war for the throne.”

Rhaenyra remained steadfast. “We would also hope to have the support of Houses Arryn, Baratheon, and Stark.”

Corlys raised a sceptical brow. “Hope is the fool’s ally.”

Rhaenyra’s voice grew resolute. “Both Arryn and Baratheon share blood with my house. But all of them swore oaths to me, and soon terms will be delivered to Cregan Stark, offering him a marriage with Valaena in exchange for his support.”

At the mention of her name, Valaena stiffened, but she kept her expression neutral. She had already agreed to the match, but hearing it spoken aloud brought a fresh wave of dread.

Corlys nodded approvingly. “You have the full support of our fleet and house. But what would be more beneficial is a total blockade of the shipping lanes. If we seal the Gullet, we can cut off all seaborne travel and trade to King’s Landing.”

Lord Bartimos added, “When we drain the Narrow Sea, we can surround King’s Landing, lay siege to the Red Keep, and force the Greens’ surrender.”

Daemon’s eyes gleamed with ambition. “If we are to have enough swords to surround King’s Landing, you must first secure the support of Winterfell, the Eyrie, and Storm’s End.”

Maester Gerardys stepped forward, nodding. “I’ll prepare the ravens, Your Grace.”

Jacaerys, always eager to prove himself, stepped forward. “Send us. We should bear those messages ourselves. Dragons fly faster than ravens.”

Rhaenyra considered her son’s words, then nodded in agreement. “Very well. Prince Jacaerys will fly north, to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will go to the Eyrie to see my mother’s cousin, Lady Jeyne Arryn-”

Valaena remembering Aemond’s words, stepped forward and said “-I will fly south to Storm’s End and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon.”

Rhaenyra smiled and nodded “We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore. And the cost of breaking them.”

Valaena stood before the mirror as she worked through the final braid in her dark hair, each strand meticulously woven to stay in place during the flight.

She dressed herself in her riding leathers, the familiar feel of the well-worn material bringing a small comfort amid the tension.

Fastening the chain that secured her red dragon-scale patterned cloak across her chest, she pulled on her gloves, the last barrier between her and the journey ahead.

With a slow breath, she let her eyes drift to her reflection. Her gaze settled on her stomach, her gloved hand hovering there as she closed her eyes, whispering a silent prayer that what she was about to do was right.

Her heart felt heavy with more than just the weight of her mission; it carried secrets, promises, and a growing sense of duty.

A knock on the door startled her from her thoughts. "It's time, Princess," a maid called softly from the hallway.

"I'm coming," Valaena replied. She took one final look around her chambers, a place of comfort and warmth, but now filled with uncertainty.

With a steadying breath, she turned and walked out, her footsteps echoing as she joined her mother and brothers on the balcony just off the grand hall.

Rhaenyra stood tall, her expression both resolute and weary.

As Valaena approached, her mother began to speak, her voice commanding yet tender. "It’s been said that as Targaryen’s, we are closer to gods than to men. And the Iron Throne puts us a touch closer, perhaps. But if we are to serve the Seven Kingdoms-we must answer to their gods."

Rhaenyra’s gaze swept across her children. "If you take this errand, you go as messengers not as warriors. You must take no part in any fighting. Swear it to me now under the eyes of the Seven."

Two servants stepped forward, carrying an enormous holy book emblazoned with the seven-pointed star. Valaena, Jace, and Luke each placed their hands on the ancient tome.

"I swear it," they said in unison, their voices mingling with the heavy air of responsibility that lingered over them.

Rhaenyra handed Jace a rolled-up piece of parchment. "Cregan Stark is closer to your age than he is to mine. I would hope, that as men, you can find some common interest. But I do hope you get a sense of the man to whom I offer your sister’s hand." Jace accepted the scroll with a nod, replying, "Yes, Your Grace."

Next, Rhaenyra turned to Luke, giving him another scroll. "Lady Jeyne Arryn is our kin. I expect you to receive a warm welcome but be mindful of others seeking her favour."

Luke took the scroll from her, his young face serious. "Yes, mother—Your Grace."

Finally, Rhaenyra faced Valaena. "Storm's End is just a short flight from here. Lord Borros is an eternally proud man. He will be honoured to host a princess of the realm and her dragon."

Valaena accepted her own scroll, bowing her head. "Yes, Your Grace."

"Go to it, then," Rhaenyra said, her voice firm, but there was a softness in her eyes.

Valaena turned to leave, but something pulled her back. She spun around, quickly closing the distance between them, and wrapped her arms around her mother in a tight embrace.

 "Avy jorrāelan, muña," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion (I love you mother).

Rhaenyra chuckled softly, returning the embrace. "You're squeezing me too tightly, sweet girl."

Valaena pulled back, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Sorry," she murmured, trying to compose herself.

Rhaenyra placed a gentle hand on her daughter's cheek, searching her face. "Is everything alright?"

Valaena nodded quickly, though her body betrayed her as her hands trembled. "Everything is fine."

Rhaenyra frowned slightly. "You're shaking. If you do not wish to journey to Storm’s End—"

"I must go," Valaena interrupted, her voice firm. "I will do my duty to my queen."

Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, lingering for a moment as if to pass on strength through the gesture. Valaena gave a weak smile before stepping back.

She turned to Jace, hugging him tightly. "Naejot se hūra se arlī lēkia," she whispered, their bond unspoken yet ever strong (To the moon and back brother).

Jace squeezed her hand in return, his expression sombre. "And to you, sister."

Next, she approached Luke, pulling him into her arms. She removed one of the beaded bracelets she wore and fastened it around his wrist.

"Naejot gaomagon ao ȳgha," she said softly, her voice full of affection. (To keep you safe).

Luke glanced down at the bracelet, his eyes wide with surprise and gratitude. "Thank you," he whispered.

Valaena gave him one last smile before stepping away, her heart heavy as she looked at her mother one last time, committing her face to memory.

Then without another word, she turned and descended the steps leading to the caverns where Silverwing awaited her.

Her pulse quickened with each step she took, her heart pounding against her chest as the cool air of the caverns greeted her. The sound of Silverwing shifting in her lair echoed in the distance

Valaena approached Silverwing, her dragon’s presence filling the cavern with a sense of calm and strength.

She ran her hand along the familiar, warm silver scales, the ridges rough beneath her fingers. “Zȳha jēda,” she whispered softly (It’s time).

Silverwing responded with a determined trill, her eyes glinting in the dim light of the cavern.

Without hesitation, she lowered her massive shoulder, allowing Valaena to climb up and into the saddle.

The motion was second nature now strapping herself in, she tightened her grip on the reins, her heart steady but her mind swirling.

"Sōves," she commanded, her voice strong, and with that, Silverwing lumbered out of the cavern, the ground shaking slightly beneath the dragon’s weight. (Fly).

The cool sea air hit them as they emerged, Silverwing spreading her great wings wide and pushing off the rocky outcrop with a powerful beat.

The rush of air roared in Valaena’s ears as they ascended, circling high above Dragonstone. The island's jagged cliffs and the roiling seas below looked small from their height.

The dark clouds and distant thunder mirrored the tension she felt in her chest.

Soon, she was joined by Jace on Vermax and Luke on Arrax on either side of her, their dragons majestic as they cut through the skies.

They were soon followed by Rhaenys on Meleys. Together, the four dragons flew in formation, their powerful wings moving in synchronized rhythm, the sound like distant thunder.

Valaena cast a glance at Jace and Luke, their figures resolute upon their dragons. Her heart clenched.

Let them be victorious, let them be safe.

One by one, they began to break off. Rhaenys on Meleys peeled away first, banking sharply to the east to patrol the Gullet.

Then Jace and Luke turned their dragons north. Valaena’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, knowing how important his mission was.

Valaena turned in her saddle, watching her brothers until they became distant specks against the horizon.

She whispered another prayer under her breath, hoping they would succeed in their tasks—and return unharmed.

With a deep breath, she refocused her mind. There was still much to do. Her own destination awaited, and Lord Borros Baratheon would not be an easy man to sway.

Aemond’s words from the night before echoed in her mind, his voice a low hum as she remembered the plan.

"You can do this” she whispered to herself.

Silverwing responded, her wings beating faster as they adjusted their course southward.

Valaena leaned forward, her eyes fixed ahead, as Dragonstone disappeared behind her.

The rain fell in sheets as Silverwing descended toward Storm’s End, her massive wings slicing through the storm-laden sky.

Valaena’s heart pounded in her chest as the dragon landed with a heavy thud, the ground trembling beneath her. She dismounted quickly, her boots splashing in the mud.

As her feet touched the ground, she reached out, running her hand along Silverwing’s warm, familiar scales.

The heat radiating from her dragon comforted her, the low, contented rumble from Silverwing reminding her she wasn’t alone.

But then, a deeper, more menacing growl echoed across the courtyard. Valaena froze. Her heart skipped a beat, and she slowly turned, her breath catching in her throat.

Vhagar.

The monstrous dragon loomed behind the castle walls, her hulking form visible even through the sheets of rain. If Vhagar was here, that could only mean one thing—Aemond was here, and everything was going according to his plan.

Valaena swallowed hard, her stomach knotting with anticipation and dread. She steeled herself, pushing away the swirl of emotions clawing at her insides. She could not afford to falter now.

The knights of Storm’s End approached her, their armour clinking softly as they trudged through the rain.

“I am Princess Valaena Velaryon, and I have a message for Lord Borros Baratheon, on behalf of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

The knight studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Come. Lord Borros Baratheon waits in the Great Hall."

Valaena cast a final glance back at Silverwing, before following the knights into the castle. The courtyard blurred around her as the rain soaked through her cloak and riding leathers.

The heavy wooden doors of Storm’s End slammed shut behind them with a resounding thud.

Inside, the Great Hall was dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long shadows across the stone walls.

Lord Borros sat on his makeshift throne, his figure round and imposing, his eyes sharp as they landed on the drenched princess before him.

“Princess Valaena of House Velaryon,” a herald announced, and all eyes in the hall turned toward her.

Her gaze shifted toward the side of the hall, where Aemond stood, his posture relaxed, his hands clasped behind his back.

He was speaking with one of Borros’s daughters, a striking young woman with dark hair and sharp eyes, who seemed completely captivated by him.

Valaena’s stomach churned with jealousy and anger—how dare that Baratheon bitch look at Aemond in such a way, he was her husband, and she was carrying his child.

Valaena took a deep breath and ignored the urge to go over there and slit that bitch from ear to ear, for even daring to look at Aemond in such a manner.

 “Lord Borros, I have brought you a message from my mother—the Queen,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm brewing within her.

Borros chuckled, his voice booming through the hall. “Yet earlier today, I received an envoy from the King. Which is it—King or Queen? The House of the Dragon doesn’t seem to know who rules it!” His laughter was coarse, echoing in the dim hall.

Valaena glanced at Aemond, who smirked at her with a tilt of his head, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Borros grew impatient. “Well, then. What’s your mother’s message?”

Valaena handed the scroll to one of the knights, who quickly passed it to Borros. The Lord of Storm’s End squinted at the parchment, frowning. He summoned a Maester to read the letter aloud.

As the Maester relayed Rhaenyra’s message, Valaena could feel Aemond’s eye burning into her, though she refused to look at him.

Her clothes were soaked through, and she stood in a small puddle of rainwater, feeling the weight of every gaze in the hall.

Once the Maester finished, Borros leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. “Remind me of my father’s oath. King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids, which of my daughters will your brothers wed?”

Valaena hesitated before answering. “My lord, I am afraid that only two of my brothers are of age, and neither is free to marry. They are already betrothed.”

Borros frowned, clearly unsatisfied. “And what of you, Princess?”

Her breath caught in her throat. "Me, my lord?"

Borros leaned forward, his interest piqued. “I no longer have a wife. You are of age to marry and, if you are anything like your mother, I am sure you will give me many sons.”

Valaena’s heart hammered in her chest, and she risked a glance at Aemond. His jaw clenched tightly, and his hand now rested on the pommel of his sword, his face a mask of barely contained fury at the Lord audacity.

“My lord, I am not free to marry either,” Valaena said, her voice firm. “My brother flies north to offer my hand in marriage to Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell.”

The hall fell silent. Aemond’s eye narrowed, his grip on his sword tightening. The Baratheon girl beside him looked perplexed, but Aemond paid her no mind.

His rage was palpable, radiating from him like a storm, his wife had just declared she had been betrothed to that northern dog.

Aemond had to force himself to calm down, they had a plan, and he had to stick to it, he couldn't let his possessiveness over Valaena ruin what they had practised.

Borros scoffed. “Then you come with empty hands. Tell your mother the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog she can whistle up at need.”

Valaena dipped her head in a polite bow. “I will take your answer to the Queen.”

As she turned to leave, the wind howled outside, and the storm raged even harder. But before she could take a step, Aemond’s voice cut through the hall like a blade. “Wait, my lady Strong.”

Valaena froze, her heart pounding.

“Did you really think you could fly about the realm, stealing my brother’s throne, without paying the cost?”

She turned to face him, her heart pounding. “I will not fight you,” she said. “I came as a messenger, not a warrior.”

Aemond laughed, withdrawing a dagger from his belt and tossing it at her feet. “Fight would be little challenge. No, I want you to put out your eye. As payment for the one your bastard brother carved from my skull.”

Valaena’s voice was cold, unyielding. “It is not my debt to pay, besides I thought your claim of Vhagar was worth the loss of an eye, you yourself declared it was a fair exchange. Or is your hoary old bitch of a dragon no longer worth it?”

Aemond’s smirk faded. His face twisted with faux anger, her words cutting deep. “You dare speak of Vhagar that way?” he hissed. “You know nothing of what it means to command the largest dragon in the world-”

“Oh, I know a thing or two about dragons,” Valaena retorted. “Do you truly believe Vhagar could withstand a combined attack from Silverwing, Caraxes, and Meleys? She may be the largest, but even she is not invincible.”

Aemond simply stared at her, his expression unreadable as he processed her words.

"-You always seem so eager to remind everyone how large Vhagar is," said Vaelyssa, a sly smile playing on her lips. "-One might wonder if you're trying to overcompensate for other-smaller matters-"

Borros Baratheon’s other daughters who were huddled together beside their father clasped their hands to their mouths and let out a melodious giggle that echoed around the hall, the intent behind Valaena’s comment clear for all to understand.

Aemond charged toward her, picking up the dagger. “Give me your eye, or I will take it bastard!”

Before he could close the distance, Lord Borros quickly rose from his throne. “Not in my hall!” he roared.

Aemond came to a sudden halt, breathing heavily, his eye locked on Valaena.

“-The girl came as an envoy. I’ll not have bloodshed beneath my roof. Take Princess Valaena back to her dragon. Now”

Valaena was then surrounded by guards and as she cast Aemond a look and she saw him nod sharply and mouth a single word—go.

She nodded back before she turned and followed the guards out into the storm and back to Silverwing.

Then without a word, Aemond stormed out of the hall, his boots echoing off the stone floor with each purposeful step.

Lord Borros called out after him, his voice reverberating through the chamber, "Prince Aemond, wait!"

Aemond didn’t stop. His jaw clenched as he pushed past the guards and courtiers that crowded the entrance of Storm’s End, his mind singularly focused.

He wasn’t interested in what Borros had to say. His thoughts were consumed by Valaena and their plan.

Valaena rushed through the storm, her boots slipping slightly on the rain-soaked stones as she reached Silverwing.

Her hands found the dragon’s warm, wet scales, and she pressed her palms against them, feeling the steady rhythm of her companion’s breath.

“Dokimarvose, Silverwing,” Valaena murmured urgently, her voice barely audible over the howling wind. “Lykirī se Rȳbās, tāemītsos naejot se kȳvanon.” (Focus, be calm and listen. Stick to the plan).

Silverwing let out a soft trill, her massive body shifting slightly as if to acknowledge the words. Valaena quickly climbed into the saddle, the leather straps slippery beneath her fingers. She fastened herself in, securing the reins tightly in her gloved hands.

With a deep breath, she shouted, “Sōves!” (Fly!)

Silverwing spread her wings and launched into the sky with powerful strokes, the wind and rain battering them as they ascended through the storm.

Valaena clenched her jaw against the force of the gale, her heart pounding in her chest. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the swirling clouds as they climbed higher and higher.

But then, a roar echoed through the storm, deep and earth-shaking. Valaena twisted in her saddle.

Through the thick clouds, she saw the hulking form of Vhagar chasing after them.

Tugging on the reins, she leaned hard to the left and shouted, “Aderī, Silverwing! Elēnās geptot!” (Quickly, bank left!)

Silverwing responded instantly, banking sharply to the left, her wings slicing through the rain. But Vhagar followed with terrifying persistence.

“Embrot!” Valaena shouted next, her voice straining against the wind. (Down!)

Silverwing tucked her wings tight against her body and dove sharply, cutting through the clouds like a blade.

The sudden dive gave them a burst of speed, and Vhagar, being as large as she was, couldn’t move as swiftly. Valaena glanced over her shoulder, relieved to see the growing distance between them.

The time had come to carry out Aemond’s plan, the only way they could be together, she just hoped her mother in time would understand why this had to happen.

Valaena tugged on the reins and commanded, “Pālegon!” (Turn!)

Silverwing arched through the air, twisting around to face Vhagar once more. The massive dragon loomed ahead, her wings spread wide, dark against the stormy sky.

Valaena braced herself, quickly hooking the spare strap from her saddle to her waist, making sure it was secure.

She reached for the chain that held her dragon-scaled cloak in place, tearing it from her shoulders and letting it fly off into the wind, the heavy fabric disappearing into the storm.

“Gīda, Silverwing” Valaena whispered, her voice calm despite the pounding of her heart. (Steady.)

Silverwing steadied her flight as they closed in on Vhagar, the two dragons hovering in the sky, locked in a face-off.

Rain poured down in torrents, streaking across Valaena’s face, but she ignored it, her eyes fixed on Aemond.

He was there, atop Vhagar, as he raised his voice and yelled, “Drakarys!”

The word reverberated through the air, and flames erupted from Vhagar’s massive jaws, a torrent of fire rushing toward them.

But Valaena was ready as she shouted with all her might, “Drakarys!”

Silverwing answered her call, unleashing a blaze of fire in return. The two dragons’ flames met in the air, clashing in a violent explosion of heat and light.

The storm around them was momentarily drowned out by the roar of the fire, illuminating the dark sky as the two mighty beasts faced each other

TBC

[torukmaktoskxawng]

tsamsiyu ta’em - a new leaf part two

Masterlist - part five

Summary: Desertion must run in the family.

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 9k+

Taglist (bold indicates “could not tag”): @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n @amiets2 @slutforsmut4ever @yeosxxx​ @im-in-a-pansexual-panik

Warnings: canon-compliant, canon-typical violence, mature language, adult content, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, alien/human (technically avatar), jake sully sister agenda, time skips, I'm trying to hurry up and get to the good parts so bear with me, fluff, angst, adopted spider, tags to be added

A/N: Thank you so much for 300 followers! 🎉

Right from the start of the day, Jake knew something or someone was bothering his sister. She was quiet, she kept to herself, and she went stiff when anyone came near her. It was as though they were right back at the start when he first brought Kayla to High Camp. What was worse is that the kids had noticed and asked their father what was wrong with Auntie, and Jake couldn't afford to tell them that he didn't have all the answers and he had been wondering the same thing. A small part of him was scared that something had happened to her back at Bridgehead or maybe she was changing her mind about staying. Whatever was wrong, Toruk Makto needed to fix it, one way or another.

She had been particularly moody to him all day, but unfortunately, she had to be in close proximity to her brother when they were both given the task of tending to the ikran and their harnesses.  She decided to be silent, cold, and distant as they worked. Jake decided not to push his luck and worked in silence alongside her, just trying to be a comforting presence despite not knowing what was wrong. He did, however, notice other presences around them, and they were paying particularly close attention to his sister.

It was a small group of young Na'vi warriors, likely around Kayla's age if not a little younger. They stood off to the side, openly staring at Kayla and whispering to each other. Jake couldn't tell if they were curious or making fools of themselves by mocking her, but Kayla didn't appear to even notice them at first. Then, some avatar scientists joined the group, also publicly gawking at Kayla when their fellow Na'vi friends whispered to them, too. They laughed quietly among themselves and one unfortunate bastard was cursed with a snorty laugh that drew Kayla's attention to the group, sharp eyes locking onto them before she could even blink. The whole group quickly turned away, all either embarrassed or ashamed.

Jake took this opportunity to laugh and lighten the mood, "You've got a growing group of admirers, it would seem."

Kayla paused, still watching the group of men and women now clearly avoiding her gaze before actively ignoring them, bringing her eyes back down to her hands as she worked on weaving together a spare banshee harness. Jake huffed with amusement, "What? Not your type?"

"Not my priority," she muttered, "Besides, I'm pretty sure they're not staring at me because they wanna get some."

"Does that mean you have someone?"

Her eyes shoot up to him like a bullet, narrowed and glaring into his soul as she spits out, "Would I have come to Pandora alone if I did? I'm not the one who abandons people when they need me."

The silence is thick and palpable, able to cut through with a knife. Both Sullys stare at one another, unblinking. One stared in shock while the other glared in rage, but it's not hard to tell which is which.

Jake swallowed back the emotions when his throat suddenly dried, ears lowering in shame, "I'm sorry."

"After all, 'Sullys stick together', right?" She mocked, and one look at her and Jake could tell why she was suddenly pissed off at him. The shame quickly eats him up and threatens to spit him out as her voice wavered, "Usually, I'd find it sweet that you taught your kids some of our family's old traditions... but when that tradition ended up becoming a lie--"

"I was going through it," he tried making up excuses as a desperate attempt of calming her, "I wasn't thinking."

"You were going through it?" She huffs out a laugh of disbelief, the smile that briefly graced her lips was vile and hysterical, "I get that you were twins, Jake. But Tom was my brother, too."

Jake lowered his eyes, unable to look at her any longer. It seems as though Kayla can't just settle on one emotion, all her thoughts that have been stewing for some time beginning to boil over like a volcano. Her voice shook, either in rage or distress, Jake didn't want to look up and find out. "And for a while there, I thought I lost both of you."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you are. Doesn't excuse the fact that you left me all alone, found yourself a wife, and had a few kids all the while letting your sister believe you were dead!" She snapped, growing angrier by the minute when tears started to brew in her eyes. She didn't want to cry. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to punch him and scream but she was frustrated because she had clearly missed that opportunity when they first reunited, "I missed out on so much of your life, Jake. I missed out on their lives, and you didn't care."

"I did care. I still care--"

"You didn't. If I recall, the last thing you ever said to me was 'have a good life, kid' in that passive-aggressive tone of yours."

His eyes flick up to hers, "And your last words to me were even less than friendly."

"Sue me." Kayla snarled back, quick as lightning, "My brother abandoned me on a dying planet, all alone, and didn't bother to make sure I was taken care of."

The wording felt like heavy lead beginning to build in Jake's gut, tilting his head curiously at her, "What do you mean? What happened?"

"Nothing happened. I just did exactly what you told me to do. I grew up." His ears pin to his skull as his mind prompted him to a distant memory of the last time he ever spoke to Kayla. The shame and humiliation were evident in his eyes when she glared back, "To make ends meet I became a marine. You didn't give me much of a choice."

His hand reaches out before his brain could order it to do so, "Kayla--"

She hissed ferociously for her first attempt, the sound coming low from her chest and throat, baring her sharps fangs at her brother, "Don't fucking touch me."

Jake pulls his arms back, afraid she'd bite, and raised them in surrender so she had a clear view of both of them. Defeated, Jake keeps himself back and willingly exposes himself to her verbal lashings, "Alright, let's hear it. I wasn't sure how long it would take us to talk about it. But there's no easy way around it. So come on. Let's talk."

Her eyes were still pooling, threatening to spill, as she shook her head when words failed, "Maybe we shouldn't."

"No, we should. I knew this was coming. Go ahead."

She took a moment to try and find the right words, but there weren't any that she hadn't already said. Instead, Kayla confessed what she had been feeling all this time after having bottled it up for so long, "Initially I was glad that you're still alive. Now that the initial shock and relief have worn off-- fuck you, Jake."

She picked up her work and turned a full one-eighty, walking away and keeping her head low so no one would think she was making a scene. She wasn't able to get far before Jake comes after her, being sure not to touch her, and instead making her stop in her tracks when he rushed around to cut off her escape, "Look, Kayla, wait-- hate me all you want. I know I deserve it. But don't take it out on anyone else but me."

The words were enough to confuse Kayla as her rushing thoughts pause, peering up at Jake in puzzlement, "What makes you think I would do that?"

"I can't afford not to," his whole posture displayed the stern form of an olo'eyktan, shoulders stiff with the weight of hundreds of lives relying on him, "Kayla, you and I, right now, are on opposite sides of a war. Alright?"

The firm reminder breaks the spell and Kayla quickly looks away, deciding to focus on a Na'vi child in the distance, running away from their mother as they laughed instead. Jake sidesteps until he's in her field of view again and she is forced to make eye contact. His expression stays serious, like a father talking down to their child, "Whatever punishment you think I deserve for what I did, I'll take it gladly. But don't do anything to punish anyone else, like telling Ardmore where we are. Don't feed my family to the wolves for my mistakes."

It hurt to think that after everything Kayla has seen in these last few months, Jake would believe she could possibly do something so monstrous. Her eyes widen at him, shattered as she voiced this in such a soft tone, "Do you honestly think I could do something like that?"

He doesn't relent even though he wants to. He wants to believe his sister loved his kids and would never throw them under the bus for crimes he committed, but he's seen too much. He knows what people like Ardmore are capable of, and has seen firsthand what they can do to get what they want. "It's like you said. Twenty years is a long time but it's enough for someone to change. And the side that you're fighting for, the Sky People... They have done nothing but hurt the Na'vi. They've killed animals, entire ecosystems, and even the People themselves. I watched them destroy Neytiri's home and there were many casualties. Men, women, and children. All for what? For the ore that lay underneath. I thought we had driven them away but now they're back, and they're more ruthless than before. That field outside Bridgehead. The Kill Zone? That used to be a forest. A beautiful, powerful, living forest. And now it's gone. Burnt down to the dry desert it now is."

Kayla's eyes dart away, her expression crumbling into a whole range of emotions that she tried to contain, conflict and sadness being only a couple of them. Jake doesn't relent, "Come on, Kayla, you know I'm right. You know what the Sky People are doing is wrong."

It was a weak attempt at defending herself and her species, but Kayla's sisterly instinct to argue with her brother was a lot stronger than common sense, "... They're my people. They're your people."

"No." He shut her down firmly, harshly, "I chose my people. I chose people who love life. 'People who love the ground they walk on and respect the animals they hunt. They believe that everything must return to the dirt so life can start all over again. When have you ever seen a human give back?" When he's met with silence, he takes a different approach, "You're a soldier, Kayla. Soldiers don't have the freedom to make their own choices. They're not allowed to feel or have their own opinions. I would know because I was a soldier, too. I was just like you. But now I'm a warrior."

She frowns, staring up through her eyebrows with doubt evident through her yellow orbs, "There's a difference?"

"Yes. Warriors are loyal and brave. They have honor. They're not mindless animals who only do what they're told regardless of whether or not what they're doing is wrong. Only a soldier does that. I refuse to be a soldier ever again."

The arguing side of her finally gives in, exhausted from spewing all her emotions out all at once in the heat of the moment. She just wants to sleep now, and at this point, she'll do whatever it takes to get back to her nivi, "What do you want from me?"

The opportunity presents itself and Jake finally admits the motivation behind bringing her here in the first place, "I'm asking you to stop being a soldier and start being a warrior. Join us. Join us and learn to love life again as you did before. Stay here. Be a part of our family. Fight for the survival of our family." Kayla looked as though she had expected him to say this, but still appeared unsure, scared of the danger of staying. Jake took a brave step forward and gently placed his hands on either of her shoulders, "My kids love you and they need you. Do you love them?"

She thought of Neteyam, so kind and brave and nurturing. Kiri, so full of hope and life and is just trying to know herself. Lo'ak, desperate for approval and to make himself seen, yet so reckless and funny. Sweet Little Tuk, so full of love for everyone around her and all-inclusive when showing her creativity and happiness. Kayla even thought about Spider, who smiles and laughs with her and tries to make her feel welcome, despite being an odd teenager who has yet to figure out how adult life works. Going beyond the kids, Kayla thought about Neytiri and Norm, people who have included her in everything and accepted her despite their differences, and who have grown to be her friends and family. Kayla's eyes briefly flick back to Jake and nodded, "Yes."

He smiled, "And the forest? The colors? The people?"

"Yes."

"All of that will go away if the Sky People continue to stay here. They'll dig up and burn every tree all the way down to the roots. They'll be an infestation to this world that you've grown to love. Please, Kayla. Stay here."

Determination and desperation intertwine on his face, and Kayla hated how she had to be the one to break such confidence in him. She partially wondered when did their roles reverse, where she had given up but he had hope. Maybe it had been when he first came to Pandora and saw his life through other people's eyes did he decide to change, and even though Kayla was proud of her brother for becoming a better man, she still felt the hurt of abandonment. Despite wishing she could hurt him as he hurt her, she didn't want it to be like this, "I can't, Jake."

His face had started to fall before she could quickly add, "Not when my real consciousness is in Bridgehead. As long as my body's there, I'll always have to go back."

He breathed a small sigh of relief through his nose, calm now that he knew she wanted to stay but just couldn't find the courage to do so, "Then wake up and run away."

"... How?"

"I have a plan."

~~~~~~~~~

The nights were a little cold high up in the cave systems of the floating mountains, but Kayla was ignoring the cold in exchange for looking into a cracked mirror hung up off to the side of the Longhouse, meant to be used for when the avatars needed to do their nightly routines. Kayla purposely waited until she was the last one to use the mirror for the night, the other avatars already lying in their hammocks, waiting for lights out to be called.

Her reflection was something she had only just begun to get used to. Big, yellow eyes, and cerulean skin with natural, flowing blue stripes perfectly shaping the angles of her face. Kayla pressed a finger to one of the many star-glittered freckles on her cheek that she had recently learned the Na'vi call tanhì. She followed the design for a while, losing count after twenty and then meeting her cat-like eyes in her reflection.

It was a face she was going to have to get used to if she was really going to go through with this. She once saw the avatar as a separate person entirely, but now she understood that they are one in the same both mind and soul. No matter what form she took, either blue or peach, she was still Kayla, and she had to remind herself of that every day in the mirror, no matter what reflection was looking at her. Although she was beginning to wonder just how much time she’ll be spending in her human body after tonight.

A plan had been set and now all she had to do was go to sleep and wake up in Bridgehead. Easier said than done, her nerves acting as a stimulant to keep her awake. Already, she was hearing snores coming from the biolab trailer. She heard quiet chatter in the distance, but other than that, the whole camp was asleep, marking just how late her rushing thoughts kept her up. Taking one last look at her avatar, she finally pulls away from the mirror and gets comfortable in her hammock, internally asking Eywa to wish her luck before closing her eyes.

She's awoken by the same blinding white lights and lab coats, asking a hundred questions a minute while routinely going through the motions of giving her nutrition and simultaneously taking blood samples through various needles and tubes in the crooks of her arms. Kayla blankly stared at her pale arms, a little thinner than normal. She hadn't had time to take care of her body in between links and decided that this should be one of the many reasons she needs to leave. Her stomach growled at the idea of freshly cooked teylu waiting for her back at High Camp and was extremely disappointed when a scientist handed her a granola bar instead. Finally, after they had bandaged her fresh wounds and were satisfied with her answers, Kayla stood from the ledge of the link bay and steadied herself,

"I need to talk to General Ardmore."

The general was summoned and brought to the biolab by the time Kayla was offered water and a full meal. The corporal even had time to pull her hair up into a more respectable bun before she would stand in attention for the general. Frances Ardmore walked in and Kayla salutes stiffly, keeping her eyes lowered until she had been given permission to speak.

"Report."

Kayla looked up with a stern look in her eye and a monotone voice, lying through her teeth gracefully, "There's a crash site near the location of what used to be the Na'vi's Hometree. A gunship with some bodies inside. It's not my brother, I know, but with your permission, General, I'd like to go out there and extract them."

"With your avatar?"

"Just myself, ma'am. I had to leave my avatar behind at the crash site." The general's eyes narrow and so Kayla quickly adds before she could be interrupted, "She's safely hidden, I assure you, but I left a tracker on her so I can find my way back. With your permission, I'd like to take a gunship out there and I'll retrieve the remains myself and bring them back so they can be properly identified and sent home to their families. There won't be any need for extra manpower or wasted supplies."

Ardmore didn't speak for a while, and Kayla had to use every muscle in her face to keep herself from smiling at the idea of Ardmore trying to remind herself that she needs to act sympathetic to the families of possibly deceased soldiers. Kayla was sure that Ardmore could care less about some bodies that were over a decade old, but courtesy forces her to be civil as she curtly nods to Kayla, "Permission granted. You get there, you extract the remains and come right back. That's it."

"Yes, ma'am."

The next morning, with a large satchel of "rations" at her hip, a mask over her face, and an AR rifle strapped to her back, Kayla is led to a gunship and then left alone. Remembering her previous training, Kayla strapped herself in and begin the process of starting up the engines while waiting for Control to clear her for take-off. Finally, she gets her orders and she barely contains her eagerness when responding cordially and taking off, floating up into the air before flying away. Silently repeating the rendevous coordinates Jake had provided her the day before, Kayla beelined in the direction of what used to be the Omatikaya's home.

In Sector Twelve, about ninety-three kilometers from the abandoned Hell's Gate facility, now sat a slowly healing memorial site of Hometree. Kayla had heard stories about this place, mostly from Mo'at, Neytiri, and even Neteyam, despite the fact the young Na'vi boy had never seen its former beauty before the RDA had decimated it. Despite never seeing it stand tall and mighty, Neteyam told stories that he had heard from the Na'vi around him who had seen it. He even proudly stated how his own bow, much like his mother's and maternal grandfather's, was made from the wood of Hometree. It is from Neteyam's stories that now let Kayla's imagination run wild as her gunship slowly circles around the site of the former home of the Omatikaya.

Most of it was still barren, Eywa's hold not yet fully restored over this land. Plants and signs of life were visibly, but not yet solidified. The great corpse of such a large, magnificent tree was still visibly, lying across the landscape like a fallen giant. Vegetation was growing all around its trunk, uproots, and branches, cementing it to the forest floor where it will one day fully return to the dirt to give back what it had taken from the Great Mother. Neytiri once told Kayla that the tree will likely not fully decay under her children's grandchildren are born, but by then, she hopes that more songs will be sung for them to remember it by.

Reaching her destination, Kayla slowly lowers her gunship to the forest floor but wisely chooses to stay inside the vessel, knowing that the world's immune system will not take her presence lightly-- not in this mundane form. She anxiously waits, breath somewhat shaking when she exhales, and purposely cuts the engine. She won't be needing to bring this gunship home, after all.

She's thankful that she doesn't have to wait for very long, hearing the familiar, echoing call of an ikran approaching. Sighting familiar blue and purple wings, Kayla grabs her things and climbs out of the gunship, double-checking that her mask was tightly secured before stepping out into Pandoran air. Tightly holding the strap of her bag, she makes the trek over to the ikran and its rider, who has landed a bit of distance away from the gunship out of paranoia.

Jake sucked in a sharp breath of air, his expression solemn and grave as he took in the human form of his sister, in the flesh, for the first time in over two decades. She was shorter than he remembered, with her dirty-colored hair cut to her shoulders and those familiar, Sully blue eyes staring back up at him through her mask. It was like staring at a ghost, haunted by several memories and none of which Jake was entirely proud of, given the latest argument with his sister. Kayla stared back at him with an all-knowing gaze, equally somber and grim as she stood off to the side of his ikran, patiently waiting. Bob had bristled underneath his rider, clearly uneasy about the human beside him, but through the bond, the banshee kept mostly to himself, aware that he was not allowed to eat this human. Jake broke off tsaheylu and dismounted, trudging over to Kayla and motioning her to lift her arms.

"You're a lot smaller than I remember." He stated slyly while inspecting her person for any trackers or listening devices, gently taking the bag from her shoulder and flipping it open.

"Last I checked, I was taller than you in your wheelchair, so watch yourself."

He glanced up from the bag and hissed playfully at her, causing a small smirk to form behind the glass of her mask. Jake hands her back her belongings and then rejoined his ikran, taking a few sticks of dynamite and a detonator out from the pockets of his saddle.

Kayla frowned at the sight of the explosives, glancing between them and the gunship, "Are you sure you don't want another gunship on your side? Two is better than one."

The Na'vi shook his head, "We can't risk it. For all we know, the RDA is tracking all their gear now."

Sighing in defeat, Kayla nods and stands off to the side while Jake rigs the gunship with explosives and calibrates the blasting cap with a timer. He walks back to his ikran, forming tsaheylu before hopping on and reaching down to Kayla with an offered hand. She takes it willingly and allows him to lift her up on the banshee while Bob grunts disapprovingly at the added weight. Jake places Kayla in front of him on the saddle and they take to the sky, high enough to be out of range when Jake finally hits the button setting off the detonator.

The gunship explodes in a blooming flower of fire and debris, the smoke rising into the air in the form of a small mushroom cloud. The loud noise disturbs the wildlife momentarily, with small forest ikran and stingbats taking to the sky. Jake doesn't give the explosion much thought as he grabs a tighter hold on Eywa te' Bob tan'sey mak'ta with one hand, but squeezes Kayla's shoulder with the other, "Now with any luck, they'll label you killed in action."

"Or missing." She muttered.

"Ardmore isn't gonna want that kind of paperwork. She would much rather label you as a traitor than start a manhunt looking for you lost in the woods. You said it yourself, she doesn't like wasting resources on just one individual."

"... So that's it? Just like that, we disappear?"

"Not what you were hoping for?" He peered down at her briefly before looking ahead, continuing to fly.

Kayla hesitates, glaring ahead at the skies while internally fighting with herself before finally confessing her inner thoughts, "A part of me thought it would've been easier for the both of us if I never found out you were still alive. We could've just-- lived out the rest of our lives living in our respective worlds."

Jake allows the wind to fill in the silence, noting how defeated she sounded even with her back to him and the air whipping past them, obscuring her voice. He shakes his head despite the fact she couldn't see him, "The 'what if' scenarios aren't a thing around here. We don't believe in that kind of thing. Everything happens for a reason, and everything happens because it is the will of Eywa. I hope, in time, you'll learn to call this world your own as I did, kiddo."

She drops the debate, for the moment, and scoffs distastefully, "Okay, new rule. No more 'kiddo' talk. I'm not a child."

He smirks, "No? Then why are you small like one?"

He earns himself a sharp, small elbow in his ribcage when she reached back at him and a threatening promise, "Just wait, Sully. Soon I'll have your kids pinned against ya with all the stories I have of you up my sleeve. You'll regret the day you decided to pull me into this world."

~~~~~~~~~

Her nerves returned when they flew back to High Camp and a horn was blown to announce their arrival. Bob lands and Jake helps Kayla down before letting the ikran fly away. Na'vi were beginning to gather, and Kayla, yet again, felt more exposed than usual, even more so now as she was given some obvious glares regarding her obvious sky demon body and military clothes. Jake places a hand on the back of her neck, yet again, and led her away, immediately finding his family huddled together in the back of the crowd, waiting for him. He and Kayla part through the Omatikaya that have gathered and now stood in front of the Sullys.

Kayla wasn't surprised to see them all slightly hesitant by her human presence, and even though she couldn't blame them, it still made her stomach clench uncomfortably. She couldn't meet any of their eyes due to the height difference, and to her horror, even Tuk was taller than her in this form. When Kayla's eyes met the youngest Sully child's, Tuk shied away behind her mother's leg, clearly curious but unsure of getting closer. Off to the side, Kayla noticed that Norm, Max, and Spider were also there to greet her, and, much to her disappointment, even they stood taller than her as her fellow humans. The traitors. Kayla has never felt so small in her whole life.

Jake pats Kayla's back in sympathy while addressing the family, "Alright, Sullys. Your Aunt Kayla is going to be a more permanent presence in our lives now, and she's going to need help to feel welcomed as both a human and a Na'vi. I'm counting on you to have her back, okay?"

And of course, Neteyam is dutifully the first to step up, offering his hand out to Kayla with a gentle smile, "It's wonderful to meet you, Auntie-- again."

She sees a small hint of humor behind his eyes and relaxes, taking his hand in both of hers and smiling up at her oldest nephew, "You, too, 'Teyam."

He steps aside when he felt the shadow of his little brother behind him. The ice is broken and Lo'ak is milking the height difference with good-natured laughs and Spider was egging him on, glad that he was no longer the shortest out of the group. Kayla felt a grin twitch on her lips without her consent and pinches Lo'ak's side to make up for it, laughing when he yelped in surprise. Kiri had walked up, holding Tuk's hand so she didn't feel alone and the sight of the girls reminds Kayla that she had come bearing gifts to try to ease the kids back into accepting her.

"Kiri--" she calls out while frantically fishing around in the bag she kept strapped at her hip. Pushing aside a few necessities she had taken with her, she pulled out a book and sighed in relief, smiling up at the girl while holding the gift out to her, "As promised."

Kiri's eyes widen and reached out, gingerly taking the gift as if it was something precious. She read the title and then the author's name before glancing back down to Kayla, eyes and smile warm, "Thank you, Auntie."

Finally, Tuk's shell cracks and she begins by poking and prodding at the human woman that now stood shorter than her, lifting Kayla's arms and inspecting her form in awe before her fingers find her aunt's hair and instantly start playing with it. The girl giggles while stating, "It's so soft! We gotta braid all this, Kiri."

"Tomorrow, sweetheart, okay?" Kayla shines a smile at her youngest niece, who nods eagerly and puts her whole weight into hugging her aunt, who is barely able to catch her before they could fall.

Jake smiles while watching the heartwarming interactions before tapping Human Norm on the shoulder, "You got a space for her, right?"

"Absolutely. The second half of the old shack is still functional and is currently being used as storage. She can have my old bunk if she wants."

Jake's nose scrunched up, a little put off by the suggestion, "I doubt she'd want it if I told her all the things you and Trudy got up to in that bunk. She can have Grace's old space."

Norm snorts while shamefully scratching the back of his head, "Sure thing. Probably a better idea." He breaks away to greet Kayla himself, putting on the widest grin as he stands next to her, comparing their height difference with his hand much like before, "It's nice to see that this transfers, no matter what form you take."

Kayla rolls her eyes and shoves him in the chest, causing Norm to bark out a surprised laugh. Through reacquaintance with her family and friends, Kayla had noticed Neytiri standing off to the side in her peripheral. The human woman took a moment to pointedly stare at the Na'vi woman, their eyes meeting and forming a standstill. Neytiri was stiff, both in posture and expression, a statue that didn't waver against Kayla's gaze. It unsettled the Sully woman but she tried not to show that in her eyes, instead she brought her fingers to her forehead, and lowered them in Neytiri's direction. The Na'vi woman blinked, and with the gesture, her posture began to relax. Neytiri smiled. It wasn't big or emotional, but it was small and sincere. She nodded back in response.

After dinner, Norm brought Human Kayla to her new room she would be sleeping in when out of her avatar body. It was a separate trailer from the biolab, standing on its own and older than some of the buildings the humans have taken from Hell's Gate. Norm explains that the trailer was a part of Site 26, a small mobile link meant for avatar scientists who went off-grid for research in the mountains. He tells the story of how he was part of a small science group who retreated there to work so people like Parker Selfridge and Colonel Miles Quaritch wouldn't be breathing down their necks back in the day. After he and Kayla go through the airlock pressure doors and step inside, Kayla takes off her mask and looks around, immediately noticing a few familiar sights.

The first was a wheelchair, abandoned, covered in dust, tossed off to the side. Clearly, the place needed some cleaning, but Kayla wasn't worried about the dust at the moment. She beelined for the wheelchair, bending down and helping it stand back up on its wheels. Norm stands in the doorway and watches the scene in front of him with a solemn reaction, explaining as she continued to look around, "This is it. This is where Jake and I made our last stand as avatars before the fight. The other half of this shack is where the link bays were, but the trailer was completely demolished back in the war and so we left it abandoned out in the woods."

She moved over to the desk and lifted a picture from its home there, blowing away the layer of dust and revealing the contents of the picture. It was clearly Jake at the front of the group photo, human, sitting in that very same wheelchair, smiling at the camera lens. Kayla's finger briefly traces her brother's old face, willing her mind to remember it after staring at his avatar form for so long. Standing on either side of him was Norm and a woman Kayla didn't recognize. Clearly of a military background, the woman -at least younger back then compared to Kayla now- grinned behind her sunglasses, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and spilling over one side of her shoulders. Behind Jake, with both hands firmly placed on his shoulders, stood an older woman with short, curly red hair and sparkling eyes as she smiled, proudly, at the camera.

Kayla hears Norm shuffling around behind her and gently places the picture down, turning back to him as the male scientist was moving around some old equipment and patting the mattress of a bottom bunk off to the side of the trailer, "This was Grace's bunk. It's yours now."

That night, as she sat alone in her new living quarters, Kayla got to work on making this place feel more like home. The first order of business was to clean away all the old pictures and put up the new ones-- well, not really new compared to the photo of Jake, Norm, and the two women. Kayla retrieved her envelope of pictures and placed one photo on the mini-fridge, inspecting it for a moment before she had to move on.

The picture was definitely older than the ones of Jake and the scientists. It was a picture that was taken roughly a month before Tommy was killed. The twins were sitting on the couch so Jake could feel a bit of normalcy, requesting that his wheelchair be kept out of the frame of the photo. The twins smiled at the camera, and Kayla stood behind the back of the couch, leaning over her brothers with a wide grin on her face. Present Kayla smiles to herself before moving on to the next big step of her life.

~~~~~~~~~

As promised, Kayla spends the next morning and afternoon with her nieces, in human form, so that she can watch and learn how to properly braid Na'vi hair. She learns this by letting the girls use her unconscious avatar as a demonstration. Kayla's avatar hovered in her sleeping hammock, unconscious to the world, while both Kiri and Tuk weave every little bit of her locks into various small, intricate braids, pulling them tight along her scalp and purposely braiding the hair behind her large ears so the locks were out of her face. Kayla watched from off to the side, trying to pay attention even as the braiding took hours to complete. Tuk eventually got bored and left her sister to finish the look before excitedly asking her aunt if she could braid her human hair instead, to which Kayla agreed but only if the braids were larger and didn't take as long.

As the girls worked on both human and Na'vi hair, they decided to share their parents' love story, much to Kayla's awe, amusement, and horror all in one. Of course, she was curious about how her brother and Neytiri met and why Jake decided to turn against his own kind for her, but Kayla wasn't hoping for any specific details. Unfortunately, the Na'vi do not shy away from such topics and even openly talk about it to their young, as Tuk liked to prove to her auntie as she refused to spare her any... scrutinous details.

"-- And then they mated before Eywa!"

Kiri's body and tail go rigid even as she frantically scrambles over hammocks to cover Kayla's ears while berating her loudmouth sister, "Tuk!"

Despite the uncomfortable conversation, Kayla found herself laughing to the point she was crying, holding her ribs as they ached and wheezing until she couldn't breathe. She didn't find the initial storytime hysterical, but Kiri's haste to spare Kayla's dignity, Tuk's innocent gaze, and Kiri's hands practically folded on either side of the human woman's face definitely acted as the cherry on top.

Days went by and Kayla was much more comfortable jumping in and out of her avatar form, even more so now that she wasn't waking up and being constantly poked and prodded. On one of her first days as a human in High Camp, Kayla wore a tank top and was bombarded with concerned questions when Max noticed all the needle scars on her arms. Although she tried not to think about how she was practically a guinea pig for the RDA, her family wasn't letting her forget it. Max must have told Jake because the olo'eyktan regarded his duties for the day to instead take some time to spend with his little sister. He grabbed a child's bow and brought her down to the forest floor to do some fishing, even keeping a spare mask strapped to his hip for her if she needed it. He never asked about the scars, but Kayla could feel his eyes on her arm when she pulled the string of her bow back and tightened her form per his instructions.

After firing and missing a few arrows, clearly distracted by his stares, she sighed heavily before turning to look up at him, "It'll never happen again, thanks to you."

~~~~~~~~~

In between lessons, Kayla was finally getting to know other humans who honorably live among the Omatikaya. One individual, Jocelyn, was one of Kayla's personal favorites, aside from Norm and Max. Jocelyn was a biolab tech and didn't own an avatar, so she goes about her day normally, as a human, with a breather mask always secured on her face. Her knowledge stemmed from fixing vital technology -to help the humans survive- all the way to medical training -to keep the avatars kicking-. Not only did she live among the Na'vi, she talks to them fluently, and they don't appear bothered by her tiny presence. Kayla often sees Jocelyn, short as she is, trailing after a couple of young Na'vi hunters. Two young men, to be precise, who always love showing their little sky demon friend things they've brought back from their travels outside High Camp. They always let Jocelyn take samples and further inspect whatever they bring home. Not only was she a technician and a healer, she was also a scientist and she was always hungry for more knowledge of the world she lived in.

But even though she's full of wonder and excitement, she is also pretty strict. The kids in particular exasperate Jocelyn and Kayla always gets a kick out of watching her trying to wrangle the Sully kids whenever Spider sneaks them around the biolab. Kayla has interacted with Jocelyn loads of times at this point and always found her intriguing, but this took the cake, especially when she noticed how Spider practically had the female biotech wrapped around his finger. To be fair, Spider has most of the human scientists and avatars wrapped around his finger. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and the humans left behind on Pandora were no exception when it came to raising Spider.

However, despite this, Kayla couldn't help but wonder why Spider doesn't hang out with anyone else outside of the humans and the Sullys. He's an overall good kid and he's passionate about the Na'vi culture. If it weren't for the physical looks, Kayla would've definitely thought he was one of the Omatikaya when they first met.

She decides to ask him about this one day when Spider decided to sit down and teach her more of the language. Kayla was in her avatar form that day, now sporting tightly braided hair with beads that clicked when she walked. Kayla had to admit that she liked her new look even more knowing that her nieces had woven her a new identity. Spider appeared relaxed while teaching her certain words that are generally used in combat while her mind was still buzzing with her own questions.

"So do you just hang out with Kiri and Lo'ak or do you have other friends?"

Spider shrugged, "Some of the other scientists had kids while being stuck here, but I was older than all of them so I didn't play with them much."

Kayla nods, indicating she was listening. She had been told of Ardmore's initial threats to the humans who harbored Jake Sully and the Omatikaya when the Sky People first returned to Pandora. Some humans, especially the ones with families, stood down and surrendered in exchange for full pardons and safety for their children. That included Spider's foster family, the McCoskers. From what Kayla has heard, Spider's foster family was not the greatest of guardians, especially the foster father. He had betrayed Jake and the Na'vi to Ardmore, being responsible for the deaths of fellow humans who sympathized with the Omatikaya. Jake didn't go into depth with what happened to the McCoskers and the other humans who surrendered, but she assumed that for Spider's own sake, no one wanted to mention them now that they're gone.

Spider didn't appear to notice Kayla's inner turmoil as he continued, "Tuk is kinda in the same boat. I hung out with Neteyam for a while there. We're the closest in age... but he hasn't really been wanting to hang out anymore."

"Why not?"

The boy stares off in the distance, unable to keep his eyes on Kayla for long before he has to look away again as he muttered, "Probably because he's training to be the next olo'eykan. Which is fine. Good for him."

It sounded only partially genuine, and Kayla doesn't back down, "But Kiri can still hang out with you even as... uh... what's the word for tsahik in training?"

"Tsakarem."

"Right." Silence lingers until Kayla braves awkward silence, "It... it doesn't have to do with whatever Neytiri has against you, does it?"

A scowl immediately forms behind the breathing mask, "She hates me. Hates the fact her kids love me even more."

"From my experience, it doesn't take much to be on her bad side," she tried lightening up the mood, "I wouldn't sweat it too much, kid."

"You don't get it."

"Don't I? I know she's not overly fond of humans."

"It's more than that with me. To her... I remind her of the man who nearly took everything from her family. My father was Quaritch."

The name sounds bitter on Spider's tongue, clearly a bad taste for him. Kayla's comically big and yellow eyes widen even further, "You mean the colonel who ran security at the mine before the humans were sent back to Earth?"

He only nods and she hisses in sympathy, "Shit. Okay, I can see why you'd have a hard time getting on Neytiri's good side."

"Yeah. No kidding."

~~~~~~~~~

Unlike Spider, it didn't take Kayla a whole lot to get on Neytiri's good side, but it's not as though she had to try. Neytiri was already warming up to Kayla, both in and out of her avatar form. The Na'vi woman sometimes enjoyed Kayla's presence in her human body, despite not wanting to be around the other Sky People that live amongst her clan. In many ways, Neytiri felt as though she was with Grace or Sylwanin again. They would've loved Makayla Sully. She was more level-headed than Jake -or at least compared to when he was younger- and she was observant, someone who calculates before doing anything. She thought ahead and she always had something Neytiri remembered Grace calling 'common sense'.

Neytiri grew to appreciate Kayla and would fondly watch her interact with Jake. Neytiri was aware that her mate had at least one sibling in the past, but up until now, she could only imagine what kind of a brother he was. With Kayla around, Neytiri got to see a side of her husband he hadn't let anyone see before. With Kayla around, a bit of mischief returns to his eyes, always ready to tease his sister without a second thought, regardless of who was watching. Mo'at wanted to berate the olo'eyktan for such childish behavior, but Neytiri was quick to silence her mother, "They need time to be reacquainted as siblings."

And siblings they were. Neytiri often smiled when around the adult Sully siblings. Watching Jake and Kayla interact often reminded her of other sibling duos, such as Neteyam and Kiri, or even herself and Sylwanin. But it's not to say Jake and Kayla were the most perfect siblings. Kayla still had trouble forgiving Jake for past mistakes and would often remind him of said mistakes just to add dirt to the fresh, reopened wound. Neytiri understands why Kayla must hurt Jake the way she had been hurt, but Jake was still Neytiri's husband and she was protective -if not a little possessive- of him. So, to try and find peace between the brother and sister, Neytiri decides to take Kayla hunting without Jake present.

Kayla didn't refuse, slipping into her avatar form and excitedly following Neytiri to her ikran. The pair fly down to the forest floor and immediately pick up a trail that had to be yerik. While tracking the animal down, Neytiri found it the best time to breach the topic, "Jake tries his best to help you feel at home here. You try your best to push him away."

Blunt as ever, she takes Kayla off guard, the female avatar turning back to face her with wide eyes. They stood in silence, the hunt momentarily forgotten until Kayla's mind catches up to her and she shakes off the initial shock. She turns back to the task at hand, following the tracks Neytiri had instructed her to follow with a scowl on her face, "Jake was the one who told me that relying on others won't help when you're trying to survive. I'm just living up to his advice."

"He's not like that. Not Ma Jake."

"Then congratulations, Neytiri," she exclaimed sarcastically, "You got to experience the best side of him. I didn't. I lost a brother before him. I can do it again."

"Can you?"

She is met with silence again, staring at the back of Kayla's head. Neytiri took the moment to admire the braids her daughters have woven into their aunt's hair before bringing herself back to the present and gently adding, "I understand."

"Do you?"

"I lost my sister," Neytiri forced out, her tongue tasting bitter from the words. She never said such things out loud, and the shock that sinks into Kayla's face was one of the reasons why. Neytiri despised any pity people send her way after everything she's lost. She didn't want the pity, especially now when she has more family than she ever thought she'd have. "The Sky People murdered her right in front of me. I was only a little older than Neteyam when it happened."

Kayla's mouth opened and closed as she tried to come up with something comforting to say but the only words that come out are her initial thoughts, "Oh, my God. I'm sorry."

Neytiri tightens her lips together and briefly smiles before letting it fall, having heard all those words before. She took point in the hunt, walking ahead while following the tracks so she wouldn't have to look at her sister-in-law, "Can I ask? What happened to Tomsully?"

"He was killed," Kayla explained automatedly, "Some... murderer with a gun shot him down in the streets and left him to die alone. It was cold and raining that day. They said he didn't suffer, but..." Kayla shook her head to refrain from thinking about it, "I wasn't there. Neither was Jake. I was job searching and Jake was out drinking his life away. He never mentioned?"

"He grieves as I do. I don't talk of my sister. My children don't know enough about her. Ma Jake says little about his old life."

Kayla swallowed thickly, eyes hard as she stared at the back of Neytiri's head, "Let me guess. He never mentioned me."

The Na'vi woman paused in her steps, hesitating before finally turning back to meet Kayla's eyes, "I did not know he had a sister until you came here."

That stung. It stung knowing that neither women were ever aware of each other until now but Kayla couldn't wrap her head around another mystery, "So-- how are you so calm about all of this? Why are you so accepting of me? I'm part of the same species that's responsible for your sister's death."

"So is Ma Jake."

"But you're not hostile toward me like you had been when you first met Jake, or so I'm told. Why?"

Neytiri smiles, opening her mouth and taking a breath before whispering, "... You are my husband's sister. He shares your blood... as do my children."

She steps closer to Kayla, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, much to Kayla's surprise as Neytiri proclaims, "You are Makayla te Suli tsmuke te Toruk Makto. You are my family now. Ma tsmuke."

Kayla's ears and tail twitch in attention to the sound of her name, using her newly gained knowledge of the language to finally understand what her sister-in-law said. Slowly, a smile formed on her lips, warm and quivering ever so slightly, nodding to Neytiri when she didn't have any other words to say.

She had always wanted a sister.

~~~~~~~~~

By the time the kids had gotten used to Kayla's human form, they were dying to show her their world through her eyes and not her avatars'. Without her night vision, everything glowed so beautifully at night and Spider suggested taking her to some fields to watch the fan lizards fly. Lo'ak was immediately all for the idea, dragging the rest of his siblings into it so they could all go. His parents were hesitant at first, but then Kayla reassured them that she'll keep a close eye on the children and so Jake and Neytiri relaxed before seeing them all off, wishing them to have fun.

The children didn't waste time once they were deep in the forest, hunting for kenten as eclipse rolled around. Before she could blink, Kayla was completely surrounded by floating lizards, glowing in many shapes and colors, flying above her head with helicopter-like wings. All the kids laughed at her reaction, the human gobsmacked by such wonder. Tuk tugged her along and the kids all began running around in the fields, disrupting more fan lizards and laughing as the animals took to the sky, igniting the world around them with their soft lights.

Kayla stood off to the side, watching the children and laughing with them. After a time, Spider had taken a break from the fun and collapsed on the ground at Kayla's feet, laughing in between catching his breath. Looking up, he noticed the adult's eyes on his and his smile immediately fell, quickly turning his eyes away to watch his friends play in the fields while trying his best to ignore Kayla's stares and shrink in on himself.

Kayla didn't take it to heart, only bluntly stating what she thought, "You prefer me in my avatar form, don't you?"

Spider's shoulders rise and fall but he still couldn't look at her, "... Sorry."

"No sweat. Can I ask why?"

He shrugged, "I don't know."

"I think I do. Can I guess?" Spider shrugs again and Kayla plops down in the spot beside him, resting her arms over her knees when she brought her legs up close to her chest, "Originally I only wanted to hang out with you and the other humans in my own skin so you didn't feel intimidated, but I think you're actually more intimidated by humans compared to Na'vi. You prefer my avatar because it's all you've ever known living here."

They sit in silence apart from the Sully kids laughing when one of the kenten decided to land on Lo'ak's face to rest. Spider huffed a small laugh at the scene but otherwise didn't say anything. Kayla grabs his attention again by elbowing him, "It's not a bad thing."

"It's not?"

"Why would it?"

He spares a glance at her, the reflection from both of their masks making it difficult to find her eyes right away, "You don't think it's bad that I prefer hanging out with a species other than my own?"

She flashed an amused, exasperated expression, "Kid, my brother permanently transferred his soul from one body to another of a completely different species. Do you think I'm one to judge you when you're the one teaching me the Na'vi ways and hanging out with my brother's kids?"

She laughed and Spider's ears heat up in shame, a little embarrassed for assuming the worst out of her. He looked away and mumbled under his breath, "My foster family didn't want me to forget where I came from."

"That's not bad either unless they forced you..." Initially, Kayla brushed off the silence until it began to linger too long, then she spared a glance back at Spider. He was stiff, unable to stare back while stubbornly keeping his eyes on the Sully kids. Kayla's eyebrows furrow, "Did they force you?"

"... What is Earth like?"

"Sure. You strike me as the kind of guy who would like music concerts. I'll start there."

Beating around the topic and finding a new one. Classic. It almost would have been easier if Spider had just said 'yes', but Kayla doesn't scold him. Instead, she hums, staring up at the stars as she thought back to her homeworld, "Nothing you would miss, kiddo."

"Can you tell me things I might've missed?"

A/N: Jocelyn is technically one of the many unnamed scientists we see in the Way of Water. She's the one who Tuk annoys with her toy in her first scene and further gets after the teens when they cut through the Avatar Longhouse. She technically doesn't have a name but I used her actress' real name to fill in the blanks.

Sorry if this felt a little rushed, but the next chapter is gonna be the start of the events that transpire during the Way of Water! Buckle up! We're getting close and I'm so excited to share with ya'll! Thank you so much for the support!

[braidlottie]

chase you down until you love me.

pairing: nat scatorccio x pervert!transmasc!reader

summary: when you catch your friend relapsing, the only thing you could do is drive to his motel to talk him out of it. hopefully he won’t mind that you’ve been spying him with a hidden camera.

tags: smut, nsfw, 18+ (minors dni), dom!nat, age gap, fwb?,,, you're basically misty in this scenario lmao, humiliation, dirty talk, fingering, nat slaps you!!, crying, handjob, no aftercare

wc: 628 >:( this is so bad forgive me (the ending especially)

"what the fuck do you think you're doing?" you exclaimed, chest heaving from running into nat's motel room and throwing the cocaine out of his hands. nat was leaning against the kitchen counter, staring blankly at the wall.

"you just wasted $300 worth of blow." he stared at you now, making you sigh and look at the white powder scattered across the carpet. "look, i'll pay you back. but i couldn't just sit there and watch you destroy your life."

shit.

nat's eyebrows furrowed, watching you look back and forth between him and the owl. "watch me?"

he takes the statue in his hands and throws it down, smashing it on the ground and startling you. he picks up the wireless camera among the debris, holding it up to his face with an agonizing look.

"you were spying on me?" he tilted his head to the side.

"nat-"

"is that what you were doing, you little pervert?"

"i was just trying to protect you!" you lied terribly, digging yourself a deeper grave.

"stop it. how do i- how can i trust you? you're so full of shit!"

nat took a breath, gripping the roots of his hair. "knowing how fucking weird you are, you're probably getting off on this right now."

you didn't even try to protest. nat scoffed, a playful smirk playing on his face.

"you nasty little shit. c'mere." you didn't want to, but you knew nat would make you. you were walking a little too slow for his liking, making him push you up against the counter, your head almost hitting the cabinet behind you.

"you watched me all day, didn't you? i was your own little source of entertainment. watching me and kevyn fuck? i bet you liked that. i know you did." he hissed. "i want you to admit it."

when he got no answer, you weren't expecting a giant slap across the face. "answer me."

"mm- i did like it. seeing you fuck him. i- i wanted it to be me."

there was silence between the two of you before nat spoke again. "you sick little freak."

his words filled with venom and humiliation seemed to get to you, a tear making its way down your cheek. "oh, don't cry now. i thought you wanted this." he got even closer, your noses were almost touching. his hand reached your belt, the buckle as he loosened it, his green eyes staring you down like a hawk.

he felt you squirm, making him hold you firmer in place. once your pants were unbuttoned, he was met with your boner forming a tent in your boxers.

the waistband snapped back before he pulled down, you gasping from the cold air that hit your cock. "natty…"

"god, you're so fucking pathetic." he watched your tdick twitch up every so often from his words. he spit on his hand, coating your dick in it before stroking you.

"yeah… finally getting what you've always wanted. your little cock in my hand." your moans whiny and cracky at his words, trying to rock your hips into him. you sniffed, eyes still teary as the pressure in your stomach blew up like a balloon. "natty, 'm close.."

"aww, you gonna cum for me? gonna make a big mess?" he was so condescending, smiling at the tears streaming down your face. you just nodded, looking up at him with big, glossy eyes. "poor little boy, keeping this in for so long." he pinched your nipple, kissing around the bud. he stopped all of his movements when he heard your final cry, ruining your orgasm.

"what a fucking mess you are." nat looked at your cum stain that dripped onto your boxers. "now get out. and take your fucking camera with you."

taglist:@t4tnat @jaywritessometimes @girltwinklater @kessellluvr @lotties-ashwagandha @shipmanisms

[lagncx]

Say it back. Please?

Tw: not sure enjoy tho. I’m working on Karl Heisenberg and I wanna do my mutual @nonchalantgat0 Justice ! <3

——

You sighed, scratching your forehead “...150!” You said. The elfsong tavern bartender smirked at you. “To house you and all your friends? Just 150?! Haha! 600.” He demanded. You growled Halsin behind you with Astarion and gale. “Why are there so many weird customs in this place?” Halsin grumbled, eyes looking around. “Oh, the bear coming out of his cave?” Astarion huffed.

You bit your lip counting on your fingers “Uhh-…half!” You blurted out. “Half? Which is.” The bartender raised his chin at you. Astarion put a hand on your waist pushing his weight on his tippy toes to whisper in your ear “300 gold darling. Half is three hundred my love.” He whispered before placing a small kiss on the shell of your ear backing up.

You nodded “I’ll pay 300$ not to mention I’d be bringing people back here since that murder you had upstairs.” You crossed your arms in victory. Astarion smiled, patting your back.

After that night you realized, you all were dirt poor everyone bought armor, weapons, and food. All of it and you spent everything you had on a room and a few pints. Cursing to yourself you needed to find a way to make some fast cash, without Astarion figuring out or Gale. But mostly Astarion. Unless you guys wanted to go back to sleeping outside. You went over to your second guess, Shadowheart.

“I- I don’t understand, why? Do I keep it from Astarion?” You groaned “Because he’s gonna do the look-up laugh through his most and smile smug thing” you groaned.

It was simple, beat someone’s ass and get some gold. But fuck was the dude huge you put up a good fight Astarion said it was stupid, “You’ll end up getting a dent in that brain.” He said and you just laughed it off.

But here you were almost in slow motion. You felt your teeth hit against one another as you fell right on your jaw, face flat on the ground you let out a breath. He was right. You locked eyes with him seeing that smug look.

You flinched away from shadowhearts hand as she dabbed your wounds “It won’t be cleaned any faster if you keep pulling away.” You swatted her hand “Did you see the way he looked at me, didn’t even try to comfort me. I was on the ground in front of him bleeding from my mouth. He didn't even look concerned.” You slumped over hands on your ears holding your head up and avoiding the open wounds.

Shadowheart opened her mouth to comfort you “It was foolish I told you that why would I be concerned when you chose to ignore me.” Astarion. you crunched your face, eyes closing and nose upturned “yea well if we’re lovers I expected I don’t know a bit of comfort. Asshole.” You scoffed and you opened your eyes seeing his shoes tapping on the ground in front of you “you don’t get to call me that.” He turned to shadowheart and took the rag. “I’ll take care of them.”

You sighed displeased by the change “get your hands off your face and sit up. Now.” He said and you did so looking up at him. He overlooked your features: your eye was bloodshot, your mouth scared and teeth covered in dry blood. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them again and leaning down placing the rag on your lip making you pull back.

“That hurts.” You hissed from the sudden headache after flinching back

“I’m sure it does now quit it.” Astarions hand held you cradling the back of your head making you stay there as he started to clean the wounds. The silence was loud…it was hard to avoid looking at his face but the dread of the thought of even making eye contact was enough. Astarion dropped the rag “You know anyone could’ve seen he was tricking you.” You groaned “Astarion please I don’t want to hear it!”

You got up and walked away swaying around the feeling of nausea washing over you like a cold sweat. You felt yourself slowly falling before a hand went around your waist. “You need to lie down.” You only leaned into astarion in response. You were guided to a tent it was Astarions and yours since a while ago he said

“You can sleep here, anytime really. But tonight I don’t want you to go.”

You haven’t slept in your own tent since. You let yourself flop on the bedroll expecting Astarion to leave you felt a hand push on your lower back making you whine as the muscles were sore. You were so tired you closed your eyes, you felt him pull off your shoes and un do your chain mail pulling you up so he could take it off. “There, now you can be more comfortable.” You took a long whiff of Astarions scent, your head resting in the crevice of his neck. You sighed “I love you.” He didn’t say it back.

“Here, drink.” You looked down at the bottle he handed you, it had gold liquid. “What is it?” You said slurring slightly, your lip swollen and already irritated and even more as he pushed the bottle on your lips “it’s gonna put you to sleep, you’ll wake up feeling better.” You nodded and took a long swig before he put it down. You looked at his hand glow a yellow color as he laid it on your head, a cooling feeling coming over you. You only wished to dream.

You crawled under the blankets of your makeshift futon you told astarion was way more comfortable. And before you fell into your slumber you made sure to remind him “Love you.” You whispered and started to snore.

Astarion crossed his arms watching you sleep soundly, the swollen wounds dying down. He then watched you turn and feel for him. Making him smile. “You’re hopeless.” He whispered “…so hopeless, so perfect. I hate that you put us before you…” he sighed and kissed your cheek making you smile unconsciously. He caressed your face “what the hell’s is your story?”

He got up and made his way out the tent coming back later of course but he took a second before crawling out.

“I love you too.”

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Thanks (m, cold)

Hi guys, thank you again for voting on which scenario you wanted to see for this fic! It's a bit of a slow burn, and idk how I feel about the ending, but Elijah is staunchly miserable by the end so hopefully that makes y'all happy 😅 let me know if you like it 🫶

Ps I've been writing this for literally the past 12 hours so I cannot look at it anymore, I'll read it over and edit errors in the morning but I need to get it out before it drives me insane lmao. 5.5k words under the cut :)

CW: male snz, colds, coughing, fever, contagion

There was nothing quite as depressing, Elijah decided, as the days leading up to Thanksgiving dinner service in a restaurant. Well, unless you were Greyson.

“Goooood morning, boss! Two days til the Big Day; are you pumped?”

Elijah turned his chair slowly towards the door, where the chef stood grinning unironically. He thought, not for the first time, that Greyson was likely some sort of dog in a past life – a golden retriever, or possibly a lab. One of those ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ dogs.

“Am I pumped?” Elijah asked, glaring at Greyson. “For a day that should be spent drinking shitty beer and eating my weight in carbs spent instead putting on a fake smile for people who don’t even think of us as human? For people who go out to eat literally once a year, and make sure they do it on a holiday so they can feel powerful by forcing a restaurant to serve them, then complain about the price and stiff my servers? Am I pumped to barely break even, even though the restaurant will be packed from ten am until close, because those same people staunchly refuse to pay more than eighty bucks a head to stuff themselves silly? Am I pumped to listen to my staff complain all day, despite the fact that when each of them was hired, they were told in no uncertain terms that they would be working holidays?” Elijah clicked his pen closed loudly, stood to let Greyson through, and sat with him in tandem, his face set in anger the whole time. “No, Grey. I am not, in fact, pumped.”

Greyson broke their eye contact to wake his computer, the lecture obviously unexpected. “Clearly I should’ve read the room before opening my mouth,” he said, glancing back over at his boss briefly. “My bad, boss.”

Elijah, embarrassed that he’d let himself sink into such a state about something as stupid as a holiday service, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fuck. Sorry, Grey. You just caught me at a bad moment. I had two servers call out for today, I’m fuckin’ sweating because we really need everyone here for Thursday and neither of them are sure they’ll be good to come back in two days.”

“Hmm,” Greyson hummed, his eyebrows threading together. “That’s weird. I had Victor and Elise call out on my way in.”

Elijah felt his heart thump in his temple. “Did they say why?”

“I didn’t ask,” Greyson said, turning his chair to face his boss. “But I guess I should’ve. Did the servers say why they couldn’t come in?”

“Some sort of fever-cold thing, is what Jason said he had. Ashley just said she felt like shit.” Elijah pressed his fingers into his eye and sighed. “I need a cigarette. Care to join?”

Greyson, never one to turn down nicotine in any form, stood from his chair. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

The two of them walked through the empty kitchen in silence, Elijah entirely too wrapped in his own thoughts to continue their conversation. There was an ongoing joke, a trope, at this point, about holidays in the restaurant; everyone was always sick for them. Last Easter, the servers all had bronchitis, and a couple of Valentine’s days ago, Greyson had so many cooks call out with the stomach flu that they’d had to hire last-minute temps to fill in on the line. Despite doing nearly 300 covers, they barely made enough to cover the immense labor that seven temps on a holiday cost.

“Lij,” Greyson said as the two of them stepped out the back door and sat on the milk crates littering the loading dock, “it’s not going to be like Valentine’s. I can see your fuckin’ gears turning.” The chef pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, handed his boss one, and lit them both up. “Relax.”

Silence, once again, fell upon them as they smoked and watched fat snowflakes disintegrate on the asphalt. Elijah hoped that Greyson was right, that everything would be fine and he was overreacting – but he knew better than to hope. More likely than not, it was going to be what it always was on holidays: a shit show.

Matt and Mark, hand-in-hand until they spotted their bosses by the door, turned the corner and waved to their counterparts in tandem like well-trained circus animals. Elijah couldn’t help but smile as their fingers unwove from one another.

“Morning,” Elijah called, stubbing out his cigarette. Greyson did the same, and the two of them stood to let the younger men into the building.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Mark asked rubbing his hands together as he pushed the door open. Elijah shrugged as he held the door open for the other two and walked in behind them.

“My rage keeps me warm,” he said, prompting a laugh from Greyson and an eye roll from the younger men. “How’re you guys?”

Mark shot a look at Matt as they all walked towards the office at the front of the kitchen. “I’m well,” he said, pointedly. Elijah nearly stopped in his tracks when he glimpsed Matt glaring at his boyfriend.

“Matt…?” Greyson asked, an attempt at giving his sous chef a get-out-of-jail-free card. There was silence as the three of them turned, expectantly, towards Matt.

“I’mb good,” the sous said, his voice cracking on the second syllable. Elijah audibly groaned, Mark winced, and Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity.

“Well, you certainly sound great,” Greyson said, palming Matt’s shoulder aggressively. “Would you like to go home and sleep that off?”

“Yes, he -”

“Ndo,” Matt said, cutting Mark off and shooting him a look. “I wandt to help prep.I’mb – hh! hh’NGTSH-uh!” Matt turned and pulled his coat up over the bottom half of his face to sneeze, then quickly gathered himself and stood up straight. “I’mb fine,” he said, convincing no one.

Elijah closed his eyes briefly and sighed through his nose; fortunately or unfortunately, he knew exactly why Matt hadn’t called off.

The week prior, Elijah and Greyson had dolled out raises and bonuses for the staff; this year was Matt’s fifth as sous chef. Greyson had basically written a dissertation of why his sous chef should be given a new title – Executive Sous – along with a significant raise and bonus. It hadn’t taken much convincing; Elijah knew exactly how hard Matt worked, and staying at the same restaurant as a sous chef for five years was nearly unheard of in this city, especially for someone as young as Matt. He and Greyson had agreed that Matt’s loyalty to the restaurant deserved to be compensated, and had surprised him before his day off with the new title and pay.

Matt had been surprised – shocked was probably a better word for it, honestly – and had confided in Elijah after Greyson had dipped early to meet up with a date that he felt like he didn’t deserve the raise.

“You do,” Elijah had said, laughing lightly. “We wouldn’t have given it to you if you didn’t deserve it.”

The younger man had shaken his head. “I just… I mean, Greyson is here way more than me. I get two days off mostly, and he doesn’t let me work longer than ten hours. And I love it here, you guys don’t need to, like, worry about me leaving if that’s what this is about.”

Elijah had given Matt a confused look. “Greyson should be here more than you, first of all he’s a partner, not just the chef, and secondly, he gets paid very well to be here eighty hours a week. That’s his choosing. You’re his employee – if you were here as much as he was and getting paid significantly less, that wouldn’t be fair. And we’re glad you love it here, but that’s not why we gave you the raise. We gave it to you because you’re a hard worker, and you deserve to be compensated for what you do.” Elijah had smiled at Matt, patted his knee, and finished with, “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Matt had just smiled back and nodded, but Elijah knew he hadn’t changed his mind about ‘being undeserving’. Elijah knew, via background checks that were performed by his off-site HR company, and via Mark being a blabbermouth the second he got a glass of wine in him, that Matt had been a bit of a troubled kid; he’d been bounced from one foster home to another as a kid, and then one juvenile detention hall to another as a teenager. Only when he’d dropped out of high school and gotten a job as a dishwasher at a Denny’s did he finally decide it was time to shape up. He’d worked his way into the diner’s kitchen, then a slightly nicer kitchen, and when he was 20, he’d shown up at the front door of Elliot’s in an ill-fitting suit with a speech about how he was ready to work somewhere that he could hone his passion, even if they couldn’t pay him a dime. Greyson had hired him on the spot, not even consulting Elijah, despite only having been the executive chef for a few months.

Elijah knew Matt felt that he owed Greyson, not the other way around, and this promotion and raise was the nail in that coffin of doubt. He knew there was no way Matt would go home, no matter how shitty he felt.

Greyson just shrugged at his sous chef’s denial of being sick. “If you want to stay, I’m not going to make you leave,” he said, walking into the office and changing from his sweatshirt into his chef’s coat. “Just don’t sneeze on the food.”

Matt rolled his eyes and stripped off his jacket to put his own chef’s coat on. “Yes, Chef,” he said, coughing into his elbow. Mark and Elijah exchanged sidelong looks.

“Are you feeling okay?” Elijah asked his junior manager. Mark smirked, hiked his laptop bag further onto his shoulder, and started towards the dining room – his makeshift office.

“Never better, boss,” he said, pushing through the swinging doors. “Never better.”

***

“So, is he coming in tomorrow?”

Greyson lolled his head to the side, hands still on his keyboard, and deadpanned Elijah. “The fuck do you think?”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and nodded. “Yeah, okay, just wanted to check.”

While Matt had been relatively fine the first few hours of the shift, by the time the last guests had eaten, the sous had been so staunchly miserable that Greyson had marched his ass into the office, thrown his jacket over his shoulders, and pointed towards the back door. “Go. Home. Now.”

“Chef, I – HTSHH! Hh-! GTSH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side, collapsing into a post-sneeze coughing fit that made the cooks flinch from five yards away.

“You’re not fine,” Greyson insisted. “You’re sick, and you’re going to get everyone else sick.”

Matt nodded, miserable, and hung his head. “Sorry, Chef,” he muttered, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Go,” Greyson said. “And come back when you’re well.”

Mark had taken Matt home in an Uber, and the cooks and servers had been able to leave relatively early, which left Elijah, Greyson, and a bottle of whiskey between them on the desk to figure out how they were going to handle the rest of the week.

Greyson sighed and reached for the bottle as he pushed away from his computer screen. He took a long pull and handed the bottle to Elijah, who followed suit. “I just… I don’t understand why he’d come in that sick,” Greyson said, pulling his hair to the top of his head and securing it with a rubber band from their drawer of office supplies. Elijah had to pull the bottle away from his lips to laugh. “What?” Greyson asked.

“You, of all people, can’t understand why he came in sick?” Elijah asked, incredulous. “You?”

“What do you mean me?” Greyson asked, snatching the bottle back. “If anything, he learned it from watching you.”

“Oh, spare me, Greyson,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “For awhile there, you literally came in sick three weeks a month.”

Greyson scoffed. “At least I’ve never passed out on the kitchen floor.”

“Yes, you have.”

“No, I almost passed out. You actually fuckin’ swooned. Collapsed in a puddle. Full damsel in distress.” Greyson took another pull and placed the bottle back on the desk. “So don’t come for me unless I send for you.”

Elijah guffawed at this. “Who taught you that saying?” he asked. Greyson shrugged.

“I heard one of the servers using it. I like it.”

“The servers are twenty years old, you dinosaur. The last thing they want is Grandpa Greyson using their jargon.”

“Fuck off, if anyone here is a grandpa it’s…” Greyson stopped suddenly, held up a finger, let his eyes flutter shut, then let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, that’s annoying.” He rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, then raised an eyebrow at his boss, whose face had drawn into concern. “What?”

“What was that?” Elijah asked, glancing over at the bottle of whiskey they’d spent the past hour sharing.

“I just thought I was going to – oh,” Greyson’s eyes widened. “No, dude, relax, I’m totally fine. I feel great.”

“‘Buzzed’ and ‘great’ are two different things, Grey,” Elijah said. He reached up to feel Greyson’s forehead, prompting the chef to lean back in his chair.

“Great as in healthy,” he insisted, shooing Elijah’s hand away. “Seriously, I’d let you know if I – HRRTSHHH-ue!” He caught the sneeze in his elbow – barely – and choked back an irritated cough. From the crook of his arm, he heard Elijah swear.

“I’m going to end your fuckin’ life, I swear to God,” Elijah muttered, pushing the bottle further onto Greyson’s side of the desk. “You let me drink from the same bottle as you, you dick.”

“I’m fine, Elijah, Christ it was one sneee – hh! - hh…” Greyson tipped his head back in anticipation, then lowered and shook it when the feeling once again dissipated. “See? Totally fine.” He sniffled – convincing, Grey – and immediately changed course. “Plus, it’s alcohol. It’s an antiseptic.”

“It one million percent is not,” Elijah said, rubbing his temples in defeat. “Greyson, you cannot be sick. We cannot be sick. How the hell are we going to be able to run Thanksgiving?”

“Elijah,” Greyson said, “listen. I am fine. Everything is going to be just fi – ITSHH-ue!” Greyson pitched forward into his palm and cringed. Elijah, begrudgingly, slammed the box of tissues they kept on a side table in front of the chef.

“Bless you,” he said while Greyson cleaned himself up. “And, I mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck. You.”

***

“Hhh-! Huh… hnnn.”

“Bless you.”

“Oh, screw you, Lij,” Greyson muttered for the millionth time that day. He grabbed what felt like his hundredth tissue and blew his nose – only for the feeling to reignite. “Huhhh! Hhh...hh… guhh.” Greyson rubbed his nose again and angrily spiked the tissue into the trash can beneath his prep station.

“Bless you,” Elijah said again, mocking.

“You kndow,” Greyson said, turning towards his boss, who was seated in the office, not looking Greyson’s way. “Karma is going to combe for you for being an asshole to mbe.”

At this, Elijah glanced towards Greyson. “Karma? No, karma is having a cold and not being able to sneeze because you let your friend drink out of the same bottle as you when you knew you were getting sick. That’s karma, and you got what was coming to you.”

“Fuuhhh! Huh! Hh...fuck,” Greyson grumbled, coughing into his shoulder.

“Karma is also giving your sous chef a lecture about being sick at work, only to be get sick and have to come into work because you’re technically the most well of all the sick cooks and chefs.”

“Are you finished?” Greyson asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I get it. And to be fair, I did ndot kndow I was getting sick.” The chef sucked in painfully through his nose and collapsed into coughs once again.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah mumbled. When it seemed like Greyson wasn’t going to be able to stop the coughing, he took pity and got up to make the chef tea.

“Here,” Elijah said, slamming a paper cup in front of Greyson. “Drink it. Sickie.”

Greyson, unable to come up with a proper comeback, just did as he was told. “How mbany on the books tonight?” he croaked. Elijah sighed, pulled up his phone, and slid it towards Greyson. “Fuck,” Greyson said when he saw the number.

“All the people in the city who aren’t coming in tomorrow decided tonight was the night, apparently,” Elijah said, taking his phone back and putting it in his pocket. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, in earnest.

Greyson nodded. “It’s ndot too bad,” he said, taking another sip of tea. “Just wish I could fuckigg sndeeze.”

Elijah huffed out a laugh. “You’re sure you don’t want to call Matt in?”

“Definitely no – hh! Huh...hhhITSHHHZUE! Oh thank fuckigg God – HUHHESTCH-ue! Hh! Hnn...HuhhhETSCHH-ue! HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah whistled, long and low, and pushed the box of tissues towards Greyson. “Wow,” he said. “Bless.”

Greyson rolled his eyes as he took a handful of tissues and cleaned himself up. “See?” he said once he’d thrown them away and washed his hands, “Good as new. HTSSHH-ue!”

Elijah chuckled. “Sure, Chef,” he said, moving towards the doors to the dining room. “Whatever you say.”

***

In his thirty-nine years on earth, Elijah had learned a lot about himself. He’d learned that he was a hothead, and he had to really think about the repercussions of what was going to come out of his mouth if he wanted to keep the person he was talking to in his life. He’d learned that he was incapable of whistling, juggling, or any other party trick – but he could pull out a fantastic rendition of Queen’s Somebody to Love during karaoke, and that was enough to make him seem like he was fun at parties. He’d learned that he loved to have his own space, and should he ever find a partner, he knew they’d have to have separate bedrooms. And he had learned exactly what it felt like when he was getting sick.

Like… really sick.

When Greyson said things like, “I didn’t know I was getting sick,” it truly did not register to Elijah. Maybe it was because Greyson’s illnesses always seemed to be some sort of mixed bag – starting differently every time, with symptoms that varied wildly – or maybe it was because he just didn’t tune in to how he was feeling. Greyson always said he basically tried to ignore his body until it forced him to pay attention; maybe that was something that Elijah needed to attempt. Because Elijah… Elijah knew exactly when and how badly he was getting sick every single time.

It had started that afternoon, mere hours after he’d given Greyson shit about exposing him to this illness, the way it always did – with the type of sore throat that made you feel weak in your knees. Elijah had swallowed, then immediately felt dizzy with the pain that surged in his throat. Oh, he thought, touching his neck. Oh, no.

He was, of course, a creature of habit and attempted all his usual ways to quell the pain – cups of tea hidden in paper sleeves, lozenges he hoped Greyson was too stuffed up to smell on his breath, handfuls of ibuprofen – to no avail. By the time dinner service came around he could hear the rasp in his voice and, despite the ibuprofen, could feel the ache in his joints that meant he’d already made it to stage two; fever.

This was how he knew he was going to be down badly. If he could ride the sore throat past the fever and straight into congestion, he might be able to get away with just a normal cold. But if that fever set in before any other symptoms, it was all over.

“Yo,” Greyson said, approaching his boss post pre-shift. “Cand we quickly talk about the semantics of tomborrow’s buffet before people get here?”

Elijah lifted his heavy head from his pre-shift notes and blinked in Greyson’s direction. “Okay,” he said, brilliantly. Greyson’s eyebrows knit together, concerned.

“You good?” he asked, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Elijah nodded slowly – surely, if Greyson was able to push through this illness with such ease, he was just being a baby about it. He swallowed through the knives in his throat and nodded.

“Just a headache,” he said. “What do you want to talk through?”

“Just wanted to see how mbany cooks you think I should have on the buffehh....ETSZHCHH-ue!” Greyson directed a massive sneeze into his elbow, and Elijah’s head about exploded with pain.

“Christ,” Elijah muttered, pressing his palm into his eye. Greyson muffled a cough into his sleeve and shook his head to clear it.

“Fuck, ‘scuse mbe,” he said, looking back at his boss. “Umb. Did I get you or something?”

Something like that, Elijah thought as he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’re just loud, and my head hurts.” He pulled out his phone, looked at the cover spread for the next day, and said, “Three cooks on the buffet. One for omelets, one for prime rib carving, one for dessert bar.” He looked up at Greyson for his confirmation. “What?” he asked.

“You just… look like you’re in pain,” Greyson said, carefully. “Did you take -?”

“Yes, I took ibuprofen,” Elijah cut him off. “Go make sure your guys are ready for tonight. Take a decongestant so they can understand you. I’ll be back there in a minute.”

Greyson pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. “Yes, sir,” he said, and left Elijah to brood.

By some stroke of luck, the third inevitable stage of Elijah’s illness didn’t hit him until after they’d finished service. He was checking the lead server’s station so she could go home, when suddenly it felt like a thousand bees collected in his sinuses.

“Yeah, looks good Riley, thanks, see you in the mo – IGTSHH-uhh! HSTSH-ue! HhhhINTSZH-ue!” Elijah wrenched to the side, the sneezes so sudden he barely had time to cover his mouth.

“Yikes,” Riley said, taking a step away from her boss. “Bless you.”

“Thanks,” Elijah muttered, pinching his nose to quell the itch.

“You pick up whatever has everyone else out this week?” she asked, taking off her apron. Elijah shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Have a good night.”

With all the servers gone, Elijah slunk back into the kitchen and sunk into his office chair, his head in his hands. He was not prepared to do a whole holiday service feeling like this. This was nightmarish, and he’d only felt sick for nine hours. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was going to be -

“Hey, bless you,” Elijah sat up and turned around at the accusation to see Greyson standing at the office door with his arms crossed. “Could’ve heard those from fuckin’ space.”

Elijah rolled his eyes, painfully. “Whatever,” he said, powering his computer up to finish the night’s paperwork. “You’re one to talk, I don’t think you’ve gone three seconds without -”

“HRRSHH-oo!” Greyson cut him off with a comically-timed sneeze directed into the collar of his shirt.

“-that,” Elijah finished.

Greyson grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose. “Yeah, but it’s been well-established that I have a cold. I was under the impression that you were still -”

“HTSHH! HRSHH! Huh-! HuhhESTZHH-ue!” Elijah once again collapsed in on himself, head both buzzing and pounding, the explosive sneezes grating the back of his throat.

“- well,” Greyson finished, and moved into the office to sit by his boss. Just as Elijah looked up from his lap, Greyson slapped a hand on his forehead.

“Enough,” Elijah said, pushing Greyson’s palm off. Greyson put both his palms on his knees and gave Elijah a knowing look.

“So, you’ve been sick all day, or…?”

“Greyson,” Elijah said, clearing his throat, “I’m fine.”

“You have a fever, Lij. Like, a pretty significant one.”

He knew, and he had known, but the words made Elijah’s eyes well and his throat close all the same. God, he hated having a fucking fever and all the stupid, ridiculous emotions that went along with it. Elijah took a breath, closed his eyes to collect himself, and addressed the chef.

“I’m not feeling 100%,” he said. “But I will be fine. You are sick – if I’m not 100%, then you must be at like 10% at this point.”

“I don’t have a fever,” Greyson pointed out, taking Elijah’s hand and placing it on his cool head. “See?”

Elijah bit his cheek to keep from snapping. “Alright,” he said. “Whatever. Still, you need to go home; it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“I will when you do,” Greyson said, shrugging. Elijah, completely spent, and done arguing, just turned off his computer – paperwork be damned for the night.

“Fine,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Let’s call it a night.”

Greyson, clearly confused, just raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Alright boss,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “See you tomorrow.”

***

If there was one thing Greyson knew about Elijah, it was this: if you wanted him to admit defeat, you had to corner him.

When he woke up at oh-dark-thirty that morning, Greyson felt lucky that he was no worse for the wear then he was the night before. Was he stuffed-up to the gills? Yes. Did he have an incessant, grating cough? Yeah. But ultimately, it was a cold, and he’d work through far worse many more times.

So, despite the fact that it was still dark out, Greyson donned his hoodie and set out for the restaurant. On the way to the early-morning subway, he called Matt.

“...Hello?” Matt answered on the third ring. “Chef?”

“Mbornin’ sunshine,” Greyson said, coughing into the receiver. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh…” Matt said, attempting to gather his bearings. “Better. Am I supposed to be at the restaurant now? I thought I was scheduled at eight.” Greyson heard him push back a blanket and plant his feet on the floor. “You sound like shit, by the way. Sorry about that.”

“Inevitable,” Greyson said, a brush-off. “And you aren’t scheduled til eight, but I have sombe very important, pre-work, Executive Sous shit I ndeed your help with.”

“Sure, boss,” Matt said, and Greyson could hear him changing clothes, using mouthwash, and whispering goodbye to Mark. “Anything you need.”

“Good man,” Greyson said, pausing at the top of the subway steps. “Could you pick up cough drops, Mucinex, and a hot water bottle, if you see one? Oh, and a real blanket. I’ll Venmo you some mboney.”

“Uh, sure, boss. Is this… for you?”

“Not for me,” Greyson said, coughing into his sleeve. “For Elijah. He’s down bad.”

“Oh. Oh, shit,” Matt said. “Yeah, okay, for sure boss. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, mban. Hey, I’mb about to head down to the subway, text mbe if you have any – hh! HTSHH-ue! Fuck, sorry,” Greyson wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “Mbaybe grab more tissues while you’re there,” he amended.

“Sure, Chef. Bless.”

“You’re the best, Mbatt. Always knew you’d make a perfect number two.”

Greyson could hear the eye roll through the phone. “Don’t get sappy, old man,” Matt said. “See you soon.”

***

To say Elijah felt like shit would’ve been the understatement of the century.

When he woke up that morning, Elijah was fairly sure he was dying. The fever he’d crawled into bed with hadn’t budged, his sinuses were packed, and he’d officially acquired the final gem on his sick-as-fuck gauntlet: the cough. This day was going to be absolute hell.

Elijah did his level best to get ready for the busy service; he managed to take about half a shower before he had to sit down, dizzy from exertion; he’d gotten one contact in before sneezing so hard he almost poked his eye out and settled on glasses; he’d even found the strength to put on a pair of pants, though a button down was entirely too much for his shaking hands, so he settled on a cardigan that looked passable enough. God he hoped the servers – and Mark – would be able to hold down the fort out front, because this was nothing short of tragic.

Unwilling to deal with the subway and unable to drive safely in this state, Elijah settled on calling an Uber to work. It was early, a little before eight, but he knew if he didn’t get there now, he’d never make it.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” the driver said, leaving Elijah to immediately regret his decision not to drive. “Pretty early to be up and at ‘em. You heading to see family?”

Elijah cleared his throat as best he could before begrudgingly responding to the driver. “Ndot quite,” he said, his voice strained and congested. “Worki – HGSTHH-ue! HRSSH! ETSZCH-uh!” Elijah attempted to hold back the sneezes, unsuccessfully. Sans any tissues, he wiped his nose on his sweater sleeve. “Excuse mbe, sorry.”

“Working and sick on a holiday?” the driver said, shaking his head. “That’s rough, man. Bless you.”

Elijah’s face flamed, but he was in no state to deny. “Yeah,” he said instead. “Thangks.”

The rest of the drive was in blessed silence, and Elijah made sure to tip the guy extra for being exposed to whatever plague he was walking around with. When he finally pushed through the back door of the restaurant, Elijah felt like he’d already lived a lifetime today; he really wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to take.

“Elijah!” Greyson’s voice reached him before Elijah could even see his face. “Happy Thanksgiving, you sick old fuck!”

Elijah turned the corner and almost burst into tears – there stood Greyson, his face pale and nose bright red, and Matt and Mark looking no better, outside of his office; his office that had been, essentially, turned into a cozy-looking bedroom.

There were blankets on the floor, the chairs removed, and medicine on the desk. The harsh office light had been shut off, and instead one of the lamps from the host stand glowed gently from behind the computer. And, perhaps most heart-rendering, in Greyson’s hand was a bowl of steaming soup, and in Matt’s, a cup of tea.

“I know you hate working the holidays, and feeling like shit is just insult to injury,” Greyson said, setting down the bowl so he could guide Elijah into the office. “So we thought we’d mbake it just a little less shitty.”

Elijah allowed himself to be lead in, unable to find the words to thank his friend. He turned into his elbow to cough, a welcome respite from the tears he could feel threatening to spill over. “Grey,” he said when he’d gathered himself. “I… this is so… you guys…” he swallowed around the lump in his throat and shook his head. “I don’t kndow what to say,” he said, looking up at Greyson. “Thangk you.”

“Ah, save it,” Greyson said, placing a hand on his friend’s back. “You’re always looking after us. Call it our Thanksgiving to you.”

Elijah smiled a little, punched Greyson’s arm lightly, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Heading to see family? the Uber driver had asked him. Maybe he had been, after all.

[fic-heaven]

Fangs (Gus x reader)

Chapter 1. Calvary is here.

[Master list]

Slight gore/ s#xual tension

-Your team is assigned to rescue a valuable contact, things take an ugly turn. The annoying tension between you and Ghost had accompanied you for a very long time, long enough to realize there's someone else paying close attention to you.

You dreamt of mangled skin and blood dripping from your mouth.

Even in the darkness of the room you could taste it. You knew it wasn't real but you could still feel it's texture, the smell and the pained screams of Hassan Zyani. You can feel the weight of Soap's stare as he allows you to go wild ripping the terrorist quite literally to shreds with your own hands and tee, your lieutenant and mentor, Ghost, overlooking at the scene with the visor of his MCPR-300 until he decides to break the silence with a dry "target neutralized."

He was meant to take the killing shot.

Ghost was meant to kill Hassan when the terrorist intended to throw a fatally wounded Johnny out the window, but it was you who after making it to the right floor grabbed Hassan throwing him to the side with force dislocating his shoulder in the process, and instead of using your handgun or your knife to give him the quick death you were trained to give, you took a much more personal approach with a crazed look in your eyes. You ended him by ripping his throat open with your teeth.

"Wake up, Hound. Come on."

His blood was everywhere, you were coated in it. Bathed in a pool of red with your turbulent mind darkened by a thin layer of feelings, confusion about what you did, utter rage because of what he had done and what he tried to do to Johnny, a war's baptism.

(Y/n) died on that building and something else took place. A wilder more primal part of that dead woman you used to be awakened within you.

"Hound."

That's how they started calling you since then. The hound, Price's loyal dog. All because you killed that bastard Hassan as if you were an animal sinking your fangs on your prey's neck.

Larger hands shake you awake by your shoulders, your eyes flutter open and you are quick to spot a giant skull mask glaring down at you.

"Mgh... My god, Simon... Can't you wake me with a kiss? Is this how you wake every lady you sleep with?"You joke referring to your quick nap in separate beds.

Your lieutenant gives you a nasty side-eye hiding his amusement while collecting your gear from the floor and throwing it your way. You catch it with a huff then you put it on as you look around the hotel room Laswell had rented for your unit to crash in while you waited for the backup to arrive so you could begin the mission. Ghost then growled "Not happening. Also don't spill your wishes out loud, Sargeant. I don't have t'remind ya that fraternizing with your lieutenant is strictly prohibited." Ghost hoarsely says looking at himself in the mirror from the vanity near the door. He's probably checking on the black paint around his eyes.

"But are we not allowed to get a boner out of thinking 'bout it, sir?"

"Touché." He clicks his tongue.

Ghost will never say it, but he fucking loves when you get this foxy out of nowhere, out of the lot of you, (aside from Johnny) you are the one who appreciates more his dark humour and he adores the way it perfectly fits yours.

You wheeze out a laugh and rush to meet him at the door of your shared room "Come on, LT. To deny our biological needs SHOULDN'T be a prohibition, don't ya think?"

Ghost snorts, you march down the hall, his bulky body eating up most of your field of view.

"Masturbation between teammates could be an amazing bonding exercise! Picture it!"

He gives you a glance "I can picture that alright..."

You smack his back grinning "No, no, but take this seriously. Imagine the captain-"

Ghost abruptly stops when you reach the stairs to the lower floor making you bump against his back, he turns around, slightly lowers himself to your level and carefully takes your hands with his to then lean in weirdly close.

"You just killed the magic with one word." That earned a laugh from you, he continued.

"Listen. Price, Gaz n' Soap are in the other room with the three other operators from SpecGru. Remember what I told ya?"

You sigh and put on your metallic facemask that resembled a dog's growling snout before listing: "Stay professional, keep a low profile and don't talk unless it's needed."

Ghost nods and you fix him a sassy smile under your mask "Since when did you decide to baby me?"

-"Since you ran yer fucking mouth and confirmed the rumours were true-"

-"That only happend once and I was drunk, come on..''

-"Once is all you need for people to keep bringin' up the bloody topic. Now they know for certain it was you and not me who killed Hassan and how you did it." Ghost spat poking your chest with an accusatory finger.

You looked up at him in challenge, he didn't waver but you notice his breaths turning a bit heavy once you got a step closer.

"I can play nice if you want me to." Ghost's response is silence and you speak lowly and careful this time.

"Simon, you know I can take the cold Sargeant role like I was made for it, right? Come on, don't fret, everything will be alright." You are whispering now because you are not dumb, you know the effect you have on Ghost. Your lieutenant has known you for long enough to know you are just toying with him and yet...

"...I know you can." His biological needs haven't been satiated in nearly a year and never by you. His star pupil and closest friend, someone he could trust yet never had intimated with, not in that level at least. As he said, it's strictly prohibited to fraternize.

You slowly nod taking pride on his dilated pupils and slowly move to take the hand he was using to point at your chest lifting it to your face so that he is now covering your mask over your mouth "You have me muzzled, LT. There's nothing I can do but obey. I'll behave like your favorite Sargeant, as always." He shivered but played it off by shoving your face away annoyed, you crackled maliciously.

"You are Insufferable."

_____

-"They had demonized her..."

-"Demonized her!? She ripped a guy's throat with her fucking mouth, Gustavo-"

-"It wasn't just any guy. Also that's rad as fuck, not gonna lie."

-"Reyes you are not helping!"

-"Good! Because I don't intend to help. Befriend the rabid bitch! The crazier the better right? Considering our line of work answer this: What's better? To have a crazy-dangerous ally or a crazy-dangerous foe?"

Nova pursed her lips as Reyes shot her a look that said "period."

Gus forces a tight-lipped smile "That about answers itself, hermano."

Ghost and you had walked to Price's room door where you were supposed to wait for him and the others but apparently the calvary had gotten in beforehand and decided to wait inside. You shared a look of surprise with the lieutenant, he lowly ordered you to wait outside to go in once the rest of the 141 arrived from the hotel's lobby where they were talking with Kate, but you played dumb and opened the door as casually as you could leaving an irritated Ghost following after you.

You two stand there in the now open door, the three operators sitting on the only bed looked up at you like three kids who just got caught doing something they shouldn't.

"Carry on. I love to eavesdrop." You humored.

The three of them looked your age, maybe a bit younger. A black woman with vitiligo, Nova, looked up at you filled with intimidation and weariness, to her left sat a man of pale skin and dark brown hair smiling widely with dark admiration and next to him there was a South American man with black, curly hair under a beret with a big moustache.

Once he saw your eyes lay upon him, the latin straightened his back. His golden eyes lit with recognition until his face contorted to a mix of his fellow partners' expressions. He looked awestruck, his golden orbes held a very noticeable admiration yet you didn't miss the nervous tremble on his hands before he hid them behind him in order to get up from his sitting position. You couldn't tell if he was excited or frightened.

Probably the latter judging by conversation you heard they were having plus your reputation...

"Sargeant Hound-...! My name's Gustavo Rodriguez, Costa Rican operator from SpecGru's private military company at your- at Captain Price's service." He explained, his body going rigid trying to show his respect.

"Gus, right? I saw your file on our way to Manhattan. What's a cop doing in the military?"

He could have very well turned into a tomato the moment he heard you had seen his file, Gus was quick to respond a little louder than before in order to muffle his partner's laughter at this whole interaction.

"I aimed to protect my country from cartel, mi sargento. But with no army where I live, once I turned of age i had to join la Fuerza Pública for five years until I was invited to join Costa Rica's Special Intervention Unit, which is uh... An Elite team tasked with matters of national security and reporting directly to the Minister of the Presidency."

You smiled amused and a little taken aback by his passionate spirit. "Until?"

You knew there was more to the story, after all he wasn't in Costa Rica. He was shoulder deep in the Terrorist shit your own task force was ordered to clean.

Fuck, SpecGru wasn't even supposed to be involved until Laswell magically appeared with the news that these three fools were contracted to help and support your team on this seemingly tedious mission.

-"Until two years ago when SpecGru was founded."

-"An opportunist, are you?"

-"Bueno, I like to say I'm ambitious. For the good of the people, of course... Not to impress your captain with a good CV."

You laughed at this, Gus smiled in delight instantly enamoured with the sound of your laughter.

Five years as a cop plus three in Costa Rica's SIU and two more years in SpecGru considering he entered the academy fast as hell equals twenty six years... How old was this sexy chunk of meat?

-"And how old are you?"

-"Just turned thirty, señorita."

-"Admirable. Happy birthday." You couldn't help but praise.

Your teasing nature quieted down at the presence of a promising lad working along your unit.

Gus smiled softly then, a sigh of relief scaping his plump lips. It felt good to be acknowledged by your idols.

You heard Ghost scoff behind you, Gus' two companions watch him incredulous because of his short (probably prepared) speech.

You ate up his delighted reaction trying to contain the toothy smile from under your facemask and slowly walked closer to him with a curious glint in your eyes and a small swing in your step. Gus didn't move a muscle, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"What do you specialize in, soldado?"

Hearing his mother's tongue from the one and only Sargeant Hound from the 141 he has heard so much about since he joined SpecGru made a shiver run up his spine.

"In hostage rescue and asset protection..."

Ghost looks down his watch inpatient to get this over with. Reyes, the other operator sees his opportunity to jump into the conversation seemingly as eager to interact with Hassan's butcher.

"Apologies for my brother in arms' fanboy moment. He was excited to meet you, after all... You could say we've got money on our pockets thanks to your bite." The Canadian jest with a teasing tone matching yours, he sounds so sure of himself you knew already this guy was one hot headed mother fucker with an ego that paired up well with Gus' humble nature and Nova's head-on-the-ground attitude.

-"Mind explaining that, um..."

-"Enzo Reyes, ma'am. Reyes for shorts."

You nod expectant. Reyes clears his throat.

"SpecGru and KorTac were founded after Hassan's death, your execution, as diabolical as everyone puts it, benefitted us greatly. So thank you, you crazy, cannibalistic bitch for giving us a job."

Your eyes widen at the crude wording, Gus looks away with a defeated sigh, Nova elbows Reyes' arm with so much force he smacks her arm back with a growl. Ghost did not like that one bit deciding to step up making his presence known in the room, anger emanate from his body mixing with the tense atmosphere.

"I like this guy." You laugh quickly dissipating the tension. You missed Nova's sigh of relief.

All of you quickly got alerted by the dry coughs of Price who stepped inside the crowded room with Gaz and Soap following behind. Ghost left space for his captain but you didn't, resulting in Price gently guiding your careless self to follow him with a hand in your lower back, like a father with a toddler. The captain sighed looking around the room making sure all of you were there.

-"I see we missed first introductions. Whatever, we can get started now that we're all 'ere."

-"About bloody time..." Ghost whispered and you snorted.

As the captain explained the situation, the three SpecGru operators stared analyzing your group.

All of you were attentive to your captain quickly leaving aside your shenanigans to pay attention to every word he said. After the hell all of you had gone through it was clear your loyalty to Price was unbreakable. Lord knows life has given you chances to leave the task force but none of you took them because you believed in what you were doing, because you believed in Johnathan Price, because you were proud to be part of something bigger than yourselves to help people around the world neutralizing threats so the future generations could live a more peaceful life.

Gus couldn't feel more admiration than he already did, his heart swell with pride and eagerness to work along you and he could already picture himself in the future begging Laswell and his Team Leaders to allow Nova, Reyes and himself the chance to work with you again.

The focused look in your beautiful, hypnotic eyes dragged the Rican back to the present.

To summer things up, one of Kate's valuable contacts from New York had gotten captured by an unknown enemy ready to be flown from Manhattan to another location she was still trying to figure.

The reason you needed these three other operators was because their german TL (Team Leader) was related to this particular objective. Stressed about the safety of his family member he sent three operators he personally chose to aid the 141 on the rescue as the hostage was equally important to both teams. Not to mention the amount of crucial information the hostage had.

Laswell had informed Price that the captured victim managed to send her a message saying he had heard something about being transported somewhere near LaGuardia airport until they could escort him to a secured plane.

"The message was sent from this location." Price said.

Gaz shows you the tablet he was tapping on. The pad reveals pictures of an abandoned psychiatric hospital in the middle of a gigantic clearing a few kilometers away from the airport they planned to take the hostage.

-"Easy to spot us in such clearing..." Soap observes.

-"We could infiltrate in the night. Use the darkness to our benefit." Offered Gaz.

-"Nah, that's still too risky, they'd probably had transported the lad by the time we get there." Debated Reyes.

-"Besides, we would be risking the hostage's life if we wait any longer for night to fall..." Nova finally spoke.

The captain cracked his knuckles, his eyes fuxed on the tablet until he shot Gus a look of expectancy. He too had read his file judging by the way he expected him to suggest something, the Rican had enough experience at hostage rescue to know a better strategy. Don't underestimate the captain, he already had a plan to offer but he wanted to give the three new additions some time to prove themselves.

Gus brushes his moustache in thought. "The sewers." He mutters, one gloved finger pointed to one miniature in the sea of images from the tablet, the miniature showed a complete map of the underground tunnels that crossed the area. Soap agreed with a click of his tongue and a nod.

Price smiled widely, his eyes crinkling.

-"We'll use the sewers."

-"I bet they know we'll use 'em to get there." You said, Gus nods and Price replies:

-"They sure as hell know we'll do. But they don't know how many we are."

-"Or who we are." Ghost said with determination.

______

Diving through Manhattan's sewers was like walking around an scenario from one of those old horror games you play with Johnny on his ps2.

Not to mention it was confusing as hell... There were tunnels everywhere, Laswell had warned you about this and to pay careful attention to the map as well as the river of shit that ran through the tunnels, apparently this stinky nightmare of a place was plagued with crocodiles. No joke.

To make the trip even more fun, Soap had spotted a trap at the beginning of one particular tunnel that stink worse than the others and you instantly knew this was the one you had to take to get to the clearing.

-"That tunnel will get you to the parking lot behind the main building. Find a hole to crawl out of and get in there as quick as possible." Laswell's voice resonated from your radios.

-"Understood."

You could feel someone's eyes on you the whole time. And although you always pretended to bask on any attention given, feeling someone's eyes on you constantly made you tick. So multiple times you had turned around only to find Gus looking elsewhere and Ghost keeping watch on the waters in case any croc decided to welcome all of you.

A distant booming sound made you all stop on your tracks pointing your guns ahead. Something had triggered a trap.

-"Probably a crocodile." Said Soap.

-"Or an enemy..." Smirked Reyes.

-"What's the difference?" You asked.

Your earpiece buzzed "For starters, the crocodiles don't have the brains nor the need to kidnap one of my most valuable contacts." Joked Kate.

The captain stopped all of you minutes after.

You all pointed your torches ahead, a litter of corpses spread across the tunnel.

-"We've got corpses 'round here." Gaz informed Laswell.

-"The hostage?" She asked, nervousness lazed on her voice.

The group begun inspecting the dead bodies, clear victims of various traps and mines around the place that the waters had dragged to your direction and got stuck in the junk and shit in the ground.

Most of them were dressing in matching dark clothes, others in casual wear, probably civilians who decided to dive a little too far where they shouldn't.

The ones with dark clothes held fire weapons, other than that they had nothing else.

"No trace of the objective so far..." You informed before the radio caught Laswell's sigh of relief.

Nova spotted one particular body at the further corner of the pit that caught her eye. She sat next to it, inspecting it's pockets with concentration until she stopped to wiggle on her spot.

-"Wot' am I sitting on?" Nova rose her bum only to stumble forwards with a yelp at the realization that she had fully planted her ass on an enemy's corpse. -"Shame it wasn't his face." She blurted out making Reyes snort.

-"The smell would have killed the lad instantly. But nothing compares to the smell of Manhattan's sewers...Worst mission of my fucking life."

-"It's Man-ah-Hatan, idiota" Gus wrongly corrected a few steps behind you. He was so close his sweet cologne almost covered the smell of shit.

"MANHATTAN, DICKHEAD! TWO DAYS HERE AND YOU STILL PRONOUNCE IT LIKE YOU ARE CONSTIPATED."

Reyes' bark echoed through the tunnel making the rest of you turn to them wide-eyed.

The glare Ghost shot them three made you giggle, the captain didn't keep quiet either instantly snapping at them to focus, Soap being Soap resisted the urge to laugh along and Gaz gritted his teeth at the seemingly lack of professionalism. You just smiled widely under your facemask and continued inspecting the place sneaking a wink to Gus' way, he blinked surprised.

-"Forgive their idiotic behavior, cap." Nova sighed "I've found some keys."

-"Keep 'em. We'll probably need them in the future." Price ordered ignoring the apology.

Following the tunnel your group of eight encountered an intersection. Two tunnels that went in different directions made all of you look at the map until another sound of a distant explosion caused your heads to snap to the right, guns loaded and ready.

"I wonder where we should go now..." you sarcastically said.

This time you caught Gus' amber eyes quickly adverting his gaze somewhere else with a contained smile. Curious.

Walking a little further to the right tunnel, you found a monster of a crocodile the size of the old leather couch Gaz had donated to the base a few months ago laying on the ground with an exploded tummy, it's intestines spread all across the ground, brick walls and the black waters. To your horror the animal hissed somehow still alive after triggering a mine.

-"Oh my god."

-"And they said crocodiles in Manhattan's sewers were a myth..."

-"Look at the size of that thing. What the hell do they feed on down here?"

-"Dead bodies of dumb divers probably..."

Reyes laughed "Thank you Mini-Godzilla for eating enough shit to trigger half the traps 'round here."

Ghost surprised you lowly laughing to himself. Surely he had remembered the dog pun he told you and Johnny while being chased in Las Almas.

______

The walk didn't last much longer for when your knees started protesting you found a metal door rotten by the passing of time, as Watcher-1 had said, behind the door you found the parking lot near the main building where they guarded the hostage.

The captain had split the group of eight into four teams since the building was big as hell, and although Laswell had located the signal from the phone the hostage used to send the message, the captain wanted to make sure all the building was clear to proceed with the rescue instead of throwing yourselves directly where they had secluded him.

The building was rotten all over, there weren't any traps like on the sewers and you found little enemies to neutralize in the quietest way possible.

Exploring the abandoned creepy halls in the light of day with the captain wasn't exactly what you had in mind, you felt a tingle of disappointment that he hadn't paired you up with any of the new meat SpecGru had sent.

"You are my right hand. Can't do this without ya." That's the excuse Price gave you. But you suspect he just wants to keep you on a short leash. Because who knows, maybe one day the story will repeat itself, right? Maybe you'll go crazy or run your mouth like you always do... You grit your teeth in anger. The captain and the others will not stop treating you like a radioactive isotope until you get evaluated by a professional on the base and as it turned out he was took a well-deserved vacation before you had the chance to pay him a visit.

Reyes and Ghost encounter a two-way hallway where they parted to the right while Gus and Soap went to the left, the captain and you followed upstairs and Gaz and Nova went to the other set of stairs on the opposite wall. At first you only used knives because packing gun silencers didn't mean you'd kill in total silence, and with the crazy echo this big building had thanks to the lack of forniture and thin paper walls you could easily hear the enemies talking and patrolling around. But things changed when all of you heard a gunshot downstairs followed by pained grunts and an unfamiliar voice.

"Idiot! Watch your fucking aim!"

All of you sigh in relief, shortly after Soap had slit that enemy's throat and Gus had done the same with the other before they joined you on the upper level, though in different halls.

You all cleared the building fast, or so you had thought.

You only took your eyes away for a second inspecting various cushioned rooms infested with rats, Price was a few steps ahead of you on the same hall doing the same thing with the rooms of the opposite wall until he felt hot pain hit his shoulder, he grunts in surprise alerting you instantly.

Looking further from Price was a young man with a pistol, he had this face filled with warn daring price to take another step, he hasn't spot you yet, you took advantage of this crouching a little inside the cushioned room you were previously inspecting.

-"Fatima, Bilal, Mustafa, Omar, Abdul, Salem..." The enemy listed. "I could tell you all the names of the soldiers you and your team had killed and yet you would not care. I stand here with a gun on my hand pointing at your heart and you still look uninterested... You have no souls. Disgusting animals sent to kill us all, but Duke will make you pay for what you've done. For general Ghorbrani, for major Hassan-"

-"HOUND-! KILL HIM!"

You launched forwards at your Captain's command, moving in zigzags dodging the numerous debrils, wires and junk around the floor, the moment the shocked enemy gathered his shit to point his gun at you his jaw cracked at the harsh impact you delivered with the butt of your chosen weapon instantly sending him to the ground. He screamed in pain chocking on his flowing blood but that didn't stop his trembling hands to try repositioning his pistol clearly wanting to go with a fight, though it was too late for the bastard because just as he got up you shot him on the chest at the same time rain of blood splattered to your face. Ghost had shot his head from behind when he heard the commotion. His eyes widened seeing your bloodied form appear behind the falling corpse, he froze thinking he had shot you in the head until-

"Oh come on, LT... I had it under control!" You cleansed your squinting face but you only managed to spread the blood and brain matter further. "UGH-... I need a fucking shower after this..."

Price rushed to you inspecting you pulling an equally worried Ghost aside, you did the same looking at his shoulder alarmed.

"It's just a grace, don't worry honey."

"Whatever old man... Just... Be more aware of your surroundings..."

Price shared a look with Ghost who quickly recomposed focusing on contacting Gaz, Nova and the others to keep their guard up.

"X ray down! And that's why you don't spend an eternity monologuing." Reyes humored walking in. The Canadian pushed the fallen enemy's head with the tip of his boot, his smile widening when he spotted your bloodied face.

"Gus would kill for this view~"

Nova's voice reached your earpiece "Cap. We found some makeshift cells. No enemies down 'ere."

"Copy. On our way..."

______

Walking to Gaz and Nova's position you found Gus and Soap along the way, and as Reyes had previously said, the eyes of the Rican were wide with worry until he realized you were healthy as a rose, yet his amber pearls would not leave your face for a second, not even when Price spoke or when all of you started walking. Was this guy smitten by you? It seems Reyes wasn't joking.

"Over there-" Nova pointed at the last cell to the further corner of the hall.

The Captain ordered Gus and you to investigate and Gaz and Soap to guard the entrance of the hall in case you missed an enemy while him and Ghost opened the door with some shears, Nova and Reyes were the first to go inside the pitch-black cell. Reyes lit the place with his torch and so did the captain and the lieutenant.

The body of the deceased hostage hanged from the ceiling by a metal hook that pierced his ankle. He was facing the wall before Reyes approached to angle the body to the light.

On his chest was a message that said "The hunt have just begun." Carved with a knife, the blood around the letters was dried to a very dark red almost black which meant it was scribbled long before your team arrived the building.

Nova approached the body with a perturbed face.

-"Holy shit, that's Karl... Team leader's son..."

Laswell's voice quickly reached your radios at this.

-"Is he alive?"

Ghost entered the cell. By that time all of you had turned to look inside as well.

-"Negative. He's dead, and by the looks of it, it occurred long before we arrived. The lad probably got caught sending you the text so they killed him."

The captain stomped in frustrated, then proceeded to inspect the body.

-"Sliced throat. They left a message on the body."

Price signaled Gaz to point his laptop's camera to the body letting Laswell see what all of you were seeing. She was quiet until she hummed in understatement.

"Captain!" Gus called from the other cell. Price looked to the right, sighed and left the cell to join the rican. You and Gus were inspecting a stock of documents near a laptop. Gaz entered the cell carrying his own to show Laswell the new cell.

"Sargeant Hound. Plug Garrick's laptop into the other one."

Gaz handed you a cable and you did as told, transferring every archive you could find inside it while the others swallowed the defeat in tense silence.

Soap was the first to speak up.

-"They called a name on their coms... Duke. I dunno, maybe he's the boss."

Now that you recall, the guy who tried to kill Price did mention that name.

"With a name like that he's gonna go mwaha-ha at some point, I just know it." Gus smiled at your humor.

Ghost smacked the cell's bars with frustration. "The bastard wasn't even 'ere. He must have ordered his men to pull this bullshit to call our attention."

Gaz massaged his temple placing down the laptop near you and the enemy's.

-"So he just placed this laptop filled with his malevolent plans near our target for us to find?" The brit said sarcastically.

-"Looks like it. There has to be more this than it might seem." Price hummed.

-"Maybe the target wasn't even Karl..." Nova said and all of you looked at her, her words making sense instantly.

-"Maybe WE were the target." She clarified.

-"If we are the target... Where's the ambush?" Gus voices out his anxious thoughts.

Reyes laughed bitterly.

-"That wit made us fall for it, Fuck! He even left a trail of crumbs for us to find and follow him into the devil's nest."

-"But where is this devil's nest...?" Price asked.

You lifted the laptop once you were done transferring the information and Laswell spoke up.

"Reyes is right. This... Duke, has kept a list of different locations on each archive. We must find which location he really is in and-"

You all waited a beat before the captain worriedly called out Kate whose voice went quiet as she read through the files.

-"This is serious, John. Duke isn't a nobody. He's the head of a mafia called Shiv Ka Haath, (Shiva's hand) from New India. He rules over a chain of different illegal businesses, each of them handled by people he trusts. A madam who owns the 70% of the nightclubs and brothels on the country, the head of a temple who traffics with weapons and drugs and lastly, his son, who has started his own busines organizing spectacles and fights of all kinds going from dogs, immigrants desperate for money to... even children fights. None of their names are mentioned but there's so much illegal activity listed in here...And that isn't all..."

You all listened carefully, realization hitting hard that this mission might hold more depth than you had initially thought.

"There's so much information here to investigate it's clear he wants us to find him. For now, take everything you can and go back to the base ASAP."

Price orders all of you to collect the Intel as he contacts Nikolai to take you and Karl's body back to the base.

_______

The three additions to the group sat in silence staring at the distance. They were aware the moment TL read each of their reports hell will break lose, and although this meant SpecGru will get involved on this matter, Gus allowed himself to feel a greedy relief that he'll possibly work alongside your team again in the future. If TL and Laswell approve, of course.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 7: King Of Wishful Thinking]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, discussions of sex, outdoor excursions, Trent being the Hulk, Sunfyre sightings, emotional outbursts, a late-night phone call, a wild traumatic backstory appears! Also I have bronchitis and wrote this while very heavily medicated, in my Aegon Era you could say.

Word count: 6.7k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: ​​​@elsolario​ @meadowofsinfulthoughts​ @ladylannisterxo​ @doingfondue​ @tclegane​ @quartzs-posts​ @liathelioness​ @aemcndtargaryen​ @thelittleswanao3​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @b1gb3anz​ @hinata7346​ @poohxlove​ @borikenlove​ @myspotofcraziness​ @travelingmypassion​ @graykageyama​ @skythighs​ @lauraneedstochill​ @darlingimafangirl​ @charenlie​ @thewew​ @eddies-bat-tattoos​ @minttea07​ @joliettes​ @trifoliumviridi​ @bornbetter​ @flowerpotmage​ @thewitch-lives​ 

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When you return from helping to deliver a calf on Mr. Campbell’s reindeer farm, you find Aegon in the vet clinic lobby. He is squaring up with Jennifer; the heap of twenty-dollar bills he stacks on the counter are crisp and uncrumpled, very much unlike his usual currency. He counts until he gets to $300 and then tucks his thin, tattered wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. He’s wearing half of his hair in a man bun again, along with his long-sleeve shirt that’s striped with black and white: night and stars, ink and snow. He startles when he turns to leave and sees you.

“How did you get that?”

“I told you,” Aegon says. “I sold a kidney. The slicing part was unpleasant, but I feel so much lighter now.”

“No, really.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. He seems mostly sober. “I pawned something.”

“Pawned what?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

“It honestly doesn’t.”

“What do you own that’s worth that much…?” You glance through the window. His green Nova is straddling two spaces in the parking lot, illuminated by dim melancholy streetlights. If it wasn’t the car, what was it? What the hell was it?

Aegon holds his hands open, empty. “You wanted me to pay you back. Now you’re mad that I paid you back. I don’t know how to win with you, Appletini.”

The words themselves are irritated, he should sound irritated; but he just sounds sad. A heavy quilt of silence settles over the lobby. Your gaze is tangled up in his: blue, oceanic, mottled like a bruise. Jen watches from behind the front desk with huge, zooming eyes. She clears her throat to get your attention. Bear mace! she mouths, pointing at your purse.

You shake off your paralysis. “I’m sorry,” you tell Aegon. “Thanks for the money.”

He rubs the back of his neck anxiously. “Do you want to get a drink or something? Maybe talk…about…things…?”

“No. I’m covered in reindeer placenta.”

“Fine.” He blows by you, yanks open the front door, and is gone before you can take it back.

What’s there to talk about? you think, trying to convince yourself that you made the right decision. He’s still with Kimmie, I’m still with Trent, his time in Juneau is still ticking down towards zero. And yet, as his Nova swerves out of the parking lot, you feel an ache in your bones like a fracture.

“You okay?” Jen asks.

“Yeah. Can I get that $300?”

Confused but ever-compliant, Jen hands you the $300 in twenties.

“Do I have any more appointments this afternoon?”

“No, Ms. Flynn just called to reschedule Hyacinth’s yearly checkup.”

Oh yes, Hyacinth the semi-tamed opossum. Not your favorite client. “Perfect. Let’s close up a little early. I need to go home and scrub the blood out of my hair.”

In the midst of the steam and the pounding rainfall of the shower, you turn it over and over again in your mind: What did he pawn? What did he risk losing to pay me back? Reindeer blood, viscous and lifegiving, turns the soap bubbles dark pink as they are sucked down the drain. It’s not until you step out onto the bathmat and catch a glimpse of your reflection in the fogged mirror—of the foamy white flecks of soap still dappling your throat like pearls—that you remember the gold chain necklace Aegon wore to Thanksgiving dinner.

$300? you think doubtfully. A pawn shop will only loan someone a portion of the value of the item they hold as collateral, rarely more than half. Usually much less. Is that chain worth $600, $800, $1,000? Maybe. If it’s real gold. You don’t want to imagine how Aegon ended up with something like that. There’s no honorable answer. You throw on jeans and a chunky royal blue sweater and head out to your Jeep Cherokee.

There is only one pawn shop in Juneau, which makes things easy. You arrive ten minutes before closing time. Sure enough, store owner Mark Morehouse confirms your hypothesis: a peculiar white-haired out-of-towner showed up earlier today, offered a gold chain, received cash in return.

“But I didn’t give him $300,” Mark says. “I gave him $500.”

“$500?!” you exclaim. “You really think that necklace is worth a grand?”

“A couple grand, more likely. Haven’t gotten a proper appraisal yet.”

“Well…” You count every last cent of cash you have in your purse. The cannister of bear mace clatters as you dig through gum wrappers, pens, tissues, strawberry Creme Savers, crinkled receipts. “I can give you $410 now and a solemn vow to settle the balance later. Plus interest, of course.”

Indisputably, it is a breach of pawn shop ethics to let one customer walk out with another’s collateral before they’ve had adequate opportunity to pay back the loan. But Mark grew up with your parents, just like Dale did, and Heather’s parents, and Joyce’s parents, and half of your vet clinic clients, on and on until Juneau feels less like a city than an inescapably embroiled web. Everybody knows everybody…though not well enough to recognize the face of a killer. You explain to Mark that the white-haired out-of-towner is in fact a friend, and one that you are trying to do a favor for. He gives you the gold chain necklace in exchange for your cash and your word. It’s worth a lot around here. Vince and Debbie are good, honest people; surely their daughter must be too.

“Be careful,” Mark calls after you as you depart. “Until they catch that murderer, you shouldn’t be running around town alone after dark. And you definitely shouldn’t be getting too cozy with strangers.”

“Aegon’s not a stranger,” you say, smiling a little as you linger in the doorway. “Not anymore.”

Once you’re back in your Jeep, you turn on the heat and the interior light and inspect the chain more closely. It definitely feels expensive: heavy, flawless, golden links that are smooth like butter when you thread them between your fingers. On the long rectangular clasp, you find this engraved in artful cursive letters:

Happy birthday, dearest Aegon!

You flip the clasp over. There are three more words on the back, accompanied by—however bizarrely—a tiny praying mantis.

Much love, Helaena

“Helaena?” you say to no one as your Jeep idles outside the pawn shop. “Who the fuck is Helaena?!”

You have no right to be jealous, and yet you can feel the dark green poison of it growing into you like ivy: needling through joints, cracking bones, drinking up rust-scarlet marrow. You hate how much you want him. You hate that so many people on this planet carry pieces of him that you will never know. You shift your Jeep into drive and glide through the night towards his apartment building.

You shouldn’t go up there, you tell yourself as you park under a streetlight. He might be busy. He might not be alone. He might be with Kimmie.

But maybe that’s what part of you is hoping for. Maybe you’re looking for a chance to interrupt them, to stop them, to work up the courage to tell Kimmie the truth. She would listen if you told her, you believe that wholeheartedly; Kimmie has never been malicious, only self-involved, only shallow in a way that can be frustrating but also somehow pure. You always know exactly what Kimmie’s intentions are. She is as clear as still water, as glass.

As it turns out, Aegon is alone in his apartment. When you turn the spare key he gave you in the lock and open the front door, you find him sprawled on the couch and three rum and Cokes deep. He’s watching reruns of the X-Files. He yelps in surprise, flails, rolls onto the floor with a loud thud.

“Hi,” you say. Sunfyre frolics over to greet you, barking gleefully. You stroke his silky amber fur and scratch his ears, admiring the neat faint line of the scar on his muzzle. It was excellent suturing, you have to admit to yourself. It was a job well done.

“Jesus Christ, I thought you might be…” Aegon shakes his head as he lurches to his feet. “Never mind.”

“Kimmie?”

“No. Kimmie wouldn’t break and enter. And she doesn’t have a key.”

You stare at each other across the sparce room, silent except for the X-Files, the clacking of Sunfyre’s nails on the hardwood floor, the swishing of his tail. Then you toss Aegon the necklace. He grabs it out of the air, the shock blatant on his face. “You lied again.”

“About what?” he says, puzzled.

“You are married.”

Aegon remembers the engraving and then chuckles in relief. “Helaena’s not my wife. She’s my sister.”

“Oh.” This is interesting. This is a rare divulgence; you don’t intend to waste it. “Older or younger?”

“Younger.”

“Is Helaena your only sibling?”

“Too many questions.” He holds up the necklace. “Why did you pay to get this back?”

“I decided I didn’t want your money. You don’t seem to have an abundance of it, and I wouldn’t want to deprive you and Sunfyre of anything. Food. Rent. Condoms. Rum and Cokes.”

“That’s very thoughtful. My nonexistent illegitimate children send their regards.” He considers you. “I can’t give you the rest of the $500 yet. I don’t have it on me anymore.”

“Forget about the money. You need it far more than I do.”

He seems to find this amusing, though you aren’t sure why. “That’s fair, I guess.”

“Why do you hate Microsoft so much?”

Aegon is taken aback; he wasn’t expecting that. He finds his footing. “With computers and the internet, there are no more secrets, no more mysteries. I think the world is a more interesting place when you still have room to wonder. You shouldn’t be able to get all the answers to life’s thorniest predicaments from a cold white screen. You should have to go out and find them yourself. You should have to pay sweat and blood for them.”

“How contrarian. Self-righteous, even.”

He smiles. “That’s the Aquarius in me.”

You smile back, unable to help it. “Are you coming tomorrow?” Tomorrow is Saturday, December 11th. Heather has planned a hiking excursion in the Tongass National Forest; it’s forecasted to be unseasonably warm, 40 degrees by noon, practically balmy by Alaskan standards. You’ll have a few hours of daylight to enjoy before sunset around 3 p.m. And since the Juneau Police Department is adamant that no one traverses the trails alone until the Ice Fisher is apprehended…a group outing is both a welcome excuse to socialize and the only sensible option.

“I don’t know.” Aegon is avoidant; he stuffs the chain necklace into his jeans pocket and reties his man bun. “Do you want me to go?”

“No.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, I don’t not want you to go, but I also don’t want you to go. I don’t care, that’s what I mean. I have no preference.”

“Okay…?”

“I want you to do whatever you want to do.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to intrude, so I don’t want to go if you don’t want me there.”

“I’m not saying I don’t want you to go hiking, I’m just saying I also don’t not want you to go hiking.”

He sighs dramatically. “You are being remarkably unhelpful.”

“I’m sure Kimmie would like you to attend,” you jibe.

He throws up his hands, exasperated. “She probably would!”

“She hasn’t mentioned it?”

“Kimmie and I don’t do much…um…talking.”

You frown sullenly at the scuffed, dusty floor. “Awesome.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you and Trent have lots of profound conversations when you hang out,” Aegon snaps. “You talk about science and animals and Ricky Martin and travelling the world and he talks about…what? Commercial fishing? Godzilla?”

“Steak tacos, mostly.”

That’s supposed to be a joke, but no one laughs. You actually wince at it. Aegon swallows noisily. He starts to say something, stops, starts again, gives up. He comes to you and points to your left hand. “Do you mind?”

You offer it freely. He massages your hand until it is supple and relaxed, gently bends and flexes your fingers, and then runs his calloused fingerprints down the lines of your palm as he studies them. You feel it everywhere: a cool tingling that shoots up your forearm, a jolt down your spine, the quickening of your heartbeat, a fresh wave of longing that crashes into you like the ocean against rocks. Why do I still want this? Why can’t I, after everything that’s happened, just learn how to hate him?

Aegon smirks crookedly. “It says you want me to go hiking tomorrow.”

“Who am I to disagree with an illustrious Taco Bell medium?”

Aegon drops your hand. “Is Trent going?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

He nods. “I’ll be there.”

“Okay. Fine.”

“Fine.”

You give Sunfyre a parting kiss on the top of his head and turn to go…but your eyes catch on the magnets that clutter Aegon’s refrigerator, the vestiges of cities and experiences and women that he’s collected like seashells from the types of beaches you’ve never been to.

San Diego, you think vaguely, wistfully, looking at the splashing dolphin magnet. That’s where he said his favorite beach is.

“…You alright?” Aegon asks tentatively, following your eyeline.

Not really. Not anymore. You leave without answering him.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Truth or dare?” Kimmie asks, grinning from across the flames.

You’re gathered around a crackling campfire, sitting on stumps and felled logs; Trent rolled over an impressively massive one for you and him to share. Aegon is next to Kimmie, Joyce is next to Rob, and Heather is once again lamenting her awkward singleness. There’s snow on the ground, though it’s squishy and melting under the short-lived midday sun. There are hotdogs and marshmallows being roasted on sticks; bags of hotdog buns, graham crackers, and Hershey’s chocolate are passed around in a never-ending rotation. As far as drinks, mostly everyone is sticking to Surge and Snapple. Trent has had a few Heinekens. Aegon is pouring spiced rum from a Captain Morgan bottle into his half-drank cans of Coke. Heather’s battery-powered yellow Sony boombox is playing a Go West cassette tape. Their biggest hit, King Of Wishful Thinking, thrums through the forest of towering pine trees. Sunfyre—wearing a jacket and dog boots so snow doesn’t get impacted between his footpads—romps blissfully around the woods, eating fallen bits of hotdogs and graham crackers whenever the opportunity presents itself.

“Seriously?” Heather says. “Are we twelve years old? We’re not playing truth or dare.”

“Come on, please?” Kimmie presses her palms together as if in prayer, like she’s the patron saint of indecent party games. “It’ll be fun. It’ll be so fun.”

“I’m game,” Trent says.

“Me too!” Rob adds, gnawing on his fourth hotdog.

Joyce bites into a s’more, gooey chocolate-stained marshmallow oozing out from between the graham crackers. “I decline to participate.”

“You can’t decline,” Kimmie pouts. She peers around for inspiration, then spots the creek babbling a few yards away. She announces triumphantly: “You can only surrender!”

Joyce blinks at her. “Explain.”

“If anyone refuses to play, they have to dunk their face in the water for five seconds.”

“But it’s freezing cold!”

“You are a menace to civilized society,” Heather tells Kimmie. “You should be on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. Right next to Osama bin Laden.”

“Who?” Trent asks.

“He’s behind bombings of U.S. embassies in East Africa,” you explain. “Killed hundreds of people.”

Trent smiles at you proudly, drapes a heavy arm across your shoulders, pulls you in close and kisses your temple. “You’re too fucking smart, you know that?” You giggle dutifully but lean away from him, mortified. Aegon mixes more rum into his Coke can. “She’s so fly. I’m always learning new stuff from her.”

“Oh yeah? Getting some quality anatomy lessons?” Rob teases.

Trent brays out laughter and flips his hair. “Man, I wish. No anatomy lessons yet. But, you know…Christmas is right around the corner…it’s a very romantic time of year…maybe I’ll find her wrapped in a bow under a Christmas tree.”

“Please shut up immediately,” Heather says, disgusted. “You’re my brother. I don’t want to know about your sex life. I barely want to know about your non-sex-related life.” Aegon casts her a rare glance of approval, of gratitude. You can relate; you’re feeling pretty grateful too.

“So we’re playing truth or dare?” Kimmie prompts.

“I’m willing if everyone else is,” you say. Kimmie, ecstatic, leaps out of her seat and sprints around the campfire to hug you before returning to her log.

Aegon slurps on his unorthodox rum and Coke. “Same.”

Joyce groans. “Fine, I guess I’ll play.”

“Okay,” Heather relents. “If it will make you happy, Kimmie, then I’ll mentally transport myself back to the dark days of middle school and play this asinine game with you.”

“Yay!” Kimmie cheers. “Okay, I’ll start.” Her mischievous gaze travels around the circle. You try to appear inconspicuous by focusing your attention on your s’more. “Rob, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he says, sitting up straighter and grinning enthusiastically.

“Go lick a tree.”

You burst out laughing; this really is so middle school.

“A tree?” Rob says, already scoping out the selection.

“Yup. A tree. Any tree.”

Rob stands, plods through the snow to a monstrous pine tree, and takes a long, slow lick of the bark. Everyone applauds his commitment. He returns to sit beside Joyce, who gives him a smile so swift it’s almost imperceivable. Joyce likes to pretend she’s above silliness—and maybe she is most of the time—but she’s still human.

“So you choose the next victim,” Kimmie instructs Rob.

“Okay, let’s see…” He makes a great show of scrutinizing everyone else before coming back to Joyce. “Darling Joyce, truth or dare?”

“If you try to make me lick something, I’ll stab you with your own hotdog stick.”

Rob smiles placidly. “Does that mean you’re choosing dare?”

“Yeah, I’ll choose dare. Only because Heather thinks I wouldn’t.”

“I am shocked,” Heather says, deadpan. “My heart just stopped. Someone resuscitate me.”

Rob thinks, tapping his bearded chin. “Hmm. Okay, Joyce, I dare you to stand on this log and serenade us with the entire Friends theme song.”

“No,” Joyce gasps, horrified.

“She can’t,” Heather says. “She’s allergic to fun and spontaneity.”

“I’ll do it,” Joyce huffs. She balances on top of the log and sings—even managing a few reluctant dance moves—while the rest of you clap at the appropriate moments: “So no one told you life was going to be this way…your job’s a joke, you’re broke, you’re love life’s DOA…”

“Who do you choose, Joyce?” Kimmie asks when the song has ended.

“Heather, obviously.” She is delighted, anticipating revenge. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Heather says primly, winking as she sips her can of Surge.

“You bitch! Who’s allergic to fun now?!”

“So ask me a fun question.”

Joyce sighs in defeat. “What are the five best books you’ve ever read?”

“You’re pathetic.”

“I need new reading material…!”

Next, Heather dares Kimmie to get a Sharpie tattoo drawn on her face—producing a black marker from her hiking backpack—though she gives Kimmie the generous courtesy of choosing the artist herself. Kimmie asks Aegon to do it. He sketches a cartoonish little dragon on her right cheek. He’s wearing all black again: black parka, black turtleneck, black jeans, black combat boots. You pet Sunfyre while Aegon draws on Kimmie’s cheek with his right hand, holding her face still with his left. You hate seeing him touch her. The blood burns in your own face, in your throat, in your lungs, all over.

“It’s getting warm by the fire,” you say casually, and start taking off your parka; you still have a turquoise sweater and white thermal T-shirt on underneath.

“Here, let me help you…” Trent reaches over and tugs at your parka, his large hands forceful and intrusive somehow.

“I got it.”

“Just let me—”

“Trent, I got it!” you insist. He lifts his hands away in capitulation. Aegon has stopped drawing Kimmie’s dragon and is watching Trent, who fortunately doesn’t seem very offended. You finish taking off your parka and fold it up neatly, setting it beside you on the log. Sunfyre whimpers until you resume petting him. There is an uncomfortable lull; Joyce assembles another s’more, Heather pretends to inspect her chipping nail polish, the hotdog Rob is roasting catches on fire and he flings it into a snowbank. Aegon looks back to Kimmie and finishes her dragon, tucking the Sharpie absentmindedly into his jeans pocket once he’s done.

“Trent,” Kimmie says. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare, totally!”

“Hmm…” She wordlessly deliberates. “Oh, I know! I dare you to make out with the most beautiful girl here.” She beams, sweetly, innocuously. She thinks she’s giving you a compliment. Aegon’s jaw falls open and he glares at her, furious. Before Kimmie can notice, he clears his face and takes a swig of rum straight from the bottle.

Trent chuckles. “Easiest dare I’ve ever agreed to.” And then he turns towards you.

“Wait, right now?” you say nervously. “In front of everybody?”

“Or Trent can always dunk his face in the creek,” Heather suggests. Joyce nods along.

“Not necessary at all,” Trent replies cheerfully. “Right, babe?”

What can you say?

No, you think abruptly, jarringly. I don’t want him to touch me. I could say no.

But there’s something that stops you from refusing…or, more accurately, several things. Firstly, you can’t really refuse without making it evident to everyone that you are less than smitten with Trent. Secondly, if you’re going to be forced to watch Aegon have his hands all over Kimmie, the least you can do in return is stop pushing Trent’s away. And lastly…

I don’t want to make Trent angry. I don’t know what he’s capable of when he’s angry.

You can’t bring yourself to believe that Trent is a serial killer, his size 12 L.L.Bean boots notwithstanding; in your estimation, he lacks the brutality, the cunningness, the strategic thinking. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of hurting someone. That doesn’t mean you have no reasons to fear him.

“Okay,” you tell Trent, conjuring up a timid smile. “But, like, thirty seconds tops. PG-13, not R.”

“You got it.” He flips his hair off his forehead, grips your face rather roughly, and kisses you. His lips are soft and warm, but ravenously hungry; his tongue pushes into your mouth and explores you like a conqueror. He doesn’t try to feel you up—thank God—but one hand drops down to slink around your waist. You try to act like you’re enjoying this; but when Trent finally pulls away, your expression is palpably ashamed. You chug half a can of Surge to wash him out of you.

“Aww, no, she’s embarrassed!” Kimmie cries. She rushes over and squeezes in beside you on the edge of the log, constricting you in a familiar and theatrical embrace, stroking your hair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You can’t help but feel better. Kimmie has no boundaries, that’s true, but it’s not universally a bad thing. Aegon takes another swallow of his rum. He looks shellshocked; he looks despondent.

“My turn to pick someone now, right?” Trent says.

“Right,” Kimmie concurs.

“Babe,” he says to you. “Truth or dare?”

“Oh, definitely truth.” Everyone laughs…well, everyone except Aegon. He’s watching you now, chewing the corner of his bottom lip. His eyes are intense, dark, seeking. His wayward lock of white-blond hair rests on his cheek.

Trent asks you: “What is your ultimate fantasy?”

“Stop!” Heather begs her brother. “Stop being so…so…so slutty!”

“He didn’t say sexual fantasy,” Joyce counters. “She could tell us that her ultimate fantasy is moving to Los Angeles and becoming a vet to celebrities. She could work on those tiny purse dogs all day. Maybe she could even meet Ricky Martin.”

“Yeah,” Trent agrees, though perhaps halfheartedly. “Whatever kind of fantasy.”

You ponder this for a while before you speak. “I want to lie on the beach in San Diego, California. I want to hear the waves crashing and feel the sun beating down on me. And I want to throw fish to the sea lions and watch them waddle around, barking like dogs. That’s my fantasy. Oh, and I want to eat like a million tacos. Not Taco Bell tacos, real tacos.”

“Okay, but Ricky Martin would be there too, right?” Rob jokes, eliciting laughter from everyone except Aegon.

“Naked,” Joyce adds.

“Sure.” You smile a little pensively, a little mournfully. “Why not? Ricky Martin can be there too. It’s just a fantasy, after all. It’s not real.”

“Why haven’t you gone there yet, babe?” Trent asks sympathetically, scoring himself several good boyfriend points.

“Well, you know…there’s the vet clinic…and my family…the timing has just never been right.”

“You’ll go to San Diego one day,” Heather promises.

Kimmie nuzzles against you, resting her head on your shoulder. “She hasn’t gone yet because she’s a mature, responsible person, truly the best of us.”

“Because she’s a coward,” Aegon mutters.

Everyone goes quiet and stares at him. Aegon looks stunned, like he hadn’t intended to say that out loud. Sunfyre snorts and canters off into the woods.

“What?” you say.

Aegon shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“No, really. What did you just say?”

Rob tries to broker a peace. “It doesn’t matter—”

“It does matter.” Your voice is dark like night, cutting like glass. “You think it’s cowardly to have responsibilities? You think it’s cowardly to care about other people?”

Aegon gulps down more rum and glares at you through the campfire flames. “I think it’s cowardly to blame other people for your lack of a spine, yeah.”

“Aegon!” Kimmie scolds harshly, incredulously.

Trent begins: “Hey, man, not cool—”

“You know what’s really cowardly?” you level at Aegon like the barrel of a gun. “Spending your entire life running away from things—things that are worthwhile, things that you want, things that you are desperate for—because you’re too fucking weak to cope with the possibility of losing them.”

And then you stand, tearing away from Kimmie and Trent when they try to stop you. You flee into the trees, scalding tears brimming in your eyes. Branches rip at you; one carves a shallow gash across your cheek just below your left eye. Snow collapses under your boots.

Faintly, you can hear Aegon saying to the others: “I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll apologize.” And a few moments later, rapidly approaching: “Hey! Stop! Hey!”

“Leave me alone!” you scream over your shoulder. You run until you trip over a gnarled tree root and fall to the ground, sobbing, wet, cold, miserable.

Aegon catches up to you and bends over, gasping for air, his hands on his knees. Even from several feet away, you can smell the rum sweating out of him. “Are you psychotic?! You can’t just run off into the woods by yourself, there’s a killer on the loose!”

“Like you’d care if I got murdered!” you shout up at him. “It’d be the best day of your life, then you’d be free to fuck whoever you want and drink yourself to death without the inconvenience of having to be around me, boring, uptight, accountable, revoltingly cowardly me—!”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid—”

“Why are you even still here?! You could be jetting off to some other city, some other new adventure, you could leave anytime you wanted, so why if you hate me so much are you still here?!”

“Because I’m stuck here now!” he roars.

That doesn’t make any sense. That’s incompatible with absolutely everything about him. “Why?!”

He stands up straight and rubs his face with both hands. He’s calmer now; he’s trying to compose himself. His eyes are glistening, you realize. His cheeks are flushed. “Because of the Ice Fisher.”

“What are you talking about?”

He struggles to get it out. “I can’t leave…you…here…alone…until they catch whoever the killer is.”

You gaze up at him, not understanding. “Why do you care about what happens to me?”

“I think the answer to that is really obvious.”

“No, it’s not, because you don’t like me, you don’t respect me, you don’t want me—”

“I want you all the time,” Aegon says, and the feverish words in your throat vanish. “All the time. I pass out at night wanting you, I wake up hungover wanting you, I want you all the fucking time. I want you in the vet clinic, I want you in the bar, I want you in my apartment, I want you in the middle of the woods, I never for a single solitary goddamn second stop wanting you, and it’s hell, in case you’re wondering. But that’s not good enough for you. So now I’m the idiot. I’m never the one who gets left. I’m the one who leaves people, I’m the one who packs my bags in the middle of the night and catches a flight to the next city, I’m the one who runs away. It’s always me. But I showed you who I am and you couldn’t leave fast enough.”

Oh god, you realize. I can’t stop forgiving him. I can’t stop wanting him. I love him, I love him, I love him. “I wasn’t leaving you, Aegon. I was trying to fix you.”

“I’m not fixable!”

“But why?”

“I’m just not, I never have been, I’m never going to be. I can’t magically transform myself into the person you wish I was. Believe me, I would if I could, but I can’t. And I can’t stay here forever. I’m on a clock, I’m always on a goddamn clock. I’m just hoping they arrest the Ice Fisher before…before…” He trails off, staring vacantly into the wilderness.

“Before what?”

He says nothing. You haul yourself out of the snow and go to him. “Your face…” he whispers, touching the cut just beneath your eye.

“Before what, Aegon?” you ask, you plead. “I want to help you. I want to understand. What are you so afraid of? What is it? What the hell is it?”

He takes several steps away from you, looks down at his boots, stays that way for what feels like forever. “Okay,” he begins at last, his voice shaking.

Oh my god, he’s finally going to tell me. He really is. You brace yourself for the inevitable: he’s married, he’s a father, he’s being pursued by drug lords he’s indebted to, he’s a criminal, he’s a con artist, he’s a killer.

“My dad was the first investor in Microsoft.”

Your mind goes blank like a chalkboard wiped clean. “Microsoft…the…the company that’s worth $600 billion…?”

“Yeah. That one.” He gestures randomly. “My dad is a venture capitalist. So he owns equity stakes in a bunch of different businesses. When Bill Gates was just starting out, he and his partners needed money, so my dad invested and they gave him equity in return. A healthy slice of equity, because they weren’t worth anything yet. And so…as the company grew…”

“Wait, you’re a…?” You gawk at him. “You’re a…billionaire?!”

“Not me,” Aegon says. “Them! They’re the billionaires. Not me. I’m just a guy.”

“You are them, Aegon, because you’re the same people, you’re…you’re…”

“No, I’m not, because I left. I left when I was nineteen and I’ve never been back since. That was six years ago. Almost exactly six years ago.”

“You grew up in Miami,” you say, your voice sounding very far away.

“Yeah. Gorgeous mansion on the ocean, boarding schools, yachts, golfing, parties with lobster and prime rib, all of it.”

“And you left…because…?”

“Because I was the oldest son and the heir to the empire, and I didn’t want any of it. I didn’t want to live in a suit, I didn’t want to stare at a screen all day, I didn’t want to spend my life scheming, counting, networking, grasping. And I was no good at anything. I was an abject failure by any possible metric, and everyone knew it. All I ever wanted to do was work outside where I could see the sun and the stars, drink, get high, play guitar and sing punk rock songs. All I wanted to do was live. So I left. There’s more to it than that—a lot more to it—but now you know where I came from. I’ve never told anybody that. Not once in the last six years.”

“You don’t talk to anyone from Miami? Ever? No letters, postcards, phone calls, nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t ever miss your family?”

He smiles grimly. “I’m glad that you’ve lived the kind of life that makes it next to impossible for you to comprehend why someone would want to run away from home and never look back. Really, I’m genuinely happy for you. But that’s just not my reality.”

The revelation hits you like a fist. “They’re still searching for you.”

Aegon nods. “One of them in particular.”

“Helaena?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

“I don’t want to tell you that.” He glances at your cut again and shudders. “I don’t know how he’s finding me. But he is. I’ve seen him twice.”

“Twice? Since you left home…?”

“He didn’t see me, but I saw him. From a distance both times. Once in Phoenix, once in San Francisco. Both around the six month mark. If I stay too long in one place, he finds me. And if he ever gets ahold of me, I won’t be able to stop him from dragging me back home. Nothing on earth can stop him when he wants something.”

“How can you be so sure it was him?” you say. “If it was from far away, maybe you were just imagining it…maybe you saw someone who looked kind of like him, and because you’re so afraid of being found you thought it was him, but it wasn’t really—”

“He’s very distinct looking. Very, very distinct looking. There’s no mistaking him.” Aegon picks up a handful of clean snow, takes a small clump of it between his fingers, wipes the length of your cut with it gently, carefully. It soothes the stinging. It cools the roaring blood in your face. “Every year there are less and less people without internet. If someone Googles my last name, my family is the first result that pops up. Articles about my father’s success, my mother’s grace and beauty and philanthropy, the socialite daughter, the degenerate eldest son. One day there will be nowhere left to hide.”

“You never tried to change your name?”

“To legally change my name, I’d have to publish a public announcement so creditors—or anyone else—can come forward and object to it if they have a reason. The media would pick it up. There would be headlines, news commentators, maybe even court hearings. My family would find out, and they would come get me.”

“They’re that determined? They’re that capable?”

“One of them, yes.”

“You can’t stay in Juneau,” you say, your voice splintering like thin ice.

“No, I can’t. Not forever. But hopefully long enough make sure you’ll be safe once I’m gone.”

You look at him. “Do you have any idea who the Ice Fisher could be?”

He shrugs, like if he ignores the possibility he can make it disappear. “Not really. I guess…I guess have one person I’m concerned about. I don’t really think it’s him, I can’t bring myself to believe that, I never thought he was capable of violence before, but now…now…something about him worries me. It keeps me awake at night.” He pauses. “It scares the hell out of me, because he’s so close to you.”

Trent. He means Trent. And I can’t disagree. “I don’t know what to do about him.”

“Don’t make him angry,” Aegon says urgently. “I’m not saying you have to do anything with him that you don’t want to, no, he doesn’t own you, he shouldn’t bully you into anything. I’m just saying to avoid confrontations. And try not to be alone with him.”

“I understand. I won’t make him angry.”

Aegon takes the Sharpie out of his pocket. “Here. Give me your arm.” You do so without any hesitation. He considers your left palm, then decides against it: too noticeable, too easy to get smudged. He pushes your sleeve up to your elbow and writes a phone number across the soft skin of your forearm in black ink. “This is for if he ever tries to do anything that you’re not cool with. Or if you just need to talk. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree quietly.

He puts the cap on the Sharpie and tucks it away again. Out of the trees appears Sunfyre, panting and jubilant to see you both. He accepts pats and scratches and then heads back towards the campfire. You and Aegon follow him, walking close enough to touch each other but not daring to.

“You’re alive!” Heather rejoices when she sees you. And then she glowers at Aegon. “Get over here. I’m going to gut you like a deer, Greek boy.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “We talked, we’re friends again, everything’s good.”

“Really?” Kimmie asks hopefully.

“Yup,” Aegon says, standing beside her but making no eye contact.

“You better be.” Trent grins, hugs you—lifting you clear off the ground—and then notices where the branch gashed your cheek. “What happened to your face, babe?”

“Just a tree. I ran into it, it’s my fault. I can clean it up when I get home.”

“That’s the great thing about being a doctor,” Trent says brightly. “Even an animal doctor. You can fix almost anything yourself.”

You glance at Aegon, heavy with a steely grey fog like grief. “Yes. Almost anything.”

You ride home the same way you arrived to the hiking expedition, with Trent and Heather; Aegon and Sunfyre leave in Kimmie’s pink Land Cruiser. When you get inside, the first thing you do is write down Aegon’s phone number on a Post-it note and stick it inside the top drawer of your nightstand. You shower, tend to your shallow cut—“not too bad, ladybug,” your dad offers supportively, “not too bad at all”—and help your mom make dinner: reindeer sausage from Mr. Campbell’s farm, mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, broccolini, homemade chocolate bread for dessert. Not quite prime rib and lobster, you think dazedly, your mind swimming.

Hours later, as you lay in bed gazing up at your ceiling, you can’t stop hearing what Aegon said, his voice deep and raw and achingly beautiful. I want you all the time. I never for a single solitary goddamn second stop wanting you.

You get out the Post-it note, pick up the phone on top of your nightstand, dial the number for Aegon’s shabby little apartment on the other side of Juneau. He answers almost immediately. He’s very tipsy, but alert.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” you say softly, and only silence follows. You wring the phone’s blue spiral cord between restless fingers. “It’s—”

“I know who it is.” Now you can hear that he’s smiling. “What can I do for you, Appletini?”

“Tell me about San Diego.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” you say. And then again: “Everything.”

And that’s exactly what he does: he paints a vision with his words, he tells you about driving through the Mars-red canyons and peaks of the Laguna Mountains until you crest the top and see the Pacific Ocean, endless and sapphire blue and glittering under sunlight that bakes the shadows from your bones. He tells you about the surfers, the dolphins, the cliffsides, the sea lions, the sailboats, the hot air balloons and kites and parasailers, the historic district of the city that still remembers its origins as a Spanish fort and mission. You can almost see it; you can almost reach out and touch it.

You listen to Aegon until you fall asleep, the phone tumbling out of your grasp and onto the pillow beside you; and even then, your dreams are filled with him.

[compo67]

Slowly, but Surely (Don't Call Me Shirley)

Hello, hello.

i am slowly, but surely, recharging my creative batteries. There's less pressure now, but with good things happening. A detailed account of what's been happening. All below the cut. TLDR at the end.

Let's start with the good.

I went to the Big Gay Market in Madison, WI for the weekend. It was marvelous. There were people of all kinds of genders, an affirming and friendly environment, and so many creatives. I felt like I was in community and it's been a long time since I've felt that way. I was sad when it ended. But I bought the most beautiful wreath to hang in my room. I'll snap a picture of it when I can.

I studied the entire month of June, whenever I had a spare moment and for dedicated study sessions.

I made a total of 300 flashcards, wrote 40 pages in my notebook, used 2 test prep books, 3 learning system books, a 100 page summary of competencies, and 2 apps. I answered 2800 practice questions on those apps. I practiced and practiced until I reached at least an 80% in each competency.

And what happened?

I PASSED.

I kicked that exam in the ass! When I saw "passed" on the screen, I nearly whooped in the testing center. I cried in my car as I relayed the news to my mom, who is also an HR professional. I could not believe it. I still can't. Cal Owens, SHRM-CP. It feels SO GOOD to have letters after my name.

I'm also still on that high of completing my HR Management certificate with "high honors" and then earning my SHRM certification right after it.

Then, at the end of May, right before my birthday, I sent in an application to the Arboretum nearby. They were looking for an HR Coordinator. And they weren't requiring at least 3 years experience or a BS in HR. After the radio silence for a month and a half, I gave up on them getting back to me. I sent a follow-up email, as instructed by my mentor, and still no reply. I figured I was set aside and I moved on to apply for more jobs.

Lo and behold, the Arb emailed last week and offered me a phone interview! I spoke with their Talent Acquisition specialist way past the 30 minute time slot, which I took as a good sign. Next step was to have a virtual meeting.

But guess what? They invited me for an in-person meeting instead! My interview was at 9 AM CST yesterday. it was LOVELY. i genuinely enjoyed speaking to the Sr HR Manager. We chatted for almost 90 minutes. It went by so fast. I felt like I had answers to all her questions, however, I wonder if I was direct and clear enough? I haven't interviewed since 2021, and before that since 2016. So I know I'm rusty, I hope my enthusiasm for the role got noticed.

I should know by early next week if they will move me to the third and final round--meeting the VP of HR. The Coordinator will be responsible for managing the VP of HR's schedule in Google. I just learned how to do scheduling in Outlook, I'm sure I can do it in Google.

Anyway! I can see myself working there. The pay meets the market for that kind of job around here, and the benefits are exceptional. And the view from the admin building? Beautiful. There's just a small lane to walk through from the parking lot to the building. I felt like I was in Jane Austen novel. *Dreamy sigh.*

Fingers crossed.

Okay, so let's get the not-so-good stuff over with.

Caregiving for my father continues to be a challenge. I am the only one of his 3 kids he 100% trusts and is close to. I don't get a lot of support from my sisters because A) he prefers me to handle things and B) they don't offer. I always have to ask, and even then, most of the time I end up doing the thing anyway. Sigh.

I tried a bunch of adaptive equipment things for my dad in June. I bought him an electric tea kettle that sits in a cradle and tips over to pour so you don't have to lift it. Well, it works okay for that, but he can't see how much he's filled the kettle. So that went back. I found a pen that "talks" to you. That's been a game changer. You get special labels with bumps on them, tap the pen to the label, and you can record a sound clip! so i attached them to every medication he has in the house. he's been using the pen! Now I just need to convince him to use his white cane.

Watching my dad go through losing his vision has been very difficult. He's a completely different man than the one I knew just 5 years ago. Little by little, things are changing and that change can get overwhelming. I did manage to find him a peer to peer phone program for folks with low vision. He gets a call every month to chat with a lady name Yvies from New Jersey and just talk about what it's like being low vision. I am so grateful to her. The organization will be creating a caregiver support group in the fall and I am on the waitlist.

So, yes. I've gotten overwhelmed at some points, impatient at others, but I show up. In the future, I want to know, that without a doubt, I was there for my father. I just need to figure out how to balance this and find ways to get help.

I continue to miss Henry and my grandma.

Sometime between this past Saturday and Sunday, I fell ill. Like, nauseated, dizzy, lightheaded. [Content Warning: The GI System Going Whack] Then Sunday, I could not retain food or water. I held out for Monday and Tuesday to see if I got better with a little imodium and zofran. Wednesday morning at 7:30 AM, I called my doctor and she said, "Get thee to the ER."

So, I went. My mother was with me. In miracles of all miracles, I only had to wait an hour to be seen in the ER. I was there from 8 AM to 12:30 PM and in that period of time, I got an ultrasound, labs, an IV with a bag of saline, pain meds, and reassurance that my gallbladder and liver were doing fine. And no one misgendered me. It was a good ER trip.

The ER doctor and my PCP have no idea what knocked me out for 5 days. Could have been a virus. Could have been a side effect of mounjaro. It'll be a mystery for the ages, I suppose...

Of course, it took a huge toll on my body. Today was the first day I felt almost normal again. No bloating, no cramping, no burping, and no intense pain in my abdomen. Yay! I am supposed to be eating "light," but dammit, I deserved pasta tonight and I'm not going to regret it!

I also, in my journey through illness, reached the Medicare donut hole. I have to spend $8,000 before my advantage plan will start paying for my meds again. I have to pay 25% of the cost of all drugs. Thank goodness I was able to get on a patient assistance program for my antidepressant, because I could not afford it otherwise. I've moved all my meds, except two, to be generics. I am always trying to cut the cost down as much as I can, whether it's through GoodRx, OptumRx, or Costco. I spend most of my SSDI money on healthcare, medication, and treatments. If we had free universal healthcare, I would have been able to save up all this money, dagnabit.

The difficult things have been... well... difficult. But they are outnumbered by the good things, which makes me smile.

I am excited to be excited about working again. I am doing my best to visualize myself in that role, going into *my* office and sitting at *my* desk. I see myself growing in that department and becoming a specialist in all things HR. This is what I did as I interviewed for the 24/7 Helpline and I got that job. I saw myself getting on a train to Chicago every day until they'd let me go remote. I saw myself as a city queer again. I felt the train to the city already underneath me. I get that feeling with this role. I feel like, if I get it, I will have a Mary Tyler Moore moment.

She's gonna make it after all!

Thank you, if you've red this far. Thank you if you send good vibes for this Arb job. Thank you for just being here. Hell, thank you for being you.

One of my uncles will be visiting us from Chile in early August. I am eager for him to arrive and spend time with us. I know my mom could really use his support and sense of humor right now.

So I will be driving them (and my father, if I can convince him to join us) all around Chicago and the burbs. I hope to gather some TCV ideas from the places we will go. It's exciting to think about.

I really want to take a small trip to Cedarburg, WI. Spend a night there in a bnb, and take in all the shops and restaurants. But my car's oil needs to be changed and my brakes too, so I will have to hold off on traveling for a while.

I would like to get back to work because it's work, but I would also like to get back to contributing to my 401k, saving, paying off my medical debt and car, traveling, and actually affording medication without (too much) sacrifice. Medicare, I was told, would be cheaper than private insurance. Well, I couldn't afford a supplement, so I got stuck with an Advantage Plan. And it's not all that bad (I've met my out of pocket max), but man, do they make it hard to succeed in the system and this is a system primarily designed for seniors??? Sigh.

Anyway!

There you have it. A detailed account of things that I have been up to or coping with or working on since mid-May.

Hockey is gone. Thank goodness the Oilers didn't win the cup. Pavs retired. Wedgie was traded. Delly was traded. Faksa and Tanev were traded. We kept Dutchy, but that was about it. With a burning passion of a thousand suns, I hate Dumba and DeSmith. They will never be my Stars.

Okay. So. Where does this leave me now?

Well, I am slowly getting back "into" my work as an author. I'm hoping I can read a book or two in the next two weeks. I am inspired by the creativity of others and now that I've passed my exam, I have more free time to read and plot things out in my head.

It also helps to you know... not be extremely dehydrated.

Holy smokes, it's late. And this is long.

TLDR: Lots of caregiving, looking for jobs, studying, and recharging has happened in my break from writing. I am focused on securing a job at the Arboretum. I passed my SHRM-CP exam. I had an ER visit this week, but feel much better now.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for taking the care to read this. I appreciate y'all and the safe space y'all have made for me. I'm so glad I get to lean on this cozy, peaceful corner of fandom.

One last time--thank you.

Let's chat more.

-Cal

[sturniolos-blog]

band - pt 3 (pt 2 here)

warnings - swearing, abuse

12:58 am

Matt and I then walked into Dans Motel, we walked in to see and old lady with a cigarette.

Matt spoke up first, “Hi, uhm- we need a room for two, preferably two beds.” He spoke up,

The lady cleared her throat, letting out a harsh cough, jeez. She looked up at me, her eyes lingering on me for a second, probably because of my beat up bloody face.

“Nuh uh, that won’t work.” She says, typing something on her computer.

Matt looks at me with a confused look, i look back at him. She then clears her throat,

“But we do have a room with one bed.” She said, looking between the two of us.

I sighed and nodded.

“That’s fine. thank you.” Matt says.

“How many nights?” She coughs again.

Matt looks at me and I just shrug, “one night?” He says, sort of a question, i nod in agreement.

She typed something on her computer,

“300.” She says, looking back at matt.

My eyes widen, “300? what the hell- i don’t have that kind of money-” Matt cut me off by shushing me, pulling out his wallet and taking out 3 hundred dollar bills.

“Matt what are you doing?” I grab his shoulder but then he hands the lady the money.

“Alright, room 215. have fun guys.” She winks.

I sigh as matt takes the key,

we start walking to find the room.

“you didn’t have to do that, i’ll pay you back i promise..” I rub my forehead as we walk.

Matt looks at me, “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

I look up at him, taking a breath and nodding,

We make it to the room, he opened it, it was small and manageable.

Matt grabs my hand and leads me to the bathroom, “Sit.” he says as he points to the closed toilet seat, I give him a confused look and he gives me a “sit down now” look, so i do, he then crouches and goes through the sink cabinet.

He grabs a towel and rubbing alcohol, i swallow harshly,

“Um i can do this myself-”

“Shut up,” He hisses, i close my mouth. Letting out a frustrated breath as i look away.

“Thank you..” He says, his voice softer now.

He then puts the towel under warm water, squeezing it out slightly before grabbing my chin in his hand and making me look at him, he stood in between my legs as he dabbed my cuts with the towel, i let out a wince, he stopped.

“Sorry..” He whispers before continuing again, wiping all the blood off my face.

He then grabs a Q-tip and puts some of the rubbing alcohol on it, he goes to dab one of my cuts but i grab his wrist,

“That won’t work for me.” I shake my head,

Matt let’s out a sigh, “I have to clean them, Y/n..” He looks down at me, his gaze made me want to crumble.

I let go of his wrist and let him clean my cuts, as he continued cleaning them i let out hisses in pain, him muttering a sorry every now and then.

After we were done Matt walked out of the bathroom, i followed suit. He kicked off his shoes and took off his vest he had on, throwing it over an arm chair.

I looked at him for a moment, not really sure what to do as he got under the covers.

“You gonna get in or what?” He says.

I kick off my shoes too, climbing into the space next to him, the bed was small so we didn’t have much room between us.

“Matt?”

“Yes, y/n?”

“I’m not tired.” I whispered.

“Me neither.” He said as we both stared at the ceiling.

“Matt?” i broke the silence again.

“what, y/n?”

“Thank you..”

Matt cleared his throat, “Of course.. you were hurt. I would never leave you like that. and i’m sorry for rachel, she can be a real bitch sometimes.” He says softly.

I turn on my side to face him, he turned his head noticing i turned my whole body, doing the same now.

“It’s okay..” I whisper.

Matt shakes his head, “It’s not, she doesn’t know you like that she had no right to say that kind of stuff.”

“You don’t know me like that either, matt..” I said.

Matt swallowed, “What really happened?”

I shook my head, not wanting to answer.

“Y/n.”

“Matt.”

“What happened?” He asked again.

“I came home late and i didn’t answer his texts, it was my fault.” I said lowly.

Matts eyebrows furrowed, “A fucking guy put his hands on you!?” Matt sits up,

I sit up too, “Matt it’s okay he never does it that badly-”

“I don’t fucking care, y/n! That’s fucking sick.” Matt scoffs.

“Stop acting like you care matt you don’t know me!” I yell.

Matt sighs, “I know you well enough to know you don’t deserve anything like that, okay? i’m sorry but that’s really fucked up, and you can’t go back there, after what he fucking did to you? yeah no.” Matt shakes his head.

“I can’t go anywhere else, Matt. Trust me i’ve tried. And he ends up finding me anyway.” My voice cracked as tears welled up in my eyes.

Matt put his hand on my back, rubbing up and down. “Stay with me.” He whispered.

I looked at him, “What? i thought you got kicked out?”

Matt shook his head, “That’s my apartment not hers, it’s all under my name. She just moved in with me, she doesn’t even pay anything she spends all her money on weed and drugs.”

“Oh..” I whisper.

Matt nods, “yep.”

“That doesn’t mean i can stay with you, Matt. Jonathan would literally kill me.”

“No the fuck he would not. I wouldn’t let him.”

I let out a sigh, “Can I think about it?” I bit my lip.

Matt nodded and laid back down, on his side so his back was towards me, “Goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight, matt.” I laid down too, my back facing his.

the end

[randomshyperson]

Yellow Curtains - Chapter Two - Wanda Maximoff Series

Summary: Wanda Maximoff's senior year at Novi Grad School is duly planned for her. She has good friends, good grades, and a good system to hide who she really is. Or, the one based on Evak from the Norway Skam series, where Wanda is queer and tries to survive the last year without anyone knowing about it.

Warnings: (+18), general warnings about language and violence, legal drug use, mentions of underage drinking, high school, internalized homophobia and discovery of sexuality, explicit mentions of mental disorders (bipolarity and depression), dysfunctional family, making out, and eventual smut.

Skamverse | Series | General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

Chapter Two - The Cabin

Ponedeljek 7:30 (Monday 7:30 am)

"Who can dissertate on the Sokovian Revolution of '74?"

The history teacher's question echoed in the classroom, but all he got in response were crestfallen students and soft giggles. T'Challa sighed, a small smile on his lips. "Come on guys, pay attention." He asked, nodding to the digital board where some information from the day's subject matter read. "We discussed last class how the labor revolution allowed Sokovia to become a first-world country in less than fifty years and about how that..."

Wanda's attention fell on the outside, birds flying in the sky above the main courtyard. She watched a few students walk by, and monitors asking what they were doing outside the room, before trying to force her attention back to the matter. 

The minutes dragged on as Professor T'Challa explained about Sokovian independence. Wanda didn't usually have trouble with humanities subjects, but lately, she had been so distracted.

Suddenly, the professor's talk was interrupted by the arrival of Vice Principal Harkness at the door. And she was not alone.

"Hi, T'Challa, good morning. We have a new student; She is late but is my fault, we had a problem with the paperwork. Is it okay if she watches the class?" Asked the woman - practically pushing the new student inside. 

The teacher agreed, of course, smiling gently, and the whole room looked at the student. 

Wanda held her breath, those eyes were so familiar...

"Shit, it's her!" Natasha whispered beside her with some indignation, and Wanda blinked away the new student to her best friend.

"Sorry, what?" the girl asks confused. Natasha nods to the new student's chair.

"It's the girl Carol brought to Tony's party." Nat explains in a low tone so the teacher won't hear. "Shit, I can't believe she's going to study right in our class. I am so unlucky."

T'Challa called for silence from the excited students, and Wanda tried to pay attention to the subject, not understanding why it bothered her that a stranger might be taken.

She was curious about the new student, but everyone else was. And when the class was over, and the table was filled with several other students greeting them and asking where they were from, Wanda gave up trying to find out too.

Natasha seemed willing to run away and practically dragged Wanda out into the courtyard.

They sat down at one of the outside tables, and it wasn't long before Pietro and Clint joined them. 

"Maximoff, you have something of mine." Barton declared as soon as he sat down, and Wanda sighed in defeat.

"I don't." She retorted. "I probably lost it at the party."

"What? Damn it, Wanda, it was three hundred euros!"

"I know, sorry." She asks immediately. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

Clint raises an eyebrow. "Well..."

"Dude!" Pietro interrupts with an angry grimace, giving his friend a hard shove. "It's my sister!" He recalls, but Clint laughs, raising his hands as a sign of peace.

"I'm joking, relax!" He assures between laughs. He then slips an arm around Wanda's shoulders, hugging her for a moment. "You don't worry either. It was because of the police at Tony's apartment, right? You were quick to think of getting out of there, he would have gotten in trouble."

Wanda forces a smile. "Yeah, but now I owe you 300 euros."

Clint shrugs. "Pay me back when you can." He says pushing her shoulder against his lightly. "You can do my homework too."

Wanda rolls her eyes, laughing weakly. "I'll think about it."

They fall into casual conversation after that. Clint comments about the party, and the boys on the team, and Pietro talk about his date with Crystal going well. Natasha is distracted, her gaze keeps going to the other side of the yard, and Wanda sighs slightly when she realizes who her friend is staring at.

"Have you talked to Carol yet?" The younger Maximoff asks, receiving a deep sigh in return.

"Not really, but I don't need to right?" Nat retorts looking at Wanda. " She clearly moved on."

Wanda frowns slightly, looking at the small group. The new student seems close to Carol, and they're all laughing, but she's not as sure about it as Natasha is.

"I don't know, Nat, maybe they're just friends." She tries, and Natasha gives a sad laugh.

"Whatever, Wands. It's not like we have anything official." 

"I think you should talk to her." Wanda insists, and Pietro and Clint join the conversation as well.

"Me too." Barton says. "Make things clear."

"I don't think so." Pietro comments shrugging. "Avoid her, make her anxious. She'll get the message."

Wanda rolls her eyes. "Don't listen to him." 

Nat laughs lightly, and when he sees Tony's group entering the courtyard he lets out an exclamation. "Shit, speaking of crushes, I'll be right back." And walks off towards Tony Stark the next moment.

Wanda feels her blood run cold. From her friend's excitement and the giggles of the boys and glances Tony steals in her direction, she knows exactly what they are talking about.

Natasha runs back to them with a proud smile on her lips.

"Great news, Maximoff." She declares. "Tony told me he's taking his brother for the cabin on the holiday, so we'll all be together and you'll get a chance to get to know him better."

The boys make teasing sounds, and Wanda can only force a laugh. 

When the bell rings, announcing the next class, and her gaze meets the new student's on the other side, she wants to believe she is imagining the way her heart speeds up.

The Independence holiday means four days off, and since eighth grade, Wanda's friends organize some trips, mainly to Stark’s winter cabin, even though it's not really cold.

The weeks go by quickly - which is great. Wanda's attention span at school doesn't improve, and she grows irritated at her brain's insistence on stealing glances at the new student, with whom she shares a single history class a week. 

She learns a few things about the new student. Their first name, the taste for rock bands that she notices due to the black T-shirts, the skateboarding skills from the item they use to leave school. She learns that they are from New York and that they are not Carol's partner.

It is Natasha who is investigating, of course. And Wanda was in the middle of reading an article when her best friend addresses the whole thing.

"You won't believe it, Maximoff! I'm so stupid!"

Wanda frowns. "What? What are you-"

"Y/N is not Carol's girlfriend! They are sisters!" She declares, holding out her cell phone at the brunette's eye level. "She just posted this."

It is open on Instagram, a photo of Carol with the new student riding her skateboard in the city park. In the caption 'I missed you, little sister! Glad you're here now!" Wanda feels a wave of relief fill her body and doesn't know why.

Natasha exclaims excitedly, "You know what that means, right?"

"Žal ne (No, sorry)." Wanda mutters uncertainly, but Nat chuckles.

"Silly girl, it means I'm back in the game!" Declares the redhead. "I'll like her last few stories and put her back in the best friends. She'll get the message."

"Or you could just talk to her..."

Nat laughs through her nose. "You're funny, Wanda." Says the girl, turning her attention back to her cell phone.

Wanda doesn't want to think too much about the whole matter. She doesn't really know you, and it seems ridiculous that you don't leave her thoughts. She is sure that it is Nat's fault and her momentary obsession with Carol.

When the Independence holiday arrives, and she finds herself in a crowded car heading for Tony Stark's cabin, her anxiety returns. She remembers that there, it would be Vision, and that everyone expected her to leave the cabin with a new boyfriend. Would it be too late to give up the trip?

"I'll take the window bed!" Clint and Pietro got into a pushing fight over the largest room as soon as they arrived. Wanda just wanted to sit down, because Tony's group was finishing checking out the entrance to the cabin's compound - Rich people's stuff - and they were all stealing glances at her.

By the time Carol's car arrived, Wanda was dressed more comfortably and smelled of soap. She had taken advantage of the fight for rooms to use the shower before everyone else, and although she only got one bunk, she was satisfied with the impossibility of sleeping with someone else next to her. It read Vision.

"I swear to god this girl is trying to kill me." Natasha gasps low from the balcony next to Wanda, watching Carol get out of the car in short shorts and a button-down shirt practically all open, showing off a sports top underneath. Wanda laughs at her friend's reaction, but when you get down from the back of the truck, she shallows dry.

You are busy pulling a motorcycle out of the back, and Wanda's brain clicks.

She recognizes the vehicle, and the helmet, and her heart speed up so much that it's the only thing she hears in her ears for a moment.

"Her sister's hot too, huh?" Natasha comments half-impressed, and Wanda immediately looks away. 

"I don't know, I don't like girls." She retorts, surprising Nat with her aggressiveness. The redhead gives a confused laugh.

"Okay? But you can tell a girl is pretty without being attracted to her." The redhead says, but Wanda clears her throat and hugs her own body.

"Sure, whatever." She murmurs. "I'm gonna take a nap, I'm tired from the trip." She says, practically running inside.

She doesn't notice your gaze searching for her.

–//–

Petek, 20:40 (Friday, 8:40am)

Wanda awoke in a very quiet cabin. 

She wasn't surprised that everyone went to bed early, after all the trip had been equally tiring for everyone, yet it bothered her a little to be the first to wake up.

She left her bunk as quietly as she could, watching her brother in the bottom bed snore lightly as he slept on his stomach.

After going to the bathroom, she was disappointed to find a completely empty kitchen and thought about waking Nat or Tony for a company to the market when she heard footsteps in the living room.

You opened the door making some noise, because the key got stuck in the doorknob.

"Shit." You muttered to yourself, struggling a bit to unhook the item. Wanda stepped into the kitchen doorway, hands in front of her body, and you jumped slightly when she wished you good morning half uncertainly. But your surprise gave way to a smile the next second. "Zdravo! (Hello) Sorry about the noise!"

Wanda shook her head, smiling as well. "Don't worry, you're Y/N, right? Carol's sister."

You raise an eyebrow at her, a charming smile playing on your lips. Wanda hates it. Hates how gorgeous you look right now, the twist in her stomach. She swallows dryly, and you lean on the door.

"She mentioned me, huh?" you ask. "Or maybe you asked."

Wanda's cheeks flush, and she grimaces to disguise it. "She mentioned it." She assures you with a half-trembling voice, which seems to amuse you. "Anyway, do you know where I can find food in this place? I'm starving."

You chuckle lightly, tossing the door key on the small table next to you and reaching out to grab your wallet from there and another set of keys from the support, which has a keychain that Wanda recognizes as belonging to Carol.

"Of course, princess, we'll find food for you." You say, and Wanda knows she is blushing at the nickname, but follows you anyway, just like the first night. And outside, walking side by side toward Carol's truck, you extend your hand to her. "I'm Y/N Danvers, by the way. We haven't officially introduced ourselves."

Wanda shakes your hand. "I'm-"

"Wanda Maximoff." You complete with a small smile, still holding her hand. "And I asked about it."

Wanda pulls her hand away before you realize that she is shaking.

You get in the car first, whistling lightly as you start the truck. Wanda tries to play it cool, keeping her arms crossed the whole way to the market. It's not far, but it seems like every minute drags.

"Did you get home safely after that day?" Your sudden question surprises her a little. Wanda frowns until she remembers what you are talking about.

"Hmm, yeah." She answers. "Someone else gave me a ride home." She says with a small smile.

You don't take your eyes off the road. "You lied to me, Maximoff." You comment then, to which Wanda looks at you with confusion. A small smile plays on her lips. "You are not part of the Avengers. You snuck into an event of ours, I could have ended up in trouble..."

"Hey, you're the one who practically kidnapped me from Tony's party!" Wanda defends herself. "And you asked if I was his friend, which I am, not if I was part of his group of protesters!"

You laugh, shaking your head. "Relax, I'm just messing with you." You comment, but Wanda can only give a nervous laugh because you give her thigh a gentle squeeze and she forgets how to breathe. The touch fades away at the same speed as it happened, your hands returning to the steering wheel, but Wanda's skin is still prickling. "I asked Carol about the mystery girl and she told me you weren't part of the group, but you were trustworthy and welcome in everything. So relax."

Wanda smiles half proudly, glad that Carol trusts her so much even though they are not so close. You cross a green light, and at the next turn, you find the supermarket parking lot.

Whatever this conversation means, it completely improves the atmosphere between you, making the interaction very light and fun. Wanda is unfamiliar at first - Pietro would recognize that Wanda had a shy and alert nature even better than she did. He would constantly tease her about being too self-conscious, and in need of relaxing, and would surely be surprised to see her laugh as easily as she is doing now. 

You picked up a shopping cart and seemed to have made it your morning mission to make her laugh as you sort through the groceries. You did little dances with the objects, threw bad jokes and flirtations at her, and even told loose facts as if you were close friends.

Wanda now knew that you lived in a shared apartment with Carol and two other girls and that you could speak Sokovian fluently. You were not a vegetarian even though you tried about three times, and you couldn't have pets even though you really wanted a cat because your roommates were allergic. And you could sing Lorde.

"She's so dramatic, I love it." You declare as the music starts on the speakers in the marketplace. You and Wanda are in the pasta aisle, and she giggles softly. "She's like a Taylor Swift of lesbians, but more alternative."

Wanda chuckles, soft anxiety rising in her stomach. She follows you down the hallway. "But there's a theory that Taylor Swift likes girls too, you know?"

You chuckle, shrugging. "Yeah, I've heard of it. But I think I prefer the ones who actually came out.  Nothing against Taylor, of course, she's a great artist. I just won't refer to her as a queer icon when she's never really taken her place in the community."

Wanda bites her tongue, the question about your sexuality on the tip. Would it be weird to question whether you liked girls in the middle of pasta hall? And why would that make a difference to her?

Your cell phone vibrates, and as soon as you read the notification, you huff softly. Wanda is curious to know what it is, but you put the device away and hurry up the pace. "Come on, Maximoff, our friends are hungry too."

You are distant on the way back, and Wanda twists the fabric of her shorts in curiosity as to why. 

Luckily, you accompany her to the kitchen with the groceries. 

The guys in the cabin are waking up a bit, but the space is small enough that no one will bother you two with breakfast, even if the living room fills up with teenagers.

"Can you make the coffee while I prepare sandwiches for us?" You ask so gently that Wanda doesn't even hear the question properly, and only nods in agreement. She moves around, trying not to touch you - which is practically impossible in that small space - but you don't seem to notice much, busy with bread and cheese. "You're not a vegetarian, are you Maximoff? I was going to put some ham on this."

"I'm not, you can follow your recipe." Wanda retorts with a small smile, a curious look at the double sandwiches you are preparing. She bites her lip when you catch her looking and offers her a wink before returning to the task.

Carol appears in the kitchen doorway next.

"Good morning, cuties. Got any coffee?" She asks. Wanda denies it with her head.

"It's not ready yet."

Carol yawns, moving closer to look at the market bags you have brought. She chuckles then. "Jesus, Y/N, did you buy anything healthy?" You shrug, indifferent to the question. Carol sighs. "You know you have half the soccer team here, right?"

"If they're bothered they buy their own food." You retort impolitely. Carol rolls her eyes.

"Don't be rude; you know you should eat better too-"

"Sure, Mom." You cut her off, turning your back on her to hand Wanda her sandwich. "Here you go, princess."

The brunette smiles half-heartedly at the nickname in Carol's presence, but the blonde only sighs in defeat at the argument and doesn't even seem to notice. She leaves the kitchen, and you stare at Wanda expectantly. She smiles shyly before taking a bite of the sandwich and is surprised at how good it tastes.

"Wow, what did you put in here?"

You chuckle. "Chef's secret." You joke, wrinkling your nose in an adorable way as you pick up your sandwich. You eat together for a moment until the kettle beeps and Wanda leaves the rest of the sandwich on the countertop to finish the coffee.

"Did you like it?" you ask as she pours the drink. Wanda smiles.

"Yeah, quite a bit." She assures you. "Too bad it's a chef's secret, I'd love to learn how to make it."

You chuckle, finishing chewing your piece before clarifying:

"Well, it's a family recipe. That's why it's a secret. You'd have to be part Danvers to earn the legal right to know the ingredients." You joke, getting a soft chuckle from Wanda. You stare at her, almost fascinated. "What about you? Don't you have any family traditions?"

Wanda is thoughtful for a moment, an expression on her face that you would describe as adorable to say the least. And then she gives a small laugh.

"I think so." She says, pouring a mug. "Mom always prepares Šišky on birthdays. I think it looks like American doughnuts."

"Yummy." You murmur causing me to smile in agreement. "And when is your birthday?"

Wanda is surprised but smiles, "February 10th." She answers and watches you pull your cell phone out of your pocket at the same minute.

"Well, let me save the date then." You comment, putting her birth date into the calendar app with the greatest tranquility in the world. Wanda thinks she is blushing.

"What about your...?"

But her question goes unanswered because a tall boy appears in the kitchen doorway. It's Peter Parker, another of Tony's classmates who is on the soccer team. He stretches out gently and you put your cell phone away, placing your snack away on the counter to greet him.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." You say, and it is so affectionate that Wanda swallows dry. He chuckles sleepily, moving closer. Wanda's heart stops when he kisses you on the mouth. "Did you sleep well?"

He mumbles in agreement, shrugging before looking at Wanda and wishing her good morning. 

"What's for breakfast?" He asks.

"Food." You retort amusedly, making him chuckle and roll his eyes.

"Okay, smarty pants." He grumbles, yawning a little. "Clearly you didn't buy anything healthy, you know Steve's gonna give you a hard time for that, right?"

You shrug, letting him hug your waist. "I'm terrified." You comment wryly, making Peter laugh.

Wanda feels sick. He kisses your cheek again, and she clears her throat. She grabs the coffee mug, and barely manages to force a smile before practically running out of the kitchen.

The rest of the folks are gradually waking up, and when Wanda is on the porch drinking coffee, Vision comes over to greet her.

"You're Wanda, right? Tony told me about you." 

He is gentle, and he is good-looking. And Wanda remembers Peter Parker kissing you in the kitchen, so she smiles and asks Vision to sit with her. It's exactly as it should be, she convinces herself.

–//–

Ponedeljek, 14:30 (Monday, 2.40 am)

Whatever Wanda expected from this holiday, she was not prepared for anything that actually happened. 

On Saturday, everyone played paintball between the cabins. Vision was her partner. He was a good player, but you hit him on the top of his helmet two minutes into the game.

You looked Wanda in the eye but didn't shoot her, disappearing between the cabins the next minute. She kept thinking about this interaction all day.

On Sunday, the gang went outside to play soccer and it was a real mess. Wanda was discreetly watching you play, annoyed at the line her thoughts took with the image of you sweating and panting, but she had no choice but to stay outside because Carol and Natasha were making out in her bedroom. She wasn't sure when they happened again, but she wasn't surprised that she missed it, having been too busy the whole holiday trying not to pay attention to you.

When it was finally time to leave, and everyone was finishing cleaning the cabin in pairs, Wanda caught you and Peter fighting outside when she went to put some bottles out for recycling.

"I don't need a babysitter, Parker!" You angrily declared, gesturing a little. 

"I'm just taking care of you-"

"I'm not a fucking child!" 

Peter rolls his eyes. "No, but you act like one." He accuses annoyed, and you chuckle humorlessly, crossing your arms. He sighs in defeat, raising a hand to your arm but you pull away from the touch. "Okay, whatever. Go chill out, then we'll talk."

He walks off angrily into the cabin through the kitchen entrance, and Wanda makes a noise so as not to startle you.

You run a hand across your face, forcing a smile before approaching her, "Let me help you with this." You say, taking the case of beers from her hand without waiting for a response. Wanda swallows dryly, but decides to follow your cue, and picks up another box further away before following you to the recyclable trash cans.

You place one box next to the other on top of Carol's open truck, in the intention of separating the bottles and cans. Wanda takes a risk:

"Is everything okay between you and Peter?"

You chuckle weakly, grabbing two bottles from the pile.

"Sure, just a silly argument." You mutter moving away to put the bottles in the correct garbage can. "He's sweet, but he's still a man."

Wanda frowns. "What do you mean?"

You short, shrugging; "You've never had a boyfriend?" You ask, and Wanda denies it with her head. You sigh, searching for the right words. "Well, boys can be... obnoxious." You comment with a short laugh. "It's just, they're different. How they treat us, how they act with us and with other people. Peter is really sweet when he's with me, but when he's around his friends he's a jerk and kind of controlling. And by god, don't even get me started when it's around my father... Fucking treating me like I'm something he owns just to please the old man."

Wanda separates a few bottles, thoughtful towards your statements. "I'm sorry."

You hum, shrugging. "Okay, it's not really our fault that society is patriarchal and sexist. It's going to take Peter some time to break the norms and act decently, but I'm under no obligation whatsoever to deal with it."

Wanda swallows dryly. "D-did you broke up with him?"

You look at her with surprise. "No? I meant that I don't have to take pity on him. If he acts like an idiot, we'll fight. And if he doesn't change, then we'll break up."

The brunette tries to hide her disappointment with a hum of understanding. You look at her curiously.

"You and Vision seem to be getting along well."

She forces a chuckle, nodding. She grabs more bottles and runs away from your gaze as she replies, "I guess so."

"Is he your boyfriend now or what?"

Wanda laughs nervously, shaking her head. "No, not really."

"He seems interested in changing that." You insist, studying her reactions. Wanda swallows dryly, putting away other bottles.

"I think so." She murmurs. You hum almost angry all of a sudden - Wanda jumps when you mash a can with a hard punch - and she swallows dryly before raising her gaze to you again. "Do you think...I should accept? If he asks."

You stare at her with an indecipherable expression, biting the inside of your cheek. Wanda almost takes back the question, but you sigh and look away.

"I don't know, you're the one who has to know." You retort with forced casualness. "If you like him, say yes. You were together the whole holiday, I don't see what the problem is."

Wanda stares at the bottles in her hands, her heart racing in her chest.

"Maybe... I was just scared." She murmurs, surprising you. You stare at her expectantly, but Wanda doesn't meet your gaze, her fingers on the bottles. "Maybe I think Vision is likely my only option."

You grimace softly. "What are you talking about?"

Wanda laughs sadly, looking at you. "Like... I don't think there's anyone else to love me. Maybe Vision is my only option, and I just... I'm tired of being alone."

The heartfelt confession takes her by surprise as well. But at this point, Wanda shouldn't be impressed that your presence in her life has come to turn everything upside down at once.

And when you simply step forward, and bring a hand to her face, pulling a lock of hair out of front of her eyes, Wanda thinks you are doing it on purpose.

"Don't you think it's selfish to stick by someone just for convenience, Wanda? Vis has feelings too." The seriousness of your words doesn't do justice to the gentle touch on her face, and Wanda feels a mix of conflicting emotions in her chest.

"Maybe I'm just a bad person." She declares with a sad laugh, but you don't smile.

"I don't think so." You whisper, your thumb caressing her cheek. "I think you are very sweet. And maybe you just need to understand that lots of people love you. And you won't be alone if you say no to a boy you don't like."

Wanda lets out a shuddering breath. "Who says I don't like him?" She teases, her knees going weak as you firm your grip on her cheek and lean in all at once. 

Your breath hits her lips, and Wanda closes her eyes, waiting for the impact that doesn't come. You gasp softly, your breath heavy against her cheek.

Your hand leaves her cheek and goes down to a bottle beside you.

You step back a half second before Carol appears in the area where you are standing. Wanda didn't even hear her coming, in fact, she doesn't think she heard much beyond her own heart beating in her ears.

"Aren't you guys done with that yet? Come on people, we have to get on the road soon." Carol repressed, but you forced a laugh at her, muttering something about her being a pain in the ass. 

If you noticed how Wanda's hands were shaking as she held the next bottles, you didn't say.

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Fic Roundup!

Febuwhump (@febuwhump) is over, and Bad Things Happen Bingo (@badthingshappenbingo) is nearly complete! Here's a quick roundup of how it went...

Your favourite fic:-

This is probably between I Love You / Sole Survivor which got the biggest reaction on Tumblr, and A Fair Price To Pay which had more love on AO3. They're at the opposite ends of the scale in word count (300 vs nearly 10k) but I guess what they have in common is how much you all love Crosshair and want him to be redeemed :)

My favourite fic:-

Despite it being a massive stress which I barely finished on time, posting at five minutes to midnight, I loved writing Adrenaline Crash! My favourite phrase was 'the crepitus of broken bones' and I was really pleased with the ending where I described Omega 'digging her fingers into the cracks in Hunter's armour' - yes, I meant it literally and metaphorically!

The one I want to write more of:-

There's actually a couple of these fics I want to write epilogues for - Presumed Dead and A Fair Price To Pay are the main ones. But I'd also love to do a rewrite of Human Weapon / Worked Themselves To Exhaustion (also known as the Birthday Cake Fic) with more time to develop my version of the Batch living happily on Pabu, and featuring more of the characters for Omega to interact with!

And now for the stats:-

Total Word Count This Month - approximately 40,000 Longest Fic - A Fair Price To Pay, 9675 words Shortest Fic - Left For Dead, 135 words New Followers - 11! (I'm so excited to have you along and I hope you've enjoyed the stories!)

Future Plans?

I'm going to go write those epilogues, and then it's back to my WIP fic Pieces Of The People We Love! If you enjoyed the Cadet Batch stories I've posted for Febuwhump, this is where to find more of it - Part 3 should be coming soon :) I have three more squares to cross off of my Bad Things Happen Bingo square: Kick Them Whilst They Are Down, Self-Surgery and Going Into Hiding. Got an idea you can donate? Drop me a fic request, because in the short-term I have wrung my imagination dry ^^;

Lastly a huge thank you to everyone who has followed, reblogged, commented, and liked my fiction this past month. Re-reading the tags on the reblogs was great when I was feeling unmotivated, and it's so fun to know you've enjoyed reading my stories as much as I've enjoyed telling them! Thank you for all your support! <3

And a quick summary of everything I've written in the past month:-

Bad Batch - Cadet Batch Day 21 - Unresponsive / Asthma Attack Day 25 - Lightning Strike Day 1 - Helpless / Caught in a Snare Day 14 - Blood-Stained Tiles / Ice Pack Day 24 - "I'm doing this because I care about you" / Victim Blaming

Day 26 - "Help Them" / Compelling Voice

The Bad Batch Day 2 - Solitary Confinement / Bruises Day 4 - Obedience / Conditioning Day 7 - Suffering in Silence / Chronic Illness Day 8 - Found Footage Day 16 - "I love you" / Sole Survivor Day 18 - Too Weak To Move / Bundled Up In Blankets Day 23 - Presumed Dead

Day 5 - Rope Burns / Bound & Gagged Day 12 - Semi-Conscious / Over-the-Shoulder Carry Day 19 - Please Don't / Adrenaline Crash

Day 11 - Time Loop / Cabin Fever Day 27 - Left for Dead Day 28 - "No... not like this" Day 29 - Not Allowed To Die Day 15 - A Fair Price To Pay ("Who did this to you" / Tortured for Information) Day 22 - Human Weapon / Worked Themselves to Exhaustion Bonus BTHB Fic - Elusive: A Stardust Conspiracy Fanfic ("I know you're in there somewhere" fight)

Other/Original Fiction Day 10 - Killing in Self Defence (Mass Effect) Day 9 - Last Words Day 3 - "Bite down on this" / Dissociation Day 20 - Truth Serum Day 13 - "You weren't supposed to get hurt" / Scar to Remember Day 6 - "You lied to me" / Angry Mob Day 17 - Human Shield / Impaled Chest

[alxndryngs]

Literally wondering if you can make a cursed chaotic fic where Alcina drinks her wine and apparently there is a potion in there that turns you into a baby mentally. Surprise, she is a baby now in a grown woman's body and has to be taken care of for 24 hours until tomorrow when she turns back to normal again. She even doesn't know how to talk and walk anymore and Heisenberg stole the potion then put in inside her wine as a prank...

Literally imagine babysitting a grown ass 9'6 woman whose brain has been turned back into a baby.

Also you can ignore this ask if you want, I'm really just asking for fun. 😊

Xoxo Milkie

Absolutely 😂 Oh I had a blast writing this. Thanks for the request!

------------

Lady CeeCee

"Your lycans have intruded Donnas land multiple times now, Heisenberg. Do not make me handle them for you, do you understand?"

You could tell your Lady was out of her mind bored as she listened to Mother Miranda talk to her son across the dinner table.

It was their monthly family dinner, this time at Castle Dimitrescu. Every month the location would change from Miranda, to Alcina, then Karl, Donna and lastly Salvatore before the whole thing repeated itself.

Lady Dimitrescu sat leaned back in her chair, eyebrows raised as she released a big sigh. Her head turned to face you, standing against the wall and offering a small smile which you returned. The lady tapped her glass gently and gave a small nod, letting you know shed like some wine.

Carrying over the bottle you were holding, you stood next to her as you opened it. The seal felt like it has been opened before, but you didn't pay too much of a thought to it as you poured her her glass before returning back to your spot.

You couldn't help but notice how shifty Lady Dimitrescu began to get after what must've been her third glass. Heisenberg on the other hand was grinning from ear to ear, which all of you thought was caused by the girls small commotion with Angie.

Even though you knew you weren't allowed to leave your spot during times like these, you sneaked over to her. As soon as she noticed, her head turned to face you before she gave you a soft smile.

"My Lady, are you quite well?"

You whispered, her eyebrows furrowing for a moment while she remained silent for a few seconds.

"Mama?"

Silence fell over the room faster than someone could from the tower of worship, Miranda turning her head to her eldest daughter, the look of surprise on her face not to miss.

"Alcina, I'm not sure if I ever had you refer to me that way-"

She, however, was cut short by Alcina turning her head to her and blowing raspberries once across the whole table. Miranda, who had gotten some spit droplets in her face, closed her eyes while desperately feeling around the table for a napkin.

"H-Here mother.."

Miranda muttered silent latin curses while taking the napkin Salvatore had handed her.

"How dare you Alcina!"

She on the other hand payed no mind to the funny looking bird woman while turning her attention back to you, holding out her arms.

You looked up at her in pure shock. Not only had she just spit in Mother Mirandas face, but she had also called you Mama. Your cheeks burned scarlet as you turned to face the table, all eyes on you and your Lady.

Once Alcina repeated herself, even going as far as making grabby hands, Heisenberg lost it.

He began laughing tears while watching the scene unfold before him, beginning to curl and hold his stomach.

"I dont think the lady is quite well. If you'd excuse us, I think its best if she laid DOWN!!"

You yelled and next thing you knew was that your Lady had taken you to the ground. The over 300 pound woman was now laying ontop of you and you feared this might've been the end. What a way to go, squished by your lady. Serving in.. whatever this was.

In no time the daughters were by your side. Daniela was trying to pull you out from underneath her mother, Cassandra was trying to get her to stand up and Bela tried to talk to her, asking if she was alright.

"Heisenberg! What have you done to her this time!"

Miranda bellowed, sick of her sons games. This wasnt the first time he had 'pranked' his big sister and their mother was beginning to tire of it.

"OUT!" She yelled, taking him by the ear and dragging him out of the dining room. Salvatore, as always followed his mother. Donna on the other hand, took a look at her sister before making haste at getting out of the uncomfortable situation herself.

"Come on little human! She cant lay on you for that long or we'll have human paste to spread on bread!" Daniela said while tugging on your arm, desperately trying to get you out from underneath her mother.

"I'm trying my best Lady Daniela" You wheezed, grasping onto the redheads arm for the life of you.

It had taken a while, but after getting you out of underneath the tall woman, the girls had managed to drag her through the castle and towards her bedchambers. You followed behind quickly, as her handmaiden not sure what your role in this specific scenario was supposed to be.

As soon as they rounded the corner, dragging their mother, she began screaming out for.. you?

"Mama!"

Then again.

"MAMA"

Lifting up your gown over your feet, you trotted the few feet left for you to round the corner. As soon as you saw her, you could see she was just getting ready to call for you another time. When her eyes met yours, her mouth closed and her lips stretched into a smile.

"Hooo!"

Your head tilts to the side, was that supposed to be a hello? You went along with it anyway, not wanting her to scream again.

"Hooo!'

You gave her a small wave, Lady Dimitrescu giggled while leaning her head back and looking at her daughters dragging her by the arms into her bedchambers and with all their power, pushing their mother onto the bed.

They wished you farewell once they saw their mother babbling into the pillow, dissolving into a swarm of flies and flying out under the crack beneath the door.

So there you were, your lady on the bed and seemingly acting like an infant according to the babbling she gave off. Now that you were alone, you were finally allowed to call her by her first name. Slowly, while approaching, you called her name.

"Alcina?"

"Hmmpf?"

Her body turned over, nearly tipping off the edge of the bed in the process as she looked at you. The smile you loved beamed at you. You couldnt help but smile back as you stood beside the bed.

"Alcina whats going on? What's happening to you?"

At first she only babbled, you thought she was making a fool out of you now. After all, you hadnt seen anything like this happen before.

"Alcina!"

"Ceeeeena"

"No. Alcina- god I feel like a mother teaching an infant how to speak" At this point you were more talking to yourself than her, but she didnt care. She just kept looking at you with her big orange eyes, looking like the happiest woman in the world. Well, until she began to pout while trying to say her name.

"CeeCee?"

"Sure. Whatever you want, my lady"

You said, raising your hands to surrender. She, on the other hand, had other plans for your surrendering gesture. With her left hand, she reached and smacked her own into yours. The impact of her power send you to the ground with a small scream. Alcina, who seemed to understand nothing anymore, rolled over.

"Mama?"

Before you could answer her, she had fallen ontop of you once again. This time, full force. You let out a yell as you felt her squish your tiny body, feeling the force of her body slamming into yours breaking at least one rib.

She completely ignored the muffled scream you let out into her chest, instead she was babbling happily while laying on her new chosen mama.

-----------

"No! Don't colour on the carpet, damn it! You'll kill me for that later" You whined, quickly retrieving a rag with some soap to try and clean out the crayon stain.

Now, you were used to removing blood out of literally every material, including her carpets, but oil crayons?

Almost an entire day had passed since Karls prank on Alcina. You didnt dare to take your eye off of her for even one minute under these circumstances, hence as to why you haven't seen the castle nurse for your broken ribs yet. It hurt to breathe most of the time, but if you took slow short(er) breaths, it was bearable..

"Oh calm down, she'll be back to normal in a day!" Karl said on the other side of the phone which was grasped tightly in your hand. The other was holding your hurting ribs which, without doubt, were either fractured or broken.

Taking a deep breath, eyes focused on Alcina as she played with a stuffed animal you got for her from your room, you began to whisper yell down the phone.

"Listen here, you son of a bitch! Alcina is acting like a full grown infant and im taking care of her alone! If you ever pull something like this again, I swear to miranda I will cut every single head of your lycans off. She will die of embarrassment when she's back to normal!"

Karl laughed on the other side of the phone, humming and pretending to think for a moment.

"I'm taking that you don't like breastfeeding?"

And with that, you slammed the phone back down on its holder.

You hissed loudly while getting back up from the ground, tightly grasping the chair she had in her room. Another thing that hurt like a bitch doing, was leaning down.

Alcina turned her head to look at you, turning her head away from her paper on the ground that she was trying to draw a blue dragon on.

"Mama?"

When your eyes met hers, you saw how her lip wobbled and eyes filled with tears.

"Oh no," You deadpanned, slowly sitting in her chair while shaking your head "No no no, I'm okay"

Watching as she crawled over, you began to hold out your arms to her. Alcina laid her head into your lap as she sniffled. You gently ran your fingers through her hair, looking down at her while at the same time trying to not lean over or back and hurt your ribs even more.

Alcina was still holding the stuffed animal of yours as her head laid in your lap, a few minutes passing like this before she cleared her throat. You payed no mind at first, she had cleared her throat a couple times today already. You made a mental note to give her another drink soon.

However, all that washed away when you heard your ladys voice.

"Y/n."

Slowly, you turned your head and looked down at your ladys head in your lap. Now it was your turn to clear your throat.

"My Lady.."

"We will never speak a word of this, understood?"

"Absolutely. Whatever you want."

"... I'm keeping this stuffed animal, if that's alright. I've grown quite attached to it."

------------

Word count: 1,806

[whenthegoldrays]

took our broken hearts, put them in a drawer; everybody here was someone else before, and you can want who you want // magic, madness, heaven, sin // he says, “what you heard is true, but I can’t stop thinking ‘bout you and I” … I said, “I’ve been there too, a few times” // I walked out, I said “I’m setting you free,” but the monsters turned out to be just trees; when the sun came up, you were looking at me // you were all I wanted, but not like this // to the fella over there with the really good hair, won’t you come on over, baby? we can shake, shake, shake // you always knew how to push my buttons, you give me everything and nothing // time can heal, but this won’t // and his voice is a familiar sound … nothing lasts forever, but this is getting good now // tell her how you must’ve lost your mind when you left her all alone and never told her why // in losing grip, on sinking ships, you showed up just in time … this love is good, this love is bad // just grab my hand and don’t ever drop it, my love // the rain came pouring down when I was drowning, that’s when I could finally breathe // I knew I had to go back home; you search the world for something else to make you feel like what we had // you can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out — you are in love // please take my hand and please take me dancing and please leave me stranded (it’s so romantic) // half awake, takin’ your chance is a big mistake, I said, “it might blow up in your pretty face” — I’m not saying “do it anyway,” but you’re going to // ‘cause you kiss me and it stops time, and I’m yours, but you’re not mine // I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost and what it cost // when you hold me, it holds me together, and you kiss me in a way that’s gonna screw me up forever // let’s fast forward to 300 takeout coffees later…

• 1989 x Eun Gyeol and Eun Yoo